#Ian's Dad AU

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

A little Ian x Reader fic based on my tumblr beloved @threadsun's Ian's dad au

Reader is amab and is referred to as daddy

You can't believe you're doing this. You've always liked Ian but you can't tell how much of this night is being pushed along by your heart and how much Jean's strings are pulling you by the dick. Either way there's no backing out now, not when Ian looks so beautiful underneath you, his gaze hazy and fuck drunk from a simple heated make out session. Though, how simple could you really call it when both of you are straining against your pants

You can't help but stare at his bulge, christ, your friend was hung this whole fuckin time? "I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't, I-I mean I liked it, fuck I loved it, but we don't have to, you don't have to-hha!" Your hand gently grazes his thigh as you ask him what he wants "I...you, I-I want you, please, please fuck me, I'll be-be good just please, I need your cock" You can't help the little shock you feel as you hear him, with how clumsy he usually is with his words you never expected him to be so good at begging

He's so desperate for your dick, how could you ever say no? You help him out of his clothes and he helps you with yours before grabbing a bottle of lube from his nightstand. You can't help but smile, leaving his bitch mom really has been good for him, even the sight of a lube container would have made the Ian you knew in high school faint. You slowly work him up to two fingers, scissoring them to open him up just a little further, making sure to try and hit his prostate with every thrust

He's so cute like this, bucking his ass down on your fingers, trying to push you even deeper "Fuck~ Please, more daddy" Ian freezes as soon as it slips out, eyes wide and already filling with tears at his mistake "Sorry, oh god I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to, I-" He's cut off by you replacing your fingers with the head of your cock brushing against him. You tell him not to worry, telling him that if he's going to call you that he might as well scream it

Ian nods frantically, his hips already bucking down to try and force you to take him "Yes, yes I will, I'll be your good little whore, please, fuck me daddy!" You just can't help it, you slam into him, making him take your whole length at once. It was too much for him, Ian lets out a beautiful scream as he cums all over your stomachs. After a second he whimpers "Why-why'd you stop?" You ask him if he want you to continue, the question seems to surprise him "I...yes, yes I want to. I want daddy's cum, please"

Your first time together is desperate, and passionate, and filled with love. After helping him wash up you both snuggle back into bed, his head resting softly against your chest. You look up from him to the door of his bedroom and you feel your heart crash down into your stomach. You see Jean peering in through the crack of the door, holding a single finger to his lips as he smiles at you. And in that moment you both know what this means, you can't leave either of them now, and Jean has won

[thebearer]

a horny lip thot: 18+ smut ahead minors dni

baby jude was conceived after a foot rub.

ever since queenie showed lip the importance of reflexology (tbh that scene really freaked me out and made me cringe but i was thinking about foot rubs and lip today so) he'd realized maybe it wasn't all "hippy dippy bullshit".

freddie's second birthday was two months away. you and lip were... well serious, but not married. more than boyfriend and girlfriend- it felt so juvenile to call each other that for some reason. lip had been calling you his wife since freddie was born, but you'd yet to accept his proposal.

you had a long day. your students were especially rambunctious today on a day when you were especially exhausted. ian and mickey were saints, offering to keep the kid so you and lip could have at least a dinner alone.

the dinner to the italian restaurant on the south side didn't exactly happen, instead, you were laid out on the couch with lip's hands rubbing your feet. he knew what he was doing, though he'd never admit it. it had been a while since you two had fucked, babies and busy schedules weren't kind to your sex life, and a night alone? lip wasn't wasting it.

his fingers dug into the arch of your foot, your body squirming while he worked out a "knot".

"feel good?" lip smirked, watching you squirm, legs pressed together, arm still thrown over your eyes. no fuckin' way this is actually working, lip thought.

sure enough, it did work. it worked well enough that lip got to spend the rest of the night, fucking you hard and deep into the mattress, like he used to before freddie came along and you had to be quiet. fucked you until you were sprawled on the mattress, leaking his release into a puddle under you, while he smoked next to the open window of your bedroom.

two months later, you were coming home with another ultrasound, and the news that freddie would be a big brother.

[starfalldancer]

still my favorite au

(missing the second dad, but i'll draw the whole family soon)

[lilac-hecox]

Was reading your previous Operation Stepdad AU idea, and a tropey thing I thought of came to me while watching the Sims office makeover video. Like what if there was a follow-up where Courtney made everyone in that Sims world to show a day in the life via Sims and the Anthony and Ian Sims are just fully enamored with each other and making out andwhat have you.

There could be hijinks in the form of her accidentally leaving a Sim in another save file (as mentioned in an older Smoshcast episode, she did make an Ian Sim, but he's saved on Steam or something lol) or when trying to show others, the Sims are doing other unhinged stuff.

So, I love this idea! Let's say that Courtney does make everyone from Smosh in the Sims 4 and they live in the office she made. Of course, she is going to lay out her master plan at getting Ian and Anthony together through the Sims first and she's going to make Shayne and Damien join her as she plays through their first date.

"See, and then Ian is going to kiss Anthony like so." Courtney clicks the mouse and the Sim versions of Ian and Anthony are kissing on screen.

Shayne shakes his head, "This is the dumbest thing we've ever done."

Damien gives him a look, "No, we've definitely done dumber. Now weirdest? This might be that."

"Guys!" Courtney says, frowning at the two men next to her. "This is just a recreation! Plus, isn't it cute? Look how happy virtual Ian and Anthony are."

Imagine they do film a couple of episodes for the channel and Ian and Anthony's Sims are obsessed with each other and Spencer is sending Courtney messages on Slack like 'Courtney, I've had to edit out so many kisses of Ian and Anthony in the Sims 4 video. What did you do??' but maybe he leaves one of the kisses in as like a joke or a funny easter egg and really he knows Ian or Anthony won't watch the video, but they don't anticipate people gif-ing the moment and tweeting it at the men.

Ian coming in the next morning like, "Why are my Twitter replies all gifs of a virtual me kissing a virtual Anthony?"

Shayne points at Courtney. Courtney glares at him.

Ian doesn't know a ton about the Sims 4 and Courtney rambles off something about a mod in the game making everyone kiss, but the only kiss Spencer left in was the one between him and Anthony.

Ian rolls his eyes and grumbles about his ruined replies, but he's got a faint pink to his cheeks.

Sometimes when Courtney is bored and doesn't have a ton to do in the office or she's waiting to be called to set she'll play a little of the file and she's full on moved Ian and Anthony Sims into their own house and is planning a wedding and she definitely doesn't tell Shayne or Damien or Spencer.

[heart-of-the-card]

Ya da ya da ya da Sydney to the Max + college Smosh au ya da ya da ya da ya da I’m working on a comic ya da ya da ya da ya da

[sam-loves-seb]

I don’t know if you take prompts, but you write Ian and Mickey so well, it would be interesting if you write Ian reconnecting with his bio dad post canon.

hey! thanks so much for this, i do take prompts (no guarantee i write any of them) sometimes, but i have to be into the idea to actually write it, and unfortunately i have no affinity for ian and his bio dad. sorry!

[gallavich-headcanon]

Reappears days later with *checks cup* cold black coffee leftover from this morning to talk more Galladads

Ian and Mickey no speaking for two days??? with their co-dependency? I don't buy it. - ohhoho I do think they talk, of course they do, it’s them, but I think Mickey is a little unsure of how Ian is gonna take the appearance of four kids so he just…doesn’t mention it yet. Ian will be home soon and then they can talk it over so why borrow trouble? Mickey is like 78% sure it’s gonna be fine so what does it matter? Like I imagine this whole thing started as a test run for Mickey anyway

He doesn’t tell Ian that Tony is dropping off a toddler for a couple of days because Mickey wants to make sure he can do this before telling Ian bc Ian will take one look at the kid and his ovaries are gonna weep or some shit (“I don’t have ovaries, Mick.”) and that’ll be that but Mickey doesn’t wanna get Ian’s hopes up unless he knows he can do this. So. Ian and Lip are going to Florida for a weekend to do something for Fiona, which gives Mickey plenty of time to test drive this whole baby thing.

And it goes…good, actually. The kid’s not quite one and a half and small enough to just pick up and move when needed. She can’t work doors yet, or reach the stove, but she can point at things she wants and make word-like sounds to tell him when she’s hungry or bored or whatever. Once he realizes “Ba” means bottle, “na” means no, and “ya” means basically everything else, they’re kinda golden. Mickey gives her some red plastic cups to play with and she’s occupied for a couple of hours just stacking the things up and knocking them over. Easy. He texts Tony that he’s keeping her and it’s done. Mickey can’t wait to see the soft, dopey look on Ian’s face when he opens the door holding their little girl. That’s late Saturday afternoon.

Ten o’clock Saturday night, after Mickey’s figured out how to put the bed thing Tony dropped off together and the little one’s conked out, he’s just got off the phone with Ian and had to physically bite his lips not the ruin the damn surprise when there’s a knock on the door. It’s Colin’s girlfriend, or is it ex-girlfriend? (Colin got life for armed robbery while Mickey was in Mexico and Mick’s not 100% sure where Natalia stands on commitment) It’s Natalia and two kids about Franny’s age, boys he thinks, and a couple of suspiciously large garbage bags that Mickey will quickly learn is filled with toys, random clothes, and a file folder containing highly illegal fake birth certificates with his name on them. Mickey whisper argues with Natalia for a good twenty minutes but then the toddler wakes up and in the time it takes him to go grab her from the bedroom and come back, Natalia’s gone and the boys are yawning on the couch. Sucker punched. It’s too late to do anything so the boys get set up on the couch, the little one goes back in the bedroom and Mickey gets a beer. He thinks about texting Iggy, the only one who stays in contact with Colin (who the fuck gets arrested in Iowa?) but it’s late so he texts Ian g’night and goes to bed. He’ll figure it out in the morning.

The morning brings a text from Ian saying they’re about to board the plane again and the airport reception is shitty which is probably a good thing because it means Mickey doesn’t have to figure out how to get three kids to shut the fuck up while he’s on the phone. Breakfast is a hassle but the boys can talk at least, and there was a box of Cocoa Puffs in one of the garbage bags so at least everybody eats. (If Ian had been there, he might have cautioned against pure sugar for breakfast, especially since Mickey let them have soda as well but Ian is dealing with air travel and gate changes and Lip so he has his own problems.)

The sugar high is rough going but Mickey’s got this. It’s a bit like dealing with Franny mixed with being in jail. The trick is to make everybody think you’re on their side. Your brother stole your action figure? Let’s get him. The little one starts crying when she can’t run as fast as the boys? Cool, nobody’s allowed to run. Hey, look, cartoons! By lunch, all three are passed out on the floor watching some brightly colored show and Mickey’s ordered pizza and chicken poppers for lunch. He’s got this. Ian might be a little thrown by three kids instead of one but eh, they’re both from big families. They can cram some bunk beds at the end of the hallway if they take the door off the hall closet. What little boys don’t like bunk beds? The surprise is still on.

The knock on the door isn’t the pizza however. It’s a milk crate. Specifically a milk crate of formula, diapers, and tiny tiny clothes with the smallest baby Mickey’s ever seen balanced on top. She’s tiny enough that when Mickey picks her up he can cup her head in one hand and she lays neatly along his arm, minuscule toes just barely reaching the crook of his elbow. Ian could probably hold her in one giant paw alone. Mickey feels like he’s gonna break her if he thinks too hard. This is an actual baby. A baby-baby. She can’t say “Ba” when she’s hungry or point at the tv when she’s bored. She can’t loudly announce she has to go potty or yell “me first!” and try and beat her brother to the john. She needs him to do all that for her, to know all that, to be good at all that and Mickey is terrified.

But she starts to fuss, just gentle little sounds, and one itty bitty hand flails out and he catches it without thinking. Tiny fingers latch on to his bigger one and squeeze tight, grip much stronger than he’d have guessed, and holy shit, she’s settling down again, seemingly just needing to hold on to Mickey to know she’s okay.

He kicks the crate inside and sits at the table, gingerly laying her down on it in front of him. She looks like Joey a bit, meaning she looks like Mandy too, both of them looking more like Laura than Terry or Terry’s brother Sam. He eases off the stained pink cap and sees a shock of black hair. The boys have Colin’s dirty blond curls, and the little one must have gotten her mom’s reddish-brown locks but the baby has the same jet black hair Mickey does. He blows out a breath and the baby scrunches her nose up.

