#like so many of these interactions leave me with a sense of just | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarjapearce · 11 months

Text

Bad Teachings

College Professor AU! Miguel O'Hara x reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Smut (I tried my best, I swear ;w;) Mildly dubious-con. Age gap implied

Hope you like 🥹✨

The last semester felt impossibly harder, nerve wrecking and it was as usual chipping away the little social life you had. Not that you had many friends really, mostly of the people you hung out with, were people that always ended either paired with you or gathered in group works.

Sure you were invited to parties here and there, but nothing too concrete.

But right now, none of it mattered, as you sat before your teacher, Peter B. Parker, at the verge of tears.

"Look, I know it seems like you'll fail, but you still have a chance." He was packing up his things and then looked your way. " I know you care for the other classes, but this one is also important. I just can't help you out this time."

"It was just one assignment! Mr. Parker. One! I had none to drive me out to that place."

"What about your friends?"

"Just... Please?, This is my last class, I can't afford another semester here."

Peter was one of the few lax teachers out there that would help out here and there when he was able to. One of your favorites actually, contrary to what people said, he was a good teacher.

"I know, I know, kid. Just let me see what I can do ok? Im not promising anything, but I can try. Mr. O'Hara isn't that bad."

You groaned hopelessly.

"God, Im so dead"

"He's not that bad. He's all bark and no bite, I'm telling you"

"Not to question your decisions, Mr. Parker but from all the teachers you could've picked, why Mr. O'Hara?"

"Not up to me kid, administration's doing. Besides, I'll be gone just a couple of weeks. You'll do fine. I'll speak to him, okay?"

You just nodded, hope hanging on a thread.

-------

You were fucked . In fact, you could already picture your parents' mortified expression upon the news and the student loan could only stretch up so far . Miguel O'Hara was... brutal.

He took no shit from anyone, he had 'zero chill' or so you had heard among the other students that barely passed with him. However, you were learning what you needed and wanted to learn. He was demanding, but a great teacher.

"He's hot." One of your classmates admitted as you were gathered in study groups to do an assignment due in a couple of hours.

"I heard he's married."

"No, he's not. No kids, nothing."

"I heard his daughter died."

"He doesn't like talking about that, Jen."

You subtly glanced at him, so ever stoic, frowning and serious, checking and grading assignments like nothing. He was intimidating overall. Everyone behaved and actually studied when he teached.

Class ended shortly after you finished the study group. However you waited a bit longer when everyone had been out to submit your group's part. And also, probably have a chance to ask about your class status.

The first thing you couldn't help but notice was how snug the button t-shirt was on him, your nose detected a tingle of his cologne, His hair was long yet well kept and silky looking. Hell, he probably had a better hair routine than you. His hands movements were smooth and swift, as if they had memorized a pattern. He stopped and looked up to you. For being a man on his early forties he looked younger.

A chill ran down your spine.

"Leave it there." He went back to scribbling notes and you obeyed.

"Mr. O'Hara?"

"Hm?"

You sighed quietly, fearful he might sense your fear.

"Sorry to bother you, Um... I was wondering if-" you swallowed as he looked back at you with a slight frown in his face

"If Mr. Parker left any extra work for me?"

His brow raised in confusion

"I haven't seen Mr. Parker in months, niña. I was just called two days ago to cover up his spot."

Shit.

"R-Right. Uh, I just asked since he said he would-"

"Help you out? Yeah, that's not happening."

"I know it's just another day for you when students come here and cry-"

"You're not crying, so that's a first."

Your cheeks burned a little at his odd praising, but also you were embarrassed overall. Your favorite teacher had definitely forgot about you.

"Just... hear me out. This is my last class, my last semester's weeks And I truly cannot afford to repeat the class."

"And that is my problem because?"

Your lips tightened and soon your eyes turned glossy, but still you were determined to see it through.

"It's just 5 points I need to keep my score and have my record approved."

"The class ain't over yet. Better keep it up."

"Mr. O'Hara, pl-"

"No."

"I will buy you empanadas?" He snorted

"See you next semester, kid. Close the door when you're out."

His no was pretty much definitive. Sighing you marched away from the classroom and closed the door. You didn't cry. That was something.

----

The following days you spent holed up in the library, roomie to loud and messy to be around as you prepared for the pre evaluation for the finals, occasionally you caught a glimpse of Miguel O'Hara, working as usual in his favorite corner, un bothered.

What truly was pissing you is that some of your teammates hadn't submitted their part of the job, wich was due tomorrow. The whole report was half done and still it was alot left to do. You were trying. And just when you felt anxiety began worming it's way in you, the seat across you was dragged open and no other than Mr. Miguel O'Hara sat before you.

He looked at you with a blank yet curious gaze.

"You look like you're about to have a nervous wreck."

"I am."

"Right, here." He showed you a printed paper, "Meet me there, at 6. Don't make plans."

"What?" you squinted your eyes to read the information

"Thought you wanted help?" Exasperated at your obliviousness he huffed, "Guess not"

"Wait!" you snatched the paper out of his hands, "Sorry. Just.. Thank you" he smirked.

Your eyes lit up upon reading the paper and nodded. If it wasn't for you being so tired, and him being scary, you'd probably hug him.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" You spoke in between whispers.

"Si si, cállate. Look, it's a conference college is organizing, in a week, if you want those five extra, go. I'll be there. Don't make plans."

"Funny you think I have a social life, Mr. O'Hara. But thanks. I really appreciate it."

"At 6. Formal dress code."

"Gotcha." you nodded as you grinned. He left you alone.

----

You'd look like a liar if he saw you, a cocktail in your hand, chatting to a classmate that was nice enough talk to. It was a small celebration for a good score in the past assignment, you could breath a little, feel a bit hopeful.

"Did you saw Mr. O'Hara today? God..." the girl almost moaned in the spot.

"You kidding? He doesn't fuck his students."

"Who knows, I might be the first?"

"In getting reported maybe. Dude is scary. A friend of mine repeated twice with him."

"What about you, (Name)? I saw you in the library chatting with him."

The whole attention suddenly dropped on you.

"Ah, yeah he told me he'd see me next semester"

"Shut up. You're failing too?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure he's hot and stuff, but... yeah. I don't know how to tell my parents actually. Add me to the chat group, by the way"

Before the conversation turned into how half female college students wanted him, your classmate took you to another private spot. Mike Aguilar was his name, someone that like you, avoided unnecessary attention. What you didn't expect was that he stole a kiss from you. Between cocktails and making out with Mike for a long time, the loud music, it felt good. Felt good to experience the other side of broke colege student.

You ended up being taken to your room, railed up but Mike was gentleman enough to not indulge since you both were drunk. How long had been since someone actually indulged you? Even more so, that you had indulged yourself? You removed your pants.

You were alone, but locked up the door, and grabbed your phone. Looking up in the group chat you looked for Mike's contact and typed.

"Hey Miky"

He replied almost instantly

"Sup, hlt stuff?" He didn't care for the typos

"Wanna see aumthin?"

"*Something"

You giggled as he send a "🥴" emoji.

Biting your lip, you put the phone in a pillow and began recording. Hands trailing on your clothed breasts as you sat down and spreaded your legs. One of your hands dipped inside your panties as the other one uncovered your breast to then squeeze and toy with one.

Your mouth had shaped in an 'o' as you bucked your hips to ride slowly your own hand. Your moans were needy and they turned more wanton as you kept toying with your nipples and clit, soon gasping for air, coming undone.

You then brought your slicked fingers to your mouth and licked them clean with a groan. You then giggled and stopped recording. The alcohol buzzed fully in your system, not only clouding your judgment, but also firing up a dirty mind.

"For your eyes only"

You uploaded the video and pressed send.

Tossing the phone on your nightstand, you went back to keep indulging in yourself before your roomie could get back. But this time, you had in mind a very specific scary teacher to think about.

----

The constant beeping in your phone bolted you awake. You turned off the alarm and saw your phone. Your eyes went wide awake as dread crept up to you.

"So... What was that you wanted to show me?"

Oh no.

Panic surged through your body as seeing Mr. O'Hara's chat open with a 'video' description. Shaky fingers opened it up, only to reveal the 'seen' mark in the chat.

OH NO.

-----

Against all odds and what could go wrong, you showed up in class. Sure, sending a porn video of yourself to your scary teacher was a major fuck up. But failing class would be even a bigger fuck up of all times, You had one foot outside of it all. Once out of college you wouldn't see Mr. O'Hara, and eventually he'd forget it all. Besides, you were pretty sure that he'd receive that kind of messages on a daily basis.

Sighing, you entered the classroom and as quietly as you could you sat in the very back of it. Class went as normal as you could, but the feeling of being watched was always present. Thankfully class was over and just as you snuck to get in, you snuck out.

You couldn't look at him in the face, not after what you had done in that video. Another reason of why you didn't drink often. But now a new problem laid ahead. How would you face him on Saturday?

Talking about, you didn't even know what to wear. Maybe the universe was conspiring against you, but you were grateful enough that he didn't bring it up, maybe he didn't pay much attention. There were so many scenarios running your mind.

----

In the end, you wrote an apology. It was easier to just apologize without seeing his face, and maybe things would be buried and forgotten as days passed.

But no. He had requested to see you after class.

As you approached you squeezed the written apologize and sighed once you were before his desk, across him.

"I need you to sign here, to confirm your assistance tomorrow."

You gulped and took the pen, after sliding the letter to him. He cocked an eyebrow to you as you signed.

"What's this?" He took the crumpled paper and opened it up. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see, amusement in them. A knowing look seizing you.

"I'm so so sorry. The... The video I mean. It wasn't for you, I swear! But I was-"

"Drunk and stupid? Yeah. Noted." He tossed the letter in the trashbin and stood with his arms on his waist, "I thought you were better than that, (Name)"

Your eyes glossed over the disappointment in his tone.

"Has anyone else seen it?"

You shook your head.

His eyes glinted with something dark, something you couldn't actually pinpoint and to be honest you were too embarrassed to ask.

"Good. Anyway, 6 pm. Austen's Auditorium"

"T-That far?"

"Have a problem?"

"Uh, no. I'll be there. I'll call an Uber."

"I'll drive you."

"What? No! I mean, no. I'm uncomfortable enough as it is. Don't wanna make this even more awkward."

"Trust me, nothing that I haven't seen before, unfortunately."

"Yeah, no. I'll call an Uber. I'm financially fucked anyways. Thanks" His pupils dilated so ever softly at the way your lips muttered the word fucked. His face remained steely as usual, but his eyes gave away so much.

"Whatever. Meet me in the last row, second seat, then."

------

You showed up, high waisted, tight, black, upper knee length skirt with a small slit on the side, a cream colored blouse with matching bra and a black blazer with nude heels. It was the standar, and the only truly formal wear you had in your closet. Uber drove you to the venue and soon, you met Miguel and sat next to him. You could recognize some other students along some other teachers from other areas. Conference was about the new ways of teaching and learning, nothing too groundbreaking as you had originally thought.

The conference was two hours long and at the end, you signed up a paper sheet and was told to wait on the entrance as Miguel greeted and signed out.

"Let's go."

Miguel guided you by placing a hand on your lower back, and gave a gentle push for you to follow him.

"Car's on the third floor"

"I told you that I could get an Uber."

"And risk you to be kidnapped or something? Not a chance. Besides I wanna keep my job as much as I can."

"Gee, thanks for caring, Mr. O'Hara."

"Todo un placer, preciosa." He chuckled

Your knees trembled as he spoke in spanish, you were sat on the front seat and fastened your seatbelt. He started the engine but it just revved a couple of times before it went dead. And just when you thought nothing could go wrong, it started pouring. Hard.

"Shit."

You groaned in frustration and Miguel smirked.

"Why the rush? Have somewhere to go?"

"No, Mr. O'Hara. Just wanted to rest. I'm not used to wear heels actually."

"Thought you were meeting with that guy you were making out the other night"

Your eyes widened in utter embarrassment as he stretched in his seat.

"Jesus... this can't be even more embarrassing."

"As your teacher, I completely disapprove such behaviors. Specially with that cabrón. He's not a good person."

"What do you mean?"

"He's conditioned. Likes to spread out intimate content of girls he gets."

"How do you know this?"

"I told you, nothing I haven't seen before."

You sank in your seat, mulling over his words.

"Hate to admit but... Im kinda glad knowing this. I mean, I'm really embarrassed though, but-"

"You're glad that little video fell onto my hands and not someone else?"

You nodded, unable to look at him as your face flushed.

"Yes, what?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Must admit though." His hands on the wheel tightened. "It took me by surprise. Out of all the female students, you, did a whole show."

You gulped as your breath hitched. His eyes squinted and that dark tingle was back at it again

"Hands in those cute ass panties, riding your hand like it was the last thing you'd ever ride."

His hand pulled his hair back as he bit his lip so ever softly. You on the other hand were trembling, unable to look at him in the eye.

"Who were you thinking of?"

"N-None. I swear. This is... really really bad"

"Maybe, but so is sending really explicit videos to your teacher, preciosa."

You shut your mouth and looked at him, he leaned in and studied your face. His index and thumb taking your chin.

"You're trembling. Why? A pretty thing like you shouldn't fear me. I'm not gonna hurt you. Quite the opposite actually." His thumb caressed your cheek and his lips brushed over yours.

"I wanna make you feel as good as you did in that video." He kissed your cheek and bit softly at your earlobe earning a shudder. It was like if another person had took over him.

"Can I? You want me to make you feel good, muñeca?"

He was overwhelming your senses, then you felt him unbuttoning your shirt. You nodded.

"W-Wait... what if someone sees us?"

Miguel unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you for a deep kiss. Moaning, your hands raked down his chest, stopping at his belt.

"Don't worry on it. It's fucking pouring outside." He riled up your skirt up, exposing the fabric of your panties. His lips went to your neck and kissed a soft trail as his fingers dipped between clothed folds, earning a whimper. His free hand managed to pull out one of your breast and then rolled his tongue over it.

"So sensitive" His fingers rubbed in slow circles your little flesh mount. He took a moment to pull one of the windows two inches down, enough for air to seep in.

"Spread those legs for me, preciosa. Lemme see that pretty pussy." Your hips accommodated as your skirt was pushed upwards, he then removed your panties and smiled.

"Sit on the back seat. Can't taste you properly like that." With trembling hands you moved on the back leathery wide seat as he moved the front ones forward, leaving more space in the back. He removed his blazer and his tie. Your heels long forgotten in the front seat. He seemed like a caged animal in a tiny space, and you a small snack for him.

His hands kneaded the supple flesh of your thighs, you removed the blazer and soon he finished unbuttoning your shirt, your bra was unclasped, spilling your breast freely. He groaned and kissed you once more. In your haste you unbuckled his belt but he stopped you.

"Are you on contraceptives?"

His fingers spreaded your legs further, exposing your slick flesh. You just nodded dumbly.

"No habrá problema entonces." He muttered more to himself than anyone as he bend over, one of your thighs dangled in his left shoulder as he brought your slit closer to his mouth.

He did a small cross blessing on himself and a little prayer and licked his lips.

"We've got to be grateful for this meal." His tongue went flat against your slit and dragged it up. Your toes curled up and you groaned.

"Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor." His lips focused in the little bundle of nerves, giving it soft suckles, kisses as his tongue dribbled in your inner folds.

"Podría comerte todo el día" He mumbled as he gave feathery bites on your plush flesh. His hands held your thighs, you were too enraptured in pleasure to mumble a coherent word. Instead your hands latched at his head softly and applied pressure only when he grew closer to that very sweet spot.

His tongue lapped up and soon his whole mouth disappeared between your folds. The obscene sound of his mouth working made your spine arch. He held you in place as his face kept buried between your legs. Your breath hitched as your body went taut. He switched in between devouring your clit and fucking you with his tongue.

"Y-Yes!" You hissed as searing pleasure crashed hard. Your toes curled in, and your body trembled, coming undone on his mouth. He made sure to clean you up before releasing your flesh with a wet pop. You pulled him for a kiss as the rain kept hitting the car, drowning any sound.

"Such a pretty and naughty baby." He cooed as he tied your hands behind your back with his neck tie, then pulled his pants down his knees and brought your knees close to your shoulders, exposing once more your puffed and wet cunt.

"Sending videos for me to watch" He pumped himself a couple of times before rubbing his flushed tip in your sopping folds. You moaned as he entered you slowly, feeling the good stretch of his cock in your walls and gasped.

Hearing your classmates talking about the possibilities of what Mr. O'Hara had between his legs was nothing compared to actually experiencing it as it dug deeper in your guts.

You gave a shaky whimper at how full you felt, and he was barely starting. You could only watch as his girth disappeared between your folds with ease.

"You're so tight, princesa." He kissed your temple, as you choked on a thrust he gave, shaking your whole body.

"Wanna be a good girl for me?" Nodding you groaned as he tangled one of his hands on your front bangs and held you still, to then ram his hips against yours. It earned him a sweet wail from you. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing at your warmth and tighteness

"So fucking good. Will give you a lil' present before you graduate." His hips slapped shamelessly and viciously, leaving you with little room to breathe properly. Your hands desperately trying to hold onto something

"Gonna miss you and this pussy when you're gone, you know that?" His voice rumbled through his chest between heavy pants and soft growls.

You were too cock drunk to actually speak, the lack of air was making you dizzy, soon you felt like a zombie, just grunting and moaning as his body crushed you, over and over, almost fucking you in to the seat. Miguel O'Hara was anything but gentle, in all sense of the word. The car shook softly and soon, you gritted your teeth as the pressure in your lower belly increased until you came on his cock. Gushing and clamping down hard.

Your body shook, and he cupped your cheeks, smiling at the debauched look on your face as you came, proud of himself. Your hands had numbed out, but he then untied them.

"Such a messy baby." His hips didn't stop, one of his hands snaked it's way to your neck and squeezed.

Your hands found a little strength to cling to his arm, his eyes never left you.

"Give me another one, mi amor"

He cooed as his hips fucked you silly, tears piling up at the corner of your eyes, overstimulation making a mess out of your senses. Your nails scratched his wrist as his thrust turned erratic, sloppier and finally he came as he cradled your limp body closer to his.

It was almost possessive. You gave a pathetic cry as you came with him. He kissed you softly and laid you gently.

He then pulled one of the windows down another couple of inches, letting air to refresh your burning body.

Your clothes were soiled, except for the blazer, the rest was drenched in sweat or covered in fluids. The good thing was that rain could cover up all evidence.

He looked at you in awe and pride.

----

"You look lovely in this one."

Mr. O'Hara's chat was opened, revealing a picture of you sucking his cock in his classroom with your graduation gown, looking at him with doe-like eyes.

"Thanks. You taste great, btw." You typed back, with a smirk

"Call me, Miguel, preciosa. I'm not your teacher anymore."

-----

Si si, cállate — "Yeah, yeah, shut up"

Todo un placer, preciosa - "My pleasure, gorgeous"

cabrón— Fucker

muñeca- Doll

No habrá problema entonces- "No problem then"

Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor- "You have a pretty pussy, my love"

Podría comerte todo el día- "I could eat you all day"

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader

3K notes · View notes

alastors-antlers · 3 months

Text

a brief take on the whole "Alastor's smile is permanent" discussion

hello all!

I've seen a lot of people theorizing lately that Alastor actually smiles all the time because his smile is magically, physically fixed onto his face. All of this seems to come from the fact that he's practically grimacing rather than smiling during the scene where he breaks down in ep8:

As well as this frame of his deal with Charlie: (lower res sorry)

I will say, I do like some of the implications of this theory. The sheer spite of his creditor forcing him to smile as an addition to their deal, almost like a sort of forced silence, is a neat concept. It's fun and dramatic. Plus, of all things, of course Alastor would claim the "smile at all times" policy and make it his own to pretend that it was his decision all along lol.

To be fair, though, I don't think we even need any magical compulsion to explain why he's smiling while he's having a mental breakdown. Actually, if we assume magical compulsion, I think we lose a bit of dimension from Alastor's character. (No judgement to anyone's take though, of course -- I just think this works in the direction of his established characterization, but obviously all personal takes <3)

Hear me out:

Alastor's persona is not just for others to see.

"A smile is a valuable tool, my dear. It inspires your friends; keeps your enemies guessing; and ensures that whatever comes your way, you're the one in control."

That makes sense given what we know about him. If he's always smiling, he seems like he has it together. You can't read him very well, especially not when he's actively trying to keep up appearances.

Now consider that when you think about ep8's fight with Heaven, we see that he's already been through so much in this one day.

He fights an army of angels, presumably not even at his own whim (if we go by his blurb about freedom in the Finale song); he loses to Adam, who he considers sloppy and mediocre; his staff, which we can assume holds some part of his power, is snapped; he comes close to being Angelic-power-killed; and to top it all off, he knows that others watched him get injured and then apparently die or flee, all of which would ruin the public image that he's trying to maintain. It wouldn't even be unreasonable for us to assume that he knows Vox was watching, given that Vox kind of has eyes everywhere.

In a moment like this, in the finale, you could say that Alastor has lost (at least on some level) everything that we know matters to him. He doesn't have access to all of his magic, and it's limiting him. He's reminded that he doesn't have freedom or control over his own destiny. He certainly has taken massive hits to his powerful, composed persona. But he's desperate, and furious, and terrified, and clinging on.

That's why he's smiling.

It's not that he can't stop because he physically can't. It's that he can't stop because to him, the smile is the last thing that is still within his power. When there are so many moving parts that he can't predict what happens to him next, he can control how he responds to it. In these last fragments of autonomy, there is solace.

He needs to keep telling himself that he has it together and that he'll eventually scheme his way free, that there's a solution, that he won't be in chains forever; because letting his pretense slip would be admitting that it's all starting to actually get to him. That maybe this time, he doesn't have an escape plan.

In addition, if you read his interactions throughout the series, we also see something else: Alastor's reputation is of paramount importance to him. At multiple points throughout the series, when others disrespect him by discounting his power or presence, he gets visibly annoyed. And in the battle, we see a glimpse of the part of his personality he seems to be trying to leave behind - a normal Alastor, who's just some guy from Louisiana. No transatlantic accent; no unflappable malice; no sharp wit waiting at the ready. Maybe even unremarkable.

Dropping his smile - arguably the most prominent part of his brand - would be admitting that in reality, he's not the Radio Demon of legend that he aspires to project. And if he doesn't have that... where would he be?

#alastor meta #alastor analysis #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor meta #hazbin meta #hazbin alastor analysis #bro I love this guy so much

866 notes · View notes

p1utofairy · 7 months

Text

PAC: “cause every little thing that we do, should be between me & you.” 🕯️💭✨

• what are your person’s dirty thoughts about you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. thank y'all for 1K omg <3 y’all really fw with lil ol’ me?! ily ily ily. 🥹 here’s a lil sumn sumn to celebrate. 🥂 p.s. take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. enjoy!

pile 1 ⭐️ —

“you don't need me, please believe me. this ain't easy, you know i've been feindin'. let me unleash my demons on you.”

