#I have dreamed about this for such a long time

[sandflakedraws]

continuing thoughts from This Dream AU

re : why it might have taken the gang a while to find Bruce & Floyd

how about i erase just a little bit of the plot convenience from TBT

what if, bruce's postcard didn't survive unscathed, and they had to go off of john dory's foggy memory of the thing.

so like. they're stumbling their way through a bunch of could-be-heres before they hit on the correct one.

and what if, the Vacay Resort section was legit hard to find.

like, the entire island chain is still at Vacaytioner scale, right? so even if the search party's idea to eventually look there was right, it could still take a long time to navigate thru the tropical jungle on any individual island, let alone many of them.

.... aaaaand what if i drew way too much for a potential reunion anyways because i'm a sap

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.1

summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive themes! swearing! ‘enemies’ to lovers. probably my last sunny vacation fic for a while! get ready for winter fics!! cmt to be tagged in pt. 2 <3

word count : 4570

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Y/n!” Kika throws a pillow onto me. I groan in response, pulling the blanket over my head, “Get up! Get up! We’re leaving in thirty!”

I fall off the bed and start my rushed process of getting ready, we’re in Marmaris, Turkey for a little holiday. A holiday that I've been promised is for friends, yet every friend I have is with a man.

Kika, Alex, Rebecca, and Lily promised they would act like single ladies with me! That’s clearly not true because of the love they have for their boyfriends and how those same men never leave their sides.

The only other addition is someone I don’t want to talk about. Someone who’s a pain in my ass and the construction to my headache.

I’m instantly in a better mood when my friends and I start taking photos and making tik toks. I’m in a light blue dress and sandals, my skin is practically yearning to be tan but that will start tomorrow.

I have my own hotel room which I intend to spend no time in unless I'm hooking up with a hot turkish man. Lily holds my hand as we start walking. The guys said they would meet us there and I’ll never not treasure time with my girls.

The sun has already set but the sky is still a dark blue and orange. Lily squeals next to me, she’s in the cutest white mini dress, “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Kika laughs in a long yellow dress, “The trip literally made it out of the group chat!”

I eye them, “More like it was infiltrated by another groups chat!” Alex laughs and puts her hand on my arm.

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know you’re a little sad but we’ll find you someone!”

“It’s not even that- I just want to be with you guys.” They all seem a bit sad about it. It’s not like I don’t like their boyfriends, I consider them my friends too! It’s just that I was really looking forward to some much needed girl time.

“You are with us!” Alexandra frowns.

Lily swings are hands, “You’re with us and five other idiots who have money!”

This makes me laugh as we make it to the restaurant. It’s beautiful, part of the hotel, and looking right over the water.

The guys are already sitting. Charles, Pierre, Alex, Carlos all smile at me, kissing their girls as we sit. There is one missing, though. It’s hard to ignore but I'm definitely not complaining.

Drinks are ordered and our thoughts about the hotel is passed around. I became friends with this group through Lily, we grew up together and when Alex suggested I should come to a grand prix, I was hooked.

The other girls took to me immediately and were so excited to have another friend that they actually like. I don’t travel as much as them, but I do see them often enough.

We haven’t gotten together in a group like this though in forever!

I sip on my cocktail and talk to Carlos as his eyes stray past me. I turn to look at what he’s distracted by and have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

You know those people who just really piss you off? The type that just irks you even though you’ve tried to hear your friends out?

That is how I feel about Lando Norris.

He strolls up to our table as if he isn’t late. He’s in blue jeans and a white button down that’s definitely not buttoned enough. His hair is messy and looks like he just woke up, “Hey.” Is all he says before plopping down next to Carlos and sipping his water.

Rebecca already sends me a look that screams, ‘Leave it.’ So I do, I order my food and talk to my friends while avoiding the man two seats down from me.

It’s not just that Lando bugs me, It’s that he’s repeatedly cocky and flat out annoying. He teases me any chance he gets and it never fails to ruin my day. He knows it too.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he puts his arm around Kikas chair, everyone’s food is nearly gone and I'm more than ready to climb into my plushy hotel bed.

Alex holds Lily’s hand, “Beach, explore, eat? That’s also my plan for every day of our trip.”

Charles nods, “My buddy has a boat out here that he said we can borrow one day.”

I smile and lean my head on Kika’s shoulder, “I'll be anywhere you guys go, with a book and an apple.”

“You still into that?” His voice already pisses me off. I look at Lando who’s staring at me, “Reading.”

I blink. “Are you still into being illiterate?”

Charles covers his laugh with a cough as Alexandra shakes her head, “Hey! You two need to keep it civil this trip.”

Carlos eyes Lando pointedly as he groans, “Why? I didn’t even do anything! The witch said I was illiterate!”

I sit up straighter immediately, leaning over Carlos as my friends talk in a haze around me, “You really wanna see a witch, Norris, I’ll fucking show you!”

“The worst thing you could do to me is throw sand in my face!” I groan as he rolls his eyes and Kika pulls me back into my seat.

“This is what we’re talking about!” When she whispers is when I realize the people dining around us are staring.

“It’s one week!” Pierre shakes his head, “One week of peace!”

I don’t dare look at Lando, my arms crossed.

He gives in peace, “I won’t start anything if she won’t.”

“Perfect, I'll have a great trip of silence.” Fine by me. I can ignore him for a week, easy.

Lily and Rebecca exchange looks as Lando speaks again, “It’ll be nice not hearing your-” Carlos slaps his arm and he shuts up.

I sigh in my seat, this is going to be an interesting week.

⋆༺

I start off my first full day with breakfast. I’m up early and decided to make the most of it by enjoying my food with a beach view.

I grin when I see that there’s two pieces of bacon left, grabbing them swiftly and plopping it onto my plate just when someone goes to reach for it.

I look up to see Lando. He’s sweaty and in running clothes, looking at me annoyed per usual, “Seriously? Who takes the last two pieces?”

I raise a brow, “Me. You literally just saw me do it.”

He gives me a bored expression, “Didn’t you ever get taught manners?”

“I got taught how to get what I want.” I bite into the piece of bacon just to watch him flinch. “Weren’t you taught that it’s not nice to be insufferable?”

“Can’t you share? It’s one piece.” I take another bite, pretending to think.

“Hm… No!”

“We’re supposed to be civil. Friends even!” He steps closer, “I know you would give the piece to Lily.”

“You’re too greedy.” I finish the first piece of bacon and start to walk away. He scoffs and follows me.

“Me!? Greedy?” He scoffs, plate still in hand. I eye it, it’s mostly empty except for a nutella crepe, “You know what- never mind.”

I nod, “Great job being civil, Norris. I’m so proud of you and you for giving up.”

He does not find this funny, “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit.” His eyes narrow at my words.

“Fuck it, Free will!” and with that, he grabs the piece of bacon off my plate and runs!

“Norris!” I yell after him but when he turns, he’s smiling with a mouth full of bacon. “Dickhead.” I mumble to myself and continue getting my food.

⋆༺

I’m warm, I'm tipsy, and I'm listening to live music. I don’t think life could get any better. I sit up on my beachside chair, lifting my sunglasses to see Lily, Alex, Charles, and Alexandra playing chicken in the water.

Kika stirs next to me, she was asleep on her stomach but slowly sits up when she hears our friends laughing.

I watch Lando and Pierre floating and Carlos swimming towards them. Rebecca went to get drinks so that just leaves Kika and I.

“How’s the whole ‘civil’ thing going?” She’s in an orange bikini that makes her look unfairly tan.

I shrug, “Bad? I just can’t imagine talking to him normally. We always fight.” I sip my drink, the glass coats my hand in condensation but it cools me down.

“Maybe you should just fuck.” I choke on my drink. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her laugh, “Sorry, Sorry!”

“Kika!” I slow my breathing, “Why would you say that!?”

“It makes sense! You’ve got a lot of pent up energy… I’m just saying!” I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down again. “I know you’re attracted to him.”

I pray that she thinks my cheeks are red from the sun, and not from her words. “I am not.”

“You can't lie to me!” She laughs, “It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. You both just need to shut up for two seconds and get eachother shirtless.” Lily walks up right as she says that.

She plops down onto the sand, “Whatever this is about- I agree!”

“She’s trying to get me to- Nope! I’m not even going to say it!” I can’t have that manifestation in my life.

“I think she should hook up with Lando.”

“Completely agree. Just make it quick.”

“If he’s with her, he’s gonna be quick.” Kika jokes and I actually laugh at that one.

“Okay enough! I’m not taking any advice from you two!” I stand, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and starting down the beach.

“Think about it!” Lily yells as I flip her off.

Now all I can think about is hooking up with him. I mean, I hate the dude, but I’m not blind.

Lando is fucking fit. But it’s hard for me to see past his assholeness. So the probability that i’m going to fuck him, is slim. Very slim. Like ZERO.

Just as I'm off in my Lando Norris shirtless world, a shirtless Lando Norris walks up to me. He’s exiting the ocean, pushing his wet curls back as he laughs with Carlos.

I look away as soon as I get a glimpse of his torso. The cool water feels great on my legs as I walk in the ocean. I sink down and dunk my head, opening my eyes underwater, I see the tiny fish and shells.

I reach down and grab a handful of sand, when I get air again, Carlos and Lando are next to me. I push the sand off my hand to reveal some shells and a tiny crab, “Aw!” I smile at it, showing it to the boys.

Carlos raises his brows, “Looks harmful.”

“Harmful?” I glance at him, “He’s a baby!” I hold it closer to him and he backs away like it’s going to jump on him.

I turn to Lando and do the same, he backs away as well, “Pussy.” I say it to his face and he clearly takes it as a challenge.

He holds his hand out and snatches the crab right from my hand, “Are you just a thief by nature?”

He gives me a look before bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the sea creature. I step closer to see it, “It’s adorable.”

“It’s a crab.”

“Thank you, Norris, for your insightful words of wisdom.” I go to take it back from him but he jumps and throws his hand down.

I let out a huge laugh when I realized it’s holding onto his thumb, “Shit! Ow!”

I keep laughing as Lando panics, swinging his hand around to try to get it off. Carlos is long gone by now, not amused by his friends' antics.

The crab finally unclips itself from Lando and he looks like he was just betrayed. I grin, “Maybe I am a witch!”

He looks me up and down, holding his hand and thinking. “If you call me a bitch that crab won’t be the worst thing that hurts you today.”

And then something weird happens.

He smiles.

He just smiles and walks away.

⋆༺

LANDO

Marmaris is stunning. The water is clear and besides me getting bitten, I'm having a great time. We end up going into town to get lunch and I'm faced with the issue of Y/n’s ass in my face as we walk up what feels like a million stairs.

I really feel like she’s doing this on purpose but I could be thinking that to just make myself feel better about checking her out.

She’s in tiny low waisted jean shorts. I can see her bikini bottoms peeking out from the sides. Her top is a crocheted cover up so her sliver of a bathing suit is still on display.

Carlos pushes my back when I slow down on the steps, I turn around to swear at him but he’s giving me an all knowing look so I close my mouth.

After what feels like hours of staring at Y/n’s backside, we make it to the lunch place. It’s hidden quite far up and we all get cramped into the room with a huge window and a view of lemon trees.

With our stupidly coupled up group, I'm forced to sit with Y/n. She’s across from me, sipping on her water and leaning on the table with her arms crossed.

When she notices I'm staring at her, she glares at me. I can tell she’s about to say something snappy, but eyes our friends and shuts her mouth.

As much as she pissed me off, I find it fun to annoy her. I like the way her cheeks heat and how her lips press together, but I would never admit that to her.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Carlos asks me while shoveling food into his mouth.

“Yeah and the gym- it’s nice.”

“And quiet?” I nod, knowing what he means. Five Formula 1 drivers on vacation together is pretty hard to miss. But besides a stare or two, no one has said anything to us.

Lily claps her hands together, “Who wants to go golfing with me on wed-”

Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands, “No!” Kika looks horrified at the suggestion as well.

“Yes!” Carlos and I say at the same time. Lily has been a great addition to our golfing group and by far the best out of the three of us.

Rebecca laughs, “I’m with Y/n on this one. I’m feeling… spa?” This immediately perks Y/n up.

“That sounds perfect!” Alex smiles, “Girls day! Minus Lily because she’s actually good at a sport.”

Charles eyes us all, “I wanna go to the spa. I hate golfing.”

⋆༺

YOU

When Rebecca suggested we take a cooking class, I thought it was a great idea! I’m not the best cook so why not learn something? I had a bad feeling as soon as we entered and the room was decorated with hearts.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A man ushers us in along with two other groups. The room is large with one wall completely open and facing the beach. “Everybody get a table and we shall begin!”

“I knew I missed something on the website…” Alex cringes as we stare at the tables set for two, “Sorry? Lando, careful with Y/n and knives!”

A couples cooking class!? You’ve got to be kidding. I look at Lando the same time he turns to me, “Well, love… Let me handle the sharp things. I value my life.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

“My lovely people in love!” The man is short, with gray hair and the biggest smile I've seen in a while, “My name is Ali and today we begin making the dough for Kemal Pasha!” Apparently the kind we���re making is sweet balls of dough with a very delicious sounding syrup.

I’m standing next to Lando who’s struggling with his apron. They have huge heart pockets and his is bright green. As fun as it is to see him struggle, I want to start cooking soon.

“Give me that.” I swat his hands away and step behind him, taking the pieces of fabric and tying a knot.

“Thank you, Sweetness.” I suspect that this teasing won’t end soon, considering the man teaching the class asked everyone what their names were and put a name tag on each table of the couples ‘ship’ name.

I tie it tight and he flinches, “Hey my girl is trying to kill me!” I roll my eyes and loosen the bow, listening to the man and thanking the woman who’s walking around to make sure everything is correct.

I pour in all the ingredients and Lando starts stirring. I look around at all the couples, they’re doing everything together while looking all lovey dovey.

It makes me miss my ex. Which is weird because we barely acted like this alone. But still, seeing Alex and Lily laugh with flour already on their faces makes me sad.

“Angel!” Lando calls for me again as I put my hand on my hip. He has his hand out that’s covered in white powder, “C’mere!”

“No!” I back up but he’s already pulling me in and squeezing my face. I frown, my face squished between his hand as he laughs. I can feel the flour covering my face. I put on a slow smile when he drops his hand, “Aw, love bug!”

Nothing about my tone is loving and I can tell he’s not excited by the way his face drops. “Now darling…” He backs away as I pour some of the flour from the container into my hand, “I told you i’ll let you lick food off of me later, not here!”

I scoff at his audacity and throw the flour right into his face. When he opens his eyes, I slap my hands over my mouth. His whole face is white and when he breathes out, some comes out of his mouth.

I hold back a laugh as he stares at me, along with the rest of the room, “Oh baby… you’ve got a little.” I motion to his whole face, “Just a little something right there.”

“Er…” The man blinks at us, “True love comes in many forms!” He laughs uncomfortably as we get back to mixing our dough.

“That was not a fair move, Love.” Lando whispers to me as I knead the dough between my hands. His face is wiped off but the flour still resides a bit in his hair and cheeks.

“All's fair in love and war.” I say sweetly.

“Alright ladies, If your man isn’t helping you with his big strong muscles…” Ali eyes us, “Remind them who you are! Men, help your women!”