Someone knocks on the door again, pizza this time, thank god, and then the boys are awake and demanding ketchup for the chicken and burning their mouths on the pizza even though Mickey told them to wait, damn it, and the little one is reaching small hands up onto the counter for “Ba! Ba!” and in the chaos, Mickey doesn’t hear his text alert go off once, twice, four times as Ian’s messages come through that they’re ‘delayed but okay’ and ‘want Chinese for dinner’ and ‘hey everything okay?’

Somewhere between shutting down a ketchup fight, eating two bits of pizza himself, and taking the batteries out of the remote so the little one stops pressing random buttons while the boys yell about Transformers, he googles how to change a diaper and then has to clean up pee off the table when the baby decides she just can’t wait for a new one. Mickey shoots Ian a thumbs up before he tosses the phone onto the top of the fridge because Nicky and Tommy might not know what “don’t wake the baby or she’ll scream” means but they absolutely know what an iPhone is and they wanna play with his every time they catch sight of it. Mickey feels like maybe he never gave Fiona enough credit because he’s about ready to go back to prison but at least he’s not trying to raise Carl.

He misses Ian’s call when they land, misses the ‘on the way home’ text, misses Lip’s ‘yo Ian’s doing that thing where he’s not worried but he’s worried, ya wanna answer your phone’ message. Turns out feeding a baby includes burping a baby or they just puke it back up. Also she may be unbelievable small but the baby must be 90% lungs because when she decides she’s not happy, she makes damn sure everybody’s knows it. The baby crying sets off the little one crying, and the boys don’t cry but they do start fighting each other for no visible reason so Mickey kinda has his hands full.

More cartoons, more pizza, and a bold-faced lie about being out of soda gets Mickey to four o’clock Sunday by the skin of his teeth. There’s another knock on the door and if there’s anyone under the age of sixteen on the other side, Mickey’s going to Canada, because fuck it.

The person on the other side is Mickey’s definitely over sixteen husband. He looks tired and frowny and he’s holding a bag of fried rice and egg rolls and if Mickey were a different man, he call him an angel but this Mickey has had to piss since the Great Diaper Blowout of 2 PM so he just (gently) thrusts the thankfully happy baby at his husband and makes a beeline for the bathroom and it’s locking door.

He hopes Ian brought enough egg rolls.

(Look what you made me do, does this count as fic? Lol 🦖)

HOLY FUCK 🦖 ANON I am speechless!

1,631 words 8,643 characters

(“I don’t have ovaries, Mick.”)-> cracked me up!

So just Tony's toddler at first. He can handle her. Maybe he doesn't even think Tony is really going to leave them forever you know, maybe Mickey thinks he might change his mind in a couple of days, you know? No need to freak Ian out for no reason if Tony will come back tomorrow, right?

Then he got Colin's two boys, Nicky and Tommy, around Franny's age. Okay. At least Franny will have kids her age to play with for once. Awesome.

there was a box of Cocoa Puffs in one of the garbage bags so at least everybody eats. -> 🦖 ANON this is too fucking funny. For no reason.

The trick is to make everybody think you’re on their side. -> Mickey is smart like that! He is a surviver!

The knock on the door isn’t the pizza however. It’s the smallest baby girl Mickey’s ever seen. -> oh oh! Well at least Mickey had some practice with newborns when he raised Yevgeny (or is there no Yevgeny in this AU?) Wait- is the baby Mandy's or Joey's? this is so stressful and the babies aren't even mine!

Lip’s ‘yo Ian’s doing that thing where he’s not worried but he’s worried, ya wanna answer your phone’ message -> this is the most canon thing ever.

Ian showing up, gets handed a baby, finding 3 kids in his living room and his husband just ran off. Ian is a better person than I am, because I would walk right out of that mess and eat my fucking spring rolls on the way back to the airport.

This is literally a mini fic. A solid one shot. I have just received a one-shot in my inbox. I love my life.

[gardenerian]

Happy Happy Birthday!!! May I offer this pic of Noel holding a sweet ginger kitty as a gift??

lisaaa how cute is this! cat dad mickey is very important to me, and silly ginger kitties are ALSO very important to me! so i am very pleased 🥰 you are so very sweet to think of me today and send such a delightful lil photo!

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [10] - Family Dinner

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Happy news can make a dinner so much better.

Word Count: 3800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“I’m sorry, did you just say marriage?”

You sipped your coffee before shooting Becca and Sarah a grin, then popped a piece of your croissant in your mouth.

“Mm hm.”

“You’re getting married to-to my—” Becca stammered. “To my brother?”

“Yeah,” you said and looked around. “Do you guys think we should get mimosas?”

“What the fuck?!” Becca exclaimed. “Since when?”

“It’d better be this morning, Y/N,” Sarah said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Technically around 48 hours ago.”

Becca gawked at you. “Y/N, I’m going to kill you.”

“Listen, I didn’t—” you waved your hands in the air. “I figured you’d want to hear it in person! It’s kind of a big deal, you know?”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Wait, start from the beginning,” Sarah said. “How did that happen?”

“I had a talk with my dad,” you said, biting inside your cheek. “He’s going to choose Ian.”

Sarah frowned while Becca pulled back slightly.

“He made up his mind?”

“Mm hm.”

“You’re sure you can’t convince him?”

You shook your head.

“No,” you said, your stomach doing a tense flip. “I thought I could but…he was very clear. He will not name me his heir, it’s going to be Ian.”

“That will mess everything up,” Becca said. “Including the truce, because—”

“Bucky won’t do business with him, neither will Sam or Steve,” you finished her sentence for her. “I told my father that but it didn’t even make him think twice.”

“Great,” Sarah muttered, and you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” you said. “I’m done waiting around for him to give me a chance. If he doesn’t want to give me power, I’ll take it for myself.”

“And that’s where Bucky enters the picture?”

“Exactly,” you said. “He will give me a way in, and once everything is in place I’ll take over.”

“Before Ian can?”

You nodded your head. “I’ll force my dad’s hand if I have to.”

“He’s not going to like it,” Becca sang in a teasing manner and you scoffed.

“It’s either that or we risk another war between the families,” you said. “To be honest with you, I don’t really care whether he likes it or not anymore. I’m the firstborn and it’s my right, he promised it to me all those years ago.”

“What happens when you take over though?” Sarah asked. “You and Bucky…?”

“We’ll get a divorce.”

Becca arched a brow and suppressed a smile. “Just like that?”

“Yeah, why not?” you said. “He doesn’t want to stay married to me a minute longer than it’s necessary, and I share the sentiment.”

Becca exchanged a knowing glance with Sarah, her smile widening before she turned to you.

“If you say so,” she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee and as if on cue, your phone started vibrating on the table. You checked the name on the screen, then answered it.

“Yeah?”

“Hi there, fiancée.”

You could already tell he was smiling from the tone of his voice and you rolled your eyes, then motioned at Becca and Sarah to give you a moment before getting up from your seat to walk out of the restaurant.

“What do you want?” you asked and he tsk tsked.

“Babe…”

“Don’t call me that.”

“My beautiful wife?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

“There’s going to be another last name there as well, don’t forget about that one,” you said. “It’s hyphenated.”

“Yeah, for some reason…” he grumbled and you heaved a sigh.

“Is there a point to this conversation? Because if there isn’t, I’m going to hang up now.”

“Yeah,” he said. “There is actually. Before tonight’s dinner, I just figured you’d want to know that your father knows.”

Your eyes widened. “You told him about the engagement?”

“What? No!” he said quickly. “But he knows we’re together.”

“Except we’re not.”

“Well fine, he knows we’ve been spending time in the honeymoon suit.”

You leaned back to the wall and pinched the bridge of your nose before clearing your throat.

“He called you?”

“Not yet but my parents did.”

“That sounds like a fun conversation,” you said, smiling slightly. “What did they say?”

Bucky chuckled.

“My mom just asked how you were,” he said. “That’s her being subtle. And my dad told me to not fuck it up so, went as expected. Arthur didn’t call you?”

“He did, I just didn’t answer,” you said, pursing your lips together. “I don’t want to talk to him yet, so…”

“But are you going to be okay tonight?” he asked and you pulled your brows together.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Can I not ask about your wellbeing?”

“No,” your reply came way too fast. “That’s not on the prenup.”

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered and you checked your watch, then pushed yourself off the wall.

“So you’re going to the restaurant before me then?”

“Yeah, I think it’d be better if I got on your father’s good side before that conversation,” he said. “Considering I didn’t even give him a heads up—unless you want to go together?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Absolutely not,” you said. “Playing the dumbass in love will be even more difficult if I spend more than an hour with you.”

“I think you like spending time with me,” he said with a teasing tone and you scoffed.

“I’m hanging up now,” you said. “Don’t be late tonight.”

“Of course, wife.”

“Stop calling me that!” you snapped and hung up, then let out a breath.

“I can’t believe I’m marrying this asshole…” you murmured to yourself, then made your way back into the restaurant.

                                                 *

Tonight’s dinner was not going to be very easy to handle, you could already tell. Becca had always been too good at reading your mood, so as soon as you two stepped out of the car, she reached out to hold your hand, making you turn your head.

“It’ll be fine,” she said before you could even say anything and you licked your lips.

“It makes it official,” you muttered. “All of it.”

Becca paused for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders.

“What does it matter?” she asked. “If you’re going to get a divorce eventually…”

“Of course we will,” you said. “But it’s not just that, you know? Starting tonight, I’m going against everything my dad wants.”

Becca nodded her head.

“You are,” she said airily. “But if he didn’t want you to take over eventually, he shouldn’t have raised you as his heir to begin with. That shit is not a game, he can’t just change his mind.”

You pursed your lips together, keeping your eyes on the restaurant.

“People won’t be happy about it,” you muttered. “Me being an actual rival, or taking over.”

 “You’re the firstborn,” she reminded you. “It’s your right. And that’s what you want, so fuck what everyone else will think. You’re going to do amazing.”

You stole a look at him, fear churning your insides.

“You think so?” you rasped out, desperate to hear it out loud and Becca nodded fervently.

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought you couldn’t pull it off,” she said. “You’re going to be much better than your father. Trust me.”

You squeezed her hand. “Thanks Becca.”

“Keep in mind how helpful I am when you’re picking your bridesmaid gown colors,” she said, making you let out a laugh. “Friendly reminder, I don’t like lilac.”

“I know, I know…” you told her, throwing an arm over her shoulder to press a kiss on her cheek, then you both walked into the restaurant.

As usual, either your father or Bucky’s father had it closed down for the night so that you all could enjoy your dinner without any strangers around. The hostess greeted you and led you to your usual table which was already occupied by Bucky’s family and yours. Your father stood up as soon as he saw you and made his way to you.

“Good luck,” Becca muttered and smiled at him. “Hi Arthur!”

“Becca my dear, welcome!” your father said as she kissed his cheek.

“I’m starving already,” she said and went to sit down while your father turned to you.

“So?” he said. “You cannot pick up the phone, Y/N?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I was busy.”

“Really?” he asked. “Too busy to send a text?”

You shrugged your shoulders again, pursing your lips together and he heaved a sigh.

“Sweetheart…” he said. “I don’t like this, you know that. I understand that we can have our disagreements but moving out of the house?”

“I didn’t move out of the house,” you said. “My stuff is still there.”

“But you’re not staying there?”

“I felt like a change of scenery.”

“Is that all?” he asked and you cleared your throat.

“Sort of.”

“Because what I’ve been hearing…” he said. “Not to mention, both you and Bucky planning this dinner?”

“I think we should wait for him to have this conversation—where is he anyway?” you asked, looking around the restaurant and your father frowned slightly.

“We thought you two were coming together.”

“He’s late?” you asked, nervousness shooting through you and your father waved a hand in the air.

“There’s a reason for that I’m sure,” he said. “Come on, sit down. We started already.”

“Great,” you muttered to yourself and followed him to the table and waved at Bucky’s parents Winnifred and George.

“Y/N, hello!” Winnifred stood up to hug you and you hugged her back before pulling back to wave at George.

“We were going to wait for you but you know how your father is,” Winnifred said and your father chuckled, gesturing surrender.

“I don’t mind,” you said, sitting down next to Becca as you nodded in Ian’s direction. “Ian.”

“Y/N.”

“So, what is this dinner about?” George asked and Winnifred shot him a look.

“George.”

“What? I’m curious. You would think this is a life-and-death situation the way Bucky talked about it.”

“I think we should uh…we should wait for him for that one,” you said and turned to the waiter who filled your glass.

“The chef is preparing your usual, ma'am."

“Thank you,” you said and sat up straighter while George smiled at Becca.

“Do you know what this is about?”

“Of course,” Becca said with a smile. “But I’m special.”