“innocent” is what i’m hearing pile 1. your person will underestimate just how much of a hold you have on them lol initially they’ll think that you’re more of the submissive type, but oh are they in for a treat! you hold your cards close to your chest, so it’ll surprise them when this other side of you comes to the surface. i’m hearing “classy in the streets but a freak in the sheets” LOLLL. oh i’m also picking up that some of you may be inexperienced (or may not have as much sexual experience as them) but it won’t come off that way to them...they’ll just think that you’re playing coy and teasing them. your person will be eye-fucking you a lot, i can see them sitting across from you just looking you up and down…locking in on your legs — they’ll really love your legs. “you’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. you’d be like heaven to touch.” just started playing in my mind. awww your person is very sensual 😩 and as much as they want to have you…they’ll be patient. they want to make sure you feel comfortable. all i need by lloyd just came to mind, “get up on it. i’m so horny and i want it. so get up on this, get up on the dick.” LMFAOOOO ik i said they'll be patient but i’m ngl they'll be internally tussling with themselves because they’re used to just getting what they want and people falling for them at the drop of a dime, but you make them work hard for it. i can see you two having a heavy make-out session before they drop you off home and then you pull away and you're like BYE 😘👋☺️ and they'll just be sitting there with their mind racing a mile per minute like FUCK?????? lmfaooooooooooo my gosh you will rile them up so bad pile 1. i feel like there will be a height difference between you two or an age gap. they could be older than you! you give them butterflies <3 they think they’re making you soo nervous/giddy inside (and they are) but you hide it a little better than they do. after every interaction with them you’ll feel all mushy inside hehe and you’ll be able to tell that you make them nervous. they’re just blown away by how beautiful, hot and how well-put together you are. i can see you talking and they’re just watching your mouth move like 👁️👁️ LMFAOOO bye pile 1. they’re feenin’ for you.

pile 2 🪡 —

“i just wanna live in a fantasy. i think we deserve it, right? top all the memories. i’ve ever made in my life.”

oouu this is my pile that doesn't take shit from nobody, okayyyy! hi pile 2 welcome to your reading <3 i can already tell that your person loves how you carry yourself. you do not allow many people to have access to you, and when you do, people can’t help but feel special inside because you have such a ✨big✨ presence. you may not take your person very serious at first. they have youthful/playful energy while you have a very disciplined and mature demeanor. that’s what will make them so attracted to you; how you're always on your shit…there's no cutting corners with you, you do not have time for the games and they will respect that. there's something about your lips that they love. you might have a defined cupid’s bow like rihanna or maybe they just like how cute and soft they are; especially after they just got done kissing you. i see them teasing you and slightly biting your bottom lip after they pull away from the kiss 🥵 ugh don’t count them out pile 2. they might have youthful energy but they're a pro when it comes to seduction lol you both are similar in a sense — you both want something serious and passionate with a hint of playfulness. they'll loveeeee watching you get ready! like i can see you standing in front of a mirror, in a rush to make yourself look presentable and they're just laying back on the bed…giving you the look. just ready to POUNCE. whew pile 2! this person’s love language might also be physical touch, cause they’ll be fighting the urge to squeeze your ass or constantly have their hand on your lower back. you’ll secretly love all their physical affection though hehe.

pile 3 🔪 —

“out of breath, take it slow. i wanna feel it in my soul. yeah, i know you love it when i’m on top. gotta keep it going, baby. don’t stop.”

heyyyy pile 3 🤗 i’m immediately hearing that you have a way with words. you know exactly what buttons to push to get your person aroused mhm! your person knows your worth just as much as you do, they’ll put you on a pedestal and treat you with so much care and devotion. they may have a worship kink? i see a bedroom setting — lightly-dimmed, candles lit, red rose petals on the floor and they’re slowly taking your shoes off for you…their hands trailing up your bare legs slowly 🥵 OKAYYYY pile 3! the sexual attraction is strong in this one wow. that scene from the wolf of wall street where naomi (margot robbie) and jordan (leo dicaprio) are on a date and naomi is giving him the fuck me eyes while saying “aren’t you married?” is coming to mind. now i don’t feel like there’s any third parties/cheating involved…you two just might be into role-playing. like i can see them booking a spontaneous getaway trip for the two of you & y’all just slut each other out and explore each other’s wildest fantasies the whole time 🤭 you both know how and what will make the other person tick; i can see them teasing you a lot in public. a lot of dirty talk in your ear, hand on the back of your neck gently squeezing and kisses. they were never really like this in their previous relationship(s) but you bring out a whole different side of them. agora hills by doja cat just started playing, “kissing and hope they caught us, whether they like or not. i wanna show you off. i wanna show you off.” THEY REALLY DO, PILE 3. they can't believe they bagged you…every-time they look at you they’re in awe.

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card #love pac #love reading #intuitive reading #pick a card reading #tarot #tarot pac #tarot reading #pac reading #energy reading #p1utofairy

2K notes · View notes

wheneclipsefalls · 15 days

Text

Little Gift- Tremble

Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Little Gift Masterlist

Beautiful adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Summary: This is your last chance to run.

Warnings: aged up Neteyam, NSFW minors do not interact, dark Neteyam, NONCON/DUBCON, spanking, dirty talk, punishment, size difference, etc.

A/N: This one took a little longer than intended with all the life stuff going on, but yay it's here. Also, migt have gotten a little carried away with this part.

The outpost feels like a relic of a different time. One that you have only heard of in stories, but now seeing those worn down bunk beds and the corner of a room that Spider calls his own, it doesn’t feel as glorious. The worst part, however, is how naked you feel around other humans. It’s only a slight comfort that Spider is wearing Na’vi apparel too.

“Oh and yeah and this is a spear I made in Awalatuu.” Spider says. “But maybe let’s move it out of the way.” He gives an awkward chuckle but it’s obvious that his only concern is you suddenly deciding to use it against him.

Your arrival at the outpost had been anything but graceful. In hindsight you would have preferred to meet these people face to face instead of over Neteyam’s shoulder.

“If you want we can uh….watch a movie. Oh yeah I bet I could swipe Norm’s Star Wars collection.”

You don’t return the smile he gives you, too busy awkwardly sitting on his bed while pouting. You never thought it would feel strange to be back in a place like this but after being around the Na’vi for the past week, the outpost feels like walking into a rundown dollhouse. Everything is your size and nothing is as beautifully crafted as Neteyam’s kelku.

The awkward silence is slightly painful but you can’t find it within yourself to feel bad for Spider. Not when he hasn’t shown even a morsel of sympathy for your situation. Your own kind and not even they find it important to get you out of here. Not that they could anyways. No doubt Neteyam would view such actions as a betrayal.

“He wouldn’t let you come along, huh?” You finally ask.

Spider stops digging through the worn down hard drives.

“Who?”

“Neteyam. Didn’t want you coming to see the RDA off either?”

Spider scoffs at the, leaving the tech behind to cross the small room.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m not the one he’s worried about getting into trouble.”

Spider may not have heightened senses like the Na’vi but you worry that he sees the way your hands ball around the thin blankets.

“So Lo’ak handed the role of babysitter off to you somehow.” You lean back against the cold wall, trying to appear bored by the conversation.

“Just for today. He was clear that I would only be a substitute.”

Your brows furrow at that. Maybe Lo’ak doesn’t mind watching over you as much as he lets on. Then again Lo’ak never fails to find your company amusing, and for all the wrong reasons. Some days you wonder if Neteyam would really be cross with you for slapping his brother across the face. Maybe if you batted your lashes and played it off as self defense….

“Well I’m sorry you can’t be there.”

It’s Spider’s turn to look confused.

“Why?”

“Colonel Quaritch is your dad, isn’t he?”

“That asshole is nothing close to a father.” Spider’s jaw clenches, posturing already shifting to loom over you. He may be human but his six foot frame of striped muscle greatly outweighs your own.

“Oh trust me, I know. Quaritch has been nothing but a tyrant my entire life. I honestly don’t know how he managed to get back into General Ardmore’s good graces after half the stunts he has pulled. That’s why I was excited for today. Finally see that bastard put in his place.” Spider watches you closely. In some ways it feels like all he is missing he ears and tail of a Na’vi.

“Thought maybe you would want to see that too.”

You know a good deal about Spider Soccoro. He is a story that is often shared among the recombinants but never in Quaritch’s presence. Many tales have been told of the feral stripped boy that was more trouble than worth. You wonder if the stories would have been different if he hadn’t chosen the Sullys in the end. Still, even with their biased filters you know that they put Spider through hell.

Kidnapping is traumatic enough without having to watch islands burn and friends cry for justice.

“I don’t care what happens to that bastard.” Spider huffs before promptly turning around and fishing through the hard drives once more. You’ve killed the already strained mood.

“Well then you’re a better person than me. Good for you.” Spider doesn’t answer but you can tell he is listening.

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Hell, I’ve only had to put up with him from a distance and I would ring his neck myself if given the chance.”

Spider’s fingers fiddle with a blue hard drive, eyes staring down thoughtfully.

“But I guess I should trust Neteyam to give him what he deserves. Watch that monster tuck his tail and accept his failure for what it is.” It’s the one cause you consider Neteyam and yourself on the same side of.

Leaning back, you prop your feet up onto the creaky mattress.

“Yeah.” He says shortly.

“Ugh don’t get me started on Lyle though-”

“What are you trying to do?” Spider springs to his feet, glaring daggers down at you.

“What do-”

“Do you think I’m really that stupid? Neteyam told me you would do this. Trying to spin a story that would allow you to escape.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You’re startled by the outburst to say the least but at this point there is nothing to lose. This man you only met fifteen minutes ago is the difference between spending the rest of your days here and returning back to Earth. Neteyam’s punishments are far from being enough to deter you from taking this chance.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to-”

“Would it kill you to just stay out of trouble for this one day? For my sake?” The look he gives you is anything but tender in comparison to his words.

The bitter taste of impending failure is already settling in. You can already feel the immense weight of this dread and it springs you into action. This can’t be the end.

It won’t be.

“Can you really blame me though? For wanting to say goodbye to everything and everyone I have ever known?”

Spider goes quiet, hazel eyes suddenly avoiding your own gaze.

“Believe whatever you want but the fact is this day will never repeat. This is literal history and…” You voice quivers, blunt teeth sinking into your bottom lip in restraint. The last barrier to holding the words back. “The last glimpse at my old life.”

You don’t allow the gravity of those whispered words to plant themselves. This is all a ruse after all. Just enough sadness to get Spider to cooperate and yet saying it out loud feels like tying an anchor to your ankle. Truly realizing how stuck you may be from here on out.

Spider doesn’t say anything for a long while. Neither of you look at each other, letting the silence sizzle between you.

And then finally….

“We have to be quick.”

“And no touching anything. I mean it, shit out here can be extremely poisonous.” Spider rattles on, listing yet another rule to follow as the two of you venture through the thick terrain. You roll your eyes. You may not be a match for the creatures of Pandora physically but you’ve studied enough to understand what to stay away from.

“We’re there for five minutes tops, got it?” Spider says as he pushes a hanging branch out of your path.

“Yes sir.” You salute him playfully. Now that you are less than a mile away from Bridgehead a certain giddiness begins to take over. It swirls together with your nerves and apprehension but it doesn’t deter you. This is the closest you have been to freedom in a week.

Eywa’s mightiest creatures could not keep you from your goal.

Years down the road when you wake up from kyro this will all be some awful dream that embeds itself into your revenge arch. Starting with Miles Quaritch of course.

“I’m being serious. Neteyam will kill me if he sees you out here. I’m sticking my neck out for you.”

“It will be worth it.” You say simply, a skip in your step when you recognize the familiar path that leads back to Bridgehead. This the same one you had carved deeper with every trip you had taken to your oasis. Looking back there is nothing more you regret but the sight of it still makes you smile.

Spider never stops his stern rambling. Despite the fact that he is built like a Greek God, his speeches do little to intimidate you. Not when you’re used to nine feet of solid muscle and sharp canines.

There is a bank that overhangs Bridgehead. A spot that Spider deems the perfect lookout for the two of you. You consider trying to convince him to get the two of you closer. After all, what good is a farewell that can’t be heard? Truth is, there really aren’t many people you would bother trying to say goodbye to. Jeremy moved on from you months ago, you have very little friends outside of that and what little you did have can be nothing but traitors by letting you get offered up without complaint.

It feels like a risky move, however. Spider is sure to catch wind of your deception at the first hints of you disobeying.

“Here,” Spider mutters, suddenly pulling your arm so you stand directly in front of him. This leaves you sandwiched between the cliff’s edge and Spider’s tall frame.

“Hey!” You snip at him, ripping your arm from his hold.

“This way I can keep a close eye on you.” He smirks, hands resting confidently on his hips because he knows as well as you that his physical prowess greatly outweighs your own. It’s clear his trust is far from being earned.

“Well do you have to breathe down my neck? Christ! I could use some space.”

“No chance.” Spider responds shortly but his eyes are already scanning the crowd of RDA members below.

“Neteyam doesn’t really take kindly to others sniffing around me.”

You hate to play that card but it seems to be the only one you have in your deck and if you have any chance of getting out of here, Spider can’t be pressed up against you. A harsh glare is thrown down at you but with knitted brows and a fierce frown, the male takes a few steps back. It isn’t much, surely his presence will still be your first obstacle, but it’s a start.

Every minute that passes by feels like torture. You watch as palettes of heavy equipment and artillery are rolled along the concrete with Na’vi supervising. Each one packed away is a signal of passing time, another stream of sand that falls through your hourglass of opportunity. The real nerves, however, kick in when the line of RDA members are escorted onto the ship.

How long is it going to take them to load everyone?

How long until your hopes are dashed?

You spot Neteyam taking his place at the head. He is dressed up in his traditional Olo’eyktan gear completely with a feathered mantle and oval forehead jewelry, but this time he holds a gun. He holds it with confidence, finger strategically placed over the barrel and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His golden eyes spark today like fire. Even from your lookout spot from above, you can feel that darting heat.

You pray that they never fall on you again.

Spider shifts over your shoulder suddenly, blonde dreads ticking your neck. You scramble out of his space but instead of jerking you into place as you expect, he takes your spot at the front. Brows knitting together, you watch him carefully as he crawls forward.

Finally you spot what has captured his undivided attention.

Colonel Miles Quaritch sternly leads his band of mutants through the crowd. They tower so high over the rest of the Sky People the sight is almost comedic. However, Spider is doing anything but laughing. His mask fogs up as he watches the scene with intensity.

It’s like he is dead to the world, eyes trained on the man that has been anything but a father to him.

You expect him to cheer, snarl, anything that shouts of victory. It was promises of seeing karma after all that had bought you this outing but Spider is silent and still. And then there is something else that flashes over his demeanor, a pang of emotion that is hard for you to place.

Pain?

Hatred?

Guilt?

This swirl of tangled feelings is confusing.

Perhaps there is still so much more to learn about Spider Socorro.

Regardless, this is your chance and you plan to take it. Tension bleeding into the moment you watch Spider diligently while beginning to back away. It feels as if the world’s ambience has been muffled into background noise and the only sound breaking through is the obnoxious puff of each breath through your mask. Neteyam hadn’t given you the serum shot this morning, assuming you would be spending the whole day in the outpost. Now, however, you wish he had.

Spider is so enveloped in the moment, however, that he gives no recognition of the sound or even branch you clumsily snap when backing down from the cliff’s edge.

There is no telling how long this trance will last or at what point you will be out of ear shot so you risk it all.

Bare feet tingling in protest, you race across the forest floor. There’s no sign of an easy and stealthy way down into Bridgehead. Going back down your normal path would risk Spider spotting you race by. That’s not an option but neither is falling to your death. On the east side the cliff shallows out into a grassy hill. If you’re lucky enough you might just be able to creep down it and remain hidden beneath the heavy greenery.

Upon reaching it, however, you step on loose dirt and the world rapidly spins around you. With neither a hint of grace or stealth you clumsily roll down the hill. Your muscles ache by the time you clunk to the bottom and you’re sure there are other injuries to be found. Adrenaline dulling the pain and panic, you dart to hide in the nearest bush instantly.

The scene is so much louder now that you are up close. Heavy trucks make blaring beeping sounds while reversing and Na’vi freely let out loose cries of victory and foreign threats. The commotion is just enough to have your presence remain undetected.

You don’t bank on that lasting for long though.

Your scanty traditional Na’vi attire is sure to draw attention. You need different clothes and you need it fast. Scaling around the outskirts of the chaos, you miraculously manage to make it to that familiar run down door. Sector two-your building.

Paranoia constantly scraping at your attention, you barely let the room equalize before ripping your mask off. These hallways feel so different than you remember them. Perhaps it is the feel of the metal floors beneath bare feet or the lacking furniture and crowd. It sends a chill up your spine as you sprint towards your room.

How much time do you have?

They can’t have loaded more than half of the crew by now.

And yet, the sight of deserted halls makes your feet slap against the floor faster.

Get dressed. Immerse yourself in the crowd. Hide until take off is through and then find a kyro capsule.

You mentally check through this list.

Piece of cake.

Maybe saying it out loud would make it sound less like a fool’s hope.

Fuck it. The odds don’t matter and neither do your nerves. This is a necessity, pure survival and that will be enough to keep you going. It will because it has to.

Your feet slip across the laminated floor when you frantically scramble to go back the way you came. Two tall and ominous shadows wrap from around the opposite corner and you are afforded just enough time to dart behind a wall before Lyle and Z Dawg appear.

“You’re an idiot.” She says.

“Yeah yeah say whatever you want but don’t pretend like you wouldn’t rip someone in half for a Big Mac right now.” Lyle defends himself, their shadows now paint the dimly lit corridor, stretching closer and closer to your tucked away spot.

You could run, but these are recombinants. They would pick up the sound of your footsteps in an instant. The wind from your sprint would carry your scent.

“Sure, but I asked what your first meal back on Earth would be, not what your guilty pleasure fast food order is.”

“These savages can keep their overgrown weeded garden of a planet. I want some fucking chicken nuggets!”

As their voices become louder it appears that running will be your only choice after all.

“I don’t even know why I ask at this point.” She sighs and a short hiss echoes down the hallway.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feet repositioning as you prepare yourself to run. If you were smart you would have already been halfway down the hallway at this point but some part of you refuses to move. It clings to hope foolishly.

“Well I’m sure-”

“Shut up asshole. The comm.” Z Dawg hisses and they both turn silent, no doubt listening to the orders on the other end.

Your hands are shaking now, that tremor traveling up your shoulders as you await their response.

“Copy that.” Lyle says and then the sound of heavy boots recedes into the distance.

You can hardly believe your luck.

That dark cloud of dread ripples away and hope takes its place once more. Maybe you can pull this off after all.

Your room is exactly as you left it. No one has bothered to pack up any of your things or even dispose of your half folded laundry. This tiny corner of a shared living space has been your own for your whole life, everything you have known. It feels so small now.

Rifling through the laundry basket you find a loose green tee and a pair of tan shorts. You originally had a whole outfit planned for this day, something comfortable but nice. Those garments are, however, still crumpled up on the ground. This will have to do.

As you hastily slip them over the beaded jewelry and tewng you pray to whatever god will listen that this will be enough to keep you incognito. You are barely finished buttoning up the shorts when heavy footsteps ring down the hallway.

Their echo is soft, no doubt still several halls away but they are progressively getting louder. Now is not the time to take any more risks. This room is tiny and already cramped with scattered junk. Hiding under your bed would not only be idiotic but near impossible with the way your creaky bed swoopes so low to the ground. There is, however, an old built-in cabinet above that you’ve used to hold your clothes.

It’s just barely big enough for you to squeeze into so with those footsteps getting louder and your own terror sky rocketing, you push everything out of it and shove your body into the metal space. The door has metal slots with just enough slant to allow your visual through it.

Your clammy right hand presses over your mouth when the door to the room creaks open.

Neteyam strolls in leisurely, eyes sweeping over the cramped space with interest. With wide eyes and strangled lungs, you watch him prowl through the area slowly. He bends down to run his fingers over the rumbled sheets, the back of his hand lingers over your pillow case.

He takes his time looking through the various knick knacks and cords littering your night stand. He doesn’t hesitate to ball the old picture of Jeremy into his fists. Its remains are tossed to the side without care.

Did he toss the real Jeremy like that?

You make a vow to find him as soon as you make it on board.

Assuming Neteyam hasn’t already hunted him down.

You could look for whatever is left of Jeremy.

You can’t think about that now, though. Not as your heart is pounding against your ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Not when Neteyam lifts his mask for a sip of air as he plays with your tiny music box.

He is gentle with all of your belongings, roaming through the area like a man that doesn’t have hundreds of Sky People to threaten off of his planet. Surely, he will have to leave soon. He’s just here out of curiosity, more of his stalker tendencies pushing him to invade your space.

The music box looks like a Christmas ornament in his palm and you worry that he will accidently crush it. It was a pain in the ass to get and a possession you have always treasured because of that. Neteyam’s ears push forward when he finally figures out how to start the music and that delicate ballerina begins to twirl.

“Maybe it’s all of your silly trinkets.” He breaks the silence, you startle slightly. He can’t be talking to you, you remind yourself. Neteyam thinks he is alone, just nosing through your old room as he thinks out loud. “Is that what you miss so much? What has you running off and acting naughty, little gift?”

He’s bluffing. There is no way he could know you are here. Your scent has to be strong in the room but that’s to be expected since this was your living space. Ironically this should be the perfect place to hide away.

“You know,” He starts, carefully placing the music box back down. “I was planning on letting you bring some of these funny things back to our kelku once you start behaving. A little incentive to be my good girl.”

The knot in your throat is near impossible to gulp down and when you do, his ears twitch. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You tug your legs closer to your chest as if you can contort yourself into a small enough ball that will magically disappear.

“But it’s obvious now that you respond better to retribution than reward.”

It’s a miracle that your lip doesn’t split from how hard your teeth press into it. Neteyam may not be able to track your scent here but the smell of blood would be a dead giveaway. All signs point to being caught but you aren’t ready to hand over the last shreds of hope yet. Neteyam doesn’t know about the cabinet. He’s bluffing about knowing you are here. No one has seen you.

“We can revisit the idea of a reward system later, pet.”

The muscles in your legs are cramping beyond relief, begging you to stretch out. You don’t heed these discomforts, too paralyzed by the proximity of your captor. Neteyam on the other hand appears deceivingly content and relaxed, rummaging through your things as if he has all the time in the world.

He carefully opens your nightstand drawer and those hairless eyebrows raise immediately. The bras are tossed to the side with the same care as the picture but then tiny little lace fabric hangs from his fingers. It’s far from your greatest problem but your cheeks heat anyways when he carefully observes your light purple panties.