I turn back at Lando, looking up at the driver, “Do you need reminding?”

He just bites his lip and turns me back around, his hands on my waist. That, I did not expect. My hands go back to the dough in the bowl and his arms move into view, copying the other couples and massaging the treat with me.

I swallow and eye the veins in his arms that go all the way to his hands. His very big hands. The same hands that softly reach over mine.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he matches my movements. I try to not think about how close he is to me, and focus on the dough but fuck that because I can feel him behind me.

I move back a bit unconsciously and his hand goes to waist to stop me, “Do you need reminding?” His voice is deep in my ear and I fight the urge to roll my eyes even though I know my cheeks are hot.

I thank god when Ali says we will be moving onto rolling the dough into little balls.

I swiftly move away from Lando and don’t dare look at Alex or Kika who I know is looking at us. I start rolling the dough in between my hands.

Lando glances at me, his balls sort of uneven and too small, “Your balls are ugly.” Lando chokes on air and whips his head around to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone and show him one of mine, “Ah so you’re a ball expert? Working from experience?”

He’s so childish it makes me want to throw one of these at him. Sadly, I'm not above acting suggestively, “Never worked with any so small.” I shrug as he stares at me. That shuts him up really quick as we place them on a round baking sheet.

We take a short break while they bake and I venture outside, looking over the balcony to the sea far below us.

My skin feels rejuvenated by the sun, I’m tanner and I swear the air is just different here. Alex appears next to me, he looks quite happy, “Having fun?”

I shrug and realize that I actually have been. “Uh… yeah.”

“You know, I think everyone else thinks you’re a real couple. It’s cute.” I gape at him. Is Alexander Albon betraying me right now?

“It is not cute. He’s bullying me.” He just snorts.

“Sure…”

I frown when Ali calls us back in. Lando and I are mostly quiet while stirring our syrup. As it boils, he nudges me. I look up to see him watching another couple.

They’re practically making out and feeling eachother up. I let out a laugh that his eyes widened at, “You’re so not inconspicuous.” He whispers, leaning down a bit.

“They are definitely not paying any attention to me…” They’re so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even notice when Ali turns their mini stove top off so their sauce doesn’t burn.

He looks down at me one last time, sending me a tiny smile. I think it’s the first time I'm genuinely attracted to him when his shirt is still on. Shit.

⋆༺

LANDO

Besides Y/n trying to kill me with the dessert we made, we were civil throughout the rest of the class. We get to take home a small box which leaves everyone in a good mood.

“Here, pretty, I don’t think I can eat that without feeling sick.” I don’t mean to call her that, but I just say what comes to my mind. I hand her the box and takes it without any change of expression.

I’m ready to leave but Ali claps his hands together one more time, “My lovebirds!” Y/n gives me a look that I laugh at, “One more gift for a very special couple of… well, couples!”

He pulls out three pieces of paper. Handing one to the couple that was making out he says, “Most affectionate!”

Then he turns to Pierre and Kila and hands them one, “Best dessert!” I realize these papers are some typos of superlatives.

I think he’s going to go to Charles and Alexandra, but he turns to Y/n and I. A big grin on his face, he hands me a paper. I read it before he says it and my eyes widen, “The most authentic love!” I don’t look at her, I can’t.

“I hope one day you all come back!” And with that, we’re ushered back and stripped of our aprons.

Y/n is already walking down the marble steps with Lily and Rebecca next to her. Carlos just shakes his head and slaps his hand on my shoulder, “Man… Congratulations!”

I eye him as Alex laughs, “I’m framing that!”

⋆༺

YOU

Six hours later, i’m in a tiny white dress, my hair curled and makeup done, and on my way with Rebecca and Alex to a club.

Everyone’s already left but Alex took extra long to slick back her hair. “So!” Rebecca grins as we walk past the beach, “Plan for tonight? Hook up with a local? Make out on the beach?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, “I’ll see where the night and vodka takes me! I really just need a hot dance partner and a good drink.”

And that’s exactly what I get. I get my drink and well.. many hot dance partners! My friends and I scream the lyrics of the songs we know, holding hands and jumping around.

The club is part of the resort we’re staying at. It’s half on the beach and half in the beach bar that has a 24 hour drink service. I laugh at the guys who are awkwardly waiting for their girls to join them again.

“Okay, go, go!” They leave me at the bar and as soon as they’re gone, a man approaches me.

He’s very tall and very blonde, “Hi.” he’s got an accent but I can’t tell from where, “I couldn’t help but notice you dancing…” I listen to the same line that a hundred guys have fed me before. “Could I buy you a drink?”

Now this is what I like! Ten minutes later I'm dancing with him and a vodka lemonade. His hands are on my waist as I laugh.

He’s hot against me, his hair sweaty and salty. His name is Leon and he really likes my dress. I have a feeling he would like me without it too.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” He asks, screaming in my ear.

I nod, “Are you?”

“I’m staying in town with a friend!” I nod and sip my drink as he talks, “Do you know him?” I frown at his words, turning to see who he’s talking about.

I roll my eyes at Lando who’s standing with a pretty girl but staring at me. I turn back to Leon, “No!”

He looks like this annoys him, “Well i’m not surprised! You’re hot!” I nod as the music continues and keep dancing with him.

He turns me around so he’s staring at my ass instead of my face. But I just slip my fingers into my hair and keep dancing. I open my eyes to see Lando again. The girl is still talking but he’s still staring at me.

I run my middle finger around the rim of my glass, the sugar lifting onto my skin. His expression stays dark and focused on me as his hand goes to his jeans pocket. I lift my finger to lips, licking off the sugar without breaking eye contact.

He brings his drink to his lips and that’s when I realize I've had a bit too much to drink because he looks too damn hot.

He’s in a light blue shirt, his silver rings and LN4 necklace sat on his skin like it belongs there. His hair is damp with I don’t know with what… sweat, water, or the air, I don’t care. His jaw ticks at Leon’s hand moves from my waist to my stomach, my head dropping back on his shoulder, and spinning back around.

He kisses me, it’s messy and drunken but I don’t care. It’s only when he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” When I'm massively turned off.

I end up back with my friends, Lando nowhere in sight and a smile on my face as we sit at the bar and drink.

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: A lot of mood and scene setting—just vibe with it, MC is in her sad girl era, hints of depression and anxiety, masturbation, Yoongi is a new dad y’all he is tireddd af

Word count: almost 6k

Posting date: November 12, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look. 

It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer. 

You still did it, though. Both times. 

Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.

Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.

Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)

When Namjoon leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.

“So, you know Yoongi, right?”

You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”

“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”

Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something. 

You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag. 

God you’re literally already about to break. 

“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”

He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”

The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “Joon. What are you getting me into?”

Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction. 

Woah. Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.

You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”

“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s a great dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”

“And his wife?”

Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”

“Baby mama?”

“Out of the picture.”

You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you asking me?”

Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”

You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.

“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”

You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. Namjoon knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, especially when he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.

Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.

But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?

It’s probably a terrible idea. 

Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on… 

You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe that’s reason enough.

The next time you see Yoongi, it’s at HYBE’s massive rehearsal space. Namjoon had invited you to watch the group practice—innocent enough, though you know it’s also his way of nudging you toward the job. Joon thinks he’s subtle, but you know his plans are, more often than not, clunky as hell.

You settle in one corner, holding on to your half-finished iced Americano. A few staff are scattered around the studio, there was another girl (maybe a member’s girlfriend, you’re not sure), but it’s mostly empty. The boys are warming up, stretching or chatting, and you wave to Jungkook and Taehyung before finding yourself glancing toward Yoongi.

Wearing an all black outfit and a baseball cap, he’s standing off to the side, arms full with a fussy baby, and a bassinet stroller in front of him. The boy can’t be more than a few months shy of his first birthday. He’s close to tears, twisting and squirming, while Yoongi, visibly flustered, tries to hand him a toy, then a bottle, then anything he can find. Nothing works. Soon, the baby’s fuss turns into a full-on tantrum.

Oh, damn. Poor Yoongi. 

He drops the bottle, spilling milk across the floor just as the stroller, half-locked, rolls a few feet away. He lunges for it, fumbling as the baby’s wailing intensifies, tiny fists flailing in frustration. Yoongi’s eyes dart around, panicked, while a couple of female staff start toward him, hands outstretched. But he waves them off, his face set in a mix of fierce determination and mild desperation as he rocks and hushes the baby.

It honestly hurts to watch the scene unfold. You almost want to do something.

Namjoon starts clearing people out, Jimin dims the studio lights, and Seokjin picks up the spilled bottle, wiping down the floor. Hobi taps a white noise track on his phone, placing it near the stroller. Your heart warms at how effortlessly everyone pitches in, their movements so practiced it’s obvious they’ve done this before. But it makes you wonder just how many rehearsals have paused for these moments. It’s probably why Namjoon wants to help find a solution, a.k.a you.

You meet your best friend’s gaze and he cocks his head toward the door, signaling for you to file out with the others, but your feet take you somewhere else entirely.

“Is he okay?” you ask, approaching Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t hear you at first, too focused on calming his son. His face is etched with exhaustion and something fragile, an uncharacteristic crack in his calm. He finally glances up, half-exasperated. To your mild relief, a look of recognition crosses his face, before he replies, “Yeah, he’s��he’s usually not this fussy.”

You watch him struggle for a bit, then, before you can second-guess, you step forward. “Do you mind if I try?”

Yoongi hesitates, studying you like he’s weighing the decision to trust you with his son. His eyes flick towards Namjoon who was standing by the door, before it goes back to you. After a tense pause, he nods, handing the baby over.

You hold the little boy, shifting him gently away from the mirrors and bright lights, rocking him slowly and humming an old lullaby you used to sing for your preschoolers. Gradually, his cries quiet down, his tiny head resting against your shoulder as he begins to relax, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.

When you glance up, Yoongi is watching, his face unreadable. There’s relief, yes, but also a quiet wonder, an almost surprised gratitude. 

“I owe you,” he murmurs, a softness in his voice you hadn’t expected.

“‘S ok,” you say, quietly, careful not to wake the baby.

The two of you stand there, his eyes on you for just a beat too long, and if you didn’t have the baby to ground you, you feel like you just might float.

“Thank you,” he says, tone soft and sincere.

From across the room, Namjoon watches, his eyes mirroring the same gratitude.

The call from Yoongi comes unexpectedly one evening, just after dinner. You don’t recognize the number, then again you don’t have a lot of +82s yet since you just moved back after many years of being in the States. The last thing you expect is to hear Yoongi’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s…Min Yoongi,” he starts, voice a little rough.

“Oh, hi.”

There’s a short silence, and then he clears his throat. “Namjoonie mentioned you uh might… be interested in helping with my son.”

You feel a strange flutter, both at the fact that Yoongi is talking to you, and at the fact that he’s asking something so personal. “Uh, yeah. I can help out.”

The pause is long enough that you imagine him somewhere, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he finally says, sounding almost apologetic. “I don’t want to… impose or anything. But it would help. A lot.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you,” You hear Yoongi release a sigh of relief. Then he says the next phrase in a rush, “I know you are overqualified for this, so uh please let me compensate you with your salary as a teacher in America.”

You feel your face flush. Thank god this was not a video call. Seems you’re as uncomfortable as he is talking about money, though it is a necessary evil. “Oh, no, please Yoongi. You don’t have to. Joonie’s my bestfriend and you’re his brother. I can just help until you can find a more permanent solution.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with you on this. You hear a puff of breath before he says. “Alright. Thank you.”

And just like that, you’re set. He gives you the address, and you’re left wondering for the rest of the night how you’ll manage this strange new gig.

The first day you arrive at Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam-dong, you’re a bundle of nerves, unsure what to expect. 

After you ring the bell, the door opens to reveal Yoongi with his usual reserved expression, a piece of muslin cloth draped on one shoulder.

“Hi,” he says simply, stepping aside to let you in.

You offer him a smile. “Hey.”

He closes the door behind you as you step inside. You look around, taking everything in.

The apartment is spacious but cozy, with a warmth that speaks of careful design—minimalistic furniture in muted colors, shelves lined with books and vinyl records, a few baby toys strewn around the living room. Homey.

This is the first time you get to really see Yoongi. The brief encounter at the rehearsal studio didn’t afford you the chance to appreciate how time has treated him. 

Seeing him after six years, he’s both the same and somehow different. He has always had that calm confidence—a steady, grounded energy that feels both nostalgic and new. His usually colorful hair, now in its natural hue, casually frames his face. He wears a simple white tee and you can tell the noodle arms are gone. His shoulders are much broader, arms stronger than how you remember him. The silver earrings are still there, subtle reminders of his edginess, softened by time.

But beneath it all, there’s a layer of, hmm… exhaustion, you guess? A shadow under his eyes, faint lines hinting at the weight of sleepless nights. His lips are chapped, there’s a tiny red bump on his chin. He’s a new dad, he hasn’t prioritized himself for a while. Still, his face carries a tenderness in the fatigue, like he’s tired, but happy.

“He’s napping right now,” Yoongi clears his throat, motioning toward a small crib by the window, where his son is sleeping peacefully, bundled in soft blankets. 

“You haven’t told me his name.”

“Haneul.”

“That’s beautiful,” you reply, and Yoongi nods, almost shy.

He hesitates, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. Then he says your name. “I… um, I didn’t know how this would go. His last caretaker was actually my aunt, but she got sick and had to go back home.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that.”

He nods, “But after seeing how he calmed down with you… I think he’ll be alright.”

He gives you a tour of his apartment, the baby monitor clipped in his jean pocket. His place is modern, spacious, baby-proofed. There are pictures that line the walls of the hallway linking the nursery, his studio, guest room, guest bath, and the masters.

You spend some time going through Haneul’s things—familiarizing yourself with the layout of the nursery. He shows you where the baby food and snacks are. Talks about his favorite toys and activities. 

While he downloads the 101 on Haneul, the one thing you were curious to know was, where is his birth mom? You obviously don’t want to be a prick so you swallow the question down. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. But for now, you just need to know where the baby wipes are.

For the first few days that you come over, Yoongi keeps close, hovering just within earshot as you ease into the cadence of his son’s needs. He’s there with his arms folded, watching as you handle Haneul, a cautious yet respectful distance. You get it though. You’re a virtual stranger he just let into his home and his son’s life. Who wouldn’t be guarded?

You quickly notice that Haneul has a sweet temperament, but has a bit of a sensitive side. He doesn’t take to loud sounds, so you keep your voice low and movements gentle, singing him lullabies and nursery rhymes under your breath while Yoongi quietly observes, even if he pretends to be engrossed with something else.

On your third day, Yoongi has to leave to attend an important meeting at HYBE. He’s been pacing by the door, making sure his son is settled before he goes, even though you’re right there, holding the baby with practiced ease.

“Are you sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as if still convincing himself to leave.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Go. I got him. He’ll be fine.”

He hesitates one last time, eyes fixed on you, and then he finally gives a small nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as the door closes, you’re left with the quiet hum of the apartment and a very awake, very curious baby in your arms. You spend the next hour rocking him and singing songs, amazed at how easily he settles, almost as if he’s known you longer than a few days.

After his nap, you take a video of the babbling Haneul enjoying his yogurt gems and send it to Yoongi. He replies almost immediately with a smiley emoji and a curt: cute.

