#I wanting to finish this before work tomorrow

[the-fanss]

Threads - Part 2

Note: omg guys thank you for liking the first part so much!! I wasn’t expecting so many people to like it lol, it’s a little self indulgent. The next update might take a few days purely because it’s one of my partner’s birthdays so I’m making this one a bit longer :>

~Reader~

I swear to god Rumi why would you release a song when your voice has been bothering you so much?? I think to myself as the girls message me about what’s going on. Last night after I got home Rumi released Huntrix’s new song Golden when they were all supposed to be on a three week break. I know for a fact Bobby must be stressed because these girls keep him on his toes.

“Rumi if you weren’t feeling well with your voice gone why would you release music. Stress isn’t going to help.” I say sitting with the three girls after a cancelled show and they wanted to get food.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t feeling bad when it happened. I think I just need some rest?” She responded looking down.

“It’s okay Bobby can handle it!” and speak of the devil right as Zoey says that Bobby calls. “Girls I can’t handle this!” Poor man sounds stressed and overwhelmed. He’s talking to the girls about next steps going forward as I observe Rumi and how tense she looks.

We weren’t always friends it was more of a forced proximity to each other that brought us to get to know one another. Zoey is easy to get to know because she loves to please people and she’s so social, Mira was harder to read but I’m so happy I got to know her, and Rumi… she always seemed like she had something to hide and sometimes things didn’t add up but eventually because of us working together a lot we just started to get closer.

“I know I’m not your manager or in charge of schedules for you but how about if you want to still promote without wearing out your voice you just do some game shows?” I say after the girls finish talking to Bobby.

“It wouldn’t be a horrible idea..” Rumi starts, “But a lot of those shows right now are focusing on newly debuted groups to get their name out there for idol awards in a few weeks.”

“True but it could help us get our new song out there and get people excited to connect with us more too.” Mira pointed out going along with my idea. Zoey just nodded along enjoying her food and seemed happy that Rumi was back after running off.

“I can see if I can send some shows for you to do to Bobby if that helps. Some of them are going to be at a few of my venues.” I say checking availability for the next few weeks on my phone.

“You really don’t have to do that..” Rumi starts unsure of herself. I look up from my phone and my eyes catch some of the threads connected to her. Some have turned a golden color, a lot of red is mixed in which are more than likely fans of the group. Zoey and Mira have the same. Threads have different colors for each connection. Adoration is red, friendship can be a deep blue color, but I haven’t seen golden ones before. Sometimes specialized threads can have a specific color depending on who it’s tied to but it varies from person to person, and the weaker the connection you have to a person the less visible the thread becomes. It’s always been interesting and I don’t know why I can see these in the first place. The girls know I can see them and have asked on occasion before if I can see soulmates which made me laugh. I haven’t believed in those in years, the real world doesn’t have one set person for you and that’s something I’ve had to learn the hard way, it’s just fairytales at that point.

After a while of sitting and talking Zoey brings up how tomorrow they should go to this herbal specialist to get tonics to help Rumi’s voice and it’s not a horrible idea but honestly in my opinion a doctor sounds better suited.

“(Reader) do you want to join us? It would give you a chance to be out of your place for a bit” Zoey starts, “After we can grab snacks and hang out with each other. I have so many cute videos about turtles to show you.” I smile a bit at that but just say that I’ll let her know. I may not work but I do value my alone time. I work in a very social setting and any time off is spent decompressing and spending time with my pet.

The next day I am with the girls anyways. In sweatpants and a tank top showing off a few of my tattoos. I don’t have too many and I normally cover them up especially because of the more conservative vibe in South Korea.

“It should be right up ahead!” Zoey says looking at her phone for directions and bringing us to this hole-in-the-wall doctors office.

“Looks trustworthy to me” Rumi says caving into Zoey’s suggestion. I just look at the door and can already tell that this place is something I won’t be stepping into.

“You guys have fun with that, I’m going to go shop around a little bit.” I say already splitting off from the group. Of If I was going to be tagging along I might as well run some errands.

“Be safe and we will text you when we’re done.” Mira says waving me off and following Rumi and Zoey into the building.

I start to walk away and get to Main Street and see some yellow fliers posted talking about a street performance in about an hour. It’s not an uncommon sighting, I’ve seen so many of these street performances on YouTube and just out walking around. It helps gain popularity and any publicity is good publicity. Not paying attention fully I bump shoulders with someone a g a i n, I really need to start paying attention to people and where I’m walking. Right as I’m about to apologize it’s too late. I recognize the person I have bumped into for the second time.

“It’s you! I’m so sorry, I really do need to pay attention to where I’m going” I say taking a deep bow in apologies.

“We meet again. You really need to pay attention.” The blue haired dude says. Standing up straight I look at the blue haired guy again. Making eye contact with him he stiffens up and looks tense out of nowhere.

“Yeah I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention. I really don’t mean to run into you” I say deadpanned. He doesn’t have to be so rude about it but I guess if I was bumped into by the same person twice I would get a bit miffed. I looked at him again and noticed how despite seeing him briefly he now has a few light threads on him. Huh… okay maybe I just didn’t see them before because it was late? Probably. Finally taking in my surroundings I notice four men standing off to the side focusing on us.

“Oh uhm.. I’m sorry for taking your time” I start to say until I’m cut off by one of the pink haired guys.

“Who is this Baby?” He asks who I now assume is Baby. What a strange name..

“I don’t know, she’s bumped into me twice now.” Baby says switching into an even more uncaring tone.

“Well well. For someone so… attractive, I would think it’s fate to run into you more than once. I’m Abby.” This Abby person says taking my hand.

“Uhm… same to you I guess??” I respond taking my hand away. I swear I could see his eyes light up to something that wasn’t his eye color as he took my hand and stranger danger. Must be the outside reflections.

“We are doing a performance nearby if you want to catch it.” Someone says from the side of me and this man… he is fucking h o t. He hands me one of the fliers I saw earlier. Ohh so this is the group. “We would love to feed off your energy being there.” He says but the way he phrases it makes it sounds like there’s a joke I’m not getting there.

“I’ll try to swing by but I am with some friends who are in a store nearby. It’s up to them.” I say already ready to walk off. Something about the way these people are staring at me feels heavy and I don’t want to find out what it is.

“We would absolutely adore it if you did.” Says the other pink haired guy and grabs my hand to kiss very quickly.

“Woah back up now. I’ll try to be if I can but no promises.” I say already starting to back away from the group. There is one more and he’s been quiet the whole time. He just stares I think? I can’t tell from the hair covering his eyes.

Walking off I wipe off my hand because ew, despite how attractive they were who just randomly kisses a stranger’s hand??

~Saja Boys~

“You never said she smelled like that.” Jinu says to Baby watching the woman walk away.

“I said she has a scent. It seems to be pulling me in.” Baby responds still looking after your retreating figure.

“THAT was the person who bumped you? Damn, if it was me I wouldn’t let her leave even despite the pull I’m feeling.” Abby says definitely checking out the figure walking away.

“We can’t get distracted. We have a job to do and we need to do it quickly to rope these people in. We can worry about her later, she seems human so we can grab her in the after math.” Jinu says still looking after you.

“But her scent, she smelled so good. She’s definitely tied to us.. it’s OUR scent on her.” Romance chimes.

“It is but we can’t be concerned about it at the moment. Let’s get going.” Says Jinu forcing himself to walk away. All of the Saja boys know about Soulmates. It’s something that’s big for a demon to find. However it’s not normal to have a human soulmate. It can happen sure, there’s been times where it’s happened before, the soulmate with always smell like the other person and in this case it seems like she has the smell of all the boys.

“We need to stay focused.” Jinu says again. Whether it’s to himself or not, he has to keep the goal in mind. He cannot get distracted at this very important moment.

Note: Second part is now here yay!! I’m thinking of making a post explaining soulmates and how the reader’s powers work so there won’t be confusion but I’ll decide on that later. If you want to be tagged let me know! -Luka

Taglist: @libdarkheart @calmmell @elli4ever @lvfleur @kahoonie @inojinieeee @isabellamorettosworld

[to-the-stars8]

The Game

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: Bruce comes home after a gala, looking to get you upstairs and in bed.

AN: Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this on my phone while at work and will be posting it to Ao3 later for anyone who would like to read this that way! Also slight NSFW so MDNI

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

It’s past midnight by the time Bruce rolls in, the smell of cigar smoke heavy on his long black wool coat. As ventures further into the den he sheds his overcoat and charcoal suit jacket, throwing them across one of the armchairs.

You’re poised on the couch with your legs tucked up and a book cradled in your arms. You hardly look up from your book as he moves about, only mumbling a greeting before getting back to the plot. It was getting good, and you weren’t going to distract yourself by asking how yet another gala went.

Bruce makes his way over to the bottle of scotch that sat up on a high shelf on the far side of the room.

As he poured himself a glass, he asks, “Kids in bed?”

You hum. “Yeah.” After flipping a page, you gently add, “Tim needs new shoes for school, by the way.”

Bruce chuckles, the sound echoing in the quiet room. As he crosses over to you in three strides, he mutters, “He tears them up on that damn skateboard.” He sighs. “I’ll get him new ones tomorrow.”

After a second, he drops down next to you, drink sloshing around in the crystal glass as he settles. Bruce stretches an arm behind you on the couch, eyes going between you and the book in your lap.

You know what he wants, and, though you’re more than willing to, you’re not giving in that easily to him. Lately, you’ve been giving it to him far too willingly, and, though you enjoy it immensely, you find it more fun to watch him squirm a little.

Bruce rests the glass on his knee, swirling a little, as he whispers, “Let’s go upstairs.”

You finally look up, trying not to show how much of a good idea you think that sounds. “I want to finish this chapter.”

Tutting, you see his hand around the glass twitch a little. It takes everything in you not to smile. After being together for over ten years, you manage to catch the small ways he shows his annoyance. A hand twitch? That meant he’d love nothing more than to take the book from your sweet hands and toss it across the room.

But, Bruce Wayne was raised a gentleman and he knew your anger at that would far worse than anything else. His eyes look towards the door like he was looking for the kids—Bruce always looked for them before doing something particularly nasty. Not that anyone would know it, but he was embarrassed when his more intimate side was exposed. Every nonchalant, cool brag made to the media was a front that often kept Bruce’s face buried in his hands afterward.

When he decides the coast is clear, he whispers again, “That book will still be there after I eat you out and fuck you.”

You finally look at him and you can’t help but smile a little. Despite being a bit commanding, which you expected from an only child with too much money, he’s sweet.

“And, I hope, you’ll still be here after my chapter.”

Bringing his hand to the back of your neck, he holds you there—Not in a mean way. No, never in a mean way, just a way to ground himself to you so that he might admire your face a bit longer.

“Of course,” he says softly, thumb rubbing gentle strokes against the skin right under your ear. When he leans closer, you can feel the power radiating off of him. Bruce practically owns the world, and, with the way he is spread out, you can feel that. There’s a bit of pride blooming in your chest that comes from the fact that this man is your husband and he’s the one staring at you like you own him. “But wouldn’t you like me to pull those pretty panties to the aside and let you bounce you on my cock?”

His desperate brashness makes you blush and giggle as you shake your head. “You’re…”

Bruce smiles. A real smile that’s reserved just for you and the kids. “What?”

“I can’t think of the word right now,” you admit, going to look back down at your book. When the words weren’t comprehending, you shut it, looking at him.

He sets down his glass down onto the coffee table, knowing he’d won. “And here I thought the chapter was getting good by how well you brushed off my attempts to seduce you.”

You shook your head. You might have lost the game, but you were don’t yet. Putting your hand on his thigh, where you then noticed the very obvious bulge in his tailored trousers, you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Don’t get too rough this time, please?”

Both of you know you like it when he’s a bit mean—when he grips the softness of your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you down by pressing on your back as he rams into from behind, and when he nips at all his favorite places enough to leave marks the next day. Every bit of it you love, and you’ll ask for it later.

Right now, you’re wanting to see how easily he’ll fold for you.

Pressing his lips to your shoulder, he hums a yes. He won’t risk you being uncomfortable for a stupid unspoken game—not when there’s a chance you’re actually serious about the request.

“Of course. However you want it, you’ll have it.”

Putting your book down on the side table, you kiss his lips and wrap your arms around his strong shoulders. Within the blink of an eye, Bruce has wrapped his arms around your waist and hauls you up with him. Your grip on his shoulders tighten as you kick your feet about.

“You should have led with this,” you exclaim as you press another kiss to his lips.

Giving your ass a playful smack, making you laugh harder, he says, “Next time.”

[theonlyonesora]

The Man Who Married Me

PAIRING: Lewis Hamilton x Reader x Max Verstappen

CH – 15

Max had won the Japanese Grand Prix.

Mercedes’ first win of the season. A dominant one. Clean. Fast. Deserved.

You could still hear the screams of the team echoing from the pit wall. The joy was electric—desperate, almost—like a drought had finally broken.

And you? You were the Director of that team. The face behind that podium. You should’ve been nothing but proud.

But now you were standing in a hotel room with your husband—one of the two men you couldn’t choose between—buttoning the last clasp of your necklace while he looked at you in the mirror like he was trying to memorize something before letting it go.

“At least wear red,” Lewis muttered, the irritation laced in his tone sharper than he meant it to be. “You’re not coming with me. The least you can do is look like Ferrari tonight.”

You glanced at him through the mirror. “I didn’t bring anything red. The best I can do is purple.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, stepping into the bathroom behind you, eyeliner in hand.

“You love purple,” you reminded him, soft.

“I know,” he replied, quieter now, as he set the pencil down and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

You let yourself lean back against him, his warmth seeping through your dress.

“It was a good weekend, wasn’t it?” he murmured near your ear.

“Yes.”

“Finally back on the podium,” he added, and you could hear the pride under the fatigue. “Third place. Not a win, but it felt good.”

“Are you satisfied?” you asked, resting your hand against his cheek, pulling him slightly closer as your eyes met in the mirror.

He closed his eyes at your touch. “For now. But I want more.”

You almost smiled.

“You always want it,” you whispered.

You didn’t say whether that was a compliment or a curse.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lingering like he didn’t want to leave.

“I miss when we celebrated together,” he said quietly. “When there wasn’t a choice to be made.”

You held his hand gently. “You chose it.”

“I know,” he said. “But I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

You turned in his arms, fingers brushing against the collar of his black shirt. “We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“But not tonight.”

You kissed his cheek. “Not tonight.”

And when he left—Ferrari red sneakers on, smile ready for the cameras—you stood in front of the mirror alone for a long time, watching your reflection.

Wearing purple. Going to celebrate a win. That didn’t belong to him. But maybe, in a way, still belonged to you.

.

The restaurant was all polished brass and moody lighting, tucked high above the Tokyo skyline with panoramic windows that glowed like gold. The Mercedes team had taken over half the space—laughing mechanics in polos, engineers already half-drunk, and press officers desperately trying to keep the celebration Instagram-appropriate.

You walked in like you belonged there—heels sharp, dress sleek, a glass of champagne handed to you the moment your name was whispered near the bar.

Max and Kimi were nowhere to be seen. You hoped someone had taken Kimi’s glass before things got nuclear and Max? You didn’t know whether you wanted him to appear or not.

Toto found you before you could finish your first sip. He was in full celebration mode—tie loosened, a whiskey in hand, and that amused glint in his eyes that said he’d been watching everything.

“I have to say,” he said, “this feels good again. Feels like us.”

You smiled. “It is us. We just forgot for a while.”

He nodded toward the team across the room. “And you? You look a little less... fractured than last week.”

You knew what he meant. You’d barely spoken to anyone that time. Just tight smiles, quiet check-ins. Toto had noticed, of course he had.

“I’m okay now,” you said softly.

Toto raised an eyebrow. “You and Lewis? That little marital... speed bump? Sorted?”

You gave him a look. “We’ve managed to work things out. At least... that’s what I want to believe.”

He clinked his glass against yours. “Sometimes it’s easier to run a company than a marriage.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Sometimes?”