Out of all the drawers to open it seems that Neteyam knows just the one to torment you with.

“Then again,” The Olo’eyktan smirks. “These are quite cute.” And this time instead of inhaling from the respirator he soaks in the scent from the small fabric instead. Your thighs clench together.

“Wouldn’t mind having my little tawtute model these for me.” He hums, while pulling out several more pairs. He tucks them away safely in a small pouch attached to his loincloth. “That is, once I finally get rid of this rebellious streak of yours.”

You allow yourself a small sigh when Neteyam goes around to the other side of the bed, just enough distance for you to breathe properly.

“Time to come out, little gift.” He squats down onto his haunches, prowling across the floor like a predator on track. He must be searching for you and if that is true then you may still have a chance yet. Neteyam may think you are in here but he doesn’t know where exactly.

Thoughts race through your mind at a thousand miles per minute. They twist and twirl to find some way that you could get out of this situation unscathed. The doorway is visible through the slanted slits of the cupboard. With the proper footing you may be able to close that distance with a courageous leap. And maybe, just maybe that would be enough to catch Neteyam off guard and give you a head start.

You make one fatal mistake, however.

If there is one thing a good prey knows to do, it is to keep sight of their predator at all times.

Your feet don’t even get the chance to hit the ground, instead dangling and thrashing once you are caught with a strong hold around your waist. Hoping is waning but disappointment sprouts into increased vigor as your nails digging into his arms and legs struggle to kick back at him.

“YOU MOTHERFUCK-” Your cursing slings into a shriek when Neteyam grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to strongly crane your head backwards. His golden eyes are dilated until only a thin rim of molten gold is visible. The weight of his angry gaze takes your breath away.

“Enough.” He enunciates the word, like a drawn sword ready to slash. “Listen closely, pet.” The lump in your throat goes down with a strained gulp. “There is not an inch of this Sky Demon hell hole or corner of this planet that you can run to without being drawn back to me. You are mine and I’ve done well to mark my property.” The fingers intertwined in your hair tickle over the back of your neck, no doubt leaving the trail of his scent behind. “You reek of me.”

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you flutter them closed to avoid his burning attention.

“As you should.” His voice rumbles as nothing more than a growl against the nape of your neck.

“I never asked for this!” Your fighting dimms down to nothing more than squirming as gritting the choked words out sucks your energy away. Before you can do anything to stop it, tears blaze trails down your cheeks. “Just let me go! Please!”

“Quiet, pet.”

Another yank to your hair and the words die on your lips. It’s clear now that the time for fun and games is over. Neteyam wastes no time in throwing you onto the creaky mattress and covering your body with his own until he becomes a shadow blocking out the fluorescent light above. His thighs straddle your waist, putting just enough weight down to keep you in place.

“No more tears.” He sighs, with down turned lips, but doesn’t pause his bunching of your tee shirt. “It’s clear I’ve been spoiling you too much.”

A broken grasp is pulled from your throat when he easily tears the shirt straight down the middle. You’re not sure what you are trying to accomplish as you swat at his working hands. The shirt was neither your favorite nor of great importance but you still try to stop the onslaught of ripping.

Confused and overwhelmed you squirm as he rips it into wide ribbons of fabric and then without warning you are flipped onto your stomach. You scramble to crawl away but Neteyam’s plants a foot on your ass and that is unfortunately all it takes to pin you down. Your hands are snatched next, forced together behind your back as the ripped stripes of your own shirt are used as makeshift rope to tie your wrists together.

Something about him using your own personal clothing to keep you bound for him has your legs kicking out fiercely. It won’t do much damage even if you manage to hit him, but there needs to be an outlet for your anger. You need to feel like there is still some wreckage for you to inflict. The last tiny shred of power that you cling to for dear life.

Neteyam isn’t in the mood to put up with your outbursts. Much like a fresh kill from his hunting trips he keeps you pinned and makes quick work of binding you imobile. The action is so well rehearsed and instinctual in fact that he already moves on to his next task of destroying your shorts.

Shrieks and small clawing fingers are simply background ambience for the Olo’eyktan as he works. Surprisingly the small tawtute sized Na’vi clothing is not exempt from the male’s destructive hands. They too become nothing more than rolling beads and scraps of fabric falling to the floor.

Your string of bloody curses are only temporarily interrupted by your own gasp when Neteyam takes a seat on the bed and throws you over his knee in one swift move. Kicking is no longer an option for your rage when he swings one leg over both of yours. Blood rushes to your head but even dizziness can’t stop your violent outrage.

However, it appears a cracking smack to your upturned ass can.

The pain doesn’t ripple forward until a few moments after your shock has subsided. Neteyam has always had creative ways of punishing you but this is different. You’d figured that he would never lay a hand on you after all that he has droned on and on about how important it is to protect a fragile thing like you.

But another hit accompanies the first and this time you can’t hold back your small squeak.

“Just as I thought.” He spanks you again, his hand mercilessly hitting both cheeks with every strike. “You’ve been practically begging for a firmer hand.” The cry that the next rapid three slaps pull from you is one that you don’t recognize.

“Pretty little things like you still struggle to remember their place.”

“Stop! Stop!” You shriek, trapped legs still fruitlessly sprawling for escape.

“Don’t worry, little gift.” He squeezes one of your pink cheeks after this last spank. “That’s what I am here for. I won’t let your silly little tawtute tendencies keep you away from me.”

It doesn’t take long for the color of your backside to match your face as the blood drains to your head. Neteyam is persistent, hardly batting an eye at your cries and shrieks. From cursing to death threats, none of your spewed venom makes him flinch. If anything you manage to catch his small smirk when you twist to glare up at him. You don’t make that mistake again when you find this behavior only rewards you with condescending coos from the Na’vi.

“That’s a good girl. Let all those nasty words go.” He purrs, heavy hand never letting up on your poor bottom.

It’s this praise that has your mouth clamping shut. You hold back any and every sound you can as your ass takes a beating. Which is not a lot when the Na’vi male has unfathomable strength and your backside already feels like flames could erupt from it at any moment.

“Oh pet, I’ve hardly even touched you and you’re already blushing so pretty for me.” Neteyam hums in delight, hand roaming over your burning ass like an art piece just waiting to be admired properly.

Hardly even touched you?

Is this just his way of being an ass or are you truly that far from the finish line?

You jolt when one finger slips between the crack of your cheeks, teasing over your hole gently. A sound caught between a scream and whimper erupts from you without thought. Bound hands flatten and flail to cover the untouched area but Neteyam simply chuckles and lets his own hand retreat.

“Mawey, tiyawn.” Neteyam pats your backside softly, almost in a casual reassuring manner. “Another day.”

It’s hard to say what is more humiliating. Being bound and turned over the Olo’eyktan’s knee like a naughty child or the wetness trickling from your pussy at the feel of his teasing fingers in a place you’ve never dared let anyone else explore before.

Pain is a great distraction from your humiliation. So much so that it eventually motivates you to dash pride to the side and begin your pleading.

“A-ah Neteyam! I’m sorry! I’m sorry…eh-ah I-I’ll be good!” It’s not even clear what you are trying to say anymore. Your mouth runs on autopilot, throwing out any line of remorse in hopes of one doing the job. “I ngh-ah didn’t mean to! I won’t run! Can’t take anymo- ah! Neteyam!”

He reigns his hits to warm the underside of your thighs too, moving between that vulnerable area and your ass in such an erratic way that it is impossible to anticipate where the next will land.

Plea after plea is thrown out but resembles nothing more than garbled desperation, nothing that can pass as a full sentence.

However, one call catches his attention.

“Olo’eyktan please!”

The sound of slapping skin stops.

Tears continue to plunge down your cheeks even without the constant spanking, your ass burns and tingles in shock. The tuft of his tail poruses over your naked thighs, sending a sensation both painful and ticklish.

“Repeat, pet.”

“Wha-what?” You stammer, voice thick with tears.

“What did you say?” That large hand comes down once more like a crack of lightning.

“AH! Olo’eyktan O-Olo’eyktan please please please. No more no more!”

He smooths over your knotted hair, pushing it away from your sweaty temple and tear stained face. It’s tempting to look away from his soft gaze but intuition tells you to let him see the trembling state he has left you in. Let him witness how pitiful and distraught a simple spanking has made you be.

“I….I’m sorry, Olo’eyktan.”

Neteyam smiles like one would at a lover, a tender pride lacing his lips.

“You’re learning, pet.”

Putting batteries in that small remote was a mistake. A ridiculous useless mistake that now leaves you standing on shaky legs. The pink vibrator that has resided in your nightstand drawer dutifully on hand for years is now the source of your torment.

Well, maybe not the source per say.

No, the true origin of this humiliation stares back at you with knowing eyes and swatting tail, his large hand making that tiny remote look like a children’s toy. The vibrator buzzes inside of you on the lowest setting, but that relief can only last for so long with the way Neteyam enjoys jumping between the different levels.

Every last shredded piece of your Na’vi and human clothing lays back on the floor of your old bedroom. The only savior of your decency is Neteyam’s cloak that he had thrown around your shoulders. With the size difference this cloak acts more like a dress and therefore gives you more coverage than you’ve had in a week yet somehow leaves you feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Trembling fingers never stray from the seams of the cloak, keeping it wrapped around you tightly as the crowds of humans and Na’vi continue to pass you.

Neteyam has left you with one of the other Na’vi warriors but never out of his sight. It’s a miracle that your hands were cut loose in the first place but perhaps that is another sick joke the Olo’eyktan plays on you. He knows that you won’t run. He knows you can’t run. His attention and promised consequences for misbehavior are more than enough to keep you tucked in his pocket.

That and of course his control over the rippling vibrations that torture your pussy.

The nearest warrior is sure to be noticing your frazzled state by now. At least he has the decency to hide his interest, unlike another Na’vi that watched from the sidelines. Lo’ak, leaned against one of the hoverships like it’s a random Tuesday afternoon, watches with a small smirk and perked ears. If Neteyam notices, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it because Lo’ak is left unbothered in his ogling.

The tempo increases, the vibrator now picking a pattern of random pulses that bash against your sweet spot. Bottom lip bleeding now from your biting, it’s a struggle to keep your moans at bay. With the heavy machinery moving and hundreds of Na’vi and humans passing surely there must be enough noise to block out any degrading sounds you make. But you can’t take that risk. You’ve made the mistake of underestimating the Na’vi’s enhanced hearing before and that is what has landed you here.

Neteyam twirls the tiny remote between his fingers like a fidget toy as another Na’vi warrior comes to report.

You start to commiserate the loss of that ridiculous human sized loincloth Neteyam made you because at least then there was some fabric barrier to hide your wetness. Now, the thick Pandoran air runs up the cloak and over your soaked thighs and cunt. It reminds you constantly how pathetic you have become as orgasm after orgasm has escaped your grip. Even worse it reminds you how easy it is to carry that aroused scent through the breeze for all Na’vi to detect. At that rate, worrying about your noises is the least of your concerns.

Lo’ak reloads the machine gun with practiced hands, moving with muscle memory so he can continue to stare and send silent messages your way. No doubt he is theorizing on what exactly his brother has done to diminish you to such a state. His eyes dance with those ideas, the little quirk of his lips telling you just how creative and vial his thoughts have turned.

Another level up and this time it is Neteyam’s eyes that have you squirming. Your impending orgasm coils tighter and tighter with every passing second and you're so desperate to find some way to release this energy that your bare feet begin fidgeting against the concrete. It’s almost like a little dance, one that has Lo’ak laughing under his breath.

It stops.

You breathe.

There is some sort of commotion off in the distance. Not one that you can truly pin down the source of but you do notice the way Neteyam nods as a Na’vi female says something to him. With a wave she is dismissed and then the Olo’eyktan saunters off. Although slightly worried over the trouble, you are grateful for the respite.

And then a nightmare unfurls before your eyes.

Instead of marching to the issue, Neteyam takes a pit stop to converse with his younger brother. Lo’ak’s tail whips in the wind at whatever is whispered in his ear but the real horror comes when that traitor of a remote is handed over to the younger Sully male.

You are seconds away from stomping over there and crushing that pink little weapon before the other male can wield it. However, your dutiful guard places a hand on your shoulder after just one step. His eyes remain locked forward but the warning is enough as his hand retreats. You are still being watched.

With one last glance your way, Neteyam has the audacity to give you, his little pet, a warm smile before leaving you in the hands of his brother.

Lo’ak swings the gun around to his back in favor of playing with his new toy. Every dark and viscous fiber left within you is channeled into the glare you give him. It should say everything that your lips can not.

Don’t you dare.

Don’t you fucking dare.

Now would be a good time to look into Na’vi curses, anything you could betrix upon him for what he is about to do, because of course Lo’ak won’t back down. If anything that fire in your eyes lights his own delight and has him sitting down and bracing forward. Forearms resting on his thighs he clocks your every movement.

This is sure to be the best entertainment the bastard has had in a long time.

He savors the passing moments of anticipation. Never backing down from the ultimate seething looks you give him. Finally a crash sounds and that distraction is right when Lo’ak sets the vibrator to high. From zero to one hundred, pleasure rackets through you like a shock wave. The force is so much that it temporarily makes you stumble on your feet. The other guard wordlessly steadies you back into place.

Lo’ak’s grin is feral.

This silent battle slips between your fingers so quickly it is hard to comprehend, because all that can register in your brain is how fast you are hurtling towards an orgasm. After Neteyam’s denial your body is high strung and ready to take any sensation as fuel to push you over the edge. Nails digging into the soft fabric of Neteyam’s cloak, pleasure rockets higher and higher until only the whites of your eyes are visible.

Knees bowing inward, ecstasy is finally yours.

There isn’t enough energy left to question why Lo’ak let you reach your high. Instead you focus on riding that wave while simultaneously keeping upright.

That persistent buzzing against your sweet spot continues until your nerves are short circuiting. The pleasure turns to overstimulation and you give Lo’ak a look that alerts him of this change.

His amusement tells you that he already knows your predicament but his thumb remains far from the off button.

Pathetic noises now bubble up your throat without restraint as pleasure ebbs into pain. It switches back and forth until another release is on the verge of consuming your being. The guard next to you doesn’t say anything when he helps to sit on the cold ground.

The second orgasm has a bitter taste to it but your greedy pussy clenches around the toy all the same. It’s almost too bad that Neteyam decided not to gag you because at least that would muffle your cries as you rock down onto the toy. Lo’ak gulps at the sight, pupils blown wide when the first glimmer of tears scrape down your cheeks.

Regardless, he shows no mercy as he takes in the show with undivided interest.

Vaguely you register the bustle and commotion around you as different Na’vi and humans rush to and fro, giant machinery finally backing into place but they are only background noise to your third orgasm.

Your body is caught between delight and despair with every passing second. When you are close to reaching your peak for the fourth time your body is resistant to get you there all the way. The intense buzzing in your pussy is driving you wild but still not enough to drag out another orgasm after being too overstimulated. Despite the soreness that emanates from your wrecked hole, your clit throbs in agony. Begging to be touched. To be licked. Pinched. Flicked. God, anything at this point.

Memories of Neteyam doing just that surface, pushing you closer and closer to another dumbing climax and yet only serve as a reminder of how you are not getting the treatment you so desperately need. Pride is dashed to the side, you’ll worry about the consequences of grinding onto the toy in public later.

Lo’ak’s hands roughly brush over his inner thighs and it draws your attention. The taunt muscle and smooth skin of those thighs would surely brush over your intimate flesh so perfectly. He would probably help you too, hands clawing at your hips as they urge you back and forth over the area. Even more so, the younger brother would not be able to pass up the opportunity to show his power over the situation, muscles flexing to tease your clit oh so beautifully.

You’re not sure when Lo’ak became telepathic but he grips his knees and gives you a look that says he knows every dark desire that plagues your brain. His nails press into that soft flesh and drag until there are pretty red marks left behind. If you crawled over there sweetly, would he let you ride? Maybe if you healed those red marks with open mouthed kisses and kitten licks.

Unaroused you would be ashamed of this train of thought but she is so far gone now.

The only thing your poor abused cunt is begging for was attention. Anything to get this awful mix of heaven and hell to bleed into euphoric release and rest.

The only thing stopping you from reaching down and finishing the job yourself is the assurance that Lo’ak would snip all pleasure in a bud at the sight of any touching.

The area has been cleared of invaders. Na’vi begin to make their way off to the hills before take off but you are none the wiser. Caught in your own little bubble you don’t even notice when a sudden shadow blocks out the sun. That is until, large warm hands slip under the cloak and skate over your spread legs.

Such a simple touch has never made you whimper more.

Neteyam’s accent is thicker now, words heavy enough to hardly understand the meaning as he coos at you. “There’s my sweet pet. Little slut just wants to come again, don’t you?”

His fingers force your legs to spread even wider. Lo’ak’s stares as if his glare could heat up enough to burn through that cloak.

With such delicacy it makes you want to scream, Neteyam uses two fingers to part your pussy lips and expose your pulsing clit. The other hand slithers down to rest on your thigh as you try to buck against the air.

“Come for your Olo’eyktan, pet,” He growls and with the other hand he begins delivering rapid little taps to your clit. It’s humiliating how tiny the gesture that puts you over the edge is but you paint the toy white regardless.

When the vibrator finally takes a rest you are too far lost in your own little world. Neteyam swaddles you in the cloak and carries you in his arm as you bury into his chest. And conveniently, when you are tucked back in the forest there is no awareness left in you to recognize the sound of launching ships.

As always interaction and feedback not only means the world to me but also as a great motivator for writing and updating<3

Taglist: @pandoraslxna@neteyamssyulang@tallulah477@criticallybella@sullybrothersmate@lilghostiequinni@chershire23@lala-1516@teyamshuman@yawnetu@puddle-nerd@ratchetprime211@avatargirly @chocolatechocobo91 @kariz-stark@bunnscoffe @avatarwifey @universal-s1ut@witchsprit@heart-an0n @riri-is-a-girlie @rivatar@minnory@ikeyniofthetayrangi@ilovehobi101@spicymayyo@v4mp1rr3@nilsavatar@bambithewriter@quicktosimp@itchaboi-itchyboy@thehoneymushroomhealer @ilytulipse @witchsprit@imwutim@crazy4books1@thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction@danniackerman@dayyzlol@justabite7 @krispyjellyfishkitty @neteyamtesuli @sakurayuki8655-blog @deadpool15 @valeriinee @leaveitbythewave @aqxllo @mxnygn @crazed-flower @crimsonroses666 @property-of-neteyam @rejectedbytheempty

Let me know if I missed you. It's getting a littly tricky to keep track of everyone haha

495 notes · View notes

thankskenpenders · 7 months

Text

Amy's fortune cards

The Sonic fandom has long been the kind of fandom that takes minor details very seriously, for better or worse. On the one hand, this means fans will really dig for the diamonds in the rough, latching onto fun character interactions, animations, bits of background worldbuilding, and more in pieces of Sonic media that many would write off as "the bad ones." But it also feels like every week another needlessly hostile debate over Sonic minutia erupts on Twitter, whether it's over individual lines of dialogue, fanart that makes Tails' shoes blue, or the ideal length and volume for Sonic's quills.

So it was probably inevitable that a fandom-wide debate would erupt upon seeing Amy's new gameplay style in the DLC for Sonic Frontiers, which takes the once-obscure fact that she enjoys reading tarot and shines a spotlight on it like never before.

I mean:

The thing is, while I basically always try to tune out Sonic fandom bickering... for once, I kind of sympathize with the detractors? Don't get me wrong, I like Amy's tarot stuff, and people on all sides of the discussion are being overly nasty about their opinions, as usual. (Sonic Twitter remains my personal hell.) But when I set aside the hyperbole and zoom out, I do think I understand why some fans are put off by the sudden shift in focus for the character, even if I think it's cool.

It's complicated. Let me attempt to present the cases for and against Amy's fortune cards

For years, I was always one of those fans who thought it could be fun if they played with Amy's tarot reading, or even leaned into some kind of magic with her. Part of that is my own biases showing, but there's just something that makes sense there, especially when you look at Sonic, Tails, and Amy as a trio. (I would argue that's the real "Team Sonic" these days, especially in the comics where Knuckles is more likely to be stuck on Angel Island or otherwise doing his own thing.)

You could argue that Tails is all about logic, relying on science and technology and deductive reasoning to solve problems. But Amy is all about emotion. She wears her heart on her sleeve, is extremely empathetic, and is very prone to magical thinking - both figuratively and sometimes literally. Her origin story has always been that her tarot cards told her it was her destiny to meet Sonic on Little Planet. She's claimed to be able to "sense" peoples' presences - particularly Sonic's. She's the type to believe that The Power of Love is a literal magical force. So, on some level, it makes sense to mirror Tails's science by having Sonic's other best friend believe in magic. And then Sonic is somewhere in the middle, primarily following his own gut instincts but taking advice from both of them as needed. This isn't totally accurate to how their dynamics actually function in canon stories, but I think it's a mode that could work for them.

Going off of that, it's fun to lean all the way into Amy being a magical girl, or even a witch, using her fortune telling as a foundation. Take, for example, this version of Amy from Diana Skelly's old Sonic cast redesigns from before she freelanced for Archie and IDW. This is one of MANY such redesigns for Amy.

Fast forward to the 2020s, and Amy's tarot cards are, in fact, finally getting brought up again in canon. Which is fun! I like seeing that. I like all of the individual stories involving Amy's fortune cards. This is a fun character trait for Amy, a fun nod to old lore, AND a fun storytelling device, all in one. It's really cool that the Sonic universe has its own thematically appropriate arcana, and that the cards are getting made as physical merch. And sure enough, the official card backs and borders were designed by none other than Diana Skelly, in yet another cool example of an ascendant fan leaving their mark on the series.

BUT... when you step back and look at the big picture, I get why some fans find this shift in focus jarring. At the moment, it's starting to feel like every new story about Amy involves her fortune cards to some degree.

The most recent mainline comic arc to feature Amy as the lead character, 2021's Trial by Fire arc, prominently features a sequence where she reads fortunes while camping with the girls. The Origins version of Sonic CD now bookends the game with scenes of Amy and her tarot cards. Sonic randomly mentioned it in a scene in Frontiers. And now, just this week, we got the (very cute, gorgeously illustrated) Amy's 30th Anniversary comic with a story revolving around Amy's tarot cards, followed the very next day by the Frontiers DLC in which she gets a brand new tarot-based moveset. Even her base melee attack now has her throwing tarot cards instead of swinging her hammer. Again, I like all of these individual things, but after years of it almost never coming up at all, it's VERY noticeable that Amy's tarot cards are suddenly everywhere.

