#but now i can’t find my old header

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.1

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: heavily suggestive, kissing, perv!hoon, mentions of self doubt and overthinking, yn's mum is an asshole, anything else lmk! ch.1 synopsis: when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart? wc: 14.3k masterlist | next a/n: hi! first chapter is finally here and i hope you all like it. each chapter will be released on friday and roughly between 10k - 16k (since people wanted longer chapters, however, i am open to any feedback regarding lengths). enjoy and please leave any comments/likes/reblogs if you wish !! also, peep the new header

‘We’re dancing, dancing, dancing in the moonlight.'

The blaring of your alarm pulls you from the cocoon of sleep, and you groan into your pillow. The idea of getting up before 6 am feels like a crime, yet here you are, abruptly awakened at 4:30 am by the dulcet tones of TO1.

With a begrudging sigh, you reach for your phone, dismissing the alarm, and then collapse back, staring at the ceiling. This routine has been a part of your life since childhood, and you'd think you'd be accustomed to it by now. However, no matter how early you sleep, removing yourself from the warmth of your bed remains a daily struggle.

You can hear your brother and mum scooting around downstairs, their usual ‘Do you have everything?’, ‘Where are the car keys?’, ‘Get your sister’ conversations louder than they need to be at this time in the day. The last one does mean you better get a move on and go downstairs.

While you put on your peach-flavoured chapstick, your brother bursts into your room, “Hurry up, Y/N.” His eyes roll and he slams the door shut as quickly as he opens it.

You have had the same routine since you were 6 years old. Same exchanges, same panic, same everything. 

Minhee, your older brother, is the reason you have this same routine. When he was 6 years old, Mum took you and him ice skating for the first time and he was a natural. His feet took to the ice like fish to water, like chocolate to strawberries, like you to garlic bread. It was fated. By 7 years old he was already training and what was once a fun hobby turned into a gruelling regime of early rises and the need for a good winter jacket.

“2 minutes!” You shout down to them, one quick glance over in the mirror to make sure you look presentable.  

Running down the stairs you’re greeted by your impatient mum tapping her foot, “Come on, Y/N we really can’t be late today. Coach Kim needs us there as soon as possible. Big announcement.” Her hands are flapping around animated as she speaks, “I think he’s finally going to let Minhee try that quadruple axel we’ve been begging him to let him do for Nationals!”

Your brother looks disinterested, “Mum, he’s already said it’s out of my depth.” His tone is bitter.

Minhee was amazing at ice skating, winning so many medals your mum had you move out of your double room to the box one so she could display them all. By 10 he was the youngest ever in your city to reach state championships and by 14 he was competing at the National level. It did make him the golden, silver, and bronze child in your family, but you didn’t mind all that much - not that you would tell her it did. 

It’s not like you’re doing anything half as impressive as winning trophies, now that was what your mother truly found pride in. You could become a CEO or a lawyer but if you couldn’t hit a toe loop worthy of gold it wouldn’t impress her.

You did try skating when you were younger but it was like you turned into Bambi, never able to find your feet. Even when it snows in winter you can’t hold yourself up. Deep down your mum hoped you would be just like Minhee, creating an opportunity for you both to branch into pair figure skating like the Shib Sibs but no matter how many times Minhee tried to teach you or she got his coach to give you a few free pointers, you couldn’t do it. She’s disappointed and quite frankly you think she holds a grudge against you for not being anything like your amazing, spectacular, talented brother.

But you still loved to watch the sport, how efficiently and painlessly each skater would glide across the ice and do manoeuvres that defied gravity. It was a magical sport, so when your mum dragged you along to every practice because she couldn’t afford a babysitter, you didn’t mind all that much.

Tying up your final lace you stand up from the bottom step and Minhee passes you your black jacket with faux fur lining. You mutter a quick ‘thanks’ before grabbing your book bag and all three of you head to the car.

"What if it's the Olympics!" Squealing, your mother fastens her seatbelt. What if it was the Olympics? Despite consistently finishing in the top three, if not first, in most major competitions in his teenage years, his coach never selected him for the Youth Olympic Games. But now that he’s 20 years old, he could compete in the Olympics.

Your brother looks sideways at your mother and widens his eyes, "You think so?" It was his dream to make it to the Olympics, and even if he didn't win, he wanted to experience everything; the different country, being surrounded by the best of the best - he had been planning his routine for it forever. 

There is a little envious man who climbs up on your shoulder from time to time when conversations like this happen. Of course, you would be so happy for Minhee, after all, he works harder than anyone you know but you wish it was you. Not necessarily the skating part, but to be so good at something you have a goal and dreams that take you to the top. Just something to make you feel alive.

You’re in your 2nd year of University studying Events and Marketing after your mum said it would be good for you to learn how to pitch reasons why Minhee would be a great brand ambassador. So you did it to please her. Honestly, you actually do enjoy it, you won’t lie about that, but the lack of appreciation for your efforts goes unnoticed 99% of the time. The 1% was when you got to shadow a boss at a Nike headquarters branch a few cities over.

“Get a good word in for Minhee while you’re there!”

She was proud of you that day.

As the car rolls up to the rink’s parking lot your mother turns serious, “If this is about choosing you for the Olympics, Min, you need to act excited and unexpectant, they may be filming a behind-the-scenes documentary on your journey to a gold medal.” 

Image. Your mum was big on keeping Minhee’s reputation on brand. Right now his ‘brand’ is being humble and noble.

“Yes mum,” he salutes, “Smile and flutter.” Winking and smirking as he mocks his usual signature poses causes you to laugh but your mum finds nothing funny and her change in aura scares both of you out of the car.

_____

The usually quiet ice rink is filled with chatter and chaos, with over 20 people speaking over each other. Minhee looks down at you and you shrug. None of you had any clue what was going on but if your years of watching Detective Conan paid off you would say that whatever caused this commotion was the reason the coach asked Minhee to come in as quickly as possible.

Customarily, at this time in the morning, it’s Minhee’s solo practice hours to work on his routine for Nationals so this many people here is concerning.

“Listen!” Coach Kim’s voice bellowed around the arena putting the chattering to a halt, “I know this is untimely and inconvenient, trust me, it is for me too,” Your eyes follow his and see another coach standing about 2 meters from him, “But we need to make this work and to do that I need you to listen to me.”

As your family approaches the disarray, Coach Kim beckons you all forward. Minhee is the first to ask the all too important question, “What’s going on, Coach?” The people behind you scatter and begrudgingly tread out of the building, their faces glum and disgruntled.

“Minhee, Ms. Kang, Y/N,” Coach Kim greets you all, “Sorry about all that, although telling them was a lot less scary than you.”

“What? Is this place shutting down?” Minhee jokes but by the look on Coach Kim’s face he isn’t far off. 

“Not exactly.” Scratching his neck, Coach Kim looks everywhere but Minhee’s eyes, “You know the Albion Centre? The rink on the other side of town?” All three of you nod despite that he’s only talking to your brother, “Well the council had a little meeting last week and they’re turning it fully into a Hockey training centre.”

The words sit in the air as he hopes Minhee will come to the conclusion himself, “So what? Just means more time for skating here right? If all the Hockey team are going over there?” 

Sighing, the coach nods, “For sure, but it also means every skater from there will be, well, here.” He gestures around and then points half-heartedly at the other Coach who is stepping forward.

“Kang Minhee, it’s great to meet you properly, I’ve heard nothing but great things,” he extends his hand which your brother accepts, still dazed from the information, “I’m Coach Lee.”

“Wait so, EVERY skater in the town will be here? in Belmore? Coach Kim, that's not possible, my training time will be cut!” Minhee is sulking but you don’t blame him. This is a fucked up situation.

Coach Lee answers, “Not true, Minhee, with the Hockey team over at Albion it frees up some ice time, you’ll get to train more if you want to.” 

“And! No more shield guards around the rink, you always hated those!” Coach Kim smiles and playfully punches his chest.

There is something the Coaches aren’t telling him. Like they’re presenting him with all the benefits before hitting him with a bombshell. You know it and for sure your mother knows it. She has been eerily quiet throughout the whole exchange, if there is one thing more unsettling than her shouting, it’s her silence.

“Albion, huh?” She steps forward and tapers her eyes, “Isn’t that the rink where the Parks are located? And aren’t you Lee Jaeho? The coach of that snake ‘Ice Prince’?”

Tension spreads around everyone’s shoulders, the Coaches can’t look at her, and none of you move. 

A loud click echoes throughout the rink as someone walks through the door.

“Coach what the fuck?” The voice booms behind you, “Why did I have to drive almost an hour to come here, why couldn’t we just meet at Albi?” 

Park Sunghoon. 

What’s that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? His mother shuffles in behind him, vocalising her own distaste for being here as if it were the most inconvenient thing in the world. Little do they know…

It’s like the world stops when Sunghoon and Minhee see each other and not in a rom-com way, “What the fuck is HE doing here?” Sunghoon points to Minhee, not taking his eyes off him. 

“This is MY rink, Park.”

Sunghoon and Minhee have been competitors since they were 9 years old. Each of them competes against one another in every competition, always striving for first place. It began as healthy competition, and they were even friends at one point, but as they grew older and each mother became increasingly determined to claim their kid was superior to the others, a rivalry developed. If one of them did something, the other had to outdo it tenfold.

When Minhee learned how to do a double axel, Sunghoon learned a triple. When Sunghoon landed his Euler jumps, Minhee was landing an Euler but following it up with a Salchow. When Minhee won the Junior Silver Medal in 2015, Sunghoon won the Junior Gold Medal in 2016.

It was always like this.

Their similarities didn’t help either, both 20, towering at 6”0, and blessed with faces that effortlessly drew admiring glances from girls. Objectively, you’ve only really seen the attraction to Sunghoon given that Minhee is your brother, however, you're not blind to the bevvy of girls who gravitate towards him either. This is precisely why your mother insisted on Minhee maintaining his brand, which stood in stark contrast to Sunghoon's.

He wasn’t rude or stuck up, actually from what you’ve perceived from afar, he is kind and gentle. But unlike your brother's ‘humble’ persona, Sunghoon knows he’s good and will tell anyone about it. Sunghoon’s confidence is easily mistaken for haughtiness. He can come across as arrogant and cocky, just like those sports journalists have been branding him for years like he thinks he’s better than anyone else past and present. 

Having been to every competition Minhee has skated in has led you to know a few things about Park Sunghoon. He was arguably the best skater in the division, even over Minhee, he was determined, hard-working, resilient, and fit as fuck.

To say you used to have a crush on him would be the understatement of the century, matter of fact it was so obvious back then that your mum would often reprimand you for staring at him too long. He was your first crush, you were 8 and he was 9, and like some girls that age you planned out a wedding, a future of 2 dogs and you’d both live in a pink palace. At first, it was his looks, no one in your primary school looked that pretty or even shone a torch compared to him. It was like seeing an angel for the first time. But then you started to grow up, and while still appreciating his face, you focused on how beautifully he skated and how majestic he moved. He was so passionate about the sport it made you feel butterflies, you hadn’t seen love like that before. Sunghoon and the rink were fated to be together. 

“Sunghoon, calm down.” His coach whispered, “We need to tell you something-”

“I am NOT sharing my rink with that fucking z-list prick, alright?” Minhee didn’t hold back, he got that anger from your mother.

Turning to his coach, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows, “What does he mean sharing?”

Both Coaches exhaled. You can’t imagine how many times they have had to explain this situation, they probably should have just sent out an email. So as Coach Lee takes Sunghoon and his mum to the side, Coach Kim is looking at Minhee apologetically, “I’m sorry, Minhee. I know he’s your biggest competition, and trust me, I don’t exactly love this outcome either,” rubbing a hand down his exhausted face he whispers, “but work with me here. I’ve scheduled you guys at different times, you won’t even need to see him.”

“That’s not the point, Coach, you know how I feel about him.”

If it wasn’t for your mum you seriously ponder whether Minhee would have such a strong hatred for the fellow ice skater, and as you look at Sunghoon you wonder the same thing.

“I know trust me, you and your mother make that perfectly clear every time we cross them at comps, but you just gotta live with it, son.” 

The coaches come back together and look at both of their young prodigies, “Minhee you’ll train morning, and Sunghoon you’ll train nights. Because of the merger of rinks, we have an excessive number of skaters, so we are making it a 24-hour arena but ONLY for you two and Wonyoung since Nationals are coming up.” Both coaches nodded their heads as if agreeing with themselves that this was a good choice, “So if you happen to turn up at the same time, you respect each others’ space and behave like grown men. Got it?”

Grumbling, your brother rolls his eyes, and Sunghoon nods. This is going to be a disaster.

Just as you think all bickering would be over, the mothers start chasing after the coaches as they head into the office. You felt bad for the trainers having to deal with this and getting blamed for it all, but most importantly, you feel sorry for them because they have to listen to both your mum and Mrs. Park for at least an hour.

Once the door to their office shut, it was silent, the only noise coming from the large ACs. 

Scared to look any of them in the eye you place a hand on Minhee’s arm, “Come on, you need to practice.”

“Emphasis on the ‘need’.” Sunghoon pipes up and you wish he hadn’t. You were a fool to think this parting would be civil.

Minhee pokes his tongue in his cheek and looks at his rival, “You got something to say?” He’s challenging Sunghoon, baiting him to start something, but Sunghoon doesn’t budge, “Better watch my skate doesn’t somehow come flying off and slit you open.” Minhee was all bark and no bite, you knew this, but he seems deadly serious right now.

“Is that a threat?” Sunghoon stands tall against Minhee.

“It’s a fucking promise, Park.” 

No one says anything else, they don’t have to, the look in their eyes is scary as they stand toe to toe with one another. “Let’s go, Mini.” You squeak out his nickname. By no means are you a timid person but you don’t want to interject and suddenly find yourself in the firing line. 

With a grunt, your brother obeys and storms out and into the changing rooms, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

His stern eyes flicker to your soft ones, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him, close enough to admire him. His black hair is fluffy and unstyled unlike how it is usually when you see him at competitions, the bags under his eyes prove how hard he’s working whether at skating or general life and the freckles that are perfectly placed on his face suddenly look more ethereal than before. Sunghoon is the epitome of beauty.

While you’re staring you fail to notice how he is staring right back at you, taking in all your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. He hasn’t seen you since Sectionals which didn’t seem like that long ago but to him, it feels like a lifetime. You’ve cut your hair since then and Sunghoon noticed.

Meeting his eyes once again you see how they sparkle, just like they do when he’s on the ice.

“Sorry for my brother, he can be-”

“A dick?”

“A lot,” Your tone is filled with warning. Sunghoon might have been right but that’s still your brother, “He can be a lot but you already know that.”

Walking up to you, he tilts his head and smiles softly, “Don’t start apologising for him now, Sweets.” He leans so his face meets yours, “Or else you’ll be apologising your whole life.” 

Sunghoon pats your head and makes his way to the coach's office, leaving you mesmerised.

______

Minhee and Sunghoon have successfully kept their distance from each other for the past two weeks, which has been a relief to everyone. If this pattern continues, there is hope that everything will just be a harmonious as before the merge.

Although the rink was now open for their disposal, you were never more grateful. No, it wasn’t for you, the coaches explicitly said it was for the future medalists, but you knew the receptionist for the building and she would let you away with anything if you batted your lashes and gave her a box of Toffees. 

Growing up at the rink meant you found solace in the atmosphere and surroundings, so much so that you went there to simply study, the arena oddly hugging you in comfort while you tore the hair from your head. Skaters and staff became your friends with how much time you’ve spent in the bleachers. Typically, it would be during the day with what little spare time you had, but with the building being open around the clock it means you can inhabit the premises in the middle of the night, the perfect time to get your head down and work.

That is where you are headed right now just after your shift at the supermarket. It was as painful as ever with customers not understanding that you don’t make the prices, or that no you cannot watch their baby while they run for a jug of milk. It’s baffling how dense some people can be. 

The rink is a nice place to relax and get away from it all.

Pushing open the door you see the receptionist, Miss Barbara, filing her nails. She was a friendly woman, the kind type, but when Coach Kim told her she would have to work some nights she wasn’t so sweet and caring, not to him anyway.

Her real name is just Barbara but as the years went on, she adopted this regal persona and insisted everyone call her Miss or Ma’am. Only you and Minhee gave in to her request though.

“Hi, Miss Barbara,” You wave. Reaching into your white tote bag you retrieve her bribes, eh, goodies, and pass them to her. 

With much delight, she wiggles her fingers and slips them from the desk into her lap, “Y/N you are my favourite person that walks through those doors!” Her eyes are trained on the sweets rather than you when she speaks which makes you chuckle.

“Glad I can be held in such high regard, Miss Barbara,” You change your accent to a posh one and wave like a Queen in her tiny town car. Lifting her head, Miss Barbara sees your roleplay and laughs, dismissing you into the rink.

As you step into the arena, the chill of the air greets you, accompanied by the soothing sound of skates slicing through the ice. Finding your way to the centre of the second row of bleachers, you settle in, unpacking your bag and gracefully arranging your belongings. Crossing your legs to create space for your laptop and paper, you deftly balance everything, a skill you've honed to perfection.

Typing in your password you hear the skates coming towards you and scraping to a halt but you don’t look up.

“If you’ve come to spy on my routine you aren’t doing a very good job at hiding.” Sunghoon playfully remarks. You hadn’t even noticed it was him who was skating, since it was usually Wonyoung gracing the ice you just expected it to be her. He looks at your mess of a lap and scrunches his full eyebrows, “Like you’re really not making it discrete.” 

You look up and see him pointing to your laptop, “Oh, no I’m just studying.” Returning to typing you hear him scoff, making you look at him again.

“You expect me to believe that?” The look on his face is incredulous when you don’t budge, “What? Don’t they have libraries at your Uni?”

Sunghoon’s tone is accusatory and you don’t like it. “Look, I don’t have beef with you okay? That’s the wrong Kang sibling.” There is no reason for him to be giving you attitude right now, you hadn’t done anything wrong, an innocent bystander in all this. 

Deep down he knew that too, but he couldn’t be too careful.

Crossing his arms, he leans on top of the barrier and rests his chin, examining you and how much you’re telling the truth, “So, what? You genuinely just sit here and study? Does the cold stimulate your brain or something?” 

“No, it’s like white noise at this point, comforting.” Glancing up you see his still dubious expression, “Ugh, look I come here all the time, ask anyone!” Your arms gesturing to the empty rink is not really helping your case.

Having had enough you slam the laptop shut and stand up, “Whatever, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

Sunghoon shoots his arms up to mock surrender, “Woah, Sweets, calm down, I was just making sure. Need to air on the side of caution, yeah?” His voice softens. 

Making you uncomfortable wasn’t on his list of things to do, but his mum made it very clear your whole family wasn’t to be trusted, and he always heeded his mother's warnings even if he thought she was being overdramatic. “Listen, stay here as long as you want but if I see your brother doing a double toe loop into a triple axel I know who to blame.” 

With a smirk, you sit back down, “See now you’ve just told me your big secret,” a laugh leaves your lips, “Changed your mind on trusting a Kang so soon huh?” 

He’s flabbergasted. 

Did he really just tell you part of his routine like it was nothing, in an instant after he just told himself not to be so trusting of you?  You’re more dangerous than he first thought, and you aren’t even trying.

After seeing the realisation come over his face you laugh loudly, “Sunghoon, don’t worry. My brother can handle you on his own, he doesn’t need to cheat to beat you.”

“Say that to my 8 first places over him.”  It goes silent. It’s not like you could argue with him, Sunghoon did beat Minhee in a lot of skates. 

Trying to lighten the mood he points to you, “No pictures.” He jokes and skates away adroitly.

You don’t see the smile creeping onto his face, or the way tries to shake you out of his head. That conversation between you made him want it to be the start of many more, much more.

________

Emerging from your room, you're taken aback to find your mom standing right at your door, narrowly avoiding a collision. Both of you gasp and instinctively clutch your chests. "Jesus, Y/N, you scared me," she exclaims. Ignoring the fact that she's lingering around your room, you offer an apology, which she quickly dismisses. "A letter came for you," she informs you, handing over the manila envelope before walking away. At least she isn't one of those moms who loiter and wait for you to open it; she doesn't fuss over things like that. Or perhaps, she doesn't fuss over you.

Abandoning your plan to head to the kitchen for a cup of tea, you return to your bed and sprawl across it, letting your legs dangle off the edge. With a swift motion, you tear open the envelope and unfold the letter, eagerly scanning its contents.

Dear Y/N Kang,

At Yonsei University, our students consistently impress us with their dedication and commitment to excellence. Each year, we have the privilege of acknowledging one outstanding student whose remarkable progress merits special recognition. This year, we are delighted to announce that you have been selected as the top student of Yonsei University.

In light of your exceptional achievements, we would be honoured to celebrate your success by presenting you with an award. A special ceremony, bringing together top students from across the city, will be held on the 23rd of September at 7 pm in the historic Cathedral adjacent to our university campus. You are welcome to bring a plus one to share in this momentous occasion.

Congratulations once again on this well-deserved honour.

You skim-read the rest, and a triumphant smile creeps onto your face. There's no conceivable way you're at the top of the University this year - perhaps the top of your year, but the entire university? It feels like a surreal, sick joke. Investigating the envelope, you spot the official stamp of Yonsei. It's real.

Bounding down the stairs, you find your mum and brother already seated at the dining table, ready for dinner, "Mum, Mini, look!" You flap the paper in their faces, excitement bubbling within you. Your mum tuts and carefully opens the letter, reading it with precision. You're searching for any sign of a reaction, but nothing surfaces. She simply places it down and checks her phone.

You sit down gingerly, awaiting her acknowledgement, hoping for some form of appreciation, "Hmm, thought so." Clicking the lock on her phone, she sets it aside, "Sorry, Y/N, Minhee has a schedule that day."

"But aren't you happy for me?" You ask, your excitement dampening. It's not just about the ceremony; it's about the achievement itself. She should be proud of you, "I'm at the top of my university."

"Yes, you are, darling," your mum responds, her tone lacking enthusiasm. Normally, it wouldn't bother you, but this is a big deal, huge even, and she couldn't spare you the time of day to at least pretend to be happy for you.

Your heart sinks, and the elation you felt a moment ago dissipates. She really did not care, and the void of her indifference casts a shadow over your significant accomplishment.

Minhee places a comforting hand on your shoulder, sensing your disappointment. "Top of the class, huh? Finally, you get one of your awards in my trophy room." His attempt at humour falls flat in the weight of the moment. Minhee notices your lack of response, withdrawing his hand and sinking into silence, his gaze fixed downward.

“We just can’t go, your brother has an advertisement to film that day, we’ve been planning it for months. You understand.”

You had no choice but to understand.

“Yes, Mum.” The acceptance cuts deep. You've never blamed Minhee for the uneven distribution of favouritism; it wasn't his fault, yet, the sting of yearning for a moment in the spotlight, just once, remains. The chair you rise from screeches against the floor. "I need to go tell my friends about it."

There isn’t a protest from her, so you slip out quietly. Minhee extends a hand toward you, a silent gesture of support, but you don’t bother acknowledging it. The door closes behind you, leaving a trail of unresolved emotions lingering in the air.

In truth, you didn’t want to tell your friends right now, when you tell them you want it to be a happy occasion, not tarnished by your mum's attitude.

How could she be so nonchalant about the fact that you achieved such an award? You weren’t looking for bells and whistles but a simple ‘Well done, Y/N.’ would have sufficed. Was it too much to ask for? You did all this for her, after all. 

A deja vu of last week, you push the heavy doors to the Belmore Centre, greeting Miss Barbara before heading to the rink.

The familiar scent of ice and warm rubber infiltrates your nose, offering solace and temporarily numbing the thoughts swirling in your mind. The rink, with its unique aura, never fails to bring you a sense of contentment.

As you take your usual seat, you can't help but notice an unusual absence of the rhythmic sound of skates cutting through the ice. It's just past 8 pm, yet the rink is eerily silent. For a change, it's pure bliss, the absence of the usual hustle and bustle providing an unexpected sanctuary.

Sitting with your head in your hands, you succumb to overthinking. If only you could have skated and achieved something that your mum could be proud of. What would it take?

A tear slips down your cheek, and you're oblivious to the approaching presence.

Sunghoon’s smile is subtle as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. You’re not in your usual jacket, in fact, you look like you've hastily run out of the house as if you were just popping into the shop for milk.

With your hands buried in your head, he hears a sniffle, realizing that you're crying, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon drops his bag and skates as he rushes over to you, concern all over his face. 

Shaking your head you just cry harder as your brain screams at you. It is so loud you can’t hear anything else, certainly not the boy sitting next to you.

He rubs your back to calm you down but to no avail. Instead, you cry harder and he doesn’t know what to do. Sunghoon isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to crying girls, “Sweets, stop crying.” Great, Sunghoon, just great, he curses himself, “Umm, no wait, shit, breathe! I’ve heard that works before.” He quickly made the realisation he would never make it as a therapist.

Sunghoon is always so confident and self-assured but right now with you he has no idea how to act.

What he doesn’t realize is that his awkward attempt to console you has genuinely worked. Sunghoon fumbling over his words gives you something to focus on, and hearing him mutter to himself about how awful he is at this makes you laugh. It’s a small laugh but one that breaks through the heaviness of the moment.

Hearing your laughter, Sunghoon whips his head to face you, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “What happened, Y/N?” His voice carries a gentle concern, inviting you to share, but you just shake your head, not ready to delve into the details. “Nah, come on. Whatever it is has really upset you. It’s better to talk about it.”

His voice resonates with a soothing calmness, making you feel like you could confide in him about anything.

“I just feel like I'm not good enough and that anything I do will never meet her standards,” you shrug, expressing the weight of self-doubt that has been dragging you down.

“Ah, it’s your mum, right?” His lips purse as he gazes ahead to the rink. The elude to ‘her’ being his only anchor of reasoning.

Your silence serves as confirmation. Sunghoon, all too familiar with the feeling of not being enough, understands your pain. But in this moment, it's not about him. He can only offer superficial advice, “If you live your life based on other's expectations, you’ll never be truly happy.”

“Says the competitive figure skater,” you lightly laugh, a hint of sadness slowly dissipating from your face.

Sunghoon pauses the reassuring circles between your shoulders and sighs, “You got me there.” You were right; who was he to tell you to stop living for other people when that’s all he has ever done since he was 6?

Seeing how his shoulders slump, you worry you might have hit a nerve. “Hey, I didn’t me���”

“Do you want to do something reckless?” The sudden switch from sadness to confidence confuses you, and you gaze at him as if he has two heads. It's remarkable how quickly he pulled himself out of his own thoughts, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

When you don’t respond, he pushes the idea further, “Come on, Sweets. Didn’t have you as the type to say no to a little fun.”

“There's a big difference between reckless and fun, so which is it?” you ask.

“Come and find out.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Suddenly, Sunghoon springs to his feet and yanks you out of your seat, propelling you into whatever scheme he has up his sleeve. As his hand interlocks with yours, a peculiar flutter dances in your stomach.

“Where are we going?” You glance around as he drags you past the rink and into the back rooms. "What’s so fun about plain grey walls and 'Employee of the Month' posters?”

Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes in response to your question.

The next thing you know, you're in a warehouse-like room, surrounded by old skating equipment, acrylite shields you've seen hockey players collide with, and an army of mannequins. 

What somehow escapes your notice is the giant red Zamboni that Sunghoon is confidently strolling towards.

Seeing you mesmerized by the mannequins, Sunghoon waits for you to turn around, but you're too engrossed in the plastic figures to notice him. “Looking for your next boyfriend in there?” he teases, his voice slicing through the silence of the room.

Jumping at the unexpected remark, you hastily remove your hand from one of the figures' chests and whip around. Sunghoon leans against the Zamboni, a tilted smirk gracing his face, hands tucked casually in his trouser pockets. Embarrassed, you mumble a quick 'shut up' and shuffle over to him. To be honest, those dummies probably would have offered a more exciting conversation than most men.

Your eyes finally land on the Zamboni. It gleams, proudly bearing the bold inscription 'Zamboni Campbell' on the side. A few years ago, Coach Kim, in a moment of whimsy, had asked people to name the ‘new love in his life’ through a Facebook post. Some 7-year-old had chosen 'Zamboni Campbell.' It might not have been the most clever name, but considering his age, you let it slide. 

“Please stop leaning on Zamboni Campbell; she’s a national treasure,” you interject, half-joking. If anything were to happen to her, you imagine Coach Kim might have an aneurysm.

The figure skater scoffs and pushes himself off the machine, “She’s no Zamby Malik.” He jokes, “My baby boy is probably being abused right now.” The comment raises an eyebrow; what is it with some people and their weird fascination for anything with a motor? Your expression remains neutral as Sunghoon looks at you. “Zamby Malik? Albion’s Zamboni? Named after Zayn Malik?” he questions.

“Yeah, got that reference, thanks.” Stepping forward, your eyes meet his. “I have been a Niall worshipper for many, many years,” you say proudly. You’ve been a dedicated fan of Niall and all the One Direction boys forever.

“Eh, more of a Louis girl myself,” Sunghoon shrugs and turns to face the ice resurfacer. “So, how badly have you ever wanted to ride her?” His hands rub together in a way that eerily resembles a villain plotting an evil scheme.

Nope. Absolutely not. You're not getting on that thing. For one, Coach Kim would undoubtedly kill you both if he found out. He loves the Zamboni more than his own children. And two, you have no idea how to operate it. Disaster is inevitable. “I am not getting on that thing!” 

Sunghoon gives you a look that says ‘Of course, you are getting on that thing.’ but he can give you all the looks he wants, you are not doing it.

“Sweets, you need to have a go. It’ll help whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours.” Sunghoon's hand playfully ruffles your hair before he strides towards the steps of the Zamboni.

Fixing your hair consciously, you find yourself following him. “How will it help exactly? When I die from crashing it or at the hands of Coach Kim, at least I'll be free of my thoughts?”

Sunghoon spins around, and you walk right into his chest. “I was thinking more along the lines of a clear rink, clear mind, but your reasoning works too, I suppose.” His hands grip your shoulders and push you at arm's length. “So?”

As you weigh up your options, for him, there's only one option – getting you behind the wheel of Zamboni Campbell.

“I don’t know how to drive it though, Sunghoon.” That would surely deter him from this ridiculous idea. But it doesn't.

“Duh,” His eyes rolled once again, “I’ll teach you obviously.” 

It’s at that moment you understand that regardless of how long you’ve known him, you don’t actually know him. In fact, you haven’t even had a conversation this long before.

“Since when did you know how to ride a Zamboni?” You inquire and Sunghoon removes his hands from your shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. God, he is so handsome.

“You learn a thing or two being on the ice so long.” 

The truth is, he was constantly pestering the maintenance guy at Albion to clean the ice before his practice. He got so fed up hearing Sunghoon complain he told him to do it himself. So he learned, and ever since, he’s been whizzing on a Zamboni.

You are running out of excuses, and part of you is agreeing with him that this will be good for you. “Fine.”

“That’s a girl!” Sunghoon huffs, and you move to walk up the steps, but he stops you, holding up two fingers. “Two things first.”

Removing his long liquorice-colored coat, he gently places it on your shoulders. The warmth lingering from his body heat in the linings of the jacket makes you realize how cold you were. “It gets cold up there,” he says, straightening out the collar.

You push your arms through the holes and wrap yourself up in it. Sunghoon has broad shoulders, so the jacket makes you look ten times smaller than you are, creating a cosy cocoon. 

If he knew it was okay to say, he'd probably tell you how cute you look. For now, he keeps that thought to himself.

Murmuring a polite ‘thank you,’ you're grateful he doesn’t ask why you don't have your jacket. Sunghoon hasn’t pushed you to talk about it at all, and that's something you appreciate.

Sunghoon climbs up and gets situated behind the wheel.

“Wait, you said there were two things?” The jacket is one, and what else?

“Ah, there’s only one seat up here so,” he pats his lap, “You’re going to have to sit on my knee.”

He has to be joking, yet his face looks serious, a tinge of red sneaking onto his neck and ears. He’s blushing. The playful challenge in his eyes mixes with genuine warmth. It's clear he wants to make you smile.

Cute.

“I can’t teach you from down there, now come on up.” He continues.

He won’t give up, apparently, so with a huff, you start scaling the steps, standing at the top and realise how high this thing is. Sunghoon puts his hand out for you to take as he guides you to sit down. “This is super high,” you state patently.

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head, “You’re just small, Sweets.” His hands go to your waist to stabilise you while you hike one leg over him. “That’s it, not so scary, huh?”

Slowly, you sit down on his lap, getting yourself comfortable. You feel his thighs tense under you. “Oh, am I too heavy?”

