#THEY CALLED OUT MY POST BEFORE I COULD PRESS PUBLISH

[wildlyfreemoon]

i love drawfee but theyve mentioned dharma and greg in so many episodes recently. i fear it is getting to "everytime we touch" and "cats" levels soon

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[shomatoriashi]

11/10/24; 09:04am

{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you try to break up with them, and they convince you otherwise ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

queued post; published time 02:50pm

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus no longer had the time to be with you, filling his days with various meetings and conferences while you were left to your own devices back at home.

and when your text messages were left unread, coupled along with how your calls would always end up going straight to voicemail-

you decided that enough was enough.

knowing that he had just returned from a business trip last night, you take quick strides towards his office with your suitcase in tow. you had every intention of showing just how tired you were of being neglected by him, and that you were through with being a mere afterthought.

not even bothering to announce your arrival, you grab at the door's handle and fling it open, allowing them to slam against the walls. sylus quirks an eyebrow at you, looking away from the gun he was currently polishing.

"what's this? is my kitten throwing a little tantrum?"

"i'm not your kitten- not anymore." you hiss at him, tossing back your hair while meeting his crimson gaze. "i'm leaving you, and that's the end of it."

a flash of annoyance was seen in his gaze, and he trails his eyes downward, finally noticing the suitcase in your hand.

"is that so?" with a click of his tongue, sylus pushes aside his gun, taking casual strides toward you. when he stands before you, his smirk seems to widen before placing his hand beneath your chin-

yet what you weren't expecting was for sylus to pin you against the wall, tossing aside your skirt while sliding down your panties with his teeth, revealing your soaked entrance to him. as he inserts a finger within your slick heat, thrusting that single digit in and out of you to draw out even more moisture from you, you could no longer resist him-

could no longer ignore just how much you had missed this intimacy with him.

the sensation of it all was enough to make you toss your head back in response, nails gripping at his hair when sylus manages to hold you by the back of your thighs, keeping you upwards using his strength alone before diving into your honeyed sweetness with his tongue. you gasp and unconsciously began moving your hips-

riding his face as your pushed your aching cunt against sylus's eager mouth. using his skilled fingers, he keeps thrusting it in and out of you, drawing out even more of your breathy moans as you felt your abdomen clench in response to your incoming release. within mere seconds, you felt a rush coursing through your veins, climaxing within sylus's awaiting mouth as he groans at there pure taste of you, swallowing all that you had to offer him.

feeling like your legs had effectively turned to jelly, you nearly fell to the ground had it not been for sylus. he keeps you pressed against the wall, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt before pulling his cock out of it. you tremble, seeing the way his lips were still shining from the evidence of your release briefly before crying out to him the moment his cock impales you.

"heh, as if you could ever live without me." sylus speaks to you in harsh tones, fucking you against his wall when his hips harshly met with yours in a series of passionate thrusts. "i won't let you leave me, not when everything i have done was for the sake of your happiness."

even while he was speaking, you couldn't bring yourself to understand him, feeling his cock filling you so well that you gripped him with your walls almost greedily. as if reading your mind, sylus gives you a shit-eating grin, leaning closer to whisper hotly in your ear,

"as if you could live without this cock."

you knew that zayne was a busy man that had big dreams of becoming the best cardiac surgeon in the world-

however, you felt like you were getting in the way of zayne achieving his dreams.

it wasn't like zayne was ignoring your calls, or remained unavailable because he was ignoring you. that was never the case when it came to him. in fact, you understood that he spent most of his days performing surgeries that would save lives-

and he shouldn't have to deal with you when you felt like you were nothing more than a distraction for him.

when evening came, you arrive at akso hospital with a solemn expression on your face. in your hand was a bag filled with various dishes you had prepared for him. this would be your final act of love and kindness for him before you broke it off with him.

arriving at his office, you felt your throat clench up with anxiety, knowing that what you were about to do was by far your hardest feat yet.

taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you breathe in deeply before knocking at his door. a faint 'come in.' was heard coming from the other side when you invited yourself inside his office.

zayne was settled in front of you, remaining seated at his desk all while appearing worn out. his hair was messy, like he had run his hands through them many times throughout the day. once you shut the door, zayne sees your figure approaching and gives you a tiny smile, "hello darling... what brings you here?"

you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, settling the packed meal off to the side before admitting to him, "z-zayne, you deserve better than me."

shock was written all over his face when he stands from his seat, "what do you mean?"

you shake your head while clenching your eyes shut, "i mean- you're someone who surpasses me. you save lives with what you do, a-and i just feel like a distraction to you and your dreams. that's why, i'm break-"

however, your words were cut off when zayne grips at your chin before pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. it was enough to make your mind go hazy, forgetting all about what you wanted to say to him when he delves his tongue into your mouth. your respective tongues fought for dominance, and you were losing this battle against him.