To be fair, I'm looking at this from the perspective of a superfan who's actively following ALL Sonic media. Casual fans - especially kids - aren't necessarily going to be reading the comics every month, buying the thousandth rerelease of the Genesis games, or playing the ultra-hard new alternate ending DLC for a game that came out last year. Each of these stories is going to be someone's introduction to the idea that Amy can read tarot, and that's probably part of the idea behind this unified push.

But to play devil's advocate, for my fellow superfans, I understand why it feels like a very minor footnote of Amy's character is suddenly becoming the entire focus of her personality. While Amy has always been said to enjoy fortune telling, that wasn't really a character trait in and of itself, but rather an example of her being a typical girl who hopes she'll be able to find true love one day. It's less that Amy can literally predict the future and more like her using a cootie catcher or going "he loves me, he loves me not" while picking the petals off of a flower. So I get not vibing with this stuff, or feeling like it's being pushed very hard out of nowhere.

What I don't agree with are comparisons like "it's like if they made Knuckles' moveset revolve around him liking grapes." Like, I get it. Ian Flynn loves shoehorning in his little winking references for us nerds, and mentions of Amy's tarot cards were previously on the same level as other random bullet points from old Japanese manuals. But a multifaceted hobby like fortune telling that opens up so many narrative and aesthetic possibilities is obviously very different from having a favorite food. It's ALWAYS been a part of her story, not just a random fact, and there's no reason why the fortune telling can't be elevated to something more.

And, hell, even if it wasn't an established character trait, there's nothing inherently wrong with injecting new ideas into a character. One of the best Amy stories in recent years, the Free Comic Book Day special "Amy's New Hobby" written by Gale Galligan, came up with the idea that Amy's secretly been drawing little comics about her and her friends. Is this based on Lore? No. But it's cute, and helps tell the story of a younger Amy who's still coming out of her shell as both a hero and a friend.

Certain fans are also looking at Amy's Frontiers moveset and using it as evidence that once again the Vile American Contributors like Ian are CORRUPTING Sonic Team's perfect vision of Sonic with their misinterpretations. And like. Come on. Ian does not control the gameplay. He's a freelance writer. The tarot stuff is clearly something that Sonic Team likes if they made it the basis of Amy's new moveset - and, you know, if they keep approving comics and animations about Amy's fortune telling. None of this gets made without their blessing, and lord knows how much they can micromanage shit and shoot down ideas over the most minor of details.

Like, yeah, Amy's fortune telling was probably conceived less as a sign that she Knows Magic and more as a pretty mundane hobby for a lovesick young Japanese girl to have. But you're gonna sit there and tell me that using Amy's tarot cards for more than that could only be the result of a cultural misunderstanding? That nobody in Japan uses tarot card theming and aesthetics (or the general idea of magical cards) for the cool factor? Stardust Crusaders? Persona? The Astrologian class in FFXIV? Cardcaptor Sakura?? Hello??? Do you think Capcom put Gambit in Marvel vs. Capcom ironically because they thought using magic to throw cards at people was stupid? There's tons of precedent for this! It's nothing like Knuckles throwing grapes at people, be for real.

Giving Amy a very magical girl-esque moveset also just makes a lot of sense. For decades her hammer attacks have literally made sparkly heart shapes appear around her. Leaning into both that and her tarot cards in her new moveset makes a lot of sense to me.

But, admittedly... I do think it's very odd that her hammer is treated as a secondary element here, rather than having her primarily use her hammer and adding the cards for extra flair. If hitting the attack button made her swing her hammer instead of throwing cards, I'm not sure we'd even be having this discussion right now.

But the tarot-cycle and Amy riding her hammer like a witch's broom are fucking SICK and I will not concede on this point

The thing is, this whole fortune card discourse is but a small piece of a bigger problem. Amy's been a character who needed some work for ages, but there's basically nothing you can do with her without pissing SOMEONE off.

Years of stories where Amy's crush was her primary motivator and Sonic went "Ew, cooties!" have lead many casual fans to believe that being Sonic's obsessive fangirl is Amy's entire personality. At best people might call her Sonic's Minnie Mouse. This isn't just a matter of Amy having haters within the fandom - venture outside of that bubble and you'll realize that this is how MOST video game playing people seem to see her to this day. I don't feel like this is a fair assessment of the character, but this idea didn't come from nowhere. No matter how much good deeply entrenched Sonic fans may see in their old dynamic where Amy perpetually chases Sonic, this is a very real problem that Sonic Team has to contend with for their leading girl. Of course all those games where the way-past-cool protagonist thought Amy was annoyingly clingy and tried to get away from her made people think less of her.

If new stories were to go back to emphasizing Amy's crush on Sonic a little more, they'd probably be taken as confirmation that Amy's just the girl with a crush on Sonic and that this is her entire personality. Conversely, when the crush is played down, you piss off the hardcore SonAmy fans who don't seem to understand that they're Charlie Brown and Sega is Lucy holding the football. You can't win.

And so here we are. In the absence of what was once her defining trait, now reduced to an occasional blush or wink in Sonic's direction, new stories are trying to mine Amy's past for additional material to work with. Having been a thing fans wanted to see for years, right now we're getting a lot of tarot, but we're also getting reminders of her compassionate nature and her desire to go out of her way to help the little guy. This is an ongoing process. I continue to hope that her bubbly, exuberant demeanor can shine more in future stories. Now, I also hope that the tarot stuff gets balanced out a little better with other traits of hers. But I don't want it to go away. I think it's fun.

This course correcting is far from exclusive to Amy. Knuckles is getting stories that remind us that he's a competent fighter, an experienced treasure hunter, and even a self-taught archaeologist after years of him being perceived as either the dumb one or just the guy who stands in front of the Master Emerald all day. And Tails has been getting some stories reminding folks that he's a capable hero in his own right and not just Sonic's timid kid sidekick.

But no supporting character will ever compete with the sheer number of new ideas Sega has tried with Sonic himself. Like Amy, his Frontiers moveset has also given him half a dozen new superpowers that he never had before, from the Cyloop to air-slicing projectile attacks to his own take on Shadow Clone Jutsu and beyond. He's also been a hoverboarder, a swordsman, a time traveler, an Olympic athlete, a racecar driver, cursed with a Flame of Judgment, imbued with alien power, a fucking Werehog with stretchy powers, and on and on and on.

If Sonic can do all that, Amy can try out using a tarot-cycle.

Anyway TL;DR the REAL problem with Amy's current characterization... is where the FUCK is Amy's bestie, Honey the Cat???????

#tkp post

1K notes · View notes

eomayas · 15 days

Text

never lose me • ljh

pairing: woozi x f!reader, established relationship

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI!! slight angst, fluff, miscommunication

synopsis: it’s been awhile since you’ve gotten jihoon alone, and a sundress is all it takes for him to realize how much he misses and is obsessed with you

warnings: pwp, unprotected p in v, oral (f), riding, fingering, reader wears a dress, they say ‘i love you’ a lot, mild angst, fluff, buff woozi, long haired woozi

a/n: i love woozi. unedited of course

jihoon knows he’s in trouble the moment you step out into the living room in a baby pink sundress that clings to your chest and gives you a lift, your hair tossed up in a loose updo, donning gold jewelry, and a smile that makes him physically weak. his chest swells with love and desire, a deep sense of yearning overtaking his being.

he’s been distant lately, he knows. working late nearly every night and leaving early in the morning. sometimes, he doesn’t even make it home and ends up sleeping at the studio or at the dorms, despite having his own place with you. he’s been meaning to make it up to you—he bought you a few things, though he knows the key to your heart isn’t material things—though he hasn’t really found the time (or out in much effort) to do so, other than offering to take you to the farmers market today since you mentioned it awhile ago and he never went with you.

looking at you now, he’s overwhelmed with the information that he’s very much in love with you, and that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. “are you ready?” you ask him, a soft smile on your face. jihoon swallows and nods, standing up from the couch and wiping his palms on his jeans. he places a hand on the small of your back and places a gentle kiss on your jaw.

"you look pretty," he says softly, removing his hand from your back to hold onto yours. you blush and thank him, feeling an ego boost that he at least noticed. it’s been hard interacting with him since when you do see him, it’s short and brief. you understand that he’s busy, and understand he needs his time and space to work—you’ve never taken issue with that—but you do miss him, more than anything.

the drive to the farmers market is short, and you do most of the talking, catching him up on things you know he’s missed, whether it be things going on in your life, or in the pop culture word. he’s quiet, but he hangs onto every word you say even if it’s not about you and your life. it makes him realize just how gone he’s been, and he starts to feel guilty and like the worlds worst boyfriend.

“ji, you okay?” you question, tapping his leg. he looks down at your hand and grabs it with his right, squeezing it. he glances over at you and sees the concern on your face and begins to feel worse.

“yeah, yeah im fine,” he says unconvincingly. you know him better than that—probably better than he knows himself—and you know something is there under the surface, but you never push him unless you feel like he needs to be pushed. rather than forcing the truth out of him, you leave it alone.

soon enough, he’s pulling into the designated parking lot for the farmers market, and the two of you are getting out of his car and walking hand in hand through the street. it’s a bright day, and there are many people, families, and dogs milling about. “ji, we should get a dog,” you say when another toy poodle passes by the two of you. he chuckles and shakes his head lightly. “cmon, it would be like prep for when we have an actual kid.” you say casually, a twinkle in your eye.

the breath gets caught in jihoons throat and his cheeks flush. the two of you have talked about having kids before, but not recently. the fact that you’d still consider him to be the father of your children makes him feel warm and hopeful that he isn’t a total screw up of a partner.

“i’ll think about it,” jihoon says, swallowing. your grin at him and grab ahold of jihoons hand to drag him over to a booth. he lets you guide him, his brain still stuck on the comment about kids. he wants kids, especially with you, and now he can’t seem to think of anything else.

and he lets you guide him to whichever booth you want. you lead him to a booth that sells fresh produce, and he stays close by to you while you pick things out. he can’t help but watch you move and feel an ache deep inside of him, a strong sense of yearning for you despite the fact that he has you. “i’m gonna try to bake something this week, what do you want?” you ask jihoon, picking up a carton of strawberries.

turning, you have an expectant look on your face until you see your boyfriend looking extremely… sad. like a little puppy, his eyes wide and his mouth downturned into a small frown. “baby, what’s wrong?” you ask, placing a hand on his arm.

jihoon opens his mouth and closes it before trying again, taking a step closer to you. he slips an arm around your waist to rest on the small of your back, dropping his mouth close to your ear. “i love you,” he murmurs, mouth ghosting over your jaw in a soft kiss.

you smile and tilt your head to look up at him. “i love you too, baby,” you say, placing a kiss on his lips this time. you don’t really mind PDA—jihoon does, though he’s not complaining right now. he wonders if anybody else can hear how hard his heart is beating in his chest, and whether you can feel it, because it feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

once you two pull away, you go back to picking our fruit and jihoon goes back to swooning and yearning over you. but he wanders around the booth and grabs some vegetables that he can meal prep with, and finds you when he’s done. you tell him what you’re going to make for the week—blueberry lemon loaf—and then the two of you bound up to the counter to pay. jihoon hands the person behind the counter his card with ease.

afterwards, you pull him to more booths and he follows you closely, letting you wander around but never keeping you out of his line of sight. he can’t keep his mind off of you right now, he's so overwhelmed by you, and he wishes he could get a handle on himself right now. he's so consumed with the fact that you still want to have kids with him, about the fact that your dress is much too tight in the chest and its turning him to mush.

jihoon glances around and finds a spots a florists tent only a few feet away. you're preoccupied with looking at handmade jewelry that he's able to quickly slip away without you noticing. jihoon's eyes quickly scan the bouquets, reaching for a large one full of white, pink, and yellow flowers. he holds them for a second before setting them back where he found them and walking up to the people who run the booth. "hi, do you guys have any bouquets with peonies?" he asks, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

the woman smiles and stands up, already walking over to another display of flowers. "yes! we have bouquets made up of entirely bouquets–like this," she holds up a band of pink peonies to show jihoon. "or we have a few that contain peonies, but not nearly as many. depends on what you like." she finishes happily, a polite smile on her face. jihoon's eyes dart between both bouquets, a crease forming in between his eyebrows. "is it a special occasion? person?" the florist asks, trying to help jihoon out.

"they're for my girlfriend. she likes pink," he says, reaching for the bouquet of mixed flowers. theres pink peonies, white roses, and a third pink flower he can't identify. "i think i'll just get these." the florist nods and leads jihoon back to the counter to pay. he hands her his card and rocks eagerly back and forth on his heels, feeling a semblance of normalness for the first time today.

taking the flowers, a sense of pride swells in his chest at the mere thought of handing them to you, in seeing the expression on your face when he gives you the bouquet.

when jihoon gets closer to the booth he left you in, his eyes search for you, but he is unable to see you. his eyebrows furrow, but he keeps his panic at bay–you're a grown woman after all, and you definitely could not have gone far since he was hardly gone for more than five minutes. he'll find you.

like a dog with a squeaker toy, his ears perk up at the sound of laughter. but it's not just any laughter, its one that he'd probably be able to pick out even amongst a chorus of people laughing. its the sound of laughter that always makes him want to start laughing; its infectious, and sweet, and its yours. its laughter that comes from your chest, and he can just imagine what you look like: eyes squinty, teeth showing, cheeks round. his stomach churns with butterflies at the mere thought of it.

jihoon follows the sound, gaze landing upon you in a few seconds. but he stops short when he sees why you are laughing. a man stands close to you, a bit too close, marveling at the fact that he was able to elicit such a sound from you. now, jihoon isn't a regularly jealous guy, nor is he possessive. but he sees the way the man looks at you, watches his eyes drop down to your chest for a split second while you're busy talking about something and not quite paying him any attention. the butterflies that once inhabited his stomach vanish, and the churning stems from elsewhere. he swallows and runs a hand through his long, dark hair, and finishes making his way to you.

the man notices jihoon before you do, and he makes his presence known by slipping a hand onto the small of your back. with a start, you almost accuse the man of trying to pull a fast one on you until you turn and see jihoon, immediate relief and relaxation washing over you. "oh! baby, you scared me," you say, sliding closer to him. you notice the flowers in his hand and you break out into a smile. "for me?" you ask.

jihoon smiles sheepishly and nods, but he keeps his eyes trained on the stranger. you notice jihoons attention divert and follow his gaze, lips parting, ready to introduce to two of them but you stop short once you realize you don’t even know the man’s name and that he just started talking to you. “uh,” you start, a shy smile on your face.

“ill leave you two to it,” he says, throwing up an awkward thumbs up and slipping off to wherever he came from. you look at jihoon and get help the laugh that escapes you, dropping a hand onto his shoulder.

“that was so awkward!” you say, hugging the flowers to your chest. jihoon gives you a halfhearted chuckle, the corner of his lip dragging upward before immediately falling into a flat line. he’s not upset, especially not with you. there’s a bunch of emotions swarming through him today, and that man only added fuel to the fire. he feels like he’s on borrowed time with you and can’t get ahold of anything.

a frown takes over your face at your boyfriends mood, your frustration growing. “jihoon, what is wrong?” you ask, voice hushed because of the public setting. he glances around and takes a step closer to you, arm snaking around your waist.

“it’s nothing, i promise,” he says, voice low. jihoon places a consolidation kiss on your cheek, but you don’t believe him. it’s bullshit and both of you know that you know that, but you don’t say anything because you really do just want to enjoy this day with him.

the two of you wander around the farmers market for a few more hours, jihoon hardly leaving your side of letting you out of his sight for too long. he is hyper aware of who talks to you, where their eyes linger and for how long. it’s extremely out of character, this level of possession he’s displaying. it’s not him, but he’s extremely on edge.

you notice it, of course. his hand rarely leaves the small of your back unless you wrap yourself around his arm. he’s not nearly this close and clingy to you, but it doesn’t necessarily bother you—his possessive behavior, though, is where you’re stumped. you’re now 101% sure that he’s been bullshitting you all day. again, you don’t say anything and choose to just embrace him being all over you, especially since it’s been awhile that you’ve been able to get time with him.

after a few hours of walking in platform sandals, your feet start to ache. the two of you have gone to nearly every booth at the market, and have seen the crowd die down. “my feet are killing me,” you say, flexing your toes.

“are you ready to go home?” jihoon asks, rubbing small circles into your lower back.

“yeah, i think so. we basically saw everything, right?” you ask, the two of you already heading back in the direction of the parking lot. jihoon nods, slipping his hand from your back to intertwine your fingers together. you glance over at him and smile, grateful for the time you’ve had with him today despite his strange attitude. “i love you, you know?” you say, bumping your shoulder with his.

jihoon smiles, looking down at that ground. “i love you too,” he says softly, the tips of his ears reddening. the two of you make it back to the car and jihoon opens the trunk to put the tote bag of stuff in the back. you wait for him, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a kiss when he closes the back. he holds onto your sides tightly, fingers lightly bunching up the loose fabric of your dress. you press your chest against his own, your nipples peaked and sensitive against the fabric of your dress mixed with the friction of his tshirt.

jihoon feels his mind go blank for a second, almost like he’s a virgin again when he feels your nipples through your dress. he hadnt realized how thin the material was, or what you weren’t wearing a bra, and now that changes everything about today, about the feeling of you in his hands, about the stares you received from strangers. it makes him more agitated and pathetically hard, though the latter makes him feel guilty for even thinking about you in that way when he’s barely spent real quality time with you.

pulling back, you place a soft hand on the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. jihoon relaxes against your touch, letting out a small breath that makes you smile. “i’ve missed you,” he murmurs, grip tightening on your hip.

you hum, placing your other hand against his chest. you flatten it over his right pec before gently dragging your nails over his clothed skin. “prove it,” you say, tone sultry. you flick your eyes up to meet his own and he swallows, his erection straining against his pants. if you notice it, you don’t make it known, just smile that angelic smile and slip away from him to get in the car. jihoon stands there, static flowing through his brain.

there isn’t a coherent thought in his mind other than getting you home as quickly as possible. he quickly hops in the driver seat and starts the car, flying out of the parking lot far too quickly. but he doesn’t really have time to stop and think, his dick agonizingly hard in his pants and you achingly beautiful right next to him.

“baby, it’s a red,” you say, looking over at jihoon with mild concern when he flies up to a red light, hardly feeling like he’s pressing on the brakes. jihoon leans back in his seat once the car is idle, and lets out a chuckle at his own ridiculousness. he won’t be able to fuck you like he wants if he dangerously speeds home, but he’s eager, buzzing in his seat.

“god, i love you,” he mumbles for the millionth time today, running a hand through his hair and pressing on the lightly on the gas when the light changes.

you smile and place a hand low on his leg. jihoon can’t help when he jerks at your touch, leg shifting open wider. it’s embarrassing, pathetic, and whorish, and his face burns in mortification. you bite back a giggle, not wanting to add to his embarrassment.

the short car ride home is tense. again, you talk and he listens—or tries to; unable to fully concentrate with your hand on his leg. you can tell that he’s really trying though, and you find it sweet since the tent in his pants hasn’t faltered once. you’d be lying if you said he hasn’t had you hot and bothered all day. he’s a man of simple fashion: black tshirt and jeans, but his bulging muscles will forever make you drool.

pulling up to the house is like beating the level in a video game before the final boss battle. except in this case, the boss level is getting you naked in the next few minutes. jihoon doesn’t even bother grabbing the stuff out of the trunk, just opens your door for you and ushers you up to the front door. he fumbles with the house key for a moment, lowly mumbling out a few curses before finally shoving it into the lock and opening the door.

jihoons on you in an instant, backing you into the closed front door and placing his lips on yours. you toss your purse onto the entry table and thread your fingers through his long hair. his hair has grown out a lot lately, results of him being so busy with work and forgetting about everything else. you like it, a lot, and rue the day he decides to chop it all off.

he pulls back from your mouth to kiss down your neck, groaning into your skin. jihoon holds onto your sides, hands kneading at the flesh. his mouth is hot against your skin, lips searing like he’s meaning you, branding you.. its a sensation you’ve been deprived of lately, one you’ve missed. jihoon kisses down your chest to the tops of your exposed breasts, resisting the extremely strong urge to rip you out of the fabric. “fuck,” he curses, moving back up to your mouth. he’s desperate for you he can hardly contain himself or get his thoughts straight.

jihoon pulls you from against the door and walks you backwards down the hall. you let him, hands gripping onto his biceps for support. you pull apart when he presses you back against a surface, and you find yourself in the kitchen pressed against the island. jihoons lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown and cheeks flushed. you lovingly run a hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face so you can really see him. he closes his eyes for a brief second and grips onto the counter, dropping his forehead against yours. "you're driving me crazy," he mumbles, breath warm against your face. "this dress. you." jihoon lifts his head to look at you, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

your heart hammers against your ribcage, like its ready to beat out of your chest and flop onto the kitchen floors. his gaze is intense and makes heat pool at the base of your abdomen, thighs pressing together. you reach behind you to unzip your garment, but he stops you, gently grabbing onto your forearm.

"leave it on."

jihoon is on his knees in an instant, flipping up the skirt of your gown and disappearing under the material. you want to see him, nearly ready to complain until you feel his mouth on your core. he breathes you in, brain clouding at your scent and wetness. your panties are damp and stick to your folds in a way that makes him spin. he wastes no more time and pulls down your underwear, yanking them off your ankles before stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans. his mouth is on you again, this time making you let out a soft sigh and bunch up your dress atop his shoulders. he grabs one of your calves and props it against his broad shoulders, spreading your open wider and giving him more room to work.

he's an expert with his tongue, and you let him know that by all of the sounds you make. you didn't realize how long its been until you notice how loud you're being, how quickly your legs begin to shake when he suckles on your clit. "fuck, jihoon!" you moan, knees growing weaker by the second. he keeps a firm grip on your thighs, supporting most of your weight. his tongue is everywhere you need him most, licking up your arousal like its the last thing he'll ever do.

jihoon groans against you, making you whimper above him and press your thighs together. his lips find themselves around your sensitive nub, and he lets go of the leg that is propped up against his shoulder to stick to fingers inside of you. you clench around him in a way that makes him feel like he could cum in his pants in the next few seconds. you're warm and tight.