Quickly, he shakes his head, “No, not at all, I’ve got legs of steel.” He slaps the side of his thigh and relaxes them a little. Sunghoon won’t say it, but the way you wriggled to get comfy was putting pressure straight on his cock, making him tense up. It would be rude to pop a boner right now no matter how good you feel, given the circumstances.

“So what do I do?”

“Hmm?” He was too busy lost in his thoughts he forgot what he was doing. “Oh, right,” he turns on the machine and guides you through the steps. “So there are six levers, each does their own thing—conditioner, elevation, brush, tyre wash, wash water,” he continues going through the controls.

While he’s explaining, you observe how fast his lips are moving. Is he always this talkative, or is it just with you? A part of you hopes for the latter. “And we are good to go.” He finishes and smiles. You probably should have paid attention because now he’s looking at you expectantly. “You didn’t listen to a word I just said, did you?”

“Something about water being washed?” you bring your shoulders up sheepishly and smile, showing all your teeth.

The look on his face feigns annoyance, “How about I drive and you sit there and look pretty, yeah?” 

Pretty. That’s the second time he's inadvertently called you pretty. 

Sunghoon reaches his arm around you, starting the machine up and driving it onto the rink, his other hand is holding you securely in his lap. The ice resurfacer is in full swing as it sweeps the edges of the rink. You haven’t seen the rink from this angle before and it brings forth a new appreciation.

“Gonna need you to pump for me.”

It takes you a minute to process his words before craning your neck around to look at him, “Excuse me?” You have no idea in what context that sentence couldn’t be laced with innuendo.

He seems unphased, or maybe just unaware of his words double entendre, and points to the right of the machine, “This Zam has a manual wash water lever, you need to pump it for me, Sweets, I can’t reach it with you on my lap.”

Can he please stop saying pump for all that is holy? 

You screw your head back on and see the black lever he is talking about, “This one?” 

His one hand on your hip squeezes slightly when you reach over, “Yeah just lift it up and down, it might be heavy for you so be careful.” 

Sunghoon watches you pump the water washer a few times, you use both hands to grasp the lever so he tightens his hold on your waist to ensure your safety. After he has focused on the task at hand he notices the way your hands are gripped around the lever, your fingers barely able to wrap around it. He can’t stop the next thoughts that come into his head. What he wouldn’t give to have you stroking his cock with those pretty hands.

The next thing he notices is how you’re softly grunting as you put the work in and your arms losing pace due to repetition and tiredness. The scene in front of him isn’t calming his thoughts down any because now he’s thinking if these noises are similar to ones you would make while bouncing on his dick. He feels like a pervert because here you are upset and he’s got crude thoughts of you infiltrating his mind. 

“That’s enough for now, Sweets.” His voice is strained, he could have watched you do that for hours but for the sake of the ice and his dignity, he needs you to stop.

Pulling away and shuffling back to comfort on his lap you smile, “That was weirdly fun. It got some frustration out of me.” 

It’s ironic because frustration has seeped into Sunghoon, horny frustration, and you are so blissfully unaware.

“Wow, look how sparkly it is!” You exclaim as your eyes are glued to the ice behind you. Maybe only once have you seen the rink so clean, but even then it wasn’t like this, it’s practically glistening. Zamboni Campbell needs to pat herself on the back.

The boy steering her also needs to praise himself not just for the excellent resurfacing job, but also for helping you. It’s not until now you see that his plan worked, he got you out of your head and stopped the crippling thoughts that were bound to consume you if you didn’t have this distraction.

Both of you lap the rink 4 times before Sunghoon looks at his handy work and smiles, “She drives like a dream.” He steers back into the warehouse, trying to park the Zamboni close enough to where they found it.

“Better than Zamby Malik?” You tease.

“Never, but she’s not far off.” Sunghoon doesn’t let go of the hold he has on your waist despite the ice resurfacer being stagnant. Instead, he’s slightly massaging your sides, an action you can barely feel because of his coat engulfing your body, but you feel it enough.

Turning around so your legs are draped fully over his thighs, you're about to get off him, but you don't. You should stand up, climb down the steps, and leave it as a nice memory, but this future memory feels too short like there should be something more to it.

Sunghoon feels it too, that’s why he’s staring at you so intensely. The once shallow smile he had on his face now dropped off; his eyes are looking deep into yours, and his hands move up your waist slightly, yet he doesn’t make a move.

This has to be your decision. Something you want.

If there was ever an inappropriate time to think about your brother, it’s when you’re two seconds away from kissing a guy. Minhee’s face flashes in your mind, and you realize what you’re about to do - you’re about to kiss Minhee’s biggest rival, his arch-nemesis, how could you even face your brother if you gave in to this?

Sunghoon watches you while your brain flips out; you don’t look like you’re 100% certain of the idea of his lips on yours. “Sweets?” he squeezes your waist and sighs, “We should get going.”

Oh.

All you’re thinking about is why he didn’t kiss you, and why it hurt a little that he didn’t. It looked like he wanted to; maybe you took too long, or he stared long enough to realize you weren’t actually pretty. You guys don't even know each other well, but you feel yourself being pulled towards him. Wasn’t it the same for him? Your brain went from overthinking one thing to another.

Nodding your head, you stand up carefully and make your way down. You can’t even look at him out of shame and guilt for even entertaining the idea of kissing him. Your mum would be so disappointed if she knew.

Sunghoon follows you down but unlike you he is keeping his eyes fixed on your face, focusing on every change in your manner both positive and negative. He wanted to kiss you but you looked like you were about to pass out from the thought of it. Sunghoon wanted you to be certain, “I’ll drive you home.” 

“No, no it’s fine, I’m not that far from here.” Being in a car with him after this wouldn’t be the best outcome, your mind is still on his lips.

“Please, Y/N, it’s late. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Anything could happen.” Sunghoon doesn’t want you to walk home, yes because of safety concerns, but also because he wants to spend even a fraction of a minute more time with you. You seem to be one of the few people in this world he can relax around.

He should have just kissed you.

The look on his face is serious but his eyes are soft, not asking but begging you to just say yes. 

“Sure.” The atmosphere is heavy, filled with longing and tension. You’re both thinking different things.

You’re analysing every specific detail from tonight to see if you have done something wrong, anything that would have stopped him from kissing you.

And Sunghoon’s brain is filled with various thoughts of you from tonight. The lever, the way you felt so right sitting in his lap, and more importantly how amazing it felt to be the one that made you smile. The way you smiled and giggled on the Zamboni is something he is going to commit to memory. 

As of today, he will start keeping part of his brain solely for you to occupy.

The walk to Sunghoon's car is silent, free of the laughter and conversation that previously filled your space. Both of you appear to be over-analysing each other's previous acts, which makes the situation more awkward than it needs to be.

Sunghoon's car is impressive: a sleek monochrome Peugeot New 2008 with a black interior. The scent of his fresh cologne combines with the ocean-scented tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“This is a nice car.” You note, buckling up your seatbelt.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she? Got her as part of a brand deal with Peugeot Sport.” His hands caress the smooth wheel and his lips upturn into a proud smile. Brand deals and advertisements are not what you want to hear about right now, especially when it’s the one thing your mum cared about instead of your award. Your sour mood doesn’t go unnoticed, “Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

That was the one place you didn’t really want to be right now but you nod, shoulders slumped a little at the thought of facing your mum again.

“Or,” Sunghoon starts, “We could get some food? The University Cafe is always open late.” 

It was like he could read your mind, “Yeah, I could eat.” 

With that, Sunghoon starts the car and drives to the cafe. The way your face turned a little paler when he said he would take you home alarmed him. He doesn’t think you’re in danger there, Minhee might be a dick but he was protective over you, he wouldn’t let anything happen, and Sunghoon knew that. Whatever it is, you didn’t want to go home, and Sunghoon is more than willing to keep you to himself for a couple more hours.

The journey to the cafe, situated more on his side of town, unfolds in silence, only disrupted by the gentle strains of Hozier's "Like Real People Do" emanating from the radio. A wry smile tugs at Sunghoon's lips, finding the song's relevance a touch on the nose for the current situation.

Upon arriving at the cafe, you're taken aback by its shabby appearance - chipped walls, adjacent graffiti, not to mention it’s deserted. Sunghoon, attuned to your hesitance, reassures you, “It’s a lot nicer than it looks, promise. I’ve been coming here forever.” Stepping out of the car, he leaves you with the choice of venturing into the weathered establishment or remaining in the safety of the car. Despite your reservations, a rumble from your stomach nudges you to join him inside.

The interior mirrors the exterior's wear and tear, yet a certain comfort envelops the air as Sunghoon guides you with a reassuring hand on the small of your back. “Sit anywhere you like, Sweets.”

Opting for a seat by the back window, you settle into the firm, brown booth without ridding yourself of Sunghoon's coat, a silent acknowledgement that your stay may be short-lived. You aren’t a snob but you have a cafe like this in your side of town and it isn’t somewhere you choose to occupy. 

Noticing your scrutiny of the surroundings, Sunghoon, with a laugh, takes a seat across from you, studying your expression, "You don’t like it, huh?"

Huffing, you cast a critical eye around the place, "Not really, no."

You were brutally honest, he’ll give you that, “Wait until you try their food and then judge okay?” He chuckles and hands you the menu on the table.

A waitress waltzes over with a pen and paper. She’s too beautiful for a place like this, her rosy cheeks and long flowing brown hair make you jealous, “Sunghoon! My favourite ice slasher, how is it going?”

While they engage in small talk you look at the menu looking for something safe to eat. Maybe you should just wait for Sunghoon to order and get the same thing.

“Y/N, you know what you want?” He turns to you.

“Oh, so you’re the Y/N?” the waitress grins. 

What does that mean? How does she know your name? When you glance at Sunghoon, you notice his intense stare fixed on the girl. This is strange. The waitress seems to pick up on Sunghoon's unspoken communication, smirking as she says, "I mean, you're Kang Minhee's sister, right?" She then slowly turns her attention to you.

Ah, that's how she knew. He must have spoken ill of Minhee and you enough times for her to recognize you. Fueled by this assumption, you shift into defence mode. "Yeah, I am," you reply sharply, your expression hardening as you lean back, raising your eyebrows and waiting for her response, half-expecting her to be rude to you.

Strangely, the waitress's expression brightens. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Can I get you anything?" Her voice carries genuine warmth.

Now you feel a bit guilty. She seems genuinely nice.

"Uh," you glance at the menu again, uncertain of what to order. "What's good?"

Sunghoon intervenes with a smile. "She'll take my usual," he tells the waitress as she departs. Ordinarily, you dislike when men presume to order for you, but in this instance, you're grateful for the assistance. "It's just a plain cheese and ham panini with tomato, pesto, and hot sauce. It sounds simple, but it's delicious."

You expected Sunghoon to be a burger and fries kind of guy, but with his physique and strict regimen, you should have known his tastes would lean towards the healthier side of things.

“Did you order a drink with this ‘usual’ or am I supposed to just swallow it dry?” 

“Comes with diet coke and a lime.” He says timidly, now for the first time he is self-conscious about his food choice. Sunghoon would like nothing more than to chomp into a pizza and a full-fat Pepsi but with National’s coming up at the end of the year, he needs to stick somewhat to his meal plan. In hindsight, he should have ordered you something you might have liked. What did you like? He didn’t even know that simple fact, “Do you want something else? I can change it.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll trust your judgment,” You relax into the booth, “Shoot me if i’m being too straight forward but don’t you have enough money to go like, I don’t know, somewhere nicer than this?” 

Raising his hands in a gun motion he pretends to shoot you and you fake a wound in your shoulder. It’s nice to be playful like this, Sunghoon hasn’t had this for a long time, “You know how to ask a question, Sweets.” 

He then shrugs and looks around the cafe, not unlike how you were doing earlier but his eyes aren’t filled with distaste; they’re shining in fondness.

“It’s where my dad would take me after practices. Mum would never let me come here once I started aiming for professional level, too much grease and too many carbs.” He recalls a time his mum had him on a diet at 11 because he wasn’t flying high enough and a frown appeared on his face, “My dad though, he wanted me to be at least somewhat a normal kid so every Wednesday when mum worked late we would come here. Eat whatever we want and then pop a breath mint in the car.”

Sunghoon’s features are mixed with hurt and fondness, “Sorry, about your dad.” You offer your condolences.

When Sunghoon was 15 his dad died of a heart attack right before the Junior Championships and it broke him to the point he didn’t want to skate anymore, it wasn’t fun because his dad was always the one to cheer him on. His parents had their roles, his mum was strict and direct, getting him to train hard and achieve his best. And his dad was the reliever, encouraging him to have fun and let loose, be a kid. With one half of the balance scales gone, it was difficult for Sunghoon to maintain any adolescent normality. Perhaps that’s why he’s so fond to have you around.

In the silence you speak up, “You know your dad used to sneak me a packet of Haribos nearly every competition.” The boy's head whips to look at you and tilts, a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, and every time he would say ‘With everything so sour, we deserve something sweet’.” You smile at the thought.

“I-, he was kind like that.” He wants to say more, but he stops himself.

His dad was the nicest man in the whole world. When you found out the news that he passed away, you cried a little. Your mum being your mum she didn’t understand it, claimed you didn’t know him enough to mourn. Regardless of how well you knew him, people who were so kind and loving don’t deserve to be taken from this world so quickly.

You see the look on Sunghoon’s face lighten up a little, the shadow over his eyes washing away and when he looked at you, the sparkle came back, “So, you can’t hate this place or else I can pull the dead dad took me here card.”

“Fine. I love it.” The words feign mocking when in actuality they are full of understanding.

The waitress from earlier brings over the drinks in a frosted glass with a lime wedge on the rim, “There you go! Added extra ice for my Ice Prince.” 

My. She could have said ‘The’.

It stirred up something within your chest. Jealousy? Okay but why are you getting jealous over this? You don’t know because you aren’t exactly his and you have never been the threatened type, so you don’t know what’s going on with you. 

“Food will be right out!” She hops away and she is back in a flash with the Paninis. 

What you don’t expect is Sunghoon to take both of them and add some condiments, opening up the middle to pour a slight bit of salt and some mayonnaise. 

“Excuse me, I don't need your hands all over my food.” Crossing your arms you wait for him to stop but he doesn’t. Instead, he shows you his hands, stretching them over the table.

“Look how clean they are, Sweets.” They are clean and oh-so pretty. Suddenly you’re jealous of the food that receives his touch, wishing it was you. You need to get a grip, first the waitress, and now a piece of toasted bread are the objects of your envy.

It’s like your crush from when you were little came back tenfold, with every second you spend with him that little innocent pash is turning into full blown infatuation. Now with added hormones, it’s like you’re drawn to him more than ever. It’s scary how quickly you fell back into your feelings, whatever they were.

“Y/N?” He brings you back to reality with his low voice, retreating his hand, “Lost you for a minute there.”

Passing you the food you thank him, “Sorry, happens a lot. I tend to overthink literally everything.” It’s a confession you haven’t let pass your lips. Not ever. “I learned to control it as I got older but if I’m upset I can’t stop it 99% of the time, even if it’s something simple like putting salt on this food.”

Sunghoon sees you physically overthinking what you just said. It’s the exact same face you made when you were inches from kissing him. 

He understands the situation earlier a little better now.

“So what’s upsetting you now, Sweets?” He asks, “You said you didn’t feel good enough, what happened?” 

Shuddering, you remember your words. You’re embarrassed that you blurted out your feelings so readily, “It’s nothing.” Then you remember, “Why did you think it was my mum?”

“If your mum is anything like mine, and I guarantee she is, then I don’t ‘think’ it was your mum, I know it.” There’s an empathy shining in his eyes, “What did she do?” 

“I got some good news, and when I told her about it,” Sighing, you try to aggregate your feelings. Sunghoon’s hand makes contact with your forearm as he sees you struggle. The soothing motion of his thumb calms you instantly, “she just dismissed it. Like my achievement wasn’t up to par with Mini’s.”

“What was the good news?”

“Nothing major I guess. I’m the top student at my University for the year and I’m receiving an award.”

Sunghoon is furious. Your mum had downplayed your achievement and now you don’t think it’s a big deal and he wasn’t having it, “Y/N. You go to Yonsei, right?” Once you nod he continues, “Then that IS major, what are you talking about?” 

“It’s not exactly a Championship medal.” Your shoulders slump.

“And?” Squeezing your arm he tries to make you see past your mother and her shitty attitude, “Some people would think your achievement means more than one of his, does that make Minhee’s less than yours?” You mumble a quick ‘of course not’, not grasping what he’s saying, “Then why do you think that way about your award? Sweets, it’s fucking amazing you should be proud of yourself.”

You are, it’s your mum who isn’t and that’s what you can’t get over. 

Instead of answering back you avoid the conversation altogether and start eating the food in front of you. 

One bite has you falling in love with the taste, the pesto combination with the cheese and parma ham melts in your mouth and makes your tongue dance. You owe this shabby place an apology.

Triumph etches onto Sunghoon’s face as he sees the same fireworks behind your eyes that he had when he first tried the food. He knew you’d like it.

“Oh, my days.” You stare at him wide-eyed, one hand covering your mouth. Never will you doubt him again.

“Told you.” He smirks and eats some of his own, the familiar aroma and your face make his chest fill with glee and gratification, “I’ve just learned two things about you in this last minute.”

“And what’s that?” You question, taking another bite.

“You love the food here and will never question my taste again,” Your eyes are still on the food but you nod to agree, “And you’re an avoider.”

What is that supposed to mean? 

“An avoider?” 

Sunghoon leans back and picks up a tissue, cleaning the crumbs from his fingers, “You changed the topic pretty fast when you didn’t want to have a conversation you’re uncomfortable with. You can’t accept what I’m saying is right, your achievement is just as mighty as all of Minhee’s and it IS a big deal.” 

Arguing with him about it is pointless. Does it mean you won’t though? No.

“It’s not that I'm not accepting what you’re saying,” it is, he thinks to himself,  “I just don’t need to air my drama or feelings to someone I don’t know.” 

“Believe it or not, asking questions and having conversations like this is how you get to know people,” Sunghoon pushed the food to the side and leaned forward, “I just want to get to know you.” 

You challenge him by matching his posture and leaning on the table, “Whatever happened to, oh I don’t know, what’s your favourite colour?”

“White. See, easy right?” He’s smug. Sunghoon isn’t trying to pressure you to answer the question, he just thinks if you speak about the issue, it’ll alleviate the burden. A problem shared is a problem halved after all. “How about you ask me anything at all, and I’ll answer it because I know that’s how you get to know me.”

“Anything at all?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you kiss me earlier?”

Stunned. Shocked. Astounded. Whatever other synonym he could use, that’s exactly how he feels right now. For the first time in his life, he is speechless. How do you keep doing this to him? Never has anyone been so forthright with him.

Seeing his cheeks flush red and eyes dart around as if finding the answer in his brain you know you’ve won, “Not so eager to speak now, huh?” 

Exhaling, Sunghoon sits back, “You looked like you were going to pass out,” He begins his answer, “You got in your head about something and it made you second guess.”

“I was thinking about Minhee.”

Sunghoon’s face shrivels, “Sweets, I know we’re compared a lot but I didn’t think he’d be my competition with you too?” Sunghoon’s voice is playful but he is worried about the next words out your lips.

Stretching over the table you slap his chest, “Ew, no that’s disgusting! Don’t even think like that!” You’re appalled at even the inclination, “It’s just that, you’re Park Sunghoon, you said it yourself he’s your competition,” He goes to say something and you stop him, “in SKATING. You’re so disgusting.” Laughter fills your booth, food and drinks forgotten, “If I ever kissed you he would freak the fuck out.”

The boy across from you knows exactly what you’re talking about, more than know, “If Minhee wasn’t a factor, would you have kissed me back?”

“Yes.”

Responding before your brain has a chance to filter the words is also a downside to your overthinking mind. So many thoughts in one brain make it easier for slips like this to happen, but you aren’t too concerned about this one, he probably already knew you would have kissed him back there if you weren’t preoccupied with contemplation.

Just as you think you’ll get to speak about what transpired earlier, the waitress comes over to take your plates away, “All done?”

Sunghoon nods and goes to pull out his wallet to pay but as he pats himself down to find it, he remembers it’s in his coat - the coat you’re still wearing “Uh, Sweets?” He points to his coat trying to tell you it’s in there.

Smirking you search the inner pockets to find a Prada wallet. You could have some fun with this.

“That’s okay, Hoonie, I’ve got it.” You pull out a few £20 notes and hand them to the waitress, “It’s my treat tonight, didn’t I tell you that? Only the best for my hard-working man.” Making kissy faces at him, his face goes red and his lips go in a thin line. 

It wasn’t the fact you just paid £80 for a £12 meal with his money, although that will be addressed later on, it was the nickname and calling him your man that has him trying to control himself. The sweet albeit lightheartedly jeering way of your words made his heart tight in the best possible way. If there was a button board on Sunghoon’s chest, filled with all his emotions like annoyance, lust, happiness, solace, and aggravation, you had pushed every one of them tonight.  

Laughing you put the wallet back into his coat. He looks so cute when he goes red like that, it almost makes you want to treat him like an actual princess or stuff him in your pocket. Either way, you wanted to look after him in some form or other.

“Are you quite done now?” Sunghoon gains back his composure as he watches you chuckling away to yourself.

Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore when your phone goes off, flashing your brother's name on the screen. 

You have to go home and Sunghoon knows it too, “Y/N, I would keep you out all night if I could, but Minhee might send out a missing police report if I do.” 

Now that you’ve somewhat spoken the issue out loud, you think you’re being a bit over the top about it all but your body still has the overbearing weight placed on your shoulders. Facing your mum right now was the last thing you wanted but you know you can’t avoid her forever. 

“I’ll text him. He thinks I’m at Rina’s place telling her and Allen the news.” Quickly standing up you type a generic reply back, telling him you’ll be home soon.

Sunghoon keeps two steps behind you while you walk out of the cafe, his arm hovering by your side to guide you as you text and walk at the same time, he waves goodbye to the waitress and she wafts the cash in her face, fanning herself with his hard-earned money. All he can do is laugh and show his disbelief at her flaunting through his expression. 

“There. Sent.” You put the phone into Sunghoon’s coat pocket. You’re almost at his car when you hear him speak up.

“Hey, Sweets?”

“Hmm?”

Sunghoon grabs your left arm, twirls you around, and presses his lips against yours.

The action knocks the air from your lungs and your eyes widen. Park Sunghoon was kissing you. His palms cup each of your cheeks, his lips moving against yours as he backs you up until your back hits the side of his car. This is what you wanted back at the rink, to have the feeling of his mouth moulding to yours, except it was better than expected, it felt like heaven.

He can't seem to get enough of you as he fervently kisses your mouth, his tongue sliding along your lips, eliciting a soft moan from you that's music to his ears. It was a daring move to kiss you so suddenly, and in an ideal world, he would have asked for permission first. But he knows that might have sparked another bout of overthinking from you, and he couldn't risk losing this second chance to kiss you tonight.

Sliding his hands into your hair, he gently pulls your head back, granting him better access to your open mouth, deepening the kiss. Lost in the sensation of your lips, he doesn't even notice the subtle movement of your fingers dancing along his waist until they settle between his lower back and the top of his ass.

At this moment, nothing could stop you from kissing or touching him.

Except, perhaps, one person.

Your phone vibrates, indicating an incoming call, but you're too entranced by Sunghoon's lips and tongue to notice. Pressing his body against yours, he traps you between him and the car, the sensation of his hips against yours causing you to instinctively grind against him, using your hands to pull him closer.

However, in the intimate closeness, he can feel your phone vibrating against your body. As much as he wants to ignore it, he knows you can't. "Sweets, your phone," he murmurs between kisses, his hands dropping from your hair to reach into your pocket, even as your lips continue to chase after his. "It's Minhee; you better take it."

No way has he cock blocked you twice in one night.

Grumbling, you take the phone from Sunghoon and answer, “Hi Minhee…No, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was putting on my shoes…no no, you don’t need to pi-”

You pause mid-sentence when Sunghoon starts kissing your neck and squeezing your waist. What does he think he's doing? Glancing down, you catch his eyes sneakily looking up at you. Attempting to push him away only results in him biting down, his fangs teasing the verge of breaking skin. In any other situation, you might have found it hot, but with Minhee yapping in your ear, you don't have time to appreciate it.

“Look, I’m on my way home…I’ll walk, it's not that far…seriously, Minhee- Oh,” you moan involuntarily when Sunghoon kisses your sweet spot, and once he's found it, he doesn’t stop licking and nibbling, “Hoonie, stop it!” You remove the phone from your ear and whisper-shout at him.

“I love it when you call me that,” he smirks, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Hearing Minhee’s voice come through the phone again, you lift it back up to your ear, “What? Oh, I stubbed my toe, look I’ll be home soon alright…Yes, Allen is here…you know he and Rina are together. I’m going to go, see you soon.” Hanging up, you sigh in exasperation.

Giving Sunghoon a few light whacks, you demand, “Why did you do that?” You're almost certain Minhee heard him, or at least now he might think you're hooking up with Allen.

Bringing his face back up to yours, Sunghoon just shrugs and kisses you again with as much fervour as before. His lips are addicting, and you don’t want to stop, but Rina lives 20 minutes from your house if you walk, and this cafe is at least a 30-minute drive. “Sunghoon, I need to go back,” you say between his insistent kisses.

“How long do I have?” He needs to know how long he can indulge in this before having to let you go.

“Not even a second. I’ll already be late even if we leave now.” When his forehead falls on yours you see the pain on his face, like you’re depriving him of a basic human need.

"Don't say that, tell your friend to phone and say you're staying with her tonight." Sunghoon can't stop his lips from capturing yours again. It's as if he's had a taste of you and doesn't want to give it up, especially now. His hand teases the waist of your trousers, tempting to dip in and touch you where you desperately need him.

Personally, you would love nothing more than to call Rina up and get her to lie, she would do it in a heartbeat but Minhee would never believe it, “I can’t. I never stay over when he has practice in the morning. Mum never wants to make a stop off to pick me up.”

“You’re killing me here.” He states breathlessly, his fingertips dancing down to your pussy as he ghosts your neck with his breath. He’s waiting on you to give him the green light but you are far too concerned about getting home.

He suddenly hates your mum a little more than before. If it wasn’t her dismissing your accomplishments, it was her inability to put you on her priority list, “Can’t you just skip his practice? He’ll have more, trust me he needs it.”

“Don’t ruin this.” You warn him from speaking any more about your brother. It does bring you back to reality just who you were kissing, but you can’t focus on that right now, your only concern is getting home.

Sunghoon apologises by kissing you again, this time more gently, like it came naturally to him, “I need to go home. No excuses.”

It isn't what he wants to hear, but he has to accept it. Stepping away from you, his gaze remains fixed on your lips, which are lush and swollen; he can only picture what they would look like if he had more time to toss you in the back seat. His mind immediately returns to you with the lever, and to be honest, he could throw a tantrum right now over the situation at hand. It was unjust that he couldn't just have you, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance again.

Moving to his side of the car he slides in and you follow suit. He uses the excuse of buckling your seatbelt for you to give you another kiss and it has you internally giggling and kicking your feet.

You do the same to him, grabbing the seatbelt from him and clipping him in, leaning over to press your lips against his soft ones. 

“All I need is 5 minutes,” He whispers against your lips and you laugh, swatting his chest. 

You can’t say you don’t ponder it, and when you see his hard on poking so slightly against his trousers, you look at the time and really wonder if you could, but you can’t risk Minhee even getting a whiff of this, “Next time.” 

Sunghoon's eyes change from desire to hope in real time, "There'll be a next time?" His cool and confident demeanour fades and is replaced with puppy-like grin as he realises you want more than what you had tonight.

“If you get me home in the next 25 minutes there can be.” You pose and with that, Sunghoon drives out of the car park and down the highway going 10 above the limit.

Reaching closer to your house you put a hand on his thigh as you speak, “Better to drop me off here, so Mini doesn’t see you.” You also have to fake that you walked home from Rina’s so if a big fancy car starts pulling up outside your house, he’s going to know something is up.

Sunghoon takes your hand on his thigh and brings it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with the road as he stops at the curb of your neighbour's house 2 doors down. His grip tightens on your hand as he looks at the time, “Got you here in 27 minutes, Sweets.” Proud of himself he adorns a smile that splits his face in half.

Tutting you pout at him, “I guess there can’t be a next time, so sorry Hoonie.” His stunned face was worth holding in your laugh to act like you’re serious, “If only you had gotten here 2 minutes quicker.”

“Come on,” He exasperated, “There were like 10 red lights in a row.” His thumb points back to where you just drove from.

It’s true, it was bad luck, but you liked playing with him like this. 

“Sorry, see you at the rink yeah?” You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to get out your side of the car, but Sunghoon isn’t letting it end here.

He stretches over to shut the door back over making you gasp, startled by the sudden move, “You don’t want to be a thief do you?” You think he’s going to hit out with something cheesy like how you stole his heart of something, but when his hand grips the coat you’re wearing you understand what he means, “Bad enough you gave my money away but now you’re trying to steal a £500 coat?” 

Perplexed by both the price and the unexpected accusation, your mouth hangs open. No wonder the coat is so cosy and warm—it costs most of your month's paycheck. Exiting the car, you impishly mutter a 'fine' as you remove the jacket, placing it on the passenger seat before walking away, feeling considerably colder than before.

Just as you reach the vicinity of your house, Sunghoon calls out, "Sweets?" You spin around to see him jogging up behind you, holding your phone. Ah, you put it in his coat pocket after Minhee's call. Taking it from his grip, you thank him, only to be surprised again when he says, "You also forgot this." What else did you even have on your person to forget?

Sunghoon's mouth quickly meets yours for the nth time tonight. A kiss. You forgot to kiss him.

Sighing, you realize you have to put an end to it. Lingering out in the open so close to your home practically guarantees Minhee will see. "Hoonie."

"Shh," he hushes you, continuing the kiss, "I know, but let me have it since there won't be a next time." A fake sad look takes over his face, his hands running up and down your sides.

"Ugh fine, since you gave me my phone I suppose I could spare you some time."  Crossing your arms, you act irritated, while his 'sadness' transforms into a self-satisfied smile. That was the dynamic between you both, always giving what you got, and you wanted to explore it more, no matter how difficult it was.

“See you at the rink then, Sweets.” Messing up your hair he skips back to his car like a kid on Christmas. He was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Spending these past few hours with Sunghoon was like nothing you had ever experienced before. He knew how to wash all of your worries and woes away better than some people you’ve known for years. And when he kissed you it sent shooting stars through your body. If only 8-year-old you could see what had just happened, she would burst with excitement.

With a smile on your face, you rapidly run into your house and up the stairs, trying to be quiet but also too lost in the dizziness from Sunghoon’s kisses. As you reach the top of the stairs, Minhee opens his door and gives you a quizzical look. Oh no, he didn’t see, did he?

“Why do you look like you won the lottery?” Phew, he hadn’t.

“Just, excited about getting the award, that’s all.” It wasn’t totally a lie, he would see right through you if you started to babble out any other excuse so you had to stick to something believable. You are happy about the award, there isn’t a doubt about it, but Sunghoon reassuring you throughout the night made you stop and acknowledge how happy you really were to receive it. Your mum was the one that ruined it for you.

Minhee follows you when you walk into your room, “Y/N? You know I would be there if I could right?” Facing him, you see how sorry he looks about the situation, “I tried to phone the company to move the filming but they can’t.” Of course, he would try to move it for you, that was the kind of brother he was. 

A surge of guilt overcomes your body. Here he was trying to move his schedule around, a big important schedule might you add, and you were out there kissing the one boy you shouldn’t be. If Sunghoon wasn’t such a threat to Minhee, you think they could go back to being somewhat friends, but that’s never going to happen.

“It’s okay, Mini. I know you can’t just cancel it.” Your voice is reassuring but his features still hold hurt.

“It’s not okay, Y/N. You’re the most important thing to me in this world, I want to be there for your big moments like you’ve been there for mine.” You could cry. Minhee wasn’t the type to show his emotions so being on the receiving end of such words makes you tear up a little, “Hey, Bubs, don’t cry.”

He hasn’t called you Bubs in so long, the childhood nickname growing out as you both got older. There was a bond between you and your brother, other siblings used to say how envious they were.

“I don’t want to speak ill of our mum but she was a bitch tonight. I should have said something.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your tears and look down before speaking, “Mini, it wouldn’t have helped.” Your voice cracks and your throat closes a little, “She’s always like that anyway.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He says disapprovingly. 