“Will this dinner take long?” Ian asked you, checking his phone. “I have plans for 10.”

“You’re welcome to leave,” you told him but before he could retort, Becca waved at someone by the entrance and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky walk into the restaurant. You cleared your throat, then pushed your seat back.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you said and made your way to him.

“Charm, hey—”

“With me,” you said without even stopping and he turned around to follow you out of the restaurant, and you whirled around on your heels the moment you stepped outside, raising your brows at him.

“Are you serious right now?” you asked. “You were supposed to be here before me, that was the plan!”

“Okay, I know I’m late but in my defense—”

“No no, you said—”

“Job got in the way, I didn’t even get the chance to change,” he cut you off and raised his wrist so that you could see the sleeve of his white shirt. “I still have blood on my sleeve, look!”

“Do I look like your drycleaner from where you’re standing?” you snapped back in a whisper. “You said you’d come before me, and considering your relationships I’d say you’re used to that!”

He rolled his eyes. “To repeat, job got in the way.”

“You’re late to dinner because you were too busy punching someone and that’s a good excuse?”

“It was necessary!”

“It was necessary for it to be you punching that person, is that right?”

“Excuse me, lovebirds,” Becca’s voice reached you and you both turned to look at her as she leaned sideways to the entrance. “Have your fight later on, they’re getting restless.”

You ran a hand over your face.

“Alright,” you said. “So okay, when are we telling them?”

“My plate is already there and I’d rather if you did it right away,” Becca said, pointing back with her thumb. “They don’t look like they’ll stop asking what this dinner is about anytime soon.”

“You just don’t want mom to ask you about Leila,” Bucky told her and Becca shrugged her shoulders.

“I mean would it kill you to do something nice for me?” she asked, making him shake his head slightly. You bit back a smile and threw your shoulders back, trying to get rid of the tension in your body.

“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered more to yourself and made your way back to the table with Becca and Bucky following you.

“Good evening,” Bucky greeted everyone at the table with a smile. “Sorry I was late, it’s just…work.”

Becca went to sit down on her seat as you eyed your food, but stood beside Bucky, clenching and unclenching your fist just so that you could focus on something else other than the nervousness pulsing in your veins.

“Is everything alright?” Winnifred asked Bucky and he nodded his head.

“Oh yeah, two meetings clashed,” he lied, subtly rolling the sleeve of his shirt up. “There was a moment of chaos but it’s fixed.”

“So can we learn what this whole secrecy and emergency dinner is about now?” George said with a knowing smile and you stole a look at your father who looked almost impatient. Knowing them, every single person at the table except Becca thought Bucky and you were about to tell them you were dating, so you were sure that the news was going to be completely unexpected for all of them.

“Yeah,” you said, reminding yourself to smile as you leaned sideways to Bucky’s arm. “You can. Sorry about the secrecy, we just wanted it to be a surprise.”

Ian scoffed a small laugh.

“You staying in a hotel in his territory might have ruined that surprise,” he said and Bucky’s eyes narrowed but you elbowed him while your father gave Ian a warning glare, making him sit up straighter.

“So uh, it happened very recently,” you said, ignoring Ian. “And normally you would have heard beforehand.”

“For which I take full responsibility,” Bucky added with a smirk. “That’s on me.”

“I mean you know we’ve had this…strange dynamic for a while.”

“Ten years,” Becca muttered into her wine glass. “Not that anyone is counting.”

“But once we actually talked to each other, something happened,” you lied through your teeth, Bucky’s arm snaking around your waist as he nuzzled to the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat but you forced yourself to remember that it was all an act. Winnifred pressed a hand on her chest as if she was lost in her emotions while your father and George exchanged glances, both smiling slightly.

“And I hope that you’ll be happy for us,” you said and waited for a second, then cleared your throat. “Because we’re getting married.”

The impact of your words was immediate and very visible. Ian’s head shot up as Winnifred gasped in shock and your father’s eyes widened while George’s jaw dropped. Becca stifled a laugh, taking another sip of her wine as she leaned back in her seat.

“Married?!” Winnifred exclaimed as she jumped on her feet. “Oh thank God, this is the best news I could ever hope for!”

“Trust me mom, I was as surprised as you are,” Bucky said with a chuckle while Winnifred pulled you into a tight hug and your father tried to pull himself together.

“Married?” he repeated and you nodded when Winnifred pulled back to hug Bucky.

“Yeah.”

��That’s…uh—” your father stammered. “That’s wonderful news honey but you two have been dating for what? Two days?”

“Three days,” you said helpfully and Bucky hissed in a breath.

“I was going to get your permission, Arthur.”

“Why didn’t you?” your father asked him, looking him in the eye but Bucky didn’t look intimidated in the slightest.

“Oh come on Arthur, don’t be so traditional!” George said with a laugh. “They’re in love, and it’s not like they met three days ago. They’ve known each other their whole lives, I for one have been hoping for this to happen for almost ten years!”

“And we already know we want to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Speaking of, where’s the ring?” Winnifred asked, making you and Bucky exchange glances before you turned to her.

Shit.

Of course he was supposed to have proposed with a ring.

“The ring!” you said. “Right, uh…Bucky?”

Bucky swallowed thickly and waved a hand in the air.

“The ring, that’s—that’s a funny story actually,” he said. “You see, we um—”

“My overly confident brother didn’t bother asking the best friend,” Becca cut him off airily, pointing at herself. “Surprise surprise; it was the wrong size. We went to the jewelers today to get it fixed, they said it’ll be ready within the week.”

Dear God, you loved Becca.

You subtly mouthed ‘thank you’ to her while George stood up to come closer to you.

“Congratulations son,” he said as he pulled him into a hug to slap him on the back. “You sure took your time. And Y/N, welcome to the family sweetheart.”

“Congratulations,” Ian said from where he was sitting and your father sighed, then stood up to hug you.

“We still need to talk about this,” he said. “But I’m very happy for you two.”

“Thanks dad,” you muttered as the waiters brought your food and you all sat down. You took your fork into your hand and George raised his glass.

“To happy couple!”

You and Bucky raised your glasses as well and your father took a sip of his drink, then leaned back in his seat.

“See, Y/N,” he said. “I know you’re still a bit angry at me but I told you. This right here will make you much happier than what we talked about earlier. That’s what matters.”

You arched a brow as Bucky turned to look at you better with a smirk and you stole a glance at him, a sly smile curling your lips as well.

Oh.

Of course your father naively believed that something as trivial as marriage could keep you from what you wanted. It was almost condescending at this point but you managed to hold back the retort, then clicked your tongue.

“Oh yeah,” you said, making Bucky chuckle. “I have a very clear idea of what’s actually important now, and I’ll make sure everyone else sees that as well.”

                                        *

When it was time to leave the restaurant, everyone was in a wonderful mood. Winnifred had so many ideas about the wedding, and as far as you could tell, your father had gotten over the annoyance of Bucky not having asked for his permission.

“So, are you coming home?” he asked you as George and Winnifred’s car drove off and you looked at Bucky who was talking to Becca by her car.

“Maybe later,” you said with a shake of your head. “Me and Bucky have things to talk about, so…”

Your father hummed.

“Alright,” he said. “What do you say we grab lunch tomorrow then?”

You thought for a moment, then shifted your weight.

“Sure, why not?”

“Good,” he said and hugged you. “You know I don’t like it when we fight.”

You pursed your lips together. “I know, I know...”

“I’ll see you tomorrow honey, please be careful,” he said and got in the car while Ian seemed to be in a deep discussion with Ryan. Ryan’s gaze found you over Ian’s shoulder and you offered him a small smile, then turned your head when you heard Becca say your name.

“Y/N are we meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah after lunch,” you answered. “I’ve just promised my dad I’d have lunch with him, so…”

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll text you then?”

“Sounds great!” you said as she got into her car and the driver closed her door before getting into the driver’s seat. You looked into your purse, then let out a groan when you couldn’t find your phone.

“Great,” you muttered and made your way into the restaurant, the waiter stopping in his tracks the moment he saw you.

“Ma’am?”

“Hi again, I left my phone at the table,” you told him with a small laugh and he nodded.

“I’ll get it for you right away,” he said and went inside, then in a minute he was back with your phone. “Here.”

“Thank you so much,” you said. “Have a nice night!”

“You too ma’am,” he said and you left the restaurant again, then frowned as soon as you saw Ian talking to Bucky by his car while Ryan waited with Ian’s other bodyguards close by. You took a step towards them but neither of them seemed to notice you, and judging by the stern look in Bucky’s eyes, it wasn’t because they were having a fun conversation.

“…And that’s what she wants in case she didn’t tell you,” Ian said and Bucky narrowed his eyes at him.

“I know that.”

Ian shook his head slightly. “Don’t get me wrong, but—”

“Let me stop you right there Ian,” Bucky said, glaring daggers at him. “You’re not going to say anything that I might get wrong about the woman I love.”

Your stomach did a happy flip but you quickly frowned at yourself. It was just Bucky selling this whole idea that you were in love; it wasn’t as if you and he could ever fall in love or anything.

Even the thought of it was absolutely absurd.

You cleared your throat to announce you were there and they both turned to look at you.

“Hey babe,” Bucky said. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you said without even sparing a glance at Ian as the driver opened the car door for you and you got in with Bucky following you suit. You massaged your temples, then leaned your head back when the driver started the car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked and you gritted your teeth, crossing your arms over your chest.

“The way my dad talks to me…” you muttered and Bucky scoffed a dry laugh.

“I know,” he said. “Trust me, I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” you rasped out. “George never underestimated you or replaced you with another heir.”

That made him pause for a moment, a dark shadow crossing his eyes before he took a deep breath.

“No worries Charm,” he said. “He won’t get to underestimate you again once you get that crown.”

You felt a small smile curl your lips as you turned your gaze to the city lights outside, then heaved a sigh.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I like the sound of that.”

Chapter 11

[shapeshiftingcloud]

Jack Darby knows how to fight

At least in my SoundDad au. He starts fighting others at school a few years after Soundwave and Laserbeak leave, without a parental presence due to june having to work all the time and the constant bullying from his peers he becomes angry and spiteful. Only calming down when hearing the music box that soundwave gave him.

Turns out that music box is an old kaon(ian?) lullaby.

Maybe one of the bots were humming it but most likely it was a con who was singing it, probably knockout or breakdown to wildbreak. Anyway it's they sing Jack laser focuses on that person like they just told him the sky is falling.

Whoever finds out about the weird fact that this random fleshy knows something as minor as a lullaby from kaon (a historically decepticon supporting city), makes them curious.

"Do you know this song?"

*yeah. my um dad used to sing it to me when I was upset. Even gave me a music box with it. I could never pronounce the words though..

The con pauses for a second considering the human

"Can you hum the rest?"

Jack thinks for a moment thinking back to the happy but blurry times of when his father would sing to him, unconsciously doing the hand signs to the song.

Those handsigns being Cybertronian sign language.

Whoever discovers this, now knows that Jack( weather knowing himself or not) has been connected to cybertron and the war far before he met the autobots.

[threadsun]

Content: abuse, manipulation, intoxication, dubcon/noncon, dad kink/incestplay, honestly idk how to describe this other than that it's fucked up

Thinking about Jean and Ian in the Ian's Dad AU and I can’t stop thinking about how messed up it is from Ian’s perspective!! Like imagine…

Look, you've spent 18 years being raised by your abusive single mother. She never gave you love, you were never enough for her, she made you feel guilty about everything. Getting gifts, having sexual urges, being queer. She never let you have your freedom, always trying to control your every move and keeping an eye on you.

You live in a big mansion in the rich part of town, but she refuses to spend any more than necessary on you. She doesn’t let you meet your rich neighbours because she’s worried you’ll befriend them and they’ll lead you astray. And she’s always telling you horror stories about the actor who lives next door. About how he doesn't care about anything, how he's a sexual deviant, how he spends lavishly unlike your mother's painful frugality. Everything she says to try to keep you away from him only makes him sound better. He sounds like the friend you never had and the dad you always wanted, and he’s an actor like you want to be on top of everything!

And when you turn 18 and enter your rebellious phase... well, look. You know he's famous. You know he’s probably been warned away from talking to you by your mother (really, you can't blame him for listening, knowing what she's like). And you know he probably doesn't want his neighbour’s kid just calling him up out of the blue. But... you've gotta try! This is your one chance at having a mentor for your acting! And maybe a father-figure too…

And when you reach out and actually get a response? When he wants to meet you? It's like you're in a dream. You meet up with him and he's... really cool! Super nice, laid back, interested in you. He asks all the right questions, learns about you, listens to you vent about your home life. He tells you stories about his work and gives you advice about becoming an actor.