Yoongi returns around dinnertime right as you’ve settled the baby down in his bed. He steps inside the nursery quietly, watching as you tuck the blanket around his son. When you look up, he’s standing there, holding two cups of steaming liquid.

“I, uh… thought you might want some tea,” he says, looking slightly awkward but endearing.

“Always.” You take the mug with a grateful smile. “How was your meeting?”

“Could’ve been an email,” He shrugs and stuffs the empty hand inside his pocket.

You grin as you take a sip, remembering how you’ve always enjoyed his dry sense of humor, in the rare occasions you hung out in the past. Ooh, this tea is… your favorite.

“Silver moon?” you asked.

He nodded, “There’s a TWG shop that just opened near the office. Namjoonie might have mentioned it was your favorite, so.”

Your ears warm up just as well as your throat as you savor another drink.

“How was Haneul? Did he give you a hard time?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head, looking over to the little angel. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know.”

“I can’t imagine handling a whole classroom full of them,” he says, looking at you with a mix of admiration and amusement. “One’s hard enough.”

“You’re lucky to have him,” you reply wistfully, suddenly feeling a tug at your heartstrings. ‘What I would give…’ you almost utter out loud.

The thing is, you actually do, without realizing it. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi files the thought away, a subject he might bring up one day—when the time comes that he thinks you trust him, too.

The days blur into a steady rhythm. You arrive in some afternoons, not really everyday, only when Yoongi needs the extra hand at home or if he needs to leave the house for a day of rehearsals. You both establish that this is merely a favor so he doesn’t treat you like you’re at his every beck and call. Usually it starts with a short message in Kakao, and if you’re free, he would send a car to pick you up. Your meals are always ready, delivered on the dot. Conveniences are always within your reach—your favorite tea, extra clothes in case there are food or poop blow-outs, etc. The cleaning lady that goes thrice a week, Mrs. Kwon sometimes keeps you company and assists you with anything.

As you help take care of his baby, you feel that he’s looked out for you, too. Which is nice.

On days that he is working from home, Yoongi brings his work into the living room, just to be nearby during playtime with you and Haneul. 

One evening, when his son falls asleep in your arms after a particularly fussy day, Yoongi glances up from his laptop and leans back in his chair, a tired but grateful smile breaking through.

“He’s really taken to you,” he observes, sounding almost as if he’s admitting it to himself.

You smile, feeling a strange warmth at his words. “I think he’s just a really sweet kid, Yoongi. He’s easy to love.”

The smile he gives you after that is probably the gummiest one you’ve ever seen. 

A few weeks pass, and a subtle partnership has started forming between you, like you’re both slowly finding a rhythm in the chaos of caring for Haneul.

Bath time becomes a kind of unspoken relay: you gather the towel and clothes, while Yoongi preps the tub, testing the water with careful fingers. There’s a brief exchange of glances—no need for words, just a nod as you pass off Haneul, who’s already giggling happily.

Snack time turns into a ritualized watch party. You set out the applesauce and crackers for Haneul, and Yoongi brings a bag of chips and his laptop over to the living room, joining you and Haneul for yet another episode of Miss Rachel. Occasionally, he’ll mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath, trying (and failing) to disguise the fact that he’s memorized the songs, too. (And in English, no less!)

There was one particular afternoon that you walk in on the father and son having a heartwarming exchange.

Haneul, who’s wobbling on his unsteady little legs, is reaching eagerly for a stuffed tiger Yoongi is holding just out of reach.

“Oh, no, no, no—you gotta work for this,” Yoongi teases, eyebrows raised dramatically. He moves the tiger side to side, adding a low, exaggerated growl that makes Haneul squeal with laughter. Yoongi leans fully into the act, growling and making faces, finally swooping Haneul up with a playful roar, both of them dissolving into laughter.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, your heart catching slightly at the sight. The way his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement, his mouth relaxed into a wide gummy grin. And you’re startled by how… soft he looks, how fucking attractive he is when he’s like this. When his usual quiet intensity is replaced by this playfulness, by this open warmth. It hits you somewhere deep, a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you can’t quite ignore.

Yoongi catches you watching, his smile faltering for a moment, but he holds your gaze. His expression shifts, something curious reflecting in his eyes as if he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he swallows a lump in his throat, cheeks dusting a faint pink as he looks down, bashful.

You force yourself to glance away, feeling warmth creep up your neck. For the first time, you’re struck by an awareness of him that wasn’t there before, and it lingers, even as you turn back to whatever it was you were supposed to be doing. The image of his smile, his laughter—it all stays with you, stirring something you can’t quite put a name to.

And just like that, you’re settling into this role in the life of the Min men—something you know is temporary, but is infinitely meaningful.

When you’re not in Yoongi’s apartment, your own place feels strangely foreign.

God, you hate it here. You can’t even bring yourself to call it home—it’s just a room with white walls, half-opened moving boxes, a stack of unread books Joonie gave you, a mattress on the floor, and a fridge with a single egg. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You could fix the place up—it’s not like you can’t afford a bed frame or groceries—but for some reason, you’re punishing yourself. Like this is the way someone like you—unwanted and rejected—ought to live.

Nothing in this flat tethers you to it, and maybe that’s why you prefer being out.

You’re afraid your heart is stuck somewhere in limbo, somewhere between Seoul and LA. Maybe it’s still floating above the clouds on that flight back. You don’t know when it’ll come down, but you hope it’s soon.

Tonight, you’re restless, tossing and turning in your makeshift bed, replaying fragments of your old life—a love that once felt solid, a future that had once felt certain. Your mind drifts to those last conversations with Jiyong, your ex, the ones where he shut down every hope you had for a family, making you wonder if wanting more was somehow wrong.

You probably deserve it, though. You want a family, but you can barely cook for yourself. What do you hope to feed a child—takeout? Junk food? It’s laughable. You can’t even make a home feel like one. Jiyong probably got tired of you because you’re useless at it.

Stop. You close your eyes, focus on your breathing, try to still your mind. 1, 2, 3…

Some nights, you especially hate yourself. Tonight is one of them.

You need to call Namjoon. He can usually talk you down, ease the self-loathing. You ring him three times, but each time, you get his voicemail. Fuck. Maybe he’s out, maybe he’s getting laid. Good for him, honestly.

But that might actually work. You rummage through one of your boxes and find the one purple bullet that’s gotten you through plenty of spirals. With a flick, the vibrator buzzes to life, and you slip it beneath your panties, pressing it right against your clit. You’re not in the mood to drag this out—you want release, quick and easy, something to take the edge off.

At first, your limbs relax as that familiar tingle begins, little sparks shooting from your core, teasing you with hints of pleasure. You keep at it, determined, but after a few minutes, the sensations stall. It’s like your body’s stuck, lingering on the edge without tipping over, leaving you stranded and more frustrated than when you started. You decide to cut your losses.

Maybe a shower. Maybe you can pop by the GS25 down the block for a bottle of soju.

But then your phone pings. It’s Yoongi.

Your tummy suddenly feels funny.

You immediately swipe up and read the string of messages that has popped on your Kakao.

Yoongi: Hey so I found this in Haneul’s crib Yoongi: image.jpg  Yoongi: u got this for him? he is lowkey obsessed. Yoongi: But WTF is it? 

You cackle. Loud and hearty. A sound you didn’t think you were capable of on a shitty night like this.

You: A capybara! Look it up! Yoongi: Oh Yoongi: never heard of it You: They’re cute Yoongi: ? You: Don't be mean You: Haneul and I love bora Yoongi: ?? You: thats her name Yoongi: noted

That night, the Kakao thread becomes your lifeline. Yoongi asks about your next visit, what you had for dinner, and when you say goodnight he sends back a grainy selca of him and a sleeping Haneul with Bora. The photo brings unexpected joy, something to remind you that you aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels. Finally, you succumb to slumber, clutching your phone to your chest, thoughts of Yoongi and Haneul floating in your dreams.

After that, you become more and more aware that Yoongi’s place has become a sanctuary. There’s Haneul’s bright laughter, the way his tiny fingers curl around yours, and the sound of Yoongi’s soft, steady voice, creating a background that somehow starts to feel comforting. With them, you’re too busy to dwell on the past or the ache left behind by someone else’s rejection. Instead, you’re present, stable.

And it’s in those moments—when you’re reading Haneul a story or soothing him to sleep—that you feel a glimmer of something you’d thought you’d lost: hope. The simple act of holding him, soothing him through his small struggles… It’s healing in a way you can’t quite put into words, as if this little boy is slowly fusing pieces of your heart you’d almost forgotten were broken.

And Yoongi—he’s part of it, too. His presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s trusted you with something so precious. 

You know this is just a phase, that this isn’t your life, but a part of you can’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were. To be here, day after day, with this little family that’s somehow found its way into your heart.

You’re still healing, still putting yourself back together, but this—this feels like the start of something you could believe in again.

What you couldn’t believe though was the email from your building administrator with an acknowledgment receipt for next quarter’s rent payment—all settled. You haven’t made the deposit yet, how come it’s saying it’s been paid for already?

You pace your room staring at the email from your phone as if it holds all the answers. 

What is happening? Who paid for this? You didn’t sign up for some sugar baby service… 

Wait. Something clicks in your brain. Suga. Baby.

Your first instinct is to call Namjoon, meddler extrordinaire. He picks up on the second ring, sounding annoyingly chipper.

“‘Sup, buttercup?” he asks.

“Don’t act cute, Joonie,” you warn. “Did you know about this?”

There’s a pause. “About what, exactly?”

“Yoongi,” you say, practically hissing his name. “He paid my rent, didn’t he? Three months’ worth. How did he even know where I live?”

Namjoon lets out a hum, his tone maddeningly calm. “Ah. That.”

“Yes. That. Care to explain?”

“Look,” Namjoon says, unbothered. “Yoongi asked, so I gave him your address. He said you refused his offer, but still he wanted to pay you back somehow.”

“But Joon! It’s too much—” You pause, scrambling for the right words. “How did he even get a hold of the landlord and settle all this without my knowledge?”

Namjoon chuckles, which only makes you more annoyed. “Yoongi hyung is an influential guy, you know. If he wants something, he’ll fuckin’ find a way. Just take it, okay? You’re helping him, he’s helping you. It’s fair.”

You huff, still not convinced. “It’s just… a lot, Joon. I don’t need anyone swooping in and paying my bills. And you could’ve at least warned me.”

“I get it. But you’re helping him with something really important. This is his way of saying thank you.”

You sink back into your chair, the irritation draining out of you. “Fine,” you mutter. “But if he pulls something like this again, I’m coming for your ass.”

Namjoon laughs. “Aishh. Why the hell is it my fault?”

“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.” You hang up.

You spend that afternoon at Yoongi's. He was in a rush, dashing out for some shoot as you arrive. You hear him return around seven, just as you're finishing putting Haneul to sleep. Once the baby is settled, you tiptoe out of the nursery with the baby monitor on hand, following the sounds of soft clinking and the rich aroma wafting from the kitchen.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you call out, stepping into view. “Haneul’s all tucked in. I was just gonna—”

“Stay for dinner?” Yoongi’s eyes light up, his voice gentle but hopeful as he turns, holding a pot in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It looks like he came straight from his shoot, his hair still styled in soft, precise waves that swoop perfectly across his cheekbones. He’s wearing the softest, oversized yellow sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, and his jeans hug him just right. But it’s his smile that really draws you in—light radiates from him, his face glowing not just from a bit of skincare, but from something more.

Goddamn. The man is looking fine as hell.

You’d planned to meet up with Namjoon tonight, but one look at Yoongi��whose eyes are too shy to hold yours as he ladles red sauce into a ceramic bowl—and you know you are absolutely staying put. Joon will understand.

“Ok, yeah, that looks really good,” you say.

“It is.” Yoongi smirks, just barely, and gestures to the fridge. “I’ll plate this up if you can grab some drinks?”

You procure a couple of beers from the chiller and set them on the dining table, shooting off a quick text to Joon afterwards.

You: Hey, raincheck? Yoongi made dinner and it looks good ngl

His response is instant.

Namjoon: You blowing me off to play house with hyung. K. I see how it is.

This asshole.

You’re about to call and give him a piece of your mind when Yoongi’s voice pulls you back. “Everything okay?”

Your gaze shifts to the plates of spaghetti he’s just set down, the aroma working wonders to sway your thoughts. “Yeah, just Joon being a pain in my ass as usual.”

“Sit.” Yoongi gestures to your chair as he settles into his.

“Wait.” You grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter, setting it between you and Yoongi. The screen shows Haneul fast asleep, Bora tucked securely under his arm.

“There. Now we can eat.”

Yoongi nods, and the two of you dig in.

It hits you that this is actually the first time the two of you have shared a quiet dinner together like this. You were expecting Yoongi to let the silence linger, but he starts a conversation mid-way.

“I, uh, was surprised to see you back here,” he says casually, twirling a forkful of pasta.

“Me too. It was… kind of abrupt.”

He nods, not pressing, just listening. You don’t think you’re ready to talk about that so you try a joke.

“Didn’t think you’d ever see the girl who carried your performance of Stan?” you add, smirking. “I basically launched your career.”

“Carried?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nah, you were choking.”

“Hell no.”

“Uh-huh.” He laughs softly, shoulders bobbing. “Rewriting history….”

“Fine. I sucked. Joon totally went behind my back with that one. Not that he’s the only one who likes going behind my back,” you add pointedly, of course alluding to the matter of your paid-off rent.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Sorry for overstepping.”

“Just don’t start paying my utilities behind my back, too. Because—”

He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Yoongi?”

He clears his throat. “Just your electricity. I… may have asked the landlord to include it this month.”

“Oh my god.”

“And water,” he adds quickly, eyes widening like a kid who just got caught.

“Add my Netflix subscription while you’re at it.”

“Done.”

“NO!!! You’re actually worse than Joonie,” you groan, though a smile quirks at your lips. “But, thank you:”

He nods, briefly pausing before he speaks up again, a little too flippantly. “So… you and Namjoonie—what’s the deal there?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “You know what we all think? That he’s playing some kind of long game with you.”

You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “Oh god, no. Y’all are waayyy off. Namjoon’s like my brother, that’s it.”

Yoongi nods slowly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you.

“Everyone thinks that, huh?” you ask, leaning in, a little bolder than usual.

“Mhmm.” Yoongi gives a slow nod, as he nibbles his lower lip.

“All the members?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully.

“Including you?”

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed.

“Interesting,” you murmur, swirling your glass.

“Why?” he narrows his eyes on you, wheels turning in his head.

Maybe it’s the beer loosening you up, bubbles lifting your usual filters. You’ve always been a lightweight.

“You never wondered why Joonie suddenly set you up for English tutoring with me—just you—even though your company had a professional hired to teach everyone?”

He blinks, eyes narrowing a bit more.

“Or why I ended up singing with you at that damn club?” You laugh, leaning back.

His lips mold into a small pout, processing, but you’re already laughing.

“Joonie’s been throwing me into your orbit, Yoongi,” you say, giggling, the alcohol hitting you hard now. “And you’re telling me you never noticed?”

He looks like he’s having a full conversation with himself, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish inside a gallon bottle. All he manages is an eloquent: “shit.”