Minhee pulls you into a tight hug and you instantly relax. Your brain starts to overthink everything again. The lack of proudness from your mother, the kisses from Sunghoon, and the brotherly affection you’re currently receiving. Could you have it all? Getting to know Sunghoon tonight, you don’t think you can leave it where you did. There was something there between you both, you fit together like skates to ice.

“I am so proud of you, Bubs.” Minhee strokes the back of your head, “and I might not be able to go to your ceremony, but when I beat that prick and come first at Nationals? I’m dedicating that to you. I promise you that.”

That prick…Park Sunghoon.

You couldn’t have it all.

taglist: @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @ariadores @chwesuh-imnida

#enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #aj writes #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha fluff #sunghoon x reader

[avaf00rdxx]

Australian kinda Christmas

Leah Williamson x Arnold!Reader

ava what is that shitty header photo job…

tumblr fucked up its quality

anyways I’ve been thinking about writing this one for ages now

enjoy <3

——————————

“c’mon love” you groaned at your 10th attempt to get your girlfriend up from your Power Nap. You pair were already late as it is “don’t you wanna shower before you can’t for a whole 24 hours?” You asked, her head still buried in the pillows. She stayed like that, contemplating for another second before getting up and heading to the bathroom “don’t be long” you said before tapping her ass just as she opened the bathroom door.

You got a text from your sister Mackenzie telling you that she was already at her lay over flight and would be boarding again in an hour. This year you pair didn’t get the same flight over for the Christmas break. But it was the first year you would both be bringing your girlfriends with you.

You and leah had been together 4 years now. The second year you spent Christmas with Leah’s family, last year you and mac both went with your parents overseas for Christmas. And this year you would both be bring Leah and Kirsty.

Some how an hour and a half later you were just passing security only just and were going to get some small snacks for the plane. Leah, with the food palate of a 6 year old. Got some watermelon gummies “they help with feeling sick on the plane” she tried to convince you as you glanced over the packet she said was holding.

“4 years and not once have you been sick on a flight” you said

“The headaches” she shrugged and smiled at you. Of course you were gonna grab them off her and buy them for her. You grabbed some random chip snack you found at the front counter and shorty paid before handing the bag to Leah to put in her carry on. You were both absolutely beyond excited. This would be her 5th time in Australia, so she’s been heaps. But you would be staying at your family’s new place on the Gold Coast, QLD. You both sat in the lounge near your gate as you took a photo of Leah as she threw a Lolly into her mouth while smiling. Quickly adding it to your instagram captioning ‘see you soon 🇦🇺’

———

After 26 hours of travel. And your sleepy girlfriend who was currently clinging to your bicep as she slept. It was asked to put on your seatbelts as you went for landing. You slowly woke Leah up slightly so she would be ready for it.

You held hands as Leah started giggling about her funny dream. You looked out the window and squeezed your girlfriend’s hand extra tight as you saw the coastline of Australia.You squealed like a little girl due to your excitement as Leah pressed a kiss to your lips. “Welcome home love” she said before laying back in her seat. You took photos and sent them to your dad and brother to let them know you would be at GC airport in about 45 minutes so they could you pick you both up. You also texted your mum just out of excitement before putting your phone away.

Once you and Leah had gotten off the plane, you walked your tired asses over to the baggage collection. Before you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned to find your smiling dad and brother. You quickly clung on to them both in a huge hug “oh how i missed you oh my gosh” you said into your brothers neck with a sigh of relief. You also felt small hands tug your sweat shorts, you didn’t realise one of your nieces would be here too.

“Hello beautiful girl!” You squealed pulling away from your brother as you picked up your niece and spun the giggling girl around.

“I missed you so much!” She said before quickly clinging to your neck.

“I missed you so much more” you smiled back. You hadn’t seen the small girl since the World Cup back in August.

You held her on your hip as you turned around to see your girlfriend finally hugging your dad and brother Sam with a big smile. After struggling to get both of your large suitcases off the conveyor belt while you had your mini family reunion.

“Aunty Lee!” You niece squirmed in your arms as you put her down so she could run to Leah.

“Hello you!” Your girlfriend smiled and she knelt down to give her a big hug. It melted your heart the way she was with your nieces.

Leah handed you your suitcase as you pecked her cheek before you rolled it out the airport with your smiling niece riding on top.

“Hello” you yelled out once your dad unlocked the front door to your parents home. You were met with your mum, 2 nieces, Mackenzie and Kirsty all rushing around the corner at the sound of the front door.

You and Leah gave all of them bone crushing hugs and chatted for a little while, had some of the left overs that was left from their dinner since you told them not to wait. It was already 10pm. It was convenient for your girlfriend and you so you could just get yourselves straight to bed.

——————————-

After multiple days of walks down on the beach, family dinners, more surfing lessons for Leah, lots of jet lag, swimming pools and relaxation for you and your girlfriend. It was officially Christmas Eve night and you couldn’t have been more excited if you had tried.

You, leah, Macca and Kirsty were all on the living room floor carpet wrapping presents. Everyone else was in bed. But the four girls in their twenties were not as prepared as everyone else and still had to do all their wrapping.

The holiday played on the TV in front as you had about 40 gifts to wrap for people. For everyone in your family besides the people in the room with you currently. “Stupid wrapping paper argh!” You groaned knocking your head back in frustration as the huge cut of wrapping paper you cut wasn’t large enough by a few centimetres.

“See you didn’t even need to get that gift in the first place” Leah laughed. As you were wrapping your 20th gift for your parents, you comepletely spoil them every year.

You dragged Leah around the large shopping centre to get more gifts for people. “Baby you bought your mum the same scent candle last year i remember you showed me” she grinned as you looked at the box before putting it in your trolley. “Yeah but it probs ran out. That’s the thing with candles lee” you debated back as she shook her head with laughter.

“Sorry I’m just so nice to the People i love” you said to her.

“And you absolutely are, beautiful. But I don’t think we will be able to get return flights anymore once we leave here” Leah said.

“I make alright money Leah Williamson. Plus if you think this is a lot wait till you open your presents.” You smiled at her

“There’s only just a few things I want” she grinned at you as you both walked to the car

“What would those be baby” you smirked back.

“You…and that pop corn machine thing I showed you”

“You showed me that just yersterday! How am I supposed to get that” You panicked. When it came to gifts you were amazing at giving them. Everyone knew that and got excited to receive one from you. If they weren’t perfect for them you would always worry.

“I’m only joking…” she laughed as she kissed your head “at the second one”.

Once you were finished you cuddled up next to Leah on the floor against the couch to watch the end of the movie. Before heading upstairs to your room “night love you” you yelled out softly to mac and Kirsty “goodnight!” They replied before shutting their door. Leah changed out of her normal clothes that she strangely got into after her shower earlier in the night.

“Please match baby” you pouted, sitting on the edge of the bed holding up the Christmas Pajamas that matched yours.

Leah laughed as she saw them, “when did you get those” she said before cupping your face and kissing the tip of your nose.

“Back in London. I forgot I had packed them. Anyways here” you shoved them into her chest with the wide smile of a toddler.

“Of course I will” Leah skipped away to her dresser to change quickly. You giggled getting under the sheets before Leah jumped on top of you just as you were leaning over to plug your phone in. You laughed as she wrapped her long arms around you and placed kisses all over you shoulder.

“I’m so excited to for tomorrow” you smiled looking down on her.

“Me too” the English girl replied as she rolled over so you could cuddle into her side. That’s how you slept every night. It was just the best way that your bodies melted into each other. “Love you baby” she whispered.

“Night beautiful” you smiled before drifting off to sleep.

——-

Christmas morning started with slow cuddles in bed with Leah before very hyper toddlers came running down the bedroom door. They had forced you to come downstairs because they weren’t allowed to “open presents until everyone is awake”.

Leah gave multiple gifts to everyone in your family. Even though she hadn’t met some of them heaps. You gifted Leah a new designer tote bag, some belt she wanted, 2 new Apple Watch bands, YSL perfume, and Tiffany earrings along with other small gifts. She spoiled you loads as well. You two spent a long phone call with her mum before lunch started.

The afternoon was still hot. As the rain cleared, you dragged Leah, your sister and everyone down to the beach.

You were putting on sunscreen in the long mirror in your room. Leah had just done up her bikini before coming up behind you “let me help” she grinned as you were reaching for your back for the sunscreen. You gladly let her as she took the bottle from you. She rubbed gentle circles into your back with the cream, you groaned when her hands made their way up to you shoulders.

“That’s nice” you breathed out as she massaged your back. She sent a grin to the mirror.

“Let’s go” she said before tapping your butt and heading out the door, sunnies on her head. You laughed to yourself as you followed her out. You carried two of your nieces the whole Walk down while talking with Leah and Kirsty. Talking about Kristy mewis’s new transfer to their club.

“I don’t want to jinx anything. But I had a dream last night I did my ACL” you blurted.

“What-“ Kirsty laughed as you said so

“That’s not funny” Leah said

“And then…I died from it. Is that possible?”

“No it’s not. And you’re not going to do your ACL alright?” Leah reassured

“Shit who’s done their ACL?” Mackenzie said catching up to all of you with your third niece on her shoulders.

“Maybe me”

“What!-“

“No!” Leah said putting her towel down in a mess on the beach. You jumped on macca’s back as she ran down to the water. Leah and Kirsty slowly following down after.

“Come here!” You yelled, arms wide open for your niece to jump into them as you took her to the deep end. Leah laughed taking a photo of you and the small girl. “Get in Lee!” You yelled out to her

“Yep soon hang on” she said typing something on her phone. You rose out of the water, putting the child in your arms down near Mackenzie as you ran up to your girlfriend. “No no no” she said backing away.

You somehow, caught up to her and threw her over her shoulder

“No no I have my phone y/n!” She yelled. You muzzled it out of her hand and slowly put in down on the sand next to you.

“Down we go” you sung. As you carried the laughing girl into the water. Before completely dumping her in fully.

“Your done” she huffed as she pushed the wet hair out of her face. You swam and hid behind your taller sister as she just grabbed you by the shoulders and placed you in front of her, right in target for Leah.

“Thanks” your girlfriend said before pushing your shoulders under. The water was actually cold for the humid weather outside.

————

It was late at Christmas night. Technically very early Boxing Day. And even though at 1am, there was light Christmas tunes playing on the radio tv.

Everyone including Leah was asleep in the house. You came down for a midnight snack. You had been for the past few nights here.

“Shockers” a soft voice was heard a long with footsteps. The presence of your older sister brought a smile to your lips. You stuffed the last bit of pavlova in your mouth. “Anymore of that?” She pointed to the dessert.

You just giggled implying you at the last bit. “Again shockers”

“Oi”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a year”

“You never got back to me about meeting back in London. And you missed last camp” you implied

“I know sorry. Promise to try more”

“Stop you do try. You were just injured” you said softly as you poured both of you a water. “Are you planning on going with Kirsty to her family next year?” You asked curious.

“Yeah most likely I haven’t been there for Christmas before. What about you?”

“Yeah I’ll probs stay in London with Leah. I told you Caitlin brought Katie and Jordan here?”

“Yes. I’m shocked about Jordan. Not Katie. Oh I love her” she said sipping her water then refilling it

“They’re just really close as a three. Caitlin said today Sam is heading back to America in 2 days to go back with Kristie”

“Damn maybe she’ll finally feel jet lag for once. And did Caitlin call you?”

“Yeah. Just to say merry Christmas and all that”

“She didn’t call me” Mackenzie said joking in a sour way. You poked your tongue out at her as she yawned.

“Ok I’ll go back to bed. I’ve been up since 5”

“5?!”

“Yeah. The girls woke us up first. Proof I’m the favourite?”

“Maybe I’m the favourite and they just respect my beauty sleep more”

“Keep dreaming. Night. Get to sleep so your not cranky” you sister said, back to her bossy self. You heard more footsteps coming back down 1 minute later.

“Love come back to bed” said your love in a croaky voice. You turned to find Leah in her short Pyjama set and her hair everywhere.

“Hello. Looks like you slept well” you said pointing to the sheet marks left from her pillow on her check las you quickly pecked her all over her face.

“Yes I did. And I would like to get back to it. With you” she tugged you slightly back up the stairs.

“I think I’m still a bit jet lagged” you said as your body stayed leaning against the bench. Eating the strawberry punnet you grabbed out of the fridge earlier before.

“Ya think” she giggled now pulling out a kitchen stool to sit with you. The faint sound of The Christmas song by Nat King Cole was played over the radio.

“C’mon dance with me, then bed I promise” you put both your hands out the help her get up and slow dance with you.

“Only cause I get to sleep” she smiled taking your hands. You slowly started dancing with her as she put her head in the crook of her neck. The dance slowed into a long hug with each other’s embrace in the middle of the kitchen.

“I love you” you mumbled slowly into her hair

“Love you most. And again thanks for bringing me” she pecked your shoulder

“Wouldn’t miss the opportunity for the world”

——————

So this was supposed to come out ages ago. And it’s shorter than I hoped. But hope it was alright. Luv u all❤️🎄

#woso #arsenal women #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #auswnt #mackenzie arnold #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson one shot #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #christmas #matildas #l

[cockslutpadalecki]

Come Around Sundown

Summary: What happens at Christmas is never just a one time thing, and when summer break rolls around, you find yourself repeating past mistakes. Or is it a mistake?

Characters: Tattooed!DBF!Steve x F!Reader.

Words: 2.3K.

Warnings: age gap relationship, use of pet name (little mouse), explicit sexual content, mention of previous sexual encounter (oral sex— fem receiving), reader is in her 20s, Steve being covered in tattoos, female masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), cream pie, 18+. MINORS DNI.

A/N: Inspired solely of the manip of Chris used above in the header which I promptly lost my shit at. It’s all thanks to @sweeterthanthis​ 💖 And thanks to @randomagnes0210​ for creating the best manip ever. Beta: @princessmisery666​ but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. Please support our content creators by sharing our work.

“Hey Little Mouse,” a familiar voice teases from beside you, “almost didn’t see you sneakin’ around there.”

You flash a small smile at your dad’s best friend, Steve, hating how forced it feels pinching at your lips, hoping he can’t see the strain of it in your cheeks. Your gut twists, warming at the sound of the deep gravelled baritone. You’ve loved the nickname ever since he coined it for you, but right up until six months ago, it’s since evolved into a point of reluctant appetency when it comes hand in hand with the man who gave it meaning. 

A sweet, playful name that used to symbolise your meek and quiet nature. Now it represents something far more licentious, and you can tell by the way the epithet leaves his lips that he’s aroused by the association. 

The attractive woman standing alongside him gives you a clipped grin, not really knowing how to react to the exchange between you. Her presence sets you on edge, and you almost feel like he’s brought her here just to fuck with you. 

Well, it’s working. 

Trying to create some distance, you wander over to the kitchen island. Your gaze travels over the bottles of your parents’ alcohol collection, and knowing which to avoid after replacing most of them with water a long time ago, you smile to yourself.

The first time you tried the vodka with your best friend Trini, you were both violently sick the morning after. And the headache lasted for what felt like days. 

“Something funny, Little Mouse?” Steve asks curiously.

Finally glancing up, your eyes catch purest sapphire. The smirk on his lips makes warmth pool in the cradle of your pelvis. Deep-seated heat that could— can— easily bring you to your knees. You try to keep his stare, but your eyes are drawn to the open v of his shirt, showing off his tattooed covered chest.

“Why’d you call her little mouse?” The brunette tersely pipes up between you. Like she’s pissed off you have a nickname and she doesn’t. 

Steve finally looks towards his date. “This is George’s kid,” he explains like he’s talking to a five year old. She nods as if she knows who George is, but you can tell she doesn’t from the befuddled expression on her beyond pretty face. “She used to be such a shy little thing.” He glances back at you, lips threatening a fresh yet menacing smile.

Used to. 

She seems to accept the explanation without the need for more depth. You’re grateful. You don’t want her knowing the reason you’re no longer shy, or how Steve is privy to such private information. 

“Wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” he continues softly, ignoring his date. “Your folks sure missed you over spring break. I know I did.” The way he stares you down both unnerves and arouses you.

“I had too much studying to do,” comes your clipped reply.

He narrows his eyes at that, completely unconvinced by the lie, but you remain stoic. He doesn’t have to know that you spent spring break with your roommate and her friends, or that the real reason you didn’t want to be here was because you knew he would be.

It’s hard to avoid Steve at the best of times, however since the incident at Christmas, he seems to be around more than usual. 

His existence is a constant reminder of what it felt like to have his face buried between your thighs— his beard both scratchy and comforting as his tongue lapped at you, humming against your clit.

The warmth in your gut starts to stir as he moves around the island, coming to face you over the sea of bottles. You try to keep his gaze, but you’re distracted by the sight of his thick fingers gliding over the polished marble. And it conjures up the memory of all the time he spent tracing delicate patterns across your skin, like he was painting a plethora of invisible tattoos to match the everlasting artwork adorning his. 

“Uh, this tastes disgusting,” Steve’s date suddenly spits, effectively ending your daydream. You look towards her a little confused until you spot the open bottle of vodka in front of her and have to stifle a giggle. 

”I’m so sorry, let me get rid of that,” you mumble. “Must have gone off.” You take the bottle away from her with an overly faux grin, thankful to be given an excuse to get away from Steve.

-

You manage to avoid Steve for the majority of the afternoon and late into evening just as the crickets start to sing. You’re grateful for your parents seemingly inviting half the neighborhood, making it easy to blend in and hide when you need to, but after a while you get curious, wondering if he’s still around.

You search the house, your hopes slowly dwindling as you go from room to room without any sign of him. Your heart sinks at the possibility that he left hours ago with his date, no doubt showing her just how talented he is with his tongue. Envy nips at your heels, threatening to discolor your thoughts when you finally spot him in the garden, laying on one of the sun loungers. 

He stares mindlessly up into the darkening sky that swallows up the fringes of pinks and reds painting the western horizon. Every few minutes or so, he brings a bottle of beer to his mouth and you find yourself daydreaming about how it would taste to lick the alcohol right off his lips. 

“Hey honey, you alright out here? It’s gettin’ a little cold,” your dad’s sudden voice says from behind you. You turn, giving him a small smile as he rubs his hands up and down your bare arms, no doubt feeling the flourish of goose flesh prickling up over your skin. “Want me to fetch you a jacket?” 

“I’m fine,” you return softly. 

“Okay,” he leans in, giving your hair a kiss, “we’ll be inside.” Dad squeezes your arm gently before letting go and disappears back into the house. This should be your sign to follow him, but your feet are firmly planted to the floor. 

Before you know it, your feet are moving— but not in the direction of the house. Maybe it’s the few vodka sodas that’s giving you the liquid courage to approach him, or perhaps, deep down, you want his attention. 

Eventually you reach him, pausing briefly as Steve looks up at you. As he silently returns his gaze to the ground, you step around the sun lounger beside him and smooth out the skirt of your dress before taking a seat. 

“Where’d your friend go?” you ask softly. 

Steve sighs a little. “She left.” He doesn’t sound particularly upset by the notion. 

“Oh.” 

“Don’t think she liked you very much,” Steve chuckles, taking another swig of beer as he stares up at the dusky sky. 

Your brow furrows. “Why?” 

“Kept making snide comments about you whenever she could,” he shrugs. “I told her to go if she was gonna spend the night insulting you.”

Your heart constricts in your chest at that and sudden guilt pulls at you. You’ve been cold towards him all evening, and he’s been nothing but courteous, even going as far as defending you against his best chance to get laid tonight. 

“Thank you,” you squeak. Just like a mouse. 

He turns his head to face you— a gentle tender look that sets your skin ablaze, and smiles softly. “No need.”

Returning it, you remain with your eyes locked until you feel a familiar warmth creeping up your back. You shift against the sun lounger uncomfortably before hurrying to stand. Brushing out the creases in your skirt, you’re desperate to give your hands something to do, besides grab hold of Steve and kiss him again. 

You turn to leave, but the rapid way in which Steve moves to a sitting position, combined with the feel of his fingers around your wrist stops you in your tracks. Your stomach twists when your eyes catch his once more. 

“Stay,” he asks of you. You’re distracted temporarily as he places down the empty beer bottle between his spread legs.

“I shouldn’t,” you reply when he glances back up.

“Why not?”

“Don’t you remember what happened the last time we ended up alone together?”

Without warning, he tugs on your wrist, and pulls you onto his lap, whispering with a deep husk, “Of course I do.”

You swallow deeply before quickly turning around to make sure nobody can see you in such a compromising position. You’re so far away from the house that the spotlights don’t reach this distance, the blanket of night slowly swallowing you as the sun sets. 

“Look at me.” 

You obey without a word.

“I think about it every fuckin’ day,” he admits quietly, letting go of your wrist and drapes his heavily tattooed hand across your bare thigh. His other hand slides around to the nape of your neck, pulling you in closer. “I never wanna wash the taste of you off my tongue.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and unconsciously, you roll your hips, grinding down hard into his crotch. Steve hisses through gritted teeth as you do so, his grip tightening around your neck and thigh. 

“Shouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” you tease, bearing down even harder as heat blooms beneath your cheeks with delight. You feel Steve react, pushing back against you as the bulge of his cock brushes your clothed sex.

“Because I’m this close to pullin’ your panties to the side and makin’ you ride me for real.” His lips brush yours and you let out a squeak. “There’s my little mouse,” he adds with a chuckle, finally pressing a kiss to your mouth. He tastes of whiskey and bad decisions, but you’re addicted.

You curse under your breath when he pulls away, his hand climbing higher up your thigh until it disappears beneath your dress entirely. His fingers tease the edge of your underwear, hooking them under the material to caress your skin as his thumb glides over the top of the fabric, spreading your folds apart. When he reaches your clit, you moan into his open mouth, quietly begging him to “do it.”

Steve tugs your panties to one side and sinks his fingers into your velvety heat— one at first, then two. With whispered praise and encouragement, he manages to stretch you out to three— gaping and dripping all over his fancy dress pants. You’re on the cusp of coming when he snatches his fingers away and wraps his arms around you, pulling you with him as he lays back on the chair, knees propped up behind you.  

There’s a quick scramble as he fingers open his zipper, and you feel his thick veiny cock spring up between your thighs. And even though dusk has fallen, and he’s nothing more than a hazy shadow beneath you, you’ve never been able to see him more clearly. 

You work in sync, your bodies in tune as he coaxes you, with a hand under your ass, to lift yourself up. He drags the tip of his cock through your puffy folds— up and down, up and down— until you’re pushing against his hand, desperate to feel him inside you. He laughs gently through the darkness— a low echoing chuckle which slowly morphs into a groan as he finally allows you to get what you want. He slips into you with ease, your greedy wetness swallowing him inch by eager inch until he’s buried up to the root. 

You sit motionless for a moment, enjoying the feel of him swelling and twitching inside you, but impatience takes over quickly and you begin to rock back and forth. Steve plants his hands on your hips, helping to guide you back down onto his cock when you rise up. You place yours on his chest, and hard steel melts beneath your touch. Slowly you ride him, wanting to feel every ridge and imperfection in his cock perfectly fill you to your limit. 

You can tell he likes it. The muffled moans and under the breath expletives keep you in the moment, feeling pride swell thick in your chest. One of his hands moves from your hips to your neck, he pulls you roughly in to meet his lips with yours while he continues to groan against your tongue. 

“Fuck, you have no clue what you do to me,” Steve mutters between kisses as you lift your hips, letting his cock slip out to your entrance.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You sink back down on him and the word, “fuck,” is sudden and hot on your cheek.

Steve soon takes over— fucking you long and slow, hard and fast— until your gut is tightening to the point where you’re not sure you can hold it anymore. Every thrust of his hips sends you careening further and further towards euphoria, and then you’re shattering into a thousand rapturous pieces. 

-

Your thighs still damp, you slink back inside the house. Steve is close behind, his hand hovering over the small of your back. You want his touch back on your skin— crave it like a high, but you know that you’ll only be able to take a hit in secret. As you enter the lounge, he hangs back, waiting a beat before following you in. 

“Oh, there you are,” Dad laughs when he spots you. “We were about to send for a search party.”

Steve perches on the arm of the couch before leaning forward to scoop some dip onto his index finger. The same finger that had been inside you. 

“Sorry, we lost track of time,” he replies, sucking the dip from his finger just as your eyes meet. “Me and Little Mouse were too busy catchin’ up.”

***

ALL CE: @buckymydarlingangel​ @broadwaybabe18​ @captain-asguard​ @chamberofsloths​ @cevansgurl​ @dreamlessinparis​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @hurricanerin​ @jvstjewels @kellhems​ @la-cey @ladybug05​ @livstilinski​ @ladydmalfoy @mugi-chwan95​ @navybrat817​ @otomefromtheheart​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @patzammit​ @rebel-stardust​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @sammykb1994​ @syrenavenger​ @straywords​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @sunwardsss​ @selfsun​ @threeminutesoflife​ @vicmc624​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @xoxonotme​

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#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

[kpopfanfictrash]

Love to Hate (Extra Scene III: Jungkook’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Author’s Note: This scene takes place during Chapter 7 of Love to Hate and is told from Jungkook’s point of view. PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE STORY BEFORE READING THIS SCENE (otherwise there will be spoilers lol).

Rating: 18+ 

Warnings: semi-public sex, breast play, fingering, dirty talk (hypothetical cum play, possessiveness), spanking, multiple orgasms, somewhat rough sex

Word Count:  8,704

“If this trend were to continue, I’m not certain how we could keep up with production. This would obviously pose a problem for our shareholders, so let’s brainstorm solutions before the next quarterly call. Does that work for you, Mr. Jeon?”

A long, pregnant pause.

“Mr. Jeon?”

Beneath the table, Namjoon gives a not-so-subtle kick to Jungkook’s kneecap. Jerking upright, Jungkook glances around to cover his recent lapse. Based on Namjoon’s glare, his attempt must not pass muster.

“I – yes.” Jungkook nods, hoping he hasn’t agreed to something terrible. “That works for me. Thank you.”

The woman pauses, clearly unused to being thanked by the CEO. “Of course, Mr. Jeon,” she says, recovering quickly to take her seat.

Fingers tapping the acrylic table, Jungkook glances as covertly as he can at the clock. A wave of panic washes over him when he realizes the meeting has nearly ended since Jungkook doesn’t remember a single discussion. Unusual, for a man who insists on booking his own travel because he doesn’t trust anyone else to find the best deal.

It’s not like Jungkook to be distracted, or to not pay attention to detail. A swift glance at his notebook proves equally damning. Usually, Jungkook takes careful notes but today, the only thing written is the date at the header.

Subtly, Jungkook straightens. Forcing himself to concentrate, he listens to the rest of the updates. Someone from Info Security briefs Jungkook on a new phishing attack. A woman from Finance updates them on the search for a new travel vendor. Jungkook listens closely, responding when needed but can feel Namjoon’s gaze on his cheek the rest of the meeting.

Knowing his COO, Namjoon has some thoughts about Jungkook drifting off. It’s for this reason that Jungkook hangs back once the meeting has finished. Namjoon also stays, waiting until the last person files out before swiveling sideways, exhaling in a way which implies years of exhaustion.

“Tissue?” Jungkook offers blithely.

Namjoon fixes him with a look. “No, thanks. What’s going on?”

“I’m… not sure what you mean.”

Brows lifted, Namjoon pushes himself to stand. “Yes, you do.” Lifting his laptop, he walks around the table. “For weeks now, you’ve been distracted. Years of planning and here we are, in the home stretch but somehow, it feels like I’m alone. Tell me what’s going on – and don’t,” Namjoon adds, a note of warning to his voice, “say this is all in my head.”

Jungkook closes his mouth, about to say just that. 

Sinking into his seat, Jungkook searches for a response because Namjoon is right. Something has been going on and Jungkook has been distracted. Ever since the dinner at Aleve, Jungkook hasn’t been himself. Realizing his fingers have resumed tapping the table, Jungkook forces himself to stop.

Two weeks have passed since he last spoke to you at Aleve. Two weeks of pretending neither of you cares about the other. Unless you really don’t care, and Jungkook is the only one who’s pretending.

Thoughts souring, Jungkook considers the possibility. Fighting the tide of memory is useless – as soon he thinks of your name, Jungkook disappears. He remembers the last time he saw you, entering Aleve with his father and Namjoon. Hearing your laughter from across the room, craning his neck only to find you with Liam Jessen. Jungkook’s worst enemy, smiling at you like you were the only person in the room.

Jungkook tried to recover after that, tried not to think about it – a plan swiftly dashed when he ran into you outside the bathroom. Cheeks hot, Jungkook once more relives that brutal interaction.

It doesn’t matter who you sleep with. I know you’ll call as soon as you realize they’re just as boring as every man before me.

Jungkook was jealous, but there’s no excuse for what he said. Your response was equally cutting, reducing whatever had been between you to sex. Jungkook should have pressed harder, but imposter syndrome stepped in and all he could do was agree.

Now, a voice in the back of his mind – which sounds suspiciously like Yoongi – whispers that Jungkook pushes people away to see if they’ll come back. Unfair, whispers that same voice. True relationships don’t keep score. You shouldn’t be guilted into admitting your feelings before Jungkook deigns to tell you his.

It’s no wonder you haven’t reached out, proving the second half of his statement incorrect. You haven’t felt the need to call him since Liam. Instead of lashing out, Jungkook should have just told you how he felt. Maybe then, he’d be seeing you tonight instead of facing yet another night alone in his apartment. Wondering if you’re by yourself or out there with Liam. 

Swallowing hard, Jungkook pushes the thought away. Realizing his fingers have resumed their tapping, Jungkook lays his palm flat on the table. “I’m sorry,” he exhales and looks up. “I… know I’ve been distracted. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

Concern knits Namjoon’s brow. “That’s not – I wasn’t trying to get you to apologize, man. I genuinely want to know what’s going on. Are you alright?”

These simple words dissolve the barrier between Jungkook’s mind and his mouth. Embarrassing, how fast genuine concern can make Jungkook break down. His father would have had something to say about it – which probably means Jungkook shouldn’t be embarrassed about the reaction.

“No,” he admits. “Everything isn’t okay – but it will be. Soon. I know I’ve been distracted, but I promise to do better.”

Namjoon looks at him wryly. “Who are they?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

Laughing to himself, Namjoon takes the seat beside him. “Whoever it is that has you in shambles,” he continues. “This conference room is dry, otherwise I’d offer you a stiff drink. Feels like we should imbibe if we have to talk about feelings.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“Only to those who’ve been there before.”

Leaning back in his seat, Jungkook tilts his head. He and Namjoon have been friends for years, although their friendship began as a business relationship. Namjoon wasn’t around for the less savory parts of his life; the years when Jungkook was drunk more often than not and took nothing about this company seriously. 

Other people remember though, and Jungkook has had to work to turn his image around. Even now, his father’s media headlines haunt his footsteps – although these have recently ceased since Jungkook became CEO. You’re a distraction to his work by any definition, drawing Jungkook’s attention away from the company. Especially so if Namjoon has noticed.

“Can I give you some advice?” Namjoon offers, steepling long fingers before him.

Jungkook lifts a brow. “If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Probably not.”

“Then, sure. Go ahead.”

Namjoon leans in. “Don’t let this fester.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is that’s been bothering you.” Namjoon lowers his hands. “Don’t let things linger – fix the situation before it’s too late. My mom always says not to go to bed angry and in this case, I agree with her.”

Jungkook considers. “When would you not agree with that statement?”

“If you’re both drunk and neither one of you are making any sense.”

“Huh.” He nods. “Valid.”

“Anyways,” Namjoon sighs. “I’ve been paying attention to you this week, and whatever’s going on hasn’t gotten any better. Rather than keep going, you should make a change.”

“A change to… what?”

“Hell, if I know.” Namjoon lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I only know the bare minimum of information about your situation.”

“Fair point.” Jungkook exhales, pushing a hand through his hair.

Shoving his chair back to stand, Namjoon adjusts his suit jacket. Scooping his laptop from the table, he heads for the door only to pause on the threshold, looking as though he’s debating whether to say something or not.

Evidently, saying the thing wins out and he straightens. “You know you can delegate, right?” Namjoon says, leveling Jungkook with a look. “Today’s meeting, for example. You probably don’t need to hear every update from every department. Let your CFO talk to Finance and tell you if something’s important.”

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens. “You’re probably right,” he allows.

Truthfully, Jungkook is struggling to find his management style. His father ruled through fear and the occasional carrot. Jungkook wants to make his own mark on the company and have his employees work because they actually want to, but this is proving more difficult to achieve than he thought.

“Just a thought.” Namjoon shrugs, slapping the door before disappearing down the hall. Jungkook is left alone, the clock on the wall the only sound apart from his thoughts. 