He smirked and walked off, already being dragged into a group photo and James Allison.

You retreated to the bar, needing a breather. The music was loud, the champagne bubbles relentless. You stood near the edge, half in shadow, nursing a second drink and pretending to scroll through your phone.

Then came the voice—slurred and far too confident.

“There you are, boss.”

You turned. Max was leaning against the wall beside you, hair messy, team jacket half-off one shoulder, and a grin that made him look nineteen again.

“Max,” you said, half-smiling, half-bracing.

“Enough is enough,” he declared.

“Oh?” You raised a brow.

He pointed at you—or tried to. His hand swayed halfway up and gave up. “You. Hiding in a corner. Looking hot and mysterious and all powerful. Not fair. Not fair at all.”

“You’re drunk,” you said, amused.

“I’m happy,” he corrected, slurring slightly. “I won in Japan. Did you see me? You should celebrate with me. Properly.”

His eyes could barely stay open, but his grin was dazzling. He was glowing. Giddy. It reminded you of something.

Of someone.

Of Lewis, years ago. That same wild energy after a Mercedes win. Champagne-drenched suits, stolen kisses in dark corners of the paddock, sex in a storage room in Monaco so risky you nearly lost your job.

You used to be reckless together. You used to be on fire.

But now, you were here. And Lewis was somewhere else. Wearing red.

You wondered, just for a moment, how Ferrari celebrated tonight.

“Are you even listening?” Max was saying.

You looked back at him, blinking.

“Sorry. What?”

He leaned in, lips close to your ear, playful and impossible. “I said... if you don’t kiss me tonight, I might cry.”

You burst out laughing.

“Don’t mock me,” he whined, eyes fluttering dramatically. “I’m sensitive. Deep down. Somewhere.”

You shook your head, placing a hand gently on his chest. “You need water. And maybe a wall to lean on.”

“I need you,” he said, as if the word were sacred.

Your heart skipped. Not because he meant it. But because part of you wished someone did.

And in that moment—half-drunk, half-lonely—you weren't sure who you were missing more: The man standing in front of you... Or the one you used to follow into every dark, dangerous place without looking back.

.

The music was loud enough to blur thoughts, but not loud enough to drown them. Somewhere behind you, the Mercedes team laughed over another bottle of champagne. You had excused yourself—half bored, half restless.

Max had followed, silently this time.

Now, you were in the back hallway of the bar, pressed against the cool wall near the restrooms, his hands already beneath the hem of your dress. His breath was hot against your neck, his voice low and urgent.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he said.

And you didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

.

Across the city, Lewis was in the back corridor of a Tokyo club—darker, red-lit, pulsing with bass and sweat. Someone was laughing on the other side of the velvet curtain.

He didn’t care.

The woman in his arms was a mystery—an old friend. Someone who smiled too easily, whose perfume was far too expensive, and who looked nothing like you.

But she was warm, and willing, and right now that was enough.

Her dress was hiked around her thighs as she leaned back against the marble sink of the VIP restroom. Lewis’s hand was around her throat, lips at her collarbone, the chain he always wore swinging against her skin.

.

Max groaned into your mouth, and you pulled him into the restroom, locking the door behind you.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, but you were already pushing him back against the door, already kissing him like he belonged there.

“I’m winning,” he whispered, voice rough, tugging you toward him.

It was messy. Your leg hooked around his hip, his hand sliding up your thigh as if claiming territory.

The tile was cold. The air thick. Your moan echoed softly when his fingers found you—quick, skilled, confident.

.

Lewis pressed his head to the mirror, sweat beading down his temple, breath ragged as the woman infront him clutched his shoulders.

He let her use him.

Let himself pretend this was passion and not the ghost of something else.

Because the truth was, when he closed his eyes—He saw you.

The way you used to whisper his name, the way you laughed in the middle of being kissed, the way your nails dug into his neck when you were trying not to moan too loudly in a place you shouldn't be.

He missed your chaos. Your recklessness. He missed your sin.

.

Max buried his face in your neck as you clenched around him, your bodies moving in sync, breath shallow, skin slick with heat. His hand covered your mouth when you got too loud.

You tasted champagne and guilt on your tongue.

And something else.

Victory.

His and yours.

.

Lewis came with a hiss between his teeth, a hand braced against the mirror, the woman beneath him panting, whispering praise he wasn’t listening to.

He didn’t kiss her. He never did.

.

And you?

You came with Max’s name on your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, breathless and dazed in a Tokyo bar’s bathroom, trying not to think about who wasn’t there.

Because here was the truth no one knew— You and Lewis still moved the same way. Still chased the same highs. Still needed the same kind of danger.

But the difference now?

You were doing it in separate rooms. With different mouths. And the same ache, that never really went away.

Is anyone still alive?

TAG LIST: @virtualperfectioncat , @starrgir1 , @the-secret-formulaone, @anunstablefangirl, @tillyt04, @dakotapaigelove, @loadedwafflefries, @forensicheart, @lorena-mv33, @d0llyh3rtz, @teenagetoadghostwobbler

[acciojaeyun]

hii! i wanted to request a kinda suggestive werewolf sunghoon x reader who's surprisingly not scared of him. him having a soft spot for her and soft dom vibes but not literally smut!! tyy love your work ♡

– tell me all your deepest desire. | psh. PAIRING. alpha, werewolf!sunghoon x fem!reader CONTENT. suggestive content (15+), supernatural elements, possessive behaviour, emotional tension, implied claming/mating themes, implied dom!sunghoon WORD COUNT. 1,646 AUTHOR'S NOTE. thank you so much anon for this ask! i enjoyed writing this. <3

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! 

You always felt him.

Literally, he hovered.

From your classes in Statistics to the Library, there was always a looming presence you seem to feel settled deep within your bones, along with two golden glowing eyes that you kept catching in the corners of your vision. He didn't just stare, he bore into you.

Not with curiosity, but with something that felt like it was meant to scare you. Or test you. Or both.

Others kept their distance. Some changed directions entirely when he passed by. You'd seen it too many times: people shrinking in on themselves when he turned the corner, heads ducking low like his gaze might burn right through them.

People were always warned of Park Sunghoon.

The first time you heard of him, you told yourself that you were keeping your distance. It was the safest option, and you wanted to graduate soon enough without the mess that involved creatures like his kind.

But distance, as it turned out, was not something Sunghoon allowed. It was something that he didn't accept when it came to terms to you.

He never spoke to you directly, not at first. Just lingered. Not like a ghost. More like a storm-cloud. Predictable in the way he hovered outside lecture halls, sat two rows behind you in the library but never once opened a book. You'd leave a study room and find him leaning on the vending machine outside. Not watching. Just there. As if he had nowhere to be.

It wasn't flirting. It wasn't even subtle. It was instinctual. Primal.

Yet, there was something oddly reassuring about the weight of his gaze. Something steady about the way he stood in your periphery. Silent, still, simmering. It made your fingers twitch on your pen. Made your spine straighten. Made you aware of yourself in ways that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with being seen.

Rumors always preceded Park Sunghoon. Alpha-in-the-making. Fourth of the original seven. Strongest tracker in his lineage. Cold, efficient, cruel when provoked. He was never supposed to lead.

But legends rarely ask for permission.

When the former alpha stepped down, it was Sunghoon who took the mantle. Not the eldest, not the loudest, not the one everyone expected. Just the one everyone knew better than to challenge. He didn’t fight for it – well, mot publicly. The title bowed to him. Or maybe the others simply knew they wouldn’t win.

Even now, months into the semester, people still talked about it in hushed tones. The unexpected rise. The hierarchy shift. The quiet ruthlessness behind those amber-lit eyes.

He always looked out for you when you come to the campus, even when you left it. Picked your favorite pastry from the campus café and left it without a note in your locker. Told off a sophomore for bumping into you and not apologizing.

It wasn’t romantic. It was possessive. Careful. Constant.

It was maddening.

Because you knew what it looked like when a wolf was circling.

And still, Sunghoon couldn't find himself to come near you to tell you what was it that he wanted from you.

Like right now, while you were in the Campus Library, working on something that you wanted to finish so you could doze off in your free day tomorrow. You felt his gaze prickle your skin, the coldness of the night seems to have heightened because of his presence.

You didn't have to lift your head to know it was him. The way the air shifted. The way your body registered it before your mind did, like the way trees brace for thunder before it breaks

You kept your eyes on the paper in front of you, your handwriting steady, though your heartbeat had started to crawl up your throat.

"You know I know you've been following me, right?"

Your voice doesn't rise. It doesn't even waver. It's barely a murmur, a thread pulled between your breath and the silence that cloaks the library like a fog. But it's enough.

The chair across from your creaks. You glance up, and he's already there: Park Sunghoon, in all his brooding, broad-shouldered, bone-carved glory. Head tilted, but not surprised you spoke first.

His gaze doesn’t soften. It never does. But it quiets, like winter’s first snowfall, and somehow that’s worse, “And here I thought I was being subtle,” he says, voice low, rough-edged velvet.

You blink, “Hovering outside my classrooms? Sitting across the room in every place I go? I think subtle left the building the moment you glared at my Statistics prof for keeping me overtime.”

His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. But not quite.

"What do you want, Sunghoon?"

That gets his attention.

His golden eyes flash with something. Not surprise, not amusement, but something older. More reverent. Like the very idea of your courage is something he’s memorized and replayed.

"You're not afraid."

He says it like a challenge.

Like a discovery. Like a slow-burning fact he’s only now willing to say aloud.

You hold his gaze, even if your fingers twitch slightly beneath the table, “Should I be?”

That earns you something close to a chuckle. Low, almost breathless. But not unkind.

"Most people don't look me in the eye," he murmurs, "They flinch, they avoid. They cross the street before I even get close. But you keep holding your ground."

You shrug, trying to play off the way your heart thuds painfully against your ribs, "Maybe I just have bad instincts."

His eyes glint, "Or maybe you're the only one with good ones."

He leans in slightly. Not enough to breach propriety. Just enough for your breath to hitch and your thoughts to scatter like startled birds.

“You’re curious,” he says, tone velveted with something darker, “You wonder why I’m always there. Why I hover.”

Your silence betrays you. And he sees it.

“You wonder what it means,” he says, his voice nearly a purr now, “You wonder what I’d do if I got too close.”

You straighten. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Sunghoon smirks, slow and knowing. “Too late.”

You hate how warm your ears feel. How your skin tingles under his stare like it’s trying to memorize the weight of it.

Then his voice drops, rough and dragging like smoke, “You ever read about my kind?”

You blink, “In textbooks. Legends. The usual.”

He hums, “Then you know what happens when we find someone who calms our instincts.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. Because no, you hadn’t gotten that far. Most of what you’d read had been vague folklore: cryptic warnings, dramatized rituals, blood and moons and whispered prophecies.

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“We circle,” he says, “We linger. We stay close. Not always because we want to.”

Your throat goes dry, “What do you mean?”

He watches you for a moment, eyes flickering down. From your throat, to your collarbone, to your hands curled on the table like you’re trying to hide how they tremble.

You notice his gaze. And you tried to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I’m not some rabid thing, Y/N,” he says, and his voice is cool, but there’s heat underneath it, “I can control myself.”

A pause.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want.”

Your stomach flips.

And he knows it. Of course he knows it. That slight, infuriating tilt of his mouth says as much.

“You’re interesting,” he muses, “You’re smart. Brave. I bet any other wolves would want to get their hands on you, but they have to go through me."

Your breath catches. Not because of the words, though those alone are enough to short-circuit your nervous system, but it's because of the way he says them. Low, certain. Not a threat, a truth.

They have to go through me.

As if it’s already a given. As if some invisible line has been drawn around you, and he’s etched his name into the perimeter.

You stare at him, pulse pounding in your ears like war drums, “Why?” you manage to whisper.

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away.

“Because you feel like mine,” Sunghoon says simply.

And it hits like a freight train.

The thing is: he’s not even close to you. Still seated across the table. Still giving you the illusion of space. But you feel him everywhere. The press of his stare on your lips. The heat blooming low in your belly. The ache in your palms from curling your fingers too tight to stop the trembling.

He leans back, like he can sense the tension climbing your spine.

“Don’t worry, pretty,” he murmurs, voice so casual it almost makes your skin prickle, “I won’t take anything you don’t offer.”

And somehow, that’s what undoes you. Not the power in his stance, not the quiet authority in his tone, but the restraint. The way he gives you the choice, even as he coils around your senses like smoke.

Your mouth opens, again, like maybe this time, you’ll say something clever. Something that will even the playing field, ground you back into the present.

“Sunghoon…”

He rises.

Tall. Solid. Radiating something ancient that brushes up against instinct, that tells you to flinch or flee, but you don’t.

You really don't want to.

“Careful,” he drawls, “If you say my name like that again, I might start thinking you want me to claim you.”

Your breath hitches. And it’s obvious. Written on your face, etched into your silence.

His grin stretches out wider.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, backing away like he didn’t just set your entire world on fire. Like he didn’t leave the scent of his promise wrapped around your throat.

He turns, disappears into the far end of the library, and it takes several seconds before you realize your fingers are still curled around your pen like a lifeline. Your heart’s still hammering.

©️ acciojaeyun, 2025.

[ang3l0fde4th4ndd0gs]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/67563766

Here's the whole short story. I forgot to reblog with a link to the 3rd chapter after I published it but at least I got a little bit about Azzy's actual career down.

But now I'mma make this man deal with his shit. So probably oneshots, ngl for like days between the filming of the first season of his show to the second.

Which will absolutely make me reach my goal of making it a longer book count than the series before it because there's 6 months between filming. Makes it harder for me to write Keiko's series though even though his starts at the very beginning of his turnover instead of sort of where Azrael will leave off.

But I am getting there. I want Shattered Gold to be 150k. Probably going to go up to 200k for Infamous though. I'm determined to finish Azrael's series before I write chapter three of The Beginning Of The Black Rose.

Everything's becoming a lot tho. I have a friend to go chill with tomorrow so obviously I won't be writing all day. Love my best friend so much tho she's a lotta fun. Then I have a garage sale this weekend and probably will be in and out of food pantries throughout the week next week because I make no money lol.

My husband and I might go thrifting after he gets paid and hit up a few places so I can actually do my job.

Definitely need to work a bit today though. I have like 3 things to list and 1 thing to ship so I'm gonna do that for sure. Just so that we have a little bit taken care of.

Got a rice cooker too. I'm very excited about that. Cause DUDE ya bitch consumes so much rice it's not even funny.

Obviously I'll repost more later but for now I'm gonna eat and write the first oneshot of like... 27.

Hopefully those oneshots add up to like the 130 I need but if not I'm good with writing some of the love scenes for The Tower.

So I posted this wrong. However I did realize something while I was fixing it.

I hit my fuckin goal. Sooooo. That's awesome. Definitely 1.5 million is the next goal just to keep myself from stressing so much lmfao.

But once I hit that, you already KNOW I'mma be working on the 2 million mark.

I'm just proud of myself for actually doing it. Glad this book kinda pushed me over the mark too.

Doing my best to keep up with writing but legitimately made a deal with my mother that I'd keep trying to make like 600-700 a week to support my own lifestyle while paying rent so it is becoming 100% harder. So if you keep up with my ao3 at all, you might have to expect slower updates because dude, that much is like 15 hours of work a day. Not that I sleep much but STILL.

[susicheng]

15% ... p.js

wc: 2,472 strangers to lovers - jisung x fem!reader

Jisung is, more often than not, the victim of Chenle's impulsive plans. This time is no different. Except, maybe it is. or Chenle asks Jisung on a date. Jisung gets a girlfriend out of it.

Seeing an incoming phone call from Chenle meant one of three things for Jisung. He was either going to be asked to play basketball, be gaslit, or be lured into an evil plan that he would more than likely end up regretting.

“Jisung, go on a date with me.”

Apparently, the secret fourth option was that he would be asked out. By his (previously?) heterosexual best friend. He could work with that.

“What?”