"z-zayne, stop, i-i can't think clearly when you do t-this."

zayne let's out a sound between a grunt and a groan, "then don't think, just feel."

and just feel you did.

all forms of coherency were lost the moment zayne places you on top of his desk, shoving aside all of his paperwork before kneeling before you. with your pants off, zayne spreads your legs all while pocketing your panties, wasting no time when he shoves his face within your slick heat.

his tongue was felt tracing at your pussy lips, making you cry out as your hands automatically delve themselves into his hair. you tried to bite down at your bottom lip, not wishing for anyone to see you in this compromising position with your exboyfriend.

knowing the ins and outs of your body intimately well, zayne was able to curve his fingers and swirl his tongue within the depths of your walls. he expertly draws out your honeyed arousal with a groan, and with a final pinch felt at your bundle of nerves, you released yourself completely into his hot mouth.

the intensity of your orgasm kept you in a daze, making you dimly aware of the sounds of shifting fabric before something hot and velvety was felt pressing against your entrance. a single grunt of your name was all the warning you were given when zayne pushes his cock inside of you, not stopping until he was completely sheathed.

zayne sets a steady pace, gripping at your clothed chest while ramming his cock in and out of you. he was panting, unable to ignore the sensation of your tight walls gripping him so sweetly when he tells you-

"i won't let you leave me... not when you're the only thing that keeps me grounded in this world."

you knew that your boyfriend's life was not only busy, but filled with danger as well.

it wasn't easy, working as a hunter while coming home exhausted nearly every single day. and despite how lonely you felt without him by your side, you figured it was best to end things now before it got too serious.

your heart was still a wreck at the thought of it all, because really, could you break things off with someone sweet like xavier? could you bear the thought of seeing his innocent, blue eyes filling with tears as you broke it off with him?

but at the same time, wouldn't he be better off without you? where he wouldn't need to think about your happiness-

your heart jumps within your chest when you heard the sounds of the door unlocking, revealing xavier as he alerts you of his return. tired, blue eyes met with your panicked gaze, and you felt so anxious that you simply blurted out-

"let's break up."

the sleepy quality of his eyes were gone now, with xavier standing up rigidly, "what?"

you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that you would turn into a coward and back out. choosing instead to ignore him, you began to ramble all while gathering your belongings together, "it's just, well, you work all the time, and it wears you out. it feels unfair of me to take away all of your time and i just- you deserve less stress in your life, and i'm certainly not helping, being a burden and all, a-and-"

your rants were cut off when xavier stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your front before picking you up. a flustered expression was seen on your face, and you tried to wiggle yourself out of his embrace-

only to feel xavier's arms tighten around you, ignoring your protests when he enters the bedroom before placing you on the bed.

"we are not over." xavier speaks to you in a matter-of-fact tone. "and just to prove that you're wrong..."

he hums, eyes never once looking away from you even as he places his hands down the waistband of your pants, making you gasp when you feel his calloused hands touching at the border of your entrance. "you're not a burden to me... you never were, and you never will be."

you end up gasping while arching your back against the bed, feeling xavier's slender fingers dip inside of you. he thrusts his fingers in and out of your slickness all while pinching at your clit. unable to stop him, you were only able to grip at his biceps, your back arching against the bed as xavier thrusts his fingers in and out of you. the overwhelming sensations of pleasure were almost too much for you to handle-

yet xavier refuses to stop.

he keeps on toying with your aching core, drawing out even more moisture from you when you suddenly released yourself against the palm of his hands just mere seconds later. letting out a hum of your name, xavier extracts his hand from your now soaked panties, admiring the shiny quality of his fingers as evident of your release.

curious blue eyes admire his stained fingers for a moment before putting it in his mouth to lick it clean. "hng... so sweet..." he meets your flustered gaze, blue eyes now eclipsed with darkness as evident of his desire. "i need more..."

filled with desperation and need for you, xavier grips at your clothes, seeming to rip them away from your body before tossing it in a pile on the ground. with both of your bodies left bare, xavier wastes no time when placing his face between your legs, devouring your soaked core a man starved-

and when he manages to thrust his cock within your silken walls, let's just say you both forgot about your talk of breaking up.