“Well, for the record,” you pause, “I thought you were cute, but it was obvious you weren’t interested. Don’t worry, though,” you say lightly, glancing down on your almost empty plate. “I’m a big girl now. It’s all in the past.”

As you stab the last meatball, you miss the way Yoongi’s gaze softens.

You have no way of knowing what’s going through his head. But if you did, you would find that he’s thinking:

If he could go back in time, he’d kick his younger self straight in the balls for not noticing, and tell him to get his head out of his ass long enough to realize this one shocking truth: 

You were not Namjoon’s girl.

And he actually had a chance with you.

Because maybe you’re right. Back then everything was about the dream—y’know, big house, big cars, big rings, and all that shit. So yeah, maybe, he wasn’t ready then.

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t now.

Notes: Oh-KKKAYYY!! How are we feeling? Anything you liked in particular in this chapter? Where is the baby mama? Do we even care atp?!

Part 2 is where things get more flirty, spicy, and all that good stuff.

Tell me your thoughts and theories. See you in the comments! <333

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful, human 💕🫶🏼

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

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@eurydiceofterabithia

Sorry if I'm unable to tag you. Did my best to include everyone who commented and asked!

[fastandcarlos]

The House Of Piastri : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: the one where you and oscar move into a place that you can finally call your own

“Welcome to the house of Piastri!” Oscar chimed, turning the key and opening up the place that was finally yours. “Our very first home,” Oscar grinned, throwing his arm across your shoulders, pulling you in. 

It was far from perfect, there were moving boxes everywhere, little decoration, and many of the rooms were uncoordinated, but it was your place. Just for you and Oscar. There was no one else around, nothing to interrupt you both anymore. 

“Where do we begin?” You laughed, pressing your fingers to your temple. “What have we signed ourselves up for?” You asked Oscar, glancing across at him. His smile was wide, a lot more optimistic than you were at the adventure that you had ahead of you. 

When Oscar suggested the two of you think about finding your own place after moving to Monaco, you jumped at the chance. It was a big deal for you both, having only ever lived separately before, but after leaving home in order to support Oscar, you knew you couldn’t be alone. 

“Doesn’t it just feel right though?” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I can already see how amazing it’s going to look, even if it doesn’t look that way right now.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, no doubt that it was a place you’d feel happy calling your home. You and Oscar had so many plans, you’d spent hours awake at night talking through your ideas, searching online for some inspiration of what you’d like. 

“The view is beautiful too,” you hummed, taking a few steps forward across the room to where your balcony was. “I don’t think I’ll tire of looking out here, it’s beautiful.” 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Oscar chimed, watching as your eyes rolled. “What? I’m only being honest; it doesn’t quite compare to you.” 

Oscar took your hand again, leading you across to where the sofa was just beside the balcony. You sat against his side, back pressed against his chest as Oscar rested his head on top of yours. It was about the only piece of furniture that you had built and ready to go, having taken most of the day to get it delivered and set up, but it left you both excited for all the hard work that was to come.  

It felt like a dream as you looked around the apartment, neither you or Oscar could quite believe that you were finally there, after months of planning and waiting around. 

“Imagine how beautiful this is going to be soon,” Oscar whispered into your ear, “I can see us spending forever here, growing old, maybe even raising a family too.” 

Your eyes widened as Oscar spoke, not quite knowing what to say. He felt your body tense up, worried that maybe he’d said the wrong thing, got too ahead of himself in amongst all of the excitement of moving in. 

Oscar mumbled an apology across to you. “I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just a maybe one day kind of thing. I guess I’m just excited for the future now that we’re finally here.” 

It wasn’t that you were scared, but you’d never really heard Oscar talk about your future plans before. You were both so young, and had so much time ahead of you, although you knew most of your time now was going to be spent building, decorating, and trying to get your home look a little more homely.  

“Don’t be sorry,” you smiled up at Oscar, “there’s no need to be sorry. I like that you’re thinking about these sorts of things. Forever is a long time though; we don’t know where the future is going to take us.” 

“I’d live anywhere as long as I had you with me,” Oscar mused, “I’d live in a rubbish bin as long as you were there, even if you would end up smelling a bit.” 

“Moving in has really got you thinking about things, hasn’t it?” 

Oscar nodded, kissing against the top of your head. “I guess moving in with you has made me so happy, I’m just excited now for what’s going to come next.” 

“I’ll give you a clue...a heck of a lot of painting,” you teased. 

It was going to take many hours to get the apartment as you wanted it, but you and Oscar knew that together you’d get it done. You didn’t want the easy option when it came to finding your home, but even this was a harder challenge than either of you could imagine. 

“Think about all the memories that we’re going to make here,” Oscar spoke, “we’ll be able to have friends over, family can stay when they visit, and just stay here together too.” 

It was a big move, not only had you found a new city, but you’d found a new country too. Luckily for you, many of the other drivers who were already out there had been more than willing to help you out, offering their services whenever you needed them. 

“I think once we’re unpacked and decorated, I’ll feel happier, your mum would be mortified if she knew we were living here with the state of this place right now,” you replied. 

“She can’t wait to visit,” Oscar laughed, “I think she might be more excited than us about this.” 

Everyone around you couldn’t wait to see you move in together, you were inseparable at the best of times and it was only a matter of time. Your parents, and Oscar’s, especially had pushed you to move in, desperate to see you in a place you could call your own. 

“It’s going to be crazy, but there’s no one else I’d like to move in with and decorate my first home alongside.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, as terrifying as it was, you were beyond excited too. Your vision was clear, and one thing you were absolutely confident of was the fact that you were absolutely going to love living there, especially with Oscar there too. 

“You know, when all of this is done, we’ll be able to sit here and think about how lucky we are.” 

Your head tilted back to look up at Oscar, “I already feel lucky enough as it is. You’re here, and we’re in Monaco, what could be better than that?” 

“I really do appreciate you moving all the way out here to support me,” Oscar whispered, “not many people would move across the world for their partner. It’s a huge sacrifice to make, I just hope that it’s worthwhile being here for you.” 

“It’s worth it, wherever you go, I go,” you replied, reminding him of the promise that you made to each other. “Anyway, Monaco is definitely the place that feels like home now too.” 

Oscar glanced down with a smile, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you right now. I think I could get used to living here, with you.” 

“I agree, this is beyond anything that I could have ever dreamed of.” 

“It’s not just an apartment anymore, it’s our home,” Oscar said, “a place we can finally call our own.” 

“The house of Piastri, it’s perfect.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[roanofarcc]

YOU & ME

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: After returning to OBX, after the events of the past four years have cooled off, JJ realizes it's about time he asks you a very important question. 

Warning: JJ deserves a happy ending! Season 4 spoilers.

word count. 1k || masterlist

JJ found you out on the dock, leaning over the railing and looking at something in the water. He smiled to himself as he strolled toward you, running his fingers over the ring he stuffed in his pocket. 

“Find any treasure down there?” JJ asked as he approached you.

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Not funny,” you replied, but there was a smile on your lips that told him otherwise. 

The Pogues had rightfully retired from their treasure-hunting days. Too many close calls and they weren’t willing to risk it anymore. They didn’t need to, not after finally cashing out for the last time. JJ, with your guidance and gentle threats, promised to be responsible with his share this time around. For the first time in his life, he saw a future illuminated brightly ahead of him. He had you, his friends, and even a God-daughter now. While his risky tendencies weren’t completely put to bed, he was comfortable where he stood and finally felt like he could relax. 

All in all, he was happy. But there was still something he had yet to do. 

He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both gazed at the water. As much as he had once enjoyed action and adventure, JJ partially used it as an escape. He felt like he had been running from something his whole life, trying to make sense of why he was the way he was. He used to think that, if he never slowed down, nothing would have the chance to hurt him too much. But then he found a family within his friends and a reason to stop running within you. He didn’t need to escape anymore or run. He didn’t need to make sense of anything anymore. JJ Maybank finally had everything he had been looking for. His world made sense for the first time, and he had no intention of screwing that up. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up and brushing a hand across his cheek. 

“Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, moving to stand in front of him. You hugged him lightly, peering at him with furrowed brows. “Thinkin’ about what?” 

JJ leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You.” 

“And what about me?” Your breath was warm against his face, competing against the cool breeze off the water. The distant laughter of his friends sounded from up the dock, where they all sat around, eating and cooing at little baby Routledge. 

The worst years of his life, only peppered with good from his Pogues, felt like lifetimes behind him. All of the pain he experienced faded like his scars. He only had the good parts now, and there wasn’t a chance on Earth he’d let them slip away. 

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” JJ said, hesitant not because he was unsure, but because there was still a fear in the far depths of his mind that you’d leave him. It was stupid, you had told him that a million and three times, but he couldn’t help the faint voice in the back of his head pestering him in a whisper. 

You silently waited for him to continue. As he worked up the courage, he closed his eyes for just a second, picturing the same little dream he’d created in his head not long after meeting you. 

“We’ve got a pretty good thing goin’, huh?” he started. 

A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “I’d say so.” 

“Right, and I, um, I don’t really want it to end, you know?” 

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his nose. “I don’t plan on it ending, JJ. It’s you and me, remember?” 

He did; he remembered the promise you made not long after you first met. It started off as a pack between friends, but it morphed into something deeper. You and him. If he had anything, he had that to hold on to. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the ring he had stolen a while back with the intention of, one day, slipping it on your finger. Leaning back from you, he held up the ring between two fingers, letting the dainty silver shine in the growing moonlight. “You and me. Forever, maybe?” 

It took a moment for realization to dawn on you, but it struck with force. Your eyes blew wide, and your mouth fell open in a humorous and bewildered laugh. “Are you asking me to marry you?” 

JJ nodded, sheepishly using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I probably should have gotten down on one knee, right? To be fair, it’s my first time.” He went to lower himself onto the dock, but you stopped him, cupping his face in your hands. 

“And it’s perfect,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I would love to marry you, JJ Maybank.” 

He felt like he was going to cry too from the pure excitement and love that swelled inside his chest. Blinking back his own happy tears, he took your hand and slid the ring on your finger. It wasn’t some extravagant engagement ring, but it fit like a glove on your finger like it had been made for you. The smile on your face was enough confirmation that you liked it. 

You kissed him, the warm metal of the ring pressed against his cheek. It was a feeling he was looking forward to getting used to. To kiss you forever, until you’re old and gray and yelling at kids to get off your lawn. JJ used to have a hard time looking past eighteen, trying to figure out what he’d become if he made it that far. Would he be locked up like every adult in his life used to tell him? Would he end up like his father or the man he used to think was his father? 

But he didn’t have to worry anymore, about any of it. He made it past eighteen and a different path awaited him, a good one, a happy one. 

[heesimp]

how would hyung line be with a younger gf who was a virgin ? :p

• heeseung is the one most excited that his girlfriend’s a virgin. probably knew about it since before they started dating and has secretly wanted to take it for so long. will also try to coax you into having sex with him when he’s eating you out or fingering you but ultimately waits until you’re ready, and he’s so smug about it too.

you’ll probably ask him to take it slow and to not make it hurt but he just laughs in your ear and says something like, “I can’t promise that” which makes your pussy clench. teaches you how good sex can feel.

• jay is ever the respectful gentleman but won’t tell you he’s excited that he’s gonna be the one to take your virginity. he builds it up too (I don’t think he would make a huge thing out of it but when you tell him you’re ready, jay wants to make sure he draws out your pleasure for as long as possible.

would probably be praising you the entire time, especially if you whine so much. lots of “hang in there, okay?” and “you can do it, honey. my cock’s gotta make you feel really good.”

• I think jake is also somebody who’d try to keep his cool and help you through it, but his eagerness shows up somewhere between heeseung and jay. jake would kinda rush through foreplay and would not allow himself to cum unless it was inside you.

he pushes his cock inside of you a little too early and loves it when you yelp and try to reach out and touch him. “so cute taking my cock like that,” he’d say when you squirm around him.

• sunghoon I could see either very sweet and patient or very filthy. on one hand, he loves you so much that he never wants to make you feel like you need to give it up for him until you say you’re ready, and he’s going slow by prepping your pussy with him mouth and fingers before sliding into you. hoon would say things like “you’re everything” and “breathe for me, baby.”

on the other, sunghoon would get so hard every time he remembers you’re a virgin. the first time he ever got the chance to stick his dick in your pussy was like a wet dream. the sight of his cock disappearing into your pussy was too much. lots of “my cock was made for you” and “can’t believe you’re not a virgin anymore” as if to mock you while he slides his dick in and out of you.

[livbedum]

older chapter one

younger actress!reader x drew starkey smau

summary in which you and drew run into some fans and it only fuels the rumors

next chapter

ynupdates posted photos!

liked by starkeyluvr , tsitpfan and others

ynupdates got to meet y/n and drew when i was out last night! they were with the rest of obx cast and chris but i didn’t get to meet the all of them! y/n was so nice and drew is so hot i love my life

tagged yourusername drewstarkey

view all comments

username omfg omfg omfg

username i knew the casts became friends after hellraiser came out with y/n and drew but seeing it changes things

↳ username they were friends before hellraiser because lilah introduced them!

username are they dating?

↳ username goodbyeeeee men and women can be friends

username y/n living our dream

username first chris and now drew? seems like y/n is just trying to date whoever she can from work

yourusername ope— not the bad angle!☹️

↳ ynupdates omF I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR TAKING PICS AND TALKING TO ME I LOVE YOU DREW TOO OMFG

↳ yourusername i love you more<3 i loved being able to meet you!!!!

↳ yourusername drewstarkey found her!

↳ ynupdates you were talking about me?!?? OMFG IM SCREMAING

↳ drewstarkey hey!!! we found her!😁

↳ ynupdates OMFGG AGWIKWUS

username no bc why do i ship y/n with chris and drew at the same time??

username they have to be dating! i saw them hanging out alone last week!! i didn’t want to bother them because they were having dinner , but it didn’t look friendly!

↳ username i need to know everything

username i need season three of tsitp right neowwww

↳ username bc why do we have to wait so long😭

yourusername posted to their story!

drewstarkey replied to your story!

no photo credit is crazy

also a premiere throwback when the next season doesn’t come out until next year is ridiculous. you’re edging us at this point

ilydrwstrky tweeted!

the fact that y’all are saying there’s so many signs pointing to drew dating y/n is ridiculous! y’all are delusional and reaching atp. they met thru lilah ( her dad is drew’s boss and her coworker is y/n ) and so the two casts of tsitp and obx hang out. that’s it! y’all are sad!

35 replies | 107 retweets | 439 likes | 10 favorites

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↳ username i fear you’re being more delusional than the shippers queen

↳ username we’ve been over this people! stop shipping real human beings!

↳ username personally , i’m going to stay in my yndrew bubble while you stay jealous that drew’s never going to pick you

↳ username there’s so many threads on x alone that support and feed into the rumor of them being together , but i seriously hope not. they met when she was 19 and he was 27. did somebody say leo dicaprio?

an first chapter out. first social media fic out. so pls tell me u love it before i crash out💋

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

[littleprinces]

Day 12: Age Gap

Haerin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 12

She was sitting alone at a quaint coffee shop in Greenwich Village, her eyes scanning the crowd as she sipped her latte. She was new to the city and hadn't made many friends yet. As she looked up from her book, her gaze met mine. I was a 40-year-old man with a lean, muscular build, and I couldn't help but be drawn to her youthful charm.

