#how to explain that my parents are still cut out of my life

[master-gatherer]

#how to explain that my parents are still cut out of my life #and for good reason #like i get it you want us all to be one big happy family #parents and children shouldnt fight etc etc #but consider: do you want to bridge that divide b/c its best for both parties? or b/c you feel like this is something that should happen? #my life has been considerably better since cutting both my parents out sooooooo 🤷 #and from what shes told me dad is doing ok or at least a lot of the same #only mom has really turned and thats less 'boohoo i miss my kid' and more 'boohoo i dont know how to go out and socialize' #which like same but im not throwing myself a pity party about it #even if i was interested in talking to them again im still salty over getting some of my art back water damaged and covered in mildew #like the water damage w/e i could work with that #but actual fucking mildew #just hope i tossed it all before it spread #but yeah sure i feel missed #personal #delete later #maybe #and yes that is our father that text within a text is from she calls him that dont be weird about it #being weird about it is an insta block

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!! #my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her) #hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet. #i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!! #i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art. #i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

general store

words: 1.5k

warnings: 18+ only!, p in v sex, protected sex (for once! yaaay!), spanking (briefly), semi public sex, pogue!reader, reader is described as being 20, readers parents are dead, rafe being a playboy, hurricane aftermath

“dad, im not helping out at some fucking pogue shop!” rafe argues, yet his footsteps still follow ward towards the garage.

“everyone is doing their part, rafe.” ward sighs. “even wheezie is volunteering after the hurricane. come on, now.” 

wards tone silences rafe. it's the tone he uses when there's no way rafe is getting out of something. rafe gets into the passenger seat, grumbling to himself until his dad rounds the car.

“and you're going to be nice. it's a bad fucking look for our family not to go to the cut and assist.” rafe knows ward doesn't actually give a shit about helping anyone. it's all about their reputation, the camerons have to be the stewards of the island, the aspirational story of pogue turned king kook.

“alright, ill be helpful. promise.” rafe can put in one day of work. that's not what he minds. it's having to help pogues clean up their shit that's worthless to him.

“it's some general store. got pretty wrecked, but no structural damage.” ward explains coldly, talking about the damage suffered like it's something on television, not real life people.

despite wards warning, rafe let's out a low curse when the car pulls to a stop. it's in the rough part of what little area they call downtown, and he can tell just through the single unboarded window that the shop is a disaster.

he gives his dad one last pleading look before getting out.

“oh hey there!” you smile as rafe enters, the bell above the door ringing. “you must be rafe, im y/n.” you stick your hand out for him to shake. rafe does so slowly, eyes scanning over the shop before landing on you.

“how old are you?” rafe questions. he expected someone at least mid thirties.

“oh… im uh, 20. this is-was my parents store.” rafe sees the pain flash through your eyes and decides not to question it any further.

“so, what's first?” the shelves are practically empty, with everything on the floor.

“the hurricane door burst open and swept everything off the shelves.” you sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead. you've clearly already been working, forehead slightly sheened with sweat, cheeks flushed. “im just focused on getting everything back on the shelves for now. throw out anything damaged but if it's food, we should try and salvage it.”

“what for?” he questions. you clearly have plenty, and rafe can see that only a couple cans are broken.

“the ones who had more issues than just a door blown in.” you state like it's obvious.

“shit, yeah.” rafe nods. you turn back towards your store, beginning to clean as rafe does the same, reading the labels on the shelves and then trying to sift through the mess to put everything back.

you work silently, rafe occasionally looking over to you, his eyes roaming down your body whenever you're turned away.

“so you run this place?” he questions after a while, taking a sip of a water you brought out for him.

“run it, work it, live above it.” you nod. 

“that's a lot for someone whose barely out of their teens.” rafe huffs out, barely out of his teens himself, only a few years older than you.

“some of us didn't have life handed to us on a golden platter.” you spit out, before shaking your head. “im sorry. you're here helping, its just… hard.”

“it's alright.” rafe waves it off, especially as you pull off your outer layer to reveal just a white tanktop, your light blue bra poking out the top. rafe fights the urge to pull the strap back and hear it snap against your skin.

“back to work.” you hum, looking at the clock. you were told rafe could help out until 6pm, and there's a couple jobs you need two hands for.

--

“thanks for helping out today.” you tell rafe, looking at the shop. it's mostly cleaned up, there's some additional deep cleaning you'll have to do, but it's in an acceptable state now to open tomorrow and allow the residents of the outer banks to buy cleaning supplies and food.

rafes eyes shift to the door, and then back to you. he moves quickly before he can think, before giving you a chance to react, one hand around your back tugging you close to him, the other squeezing your breast, his lips devouring yours in a hard kiss.

“w-wait-” you mutter, pushing rafe away slightly. “lock the door.”

rafe smirks, moving to turn the key, locking the door and anyone from entering the store, even though the sign was flipped to close.

rafe moves back towards you, pressing you back into the counter, lips teasing yours as his hands run over your body.

“th-the window.” you mutter. the sky was beginning to darken outside, and with all the shop lights on, it would soon turn into a glowing beckon in the dark for anyone to look into.

“sorry.” rafe just mumbles. he doesn't care about someone seeing you, not when he's been tempted by your tight tanktop and fitted leggings all day long. besides, rafe feels as if he needs a better thank you for helping you out.

rafe tugs your tanktop up, your chest moving up and down as your bra is revealed, just as good as rafe was imagining it, your tits almost spilling out, which rafe quickly works to get them all the way out, harshly tugging the cups down.

“we can go upstairs.” you whine out, even as your hands disappear under rafes shirt, feeling his muscles.

“nah, want you right here.” rafe has no interest in going up to your apartment or taking you in a proper bed as he turns you suddenly, flipping so you're facing the counter.

he pushes your shoulders forward, bare tits suddenly against the cold glass, making you cry out.

“gentle, please.” you whimper as rafe tears your leggings down along with your underwear, smiling when he spreads your legs to see your pussy is dripping wet.

“yeah, will be.” rafe reaches over to the shelves, grabbing a condom and opening it, glad that you had them in stock. no way he's risking getting a pogue pregnant, even if he does want you desperately.

rafe undoes his pants, only pushing them down his thighs enough to get his cock out. he's only half hard, so he leans forward, bending over your back as he rubs his cock over your ass until he's ready, slipping the condom quickly over his length.

“bet you're tight, huh?” he smirks, pressing against your hole. while rafe favors kooks, he isn't against fucking a hot pogue or touron on the occasion.

“fuck me and see.” you grunt out, glancing out the window, hoping to get this over with before the sun fully sets in the sky.

rafe pushes in suddenly with a moan as you grip onto the edge of the counter as rafe slams forward, your body pushing against the glass with every thrust, briefly worrying it will break with his intensity.

“fuck.” rafe gasps out, one hand wrapping around your hips to press down on your lower stomach, keeping you pulled close to him while the other hand gropes and plays with your ass, occasionally spanking the plump flesh.

“yeah, that's it baby.” rafe moans when your cunt clenches around him, his hand moving towards your clit to reward you for how tight you are squeezing him, finger stroking over your pussy.

“god, that's good.” you moan out. rafes fingertip is rough from the days work as he pushes his hips forward, big cock plunging into you.

“you like this kook cock, huh?” he smirks, listening to your moans, not able to hold them back any longer. he wonders if your neighbors can hear you being such a slut for him.

“y-yeah.” you nod, no point in denying it as your entire body shakes.

“gonna have to start buying my condoms from here.” rafe chuckles, looking around the store. it's not so bad now that it's cleaned up. “and using the first one on you.”

he rarely gets the urge to fuck anyone twice, but you're so tight around him, so willing as you start to push back to meet his thrusts, a loud slapping sound vibrating every time your skin comes together.

“close.” you warn, rafes finger moving faster, wanting to feel you clench around him, needing you to cum to get himself there.

your hard nipples slide over the cold glass, rafe rubbing your clit just right as his cock pushes in, your loud moan signaling your orgasm as you pussy pulses around rafes cock. he shoves his dick as far as your cunt lets him as he cums into the condom with a grunt.

you're both breathing heavily as rafe pulls out, tossing the condom in the overfilled trash can as he redoes his pants.

“come on, my dad will be by to pick me up soon.” rafe swats your bare ass, still on display as you slump over the counter.

your legs are shaking as you redress, just in time for rafe to unlock the door and let his father in.

“i hope my son was helpful?” he questions, looking around the store with an expression of approval.

“oh yes.” you nod, still slightly out of breath. “he was great.”

ward nods, saying goodbye to you before signaling rafe to follow him, who makes sure to turn back and give you a wink before leaving.

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#rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble

[call-memissbrightside]

As a single parent, you worked overtime to make sure your son had a great Christmas… toys, clothes, all a good mixture of needs and wants.

The warm mug of much needed coffee was cuffed in your hand as you pretended to be at awe of all the presents Katsuma unwrapped.

His excitement made up for being woken up so early, a sleepy smile on your face as you watched Katsuma thank you over and over again for all the things you got him.

Christmas was usually a quiet thing in your household, Katsuma would unwrap all his presents, you’d unwrap whatever craft he made you in class, then the two of you would cuddle on the couch to watch Christmas cartoons. Katsuma would fall back asleep tucked into your side, and Christmas would be over.

Yet—

You hadn’t thought of what Christmas would be now that Katsuma had his father in his life.

A text from Katsuki in the early morning hours explained how he’d be a bit late coming over, something about a bank heist?

Right when Katsuma opened his last present did the doorbell ring, both of you perking up.

“It’s Daddy!” Katsuma’s excitement spiked, and he tumbled over all his toys and wrapping paper scattered across the floor to open the door.

“Ho ho ho brat!” Katsuki’s voice boomed, heavy boots from his hero costume mimicking the jolly man’s costume.

You explained to Katsuki that he shouldn’t go overboard with presents, Katsuma really didn’t need a swimming pool nor an electric car because he was just five, so you really thought he’d simmer it down when it came to gifting presents.

You were dead wrong.

“It’s a puppy!” Katsuma jumped around as his father carried in a small puppy in his arms, you noted how he must of just came back from a mission due to the fact that he had scratches and a rising bruise forming on his face. Nonetheless, your ex looked just as happy, carefully handing over the pup to Katsuma.

“A dog?” You were going to kill him.

Katsuma begged for a dog or any pet every year, but you just couldn’t do it. You worked all the time and lived in an apartment, plus all the responsibility would fall to you because Katsuma was five.

Katsuki had his famous smirk on his face, red eyes taking in your disbelief.