"let's forget all this talk about us being over... and have you ride my face instead."

your eyes go wide upon hearing rafayel's bold words, and you found yourself at a standstill now.

knowing rafayel's passion for art, you felt like you had gotten in the way of his work. there were times where you felt like you were a nuisance to him, especially when he had to stop working on a commission each time you came over, or even called him, voicing your desires to be with him.

despite how rafayel never minded sharing his time with you, your anxieties kept telling you otherwise, the scathing voice in your mind filling your heart with doubt.

like how you were simply an unnecessary distraction for him-

that you were someone that got in the way of his work and dreams-

that rafayel never needed you.

deep down, you knew that your boyfriend never viewed you in such a manner because of how much he loved you-

yet in the end, you allowed your deprecation to win, convincing both your heart and mind that rafayel was only with you out of pity.

but when you tried to break things off with him-

rafayel simply met your gaze while demanding that you ride his face instead.

were you missing something?

"rafayel, didn't you hear what i just said? we're ov-"

"oh i heard you loud and clear, alright. i just refuse to do it." the young lemurian purposely cuts off your words all while giving you a come hither movement with his hand, "now, why don't you be a good girl and ride my face instead?" rafayel was practically purring at you, "i know my princess just feels a little stressed, and she didn't mean to say all those mean things to me."

your traitorous body clenches in response to his seductive words, with your heart racing out of his chest the moment rafayel takes off his shirt. seduction was seen in his gaze when he pulls down his pants and boxers, not stopping until he was utterly bare for you. your eyes immediately see the way his cock slowly became erect for you, making your mouth water at the sight.

swallowing thickly, you could do little than to allow rafayel to grip at your hand, leading you back towards the bed. giving you a wink, rafayel grips at your backside before giving it an audible smack, "you know what you want to do, princess."

your boyfriend was smirking at you, letting out one last hum of your name before laying down in bed. your heart begins to skip its beats as you trail your eyes down to his cock once more, your cunt clenching at the sight of how it twitched in anticipation, waiting for you.

with trembling fingers, you shakily unbutton your blouse, allowing the thin fabric to fall to the ground as your shorts and panties follow suit. when you were left in your bra, you sigh and unclasp it, tossing it to the ground before climbing on top of the bed.

rafayel's gaze turns hungry when he sees your figure approaching him. "that's it, that's my girl." he grips at your wrist, pulling your body toward him as he slides you until your soaked entrance was directly over his face.

"fuck, such a pretty little flower..." you nearly fell on top of him when his finger traced at your pussy lips, teasing you as a rich chuckle escapes from his lips. "all wet and ready for me... come on, princess, you know what you want to do."

unable to resist him any longer, you bite down on your bottom lip and land on top of his mouth, rubbing your slick walls over his mouth. you shiver upon feeling his groan vibrating through you, tossing your head back as his tongue manages to travel inside of you, massaging at your slickness.

"hah..." you felt breathless, your thighs already squeezing rafayel's head as you tried to chase your high. no longer thinking about anything that wasn't rafayel's face buried within your sweet cunt, you continued to ride him, tossing your head back each time his tongue tried to reach even deeper inside of you.

your moans and his muffled grunts were all that you could hear, and when you tried to quicken your pace-

you found yourself needing something bigger to help with assuaging the painful ache between your legs. looking behind, your eyes widen upon seeing the way rafayel's hand desperately gripped at his cock, giving it quick and fast strokes while his tongue kept delving into your core.

not even fully comprehending your actions, you lazily got off of his face, purposely rubbing your wet heat down his chest as rafayel struggled to sit up, "princess? why'd you stop?"

but you ignore his question, not stopping your slow descent across his body until your slick walls gripped at the underside of his cock. you bask in the way the veins seemed to pulse against you, making you let out a dreamy sigh when you gently gripped at his shaft.