"h-hoonie, i-i-" you cut yourself off with a pathetic whine, tears gathering in your eyes as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, his tongue swirling around your clit.

he's prepared for your release, but he's not prepared for the way your arousal squirts out onto his face. he freezes, watching your pussy flutter around his still fingers, your arousal flowing out of you like rain. "jihoon!" you yelp as you come, body burning and legs shaking. he attempts to retracts his fingers from inside you, but you clench around him and squeeze him back in.

its pathetic the way he whimpers and jerks his hips forward, a dark patch forming on his jeans. he manages to pull his fingers back, and stands up from the floor, hand moving to your hip to support you on your weak legs. the sight before him is one of his favorites: your chest heaving, eyes closed and mouth parted. its a state of bliss that he put you in, and he'll never get tired of it.

upon feeling him stand up, you attempt to sit up against the counter and open your eyes. when you see his shiny face, your eyes widen and your face burns with embarrassment. " oh my g-" he cuts you off with a kiss, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you moan and grip onto his shoulders tightly, body buzzing.

jihoon is the first to pull away, spinning you around by the hips and pressing you against the counter. he grabs the hem of his shirt and wipes his face before pulling it off and and tossing it on the floor. next are his pants, though he doesnt even bother stepping out of them and just lets them pool around his ankles. he's never been this eager and hungry for sex, its almost animalistic the way he feels inside.

grabbing your leg, jihoon props your knee up on the counter and checks that you're comfortable. "yes, just fuck me," you sigh, folding your arms under your head and resting your cheek against them. jihoon pushes up your dress and lines himself up, pushing the head in and letting out a string of curses at your grip on him. you never fully got used to the size of him, but now that’s it’s been a minute the stretch is much more intense than before. "baby." you whine, biting your bottom lip, cunt fluttering around him. jihoon grips onto the counter with one hand and your hip with the other, bottoming out and staying still for a moment to really feel you.

"i l-love you," he says, breathing labored. he leans down against you and presses a soft, loving, kiss to the back of your neck. "i love you so fucking much."

he pulls back and snaps his hips back into your ass, a loud gasp getting pushes from you lungs, followed by a cry of his name. he's relentless with his strokes, unable to control himself. you don't mind the harshness, especially after how long you've gone without having sex. "j-jihoon!" you cry, tears brimming in your eyes for the second time tonight.

"i m-missed you," he grunts, pushing up your dress so he can see your ass, eyes trained on where you two connect. "missed this pussy, fuck!" he groans, knuckles turning white from his grip on the counter. a white rim coats the base of his dick, both of your arousals mixing together to make it easier for him to glide into you.

“it’s yours,” you mewl, pressing your hips back into him and deepening the arch in your back. jihoon grunts in agreement, moving the hand that is on your hip up to your chest. he gropes your chest, tweaking your nipple through the material of your dress.

he pounds into your hard enough to knock the strap of your dress off your shoulder. you want it off, but he’s adamant that you leave it on. “you feel so good!” tears slip out of your eyes due to the pleasure you’re feeling. jihoon pulls the top of your dress down and lets your breasts spill free, the other strap sliding down your arm.

jihoons strokes begin to lose rhythm and his breathing becomes exceptionally labored. you know he’s close—you are too, unbelievably close—and you want to cum with him. reaching back, you call out his name and wiggle your fingers.. jihoon grabs onto your hand without a second thought, squeezing tightly as he continues to give you a few more powerful thrusts. “baby, i’m c-close,” you breathe, the knot tightening in your core.

“m-me too. wan’ c-come with y-you,” he grunts, thrusts becoming shallower by the second. you whimper and clench around him, crying out his name when you start to spasm around him, legs shaking.

jihoon grunts and holds your hip tightly to keep you in place, groaning out your name as he releases his load into you. he folds himself onto your back, unable to hold himself up any longer while he releases ropes of his cum into you. you appreciate the weight of him on you, keeps you from floating up and away from the present.

“fuck,” he breathes, pushing himself up and off of you and pulling out of you warmth with a whimper that makes you involuntarily clench around him. “baby.” jihoon pulls out of you and grabs at your waist, gently spinning you around and cradling you in his arms. you give him a blissed out smile, eyes low and tired, skin shiny from a thin layer of sweat.

“hi.”

“hey,” you smile at each other like two lovesick fools, and you push yourself up to his lips to give him a soft and sensual kiss. “i’m sorry.” he mumbles against your lips, hands grabbing the zipper of your dress and pulling it down, the cool air making goosebumps arise on your skin.

“you’re forgiven,” you say in a rush, letting the dress fall to the floor. you’ll get to the root of the apology later, but right now you still need him.

it’s desperate the way jihoon gets on the floor and pulls you down on top of him, guiding you over his dick. you plant your feet on either side of his hips and lower yourself onto his shaft, mouth dropping open at the sensation of being split open for the second time. “ah, jihoon, fuck!” you cry, planting a hand on his chest for stability. you won’t last long riding him—both of you know that—but you intend to make it count for as long as you can before your legs give out.

jihoon is in a trance watching you bounce on top of him, fully convinced that if he were to die right now this would be the way he’d love to go out: you on top of him in all your glory, fucking him—using him, like he’s your little toy. and he’s happy to be exactly that.

the squelching your cunt makes every time you drop down onto him pushes him closer to the edge. he can hardly keep his eyes open, but he wants to look at you, wants to watch you as you take everything he’s got, milk him for all he’s worth until there’s nothing left. “i-i missed this,” you moan, switching from bouncing up and down to rotating your hips, dropping down onto your knees. “missed you.”

“i’m all yours,” he breathes, whining when you lean back and hold onto his thighs, raising your hips and swirling on his lap. jihoon reaches forward and presses his thumb to your clit and rubs quick circles on the sensitive nub to get you to your release. “cmon, baby. i k-know you’re close.” he rasps, body flushed with heat.

with a few more rolls of your hips and jihoon rubbing on your clit, you’re coming for the third time. jihoon catches you when you collapse against his chest, wrapping his arms around you and sitting up, hard member still inside of you. he cradles you in his arms as he ruts his hips upwards, getting himself to his own release shortly after, your warm heat sucking him in completely.

for a few minutes, you two stay like that on the floor. he holds you against his chest, softly dragging his fingertips up and down your spine. he goes soft inside of you, but deep down he feels like he could go for a third round if he really puts himself to the test, but with the way you’re breathing he knows that you two are done for the night.

sitting in his arms, you clutch him like he’s going to slip from your grasp at any second. you try to push thoughts about your reality away, but the longer he holds onto you the more you realize this probably won’t last beyond tonight. you’re partly okay with it, because he comes home to you. but you miss him. “jihoon,” you murmur.

“hmm?”

“can we talk?”

“always. what’s up?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you pull your chin from his shoulder to look at him, placing your hands on his cheeks. “jihoon, i know you were… bothered… earlier today. talk to me, please,” you say, eyebrows furrowing. he sighs and hugs you back into his chest, feeling like he’s unable to look at you without feeling like crying.

“i know ive been a bad boyfriend. and i felt like shit today because i haven’t spent time with you in what feels like forever, and i just miss you so much, you know? and i love you so much, i don’t want to lose you—ever. and im just so, so sorry,” he rambles, clutching you tightly. your heart breaks for him and yourself. you’d never leave him, not over his job especially. you know he loves you, he shows it even where there is distance. but you appreciate him saying it out loud.

you pull back against his right hold on you, but he relents. “jihoon, im never going to leave you, okay? we just need to talk—you need to tell me when you feel any kind of way, okay? i love you, and you’re not going to lose me. i’m in this for the long haul,” you say, giving him a smile that makes the corner of his lip go up. for good measure, you give him a quick peck and run your hands through his hair. “i do wish you were around more, but i get it. i’ll always be here.”

he drops his head bashfully and sucks in a breath. “okay. i’m sorry.”

“you’re forgiven,” you say, kissing him once more. “but we need to get off this floor, hoon. i’m getting old.” you say, untangling yourself from him. you rise and let out a sigh at the loss of contact. your legs wobble and you catch yourself against the counter, glaring at jihoon when he chuckles. “it’s not funny.”

“it’s cute,” he says, standing up and picking up your guys’ clothes. he holds your dress in his hands and gives it a long look before lightly shaking his head.

“i’ll wear it more if it gets me fucked like this again.”

#svt imagines #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #woozi x reader #woozi x you #woozi smut #lee jihoon smut #lee jihoon x you #jihoon smut #jihoon x reader #svt fluff #woozi fluff

414 notes · View notes

patrice-bergerons · 1 year

Text

I don't understand why more people don't comment on fics from a perfectly self serving perspective. Do readers not realise they are often the difference in how much fic they get from a writer they like in their fandom?

I don't know, maybe we are not supposed to say this as writers, given the prevaling write for yourself uwu culture these days, but I've had instances where I only meant to drop one fic for a small pairing and dip but that fic got such a warm reception -- and by that I don't mean hundreds of kudos, I mean a handful of people who took time out of their days to leave meaningful comments that went beyond 'I loved this!' -- that I ended up writing ten more. Conversely, I've written fics I was simply compelled to write but the reception was so lukewarm, I moved onto more fertile ground once the brain worms were satisfied, even though I had ten more ideas I could have explored for the same pairing. And I've seen so many other writers do the same.

I personally don't comment on every fic I read -- exhaustion gets in the way -- so it would be hypocritical for me to expect the same of anyone else, but man, it baffles me that other people don't strategise in their commenting, that when they see a writer they love they don't go extra hard on fics that don't have much interaction or for writers that are a bit more needy -- yet another thing one does utter in polite society -- not out of any sense of gratitude or anything like that but just to get more good fic, just from perfect selfishness.

#writing #commenting culture #i would probably not be this unfiltered now either but well my team lost their game 7 0 and im pissed off #this is a very general fandom culture point btw and not an @ to anyone in specific

3K notes · View notes

arieslost · 1 month

Text

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

936 notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 2 months

Text

Yandere! GILF Headcanons

Warnings: Implied Smut, Older Man/Younger Reader, Age Gap, Spanking, Jealous Dominic, Manipulation, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Hector had only loved once before meeting you. Likewise, he had only loved once after meeting you. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested in you.

♡ On the contrary, when Dominic had pulled up to the sprawling manor Hector orchestrated, expecting to see Marilyn at his side yet seeing an unfamiliar face in her stead, his curiosity was, admittedly, peaked. No small achievement considering this man has done and seen everything this world has to offer.

♡ Dominic explained – in monotone French – that Marilyn was sick, hence she couldn’t come. He’d brought you – a family friend – in her place. You couldn’t ignore the waver in his voice, his pointed stare up at his father, who resided in an almost throne-like armchair behind a mahogany desk.

♡ Hector looked through Dominic and gazed at you. You could see now where Dominic’s predilection for sharp, underhanded stares originated; the founding father of Dominic’s cold architecture.

♡ You felt as if his eyes combed over your very being, unravelling all the tangles in your make-up and laying you down to your most base, threadbare foundations, seeing you for what you really were.

♡ “Very well,” the older man grumbled, only taking his eyes off you once Dominic cleared his throat. Beside you, his son’s fingers twitched.

♡ You were excused shortly after with Dominic taking you outside, almost jogging down the steps with a haste you’d never witnessed before, and bringing you to a most isolated spot. You’d noticed a collection of staff – chefs, maids, caretakers, gardeners – crawling about the mansion. None of them resided near you now.

♡ “Don’t talk to him unless you’re with me,“ Dominic warned. In his eyes watched a man you’d never seen before. Something vaguely…human in the colour of his irises. Warm. Afraid.

♡ Interaction with Dominic’s father – Hector – was uncomfortable at first. You’d tried to juggle Hector’s hostile hospitality with Dominic’s warnings, ultimately toing and forming between the two since they never inhabited the same space for more than ten minutes whenever meals were served.

♡ One day, when Dominic had to leave the manor on important business, unable to take you with him, he’d instructed you to stay in your room. He tried to smooth over the jagged brickwork of his command with a suave charm that could put the incarnation of panic at ease, but you could tell – for perhaps the first time – that it felt false.

♡ Dominic left. Hours passed. You grew bored.

♡ You left your room.

♡ And who did you happen to meet whilst trawling the halls, searching for any form of entertainment?

♡ Why, the very man Dominic had forbidden you from seeing.

♡ Hector came down the hall on certain footing, obviously having taken great care of his mobility in his younger years to be able to traverse the many staircases and rooms this residence held. So why did he have so many caretakers?

♡ You scarcely had time to wonder as, before you could hide, he spotted you. Ordered you to come to him. You did, hesitant. He gave you a monotone look.

♡ “You. Come with me.”

♡ You followed him to a door that felt familiar. Inside, his study. On his desk, a pre-set game of chess. He sat at his desk. He motioned for you to join him.

♡ You, with a pounding heart and a strong sense of being out of place, played chess. Hector taught you the best way to win – “For when you compete against Dominic.”

♡ You bantered, lethargic at first, until you found even footing on subjects that weren't just Hector’s only son.

♡ You wondered what it was about his father that Dominic was so keen to isolate you from, to conceal from you.

♡ Nothing you cared for, honestly. Especially when Hector showed you just how solid his sense of humour was, how intelligent he was. How lively he could be despite his initial coldness.

♡ Of course, he was still icy, very blunt most of the time. But you could tell it wasn’t his choice – he was made this way. By who or what, you couldn’t be sure. But what you did know was that you weren’t about to let Dominic’s personal vendetta ruin your budding friendship with his father.

♡ No longer did you hide from Hector’s judgement as you scampered back to your room, the shutting of the front door reverberating through the manor’s great walls; you sought refuge from Dominic’s as he came storming down the hallway, his footfalls faster than he’d have liked them to be as he rushed to check on your condition, to see you after being forced to leave you in his father’s un-care.

♡ After that, you made more of an effort to see Hector. Especially as you had few other people to talk to – Dominic especially as he seemed more and more swept up in sudden business meetings and last-minute supply chain issues.

♡ The longer you spent in Hector’s presence – in the garden, in the library, in his study for more games of chess – the more you began to see slivers of him in Dominic. Scratchings of silver beneath rock; the inclinations of a vein of purest ore.

♡ Though, that did not mean the metal that lay dormant beneath was pure in itself.

♡ On the contrary, when you weren’t around, Hector made full – and I mean full – use of the maids, caretakers and staff at his disposal. Anyone who bore a similar enough resemblance to you was subject to any manner of his objectification.

♡ Lasting stares, increasingly lewd requests, commands to snoop through the few personal belongings you’ve brought with you – the sort of thing any powerful older man will do for the object of their affections.

♡ Sexual matters aren’t off the table, either.

♡ Far from it.

♡ In fact, it’s bent over the edge of Hector’s desk, whining and whimpering and at the mercy of a man far more experienced than his old age could belie.

♡ He’s so nasty with it, too. He knows his workers will do anything he asks of them – for the right price. And he’s got nothing but money to burn.

♡ God forbid his most recent toy talks back to him, lest they be subject to a thorough spanking by Hector’s belt.

♡ He’s still more than capable of getting himself off without the assistance of his employees, though. He just enjoys the power he has over them. Enjoys the taste of the influence he’ll have over you.

♡ Guy’s a wealthy man, he’s got cameras everywhere. And Dominic knows this. Hence he’s always around to cover you up when you’re getting changed – even if it makes him look somewhat questionable.

♡ You’re for his eyes only, but he knows his father will find a way to try and sneak a peek of you – to show Dominic that, while in his house, you’re both under his rules.

♡ As was the case now as Hector requested for you come to his study for afternoon tea.

♡ While there, making light conversation, he dropped a question that hung, heavy, between you in a way you couldn’t quite describe/

♡ “Did I ever tell you,” began Hector, knowing full-well he’s not once recounted this tale to you. His old age will afford him the disguise of senility, if only for a short while. You’ll listen, politely.

♡ “About Dominic’s mother?”

♡ You tell him no, that not even Dominic has ever mentioned his mother – or his family – to you before. Hector hummed. Grumbled, more so.

♡ The void in his chest sank lower as he recalled to you the greatest love of his life.

♡ “Too good for this world,” he said, regaling her acts of altruism, of philanthropy. “Someone upstairs must’ve known it, too.”

♡ You had a feeling that ‘upstairs’ transcended far beyond the many dusty rooms Hector had advised you and Dominic not to go exploring during your time here.

♡ He told you, with practiced malcontent, how Dominic’s birth would be his mother’s un-birth; her escort from this life to the next. Hector sniffed, though not for tears. You still jolted forward to comfort him, though.

♡ And he wasn't one to reject your offer.

♡ The portrait of his wife – young and beautiful for a cruel infinity – watched over the two of you.

♡ “So you see,” he continued, “That’s why Dominic doesn’t visit – or I’m willing to guess, talk about – me as much as you perhaps do with your parents.”

♡ Of course, you understood perfectly where he was coming from. Something in him grinned at the idea of even a drop of a villainous hue staining Dominic’s curated disguise, making him scrub and scrub at the veneer until it wore away and revealed the corpse beneath piloted by parasites.

♡ You tell Hector that if he ever wants to talk, you’re always down to listen. Hector grants you a small smile. Artificial warmth. Gently, he slides his hand atop yours, pats it.

♡ You are the singular object his son desires. Hence, you are the object he shall steal from him, for there is no better form of discipline than loss.

♡ And Hector wants Dominic to know what it’s like to lose everything.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#yandere #yandere male #male yandere #original yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere gilf #yandere gilf x reader #yandere blog #tw yandere #yandere writing #yanderecore #sweet as an angel #yancore #yandere community

541 notes · View notes

ellabsweet · 9 months

Text

[ੈ✩] 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: in which ellie is your voyeour.

pairing: rockstar!ellie x reader x rockstar!abby

warning: obviously modern au, mentions of sex with afab!reader so minors and men do not interact, multiple part series

authors note: this is just filfthy i’m sorry next one has more actual backstory and way more writing i promise you

← previous part | next part →

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇?

Abby dips her fingers between your thighs, separating your folds with ease before delving into you with little preparation, the curse that leaves your mouth alone making her moan out loud.

“Fuck, you’re so wet” She says and it echoes to you like a taunt, cheeks hot with embarassment you hoped she did not see, too enthralled in the feeling of her hand latching on your cunt, with your whimpers and own drunkenness the blonde gets cocky “Is this how Ellie makes you feel too? You get this fucking drenched for her? Or am I special?”

“Abby” You croak out and she looks at you, blue eyes darkened in a way you haven’t seen before and you are suddenly enveloped by her scent, the tangerine of her perfume mixed with dance sweat and expensive alcohol whatever remnants of sense you had being intoxicated out of you before you crashed your lips against hers.

“Tell me I’m your favorite” She whispers into your mouth shoving her fingers deeper, the smirk on her face like an ad for narcissists though it did not fully hide the insecurity of her plead. You nod frantically into her shoulder while she trailed kisses down your neck, the room temperature getting hotter every inch she moved downwards, passerbys pretending not to see.

“You’re my favorite, Abs” You moan tugging the braid from her hair until her cheek is forced to face your thighs, eyes sparkling up at you with insatiable desire, taking in your features under the dim venue lightning as she unzipped your shorts to make way for her face to slip between your legs effortlessly, a slow lick to your still covered pussy like a promise of something more.

Your eyes barely notice Ellie staring from across the backstage, her lips dancing around the rim of a glass beer cup, fixated on every movement your hips did against Abby’s face, her dirty talk drowned out by the intensity of the other’s stare. She was meant to call on Abigal to hurry the fuck up and tune her own damn bass but this was better, a twisted private show happening between you that inevitably had her biting down her lip. You exaggerated your reactions, a proud Abby not quite noticing the difference, but Ellie did, laughing at you, hypnotized.

“You like this, bunny?” Abby coaxed you out of your thoughts.

“Yes, fuck, Abs, I’m gonna-“

“You done fucking the groupie, Abby? We have a damn show to start” Ellie finally spoke up,so many steps closer than she was before to the point you could smell the booze oozing off of her and lightly dripping down her chin. Abby let go of your grasp ever so slowly, settling you with kisses as she pushed further away, an apology at the tip of her tongue about the life of a rockstar. Ellie punches her in the shoulder for that.

Once she’s out of sight, you grab onto Ellie’s arm, who stares at you quizzically as you lean forward on her touch, and lower your hand to her ass, grabbing hold of a pen in her back jean pocket, a tease.

“Give me an autograph?”

She signs your exposed thigh.

taglist: @abbysvictim @lottiematthewsceo @sadeyedsugar @digit4lslut @r0ckgoblin @machetegirl109 @scatapple @elliesgirlll @madelynie @emothurman comment to be added!

#ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #the last of us fanfiction #lesbian #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut #rockstar!ellie #rockstar!abby #ellie williams fanfic #abby anderson fanfic #ellabs x reader

1K notes · View notes

wongyuuu · 2 months

Text

lens of ice | yjh | two (final)

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, these people are just in soo love, smut word count: 17k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, masturbation (f) a/n: i can't belive i actually managed to finish this one! i started to write it maybe in october and it took me forever but here it is. again, thank you to @ressonancee for giving me the idea and putting up with my shit💓

part one || part two (final)

The thought of going back on your word crossed your mind, truthfully. You weren’t even sure why you said yes to dinner with Jeonghan in the first place.

It was a recipe for disaster. It was the only way you could possibly describe the situation, to begin with. The flirting had gotten out of hand, to the point where Seungkwan was already angry and had said “if he grows balls big enough to ask you out, please say yes, this tension is annoying”. Vernon had agreed.

When you heard that from Seungkwan, you thought that he was crazy, that he had completely lost his mind. While it was safe to say that you had developed a crush on Jeonghan, something completely inappropriate in your work, it was hard to tell where he stood.

You liked to think that from day one you were able to say what was on Jeonghan’s mind. You had been able to say that he was holding back on his answers and you called him out on his shit, something that proved to be very efficient, because after that he started to answer all of your questions with honesty. Or at least, you liked to think that he was.

It never really crossed your mind that Jeonghan might have some sort of interest in you. You thought that he was flirting more for sport than for anything else.

The rumors ran around, about how he was sort of a player but he was careful not to date any other skater. Not to create a sense of discomfort, someone had said on a forum online.

It was something that you had yet to ask him. About his love life. And there were two main reasons for that: 1) you didn’t know if it was something that he wanted to talk about and unless he had a wife or a serious girlfriend, it mattered very little to the documentary; 2) you didn’t want to know the answer.

It had never happened to you like that before. You had done so many interviews, went to many places, met so many different people, and not a single one of them was able to captivate you quite as Jeonghan had.

You knocked on the door and waited. A second later, Jeonghan opened the door. You had grown too used to seeing him in comfortable clothes, shirts that were way too big for him, sweats. The only piece of clothing that showed any shape of his body were the pants he used to practice and even then, everything was hidden under a large hoodie.

The man in front of you had tailored pants and a dress shirt on, the sleeves folded back, revealing his arm.

You cleared your throat, suddenly unaware of what to say.

“I was thinking you had given up,” he said with a smile, almost uncertain.

You shook your head immediately.

“There was a lot of traffic today, it’s a friday after all”

It was indeed friday but there wasn’t as much traffic as you made it seem. The truth was that you were late to leave your apartment. Just as you were leaving you got cold feet and sat down on the couch for about twenty minutes, wondering if you were doing the right thing.

What if whatever happened that night, let it be good or bad, affected your job? Realistically speaking, there was no way that it wouldn’t. If it turned out to be a bad date, then things could get awkward. And if it turned out to be good you simply wouldn’t know how to handle yourself or him.