“Yea,” he said nonchalantly. “It’ll live with me, but can come visit when I come over.”

Relief made you fall back against your couch, visions of chasing around a teething puppy evaporating as quick as they formed.

Katsuma forgot all his other presents, now all his attention was on the small puppy.

“Mommy hold it!” He shoved the poor puppy in your lap.

Sensing you weren’t as excited as Katsuma, it curled up in your lap and fell asleep once you started petting his head as your son quickly excused himself to go, quote, “take a leak!”

Laughing, you looked at Katsuki. “You’re rubbing off on him.”

Katsuki snickered, collapsing next to you on the couch, clearly tired but still reached out to stroke the puppy on its head.

“Damn right, he’s my kid.” Katsuki smiled.

He truthfully hadn’t been this excited for Christmas in years, and seeing his sons reaction to his present made up for the fact that he had to fight off some lousy villains in the morning.

“A puppy? You trying to make me look bad?” You joked, still in disbelief that Katsuki ‘won’ Christmas. Not that it mattered, but you knew when Katsuma was asked what he got for the holiday, he’ll bring up the puppy rather then all the other toys you got him.

Katsuki tipped his head back to laugh.

“It’s my first Christmas with him,” he shrugged. “I wanted it to be memorable.”

Katsuki took something out of his pants, before handing you a small box.

“Oh Katsuki, you didn’t have to—,” you were quickly cut off.

“Just open it woman, sheez,” katsuki rolled his eyes.

Opening the box, you gasped, inside was a beautiful necklace with Katsuma’s birthstone and a small ‘k’ dangling next to it.

“So you’ll always have him with you, even when the brats at my house playing with my awesome present.” Katsuki knocked your shoulder with his.

You were touched by the sentiment, and the necklace was beautiful. It was thoughtful, and sweet, but you had something up your sleeve.

“Box on the left, it’s yours.”

Katsuki groaned as he got up to retrieve it, but returned to sitting next to you.

“Katsuma? Are you okay?” You called out to your little boy, slightly worried he was taking some time in the bathroom.

“I’s okay mommy!” His little voice called out. “I got a big dump!”

You and Katsuki both laugh, and the hero opens up his present.

It was a photo album of Katsuma over the years, you smiled fondly of all the photos you remember taking of your baby as Katsuki looked at every page. The last four pages had recent pictures of Katsuki with his son, some sly photos you took when they were together.

“I’m always going to be sorry I held Katsuma from you when he was born,” you explained, the similar guilt weighing heavily on your chest. “But,” you jutted your chin to the photo of Katsuki helping Katsuma ride his bike, “I hope we can make more memories together.”

Katsuki was silent. You worried for a moment you did something wrong when he didn’t say anything. Then—

The puppy barked unhappily from being startled when Katsuki hugged you tightly to his chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbled against your forehead. “This is the best present ever.”

You smiled, eyes becoming teary.

“I guess I ultimately won Christmas,” you teased.

Katsuki barked out a laugh, letting you go and petting the puppy again lazily, flipping through the pages again of the scrap book.

“I guess I can live with taking second place.”

#bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #dad!katsuki #dad!bakugou #bakugo fluff #katsuki fluff

[spicy-apple-pie]

I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THE COMIC >:))))))

I did warn you…

Okay so idk if a lot of people know this, but Damian was originally given up for adoption right after he was born before his story was reconned.

So in this comic, Damian is 9 years old and in the foster system in Gotham, unknowing who his parents are. He’s never stays long in a home because he’s very aggressive. He’s smart though, so he orders a DNA testing kit to hopefully find a relative to take him. Imagine his shock when he finds out his father is Bruce Wayne.

So this 9 year old walks into WE by himself, toddles up to the secretary, and asks to see Bruce Wayne. The secretary is like “haha okay, let me help you find your parents.” And Damian is like “you can. My dad is Bruce Wayne.”

And then Tim shows up!! And he’s like, “who’s your dad?”

And Damian is suddenly really nervous and shyly passes Tim the DNA test results. Tim looks them over, and Damian thinks he’s going to get turned away. But then Tim smiles at him and asks him if he has time for a drink.

Damian basically explains his life story over a cup of hot chocolate to Tim. Tim listens and tells him that he’ll make sure Bruce sees it and gives him his number if he has any questions (Damian doesn’t have a phone). Damian gets up to throw out his cup but Tim is like “oh I can throw that out for you. Talk to you soon!”

Cut to the BatCave where Bruce is staring at the DNA test results. Showing him and Talia as the parents. Tim stands behind him. “I doubled and tripled checked.” He says. “Not to mention he’s the spitting image of you.” He mumbles under his breath, knowing that Bruce isn’t in the mood for jokes right now. Alfred places some Tylenol beside Bruce using his butler powers to sense his on coming headache.

“And you said he walked into the lobby by self?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, he said he took the bus.”

“Oh dear,” Alfred comments, “that is certainly not safe for a boy his age in Gotham. I wonder if his social worker knows about that…”

So the next morning, Damian finds that he’s out of custody from his foster parents. And he’s like “but I didn’t do anything this time!” And his social workers like “no, they’re getting charged with child endangerment. We already have a place lined up for you.”

Lo and behold, his new foster home is Wayne Manor. And he meets Bruce for the first time and he’s really nervous. And Bruce has to turn away because he almost starts crying. And Damian asks Alfred if he did something wrong and Alfred’s like “no, he’s just very happy to see you.”

And that’s basically it. But I also have this idea of how he discovers his Dad is Batman.

He comes downstairs in the early morning for a snack before going back to sleep to find Red Hood raiding their fridge. He runs to Bruce and he’s freaking because fucking RED HOOD broke into their house.

And Bruce groans and is mildly annoyed about and Damian is like “???? Does this happen often????” Bruce brings him downstairs and Red Hood is still there, but making a grilled cheese with his helmet off.

“Jay, how many times do we need to tell you know masks in the house?”

“I dunno. How many fucking children are you going to adopt?” He gestures to Damian hiding behind Bruce.

“He doesn’t know yet, Jay. I was going to wait until he was more comfortable.”

Jason is a little sheepish because he did give the kid a bit of a fright, so he turns around to apologize and introduce himself. And instantly is like “holy shit, that’s a bio kid.”

“Language, Jay…”

“Don’t language me, where the fuck did he come from???”

“What is happening??!!” Damian finally yells.

And then Bruce shows him the BatCave.

I did warn you I’d talk your ear off. I came up with this circa. 2018 - 2019 but I feel like I finally have the skill to draw it. And I honestly fell in love with it again, so I might lol.

Edit: I did it

#Batman #Batman comics #dc #dc comics #shut up spicy #Damian Wayne #damian al ghul #damian al ghul wayne #damian wayne al ghul #I love him #au #alternate universe #Tim drake #batfam #Batfamily #batbros

[evilminji]

You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

[f0point5]

would you consider writing the time when max realized that he loved yn?

i remember that he was like in a mindset of idgaf what happens with her im js happy being best friends and having her in my life but i wonder how he got to that point

The way this came out…idk I hope you like it 😂 I really wish I’d retconned this whole situation but I stayed true to the fic timeline.

I just…I really hope you don’t hate it 🫠

✨Set after Max wins his 3rd championship in Qatar✨

Honestly, who (is he) to fight the alchemy?

Max has been in love before. He knows what it feels like. It felt like winning a race. The adrenaline, the elation, the satisfaction, the sliver of relief. He didn’t think there was a better feeling, and if you feel that when you’re with someone, then that must be love.

He never felt like that with you. So he wasn’t in love. He loved you, but he wasn’t in love. Thank God for that, he’d always thought to himself. Max didn’t put effort into games he wouldn’t win and the games you played with men didn’t have a rule book. He was just so lucky, to have you as a friend, and a roommate, and a feline co-parent, and that’s how it would stay.

Except, when the journalist had asked him if you were going to live with him after he retired, he didn’t know what to say. Of course you would, except, how would your boyfriend feel about that? And of course he wanted you to, but he wanted a family, too. But you were family, in some complicated way that he’d never realised before that moment might mean that you wouldn’t always be…with him.

And he didn’t have the desire or the language skills to explain that to a random German journalist. He’d rattled off some answer about how he never knew what the future would bring. It was true, he didn’t think much about the future. But he should have, because when he did it always had you in it.

He wanted a house, and a wife, and kids. It wasn’t like he envisaged doing all that with you. Except, he hadn’t envisaged doing any of it without you, either. It was always you imagined having breakfast with, you he imagined would teach his kids to ski, you he thought about when he thought about buying one of those mansions in the hills above Monaco. Naively, he hadn’t imagined either of you with partners that would mind you and Max living your lives together. It sounded fucking stupid when he thought about it. But, it’s not like he was going to marry you, because he’s not in love with you.

It’s not like I’m in love with her. He’d said that before.

Aren’t you, Max?

Isn’t he?

Is he?

So now here he is, at this totally-not-a-party party, celebrating his this third world championship, wondering if he’s in love. Wondering if that even matters. The music is loud, not enough to drown out his thoughts. He can’t even drink too much because he still has a race tomorrow. He feels lightheaded enough.

He doesn’t know why he’s questioning himself. He has an answer. He knows what being in love feels like, and he doesn’t feel that about you. How he does feel about you, is…not quantifiable. Except he’d really like a name for it right about now. One that’s not going to spin his whole world off its axis. But then, he’s not exactly the axis, is he? Not really.

He should feel like the centre of the universe tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s received praise and congratulations, plaudits, and pictures, even gifts. Everyone wants to be in his orbit, everyone wants to talk to him, everyone except you.

You’re leaning against the balcony, bopping along to the music, talking to his dad of all people, your flushed face and lazy grin telltale signs you’ve had too much to drink. Jos is as close as he ever gets to smiling, a telltale sign he’s had too much to drink, and the two of you are, as usual, talking over each other. His eyes linger on your long legs and gentle curves. It would be cutting a corner, to say he’s in love with you, because how can you not be at least a little bit infatuated with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? But that’s not love, exactly. Even half drunk, with all this talk of spinning and the party beginning to blur at its edges, the only thing he can see clearly is you. You don’t even notice him looking, because you’re so used to feeling eyes on you.

No, being around you has never felt like winning much of anything. It actually feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. It feels like…driving, he realises, as the gin starts to hit.

Being around you was like being in the RB19. Like being behind the wheel of something that could kill you, but fits you like a second skin. Like the illusion of having control of a force of nature. It was like living on a knife edge, but building a home there. Comfortable with the uncomfortable, they’d called him, and nothing had ever made him as uncomfortable as you.