"b-baby-"

a low hiss was heard coming from rafayel when you slap his cock against your entrance for a few brief moments before holding it in place, allowing yourself to sink down on him. the young artist ends up tossing his head back at the sensation, letting out a string of curses, "fuck yes! that's it princess, that's it... my pretty girl..."

rafayel was left a babbling mess now, praising you in an almost drunk manner the moment you kept bouncing yourself up and down his cock. "that's my good girl, such a good girl f'me...- fuck!"

you loud cries and whiny moans echo throughout the room, and you rode rafayel's cock with a reckless abandon, earning a smirk from him when he manages to tell you,

"this is where you belong, princess, right here, bouncing up and down on my cock."

end notes: my thirst for my fave lads men have returned 🫠 i swear i had this in my drafts since early october, so im happy that i was able to think of a good plot for it just now ;A;

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[berzahoes]

manifestation, baby! | tom blyth

summary: fans find out tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes (and she definitely manifested her life)

an: the way i thought about this idea and quickly wrote it down so i didn’t forget it. i used to have an app that made those fake tweets but i’m just tired to make fake profiles 😭 maybe i’ll change it later idk

for the purpose of this imagine, let’s pretend tbosas book was published between 2017-2019

liked by zeglerslove, 444_bri and 35,377 others

tomblythxsnow apparently tom’s girlfriend has an old youtube channel where she reviews books and she reviewed the ballad of songbirds and snakes and she literally manifested her future 😭

lucymygf WHATTT WHATS HER CHANNEL NAME

tomblythxsnow it’s yn’s book corner. she hasn’t posted since 2019 ngl i need her to review a little life because that book destroyed me

nat76_ omg i used to watch her videos!! i’m still subscribed to her 😭 i remember only buying and reading the books she liked because i wanted to be her so bad

j4ckaszlol “if someone ever makes a movie adaptation of this book and casts someone attractive to play snow then i am sorry for the person i become” REALLLLL

graybairdsmockingjay dude the part where she said “i’m calling it now whoever plays young snow will be my boyfriend. movie studios always cast someone attractive as the younger version of a character!” MY JAW DROPPED SHE NEEDS TO TELL ME HER WAYS

“guess what rachel just sent me.” you heard tom say when he arrived to your shared apartment.

“wedding invitations?!” you gasped as you almost stood up from the sofa since you were watching reruns of criminal minds, but tom stopped you.

“no, it’s better!” tom sat beside you and showed you his phone. “why didn’t you tell me you had a youtube channel?” on his phone screen was your review of the ballad of songbirds and snakes, which had become a very popular video over the past couple of days.

you hid your face with a pillow and groaned. “don’t remind me. i just wanted to talk about my books and my family didn’t care. don’t watch it! it’s embarrassing!”

“i think it’s cute. aw look, your dog made a cameo!” he pointed at your old dog you used to have that walked into the frame.

“indi! no, come sit right here. oh . . . and she’s walking away. okay, anyways.” your younger self said in the video

“indi? why Indi?” tom asked you even though you were still hiding from embarrassment.

“after indiana jones. my dad and i loved those movies and he gifted me indi as a birthday present.” you confessed.

“love, don’t be embarrassed. i think it’s cute that you manifested your life according to the comments on instagram,” tom paused the video then cuddled up to you. “i won’t watch it if you don’t want me to.”

“it’s fine, i just didn’t think anyone would find it. we can watch it together.” you uncovered yourself and sat down properly to watch the video with tom. before he pressed the play button and together you watch your younger self review the book.

“i’ve read all the hunger games books at least four times and this one did not disappoint. but i do hope whoever ends up being cast as young snow is someone hot. i’m sorry it’s the rules! and they will be my boyfriend, i’m calling dibs.”

tom smirked at you. “if only younger you could see you now.”