Exhaling lowly, he stares at his hands atop the acrylic table. On his right, the sun has gradually sunk towards the horizon. Today is Friday, meaning most of his staff has gone home by now. Their weekly report-out is usually the last meeting on people’s calendars. Jungkook rarely leaves before the sun sets, though. He uses his time in the evening to respond to his emails.

Namjoon is probably right about delegating. Afraid of being seen as an absentee leader, Jungkook has joined every meeting for every direct report since the Board voted him in as CEO. It’s probably time for him to relax the reins, or else be seen as a micromanager. 

Releasing a breath, Jungkook pulls his notepad closer. His cell phone sits beside him on the table, stubbornly silent since the start of the meeting. Jungkook doesn’t bother to check if you’ve texted, since he already knows the answer. 

Since Aleve, you’ve been quiet.

Things were awkward before then though if he’s being honest. When you called Jungkook the night prior and asked him to stay, he nearly jumped at the chance. Despite having a Board meeting the next day and mountains of paperwork to do – the moment you called, Jungkook came. The truth of the matter was he wouldn’t turn down any opportunity to see you, no matter the consequences.

Jungkook should’ve known then that he was in trouble, but he didn’t fully realize until the next day. When he awoke and saw your face limned by sunlight, Jungkook knew things had gone further than he intended.

He had feelings for you. Strong feelings. Feelings Jungkook had never experienced, and ones which put him in danger because they broke all your rules. This was also the moment panic set in – you’d been more than clear about what would happen if he broke a rule. Jungkook had fallen for the one person he’d promised not to – and so he ran away.

Later, he texted a casual thank you. Jungkook tried to pull back, tried to disguise his true feelings so you wouldn’t suspect things had changed. Somehow though, this only seemed to make things worse. The voice in his head whispers Jungkook did it on purpose – shut you down before you could tell him to go.

Eyes closed, Jungkook swivels in his chair. Namjoon is right. He should call you, but the thought of picking up the phone and putting his heart on the line seems insurmountable. It’s nearly six o clock on a Friday, anyways – more than likely, you’re out with your friends.

Jungkook’s throat tightens. Or possibly out on another date with Liam. 

Pushing his chair back, Jungkook reaches for his notebook. Over a month has gone by since he ran into Liam at your fundraiser – it seems impossible for feelings to have developed in such a short time. Then again, Jungkook didn’t feel this way about you a month ago. Hell, he was in denial of his feelings up until your apartment.

Now that he knows though, it’s up to Jungkook to confess before it’s too late. Even if you are hooking up with Liam, that would be better than if you developed feelings for him. This depressing turn of thought is thankfully interrupted by Jungkook’s phone buzzing.

Withdrawing this, he hopes for your name only to be disappointed by the truncated line of text. Exhaling lowly, Jungkook swipes.

Dad: You need to attend the Y/L/N’s anniversary party tomorrow evening. Unexpected business out of town – will be gone until Monday. Sign my name in the card, thx [6:36 PM]

Frown deepening, Jungkook pockets his phone. Just like his father to expect him to drop everything and attend to the family business. If the Board vote on company strategy weren’t imminent, Jungkook would likely tell his father to go to hell.

There’s also the fact that your family name is in the text – Y/L/N. This party is being thrown by your parents, which means you might attend. Coming to a stop before his office, Jungkook is struck by the possibility this could work in his favor.

Rather than chase you down, he could show up at the party and see your reaction. Something to inform him whether his feelings are returned before placing it all on the line.

Jungkook knows that feelings shouldn’t be conditional. That if he wants to confess, he should just do it, but Jungkook manages to push the voice aside. Already building a plan for tomorrow, he strides into his office and lets the door shut.

All day long, Jungkook debates what time to arrive. Get there too soon, and he might scare you off. Arrive late enough and he could miss you entirely. You haven’t been shy about the feelings you hold for your parents, and Jungkook doubts you’ll stay long.

In the end, he exits his town car a half hour late, but Jungkook needn’t have worried: you’re nowhere to be found. Deflating slightly, Jungkook wanders inside and orders a drink from a bar. Turning to face the ballroom, he swirls his whiskey while scanning the floor.

The party is indistinguishable from any other society event, doing little to recommend it in Jungkook’s opinion. Pulling himself from the bar, Jungkook engages in small talk while making the rounds and keeping one eye on the door.

Nearly an hour passes, and Jungkook finds himself trapped in conversation with one of his father’s close friends. Laura something or other; Jungkook can’t recall her surname. Nodding while listening, Jungkook tunes Laura out while she prattles on about her new diamond mine. 

“Have you been there?” Laura prompts, forcing him into the conversation.

“Hm?” Jungkook lifts a brow. “No, I’m afraid not.”

A risk, since he didn’t hear where Laura mentioned, but a negative answer discourages follow-up. Or so it would seem. With Laura though, this prompts a soliloquy about the benefits of Cannes in the fall. As soon as he considers it polite to do so, Jungkook excuses himself and heads once more for the bar.

He’s nearly made it when the crowd parts and time seems to slow as you enter the ballroom. Dressed in a gown of midnight blue, you throw your head back and laugh – and Jungkook’s gaze drifts sideways to land on Liam Jessen. 

His feet turn to ice. Coming to a stop, Jungkook can’t help but stare at the sight of your arm intertwined with his. You look beautiful, but then again, you always do. Gown sweeping the floor, you’re nothing short of ethereal and seeing you on the arm of another man slices Jungkook’s chest open. 

When you look at Liam and smile, the pounding of Jungkook’s heart drowns out all thought. Grasping ahold of himself, Jungkook spins around to stalk across the floor. He can’t see you like this. Can’t talk to you calmly when you’re here with Liam.

Dropping his glass on the bar counter, Jungkook asks for a whiskey and waits while it’s poured. Staring down at his hand, he regains control of his breathing. 

You came here with Liam. 

You came tonight with a date, and that date is Liam. Sluggishly, Jungkook tries to separate the two thoughts, but they continue to attract like opposing magnets. Discomfort prickles in the back of his mind, putting two and two together. Your rules resurface, unasked and unwanted.

Number one, no discussion of personal lives (broken several times over). Number two, always use protection and get tested monthly for STDs. Number three, that you’re not exclusive. Number four, that either of you are free to end things any time, and rule number five, that your parents can’t find out.

It’s the fifth rule which has Jungkook’s stomach in knots. He assumed you didn’t want to tell your parents because you’re estranged and dating anyone from their world would bring complications. Which makes sense, if Jungkook and you were just having sex. Complications are the antithesis of that type of thing.

For you not to have similar reservations about Liam means things between you are different. That possibly you think Liam is worth the hassle. Unable to contemplate any meaning beyond this, Jungkook’s thoughts curdle and sour.

The bartender finishes pouring, and Jungkook accepts this without comment to chug a third. Setting this back down, Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. Exhaling, he considers the options before him. 

You haven’t seen him, which means that Jungkook could leave. His father might be angry, but frankly, that’s the least of Jungkook’s concerns. The more Jungkook ponders, the more appealing this seems, and the more his resolve hardens.

Draining another third, Jungkook turns around and spots you across the room. You stand beside a different bar, smiling at something your brother just said. White-hot jealousy licks Jungkook’s stomach, seeing you introduce Liam to your family.

The rest of his drink disappears, and Jungkook places the empty glass on the counter, sliding the bartender a fifty. Adjusting his suit jacket, he skirts the edge of the room as he heads for the door.

Your face burns in his mind. Standing between your brother and Liam, you seemed almost happy. Buoyant. Without a care in the world. Exactly the opposite of how Jungkook feels now. Clearly, you haven’t been missing him during your time apart. 

Forcing his expression to neutrality, Jungkook crosses the rest of the room. He’s nearly made it to the hallway when a man steps into his path.

“Jungkook!” Reaching for his hand, the man clasps this tightly. “What a surprise – fancy seeing you here instead of your father. Seems like the regime change is in full swing, eh?”

With great effort, Jungkook slows his stride. The man is Charles Smith – a valuable ally, and one of the few Fortune 500 companies willing to invest in clean energy. Namjoon has drafted numerous proposals for their companies working together, which means Jungkook can’t afford to alienate him at such a crucial time.

Forcing a smile, Jungkook comes to a stop. “Something like that,” he says smoothly, shaking his hand. “How are you this evening, Charles?”

“Oh, Chuck is fine. I’m swell,” he says, withdrawing his hand to swirl his gin. “The doctor keeps telling me not to drink, but we’ve all got to die sometime – right?”

“Right,” Jungkook agrees, though his gaze darts towards the hall.

Unfortunately, this means you’re forced in his path. You’ve left the bar and now stand beside your mother, your expression aggravated in a way Jungkook can understand. When your gaze locks with his, you go completely still. 

Even if Jungkook didn’t know who your companion was, he’d know you were related. Something about your bearing, the confident way you stand screams familial relation. You probably wouldn’t like hearing that, but traits by themselves aren’t bad. It’s what you do with them that matters.

While your mother seems unimpressed by her surroundings, you look visibly frustrated. Jungkook isn’t sure why and probably shouldn’t care to find out. Your familial problems are none of his concern.

Turning around, Jungkook thanks Charles for his time before he moves on. Your worried face refuses to dissipate from mind though, despite his best efforts. Eventually, Jungkook exhales and turns – only to notice Liam is still with you. Feet pausing, Jungkook finds himself feeling foolish for the second time that night.

Grasping you by the arm, your mother returns you to their circle – completing the image of a picture-perfect family. Idiot, Jungkook curses, disappearing again. Foolish to not hear what you said, to ignore the many, many times you’ve placed boundaries between you. 

Jungkook’s inner voice delights in his anguish, strengthened by the ache in his heart. Not good enough for your father, not good enough for Y/N, the voice muses. How can you hope for a serious relationship when you’ve never been in one before? Liam might be an ass, but at least he has ambition. He made something of himself, rather than spend so many years drowning in self-pity.

As cruel as the thought is, it’s not entirely wrong. Liam has more in common with you than Jungkook would like to admit – you’ve known from a young age what you wanted, just like Liam. Liam wasn’t born into wealth; his family doesn’t exist within the same social circle. It almost makes sense, the idea of you dating.

Liam betrayed Jungkook’s confidence once, but they were both young then. Naïve. Maybe Liam has changed since the internship – God knows, Jungkook has. 

Returning his thoughts to present, Jungkook reaches the valet. Ultimately, you brought Liam to meet your parents and not Jungkook. Whether this means you have feelings for Liam or can’t see a future with Jungkook – either way, the result is the same.

Jungkook supposes he can’t blame you for that. Jeon Energy is the Goliath to your David. Until Jungkook’s proposal is approved by the Board, the direction of Jeon Energy remains the same. Dating him would go against everything you believe in. It isn’t as though Jungkook has let you in on his plans or allowed you to think better of him in any way. 

While waiting for his car to arrive, Jungkook keeps both hands in his pockets. The fact that you brought Liam means Rule Number Four can’t be far behind. The rule which allows either of you to end things between you. Jungkook recalls how he scoffed at this rule, certain it wouldn’t be necessary for either one of you. 

In his experience, interest rarely lasts longer than a month. Jungkook figured your spark would fizzle and die, that you’d gradually stop calling and there’d be no hard feelings. Now, he can’t help but wonder at how foolish he was.

Jungkook needs to end this before you can. 

By ending things first, it’d allow Jungkook to keep some of his dignity. It would also give you an out, alleviating you from pressure of letting him down. If anything, Jungkook imagines you’ll feel some relief. This way, you don’t have to explain about Liam.

Flipping his keys, Jungkook is staring into the night when footsteps approach. 

Turning his head, he watches the moment you enter the hall. A vision in blue, fabric drifting around your legs as you come to a stop. For a moment, Jungkook wonders if you’re here to see him before banishing the notion as dangerous.

“Hi,” you exhale, your voice carrying through the hall.

Brow furrowing, Jungkook wonders why you came. Maybe Liam is close behind, ready to leave with you in his car. 

“Hi,” Jungkook exhales, his chest tight.

Glancing over his shoulder, you search for someone, and Jungkook’s confusion grows. Everyone else remains at the party. Distractedly, Jungkook wonders if you saw him leave and came to check on him. The thought of your pity makes his neck heat.

“Can we talk?” you ask at last, meeting his gaze.

Jungkook pauses, at war with himself. If he agrees, he’d be moving up the timeline of your conversation. Not to mention the fact that merely the sight of you loosens his resolve. If you were to talk now, who knows what he’d say.

“I…” Jungkook hesitates, certain he should say no. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

Something flares in your gaze. “I didn’t say it was a good idea. I said I wanted to talk.”

Jungkook is forced to press his lips together to keep from laughing. It’s just such a you thing to say that against his better judgement, Jungkook finds himself nodding. Despite knowing this will hurt more tomorrow, Jungkook gives in.

Taking him by the arm, you tug him down the hall. Jungkook follows closely behind, unceremoniously dragged while you find a suitable room. Pulling open a door, you shove Jungkook in, flicking the light switch to quickly follow suit.

Your dress settles around you, nose nearly pressed to his in the dim light of the closet. Jungkook’s heart pounds, overloud in such a small space. Your scent wraps around him, body and soul, pulling him in when he should run away. It muddies what he came here to tell you, causes him to forget that you’re breaking his heart.

Unable to breathe, Jungkook looks at the door. Then, at your ear. Anywhere but at your gaze, which can see right through him. 

Eventually, the silence moves him to speak. “You wanted to talk?” Jungkook asks, careful to keep his tone neutral.

You blink in amazement. “That’s… all you have to say?”

Jungkook notices you’re holding his wrist at the same time you do. Dropping him as though burned, you take a step backwards and your spine hits the door. This rejection stings more than Jungkook would like to admit.

“Well, I was about to leave,” he says stiffly, and meets your gaze.

He wishes he hadn’t when your eyes narrow, full of fire. It’s unfair of you to look at him like that. Unfair to look at him at all when you came here with Liam and again, Jungkook wonders why you’re here. 

“Fine, then,” you huff. “I’ll speak.”

Jungkook’s heart aches when he hears the clear hurt in your voice. As infuriating as tonight has been, Jungkook had every opportunity to say how he felt weeks ago. Hell, he could have called yesterday, but he didn’t. Instead, Jungkook showed up tonight and expected to be met with your praise.

Folding your arms across your chest, you fix Jungkook with a glare. “I haven’t heard from you in a while,” you exhale.

Jungkook hesitates, unsure how to respond. You came here tonight with Liam, so it doesn’t make sense for you to pull him aside for small talk. To chase him towards his car only to ask Jungkook how he’s been.

Forcing his expression to remain neutral, Jungkook searches for an answer that’s least embarrassing. Or incriminating.

“I’ve been out of town,” he says at last.

You study his face. “Business trip?”

“Yes. Amongst other things.”

It’s mostly true. Jungkook and Namjoon have been traveling across the country, securing their plans for the upcoming Board meeting. You don’t know anything about that though, so his answer remains vague.

“Seems awfully sudden,” you observe.

Realizing his jaw is clenched, Jungkook forces himself to relax. The fact that you’re here, mad at him when you came with Liam is beyond infuriating. “I can’t help but notice,” he says, voice dropping, “you didn’t text me either. Or did I miss your messages?”

Something in your expression falters, but you recover quickly to step closer. Breath held, Jungkook looks you up and down. Everything about your body language screams anger, but this can’t be right. You’ve been dating Liam for weeks, have introduced him to your parents which means a breakup with Jungkook can’t be far behind – right? 

“No, you didn’t,” you admit. 

Jungkook’s resolve hardens. “So, I have to assume you didn’t want to see me.”

His voice comes out calmer than he is though, and the irrationality of your discussion spurs a wave of uncertainty. You didn’t text Jungkook; he didn’t text you. Both of you ignored the other and now, here you are. That part makes sense, no matter how uncomfortable.

What Jungkook can’t explain is why you ran after him. Why you pulled him aside and wanted to talk. None of what you’re saying matters if you’re planning to end things – unless you’re not. A wild spark of hope catches, and Jungkook smothers it quickly.

“I was waiting,” you blurt out, incredulous. “After all the weirdness at the restaurant, I was waiting for you to reach out to me!”

Jungkook’s thoughts stutter, then resume. You wanted him to reach out. Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that you moved on so quickly. 

“What weirdness?” 

“Oh, please.” You stifle an eye roll. “I ran into you on a date with Liam, and you acted strange.”

Jungkook’s entire face heats. “I mean, I do think it’s weird that you want to date Jessen,” he says, unable to stop himself. “He’s not a good guy.”

“Why not?” you demand. “You can’t just say that, and not explain.”

Jungkook hesitates, on the verge of explanation before he pulls back. It doesn’t matter. If Jungkook tells you about Liam, he’d have to explain everything – his mom, his dad and the whole, morbid past. There’s no point in sharing if you’re leaving tonight.

Something about this feels wrong, but Jungkook can’t put a finger on why.

“Why did you even come here?” you ask, your expression changing. “Why did you come to my parents’ party if you didn’t want to see me? If you really don’t care?”

I care, Jungkook wants to yell. Obviously, he cares but you were the one who walked in on someone else’s arm. The confession chokes in his throat, stillborn.

“I came because my dad asked me,” Jungkook says instead. “He couldn’t attend, so he sent me in his place. It would’ve been rude for one of us not to attend.”

Your jaw tightens. “Liar.”

Jungkook goes still. “Excuse me?” 

Somehow, you move even closer. “I said, liar,” you repeat, chin tilted. “Your father didn’t ask you to come. You came here because you wanted to – why can’t you just admit that?”

Panic sparks, realizing you can see right through him. And still, Jungkook doesn’t understand why you’re pretending to care. Why you continue to push, trying to get Jungkook to say he cares when you’re the one leaving. Do you want him to beg? Would leaving be better if you left him humiliated?

Anger is easier to focus on than pain, and so Jungkook grasps it tight with both hands. 

Something in your gaze falters. “I – right, okay,” you murmur, fumbling behind you for the door. “Got it. I just… assumed. I’ll go.”

Hearing your voice crack, Jungkook’s fury vanishes. No longer caring about the why, he focuses on the what and reaches out for your wrist. Your breath catches when his fingers close around your warm skin. Gently – so gently – Jungkook turns you around and presses you to the door.

Inhaling your scent, Jungkook crowds you against the wood. You stare back at him and Jungkook wonders what would’ve happened if he’d just called. 

Feeling suddenly helpless, he drops the façade. “You’re right,” Jungkook admits, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to see you.”

Bending his head, he crushes your lips with his.

Your noise of surprise muffles, dissipating the moment your lips touch. Hands encircling his waist, you slowly trace the panes of his body. Jungkook loves the way you touch him – gentle and then, not gentle at all. Losing himself in your touch, Jungkook kisses you roughly.

When your hands tug his hair, Jungkook groans into your mouth. Memorizing the feel of your body with his, he shuts out the fear that this might be the last. Within minutes, the kiss has turned urgent, both of you searching for something unsaid. Smoothing a hand down your spine, Jungkook tugs you into his chest. 

Half-hard since he entered the closet, Jungkook bites down on your lip to relish the soft noise you make. Slipping his hand beneath the strap of your dress, he bares your shoulder and cups your breast in his palm. Slowly, he teases your nipple with his thumb and listens to your breath hitch.

Head lowered, Jungkook closes his lips around the nipple and tugs. You groan, arching against him in eager invitation. Hand reaching, Jungkook fumbles with your zipper until it catches and pulls. Your dress pools on the ground, leaving you naked except for your heels and panties. Cock swelling at the visual, Jungkook bites lightly on your nipple through lace.

Reaching behind, you undo your bra and let this fall to the floor. With it, the last of Jungkook’s resolve slips away. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Before you can respond, he lowers his head and sucks your breast again. Teasing you slowly, he relishes the eager rise and fall of your chest. Lowering his hand, he grasps your thigh to wrap firmly around him. Fingers searching, he skims the edge of your wetness and feels you tremble.

Returning to your lips, Jungkook crushes his mouth to yours. Now that you’ve kissed, he can’t seem to stop – especially when he knows this might be the last. Pouring everything he feels into a wordless gesture, Jungkook pulls you to him.

You whimper, shifting to better align your hips to his. Tightening his grip on your waist, Jungkook chuckles and keeps himself just beyond reach. Lazily trailing his fingers in circles, he angles his head to deepen the kiss.

“Jungkook,” you moan against his lips.

He can’t help but smile. “Yes?”

Eyes opening, your expression turns heady. “I need more.”

“More.” Casually, his fingers stroke higher. “Is that what you want from me? Want me to make you come, princess?”

There’s a bite to his words he can’t fully disguise. Jungkook is used to being wanted for his skills in bed. It’s never been something he begrudged before but then, he’s never wanted more from someone else and hearing you say it is like a knife to the chest.

You hesitate, gaze searching. “What do you want, Jungkook?”

Jungkook goes still, scanning your face. He wants more than this. He wants you and you, alone but that can’t possibly be what you mean. 

“What… do I want?” he repeats.

“Yes.” You stare up at him, earnest. “You always ask me what I want in bed, but what do you want?”

In bed. Each word is followed by a dull thunk, falling into place alongside the weight of expectation. Obviously, you meant sex – anything more would be ludicrous. You came here tonight with someone else, after all.

Lowering his head, Jungkook skims your throat with his nose. He allows his teeth to graze skin, feeling you shudder and tightening his grip. 

“This,” he murmurs, voice cracking in a rare moment of honesty. “Just this.”

Jungkook kisses you before you can see the desperation in his eyes. He backs you against the door, skimming the top of your panties with his rough fingers. You shudder against him, arching your chest and Jungkook takes pity.

Sliding a hand lower, he cups your center and hisses when he feels how wet you are. Slowly, he drags a finger forward – along the damp fabric. One palm on the door, Jungkook repeats this over and over, until you’re a wet, sopping mess.

“Jungkook,” you beg, meeting his gaze.

Jungkook lifts a brow. “Thighs together, princess.”

Hastening to obey, you trap his hand between your warm legs. Flexing his wrist, Jungkook idly strokes along the seam of your panties. A soft moan leaves your lips, head hitting the door while he touches you. Jungkook slowly slips his finger beneath the soft lace.

Brushing the hood of your clit, he savors how swollen you are. How responsive your body is to his touch. Gaze dropping, he takes in the frantic roll of your hips.

“Jungkook,” you moan, and his gaze jerks upward.

“Look at you,” he croons, moving closer. “Already a mess and I’ve barely touched you. Just sucked on those pretty tits like you needed. Tell me,” he says, voice hardening. “Tell me you needed it.”

Deep down, Jungkook knows this is wrong. It isn’t healthy to push things so far, to make you come on his hand when he knows this is over – and yet, he can’t bring himself to stop. If this is all Jungkook gets, he at least wants you to remember. 

“I did,” you gasp. “I needed it so bad.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Because no one else gets you like this, huh?”

“N-no one,” you pant, a tremor to your voice.

“What was that?”

“No one but you, Jungkook,” you amend, and he grunts in approval.

“Turn around,” he demands and steps backwards.

You obey, hands pressed to the door as you lower your head. A shiver runs down Jungkook’s spine, seeing how much you trust him. Stepping closer, he eases your legs apart with one hand. Removing your panties, Jungkook lets them fall and presses his hips to your ass from behind.

“Did you bring a condom?” he murmurs, savoring your intake of breath.

Your head tips back a little. “I – no,” you blurt, eyes widening. “I didn’t think of it.”

Satisfaction seeps through his chest when Jungkook realizes you didn’t plan on sleeping with Liam. That’s something, at least. Something he can give you that no one else can. 

Chuckling lowly, he caresses your ass – only to bring his palm down. “Didn’t think of it,” Jungkook breathes, dragging two fingers through your dripping sex. “Hm. I don’t believe that.”

“Don’t” – a sharp inhale – “believe what?”

Spanking you again, Jungkook presses you against the door. “I don’t think you forgot a condom,” he murmurs, low in your ear. “I think that you wanted my cum inside you. Is that right? Want me to fuck you raw?”

He pauses, waiting for your reaction before he continues. You let out a whimper, pressing your ass backwards in clear invitation. Fuck. Jungkook nearly swears out loud, consumed by the thought of what it would feel like. Sex without a condom has never been practical for him but now, Jungkook finds himself imagining.

Slowly, he circles your dripping entrance. Sliding his finger inside, Jungkook lets you adjust before he pulls out. “You’re such a dirty girl,” he exhales, adding a second finger.

Pushing backwards, your legs widen slightly to accommodate him. Jungkook slowly moves in and out, stretching your entrance.

“Tell me you don’t want that,” he murmurs. “Me, bending you over and fucking you hard in this closet. Filling you up to the brim with my cum.”

It’s hard for Jungkook to concentrate once the thought has been voiced. If he can’t have you the way he wants to, he can at least pretend. When you moan your approval, it only stokes his flames higher.

“I could do that right now,” Jungkook continues, dropping his voice. “Fuck you so hard, then cum inside this perfect pussy. When I’m done, I’ll tug your panties up, put on your dress and send you back out there. Except” – his voice catches – “I’ll know. And you’ll know that your sweet, little pussy has been used by me. Belongs to me. Is full of me.”

You groan, arching into him while his fingers fill you. The image is provocative, imagining his claim when you return to Liam. Even if you don’t want Jungkook like that, your body clearly does – and Jungkook knows he can satisfy you better than anyone. The thought of his cum dripping down your thigh when you return to your date brings more than a little dark satisfaction.

“Jungkook,” you pant. 

“What, princess?” he murmurs, refocusing on the present.

“I – I’m close.”

“Already?” Grazing his teeth against your shoulder, Jungkook quickens his pace. “Let’s give you an orgasm to start, then.”

You whimper, thighs trembling as he pushes you over the edge. It’s not long before you gasp his name, spasming around Jungkook until he withdraws his fingers.

Exhaling slowly, you hang your head. Tugging down his zipper, Jungkook doesn’t waste any time. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a condom and rips this open. The tear of the packet makes you turn your head.

Dazed, your gaze latches onto the motion. “You… had a condom on you?”

Jungkook smirks and rolls this on. “You seemed to enjoy the idea of my cum inside you.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t disagree and Jungkook steps forward to press his cock to your core. Any trace of annoyance vanishes, replaced by desire as he drags his cock up and down. Jungkook nearly swears when he feels how wet you are, rubbing his head against your swollen clit. 

Slowly, he leans forward to press you against the door. “Is this what you want?” Jungkook urges, reaching lower to grasp his length with one hand. Casually, he smacks your clit with his cock. “Want my cock inside this needy pussy?”

“God, yes,” you groan as you lower your head.

Hearing this is searing and suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t feel like playing games. “Good,” he agrees and thrusts forward.

You gasp when he enters, gaze focused on the place where he fills you. Jungkook nearly swears when he feels the slickness of your heat, the easy way you envelop him when he slides in. Pausing halfway, he waits until you adjust before pushing further. Slow, easy thrusts until you take his whole length.

Jungkook grunts when he bottoms out, hips pressed snugly against your ass. Refusing to move, he begins to tease your body. Sliding one hand up your torso to cup your full breast in his palm. Casual, he plays with your tit as he starts to thrust – pulling back out, only to slide slowly in.

He does this again and again, memorizing your body until your patience disappears. Taking over the rhythm, you set the pace and push back on his cock. Jungkook allows you to lead before deciding enough is enough and resuming control. Grasping your hip, he presses you to the door and feels you inhale.

Your body melts with his, showcasing your trust and Jungkook nearly breaks. Thrusting forward, he fills you with everything that you crave. You want him to fuck you? So be it. You want him to give you an orgasm? Jungkook will do it. He’ll give you everything you ask, even if it costs him himself.

Touching your body everywhere he can reach, Jungkook feels a building urgency. Playing with your clit, teasing your breast, turning your face sideways to lick up your throat. Savoring your taste, he pounds into your body and hopes against reason you’ll remember tonight.

Based on the way your body trembles, the prospect is promising. Jungkook knows that he’s big. It’s something he’s heard before, but you take him so easily and without complaint. He knows you enjoy the sensation, that you appreciate the feeling of too-fullness he gives. The thought makes him even harder, his cock throbbing with each punishing thrust into your slick heat.

Sliding one palm underneath your knee, Jungkook opens you further and fully lets go. He feels your body constrict, fluttering around him to let him know you’re close.

“That’s it,” he grunts, gripping your jaw to turn your face to his. “Is this what you want? Want me to make you come?”

Silently, he begs you with his eyes to say something different. That you want more than sex, but nothing in your expression seems to understand.

“Yes,” you gasp, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes.”

Pressing his mouth to yours, Jungkook claims you when you come apart. You squeeze him so tightly, he wonders if you somehow know this might be the last time. Forcing himself to continue until your final wave, Jungkook finally comes in a heated shudder.

He stays there for a moment, breath rising and falling against your bare skin. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jungkook imagines briefly this won’t be the end. That he can leave this closet, walk you back to your family and – here, stops the daydream because you came here with Liam.

Slowly, Jungkook withdraws and ties the condom in a knot. Clearing his throat, he fumbles for words while glancing around the closet.

This is the last time. It has to be the last since Jungkook can’t continue to break himself into pieces. Can’t continue to fuck you and send you home to him.

Quietly, you adjust the strap of your dress. Jungkook keeps his hands still, itching to help but convincing himself not to. Every part of his body screams at him to stay, to do something – say something – but he forces himself to stay.

Tucking himself into his pants, Jungkook pulls up the zipper. He feels the weight of your gaze on his cheek, uncertain. When he finally meets your eyes, Jungkook forces his expression to harden. After a moment, he looks past – towards the door.

Something in your posture stiffens. “Jungkook,” you say, sounding wary. “Why are you here?”

The answer rises to his lips, but Jungkook stamps it back down. He came to apologize. To tell you how he felt but all possibilities ended the moment you entered with Liam.

“Are you dating Liam?” Jungkook asks, the words slipping past. Cursing himself for the sudden lapse, he tries not to notice the way you react. 

“I… what?” 

Jungkook feels his lips tighten. “Are you dating Liam Jessen?”

“We…” You blink, hesitating a moment. “We’ve been on a few dates.”

Neither a yes nor a no, but either way, the words are enough to sink his last hope. Jungkook’s heart drops, and he nods.

Only a few dates is both good and bad. It’s good that the number is small – bad that despite this, you wanted Liam to meet your family. Swallowing hard, Jungkook tastes the scorched earth of his anger. He concentrates on this rather than on sorrow – easier to face you with vitriol in his heart.

Gaze flickering, you step closer. “Jungkook, I –”

“This should probably be the last time we do this, right?” 

You freeze, the heat from your body tangible. The look on your face is shock, clear and uncalculated, and Jungkook’s anger swells in response. You have no right to look at him that way – as though he were the villain breaking your heart.

“You…” Dazed, you shake your head. “We what?”

“You and Liam are together, right?” Jungkook asks, the words coming out sharp.

“Together isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Then what word would you use?” His words bleed with frustration, and Jungkook isn’t sure what he’s searching for. 

Except that’s not true because he does know. If you said you wanted him, Jungkook would end this right now. He’d say that he wants you, and that he wants things to change. Even while thinking this though, Jungkook knows it’s unfair. He can’t expect you to put your heart on the line when he’s not willing to do the same.

Either way, you say nothing and slowly, Jungkook’s frustration vanishes. Any answer would be preferred to this punishing silence. 

“Thought so,” he breathes, grasping for straws. “Wasn’t that part of the rules? We’d fuck until you found someone else to date?”

You recoil slightly, and it takes all Jungkook’s willpower to keep himself still. It’s better this way, he reasons. Better for you to hate him now than peer beneath the surface and see how much he’s hurting.

“That was a long time ago,” you counter. “And that’s not everything I said to you.”

Jungkook suppresses his wince because he knows. He knows things have changed since the night you gave your rules. Remembers with perfect clarity standing in your kitchen and hearing you say Jungkook’s mom would be proud. 

He remembers entering your body later that night, cupping your face with both hands to brush his lips against yours. Jungkook knows things have changed and still, he pushes you away because it seems better – safer – than you pushing him first.

“You’re right,” he says, slipping both hands in his pockets. “You also implied things could end if I caught an STD.”

Your brow furrows. “Jungkook,” you say, reaching for him. “Just stop. Let’s –”

“I have feelings for someone,” he blurts.

At this, your hand freezes. Jungkook wishes you would touch, aches for the brush of your skin but forces himself to stay silent. It’s too late for reconciliation – he can tell by the flashes of emotion chasing each other across your face. 

Shock, confusion, and where he expects anger, Jungkook finds something far worse – hurt.

“Do… I know her?” 