“There’s a discount at that one restaurant by campus for couples going on right now. 15% Jisung. We have to go on a date.”

“Ask Donghyuck.”

”No, he’d think it’s a date date. But it’s not. We just have to gaslight the employees into thinking we’re dating and get free money.”

“Why would he think it’s a date date? Plus, you’re rich. Why do you need a discount?”

“Because we kissed the other day. Just go with me.”

“…You what?”

“Be ready by 4 tomorrow.”

Jisung didn’t have time to unpack any of the words that were just said to him before Chenle hung up on him. So that was that. Option 3. He was not looking forward to this.

Despite the voices in his head assuring Jisung that this was an awful idea, he was ready by 4. The entire walk to the restaurant was spent with Jisung internally regretting having ever agreed to be Chenle's partner for a project in freshman year. Chenle was more committed to the bit than Jisung expected him to be.

Everything was going relatively smoothly until the waitress approached the table. Jisung had, officially, never regretted anything more in his entire life. Here he was, sitting across from Chenle on a fake date, with maybe the most beautiful woman he had ever seen serving them. This might be the fumble of the century. He had to kill himself.

"Can I get you guys started with any drinks?"

Oh god, you were looking at him. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. Holy shit, Jisung had never fumbled this hard in his life. He couldn't let himself talk because he knew his voice would come out at least 3 octaves higher than it usually did. His life was over.

"We'll just have 2 waters, thanks!"

Chenle swooped in and saved the day. He must have sensed Jisung's internal struggle. Which, by the way, did not calm down until you had nodded and disappeared out of his sight.

"Holy fuck, Jisung. You're so into her."

"Did you see her!?"

"Yeah, and I saw you looking at her like a lovesick puppy. You have no respect for this plan! She's never going to believe we're dating if you keep doing that."

"I didn't even agree to this."

"But you're here. If we don't get that discount, I'm making you pay."

"Fine."

Jisung was anything but fine, actually. He still wanted to die. Every time you approached the table, he had to make a conscious effort not to stare at you longingly. On top of being hopelessly in love with the waitress for his fake date, Chenle spent the entire meal making fun of him. When the waitress was at the table, he had to endure Chenle tossing wiki-how pickup lines at him (Seriously, how can he say "If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cutecumber.” without batting an eye? In front of a gorgeous woman?) and as soon as the waitress left, Chenle spent every available second laughing at Jisung.

"Do you want me to say something to her?"

"No! Please god no. I thought you wanted the discount."

"I do. But watching you try to act normal around our waitress is more entertaining than getting 15% off."

"No. If you say anything I'm burning your Steph Curry jerseys. All of them."

"What the hell!?"

"I'm serious."

He could hardly finish his food. He spent way too much time staring at you as you did your job. It was just too easy to laser-focus on the way you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as you wrote down a table's orders, or the way you laughed with your coworkers during a brief lull in tasks. He could imagine being the one to pick you up from work in his car (he didn't have a car) and make sure you got home safe. Seeing your smile at the end of his day would have made it worth it.

"Dude."

Chenle's voice snapped him out of it.

"What?"

"You don't even know her name."

"Yeah I do. It's yn, it's on her nametag."

He chose not to acknowledge the bewildered expression that crossed Chenle's face, or the uncontrollable laughter that followed.

Jisung survived the rest of the evening (barely) and endured all of Chenle's teasing until the bill came. He figured his suffering would be over once Chenle paid. Chenle, apparently, did not catch onto Jisung's silent pleas for mercy. He decided to wait until they were collecting their things to leave to deliver his fatal hit. When you returned with Chenle's card, he decided to put the final nail in the coffin.

"By the way, he thinks you're super cute."

Jisung looked up just in time to see Chenle gesturing towards him, your eyes following the movement with shock evident on your face. His eyes met yours, and he almost combusted on the spot.

He was going to kill Chenle and then himself.

Valentine's Day was your least favorite season for a multitude of reasons. Primarily out of jealousy, but also because the restaurant you made the mistake of working at loved to promote themselves through couple discounts around this time. Not only were you forced to watch people in love in the wild all day, but they were also waiting for you the instant you clocked in.

Maybe the most evil part of all of this was one of the couples you were serving today. Both of them were attractive, objectively, but one of them was exactly your type. He stumbled his way through placing his order, he flushed bright red every time his boyfriend flirted with him, and he could barely hold eye contact. He was a complete and utter loser. Unfortunately, you were indescribably into that.

You felt a little bad, watching how they bantered when you weren't checking in on them. That boy always went dead silent the instant you stopped by their table, looking at you almost like he was scared. You wondered if maybe you looked homophobic? Maybe they felt unwelcome in the restaurant, being pretty much the only same sex couple in the establishment.

Having come to the conclusion that this was undoubtedly the case, you doubled your efforts. You went out of your way to make sure they felt welcomed. You even took an extra 5% off of their bill at the end (you really hoped your boss wasn't paying close attention to the checks tonight).

Honestly, you were a little bit confused about their dynamic. Both of them seemed like bottoms. Not that you were stereotyping them. But the little chatty one just had too much twink aura. But he was paying. The taller boy you were into was just too shy. And he wasn't paying. So truly, what was going on here? Maybe you were having problematic inner thoughts. You decided to stop thinking and return the little gay one's card to him.

You thought you were done with that exchange until the little one spoke up.

"By the way, he thinks you're super cute."

He pointed at his boyfriend, who you turned to witness turn paler than a sheet of paper. Your first aid training kicked in faster than your mind processed what was happening. One second, the boy was staring at you like a deer in headlights, and the next, he was passed out in your arms after you ran to catch him.

"Holy shit! Jisung!"

The shorter one ran to join you at his side, seemingly fighting between laughing and panicking.

"I'm gonna assume you guys would rather not pay for an ambulance or an emergency room visit. Help me carry him to the break room. Does this happen a lot?"

"I mean, kind of? Not really but he's socially awkward enough that social situations can make him freak out."

You let out a hum of acknowledgement as the two of you dragged him to the break room. Neither of you were tall enough for this. And this short guy was surprisingly weak, so you were doing the majority of the heavy lifting. One point to tall boy in the "Who is the top?" debate.

Nobody really questioned the two of you barely succeeding at carrying a man twice your size into the back. Which might raise some questions about the empathy of society, but you weren't here for philosophical discussions. There were much more pressing matters. Like the science behind how the hell this short guy could not shut the hell up. Seriously, he had not stopped yapping even once. You weren't even really listening, giving halfhearted replies as you plopped the tall one on the dingy couch in the back.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Mmm?"

"You can't edit our check or anything, right?"

"I mean, I could. But I really don't feel like it regardless of what you're about to say."

"Awesome. We aren't dating. Like me and Jisung. We aren't a couple."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He's so into you, man. Like so bad. I think he wanted to kill me for flirting with him in front of you."

"Oh, nice."

"Yup. I'm leaving now, you got this though, right?"

"What?"

"Yeah, bye!"

This guy, you learned, was a terrible friend. But you did learn the cute one's name from him. And that he was single. And that he was into you. So there's that.

You were just lucky that your manager had told you that you were cut after finishing the table with the gay couple (who were actually not a couple). As anyone would do, you decided the best course of was to sit on instagram reels after putting a cold compress on Jisung's forehead. He would wake up in a minute, probably.

You were right. He shot straight up a couple of minutes later and caused you to jump approximately 2 feet into the air out of shock.

"Fuck! Oh my god."

He was staring at you like a deer in headlights again. You watched him pinch himself a few times and continue staring at you like you were from another planet.

"You okay?"

"Where's Chenle?"

"The little twink?"

"Uhh. I guess?"

"Oh. Yeah he left. Didn't really give a reason."

"Seriously?"

"Dead serious. Sorry. He seems like kind of a dick."

"You don't even know. Oh my god. He dragged me here because he just needed a 15% discount, which, by the way, doesn't even make sense! I've seen his bank account! I don't think I've seen that many digits anywhere besides the lottery! And he picked me of all people to be his fake boyfriend. Seriously, me!? And then he spent the whole time making fun of me, I didn't even get to enjoy my food. And now he just left me here!? Unbelievable, seriously."

Your smile grew as he continued to ramble about his traitorous best friend. Man, you wanted him bad. He seemed to notice the audience he had, or rather, who his audience was, a bit belatedly.

"Oh man. I just said way too much. You're not gonna make me pay back what was discounted, right?"

"No, the other one already told me it was fake."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Also mentioned something about you being into me?"

"Oh my god."

You watched him visibly shrink into himself. It was cute how embarrassed he got at everything.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about. Don't listen to a word he says."

"Really? That's a bummer, so that means you wouldn't want to go out with me this weekend?"

"Right, yeah."

He paused. He stared at you in silence. His brain was definitely lagging. You watched the realization finally dawn on his face.

"Hold on. What?"

"I think you're cute. I'm off this Sunday if you want to go out for lunch or something. I'd like to get to know you."

"You're being serious?"

"Never been more serious in my life."

"I'm free too." (He wasn't. He had agreed to play basketball with Chenle already. He was cancelling that plan the second he was not longer in your presence).

"Perfect. Are you doing anything else tonight?"

"Besides plotting the murder of my best friend? No, nothing."

"I'm off work now, mind if we walk around together for a while?"

"That sounds great, actually."

You made him wait in the break room for a couple of minutes while you changed out of your work clothes, finally leaving the restaurant together shortly after. Conversation flowed surprisingly easily between the two of you now that he wasn't stuck in his head like he must have been at dinner. It was easy to slide your hand into his, interweaving your fingers and swinging your joined hands lightly. His blush now, you thought, was prettier than it had been during dinner. Maybe that was because it was all your doing that caused it this time.

His voice was soft, but deep, lingering in the air in a way that made you crave to hear his voice all the time. Conversation ranged from what you were doing with your lives (both of you were pursuing higher education, though you went to different universities in the city), to your favorite kind of Minecraft wood (Jisung liked dark oak. That's how you knew he was the right one).

You let him walk you home, like a real gentleman. With a fleeting kiss on his cheek, you walked into your apartment building with your heart a little fuller and a new contact sitting in your phone. Maybe this year you would start to like Valentine's day.

Jisung :) : Just got home

Jisung :) : Can't wait to see you on Sunday :3

mel yaps: this is my 600 follower and 127 post gift for all of you, please enjoy the evil bs my brain decides to spew out. also thank u to @jisusung for the assistance with brainstorming for this guy.

#: @f6llsun @i03jae @jeonghansshitester @holyhaech @chenlezip @mi1kteaa @ayukas

[onaswife]

Step by step

Couple: Kika x reader

Au!Omegaverse, Alpha x Omega

Note: I'll check the mistakes tomorrow. I'm almost asleep, but I wanted to upload this. I hope you like this honest work. I'll be working on Alpha Lucy's story and then Omega Alexia's.

From the beginning, you knew Kika was a cheerful, active person, so you were surprised to see how Kika seemed a little withdrawn during the presentation.

You had met Kika before, when you both had to play for your countries. That was a few months before Kika arrived at Barcelona, where you were a right back.

"You don't have to put so much pressure on yourself, Kika. The others won't outsmart you," you jokingly approached, placing your hand on her arm, gently squeezing. Kika had recognized you as soon as she entered the room, and all she wanted to do was hide by your side. You were the only person she knew, and honestly, she was quite scared of her new teammates, who were world stars.

"I know, but that doesn't mean I'm any less scared. It's a dream to play with people like Aitana and Alexia," she replied, her nerves showing. You simply nodded in understanding.

"They're still normal people at the end of the day, just like you and I, if that helps," you smiled as you moved away from her a little. "Besides, I have a feeling you'll get along well with the little ones, something tells me." You winked at her as you finished speaking and with a mocking smile, you headed to your usual spot, while Kika had to sit in front of everyone to be introduced.

Kika fidgeted in her seat throughout the entire hour-long meeting, seeming to be getting closer and closer to leaving the room, but not daring.

"So, with that said, I'll give you the floor to meet the new players who will be joining us this season, and if all goes well, the next ones. Ewa Pajor, Ellie Roebuck, and Kika Nazareth." As soon as Pere finished speaking, all the players present began to applaud the new players who were joining the team.

After that day, everything seemed to go very quickly. Kika was the one who got used to the group dynamics the quickest, and just as you said and thought, Kika fell into the so-called "our-mission-is-to-annoy-Alexia" group, being a new daughter adopted by your captain.

Plus, Kika was the one you'd started spending the most time with; her locker was right next to yours, so your connection had felt so natural. Every day, Kika would arrive 10 minutes ahead of you, sitting next to you like a chatty whirlwind, telling you a story about her trip to Joan Gamper, or about a dream she'd had, or a story she'd remembered. She always came back with something new to tell you, and you listened intently while wondering how she could talk so fast without stuttering, even though Spanish wasn't her first language.

"You know, I think we should create a shared playlist. We both have the same tastes and have been listening to the same artists lately. And also another playlist where we can put on music we recommend to each other." You listened intently while you put on your soccer cleats and nodded at her words.

"Uhh… sure, we could do it after practice."

"I've already done it. I knew you'd say yes." You stared at her, expressionless, watching her smile at you, her eyes shining brightly.

"I don't know what to expect from you anymore… or from the others. They surprise me more every day," you murmured as you stood up, ready to head to the field.

"Wait for me!" you heard Kika say as you turned around and looked at the clock hanging on the wall near the door. "I'm not going to get scolded by Alexia, good luck, Kikinha," you replied, amused yet scared of being scolded again for being late while waiting for Kika to change for practice.

You arrived, and in less than three minutes, Kika appeared running, barefoot, waving her boot in one hand. "I didn't come late this time. There's still one minute left until practice starts." She stood beside you, breathing heavily as she bent over, trying to catch her breath, and clutched your shoulder with her free hand. You looked at her sternly.

"I told you not to sleep for another five minutes; you'd be late," you said seriously, until you saw her make a funny face and then pout, staring at you. "I needed those extra five minutes. I fell asleep late."

"It's no way you went to sleep late if you went home early yesterday. You didn't even want to go out to dinner with us," Jana pointed out, confused. You continued staring at Kika, her blushing growing deeper with every word that left Jana's mouth.

"Okay, back to what we came for. You can find out more about Kika's private life later. Now, let's get to the important stuff, please." This time, Irene was the one who stopped the girls from making fun of Kika, while she continued blushing, refusing to look at you.

"Are you okay? Did what Jana said bother you?" you asked, confused by her sudden change of heart.

"Yeah… everything's fine," she smiled at you and ran over to where Aitana and Frido were, looking quite nervous as she took refuge behind them.

That same afternoon you all would travel to Sevilla, since a league match against the local team would be played in two days.

"Are you going with me on the bus? I don't know who I'll be paired with on the plane, and I'd rather save my energy for when we get to Sevilla." You looked to your side, where Kika was already standing next to her suitcase. She grabbed your arm, pouting tenderly, hoping that would convince you.

You were about to answer when a voice sounded behind you, "Girlfriends can't be apart for more than five minutes." Vicky walked past Salma, who had just said that, laughing. Kika automatically moved away from you and stood up straight, looking embarrassed at the girls already walking ahead of you.

"Are you okay?" you asked. She just nodded and quickly walked toward the bus already waiting in the parking lot, leaving you confused again.

You walked slowly, thinking about Kika's behavior, until Ona caught up with you and started talking to you. You both got on laughing after packing your bags. Ona was talking about her last trip to England to see her girlfriend, while you couldn't stop laughing at a rather funny anecdote that had happened to her.

You got on and unconsciously looked to see if Kika was waiting to sit with you. You were greatly confused when you saw that Kika was sitting next to Patri at the back, surrounded by the younger girls and Mapi.

You sighed, puzzled by her behavior. Every time someone made a joke about her closeness to you, she automatically moved as far away from you as possible, as if your closeness burned her.

"Hey! I was just talking to you, is everything okay, Y/N?" Ona asked you, and when you turned to look at her, she looked worried.