If that was being in love, he’d probably been in love with you for as long as his dad said he was.

You don’t notice him looking, but Jos does. He waves Max over, and Max is glad for an excuse. His body gets up before he’s decided to, and he blinks furiously as he walks, trying to focus his thoughts enough to hold a conversation with you when he’s beginning to think he might-

“Maxy,” you say, grinning like it’s the first time you’ve seen him all night.

Fuck. Fuck.

Oh, fuck. The gin’s coming back. For a second he feels like he’s either going to ask you to marry him or vomit all over you.

“I’m leaving. She’s all yours,” Jos says, and Max steadies himself. His dad leans over and gives him one last hug before switching to Dutch. “Get her to bed. And yourself, also. You’ve still got to race tomorrow,”

Max nods and waves him off, closing his arms around you when you wobble, leaning into him for stability. Jos gives you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, and you teeter again, pushing you further into Max. The extra weight is like a balm on what is now a gaping, raw wound, with the nerves exposed. He will never recover from this.

You turn in his arms, scrunching your nose in displeasure as you look up at him. “I hate this hat,” you flick the brim of his World Champion cap. “Worst hat they ever made you. Next year, we do a better one,”

“Okay,” he says, chuckling as the hat leaves his head.

“Can I have this?” You’ve already put it on.

“Sure,”

Take it. Take my Valkyrie. Take the trophy. Take my last name.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t know how he’s looking at you. Is it different than he looked at you two hours ago? Different then when you were 19?

He just shrugs, tipping the hat back for you, since it’s so big. “You’re drunk,” he yells over the music.

You lean in, so close that he’s intoxicated by the scent of your perfume, champagne, and Red Bull. He turns away from you slightly, because he’s had too much to drink to be this close to you.

“I know,” you whisper to him, your lips grazing his cheek as you talk. That’s not helping. He turns back to you, finding your eyes searching his. For the first time, he’s worried what you might see. Because you’ve always seen him too clearly. It was awful, then exhilarating, now it’s just fucking terrifying. Your eyes narrow and Max thinks you’re about to outright accuse him of wanting- “You’re supposed to be drunk, too,”

He laughs. He laughs at your pout, at getting away with it, for a little while longer, at least, and he laughs because on the night he’s won a world championship he realises he lost his heart a long time ago.

Loving you didn’t feel like a winning a race, it felt like driving in one. And after all, isn’t driving all he ever wanted to do?

“I am, Engel,” he says, “trust me, I am.”

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen fanfiction

[rikichie]

Just don't ask me how that huge plush was thrown there

Under the cut, things I imagine in YOI pre-canon, with the ways my thoughts tie into canon to explain why I think them. These are personal headcanons and interpretations.

With Viktor, I imagine his family being high achieving, and Viktor having a lot of expectations on him. And he matches then successfully. But this means his parents think he's doing well, even in moments where emotionally he isn't. They look at achievements rather than looking at him. It's not intentional neglect, they just don't have the awareness of mental wellbeing. He has a bed and food and he's doing well in school and skating, so everything must be okay. It's fine when he's fine, it's lonely when he's not. And it's the first environment that teaches him to match himself to what's expected and wanted of him, fulfilling a role rather than just being.

When he's older, he quietly creates distance. Not cutting them off, but not reaching out. They don't mind. They follow news, and they can show off his success.

When he's young, Viktor loves having fans and being known and admired. Af first he doesn't see downsides to it. And then something happens, as simple as "did you see him throwing the flower at Christophe Giacometti? He was flirting, how cute" - and Viktor realizes his fans will draw their own conclusions and won't believe him if he tries to say they're wrong.

So he starts adjusting his approach. Building a persona, and building walls. Charming smiles that get him anything he wants. Practicing the skill of giving people what they expect. Being what they expect. And then flipping it on its head and surprising them.

If you're focusing on matching and subverting expectations, you're not necessarily being yourself. Any personal exploration of identity is hidden and alone. But on the ice, when he's performing, he can be honest. He can be seen. Because they're going to take it as fake. Think of how Minako reacted to Stammi Vicino - Viktor's earnest plea for someone to stay by his side, well, he's too charming for this to tug at the heartstrings. So he can play with stories that he won't share with anyone any other way, and he knows they'll take it as pretend.. The walls he builds don't allow him to be truly close to people. He has good relationships with other skaters, but emotionally keeps them at arm's length. He doesn't notice he's isolating. Chris and he have fun joke-flirting, but when Viktor steps away from the ice Chris doesn't seem to realize he needs this, isn't close enough to know what he's struggling with. He talks like Viktor is taking away the motivation he's entitled to by choosing to coach Yuuri. His rinkmates see him on good and bad days so they know when he struggles, and Yakov is the only person close to knowing him deeply, but even he doesn't take it seriously when Viktor burns out, so that is still limited.

For Yuri, I think his mother was going through a lot to let his grandfather take care of him. He has a lot of responsibility in that setting, and it all starts when he's so young.

I think, with Viktor being present in his life consistently from such a young age, Viktor is one of the people he sees as family. He absolutely looks up to him, just like he absolutely looks up to Yuuri. And I think he resents the emotional distance Viktor maintains.

He's not very attentive to people in general, but he's the one that explains to us how Viktor feels early in the show. When Viktor left to Japan so suddenly, I think Yura felt abandoned beyond just Viktor forgetting to choreograph a program for him. If it was just the program - he did end up getting Agape, he could have just asked for that, but he tried to get Viktor to go back. I feel like he hates that Viktor went to look for a way to get his spark back somewhere else, instead of staying and finding a way out of his slump with his rinkmates. If what Viktor needs is to coach someone, why isn't Yuri good enough? He's a talented skater and he sees himself as continuing Viktor's legacy, but Viktor chose someone else for that role.

And Viktor did choose Yuuri to continue his legacy. Because Yuuri skates so beautifully, because Yuuri has so much love for Viktor's skating, because Yuuri has drive and ambition and pride and skill and he finds joy in skating, and Viktor wants to nurture all of that into the performance Yuuri deserves to show.

And along the way, he learns how to connect with people as himself. His relationships with Yuuri and Yuuri's family open doors for him to better and deeper relationships with Yuri and Chris and anyone else he wants to be close to.

About Yuuri, there's very little I can say because we know so much. So I'll just share a lighthearted headcanon a few friends and I came up with as a story idea and I just adopted.

I don't share the fanon that Phichit got him into pole dancing. In my mind, he either started himself, or it was Chris - unintentionally. I think they're friends, because of how Yuuri reacted to him in the show, like he's used to him. And I like to think Chris kept saying things that made Yuuri feel competitive. Talking about how it's great for core strength, "but it's probably not your thing." Sent pictures of himself performing difficult moves, and got pictures back because Yuuri was trying to match him or do more difficult things than him. And meanwhile Chris thinks they're showing off to each other for fun. It's how Chris knew Yuuri can keep up with him at the banquet.

I still want to write something for that last bit.

#yoi #yuri on ice #yoi fanart #yuri!!! on ice #victuuri #viktuuri

[solarmorrigan]

TW: Discussion of suicide, suicidal ideation, child neglect. Nothing happens in the fic (all hurt/comfort, I promise), but it's very frankly talked about, so please proceed with care <3

-

It takes three weeks.

(In reality, it takes longer than that. It takes until after Steve realizes he’s spending more time at Eddie and Wayne’s new place than he is at his own house. It takes until after Eddie has asked Steve to just move in with them already. It takes until after Steve has packed his things up, and carefully cleaned up the house, and set the thermostat, and informed the pool cleaners, and paid a neighbor to check the mail every few days, and – he hadn’t felt right, just leaving, even though Eddie had repeatedly told him he didn’t owe anyone anything. But it had taken until after all of that, and then–)

Steve had left them a note, a new number where he could be reached, and it had taken three weeks before they came looking. Before they even noticed.

It isn’t a fight, in the end.

His parents are angry that he’d just up and left the house, but they’re much less so when he explains everything he’d set in place before he’d gone.

They want to know if he’ll be asking them for anything else after this (not if he’s safe, not if he’s happy, just if he’s going to keep being a burden).

He tells them no.

And that’s– that’s it.

That’s it.

His mom tells him they’ll call him around Christmas, let him know if they’ll be in town, and then his parents just let him go.

They get up and they leave his living room and they leave his home and they leave Steve’s life and they leave and they don’t look back and they– well, they’d left a long time ago, hadn’t they? A long, long time ago.

Steve is sitting at the end of Eddie’s bed (his and Eddie’s bed, now, their bed; Steve’s still getting used to that, but in a good way), feeling the sort of empty he hasn’t felt since he was seventeen. He’s just sort of staring at the carpet, and then he’s staring at Eddie’s ridiculous polka dot socks as Eddie steps in front of him.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly. “You, uh… okay?”

It’s kind of a ridiculous question – the answer is obvious, and Eddie clearly knows that, but it’s a way to start a conversation without shouting, “Your parents are ungrateful pieces of shit who never appreciated you,” like he probably wants to (and has before), and Steve appreciates his restraint.

He nods a little, stops, shrugs.

“I kind of thought I was over this,” he says. “Over feeling… left behind by them. Shouldn’t still hurt, right?”

“It’s– it’s okay if it does. It’s shit, Steve. They’re shit,” Eddie says (yep, Steve called it). “You’re allowed to be hurt.”

Steve shrugs again.

“It’s funny,” he says, even though it isn’t, “but I used to wonder how long it would take them to notice if I died.”

He’d never had an active plan, really, though there had been plenty of ways around the house to accomplish the task. He’d never really even looked at it as being suicidal, just angry and bitter and lonely. He hadn’t felt miserable all the time, hadn’t felt like there was nothing in the world worth living for – it’s not like he’d been depressed, it had just been a wild, almost satisfying thought that occurred from time to time. The ultimate way to prove a point. To make them see.

And if the urge got too strong, and his head got too full, and his chest felt too hollow, and the house felt too empty, he’d just go out and find something to do. Simple as that.

“I wondered if it would only be a day or two, or if they would come home, like, weeks later and find what was left of me just… floating in the pool or rotting in the bathtub or some shit. And I guess I just got my answer.” He laughs, managing to sound completely humorless even in the attempt, and glances up at Eddie. “Three weeks. How decomposed do you think I’d be by now?”

Except Eddie doesn’t pick up the bit. He’s just staring at Steve, wide-eyed, cheeks a little red, eyes a little wet, and – shit.