“Sorry that I didn’t take you out, out. And this is all that I had to offer”

He took a step to the side, giving you enough space to walk in. Although you had been to his home many times and sort of knew how it looked from the heart, it felt different to walk in without having Seungkwan and Vernon at your back, carrying one too many bags of gear. The place looked all too different and familiar at the same time.

“No, this is great actually” you smiled at him.

Your smile grew bigger once you saw the table he had set. The room was half lit by candles, in the center of the table was a small vase with fresh flowers, the city behind the window a perfect canvas. A bottle of wine waited for the two of you and the plates, delicate porcelain, were set. Instead of sitting opposite each other, Jeonghan made it so that you were both facing the window.

“You said you liked the night view,” he said while scratching the back of his head.

You turned to him, smiling, wanting to reassure him that it was perfect.

“I really do,” you said softly “Did you cook?”

The apartment smelled heavenly. It was the smell of homemade food if you still even knew what that was like. At least you had never ordered food that smelled like that. Maybe ordering was something that you weren’t that good at, or maybe Jeonghan was just one of those people who went above and beyond even when just ordering.

“I did,” he said proudly “I don’t know if it tastes good, but I followed the recipe to the T”

He pulled the chair out for you, his smile sweet while he watched you.

The little butterflies on your stomach found life again, suddenly floating around. You wanted to face-palm yourself. Just a few months before you thought the worst about Jeonghan and suddenly there you were, saying yes to a date with him, your heart hammering inside your chest.

With one of his hands still on the back of our chair, Jeonghan reached for the bottle of wine, pouring some of it into the glass in front of you.

You expected him to sit by your side but he took a step back, making a turn to the kitchen. You started to get up to follow him, but Jeonghan came back and pushed you onto the chair again.

“Let me help you,” you laughed, looking up at him.

Jeonghan scrunched his nose at you and shook his head.

“You stay right here. I’m just going to bring the food out”

He squeezed your shoulder before moving to the kitchen.

You rested your chin on your hand, looking at the city in front of you. There were very few parts of town that had such a beautiful view, not that you were one to enjoy looking at lit-up buildings. But maybe it was the moment, it was the way the way your skin tingled where Jeonghan’s fingers had touched you. You pressed a hand to your chest, urging your heart to calm down a little.

You liked to think that you were only feeling that way because it had been a long time since you had dated someone, since anyone had shown real interest in you, since you wanted to get to know someone past the work environment.

There was a little movement to your right before Jeonghan came back into the room. He set the dish in front of you and while you weren’t too sure what it was — it looked like some kind of stew — it smelled and looked amazing.

“I have to admit that I don’t usually cook a lot, or at all most times” he laughed “Most times someone comes in and cooks enough for a week or two, following the diets I have to be on. So all I have to do is take it out of the freezer and eat”

You watched as he set the dish in front of you, steam coming out of it, and put some on the place in front of you. He did the same for himself before finally sitting by your side.

“I never saw someone around here, besides Joshua”

You took a sip of the wine before taking the spoon in your hand.

“She usually comes when I’m out for practice, or in these past few months…” Jeonghan was in the middle of his sentence when he saw your writhed face “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with both hands, trying to hold back your laugh.

Jeonghan looked at you, laughing too, but he was in complete disbelief.

“It can’t be this bad” he reached for his spoon.

You were already laughing when Jeonghan started to cough, taking a large gulp of the wine. How had he managed to fuck up so bad was beyond him. He followed the recipe to the details but somehow it tasted bitter.

“Did you taste it, at all?”

“I… no?”

He groaned when you started to laugh at him again but somehow ended up right along with you.

“I swear I followed the recipe,” he said again.

He wanted to have a nice date with you and get to know you better. Although it wasn’t going exactly as he had planned, seeing you laugh like that, so loudly and carefree somehow made it all worth it. Jeonghan made a mistake that he shouldn’t have, one that with someone else would have turned the night into a complete disaster but with you, it became something to laugh about.

And Jeonghan loved the sound of your laugh. Since he met you on that first day, he wondered what it would be like to hear it. You had gone off on him, baring guns in both hands, your hostility screaming at him the entire time.

He had done his best, or at least he thought he did. However, on the very next day, you called him off on his shit and said that the footage they had was unusable because he hadn’t been honest enough.

Jeonghan hadn’t been honest enough with anyone, ever. He wasn’t even sure that he was honest with himself. He always worried about whether or not he was able to move forward. Pushing forward was one thing, actually living was another one, entirely too different.

Throughout most of his life, Jeonghan only knew how to push forward, like a bull. The world around him mattered very little, the people around him mattered even less.

Somewhere along the way, Jeonghan became all too obsessed with numbers and the love he had for the sport became a shadow. Even then, when he was doing everything in his power to make it to the next Olympics, his last, he wasn’t really sure it was something he still wanted or if he was doing all of that simply because it became second nature to him.

Skating was like breathing but it had become awfully painful to do so.

And then you came in and for the first time, he wanted to impress someone. Who he already was, or the version of him he showed, did nothing for you. You looked bored most of the time. Talking with Seungkwan about it had made things clear in his mind. And he felt it in the way the original direction of the documentary had changed.

It wasn’t just about the sport anymore, how he was healing to make it to the competition. It truly became about him.

“Maybe something was rotten, don’t worry about it” you patted his hand, reassuringly.

Jeonghan saw a chance and he took it, holding your hand. For a second your fingers stilled in his, your eyes a little wide looking back at his. He almost pulled away from you, his dropping a little when you didn’t seem to want his touch.

Then your eyes grew a little softer and ever so lightly you held his hand back.

“I really wanted to have a nice dinner with you, though”

You couldn’t help but smile at his cute pout.

“Maybe we could order something?” you pointed at the wine in front of you “In my experience, wine and pizza are a great combo”

You were the first one in the office, which was a first for you. Not that you were someone who was constantly late. It was just that you were usually the last one to leave.

However, sleep wasn’t something that came to you. You were too giggly, your mind wandering through places that normally it didn’t so you thought that working a little was maybe a good idea to take your mind off things.

Not things. Someone.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Despite the initial accident, the night had been nothing but perfect. When was the last time you had fun? Actual fun, not the kind you sort of force yourself to have not to bother others, or to try to fit in some sort of situation.

The night with Jeonghan had been so easy. Conversation simply floating around you. You didn’t feel like you were there to interview him or to be interviewed. You were just talking, getting to know each other in a way that was so entirely different from how things had gone between the two of you until then.

Jeonghan, you learned, was a menace in school and with his sister, always playing pranks and still somehow managing to get away every single time. I could make such an innocent face and everyone would just fall for it, he said at some point. There was no hint of regret in his voice and his eyes were filled with mischievousness while he talked.

“There were these kids who made fun of me because I was a small kid. I tried to let it go but it went on for months. One day,” he said smiling, the memory of the day still completely fresh in his mind “I was already angry that I couldn’t make a move, I don’t even remember what it was, to be honest. They kept picking on me, saying these snarky comments so I waited. One of them left his bag behind, with his skates hanging off of them. I filled both of them with boiling water. I still remember his mother screaming at him”

You gasped, sort of laughing but also a little bit in shock at the mind of a 9-year-old. But awfully dangerous too, for both of them.

“What if he put the skates on?”

It was hard to mask the horror in your voice

“It was after practice, while we waited for our parents to pick us up. He left his skates back and went to play because his mom was late. I just wanted to ruin his skates, not for him to get hurt. I took his takes to the kitchen, poured the water in, and let it sit there for about ten minutes before I put his bag back where I found it”

Your laugh was too spontaneous and Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh along. Since the moment he saw you for the first time, he thought of you as beautiful but watching you laugh, so openly and carefree was breathtaking. His heart behaved in a way that he didn’t see coming.

“I think we need to send you to a doctor because I refuse to believe you’re normal”

Suddenly just holding your hand wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to know what it would feel like to press against yours and have you want it too. His mind, he had decided long before he even met you, was the kind that liked to play tricks. So maybe it was playing a trick and it came up with the thought that you wanted to kiss him too. Maybe he was imagining that your eyes moved from his eyes to his lips from time to time.

He wanted to make the first move, he knew that if he didn’t the chance of you doing it was very little. At the same time, he was scared that it might push you too far. You had gotten surprised enough when he held your hand.

Realistically he knew that it wasn’t much but the two of you worked together and there was still so much more to do, the Olympics were still months away. And although you weren’t going to see each other every single day in those months, you would still have enough meetings.

So what if he read it all wrong and things suddenly became awkward again? The last thing he wanted to do was go back to how it was when you first time. You had been cold and distant but for an entirely different reason.

“Jeonghan?” your voice had been the quiets he had ever heard from you “It might be the wine talking so if I do say something weird please blame it on the alcohol and tomorrow we pretend that I never said anything at all”

He looked the the two bottles already empty and the third one by the middle. It was, indeed, a lot of wine.

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed, eyes closed for a second before finally looking at him again.

“I need you to kiss me, okay?” you said exasperated “Because if you don’t I don’t think I…”

Jeonghan’s lips were on yours before you even finished what you were saying. He hoped that it was along the lines of I don’t think I will.

Your lips, he decided right then, were his favorite thing in the entire world. He loved that when he pressed harder you made way for him, your lips parted to give him full access. Your hand moved from his chest, up to his shoulder, and then the nape of his neck, lightly tugging at his hair. And when you let out a small whimper on the back of your throat he swore his entire world almost became undone.

The night had turned, somehow, into a make-out session. The two of you ended up on his couch, hands all over each other and bubbling laughter. And you refused to complain. It was everything you wanted and then so much more.

Leaving had been so hard. All you wanted to do was to lose yourself in Jeonghan and all that he was and that silently promised to be, even if it was just for one night. You had to force yourself to leave and Jeonghan didn’t make it easier for you. If anything, he did his best to make it as hard as possible.

He went down with you, and waited for the cab by your side, your hand tucked inside the pocket of his jacket while he played with your fingers.

“You could let me take you back” you looked at him, eyebrows raised “I don’t mean driving but I could get in the cab with you and then come back”

“That’s just a waste of time. I’ll text you once I get home, I promise”

It was clear that your answer wasn’t the one he wanted but it was the only one he was going to get. He pulled you closer to him while you waited for the cab. The position was awkward you didn’t want to move, not in the least.

You were there for a couple of minutes before the taxi finally pulled up by your side. Jeonghan opened the door for you and waited for you to get inside.

“Sir, I may not look like it, but I am crazy. So I hope you can get her some safe and sound”

The driver looked at you from his rearview mirror, eyes wide.

“He really is” you played along “He once threw hot water at a kid”

Jeonghan laughed, a little too hysterically, too much wine you were sure. He stuck his head through the window and quickly kissed you.

“Seriously, text me as soon as you get home”

With a groan, you hid your face in your hands, knowing fully well that the warmth in your cheeks didn't come from the weather but from the memory of Jeonghan. You laughed a little, remembering how you had to assure the driver that Jeonghan wasn't actually crazy and that he had never thrown hot water at a child. The man didn't seem to believe you but that mattered very little.

You were overflown with a sort of happiness that was new and also so very scary.

That giddiness was something you always wanted to feel, but never actually got around to it. Your previous boyfriends, not that there were many of them, never really managed to get that much of a reaction out of you. That was not to say that you didn’t like them at all, because you did. You wouldn’t have stayed with them for a second too long if there were no feelings at all involved.

Your feelings for them, however, were so small compared with the way you felt about Jeonghan. It was one date, just one night, and it felt as if your entire life had changed in a way you thought that there would be no coming back from.

“You’re early,” someone said behind you.

You felt as if your soul had just left your body when your entire body jumped at the new sound. You had been so lost in your thoughts that you failed to notice Seungkwan walking in and of course, Vernon right behind him.

“Jesus, what the fuck” you ran your hands over your face before turning around to face him.

Like most mornings, Seungkwan had a coffee in his hand and his phone in the other one. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him without a coffee in his hands. You weren’t sure how someone could drink so much coffee and still function but then again, he was drinking iced americano most times and the coffee in there had so much water that you were sure most of the caffeine was deluded so…

“So…” he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

God, you hated the fact that he knew. Behind him, Vernon also had an expectant face. Of course, he too wanted to know. The problem was that you didn’t want either of them to know. It was something you wanted to keep to yourself, locked behind countless doors. And maybe, just maybe, if you were lucky enough you’d get to savor that feeling again if a second date with Jeonghan ever happened.

“Do you want to go over something or we can just… you know, work?”

“Aaah” he complained, carefully setting his coffee on his desk before spinning your chair until you turned to him “You can’t leave me in the dark like this”

“Us, actually,” Vernon said, doing the best he could to hide his smile.

You had always thought that Vernon was someone who was on the quieter side of the world. Mostly he kept to himself but when paired with Boo Seungkwan? The man could be just as troublesome as the other one. Pair that with the fact that both of them were good friends who often went out together and you’d get yourself a perfect mix for a gossip disaster.

Seungkwan, as the one who is so friendly everyone just wants to spill their deepest secrets because he looks like someone who’d always offer crazy advice.

Vernon, as the quiet one everyone wants to tell their secrets because he looks like someone who’d keep all of them just to himself.

The one thing everyone seems to forget is the fact that those two are friends and they talk. Hopefully only amongst themselves but you weren’t willing to bet on it. There was no way you’d want people to know that you went out with the one person who you were working with. The celebrity, most of all.

“I’m not saying a word” you just shook your head and moved away from him "We have a lot of work to do, so get going".

“You’re not saying a word about what exactly?” Jihoon said, coming up from behind Seungkwan.

The younger man looked somewhat in distress, his eyes wide going from you to Jihoon, then back to you again. It was at that moment you realized that he had never really crossed your mind, in any way while you were Jeonghan, ever. He wasn’t even an afterthought or anything of the sort. He wasn’t even your boss. Jihoon was no one.

“I went on a date last night, that’s all”

It was as if you were the one entering the ice, the one who was being watched by so many eyes. Instead, you were one of the people watching. Your legs were shaking up and down, up and down, and there was no real way for you to stop it from happening. You felt as if your future was the one in line, not Jeonghan’s.

To you, the only real consequence of him not making it was that that documentary would be canceled, for him it meant that everything he had worked for was lost and his last opportunity would never come.

So, the reality of it was that you were nervous for him. Because you had finally gotten a real glimpse of Jeonghan and you knew how much it meant to him, all of it. He downplayed it, yes, but it was on everything he didn’t say.

You could see it in his eyes whenever he mentioned figure skating, which was surprisingly very little when you didn’t have a camera on his face. It was clear in the practiced every single movement with such care, always aiming for precision, in an almost healthy way.

Jeonghan downplayed it a lot but the sport meant everything to him.

You sat in the bleachers, Seungkwan to your left and Vernon to your right. The three of you hadn’t gotten permission to be closer to the ice, or anywhere near really. Athlete after athlete performed, every single one of them doing so well that you felt your heart start to beat in a mismatched way.

Your stomach was tied in knots, a lump on your throat as if you were about to spill your guts out at any given moment. You were too nervous and you hated it. Because if Jeonghan saw you, which you doubted, you wanted him to see someone who was confident and sure that he was going to do well, not someone who looked like she was about to faint. I will find you in the crow, he said the night before.

“You look like you’re the one about to be evaluated,” Seungkwan said.

He patted your hand, which unknowingly gripped your thigh as strongly as you possibly could, your knuckles turning white.

“How did he do this for so many years?” you whispered

The question was more to yourself than to Seungkwan.

In one of the many conversations, you had with Jeonghan, coming to mind.

“The worst part of it all is being compared to other people,” he said, eyes distant, as if his mind was taking him to somewhere he didn’t want to be but at that moment he didn’t have a choice “Because what if I’m having a great day but the other isn’t? What if I had more chance to practice than others? What if I have an injury and the other doesn’t? We’re never on the same scale”

He looked troubled, eyes brows furrowed. You took his hand in yours, your fingers massaging his palm. His eyes looked a bit clearer when he turned to you but still, there was so much vulnerability in them. For a moment it was like seeing the same boy from the videos, someone who seemed powerful but was still so scared.

And ultimately that’s what it was. Fear.

It was his last chance and he was scared if might fail. Jeonghan wasn’t too sure that he could live with himself if he did.

“Truth is, there’s never going to be a scale. Ideally, it would be great but that is not the reality of it. I think your best should be enough, always. You’ve doing everything you can and we can all see it” you scooted closer to him on the couch, resting your shin on his shoulder “To me, you’re the best in the entire world, ever. It’s not much, I know, but I hope you know that I will unconditionally root for you”

Maybe it was unfair for Jeonghan to think like that, but for the first time in many years, he truly felt as if someone was by his side. You held his hand because you knew that he was scared, you cared and the reasons were yet unknown to him. Either way, he was going to hold onto it.

“I think that for people like us it sounds excruciating, but I bet he’s used to it” Seungkwan’s voice brought you back.

He hates it too, you wanted to say to choose to stay quiet. If there were things Jeonghan wanted to keep a secret, even if it was opposite to what you were supposed to do, you would keep your mouth shut.

Even before the screams, you felt something swift in the air and it could only be described as Jeonghan. It was as if the air suddenly turned electric and his present, all on its own, larger than the small arena you were in. When you finally saw him, the air got stuck in your lungs.

On a daily basis, Jeonghan was an extremely handsome man. Almost inhuman and unfair to others around him. But that day, while he walked in, he was indescribable. Nothing about him was normal.

It was like seeing a work of art in motion as if a painting on display in a fancy museum had come to life and was walking among the mere mortals of that gymnasium.

Jeonghan wore blue, a color that you discovered was his signature. In every competition he participated in, even as a child, Jeonghan wore blue. Whether it was the entire outfit or just some detail. He always wore blue.

And then, like a moth drawn to a flame, Jeonghan's eyes met yours and he smiled. A different smile than the one you had seen him give so many times before. It was more natural, even sincere. You wanted to have smiled back and waved at him, but it was as if your entire body was frozen and any movement was impossible. And maybe you didn't want even more attention focused on yourself. The people sitting next to the three of you were whispering among themselves, so the last thing you wanted was for them to find out that that beautiful smile was directed at you.

"I don't know what's going on between you, but if someone smiled like that at me, right in the middle of the arena, with dozens of people watching, I'd get married immediately" Seungkwan didn't share the same feeling of remaining still and silent, but at least he was polite enough to whisper at your side.

A whimper escaped your mouth, but you chose not to say anything else. Because, in truth, you didn't even know what was happening between the two of you. There wasn't a conversation, a simple "yes, we're together", but whatever it was, however long it lasted, you were willing to enjoy every second of it.

Jeonghan positioned himself in the center of the ice, eyes closed, and took a deep breath, once, twice. The first chords of If I Could See You Again sounded through the scattered speakers and a new and completely unknown feeling spread throughout your body. Pride, perhaps.

One after another, Jeonghan executed the moves with precision, almost exactly like he had done in training. You couldn't tell if the differences were good or bad, which could take or add points to the total.

Almost at the end, with just a few seconds left until the end of the short program, Jeonghan lost his balance. Not to the point where he fell, but enough that he had to touch the ground to stop himself from falling. The three of them said, in unison, "shit", Seungkwan making a crying sound in the back of his throat.

With one last turn, the performance came to an end and the song ended. Even with the mistake, the crowd exploded in screams and applause. The famous rabbits and stuffed animals were thrown towards Jeonghan. Following the people around you, you also stood up, clapping your hands.

Your heart begged Jeonghan to look in your direction again, even for a second. Jeonghan raised his head and the smile he gave was that rehearsed one, that you had seen many times before and that wasn't even remotely real. The irritation at his mistake was clear in his eyes, but no one seemed to notice.

He bowed to the judges and the audience behind them, sliding across the ice to catch one of the swooping rabbits. Finally, he turned towards you, his eyes immediately meeting yours. Throwing all caution out the window, you said "you did well" without making any real sound and hoped he understood.

Despite the bad taste in his mouth, left by his complete inability to complete the performance without mistakes, Jeonghan felt as if the hand that was squeezing his heart loosened when he looked at you. He waved once more to the audience and skated to the exit. His coach was waiting for him. The man's face was a strange mixture of relief and frustration.

"You did well," he said, even though the words were the same as yours, the intention was completely different "It wasn't such a serious mistake, so it shouldn't have too many points deducted. If it goes well tomorrow, we can advance to the world championship"

Jeonghan nodded. He didn't need to hear that, he knew, better than anyone, what was at risk and what he needed to do.

A performance without errors, that's all he needed.

At the request of Jeonghan's coach, there was no filming after the performance.

"He can talk about everything tomorrow. Now he has to focus on the free program"

You had no arguments to argue and you didn't want to either. Filming was, by far, your last concern. All you wanted to know was if Jeonghan was okay. You spent hours debating whether to call him or not, and in the end, you decided not to.

The big truth was that you had no idea where the lines were, which ones you could cross, and which ones you should religiously stay behind.

Therefore, you chose to send a text. Are you okay? was all you ask. Then you sat on the bed, legs crossed, and waited.

You didn't know what to do if Jeonghan would respond, or if he was concentrating to the point of not going near his cell phone - which was probably a good idea.

Jeonghan had the fourth-best score among short programs. Seungkwan explained that despite the mistake and the near fall, Jeonghan had moves that were considered difficult to execute and those were worth more points and he was precise in almost all of them, which resulted in him having a good score.

"If he hadn't made any mistakes, it's possible he would have come first," he commented, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Seungkwan was easily a fan. He didn't make the slightest point of hiding it. You weren’t one at first, you knew the bare minimum about skating, but as time went on, as you got to know Jeonghan, it was completely inevitable.

"I'm sure he can do it" Seungkwan assured.

The phone vibrated at first and half a second later the screen lit up and Jeonghan's name shone on the screen, a photo of his smiling face above his name. You hadn't uploaded a photo when you saved his contact, but you were sure who the culprit was.

"When did you put a picture of yourself on my phone?"

Jeonghan felt relief wash over his body just hearing your voice, knowing you were smiling on the other side. He was able to take a deep breath for the first time since the morning.

He couldn't quite understand how he had gotten into that situation. He couldn't even pinpoint a catalyzing moment, the moment he realized something was changing. One moment you were just someone he had to work with and then you became someone he longed for. There was no middle ground. It was like someone flipped a switch in his mind and his heart, as he could finally just be. No strings attached, no fear.

With you, he was simply Jeonghan, the person. Not the athlete, not the guy who appeared on television now and then. He was just another guy, with a normal job, a normal life. There are many normal ones, Jeonghan, yours may be different from mine and that's okay, you said it once.

Maybe that was the moment he realized he was in love with you. Maybe perceived isn't the right word, but it was the moment he allowed himself to feel.

"It's an inconceivable fact that you don’t have a picture of me on your phone"

You laughed at it and he wished he could be close to you. He wanted all your moments, no matter how small and bad they were, to be engraved in his mind.