"I'm fine, just trying to remember if I left everything locked in the apartment," you smiled, trying to calm her down, which worked. "You'll sit in the back with the others," she asked, looking at you with that look you had called "the lost Bambi look." You and Ona had met when she played for United and you for City. Your closeness began because Ona hadn't managed to socialize very well with the girls on her team, only her Spanish teammate. And since you were Spanish too, the closeness and the future friendship were easy.

"You know you shouldn't ask to sit with me, Oni. I know you miss me," you said mockingly, seeing a smirk begin to appear on her face. She gently pushed you by the shoulder. You decided to sit in the middle, not too far back to get caught up in any nonsense the big dynamite group came up with, but not so far forward that you were bored with the older girls.

The way was peaceful. Ingrid was in front of you, busy on her tablet, Caro was dozing with headphones in next to her, and Ona was leaning on your shoulder, half asleep, watching the series playing on your tablet. Up until now, the girls in the back had been talking nonsense, until suddenly it turned into something more serious.

"So Kika… we heard you're dating someone, a girl who's not from Barcelona. Is she a cute omega? Have you had a chance to do anything else with her?" Patri asked, without any shame, while Kika was completely embarrassed by her question, although she thought it was entirely a joke.

"I… umm… I don't know if it's necessary to talk about that." Kika sounded quite nervous, trying to evade the question.

"Come on, we're a team, a family, we trust each other enough to talk about these things, right?" Patri stared at her, trying to get Kika to answer, because of course, she needed to know if the girl they were pairing Kika with was single or not, out of sheer curiosity.

You listened as the girls, not just Patri, pestered Kika to talk to them about her sex life, while you were starting to get annoyed.

"Stop pestering Kika if you don't want me to change your seats." Your tone was serious, almost bordering on angry, so they automatically shut up and left Kika alone. You remained in the same position, staring at your tablet.

Despite what many people outside the team said, the girls generally respected you a lot. You were one of the only Omegas they listened to so quickly. Not even Alexia could get them to listen to her that quickly, even though she was the Alpha of the pack.

The trip continued without further incident. Ona was now asleep on your shoulder, as was Caro, who was sleeping curled up next to Ingrid. She was looking at something on her cell phone. You were reviewing the reports the coaching staff had sent to better analyze the other team's players.

When they got off at the airport, Kika timidly approached your side. "Thanks for silencing them." You looked at her with a small smile, while gently caressing the top of her head. "Don't worry, Kika. Whenever you need it, I'm here to help you." You saw her about to say something else, but you felt someone gently take your arm. "We have to share a seat. Let's go so we don't arrive late, darling." You felt Alexia's presence next to you. You saw Kika frown as she looked at Alexia's hand still resting on your arm. You sighed in exhaustion at the situation and turned around to face Alexia, smiling at her. "Okay, I think I should sleep on the way."

Alexia laughed, as if you'd just told the best joke in the world. "If the girls even let you sleep, you know how noisy they can be," you growled at her comment, as you started walking toward the gate, followed by Alexia, who looked like a lost puppy trailing behind you.

Upon boarding the plane, Alexia took your bag and carried it upstairs, letting you sit first next to the window. When she finished, she sat next to you, already taking out her tablet to do her gaming homework. "So… we should talk about something, right?" You mentally cursed yourself for letting Alexia get to know you better than the others. She always knew when something was wrong, which sometimes bothered you.

"Nothing's wrong, just tiredness from the trip," you spoke almost in a whisper as you settled into your seat, looking for a comfortable position to sleep during the journey.

"I know you, and I know when something's getting to you, although, well, in this case, it's more like, someone's getting to you," you grunted at her words, not wanting to answer her questions as you watched the other girls from the team begin to board the hotel with the coaching staff. "We'll talk about it when we get to the hotel; we share a room."

"That's weird," you said sarcastically. It had been a year and a half since you and Alexia shared a room when it was time to play away games in another city or country, so it wasn't strange that you were sharing a room again. You sighed, hoping that would be enough of an answer for Alexia to calm down and let you sleep.

You woke up twice during the flight, only because Vicky and Jana were in the seats behind you and were laughing really hard, causing Alexia to scold them at least three times before you woke up. Between those times you woke up, you heard something that made you think more.

"Do you think Kika will tell her? I think it's getting pitiful to see how they both yearn for each other and neither of them takes the next step."

"I don't know, but I totally agree that it's getting sad to see how neither of them takes the next step."

"Although I understand Kika too. According to what she told us a few days ago, she'd never seriously dated anyone…"

"Is Kika even no longer a virgin?" Vicky asked mockingly, earning a laugh from Jana, followed by a smack.

"Of course, he's told us about his experiences, that time he got drunk, he told us he's slept with several girls in Portugal."

"A real heartbreaker," they both laughed as they now talked about something more absurd. While you were thinking about what you had heard, maybe that was the reason why Kika walked away when people bothered her with you, maybe she didn't want to give the omega she was liking the wrong idea.

As soon as you arrived at the hotel and Alexia dragged you to the shared room, you blurted out everything. Everything that had been happening since Kika arrived, and how now, after practically not wanting to leave your side at first, she seemed to want to stay away from you at all times, especially when the girls bothered her.

Alexia was clear and to the point.

"Y/N, Kika likes you, that's why she's reacting this way. She doesn't know how else to react to her feelings."

You stood there blankly for what seemed like an eternity, while Alexia stood in front of you, patiently waiting for you to react to her words. It took you about five minutes, during which you didn't speak and all you thought about was what Alexia had told you.

"It's impossible that she likes Ale. I think she's interested in a girl from Portugal. I heard something like that from Patri and the others."

"And you're going to believe Patri? I thought you were smarter than that, honey," she laughed and left you alone in your room, now unable to stop thinking about it.

The next day went by quickly. You wished you could say you barely even thought about Kika, but it was impossible when she seemed to be hovering around you. She brought you water bottles, occasionally paired up with you at practice matches, and during gym time, she followed your same routine. What made it more uncomfortable was that she didn't speak to you directly. She would talk and respond to the others, but not to you, which frustrated you even more.

It wasn't until training was over that you decided to clear up your doubts by talking to someone.

And who better than Aitana, who seemed to be Kika's best friend.

You approached after entering the large dining room for dinner, and found her alone choosing what to eat. You quickly grabbed an empty plate, filled it with a few things, and stood next to Aitana, who was startled to see you so suddenly beside her, making you smile.

"So… do you think we can talk about a little something?" You gave her the most inconspicuous smile you could muster, hoping she'd say yes.

"Does it have to be now, or can I eat first? I need to know if it's about some drama, because if so, I'd rather eat first," she answered without looking at you, quite focused on what she would eat, making you roll your eyes at her so focused on that.

"It's about Kika." She automatically looked you straight in the eyes, scaring you, so you unconsciously took a step back.

"What do you want to talk about?" You saw her raise an eyebrow and point her fork at you.

"About her behavior toward me… she's been weird," you heard her sigh as she returned her gaze to her food.

"Go to my room later. I don't think it's the right thing to talk about it in the middle of the dining room."

"Sure, thanks, Aita," you smiled, placing a kiss on her cheek before sitting next to Mapi and Ingrid, beginning to annoy Mapi, as usual.

You ate quickly, partly due to the anxiety Aitana had developed after leaving you waiting. You watched her eat slowly while talking to the others who were eating with her.

When you finally saw her walk toward the elevator, your nerves began to subside, knowing that soon you would be able to know the truth. You stood up when you saw Aitana waiting for you outside the elevator and almost ran to her side. You got on in absolute silence, both of you thinking about different things.

Aitana opened the door to her room and gestured for you to come in. She closed the door behind you calmly, as if she already knew what you were about to discuss wouldn't be easy or light.

"Do you want water or anything before I start talking?" she asked, leaving her cell phone on the nightstand.

"No, I'm fine… just, well, I want to understand what's going on," you said as you sat on the edge of her bed, nervously fiddling with your hands.

Aitana leaned on her desk, crossing her arms.

"With Kika?"

You nodded.

"Lately, she's been approaching me a lot, but she doesn't talk to me. She looks for me in the fields, at the gym, but when we're around, she seems… uncomfortable. As if I'm the problem. And I don't know if I did something wrong or if she just can't stand me or…"

"No, no, no," Aitana interrupted you with a soft smile. "It's not that I can't stand you. I'd say it's quite the opposite."

You looked at her, confused.

"So?"

"Look, I shouldn't be telling you this, but I also know what you're like, and I know if I don't tell you something, you'll go over it in your head. So…" she took a breath, "the thing about Kika is that she has no experience with this."

"With what?" You frowned, trying to understand.

"With all of this. With liking someone. With feeling something more than friendship. With not knowing what to do when her heart beats out of her chest just because you smile at her." Aitana shrugged. "She's never been in a relationship. She's never let herself feel this way about anyone."

You felt a slight tug in your chest.

"And she likes me?"

Aitana let out a short, tender laugh.

"Do you think someone starts copying your gym routine because they think it's fun? Kika is completely in love with you, and she's freaking out about it."

"But… why doesn't she tell me anything?"

"Because she's scared," she answered honestly. "Because people weren't always kind to her because of it. And because she cares too much about you. She doesn't want to ruin anything. Sometimes she thinks it's easier to pretend nothing's wrong than to risk telling you how she feels and… not having it be enough."

"Enough?"

"I'm not going to go into details. If Kika ever wants to tell you everything, she will. I just want you to understand that you're not doing anything wrong. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to you. It's that she doesn't know how to handle what's happening to her with you. She's learning. And she's scared of feeling so much, so quickly."

You remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing each word. You didn't know whether to cry, smile, or run to find her.

"And you think I should talk to her?"

"Only if you're willing to be patient," Aitana replied. "Because if you pressure her, she'll withdraw even more. But if you give her your time, your confidence… Kika will give you much more than you can imagine. Believe me."

You nodded, calmer. There was no longer so much fear in your chest. Only a strange warmth, as if you finally understood a language you'd been trying to decipher for weeks.

"Thank you, Aita."

"You're welcome. But if you make my Portuguese girl cry, I'll lock you in the washing machine in the locker room. And I mean it."

You burst out laughing through pent-up tears, knowing that, finally, you were a little closer to the truth.

The referee hadn't called anything. Not a foul, not a warning. He just let the Sevilla player push Kika from behind, straight into the turf. And you… you saw red.

Without thinking, you screamed.

It wasn't an insult, but it was enough to get you a yellow card, and then a red card, because you already had one for protesting before, so now you were sanctioned.

And although everyone assumed it was simple frustration over the poor officiating, Kika and Alexia knew there was more to it. That's why, after the game, as everyone boarded the bus to the hotel after the match, she stayed behind.

When you arrived at the hotel, she caught up with you in the hallway, as you were walking to your room, and gently took your wrist.

"Can we talk?" she asked, her voice more shaky than usual. You turned slowly until you looked her straight in the eyes. She was nervous. One of those times when she seemed like a little girl afraid of making a mistake and getting scolded.

"Of course, Kika."

They walked silently to her room. She shared it with Ellie, but you knew she wasn't there at that moment. You saw her linger in the hallway, chatting with Ingrid and Frido. They entered, Kika closed the door, and for a moment the entire world seemed to stop in that small hotel space.

"Why did you do it?" she asked suddenly. "What happened a little while ago, at the game. Why did you yell at the referee like that? Why did you take that risk?"

"Do you want the truth?" you said, crossing your arms, feeling the confession burning in your chest and throat, finally demanding to come out into the Light.

"Yes. I want to understand you." You took a deep breath. You couldn't take it anymore. Anxiety, confusion, the fear of losing her without ever having her, and the fear that Aitana was making a mistake hammered at your chest like a stone.

"Because I like you, Kika."

She She blinked.

"What?"

"I like you. I've been having feelings for you for weeks, and I don't know what else to do to make you see it. I like the way you smile when you think no one's looking, the way you bite your lip when you're nervous at practice, the way you're always looking for me without saying anything." You laughed humorlessly. "But you drive me crazy. Because I like you so much that it's killing me not to understand what's going on in your head. And if I did what I did a little while ago, it was because you were hurt, and I… I couldn't stand it. I can't stand watching someone hurt you, even unconsciously. I don't like seeing you hurt or sad. It makes me feel like my heart is being squeezed and ripped out."

Kika was still. Too still. "And you thought I didn't feel the same?"

"I don't know, Kika." You talk to me one day, ignore me the next, or walk away from me for no reason, like I'm burning you. You follow me around at the gym, but then you don't even look at me when I talk. I don't know if you like me or if you're just playing me.

"I'm not playing with you," he said quickly. I would never do that." You looked at her silently, trying to hold back your tears. They weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of everything you had gone through to reach that moment you had been waiting for.

"Then tell me. Tell me what's wrong." Kika walked toward you. Each step, a decision. She stopped in front of you and took your hands in hers, small, warm, trembling. "You scare me," she whispered. "I've never been with anyone. I've never… felt this way about anyone. I've never been in love. And you… you're so confident, so direct, so you. I don't know how to handle it. I'm afraid I won't be enough for you. I'm afraid I'll ruin it."

Your expression softened instantly. "You don't have to know how to do everything, Kika. You just have to let me be with you. Let me love you."

She looked at you, her eyes glazed over. "Are you staying with me tonight?"

"Always," you whispered before placing a soft kiss on her cheek, hoping your heart would stop hammering so hard against hers. your chest, although this time it was pure joy at finally knowing from Kika that your feelings were reciprocated.

Kika had sent a quick text to Ellie: “I need the room, please. I promise to tell you later.”

Ellie, who knew more than she let on, only replied: “I'm leaving now. I'll stay with Alexia. Have a good time <3”

The room fell silent. Just the two of you.

Kika approached slowly to where you were sitting, waiting for your alpha to join you, as if she were afraid you'd faint if she rushed. You took her face and kissed her gently, unhurriedly, not needing anything more than that first touch full of promise.

Her hands clutched at your shirt, gently pulling you closer. She pulled away for a moment, her breathing ragged.

“I don't know how to do this, my omega.”

“It doesn't matter,” you whispered. “We do this at your pace, however you want. I'm here, and I won't go anywhere without you, my Alpha.”

She leaned in again, and this time she kissed you first, with more confidence, with more need. The kiss became slow, deep, full of tenderness and restrained love. Your hands ran over her back, her neck, her waist. Every movement was a silent conversation: Are you okay? Do you want to continue?

And she responded with caresses, whispers, barely audible gasps.

You helped her remove her clothes, letting her do the same with you, guiding her with caresses, with sweet words in her ear. First, you removed her shirt, hoping she'd give you a positive response so you could continue touching her. Your lips wandered over her neck, her collarbone, every corner that trembled at your touch. You heard her gasp your name as she clung to your shoulders, feeling the pleasure course through her body, especially the places your lips and teeth captured, leaving small marks.

You watched her close her eyes as you whispered to her how much you loved her, how much you wanted her to feel loved, whole, enough.

And when the moment finally arrived, when you were lying on her bed, with her buried deep inside you, you couldn't help but melt for her again. It was clear this was her first time; the way she touched you betrayed a lack of experience as an Alpha, and that only made you feel better, seeing how she had blindly surrendered herself to you.

The process was slow. You both undressed calmly, leaving slow but loving caresses on her naked body before you. You left soft kisses under her breast, watching her tremble before you while she didn't take her gaze from your face. Blushing, she brought her hands to your cheeks, leading you back into a kiss that was messier than the previous ones, blinded a little by the pleasure of finally having her omega all to herself.

Her hands moved down your neck to your collarbones and then to your chest, where she began squeezing your breasts and tugging at your nipples, making you moan into her mouth, eagerly hoping to feel more of her.

You stood up and sat on top of her on the bed, feeling her prominent erection brush against your crotch, leaving you wetter than you already were.

"Kika... that feels so good, baby," you whispered against her ear as you gently scratched the skin of her back. You heard her growl against your neck, as she enjoyed leaving sloppy bites all over your neck. You felt her squeeze the flesh of your ass, moaning.

You moaned in response, "Please... my Alpha, let me feel you good." You felt her press her erection further between your legs. She gently pulled down your pants and your underwear, feeling your wet heat hit her thigh, making her moan in pleasure.