“Shit, Ed, I didn’t–”

“Don’t,” Eddie cuts in, voice thick with a shaking kind of intensity, “say shit like that. Fucking don’t ever– Steve–”

“No, Eddie, I’m sorry, I haven’t thought about that in years, this whole thing with my parents, it just… it reminded me, that’s all,” Steve says, even if that isn’t strictly true.

He’s thought about it plenty, he just hasn’t really had the urge to follow through since the first time he took a bat to a demogorgon’s head. He’d traded that empty feeling for one of purpose, of knowing he was needed, and had readily put himself between everyone else and the danger they were facing, because at least that way he filled a space.

(Maybe he’d traded it a little too easily. Maybe there isn’t a lot of difference between using yourself as bait to lure in a demodog and thinking about where all the sharp things are in the house. Maybe that’s something Steve doesn’t need to unpack right now.)

Eddie stumbles forwards, reaching out and cupping Steve’s face in his hands, angling him upwards so Eddie fills his field of vision.

“I would notice,” Eddie says firmly. “I would notice.”

“I– I know you would, Eddie. I told you–”

“Robin would notice. Dustin – all those little shits we hang out with, both Wheelers, Wayne, fuckin’ Byers– we would notice right away, Steve, I swear to fuck, we would,” Eddie goes on, and something is suddenly sticking in Steve’s throat.

“I– I know,” Steve manages to choke out, and shit, why are his eyes wet now? He’s never cried over this feeling before, and it should be too fucking late to start now – except with everything happening, with his parents, with the way Eddie is staring at him like he’s about to disappear–

Eddie bends one leg up until he’s got a knee to one side of Steve’s hip, half-kneeling over him without boxing him in because he knows Steve can’t stand that, and he rests his weight there so he can lean in and press his lips to Steve’s forehead, kissing him, murmuring against the skin like he’s praying.

“We see you, baby.”

And that one hurts.

It fucking aches, like Eddie has somehow managed to reach back four years and jam a thumb into the bruise seventeen-year-old Steve had constantly been carrying under his ribs, and Steve of right now reaches out and grabs Eddie’s shirt and thinks for a moment that he wants to shove him away, but his next breath heaves out like a sob and he can only pull Eddie closer.

“We see you,” Eddie says again, soft but unignorable, before he presses another kiss to Steve’s forehead.

Yeah, Steve thinks, you see right through me.

It’s a terrifying feeling, and Steve wants to swallow it up and keep inside of him where he can feel it forever. He nods against Eddie’s lips, sucking in a sharp breath so he can speak again.

“Okay,” Steve says, clutching more tightly to Eddie’s shirt. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes against the unwanted tears and lets himself feel, instead – the warmth of Eddie over and around him, the near bruising grip Eddie still has on his jaw, the softness of his lips against his forehead, and he thinks that this is what he’d been searching for, all those years ago.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this wanted, and somehow he doubts he’ll ever have to worry about going without it again.

[Prompt: Forehead kisses]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddiesteve #stranger things #hopeful ending! I swear! #solar wrote

[ktgoodmorning]

It always gets ugly

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 2 to Your opinion of me won’t change right?

Find part 1 here

Masterlist

Very much didn’t expect to get this done so soon but wanted to get it out before I go back to school on Monday. Written on my phone during a road trip so might be a little rough. Hope you like the ending though, I finally managed to keep something a more reasonable length.

Very much appreciate any feedback and requests but no promises they get done.

You couldn’t possibly continue hiding your home life from your girlfriend. Here she was, holding your hands, basically begging you to open up to her. “Baby talk to me. Please,” you looked into Alexia’s eyes as she pleaded with you. You took a deep breath, internally preparing yourself for the conversation ahead of you.

“Ale, my family’s not like yours. Not at all,” her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but remained silent. “My family rarely gets along and when we do it doesn’t last. We don’t lean on each other when things get rough, we tear each other apart, and we judge each other, and yell, and it’s not pretty, Alexia.”

The Catalan woman nodded slowly, trying her best to understand your words. A look of confusion was still plastered across her face, “but…. that was your mother,” she spoke slowly, trying her best to understand. “Why were you so…” your girlfriend paused, searching for the word she wanted, “upset?”

You sighed as tears welled up in your eyes. To you, her questioning was coming across as judgement. Of course she would. Alexia would never treat her mom the way she just saw you on the phone. You wanted to explain yourself away but you doubted she’d be able to understand. “I just don’t have the patience for it anymore,” your voice was almost a whisper as if it’d quiet the guilt you felt. “They’ve treated me so badly for my entire life, I don’t have the energy to just sit and take it anymore. They want to manipulate me, and control my entire life and when I don’t let them they get really mean. I get to a point where I have to defend myself, even if it gets ugly.” You paused for a minute, thinking. “It always gets ugly,” you voice cracked as you decided you needed to stop talking before you started to break down again.

“What did they say on the phone?” Your girlfriends usual straight face was still full of confusion. Trying not to push you too hard but still trying to understand.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you could’ve kept her in the dark about your parents’ disapproval of your relationship. “Well I told them how I’m staying here,” you took a deep breath. “They didn’t think that was a good idea. They said I was prioritizing you over them.” You trailed off, hoping their words wouldn’t cut into your girlfriend as deeply as they had you.

You finally looked up, trying to read Alexia’s reaction. You felt how she squeezed your hand in reassurance. Her face didn’t look angry. It looked… neutral? Calm. Maybe sad? “Amor, why didn’t you ever tell me? I never knew it was that bad,” her voice was calm, always comforting you as she reached up to push a piece of your hair behind your ear. Her hand then settled on the side of your face, stroking your cheek with her thumb when you leaned into it. It was then that you realized she wasn’t mad at you. Her heart broke knowing how hurt you had been by the people who were supposed to love you most.

Because of your girlfriend’s constant comfort, you were more willing to talk, “Ale how could I? Your family is perfect. You love each other and support each other. How could I show you how mine really is?” You watched her face as the realization of your words sunk in. It was now that she understood why you were always more than willing to go see her mom or sister with her but hesitant to call your own. “I didn’t ever want you to see the way mine treats each other when yours would never imagine acting that way.” The blonde looked at you with her eyes full of sympathy, finally understanding much more about you.

Her hand continued along your face as she responded, “baby, you didn’t need to hide that from me, it’s not your fault that they-“

“Ale, it’s not just that,” you cut her off, feeling the need to explain yourself further. You sighed heavily as she waited for you to continue. “I also wanted to protect you from them. They’re not all that supportive of our relationship, or anything I do in Spain, really. I didn’t want you to have to see that from them.”

Alexia pulled you into a hug against her side, “you don’t need to protect me. I can handle it. It doesn’t matter to me what they say about me, all that matters to me is you. If they’re hurting you, I want to be there to help you. I want to support you in the ways they don’t.” The captain spoke with so much conviction, it was clear how serious she was about her words.

You held onto her, reciprocating the hug, finally starting to believe her. “I think sometimes that’s why I like spending time with your family so much- it feels like I finally get to experience a normal family. Mine’s just… a lot.” You trailed off slightly as she rubbed your back, still holding you.

“Amor, my family will always welcome you. Mami loves you probably more than she does Alba,” she laughed as she pulled you away so she could see your face. You cracked a small smile at your girlfriend’s rare attempt at a joke. “I want to know you. All of you. Even the parts you don’t like.”

“Well I don’t even know where to start, Ale. We’re kinda a mess,” you chucked lightly, trying to lighten up the situation further now that you had calmed down.

“You don't have to tell me everything all at once, all right now. I just want you to be open with me about it all, okay? Alexia looked at you with love in her eyes. Her face was pleading with you, willing you to say yes.

You responded with a nod, pulling her into you again. “Gracias, Ale. Te amo. Te amo mucho. No sabes cuanto te aprecio.” You almost had to hold back tears once again, but this time tears of happiness. Happiness from the life you had built in Barcelona, with Alexia by your side. She was all you needed. You knew that with her, you’d be able to face anyone, even your own family.

Your girlfriend squeezed you tighter than either of you knew she was capable of. She was in awe of you, especially after the way you’d just responded in Spanish, knowing how much you’d been practicing. She was in awe of you and your strength to handle the people who had hurt you the most in your life. In awe of how you had faced it alone most of your life and in awe of how you now were willing to let her in.

Neither of you could speak as you were so lost in thoughts of admiration for each other and the bond you held together. All you could do was silently remain securely in each other’s arms, unable to put your love for each other into words

Masterlist

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingalexia

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

EXTRA HOT REUNION

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist.

Synopsis: You and Chan are having a Too Hot To Handle reunion with other contestants to catch up on the life after the retreat. (6k words)

Author's note: Happy Valentine's day, my spicy lovers ❤️

Chan has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand on your knee. Somehow whenever he's with you, he needs his hand constantly touching you.

"Do you think they like me?" You ask, nervously glance his way.

"Who?" Chan doesn't mean to not listen to your cute rambling, but he has his focus on driving.

"Who else?" You ask back instead of answering.

Chan has to think for a while whether you're still talking about his parents whom you just met and had dinner with earlier or his friends you're going to meet soon.

"My parents?" He asks.

You subtly roll your eyes, "duh?!"

He chuckles at your response and grabs the hand resting on your lap, he can feel that it's cold and a little damp.

"Why are still nervous?" He confusingly asks because the dinner has already ended almost an hour ago.

"I wouldn't be this nervous if your parents didn't watch us having sex on TV," you lowly sigh at the end of your sentence.

He bursts out laughing hearing that, you worried so much about these little things that he thinks it's cute.

"Does it matter that they like you?" He curiously asks.

"Of course!" You shorty answer like it's not obvious enough.

"They're your parents. I want to be deemed good, I want to be liked by them, your parents," you explain, shaking the hand in yours.

It doesn't matter that much to him. Regardless his parents like you or not, that wouldn't change the fact that he loves you. He also thinks you couldn't be cuter than this, worrying about whether his parents like you or not.

Once Chan parked the car, you put the visor down and your purse on your lap, he guesses you're about to fix your makeup before getting out of the car.

Wanting to tease you, he turns your head to the side and kisses you once you have applied a fresh coat of lipstick to purposely mess it up.

"Baby, you—" your complaint ends with a sigh instead, "you ruined it."

With his hand on your jaw, he holds your face still and leans in closer, "May as well...?"

Your hand stops him from coming closer, "Your friends are waiting," you remind him.

"Uhm... I don't think they would mind waiting a few more minutes," he says.

"Babe, we shouldn't—"

But he cuts you off with a kiss, a kiss that sends the windows of the car foggy with how much heat you're both producing inside.