“she would definitely think ‘wow, how did we pull this beautiful man?’ then be confused as to why the hunger games and fnaf is trending in 2023.”

liked by tomblyth, rachelzegler and 1,377,389 others

ynlovesbooks told ya. love you tomblyth ❤️

rachelzegler she is THAT girl

ynlovesbooks no u

everdeenx12 bestie he’s EVIL

ynlovesbooks he’s a walking red flag but my favorite color is red 😍

chamaletproblems pls tell me how you did this

ynlovesbooks i figured out who they were casting and kept him hostage until he agreed to be my bf

tomblyth true

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (M) (Pt. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Word Count: 44,416 (19K in part 2)

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora! Unfortunately, due to the new Tumblr text post limitations, this has to be published as multiple parts. THIS IS NOT THE START OF THE STORY. Please read Part 1 first, here.

Rating: 18+

NSFW Warnings: oral (F), multiple orgasms (F), fingering, sex in a semi-public area (brief), breast play, spanking, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, mention of toys

A/N: all collab fics incorporate the phrase, "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

A/N: This is not part 1. Read part 1 here.

“Jimin!” Hana cries, plowing into his legs. “Y/N! We’re skates!”

Lifting your brows, you crouch to boop her red pom-pom hat. “Of course, you are!” you say. When Hana runs off, you stand and lean closer. “Do you think she meant they have skates, or that we’re pretending to be them?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Jimin chuckles, taking your hand to cross the street.

You seem surprised but continue, falling into step alongside him. If pressed, Jimin could say he’s holding your hand because you’re around his family but truthfully, that’s not why. He’s holding your hand because he hasn’t touched you for twelve hours, crumbling something vital deep in his chest.

Jimin’s mom waves you over to where they’ve occupied several benches. “Welcome,” she says, gesturing to the group. “The girls picked out skates for everyone – correct sizes, of course.”

Stifling a laugh, Jimin looks at the skates. Of course, the twins picked them out since they’ve chosen only the most ridiculous concepts. Each year, a main Garland attraction is the infamous holiday ice skates. Imagine a Christmas staple, and there’s an ice skate for it. Snowmen skates wait for Jimin, complete with tiny carrot noses.

“How did you know my favorites,” you gasp, bending to reach for your candy cane skates.

“Cuz we’re smart!” Ari yells, wriggling free of Hoseok’s arms.

Jisoo grabs her by the waist, picking her up to sit down on a bench. Jimin takes you by the hand again, leading you to a semi-secluded bench. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as he drags you away from his family.

“Sit,” Jimin demands, and your eyes widen.

Somewhat flustered, you obey. “Jimin,” you hiss when he kneels before you. “No one is watching us. You don’t have to…”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t have to do anything, Y/N.”

You fall silent when he begins unlacing your boots, setting them aside on the cold ground. Jimin doesn’t miss the way you shiver when his hand curls around your ankle, nor the look on your face when he scoots even closer.

“Jimin…”

Flashing a wicked smile, he looks up. “Yes?”

A lump moves in your throat when you swallow. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Brows lifted, Jimin leans forward, pressing his shoulder against your inner knee. He begins tying the laces, taking his time to savor the closeness. By the time he’s finished, you’re glowering darkly.

“Up,” you demand, switching places.

Jimin shouldn’t be turned on by how easily you walk in skates, nor by the bossy edge to your voice as you kneel.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, your gaze burning. Placing both hands on his knees, you lean forward. “To tease me?”

“Tease you?” Jimin looks you up and down. “Right now, I feel like the victim here.”

Pushing yourself to stand, you nudge him with your foot. “You can put on your own skates, Park. Last I checked, you got paid to do this for a living.”

“Usually, they pay me to play in the skates. Not just look pretty.”

Your lips tilt. “Are you calling yourself pretty?”

Wordless, Jimin tosses his hair as he stands from the bench. Eyes wide, you realize your gaze drops to his skates, already tied. Leaning in, Jimin brushes your arm with his palm.

“That depends,” he says lowly. “What do you think?”

Your gaze focuses on him. “Your looks haven’t changed that much since September, Park.”

His eyes darken. “Stop calling me that.”

“What – Park?”

Brows lowered, Jimin steps closer. “You sound like you’re about to scold me.”

You snort. “Scold you? Who do you think I am?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“What even is the subject?”

“What about my looks has changed since September?”

You pause to survey him. “You… well. Your hair,” you admit.

Uncertain, Jimin reaches up to touch it. “My hair?”

“Yeah.” You nod, transfixed by his fingers. “It’s longer. It–” Cutting yourself off, your lips press together. “It looks nice, that’s all.”