"Excuse me," I said, leaning over her table. "I couldn't help but notice your book. Are you enjoying it?"

She looked up at me, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Yes, it's a classic. Have you read it?"

I nodded. "Many times. It's one of my favorites."

We spent the next hour talking about literature, art, and the city. Haerin was intelligent and witty, and I found myself increasingly drawn to her. As we left the coffee shop together, I suggested we continue our conversation over dinner. She agreed, and we walked to a nearby restaurant.

Over dinner, our conversation turned more personal. I learned about her dreams and aspirations, and she asked about my experiences in the city. The chemistry between us was palpable, and as the night wore on, I found myself wanting her more and more.

"You know," I said, leaning closer to her across the table, "I've really enjoyed our conversation tonight. But I have to admit, I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything but you."

She blushed slightly, her eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "Yes. In fact, I think I'd like to see you again. And not just for dinner."

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?"

I leaned in, my voice low and husky. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Haerin."

She held my gaze for a moment before her eyes flicked down to my lips. "I think I do," she whispered.

The following week, Haerin came over to my apartment. As soon as she walked in, I could see the desire in her eyes. I poured us some wine, and we sat on the couch, our bodies close but not yet touching.

"You're beautiful, Haerin," I said, my hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about you all day long."

She leaned into my touch, her eyes never leaving mine. "I've been thinking about you too," she admitted.

I leaned in and captured her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. She responded eagerly, her lips parting to allow my tongue to explore her mouth. Our kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and intense.

I broke away from her lips and trailed kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my touch. She moaned softly, her head falling back to give me better access. I nipped at her earlobe, making her gasp.

"You taste so good," I murmured, my hand sliding up her thigh. "I want to taste more of you."

She shivered at my words, her breath coming in short gasps. I unbuttoned her blouse slowly, revealing her smooth, creamy skin. I leaned down and captured one of her nipples in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it before sucking gently.

"Oh, God," she moaned, her hands tangling in my hair. "That feels so good."

I switched to her other nipple, giving it the same attention. Haerin's body was on fire, her hips moving restlessly against mine. I could feel her heat through her jeans, and I knew she was ready for more.

I unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a hand inside, finding her wet and ready. I stroked her slowly, my fingers exploring her folds. She gasped and bucked against my hand, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"You're so wet," I murmured, my voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to taste you."

I slid my fingers out of her and brought them to my lips, sucking them clean. Her eyes widened at the sight, and I could see the desire in them. I pushed her back onto the couch and slid down her body, my hands gripping her hips.

I hooked my fingers into her jeans and panties and pulled them down, revealing her glistening pussy. I leaned in and ran my tongue along her slit, tasting her sweetness. She moaned and arched her hips, giving me better access.

I licked and sucked at her clit, my tongue swirling around it before flicking it lightly. Haerin's moans grew louder, her hands gripping the couch cushions. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her G-spot.

"Oh, God, yes," she cried out, her hips moving in time with my fingers. "Right there, don't stop."

I kept up the pressure, my fingers moving in and out of her while my tongue worked her clit. Her breath came in short gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge.

"I'm close," she panted. "So close."

I increased the pressure, my fingers moving faster and harder. Haerin cried out, her body convulsing as she came. I lapped up her juices, savoring her taste.

I stood up and undressed quickly, my cock rock hard and ready. Haerin watched me, her eyes filled with desire. I climbed on top of her, my cock poised at her entrance.

"Are you ready for me?" I asked, my voice gruff with desire.

She nodded, her eyes locking onto mine. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm ready."

I pushed into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to my size. She was tight and wet, her pussy gripping my cock like a velvet glove. I groaned at the sensation, my hips moving slowly at first before picking up speed.

"You feel so good," I grunted, my hips moving faster. "So tight and wet."

Haerin wrapped her legs around my waist, her hips moving in time with mine. "Faster," she begged. "Harder."

I obliged, my hips slamming into hers as I fucked her hard and fast. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, our moans and cries echoing off the walls.

"Oh, God, yes," Haerin cried out. "Right there, don't stop."

I could feel my orgasm building, my cock throbbing inside her. I reached between us and rubbed her clit, my fingers moving in time with my hips. Haerin's eyes rolled back, her body tensing as she came again.

"I'm going to come," I groaned, my body tensing as I pushed into her one last time. "I'm going to fill you with my cum."

I came with a roar, my body shaking as I filled her with my seed. I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat. I rolled off of her and pulled her into my arms, our bodies still joined.

"That was incredible," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I smiled, my eyes closed. "It was," I agreed. "And I'm not done with you yet."

We spent the rest of the night exploring each other's bodies, our passion and desire never waning. As the sun rose, we lay entwined in each other's arms, our bodies sated and satisfied.

[heilos]

You know what I dream about the most? Like if someone just dropped a billion dollars in my lap one day and said go spend this, my first thought after making sure my close friends and family were good and taken care of would be to legit help people in the industries I care about like the animation industry for example. Can you imagine having the power to make multiple people's dreams come true for say their animated cartoon pilots and give them stability and be able to say "I love your idea, more of this should exist, make 3+ seasons of this with a whole crew of skilled artists and here's some money for merch production and some more on the side for potential bonuses for your workers no strings attached and you retain control of your production and IP rights and I just want this to happen cause I can do that." Obviously it's always great to continue to give to other organizations and to help people abroad and at home who are struggling as well where and when you can, not taking that factor out of it at all and especially now, but this is a dream "what if" hypothetical I've thought about on and off for a long time when I see people sitting on so much money and not wanting to invest in anything "risky."

[madridfangirl]

Drunken first goal celebrations

(Jude Bellingham one-shot)

Summary: Jude scores his first goal of the season, celebrates with his team and then with his girlfriend. Fluff & SMUT.

As the ball moved towards the net, past the goalie, the world stood still for Jude in those split seconds. 

The deafening noise of the Bernabeu faded in the background, as did the sounds of his team-mates calling out his name.

All he fixated on was the sight of that ball at the back of the net. Something that was a common occurrence for him last season yet was so hard to come by this year. 

It felt like his first goal all over again.

The overwhelming feeling was relief. The curse seemed to be broken. 

And then his teammates jumped on him and got him out of his reverie. 

Rest of the match was a dream. Madrid had won convincingly after a long long time. Hope was coming back to the fans and in the dressing room. All was not lost in the season, not yet.

Vini knew what that goal meant to Jude, as did the rest of the team. Special cuddles were awarded to Jude in the dressing room to celebrate his moment. Even though it was Vini’s hattrick, the team very much wanted it to be Jude’s moment. They knew how crucial it was for his confidence.

A special after party was arranged at Vini’s house. Filled with tequila and euphoria. Up next was international break so they had the luxury to let loose tonight. And let loose they did. The season had barely given them moments to celebrate and tonight felt like an inflection point of sorts. Jude wanted to soak in this moment.

In all honesty, Jude wanted to be somewhere else right now. With her. In her arms, as she spoilt him rotten. But Ananya had insisted he celebrated with the team first. That she would be waiting for him once he’s done. That this team bonding was important. 

And, as always, she was right. His wise girlfriend always knew the right thing to do.

An hour into the party (or maybe 2 hours, he couldn’t tell anymore), Jude decided he was done being away from her. He called his trusted chauffeur to take him to his happy place. Agnes knew exactly where that was, and helped him walk up the stairs so he doesn’t cause much ruckus and draws attention to himself. The man knew how that would get his boss in trouble with his girlfriend. Jude kept patting the cheeks of the poor man, while Agnes rang the doorbell and waited to hand him over safely (& quickly).

Roma answered the door, and Jude pulled her into a bear hug, almost toppling her backwards. Agnes managed to shut the door behind them and bolted away quickly. 

‘Romaaaaaa - what a funny name.’

‘Hello to you too, Jude.’

‘Sounds like Rome but also like mommmaaa???’ 

Roma struggled to break out of his hold as Jude swayed her from side to side.

‘If you hadn’t been instrumental in my team’s win tonight, I would have punched you for that.’

‘Punched me? With those baby hands? Haha so funny.’

‘ANANYA - come get your boy toy before I smack his pretty face.’

‘Aww you think I’m pretty?’

‘I think you need to let go of me RIGHT NOW. You’re stinking for crying out loud.’

Jude just tightened the hug. Roma was preparing to kick him when Ananya heard the commotion outside and stepped out of her room. In her night robe.

Jude’s grip loosened, and Roma managed to pull away from him, muttering under her breath as to how she needed a shower to get the stink off.

He pouted at the accusation, and walked into his girlfriend’s waiting arms.

‘Am I really stinking?’

He was. She wondered if he had remembered to take a shower at all amidst all the post-match madness.

‘Smells like you.’

His face split into a wide grin.

‘And you like it, yeah?’

‘I like everything about you.’

One could practically count all his 32 teeth with the way he was grinning.

‘You’re so cute. My doll is so cute.’

He sat down on the couch and pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek lovingly, as he buried his face in her chest. Clinging to her. Smelling her hair. Feeling the warmth of her soft body. The giddiness hitting him in loads. 

‘Had fun at the party?’

He nodded enthusiastically. It had been forever since she had seen that kind of joy in his eyes. She kissed his cheek again but he turned around to catch her lips with his, giggling into the kiss. The sound making her heart leap with happiness.

‘I’m so proud of you baby.’

‘Been a while since I made you proud, yeah?’

The note of melancholy in his otherwise cheerful demeanour didn’t go unnoticed. 

‘That’s not true. Your game is more than just scoring goals. You know that, Jude.’

 He nodded again, just not as enthusiastically this time.

‘Heyy look at me. You make me proud every time you walk on to that field and give your all. Your drive and passion is what defines you, not your goals.’

‘Not everyone thinks that way. You’ve seen the memes.’

‘Yeah, well, now you’ve snatched even that joy from them. You’ve shut them up, like I knew you would. It was only a matter of time. I told you.’

‘How were you so sure?’

‘Coz you’re you. And you’re awesome.’

She held his face with both hands and connected their lips again for a comforting kiss. 

‘Naaa you’re just sweet on me.’

‘That too. But you’re still awesome.’

The way he looked at her just then, with that puppy face and big doe eyes, made her heart flutter.

‘Say what you’re thinking. Don’t hold back.’

‘How do you know I…’

She cocked her head to the side, and he knew it was a stupid question. The girl knew him inside out.

‘I was starting to think if they were right. If I was actually a…..a…..’

‘One season wonder?’

She finished his sentence for him. When he kept looking away, she held his face and brought him back to face her.

‘It’s natural to have vulnerabilities and bad thoughts. But they go away much faster if you address them, and not sit on them.’

‘Were you a psychic in another life?’

‘Naaa I just pay attention when it comes to you.’

This time Jude leaned forward and she met him halfway for the kiss, tasting tequila on his tongue as he slipped it in her mouth.

‘Ummm how much did you drink?’

‘Not enough. Drink with me?’

Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a half-filled bottle of tequila from his backpack, took a big sip, grabbed her face and poured it from his mouth into hers.

The deep sudden intimacy of his action sent shivers down her back. She could tell his mood was shifting and they needed to move away from the living room to the privacy of her room. 

Once inside, Jude shut the door with his foot and straightway moved to untie the knot of her robe, but she grabbed his hand mid-way.

He blinked at her in confusion, still wobbly on his feet, while she just batted her eyes at him. 

Ananya looked him up and down - he was a proper meal right now in that brown leather jacket. Eyes deeper & softer in this drunken state, face extra puppy yet extra sexy, lips extra pouty as he tried to fathom her moves.

‘Wanna guess what I’m wearing underneath?’

That got his attention. Loud & clear.

His eyes roamed her form, searching for clues. The robe was hugging her curves tightly so he could tell there weren’t many layers or thick layers underneath. But he could’t make out her tits clearly so there had to be something underneath. He closed his eyes briefly, to visualise her body, and immediately knew the answer.

‘Lingerie.’

Ananya smiled appreciatively, leaning against her desk while crossing her legs, bringing his attention to her half-bare thighs.

‘Correct. Wanted to reward my baby. But but, which one?’

She cocked her head to the side again, letting her hair drop over her shoulder, testing all of Jude’s restraint. 

How was he supposed to guess which one? He had bought many for her, and she had many of her own too.

‘Want a hint?’

‘Yes please.’

That came out far too desperately than what he originally intended.

Ananya lifted her robe a little from one leg, letting him have a peak of the light pink embellished fabric.

And Jude’s mouth hung open, drool coming out of it. He knew exactly which one it was - he had sent a pic to her once, wanting to buy it for her but she had said it was too slutty and barely covered any bits of her.

‘I…this the one I picked? During Euros?’

She smiled again and walked over to him, pressing his lips with her index finger. Jude had to remind himself to breathe.

‘Was saving it for a special occasion.’

‘Mmm-hmmmm.’

‘Are you up for it though?’

‘Huh?’

Jude couldn’t understand what had gotten into her or what language she was speaking tonight. It was burning him to the core though.

‘You know, with all the drinking, you think you can…’

That’s when it hit him. Hard. 

Playtime was over. It was time to show her who the boss was.

Jude took off his jacket and threw it to the side, her eyes following the fabric with longing.

He walked over to her, grabbed her robe, pulled it open & yanked it off of her.

The sight of her in that barely there lingerie nearly made him cum in his pants.

He shoved two fingers in her mouth, driving them all the way in, making her choke on them. Then, he traced her bare skin with the tip of his wet fingers, leaving a trail of fire behind.

Starting to feel weak in the knees, she held his biceps for support. But Jude flipped her around, one arm around her boobs and the other sneaking between her legs. While his mouth made merry on her neck & shoulders.

‘Ju-de.’

Ananya threw her head back in pleasure, as he attacked multiple sensitive spots together.

Jude flipped her around again, moving his mouth to her cleavage, making her mewl.

He knew what she liked. For all her strong independent woman stuff, in bed she liked to be the girl. Wanting him to dominate, to manhandle her. To tell her what to do. And he loved doing that.

‘Good thing tomorrow’s a Sunday, yeah? Doll’s gonna need the rest.’

With that final warning, Jude threw her over his shoulder and on to the bed. He grabbed her leg, pulled her forward, flipped her on her hands and knees and stood behind her, admiring the view.

Given his pressing need, he didn’t even bother to fully take off his clothes. But took great pleasure in doing away with her skimpy lingerie. Lining himself up quickly, he thrusted inside without much preparation, trusting her to be wet & hot for him. And she was. 

Lust & alcohol messed with his head, as did her sultry moans. He bent over her, one hand on her hips keeping them in place and the other spread across her belly possessively.

‘One day….I’m gonna put babies in here.’

She gasped loudly, going numb at his words, which only made him thrust harder till she screamed for him again.

‘You’ll take everything I give you, all of me. Like a good girl, yeah?’

The bed creaked violently under his rapid strokes.

‘SAY IT.’

‘Y-yes.’

He leaned down to bite her shoulder, as his hand mercilessly marauded her boobs & nipples, sliding back to her belly.

‘Even when this is big, I’d still have you like this. Any way I want. Till the very end.’