She shifted her position, now on top of you, looking straight into your eyes as she caressed your hair. She leaned down and kissed your forehead before returning her lips to yours.

She intertwined her hand with yours, while her free hand went to your crotch, where you were already a wet mess. She moaned as her fingers played with your clit, making you squirm beneath her.

"Are you okay? Am I... doing it right?" Her voice sounded so timid that you wanted to lick her. Your free hand went to her cheek, giving it a quick kiss before you lay back down on her bed.

You moaned as you felt her press against your nerve. "God, Kika... you're doing so well, baby."

She smiled triumphantly as she made you feel good.

She didn't last long with her fingers; she was desperate to feel you, but she was afraid of hurting you.

She first moved a finger to your entrance, looking at you, waiting for your permission. You kissed the side of your nose before feeling her slide a finger inside you.

She quickly began to move it, slow but deep movements, making you want more. Your free hand went to her back; you dug your nails in, hoping to receive more. Then a second finger joined you, now moving them faster, watching your face of pure pleasure.

You felt your orgasm approaching. Your breathing was now irregular, and you felt your whole body tense, from the tips of your toes to the muscles of your face, all due to Kika's great work with her fingers inside you.

It wasn't long before you came on her fingers. She seemed amazed at how you tensed around her fingers. Her gaze was now tender as she brushed away the hairs that had stuck to your forehead with sweat.

"I want to feel you, Alpha... inside me."

You saw her pupils dilate at your words. Your free hand snaked down her body until it reached her erection, which was constantly hitting your thigh and lower abdomen. You squeezed it, watching her eyes close. "Does this feel good? Or do you want me to stop, love?" You asked, waiting for her to give you the green light to keep touching her.

"Keep going... please." Her voice was now muffled as her hips began to grind against your hand.

You waited for her to feel comfortable before aligning her with your entrance, feeling her stretch you deliciously. "God... that feels so good, omega," she whispered against your neck as moans and gasps followed. You, on the other hand, had stopped understanding anything; you were calmed by the pleasure coursing through your body at the feel of your alpha buried deep inside you.

It didn't take long for Kika to begin moving her hips, her thrusts deeper and faster. You already knew she was seeking her release. Her hand rested on your lower abdomen while her mouth focused on your breast, sucking one and then the other. Her other hand was on your waist where your hand had intertwined with hers.

The only sound in the room was Kika's panting, your desperate moans to feel more of the alpha, and the wet sounds your bodies made as they connected in such an intimate way. Finally, Kika came inside you. You felt her semen shoot into you, finally bringing you to your second orgasm.

"Thank you... for loving me back, my omega," she whispered against your hair as she made you lie against her chest, rocking you gently until you fell asleep in her arms, feeling loved.

[strigimorphaes]

Princess (6k words)

Remember when, ages ago, we got these pictures of Josh at the Dauphine and I said I'd write fic about his roommate taking care of him in the so-called princess bed? Well, it took a while, but Strigi's Summer of Clearing Out The Cupboards (TM) continues! Being on a mission to finish and publish strugglefics that have lingered in WIP-folders for what feels as long as Wilco Kelderman's time without a World Tour win, I decided to finally throw this out there. This one has age difference, anal sex, and quite a lot of convincing + internalized homophobia!

-***-

Josh is a bad roommate, and he knows. Laurens isn’t saying it ‘cause he’s polite and all, but they’re three stages into the Dauphine and they both know it isn’t getting any better. The room is a right mess. Josh tries to keep it under control, but it just happens around him as soon as his suitcase is unzipped. Boom. And his thoughts are the same way. The race ends, he gets his dinner, and then he starts worrying. He says it out loud when Laurens tries to relax in the evening. He should keep it inside his stupid skull, bury it deep along with his awareness of the dull aches in his body, but he doesn’t. Tonight, he’s thinking about that time trial tomorrow, the one everyone wants him to win. -    

He turns in his bed, already sweating. Laurens is in the shower. Josh can hear the water, the faint humming, the way Laurens clears his throat.

Laurens thinks he has it bad, listening to the worrying. The worst thoughts Josh gets are those he can’t speak out loud at all. It got bad after last night’s hotel room. Divvying up the beds, one small, one king-size. It wasn’t right that Josh should have the small one when he’s as big as he is, and they could both have been more comfortable in the king, but unspoken rules said they ought to be seperate. Josh is not supposed to think about how Laurens was joking-but-not-joking about teaching them young as he made Josh take the smaller bed, making him feel younger and lesser and like someone would care for him - the opposite of how he feels when it’s all on his shoulders during a time trial. And Josh kept feeling that way all night staring at the gap between the beds. He could’ve reached across. If he’s made to share a room with a man who speaks to him the way Laurens does, all kindly, warm… He's wired to want. That's how he got here.

Josh is lying in this lovely princess bed, fake ivy wound around the headboard and chiffon falling from the ceiling. He wonders what it means that that’s the one Laurens thought he should have. Josh was trying to be polite, letting Laurens choose, and Laurens seemed kind of annoyed, like Josh had been trying to insult him – but then said Josh should take the princess bed, which is the better bed of the bunch, softer and with the electrical outlets beside it. It’s a bit ridiculous because it’s so girly – Josh doesn’t look right in it for sure – but he also thinks he must be past the new-to-the-squad-hazing at this point, and he took a picture to show how not embarrassed he was, so even if it was that, it’s not working.

When Laurens comes out of the bathroom, surrounded by steam, naked except for the towel tied around his waist, Josh shouldn’t want it to slip, but he does.

And this time, Josh is in this other bed that makes him feel ridiculous. It’s a lovely mess with fake ivy around the headboard and see-through fabric falling from the ceiling. Josh wonders what it means that Laurens told him to sleep there. He could have gone for another normal bed like the one Laurens got. The princess bed, as Laurens called it, is softer and nearer the electrical outlets, so maybe it was him trying to be nice to Josh before the TT - but it’s also so bloody girly that Josh has to wonder if it’s more new-to-the-squad-hazing. Either way, he took a picture to show how not embarrassed he was. He posts it now, then waits.  

He hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself tomorrow. Please, no punctures, no sliding out in corners -  

Think about something else, Josh. And he shimmies further down under the covers, soft sheets sliding over his freshly shaven legs and everything.

He imagines Laurens calling him princess.

Josh thinks he might lack some kind of self control that proper cyclists have. He’s bad at denying himself. He sees the opportunities, listens to his roommate breathing across the room and just wants. He kind of likes everyone on the team a little bit. He gets to see all the best part of them, personality-wise and physically. Casually. Something’s wrong in him so that it doesn’t stop at camaderie. His gaze gets stuck to their bodies - cycling’s a good sport if you like male bodies. Lean bodies, too, shaved calves and hip bones. And even though Laurens’ body is all pared down, his face still has some round boyishness to it that Josh likes.

Josh can’t be the only one who’s ever had trouble with not staring, right? Somebody else has got to have been like him, or at least lonely enough to think like him for a little while, statistically. But it doesn’t feel like it.

Laurens is bending over his suitcase now, picking out fresh underwear, calves tense. He has pulled on his boxers, thank God, by the time he turns around to say, “Luke texted me. He saw the picture. Told me you have trouble relaxing the night before a TT.”  

Yeah, Josh remembers that. He nods. Luke had been good to him last time when they roomed and Josh was as nervous as he is now. Luke had sat up with him just talking. But back then, too, Josh was a bad roommate, staring at Luke’s thighs too much when he was there on the bed in just his pants. Luke had said it happens sometimes, never elaborating if he meant the pre-TT stress or the staring. 

“He says to watch out for you,” Laurens continues.

Josh looks down at the creases that form in the duvet between his knees, fidgeting with his thumb ring. When he looks back up, Laurens is sitting down on one of the other beds. The nice, normal ones.

“I guess I am nervous,” Josh says. “I get all weird. A million thoughts a minute, you know?” 

“Can you find some way to distract yourself?” Laurens asks.

“I’d love to. I need to get out of my head,” Josh mumbles.  

“Well, let me know if I can help.” Laurens shrugs. “We could watch something?”

Josh doesn’t want to risk lying next to Laurens, so he just says, “I’ll be on my phone for a bit I think, and see what happens when I try to sleep. But… thanks for offering.”

“You’re kind of my responsibility. I’m being told I have to take care of you – teach you things, eh?” Laurens makes a tsk-sound, and Josh tries not to let those words spark thoughts of yesterday again. “You’ve got to get your nerves under control.”  

Josh looks down, nodding.

He can’t bring himself to look at Laurens for the rest of the evening, which luckily isn’t long. Josh scrolls aimlessly and listens to Laurens brushing his teeth. He decides not to call his mom, because talking to her makes him feel three years younger and that’s not what he needs.

Laurens goes to sleep at a reasonable hour.

Josh should do the same. He needs to wake up tomorrow and believe he’s got it. He knows that. He’s just thinking about the curve in the road at the last kilometers and the possibility of rain and…

On the other side of the room, Laurens breathes deeply in his sleep.

It’s too hot for Josh to sleep under the duvet, so it’s pushed off to the side, occasionally twisted between his legs. It shifts when Josh moves. He tosses and turns a lot until he starts to think anything would be better than this. Trapped between two thought spirals, he notices that an hour’s gone since Laurens started to sound like he was fast asleep. And Josh shouldn’t choose this escape, but he does.

Closing his eyes, he retreats away from the room as it is now and tomorrow as it looms in his thoughts. He goes back to two hours ago, and this go-around, Josh says something else.

“I think I know a way you can help me.”  

And Laurens knows. As they sit on their separate beds, Laurens’ gaze roams over Josh’s body, and it seems that he likes what he sees. His breaths deepen. He’s trying to hold back because he knows that professionals shouldn’t do this sort of thing, but this is the sort of thing that happens. He knows – he’s heard. Luke and G’s thing isn’t just a rumor, or a joke and Laurens has known other men who needed the kind of comfort Josh is aching for.

Laurens doesn’t speak. Josh doesn’t speak either. There is just an unspoken agreement In this dream, Laurens getting up and crossing the room to sit down at Josh’s side means that . Laurens is not the first to feel tempted, Josh is not the first to want it so much.

Josh turns onto his back, his own hand sliding down his thigh as he imagines that it’s Laurens’.

“You need to rest before tomorrow,” Laurens says, his voice still somewhat cold in a way that gives Josh goosebumps. “So I’ll take care of you. You’re my responsibility.”

Josh nods, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to meet Laurens’ lips. Laurens is a good kisser, but he’s also efficient, placing a hand on Josh’s chest to push him down again soon after. He takes charge. He doesn’t mind that Josh is a tree of a man and he’s not intimidated by how much Josh desires. He parts Josh’s legs, palms sliding over the insides of his thighs, finding smooth skin, shaving nicks, bruises. A tentative touch of two fingers along the outline of Josh’s cock under the white cotton underwear makes Josh get harder past the point of no return.

Josh’s hand sinks lower. It’s wrong for him to even go this far, but he can’t resist it, so he pulls the duvet across his lap. He hopes it’ll swallow the sound. Sweat gathers on his lower back and in the hollows of his knees. He listens again to tell if the real Laurens is sleeping, and yes, those breaths are still deep and even. Nothing bad can come of just a little touching. Josh rubs the head of his cock, and even if he feels terrible for it - it’s Laurens doing it, radiating confidence and experience.

Josh’s breathing is getting erratic, but he can still barely keep up when inhaling through his nose. It sounds too loud. Laurens’ hands move along his sides, each gentle touch telling stories of times he has done this before, with other men who are like Josh, in other dark rooms.

Josh wants there to have been other dark rooms. The duvet cover is rough against the back of his hand, moving slowly but determined.It’s not too loud. Laurens is sleeping, right? Or is it – would he -

Laurens sneaks a hand under Josh’s pants and kisses his neck. His grip is just tight enough, his movements steady. Josh squirms a little, but then Laurens whispers to him.

“Keep still, Joshua.”

With everyone else, it’s Josh and Joshy and Tarling and lad, mate, kid. Only Laurens is steadfast about calling him Joshua, taking care to get the last syllable when everyone else goes for Josh or Joshy.

Laurens takes care of everything, coaxing Josh along until he’s hopelessly turned on by the thought of what’s to come.  

Josh opens his mouth, his pulse loud in his ears, and it’s too much. He presses his face into the pillow, wanting his breathing to slow. The urge to just keep going is strong, but he wills his hand away and holds onto the bedsheet, waiting. He has to calm down before he makes too much noise. When he turns, his cock drags against the mattress and it feels good enough to coax a little surprised sound from the back of his throat.

Across the room, Laurens’ bed creaks.

Josh lies as still as he can. When he dares a glance, he can make out a silhouette; Laurens pokes his head up, looking in Josh’s direction as if to check if all is well. Some bedsheets rustle, and then – shit. Josh curls into himself, drawing his knees up to hide his shame as Laurens gets out of bed.

Still hot all over, Josh keeps his face turned into the pillow.

He hears the sound of bare feet on the floor. Laurens getting closer. Almost by the bed, now. And then –the bathroom door opening. The lights turn on automatically, a loud fan following. Josh opens one eye. Laurens lingers in the doorway, his shadow falling on top of the princess bed until he closes the door. Josh can hear the toilet flushing and the sink running, Laurens clearing his throat. Then there is a pause. Maybe he’s looking in the mirror. He emerges with the faint smell of roses from the hotel soaps, and Josh still wants him, even though it’s wrong, even though it’s maybe just because he’s someone here in this room, and Josh is still hard under the cover as he pretends to sleep.

Josh wonders what Luke meant when he told Laurens to watch out.

Even now, Josh thinks of Laurens leaning in again. He smiles as he looks down on Josh and says –

“Is everything okay?”

The mattress gives under new weight, and in a daze, Josh opens his eyes. He takes it all in at once: Moonlight on the floors and floating dust, the hum of distant traffic, the sound of blood rushing in his ears when he sees Laurens sitting upright beside him like some ghost on the other side of the see-through fabric surrounding the bed.

And Josh knows well what he looks like, all wound up. Red cheeks, chest rising and falling rapidly. Maybe the moonlight makes his sweat shine. “You know,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” Laurens insists. He pauses, considering his words. He’s trying to be good even if it’s not comfortable for him, Josh can tell. Then Laurens says, “It sounded like you were crying.”

“I’m not.” Josh is still so hot. It takes effort to breathe normal. “Just go back to bed.”

“I’m supposed to look after you.”

Josh doesn’t have time to get himself together and cover up any more before Laurens pushes aside the chiffon. Now he sees no tears, but certainly the bulge and the damp spot at the front of Josh’s underwear.  

Josh takes a deep breath. Their eyes meet.

He feels like he’s lying on the edge of his fantasy and disaster both, so afraid that it feels good because he’s the type to hold mad hope against better knowledge. Maybe it could happen. Maybe. He’ll never know if he doesn’t let that feeling take his tongue and reach out and say, “Will you take care of me like this?”

It’s a mad thing to do, and Laurens obviously doesn’t know how to respond, his mouth mutely forming words like what and the fuck and probably something in another language. Eventually, he says “Joshua” in that tone where it sounds serious.

Josh expects being admonished. He prepares himself for it. He can take it like he can take a loss.

 “Did any of your old roommates do something to you?” Laurens asks.

Josh gets stuck on the choice of words – to you, not with you or for you. Like it could only be forced on him because he couldn’t possibly want it.

“No,” he says. It’s a small sound. The word floats like a mote of dust in the room. “I’ve never – done something like this before. But I’ve wanted to.”

Laurens is quiet for a long time.

A car passes by outside. The blinds shiver. Laurens looks like he’s waiting for Josh to take back what he said and declare that they should forget this. Josh swallows around the lump in his throat instead and lets his challenge stand.

“This kind of thing doesn’t happen,” Laurens then says. “You can’t come on to your teammates, Josh.”  

"...Yeah,” Josh says. He turns his eyes to the carpet. “Right, okay.”