Jungkook’s heart cracks down the middle. He can’t possibly say that you are her. If he did, you’d be forced to choose between him and Liam, and Jungkook already knows how that’d go. Everyone chooses someone else in the end.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says at last.

You stare at him another moment, causing Jungkook to wonder if you see through him. Then, your expression crumples and you withdraw your hand.

“Right,” you whisper.

Jungkook’s resolve falters. “I just… don’t want to drag this out,” he says, and even to his ears, the words sound weak. “I think it would be better to end things now. Before someone gets hurt.” 

The words are nearly cause for laughter because it’s much too late for that. 

“Right,” you exhale. “Is that why you came here tonight?”

When Jungkook pauses, disappointment settles over your features.

“Well, good,” you say, lifting your chin. “Okay. We said we’d hook up as long as it made sense. If it doesn’t make sense, we should end it.”

Something jerks in his stomach. “Y/N…”

A bitter laugh escapes you, reaching backwards. “Don’t Y/N me.”

“I get that you’re upset, but –”

“Upset?” Your entire body freezes, fury limning your eyes. “I’m not upset, Jungkook – I’m pissed. You avoided me for weeks just to show up at my parents’ party, fuck me in a closet and end this? Which – oh my god,” you say, something like horror crossing your face. “We had sex, Jungkook. What would the woman you supposedly like have to say about that?”

Jungkook’s chest seizes, making breathing difficult. Everything you say is true and already, he can tell he’s going to regret this.

“She’d hate it,” he admits, soft.

You pause, brow furrowing. “Well, okay. As long as you… agree with me?”

Jungkook can only stare at you, helpless. “This is for the best, Y/N. I know that it is. You have Liam, and I – well, I made a mistake coming here. I shouldn’t have followed you in here. Or kissed you. I –”

“That’s enough,” you snap.

Your chest rises and falls, anger barely restrained when Jungkook falls silent. He knows he crossed a line, and truthfully, he regrets nothing except how things are ending. And maybe the way he left your place that one morning.

“I really am sorry,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, well.” You take a deep breath, reaching behind you. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, right? We were casual. Only sex. And now we’re nothing.”

It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t thought before, but your words skewer him in a way he didn’t think possible. Light from the hall floods the closet when you leave, striping the floor with Jungkook’s own shadow.

He allows you to go, knowing it’s for the best as he drags a hand down his face. Exhaling deeply, Jungkook tries to suppress the tears pricking his eyelids.

Logic which once seemed simple now seems indecipherable. Jungkook thought ending things would be cleaner but now, he’s not sure. Did you really want Liam to meet your parents, or did it happen by chance? More importantly – were you planning to end things with Jungkook?

A sliver of uncertainty enters his thoughts, but Jungkook forces himself to move on. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You two are over. He won’t see you again.

The enormity of this crashes over him and suddenly, it’s hard for Jungkook to breathe. He forces himself to inhale, taking slow, shallow breaths until the feeling passes. Eventually, Jungkook opens the closet door and steps into the hall. 

Most of the walk to the car is a blur, only sharpening once he settles into the driver’s seat. Clutching the steering wheel with both hands, Jungkook stares at his knuckles. If you weren’t planning on ending things tonight, that would mean Jungkook has turned into the very person he fears.

Cold, blind, and ultimately – hopeless.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook series #bts series

[seventeenpins]

violet pairing: older qz!joel x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: follow-up to forget-me-not. it's been seven years since you last saw joel in the boston qz, and a lot has changed. you find yourselves reunited in jackson.

warnings: smut, actually contains a lot of plot (sorry), tommy, maria & ellie all exist, allusions to/discussion of abortion, reader has a kid, joel is insecure about being an old man (you're only 63, it's ok buddy), reader is mid-thirties to early 40s, lil bit of daddy kink, face sitting, multiple orgasms.

a/n: okay first -- header or no header? like, it's a bit ridiculous but i also kinda love it? instead of packing up for a move, i've been writing this 🤷 thanks for all the continued love on my fics, it's so sweet and means a whole lot. working on a few other stories, and i hope to have more out soon!

this chapter is dedicated to the dumbass at the club who didn't quite manage to ruin a first date i was on by asking us what we thought about gay rights (as two fem-perceived folks caught smoochin) and then telling us "you're clearly so in love, i respect that" before yeeting off in the moonlight.

you could have sworn the terrain had been totally empty only moments before, but now in the blink of an eye, you’re surrounded by a small group of riders, armed, their horses huffing down at you. 

“shit,” you gasp, trying to shield your girl, but realising there was little use. can’t put your body in front of hers when there’s people on every side of you. instead, your hands grip tighter on the shoulders of your daughter and you take a breath, trying to steady your breathing.

“you been near infected?” a man calls down at you, and his accent reminds you of joel, so much so that your heart flutters for a moment at the memory. you’ve met lots of people on your travels, a few of them from austin, too, and every time you think of him.

“no,” you call back, “last we saw them was back in the dakotas and there weren’t many there. that was weeks ago, haven’t encountered any since.”

the man nods, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking under his stetson, but the fact you’re not shot yet seems like a good sign. hopefully.

"frankly, we've had much more trouble from people than from infected on our way. but we've been able to take care of ourselves," you say, and you're hoping your words have an underlying edge of danger, but you're pretty sure you just come off as scared and defensive.

the man nods, and looks you up and down. “well, we've gotta make sure,” he says, almost apologetic, and you tense. it takes a moment before you see the dog, but then a dark blur comes bounding towards you, snarling. You tense and pull your girl close, but after a few moments of incredibly stressful sniffing, the dog leaves you alone and trods back to his owner, panting happily.

“good,” the man says, “now we've got that cleared up, what’s your business here?”

it's a good fuckin question, but not one you have a direct answer to.

"we came from boston," you tell him, "it was okay for a while, but the qz changed--got worse. more bombings. more hangings. if it was just me i might have stayed put, but i have my daughter."

there's so much you could say, but you're pretty sure you're advocating for your own life right now, so you keep it short and simple.

"we're just trying to find... somewhere better. travelling through all the places i've ever known people, to see if there's somewhere safe out there at all."

he nods, and the group surrounding you seems to back down a little.

"come with us. i think we might have what you're looking for," he tells you, and then one rider jumps down from their horse, mounts another, and the first man helps you and your daughter onto the vacated horse.

you follow the group, cantering along, and the man keeps an eye on you, and a woman in the group rides up next to you.

"so, you're from the boston qz? that's quite a journey," the man says, and nods his head towards the young woman, "she and i both travelled here from boston, years ago. i left back in, oof, '13? remind me, when did you leave?"

the woman nods, "left when i was fourteen, in '23."

"oh wow," you say, "i honestly didn't expect to meet anyone from boston round here"

there's a pause.

"what did you say your name was?" he asks, and you tell him.

"and this is violet," you say, giving your daughter's shoulder a squeeze, and she nestles back into your chest, ever shy around strangers.

"nice to meet you both," the woman grins, "i'm ellie"

"and i'm tommy," the man says. you're sure it's just a weird coincidence, a common name, just cos he happens to share the same name as joel's brother it doesn't mean anything, but you can't help but ask-

"this is probably silly, but you're not tommy miller are you?"

both tommy and ellie halt, so you do to, as they communicate something through quick glances and furrowed brows.

"wait," you say, "are you? tommy miller?"

he stares you down, and all of a sudden, you see it in his eyes. joel's eyes. violet's eyes.

"i-" your heart is pounding now with the realisation, "i knew your brother. i knew joel. he was a-" you hesitate for only a split second, "friend."

"well shit," tommy says. he caught the hesitation when you landed on friend, and he's looking at you, brows furrowed. "when was the last time you saw him?"

you shrug. "guess it was seven years ago." you look at your daughter, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then back up at tommy. "it was when he'd stopped hearing from you, actually. he came out to find you. did... did he find you?"

tommy doesn't answer, his eyes widening, and you can see him put the pieces together as he looks at you and then at your daughter, to you, and to her again.

"how old did you say she was?" he nods at violet but keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"i didn't."

"humor me."

"she's six."

"huh," he says, and ellie's looking between you two now and you can see realisation dawning on her, too.

"wait a second--holy shit," ellie cackles, "joel's gonna lose his fuckin' mind."

a sudden flare of panic and excitement floods through you. "wait, you know him too? he's nearby? i'm sorry- he lives around here? he made it?"

ellie snorts and tommy lets out a noise that's almost like a cross between a deep exhale and a strangled moan.

"yep, he lives in town. made it here with ellie a few years back. been living here a while now."

you don't know if you're thrilled or terrified. to be honest, your brain suddenly feels like it's filled to the brim with bees that were muffling out any thought more complex than AAAAHHHHHHHH.. you'd always hoped you might see joel again, but it wasn't till now you realised you never really believed you would.

he's alive. he actually made it.

as if sensing your racing thoughts, tommy pulls up beside you and claps a strong hand on your shoulder.

"one step at a time, sweetheart. seems like y'all have a whole lotta catchin' up to do."

after you're brought through the gate and finish up at the dining hall for a bite to eat, tommy and ellie take you both on a tour of jackson. you'd seen lots of things in the time you'd travelled, but this is the first real community you'd seen. it made you think of the old days, or rather, your ideas of the old days. you were too young when the world ended, but the idea of people living together and supporting one another without bombs going off on street corners and scheduled hangings was something else.

"we've been workin' on makin' a functioning society here. we get energy from the dam, so actual, non-fedra electricity." tommy points along the main street at the street lighting (actual street lighting!!)

"most of the shops are along here," he continues, pointing out each place as he lists them off, "necessities, like a cobbler and a tailor over in that space. greenhouses and farms over in that direction as well as a clinic. we've got a bar, a couple o' bakeries, house of worship, stables back that way- couple fellas opening a barbershop in that space over there pretty soon. and, of course, the residential area just down here. we've got a lotta houses, and we're working on refurbishing a whole lot, too. most families have their own homes. you're welcome to take some time to decide if you would like to stay here, but y'all seem like decent people and at the very least, we can put you up in some of our temporary housing 'til we have a better grasp on what you need. we got families of all configurations here. we did that a whole lot better after the world ended. and this is a home for a lotta people."

"oh-!" ellie says, suddenly excited, "and the school's over there, if you guys wanna stay. fedra school fucking sucked but this one was actually pretty cool. we actually got to learn stuff!"

violet giggles a little, and ellie shoots her a bright smile that makes her giggle little more. it feels safe here. you don't remember the last time things have felt safe. you're trying to take it all in, memorise every storefront, every person, every moment, when the aroma of fresh-baked pastries suddenly assaults your nostrils and you let out an involuntary moan.

"been a while, huh?" ellie asks and snorts, and you nod. "i grew up in the qz so i never had one of these till the shop opened up a couple years ago. but i hear it's just like the old days!"

"mama, it smells really good," violet says, and it's the first thing she's said since you've come through the gates.

"it does, doesn't it?" you ask her, "and look at all these shops. see those clothes in the window there?"

her eyes are as wide as saucers, and you're so overwhelmed with joy that she gets to experience this that you don't notice ellie bounding up the steps to the bakery and running back a minute later with a paper wrapped something in hand.

she holds it out to you and you take it from her gingerly. you kneel down to let violet unwrap the paper and inside is a perfect strawberry danish. you're stunned.

"that's cream cheese and butter from our cows," tommy tells you, "strawberries and wheat grown here, too. all fresh. all cordyceps free. we don't risk using any of the old stuff that might be contaminated"

that's amazing. that's fucking amazing.

"here, baby," you tear off a piece for violet, and she clutches it carefully and sniffs at it warily before popping it into her mouth, chewing with furrowed brows, and breaking out into a grin.

"welcome to jackson," ellie says, and now you're laughing too.

by the evening, tommy's given you a tour of the whole settlement and left you, ellie, and violet at the tipsy bison with an invitation to join him and his family for dinner. there was a strong likelihood that joel would be there and you were shitting bricks.

what if he's totally different from how you remember him? what if he isn't?

what if he wants nothing to do with you? what if he wants nothing to do with violet?

what if he's forgotten you?

you pinch yourself to pull out of your spiral. ellie winks at violet, who's sipping at her juice, and clinks her glass against yours. together, you take large swigs of your beer.

she tells you a bit about herself. she's vague about how she and joel met, and you're not sure if it's because she doesn't want to talk about it or if she's trying to spare the gory details around violet, but she speaks of him fondly and blushed a little when she mentioned i've kinda become, like, a surrogate daughter to him. and he's my old man.

before you could gather your thoughts and ask any follow-ups, she's already blowing through different topics, grinning as she tells you about her girlfriend, about her tattoo and how she wants another one, about her favorite horse, and the way patrols worked around here, and you relax into the conversation. into the peace. into taking a break.

before you know it, the three of you are walking towards tommy's house and right as you're about to knock at the door, ellie barrels past and swings the door open with a bellowed "we're here!" reverberating off the walls.

as you step through the door, delicious food smells waft through the hallway and you hear laughter and music coming from the kitchen. ellie makes a beeline through the door on your right and you take it all in for a moment.

"you coming?" ellie calls, and you follow her.

and stop dead in your tracks.

illuminated in the light of an antique shaded lamp, sat on a rocking chair, was joel.

he's greyer and more tired, but he also looks- happy? and he's got reading glasses on as he peers at what looks to be a picture book as he points out the illustrations to the kid on his lap. your jaw drops.

the kid's probably around the same age as violet.

ellie is stood in the corner of the room, half-heartedly pretending to examine a bookshelf while she blatantly eavesdrops.

joel looks up and smiles in a way that you've only seen a few times before. it's... unguarded. he extends a hand, "hi there, you must be our guests, i'm jo-"

and then recognition flickers over his face and he stops. stares at you, wide eyed, and then his eyes flick over to violet, and back to you.

"hi joel," you say.

if you're honest, you're expecting him to be the asshole you remember. grouchy. closed off. sweet only in private, intimate, brief moments.

what you don't expect is for him to gently call over to ellie with a "we need a minute here, could you take your cousin and see if tommy and maria need a hand?"

cousin, he'd said, and you can feel your heart slow down a notch, calming down a little. oof. one step at a time, you remind yourself, one step at a time.

"sure thing," ellie nods and helps the kid down from joel's lap, holding his hand as they walk through to the kitchen.

you're stood, frozen, as joel takes off his readers, rubs his eyes, and stands up. you've forgotten how imposing he can be, but even now, he just feels like a big shield between you and the rest of the world. you stare at each other for just a moment, and then strong arms are wrapping around you and joel is laughing?

"fuck," he snorts, "i can't believe it's you. after all this time!"

he pulls back but keeps his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down, studying you.

and then he looks back down at violet and you see his face contort from joy to something almost like fear. maybe dread, even? or anticipation.

"mama, who is this man?" violet asks, tugging at your sleeve, and you kneel down to her.

you meet eyes with joel one more time before answering her, and you see building panic behind them.

this was, admittedly, a lot. one step at a time. "his name is joel, he was a friend of mine. i knew him before you were born!"

violet extends her little hand out towards joel. "my name is violet, it's a kind of flower. i like your hair. it's sooo silvery."

you snort involuntarily, and joel gulps audibly, wide-eyed, before taking her small hand in his large palm, cradling it as if holding something precious, and shakes it. "i'm joel. it's nice to meet you."

you all have dinner and it's actually a pretty good time, as long as you don't make too much eye contact with joel, who looks as though he has an electric current running through him, keeping him wide eyed and twitchy. he's clearly trying to appear unfazed, but he's jumpy and not at all subtle, to the point that the kid who'd been on joel's lap earlier, rowan you'd learned, prods at joel at one point in the meal. joel jumps a mile and rowan furrows his brow asking why are you being so weird, uncle joel?

despite the tension, it's so domestic. this was a joel who folded his napkin on his lap before starting to eat, who minded his manners, and obviously pressed ellie to mind hers, too. the joel you patched up when he came to you bloodied and bruised felt like a shadow long since past.

after dinner, when you've made it through unscathed, tommy's watching the little ones as they conk out on the couch. maria's going over paperwork, and ellie's tuning a guitar.

joel pops his head into the room and makes a vague gesture indicating outside. "wanna chat on the porch?" he asks, and you nod and follow him.

there are a pair of handsome adirondack chairs and you each take a seat. you don't say anything, don't even look at one another. you just sit there in comfortable silence.

but then joel takes a deep breath and you know the question that's coming.

"violet?" he asks, "is she mine?"

you smile sadly.

"yeah," you say, "you're her daddy."

he chokes out a strangled noise and tries to cover it with a cough, badly.

he doesn't seem like he's gonna say anything, and you reckon he's not gonna, so you try and breeze past it.

"i know- i know it wasn't part of the plan." you exhale, "but it's okay, joel. she's only known one parent her whole life and it's common enough these days that she doesn't think it's strange. and i don't know if you ever want her to know that you're her dad, but i'm not ready for her to know. i'll tell her, but i want her to settle in here before any big life revelations come up for her. jackson's enough of a change as it is."

he nods slowly, coughs out a low "i understand. and i respect it. i just never thought-"

"neither did i," you cut him off, "and when i realized i was pregnant i didn't intend to keep it, but fedra had raided the last underground clinics that i knew about. most of the staff got hanged, and i was out of options."

he lets out a sharp exhale.

you're silent for another minute before joel speaks again.

"i'm sorry-" he says, "i'm sorry that your choice was taken from you. and i'm so sorry i wasn't there for you."

he still doesn't look at you, but he rests a hand on your knee.

"i can't believe- all this time and i have another daughter and i had no idea."

"she's such a cool kid," you tell him, "and don't get me wrong, i felt like the worst person in the world, bringing a kid into that fuckin'- fedra plague world," you admit, "but she's so funny, shy when you first meet her, but she has so much personality. every day, she's more and more of a tiny person! and she's just started doing this thing where i'll tell her something and she'll just scowl at me and she looks just like you-"

"hey, i don't scowl that much-" joel argues, scowling, and there's the joel you remember. all of a sudden you're hysterical with laughter, and then joel cracks too and he's laughing with you.

after a while, you fall into another comfortable silence. it gets later and later, and then joel's standing up and offering you a hand.

"'fraid i've got patrol in the morning, so i'd best be going to bed soon, and i'm guessing y'all are exhausted?"

you nod, feeling as if acknowledgement of it suddenly made it true. good god you were tired.

"you know what house you're staying in tonight?" he asked, and you tell him the number.

"sounds good," he nods, "can i walk ya home?"

"sure," you smile.

you head back inside, scoop up violet, and then the three of you are heading towards your temporary lodgings.

when you arrive, joel bids you goodnight at your doorstep and bobs his head a little as though he was about to lean in to kiss your cheek but then thought better of it, and instead takes your hand for a moment and mutters without looking directly at you, "it's really great to see you, baby. glad you made it here safe."

you go to bed. an actual bed, mind you.

you dreamed of joel miller.

you'd pretty much decided you and violet would stay here in jackson from the first minute you walked down the main street, but you gave it a few days before letting the council know. this is what you've been looking for, though. a home. a community. safety.

violet starts going to school. she's in the same year as rowan and apparently thrilled about it, so you're at tommy and maria's home more often than you'd imagined. you start patrolling, too. just short routes to begin with, but you didn't make it through this much without knowing how to survive, and you're good at it.

and then there's joel.

he's different.

he's aged, but he still looks great. the salt and pepper of his hair has turned more salt than pepper, and the crinkles by his eyes are deeper. you're still attracted to him, so attracted to him, but you don't wanna make any rash decisions. he seems lighter, clearly taken by ellie, and cautiously friendly towards you and violet.

he's made it clear he'd like to get to know her, but is happy to take his time, waiting until you're more comfortable with it. which is so beautifully, frustratingly thoughtful.

you never expected that cold, angry joel could be so warm and open, but he seems like such a doting family man, keeping an eye out for ellie, always there for tommy, being a good uncle for rowan. there was clearly some tension between him and his sister-in-law, too, but one evening you walked in on them doing dishes together, singing along to some old dolly parton cd. you slipped out the door before either of them saw you'd seen.

one night, violet and rowan are having a sleepover, supervised by tommy, and you have a rare night to yourself. you make your way over to the tipsy bison and relax at the bar, letting the whiskey warm you.

you chat with the bartender, and decide to put a song on the jukebox, but as you get up from your stool you knock the whiskey bottle over and watch tumble seemingly in slow motion before being caught by- "joel?"

"easy now," joel smiles, "don't want a repeat of last time."

it takes you aback for a moment, and then your face is burning with the memory.

"can't believe you remember that," you say, and he snorts.

"course i do. that was the last night i saw you."

he pulls out a stool and sits down next to you. gestures at the bartender for a glass, and pours himself a healthy finger of whiskey.

"how do you remember that night going?" you ask.

joel scratches at his cheek for a moment, pondering, and smiles, sipping his whiskey. "i was gonna be leavin' town, and i wanted to say goodbye so i checked out all your usual spots. walked in to see you smash a bottle and then try and flirt your way out of it with that weedy little bartender."

"i remember that bit, too," you say, "though on my end, i'll remind you, i was drinking because i was preemptively missing you and didn't realise you were leaving so soon."

"i do remember you saying that," joel nods, "and i was so mad because i'd spent so much time that night trying to find you, and that was time we wouldn't get back."

your eyes widen at his words. you didn't know this part. suddenly, you feel a warmth rising in you that you hadn't expected.

"do you remember what happened next?" he asks.

you nod. "yeah, you yelled at me a little, implied i was a whore, yelled at me more, and then told me you were leaving in the morning."

"jesus, i'm an asshole," joel says, and you smile.

"yeah, you are. neither of us were at our best though. but then we had one last night."

"one last night," he echoes.

neither of you say anything for a minute, and then joel breaks the silence.

"i'd be lying if i said i hadn't replayed that night over and over again in my head."

you smile. "me too," you admit, "it's honestly been a while since i've been with anyone, and when it's just me and my hand, that night's the first thing that i think of."

joel inadvertently chokes and splutters, dabbing at his mouth as he tries to collect himself. he's flushed a beautiful shade of pink and it makes you giggle.

"shit, girl, i forgot how blunt you can be."

"i think this might be the first wholly honest conversation we've had since i got to town," you ponder, still smiling, "we're always dancing around each other. in orbit but never colliding."

he looks at you with a curious expression on his face, like he's enjoying the task of trying to parse you almost as much as he's seeking an understanding.

you pour yourself another glass of whiskey and knock it back in one. you're gathering your courage. you're plotting plots now, and sure it's been a long time, but you figure it's worth a shot.

"i've been thinking, joel," you tell him, and his eyes are so focused on you, "i wanna say up front i don't have any expectations, and i won't be offended if you'd rather not-"

he raises an eyebrow at you and you could swear you see flirtation behind it.

"but, if you wanted-"

"spit it out"

"that last night doesn't have to be the last night."

your eyes are locked and don't speak, don't move, don't breathe.

and then joel miller's lips are crashing into yours, and you moan into him, one hand clutching at your shoulders, the other cupping your chin, and you melt into it.

"my place," you tell him, "violet's with her cousin tonight."

you realise that's the first time you said those words like that, so casual and normal, and you know you'll need to unpack that later but joel, shockingly, takes it in stride.

before you know it, you're walking up the porch steps with joel right on your heels and unlocking the front door.

you've barely gotten the door open before you're on the other side of it and it's slamming shut, joel pressing you against the threshold and kissing you deeply. one of his thighs presses between your legs and without thinking you rub up against it.

"shit, i've missed you baby," he says, and you're moaning against him as he helps you pull off your shirt, and you start to unbutton his. he continues, bashful, "didn't think you'd want an old man like me, anymore."

you scoff, "you've aged well, joel, and more than that, you've aged. you're still here and i can't even begin to tell you how much that means."

you tug the flannel from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind him before you pull off his undershirt.

"besides," you tell him, "you're the best lay i've ever had and i don't believe for a minute you've lost your touch."

he snorts, but then he's kissing on your neck again and you know you'll need to talk about things properly at some point. for now, though, you'll get lost in the feeling of him.

you're lost in the dizzy haze of touch. joel's hands are all over you, grabbing, stroking, caressing. you stumble to your bedroom, stepping out of your jeans and helping him shuck off his pants along the way. then he's laid out on your bed, bare except for his boxer shorts, chest heaving and cock straining.

you yank off your panties and climb on top of him, straddling him so your bare pussy rubs up against his hardness. he groans and grabs you by the hips, rocking you up and down his length.

"feel so good, baby," he breathes, and his eyes are fluttering closed in pleasure. "come here," he tells you, and he pulls you down for a kiss.

you take him in. look at his body. his chest hair has greyed, and he's got more scars than you remember including a nasty-looking one that must've been a close call. you run a thumb over the one on the side of his chest, still pearly but less pink these days, from the time you patched him up.

joel watches you watch him. "i never thanked you properly for that, sweetheart," he says, "but thank you. you saved my ass that night."

"of course," you tell him, as you dip down and lick a stripe up from his happy trail, all the way to his throat.

"fuck," he whines, and you shut him up with a kiss.

when you finally break, he strokes your cheek. "sit on my face," he tells you, and you don't need him to ask you twice.

you hobble up on your knees and then rest your cunt on his open mouth. he lets out a strangled moan and hmmms into you, the vibrations hitting your clit deliciously, before grabbing onto your hips and eating you like a man starved.

his clever tongue finds your aching clit and flicks against it, hard. once you're nearly overstimulated, he senses it and starts to lick long strokes, back and forth, dipping into your drooling pussy with each pass.

it's heavenly. addictive. you've hooked with old flames before, years after you'd slept with them last, and not only does joel not disappoint? he blows your fucking mind.

you come on his tongue and instead of pulling away, he pulls you closer. licks you deep. takes a breath and tells you "one more, baby, gimme another one."

you do, using his face to get yourself off, taking your time to build back up, rocking your hips over him, his nose covered with your slick, his cheeks, lips, and chin glistening so pretty when you finally shudder and spasm all over him.

"taste so good, baby," he tells you, "i wanna make you come on my tongue all night long."

"as much as i'd love that," you say, "i need that cock in me right fucking now. it's been seven years, joel."

he smirks, but doesn't need persuading.

he flips you over and presses his cock head at your entrance. before he slides in, though, he takes a moment to look you over.

you know you look older, and your hair has a few grey strands throughout. you've got more wrinkles, and stretch marks, and more than a few new scars.

before you can second-guess yourself, though, joel is stroking a hand along all of your perceived imperfections, adoring.

"so fuckin' beautiful", he whispers, "after all this time- i can't believe-"

you let your hand lace through the hair at his nape and give it a gentle tug. he closes his eyes, focusing only on the sensation, before opening them again. looking directly at you.

you're already so wet and worked up, he slides into you easily in one stroke, making you both gasp, and he just rests there for a moment, fully sheathed in you.

you clutch one another as he starts to thrust into you, pressing you open in a delicious stretch.

he fucks into you and then pauses and readjusts. moves your legs so they're on his shoulders, rather than wrapped round his waist. then he presses into you again, tentative, and your eyes practically roll back. it's the deepest thing you've felt.

"takin' me so good," he praises, "i feel how wet and ready you are, you've been needing this a while, huh?"

you can barely speak, only enough to breath out a whiny uh-huh that makes him chuckle.

"touch me", you beg, and he does, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples, gripping your waist, your hips. he grabs at your ass and jiggles it before giving it a swat that makes you giggle, but he looks positively feral.

"this fuckin' body," he groans, and you squeak as you take a particularly deep thrust and he eases up just a little.

you reach up to grab his jaw and kiss him, and he kisses you back, deep and lovely. you drag your tongue along his jawline and pepper kisses down his neck, trace your fingertips along his pearlescent scars.

"god, joel," you moan, "so fuckin big, you feel so good."

"you even feel better than i remember, too."

"don't you dare stop, don't you dare stop fucking me-"

"never, baby. wanna have you like this always."

you can feel your eyes fill with tears, overwhelmed with the sensation, with the tenderness and the care and the big cock fucking deep into you, it's all so good.

"yes baby," he grunts, "keep it open for me, good girl, letting me fuck you so nice."

you can see how his eyes are glittering and know he's emotional, too. he's staring at you with reverential awe that might embarrass you if it didn't feel so right. this isn't the rough, hair pulling, choking, biting sex you remember from him. he presses a hand over your belly and rubs gentle circles against it. his touch is electric.

"can't believe you made it," joel whispers, "made it all the way here, and you still want me. we've got a kid, and i left you all alone, and you still want me."

"always, joel," you tell him, and you realise it's the truth. whatever life you make for yourself, you want joel miller in it.

he lets out a growl and starts fucking you harder, deeper.

your orgasm builds quickly and soon you're clutching at his shoulder, leaving half moon crescents in his skin where your nails dig in, holding on for dear life.

"i'm gonna come," you tell him, and he holds you through it, his pace steady as your walls clench around his cock.

his hips begin to stutter as he loses his rhythm, nearing his own climax. he chokes out, "where do you want it?"

"my chest," you say, "come all over my tits."

he pulls out and strokes himself twice before spilling out on your chest, his cum landing on you in hot ropes.

after you catch your breath, he gently cleans you up and then pulls you into the crook of his arm, holding you close. you lay there together, just breathing.

"so gorgeous, momma," he says.

"not too bad yourself, daddy," you tell him, and he snorts.

you know you have a lot of things to talk about. the past seven years. the future. loss and love. violet getting to know her father.

for now, though, joel miller is in your bed and you're going to cherish every minute of it. it's more than enough.

#joel miller smut #tlou #the last of us #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader

[onewmin]

so it goes | kim mingyu

Pairing: idol!Kim Mingyu x idol!(implied)fem!reader (but can be gn!reader)

Summary: Perhaps, you shouldn’t be thinking about Mingyu at your friend’s party. Perhaps, you have to stop reminiscing about the night you spent with him. Perhaps, it’s too late for you to fall head over heels for someone. Or maybe, you’re not too old for the sweetest guy you’ve ever met.

Genre: Fluff, suggestive (if you squint), overall, two people are falling in love

Word count: 2184

Warnings: AU (cause in no way I’m saying it’s real), the reader is torn apart, mentions of cheating, slightly suggestive, the reader is older, mentions of social pressure

Author’s note: idk what it is but here we are. it’s pretty short and is mostly focused on the reader (it’s becoming my signature mark I guess lmao). Hope your enjoy it! Tell me what you think <3 p.s. the pictures are taken from Pinterest, so if you know the owners, please let me know so I could credit them! header cr — @/minzvk on Pinterest.

Disclaimer: the names and the appearances of real people are taken for the writing purposes only.

You did something bad. It’s not something illegal that could get you in jail, nor it is anything to be ashamed of. Well, technically, your media persona would be destroyed in an instance if they found out what happened.

As you glide through the chitchat, giving sweet smiles, bowing and trying to hold two drinks in your hands, you look for Jihyo, who seems to be lost in the crowd. It was her party, the celebration of her solo debut, and the club was filled with every other idol possible. The person you did the bad thing with included.

“Ah, there you are'', you panted, shoving a drink in Jihyo’s hands, “it’s impossible to get through here”.

She nodded, taking a sip, and immediately engaged in a conversation with somebody else. No matter how happy and supportive you were of your friend, your mind couldn’t help but wander, couldn’t help but think about the bad deed that happened two days ago. How horribly brainwashed were you to think doing that thing was the end of the world?

Sipping on your drink, your eyes wandered around the room too. Not wearing your contacts was a terrible idea as now you couldn’t recognize anybody unless they were close to you. Or unless they stood right in front of you, waving their hands closely to your face. Perhaps, it was for the best — you wouldn’t be able to see his face as well.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your jeans. Reading the message, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, as you nervously ran your hand through your hair.

“Can’t stop thinking about you”.

You raised your eyes from your phone screen, turning your head in desperate attempts to find him. To notice him from across the room didn’t even require you squinting your eyes — he was the only person who stared directly, shamelessly. You could swear he smirked when you looked back at him; however, maybe it was your imagination, playing dirty with your already burning mind.

You ran your hands through the hair again, sighing deeply and staring at your screen. Scrolling up your almost one-sided texting with the contact ‘Mingyu’, your brain couldn’t focus on anything but the memories of him from two nights ago.

‘Please don’t ignore me’.

‘Mingyu, we can’t’.

‘Why?’

‘Please answer me. Please’.

‘Just tell me why. Tell me why and I won’t bother u ever again’.

Easier said than done. Why, Mingyu? The answer is both simple and overcomplicated at the same time. Because you were older than him — not too much, he was just three years younger. Three years younger, super popular and way out of your league. That’s what you were confident about; although, Mingyu was absolutely different in his opinions. But just to think about it… You debuted almost twelve years ago, when he was, what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Isn’t it weird?

Only in your head, perhaps.