‘Jude please…’

‘Please what?’

‘I…I can’t…’

‘Yes you can. And you will.’

He had discovered another layer to his passion, which led to another layer of their pleasure. Her sweaty body soon went limp in his arms, and he followed shortly after.

As she rested on her back, sore & spent, Jude laid his head on her belly, kissing it lovingly, and his words rang in her mind. He looked up, locking eyes with her tired ones, a promise deep within them, and her hands fisted in the sheet, knowing he’ll do anything to follow through & to get what he wanted.

.............................................................................

A blurb, as promised :)

As always, your thoughts / comments are most welcome!

Characters from Star Crossed Lovers.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: poly fic <3

it's a little later than you mean for it to be when you're finishing up the last of your laundry, basket tucked against your legs on the floor as you dip down to snag another t-shirt to fold and put away. you should be in bed in a tangle of limbs right now, brain already yearning to doze off into hopefully just a blissful night of silly dreams. instead...

"i wish our baby was here." jisung lets out a long, heavy sigh. his head is tucked against minho's chest, one arm draped around his shoulders. he's not even looking at you when you glance back, instead wistfully looking out the window like he's waiting for his beloved to return from the war. "the bed feels emptier without them."

minho, on the other hand, suppresses a tiny smile as his eyes meet yours for barely even a second. "i miss them, too," his fingers comb through jisung's hair a little, snuggling closer. "sometimes it's like they're still here..."

you just put away another shirt, dipping down to grab a pair of your pajama pants. "quit talking about me like i'm dead."

"sometimes i still hear their voice." minho, too, sighs wistfully. "it's almost like they're still nagging us."

you pout a little. "if only i had two boyfriends who could come help me finish this. then maybe i'd be able to cuddle with them again..."

jisung snickers a little, but it's minho who speaks again. "i'll call chan. maybe he knows somebody--"

a sock with a teddy bear pattern hits him square in the chest, and it's finally motivation for minho to get out of bed, already racing toward you. his arms wrap around you as he immediately pulls you away from the last of your laundry (just a pile of socks you'd have to sort through to match together) and toward the bed. the moment you go to call for jisung to be on your side, he's swooping in to further drag you back to bed.

"socks can wait," jisung says, pressing a kiss against your cheek before tossing your lone sock back to the basket. "it's cuddle time."

with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you're already wrapping an arm around jisung. "fine," you say, planting a quick peck on the tip of his nose, just to see the way his face scrunches in delight. "but you two," you pause, just to bring minho's hand to where you can kiss the back of it, "have to sort them tomorrow."

[hannieehaee]

Idk if you're taking requests but I would give it a short and it would mean so much if you actually wrote smthg bout it.

An angsty fic/drabble where woozi and reader are in a long term established relationship and the reader gets their absolute dream job opportunity but it's far from Korea and she tells it to woozi but they get conflicted since woozi cannot transfer between his work and seventeen and reader does not want to give up this once in a life time opportunity. At the same time they are sceptical about a long distance relationship since reader had already been fed up of how less they get to see and stay with woozi with him travelling and working constantly.

You don't have to write it if it's too complex but I'd love to see cuz I really like the way you write!

content: idol!woozi x nonidol!reader, established relationship, light angst, fluff, long distance relationship, etc.

wc: 716

a/n: thank u so much!! im so sorry for how long i took to get this out!!

masterlist

it'd been a week since you told jihoon about your new work opportunity. a week since the air in your apartment became just a little bit colder and the future slightly more grim.

jihoon had been supportive immediately, congratulating you and insisting on you accepting the position. he'd been as supportive a boyfriend as he'd been in the past two years of your relationship. it filled you with warmth and hope for the future of your relationship.

it wasn't until you'd let him know of the location of said job that things became more sad than hopeful.

although he still maintained his supportiveness, there was now a clear air of worry in his voice any time it'd get brought up.

you'd tried to ignore it, pushing it aside until you found the courage in you to actually accept the position. it was your dream job. a once in a lifetime opportunity. except it was an entire country away from the love of your life. and you only had three more days to accept the offer letter they'd sent to you.

the thought of doing long distance would have been fine had you been anyone else. but you barely got to see your boyfriend as it was. living with him was really the only way for you to spend time together. his busy idol schedule had him going all over the world, and when he was at home he was usually ever at the company or in your shared apartment.

if you left, you'd give up on ever getting to see him.

"babe."

the voice took you away from your train of thought. the same train of thought distracting you for the past week.

you looked away from the tv that had been playing in front of you. you hadn't even been watching it, but the background noise helped.

jihoon was at the entrance of the living room, two mugs in hand as he walked over to you and took his usual seat, silently handing you your mug with a tight smile.

not even a single sip from your drink was taken before the subject filled the room once more.

"you need to take this job."

"jihoon ..."

"no, listen," he turned his body to face you, "you and i, we're a forever thing, okay? i don't care if we have to be away for a while. i'm already living my dream, it's unfair that you don't get to do the same," he argued with conviction in his eyes.

"but, jihoon ... it won't be like when you're touring. we'll never be in the same country at the same time, i-"

his hands went to take your mug, placing it on the coffee table before taking your hands into his own.

"i don't care!", his voice raised without meaning to, "so we'll have a year or two in which we can't be as close as we've always been, so what? it won't matter in the grand scheme of things. we'll be together for forty- no fifty years. a few years of uncertainty won't matter a few years from now. babe, please."

his voice pleaded at you.

he was afraid you'd end it all instead of at least trying.

what made it worse that he refused to consider a possibility in which you didn't go and follow your dream. it was a done deal to him. he loved you that much.

that was all you needed to make a decision.

"i'll take the job," you said decisively.

jihoon released a sigh of relief right away, hand squeezing your own in encouragement.

"i-i'll rent a place big enough for the two of us over there. i'll ask for a week off every six months. i'll have it written into my contract so i can go visit you. and- and we'll keep this place here for any time you have time off. we'll call every night, no matter what. even if it's just for two minutes, we'll- we'll make it work."

all you could do was smile at him.

how could you ever worry about change when he was willing to work so hard to move along with it all?

you kissed him then, shutting him up with no words.

and he understood, kissing you back with just as much unspoken love.

[puck-luck]

14 of hearts with Quinn 🙏 they finally talk about starting a family after being at a team event where the reader spent the whole night with the kids and after the families with kids leave she gets sad…and a little drunk

Warnings: talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, PDA WC: 578

You have a slight problem. You’re tipsy and there’s a baby in your arms. You’re drunk enough that you’re not sure exactly who the baby belongs to, but Quinn had been carrying her awkwardly, so you’d scooped her up and decided to dote on her. Of course, you’d had to cross the room to get to him and the baby, your vision tunneling as soon as you spotted him. 

Turns out, Quinn was only holding her so that her parents could wish the hosts goodbye without a tired baby in their arms. She’s taken from you far too soon, which you act gracious about, but inside, you’re pouting. You love babies. They’re so cute and so precious and you love the idea of watching a tiny little human, that you made with the love of your life, learn how to be a person. 

Once the parents are gone, taking your new favorite little friend with them, you pout at Quinn outwardly. “I want one,” you whine petulantly.

Quinn rolls his eyes, but he smiles at you fondly. “You’re drunk,” he says.

“Only a little,” you reply. “And that doesn’t change anything. I still want a baby. I want you to give me one.” You bring your hands to his sides and wrinkle the fabric of his shirt in your hands. 

Quinn covers your hands with his own and removes them from his clothing. He fixes you with an unimpressed look. “We’re in public,” he reminds you.

“Then take me home.” You bring your arms over his shoulders, plastering yourself against his front. You touch his nose in a brief Eskimo kiss, ghosting your lips over his. “We should practice.”

“Practice what?” Quinn asks, playing along. He hugs your middle, keeping you close. You’re both toeing the line of acceptable PDA, especially when you’re at an event with Quinn’s colleagues, but you can’t be bothered. You’re horny and you want to make a mini-Quinn. You’ve seen his baby pictures– he was adorable. 

“Making a baby,” you sing-song, toying with his hair. He hasn’t cut it since the start of the season, so it’s growing nice and long. He also hasn’t shaved in a little while, so his facial hair is your favorite length. “I’ll let you come inside me as many times as you want.”

“Tempting,” Quinn laughs. “But, again, baby– you’re drunk.”

“I’m horny,” you correct.

“You’re horny because you’re drunk,” Quinn says. He pecks your lips. “I promise, as soon as we’re both sober, we can do every little dirty thing you could ever dream of.”

“You’re no fun,” you tell him with a frown. 

Quinn allows one of his hands to drift lower and pat your ass. He kisses your cheek, then puts his mouth right next to your ear. “We can have a lot of fun tomorrow,” he mutters. “When you’re sober. I want you to remember every second when I try and knock you up for the first time, baby.”

You straighten your posture a bit, reacting to his words. You sway with him a bit like you’re slow-dancing. It’s certainly out of place in this environment, to be holding your boyfriend so close for this long, but you don’t care. You want to be touching him and you like what he’s saying.

“Gonna look so pretty with my cum dripping out of you, sweetheart,” Quinn continues. “But I’ll have to make sure it stays inside somehow. We can’t take any chances, can we?”

[sonotcopingatall]

vacation gone wrong

sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you and sana, workaholic doctors, go on a vacation for a week. no phones, no surgeries, just the two of you. what could go wrong?

wc: 2.7k

warnings: i’d say none. it’s just really fluffy with chaos lol

it was supposed to be the perfect anniversary getaway.

sana, your brilliant and often frustratingly busy cardiothoracic surgeon wife, had been working her ass off for months. saving lives, performing surgeries, managing a department full of patients - she was damn good at it. but even she knew she needed a break. so, you’d both agreed: a week in a cozy, secluded cabin by a quiet lake. no phones, no surgeries, just you two, and maybe some wine and cuddling. a fucking dream, right?

you’d been married for five years now, which felt both like a lifetime and like it had all happened yesterday. both of you were workaholics, driven by the same damn passion for helping others. but this? this was about you two. about the break you both desperately needed.

but of course, the universe had other plans.

it started innocently enough. you and sana were driving through the winding mountain roads, music playing low in the background. you were laughing about something dumb - the kind of stupid, inside joke only long-term couples could understand. sana’s hand was resting on the gearshift, and you kept sneaking glances at her because, let’s be real, she was hot as hell, even after five years.

“can you believe we’ve been married for five years?” you ask, your voice dripping with affection.

sana smirks, eyes soft. “feels like just yesterday we were sitting in that little coffee shop, bitching about how insane our schedules were.”

you chuckle. “i remember you telling me you’d never have time for a relationship.”

“did i?” she laughs, glancing over at you, her eyes glinting mischievously. “i must’ve been lying.”

“damn right you were.” you poke her shoulder playfully, but just as you do, a sudden, bone-shaking screech fills the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of metal crunching. the car jerks to the side.

“hold on!” sana yells, her voice suddenly sharp and focused. she yanks the wheel to avoid a head-on collision with an out-of-control truck, its tire blown, veering into your lane.

your heart slams in your chest as sana wrestles with the wheel, your stomach flipping as the truck skids past. you blink, trying to regain your bearings, your pulse hammering.

“you good?” sana asks, voice tight, eyes scanning you. her hands are already checking the dashboard, her medical mind clicking into high gear.

you nod, trying to calm the hell down. “yeah, i’m fine. are you?”

“i’m good,” she mutters, still scanning the road. “i’m pulling over to check on them.”

you open your mouth to protest, to remind her that this was supposed to be vacation, but she’s already out of the car, her white coat flapping as she rushes to the truck. you can’t help but roll your eyes. “sana, seriously?”

you follow her anyway, because what else are you going do? you’re both doctors. you’ve seen your fair share of chaos. but when you see the truck driver, an elderly man sitting in his seat, looking a little dazed but otherwise fine, your worry shifts to something else entirely: a motorcycle zooming towards you from behind, clearly out of control.

you spin around, your stomach dropping. “sana! get down!”

but it’s too late. the bike rider is coming in too fast, and before you can even think, the rider crashes into a tree just a few feet from where sana is kneeling by the truck driver.

fuck.

sana’s on her feet before you can blink, already running toward the downed rider, her doctor instincts kicking in. you follow her, your own heart in your throat, your mind racing. the woman on the bike is unconscious but breathing, and sana’s hands are all business, checking for any injuries.

you try not to stare at her, but goddamn, you’re impressed. it’s always hot when she’s in “doctor mode,” but watching her save people like this? it’s next-level.

the next few hours blur together. you both take care of the elderly truck driver, call for an ambulance, and tend to the motorcycle rider, who thankfully wakes up, grumbling about how she’s going to be “so sore tomorrow.” you’re just glad she’s alive. by the time the paramedics arrive, you’re both covered in dirt and leaves, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

you climb back into the car, still trying to catch your breath. “do you think we’ll actually make it to the cabin this time, or is that asking too much?”

sana glances at you, shaking her head and smirking. “you really think this is it? the universe’s done with us? babe, we’re not even close to being done yet.”

you laugh, but you both know she’s right. you’ve barely started the damn vacation and already the universe is giving you a full course of bullshit. but, as you glance over at her - tired but unshaken, a little dirt streaked across her cheek, but still radiant - you feel a surge of fondness. maybe this is it. maybe it’s not about the vacation. it’s about surviving this shitshow together.

the next day, after a restless night full of nightmares and whispered reassurances from your wife, you start the drive again. you’re both cautiously optimistic as you cruise through a forested section of the road, sunlight flickering through the trees.

but of course, just as you round a bend, there’s a loud cracking sound. a deer bolts out of the trees, eyes wide with terror, running straight into your path.

“sana, fucking stop!” you shout as she slams on the brakes, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as the car skids across the gravel. the deer bounds away, a blur of brown and panic. the car comes to a stop, just barely missing it.

you both exhale like you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. “okay, okay, that’s it,” you mutter, hands trembling. “i think we should just go home.”

“no.” sana’s tone is firm, eyes steely, even though you know she’s just as rattled as you are. “we’re fine. we’ve got this.”

you both know damn well that you’re far from fine, but you also know that neither of you will let this stop you.

by day three, the frustration has started to settle in. another near-miss, another car accident. it’s getting fucking ridiculous. you’ve almost come to terms with the fact that this vacation is cursed when another damn van suddenly swerves into your lane, sliding toward you at a terrifying speed.

“sana!” you scream, but you know she’s already on it. the car swerves, just barely missing the van, the side mirror of the van grazing your bumper. a few seconds later, the van skids into a ditch.

another. fucking. near-miss. you’ve both barely processed it when you pull over once more.

“okay, okay,” you mutter, voice a little raw. “maybe we’re just not supposed to have a vacation, huh?”

sana turns to you, her expression softening despite the exhaustion in her eyes. “maybe we’re just meant to be together. no matter what.”

she’s right. no matter how many times life throws a curveball, you two always come back to each other. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

finally, on the fifth day, you both make it to the cabin. you’re bruised, battered, but somehow, more in love than ever. you’ve survived every crash, every disaster, because you had each other. the cabin door slams shut behind you, cutting off the chaos of the world.

and as you sit on the porch that evening, staring out at the peaceful lake, you feel the weight of the world finally lift. the chaos is over. for now, anyway.