Jimin hovers a second, wishing you’d continue but the moment is interrupted by your names being called. Turning his head, he spots Jisoo and Hoseok stepping onto the ice. Hoseok has both of Ari’s hands, while Jisoo has Hana.

Heart dropping, Jimin pieces two and two together. When you arrived on Thursday, the oddest expression crossed over your face at the twins. And later, while making cookies, you often were silent. Jimin chalked this up to the strangeness of your arrangement, but only now realizes the full implication. Ari and Hana must remind you of the false pregnancy, and the events which came after.

On instinct, Jimin takes your hand again. You glance down, surprised, but Jimin is already walking, pulling you with.

Although you stumble a little, you follow. “How do you walk in these things every day?” you demand, gesturing vaguely.

“We usually wear them on ice, not the sidewalk.”

“Hilarious.”

Arriving at the rink, Jimin removes his skate guards and holds out a hand. Handing them off to his mom, Jimin opens the gate to step onto the ice.

For a moment, the world fades. This is the reason he plummeted when he wasn’t sure if he could skate again. This feeling, this rush of freedom – Jimin has felt it on the ice ever since he can remember. Your hand is grounding, keeping him steady through the inner turmoil. Taking a deep breath, Jimin pushes off on one skate to bring you with.

Across the rink, Hoseok and Jisoo lead their daughters around. Seeing them, Jimin can’t help but smile. Jisoo was raised on the rink and can skate circles around most of their friend group.

“They’re so cute,” you sigh, following his gaze.

“Who? Jisoo and Hoseok?”

“I mean, sure,” you laugh, eyes crinkling. “But I was talking about Hana and Ari. No matter what your dad says, Hana is definitely going pro.”

Jimin sees a moment of realization cross your face. A few months ago, the idea of his dad disapproving would have crippled him. Now, Jimin feels sad, but he knows he’ll get through it.

Tightening his grip, he moves closer. “Want to know a secret?” Jimin says, skating backwards to face you. Both your hands end in his, letting him pull you.

“Obviously.”

Jimin grins, spinning you in a circle. “I got her lessons for Christmas with my old teacher. Just for fun, but I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“She absolutely will,” you say, smiling so wide, Jimin’s heart hurts. “Speaking of…”

Turning his head, Jimin spots Hoseok skate past with Ari. They wave as they go, Ari’s scarf flapping in the wind.

“So slow!” Hoseok calls, as Ari laughs. “Seems like that NHL thing really was a fluke, Park…”

Jimin’s brows lower, enough that you laugh and let go of his hand. “Go on,” you tease, skating backwards. “Catch up to them.”

His gaze lingers on you as you leave, watching you glide across the rink with ease. Turning around, you weave between patrons as the ends of your scarf flutter behind you. Jimin remembers the first time he brought you home for the holidays. Until then, you’d given him nothing but a hard time with his hockey fame. Pretending not to know the rules, the players or even the sport – although he often caught you Googling what certain terms meant.

The first time you came home, Jimin’s parents were the ones who suggested ice skating. Jimin was hesitant, thinking you didn’t know how, but once you stepped onto the rink, his jaw dropped. Although you aren’t a professional, you took lessons as a kid and somehow maintained your graceful ease. Somewhat embarrassingly, that was the morning he caved and broke his no-sex-in-the-childhood-home rule.

Body tightening, Jimin locks in on you as you skate away. Similar to seeing you wearing a new cosplay, watching you skate circles is enough to draw blood to a very specific part of his body. Pushing off with one foot, Jimin starts slowly around the edge of the rink. Several heads turn, but he ignores them entirely. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice him watching and laugh, purposefully crouching to gain momentum.

Lips twitching, Jimin adopts a similar stance and goes faster. He barely outpaces his slowest round at practice, but that’s fine. To everyone else, Jimin is practically flying. As one of the shortest players in the NHL, Jimin makes up for what he lacks in stride with his speed. Offensive positions require agility, something which happens to be his main strength. Wind cuts his face as Jimin makes a turn that would send lesser skaters sprawling.

Leisurely, he approaches you from the opposite side. Glancing over your shoulder, you frown, losing visibility.

“Gotcha,” Jimin says, grabbing around your waist to speak in your ear.

You yelp, twisting around to avoid tangling skates. “No fair,” you laugh, still in his arms. “You’re a professional. You cheated!”