And he's... well, look, you've never been able to explore sexual attraction, especially not towards men. And he's everything you want to be! All the parts of yourself you actually like seem to be so prominent in him. All the things that your mother hates. It's all him! And sure you feel a little weird about it, I mean you’ve only just met the guy. But... he’s so welcoming and kind. You're an adult, and for the first time in your life you’re feeling appreciated... And god he's so nice and generous when he takes you under his wing, showering you with gifts and taking you out to fancy places and encouraging your rebellion rather than stifling it.

Sure, he's a little more handsy than you'd expected a mentor to be. Little pats on the ass or pecks on the lips. But, well, he's French. That's just what they're like! So of course you're going to move in with him when he offers you a spare room at his place so he can mentor you more often. It's even nicer than your mother's house and he's not always hovering around. He lets you do whatever you please when you’re not learning from him and he never monitors you. You can go out with friends and invite people over and lock your door so you can jack off to some hentai without your mother bursting in and lecturing you about how sex is a tool of the devil!

He always encourages you to try new things. You'd always been a little curious about drugs. Nothing hard, no you're not that kind of guy. But maybe some weed? And of course your cool mentor can hook you up with some! But... he's a responsible mentor. He tells you that you can smoke but your first time has to be with only him. So you don't get too high or taken advantage of. And you trust him, of course you trust him, he's given you every reason to!

So you let him set the mood. Low lights, flickering candles, some weird artsy movie on the massive tv in the lounge, plenty of snacks (oysters, chocolate covered strawberries, even some alcohol but you're pretty sure that's just for him. He wouldn't get you crossfaded for your first time...), and the fattest blunt you've ever seen. Also the only blunt you've ever seen so... really, when he assures you it's perfect for a beginner, why wouldn't you trust him?

So you settle in and he lights up the blunt. He asks if you know what shotgunning is, tells you it's the best way for a beginner to get used to smoking. It's... weird. When his lips actually linger on yours more than the usual little goodbye kisses. When his tongue forces your lips apart to blow the smoke into your mouth. But... all those nerves and weird feelings settle pretty quick.

The more smoke he blows into your mouth, the more relaxed you get. The more you let him feed you snacks. The more you let his hands wander. By the time you're actually pulling from the blunt, you can barely tell which way is up. You feel him tip your head back and pour some wine into your mouth. He's always going on and on about vintages and whether or not it's dry and what aftertaste it has. But all you can ever taste is soured, bitter grapes. But this time you don't mind so much. Not when he's taking a gulp of it himself and feeding that into your mouth this time.

It's the first time you've been touched like this, kissed like this. It feels good, his soft lips on yours, the way he pays such gentle attention to you, the way he grinds on your lap and pulls your hair while forcing more smoke and alcohol into you. You're in a haze of pleasure and Jean is right there at the centre. And him being your mentor is the furthest thing from your mind.

You don't remember much about that night. Or, anything really. You wake up sore in places you've never been sore before. But also feeling blissful. Your muscles feel more relaxed than they ever have, and you don't feel the usual crushing weight of your lust hanging over your head. Jean simply smiles at you when you go into the kitchen the next morning, and asks if you enjoyed the night before. You tell him you did and he promises you two can do it more often. As a bonding experience. Maybe make it a monthly thing? You’re like a son to him, after all!

And god does that sound nice to you. Having a parental figure who wants to bond with you. A person who likes spending time with you. A person who encourages you to try new things. He promises to bring edibles as well next time, and reminds you with a wink that if you ever want to try any other drugs, he can get his hands on them for you. But, of course, same rules apply. Your first time doing them has to be with him.

Really, you're not sure why you'd want to do drugs with anyone else. You've seen the people at the parties he's taken you to, far too rowdy for your liking. So you stick to doing drugs and drinking with Jean only. It's the only time he's handsy. The only time his lips stay on yours. And you hardly remember it anyway. It all blurs together with the dreams you keep having about him. The ones that leave you in a cold sweat, with an uncomfortable boner, wondering if it's normal for people to dream about someone they see like a father whispering sweet nothings in their ear while they fuck them. You're pretty sure it's not, but... really how would you know?

And finally one sober night, you hear your door creak open. You hear footsteps, see a sliver of light from the hallway on your wall, feel someone getting into bed behind you. You move to sit up, but a warm arm wraps around you and a familiar voice whispers in your ear. Jean reassures you that it's okay, it's just him, he just wants to cuddle. And that's normal, isn't it? Fathers cuddling their sons. Sure, no matter how much you both talk about wishing you were father and son, he’s your mentor not your father. And sure, maybe you're a bit old for it even if he was your father. But it’s probably just some sort of acting thing anyway! So you settle back down and enjoy the feeling of his arms around you, trying to keep your hormones under control.

His hands wander a little, thumb rubbing circles on your hips as his lips press lightly against your neck. You have to bite your pillow to keep from whimpering, willing yourself not to make things weird. But his hand slips from your hip and curls around your hard cock and your heart drops. But he reassures you once more, just a gentle murmur in your ear, promising that it's okay. That it's perfectly natural.

His hand palms you slowly as he whispers sympathetic words about how badly your mother screwed you up and how it's up to him to make you better. How he feels so bad about your sexual repression, how he can see just how much you're suffering, that he knows how badly you need this. You're still trying to muffle your sounds with the pillow, but your hips roll against his hand and it feels so good. And he knows. He knows your mother never let you touch yourself. Never let you indulge your desires. You told him so yourself. And he promises you that it's okay. That this is healthy and normal. That she fucked you up, broke you, but he's here to fix you.

He talks to you so gently, like a wounded animal, as he helps you cum. He's so... understanding. And he reassures you that it's normal. That it's okay. That this is what fathers do for their sons. It doesn’t even strike you as odd, that he’s calling you two that. It feels right. And when you finally let out a moan and cum against his hand, making a mess of your pyjamas... he praises you. He tells you how well you did for him, what a good son you are, how happy he is to see you getting better already! And he promises to keep helping…

It happens night after night, each time something slightly different. He turns you over the next night, kisses you so sweetly that you feel like you might melt into him. His tongue is coaxing and his hands slip into your pants to touch you properly. And you wonder how you'll ever be able to touch yourself again when you know it'll never compare to his touch. Then he uses his mouth on you, shows you how skilled his tongue is down there as well. Then he's working a finger, two fingers, three into you.

He teaches you how to please him, as well. Urges you under the covers and teaches you how to go down on him without too much teeth. Trains you not to gag when he thrusts into your mouth and to swallow when he cums down your throat. He presses his cock between your thighs and fucks them so sweetly, hands groping and lips finally leaving marks on you. And then finally, he makes love to you. There's no other way to say it. It's such a sweet, soft, gentle thing. His hips rocking behind you as he spoons you, holding you to his chest and praising you for learning so fast, for being such a good boy for him. And when you feel him cum inside of you, your hips stutter into his hand and you cum too. And you feel loved for the first time in your life.

And that's when you start to learn who your mentor really is. There's no more of the coddling, the sweetness, the love. No, you're his personal free-use whore. He clicks his fingers and you get on your knees for him, ready to take whatever he has to give. He makes you call him dad, starts calling you his son. He introduces you to kinks you've never even heard of, takes all his anger out on your pretty body in the most sadistic ways, trains you into his perfect pet. He fucks you and beats you and makes you his cumdump.

And if you ever try to stop it, ever try to refuse, ever correct people who mistake you for a real father and son... he reminds you of all those nights you spent baked out of your mind. He shows you all the pictures he took of the disgusting, perverted things you let him do to you when you didn't even remember your own name. He promises to leak them to the press if you ever stop. His career is just about over, but yours? Yours is only just beginning. This could ruin you.

But... honestly? You don't want to stop. You don't want to go back to living with your mother. You don't want to return to a life where you feel guilty for wanting sex, where you never feel satisfied, where you always feel like a deviant. You don’t want to go back to not having a father. You want to be wanted by him. You want to keep feeling good, and god does he make you feel good. His insults and humiliation get you hard, but his rare praise makes you desperate to come back for more. You know it's wrong, you know he's a bad person, you know it needs to stop.

But... you don't stop it. You can't stop it. Not when it feels so... good isn't quite the right word. But it feels like everything you deserve. It's the best you'll ever get. And you need to grab onto that before it slips away.

Until. Until you make the mistake of bringing a friend over for once. You've tried to keep everyone else away from Jean. Keep him to yourself. You're not sure if it's selfish or selfless, wanting to keep that cruel attention on you alone. But you can't say no to your childhood best friend. Especially since you've been in love with them since forever. So you take the risk and let them come over, warning them away from your “dad” as many times as you possibly can.

Thankfully, the study date seems to go... well! You don't see Jean at all, and your friend doesn't mention him either. They even ask you out, and you have to get them to repeat themself a few times before it sinks in that it's real. Of course you say yes! How could you say anything else? You've wanted this since forever!

And then as you finish your shy, nervous little goodbye and watch them drive away... you feel Jean behind you. His arms settle around your waist, his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your ear. He tells you how nice they seem. How happy he is to see his son dating someone. How unfortunate it would be if they ever found out about your dirty little secret... But don't worry, he won't tell! For as long as you keep doing everything he asks, as long as you keep pleasing him, his lips are sealed.

[lilac-hecox]

Listen, I asked the wonderful @japhan2023 to gif this because this is peak Angela from the future au. This is absolutely Ian being her dad and her being like, "Kill me, my dad is so lame."

Angela is tired of your shit, Ian

[doshiart]

F1 AU // GALLAVICH

Ian Gallagher is a racing driver, a young star of the McLaren team. Mickey is just a car technician, who only recently joined the team as a trainee.

/long read backstory below/

Okay, I've thought about this a lot. So.. Shameless US but.. huh? living in UK?

First of all, because Formula 1 is more popular in Europe. Secondly, because I want to alter the story of Mickey's growing up. Make it a story about a little boy persevering towards his dreams. And how a simple childhood passion can grow into a potential job opportunity.

If briefly, below I talk about Mickey's developmental stages, along with his final emigration from Ukraine to the UK.

I'm not going into Ian's backstory here. But I'll mention this in more detail at the very end of the post, if you get to the end. Ha ha. Have fun reading!!

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

Mickey was six, just a little boy, when he first saw a F1 race on TV. And he was amazed by how quickly the cars could go and how quickly the mechanics performed at pit stops. (Are these even mechanics? Well, they turn the wheels, dad does the same thing in the garage and considers himself a mechanic).

When the next year he went to school in his first grade, then to all the teachers' questions or questionnaires with their “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he confidently answered as clearly as his childish language could, that he would definitely become a F1 mechanic. Even though he received only gentle smiles in reaction to his naivety of being a kid, the desire took root in his little head.

---

As he grew older, he continued to enjoy racing, watching every race weekend he could. And while he was a child this did not cause any particular problems. Mom encouraged him in his interests and every New Year gave him tiny branded cars of the teams he loved. But as he gets older, the more often he hears from dad that he is interested in some stupid things. And he didn't want to hear a word about racing at all. As soon as Mickey mentioned it even once, he was cut off mid-sentence.

These are not real cars.

Real mechanics work in a garage with real cars, not kids' toys for show.

Come down to earth. It’s all somewhere far away and you never even get to one of these races in your life.

---

Well, Mickey talks less about racing out loud anymore. Especially after mom's gone.

Tiny model cars disappeared into the closet's darkness.

His dad began to drag him into their garage more often so that he would get used to work and not wander around idle, lost in his stupid dreams. He had to skip live racing broadcasts as a result. It was sort of suicidal acts to turn this on in the garage on a small TV instead of some dumb music channel with hit songs. Mickey had learnt long ago to keep his mouth shut.

Just listen. Bring it. Grab it. Repair simple details. Don't go under the hood. Don't touch this, don't touch that. And especially don't break anything. Blah blah blah.

Jesus, are you even a man? Take your gentle hands away if you're not ready to get dirty.

---

Despite everything, Mickey still had a dream. One day, he hopes to watch a real-life race. Hear the noise of wheels flying over the track, the roar of engines, the screams of a supportive crowd. He prefers to never talk about his own desire to work as a car mechanic or engineer in F1.

---

Mickey was sixteen when he left after ninth grade for a vocational college to applied mechanics specialty.

Because, well, he had good reasons for leaving school two grades early. At the very least, he was already tired of going to school. He didn't even have any friends there. Yes, he communicated with classmates, but that's not it. It's forced. Just so as not to be an outcast and maintain the status of the Milkovich family by playing dirty tricks at school and bullying others. Did he like it? Absolutely not. These guys were idiots with stupid jokes and always picking on chicks.