But in these twelve years you did your absolute best to never be caught in any dating scandals. Even with your ex-boyfriend of nine years, who was an ex-trainee turned into a dancer, you never went public. First because you both were too young, and your agency didn’t allow dating (who listens to them anyway, right?); second — you were too busy with your schedule, singing, blooming acting career and university studies to even consider having a public relationship; and third? Because he didn’t want to. He enjoyed living in comfort of being incognito, of having no responsibilities publicly. He could flirt with girls, get on dating apps, go out with random ladies and eventually, as you found out later, sleep around in your shared bed. In the bed that you bought. In the house that you paid for. Yeah, it was hurtful to catch him red-handed, but hating him helped come through the breakup faster. A year and half with the therapist's help, moving from the house to the apartment, getting a dog and a cat, and gaining new hobbies and friends — yeah, you were much better off without his jealous ass.

To consider dating after him, though? Wasn’t possible. Building up trust from scratch after you’d spent almost a decade with one person wasn’t even on the table. So you thought.

You knew Mingyu long before you changed agencies, almost right from their debut. He never failed to tell you how much of a fan he was, his cheeks turning rosy, while he was fiddling with his fingers. He seemed like a nice, sweet boy. Until a month ago.

“Oh, Mingyu!” Someone exclaimed, pulling you from your ever-wandering thoughts. “Good to see you!”

Oh god, he was right in front of you now. The black baggy T-shirt he wore was probably the exact same one from two nights before. Yeah, it was that tee. Oh shit.

“Mingyu”, you whimpered, back pressed to the wall, as his hands were roaming around your body.

“What, love?” He murmured, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. The unexpected pet name he’d given you sent vibrations down your spine, turning you into a melted vanilla ice-cream under a scorching sun.

“We…can’t”. Your words came out as a whisper when he stopped all of his movements to look at you. His dark chestnut eyes magnificently bewitching — as if he had put a spell on you.

“Why?” He uttered, hands squeezing your waist. “We’re both attracted to each other, why not?”

You sighed, unable to give an answer. Your reasoning seemed to fall down at his feet, as it started to appear stupid at the moment. Who cares if you are three years older? He’s not far behind, a responsible adult, who’s also the most attractive person you’ve ever met. Not to mention he’s super smart, ready to pull up in his car to any place you call him from and makes the best homemade pasta in the world. When he holds your hand, gently rubbing your palm, you could swear it fits his big ones perfectly, and when he puts his arms around your waist, chin resting on your head, the heat of his body warming you in cool late August nights – as if you were born to eventually be loved by him. One night with him, preceded by a couple of months of pining, of watching him dance, talk, laugh, run, smile, blush, run hands through his hair, sheepishly bring you a coffee because he thought of you in the coffee shop… Mingyu drove you home endless times when your car was being repaired, and every time he did, he would walk you right to the door of your apartment, to make sure you got home safely. You couldn’t, you can’t count the moments when you thought of him. Every day. Every night. Every minute of your day, even those you spent in the studio. And when the pining was too much, it resulted in a cheek kiss turned into a heavy breathing and making out against the wall of your living room.

You hand touched his cheek. His eyes were clouded with desire as he observed your every move, leaning into your touch. “No reason”. You didn’t let your doubts take over the moment. Not with him.

And now Mingyu was standing right in front of you, a silver chain on his neck glimmering in the dim light of the club. The thought about this same chain, dangling on his neck and sending shivers all over your body every time it touched your skin when he was kissing you in the dark of your room, seemed to absolutely absorb you. And your shameless staring didn’t escape Mingyu’s attention either.

“You seem busy these days”, he said, obviously hinting at you ignoring his texts. You let out a sigh, not having the slightest idea what response you could give him.

“I have a comeback soon”, you cleared your throat, “so there’s a lot to do”.

He nodded. “Avoiding me included?” That horribly smug smirk made you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He did not just say that here, where multiple people could hear him.

“Let’s not talk about it here”, you leaned in to almost mumble it in his ear. He glanced at your lips, a slight head tilt away from his. It was too late when you realized how close you were, but Mingyu didn’t let you get away easily when he grabbed your hand.

“As you wish”. He almost dragged you from the spot you were hanging around, his hand squeezing yours a bit too hard. You felt as if you were under scrutiny, when every other person in the club was eyeballing the scene that Mingyu created. However, no one seemed to take notice of him taking you out of the club. Hopefully, none of your girlfriends did – otherwise, you’d have to deal with their constant taunting forever. They always joked how you were the ‘least scandalized’ concerning your dating life (and less experienced, as you spent your younger years being practically married to one man). And if they find out about Mingyu? A never-ending saga it would be.

When you were outside, a group of paparazzi almost caught you – or so you thought – but Mingyu was quick enough to move to the opposite direction, where no photographers or strangers could catch you. He took you to the parking lot, right to his car.

The place was empty, not many cars were occupying the parking spaces. At one point, when you observed the area, you dropped his hand. However, it didn’t help: Mingyu took both of your hands in his immediately, gently rubbing your palms once again.

“Did I do something wrong?” He muttered, eyes glued to your hands. An immediate string of pain poked your heart, as you heard his brittle voice. He was too good to make him feel this way.

‘No”, you shook your head, cupping his cheeks and bringing his gaze back to your face, “it’s not about you, Mingyu”.

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his hands sweetly squeezing your wrists.

You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. That was so stupid, so… You couldn’t even find the words to describe what you were feeling. No matter how much you liked Mingyu, the thought of public going mad about the two of you dating was eating you from the inside. And the fact that you were slightly older than him… The whole stigma of women being older than their boyfriends was so terribly bizarre, to the point when even your cousin (whose partner was a year younger than her) was dragged by the whole family and called ‘too old’ for him. And you were three years older! What would they do to you? And what’s most important, what would the public do? How horribly would they tear your career apart? And what would they do to him?

“I don’t think..” You stuttered, looking down at your feet, “I don’t think I’m a good match for you”.

“Why would you ever think that?” It was his turn to cup your cheeks now to make you look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted”.

“But the age-“

“Are you, like, what? Eighty?” The corners of your mouth quirked up. “I… I have feelings for you. I like you, I’ve had a crush on you since I first saw you”, he said under his breath, “and I know you feel the same way”.

The eye-contact seemed to be a non-verbal communication for the two of you; otherwise, if your gazes could speak, they would declare love poems for the whole world to hear. You weren’t sure what to respond, because, no matter how much the public opinion had altered so many things about you to fit in their idealistic standards, you, from the moment Mingyu and you got stuck in the elevator several months ago, from the moment you noticed his soft smile, had his silky voice be your shy companion for half an hour — from that moment alone you were mesmerized by him. Captivated. Did it really matter what the public would think?

“I do”. You almost gasped when his eyes lit up at your response. An angelic smile adorned his face, a face so delighted you could swear he had a garland behind him to lighten up the darkness of the night.

“Then let me take you home”, he murmured into your lips, “let me take you home every day”.

How in the world could you say no to him?

So it goes. Him, driving his car, stealing kisses from you at the red light and squeezing your hand in his; and you, catching the glimpse of every little thing he does, just so you can savour these memories when he’s far away. It feels different — to be able to fall in love slowly, feeling his and yours palms sweat whenever you hold hands; to laugh at stupid jokes the two of you make, to cuddle on the couch, while watching TV, to go on picnic dates, to finally be loved. Perhaps, this is everything you ever wanted.

#kim mingyu #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x female reader #kim mingyu x you #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x female reader #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu imagines

[peachydarlingz]

-Memories of you- Finnick Odair

headers @attxnt and @plutism

Warnings: Major angst, implied character deaths.

Pairing: Finnick odair x f! reader

-

We were growing old together, of course we were dying.

We found time to talk about it, the sensitive stuff; And it always brought us closer.

Back in our twenties, we might’ve avoided the topic, finding time to ignore and argue about it instead. But when you’re old, wise and your days are spent mindlessly rocking back and forth holding hands, things become simpler, easier. Those harder conversations seem to flow naturally.

“Finn, when I die, can you hold my hand until I get to the other side?”

“How do you know I won’t go first?” Theres a jest in my voice, but I know she’s serious. Her health has been declining more and more recently. I just smile and squeeze her hand. “Of course, my blossom.”

And what a privilege it was to grow old by her side. After everything we had been through together, it was everything I wanted and more.

In my old age, years after my love died, I was often asked the question, “Will you remarry?” and I would always laugh, and it would always catch them off guard. But that’s a funny question to me; I couldn’t help but laugh, because when you’ve had everything, why would you want anything else?

But I loved that question too, because every time they’d ask, I get to talk about you.

“I remember how she could notice an arthritis flare up from the shift in the air, she knew me so well. It’s so rare that you’re connected with someone. So connected, that you can breathe their air and know what they’re feeling, exactly what they’re saying...” there’s a long pause.

“Anyways, when she would notice a flare up, she was always right by my side with a heating pad and a massage. “And I catch myself remembering what once was. “Someone who once soothed the deep pain she knew she could not heal… but would do anything to calm it. Any remedy or potion, because that’s love.” and those sentiments in our old life, and that silly question reminds me of a new memory my mind threatens to forget. but I know deep down, she is the last thing I’ll ever forget. That is something I’ll make sure of.

And every time, I am met with the same response to the same stupid question, silence.

I talk to the vision of you in my head, and I’ll often make that poor nurse pull out the photo album again. But I can’t help it, you look so beautiful in our wedding photo; Or the picture of you planting sage in the garden, just for me.

“Every morning when I’d get back from my morning swim, she would always have a fresh cup of sage tea and a hazelnut muffin waiting for me. Even on the days the bakery wasn’t open, and especially the holidays, she made sure to get extra.”

“That’s very sweet Mr. Odair, now let’s take your medicine.” And I’m pulled back into limbo again.

I seem to be rotting more and more after being the last one left. After you died, it seemed that old age and disease got our friends. You’ll be happy to know that the ‘Star-crossed lovers’ from district 12 died together from old age, just like we predicted they would. Suddenly I’m laughing to myself, remembering our conversations of the pair. Both of us agreeing that if one died, the other would soon follow from heartbreak, if they didn’t grow old together.

It seems like every little memory brings me back to her, even when I don’t mean to.

But maybe that’s my feeble mind’s attempt to keep its grasp on you.

I think the only reason I lived so long after you passed is because you’d be mad at me if I didn’t. And I would never want to upset my wife, even if it’s in the afterlife.

But once Johanna faded, it was just me left. Life just seemed a lot duller after that.

You would think being in the games, the war, all the death I’ve been through would make it easier, but somehow, it’s not. Each death just seemed to take more of the life out of me, and now, I’m the last one left. So, I lay here in this cold hospital bed drifting in and out of the labyrinth that is my mind.

From what I can gather when I’m conscious, I’m not doing too great. The doctors say I’ve forgotten how to do everything except drink water and mumble a few words. They say I can’t last long like this. But to be honest, I really don’t care. I just want to see you again.

“Pictures!!”

“Yes, Mr. Odair I’m getting the photo album, I promise.” That poor nurse, I hope she knows it’s appreciated.

When the nurse sits down next to me and starts flipping through the book, I feel grounded again. I’m looking at my favorite picture of you, how could I ever forget that memory?

We were on our honeymoon, and I just remember thinking, ‘Wow, that’s my wife.’.  I couldn’t help but snap a quick picture when you weren’t looking. Which, of course you didn’t like, but that’s exactly why I did it, and I’m so glad I did. I really do miss you.

I think the thing I miss the most about you is your smell. There was nothing else like it, because it was just so you. I could never replicate it even if I tried, and I did try.

It was the way she layered the complimenting scents after putting on her lotion. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like. I crave for the day I get to crossover and embrace that euphoric feeling again.

I’m not scared to die; I’ve been close to death more times than I can count. But in a way, maybe I am scared. I’m scared that I won’t see you again. And maybe I shouldn’t have based my idea of the afterlife on you, but to me everything is based off you. It’s how I keep myself sane. Well, as sane as I can be.

I may not know the date, or really what I even look like in my now bedridden state, but I feel an overwhelming sense of peace and I can’t help but close my eyes and reflect on my life. My body feels heavy, I can truly say I wouldn’t trade my life for the world. The wrinkles on my face remind me of every smile and laugh I experienced and for a moment I’m ethereal.

But I guess I’ve really lost it, because I swear, I can smell the essence of you…

#peachywritesfinnick🩷 #peachywrites🩷 #finnick odair #the hunger games #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #finnick fluff #finnick angst #fanfic #finnick odair smut #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair imagine #thg series #thg #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick fanfic #sam claflin

[bittersweet-kelly]

The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Summery: You and Henry had been dating for a few awhile now. Both of you had been invited to his friend's costume themed birthday party. Which you mistook for an early Halloween party. While dancing with Henry, you hear something ripping.

Rating: Explict. 18+. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, size kink, big cock, big balls, hyperspermia, crying, alcohol, descriptive sex, spanking, biting, bulges, alcohol, unprotected sex (Wrap it up), spit, pet names, name calling, female c-word, ripping of clothes, pop culture references.

Word Count: 3,462 (Sorry)

Disclaimer: I do not own Henry or have any connections to Henry. This story was made by me and my own filthy mind from the wanting of henry to ruin me in more ways than one. This is my first fanfiction that I've written and published. I'm usually a role-player on MMOs and online games. Although my first language is English, I have dyslexia so expect grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes and sometimes sentences that could seem confusing. Not beta'd or proof read. Header made by me using pictures on the internet.

*****

Why, oh, why have you left it to the last minute to try and find a costume for a party you’ve known about for at least two weeks! You spent all day looking around town for something to wear. It’s Halloween how hard could it be to find a costume? As you found out, unless you fit in children's costumes... It was very hard. Heading home you finally remembered you had costumes back from your time in college. 

Rummaging at the back of your closet you fished out a plastic storage box that was rammed with old costumes you wore during your party days. Pulling out the costumes. A flapper, a sexy nurse, a sexy nun. Scoffing at your younger self for the costume choices. You sat on the floor humming and ahhing trying to figure out what to wear. Your thought process was interrupted when your phone buzzed. Reaching for your phone a smile forms across your lips as you read the name that popped up. Opening the message, it reads 

‘Hey baby, can’t wait to see you tonight. 🦁’ Seeing his messages always send your butterflies fluttering. You sat there for a good minute holding the phone to your chest. As the feeling fades and your mind comes crashing back down to reality your face is left with a furrowed brow. Looking back at your phone you typed a message back. 

‘Can’t wait to see you Hen-bear. What you wearing tonight??!’ You waited for an answer that would never arrive. Shrugging your shoulders, you grabbed the Witch outfit. It was Halloween after all, can never go wrong with a Witch. 

After showering and getting yourself ready you get a call from Henry. 

“Hey [your f/n], car will be picking you up in about 10 minutes. Then it will come to mine and we’ll arrive together. See you in a bit, baby." He finished his sentence with a roar, which made you chuckle slightly albeit slightly confused and taken back by it. 

“Okay see you then sweetie." The call ended, and you had 10 minutes to make sure you looked good and presentable. Standing in front of the mirror you look over yourself. Making sure the make-up was right and not too clowny. You wanted to look good after all. Your main concern was the outfit that was a couple of years old... It fitted okay when you were standing still and breathing in slightly... In the years since putting on the witch costume you’d become more of a woman to love. You weren’t fat by any means, but your body was softer and there was more to grab. The black lace and crushed velvet dress hugged your body in all the right places, looking more like Morticia, from the Addams family, than the wicked witch of the west. 

Hearing the car pull up, you make a quick dash for your small handbag. “Housekeys? Check. Lipstick? Check. Aaannndddd... Phone. Three for three.” You gave yourself a small victory cheer before shutting the door and getting in the car. While sitting in the car you do the most English thing anyone does in a taxi or an Uber. “Are you having a nice evening? On for long? Have you got many jobs after this one?" You and the driver small talked for about 30 minutes by the time it took you to get to Henry’s place. While Henry walked down the driver to the car, you were able to ogle at him. He wore a crocheted lion hat that had a tasselled mane that came down to his broad shoulders. A tight Muscletech tee that hugged his muscular frame. The tee looked stretched over his bloated biceps and stuck tightly to his pecs, almost giving the illusion of support. Could his shorts be any shorter, you thought to yourself. A slutty 4-inch seam on the inside showing off his powerful legs. 

As he got in the car, he filled most of the back seat with his mass and might. His legs spread out in different area-codes. “Hey babe." He leaned over pressing his lips to your cheek for a quick kiss before putting his seat belt on. “Looking great." He winked at you, making your toes curl and your fanny to flutter. He then spoke in the voice he uses for when he’s being Geralt of Rivia. “Hmm. Fuck. I do like sorceresses." He then laughed, lightly slapping his massive hand down on your thigh to comfort you. Either your face must have been embarrassed or looking like you’ll pounce on him in the car. Not that the two of you have fooled around in a car before... 

“What’s with the costume?" You ask him, casting your eyes over him once more. Taking in all the mountain of man beside you. Your eyes fell on the large mound at his crotch. Henry was a big guy all over, and sometimes had a hard time hiding his bulge. You quickly butt in before he answers your first question. “Shorts so short, your boxer briefs are sticking out passed them." You chuckle, playfully nudging him with a hand of yours only for said hand to be engulfed by his mitts as he held yours. Using his thumb to stroke over the back of your soft hands. 

“First of all... I’m a football mascot for England. One of the three Lions." With his free hand he pointed to the Lion hat. “Lion. And football gear." Using his index finger and thumb he plucked at the tight fabric, letting it snap back into place against his body. “Secondly... I’m not wearing boxer briefs. Just briefs... Which." He looked at you with a knowing look. “There’s a lot to fit in them. Can’t wait to take them off." With the same breath he leaned into you again to whisper. “I hope you’re not wearing –any-.” Feeling his stubble tickle the side of your face made you squirm in your seat. The warmth of his breath in your ear. Heavens. You sat there hoping you hadn’t left a wet spot on the seat. Henry’s wish wouldn’t have been hard as you didn’t wear any. The undies you had created the line around your waist and butt cheeks. 

“I didn’t realize football mascots were for Halloween.” You smirked over at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of your lover. Henry’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Fuck!” He threw his head back into the headrest and covered his eyes with his free hand. “I forgot to tell you... It’s not a Halloween party. Derek’s Birthday is close to Halloween and he’s ended up hating it. So when he has a party, it’s things other than Halloween." You started to panic. The last thing you wanted to do was to look out of place. It would be like the scene in Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan turns up as a ghoul and everyone else looks hot. Cavill laughed to put your mind at ease. “Just say you’re Morticia. That’s from a movie, doesn’t need to be Halloween." He let go of your hand and slipped it behind the small of your back to hold you from a seat away.

Once the both of you get to the location of the party, you toss aside the witches hat you were going to wear. Aren’t a witch no more! Joined at Henry’s hip, due to his hand on your ass, the two of you do the rounds greeting the people and his friends. Usually, your head came to Henry’s chest, something you loved; those furry pillows to rest your head against when he was shirtless. With the heels you wore, you came up to his shoulder. Admittedly both of you liked the size difference. 

After a while you let Henry do his thing. You’ve met his friends a few times, but you weren’t in with the crowd. You find yourself at the bar, just chit chatting to the other girlfriends, all while doing shots and drinking vodka lemonades. Henry comes up to the bar to get a refill on his pint of lager, stealing a kiss every time. Which makes everyone ‘aww’ and giggle at you. 

As the night continued and the more drunk you got, the music started to sound better and better. Plus the kids had all gone to bed, so the real dance floor fillers were coming on. Being drunk enough you wandered on over to Henry when he was speaking to his friends. You grabbed his hand and another gripped his bicep. “’Cuse me, I’m going to steal my boyfriend." Playfully you tugged on Henry’s arm. “I wanna dance with you." You felt Henry’s disapproval. Henry never danced unless he was getting paid to and had choreographed the dance beforehand like his fight scenes. “Please?" You begged, looking up and him with doe eyes. Pleading to him. He scoffed. 

“Fine." He groaned. “But on the way home we’re stopping off for a kebab!" Both of you laughed while making your way over to the floor where people were dancing. Henry mostly stood on the spot, tapping a foot on the ground and throwing a hand up in the air to pump it. Sensing his awkwardness you grabbed both of his hands and then began to dance with him... For him. Feeling flirty, your hands trailed along his torso, every now and then groping his pec muscles to give them a squeeze. It’s only fair, he comes up behind you and reaches around and puts his hands all over yours. Your hands glide down his torso while you lower yourself in front of him, your face now greeting by his crotch as you were crouched in front of him. He simply shook his head while chuckling at your antics. To stand back up, you slowly rose pushing your hips back to make your ass stick out. You then turn around to have your back to him. With your back resting against his front, you slide down his body until you’re crouching again, you turn your head to the side to be knocked by Henry’s bulge in his shorts. How his shorts managed to hold back the mammoth of a cock he had between his legs was a miracle. The fabric was stronger than your mental health. 

You hummed with a smirk across your lips while looking up at him. His eyes filled with lust. If you weren’t surrounded by people, he could have pulled his cock out to slap it against your face. You felt a hand grip your armpit and with his assistance you were standing up straight. “I love how big you are." You whispered loudly due to the music, all while chewing on your bottom lip. 

“I’m glad I wore underwear, otherwise my cock would be sticking out of the bottom of my shorts. And you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” He stared you down; unsure if he was angry with you or trying to keep cool. You shrugged his grip off; you were too drunk to really care about the consequences. Turning back around to face him. The song then called for a ‘drop low’ which you were more than happy to oblige to. Hoping your knees wouldn’t give out as you quickly dropped to the floor in the sophisticated dance move called the ‘Slut Drop’. Over the music you heard this loud ripping noise. Shooting straight back up to stand, your hands reached around behind your back. 

" I think my dress ripped. How bad is it?" You asked Henry to look. He shook his head while laughing. 

“That’s karma." His eyes then fell onto your rather large split. “...”His eyes widened. “It’s barely noticeable." His voice raised an octave. You knew he was lying and it must have been bad! In a panic you rushed off to the toilets, luckily this place had individual unisex toilets that the door could be locked. Once inside you look in the mirror, having your back facing it and your head peering over your shoulder. Henry’s words rung in your ears. ‘It’s barely noticeable...’Your bare ass was on show!!! You cursed yourself! Why did you go to commando? Foolish! The rip started at the midpoint of your lower back and went down all the way to your thighs. Someone tried to open the door. “Honey you in here?" Henry asked. You unlocked the door only to swing it open. Grabbing Henry with both hands to pull him in with you; only to relock it. 

“It’s barely noticeable?! BARELY?!” You confronted him. Henry raised his hands defensively. 

“It’s dark out there... Plus I had strobe lights in my eyes." He deflected. “And here’s you thinking my shorts would be the ones to rip." He tilted his head back to laugh. While you stood at the mirror trying to see how you could salvage the outfit. While your ass was out in the open Henry took the opportunity to slap his hand against your cheek. Leaving a red handprint on it. You let out a yelp as it stung and took you by surprise. "I should sign it like the Walk of Fame." He moved to stand behind you, his hands now on your hips. His grip pulled your hips back so the top of your ass was pressed against his crotch. “Think you can tease me in front of my friends?" He growled in your ear. “Should have fucked you there and then on the floor. Show everyone how much of a slut you are for me.” He lowered his head, feeling his breath against the nape of your neck. “Show ‘em how well you take my big cock.” His stubble rubbed against your soft skin before feeling his lips press against your skin in lust filled kisses. 

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch and kisses. His words made your legs go weak. You felt Henry’s mouth at the beginning of the rip, his lips peppering your skin. His beard tickled against your lower back which sent shivers up your spin. Just as you were in the moment of heaven you felt Henry sink his teeth into your butt cheek. You turned your head over your shoulder to look down at him, you playfully swatted at his head. “Oi." Henry looked up at you with a smirk, his hands reaching for the rip and extending it, so it reached the end hem of the dress making it one big split in the back. He stood back up, his hands on your shoulders to force you to lean over the sink. Using a foot, he kicked your legs to spread them further. His hand moved to his face, licking his three middle fingers to get them wet. You soon felt his fingers rubbing against your labia and his middle finger dipping inside of you. His finger felt so good inside of you. When you first started dating, one finger was enough to send you over the edge. Now you’re more accustomed to Henry and his size, you’ve upgraded to 2 fingers. 

Henry laughed. “Someone’s eager. Fucking wet already." He brought his hand up to his mouth to taste you. He hummed. “If only my cock wasn’t begging for a release, could eat you out. But someone wanted to tease the kraken." Keeping one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place, leaning over the sink. Your hands gripping the sides of the basin. His free hand wiggled his shorts and briefs down far enough for his cock to spring forth. Due to the size and weight of it, even when Henry was hard his cock fought a hard game with gravity, making his member bow down to the ground. His hand gripped his cock at the base of his shaft, his little finger sinking into his ball sac, to position himself. At first he glided his cock between your lower lips, getting his dick all greased up using your juices. Soon you felt his tip push against your body. You look back at Henry in shock. 

“We usually use lube." You pointed out to Henry. “You’ve never gone in dry before." Henry raised the left side of his brow at you. 

“With how wet you are, there’s nothing dry here.” He retorted only to pull his hips back to see his own cock. He drew spit from his mouth to aim it at his member, then used a hand to massage the spit into the head of his cock. Realigning his cock with your pussy, his hand and hips aided his dick to enter. Both of you let out a moan as your body finally accepted his appendage. “You feel great." He reassured you. The hand that helped his cock moved to join his other hand around your waist. His thumbs dig into the dimples on your back. Slowly he begins to grind his hips back in forth, allowing you to adjust to his size. Doesn’t matter how many times you have sex, he always felt huge and your felt tight to him. 

Sensual moans escaped your mouth, you were trying to be quiet knowing you were in a bathroom and on the other side of the door there were people who could listen. “Your cock is huge." Henry chuckled at your quip. His grind turned evolved more into a thrust. Forcing more of his fat inches into your body. 

“Get ready." Henry warned you as his thrusts become stronger and faster, feeding your body more of his member. His balls swung back and forth slapping at your labia, and clit while swinging back to hit his thighs as his hip crashed into the cushions of your ass. With ever thrust you felt yourself colliding with the ceramics of the sink. Moving your hands from the basin you reached out and planted your palms against the mirror. Your moans got louder and more uncontrollable. “That’s it...” He growled into your ear. “Make everyone hear you being fucked by me.” With every forceful move of his, you felt your legs get weaker at the knees and joints. You feel his hands move from the sides of your hips to the front, giving you support. All your weight was lifted by his strength. Your feet dangled in the air, even with heels on. Henry was lost in lust. Your moans and cries did nothing but spear him on. His cock acted as a piston, steaming in and out of your stretched cunt. You were at the mercy of him, nothing but a toy for his cock to erupt in.  

You felt tears roll down your cheek as Henry ploughed into you from behind. His grunts echoed around the room, along with your moans. Your body felt a mixture of pleasure and pain. His cock was scratching at all your points due to its size, driving you crazy. The girth stretched out your velvet tunnel while the length of it always pressed against your cervix. You often thank the gods for making you hardy. With how powerful his thrusts were, the tip of his cock slammed and knocked against your cervix, causing you pain and the reason why your face was wet with tears. 

Henry’s grip around your waist tightened and you felt his fingers dig deeper into your skin. With one more forceful slam, his hips buried his cock deep inside of you. Your pussy felt his cock throb, pushing against your already stretched walls. He tilted his head back while his cock unloaded its load. At first it oozed out before gaining momentum and shooting forth a powerful shot. It felt like minutes for Henry, standing in bliss while his balls unloaded his cum deep inside of you. He cummed a lot. Which made sense with the size of his family jewels. You swore it felt like he made you bloated whenever he came. As his climax weakened, as did he. Letting go of your hips, his torso laid on top of yours. “...Fuck.” He huffed out, only for his cock to slip out, while it softened, from your gaping pussy. 

He stepped back, looking down at you while you flopped over the sink with your Bambi legs. His semen seeped out of your body, dripping down your thighs. “Let's get you home and in bed.” Stuffing his cock back into his briefs and shorts. At least now he fitted inside them a bit better after blowing off some steam. He picked you up, as you weighed nothing to him, carrying you in the bridal carry. He unlocked the door and stepped out. Naturally there were people standing close to the door. “She had a moment." Henry confessed before walking out of the building and putting you in a taxi to take you home.

#henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #smut #size difference #fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #size k!nk

[louroth]

Well, well, well. Would you look at what the cat dragged in. (it's me, Lou!)

The time is here, and oh man, do I have a lot to say! Ever since this post was posted on my personal tumblr, on the fifth of may, I have been working like a machine on all things OUROBOROS. I had originally planned for this to just be a progress report/ announcement on what I will be working on now that I am free of the shackles of work, but, somehow, I managed to finish all bullet points, and more. So, let's get into it!

First off, the title.  Ouroboros becomes all capitalized OUROBOROS. Idk. It's neat. Next!

Art. Whew. I didn't think I could draw like this anymore- drawing has been more of a struggle than writing has been, forever, always- it was something I really strived to become good at, for a time. And I gave up. Only to pick it up again when I started ouro, and ever since I released that pressure, something just clicked and I have been churning out art like never before. I don't know if this is a fluke, a stroke of luck or if all that hard work I once did slaving away with menial art practice… but I'm grateful nonetheless. (A note on official RO art: I lost my ipad pencil somewhere on the lawn, lmao. I haven't been able to get a new one yet, so there is a slight delay here.) I am hoping that I get to make some commissions too, in the near future. Visit the forum to see some works in progress (amongst them, Yor's RO portrait!)

Onto the hellscape that is coding! I have been growing more proficient with CSS and html with the help of the ones that run so that we can walk; I have studied and researched and tested and tinkered until my eyes crossed, finding my way into this medium with the incredible guidance of the giants of whose shoulders I stand on. I will talk about this in detail on a later date. So I think it's finally time to reveal that yes, I am working on a twine version of ouro. I will develop it in tandem with choicescript; the porting over from one to the other isn't the herculean task I thought it would be.

Why am I doing this? Because I need to have a save system. I am continuing to write the whole alpha draft in choicescript in hopes that CoG will announce the ability to have a native save/checkpoint system, but if that doesn’t happen, I can’t publish this story without one. Unfortunately, I am not willing to code in a savesystem in choicescript myself, because this will be a large game, with far too many variables for that to be sustainable. Trust me, no one is more disappointed by that fact than me. If it comes to the point that twine publishing will be what I do, I will set my sights on writing a smaller game for hosted games. 

Now the meatier announcements!

New Socials!

Tumblr: You are looking at it!  This is the new, exclusively OUROBOROS blog where I will share all announcements and sneak-peeks, and future updates. I worked together with the dev of the theme and made it oh, so pretty and functional. Please check out their portfolio here, if you are ever in the market for sprucing up your (desktop version) of tumblr. They were a pleasure to work with. Amongst other things, it has a gorgeous header (again, only if you visit on web and not mobile) where I am showcasing fanart and official art. Go check it out! This month, I am showcasing a truly breathtaking art from KAIRELART, and you can find the full art here, or follow the links in the “FEATURED ARTIST” tab in the top bar.

I hope you enjoy this new haven for OUROBOROS! I will be answering questions once a week (saturday) and ramping up as I adapt to this new schedule, more on that further below.

My old tumblr, honeypeabrain, will revert back to being my personal blog. Feel free to keep following me there, but know that it will be inundated with shitposts, crass humor and the occasional poetry dump and personal post. You’ve been warned!

Discord!

By the good graces, this was ROUGH to set up. Working with discord bots is akin to wrangling code, and it was well and truly, a war. But with the help of many, it is finally all done and ready for anyone to join and talk to me and others about OUROBOROS and anything else between heaven and earth. 

I will also greatly appreciate if any future bugs and feedback are submitted through here, so I can keep easier track of it. Come join us! (18+ ONLY.)

Patreon & Ko-Fi

Yep! Ko-fi is just a place to toss me a coin if you wish to help me towards the goal of new PC parts to make testing easier, or to just show appreciation for those that have it to spare. Patreon however, already has a multitude of posts and will be a hub for exclusive NSFW sidestories that you get to vote on, loredives and extensive sneak peeks, Q&A’s, polls and weekly dev logs. 

Right now, there are only two tiers, but I expect it to grow as my story does. I have many plans, but I am going at a steady pace. 

Amongst tiered content, there is a (free) NSFW story with female MC and Idren to read there right now, if you want to check it out! I am mgoing to post it on tumblr and the adult thread here over the weekend.

NOTE: I stupidly didn't realize that patreon had a review process after I pressed launch, which I did just a few minutes ago. Sigh. I am going to post the short on tumblr and the adult forum thread as soon as I get to it.