And then a strange thing happens: Laurens doesn’t stand up and go back to his own bed. He reaches out to touch Josh’s arm. Josh gets goosebumps immediately and Laurens says, “You’re scared.”

“No.”

“Yeah, you are.” Laurens says. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I’m not,” Josh says, truthfully.

But the fear is there. Josh can’t say what it is exactly, only that it’s about how none of it fits together: Him and his desires and his job, his season peak and this time trial, the aching inside and his team around him, his body and the princess bed, him and Laurens.

“Just don’t do it again,” Laurens said. “I’m… kind of flattered, but another roommate might not act the same way.”  

“…It was because of the thing with the beds yesterday,” Josh says. “All that talking about who’s lying where and teaching them young and when you were almost saying I could be in the double with you – I know you were just joking, but still I thought you might be…”

Laurens’ expression becomes weirdly soft, like he’s sorry for Josh. As if Josh’s sexuality is one more item on the long list of things that have gone bad for him alongside crashes and sickness. He takes his hand away from Josh’s arm.

“I didn’t try to send signals,” Laurens says.

“No. Of course.” Josh grabs the duvet, pulling it nearer, but not over himself, still too warm for it.

Laurens shrugs and says, “I don’t know what to do now, honestly. Maybe I just go back to bed, and we both forget this happened. How about that?”

“If you want,” Josh says.

Laurens’ gaze still lingers, and he doesn’t stand up. Josh digs his fingers into the down of the duvet.

"Can you tell me something first?” he  asks. “Before we pretend we both slept the whole night through?”

“...What is it?” Laurens asks, hesitant.

“Is it really never? It never happens at all? You’ve not ever met or heard about anybody who wanted – that sort of thing?”

“It doesn’t work like that. You don’t talk about it. You shouldn’t even fantasize,” Laurens sighs. “Just pack all of that away until October, Joshua. It can’t happen.”

A pause.

“You’ve never fantasized?”

Laurens looks like he’s about to say something more, but then he closes his mouth and can’t. He keeps looking. Josh likes being looked at. Him, like this, strange creature of hard lines and soft, newly shaven legs in a bed not meant for him, wanting what he shouldn’t have, does not inspire disgust in Laurens. Maybe the opposite. Maybe.

Mad hope.

“Don’t say it can’t happen,” Josh says. His voice doesn’t sound right, just the wrong side of pleading, but so be it. He can’t control it. “I’m telling you it could. Anything could happen with me.”

“It’s dangerous,” Laurens insists, the chiffon moving slowly around him.

“It could just be a dream.”

Meeting halfway. Not something real, but also not that never.

They look at each other for what feels like minutes.

“You could touch me again,” Josh says.

Laurens’ hand lifts off his lap, but hangs in mid-air, not carrying through. Josh grabs his wrist and places it on his own cheek. It’s not exactly what Josh wanted, but it’s something. Someone. It’s what he needs.

Laurens sees that – there’s no doubt in Josh’s mind.

There is time enough for Laurens to push Josh away and say no, to swear again and go back to his side of the room, but he does not.

“I shouldn’t,” Laurens says, even as his thumb strokes Josh’s cheek.

“It’s not our fault. It’s the bed.” Josh pushes himself up on one elbow, bringing their faces closer.

“Princess,” Laurens sighs, tension and relief mingling in him, soft voice and tense shoulders when he leans forward to meet Josh halfway.  

He’s warm and solid. A man, a teammate – even in the low light, Josh can see the tan lines above Laurens’ knees when Laurens pulls his legs up onto the mattress. Josh lets go of Laurens’ wrist to stroke one line with his thumb, then lets his hand travel further up and down Laurens’ strong thigh.

“Okay?” Josh asks.

“Okay,” Laurens says. They don’t kiss, but he does let their foreheads touch before Josh leans back against the pillows. Laurens follows, kneeling between Josh’s spread legs. A little moment of distance, and then he carefully touches Josh’s knee as if he’s afraid it’ll shock either of them.

“You could call me princess again,” Josh says, squeezing his legs around Laurens.

“You like it?” Laurens asks, his hand mirroring what Josh did earlier, exploring his thigh slowly, carefully.

“I think so,” Josh says, though the warmth spreading downwards through his body says that yes, he very much did. Laurens can see that he did.

Laurens stops again, sitting there, stuck on some thought.

“Look,” Josh says, trying to make him relaxed. “Nothing’s impossible. I’m here for whatever you want. What kind of things did you think about when you saw me in this bed?”

“It’s not like that,” Laurens says. He pauses, only fingertips grazing Josh’s skin. “You’re the first man I ever..:”  

“It doesn’t have to be so different,” Josh says, guiding Laurens to flatten his hand, getting more contact. If Laurens doesn’t touch him, he’ll start second guessing. “I could be on my stomach. It’s dark enough that you can just look at my back and…”

“And what?”

“…I could be like a girl for you.”

Laurens considers it, his hand sliding up the inside of Josh’s thigh.

“But you’re not,” Laurens then says, like it’s a stupid idea. “You’re, uh, tall and big and - hairy.” He pauses. “You’re a good-looking man, though.”

Immediately after, Laurens looks like he regrets saying it, but Josh can’t help but smile through the awkward moment, the sheepish look on the older man’s face.

“Alright then,” Josh says. “Thank you? I guess I thought that line would kind of… work?”

“It’s okay, princess.”   

Josh lays his head back, smiling. “I imagined this a lot, but not that it’d be like this.

“Maybe I could just do something, then, and end the awkwardness?”

“Go ahead and save us, Laurens.”

Laurens’ hand ghosts over Josh’s sex, then up to rest at the elastic band of his pants. The mood changes quickly, and Josh falls head-first into some different state where his thoughts become syrup-slow at the mere hint of Laurens taking charge.

“Can I take that off?” Laurens asks.

Josh nods, and Laurens does it slow. Once the pants at Josh's thighs, Josh lifts his legs to help, showing off the core strength needed to keep his limbs in such an elegant arch until the garment is gone. Laurens grabs his ankle, keeps one of Jose's legs raised, and presses his lips to the tan line as if it was a garter belt. The kiss feels like it lingers on Josh’s skin.

Josh mutters a quiet, “Wow. Where did that come from?”

“This is okay?” Laurens asks, letting go of Josh’s foot. His hand travels back up until thumb rubs little circles on Josh’s thigh like a nervous tic, and Josh feels sweat gathering on his lower back where it presses into the mattress.

"I like it," Josh says. "All gentle-like."

“I have to be gentle to make sure you’re not sore tomorrow, right?”

“That’d be nice.”

Laurens puts his mouth on Josh’s thigh next, kissing a little further up. Closer and closer to Josh’s hip, to his cock again ready for attention.

“Do you want to suck me off?” Josh asks.

“Do you… want to be sucked off?” Laurens asks, making eye contact from down there, which – hot, Josh thinks, stopping himself from reaching for Laurens’ head.

“Are you any good at it?”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Yeah, no looking into the mouth, just put your dick in there,” Josh says, smiling at his own attempt at a joke the way one does when tired late at night. “I just thought it seemed like you were going for it.“

“It would not be very good, I think.”

”You could also fuck me. That’s still on the table.”

“Then that,” Laurens answers, breathless. “If you can really - ”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Josh says again, and when Laurens sits back up, Josh pulls him closer. Laurens strokes along Josh’s sides, over his abs, sliding fingers through the coarse curls of hair he has kept at the base of his cock. At last, Laurens touches Josh there for the first time.

“It’s not so different from doing it to yourself, is it?” Josh asks. “You know how to jerk off.”

“It’s very different,” Laurens says. “You’re very different.”

He tightens his grip a little, then slides his fingers up. Josh makes a small noise partly from the fact that it’s someone else doing it.

“Shh,” Laurens tells him. “You’ve got to stay quiet, princess.”

“I know.”

“Can you stay quiet if we go further?”

Josh nods frantically. “The others won’t hear.”

“I don’t know how it works. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t know if… “

“It’s alright. Earlier, when I was – I thought I’d want to get my fingers inside but…”

“But?”

“You’ll be better than my fingers. Go get my bag from the bathroom.”

Laurens pulls himself away from Josh to find the toiletry bag in the bathroom – again that annoying light-and-fan combo turns on, noisy and too bright. Laurens seems to agree, turning the lights off again once he has the goods under his arm. It’s like what they’re doing belongs in the dark, too. Laurens unzips the bag on the way back to the bed, curious. He throws Josh the tiny bottle of lube and finds a condom for himself. When he sits back down, he’s obviously worried about losing it in the sheets.

“Is it easy for you?” Laurens asks, watching as Josh coats his fingers in the lube.  

“Sometimes, it hurts a little,” Josh answers. “But I’m – I’m feeling weird, now  - good weird, about this. I think I’ll be able to relax.”

“I want to watch you do it.”

Josh’s heart does a funny little jump at that, and he likes the feeling of the situation unravelling, both of them beginning to be carried along, not questioning impulses. The lube is cold, but Josh is not afraid of this part, knowing his body well. He slides one finger in, and it feels hopelessly small compared to what he wants. The wet sound is loud in the quiet room. Laurens moves up the bed and takes to stroking Josh’s chest, fingers briefly lingering at his nipples like he wants to do something and isn’t sure what, and Josh is too focused on what’s going on between his legs to give instructions. 

Even if the shadows obscure the fact that Josh is quick to make it two fingers pushing inside him, Laurens can definitely tell that Josh’s chest rises and falls faster, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. With his free hand, he reaches for Laurens who understands the gesture, leaning in to kiss Josh’s neck.

“You’re so spoiled,” Laurens tells him, giving Josh’s cock a few slow strokes. In response, Josh slings his free arm around Laurens’ back and lets a pleased sigh ring out, and Laurens says, “We spoil you.”

In some ways, Josh is sure Laurens is right, but right now, he also can’t help but think of all that time spent staring at what he couldn’t have. The awful truth Josh knows is that the root of the problem is that we, the team; he wants to fuck his teammates exactly because they’re his teammates. He’s suffered through junior years with trips to races in other parts of Europe that required him and his team to sleep in bunk beds, four or six to a room; long car rides and boredom and pretty profiles set against the highways of Belgium and the Netherlands and France. Spending his time competing to be the best, but also just wanting to be like them in some way he always knew he wasn’t.

He wonders if Laurens had anything like that in his time, those shitty accommodations and the thoughts they inspired. Maybe he was better at handling all of it.

“I think I’m ready for you,” Josh says, withdrawing his fingers and knocking one knee against Lauren’s side as a way to say come closer. “On my stomach. It’s easier for me like that.“

He turns around, hugging a pillow. It feels safer, like some animal instincts tell him it’s best to protect his belly, his vital organs. The heart still beating fast. He imagines the way Laurens must see him with the fragile blue light from outside along his back, shadows pooling at the dip of his spine. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Laurens rolling on the condom. Josh has seen him naked before, but it’s different when he’s allowed to stare, when he knows it’s for him.

“Ask for it, Joshua.”

And Josh knows it’s Laurens wanting to make sure again that Josh is okay with this, which is ridiculous, but he lets himself believe that it’s Laurens trying to teach him to be polite, wanting to make him plead. It’s an entirely separate urge from wanting Laurens’ dick inside him that makes Josh say, “Please?”

“Good,” Laurens tells him, letting his hand slide lower, fingertips prodding between Josh’s legs. There’s both something sure about it, Laurens knowing what he wants, and something tentative and careful from having never had it before. Wanting to know, Josh realizes, what he feels like before actually fucking him.  Two fingers, same as what Josh used, rubbing around his hole and then stretching him out a little further.

Josh hums to let Laurens know it’s right, then says, “Just put it in, please.”

“Sometimes, you can’t get what you want right away.”

Josh moves down on the mattress, closer to Laurens, arching his back a little more to invite him.

“Laurens,” he says – begging, really. “Please, sir.”

It feels so good to let go and just ask. Maybe the title doesn’t have the same punch for Laurens as it’d have for the Brits of the team, but it’s not nothing, either. Laurens waits only a little longer before the mattress shifts beneath them as he lines himself up.

Josh buries his face in the pillow. Again that scent of rose perfume that this hotel is bathed in. It comes from the pillowcase and from Laurens looming over him. Dreamy. Laurens goes slow, with small rocking motions to ease himself in, but then there’s a twinge of pain anyway because he’s working with the kind of size Josh likes, thick enough to make him feel every second of it. Josh exhales into the pillow as finds some sort of rhythm, slow and steady, Josh pushing back a little more each time, letting Laurens sink in a little deeper.

“It’s good, innit? Good for you?” Josh gasps, and Laurens makes an amused little noise.

“I almost forgot to – notice how it feels. I was just making sure I wasn’t hurting you. I’m not, am I?”

“Not enough that I want you to stop. Keep going. I’ll – oh! Like that again, please.” Josh pauses to swallow as Laurens sinks in again. Something inside him begins to unspool, his body relaxing until it’s all that warm-open-good feeling with Laurens’ hand on his hip. “Yeah, it’s nice. And – ah, fuck, yes, there.”

Another thrust makes Josh moan, a deep, hoarse sound, and for a split-second Josh worries if it’s too much, too loud or too masculine, somehow, for the fake leaves and soft fabrics surrounding them even if it’s a weird thought to have. His fingers clench around the duvet as Laurens pauses, stroking the curve of Josh’s bottom while he tries to find out what he did that must’ve been so good, trying to find that angle again. When he rocks forward, Josh moves with him, taking the entire length as all thoughts dissipate and he gasps another “Yes” then groans his “Sorry” into the down of the pillows. He’s bad at staying quiet. He smiles even though Laurens can’t see it. What a terrible roommate he is. It feels too good.He reaches up for the head of the bed, and his grasping for something to hold on to makes the fake vines come loose, dangling over his arms. He likes the image, the fragile greenery complimenting solid muscle as he tenses. Laurens’ pace quickens; he hopes Laurens will collapse on top of him after, keep him down under his weight. Make it last a little longer. Laurens bends over him now, his breath warm on Josh’s neck.  

“Joshua – can I look at you?”

“You mean - ?”

“If you would turn around.”

“Okay, yeah.”

It’s horrible because Laurens pulls out and breaks his rhythm, and then it’s wonderful when his wide hands on Josh’s sides get him arranged with the pillows propping him up and his arms lying above his head, the vines twisting along. Josh knows he’s a sight. Laurens too, for that matter. Sweat gleams on his chest. His cock is hard and red against his stomach, and he leans in again - again that stretch and the dull pleasure coursing through Josh, the feeling of not being alone, not even in his own body.

“Keep going,” Josh demands.

They’re folding into each other, closer and closer. The warmth of Laurens’ skin, the smell of his breath, it’s all there, overwhelming like the heat of his body against Josh’s thighs and stomach. Josh is close, the sensation and sight of Laurens’ hand moving over the sensitive head of his cock making him whimper. Then Laurens expression momentarily changes, wavering, afraid of all that he feels building and cresting, words spilling out of him – “It’s wrong – “

“It’s good,” Josh assures him, hooking a leg around Laurens’ back.

Laurens sets both hands at Josh’s hips, holding him down like that, pushing him into the pillows, the softness and rose-scent.  “It is.”  

“Come here,” Josh mumbles. “Closer – need you here - come inside me, Laurens. Make me feel all of you.” He pulls Laurens closer until the man is buried as deep as he can get. “Remember what I feel like and fantasize about me later.”

That makes Laurens shiver against him, a few slow rolls of his hips all it takes before he presses his sweaty forehead against Josh’s shoulder, shuddering as he finds release. He swears in his mother tongue and stays near, on his knees, keeping himself up with one hand on the mattress.

He forgets about Josh’s cock, and Josh forgives him, taking care of himself, finally able to do what he had wanted to earlier in the evening, this time not needing to hold his breath. He can’t make noise, but he can sigh and surrender to the wonderful weight of Laurens above him. He spills over his own stomach, aware once again of Laurens’ eyes on him.

Josh waits as his pulse falls.

Finally, Laurens lifts his hand to run his fingers through Josh’s hair.