They kept asking if he liked any of them and talking about how they looked all the time. Mickey never liked anyone. It wasn't that the girls were ugly, he just didn't find them attractive. But he pushed these thoughts away and ignored them. Left it somewhere near to the tiny race cars in the darkness.

Also, classmates called him into fights on regularly. Not that he was against kicking someone's dumb ass, but that he would prefer better reasons than just trying to prove whose class is above.

Another reason is that, in their family, working with their hands and having a real profession are more valued than going to higher education. Because this is a job for real men. Where will all these managers, lawyers, accountants, stupid psychologists be when their car breaks down? Mechanics will always have work and profit.

As well, Mickey is deeply curious about the workings of the engine and wants to fully understand its mechanisms. He will therefore be able to study this in practice with teachers, rather than with a psychotic bastard who screams at the slightest opportunity.

The only thing Mickey truly wanted to learn at school was English. Not because he loved it. This gave him at least some hope of "breaking abroad for the sake of a good life". Perhaps the main reason for his success was that he had a really great teacher who pushed and encouraged him. Sometimes he would stick around after class and stay just to talk with her. Mickey felt parental care, which he hasn't received lately.

“I believe that you can achieve a lot, Mikhailo. Just believe in yourself.” She told him and he believed her, hugging her a little longer so as not to show his wet eyes.

And well, after leaving school, these words sometimes came to mind during the saddest times, when he returned home after a long day of school combined with an exhausting shift in the family garage. Every time he spoke with his dad, he felt terribly devastated. The dream was literally slipping out from Mickey's hands. A pipe dream, is that what they say? Well, at least he'll try to do something.

---

Mickey was twenty when he graduated and by this time he was actively saving money, hiding it in different places. Also, he planned his escape from home, considered the best routes, and looked at what things he should take with him, confused about whether he would ever return home again.

As he approached his twenty-first birthday, he finally decided to do it. With only a spark of hope, he was ready to leave for nowhere. And okay, Mickey was a realist; he was aware that things might not work out at all and that he would have to return back eventually. But he'll do anything, though, to make sure that this doesn't happen, to avoid having to meet his dad's derisive gaze once more as his goal gets mocked.

After all, a dream is a dream, right? He also had skills and language abilities in his pocket. So he's really ready to do anything to attain even the tiniest success.

---

To get to UK, Mickey had to go through a long journey of transfers from bus to train, from train to plane. He's terribly tired, but here he is. He stands and watches as the new country greets him with heavy rain.

He first found it difficult to adjust to other people's smiling faces. There were a few times when he didn't feel at home because everyone was so friendly and lovely. And these people were incredibly talkative. He'll have to get used to this if he plans to stay here.

The first difficulties he encountered occurred at the department while filling out a form for migrants.

“Mik.. Mikai.. Mikaelo?”

“Mikhailo.” Mickey interrupted.

The employee's eyes stared blankly at him.

He sighed. “Ugh.. Mickey? Yeah, Mickey.”

“Okay, Mickey. Here you are.”

---

Mickey got a job as a mechanic for a small business fairly quickly thanks to his abilities. He was so easily and warmly accepted into the friendly team. Here he first felt respect while working. Mickey got assistance from the job department in extending his visa to stay in the country. His job also provided him with a tiny apartment, deducted from his paycheck.

After a while, feeling a little more self-assured, Mickey started saving money for qualifying courses that would help him in the future.

---

Mickey was almost twenty-four when he successfully obtained all the qualifications that were necessary for the job, as well as to be sure of himself and his knowledge. During this time two full racing seasons had passed. He attended only one race at Silverstone. This was his almost full year in the UK. His skin broke out in goosebumps when he saw the track in person. It wasn't quite what he expected. Mickey literally stood in one place and once in a while cars would drive by. On TV they show a larger overview, but still. He was excited. In this grand prix, a new young racer from the McLaren team took third place for the first time. His name seems to be Ian, and he likes to take risks on the track, driving the car while presenting a strong sense of confidence. And his hair perfectly matches with the team's car.

He missed the second race due to a qualifying exam. But he's not upset. Mickey is closer than ever to his dream. If everything works out, he'll see even more racing. If not, well, then he'll continue to work repairing regular cars. Perhaps he'll be able to attend grand prix events in other countries during his holidays?

But now it's the middle of the season and he's standing in the lobby of the McLaren Technology Center. He's trembling a little and his wild eyes are scanning everything in the immediate area.

Mickey can't believe the reality of what's happening. No he didn't become a mechanic. But.. it's still impressive. He was interviewed and tested to become a temporary vehicle technician for the team as an intern. He was told something about a possible career advancement and access to other things once he completed more qualifications, but he's not sure he heard everything correctly.

Later they tested him on team tests on the track. He's surprised that he was able to concentrate on his speed and did everything exactly as needed.

He actually became… exactly the one who changes the wheels and does minor repairs. He joined the technical team and will also work on pit stops during the races. And well, okay, if everything that's happening isn't a dream, he's really happy. Extremely happy. Of course, the longer he studied, the more he wanted to do engineering and development. But that's the tiny step, right? This is already more than anything he could have imagined. He saw the race in real life from the stands, and now he got the opportunity to see everything from the staff. He'll interact directly with the racing car. He might even hear how the team interacts with racers. Unbelievable.

Through the noise in his ears, Mickey hears someone standing beside him talking in a muffled voice.

“Hey! You're a new technician, right?”

The guy had already taken off his helmet when Mickey turned around. He softly smiles while stroking his fiery red hair.

Mickey stared at him. When he was brought to the track, he thought that some tester was sitting in the car, but not their young star.

“Yeah. Hope so…” He twitched his lip and scratched nose. “You're Ian, right?”

Of course this is Ian, what a stupid question. It's too embarrassing.

The redhead smile became even larger.

“Yeah…”

And just as he was about to add something else, one of the staff called Ian to go back and he hurriedly turned to Mickey and said quickly, “Oh, uh, see ya later then, gotta go.”

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

I'm glad I finally wrote and drew this. This idea has literally taken over my head so much that I don't have the energy to write Ian's backstory in the same way. Once again I am convinced that writing is hard work. And I want to say again about my love for writers. YOU ARE INCREDIBLE. For my brain, drawing is easier than writing. But it was fun!

!!!AND!!! THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! If someone suddenly wants to write a big multi-chap slowburn fic or little drabble or do anything, I'll be happy so much with absolutely anything!!

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

Let's talk about Ian now. I was actually going to write a backstory for him too. Maybe at least some minor notes, but I'm not quite sure how best to connect his bipolar with racing. Usually because racers drive go-karts from childhood, get into the junior league and generally build a racing career for years. Maybe he had a breakdown somewhere between seasons and it was quickly noticed?? I don’t know… And I think about how the team constantly checks him, which at times upsets him and forces him to prove to everyone that he is fine and able to drive the car.

Most likely, in this AU, Gallaghers are either rich, or Ian has a sponsor, if you know what I mean… From this fact, a whole lot can change in story. And the second thing seems more likely to me.

I was thinking about how Ian joined the McLaren team at the age of 21, and by the time he first met Mickey he was 22. He had been stable for a long time on medication.

So I'm also considering the possibility that somewhere between his 17-19 years he disappeared from the radar and came back when he found a sponsor who could pay for everything he needed and help him get into the F1 league. At first it was the weakest team, until his potential was noticed and he was offered to move to another team. This fact with the sponsor will probably put a lot of spokes in the wheels (ha).

Racer's body is undergoing an enormous physical strain, so they spend a lot of time in the gym. And Ian really enjoys working out with his team.

Another interesting fact: racers have a super-strong neck to be able to cope with gravitational forces during the race. Therefore, special attention is paid to neck in training. (It seems from the moment I found out this my little fixation began…)

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

I think there's a lot of pining here or something. They seem to be nearby, but due to different job responsibilities, at completely distinct levels. And I really want to read something like this with so slow burning.

So, I guess you can consider this as a big prompt for writing, if it inspires you.

Thanks for reading! <3

[bubblegumbarbie33]

I really want to write a Shameless AU where the day after 'Cascading Failures' Mandy wakes Mickey up and is like "Fuck this shit we're leaving" and she has a plan to move in with an Internet friend in Indiana but Mickey physically can't leave because Ian Ian Ian so Mandy takes him to the Gallagher house (where Fiona is freaking the fuck out about getting her kids back) and practically begs Fiona to take her brother in like she took Mandy in (not really because they were always fighting but also Fiona never kicked her out so.....)

Fiona's obviously like "Fuck this BS I've gotta get my kids back" and Mickey says that he'll help. Because he remembers what the system is like. Being alone. Fighting every second of every day. Being in a constant state of fight or flight. And he doesn't want that for Ian. Or any of the little Rugrats.

So he stays in the basement and keeps out of the house whenever social services stop by, and cleans and learns how to cook (pizza bagels and burnt eggs) and Fiona gets him a job (because he's not staying at her house with no money coming in, and Mickey doesn't want to work at the Kash and Grab with no Ian) and he works at the Alibi because his dad doesn't come around too often (he owes too many guys money or they owe him a boot to the face) but when Terry busts through the door Kev shoves Mickey under the bar like a little kid.

Mickey goes to the court hearing, because why wouldn't he? And Ian sees him walk in with Fiona and Mickey's looking at the ground and shuffling his feet because he knows that this is too much. That he's caring too much. But Ian doesn't say anything and just sits, glued to his side, until Fiona finally gets her kids back for good and everyone's jumping up and down and Mickey's just smiling but also a little sad because he's never known a family like this.

And then it's peaceful and domestic for a while, Mickey blends into the family. Makes friends with Kev and V. Becomes an dependable ego-check for Lip, a weird cousin/older brother for Carl and Debbie, a helping hand to Fiona, and a boyfriend to Ian. And it's some cheesy Brady Bunch shit but he lets himself love it because he's gone two decades without feeling safe.

Then, of course, Terry finds him. One of his cousins tips him off. He catches Mickey walking home from the Alibi one night, really lays into him. Mickey tries fighting back but finds himself paralyzed by that old, solid fear in the pit of his stomach. So he's just hit, again and again, in the street in front of the Gallagher house.

Until Fiona's on top of Terry with a bat, and Carl's got a blowtorch, and Lip's calling the cops because getting Terry sent to jail will make everyone's life easier, and Ian's kicking the shit out of him, and Debbie's holding a pillowcase full of bricks but she's more focused on making sure Mickey's cuts aren't deep enough to do lasting damage.

And that's enough to get Terry put away for a while. Tony makes sure of it, as due to some personal revelations he's definitely not a supporter of gay-bashing. And Mickey's lying on the couch, feeling like a sack of shit. A burden on the Gallaghers. He contemplates running down to Indiana, but Mandy has seemed happier based on her infrequent texts and social media posts, and he doesn't want to bother her. Because that's what he is. A bother.

But then Ian's sitting down next to him and turning on a movie. And slowly the rest of the family trickles in. And then it's just a normal night with leftovers and action flicks and Ian's arm wrapped around him. And Mickey falls asleep, knowing that when he wakes up the next day, it won't just be a dream.

[yoonia]

Chance Encounter | 06

⟶ Title | Chance Encounter

⟶ Summary | Sometimes your fangirling can cause you a lot of problems. Add alcohol and your clumsy thumb into the mix, followed by waking up to an accidental DM getting sent on Instagram, and your life changes forever. The entire mess leads you to an odd form of friendship with the man who you had always admired. But what happens when your two worlds collide, blurring the lines between reality and dreams? Will you be able to return to your real-life once this is over?

⟶ Pairings | Christian Yu ( DPR +IAN / Yu Barom ) x reader ⟶ Genre | Teacher’s Aide!AU, College!AU, Fluff, Future Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature theme and upcoming smut chapters; Mentions of alcohol consumption, sexual tension, flirting, accidental text messages with revealing pictures ⟶ Word count | 9k words ⟶ Story Masterlist: Chance Encounter | ⤎ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Music Playlist | Ko-fi ⟶ Cross post | AO3

⟶ Author's note | It's finally here! After a long wait, I have finally returned with this story. I think this would be the perfect time to reveal the reason why I haven't been updating this series in a while and that is...*drum roll*...because google docs lost the entire files for the rest of the chapters lol I'm back, though, and I have every intention to finish this series because I still have a ton of ideas to share featuring this amazing man. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Six

“Are you guys still at the mall? Seriously, did you have to take so long to pick your—bathing suit?” 