“five years,” you murmur, your hand in hers as you both look up at the stars.

“five more, and five after that,” she whispers, her voice like a promise.

“maybe ten,” you grin, nudging her shoulder.

the universe can keep throwing bullshit your way, but you’ve got this. together. and that’s all that matters.

bonus scene: dinner at the lakeside restaurant

after what felt like an eternity of mishaps, you and sana finally settled into a quiet dinner at a lakeside restaurant. the space was warm, intimate, with soft lighting and the hum of conversation filling the air. you could almost forget the chaos of the past few days - the truck, the motorcycle, the deer, and everything in between. tonight, it was just the two of you, enjoying a peaceful moment.

“here’s to surviving the chaos,” you joke, raising your glass of wine and giving sana a playful grin.

she chuckles, her fingers brushing yours across the table. “yeah, but i’m not tempting fate again. let’s just enjoy this for once.”

you laugh, feeling the weight of everything you’ve been through lighten, even just a little. for a moment, it feels like the world outside doesn’t exist - you’re safe here, tucked away from the madness. but then, as if the universe has other plans, everything changes.

a loud, panicked shout breaks the calm: “someone help! my wife— she’s going into labor! oh, god, please, somebody help!”

without hesitation, you both stand up, instinctively moving toward the commotion. a man is pacing frantically between tables, his hands running through his hair as his wife bends over, clutching her stomach in pain. her face is pale, her breaths coming in shallow, jagged gasps.

without a word, you and sana exchange a look, both of you already in motion. there’s no hesitation in the way you move, no panic. you’ve been through this before - you know exactly what to do.

you approach the husband first, your voice calm but firm. “i’m a doctor. we’re going to help her. i need you to take a deep breath. you panicking isn’t going to help her right now.”

he nods shakily, his eyes wide with fear, but he tries to steady himself. “she wasn’t due yet. she’s only 28 weeks. i don’t know what to do.”

“you don’t have to do anything right now. we’ve got this,” you assure him, your hand on his shoulder for a moment before you move toward the woman. “ma’am, i’m here to help. my name’s dr. y/n, and this is dr. sana. we’re going to keep you and your baby safe, okay?”

she nods but doesn’t speak, her breath quickening. another contraction hits, and she cries out, her grip tightening around the edge of the table. her husband’s face is stricken with helplessness, but sana is already beside the woman, her hands moving quickly, checking her pulse, assessing her condition.

“ma’am, i need you to focus on your breathing,” sana says gently, her tone soothing but authoritative. “in through your nose, out through your mouth. let’s take it slow. you’re doing great.”

the woman nods, trying to follow the rhythm. her face is twisted in pain, and her hands are gripping the table, knuckles white. you step in, kneeling beside her, offering her a soft smile to help keep her calm.

“you’re doing great,” you repeat, squeezing her hand. “just breathe with me. in through your nose, out through your mouth. focus on me.”

her eyes meet yours, full of fear. “please, is my baby going to be okay?”

“yes, we’re going to make sure you both are okay,” you reassure her, glancing up at sana, who’s already keeping an eye on the woman’s vitals. her expression is controlled, but you can see the urgency in her movements.

the husband steps forward, his face twisted with anxiety. “i don’t understand… she wasn’t supposed to go into labor yet! what do we do?”

sana glances up at you, her eyes narrowing in thought. “we don’t have iv fluids here, but there’s a first aid kit in the car. i’ll grab it. it’s not much, but it could help stabilize her for now.”

the husband’s eyes widen with disbelief. “a first aid kit? what good is that going to do? my wife’s in labor early!”

sana remains calm, her voice reassuring. “it’s not ideal, but it’s what we’ve got. i’ll be right back. stay with her.”

you nod at her, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “we’ve got this,” you say to the husband, keeping your tone firm but supportive. “we just need to keep her calm, keep her breathing.”

sana rushes out the door, and you stay by the woman’s side, speaking gently as another contraction hits. “you’re doing great. just breathe with me. in, out. keep your focus. we’re here with you.”

her grip on the table loosens slightly as she follows your instructions. she winces with the pain but nods. “it hurts so much…”

“i know, but you’re strong,” you reply, your voice steady. “you’re doing everything right. stay with me.”

the husband is still holding her hand, his own face tight with fear. “we’re going to be okay,” he mutters under his breath, trying to steady himself as much as he’s trying to steady his wife.

minutes pass, and the tension in the air is suffocating. the restaurant has gone silent, all eyes on the small drama unfolding in the corner. you glance toward the door, willing the paramedics to arrive. “the paramedics are coming,” you murmur to the woman. “they’ll be here soon. you’re doing great.”

another contraction hits, and she gasps in pain. the time feels like it’s moving slower now, the seconds stretching endlessly.

just then, the door bursts open, and sana rushes back in, the first aid kit in her hands. without missing a beat, she snaps on a pair of gloves, moving toward the woman with expert precision. you meet her gaze for a split second, and in that moment, everything falls into place. this is where you both excel - in these moments, when everything is on the line.

“check her cervix,” sana says, already preparing to assist. “we need to know how far along she is.”

you grab the gloves from her, moving into position immediately. the woman winces as you gently check, and you nod, your voice steady. “she’s two centimeters dilated. early labor, but still manageable for now.”

sana checks the woman’s vitals. “her pulse is stable for now, but these contractions are getting closer together. we need to keep her calm, and we need paramedics here fast.”

the husband’s anxiety spikes again. “but they’re not here yet! i called them forever ago! where are they?”

“stay with her,” you say firmly, offering him reassurance. “the paramedics will be here any second now. we’re doing everything we can. focus on your wife. she needs you now more than ever.”

as if on cue, the paramedics rush in, taking control immediately. one of them quickly kneels beside you, and you brief him on the situation. “she’s preterm, two centimeters dilated, contractions coming every few minutes. we’ve kept her stable, but she needs to be in a neonatal unit.”

the paramedics work quickly, moving with practiced efficiency. you glance at sana, and the briefest smile passes between you. together, you’ve done what you can, and now it’s out of your hands.

as the woman is wheeled out, her husband still holding her hand, she looks up at you, her voice barely above a whisper. “thank you. thank you so much.”

you squeeze her hand gently. “you’re going to be okay. we’ve got you.”

as the paramedics disappear with the woman, you and sana stand in the quiet, watching them go. the weight of the situation lifts just a little as you turn to her.

“well,” you say, your voice quieter now, “i think that was our adrenaline for the night.”

sana chuckles, a tired smile on her face. “i swear, you thrive on chaos.”

you shrug with a grin. “guess it comes with the job.”

but as the adrenaline fades, the exhaustion sets in. you take a deep breath and, with a quick glance at sana, you both rip the gloves off, tossing them into the nearby trash bin. you take a moment to catch your breath, before sitting back down at the table. the world is starting to slow, but you still feel the adrenaline coursing through you. the meal is cold, the wine forgotten, but it doesn’t matter. you look at sana, and in her eyes, you find a quiet comfort.

“even after all of that,” she says softly, “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, or do this with anyone else.”

you smile, squeezing her hand across the table. “me neither. no matter what happens, we’ve got this.”

and in that quiet moment, as the restaurant resumes its hum, you both find peace in the shared understanding that no matter the chaos, you’re always ready to face it - side by side.

[gremlin-bot]

There is No Closure, Just Adapting To Life

Ao3 link: Here Master list: Here

Summary:

Danny should have asked more questions before accepting the request to fix a different dimension's time stream from Clockwork. He didn’t think he would be de-aged and live a different life where he would latch on to a new family and friends. It was nice being a part of a community of heroes.

It really wouldn’t have been that bad if he stayed there. Too bad that he was pulled from that world and back into his old one, both fulfilling his wish to see his original family and killing all the relationships with his new ones.

Now he has to figure out how to live in his original dimension again. And maybe, just maybe find a way to visit the one he forcefully left behind.

Chapter 1: Your trial period is over; your account has been put on hold.

Danny shouldn't be thinking about the past life he lived, shouldn't think about the parents who adopted him only to disappear for months at a time, nor the vigilante family he’d inserted himself into during their time of need. That life wasn't his to begin with! Just a dimension with a timeline that needed fixing in an unconventional way. 

So, why is he crying? 

He just got back to his home, time hadn’t passed here. He can see Sam, Tucker, and Jazz again! (He'll never see Cass, Jason, Dick, Damien, Steph, Kon –) He's more experienced and better at fighting now. He can protect Amity better! (He misses Gotham. The city seemed to make heroes feel like magic) Danny has his original life back… but damn it, he wants to go back! He doesn't want to protect a city alone again! 

Danny curls into himself on his bed. Silent sobs racking his body. He's so different than he was before. His hair was longer and parted in the middle, nothing like his usual, (old), fringe style. His missing scars and the new ones he can't explain. Gods-  (No, wait, it's Ancients) he is missing his spleen! How was he going to explain that, or any of this? Even as his sobs grew more violent, their volume didn't increase. 

A trick he learned in the Wayne manor. 

He didn't want to disturb anyone with his half remembered dreams of a different life.

Danny took a shuddering breath, the feelings he’d been trying to bury since his return hitting him full force. He’d been sucked back to his original dimension without warning a day ago. Clockwork, that bastard, didn't even give him time to say goodbye to the rest of the Bats and Birds. He was in his apartment as Tim Drake one second and plopped in Danny Fenton's bedroom the next. 

His talk with the older ghost didn't make the situation any better. 

He didn't explain anything! Just that his work in that dimension's timeline was done. If Clockwork hadn't time locked the portal Danny would've been in the ancient’s lair instead of dissociating in a room that doesn't feel like his anymore. He hates not being given a choice or having a plan. 

Jason was right; anger was so much easier than actually dealing with your feelings.

His spiraling was stopped when he heard a soft knock on his door. Oh, he’d forgotten that Jazz was home. Living through a lifetime made him forget a lot about his first one. He didn't get time to follow the new spiral of thoughts before his sister opened the door. 

"Danny?" Her voice was soft, laced with worry.

"Yeah," He hates how hoarse his voice sounds.

 He should be better than this; he’s infiltrated the league of assassins for Ancients’ sake. He watched as she approached his bed, buried beneath blankets. He can hear when she actually sees him by her gasp. 

"What happened?" Jazz asked as she sat on the bed facing him.

"I… I fixed a timeline in a different dimension for Clockwork." Danny can't bring himself to look at her. Everything is still fresh. The feeling he can just barely comprehend as grief has yet to settle inside him. He takes a deep breath. He can compartmentalize this and deal with it after Jazz leaves.

"How long were you gone this time, a month or two?" Jazz looks at him with unending patience and care. 

"17 years," He whispers hesitantly.

"Oh… oh, Danny." He couldn’t have prepared himself for the shock and pained confusion on her face. She leaned her over him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Oh, he can't compartmentalize this after all. Danny’s breath hitched as fat tears began rolling down his face, dampening his pillow even more. His life as Tim made him forget what it was like to have unending support from a sibling. He loved the hodge podge of the Waynes, but he was a vigilante first. He wasn’t really family.

Just a coworker.

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too much. Just know that I’ll always be here for you little brother,” Jazz’s voice was gentle. Oh, did he miss her during those years. Cass and Barbara helped him cope with missing Jazz whether they knew it or not.  He turned into her, relishing in the fact she was here. He may be missing a whole new family, but he got his old one back.

“I missed you, Jazz. Can you stay here with me for a little while?” He pleaded between silent sobs.

“Of course. I’ll be here as long as you need.”

---------—x—---------

Tim woke up to the sound of typing and the sight of red hair. He must have crashed at Barbara’s last night. He sits up, not fully awake just yet.

“Morning, Babs,” he yawns, eyes blurry. 

The gentle but persistent clicking of keys stops with a hitch of her breath. "Danny, it's me Jazz. Is Babs someone you were close to… before?" 

The voice he hears back isn't Barbara's.

It's one he barely recognizes now, made even harder to place with the barely covered pain. Jazz deserves a better brother than him. 

What kind of brother is he, that he doesn't even remember his own sister at first glance. 

Danny takes a deep shaky breath. No, he can't think like that. He hasn't seen her in 17 years, Of course he isn't going to recognize her. Still she hasn't changed one bit. 

He can't tell if that makes it better or worse.

"Yeah" he croaks, voice rough from sleep and the lump that's formed in his throat. “She has hair like yours.”

“Oh… do you want to talk about it?” she offers awkwardly. She was completely out of her depth but still wanting to help in her own way. (Alfred would have loved to meet her.)

Danny shakes his head, pushing past the aching in his chest as he drags himself out of bed. He doesn't look back at Jazz, he doesn't want to see the pitying look in her eyes. Something ugly, angry, and raw always tends to creep into him when that particular emotion is directed at him, and she doesn't deserve that.

What a cruel joke that the one thing that he gets in spades in both lives is pity.

He needs a strategy if he plans to survive the next couple of days, (the rest of his life), and that starts small. Get ready and investigate what the hell was happening in his life before… his time mission. He lost so much time with his breakdown, how annoying. 

Tim (no, he's Danny now) huffs, opening his closet. Well before he starts anything he needs a damn shower. 

---------—x—---------

By the time Danny was clean and dressed, Jazz had left him with a journal with his name on it and her scrapbook. Ancients, she really is the best big sister. (Cass would contest that). 

He knows that he should dive into them right away, but… he can put it off a little longer. Remembering and relearning will take time, and he has all the time in the world now, whether he likes it or not. Diving deep will be too much. He’s too emotionally raw, and just needs something to latch on to, like: 

Next day survival plan 101, start small. 

He can look at Danny’s phone; he’ll figure out what to do with Tim’s later. Remember, one step at a time; one thing at a time. Finding the device was easy, it was on the nightstand where he always leaves it. Seems like this is one of the habits he kept in both lifes. Opening it up was easier than he originally expected; he really didn't have a sense of cybersecurity beyond Tucker back then.

(…Now?)

The device was familiar in so many different ways; he always did gravitate towards technology (with Tucker pushing him forward right next to him). The screen lit up, showing the basic layout of all phones; he dismissed notifications from dumb games, leaving the social media ones. What he was really looking for was his messages.

He had a couple new messages from Sam and Tucker in their group chat. He should look at the chat, but, in doing so, he'd be facing the people he had been grieving their missing presence for the last 17 years. A missing presence that had him picked up so many new hobbies, just because they reminded him of his two best friends. Danny would have never touched a camera if it wasn't for the ache in his chest everytime he passed a looming gargoyle. The hundreds of pictures will finally be seen by their intended audience, if he could only get himself to open the gods damned chat!

Shaky breath slips from his lips as he steadies his thoughts. Baby steps. Look at the messages and go from there.

— New Messages —

PettyWitch

Tucker I swear if your ass isn't up rn, I'm coming over and replacing all of the meat in your fridge with lettuce.

TFine

give me a sec 2 get down there you can stop calling me 

i'm not going to answer

what about Danny

how come you aren't calling HIM!!!!!

PettyWitch

Bc Danny can actually get up before noon during the weekends unlike other people in this chat! So he can be trusted to get to Nasty Burger on time. 

TFine

HEY!