You both giggle as you run to the bar where you'll meet his friends and once you step inside, you can see the red tint around Chan's lips and even on his nose from your lipstick.

"It's all over you, "You mutter as you reach to wipe it with your fingers as Chan cranes his neck to look for his friends inside the crowded bar.

"There they are," he takes your hand and leads the way to take you to the corner of the room where his friends are.

It's been great being where he grew up and meeting the friends who grow with him, but it always gets you nervous when he introduces you to new people.

You hate being perceived and with how you acted in the show, you're afraid that they get the wrong ideas about you.

Chan greets his friends with a bright smile and a quick hug, then he proceeds to introduce you after.

"You know who this is," he gives a short introduction of you with his hand resting on the small of your back.

"I'm James," the tall guy says with wavy brown hair, offering his hand at you.

"Hi, nice to meet you," you say as you shake his hand and politely smile.

"This is Leah, my girlfriend," James introduces the girl standing next to him, a beautiful girl with dark long hair and freckles dusted her both cheeks.

You know Chan wouldn't make you feel left out but you feel relieved that you're not going to be the only girl hanging out with these boys tonight.

"Very nice to meet you," you say, giving her a quick cheek-to-cheek hug.

"It's so nice to finally meet you in person," James says.

"Yeah, Chris can't stop talking about you. He's been yapping," Leah says, poking fun at Chan.

You turn to the side to look at Chan and raise an eyebrow at him, "Oh, really?"

"It's true," Chan immediately admits with a coy shrug and a shy smile.

Then he holds his hand up and glares at Leah, "Except for the yapping part," he quickly adds.

Everyone bursts into laughter and unlike the dinner you had with his parents earlier, you feel like you don't need to try hard to impress them.

"Let's get you guys a drink," James says.

While the boys are playing a game of pool, you and Leah are chatting over drinks., exchanging a few things about Chan like how James and Leah are his friends from high school which is also when they began dating.

"So you guys have been together like... forever?!" You say in awe, admiring their years of dating when your and Chan's relationship has been going on for nearly a year.

"Well, time flies by," she casually says like a decade-long relationship means nothing.

She sips her drink and snacks on a tray of fries in front of her, "how do you like Australia so far? Where have you been exploring?"

You quickly swallow your drink to answer her question, "Oh, I love it here, anything but the heat honestly," you answer along with a low laugh.

"I know, the heat is crazy these days," she says, finishing her drink in one long sip.

She glances at your glass and sees that you have finished your drink too, "How about a round of wet pussy?" She asks out of nowhere.

Not sure you heard her right, but your head is looking around to see if anyone heard it too and can confirm it for you.

"Excuse me?" You ask with a puzzled look on your face.

Leah bursts out laughing, amused by your utter bewilderment.

"Not that, oh, you thought—" she pauses to take a breath from all the laughter.

"It's just the name of a drink. It's sweet, it's delicious, you're going to like it," she assures you.

Leah doesn't wait for your answer but leaves the table to order it and returns with two shot glasses filled with pink-colored liquid. She hands one to you and holds one for herself.

"What's in this?" You curiously ask.

"Vodka, peach snapps, a dash of cranberry juice, lime, and every deliciousness there is," she playfully answers.

Chan comes to the table to have a sip of his drink and notices the drink in your hand, "Having wet pussy?"

"Uh-huh," you answer.

He winces after sipping his drink, "Be careful with that!" He says.

"Lighten up, Chris!" Leah says.

She makes you ignore his warning and initiate a toast with you, clinking the shot glass together then takes the shots at once.

The wet pussy is fruity and sweet, apart from the burn of alcohol down your throat, you would think that it's a glass of juice.

"Oh!" You gasp in amazement.

Leah smiles in satisfaction, knowing that you approve her recommendation, "Good, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "Can we have another round?"

"Sure, yeah," Leah says, doesn't mind ordering it for both of you.

The next thing you know, your tables are filled with empty shot glasses and you can feel yourself loosening up with every sip you take.

You're laughing at something when Chan presses his knuckle on your cheek, probably noticing how flushed they are.

"You might want to slow down on the drinking," he mutters to you.

You hold his chin so you can place a peck on his lips, "Oh, you mean these wet pussy?"

Chan laughs at that and puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side, ignoring the fact that James and Leah are making out across the table.

"You should have one of these wet pussy," you tell him, saying the name of the drink with a sly smile.

He leans into your side and whispers, "I'll have one, later, at home."

You put your hand under his chin and hold his face, wanting to catch up to what James and Leah are doing. Maybe it's the alcohol or Chan is simply a damn good kisser that you get that flutter and warmth all over you.

-

Chan can't tell how drunk you are but he has to hold you close to his side to keep you steady.

You both stand outside the bar to send his friends off on their way home, you manage to wave your hands as they leave in their car.

"Can you walk, love?" He asks.

You bob your head and begin walking toward the car in slow, careful steps.

Chan hurriedly holds your hand, afraid that you'd stumble in this state that he believes is the most drunk of you he's ever seen.

He reaches for the door of the car to open it for you when you pin him against the car, putting all of your weight against him as you put your hands around his neck.

Chan can't say no when you kiss him so passionately that he has a hard time returning it to you. He puts your arms around you to keep you steady and kisses you back just as hard and as deep.

It's when your hand wanders to the waistband of his jeans, that he breaks the kiss. He cups your cheeks in his hands and gently kisses your nose.

"Let's get home first, mmh?" He says

"Mmh, okay," you croak, letting him help you get into the passenger's side.

When he finally gets into the car, you fall asleep holding the safety belt on your lap. He quietly laughs, then buckles the belt for you.

Getting you inside the car is one thing, getting you out is another thing. He has to carry you in both arms when you suddenly wake up and insist on walking on your own.

"I'm not a baby," you slurred your words, trudging your way into the elevator.

Inside the elevator, you eventually cling to him again and instead of getting upset, he thinks you're adorable when you're drunk.

You kick your shoes off right after you enter his apartment and walk further inside while trying to take your dress off by yanking at it.

"Why is it so hot?" You grumble, still yanking at the front of your dress and heading straight to the bedroom.

Chan goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and finds you still trying to remove your dress while hurling yourself around the room.

"Let me take it off for you, yeah?" He offers to help.

You stand with your back facing him so he can unzip the dress and pull it off of you. You immediately collapse onto the bed, lying down on your stomach.

"Have a sip of water first, okay?" He suggests, forcing you to drink some water by bringing it close to your mouth.

"Want to sleep..." you grumble again with your nose scrunched.

"Just a sip, baby, please?" He sweetly begs.

You lift your head just enough to sip the water from the glass and hurriedly rest your head on the pillow again.

"Good girl," Chan mutters with a tender caress on your head.

He keeps the glass of water on the bedside table and he heads out of the bedroom, putting the things he has prepared for the night back in their place.

He puts away the cake, and flowers, then dumps the rose petals scattered on the kitchen island into the trash bin. He washes up real quick and finally joins you on the bed, carrying the surprise he's been keeping close to his chest all night.

Catching you keep tossing and turning on the bed, he scoops you his arm and holds you close, he knows how much you like being cuddled.

"Cold," you murmur with eyes closed.

Chan hurriedly pulls the duvet up to your chest and affectionately kisses your bare shoulder, "Is it warm enough?"

"Mmh," you hum in answer.

He's aware that you're barely awake and probably wouldn't remember having this conversation with him the next morning, but he's been meaning to ask you something all evening.

"Baby?"

"Mmh?" Your hum is muffled with your head buried in his chest.

"Do you love me?"

"Mmh."

He looks down to see if you're awake but your eyes are tightly shut, "I love you," he mutters.

"Love you," you mutter back with a sleepy tone.

He chuckles at how you keep replying to him even though you're drunk and half asleep, he can't help but place a kiss on the top of your head.

"What do you think if we get married?" He playfully asks.

"Mmh."

"Do you want to get married to me?"

"Mmh."

"Is it a 'mmh yes' or 'mmh no'?"

"Mmh."

Chan laughs again and rewards you with another kiss on your forehead for being so cute. Even though tonight doesn't turn out the way he wanted, he still appreciates it as it is, another precious day shared with you.

"Will you marry me, baby?" He asks, while

"Mmh," you reply with another hum but this time along with a subtle nod.

He then takes the box he's been keeping in his jacket pocket all night and takes out the ring. Slowly, he puts the ring into your ring finger and then places a kiss on it.

"You can't take back your answer, you hear me?" He warns you.

"Mmh."

Chan has said it before but he didn't expect to meet you in a dating show and finds the one he's looking for in you and everything seems to fall into place ever since, it feels as if he's fated to be with you which assures him that he made the right decision to propose you.

But it seems like Chan has to try again tomorrow.

-

The morning sun blinds you when you open your eyes and you immediately close them again.

Your hand flies to your head as it's pounding from all the drinking last night and the alcohol evaporates through the pores of your skin.

"Oh, God!" You mumble with your hand rubbing on your temple.

The more you shift on the bed, the more you feel sick and you unintentionally wake up the man lying next to you. He scoots closer to you and looks at you through his half-shut eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks with a deep voice.

"Not okay at all," you groan, putting away the hair stuck to your sweaty face.

He props his elbow against the mattress, "Headache, mmh?"

You nod as you massage the side of your head as much as you can to lessen the pain.

"I'll get you something for the headache, okay?" He says with his voice heavy with sleep.

"Yes, please?" You whine.

"Wait a minute, yeah," he says, dragging himself out of the bed half-naked.

He shortly returns with a tube of ibuprofen in his hand and sits on the edge of the bed. Shaking the tube, he manages to take out a pill and hands it to you.

You shove it right into your mouth and take the glass of water from Chan's hand to wash it down. It's a suggestive thought but you already feel so much better.

"You're right..." you mumble.

You slump down and lay back down, "Those wet pussy are dangerous."

Chan chuckles as he rubs his hand up and down your arm then kisses your shoulder, "Now, you learned your lesson," he says.

"How drunk I was last night?" You curiously ask even though you know you wouldn't like the answer.

He sucks air through his gritted teeth and thinks for a moment, "You kept saying it was hot and you started taking your clothes off."

You cringe imagining in your head how you behaved last night while you were drunk out of your mind.

"How embarrassing!" You groan, covering your face with your hands.

"Nah. You were so cute," he adds with a sly grin that showcases his dimples.

"You enjoyed it, huh?" You elbow his side to get back to him.

He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck and begins to pepper your neck and face with little kisses. When his lips are about to capture yours, you look the other way.