Pressing your hand on your mouth, you muffle the sound of your laughter while Christian continues fuming on the other side of the call. “Bathing suit? Damn, you sound older than Momo’s Dad,” you almost choke as you tease him, unable to stop yourself from laughing. 

“Okay, bikini, swimsuit, whatever,” he says, grumbling on the phone, causing you to laugh harder. 

“It’s not that we lost track of time because of the bikinis,” you answer him with your voice lowered, not wanting to draw any more attention from the people roaming around you when you had already drawn enough eyes on you just by giggling to yourself. Having people glancing your way is already making you feel uncomfortable enough, even more so when it feels like you are hiding a big secret from the world and you have an irrational fear of getting caught growing on you. 

Speaking to Christian like this makes you feel that way. It feels like you are keeping an important secret from the world. Although you have to admit that this is exactly what he is—a wonderful secret that you want to keep to yourself for a bit longer. 

Thinking about this puts a smile on your face. One that stays with you when you cheerfully add, “We just had a little detour while shopping, that’s all. We’ll be back on track and finish things up in no time.” 

Just as you are saying these words to him, you cast a glance towards the other side of the store where you currently are. There, you see Momo leaning over one of the glass showcases lined inside the store with rapt attention, eyes glowing over the collection of expensive branded watches lined up properly on display. Right beside her, Em is basically doing the same, and it is almost comical to see their expressions mirroring one another, with the bright lights coming out of the glass display reflecting on their faces to make them shine. And neither of them is even bothered by it, too mesmerised by the flashy collection that they have been eyeing on. 

“Is ‘detour’ a code word for saying that you guys are getting carried away at the mall? You’re not trying to buy everything you see on display, are you?” Christian speaks on the phone again, and you are forced to stifle your laughter as you listen to what he is saying. Even without seeing him, you can already picture his pouty face and the curious frown that he normally gives you when he is trying to understand something that he couldn’t get a good grasp on, which often happens when you share some of the things that you do when you are not with him. You turn to look at the watch counter, watching silently as Momo is helping Em choose between a couple of watches that the storekeeper has personally picked out for them. 

“No, it’s an actual detour. We sort of encountered some kind of—distraction.” A smile comes to your face when you recall what had happened. To remember the reason why you and Momo had ended up in the exclusive watch store with Em, the last person on earth that you would expect to be hanging out with. 

It was quite awkward at first to have Em join your shopping date, when you barely knew anything about her except for what you have learned through the few cordial encounters you had with her, especially after the cryptic comment she made about the gift she is looking for. 

But you are thankful that you had Momo here with you today, as she managed to defuse the situation, knowing exactly well about your habit to overthink and worry about the things that you don’t fully understand. Once Momo jumped in to break the ice, you finally gained enough information to not be as wary as you were when you first met Em earlier. 

“What kind of gift are you thinking of getting?” Momo asked her while the three of you were browsing through the shops and did some window shopping before making any decisions about where to go, and Em—having no knowledge of the turmoil happening in your head at that moment—nonchalantly answered, 

“Something that would give a nice message as a congratulatory and send-off gift.” 

Momo stole a glance your way then before asking. “Send-off? Is it for a friend of yours?” 

“Yes,” Em said, looking at the two of you with a bashful smile that told you more than any spoken word could. “He’s a really special friend of mine who is moving to the States sometime next month. He got this terrific offer that would allow him to make more music, which is basically a huge upgrade to what he’s been doing here lately,” she explained, then she turned to you with a request, “He’s also a good friend of Rome. I mean, Christian. Since they’ve been spending time together quite often lately, would it be okay if I ask you not to say anything to Ian when you see him? I don’t want to spoil the surprise too soon. We’ll be leaving for the States together once the date is set, but my friends and I are planning to have a send-off party the weekend before. I’m thinking of giving the gift to him then.” 

The smile that came to your face was almost spontaneous. The relief that you felt must have been palpable, yet you couldn’t get yourself to reel it in. Though you did manage to control your composure when you promised her, “Your secret is safe with me,” while you tried to qualm the feeling of guilt for having suspected the relationship that she has with Christian. 

On the phone, Christian gives you a sarcastic scoff and says, “Riiiight—” 

“It’s not what you think, I promise.” 

“No, I get it. Those discount sale offers can be quite intriguing,” he says, obviously having the wrong assumption about what you are truly up to. You wish you could explain, yet this is just another secret that you would have to keep from him. At least until the end of the month, when Em would finally be able to reveal her surprise gift for her special friend. “Look, just go ahead and have fun with your friend. You deserve it,” Christian adds, though his voice sounds lighter, no more of his feigned annoyance is heard. In its place, you can hear his smile, which only draws your own to appear. 

“Thank you,” you say to him. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy right now?” 

“Yeah, I’m in the middle of a break, but we’re getting back into it in a minute,” he says, already sounding a bit distracted just as the noises behind him start growing a bit louder. “Call me when you’re back. Maybe, you know, you can give me a little preview—” 

Knowing where this is heading, you quickly cut him off before he could say the words, “Goodbye, Ian.” 

He chuckles on the phone. “See you later, baby,” he says, before ending the call, all while your heart is racing so violently in your chest for the endearment that he had just given you. Immediately, your face grows hot, and your mind seems to be swirling up to the air with the joy blooming inside you. 

Still feeling as if you are on cloud nine, you almost miss it when Momo turns to call you over, “I think we’ve found the perfect one. Come here and take a look at this, try to see if you like it too.” 

Putting your phone away, you rush towards your best friend and your new shopping companion, Em, who appears just as giddy and excited as Momo is to show what they have found. Seeing their combined reactions, you cannot help but share the same sentiment, and it adds a bit of pep to your footsteps as you come to join them in finding the perfect gift for Em’s secret crush. 

“How about this one?” Em asks you as she shows you yet another pair of bikinis that seems a bit too revealing compared to what you are used to. You make no comment about her choice of outfit as she hands the delicate pair to you, choosing to take a good look at the piece to appreciate her genuine effort in helping you to find the piece that might fit your taste more. 

Ever since the three of you came into the store, both Em and Momo have been assisting you to find the perfect pair for you to buy, as they took notice of your indecisiveness right away. Everything you are seeing in the store has been lovely that it is making it impossible for you to choose, yet the two girls have only been of little help to you. Because when Em keeps choosing the most revealing and extremely daring ones she could find in the store which makes your face burn each time you try to imagine yourself wearing them, Momo has been choosing the ones with the brightest colours and flashy frills that you would never be able to wear without getting your face burning in embarrassment.

This time, however, the piece that you are holding in your hand seems to have caught your eye. It is a solid coffee-coloured triangle set with beaded strings, and a halter top that covers just a bit more skin compared to the previous ones she showed you. The piece sure looks like a major upgrade from the small black piece that she showed you earlier with the top which barely covered your boobs and the thin strip bottom, and while it looks revealing, it seems a bit more appropriate to wear at Momo’s house this weekend—where some or any of her family members might be present—compared to the other ones she has shown you so far.

“You know what? This one actually looks quite nice,” you say to her, acknowledging her taste in style and suddenly believing that you might actually look good in something that seems quite daring. 

Your comment seems to please her as her face instantly brightens. And for some reason, it makes you just as happy to see her getting excited for you. This new feeling is quite—odd. Not more than an hour ago, the air of awkwardness that was present had made it hard for you to start a conversation with her without Momo’s help. You cannot deny that the underlying doubt that you felt about her relationship with Christian had made you feel inferior while being around her. Added with the way she looks and dresses and how she wears her confidence so openly, something that is quite the opposite if compared to you. 

But that feeling is no longer present now when you have finally gotten to know her a bit better, and once you got to see her bubbly personality that seems to fit your and Momo’s energy perfectly.

Once that bridge has been crossed, you begin to see and understand why she is able to get along with Christian and his friend group. The more you spend time with her, the more you are able to see how kind and friendly Em really is. And that despite her pristine appearance, she could be quite—clumsy. 

Much like you are.

Perhaps knowing that you aren’t completely different from one another has been the reason why you are beginning to feel comfortable hanging out with her without anyone else’s helping you.

“Great! I knew you’d like it. The set comes with a cover-up too,” she says, plucking the thin piece of coverup from the rack that appears to be a part of the set for you to try on. “Here, try them all on together and see if it’s something you’d like. Oh, and try the black one too,” she insists, quickly snatching the similar set in black before handing them to you along with the coffee one. She looks at the sets you are now holding and sighs dramatically. “I still think the previous one was hotter, though.” 

“Oh, no,” you quickly say to her, shaking your head when you recall the one she mentioned. “The black one you picked for me was not a bikini top, those were nipple patches.” 

Your comment makes her laugh. “Yeah, I admit, those were more daring than the rest. But I have a couple of them at home and they’re really comfortable. And I bet you’d look really good in them.” 

You almost grimace as you try to picture yourself wearing those tiny things, though you hide it the best you could, knowing that Em has rocked those types of bikinis perfectly and is evidently loving them to bits. You know this because she has shown you a few photos of her wearing them from her social media, and you have to admit, she does look good wearing all the daring pieces you saw that you almost feel envious of her confidence.

Em leaves you be as you make your way to the fitting room at the back of the store, only to suddenly return before you can get there so she can slip a couple of new items into your arms to add to the pile that you are about to try on. 

“Here, try on these too while you’re at it. Can’t hurt to know how they would look on you, can it?” she says, while you only roll your eyes and laugh at her.

“Fine, if it makes you happy.” 

Sliding into one of the vacant booths, you finally get to take a look at what you have gotten with you so far. Aside from the two complete sets that Em got you earlier, you also find the black top which you classified as nipple patches among the pile. This one is adorned with gold chains tying the top up to hang around your neck, making it look a bit more classy compared to the ones that Em initially found when she first started helping you. 

Shaking your head and chuckling at Em’s sneaky antics, you put the tiny thing away to have a look at the others. Other than a new pair that looks similar to the black and coffee sets that you liked earlier, you find another bikini set which Em managed to slip in. This one looks just as revealing as the other ones, if not just a bit more, with a brighter colour that makes them pop in your eyes. You hold up the red halter bikini top which comes together with a thong-like bottom that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. Although, there is a sheer long skirt that comes with the pair, what seems to be a coverup that looks to be sufficient enough to cover the bottom half if you need it. 

Surprisingly, you find yourself liking this piece as well. Just when you are pressing the pieces against your body just to imagine how it would look on you, you hear a knock at the door before Momo speaks to you from the other side. 

“Em told me that you’re in here. So, have you finally found something you like?” she teases, while you can only shake your head and laugh. 

You look down at your stash with a sigh. “Will you be patient? Perfection takes time.” 

A scoff is heard from your best friend, and you can almost imagine her rolling her eyes at you. “Or you’re just being too picky. Hurry up and try them on, then come out here so we can see it. Em already approved the ones I picked.”

You smile at your reflection in the mirror when you recall Momo slipping into a fitting booth with an arm full of bright-coloured bikini sets. “Why should I show you mine if I didn’t get to see what you’re buying?” 

“You’ll get to see them later when we’re paying for them. I only want to see yours to make sure you’ll look hot in my jacuzzi,” she says, making you laugh. 

“Okay, let me try these on. Now leave me alone.” 

You hear nothing from Momo other than a simple, “Okay,” and you start choosing the ones you want to see yourself in. Surprisingly drawn towards the red bikini set, you immediately pick that one to try first. While you can never possibly imagine yourself wearing it this weekend, you want to see if it would be something that you could wear sometime in the future. 

The thin fabric feels like silk on your skin, but they are surprisingly comfortable. You are originally not one to wear something this revealing, always have been choosing the modest ones whenever you could, yet you can definitely see yourself in this set even if it may not happen for a while. 

“Which one are you trying on now?” you hear Momo asking, and you absentmindedly answer her while admiring your own reflection, turning left and right to see yourself from every angle, making sure that the piece actually works for you before you can buy it. 

“It’s the red one that Em found for me.” 

“Really?” you can hear Em squealing from outside, excited to hear that you are trying out the piece that she seems to like. It makes you stop to hear her voice, realising that she is also out there, crowding the front of your booth with Momo. 

“Seriously? Are you guys actually standing out there together waiting for me to show these?” 

“We just want to see them,” Momo whines, while Em chimes in curiously,

“So? How do they look? Do you like them? Don’t they look gorgeous?” 

They actually do look gorgeous, and it makes you look more appealing while wearing them. You feel the sudden urge and excitement to show them, especially Em, just to make her happy to see you trying this on. Yet, thinking about stepping out of the booth right this minute makes you feel a bit insecure. 