Their banter goes on. Danny scrolls through it with a painful kind of fondness draping over him. A hole that once gouged his heart was being filled, only to have a different part get ripped out for the same reason. The people he missed will always have some type of mouth on them, especially one that gets them in trouble. Moving past the too fresh grief and focusing on the conversation at hand does bring about a pressing issue, he's supposed to meet up with Sam and Tucker soon.

Shit.

Looks like he's facing more ghosts of his past-turned-present sooner than he thought. It's Tucker and Sam. They stuck with him through his death and his first hero career. If anyone besides Jazz could sympathize with him, it was them. Resolve hardened like the Bat he is (was —there is no way back to them now), he spends the little remaining time flipping through pictures and looping handwriting as he pieces the memory of his old life back together.

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 3.)

Summary: Melissa reflects about the possible changes between the two of you that the sugar mommy deal bought. After spending the night at her penthouse, you have a weird dream about the redhead....

tags: @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @greencurlyhair @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic

Part 1. Part 2.

Melissa groaned as the early morning sunlight pierced through the slits in the blinds. She rolled over, already dreading the reality of waking up. The events of the previous night—everything about it, from the dinner to the lingering almost kiss—played through her mind again, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and you. It was too soon to tell if it was a shift for the better, but it was certainly a shift all the same.

The redhead’s muscles protested as she pushed herself up, running a hand through her messy hair. It wasn’t like her to be so off-balance, but there was something about you that rattled her in a way she hadn’t expected. You were bratty. Unpredictable. A puzzle she was both annoyed and intrigued by. And despite herself, she found herself almost caring about the small details—like how you’d looked at her last night or how your voice had softened when you spoke to her.

She carefully slid out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in her back from the night’s sleep. She glanced over at the guest bedroom door, half-wondering if she’d wake you up with her movements. She didn’t want to disturb you, not just yet. You had seemed so vulnerable when you’d finally fallen asleep last night, and the thought of you waking up in a strange place made her feel protective—though she hated admitting it.

Slowly, the older woman padded to your room, peeking through the crack in the door. There you were, lying on your back, arm thrown over the edge of the bed, eyes shut in deep slumber. You looked so innocent, nothing like the woman who’d made her life so much more complicated in such a short time.

Melissa leaned down slightly, brushing a hand across your arm, feeling the warmth of your skin under her touch. She didn’t let herself linger long, though, pulling away almost immediately. She was a little surprised at how soft your skin felt. The woman she’d been dealing with for the past few days, who had given her nothing but trouble and attitude, was here now, looking almost angelic in sleep. She huffed quietly, stepping back toward the door.

“You’re so fucking bratty,” she muttered under her breath, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “And you’re making me care. I don’t like this.”

Before the redhead could react, you kicked the blanket and that’s when she caught a glimpse of your underwear—dark lace peeking out from under the hem of your oversized shirt. Green eyes widened briefly, her heart pounding before she immediately closed them, unwilling to let herself get lost in the distraction. Focus, Schemmenti. Focus. You can’t look at this little stinker like it is a meal. You are not a damn wild animal.

Opening her eyes and cleaning her thoart, she pulled the door closed gently behind her and tiptoed downstairs, hoping the solitude of the kitchen would give her a moment to clear her head. But she wasn’t alone.

Suddenly, the faint sound of clattering pots echoed from the giant kitchen again and again. Melissa let out a low groan, recognizing the noise immediately.

“Shit,” the woman sighed softly, already feeling the headache return. “Cavolo, stai scherzando.”

Descending the stairs, she heard Pearl, her elderly housekeeper and longtime friend, bustling around as if she were still on the clock. Despite being retired for almost a decade, she had made a habit of showing up unannounced, whether it was to check on Melissa, water her plants, or, as she put it, “make sure you’re not making a mess of yourself, piccola.”

The only problem about the sixty nine year old woman was that she was always early. The retired housekeeper-turned-mentor had an uncanny ability to show up before anyone was awake. She had taken care of the redhead for years, practically raising her as a daughter of her own, and now, even in her retirement, the older woman found ways to make herself useful—perhaps a bit too useful for Melissa Schemmenti’s liking.

The redhead tried not to wince as she descended the last step, her joints protesting as the smell of scrambled eggs and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the kitchen. Pearl was already busy at the stove, flipping pancakes with her practiced ease, the lines of her face softened with a contented smile as she worked. Melissa’s heart softened, despite her earlier irritation at being woken up this early. She couldn’t help but feel a warmth for this woman who’d cared for her all these years.

“Morning, Missy,” Pearl greeted, barely turning from her task. Using the childhood nickname that the heiress of the Schemmentis hated. “You look like you had a rough night.”

“Didn’t think anyone else would be awake yet,” the green eyed woman muttered, crossing to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would help shake off the lingering fog. “Especially you, coming so soon.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” the housekeeper replied with her usual warmth, her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Got up to make sure you had a proper breakfast. Since I know you aren’t eating properly due to menopause. And your night escapes to some bars.”

“You don’t need to act like my ma.” Melissa scoffs, rolling her eyes annoyed. Before she could answer again, she groaned feeling hot.

Pearl’s sharp caramel eyes glanced her over knowingly. “Forgot your medication, didn’t you?” she asked, her tone a gentle scold. “And don’t tell me you didn’t, Melissa Ann. I know that look.”

Melissa grimaced, rubbing her forehead. “I was just going to take it now,” she said, her voice defensive. She rummaged in the cabinet above the sink, pulling down a small pill bottle labeled with her name. The eldest raised a skeptical eyebrow as she uncapped it and dry-swallowed one of the pills.

Pearl set down her spatula and crossed her arms, her gaze softening. “Are you taking care of yourself, Mel? I know menopause isn’t easy, especially for someone like you who tries to carry the world on her shoulders.” Her voice held a rare gentleness, a tone reserved for the few times she’d allowed herself to acknowledge Melissa’s various struggles over the years. Some of those being her depression episodes, marriage trauma and family problems since her Nonna’s passing.

The forty-five year old’s shoulders slumped a bit. “It’s… it’s fine. Really. Just some hot flashes here and there. Dryness. And headaches. And—” She cut herself off, sighing as she realized she was about to list off all the symptoms she’d been dealing with lately.

“Mm-hmm,” Pearl replied, clearly unconvinced. She took out her own bottle of medication from her purse on the counter and handed it to Melissa, who dutifully placed it in a nearby drawer with Pearl’s name on it. “Now, what about you?” she pressed, her tone half-teasing but her eyes serious. “I didn’t expect to find a guest here this morning.”

She let out a sharp sign, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not like that. She’s… young, yeah, but it’s different this time.”

“Oh, a young woman now,” Pearl noted, raising her eyebrows in amusement. “Not like that young man last time—what was his name? The one who didn’t know what he was doing in bed if it saved his life.”

At this, Melissa’s cold face twisted in a grimace, the unfortunate horrified memory flashing in her mind. “Don’t remind me,” she whispered, almost shuddering. She remembered that boy fumbling, more nervous than he had any right to be, and how disappointed she’d felt through sex. “This one’s different, though. It’s… a sort of arrangement. You could call it a sugar mommy and sugar baby thing, I guess.”

The brown haired gave her a look, equal parts surprise and amusement. “A sugar mommy thing? With all due respect, Melissa, you don’t have enough patience for that sort of thing.”

She crossed her arms. “She’s bratty, I’ll admit that. But she’s… I don’t know, she’s different. I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”

Pearl shook her head, her mouth set in a knowing line. “You know your family won’t like this,” she said quietly. “You know how they can be about anything that doesn’t fit the mold.”

“They already don’t like half of what I do. What’s one more thing?”

Before the housekeeper could respond, a soft whimper floated down from upstairs. Melissa hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the stairs. She’d heard you tossing and turning all night, the sounds muffled but constant, each soft shift catching her attention as she lay in bed. She’d even considered coming to check on you during the whole night, maybe sleeping on a armchair next to the closet but something held her back. Now, hearing your faint whimper, she couldn’t ignore the stir of worry creeping up.

“Poor thing was restless all night,” she muttered to herself, sighing as she forced herself to stay seated. “Couldn’t keep still for a second, that little troublemaker.” The nickname slipped out, soft but affectionate, as if the word had formed on her tongue before she realized it.

Pearl looked at her with a knowing smile. “Ah, so you were listening,” she teased, folding her arms as she watched Melissa try to feign indifference.

The Italian scoffed, shrugging in a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, well… couldn’t exactly ignore it. She was moving so much, I half expected her to fall out of bed.”

Meanwhile, you tossed and turned, trapped in a fevered dream that felt all too real. The sheets tangled around your silhouette, your breathing shallow as you tried to escape the sensations pulling at your mind. In the dream, Melissa was there, her figure pressed tightly against yours, the heat between you building as her green eyes locked onto yours with that hungry, predatory glint that always sent a shiver down your spine. Her auburn hair was falling messily around her shoulders as she leaned over you.

The redhead was grunting softly, her breath warm against your neck as she ground her plump hips against yours, pressing her chest closer until the friction between your clits was almost overwhelming.

“Mm, c’mon… just like that,” she whimpered, each word dripping with raw desire. “Feel that, huh? God, you’re a mess for me, aren’t you?”

You moaned, feeling the pressure grow, her words sinking into you, making every nerve in your body come alive. Her manicured hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as she rocked faster against you, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that had you panting while the bed cracked softly. “You like that? Can't even keep quiet, can you?”

“Please..”

“God, you’re so needy,” she mocked, her tone laced with a dark promise that sent shivers down your spine. Her lips brushed against your ear, her hot breath making your entire body tingle. “When I’m done with you here. I’m gonna eat that pretty cunt of yours until you’re begging me to stop.”

She rasped, pressing harder.

Your hands clawed at her back, every inch of your body aching for her as she took control, her voice a seductive murmur that drove you wild. “You’ll be so wrecked, you won’t be able to think about anything else. Just Mommy.”

“Gonna make you cum, sweetheart?” She grabbed your neck, grinding faster and faster. The friction was driving you to the edge, and you could feel yourself trembling, every nerve on fire. You were so close, the sensation building until you thought you might break.

“Mommy— shit. I… I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, voice barely more than a whimper as your body arched beneath her, completely lost in the moment. Her strong hand tightened, grounding you as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, shuddering with pleasure—

Then, abruptly, you jolted awake, your breath catching as the remnants of the dream slipped away. Disoriented, you blinked at the ceiling, your heart pounding as the heat of embarrassment flooded your face. Shifting slightly, you felt the unmistakable dampness beneath you and glanced down, realizing with horror that you’d left a very obvious wet spot on the bed.

“Shit,” you whispered, mortified, scrambling to sit up, only for the sheets to tangle around your legs. You stumbled in your hurry, slipping off the edge of the bed and landing on the floor with a loud thud. “Oh, God—shit, shit!”

The noise must have been louder than you thought, because within seconds, you heard the footsteps rushing up the stairs. Before you could even process what to do, the door burst open, and there stood Melissa, eyes wide with alarm, closely followed by someone that you didn’t knew.

“What happened?” The older woman demanded, her gaze darting over you as you sat on the floor, cheeks flaming, trying to gather yourself.

Looking up, you gulped. Fascinated by the one and only Melissa Schemmenti in front of you. She’s wearing a bright, colorful outfit that combines a green and yellow floral-patterned cardigan over a teal top. Her pants are pink with a large floral design, adding to the bold color palette.

“Y/N?” she asked again, frowning. “What is wrong?”

You fumbled, not sure how to even begin explaining, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried to act casual—despite the very obvious wet patch visible on the sheets. “I—I, um, I was… I mean, I just—uh, bad dream! Yeah. Bad dream,” you stammered, trying to brush it off, but the redness on your face betrayed you.

The shorter woman arched a brow, her expression both amused and skeptical. “Bad dream, huh?” she quips, crossing her arms as she gave you a once-over.

You bit your lip, scrambling for any excuse that didn’t sound utterly mortifying. “Uh! Like… uh… giant spiders? Huge ones. They were all over the room,” you said, clearly flustered, and added, “Super terrifying. And I guess I, um, kicked myself out of bed.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching like she was trying not to laugh. “Uh-huh. Spiders,” she repeated, clearly unconvinced.

You could feel yourself turning bright red under her gaze, every attempt to come up with a coherent explanation slipping away as you grew more embarrassed. “It’s… um… it’s complicated. You know, just… spiders everywhere,” you continued, waving your hand in a vague, desperate attempt to salvage your dignity.

The housekeeper shook her head, chuckling softly. “Looks like someone’s still half-asleep. Well, dear,” she said, turning to the redhead with a smirk, “seems your little friend had quite the night.”

Melissa coughed, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Maybe you oughta get a handle on those… nightmares?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, utterly mortified.

Noticing your discomfort, your sugar mommy huffed, pushing Pearl away. She turned to her old friend, fixing her with a pointed look. “You’ve done enough meddling for one morning, Pearly. Go get yourself a coffee or something—and don’t eavesdrop, alright? Come on, get out. I’m sure you’ve got something else to do—like… I don’t know, gardening or making some pasta?”

Pearl held up her hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to it,” she spoke, casting a knowing glance before heading out, muttering something about the “privileges of the rich.” As she disappeared down the hallway, Melissa rolled her olive eyes and turned back to you with a reassuring smile.

“Pearl’s been around forever,” she explained. “She was practically my second mom growing up. A little nosy, but she means well.” With a shrug, she softened, her tone growing gentle. “But enough about her. I figured now’s as good a time as any to talk about you settling into your new place. I know moving’s a process, but we’re close. By the end of next week, everything should be ready for you to be officially out of that fucking apartment.”

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders easing as you let the idea sink in. You’d been living in a cramped, rundown place for far too long, and the thought of moving somewhere safer, somewhere luxurious, almost didn’t feel real. “I… I appreciate it, Melissa. Really.”

Melissa waved a hand, brushing off the thanks as if it were nothing. “It’s the least I can do. But I thought we’d get a head start on things today, get you acquainted with my place since you are going to stay here until the moving process is over. C’mon, let me give you the grand tour to your temporary home.”

She motioned for you to follow, leading you through the spacious, elegant penthouse. Every corner of the place felt like it was straight out of a magazine—the polished marble floors, the sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows with a stunning city view, and the sleek, modern furniture that seemed like it was made to perfection. She pointed out the essentials as you moved from room to room, each space more luxurious than the last.

“This here’s the kitchen,” she said, stopping by a gorgeous open space outfitted with the latest stainless steel appliances and a massive marble island. “Anything you need in here, just ask. I’ve got a personal chef who stops by now and then, so if cooking’s not your thing, don’t worry.”

You followed along in awe, nodding as she led you past the living room, that you saw yesterday which was filled with plush furniture and enough space to entertain a whole party. After covering every corner of the penthouse—from the extravagant master bathroom, equipped with a jacuzzi tub, to the private gym—Melissa finally turned to you with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, now that you’ve seen the whole place,” the redhead starts, resting a firm but gentle hand on your shoulder, “it’s time we get you properly settled. How about a little shopping trip to pick out whatever you need?”

You felt your cheeks warm as her hand lingered, the sensation grounding and reassuring. “Yeah, I could use some essentials… maybe a few things to make it feel like home. And I could use some new clothes..”

“Good. Then let’s get going. We’ve got a lot to cover, and I don’t want any more interruptions.” With a final pat on your shoulder, she led the way to the door, her presence steady and confident by your side.