"I have a really stinky breath right now," you explain, covering your mouth as you speak.

"Since when do I care?" He takes your hand away and leans in again.

You usually wouldn't mind but for this morning with your breath reek from last night's drinking, you quickly dodge away for his sake.

"I seriously need to brush my teeth," you tell him.

And remembering that you didn't clean your face last night, you need to wash up immediately.

"Okay," Chan says with a pout.

To make up for it, you give him a quick peck on the lips and a longer peck on his cheek.

"I'll be back in a minute," you tell him as you get up from the bed.

It's horrifying to see your makeup melted and smudged, you're surprised that Chan is not disgusted already. You thoroughly brush your teeth and finish it with a cup of mouthwash.

You wipe your face with a damp towel to remove the excess makeup and scoop cold water to splash your face with. All the time you're standing in front of the sink and looking into the mirror, you've been seeing something different about you but can't tell what it is.

It's when you put your hand under the running water to scoop some more water you finally notice it, a ring on your finger.

Thinking that you're still slightly drunk or hallucinating, you bring your hand close to your eyes to inspect the ring, it has a beautiful teardrop-shaped diamond on it and it's on your ring finger so does this mean...

"Baby?"

You hear Chan's faint reply to your call from the bedroom, "Yeah?"

You can't seem to fathom your thoughts into words and end up calling him again, "Baby?"

"Yes?" He answers again.

With your eyes stuck looking at the ring, you walk back to the bedroom without drying your face first. You hold your hand up and show it to him.

"Did you see this?" You ask with a bewildered look on your face.

Chan is slyly smiling as he watches you get on the bed and sit in front of him, "Yes."

Not close enough to you, you decide to sit on his lap facing him, "Is it like... uh..."

Probably from the alcohol you consumed last night, your brain can't seem to compute words and your heart can't stay still inside your chest.

You inhale air to calm yourself, "Is it a gift or.... uh, something else? Something I don't know happened last night?"

Chan is grinning ear to ear, he seems excited to tell which one it is to you. He rests his hands on each side of your waist then says, "What do you think?"

"Whichever it is, I'm going to give you head for it," you playfully answer.

He chuckles with his tongue slightly sticking out from the corner of his mouth, "It is what you think it is," he cryptically says.

"I think you just can't wait to get a head from me," you joke again.

He laughs again and you gently hit his chest from beating around the bust, "Just tell me what it is," you whine.

He takes your hand and holds it, rubbing the diamond on the ring with his thumb, "Since I met you, I get this feeling that I couldn't love anyone else this much except for you like I have this much love inside me and it's only there for you."

You tip your head to the side as you intently listen to him talking his heart out.

"I'm stuck with you... in the best way," he remarks with a light chuckle, "and I think we may as well..."

It's endearing to see how he's slightly nervous and excited at the same time. You lean in close and tease him, "May as well what?"

He chuckles again and licks his lips, "We may as well get married. What do you think?"

You place your hand on the nape of his neck, "Of getting married? To you?"

"Yeah," he answers with a nervous sigh slips out of his mouth.

You brush the soft curls on the back of his head as you stare into his brown eyes and try to fathom your feelings into words, "Oh, baby... All I ever wanted is having all your love just for me," you playfully say.

You hold the side of his face and see that his eyes are pooling with fondness as they gaze into you, you get that fluttering feeling inside you.

Oh, you love him so much and you also think you couldn't love someone as much as you love him.

"I think I'll never get enough of it, I need it for the rest of my life," you continue.

Chan takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he's about to ask you, "Will you marry me, my love?"

There's only one right answer to that, one that you know for sure you'll never regret.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes... " You peck his lips again and again for every yes you give him.

The last peck lasts the longest that you run out of breath and gasp for air when you let go, "A thousand times, yes."

Chan brings your head close to him so he can kiss you, kisses you so hard yet so gentle that you can feel the emotions he puts into it.

It's one of those moments where you feel like you and him are the only ones existing in this world. It's just you and him, encased in this moment forever.

When the kiss breaks, you melt into his hug and feel your hearts beating so close to each other as you hold him close.

"I love you, baby," he mutters with a rub on your back and a haste kiss on your neck.

You lift your head from the crook of his neck and look at him as you say those three words back to him, "And you know I love you too," you steadfastly say.

Chan just can't have enough of it the first time so he crashes his lips onto you again and his arms are tightly wrapped around you as if he tries to crush your body.

The kiss takes things further as you start grinding on him and when your lips aren't on his, you place slobbering kisses on his neck knowing how much he likes them.

While you're busy kissing him all over, Chan reaches for your back to unclasp your bra and takes it off of you. He grabs you by the waist and dives right into the valley of your breasts.

You look down to watch as he takes your breasts into his mouth in turns, switching between sucking and fondling them.

Your lips eventually land on his again, kissing him hard before going down to keep your promise. You pull his hardening member out of its confine and repeatedly stroke it.

Chan lifts your chin to place a kiss on your lips before you lower your mouth on him, taking his cock into your mouth and sucking on it.

You compensate the rest of his length you can take with your hand. You sync your hand and your mouth to give him the utmost pleasure.

He gathers all of your hair in his hand, making a makeshift ponytail, and holds it away from your face so he can see how you take his cock in your mouth.

"Mmh... just like that, baby," he breathlessly mutters to you.

"Keep going, yeah," he mutters again, throwing his head to the back in pleasure.

He keeps muttering sweet praises to you as you pleasing him with your mouth and once in a while, staring at him with your mouth full of him.

"You know how to please me, mmh?"

"You're so good at it, baby."

You know you're doing the right thing when he starts tugging at your hair harder and his breath becomes erratic. Continuing with your hand, you keep the pace knowing that he's close to his release.

"Cum for me, baby," you seductively say.

You maintain eye contact with him with your hand relentlessly pumping his cock, leading him to his high until the white of his cum spurts out of the tip, making streaks on your chest and chin.

His cum feels hot and sticky on your skin, he uses his boxer to wipe it clean for you, not wasting time crashing his lips against yours after that.

"Why are you so good at making me feel good, mmh?" He takes you down the bed and pins you under.

He has his lips constantly pressing on you, kissing you so hard that you're struggling to either kiss him back or take a breath in between.

He breaks the kiss only to kiss you elsewhere, down the column of your neck, and eventually presses his mouth close to your ear.

"I'd like to have my wet pussy now, please," he sweetly whispers, making you tingle inside.

As if he needed your permission, he pulls your underwear down and out of your legs, not wait another moment to dive into your wet cunt.

There's no doubt that he knows his way around you, making you arch your back to seek more of that delicious lick of his tongue between your folds and sends his nose pressed on your clit, but there's one thing you want more than his skillful mouth.

Failing to stop him a couple of times, you tug at his hair a little too hard to finally get his attention. Chan lifts his head, looking at you with his mouth and chin glistening with your essence.

"Want you inside me, baby," you sweetly ask.

He comes at you, hovering inside you to press his wet mouth on you, "Want me inside you, mmh?"

You let him kiss you again before telling him what you really want, "Want you to make love to your fiancé," you say with a smile.

"Fiancé, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm."

It seems to only hit him that you are his fiance, "Fuck yeah you are my fiance."

You wonder how he gets this hard even though he has just cum a few moments ago, you can feel how stiff he is when he enters you. You moan at how good it feels to finally have him inside you.

"You're so hard, baby," you whine as you sloppily kiss his mouth.

Your head falls onto the pillow, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled by him, "So hard, mmh... so good," you

Chan puts your legs up and against him, holding them close as he starts thrusting into you. You grip the sheet underneath you as each thrust launches you to the back of the bed.

He slows down the pace and puts your legs around his waist, lowering himself onto you so he suffocates you with more kisses as his hips pulsate into you.

The gaze he gives you is affectionate and soft, in contrast to his slow yet deep thrusts. He is indeed making love to you, putting all of him into it, and you feel as if you became one, body and soul.

-

Chan sets everything on the dining table, the cake and the bouquet of flowers which he has now put in a pitcher filled with water to keep it from withering.

You finally out of the bedroom after hours of showering, dressing up, and doing your make-up to get ready for the video call for the show reunion.

"Oh, you prepared this?" You gasp, seeing the little surprise on the dining table.

"If you weren't so drunk last night, you would have seen it," he sneers with eyes squinted.

You chuckle at that and come up to him, putting your arm around his waist, "I'm sorry I ruined your surprise," you sincerely apologize along with a sweet peck on his lips.

"I'll forgive you if you let me take pictures of you and that ring on your finger to let the world know that you're taken," he requests with a sly smile dancing on his face.

You chuckle again and enthusiastically agree to this request, "With pleasure!"

Chan takes countless of photos of you with the surprise he prepared for you and countless more of you together, showing off the dainty ring on your finger.

"Should we share it with the group?" He asks.

There's a group chat of everyone from the retreat and you're still in contact with them through it. It's a good idea but you want to hold that plan for a bit since there's someone more deserving to know the news first.

"Maybe later after the video call?"

Chan considers it for a moment and then nods, "Yeah, I think so too."

You reach for the bottle of champagne and hold it out to him, "What about having a toast?"

"Only if you promise not to get drunk," he jokingly says.

"Oh, my God! Let it go already," you dramatically sigh while Chan hugs you from the back and kisses your neck.

You clink your glasses of wine together, having a toast to your engagement and having a little celebration, eating the cake right away with forks.

"Is it the time already?" You ask, shoving another spoonful of cake into your mouth.

Chan checks the time on his laptop screen and confirms with a nod, "Yep. It's time!"

-

HOST: Next up on my hot seat is the couple whose relationship was as sexually charged as it was fiscally reckless. Before we talk to them, let's take a look at some of their best bits.

[Video plays]

HOST: Hi, lovebirds!

YOU & CHAN: Hi, hi! [Waves hands]

YOU: Lovely to see you!

HOST: I see that you guys are together. Where is your location?

YOU: Take a guess! [Smiles]

CHAN: Yeah, take a guess.

HOST: Er... maybe I'm projecting it too much but it would be good news to know you guys are... in... Australia?

YOU & CHAN: [Applause]

HOST: [Exhales] Oof... What a relief to know that you guys are together at the beginning of the interview but I think we can safely say that almost everyone in the world is now watching your love story unfold.

YOU & CHAN: [Nods]

HOST: So where are you guys now in your relationship? Like... what has happened since the retreat?

YOU: [Turns to Chan] Want me to answer it or...

CHAN: Yeah, you.

YOU: Chris and I, came off the retreat and Chris went with me and stayed with me for a couple of days.