“Um—do I have to step out and show you guys? They’re really—well, I feel exposed,” you hesitantly admit, feeling every bit self-conscious about stepping out of this booth.

It is one thing to wear this on a beach or while you are lounging in a fancy jacuzzi. It is another thing to be flaunting it around while being in the middle of a mall. With strangers around you to see. Momo seems to get this when you hear her snickering from the other side of the door.

“Then take pictures of them and send them to me so we can have a look.”

“Ooh, good idea!” Taking out your phone, you start taking pictures of yourself. Posing right in front of the mirror, you find the best angles that would be able to show the set that you are wearing, before covering your bottom half with the sheer skirt and taking photos of yourself wearing the complete set as well. “Hang on, let me try out the others before sending them to you.” 

You barely hear Momo’s response as you quickly change out of the first bikini set, then repeat everything again as you try out the other two which you liked earlier—the coffee and black ones that you would feel more confident to wear. Feeling cold, you rush to quickly send all the pictures, adding a short comment for the coffee-coloured one in the message, ‘I’m getting this one for the weekend.’

Once you are done, you place your phone aside and change back into your clothes as you wait for Momo’s reaction to the pictures you sent. When you hear nothing from them, you simply figure that they might be still looking through the photos and think nothing of it and focus on sorting out the pieces you tried on before taking them with you. 

But then Momo calls out to you from outside, getting you confused when she asks, “What’s taking you so long? Did you take the pictures yet?” 

You stop in the middle of tidying yourself up. “What do you mean? I sent them all to you already.” 

“Really? I’m getting nothing on my phone though.” 

Wondering what the hell went wrong, you pick up the phone to see what happened with the messages you sent her. Only to have your stomach dropping once you open your message app, finally realising what you have done. Because you already did send out the messages and the pictures, except that you had not been messaging Momo the entire time. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” you curse at yourself when you see Christian’s name and his profile picture on top of the message thread. Panicking, you quickly begin deleting all the photos, even though deep down, you know that it would be no use. Minutes have gone by since they were sent out, and while Christian would often take a while to check on his phone whenever he is busy, you can already see that he had seen the pictures already, even if it had only been mere seconds before you started deleting them. 

A sharp gasp and a desperate cry leave your lips as you drop down to the floor, feeling like your legs are giving up on you, drawing Momo’s concern when she can hear everything from outside. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” 

Covering your face with your palms, you groan defeatedly before answering, “Nothing’s wrong. Just give me a minute.” 

With a deep breath, you pick up your cell phone again to call Christian, who answers the call within the first ring, confirming your suspicions that he has been holding his phone the entire time to witness your shenanigans. The photos showing off the outfits you were trying on wouldn’t be such a big deal if you hadn’t been showing that much skin, or the funny and sultry poses you did to show off the sets which were originally meant for your best friend, or the fact that you have not even been dating this man for more than a day for you to be showing him—all of these things together. 

“Did you open the text message? Please tell me you didn’t get it,” you immediately question him even before he could finish saying hello.

“Mhhmm—” is the only response he is giving you. 

“That wasn’t supposed to be for you,” you continue blabbering, hoping for any slight chance that he might have not seen them and you had been quick enough to delete them before he could. “I’m so sorry. I was too shy to come out and show them to Momo when she asked to take a look so I took the photos for her instead.” 

“Mhhmm—” 

“What does that mean? Oh my God, you’ve seen them,” you worriedly question his lack of response and groan deeply when you realise what had happened. Though knowing that he had no doubt seen the photos only makes you grow more concerned about other things. “Oh no, you’re still working, aren’t you? Did anyone else see it? Is someone there with you?” 

Christian chuckles softly on the phone. “Yes, I’m still at work. Don’t worry, Dabin had just stepped out of the room when I opened your text.” 

“Okay—” you softly answer, though your voice fades to a muffled groan as you sit back against the booth and hug your folded legs as if it can help you hide from the world, which is clearly not missed by Christian. 

“What’s wrong? You sound funny.” 

Sighing, you refuse to raise your head as you answer, “Nothing. Just trying to figure out how to bury myself so I would stop feeling embarrassed.” 

While you are busy covering your burning face, you can almost hear the smile on his face when Christian speaks again, “I guess I have to get used to this, huh?” 

“To what? What do you mean?” 

Chuckling softly, he answers you with a teasing voice, “Getting stray messages coming in when least expected. I don’t mind it, though.” 

Burying your face deeper into your folded knees, you let out another groan. “Please stop. God, I wish I was at least drunk.” Thinking of how often this has happened between the two of you, you can only sigh to yourself. How could you have forgotten that you have been messaging constantly with Christian while you were out the whole day? “Fucking stupid. I should’ve paid more attention.” 

Your comment makes him laugh, though he quickly tries to console you by saying, “Hey, it’s fine. The messages are gone on my part too. I was just about to ask you about them when you finally noticed and they started disappearing.” 

“Thank God I was quick enough, though,” you say with a sigh. “I’m sorry again. Please forget that this happened.” 

You hear him chuckling softly on the phone. “Forget? Hah—Now, that would be a bit hard to do,” he teases, making you smile. It is quite funny how easily he makes you feel calmer, when you were so close to crying over your own stupidity merely moments ago. 

“Ian, please.” 

“I’m just teasing you, baby. Don’t worry about it, okay? Besides, no one else had seen them and they’re no longer on my phone. Although, I wish I had saved them—” 

Your cheeks have been growing warm with how gentle he is when speaking to you and calling you with this new endearment that he has chosen for you, but that quickly changes with his teasing that you roll your eyes. “Really?” 

He laughs. “I’m joking, baby. I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, I can always keep them in my memory—” he says, while humming softly as if he is closing his eyes to recall the photos again, “—or wait for a chance to have you showing them yourself for a private preview.” 

“Hah, we’ll see about that, Mister,” you scoff at him, making him laugh. But as you find yourself feeling better and feeling less like an utter idiot, you cannot help but whisper to him, “Thank you, Ian.” 

“Anytime. Now go on and continue shopping with your friend. Don’t mind me while I’m here trying to work and not think about those photos. I’m going to be dealing with a ton of stuff here anyway, so I probably won’t remember any of them by the end of the day,” he says, drawing a smile to your face. You feel grateful for the way he is able to help you qualm your trepidation and dread simply with his gentle voice and comforting words. 

Yet, in a typical fashion of his, Christian reminds you of his mischievous ways as he teases you for the last time before ending the call, “Hey, babe? I think I liked the red one the best on you.” 

Past the entire shenanigans happening during your shopping spree, followed by the busy week where you had to go through classes and assignments while Christian was keeping up with work, the weekend finally comes. 

There was nobody home when you arrived at Momo’s house in the morning, as her family members were mostly out for the weekend, so you and Momo got to enjoy the entire house to yourselves and hang out in the new jacuzzi for as long as you like. While lounging in the hot water during the afternoon, the two of you talk about the day you spent at the mall. You share with her your apprehensions about Em and how your feelings changed after spending time with her and getting to see what kind of person Em truly was. Then Momo shares her curiosity about the secret crush that Em harbours and who it might have been directed to. 

“Could it be Dabin?” she curiously asks you after chugging down her cold beer, while you shake your head. 

“Not sure. She only said that it was one of Ian’s music producer friends, and Dabin has a lot of projects coming up with Ian so I don’t think it would make sense for him to leave,” you tell her, to which Momo groans softly. 

“Yeah, that would be hard to figure out then cause we know Christian has a ton of friends, and I doubt you’ve met every single one of them already.” 

Hearing this makes you smile. “You’re right, he does have a lot of friends and connections.” 

“Speaking of Ian,” she suddenly says, turning to you with a sly grin on her face. “Are you excited about tonight?” 

Your eyes grow wide, and you immediately feel your nerves spiking when you are reminded about what is happening tonight. After having only met Christian in person twice the entire week and only during classes, with both of you being so busy with your daily schedules, he finally called to propose taking you out on a date once he is done with his project this week. Once you found out that Momo has another plan tonight after hanging out with you, both you and Christian agreed to set the date for tonight, once he is done with the day and after Momo drops you back at your place when she leaves at sunset. 

“I’m more nervous than excited, to be honest,” you admit to her, while Momo waves her hand at you. 

“It’s fine. Everything’s going to be just fine,” she says, consoling you in her own way. “You’ve gone out with him before, so it’s going to be nothing different than those times, right?” 

You ponder about it for a moment, and it only makes you frown just to think about seeing him tonight. 

Because, no, absolutely not. It wouldn’t be anything like the times you shared with him previously. 

Because this time, it would be a date. A real date. Not just a simple meet-up at the coffee place like the times you had to meet him after class to discuss about the class assignments, or when you came with him to the work party, or the night you joined him and his friends for drinks. This is different. It would be just the two of you—no friends, no assignments, no other people around that he has to meet up with as he is handling his business. It would be just you and Christian doing whatever it is that he has planned for you. 

“I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry about, though. The guy likes you, and you like him too. I’m sure things will be great. Just like how it’s always been. Both of you are similar in a way, so I’m sure he’ll make it comfortable for you instead of making things awkward for a first date.” 

You rest your back against the side of the jacuzzi, with the hot water bubbling against your sides, massaging your toned muscles and rubbing away the tension you have in your body. You relish the pleasure you are getting while taking in what Momo is saying. She wasn’t completely wrong. Things with Christian have been flowing so easily. You have always been so comfortable when you are near him, while he seems to have always been able to sense your mood, always keeping up with your pace instead of going about things in a more rushed and lavish way. 

Perhaps the only thing that makes you worried is the fact that things have also been proceeding the way you had never once thought they would. How everything that is happening now feels like a dream, and there is a deep fear haunting you that once you are with him, once everything between the two of you changes to a new direction, you would be forced to wake up and face reality, to see that nothing is as beautiful as what your mind keeps telling you to see. 

Just like what happened back then with—

Shaking away your worries, you tell yourself that things are different now. Things have to be different. Because you have no idea how you would be able to deal with it if things turn the other way around once again. 

“You know what? Maybe you’re right. I’m worrying too much,” you finally say to Momo, making her smile with relief, not realising that you have also been consoling yourself by saying this.

“Good. That’s the spirit. Just enjoy everything and have fun with him. I’ll help you get ready if you want to and we’ll make sure you’ll be knocking him off of his feet once he sees you tonight.” 

Closing your eyes, you try to relax and give in to the comforting warmth around you, trying not to overthink and let your agitation takes over when you are supposed to be having a good time. Both now, as you are lounging in this fancy jacuzzi without having to spend a single penny, and later, when you are about to see the man who has always managed to cause your heartbeat to race wildly in your chest. 

You remain in the hot tub only for a while later, stepping out just as both of you start feeling more relaxed and you are ready to continue the lazy afternoon pampering each other and relaxing on her cozy pool-house. It isn’t until sunset when you are finally ready to leave, with Momo dropping you off before she heads out to where she needs to be. 

“Remember—” she says, once you stepped out of her car, “Don’t be so nervous and relax, enjoy your night with him. You won’t be able to have a good time if you’re worrying too much.” 

“I know. Thanks, babe,” you answer her gratefully, somehow finding yourself believing in your own words this time.

“Anytime,” she says, before quickly adding, “Oh, and wear something sexy!” 

“Goodbye, Momo,” is all you say to her as you shut the car door close, and you soon watch her car rolling out of the parking lot, leaving you all on your own to get ready for your first night out with your new boyfriend. 

[06.58 PM] From Christian: I’ll pick you up around eight. Will that be okay?

[07.03 PM] To Christian: I’ll be waiting ;)

[07.04 PM] From Christian: I can’t wait to see you :)

Just when you had thought you were ready for your fateful first date, the text that Christian sent you only makes you feel on the edge. Once again, you feel tense. The tension that you feel as you are reading his texts may not be as daunting as it was before, when your imagination kept running wild and your insecurities kept taking over with still many hours left before the date happens, yet it doesn’t mean that you are not nervous enough about tonight. 

The thought of meeting up and being alone with him tonight seems nerve-racking. But just like how you managed to get over your worries earlier, you keep repeating the same comforting words in your head like a spell as you continue getting yourself ready to see him. 

Everything is going to be okay. 

You continue reminding yourself of this as time continues to pass. The clock is ticking, your heartbeat keeps racing, and your feet would not stop pacing each time you try to relax. You can barely able to get yourself together with nothing distracting your running thoughts, but by the time eight o’clock rolls around, you have gathered up enough composure to stop pacing around your living room and pulling at your dress as you wait for him to arrive. The long trails of discarded clothes that you left behind in your bedroom when you couldn’t decide what to wear would have to wait until you return home. Right now, all you can think of is how you are going to keep it together once he is here.