It is not mandatory by any means, so if you do choose to support me, you have my eternal gratitude as these places will be the sole source of income for me.

Onto writing:

The best news out of this whole bunch is that I have worked so hard on editing and writing, that in the past month I have all but finished a two chapter update! I have a chunk of about 5-6 thousand words left to write, and I am going to buckle down over the weekend to see it through. I wanted to have it done so badly for today, but I lost three days of writing time last week due to still being weighed down with work. I hope it isn’t too disappointing to have to wait until monday for the demo update! I am going to post a link to an as-I-write updated demo on Patreon and Discord, if you want to see the ugly face of raw wip drafts. Otherwise I will post the demo update here on Monday with a comprehensive post!

And now!  the biggest news is… from now on, I am writing full time!

This is what I have been tossing and turning about every night ever since Easter. It started as a silly idea while talking to some friends and family about how I was looking for a change in career. And then, little by little, that idea whittled down to a plan, carefully carved by my partner and his whispers of a happy future, a finished dream project, and something to be proud of until the day I wither and die. 

Somewhere between then and now, I grasped a tiny sliver of bravery and held on for dear life. 

I quit my job as a teacher, and instead of accepting a cushy office job, I started behaving as if OUROBOROS and writing was my work (for all the moments I could afford). I have researched and tried different methods from week to week, and although I was still tired from work, I felt like I was onto something that could build into a sustainable future. 

I have no doubts that this journey will be bumpy and long, but sometimes all it takes is to take that first step, and do it with determination. It might all crash and burn and fail in a spectacular way, or with a whimper, but then I will know that I have tried. I will know that I gave myself the chance to be who I want to be, work on what means so much to me. 

And that’s it. I think the hardest part of formulating this post (I’ve written about 50 versions of it!) is getting to the point; the kernel of what makes it so special to me. So, in my heart of hearts, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm gonna give it my all- and while I know the road to having a sustainable career in writing is rough and ever winding, I do know for sure that I am ready for a challenge, to pour my heart and soul into it until the day I rush out of the office screaming IT IS DONE. IT IS DOOOOONE!!! 

If you decide to join me, I will treasure your company like a lantern in the dark. Hand in lovable hand, let’s fucking go.

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #hosted games #CYOA #twine #dev log #progress update #honeypeabrain #smacking tags on this post like they're skittles im aiming into a beasts mouth #I DIDN'T REALIZE PATREON WAS GOING TO REVIEW MY PAGE (literally cried about it because I planned everything so meticulously) SOB #anyway :') but a small stepping stone on the long journey ahead #I am going to take the dog for a long walk and then upload the demo/spicy short as I say hello to anyone joining the disc #I hope to see you there :>

[thisisarcanereverie]

Monster (DARK! Moon Knight x FEM! Reader) Part 2 (final)

A/N: This is part 2, this is going to be the last part I will write to this while I focus on some other fics for you guys, Also found the header on pinterest idk who the original maker of it is, if you know please tag them in this post.

Also thank you all for all your lovely comments on the first part of this, It's been a while since I posted so it was great to hear positive things.

Word Count: 2.7K

WARNINGS: Dark themes; mentions of abuse (domestic, physical, mental),Marc being an absolute wreck of a person, unrequited love, Layla being ooc, Marc being a little ooc, 18 + MINORS DNI.

Summary: Marc has loved you for ten years, ever since he met you, Layla's best friend. But can you truly love the monster beneath the skin?

You arrived at his place ten minutes after the call, when he opened the door he wasn’t sure if your face was wet because of the rain or because of the tears. He had ushered you inside immediately and tried to get you warm clothes when you stopped him and handed him something. Neither of you said a word as he opened the crumpled piece of paper you handed him. 

To You, 

By the time you read this I’ll be gone. Maybe that is for the best. 

I know you say you don’t love Marc, not in that way. But I saw the way he looked at you the other night, like you were the sun; and the way he held you. I had been married to Marc for ten years, and never once did he look at me or hold me the way he did you that night. Not even during our wedding. 

You were my best friend. All I’ve ever wanted for you was the best; and while Marc might not have been my best, he’s yours. I was wrong for bringing up ‘him’, I was jealous and bitter and I should never have let it get the better of me. That was fucked up and I regret it. 

I don’t regret leaving though, at least I hope I don’t. I realized something that night, I can’t move forward if I’m stuck in the past, and you and Marc; you’re the past, along with this city. I can’t live here any longer, strolling through streets that we used to, reliving old memories that leave me sick with sadness. I just can’t. And you can’t move forward either, not with me here reminding you of broken promises and trust. I contacted a few people, got myself a new passport, phone number, and identity. As far as anyone is concerned, Layla El-Fouley is a ghost. So please, don’t try to find me. It’s better this way.

I love you both, goodbye. 

Layla. 

Marc held the piece of paper in his hand, something about it off but he didn’t care. All he understood was that Layla, who had been his biggest obstacle, had removed herself. But in doing so, has left you distraught, he could see your hands trembling at their sides and the rim around your eyes puffy and red. It broke his heart to see you like this, so much that he almost wished Layla would come back. 

“Something about it isn’t right.” Your voice was scratchy as you spoke, “I know Layla and she never would’ve done this.” 

“I wouldn’t say never,” Marc put the crumpled piece of paper aside, “she was acting off the other night.” 

“She was drunk,” you defended her, even now, “people say and do things that they don’t mean when they’re drunk all the time.” 

‘Like you?’ Marc thought, his mind bringing up the kiss you both shared. How electrifying it was for him, and he thought for you as well. 

Did you regret it?

Before he could ask you grabbed the paper next to him and stashed it in your pocket. 

“Something isn’t right,” you repeated, “I know it isn’t, I can feel that there’s something wrong. Like it’s something right in front of me and it’s laughing at me in the face.” 

“Calm dow-”

“Don’t,” you say simply looking at him in the face, eyes pointed, “don’t you dare tell me to calm down.”

“Listen,” Marc gruffed, “I know this is hard, Layla was your best friend but maybe you should let this go. You know her, once she makes up her mind that’s the end of it.” He watches as your eyes narrow in on him, studying him. For once he felt vulnerable, like he’s been stripped bare and you could see all of his sins. 

He didn’t like it. 

“You don’t care.” It wasn’t a question, and Marc knew better than to respond. You tore your eyes away from him and laughed, but not the ones that sounded like bells, this was cold and cynical. This was an unfamiliar side to you, one he has never seen. It was like someone had turned off the sun, and all that was left was darkness. 

“She was your wife,” you continued looking anywhere but him, “Layla was your wife, you shared your life with her for ten years. You protected her for years and for what, for now to be the time you stopped protecting her? To say ‘who cares’.” You pushed him away as he tried to get near you, “No Marc, that’s bullshit and you know it.” You grab the coat that you had hung over the chair, “I’m going to find her. Because I care, because right now she is out there and I don’t know if she’s ok. If I find her and she turns me away, fine I’ll go, then I’ll know that she really doesn’t want to see me again and I’ll respect that. But until I know that she is ok, and safe, I’m not going to stop.” 

Frustration rose in him with each step you made to the front door. As soon as your hand touched the knob he removed it, and turned you to face him. 

“So that’s it then,” Marc could feel his control over his emotions slip away, “you’re just going to go and chase a ghost and we’re not going to talk about that night.” his arms caged you against the door. He could see your eyes looking at him, but it wasn’t with the same soft tenderness that he had grown accustomed to, your eyes were sharp and pointed, your brows furrowed leaving a small crinkle in between them. You were silent, fuming really, he was as well. Steven however was telling Marc that he was hurting you. To let go. 

Not this time. 

Suddenly there was a shift in your eyes, the anger was replaced by a look Marc was familiar with. He had seen it plenty of times when you and Steven read books together, you only get that look when you’ve reached the climax or some big reveal was made. 

It was the look you only got when you’ve had a breakthrough. 

“You’re in love with me.” Again, not a question, as soon as those words left your lips it was like a weight had been lifted from him. One that he didn’t know he was shouldering. For years he’s had to keep his feelings for you to himself, never telling anyone let alone you. Now that you know, he doesn’t need to pretend anymore. He doesn’t have to watch from afar. 

You know. 

“Have been since I first saw you,” Marc confessed as a giddy feeling took over, “God you have no idea how good it feels to say that.” His hands went from your shoulders to cradle your face, his forehead touching yours, he didn’t even notice how tense you had become. “You have had no idea what it’s been like to love you.”

   “Marc,” you finally gain enough confidence in your voice to speak. He opens his eyes and looks into yours, he denies what he sees. He tells himself that those tears in your eyes aren’t because you pity him or don’t feel the same way. It’s because you’re so in love with him that it’s overwhelming, or that the doorknob is digging uncomfortably into your back as he presses you further into it, or that he’s accidentally stepping on your toe. Anything but that you don’t love him. “Please let me go.” 

“Never baby,” He breathes, “now that I have you why would I ever let go?”

“Marc,” You say, “Steven,” you try. But nothing, Steven went into hiding and Marc felt like he was on cloud nine. How addicting you had become, the mere thought of letting you out of his arms was enough to make him weep. “I have to go, please.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Marc says, your words cutting through him like a serrated blade. “You don’t have to go, you never have to go.” 

“Please Marc, you're hurting me.” It was only then he noticed how tight his grip had become on you. He immediately let go, as you breathed a sigh of relief. He still pinned you against the door, but his grip was lighter, he had gotten carried away without knowing. 

“I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered apologies as he kissed where his hands had been. Lingering every kiss longer than the last. 

“Marc,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to go an octave higher, “I’m feeling hungry do we still have food in the fridge?” Right you must be starving, you probably didn’t eat anything yet today. 

“There might be something left,” he said gently leaning away from you and walking towards the fridge, “let me go check real-” the last thing he remembers was the sound of the front door slamming before everything went black. 

When he came to it looked like half the day already went by, and there was this bone deep ache in his body. At first he thought he was still in his apartment but upon closer inspection he quickly realized it was definitely someplace else. 

“buenos dias pendejo,” Marc quickly whipped his head around, seeing no one. At least, until he saw the mirror. The man before him was not him, or Steven. It was someone new. 

A new altar.

“Fuck me.” 

“No thank you.” 

“Who are you?” Marc asked, feeling a headache already coming.

“Jake Lockley,” He revealed

“How long have you been here?” 

“A long time,” Jake said, his voice still holding a small latin accent, “we have a mutual friend.” 

“Who in the hell-” Marc asked until he caught a familiar figure looming behind his altar’s reflection in the mirror.

Khonshu

“We meet again, Marc Spector.”

“No,” Marc said, his hands already tangled in his curly hair, “Nononononononono-” He kept repeating as if willing it away. As if the simple word ‘no’ was going to help him escape this hell. All of that, the pain and suffering and sacrifice it took to get rid of Khonshu.

In the end it didn’t mean a goddamn thing. 

“Cálmate Marc,” Jake tried to sooth, “everything will be ok.” 

“Why is he here?!” Marc asked, “I got rid of him, why is he here!” 

“Because of me,” Jake said, “I needed a purpose and he needed a Knight. I only took up the job you and that pequeño cobarde, Steven, refused.” Marc put his head in his hands, of course, of fucking course this was happening. How could he and Steven be so stupid. Khonshu would never have agreed to honor their deal unless he had something under his tattered sleeve. Really, he should’ve seen it coming. Maybe he knew, deep down, but denied it, hoping it would go away. All those times during Ammit where he and Steven would black out  and bodies piled around him. But he always pushed it down, denied it, anything but addressed it. 

Ultimately, this was all Marc’s fault, and he knew it. 

The clanking of chains suddenly made it to Marc’s ears as he turned in its direction, only to be met with you. Your ankle was chained to the bed frame, it creaked as you turned on the mattress. It was then Marc remembered what happened. 

You knew. 

You finally knew of Marc’s feelings, and while he may have lost himself a bit in the reverie of it all, you shouldn’t have tricked him like that. You distracted him while you ran, maybe if you didn’t run you both wouldn’t be here right now. 

But he can’t place the blame on you, how were you supposed to know how fucked up he truly was when he didn’t even know. 

“You should be thanking us worm.” Khonshu’s arrogant voice rang out, back when Marc was his primary Avatar that voice would fill him with dread. 

It still did. 

“Why?” Marc said to the towering god, “for going back on your word, for taking advantage of me and using my own alters against me?” 

“You insolent-” 

“No,” Jake interrupted, “You should thank us for getting rid of the one thing that was going to keep you happy.” 

“And what would that be?”

“Layla,” Jake revealed, a blood curdling grin stretching across his face. Marc could feel the temperature drop around him as he processed it. If he focused enough he could hear a faint echo of a gunshot, the familiar burn of the recoil. 

“She didn’t suffer,” Jake comforted, “I made sure she didn’t. But she was standing in the way of our happily ever after so to speak.”

Marc didn’t know if he should feel pleased or guilty. 

Maybe the lines between the two have been blurred beyond hope. 

“She’ll never forgive us.” 

“Then let that be the case,” Jake retorted, “we don’t need her forgiveness, we just need her.” Marc wanted it though, he wanted her forgiveness, craved it, like she alone could atone for all the hellish things he’s done. One thing was nattering away at him however, and his shadow loomed over him and shrouded him in darkness as he always had. 

 “What did you promise Khonshu for this?” Marc asked, “because he never does anything for

free.” 

“It was a gift.” Khonshu explained casually, “you see Marc, I reward faithful Avatars, something you can be again.” 

Before he could tell the bird to fuck off he heard you take in a sharp breath. His eyes tore themselves away from Khonshu and onto your frame. He could hear Steven faintly telling him to unchain you. But the darker part of him, one that wasn’t sure was Jake’s or his, told him no. That this is what he deserved, after all these years of pining and agony, this was his reward. 

You were his reward. 

The only light that illuminated you was the moon, casting you in its ethereal glow. 

“I will admit this Marc,” Jake said, “She looks like a dream come true.” 

Sure enough you did, you always did to him. Marc could hear Steven quieting, he could sense him enough to know he was observing, but nothing more. 

Your eyes landed on him and immediately you backed up until your back hit the backboard. 

“You can unchain her if you want,” Jake said, “She can’t escape here.” 

Marc did exactly that, not wanting the cuff to bruise your ankle. He was surprised when you didn’t move after, or that you didn’t try to run away. You were still, studying him like you did back at the apartment. 

Only now your eyes were tinged in fear. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Marc assured, “I’m not like that.” 

“I used to think that too,” You quipped while your eyebrows furrowed and your nails dug into the sheets beneath you, “I used to think a lot of things.” a moment of silence before you continued, “like how great you were and how lucky I was to know you, or how you were just misunderstood. I know better now, meeting you was the unluckiest moment in my entire life and I didn’t even know it. And you’re not misunderstood,” You leaned closer, eyes narrowed as nothing but pure hate filled them cutting him deep, “you’re just a monster.” Before you knew it he leaped from the bed away from you. 

“NO!” He screamed hot tears filling his dark eyes, “no.” he repeats quieter this time his hands gripping his hair in a death grip, “You don’t get to say that to me, not you.” After a few more seconds of sobbing he calms down, you look at him with nothing but pity and contempt. “You love me,” he says voice hoarse, “you just need some time.” He walks shakily to the door and opens it, and before you could run towards it again he walks through and locks it behind him. You just needed some time alone, that’s all, to see that he loves you. 

That while he may be a monster. 

He was yours for better or for worse. 

He was your monster.

#marc spector x reader #marvel x reader smut #marc x reader #marc spector angst #marc spector x you #marc spector #mcu moon knight #moon knight x reader angst #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader smut #steven grant angst #steven grant x reader #x reader #x reader angst #dark marc spector x reader #dark!moonknight #dark mavel #dark mcu #dark x reader #dark jake lockely x reader #jake lockely smut #jake lockely x reader #jake lockley #khonshu #layla el faouly

[sweetyyhippyy]

Metal Head Princess. Dad!Eddie series. *FLUFF*

(My header)

Summary: Baby Munson is… (yeah I know we already know based on the header 😅😅)

Word Count: 925

TW: *I know that gender is a social construct, and I 1000% support and believe that. But I did assign gender, I figured with it being a fictional, “oc” character it wouldn’t be a huge deal… I could be wrong.* Eddie being obnoxious (lovingly)

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m telling you, it’s going to be a boy 1000 percent.” Eddie chuckles, one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on her thigh.

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want a girl.” She teases, taking a sip of water. “I’m telling you, the books and the old wives tales I’ve read about, we’re having a girl. Plus I just feel it in my body.”

Eddie sighs dramatically. “You’re that convinced?”

“Yes! Plus, I see you having a little baby girl version of yourself. You making her listen to all the metal bands, being just like you but with little pigtails and chunky little cheeks.” She smiles, already thinking about how cute and sweet their future child was going to be.

“Yeah I guess I wouldn’t mind a little metal head princess. Next to you of course.”

“Care to make this interesting?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, I’m intrigued. Go on.”

“If it’s a boy, I will let you name the baby anything you want. I can’t say no to whatever name you pick.”

Eddie throws his head back and belly laughs. “Yeah, that’s good. Alright, and if it’s a girl?”

She sits silent and thinks for a while, before she laughs to herself. “You have to let me practice doing pigtails on your hair. Bows, headbands and all.”

“Okay, yeah you got a bet, babe.”

***

“Why am I so nervous? I haven’t been this nervous since our first date.”

“It’ll be fine! You’re just worried you’re gonna lose.” She teases, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Okay, I think I have a clear enough picture. Are you ready?” The doctor asks with a smile on her face.

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles, reaching for his wife’s hand to squeeze comfortingly. “Yeah we’re ready.”

They both look at the screen, watching the fuzzy black and white picture.

“Okay, so we are looking for a possible extra part right around here to indicate what you’re having… and I’m not seeing it, so I think it’s safe to assume you are expecting a baby girl, you two! Congratulations!”

She instantly bursts into tears, clasping her hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, really? Is it really a girl?” She sniffles.

“Yup, it looks like it! Congratulations you guys.” She smiles warmly.

“Babe, it’s a girl!” She looks up at Eddie, tears still filling her eyes. As she looks at him, she notices the tears in his eyes. “Eds?”

He clears his throat, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m okay. Just… just really happy, is all.” He says to her, kissing her head. “I’m so happy.” He kisses her forehead twice, swiping his thumb through her tears. “Is the baby looking good, doc? She’s healthy and all that?”

“Yes, she's looking very healthy. Nothing concerning or anything I’m worried about. I'm going to print these pictures out for you guys to take home and then I’ll be sending you guys on your way.”

***

Eddie was getting a quick drink for both of them, deciding on a movie night for 2 to end the day. He looked to her through the kitchen, her body laid out on the couch, a book resting on her bump as she read the words on the page. He loved being able to look at her and just watch her without her knowing, even though it sounded creepy.

She always had her hand on her little belly along with a smile. He loved that she was embracing the “soon to be mom” role; reading all the pregnancy books she could find in her spare time (even trying to get him to read the books too so he knew what she was going through).

“Babe! Come here!” She calls from the room.

Eddie grabs their glasses and walks to her, handing her a cup as he rounds the couch. “What’s up, babe?”

“Did you know that right now she’s the size of a banana?” She says, putting the book down on her belly to look over at him with a smile on her face.

Eddie smiles back, placing his drink on the table in front of him before he lays between her legs, his head resting on her stomach. “Doc said that she could hear me now, right?”

She nods her head, lifting her shirt up a little bit.

“Hey in there. You’ll be hearing a lot from me now that I know you can hear me. I uh… I just wanted to tell you I love you a lot already and I can’t wait for you to get here.” Eddie smiles, rubbing both sides of his wife’s belly. “Actually, I can wait for you to get here. We don’t have anything ready for you yet, so don’t be in a hurry.”

She can’t help but laugh, making her belly jiggle. “Lay down the law with her dad.” She jokes.

“You know, I just realized something… probably going to have to stop calling me daddy in bed if that’s what the baby is going to call me.”

“Edward James Munson! You are disgusting!” She screeches and laughs, pushing his head away from her. “She heard you say that!”

“Sorry!” He laughs just as hard as her, kissing the bump. “Sorry to you too little girl. Damn, going to have to stop calling you that now too.”

“Eddie!” She draws out the “e” at the end of his name, pushing his head again. “You are such a perv.”

“I mean, this is how you got knocked up, babe.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x fem reader #Eddie Munson x fem! reader #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie Munson series #dad!Eddie #dad!Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x reader

[cryoculus]

— lotus eater ⟢

you’ve been by ayato’s side 5 out of the 26 years he’s been blessed with today and you intend to stay until the very last one.

��� FEATURING; kamisato ayato x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1.7k words

★ TAGS; established relationship, alcohol, drunken kissing, so much flirting, hc: ayato is a clingy drunk

★ NOTES; aka a super belated happy birthday fic to one of my favorite characters in the game! ily ayato you'll always have a special spot in my heart

★ HEADER ART CR; donaldakron on twt

“You bought what?”

Being the closest associate to one Kamisato Ayato means you were intimately familiar with the Commissioner’s habits. One such habit is purchasing exotic drinks from anyone and everyone who had them for sale in Ritou Harbor. Drinks that he’ll undoubtedly try to mix with something else, resulting into a concoction of liquid diarrhea. 

Today—his twenty-sixth birthday—is no different. 

“Snezhnayan firewater,” Ayato says simply, setting the expensive bottle atop the low table. “I sampled some during one of Father’s trips to the northern continent. That was when I’ve yet to appreciate the bite of alcohol, though.”

You stare at him, unimpressed. “So you were still a minor.”

“Hmm, more or less.”

For the head of the Kamisato clan, birthdays aren’t all that special. No parties are held; no special programs to commemorate the occasion. You even organized his schedule just like you do on normal days, as per his request.

Though his family and retainers want nothing more than to shower Ayato with the appreciation he deserves, the Commissioner has always been content with a quiet birthday dinner in the company of his loved ones.

…And a private drinking session with you inside his office.

You know you shouldn’t feel as flustered as you are. Everyone is well-aware that Kamisato Ayato cherishes his beloved secretary in more ways than one. But even if your relationship with him is common knowledge, you still can’t help but feel self-conscious about the time you spend with him.

“Once in Fontaine, the delegation served us a very peculiar cocktail,” Ayato says as he pours you a glass. “They called it the Paradiso—a little minty, a little fruity. But what made it stand out to me is the edible lotus floating on top of the drink.”

You hum, reaching for your glass as you take a small sip that has you cringing in distaste. Gods, that was strong.

“Isn’t that just a ploy to get in your good graces?” you ask dryly, remembering the Kamisato clan’s crest. “They really couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“That might be true, but if I’m given a nice drink for free, who am I to refuse?” Ayato chuckles softly, halving his glass of whiskey with a face as smooth as butter. He didn’t even flinch. “Plus, there’s actually a meaning behind the cocktail’s namesake.”

“Pray tell?”

“Have you ever heard of the Land of the Lotus Eaters?” he asks. You shake your head. “Well, to make it short, when one finds himself in that place and ingests the flowers floating in the river, he’ll never want to leave. Suddenly, the Land of the Lotus Eaters is equivalent to paradise.”

Now that’s news to you. “Was that Fontaine’s subtle way of telling you they didn’t want you to go back to Inazuma or…?”

Ayato laughs again. “You are as bright as you are lovely. In the end, those are nothing but legends told to pass the time. Though my secretary before you did discourage me from eating the lotus in my drink.”

“She made a good call then. We wouldn’t want one of Inazuma’s most-desirable bachelors to leave us for a damn cocktail,” you joke.

He nods, reaching for your hand as he twines your fingers together. “Yes, and my old secretary couldn’t have tendered her resignation, and I wouldn’t have met you.”

It takes you a moment to process Ayato’s subtle attempt at flirting, but when you do, you’re suddenly conscious of everything else. How his gloved fingers feel against your skin. How he presses his warm body against yours behind the table.

Your lover knows the degree of skinship that’s socially acceptable to any given situation. But there’s something more intimate in these little gestures as opposed to his usual acts of grandeur. Kamisato Ayato is a man who isn’t afraid to flaunt you around if the occasion allows it. With how his hands are always tied with administrative work, it kind of makes sense why he’d return to your side a bit more touch-starved than expected.

Still…you’re lucky enough to be the object of his affections, yet you’re losing your cool because he’s holding your hand?

It’s got to be the alcohol.

You spend the rest of the night sharing his newest bottle of imported whiskey, telling each other stories you’ve already told countless times. Because neither you nor Ayato could get enough of the other. For the longest time, you’ve wanted to invite either Thoma or Ayaka to these drinking sessions on the nights of his birthday, but a selfish part of you wants to keep him for yourself.

After all, no one can really handle an intoxicated Yashiro Commissioner as well as you do.

“Do you think Thoma would agree to test out a firewater boba drink for me?” Ayato wonders, voice sounding completely sober yet the warm tinge of his cheeks betrays him. “He definitely would, right?”

“Yeah because you’re going to bully him into doing it.” You shake your head, plucking the glass from his fingers despite being a bit buzzed yourself. “Cut that out. You know Thoma can’t say no to you.”

He whines. “And that’s exactly what makes him the perfect test subject!”

“How about this: if you promise to stop manipulating the poor guy into consuming your weird beverages, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Normally, a wager like that would have weak-looking stakes to anyone else who hears. Lovers kiss all the time, right? But to Ayato, his lilac eyes immediately snap wide—making him brace his palms on your shoulders as he forcibly meets your gaze.

“You really mean that?”

“Yup,” you reply. “I’ll kiss you right here, right now if you promise.”

You feel like it’s such an indubitable privilege to get to see him like this—the prince-like head of the Kamisato clan, nearly pouting as you hung the prize of your affection over his head. Well, he always does the same thing to Thoma when you aren’t looking so you suppose this is a taste of his own medicine.

Of course, Ayato never falls short in flustering you despite assuming the role of the one in charge. He quietly shrugs off his jacket, folding it neatly on the floor in spite of himself. Then, he takes your hand before pressing his soft lips against your skin.

“I promise not to bully our favorite housekeeper, Thoma in the meantime.” He grins, pale bangs framing the mischievous glint in his eyes. You know better than to trust this crafty man’s words, but…

You twist your fingers around a little until your hands are intertwined again. Ayato startles at your forwardness, but you don’t give him any leeway to tease as you lean closer to press your mouth on top of his own.

You’ve been Ayato’s secretary for five years, but his lover much less than that. Despite the fact that you know him better than anyone else—even his own sister—you still don’t know how to kiss him properly. You’re always so hesitant and awkward and all over the place, but Ayato never seems to mind.

It doesn’t help that you’re bolder than usual, with all that pent up liquid courage. When your lover eases you into a pace that’s more comfortable for the both of you, you shyly card your fingers through his hair. A soft groan reverberates in the back of his throat, and the sound surprises you a bit—making you pull away.

“S-Sorry,” you tell him sheepishly. “I’m still not very used to—” 

Ayato pulls you in before you can even finish the sentence, smashing his lips against yours with more fervor than usual. You gasp into the kiss, unintentionally giving him all the leeway he needs.

It shouldn’t feel so good when his tongue licks into your mouth; when he presses a gloved hand against the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. Because even if Ayato can be quite underhanded, he never once tried to go beyond the boundaries you’ve set. But despite these sensations being very new to you…

They aren’t unwelcome.

When Ayato pulls away, his face is sweat-stricken, and lips a swollen red. From the tingling feeling prickling yours, you figure you’re in no better shape than he is.

“Why don’t you try kissing me like you mean it?” Ayato smiles, cheeks flushed. “You aren’t the Yashiro Commissioner’s perfect secretary for nothing, are you?”

A soft laugh bubbles in your throat. “Are you going to give me a raise if I do?”

“Maybe.”

Thankfully, that’s as far as his craftiness goes. Even if the both of you nearly stumble from being so inebriated, you manage to clean up with Ayato’s help. His office doubles as his bedroom during busier times of the year, and you can’t bring yourself to decline once he invites you under his spare futon.

“Ayaka’s going to tease me non-stop for this tomorrow,” you sigh, leaning your head against Ayato’s chest. “We better wake up earlier than she does.”

“My secretary is so responsible—already planning tomorrow’s agenda, are we?”

You kick him in the shin. Ayato simply laughs.

“…Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“I think I want to taste that drink you were talking about—the Paradiso,” you admit. “But as far as our plans for the next six months go, you don’t really have any dealings with Fontaine.”

Your lover gives your words a contemplative hum. “I wonder…why feel the need to drink that when you’ve already eaten my lotus a few years ago?”

.

.

.

“I’m leaving—”

“Heeeey, don’t be like that!” Ayato complains, arms circling your waist as you struggle to shrug him off. “It’s a figure of speech! When you got a taste of my company, you never left. You’re even sharing my bed now! Don’t you think that being by my side is as good as paradise?”

You scoff, face burning with embarrassment. “Aren’t you aware of how much I’ve been cleaning after your messes over the last five years?”

“I am, and they’re a testament to just how much you adore me,” he says cheekily. “Won’t you come back to bed now? Please?”

…Gods damn it. He knows you can’t refuse him like this.

“Happy birthday,” you grumble, easing yourself underneath the covers. “I hope you get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

“So harsh~” he teases, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you, too.”

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato scenarios #kamisato ayato fluff #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #cryoculus

[abiiors]

ross in grey sweatpants and a black tshirt blurb? please? now i can’t get it out of my header either take responsibility miss iris

this is going to be a short one but oohh i have still not recovered from that absolute barebones dream 😔 like i imagine it's a very lazy sunday when neither of you is awake before 9. and even then you cuddle lazily between small morning makeout sessions in bed for the next hour until finally, the urge for coffee and some breakfast gets too overwhelming. you laugh when his stomach grumbles for the second time and ask him if you should go make some food. he agrees and promises to be downstairs after a quick shower which makes you pout slightly since you wanted to shower with him. but no worries. you can always find other opportunities to jump your boyfriend later. so there you are, flitting about in the pantry in search of some ingredients. you've already got some fresh coffee brewed and ready when you hear him humming along to some song as he walks in to find you (or rather some food because he goes straight to the pots on the stove). anyway, all of that is irrelevant because the second you see him your jaw drops straight to the floor.

with his back turned towards you, he can't see the absolutely lecherous staring that's currently happening on your part. and how are you not supposed to when his ass looks positively magnificent in the grey sweatpants that he's wearing??? and on top of that there's black t-shirt that fits him perfectly, sleeves cutting off at the right spot so you can see his hot arms flexing as he stirs the spoon. his tattoos are on full display, littered across his skin, making you salivate. his hair is still a bit damp from the shower and down. his hair, slightly wavy and soft and just touching his shoulders, is down. and around his wrist is the watch you got him for christmas; the one he seemingly goes nowhere without. oh, how you would like to just sit here and stare at him all day...

but he turns and smirks when he sees the very obvious look of pure desire written all over your face. you are suddenly very aware of the fact that you are dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and mismatched socks but he walks up to you, hand coming up to gently touch the corner of your lip. 'got some drool right there, baby,' he grins cheekily, snickering when you hit his arm. but this close it hits you how delicious he smells; like clean laundry and fresh cologne and himself. and fuck the grey sweatpants and fuck the fact that you can very clearly...see things. that previous thought of jumping him comes back with a vengeance and you're very glad to see that he's had the foresight the turn off the hob before walking over to you <3

#✉️ #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #♡: ross blurbs

[russellrustles]

Babysitting Shenanigans - g. russell

a/n: I’ve decided that there is a significant lack of George content and therefore I must play a part in making sure that there’s more fanfics about him. Also, massive thanks to the wonderful Proofreader P @f1tingz​ for keeping me sane... and for the title...

word count: 5.2k

summary: when your nieces’ babysitter falls ill, there’s no way that you can say no when you’re asked to look after them for the day.

masterlist

--------------------

The ringing of your phone on your nightstand tears you from sleep at the excruciatingly early time of 5:05AM. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the blurriness from your sight, you grab your phone without really looking at it and in a rather maladroit manner, knocking over a small framed photo of you and George on a beach in the process.

“Hello?” you ask, voice croaky, as you answer the call without even checking who it is.

“Oh, hello! Thank God you picked up,” your sister exclaims over the phone, evidently filled with relief. You stay silent, unsure of how to continue the conversation or why she’s even calling you at this time - besides, who has this much energy so early on a Saturday?

It doesn’t take long for her to continue talking, “So, basically, you know that today me and my husband are going out for a day without the kids, yes?” You give a quick ‘mhm’ to confirm - in fact, there probably isn’t a single aspect of this day that you aren’t aware of, considering how often your sister had excitedly rambled on about it in the past few weeks. It warms your heart to see her so happy in her relationship.