They both know what Laurens will say next; it is as inevitable as morning.

“We never talk about this, okay?”

Josh nods. He drags the duvet closer, covering himself a little. He’ll deal with the sweat and stains later. His legs touch Laurens’. It won’t last long, but for now – for a little bit – it feels like enough.

“You need to get this under control,” Laurens says, his voice quiet.

Another nod.

“If I had been someone else – “

“I know.”

“You ran a risk.”

Josh smiles anyway. His body sinks away from him and the night is softer, blurred and inviting, sleep close by for once. With every heartbeat, the same thought fills him: This happened. This could happen. Once is enough to know that. What he thought of as his flaw lies spilled and scattered on this bed, and inside him, there’s something new in its place, that old feeling changed into a better sort of burden. He’s one whole thing and Laurens can see him even in the dark.  

“Tomorrow, it’s going to be just a dream,” Laurens says.

“Tomorrow,” Josh says, “I'm gonna win the TT.”

Which means: I'll feel better. And you took care of me. And you will get a chance to hug me again.

[thecheshireprincess]

Doctor!Chishiya x GN!Doctor!Reader; working through my WIP folder little by little and stumbled upon this - finish or abandon?

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

You don't know how it started, your daily lunch routine with the coldest doctor at Sakurazawa University Hospital, but you're certainly grateful that it did.

Working in the emergency room means your days are often unpredictable, chaotic, and sometimes downright heartbreaking. Your standing lunch arrangement with Chishiya gave you an anchor point in each day, something you could look forward to when you were stuck in the trenches with adrenaline thrumming through your veins.

The two of you were like clockwork in your routine; each of you choosing a bento box from the hospital cafeteria, sitting across from one another in front of the large window that gives you the perfect view of your favorite tree in the courtyard, swapping stories and small bits of advice between the two of you. You are almost certain that you'd have lost yourself (or your mind) in this job long ago without it. Without him.

It's a routine built and perfected over years. Some days, you run late; attending to an emergency far too horrific to leave your team alone with. Other days, Chishiya runs late; spending a little extra time consoling a tiny, young patient who is nervous about their surgery tomorrow.

No matter which of you is running late or why, it's a guarantee that the other is sitting there waiting patiently, strawberry mochi in the middle of the table to share. Because when the day gets tough? Strawberry mochi fixes everything.

Until one day.

A day that had started as ridiculously as they always do, but had quickly taken a more deadly turn than you could ever imagine.

Because not only were there hundreds - maybe thousands? - of people either in the emergency room or headed in your direction, but the one person you never wanted to see on your operating table is laying there deathly pale, heart un-beating in front of you as a crash team assembles.

A meteorite struck Shibuya Crossing. Thousands dead. Even more injured.

The adrenaline doesn't spike in the way that it normally does, allowing you to jump into action with steady hands and save the day. No, it surges in the other way, making sickness pool in your stomach, your mouth dry out, and wrack your body with the worst shakes you've ever had.

"Doctor! It's Chishiya .... Are you okay?" Your lead resident is in front of you waving your friend's chart, trying to brief you on the details. All hands are on deck as the hospital explodes into pandemonium. Meanwhile, you feel like you're underwater, the sounds from the room and her concerned voice bleeding away.

You're grateful that your ears aren't working well so you don't have to hear the flatline of his heart monitor, the way the defibrillator charges and shocks the man with no result, or the anxious chatter of the crash team around you.

His heart hasn't restarted. It's been almost a full minute. Doctor? What should we do?

Your lead resident is your angel in this moment, taking the lead to direct your staff to keep trying. You can only focus on breathing through your nose and preventing yourself from passing out, only adding to the mayhem.

"They were friends," she explains to the team, gesturing towards you and explaining your sudden catatonic state.

Your ears really must not be working well, because you'd swear you just heard your resident say "were".

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

I forgot about this story I wrote before my breakdown! 🤣 Are you interested in reading the rest? Should I finish it? Let me know 💕

Masterlist

Alice in Borderland Tag List: @potato-vagina @28361573 @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mocchii-writes @monkey4lifer @trinibadgyal @izzybizzyk @tammytaamm

Chishiya Tag List: @kimsrie @jjkxxy @4ngeltrumpettt @mikotokayanoswife @arimakanav @xhlieii6 @fries11

Please don't hesitate to let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) any of my tag lists! You can specify if there's a character you like or if you want to see everything. Also, my asks and messages are open, PLEASE reach out, I would literally die to interact with you; ily guys endlessly 💕✨️

[bbyyuuu]

Awakened by lust.

MDNI

Synopsis: Struggling with tons of work, Minho refuses to help needy Jisung but later, gives more than he asked for.

TW: somnophilia (consensual), unprotected.

Not proof-read.

please give me a feedback and reblog if you like it, it makes me crazily happy and help me build my account and write more :D

Sounds of moans filled his ears, the sound of skin slapping, minho's grunts and his own slutty moans were vibrating jisung's ears. The boy was going through an old video collection of their date in France during vacation, it was the best day for both of them, filled with memories they swore never to forget. Cute little surprises, dates and the amount of money they spent for their shopping spree, candle light dinners never fails to make jisung blush. But of course, what is date when there is no make out later? Especially that day, when minho lost it after seeing jisung in backless shirt and tight jeans.

They never meant to take a video of themselves making out, but minho being himself, recorded them after getting consent from jisung.

Jisung squirmed on the bed, removing the earphones off and shutting the laptop, wiping away the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He mentally cursed at himself for watching the video, which left him with a painfully hard and leaking boner.

He glanced up at his boyfriend, watching him type, his eyes fixated on the screen in front of him with piles of paper work settled beside him. Jisung sighed and made his way towards minho, slightly tugging at his shirt for attention.

Minho who had been working for past 2 hours looked up at jisung with a tried face, "what is it, baby...?"

Jisung whine slowly, fingers grazing against minho's neck, "help..me, please...I'm needy.."

Minho sighed, as much as he want to just leave the work and help his baby, he can't. The deadline is tomorrow. "I'm sorry, kitten. I can't..am busy right now."

Jisung pouted, walking around the chair to stand in front of minho, "please..it hurts..i can't hold it.."

Minho sighed and shook his head, he felt bad but he couldn't do anything about it. Jisung continued to whine, tugging at his shirt and tried to kiss minho, the constant whines started to take a toll on minho and he let out a sharp sigh.

"I said no kitten, now go back before i lose my patience." Minho warned, going back to his work, all his attention now on the screen in front of him.

Jisung stood there, he felt upset and mostly needy, but he couldn't do anything, he can't touch himself without minho's permission and asking him now will only lead to worst consequences. He sighed and made his way to the bed, slipping under the sheets and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would help in forgetting his burning desire. Soon enough he fell asleep.

By the time minho finished his work, jisung was in deep sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, his breath soft and unhurried. The room was quiet save for the faint hum of the air conditioner, and the dim light from the streetlamp outside filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his soft skin.

He was sprawled lazily on the bed, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other resting on his stomach just above the waistband of his boxers, a habit of him sleeping in just boxers. His lips were slightly parted, and his hair was messy, falling over his forehead like he’d been tossing around before finally succumbing to exhaustion.

Minho stood by the bed, his mind racing with thoughts, watching him with a predatory gaze. He’d been busy all evening, brushing off Jisung’s needy pleas earlier, but now—now he was here. And Jisung was completely unaware of what was about to happen, his mind reeling with the fact jisung agreed for this when they were chatting about kinks and stuff back then. Perfect.

Minho’s fingers itched to touch him, and he didn’t hold back. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, his weight barely disturbing the mattress. His eyes roamed over Jisung’s body, lingering on the curve of his waist, the soft dip of his collarbones, the way his boxers clung to his hips. He reached out, fingertips brushing lightly over Jisung’s exposed skin, tracing the faint outline of his ribs.

Jisung stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his breathing remaining steady. Minho smirked, leaning closer. His lips hovered just above Jisung’s ear, his breath warm against his skin as he whispered, “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, baby.”

His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over Jisung’s nipple, and he circled the sensitive bud with deliberate slowness. He could feel it hardening under his touch, and he bit his lip to stifle a groan. “God, you’re so responsive even when you’re asleep,” he murmured, pinching the nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

Jisung’s breath hitched, his brow furrowing slightly, but he didn’t wake. Minho’s smirk widened. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Jisung’s chest, his tongue flicking out to lick at the hardened nipple. He could feel Jisung’s body reacting, his hips shifting slightly, his cock stirring in his boxers and Minho pulled back for a moment letting jisung breaths to get steady again and started his teasing again.

Minho’s hand slid lower, brushing over Jisung’s stomach, feeling the slight tremble of his muscles. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jisung’s boxers and tugged them down just enough to expose his cock. It was already half-hard, flushed and leaking at the tip. Minho’s breath caught in his throat, and he wrapped his hand around the shaft, giving it a slow, purposeful stroke.

“Fuck, kitten,” he breathed, his voice low and rough. “You’re so fucking hard already. You were dreaming about this, weren’t you? Dreaming about me?” His thumb swiped over the head, spreading the precum down the length of Jisung’s cock. He stroked him again, watching as Jisung’s hips jerked slightly, a muffled moan slipping past his lips.

Minho leaned down, pressing another kiss to Jisung’s chest before moving lower. His lips brushed over Jisung’s cock, and he took the tip into his mouth, sucking gently. Jisung’s breath hitched again, his hips bucking slightly, and Minho pulled away with a soft chuckle. “Not yet, baby,” he whispered, his voice dripping with want. “I’m not done playing with you.”

He shifted, kneeling between Jisung’s legs. His fingers trailed down the inside of Jisung’s thigh, and he spread him open gently before sliding one finger over his entrance. Jisung was still loose from their encounter the day before, and Minho pushed a finger inside without hesitation, feeling the way Jisung’s body welcomed him easily.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” Minho groaned, curling his finger slightly, searching for that spot inside Jisung that made him see stars. When he found it, he pressed down firmly, feeling Jisung’s body jerk in response. A low moan escaped Jisung’s lips, and Minho grinned, adding a second finger.

He worked him open slowly, carefully, not wanting to wake him just yet. His pace was deliberate, his fingers sliding in and out of Jisung’s body with ease. He could feel the heat around his fingers, the way Jisung’s body clenched around him, trying to pull him deeper.

“Fuck, kitten,” Minho whispered, his voice thick with arousal. “You feel so good. I can’t wait to be inside you again.”

Finally, when he couldn’t take it anymore, he withdrew his fingers and grabbed his own cock, stroking himself a few times before lining up with Jisung’s entrance. He pressed the tip against him, hissing at the tight heat even as he pushed in slowly.

Jisung’s eyes fluttered open, his breath catching as he felt Minho inside him. “Minho?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and confusion.

“Shh,” Minho whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Jisung’s lips. “I’ve got you, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

He pushed in deeper, his cock stretching Jisung open, and he gasped, his hands clutching at Minho’s shoulders. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice trembling. “Minho, you—”

Minho cut him off with another kiss, swallowing his moans as he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, letting Jisung adjust to him, but soon he picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing force.

“You feel so fucking good,” Minho groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. “So fucking tight around me. Fuck, Jisung, I can’t get enough of you.”

Jisung’s nails dug into Minho’s back, his legs wrapping around his waist as he clung to him. “Minho, please,” he begged, his voice trembling. “More, fuck me harder.”

Minho growled, grabbing Jisung’s hips and flipping him onto his stomach. He pulled him up onto his knees, gripping his hips tightly as he thrust into him again. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, mingling with their moans and heavy breathing.

“Minho!” Jisung cried out, his voice breaking as Minho hit that spot inside him again and again.

“That’s it, baby,” Minho growled, his thrusts becoming wilder, more desperate. “Take it. Take everything I give you.”

Jisung shuddered, his body trembling as he came undone beneath Minho’s touch. “Minho, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” Minho demanded, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me, kitten.”

Jisung obeyed, his body convulsing as he spilled onto the sheets beneath him. Minho wasn’t far behind, his thrusts becoming erratic before he buried himself deep inside Jisung, his release washing over him in overwhelming waves.

He collapsed onto the bed beside Jisung, pulling him into his arms as they both struggled to catch their breath. His fingers brushed through Jisung’s hair softly, his lips pressing kisses to his forehead. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice filled with possessiveness and affection.

Jisung nuzzled against him, his eyes drifting shut as he murmured, “Always yours, Minho.”

Minho smiled pulling him even closer and kissed all over his face, "sorry baby..sorry for ignoring you earlier."

Jisung shook his head with a smile, "i understand, you had work..it's okay..but..damn, why try it today? it's not like am complaining..but still."

Minho chuckled, understanding what he was hinting at, "because you looked so perfect while sleeping, baby.." He smirked, pulling jisung in for a kiss.

[huginsmemory]

Looks like possibly tonight if nothing comes up (so like... maybe in 5 or so hours when I'm able to actually sit down to work on it... or if my evening ends up not being free it will be tomorrow night) I'll be able to release the Stanford Pines Aroace Monsterfucker analysis; as I am now just inputting the photos before posting, and editing is finished! I swear it's for real this time...

Total word count rn is 24k, and it will be split in thirds, each about 8k. I'll also post a master post (ie, a table of contents) that breaks down the posts with associate links, since it's a monster and if people want to skim areas they are interested in they can, although of course it is meant to be read in entirety.

In the meantime, have an aroace'd screenshot:

[octraiin]

── .✦ Sunday in Smallville - [Clark Kent]

FT: Clark Kent x reader

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, Clark Kent, brings you home to Smallville to meet his parents.

CW: none. fluff

Relaxing in your apartment and watching tv after work had become a comforting routine while you waited for your boyfriend, Clark, to get home.

The soft hum of the Metropolis news channel played in the background going on about Superman did this...Boravia has that, a familiar white noise. Suddenly, the jingle of keys at the door pulled you from your trance. A moment later, Clark’s heavy footsteps crossed through the door.

But instead of his usual warm 'Honey, I’m home!' or the sound of your name, you heard his voice, quiet and affectionate, speaking on the phone.

“Yes Ma, I know. Tell Pa I’ll come help him take care of it soon.”

You paused, listening in.

“Okay, Ma, I’m home now. I’ll call you tomorrow… Yes… Okay… Mhm… I’ll let her know… Okay love you Ma. Bye!”

Assuming he was off the phone, you called out. “Clark?”

He peeked his head around the corner while kicking his shoes off, spotting you on the couch. “Hey hun. How was work?”

“It was okay, same as usual” You paused. “Was that your mom?” You asked, gesturing toward his phone.

“Yeah” He replied while slipping off his suit jacket as he walked into the living room. “She was asking when I could come home and help out with a few things around the farm.” He tossed his jacket over the back of the chair before settling into the seat across from you, pulling at his collar and undoing the first few buttons on the white button-up he typically wore to work.

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. “I want to meet her and your dad.”

Since you've been with Clark he always spoke so fondly about his parents and the memories he had growing up on the farm. You loved Clark, and you wanted to see the place, and the people, that shaped him into the man he is today.

Clark raised a brow slightly in surprise and slipped his glasses off, but his smile was immediate. “Really? Well… maybe we could drive up to Smallville this weekend. I can show you the farm.”

“Yes, that’d be amazing Clark!” You said with a happy smile spreading across your face.

“Okay, I’ll let Ma know we’re coming. We can head out in the morning."

He stood up and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before walking toward your shared bedroom.

On his way into the bedroom, Clark paused in the doorway and looked back at you.

“Y'know, every time she calls, she asks about you” he said with a soft smile. “They’re going to be so happy to finally meet you!”

With that, he disappeared into the dim light of the room, heading for a shower before bed. Shortly after, you follow him and slipped into your shared bed both nervous and excited for what tomorrow will bring.

---------------------------

You and Clark wake up bright and early the next day. He pulls on his signature farm boy flannel and a pair of worn jeans, looking like he was back doing work on the farm.

You, on the other hand, stand in front of the closet feeling unsure. You're meeting his parents for the first time but, you're also going to a farm.