A knock comes at the door, and it makes your heart do funny things even before you get to see him in person. After giving yourself a brief pep talk while shaking your trembling hands to make them calm, you finally open the door. Your heart begins doing that funny thing again, skipping a beat and rushing at the sight of Christian standing right in front of the door, waiting for you, wearing his dashing smile on his face while being surrounded by an air of confidence that makes you look at him in awe.

Stunned speechless, you say nothing to him, giving him a chance to take the sight of you in. His eyes trail down on you with an appreciative look. Going from your face to your dress, and it makes your skin grow warm under his perusing gaze. Seeing that you are still unable to speak, a smile expands so subtly on his face as he greets you first, “Hey.” 

“H-hey,” you stammer in response, which only makes his smile grow wider.

“You look great,” he says, making your cheeks burn even hotter. 

“Thanks,” you chuckle softly. “You too.” 

Christian laughs softly at this. “Are you ready? I have an Uber ride waiting for us downstairs. I hope you don’t mind. I figured if we were both going to have drinks afterwards—” 

You look up to him as he speaks and feel an instant sense of relief. Because it suddenly becomes quite obvious to you that he might be just as nervous as you currently are when you notice him rushing as he speaks, and he doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands when he keeps slipping them in and out of his pockets or running them through his immaculate hair. 

“I’m set to go. Thanks for thinking ahead,” you quickly reassure him before he could continue with his rambling, and a visible look of relief appears on his face. 

“After you,” he says as he steps aside to let you join him once you have your jacket and purse with you, locking the door behind you as you leave for the night.   

It is a warm night, so the two of you decide to have the ride drop you off a block away from your destination so you can enjoy the short walk there, with the sight of the city’s main river accompanying your walk. As you walk side by side with him, his hand entwined gently with yours to keep you by his side and the conversation flowing slowly as you talk about your day, you find yourself steadily getting more and more comfortable. The tension that has been following you the whole day soon fades, while the familiar ease that you have often felt when you are with him starts coming back to you. 

It doesn’t take long before you finally reach the restaurant that he had chosen for tonight’s date. Situated right at the end of the boardwalk that you have been walking on and not too far from the clear river is a quaint pizza place, partly hidden from the main road but still open to the view around the neighbourhood to allow you to enjoy the comfortable atmosphere around you. He finds a table for two outside, quite a distance away from the sidewalk that you can have your own space without having to worry about the passing crowd. A soft tune of music is playing from the restaurant, giving you a pleasant welcome as you both begin perusing the menu. 

He makes a suggestion to order their signature dish, the cheese pizza, which you are completely fine with, while you choose the appetiser and one of their pasta plates to share between you two. As he hasn’t been drinking alcohol as often lately, Christian chooses a glass of their special draft beer to taste and a bottle of soda to go with his dinner, while you order a glass of cheap wine that costs nearly the same as his orders. 

This is all happening so fluidly—how you talk about the menu without worry and choosing what the two of you would like to have and share—that it feels almost natural to do something like this. There is no hint of awkwardness existing between you, helping you to forget that you are on an actual date instead of casually hanging out with him, even if the feeling lasts just for a brief moment. 

Your stomach has been in knots since you left home with him. While the short walk here and the conversation that was shared from then until this moment have helped a little to put you at ease, he would constantly bring back the tension either with his gestures or by being particularly flirty. Each time his fingers come brushing gently against your hand, sparks instantly start flying in the air around you. Your skin would tingle when you are talking to him and he leans closer to listen with rapt attention, and your chest would feel tight when his eyes are looking deeply into yours. 

And then he reminds you the reason why you have always been so captivated with him and how you began to harbour a deep crush on him, as he shares with you about everything that he has been up to lately—of the long hours he spent filming with his crew and the long nights he spent working on post-production, and also about how he is slowly diving back into making his music again. It is the moment you look into his eyes when the flutter in your chest returns, when you get to see the clear sight of his love and passion for what he does, the look that is so captivating to see that you are once again lost for words. 

The waiter returns to your table just then, setting down the drinks that Christian ordered before pouring the red wine into your glass. Once he is done, Christian leans forward to get closer. 

“So—how about you? You said this week has been busy for you,” he inquires so suddenly, sounding genuinely curious to know what you have been up to this week while he has been busy with his own thing and you haven’t seen each other after attending his last class. 

“Oh, just the usual,” you answer with a shrug. You tell him everything about the classes you went to this week and all the mundane things you would usually do during the day. But then as you begin sharing with him about your assignments, and the exciting things you do during your part-time job in the night, your excitement grows. He should be able to notice it from the tone of your voice, or the way you keep twirling the wine glass in your hand as you speak. Either way, there seems to be no way Christian would miss the way you are enjoying these things, as he keeps his eyes on you the entire time, looking deeply at you as he listens, taking in everything you are sharing with him. 

“Speaking of your work—” you hum, suddenly recalling the day you joined him during filming. “I kind of missed being in that environment, to be able to see you work and see how you handle things in the set. Your crew seems so fun to work with too.” 

Hearing this makes him smile. “You’re right. I’m lucky to be working with a group of talented people. Working with them has been fun,” he says, before he suddenly tilts his head and you see him getting curious about something.

“You know, I’ve been wondering—” he starts as he leans closer over the table to gently ask you, “How did you get here?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “You…picked me up. At home,” you answer him, feigning innocence, even if you have quite an inkling of what he is trying to ask. 

“I’m not talking about being here,” he chuckles softly. “How did you end up studying film production? Have you always been so interested in making videos and movies?” 

You bite your lips. Not feeling sure how to answer him at first. “It’s quite a long story,” you finally tell him. “And a part of it might be a bit embarrassing to share.” 

Christian gives you a reassuring smile. “I got time. And I won’t laugh, I promise.”

Sipping your wine slowly, you try to decide where to begin. Once you gather enough courage, you finally admit to him softly, “Actually, I could probably say that I got interested to dive deeper into this because of you.” 

Christian’s eyes grow wide in shock, obviously not prepared enough to hear this. “What—?” 

Chuckling softly, you begin to tell him everything. “When I started college, I knew I was either going to study art or film, but I have to admit that I had no direction to know where to go. I’ve always loved movies and old films, and I loved the artistry behind creating music videos. I’ve also been drawn to documentary videos for a long time, but I never knew if I would be able to take up the challenge to dive into that world. And then I remember stumbling upon your videos during that time—” you stop briefly as you recall finding his raw videos before his crew grew into what is known today, but it was seeing him sharing those raw videos and making the process behind them seem like such a fun thing to do that got you so drawn into the entire process and finally getting to love it as well. 

“I tried to see if I would like it, so I started by learning and doing photography while saving up to buy my own camera set. Then you started sharing your travel videos and your post-production process online, and it got me interested in learning more about photography and film. And I was right about it being so much fun. I found the kind of challenge I was looking for in film major.” You stop for a brief moment and cannot help but smile as you recall those days when you finally had your mind set on it. “Let me just say that switching from art major to film production was the best decision I’ve ever made in life.” 

You turn to smile at him just then, realising that you finally get the chance to do the one thing that you have always wanted to do. That you finally get to do what you had always imagined you would be once you meet him in person. “Thank you for inspiring me, by the way,” you say to him with a grateful smile, before adding playfully, “And if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t end up taking the post-production course to finally meet you in person.” 

Christian has been in such awe as he listens to your story that he seems to be lost for words. You feel worried that you might have been oversharing with him and that you are making him uncomfortable with your confession. A part of you is relieved that you get to say all of this instead of keeping them to yourself, but another part of you is afraid that he might feel burdened by the admiration you have for him, and you are worried that it might only push him away. 

But seeing him getting flustered makes you feel intrigued, curious to know how he feels about what you had just said to him. Clearing his throat, he rubs a palm over his lips to cover his bashful smile, though you can still see the crimson shade materialising on his skin. 

“You’re flattering me too much that I have no idea what to say,” he says with a nervous chuckle. Noticing your silence as you are waiting for his response, and perhaps noticing how shy and tense you seem to be feeling, Christian scoots his chair closer until he is within inches of you and reaches for your hand, once again igniting the sparks between you as he takes your smaller hands between his larger ones. 

“But I’m glad that finding my videos was what led you to me,” he gently says as he rubs his fingers against yours. “Or else, we probably wouldn’t be sitting together like this tonight, and I wouldn’t get to know your amazing personality and talent.” 

This time, you are the one who is flustering in the middle of what was supposed to be an innocent conversation. With his hand on yours, his deep eyes looking intently into yours, and his presence being so close, you are not only feeling sparks rising between you, but also heat simmering in the air that you start feeling a different kind of tension. The kind that gets your chest filled with delicate flutters and your body growing warm. 

The food arrives, granting a short moment of reprieve from the rolling tension as he finally leans away and the two of you soon dive into the beautiful meal while the conversation between you lightens.

“So,” he says while eyeing you expectantly as he slowly devours his food. “Tell me more about your, um—little adventure at the mall.”

You immediately laugh at this. “There is nothing more to share. If any, I think I may have already overshared with you by accidentally sending you those photos.” 

Christian softly chuckles, and he glances at you with a sly look dancing in his gaze. “I have no regrets of it happening,” he says, while you can only shake your head. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” you taunt him in return. 

Despite playing along, he probably suspects that you are still feeling uncomfortable about the mishap that happened that day. He reaches across the table to once again cover your hands with his. “Don’t worry, nobody else saw those photos, I promise. And you deleted them from both devices already so you won’t be able to find those photos anywhere on my phone, I’m sure,” he says, reassuring you. Though it is hard to feel immediately relieved when you see the playful grin growing on his face soon after. “Lucky for me, I have quite a good memory, so I won’t have to look for them again to remember everything. Like the coffee-coloured one that you said you were buy—ow! I’m kidding!”

Rubbing his upper arm which had just become the victim of your reflexed slapping, Christian laughs, pleased to see your reaction. You tease each other a while longer while you continue enjoying your meal, with his hand occasionally reaching out to you at every chance he gets, from brushing against yours to entwining his fingers between yours whenever he likes it.

When casting your gaze down on your joined hands, your heartbeat would start racing rapidly. Everything still feels like a dream that you want to pinch your skin so badly to see if you would wake up from this, yet you can still feel his warmth through your entwined fingers, letting you know that this moment is real. 

Then you would look up to see his face, to see his smile from up close and listen to his voice as he chats with you, and you realise that he is real. 

Instead of allowing your nerves to take over and have yourself be intimidated by his presence, you choose to savour this moment. Because the more you open yourself to him, and the longer you are together with this man, you finally realise that the infatuation that you feel growing between you isn’t simply a figment of your imagination. That it is truly there, and it is just as real as the two of you, present and blooming steadily even without any of you realising it. 

Once dinner is done, Christian takes you to another walk just to have more time with you. This time, he chooses to make a stop at the small dessert spot not too far from your place and start from there. 

You can feel his eyes on you while you are slowly licking at your ice cream, savouring the taste and this serene moment you have together as you walk on the side of the street, with nobody paying attention to any of you. 

“Have you been enjoying the night so far?” Christian suddenly asks you once you arrive at your place and he is now walking you to your door. 

“Do you hear me complaining?” you question him, drawing a smile to his face. “I had fun. I think it was the most fun I’ve had in a while, to be honest.” 

Chuckling softly, Christian nods his head. “Same with me. I always love being with you,” he admits slowly. “You always make me feel—” he sighs, as if having trouble finding the right words to say. “Comfortable with myself, if I have to describe it with words, and that’s not even half of it.” 

Soon enough, you are standing right in front of your door, with your hands entwined and he is not showing any sign of letting you go. Deep down, you also feel like you are not ready to part ways with him. Your chest feels heavy as you are not ready for the night to end this soon. 

So you turn to him, smiling as you nervously ask him, “Do you want to come in?” 

His smile grows, and there is something showing in his gaze that looks quite unfamiliar to you when he says, “I would love to.” 

He follows you as you walk into your warm home, still with your hands interlaced with one another. The moment the door is closed right behind him, Christian reaches out to you and pulls you to him, before he finally does the one thing he seems to have wanted to do all night long, as he soon leans down, capturing your lips in his to a deep, long kiss that takes your breath away. 

And the heat that has been simmering between you the entire night erupts into flame.

— © 2018-2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[momentarybleu]

Thinking about an AU where Ian stays with his bio dad Clayton for a bit, not that he’d canonically want to, but idk, thought it was an interesting concept