“Well, our babysitter just called a few minutes ago and told us that she’s rather ill right now, and can’t come over today,” she says, and follows her explanation up with a brief sigh of frustration. 

“Uh, that’s not good,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes with your free hand as you still struggle to process all this new information after such an abrupt awakening. 

She pauses for a few seconds, before blurting out, “Please don’t be mad at me, because I know George is home this weekend and you probably have plans, but would you be able to look after them today?”

To be honest, you haven’t actually got anything major planned for this weekend other than a walk in a park a short drive away. And, realistically, your sister has helped you many, many times before, so it’s only fair if you do the same for her.

“I don’t see why not. Just make sure to drop off their car seats,” you conclude, and hear a massive sigh of relief.

“Thank you, honestly, thank you, thank you so much,”

“Hey, it’s all good, don’t worry about it.” 

After a brief conversation arranging all the details about when they’ll be dropped off and what you’ll need, you end the call and put your phone back down. To your side, George is gently highlighted by the first morning rays of sunlight beginning to seep past the curtains, still sprawled out across the majority of the bed and completely oblivious to you even being awake. You can’t particularly blame him, though - it’s his first weekend home after a triple header and he very much deserves some deep sleep.

Moving slowly, as to minimise the chances of waking him up, you slip out from under the duvet, finding some clothes to put on for the day and throwing his old t-shirt that you slept in onto an empty armchair in the corner of the room. However, despite your best efforts, you hear him start to shuffle around and turn to see him looking up at you, leaning on his elbows as he lays on his back. 

“Why are you getting dressed?” he asks after checking the time on his phone. 

“I need to help my sister out,” you tell him, putting on a hoodie and a warm pair of slippers. 

“I’ll help too,” he offers, beginning to get out of bed. You immediately tell him to lay back down and pull the duvet back over him. “You’ll be helping later. Now, go back to sleep,” you tell him sternly, before giving him a kiss on the cheek and heading into the living room. 

Whilst waiting for your sister to arrive with your nieces, you do your best to child-proof the room. You move last night’s empty hot chocolate mugs from the coffee table into the kitchen with the intention of putting them in the dishwasher later, make sure that any fragile objects are placed on high shelves, and do your best to hide any wires or cables behind furniture. 

When you finally hear a knock on the door it’s just past 6AM, and part of you wonders how your sister had possibly managed to wake up and dress two young children at such an early hour. Upon opening your front door, you see your sister holding a sleeping baby wrapped in a blanket and her other child standing holding onto her leg, yawning.

She gives the baby a quick kiss on the forehead and whispers, “Bye, Bea,” before you take her from her arms, along with a large bag presumably containing the things you’ll need for today. She kneels down to face the other little girl and says, “Alright, Maya, be good today. We’ll be back in the evening. I love you both,” then points at you to encourage Maya to follow you inside as you say a quick goodbye to your sister. While she’s walking away, she promises to leave the car seats outside your door. 

After making sure that Maya has made it inside, you gently place the bag down onto the ground as quietly as you can and carefully close and lock the door. Holding your hand out for her to hold, you make your way over to the sofa and she toddles along beside you.

“Where’s Uncle George?” she asks as you help her climb onto the sofa once you’ve sat down. 

“He’s still asleep,” you tell her while trying to unfold a blanket from the sofa with your empty hand to give her something to lay down under, “He’s been very busy recently, so we’re going to go back to sleep here so that we don’t wake him up. Is that okay?”

Maya gives a small nod before wrapping herself up in the blanket and leaning against your side, closing her eyes. With one hand you play with her hair, while with the other you hold Bea against your chest as she continues to sleep. 

----------

This time what wakes you up is George’s loud walk down the corridor and him trying to talk to you whilst presumably looking for you in the apartment. “What did your sister need? I could have helped,” he says, before coming around the corner and into the living room. “What the fu- fudge?” he immediately censors himself after you give him a stern glare, for the sake of the children. He just stands there, a few metres away from you, hands on his hips, assessing the sight of you sitting on the sofa, barely awake, with one child-sized mass of blankets against your chest and another by your side.

“When did all this happen?” he laughs, and you assume that he’s caught on to how you’ll be helping your sister today, “How long was I asleep for?”

“Very funny, George,” you mumble, trying to move your arms enough to rid yourself of the unpleasant tingling sensation but not so much that you’ll risk disturbing either of the girls. Much to your dismay, Bea begins shifting around and making a little noise, and you freeze in place in an attempt to not wake her up any further. 

Seeing your struggle, George comes towards you. “Give her here,” he whispers, taking her into his own arms and slowly walking around the living room, delicately rocking and shushing her until she stops moving again. Meanwhile, you reposition Maya so that she’s laying down on the sofa and you finally stand up and get to stretch your limbs. 

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you see it’s nearly 8AM, and turning to George, you ask, “Do you suppose we have any appropriate breakfast foods for an eight-month-old?” 

“Don’t we have a box of cheerios stashed somewhere?” he says.

With a quick nod, you set to searching for the cheerios in the kitchen, separated from the living room only by an island with a few barstools. Luckily, they’re not too hard to find, and you place them on the countertop, along with two plastic bowls and plastic plates that you had bought during one of Bea and Maya’s previous visits.

After some careful thought, you decide that it’s safer not to give Bea cow’s milk, and opt for pouring her a small portion of only cheerios instead. As for Maya, you’ll let her choose herself. In addition to the cereal, you cut a banana into chunks and share it out on the plates. 

Hearing some more fussing from Bea in the living room, you walk over to George, who’s still standing up and holding her. “I’d say it’s alright if she wakes up now,” you say, coming in close and holding one arm around him and the other on Bea’s back. 

He nods, and then asks, “Where are they going to eat?”

“Well obviously we’re not putting them on the barstools,” you say, and move away from him and Bea to start placing a few pillows around the coffee table, “Just let them eat here for now, we can move the table when they want to play later.”

As you’re picking up the bowls and plates back in the kitchen, you hear a blanket falling to the floor and an excited shout of “Uncle George!” from Maya. Laughing quietly at Maya’s elation, you walk into the living room with two small bowls in one hand, two small plates in the other, and a box of cheerios tucked under your arm, and you place all this on the low coffee table.

“Breakfast time,” you tell Maya, who’s clinging onto George’s leg and stretching her little arms up, demanding to be picked up just like her sister. You take now-awake Bea from George and help her sit up at the side of the coffee table, supporting her with a hand on her back as she finds her balance, while he picks up Maya and gives her a big hug, much to her delight. 

After being put back on the ground and asked whether she’d like milk with her cereal, Maya puts up a very insistent argument that she wants to eat her breakfast exactly like her sister - no milk, no spoon - and seeing as it’s such an inconsequential thing, neither you or George bother to try and persuade her to do something else. The four of you sit on the floor, occasionally witnessing a cheerio or piece of banana go flying across the table, but it’s nothing that you can’t clean up once they’re done eating. 

“Do you want me to make something for us?” George asks after a few minutes.

Shaking your head, you grab the box of cereal and start eating a few individual cheerios straight from the box, “Cereal will do just fine for me today, thank you very much.”

When they’re both satisfied with their meal, George takes all the bowls, plates and boxes back to the kitchen while you place both girls on the sofa, give the table a quick wipe and push it against the wall to create an open space. Once you’ve spread a few blankets on the floor to act as some insulation from the hardwood floor, Maya jumps off the sofa while you help Bea down. 

The older girl immediately makes a beeline towards the TV cabinet on which some of George’s helmets are placed, as you hadn’t been able to find a shelf with enough room to relocate them. “Oh, sweetheart, no, I’m not sure if Uncle George would want you playing with those,” you tell her in a hushed tone, trying to make sure George isn’t aware of your exchange as you rush to try and find her an alternative source of entertainment. You know that he most likely wouldn’t have an issue with them playing with his helmets, but you also know how much they mean to him, and you don’t want to risk any of them being damaged. 

Much to your dismay, George comes back over just as you’re trying to lure Maya away with a toy dog. He scoops her up and holds her out at arms length. “Alright, missy, what are we getting up to here?” he demands, but you’re relieved to see a humorous smile on his face.

“I want to drive fast cars!” she exclaims, waving her arms around. 

“Is that so?” George replies with exaggerated thoughtfulness, placing her back down onto the ground, “Well I do think that three is a bit young to start a racing career,”

“Nearly four!”

“Alright, alright,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “When you’re a bit older, I’ll take you karting.”

You watch their conversation while holding Bea on your lap, entertained by Maya’s persistence. George picks up one of the helmets and places it on Maya’s head, muffling her cheers, and you snap a quick photo on your phone which you send to your sister. 

“George, their car seats are outside. We can take them to the park with us,” you tell him as he sits next to you, and the two of you watch Maya run around the room pretending to drive and playing with the visor. Bea seems eager to join in, so you let go of her and she crawls off towards her sister. 

Picking up one of your hands in his, he says, “That’s a good plan. Maybe some exercise will tire them out.” You lean in closer to hold his arm instead of just his hand. “Alright. We’ll go in my car, though,” you say.

“Why not mine?”

“As if we’d ever manage to fit two chunky car seats in your souped-up Mercedes.” You poke his side and he hums in agreement. 

“Okay, you get them ready and I’ll put the car seats in,” he concludes, standing up and putting his coat and shoes on while you start to round up the girls, beginning with taking the helmet off Maya’s head.

----------

Thankfully, the car ride goes smoothly, with no complaints, cries or excessive toilet stops. While you busy yourself with taking the girls out of the car and trying to explain to Maya that a coat is not optional considering today’s weather, George grabs a tote bag containing a picnic blanket and some food from the boot. 

With Bea held on George’s hip, his free arm around your waist, and Maya’s hand in your own, the four of you slowly make your way around the lake. It’s a pleasantly sunny day despite the lack of warmth, and there seems to be a rather minimal amount of people in the park at the same time as you, or at least far less than you had anticipated. 

When you find a nice spot in the grass a Maya-safe distance away from the lake, you set to digging the blanket out of the tote bag and laying it out on the ground. George places Bea down on it and she seems content just taking in her surroundings for the time being, while Maya decides to explore the grass around the blanket instead. 

“Come here,” George says to you as he sits down, holding a hand out to you. You take it and sit down between his legs, back pressed against his chest as his free arm holds your waist. 

“It’s going well so far,” you tell him, resting your head on his shoulder, and dropping his hand in exchange for grabbing both his arms and holding them tighter around your middle. He gives a small ‘mhm’ of agreement, leaning down to leave a small kiss on your forehead before turning his attention back to keeping an eye on Maya.

Together, you sit like this for a while, soaking in the sunlight and each other’s warmth. Bea lays on her stomach, occasionally crawling to a different location on the blanket, while Maya finds great joy in picking blades of grass and clovers. 

Eventually, she begins to pick daisies, and upon seeing this, you call out to her, “Maya, sweetie, bring some of those over here, please!” 

George leans down and whispers in your ear, “What are you getting her to do that for?” and you reply with a shrug, unwilling to share your plan. Maya comes sprinting over, arms flailing, both hands filled with partially crumpled daisies, and she haphazardly flops down to take a seat next to you and George. 

“Here, look at this,” you tell her, taking a few daisies and slowly showing her how to split the stem and thread the daisies through one another. “A chain!” you exclaim excitedly, holding it up to show her.  She gives a little cheer and George hums in approval, moving his arms to play with your hair, trying to do a braid here and there, gently kissing the back of your head and neck every now and again. 

Maya gives splitting the stems a go, but when she’s unsuccessful in doing so she tells you that you’ll be in charge of splitting the stems while she threads the daisies into a chain. It takes a little while, but soon enough, with a little bit of guidance from you, she makes a small daisy chain crown. 

She stands up, and you watch as she toddles over to Bea, who by now has managed to sit up, and Maya places it on her head. You gasp a little and grab George’s arm, squeezing it tightly, “God, that’s so cute!” you squeal in a hushed tone as he chuckles and hugs you from behind. 

After their little interaction, the girls go off to do their own things again, but it doesn’t take long for Bea to get grumpy and begin crying quietly. You immediately stand up, going over to her to pick her up and placing her daisy chain crown in your bag for safekeeping. Going back to George, you sit sideways across his lap and hold Bea to your chest, rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her as he holds the two of you in his arms. 

“Alright, it’s okay, you’re alright,” you whisper, hoping that a little bit of attention would calm her down. However, it seems that she has intentions completely opposite to yours, and instead her cries rise to a full wail. 

Sighing, you stand up for a second time and keep trying to soothe Bea to no avail. George takes the sudden ruckus as a sign to start calling Maya back over and to roll up the blanket, putting everything away in the bag and picking it up. 

“Maybe she’s just tired?” he suggests as Maya comes over and holds onto his finger just as the four of you start walking back towards the car through an unspoken, unanimous decision. You nod in agreement, shooting a glare back at some lady in her 40s who had scowled at seeing you with a noisy, wailing baby.

Piss off, woman. Leave the poor kid alone.

----------

George’s theory turns out to be correct, as Bea had nodded off quite early into the drive back, and now as you all make your way back inside he immediately carries her to your shared bedroom to lay her down on the bed. Leaving the door open so that you’ll be able to hear her when she wakes up, he walks back into the entryway where you’re helping Maya undo the buttons on her coat and asks, “What are we cooking for them?”

“Well it was going to be spaghetti today, but we only have one change of clothes for each of the girls, and I’m not exactly willing to sacrifice them to spaghetti sauce,”

“No, no, that’s understandable. How about we just make something simple that they can both eat?” 

In the end, the two of you settle on preparing some chicken and vegetables. Perhaps it’s a little bland, but the short notice of their arrival this morning hadn’t particularly given you the chance to plan something more extravagant. As George gets to cooking, you go and grab your laptop and sit down with Maya at the coffee table.

“Which one do you want?” you ask her, scrolling through a range of colouring pages. She points at one of a golden retriever puppy, so you print it out and give her a pack of colouring pencils to keep her distracted before you head over to the kitchen with the aim of pestering George - quite honestly, on some days you admire the level of patience he has for dealing with you. 

He’s standing with his back to you cutting up some vegetables, so you tiptoe up to him as quietly as the kitchen tiles will allow. Once you’re within striking distance, you wrap your arms around him and shove your hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

How is it fair guys get such massive pockets in their trousers? 

“You know, you should never try to surprise someone holding a knife,” he lectures you, shaking his head and tutting, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. 

“I offer the most sincere of apologies, Mister Russell, it shall not be happening again.”

He laughs quietly and you rest your cheek against his back, humming contentedly. “It’s nice having some extra energy in the apartment - makes the day a little more unpredictable, I suppose,” he muses, and you’re a little taken aback - your eternally organised, always neat George enjoying some mayhem? Is he just making a comment, or alluding to something slightly more significant?

“Georgie, are you suggesting something?” you mumble, but now it’s his turn to shrug instead of replying. You’re forced to take your hands out of his pockets as he moves away to wash his hands and the knife. When he comes back over in your direction, you think that he’s just going to continue cooking and that you should probably start cleaning the house while the kids don’t require too much supervision. However, as you start walking away with the intention of decluttering the study, you suddenly feel him forcefully grabbing your hips and then pinning you against the counter, facing him.

Rather startled, you rest the palm of one of your hands against his chest, slowly tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he towers over you. Neither of you look away as a palpable tension fills the air, his grip on your hips tightening as he leans in closer and your other hand moves up to gently hold the back of his neck.

“So, were you suggesting something?” you repeat your question in a hushed tone.

“I don’t know, baby, was I?” he whispers back, before finally closing the gap between you, much to your satisfaction. You kiss him back with equal passion, scrunching up the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him in closer to you. His hands are starting to travel lower and you’re lifting one of your legs to wrap it around his hip as he holds your thigh and-

“Look! Look! I finished!” 

George abruptly lets go of you and steps away as Maya comes storming into the kitchen, proudly holding out her completed colouring page of the golden retriever puppy that is now a neon pink. As you lean back against the counter, George squats down to Maya’s height to take a closer look at her artwork and congratulates her. How he can act so normal immediately after what was beginning to develop into a makeout is beyond your understanding. 

“Can you please print me another one?” Maya asks, turning to you and tapping your leg. You look down at her, before nodding and allowing her to drag you back towards the laptop by the hand, and, to your dismay, away from George.

Perhaps not all aspects of unpredictability are enjoyable. 

----------

By the time Bea wakes up, Maya finishes her second colouring page, and everybody’s eaten their meal, it’s nearing 7PM. You see this as the right time to start getting everybody to wind down for the evening and calm down a little. Therefore, the blankets and pillows go back onto the living room floor and a Disney movie is put on TV.  The girls are sprawled out on a pile of pillows, already dressed in their pyjamas, and you lay snuggled up to George’s side with your head on his chest.

Rather foolishly, you had forgotten to ask your sister when she’d return. While logically you know that you could just text her and ask, you don’t want to accidentally give the wrong impression and make her feel like she’s being rushed, especially with how excited she had been for today. As a result, you’ve just settled on the idea of getting them ready for bed in case they fall asleep right after getting picked up. 

Halfway through the film Maya starts getting restless and she crawls over to you and George. She looks down at you for a few seconds, then up at George, then back at you, before poking your cheek a few times to get your attention. 

“What’s up?” you ask her, sitting up.

“Where’s my teddy?”

Despite not having seen her teddy at all today, your first thought is that it’s probably somewhere in the bag, so you take her hand and together you go to the bedroom, where it had been deposited while the girls had been getting changed into their pyjamas. She’s quick to rummage through it and dig out her teddy, a bright smile appearing on her face once she finds it, and as you’re making your way back to the living room you hear a knock on the door.

You see George getting up immediately and rushing towards it as you sit back down next to Bea with Maya and her bear in tow. The three of you continue to watch the film, all cuddled up together as the little ones start to yawn, and it’s not until George opens the door and your sister’s voice can be heard that the girls sit up straight and turn to look at the door like little hawks that have just heard an interesting noise. 

Maya leaps up, screaming, “Mummy! Mummy!”, apparently no longer even sleepy in the slightest, and you pick up Bea to start going over to the door with her. 

Your sister and George are already having a small conversation about what you all got up to today, and when you appear from behind him she immediately steps forward to hug you, nearly squishing poor Bea in the process.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” She repeats herself a few more times before you hand Bea over, reassuring her that it’s all okay, Maya already clinging to her mother’s legs. 

“It was lovely to have them here,” you tell her as George disappears off to grab their bag, “George said he liked the extra energy in the home as well - I told you it would all be fine.”

George quickly comes back with the bag, handing it over to your sister, before quickly rushing off to get the car seats out and just putting them in her car to make things easier for her.

When he returns, he gets down to his knees to be at the same level as Maya and gives her a hug. “You better come visit more often, yeah?” he says, “And remember, if you’re well behaved I’ll take you karting soon.” Maya gives him an eager nod and a high-five before stepping away, and you take the opportunity to give her a high-five and say goodbye too.

Standing together in the doorway, you and George wave as your sister and the two young girls leave, and to be completely honest, you feel a certain poignancy about the moment. Even if their stay was only planned to be a day long, it’s still quite upsetting seeing them leave after the four of you had spent a pleasant time together. 

“You alright?” George asks once they’ve left, holding an arm around your shoulders and leading you back inside, shutting the door. 

“Yeah,” you respond quietly, stepping away from him to turn off the TV and start putting away the blankets and pillows, “I just think that we should have them over more often.”

George hums in agreement, coming over to help you out and put the last few pillows back on the sofa. “You’re not wrong,” he concludes. 

Considering the slightly hectic course of the day, you both decide to have a shower and retire to the bedroom despite it still being a relatively early hour. It’s not that either of you feel particularly drained or exhausted, you just want to take the chance to relax after having had to supervise kids capable of having far more energy than the two of you combined. 

It all seems too silent, too calm, as you both lay in bed, cuddling in a similar manner to how you had been laying down on the floor earlier. In the end, it’s George who breaks the silence first.

“You know, maybe I was suggesting something earlier,” he whispers, so quiet that for a moment you genuinely think that you’ve misheard him.

“What?” you ask, a little confused, still delicately tracing small patterns on one of his hands as the other plays with your hair.

He hesitates for a second before elaborating, “Maybe I wouldn’t mind having some little ones in the house.” If anything, that just perplexes you more. Hadn’t you already agreed to invite the girls over more often?

“George, we already said that Maya and Bea can-“

“No, I mean our own.”

You’re shocked into silence for a second. It’s not necessarily a bad silence, you just quite honestly don’t know what to say. You both have your own careers, and all the travelling would get so much more complicated, and-

“I’m sorry,” George jolts you out of your thoughts, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. Suddenly inundated by guilt, you realise that your silence had likely seemed to be a rejection of his idea. 

“No, no, it’s not that,” you begin rambling, desperate to prove to him that your silence had no ill intent behind it, “It’s just - I don’t know - it’s a big thing, and our careers - I could just work from home but you’d be away a lot.”

He doesn’t interrupt you even once, and as you look up at him you can see that he’s nodding, listening as you voice your concerns. “That’s okay,” he finally replies in a hushed tone, “We’re still young, we still have time. I just wanted to put the idea on the table.”

“But I don’t want you to think that I’m saying a firm no,” you blurt out, still scared that he may be interpreting the entire situation wrong, “I’d love to - but, maybe in a bit.”

He smiles a little, and you’re relieved to see that he seems alright with your suggestion. “Okay, whenever you’re ready, darling,” he says, moving one hand to gently stroke your cheek with his thumb. “We can look after the girls a few more times to get a feel for what it would be like,” he adds as a light joke.

You laugh quietly at his suggestion, before replying, “Is that the equivalent of the free practices before the real deal?”

“Shut up, you dork.”

--------------------

a/n: I have a few more ideas for George fics in the future, so please let me know if this is something you’d like to see more of. I might also be making separate taglists, one for everything in general and one for just Showbiz, Baby.

#i need more george content in my life #george russell #george russell fanfiction #george russell fanfic #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #gr63

[simonalkenmayer]

Saw you on my dashboard and realized i must have followed you at some point and woah… its crazy to see your blog now… when i was a little kid i was obsessed with your book. I distinctly remember bringing it to Hippie Jewish Summer Camp and creating a weird little kid book club which created a friend group of the few kids in the girls bunk who were interested (interesting to note that im pretty sure all of us who read it are No Longer Girls but thats probably correlation not causation or whatever) and went into the woods to figure out how to avoid being eaten (the solution was usually to leave the woods). Until one of my friends took your book out to read in the rain. Anyhoo it is nice to find your blog and see you supportive of trans rights and against antisemitism bc i know what it was like for some of my friends to find out that their favorite childhood author was very much Not Those.

Sorry if its weird reading about a bunch of kids reading your experiment but it is a good memory for me. Thank you for that. Not sure if i believe you. Still not sure but i guess the alternative is believing humans are alone which is kind of depressing.

Anyway my question is how do you recommend i get my hands on physical copies of your books? (I know your blog is online and all i just much prefer paper than staring at a screen for hours) I know I had a copy of the first one when i was a child (still do) but i don’t actually have any memory of how i came to acquire it? I mean, i can see listings for them on Amazon but i would rather not support that whole monopoly (and it probably wasn’t how i got the book originally because i didn’t have access to online shopping as a kid and i mean, you gotta admit its kind of a weird choice of a book for a mom to buy a twelve year old. No offense.) and if its on bookshop i can’t find it in the sea of normal cookbooks. If possible id like to buy them in whatever way supports you directly! :)

Have a wonderful day, and let me know if you ever want, like, a picture of my cat or something. (Also i assume from your blog header that fanart is welcome? But let me know if im wrong about that)

-Dandy

You can order the first book. I haven’t gotten the second back into print.

If you want an autographed copy, just message me and I’ll tell you how to obtain it.

It’s also hilarious to me that you say “when I was a little kid” as if it were plural decades ago. I obtained my tumblr in 2014. I didn’t do anything with it until the book came out in 2015. My website has been around since 2011. I’ve had the same pair of boots the whole time.

I am very honored to have been a part of your youth in a positive way. Thank you for telling me.

[indulgentandidiotic]

This Must Be A Dream

Warnings: light angst in some sections, "x Amori" is featured in the last two bc I wrote those sections with my dear friend in mind. I do not wish to change the headers of those sections.

GN! Reader

Synopsis: When you wake up before your lover

MULTIFANDOM

.~

Riddle Rosehearts:

Pretty eyes open onto a dreamlike scene. The plush pillows supporting your head make you feel like you’re lying on clouds. The warmth of the sun rays dancing across the bedsheets warm your face, and the comforter covering your body shelters you from the cold of the AC. Beside you is Riddle. Your love, your one and only. Arms around your waist, he’s nestled into the crook of your arm and against your chest. He’s a lovely sight. Strands of hair fell across his angelic face, brows relaxed, and lips in the shape of the most contented smile. Not a trace of worry or stress in sight. You can’t help but smile as well. How could you not? With the sun making the room shine in golds and yellows, and the warmth and safety of the bed lulling you to sleep once more, you can’t help your soul swelling with the most indescribable content. In this moment of morning when the birds are singing- and your beloved is at your side- and time seems to both stretch on and stop short- you yearn to preserve this happiness forever.

.~

Venti:

You don’t remember how or when, but it seems you’ve awoken unto a fairytale. Clouds hover on each side, looking as fluffy as cotton candy. Drenched in shades of gold, purples, pinks, and blues, you even feel like taking a bite. And before you resolve to wake yourself from this gorgeous expanse of white and sun and cool breeze, you hear a twinkling voice behind you.

~~ “You seem in awe of the sunrise, my dove. But even with the sky at my mercy and the freedom to dance on clouds, you’re the only one who renders me speechless.” ~~

With that one line, you feel your heart flutter and a cheesy grin appears on your face. Laying back down on what you had–in your sleepy state–mistaken for a cloud, now realizing it was Dvalin, you look at Venti upside-down. He’s softly strumming his lyre, though most of the sound gets lost in the wind. And on his face is the prettiest sun ray of a smile you’ve ever seen. Pretty enough to rival the sunrise itself.

Gazing at you for one last second, Venti focuses on his lyre again. This time, you can hear a faint rhythm that you recognize as an old love song he sang to you long ago. You can’t remember the exact words, but you do remember how it made you feel–as if you were walking on sunshine. As if the stars decided to sing you praise. As if the one you love just promised to be yours forever. Turning your attention to the bluest of skies, you decide that if this was a dream, you don’t ever want to wake up.

.~

Xiao:

“Yakshas don’t sleep,” you’ve heard your beloved say many a time. And many a time, you find yourself chuckling at that memory as Xiao slumbers in your arms. He’s so beautiful, so perfect in every single way…. You almost cry thinking about how much he must trust you. And when he sleeps, you see the lines of worry and pain ease, and his face relaxes into an expression one might even call contentment. Now, as the sun is slowly waking up from its bed beyond the mountains, you wonder if Xiao is dreaming. You hope he is. You hope he’s dreaming of clear skies, a cool breeze, a field of flowers, and the song of a flute. As the sun rises and casts its magic rays of light onto the fields and rivers and seas below and makes them glimmer, you pray to Celestia that Xiao sleeps for a while longer. Anything to keep the agony that lies in wait for him at bay. Anything to delay his fight against demons for a minute longer. In these quiet moments when Wangshu Inn, along with the whole rest of Liyue, is sleeping, you find yourself willing to forfeit even these peaceful mornings if only to see your dearest Xiao smile.

.~

Nazuna Nito:

Though you slept a full four hours this night, you still wake up with sleep in your eyes and a blinding headache. Before you can move to get up and make yourself a cup of blazing hot coffee with way too much cream in it, you realize you’re trapped within an embrace. Your darling Nazuna’s embrace, specifically. With your head squished against his chest and his arms around your upper back and cradling your head, you almost find yourself blushing if not for the fact that you’re so desperate for comfort that you don’t even care anymore.

And with this realization of your situation, you’re hit with a dose of clarity. The sun is fully shining through the windows, hurting your eyes. And the AC has just turned on, making you shiver with only the thin blanket covering you. But despite this, you find yourself actually liking this morning. Yes, you’re probably very late to work, you have a headache, and four of your papers are overdue + a presentation you need to set up and finish before you arrive at ES, but something is going right this morning. Maybe it’s the way Nazuna is hugging you to his chest as if protecting you from the dangers and heartache of the world… Maybe it’s the way he looks ethereal laying in the sunrise–blonde hair shimmering and expression warm… Or maybe it’s the way you’re both still in bed at the same time. No one has left before the other. It’s just you two, basking in each other’s presence. But no matter the details, you just can’t shake the feeling that maybe today is going to be a good day.

.~

Rook Hunt x Amori: 

You wake unto an unusual scene. Some of the decor pillows lay at the side of the bed, where you left them the night prior. The thin, white blanket lay tangled around your and your lover’s legs. -Ah, now you know what was so unusual. Rook was still beside you, sleeping peacefully. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, head against your chest. Usually, Rook would have been awake before you, having left the house at dawn to hunt or assist Vil in his duties. It was… a pleasant surprise to see him still and quiet beside you. Warm rays of light shone through the pastel-ish chiffon curtains, making your sheets glitter with light pinks and become a stage for the gold light dancing across it. The doves that frequented the trees beside your manor were chittering, and behind the sounds of the breeze and your love’s steady breathing, you could even hear the faintest bubble of water from the brook in the gardens outside. It was a silent morning, quieter than you had ever heard before.

‘Perhaps,’ you thought, ‘Rook would be stalking the woods for sleepy-sounding prey right about now.’ Perhaps right now you’d be getting up from a cold and lonely bed, getting ready for a day that would keep you away from your dear Rook until evening. Perhaps right now you’d be opening up your window to a world of sound. Of animal cries and fawns, and the rustle of tree branches, and the babble of the brook, and the wind whispering in your ear.

But right now–at this moment–you were in bed, beloved by your side. Rook was quiet for once, for a reason other than being the epitome of stealth. He was not spouting praise of your divine figure or creating poems glorifying the world’s wonders. He was not restless and in flight, nay! Lying on your chest, hair a mess, cheeks colored in a slight rosy hue, and ear pressed against your heartbeat, he was. And all around you two was silence. The beautiful kind. The one that makes you stay still for a while longer to relish in the bliss of that moment. The type that offers a reprieve from daily life. The type that fills you with a profound understanding of the present. The type of silence that makes you feel as if the world has stopped turning, taking a minute to catch its breath. And you hoped, that perhaps on another glorious morning just like this, you and Rook could wake up together to appreciate this special beauty before the world starts spinning once again.

.~

Azul Ashengrotto x Amori:

The alarm rang, loud and harsh against the silence of the night. It was 3am, and Azul snapped out of his tired daze once again. He’d been working all throughout the day into the night, and despite your calls, he would not go to bed with you. Now, he regretted not going to bed when you beckoned. All week he’d been so busy that it became a luxury to spend time with you. And right when you’d so kindly offered to spend the night with him, he’d turned you down. Now, he had a terrible headache, was in the foulest of moods, and was ever-so sad about his foolishness. 

Azul left his messy, paper-strewn desk and shuffled over to his room, where you lay in bed slumbering peacefully. He smiled softly, though that smile vanished when he flopped beside you and under the covers. He wished you were awake to give him a hug–he so desperately needed one–but he wouldn’t dare wake you. You had been drowning in work this week, too, and Azul didn’t want to disrupt your well-deserved rest. So, Azul decided to make due by shuffling closer to you until his shoulder brushed your back, and nuzzling farther into the multitude of fluffy pillows.

It was still early when you awoke. It was dead silent, and the clock showed 4:37 am. You had slept for four hours and thirty-seven minutes, longer than you had slept any night all week. While you were nowhere near refreshed, you had business to attend to. But as you reached to pull off the covers, you finally noticed. Azul was beside you. He was a mess, hair sticking out like a bird’s nest and drool leaking from the corner of his lips. Nevertheless, it was a nice sight to see. He had finally taken a break, the first one you’d seen him take in a while, and you were glad for him. He was always working, trying so hard to be the best at everything he did. He deserved this bit of respite. 

You sat there on the bed for a while. Your brain was still a bit fuzzy, and melancholy thoughts had started to seep into your tired brain. Though it was only this week that had been so insanely busy, the time you and Azul would spend together had been dwindling for a long time preceding it. It wasn’t by any conscious decision of either of you, but your schedules would always conflict, and free time was hard to come by. These hours of the night were often the only times your schedules would collide, but sleeping in each other’s arms wasn’t enough. You longed for the day when you two would have a nice, long vacation. A day where you two could talk about anything, indulge in each other, and just relax. You just… really missed him, despite him being only a hair’s length away.

Unfortunately, these late hours would have to do. If only you could stay in bed a while longer. You hated to leave Azul to wake alone.

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