"My phone has a password," you said. Your tone wasn't reproachful, you weren’t irritated. If anything, you were happy to be talking to him, that he was in your life.

"Your birthday isn't a very clever password," he said, laughing.

You wanted to ask how he knew, but the answer was pretty obvious: Seungkwan.

"Are you okay?" you asked, tone cautious. "No pain?"

You hated having to change the subject so abruptly, hated that you were the one changing the light tone of the conversation. But you had to know, you had to ask.

It was a second, nothing more than that, that turned on a warning light in your head. Jeonghan was sitting, waiting for his score announcement, when his face quickly contorted. It was there and then it wasn't. But you had seen that scene before, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Yes, I am," he said, still trying to keep his tone light.

"Jeonghan..."

He wondered when you were able to understand that he was lying. It didn't really matter. Jeonghan liked knowing that you knew him well enough to know the difference. It was the first time anyone cared enough to understand.

Jeonghan realized that by your side, he experienced many firsts.

"A little discomfort, but I told the doctor" he was quick to say, knowing exactly what was coming next "I have ice on my foot right now. I can compete tomorrow, it won't be a problem"

He wasn't lying. He felt the discomfort after his body cooled down and told the doctor. Maybe it was in the hopes of having a fair reason to give up. He had never talked about being in pain so quickly.

"I'm not confident" he admitted "It's like I was 12 again, in my first competition. I think I was more confident before, to be honest"

He lay down on the bed, staring at the hotel ceiling. It was a simple beige ceiling, hideous, but somehow, it gave him some peace of mind.

“You did really well in your first competition,” you said, hoping that would somehow help him.

Jeonghan just hummed in response but stayed quiet. He had too much on his mind, you knew. It was the shadow of a possible new injury, the idea of not being well enough to perform the movements easily, and the fact of not being confident. Everything had turned into a big snowball and he no longer knew what to do with all these problems that seemed unsolvable.

"Do you remember that day, when you were training and everyone was around? Even Jihoon showed up to watch, which was quite strange by the way" Jeonghan said yes, quietly, which was enough for you to continue " You weren't confident that day either and asked everyone to leave"

"Except you," he said.

"Yes, except me" you smiled, the memory still fresh in your mind, as if it had happened the day before, and not months before "We were there for another half an hour and you didn't make a single mistake after getting it right. I know it's harder now, that you can't kick all those people out of there, but you can imagine that it's just the two of us again. I told you before and I can tell you as many times as you need to hear, I'm rooting for you unconditionally"

Jeonghan sighed, his body finally relaxing completely.

"You could be more eloquent in your cheering," he said, his tone mocking.

"If I'm too eloquent, we won’t use Vernon’s videos," you said laughing.

Your laugh, Jeonghan decided, was the eighth wonder of the world. It was his choice and the only right one among all the possibilities.

"You could at least smile"

"That I can do"

You sat in the same place as the day before, the only difference was that Seungkwan was on the left and Vernon was on the right. But you were in exactly the same place as you promised Jeonghan you would. Not that you exactly had much of a choice, it was assigned seats, but at least you were lucky to have the same ones.

Also like the previous day, Jeonghan was the last to compete. You watched them all carefully, trying your best to spot mistakes, but you could only see the obvious ones. When, for example, the athlete who was in second, taking into account only the short program scores, fell. You knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't contain your squeak of joy. Both Seungkwan and Vernon laughed, but you knew they shared the feeling.

Everyone wanted Jeonghan to do well, of course.

Exactly like before, the world seemed to stop when Jeonghan entered. And this time he knew exactly where to look, where you were in the crowd. When he smiled and you smiled back, he felt like he had made the right decision at some point. Because, somehow, you were there and everything seemed like it would work out.

And even if everything went wrong, Jeonghan felt like he would be okay too.

You wanted to scream with the rest of the audience when Jeonghan took the podium in second place. You knew it wasn't what he wanted, but you also knew I wanted it more than he expected. But, as you had told him on the phone, if I were more eloquent, all the footage would be lost.

You excused yourself from Seungkwan and walked to the other side, where it was empty. When the silver medal was finally placed around your neck, you clapped and screamed like the other girls next to you. Jeonghan's free program was perfect, the deductions made by the judges, according to Seungkwan, made no sense at all - but you were sure it was the fan version of him speaking than anything else.

If it weren't for the lowest score from the previous day, Jeonghan would have been on the podium in first place. However, when he finished his presentation, he seemed to care little whether he had gotten a good score or the position he would get. He seemed satisfied with his performance. His smile as he bowed to the audience was genuine and joyful.

"Will you allow me to be honest?" Joshua said beside you.

You brought a hand to your heart, your body moving involuntarily away from him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you"

You smiled and shook your head. There were a few times that your and Joshua's paths crossed. He was Jeonghan's childhood friend and would occasionally appear. You were so focused on Jeonghan and on his performance that you hadn't noticed that you hadn't seen Joshua on either day of the competition.

“Of course,” you said clearing your throat.

Joshua stuck his hands in his pants pockets, his eyes still focused on Jeonghan who was walking down the podium and returning to the locker room. He looked at the medal, a small smile on his face, almost completely covered by his long hair.

"I thought you would be a problem, but I'm glad I was wrong"

When Jeonghan was out of sight, you finally turned to Joshua. He seemed to apologize with his eyes.

“A problem,” you repeated, to make sure you weren’t hearing things.

He scratched his head and smiled.

"Yes, a problem. You have become a central point for Jeonghan in recent times, I thought you could be dangerous to reach the goal of the Olympics. But looking at him now, I think you were never a problem, but rather the solution"

It was impossible to contain your smile for the rest of the night. Everyone left together after the press conference, which for once was not a fiasco.

You and Jeonghan never told anyone else that you were together. You want to know for sure what it was. But when everyone arrived at the restaurant, the two of you, Seungkwan, Vernon, Joshua, and the coach, everyone just seemed to move in a way to let you and Jeonghan sit next to each other.

Every time he placed his hand on your leg, a new wave of heat spread throughout your body. You were sure that Jeoghan knew what he was knowing, that he knew the effect it had. When you looked at him, he was looking at you smiling. He looked like a naughty child, who knew he was up to no good and was just waiting for someone to show up and tell him off.

The coach seemed uncomfortable, and now and then he cleared his throat. He only knew the rumors about Jeonghan, he had never seen him with a woman before. Joshua acted as if it were just another day, something he was already used to. Seungkwan and Vernon exchanged looks and laughed, you were sure you would have to deal with them later. The teasing would be tireless and at this point, it would be impossible to stop rumors from spreading around the office.

The thought that others might know what was going on between you and Jeonghan didn't scare you, at least not the way you thought it would. You were afraid that people would think you were less professional because of this, and that you might lose credibility. But none of that seemed to matter.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. You didn't care if they knew because, at the end of the day, it was nobody's business.

You had made a name for yourself and it had nothing to do with your personal life.

And Jeonghan... he made you feel things you had never felt before. Your other boyfriends, as much as you liked them, didn't compare. The feeling you had for them seemed insignificant in comparison.

You wanted, as absurd as it might seem, to take care of Jeonghan. Not that he needed it, you knew he could manage just fine on his own. You wanted to be someone he could share his problems with, someone he could count on. You wanted to be someone who could be a safe haven, someone he didn't need to hide from.

And you thought, to a certain extent, you had become that person.

And without realizing it, even if unintentionally, Jeonghan had become that person for you too. When you had nightmares you wanted to call him, to be comforted by his sweet voice. You liked it when he held your hand, just because he liked it. You liked that he sent texts at random moments that made you smile and that left everyone around you wondering what had happened.

You had never believed that I could fall in love, not like that. The mere thought of liking someone like that seemed impossible, at least to you. You still had memories of your mother crying, right after your father left. You had promised yourself that you would never let anyone approach you like that. But Jeonghan showed up and it was as if the thought had never crossed your mind.

After the initial shock of meeting Jeonghan, it was easy to understand why people fell in love with him.

Even at that moment, when he wasn't doing anything much, just talking to Joshua and Seungkwan, the infamous butterflies didn't seem to leave you.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked suddenly.

Everyone had already eaten and some were waiting for dessert. It felt wrong to get up.

"Are you tired?"

As if on cue, Jeonghan closed his eyes and yawned, making everyone laugh, even the coach. He grabbed your hand and pulled you lightly, his head slightly tilted towards the restaurant door.

"We're going now," he said as he took your hand and in his and guided you out of the restaurant.

The thing about Jeonghan is that you never wanted to let him go. Once he was around you never wanted him to leave. So when he offered to take you to your room and said yes when you invested him in, you almost giggled like a teenager.

Is that how people felt when they liked someone? You knew the feeling of liking someone, yes, but it was different. A new feeling that was both exciting and scary. Your brain was partially inclined to run away and partly desperate to just stay.

When liking someone you always think back to your mother and how she never really recovered after your father left. Of course, she smiled and had many happy moments over the years but there was this distinct glow in her eyes that simply vanished the second he left.

You had always promised yourself that you would never give someone that much power over you and while you knew that you weren’t quite there yet with Jeonghan, you knew that there was a high chance of becoming something so great one day you’d have no control over.

Without much thought, you took his hand on your and kissed his knuckles.

"What 's that for?"

You shook your head, still keeping his hand close to your face, sighing when he cupped your cheeks.

"Nothing, I'm just really proud of you. You did so well today"

Jeonghan laughed, his eyes going top your eyes then to your lips then back to your eyes again.

"I didn't win" he felt the need to remind you.

You turned your face to the side and planted a kiss on the palm of his hand.

"It was your first time back, you did fantastically"

"Thank you for being there," he said, voice suddenly serious "It really meant a lot to me"

You stood on your tip toes and gave him a peck on the lips.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.”

Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you go, not when he finally had you in his arms again, without anyone around. He pulled you closer to his body, his left hand at the base of your neck. He kissed your cheek, first the left one, then the right one, the tip of our nose until he finally reached your lips.

At first, the kiss was sweet, tentative, kind even. The tip of his tongue touched your bottom lip. Suddenly it was like all hell had broken loose. It was him and you but everywhere. He ran his hand down your neck, to your back until he reached the hem of your shirt. Goosebumps erupted when you felt his skin over yours.

His touch was so small, so insignificant, but it had such a great effect on you. You were out of breath partially from the kiss and partially from his touch. It was too little but also too much.

You pulled back from him and the look in his eyes was almost enough to bring you to your knees. You had never really seen the whole “his eyes darkened” thing but in that moment there was no better way to describe him. Jeonghan had a look in his eyes that you had never seen before, different from anything you had witnessed.

It took your breath away.

“I’m gonna” you pointed at the bathroom and quickly left him all alone in the room.

You needed a moment, hell not even you knew why you needed a moment. Your heart felt like it was about to combust with how quickly it was beating. You just needed to gather yourself, and maybe calm down a little bit before you went back into the room.

You twisted the faucet over the bathtub. A shower would have been faster, yes, but a little too fast. You didn’t wait for it to completely fill up to get in. You pulled your clothes off swiftly, leaving them on the floor beside the tub, before getting in.

Your mind was racing. Maybe a good way to describe it would be to say that there was a puppy with too much energy running from side to side in your head.

Five minutes went by before you heard the door opening and Jeonghan walked him. To his merit, his eyes stayed on your face the entire time until he sat down by your side.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, shin resting on the edge of the tub.

That was such a good question because you had no idea if there was something wrong. There isn’t, a voice said inside your mind. There was no reason for you to have run off like that.

“I’m not used to this,” you said as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers in his. His hand was so warm against your cold one “For a second it was too much”

“Did I…?”

You started to shake your head before he could get another word out.

“No, no, no” you sat down on the tub and moved as close to him as possible, spilling some water out in the process but Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind “I like you, really like you”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“In my world? Yes”

In your world, Jeonghan had managed to gather, all emotions made you want to run away. It was easier for you to deal with the bad, the sad, the hateful. The good part of it was hard because you had no real starting point for it.

“Let me show you my world, then”

He didn’t really wait for your answer and he leaned over the edge and captured your lips in his. His touch was tender as he crawled your face, leaving a trail of kisses from your lips, down your neck, till your collarbone. He smiled against your skin when he hit a sensitive spot that made you go a little breathless as a small moan left your lips.

Jeonghan ran the tip of his index finger across the valley of your breasts before cupping one of them in his hand. His thumb running over your hard nipples. Your moan was swallowed by his lips.

Your entire body became hot under his touch. Melting, falling apart and he had barely even touched you at all. It was too much but not at all enough.

Jeonghan kept exploring your body with his hand, running it down your stomach. Ever so slowly he moved his hand further down.

A gasp left your lips when his finger found your clit, drawing small, slow, circles. You leaned forward, your forehead pressed on the crook of his neck. His skin was warm, hot even. You turned your head to the side slightly until your lips came in contact with the skin of his neck. You pressed small kisses on him, sucking his skin at the same time he applied more pressure against you.

Jeonghan pulled back for a second, his focus solely on you, on your hooded eyes, the way your cheeks had turned a pretty shade of pink, how your lips were slightly parted, the way his name came out of your lips in the sweetest moan when his finger slipped over your folds, teasing your hole.

He was so completely enamored by you, in ways he never thought to be possible. In his past relationships, he had always been careful. He didn’t want to get caught but also didn’t want to fall too much. His life only had one direction, one goal. When he was by your side he just wanted to slow down a little and enjoy every single second he could with you.

Jeonghan wanted you to feel the same, this new sense of freedom that only came with these feelings, this desire to know every corner of someone’s soul.

Your grip on Jeonghan’s arms thighed, your eyes watering as you let your head fall back. He pushed two fingers into you, slowly until he was knuckles deep. He sucked in a breath when your walls squeezed around his fingers, pulling him deeper as he curled his fingers and then slightly opened them. He rubbed the heel of his hand over your clit as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out.

He was hard inside his pants, the zipper of his jeans making minimal pressure, not anywhere close to what he needed but he was happy with what he got, with the day he saw you let all of your walls down around him.

Jeonghan leaned forward a little, taking your lips into his, his tongue exploring your mouth as he moved his fingers faster, his thumb rubbing on your clit just as fast.

“Jeonghan…” you cried his name, again and again as your breathing got shallow.

You held his face in your hands, your thumb over his bottom lips, your eyes never leaving his as you became undone in front of him. Your legs quivering, your body arching until your chest was pressed against him, your loud moans filling the bathroom alongside the sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you asked

He had no intention of doing so, not until your body stopped shaking until you rode the last of your orgasm.

It was the most beautiful sight in the world. The seven wonders? Nothing compared to you.

Breathing heavily you leaned over Jeonghan, small spasms still making your body shake. You had boyfriends before, fucked all of them, some of them weren’t even your boyfriend and it had never felt like that, earth-shattering, live altering. You kissed him tenderly.

God, you were in love with the man.

You never thought of what it would be like to wake up in someone’s arms. It was never something you thought about too often when you had a boyfriend and it wasn’t something you craved. Being on your own, was something you were used to, whether it was on life or in your bed. Waking up to Jeonghan was something entirely new experience and one that you could never say that you didn’t like.

His body was turned to yours, and his hand possessively held your thigh. Most of his face was covered by his hair and this time around you didn’t shy away from pushing it away from his face.

“This is not creepy at all,” Jeonghan said, his eyes still closed.

You were startled for a second, your body involuntarily moving away from him and then settling back into him. This time your fingers weren't feather-like. You allowed yourself to fully touch him, to enjoy the feeling of his skin against yours.

“I can leave, if you want”

You slightly rose from the bed, but it was far enough for Jeonghan. He tugged at your waist and pulled back on the bed and got on top of you.

“You’re not going anywhere”

Jeonghan pressed his lips over yours and you felt your body melt under him. Was there ever a better place in the world to be? You weren’t too sure if there was, but if such place even existed you didn’t want to know.

“Tell me a secret,” he asked.

It was almost noon and you were still in bed with Jeonghan. He had asked for room service a couple of hours before and after eating both of you got back in bed, cuddling like two teenagers in love.

“I used to have a crush on Jihoon,” you said with a laugh.

There was a moment of silence, Jeonghan's body growing stiff by your side. That wasn't your intention at all, you wanted to bring a laugh out of him, and not make him uncomfortable.

“I don't think that's something you say while in bed with a guy, naked”

You laughed giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“You said to tell you a secret, that’s the only one I have left to give you,” you said pushing a strand of hair away from his forehead, smiling at him “When I met him, I didn’t know that he was going to be my boss, in fact I thought that he was regular employee like me. A couple of weeks later I found that that not only he was my boss but that he also had a long-term girlfriend, who is now engaged to”

Instead of focusing only on the crush part, which was one Jeonghan had no real desire to know about, he turned all of his attention to the first part of what you said, that you had no other secret to tell.

Though he thought of it as impossible, as everyone has secrets, he knew that you were somehow telling him the truth.

“And now?”

He propped his chin on your shoulder, his eyes shining as he waited for an answer.

You found that running your hand through his hair and playing with it was a new hobby and one that both of you seemed to enjoy. Jeonghan had fallen asleep twice while your hand was on his head.

“Now he's just a boss who's made me take a project I didn't want” you ran your finger over his nose and booped the tip “But now I’m really glad I did. Maybe the best decision forced on me in years?”

You couldn’t help but laugh when Jeonghan placed several loud kisses all over your face.

“Your turn”

You lightly pushed him away, just enough to see his face again.

“I’m constantly terrified,” he said after a few minutes in silence “I keep seeing myself falling on the ice, like it happened last night. When I close my eyes, that’s the only thing I see”

It was something hard to admit, even to himself. Failing was like a shadow that daily dark cloud following him wherever he went. His mind and dreams were filled with images of him doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do, of what he was expected to do.

Though he had been practicing hard, to exhaustion even, and did his best to put a great face, telling everyone just how confident he was, the truth was that Jeonghan wasn’t confident at all in himself. The chances of him making it were very low and though he did manage to get a good score and placed high on the podium, he wasn’t sure it would be enough to get him to the Olympics, much less to win it.

“I’m not a sports person, right?” Jeonghan nodded enthusiastically and pushed him, making him laugh “But I think sometimes falling is inevitable. You know something I believe in? You”

Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile at the words. He felt as if the hand squeezing his heart had let go of him. He felt light.

“If there’s someone in this world that can go through all of this, injuries, surgeries, rehab and still get to compete on the same level as before. Maybe even better. I believe in you. I hope you can too”

Months Later

Jeonghan hissed as he slowly pulled the sock off. The usually cream skin was turning an ugly dark shade of purple, his ankle already twice as big as was supposed to be. He wanted to scream out in frustration.

Of course, he had to get hurt again, of course, it had to be on the day before he was set to compete.

It was like whoever was writing the script of his life enjoyed putting him through pain. Jeonghan finally felt as if his life was falling into place. He was feeling healthy, he felt as if every time he got on the ice he was getting better, improving his performance every single time. And then there was you, who came into his life seemingly like a storm and turned his world upside down in ways he wasn’t aware he needed.

He had never felt more at ease, comfortable, than when he was with you. It had been a very long time since there was any need to shoot at his place but he always found himself calling you, or going to you. On days when you had to work late, you’d still come over and crawl into his bed, attaching yourself to him as if it was where you were supposed to be all along. You’d place a kiss on his spine and drift off to sleep without a word. Then, if there was no early schedule or practice, the two of you would just take turns cooking and talking about everything and nothing at all.

When he was with you, Jeonghan knew he had found the balance he had always looked for. It wasn’t the loud and reckless kind of relationship like the one he had before. With you Jeonghan felt at peace, home in many different ways. He liked to think that you felt the same way about him too.

Maybe he was being too greedy in wanting the creer, the legacy, as well as the love life but there was no way he was willing to let either one go, even if it meant that his blood would be covering the ice at the end of his performance.

“How are you” the door to his shared room was suddenly flung open and Joshua walked in “feeling…?”

His friend's voice got lower as his eyes moved from Jeonghan’s face to his ankle, then back to his face again. Joshua moved without saying a word. He opened the mini bar and pulled whichever can was colder.

“Does Bumzu know about this?”

It was weird to hear his coach’s name and he wasn’t too sure why. He said the name countless times since he was a teenager, he even said it earlier that day, but you had never said it. You’d always refer to him as just coach, even while directly talking to him. You never said his name and the man didn’t seem to mind it either.

Jeonghan looked back at his foot and then at his ankle. He had no idea how it had gotten that bad. He felt a little pain after the eighteen-hour flight so as soon as he settled down in his room he put some ice on it, which had seemingly done the trick. It looked fine. No purple bruise, no swelling. His ankle looked fine and felt fine, so he left to attend the open ceremony and then headed to practice for the next two days. He felt nothing. He was fine.

Until he, clearly, wasn’t.

“Does she know?”

Joshua pulled his leg up on the bed and put his feet up on two pillows. Jeonghan hissed again when he felt the ice against his skin and let his body fall back on the mattress.

“No, and she can’t know” he covered his eyes with his arm, sighing “I’ll tell Bumzu tomorrow”

“Don’t you think this should go into the documentary?” Joshua asked as he rolled the can from his ankle to the arch of his foot rhythmically “Don’t you think your girlfriend should know about this?”

Jeonghan played with the word on his tongue for a second. Girlfriend. Neither of you had ever labeled the relationship, too focused on the moment, on enjoying what you had and charging forward together. A label didn’t seem all too important. It was the kind of relationship that was always evolving but somehow staying the same.

“If she finds out, she’ll ask me to stop” he paused finally looking at his friend “And if she does, I will”

He couldn’t help but think about your face. The way you smiled while holding his hands in yours sitting on his couch, just a few minutes before the two of you had to leave for the airport. Your eyes shone as you told him how much you believed in him, that you knew he wanted to win but it would be okay if he didn’t.

It was the kind of speech he heard many many times before in his life and he always hated it. It always seemed shallow, just empty words thrown in the wind. But when it came from you, when those words left your lips they felt genuine, he knew it wasn’t something you just said because it was what you thought he wanted to hear.

“I’ll scream the loudest this time,” you said laughing as you ran your fingertips over his eyebrows and then tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Jeonghan couldn’t help you lean into your touch. “I’ll be sitting away from Seungkwan and Vernon, so there really won’t be any way for me to ruin the footage”

The words I love you slipped out of Jeonghan’s mouth with ease, as they have always been there, like he was used to saying them. It was never been easy for him, even to his mother and sister. He loved them, of course he did. He showed it to them in all ways he could think of, but he never said. At least not as an adult.

Home, he had decided. Your eyes were his home. You were.

Jeonghan was certain that he would remember that moment forever. The way you leaned forward, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The way you whispered I love you too. How you broke into a smile when you chastely kissed him and added so much it’s insane.

“Maybe she would be right” Joshua’s voice pulled him back to reality “Maybe you should stop. What if this gets bad enough that you can’t even walk anymore? What if…”

Jeonghan sat back up again.