HOST: Didn't you guys plan on going to Australia together after the retreat?

YOU: We did. Then I got a call for work so I had to postpone it.

HOST: Was it like being away from each other? Because you guys can't seem to keep yourself away from each other in the show [laughs] How are you guys making it work?

CHAN: I obviously wanted to stay longer but I had a few things I need to work on too. The long-distance thing didn't put that much strain... it wasn't easy but we managed.

YOU: Right. We managed. We did alright, I guess [laughs] CHAN: We video call each other a lot.

YOU: And always sending nudes to each other.

HOST: [Eyes widen] Oh, wow!

YOU & CHAN: [Laughs]

HOST: And now you're back together, in Australia!

YOU: [Nods] Yes.

HOST: What did you guys do? Tell us all about it.

YOU: It's been an absolute blast. I had so much fun. I met his family, went sightseeing, tried all of his favorite foods, met his friends—

CHAN: She had too much fun, in fact [chuckles]

HOST: Whatever kind of fun that is I hope you've done it responsibly and safely [squints eyes]

YOU: To be honest, I got drunk last night and I had the worst hangover a few hours ago. Thankfully, this man [points at Chan] took care of me well.

CHAN: She had too much wet pussy.

HOST: Excuse me, wet what?

CHAN: It's an Australian thing, it's the name of a drink here. She got drunk on that.

HOST: Sounds like a fun drink.

YOU: You should try it. It's delicious.

HOST: I want to but I don't know if I'll ever find myself bold enough to say that to the bartender [laughs]

YOU & CHAN: [Laughs]

HOST: So... I do have to bring up a couple of sticky things. Uhm... first is Mac. Do you have any regrets about going on that date with Mac?

YOU: Uh... [glances at Chan] [Clears throat] I regret how flirtatious it got. It was really hard to watch that back because I was like... did I really say that? I was nervous about how Chris would react at that moment.

CHAN: Honestly, I hated to have that part included in our best bits [Shrugs]

HOST: [Cackles]

CHAN: But I was more than proud of her after it once I watched the whole thing.

HOST: We'll quickly move on from that and onto the future. I want to know about the future of you two. Have you got anything you want to share with us about... future plans maybe?

CHAN: Well, we've been looking for a place together and... also... at rings [Giggles]

HOST: [Gasps] Oh, my God! It's so happening! Has the question been popped yet?

CHAN: [Looks at you] We may as well, yeah?

YOU: [shows off ring] He already did!

HOST: Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I don't know how to react, it has never happened before!

YOU: Just so you know he proposed to me this morning, like literally a few hours ago.

HOST: We need the details. Please!

YOU: Well, remember that he said I was drunk, right? [Laughs] he prepared this surprise with a cake and flowers, he initially planned to propose last night but that didn't go as planned so he tried again this morning.

HOST: And you said yes?

YOU: He obviously knew I wanted to marry him [smiles]

HOST: [gleefully laughs] YES! I'm loving this so much.

CHAN: I couldn't imagine being with anyone else [smiles]

YOU: He's just so cute [smiles]

HOST: You are aware that Lana's rules no longer apply. You guys can totally kiss right now.

YOU & CHAN: [Kisses]

HOST: [Coos] I kind of in love with this love story right now. Oh, wait, were we the first to hear about this?

YOU: We want Lana to be the one who knows about this.

CHAN: And obviously to everyone who is rooting for us [smiles]

HOST: Lana, girl, you should hold a wedding for them! The first Too Hot To Handle wedding.

YOU: Lana sponsor us, please? [Laughs]

CHAN: Jokes aside, we thank Lana for bringing us together and—

YOU: That's true.

CHAN: In case you don't know, Lana is doing God's work [chuckles]

HOST: Are you going to celebrate it with more wet pussy?

YOU: [Laughs] Yeah, that's actually a great idea.

HOST: How about you, Chris?

CHAN: I just had it this morning [Holds in laughter]

YOU: [Covers his mouth] [laughs]

HOST:... OH?!

CHAN: I'll probably have it again later at night.

HOST: [Blinks eyes] Oh... I expect nothing less from you guys.

YOU & CHAN: [Laughs]

HOST: Oh, my gosh, you guys! It's been incredible talking to you both. I wish you nothing but the best.

YOU: Aw... thank you. It was a really great reunion [Lightly claps]

CHAN: Thank you, Lana. Thank you, everyone [Waves hand]

YOU: Much love [Blows kisses]

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[capricornlevi]

no surprises - toji x reader

wc 1.6k - hitman!toji x mobwife!reader, fem!reader, strangers to lovers -dark elements (but not really related to sex -- toji breaks into reader's house to assassinate mob husband), cheating (technically -- reader's husband is a piece of shit lol)

nsfw, mdni

Toji hates it when his hits have wives or girlfriends.

As cruel a bastard as he may be, the thought of unnecessary collateral makes him uneasy to say the least. It's messy, too, unnecessary and uncomfortable. When one of his targets has a wife there's a sure guarantee she'll be by his side more often than not. It increases the risk for all parties, whether they know of their involvement or not.

He wonders why these men never have the decency to get a divorce before involving themselves in shit like this.

And so, as he carefully picks the lock to your kitchen window, he hopes that tonight's job is clean. That you'll stay out of his way.

Kill the guy, clean up, and ideally, get out without even waking you.

So imagine his surprise when he makes his way inside as planned, turns down the hallway to get to the bedroom he's so carefully mapped this past week, only to find you standing pyjama-clad in the hallway with arms crossed, looking at him with an expression one could only describe as inconvenienced.

"He's not here," you mumble, the words laced with sleep but still pointed.

Toji prides himself on being quick on his feet, but in this rare instance, he's lost for words. He doesn't even draw his weapon.

"Uh ... hm ... what?" he finally decides, though the words leave him without much active decision-making on his part, spilling out into the cold night air.

"He's not here," you repeat, enunciating each word slowly. "Did you not hear me? Though that would explain why you made such a fucking racket breaking in."

"What the fuck-"

"And you're replacing that lock, by the way," you spit, eyes heated with frustration as you give him a once over. "I heard you give up and break it."

Toji's head could explode right here and now. How has this ... this cannot be happening ... he's carried out hits numbering in the three digits, and not one target has ever seen him coming, much less the wife of some low-ranking gangster who stole the wrong amount of money from the wrong people.

Still, you don't shy away from him, keeping your gaze fixed on his increasingly confused face.

"What do ya mean he isn't here?" Toji huffs then, finally realising the futility of this situation. Standing there stupidly isn't going to improve his image, he needs to cut to the chase. "Is he out?"

You huff a laugh. "You could say that."

He arches a scarred brow. "He's dead?"

"May as well be," you answer plainly, devoid of any sympathy or grief. "Kicked him out on Sunday. Tried to steal my engagement ring and then went after my parents, mumbling some shit about collecting their life insurance policy even though the idiot isn't even named on it. So I made a call and the name of his hotel is with your bosses now."

"Then why didn't they--"

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "How should I know? They probably sent some other guys to the hotel and kept you here in case that worm came wriggling back."

Toji's not sure why, but he believes you -- probably because of the unafraid, unemotional manner in which you're delivering this information. As though you're a teacher scolding him for a failed assignment.

He releases his grip on the weapon tucked at his hip -- he doesn't even remember at which point he went to grab it -- silently swearing at a wasted evening.

Sure, he'll still get the flat rate for a call-out like this one, but if he has proof of death he gets triple pay. He could really use that this month; he likes having his lights stay on for longer than forty-eight hours at a time, and figured tonight would've been an easy job, particularly with how stupidly your husband has been acting these last few months.

"Uh ... okay. Sorry for inconveniencin' ya," he mumbles, figuring it best to leave now without wasting either of your time any further.

He could stay here and argue more, but he's not in the mood. He needs to get back. Plus, he's already disrupted your night enough -- as curtly as you've addressed him these past few minutes, he can't say he doesn't see where your frustration is coming from.

In this short interaction, he's developed a sort of begrudging respect for this woman who views an assassination attempt in the same way most would view a parking ticket.

"Wait!" you call out just as he turns around. He hesitates -- though you don't seem like the type to call the police given your knowledge of your husband's business.

Maybe you're not finished giving him shit for this embarrassment of a botched assignment?

"Yeah?" he answers dutifully, brushing his hair from his eyes with a tired swipe of his hand, turning back to face you.

"Want to have a drink with me?" you ask straight-forwardly, arms still crossed and expression unmoving. "He left his 20-year whiskey behind, and I haven't had new company since he weaselled his way into my life."

"I-"

"If you've nothing better to do, anyway."

This woman ...

He has never had as difficult a time reading someone in his entire lie.

"Well?" you press, a hint of impatience growing in that beautiful voice. "What do you want to do?"

Surprise once against takes precedence over any other emotion in Toji's body.

Tonight couldn't get any weirder. He's sure of it.

Except it definitely can, as he discovers just thirty minutes later, with you sitting atop him as he's spread out on your bed, riding him so hard the bed rattles against the wall.

This is a little fucked up. You both know it. He came here to kill your husband, but it's so hard for him to care about minor details like that when he sees how your tits bounce with every thrust upwards, how your face looks when it's torn in pleasure.

Your husband is a bigger idiot than he thought.

You haven't been touched like this in a long time, haven't had someone's hands on you like you deserve, and that thought enrages him for some reason.

His focus for tonight has shifted entirely. He's no longer out to kill, to hurt, his one responsibility is to make you cry out on his cock, on his tongue, on his fingers, until both of your voices are worn out and hoarse.

You're so pretty like this, so responsive to every twirl of his thumb and jerk of his hips.

Though -- and he hates to admit it -- you're exerting some control over him as well. His well-worn self-discipline is being tested like never before. On your couch just a few minutes ago, with his mouth spread against you and your leg tossed over his shoulder, you had managed to then manoeuvre yourself until your fist was wrapped around his cock, your pretty fingers stroking him until his breaths sounded choked and desperate, until a flush spread up his chest to his neck and jawline.

He had to still your wrist to keep from coming all over his own chest. That would lose him any shred of credibility he had left.

He's obsessed with the way you kiss him, too, so hungry and desperate with no sign of that earlier unshakability you possessed. He's sure you still have yourself in some semblance of control -- though he barely knows you, he knows you wouldn't relent that quickly -- but you release yourself a little, sinking into it with a quiet moan that sends ripples up his spine.

And now, with your hips sitting flush against his own, it's hard to imagine caring about a single other thing than the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

You take him so well, every inch of him, knowing exactly what to say to drive him insane. In turn, he learns what he can from your reactions, each microexpression showing him how you like to be touched.