“Clark! Come look. Is this okay?” You call out from the bedroom, raising your voice just enough to be heard over the sizzling coming from the kitchen.

Just a moment later, Clark walks in while wiping his hands on a dish towel. His eyes travel from your face to your feet and back up again. He exhales, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Y/n, I promise it doesn’t matter what you wear. They’re gonna love you either way. You look beautiful.”

He steps forward, placing a gentle hand on your waist, then leans down to press a soft kiss on your lips. For someone so strong, he’s always been so gentle with you.

Pulling back, he teases, “Finish getting ready so we can eat and hit the road. Breakfast is almost done.”

He places one more kiss on your forehead before disappearing back into the kitchen, leaving you standing in front of the mirror with your heart fluttering.

You take one last look at your outfit, deciding it’s fine, and step out to find your favourite breakfast and your favourite person waiting at the table. Clark looks up smiling and waves you over.

You sit down, and the two of you eat together, Clark chatting about Smallville, the farm, and the things he can’t wait to show you.

----------------------------

Clark packs up the car, and soon the two of you are on your way to Smallville. The drive is peaceful, the city slowly disappearing and turning into open fields, hills, and country roads. You gaze out the window, watching small towns and farmland pass by like pictures from a postcard.

Clark drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting gently on your thigh, a quiet, comforting presence.

After a while, a large sign comes into view, visibly weathering but nonetheless still welcoming:

"Welcome to Smallville- The Meteor Capital of the World!"

You read it out loud with a small laugh.

Clark grins. “Yep, we’ll be there soon!” He says, giving your leg a soft squeeze with the hand that never left you.

Shortly after, Clark begins to slow down, turning into a long dirt driveway. You spot a red mailbox at the entrance with 'Kent Farm' written in gold lettering. A sudden wave of nervousness settles in your stomach.

Clark parks beside an old truck, which you assume belongs to his dad. Before he can even take the keys out of the ignition, the front door bursts open.

Mrs. Kent rushes out onto the porch, apron fluttering behind her, with Mr. Kent close behind.

Clark glances over at you with a reassuring smile before opening his door and stepping out. You follow his lead.

“Clark! Oh, we missed you so much!” Mrs. Kent throws her arms around him in a tight embrace.

“We sure did, son.” Mr. Kent adds, staying back while waiting for his turn to hug his son.

After one last squeeze, Mrs. Kent releases Clark and turns to you, eyes bright and warm.

“Oh, Y/N, we’re so happy to finally meet you!” She says, pulling you into a hug just as tight and loving.

You smile into her shoulder, touched by the instant affection. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Kent.”

"Please just call me Ma, dear."

Clark watches, chuckling softly at the scene in front of him.

“Come, come inside. I want to show you the house!” Ma says eagerly, already ushering you toward the front door radiating excitement.

As the two of you disappear inside, Pa pats a hand on Clark’s shoulder.

“Good job son” he says with a proud smile, then adds, “Now let’s get to work. I need help in the barn.”

--------------------------

Inside the house, Ma takes you on a tour. It’s hard to miss all the baby pictures of Clark lining the walls. Each one capturing a different moment of his childhood. Missing teeth, birthday cakes, wide smiles.

“And this is Clark’s room!" She says warmly, opening a door near the end of the hallway.

You step inside, eyes scanning the space. Posters of The Mighty Crabjoys and the Metropolis Meteors hang proudly on the walls. There are framed photos of him with his friends from Smallville High, a shelf full of trophies, and his favourite books stacked neatly on the nightstand. It’s all so personal. So unmistakably Clark Kent. You feel a surprising wave of emotion rise in your chest, touched by the glimpse into the boy he used to be.

Just then, a soft bark snaps you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes land on the bed, where a white dog is lying calmly, staring right back at you with curious eyes.

“And who’s this?” You ask playfully, glancing back at Ma.

“Oh, that’s Krypto!” She says with a smile. “He’s Clark’s dog. He’s been staying with us for a while. At least until you and Clark find a bigger apartment.”

You nod smiling, and walk over to the bed. You hold out your hand, letting Krypto sniff it. Instantly, he perks up, tail wagging as he begins licking your hand and jumping on you in excitement.

You giggle, crouching down to play with him just as a familiar voice speaks from behind.

“I see you’ve met Krypto” Clark says amused.

Krypto turns around and immediately jumps on him, barking happily.

“Hey buddy” Clark laughs, petting the excited dog.

Krypto, still in a playful mood, bites the edge of Clark’s shoe and starts tugging.

“Whoa what the hey dude!” Clark kneels down, now face to face with the dog and whispers, “Please, you can’t embarrass me in front of her.”

Krypto stops and Clark walks over to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

You turn to Clark with a teasing smirk. “The Mighty CrabJoys? Really?” You say, nodding toward the old poster on his wall.

Clark throws his hands up defensively, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Hey, hey, hey! They’ve got good music. If you gave them a chance, I think you’d actually like them.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” you laugh, shaking your head as you stand up to continue to explore the room. Your eyes land on a framed photo sitting on his shelf; A teenage Clark standing between a smiling blonde girl and a boy with an arm slung around his shoulder.

“Hey Clark? Who are they?” You ask, picking up the photo and bringing it over to him.

He takes a moment, a gentle expression on his face. “That’s Chloe, and that’s Pete. Haven’t heard from them in a while, but they were my best friends growing up.”

You nod, smiling, and carefully place the picture back where you found it. Then you sit down beside him on the bed.

“I’m really glad you brought me here, Clark.”

Clark smiles, a proud look in his eyes. “Yeah? Ma and Pa really like you.”

He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, clearing the view of your face. His eyes linger for a moment before he leans in and places a familiar, soft kiss on your lips.

You close your eyes, your hand rising instinctively to cup his cheek.

Then suddenly, the smell of something delicious drifts into the room, making your stomach growl.

“Clark! Y/N! Dinner’s ready!” Ma calls from the kitchen.

You both pull back from the kiss with a small, shared laugh. Standing up, you walk side by side out of Clark’s room, heading to the kitchen.

-------------------------------

When you and Clark arrive at the table, Pa is already seated at the head, while Ma is pulling something fragrant from the oven. The table is covered in a spread of fresh, homemade food; Roasted vegetables, warm bread, mashed potatoes, and what looks like the crispiest fried chicken you’ve ever seen.

“Come on, have a seat” Pa says, gesturing to the empty chairs.

Clark slides into what you assume is his usual spot, and you take the seat directly across from him. Ma places the final dish on the table, then removes her apron, folding it neatly and setting it down on the counter before joining you all at the table.

“Go on, dig in! I hope you enjoy Y/n.” She says with a warm smile, motioning toward your empty plate.

“Thank you! It looks delicious.” You reply, smiling back as you pick up a fork from one of the platters and begin adding food to your plate.

You glance up and giggle, spotting Clark’s plate, already full to the brim. He’s sitting patiently, with a fork in hand, clearly waiting for everyone else before diving in.

“Someones hungry” You tease.

Clark grins. “What can I say? It’s been way too long since I’ve had Ma’s cooking.”

Laughter fills the room as the meal begins.

Ma and Pa trade stories over dinner, sharing fond memories of Clark as a child. Clark groans through it all, cheeks flushed, while everyone else laughs and enjoys the meal.

The comfortable hum of conversation is suddenly broken when Ma blurts out, “So, when are my grandbabies comin?” She wiggles her brows mischievously.

Clark nearly chokes on his food while Pa lets out a low chuckle. You can’t help but smile.

“Ma, please” Clark mutters, shaking his head as he shovels another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“I was just askin” Ma says innocently, then leans in and very quietly whispers, “When are you gonna get her a ring?”

Clark lifts his head, pretending he didn't hear what she said as if he doesn't have superhuman hearing. “...What was that, Ma?”

“Oh, nothin” She says sweetly, smiling as she returns to her meal.

You glance at Clark, both of you trying to suppress shy smiles, a light blush colouring your cheeks.

When dinner is finished, Clark and Pa clear the table while you settle into the living room with Ma, cozy in front of the fireplace, flipping through old photo albums.

“Oh look! Here’s Clark on his sixth birthday!” She exclaims, pointing to a photo of little Clark with cake smeared all over his face and shirt.

You laugh, “Aww, he’s so cute.”

From the kitchen, Clark calls out, “Ma, stop showing her photos please!”

But she doesn’t stop.

“Here he is learnin how to ride a bike... Oh! And this one, his first-”

“Ma…” Clark walks into the room cutting her off and plops down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s okay Clark. You were adorable” You tease, grinning up at him.

“Were? Past tense?” He asks, pretending to be wounded.

“...You still are Clark” You say, rolling your eyes playfully.

Ma laughs. “Alright, I’ll let you two be. I’ll go help Pa with the dishes.”

She rises and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Clark stands and offers his hand. “Come on I wanna show you around outside.”

You slip on your shoes and grab a sweater, fingers intertwined with his as he leads you out into the cool evening air. The sun is just beginning to set behind distant hills, casting everything in an orange glow.

Clark walks slowly, matching your pace. The gravel crunches softly beneath your feet.

“To the right’s the garden” He says, gesturing toward a patch of land fenced with worn wood. Rows of vegetables growing in neat lines, swaying gently in the breeze. “Ma still grows everything from scratch. She says food tastes better when you know where it comes from.”

You nod, smiling, as he leads you past an old wooden gate toward the chicken coop. A few hens cluck, pecking at the ground, while one particularly bold one stares at you.

Clark chuckles, giving the hen a knowing nod. “Don’t mess with her.”

You laugh, enjoying the way Clark slips right back into his roots here. You can see it in the way his shoulders relax and he moves more at ease.

As you walk around the side of the barn, Clark points out an old rusting red tractor.

“That thing only starts when Pa talks to it” He says with a grin. “I swear I’ve seen him have full conversations with it.”

The barn stands ahead, large, its wood weathered from the years. Fireflies begin to flicker in the grass as the sun sets further.

“I used to hang out up here all the time” Clark says, leading you to a set of worn stairs just inside the barn.

You follow him up to the loft, the boards creaking under your steps. The space is simple, but it’s filled with character. An old couch, a stack of comic books on a crate, and in the corner by the window, a telescope aimed at the sky.

“I didn’t know you liked looking at the stars” You say, approaching the telescope.

“Yeah” Clark says quietly, stepping beside you. “I used to come up here at night and just stare at the sky. As a kid I always hoped I’d find more pieces of where I came from. I guess I just found it comforting knowing that I used to be up there with the rest of the stars.”

You look at him, a tender feeling in your chest.

“Well” You say softly. “I’m really glad you ended up here.”

Clark meets your gaze, and for a long moment, neither of you say a word. In the middle of that quiet barn loft, surrounded by memories, he reaches for your hand and squeezes it gently.

“Here I wanna show you something cool.” Clark says suddenly, letting go of your hand as he reaches up toward the ceiling of the loft.

You watch as he pulls down a wooden ladder and pushes open a hatch that creaks in the night air. A gentle breeze rushes in.

“Follow me. It’s okay.” He says with a soft smile before climbing up the ladder with ease.

You hesitate just a second, then follow, carefully climbing the ladder. When you reach the top, your head pokes through the hatch and your breath catches.

You're on the roof of the barn.

Clark is already standing there, lit by the stars, as he turns to offer you his hand.

You take it, and with one gentle pull, he helps you up beside him.

“So” He says, with a certain spark in his eyes, “what do you think?”

You turn slowly, taking in the view. From here, you can see the entire Kent Farm. The glowing windows of the house in the distance, the fields stretching out, and the silhouette of the barn casting long shadows against the grass.

“It’s beautiful” You whisper.

Clark squeezes your hand and gently leads you to lie back on the roof beside him. You settle into the cool metal, shoulder to shoulder, gazing up at the sky.

“Clark” You say softly, turning your head to look at him. “I’m just really happy to be here. I feel like I’ve learned a whole new side of you.”

He turns to meet your gaze, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

“Yeah” He murmurs. “Everything I am started right here. I'm glad I could share it with you Y/n”

You and Clark lay there, side by side, your fingers intertwined beneath a sky full of stars, surrounded by the place that shaped the man you love.

WC: 3.1k

[erstwhles]

"I guess you could say that I wished you could have seen how much it was going to hurt me before you took her away." Though, her current state means this isn't the best time to continue this conversation. So much was bottled up after they broke up, and since his focus these last several months has been on Lily, there has hardly been any time for him to process his feelings toward Lale.

'There's no where else I want to be.' Another promise he would have done anything to hear years ago.

"You're wrong about that. You don't know how much it hurt. And if you were hurting, at least you had the whole story," he says. "I didn't. I spent a long time trying to figure out what I did wrong." His arms are partially extended as he watches her work through her options. "It's freezing. I'm not letting you sleep in your car when you could just spend the night here. Why don't we--" Before he can talk himself out of it, he steps forward and, "Come on. Can you make it upstairs? Lily will be thrilled you're here in the morning."

The way she sways with just the effort of looking down at her dress has Raleigh doubting her ability to manage the staircase even before she has a chance to respond, but it's late, and he still has to finish putting the last of the gifts under the tree and making sure the milk and cookies are properly taken care of for the morning. "I feel confident saying I know you're drunk. And tomorrow's an important day." Leaning down, he brings one hand across Lale's shoulders and the other around her legs, before standing and balancing her carefully in his arms. "Are you okay?" Luckily the door to his room is open, making it easy to slip down the hallway and in the room where Pucky is still tucked in the middle of the bed. "Comfortable, I mean. You said you don't have anything to change into?"

As his eyes left her to scan his home, Lale watched Raleigh's face longingly, the way she always did when he wasn't looking or wasn't around to see her watching him; like those interviews she watched on repeat, wishing she would catch something to tell her he was happy off the ice. She only nodded at his question and she felt that little swoop of vertigo again. "I like cleaning. Helps me focus." With a clearer head, Lale might have wondered if Raleigh remembered the abuse her mother hurled her way at any mess in the home and how she'd almost not been allowed to go to prom because her half-brothers had trashed the basement. If he did, he would've known cleaning up messes was just one of the many ways she subconsciously tried to avoid people yelling at her.

The alcohol in her system stopped her from protesting she wasn't drunk, just like it stopped her from masking her feelings. Lale's chin quivered at the past tense of his statement, her pale green eyes blurred with tears. "I do know you because I see you. I see how I hurt you and I see you putting up with me for Lily. I see you being the best dad. I see your loyalty with your friends and your love for your team. All this time and in here, you're still the most caring man." Her fingertips pressed into his chest with a gentle poke before she leaned back onto the steps. She'd seen every interview, every game, and she knew he was also still the hardest working athlete on the ice- in her opinion at least. "I'm sure I'll screw things up and you'll hate me with time, just like everyone else does." Lale's head lulled to the side and she looked up at him, her heart racing like it always did whenever she saw him. "I'm not going anywhere. I know you're never going to believe that after I ran away, but there's no where else I want to be." He could take that as with her daughter, with her family, with him- it was all the same to her, but Lale closed her eyes and took a calming breath.

"I don't think I can get up there. I can sleep on the couch or in my van... but my bag is up there with my charger and batteries." When she opened her eyes again, she looked up at the stairs then to the door. She's slept in the van plenty of snowy nights, having lived in it for months until she got her first few paychecks from the library so that she could get that tiny studio apartment. Massachusetts winters could be brutal, but she had camping gear to keep her warm. Lale's head lulled a little when she looked down at the sweater dress. "Shit...I should've brought something else to sleep in." Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to piece together her options and her brain just couldn't seem to make a plan. Eventually, she conceded, looking at Raleigh with a pout, "I think I'm drunk?"

[d-does-art]

Ace with the Straw Hats!

I'm slowly making my way through them all.

[beets]

baby, bi bi bi

[tblsomedoodles]

The Preferable Alternative- Part 4

Start - previous - next

I really should slow down. But this was a pretty easy update and i had the day off.

In other news, i'm going to go make a masterpost now. I think 4 parts is enough to warrant one

: )