“Do you remember when we were kids and I told you that I wanted a gold medal, an Olympic gold medal?” he suddenly asked.

Joshua closed his eyes and sighed. Obviously, he remembered it but he wished Jeonghan didn’t. Most of all, he wished Jeonghan wouldn’t use a promise he made almost twenty years before.

“Shua” Jeonghan pressed, his tone almost desperate. He felt bad, of course, but it was the only thing he had to stop Joshua. His last weapon to use.

“I promised I would help in any way possible since we all knew I wasn’t that great of a skater”

It was a stupid promise, made by stupid boys but even as adults they both stuck to it, like it was some sort of pact.

“The best way to help is to keep it a secret for the next 3 days”

The thing about competitions is that they are exhausting but not just for the people actively competing but for those working on the sidelines as well. you had been following Jeonghan for months now, to all sorts of competitions, rehab, and just his life in general.

In almost all of them he managed to make it to the podium and each time he looked brighter, and happier with his performance and the outcome. Though everything seemed to be going just fine, there was this itch in the back of your mind, telling you that there was something wrong with him.

Jeonghan seemed to be taking good care of his body and he was periodically going to the doctor. You weren’t too sure if that was a good thing. On one hand, it was good because it meant that he was in constant care for a serious injury. But it could also mean that he was in pain and that itch on your brain was right.

Whatever it was, Jeonghan wasn’t willing to share. He kept saying that he was fine and you were trying to believe him, you really were. But there was something in his eyes, in the way his body moved a little more stiff than usual. He had not looked at your direction once - which was something unusual.

The rational part of your brain said that it was just stress, crazy high amounts of it tugging at all of his nerves and muscles. It was his last chance so it was natural. He was an athlete focused on the competition ahead, of course, he would be a little different from what you were used to seeing.

However, the irrational and insecure part of your brain told you that regretted saying that he loved you and didn’t know how to take it back. That didn’t make any sense at all. Jeonghan wasn’t the kind of person who just said things to please the people around him. He would rather keep quiet than say something he didn’t mean. You knew that. You knew him. If he said it, then he meant it.

So why was he…

“Is he hurt again?” a familiar voice asked to your right.

You had completely forgotten that Jihoon would attend as part of the documentary crew. He had mentioned it the last time you spoke on the phone a couple of weeks before, he also sent an e-mail the day before you left but it had completely escaped your mind.

You blinked at him, your brain not fully registering what he said.

“What?” you asked.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows at you. He pointed at the rink where Jeonghan and the other skaters were warming up. His warm-up was different from what he usually did. He was just moving around, barely using his left foot.

“He’s not using his foot a whole lot” Jihoon pointed out.

He kept talking but his voice became just a distant sound as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, frantically searching for Joshua’s number. He was by the rink talking, in what you assume to be a hushed voice, with Bumzu.

You bit your lips while the phone rang. Despair spread through your chest when Joshua pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed it to the coach. Both men visibly sighed.

Tears started to well up in your eyes the moment Joshua’s tired voice greeted you.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Tell me what’s wrong with him, please” you begged.

Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around, making sure that you couldn’t see his expression. A terrible sign.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, everything is going according to plan”

“I may still be confused about some rules but my eyes work just fine, Joshua. Something is wrong, even Jihoon can see it”

You watched as he shook his head.

“He’s just hiding his game. We prepare a new program, entirely different, he doesn’t want to show any of it or overwork himself during the warm-up”.

Alarms went off in your head and a whinny sound left your lips. You were well aware of the three pairs of eyes on you, judging the very uncharastically way, so unlike yourself, you were behaving but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Listen“ Joshua’s tone was stern, irritated. Not once had he sounded like that “This is a competition, the biggest one could ever take part in, as well as his last one ever. Yes, things are different this time around. I need you to understand that and not add any pressure or stress on him. Can you do that?”

He didn’t really give you a chance to reply.

“He’s here as an elite athlete and you’re here as the documentarist in charge of capturing every second of it. I highly suggest you start acting accordingly”

The line went mute. The pressure on your head, on your heart, was so big you let your body fall on the seat again. Joshua had never been quite as harsh on you, or at all. He had always been soft spoken, and polite. You doubted that even under the obvious stress of the moment he would act like that. Something was definitely wrong but he wasn’t willing to share, which meant that Jeonghan’s condition was bad. It also meant that he didn’t want you to know what was wrong, the extension of the problem.

Seungkwan was suddenly by your side, his hand on your shoulder. You pushed the single tear that rolled down away and stood up again.

“Is everything okay?”

You just nodded and took the camera he had in his hands, adjusting the settings as an excuse to stay quiet long enough to be able to regain your ability to speak once more. You pushed the camera into Jihoon’s hand with a little more force than necessary, not really caring that he was your boss. His only reaction was to furrow his eyebrows at you one more time.

“Make yourself useful, will you” it didn’t matter if he was there to just watch or not “Do not lose coach out of sight”

You turned your body to Seungkwan and Vernon.

“Seungkwan, you're with Joshua. Vernon and I will focus on Jeonghan” you pointed at the seats you were supposed to take, indicating that Jeonghan would have two different angles on him, Vernon simply nodded “Jeonghan’s condition is less than ideal so we need all of their reactions. Don’t miss anything, every blink is important”

Seungkwan called your name, his fingers gripping the sleeve of your shirt around your wrist. The concern was evident in his eyes. He wanted to ask, but wasn't sure if he should and you weren’t sure you could speak without breaking into tears. Whether his concern was for you or Jeonghan, you didn’t know. Perhaps a mix of both.

“It’s our job, we should act accordingly”

Jeonghan finally let his body fall on the bed. It had been a long day and he had never felt more exhausted before in his life. But more than that, he was in pain.

His first program had drained him.

Every time he moved his foot it was as if a needle was being forced into his bones. Truth be told, Jeonghan wasn't even sure how he was still standing, how he still managed to walk straight without curving his body in pain. Skating was still a wonder in itself. The idea that both his mother and sister were watching from home maybe was something that helped push him forward. Maybe knowing that you were somewhere in the crowd also helped.

He didn't dare to look for you, didn't dare to look in your direction but he could swear that he had heard you cheer every time he landed, every time he executed a new movement. Having you there and hearing your voice, even if it was a daydream of his crazy mind, had been enough to push him to the end of the program.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and reread your text for the hundredth time. He just stared at his phone for the better part of the day, like the small device held all the answers in the world. All it did though, was call you and that was something that he didn't allow himself to do. It was what he wanted the most, to hear your assuring voice, but he shouldn't. He couldn't. He was satisfied just looking at the black screen when suddenly it lit up with a notification and your name attached to it.

"I will always be rooting for you! No matter what happens you'll always be number one" a second later another text followed "I love you"

Your message was sweet and loving. Jeonghan knew what it meant though. You didn't say anything, but it was clear that you knew something was wrong. Joshua had assured him that he didn't say anything to you but you weren't dumb.

He felt bad for keeping it a secret from you, for pushing you away, but in his mind, it was his only option. It turned out for the best that his coach and the federation didn't allow you and your team to follow him. Watching from the bleachers was all you could do.

Even if their decision somehow benefited him, Jeonghan hated it. He hated the idea of everything that was going wrong. He hated that he was in pain, and once again, hated that the one person he wanted to comfort him was the one he was pushing away. In a way, he felt as if he was drowning and there was no one to even see that there was something off with him.

Jeonghan heard the door opening but he didn't turn around in bed to see who it was, certain that it was only Joshua or maybe Bumzu coming in to check on him. He just turned further into his pillow, wishing for the day to be over soon. He couldn’t even think about his performance, which hadn’t been bad, to be honest.

“So you get injured again and you decide that I shouldn’t know. That’s not very nice, Jeonghan”

He felt his heart in his mouth and he jumped on the bed, suddenly sitting on the middle of the mattress, grimacing when he felt a sharp pain up his leg.

“I wonder who you wanted to keep it a secret from, the team in charge of the documentary or me”

There you were, leaning on the door with your arms crossed over your chest, frowning at him. He could cry while looking at you and perhaps the tears were inevitable because his eyes were already burning.

“How are you here?” he managed to ask.

You gave him a sheepish smile and showed him the badge on your neck. A picture of Joshua greeted him while you took a step close to him and Sar by his side on the bed.

“I stole Joshua's badge and wore it flipped around, no one really bothered to check if it was really me”

You took Jeonghan's right hand into yours, intertwining your fingers with his. It was almost a natural movement at this point and you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward and rested his forehead on your shoulder.

Throughout the entire day you had thought about what you would do, how you'd approach him. There was no right way to do it. You had two options: scream at him and tell him to just stop, that it wasn't worth it, or you could just be there for him, offer him your support in any way you could. And while the idea of screaming was great, you knew that it wasn't going to do any good. In fact, it would probably only worsen the situation that was already bad.

“I don't know what to do,” he said, slightly turning his head towards your neck and taking a deep breath, allowing himself to be completely lost in your scent.

“How bad is it?”

If Jeonghan wasn't willing to share it with you, decided that keeping it a secret was his only option it was probably bad but as moved away from you and pulled his pants up you enough to show the purple bruise on his ankle you realized that it was far worse than you could have imagined.

“Oh my God” you covered your mouth to stop yourself from saying anything else.

You thought back at his program, how he executed all of it flawlessly, how he was in second place — only 0.2 behind the first place — how he had a real chance at winning despite all odds.

“It looks worse than it feels, but it doesn't feel good either”

You pushed his hair back, away from his face. His eyes were filled with unwashed tears, so desperate. Seeing him like that was like having someone squeeze your heart with all of their strength, as if trying to turn it into ashes.

“I'm so close to it and I can see it, it's right there. If I just…” he balled his hands into fists as tears finally ran down his face “I just need to do well, do what I've been practicing and I know I'll get it. But this…”

He punched his thigh, eyes closed.

You took his face into your hands, delicately making him look at you. You had no idea that your heart could break just by looking at someone, had no idea that you would feel that way for someone else in your life. It was a crazy thought, a realization that there was someone else in the world that could make you feel like that.

When you told Jeonghan that you loved him it wasn't a lie. You didn't just threw those words around. Your heart was his and it was shattering for him.

You knew what it meant to him, all of it. Jeonghan might have made it seem as if he was just there to win and call it a day but you knew that it ran deeper than that. It was his last everything when it came down to it. His last competition, yes, but it was also his last everything. The last time he could say figure skater Yoon Jeonghan, after that he would just be retired. He hated the media a little too much to try and be one of those sports celebrities.

“If they tape you up, give you enough painkillers, do you think you could do it?” your words were shaky as you spoke “Do you think it's possible?”

Jeonghan couldn't really believe his ears, in what you were saying to him. He was certain that you would tell him to stop, that it was okay, that he didn't have to go all the way to the end. It was a good run, you don't have to prove yourself to anyone, he could almost hear your voice in his mind.

But right there, in front of him, you stood doing the exact opposite of what he expected.

“I thought you'd tell me to stop”

You kissed his face, close to his eyes, where his tears had stained his cheeks. The first one was quick, the second lingering a little bit more.

“I probably should, but it's not what you need” you kissed his forehead, nose, and lips “You're a force to be reckoned with, Jeonghan. If there's someone in the world that can compete in these conditions it's you”

Your heart was oddly at peace with everything. Sneaking into Jeonghan's room had been reckless but necessary, for both of you.

It was scary to imagine him getting injured again. You knew how hard he worked to be able to even get on the ice at all. You knew what it meant to him, so telling him that it was okay to just try felt natural and in some ways the only right option.

Leaving his room had been hard. All you wanted to do was stay there with him, comforting him, in silence. You just wanted to be by his side but you knew that wasn't possible so you left after kissing him.

Maybe telling him to push through was a bad call, maybe telling him to quit was what was best for him but you tried to put yourself in his shoes. Had it been you, with your last chance ever, would you stop or would just just say fuck it and go down trying?

The answer was easy: you'd do the exact same.

“So…” Seungkwan asked as the four of you walked into the gymnasium “Is he okay?”

Seungkwan was a good friend and someone who worried about Jeonghan. He had been the first one to warm up to him and talk with him. Jeonghan liked him too, calling him Seungkwannie and even inviting him for dinner on occasion.

“Not really,” you said as you finally found your seats “But he's going to compete anyway”

“Can he even do that?” Jihoon asked, “Should he do that?”

Your shoulders rose as you sighed.

“He's doing what he thinks is the best option for him”

The conversation ended just like that. There was nothing left to say. All any of you could do was sit and wait.

Jeonghan skated into the rink. His face was serious, no emotion on display. It was a mask of a man who was focused on what he had to do. He eyes the center of the rink, unblinking.

His costume of choice was very simple, just a plain black blouse with silver and blue details on the sleeves and around his neck. His hair was tied back and away from his face.

Looking at him one wouldn’t be able to say that he was in pain, that his ankle was twice its normal size, so close to just giving up. No one could tell that he was shaking. It was imperceptible to those on the bleachers that his heart was beating so fast, so loudly, that he could feel it in his ears.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Once. Twice. Again. He thought of you, with your hands clasped together in a silent prayer, he thought of his mother and sister watching him from home. He thought about himself two and a half years before, how hard he had worked to get to that rink one last time. He thought back to his ten years old self, when he first dreamt of the Olympics.

Winning was his only option.

Jeonghan opened his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

The entire gymnasium erupted in loud cheers while Jeonghan thanked the audience, one side, then another. He bows his head a few times, catching one of the bunny dolls thrown at the rink in mid air. His smile is beautiful and large. He became pure happiness and you know that it couldn’t be any different.

Jeonghan managed to deliver his performance in complete perfection, no obvious mistakes were made. You were certain the judges would find something to deduce points but there was no way that he wouldn’t place first.

He waved at the crowd and somehow the cheering got even louder. It’s not his home country but it felt as if everyone in there was applauding him more than all of the athletes before him. And maybe that was really the case.

Jeonghan’s injury had been disclosed to the public right before the beginning of the competition and people love the idea of someone who can overcome whatever it is that stops them, an injury, a disease.

Jeonghan whirled around one more time, hand in the air waving, when face his contorted, his beautiful smile gone and he fell to his knees.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five seconds.

He didn’t move an inch, he didn’t get put but he also didn’t do much else. It was when you started to worry that there was something wrong. Even from that far back, you saw his arms shake, his eyes shut close, and his hand balled into fists. It became painfully obvious that there was something wrong.

The cheering and applause didn’t stop or got quieter. If anything, the volume only got louder. The crowd seemed to think that he was still thanking them, that he was overwhelmed with emotions, that he was exhausted after such a perfect performance.

He did the unthinkable, he managed to finish his performance flawlessly, lading jump, after jump, after jump. And he did, on the last performance of his career, at his last Olympics.

Jeonghan hadn’t announced it yet, but that was his last everything. After that day, he would leave behind his days in figure skating and would try to search for something else to do with his life. It was the last of him, ever, and he ended it on such a high note.

After more than a year of following him, talking to him, and understanding who Jeonghan was and what his stage persona was, you knew that it was not the emotions he was feeling. Although the man could be very humble at times, he wasn’t to that extent. He wouldn’t be on his knees for a full minute.

That’s when you saw coach run to the ice, two paramedics right behind him.

You rush down the bleachers, trying to see what’s happening on the ice while trying not to fall face first. The coach talked with Jeonghan, and whatever the older man said got a reply and Jeonghan shook his head. You didn’t know what he’s saying.

I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not in pain. I’m just tired.

Those are the words you wished he said, on just a collection of them

Vernon took the camera and did a run down of the crowd before turning it to Jeonghan, still on his knees. You didn’t know what to do. The two of them were right behind you, Vernon and Seungkwan, their footsteps way too loud for you to notice that the crowd had finally stopped cheering, finally noticing that the situation wasn’t as good as they first expected it to be.

Your eyes never really left Jeonghan. The only thought going through your mind at that moment was to get to him as fast as possible, to hold his hand. That simple action wouldn’t mean much, you knew that, and you would do it more for yourself than for him. But you liked to think that in such a moment, he would want you by his side.

The paramedics raised Jeonghan, his arms around their shoulders while they carried him out of the ring. One of his feet slides with ease, while he holds the other one up in a weird position, slightly tilted back.

That’s when you knew. The issue on his ankle. He took it too far with the performance and practices, landing on it time and time again.

You stopped in your tracks and turned around. You pressed your hand on the lens of Vernon’s camera pushing it until he finally lowered it.

“Stop filming, right now” it wasn’t a request, your voice wasn’t kind. It was an order, one you needed him to follow “From now on, nothing gets filmed”

Vernon looked confused, his eyes darting to Seungkwan, as if asking for help in a way.

“But it’s our job,” he said.

You shook your head.

“Our job, what we needed to film, ended the second he landed that jump. Now it’s not the time to record him”

Seungkwan understands what you’re saying, he too pressed a hand on Vernon’s camera, pushing it even further down, shaking his head and his friends looked at him worried.

You turned away from them, eyes immediately falling on Jeonghan.

For a moment you thought that they wouldn't let you through. Security had no idea of who you were. So why would they let a strange woman be anywhere near the athlete? But they did let you through. You didn’t know how, you didn't know why, but you also didn’t dare to question.

They just moved out of the way, making a path for you. You followed the coach back to the locker rooms, ignoring the fact that you shouldn’t be there, not in the male one anyway.

You finally reached Jeonghan. His face was pale, paler than usual, his lips were turning purple.

“Jeonghan” his name leaves your lips in a breath.

He reached a hand for you once the paramedics laid him down on a stretcher.

“Baby,” he said, voice barely above a whisper “I did it. Did you see it?”

You pushed his hair away from his forehead, surprised with his cold sweat.

“You did it, you were fantastic”

He smiled at you, his eyes not really focusing on you or on anything else.

“I think I broke something,” he said, voice low “I don’t know, it just hurts. A lot”

You looked at his coach, the man didn’t know either, but his eyes were focused on Jeonghan's ankle. Your eyes move to the paramedic, who as carefully as possible trying to remove his skates.

The doctor that accompanied Jeonghan since the surgery finally approached him. The man too looked as white as a candle.

Jeonghan had finally taken it too far.

“You cut your hair, '' you said, as you tucked your legs under your thighs, sitting comfortably on the fluff carpet in Jeonghan’s living room.

Seungkwan stood behind you and by his side was Vernon. It was the place where it all started, so it seemed fitting that it also ended there.

Jeonghan nodded, running his hand through the loose strands. You drummed your fingers over your thighs, thinking about how just a couple of hours before you were playing with his hair while he had his head on your belly because your stomach is being noisy and I want to sleep when you told him he could move, he just hugged your waist tighter rubbing his face on your skin nope.

“I thought it would be a good change” he pouted a little, unconsciously “I still need to get used to it.”

Why did you think it would be a good change?”

He narrowed his eyes for a second. He had that conversation with you before. For a moment he forgot that the version of you he talked with was his girlfriend, not the documentarist sitting in front of him.

“I started to grow my hair after the whole incident with the press” he made a dismissive gesture with his hand “I think I sort of wanted to hide from them and the hair helped a lot. In a way, I think a new haircut symbolizes a new start? You know, now that I’m no longer an athlete”

You nodded, smiling at him. It always took his breath away, your smile. He loved the way you had been constantly smiling around him, the frown that seemed to have a permanent stay between your eyebrows when you first met was nowhere in sight.

“How does it feel, being retired?”

“If you asked me that four years ago, I’d say that it sounded like my words nightmare. But now after so many injuries and surgeries, it felt like the timing was right. If you think about it, the way it ended for me was pretty epic”

Jeonghan matched your smile as the memories started to flood his mind. The way he almost blacked out due to the pain in his ankle, the way the crowd screamed so loudly and he refused to believe that it was because of him, at least not until Bumzu came back to his side, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“You fucking idiot of a human, you did it”

You had kissed his temple multiple times, telling him how brave he was, how strong he was. "Most people would have walked away before even getting on the rink” you had said later that night after all of you had finally gotten back from the hospital. Jeonghan was prohibited from using his foot and needed to have surgery once again after the worst part of the swelling subsided.

He remembers refusing to be taken away to get his ankle checked until he saw with his own eyes that he had won. He was carried out by Bumzu and Joshua despite the doctor’s cries that he should be taken to the hospital. You followed the three of them close behind.

Jeonghan smiled at the screen hanging from the roof. His name stood at the top of the list, in big letters, the number one attached to it.

As he stood on the podium, gold medal around his neck, Jeonghan saw you clamming and screaming, a huge smile on your face as tears ran down your cheeks. He had finally gotten his wish, to see you being as eloquent as possible, cheering for him.

“Most people would agree with you”

“I feel bad about making my family worry though. But they understand, I think”

His sister has screamed at him over the phone, angry that he asked them not to go watch him — mostly because he was scared to have them there while he failed — that he never told them about his injuries. But also happy for him. Truthfully he didn’t understand some of what she said, talking while crying was not her forte.

You looked back at Seungkwan over your shoulder and both of you nodded. Jeonghan watched as you closed the small notebook in your hands and put it aside.

“This is the last question of this documentary, so make your answer a good one, okay?” you said teasingly “Now that you can’t skate again, what are your plans for the future?”

Saying that Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to skate again was maybe a little exaggeration. Sure, there was no way he’d ever be able to compete again — nor did he wanted to —, but maybe after he was all healed he could do it again just for fun. That wasn’t something he was going to say directly at you. You had gotten worried after his new injury that even conversations about past competitions made you shiver, it had gotten so bad that you had nightmares about him getting hurt again and in those his end was never quite as good or epic as the one he actually got. So Jeonghan thought that it was for the best to not talk about it, at least for the time being while he still hadn’t been cleared by his doctor.

“With my career?” he bit his lip, truly thinking about it “For now, nothing. I’ve been competing for almost twenty years, in the rink for about 22 years, I think I deserve to stop and just not do anything for a while. In my personal life, I want to spend some time with my family, which is something that I always skipped because practice was just more important. I haven’t spent a birthday with them in years”

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes on you.

“I have a girlfriend, right. And she had this little notebook, I think she might be a little obsessed with notebooks and pens, and everything stationary related” he whispered the last part making you roll your eyes “She writes in those places she wants to go to. So, if I can convince her to take a few vacation days, I want to take her to those places”

“You suck,” you said.

“You didn’t seem to…”

Seungkwan took a step forward and blocked the view of the camera, his eyes wide.

“Okay, that’s a wrap everyone! Thank you!”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @tomodachiii, @sofix-hc7, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @shuabby1994, @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan, @plumings, @shuasdrafts, @aaasia111, @dreamsbloomout, @maewhore, @sea-moon-star, @roguesthetic, @writingbarnes, @strawberryroseee, @lovely-ficsfor-me, @jjeongddol, @whoa-jo

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

457 notes · View notes