You toss your head back, that beautiful throat gulping down gasps of air in between cries of Toji's name, shoulders tight with the tension of keeping yourself seated on him.

He gives you more when you ask for it, pumping up into you and relishing the answering groans and mewls of pleasure.

(Honestly, he'd give you anything you wanted from him. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you requested it with those pretty doe eyes and your lips curled into that sly little smile.)

A familiar heat curls in his stomach but in a way he's entirely unfamiliar with; usually, it builds slowly and reliably, bit by bit, but this time it rises erratically and without any sign of when he's approaching the edge.

This is dangerous. You're dangerous for him, you have him in the palm of your hand and hold the ability to crush him into tiny pieces if you so wish. It scares him while also sending pulses of pleasure straight to his cock, coupled with the feeling of your throbbing clit as he circles it with his thumb --

Thankfully, you fall apart at the same time, spasms of pleasure overtaking every single thought in either of your heads.

As you settle into the afterglow, Toji is in no rush to move you or shift himself. He runs a roughened hand over your thigh, the skin smooth as silk, marvelling at how you shiver under the touch.

He just looks up at you, that hint of confusion from earlier still present but accompanied by something else.

Strange, he thinks to himself. Not a wasted evening after all.

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #i have no thoughts in this empty brain of mine #may tries to write #toji x you

[hisunshiine]

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work. 

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined. 

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now. 

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

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“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’. 

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!” 

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…” 

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. 

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Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment. 

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you. 

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time  to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live. 

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade. 

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch. 

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body. 

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth. 

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes. 

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

 “Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect. 

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies. 

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

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At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks. 

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores. 

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you. 

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge. 

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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment. 

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone. 

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.” 

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.” 

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing. 

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him. 

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!” 

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.” 

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer. 

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight. 

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference. 

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him. 

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!” 

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face. 

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind. 

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think. 

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster. 

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening. 

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder. 

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet. 

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him. 

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot. 

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest. 

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss. 

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress. 

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him. 

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument. 

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body. 

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

#bangtansorciere #jungkook x reader #bangtanbathhouse #clubzerooclock #bangtanwhq #btscreaturescoven #btsafterdarknet #bangtantheatrenet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook writings #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bts #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #bts au #bts angst #bts fluff #hisunshiine writings

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

-------------------

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #omegaverse #a/b/o #next part is gonna be oohoohoo!

[spooky-bunnys]

Hello could I request sm with (black butler) Sebastian x male reader that acts like morticia adams? I really enjoyed the one you did with bonten (prob misspelled that)

Title: Other Half

Fandom: Black Butler

Pairing: Sebastian x Addams Male Reader

Warnings: death of parents, AGNSTY, talks of death

(Name) hummed and brushed his long (H/C) hair behind his ear. Fixing his glasses as he cut off another rose bud. Placing the stem in the beaker in front of him. His long (H/C) furred tail swishing behind him slowly.

The Undertaker walked in and smiled at the sight. "Ah~ how's my precious son today?" (Name)'s cat ear twitched and he looked behind him. As the (height) male turned yellow/green eyes meet gray hair. "Oh? Hello Undertaker. I'm just trimming some flowers." (Name) and Undertaker shared a matching grin.

Before either could say anything else the door to the palor opened. Cause (Name) to turn towards the opened door. "Hello Phantomhive." Ciel froze upon seeing the new figure. Sebastian behind his master could only stare.

The Undertaker laughed loudly. Making (Name) laugh as well. But neither guest moved. Both for different reasons. While Ciel was confused on the new person, Sebastian was entranced by the beauty that was doubled over laughing a in his opinion beautiful laugh.

Ciel shifted and glared towards the Undertaker. "Undertaker who is this?!" Ciel demanded pointing at the still laughing male. The Undertaker stood up and pulled (Name) to be in front of the male and his butler. "Who this? This is my adopted son (Name)!" (Name) smiled and bowed down handing Ciel a rose stem.

Ciel just stared with a raised brow. "Sebastian." Sebastian lightly took the stem his hands brushing ever so lightly against (Name)'s. The spark between the two made them jump. (Name)'s ears and tails raised in surprise. Sebastian smiled bowing and held a hand out. "I'm Sebastian. Pleased to meet you (Name)~" (Name) turned to his dad figure and even he looked confused.

Before (Name) could shake his hand, the Undertaker picked his son up and placed him on the other side of the shop. "No way demon! You're kind has caused enough issues with my precious son!" (Name) just smiled and went to the counter and started cutting the roses again.

Ciel watched in confusion. "Will someone explain what is going on?!" The Undertaker stood directly in Sebastian's sight of the other male. Sebastian chuckled. "It seems like my other half is a Reaper and Cat Demon Hybrid. The specific hybrid my kind has been hunting down for almost two centuries."

Ciel stared at the humming male in somewhat awe. "Half reaper and half demon?" The Undertaker tensed. "(Name) was the product of a rare mate pair. Reaper and Demon. When both species found out there was issues. Especially since Reapers and Demon don't get along. They blamed the other species for the birth of him."

Ciel felt something he hadn't felt in what seemed like a life time. "What of his parents?" Sebastian tensed at the question. "Killed. Right in front of him. He was 7 in human years." Pity. Ciel felt pity towards the (H/C) male. "If I hadn't been nearby, he would've been killed as well. I retired when I found him. Knowing raising and protecting him will take everything I have."

Ciel nodded and spared a look at his frozen butler. Who seemed to still be staring at the other male. Ciel sighed and pull Sebastian's tail coat. "Lets go you cat obsessed moron. We have a mission to complete else where."

Sebastian barely budged. Still staring at the male that had finished his "gardening". He turned and flashed Sebastian a smile. When Sebastian saw the cat fangs he knew, he just knew. He'd never be the same.

#male reader #x male reader #black butler x male reader #sebastian michaelis x male reader #black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian x male reader

[multifandomwhore-003]

Forever —Drabble

Pairing: Lando Norris x female! reader

Summary: First time watching your boyfriend crash during a race? Rough.

Genre: angst, fluff.

Waring(s): Mentions of the Las Vegas crash.

Taglist: @ join taglist here

A/N: This is by far the most poetic work I've ever put out (I think), that being said. WHATEVER TF THIS IS, BLAME ON HIM, THIS MAN IS GORGEOUS

Gif credits to whom it belongs

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK

Even through ringing ears and a dazy view, he could clearly hear you, wondering then how it was even possible, he heard beyond the arguments and strong footsteps; the flare of your nose, the shakiness in your breath, the hamering in your heart, he swore he could feel it. And with that in mind, he sighed in relived, he could feel something after all, the last thing he remembered, the last thing he perceived was dread, flashing through the last few hours of his life, could those be his last?

Shaking, on the verge of tears all he could do beyond gathering the last remnants of strength in him, was think of his family, you right beside his parents, you.

Minutes passed before he realized he blinked forcefully, perhaps one of these times he'd actually lose consciousness, or worse, be gone for good. His usual dramatics and the painkillers were dancing around his brain, making it their playground. Against all of this, he tried to organize the sound with letters, letters into words, and words into speech. Speech, Could he speak right now?

He prepared himself for the task by trying to stand on his elbows.

"Mr. Norris, please lie down," the nurse guided his head back into the pillow.

"My girlfriend," his throat was hoarse strangely enough.

"She's right outside," the nurse's undertone confirmed his bare train of thought.

"I have to see her," he grabbed the woman's arm, he was pleading.

She whispered something under her breath, clearly giving in to the situation, "I'll let her in," she grinned.

He could recognize something now, your stance, firm in shape, trembling with every motion, you stepped in asking, no, demanding the nurse to close the door behind her, avoiding her gaze in plain coldness. You said nothing for the first few seconds, breathing deeply.

"I'm okay," he let out.

"I know, they've already explained everything to me," you covered your mouth.

His fingers reached for yours, longed for them, interlacing with one another, perfectly, like every time before tonight.

He took some awareness of his surroundings, as much as he could without pushing to the edge, how horrible of a might he had over his head, effective, but far too harsh, far too overwhelming.

"We're going home in a couple of hours, they just wanna make sure, you're going to be fine," you knew you were failing at reassuring him, he didn't need it, but you did.

"I gathered that, otherwise you would still be outside yelling at everyone you could,"

You chuckled, not proud of your actions, but finding them rather hysterical at the moment, "I'm sorry you had to hear that,"

"It was music to my ears," he joked.

"Having my screams flood this place?"

"Having you care so much about me,"

"Always," was all you could answer biting down a sniffle.

It was not so long ago when you quietly promised yourself to give him your heart, the one thing you'd never thought you'd offer, let alone to the guy the Russells so kindly invited to a tennis event, to the guy who over a few drinks and laughs without a sense of shame in the world asked you to dance messily, making of those videos something for the internet to cut and explore. He was so much more than that now, and even to put it into those words was the understatement of a lifetime.

He could say the same thing about his side of the story, to explore a rather rushed friendship before diving, completely submerging, was something he'd labeled as a blessing. To fill his hours by your side in talking, and talking until you had everything to learn from one another laid out and displayed in string lights. Neither of you looked for this, flowing like every bottle of champagne you saw him pop, like every shot of Tequila you drank during Mario-kart nights, like every tear of Rosé you spilled all over your couch in the middle of the night.

And to think that both the most infamous people of their career found in themselves something far more valuable than money, fame, even transcending. Comprehending during the first years of your adulthood what it all meant to allow yourself to be completely consumed with love. So unexpectedly both your reputation and his infinite rumors could all be proven wrong. Through the worst of the trials and tribulations of being committed, you still survived.

His head rested in all the calmness you made by moving heaven and earth to have, in the crook of your neck, never letting go of the sensation of his breath, his life. How funny was it to trust someone enough to keep you alive, physically, mentally emotionally; how funny that none of them could think of how to prove something as mysterious as love to be true, in themselves, in one another, in other people past the centuries, yet they believed in, that's what they invested their faith in.

Admitting you were never fools, but only to each other, you could almost touch each other's soul, finding it far more familiar than your own.

"I'm okay," he'd been repeating the same words like a prayer since the night before.

"I know," you gulped, letting go of a choked exhale.

He read you, "Trust me?"

"Forever," you reminded your thoughts, clearing them out with just one.

—If you can't trust yourself, trust him, forever—

"I'm okay," he tested the words against your sleepless frame.

"I belive you," you finally admitted in peace before giving you lips to his.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #formula 1 #f1