“Which one is it, princess?” he teases, prompting a startled breath.

Licking your lower lip, you glance sideways and Jimin feels his body lock. Continuing to skate with his arms wrapped around you, he can barely decipher his train of thought. You face forward quickly, but not fast enough – Jimin knows that look. Your pupils are dilated, eyes wide with lips slightly parted. That look connects with his lower half in a way that makes skating distinctly uncomfortable.

“You can’t call me that,” you say under your breath.

Despite this, your hand tightens in his, not letting him go.

Jimin leans closer. “Call you what?”

“Any name other than the one chosen at birth.”

“Oh, I see. So, if I say Y/N.” Jimin dips his tone. “That’s fine?”

He feels your shiver, sliding his thumb along the side of your palm, and–

“Y/N!”

You start, jerking upright when Hana skates by holding onto Jisoo. Jimin falls behind you, somewhat embarrassed he let things go so far. As much as he wants to call you princess and get you to admit that you want him – he wants more than simply desire. Something like that happening would only muddy the waters.

Ari skates past as well, begging you to join, which you do with a dutiful nod. Jimin watches you go, skating to the edge of the rink and stepping outside. Pulling on guards, he clomps towards the hot chocolate stand to buy you a cup. While he waits, a familiar hat sidles up alongside him.

“Hi, mom,” he says, smiling downward.

Jimin’s mom wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes. A lump forms in Jimin’s throat, one he manages to swallow. The past year has been hard, forcing tough conversations to be held over the phone. Worse than losing his health, Jimin felt that he lost the support of his family.

“You two looked good out there,” his mom says, moving up in line.

Jimin lifts a brow. His mom never says something she doesn’t mean – a fact that he envies. Bringing your relationship up means she has something to say.

“Thanks,” he says, waiting for the rest.

“I hope we didn’t make you or Y/N uncomfortable last night. You know the last thing your father and I want is to pressure you.”

Shaking his head, Jimin moves forward. “You didn’t – don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Her lips thin. “What were you doing, going out late with Hoseok?”

Jimin’s eyes widen. Shit. Exactly like his mom, to lead with something soft, then go for the kill. A hockey strategy Jimin has employed often, with great success.

“We… I, uh…”

His mom pats him on the arm. “Every couple has their difficulties, Jimin. I’m not going to pretend every obstacle is surmountable – only you can decide that – but running away will solve nothing.”

Stunned by her accuracy, Jimin shakes his head. “I thought she wanted space,” he admits. This much, at least, is true.

“Space is good,” she agrees. “But only when asked for.”

The couple before them in line finishes paying and leaves. Somewhat dazed, Jimin moves up and orders three hot chocolates. Stepping aside to wait, Jimin turns to face his mom.

“That’s good advice,” he says slowly.

“I know.” She smiles. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though.”

Jimin lifts a brow. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughs. “No,” she admits, linking arms. “I wanted to check in on you, dear. You’ve seemed a little… well, off lately. It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Jimin can hear her concern, the utmost care she’s taking in having this conversation. His heart aches, knowing she must have rehearsed this talk often. Truthfully, Jimin didn’t mean to pull away from his family. It became almost second nature to avoid having an argument.

“Well,” Jimin says. “This season has been tough. I wasn’t sure how it’d be… being back on the ice. And I didn’t think you or dad would want to hear about that.”

Gripping his elbow, his mom turns him to face her. Her gaze has turned serious, an indent between her brows. “Jimin. I always want to hear about your day. Okay?”

He blinks several times.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales. “I know I wasn’t… I was scared, seeing you so badly injured last year.”

Jimin presses his lips together. “I know.”

“But,” she adds, fierce light to her gaze. “That’s not an excuse for making you feel this way. Your career will always scare us, Jimin.” She holds up a hand at the look on his face. “No, I want to be truthful. Your career will always scare us, but darling, I’ve watched you skate since you were three years old. I see your face on the ice. I’m sorry for asking you to give that up. It was selfish.”

Something rent apart mends in his chest. Before Jimin can respond, three hot chocolates are placed on the counter. Smiling, his mom accepts one and hands him the rest.

“Don’t feel like you have to say anything back,” she chides, guiding him towards the rink. “I only wanted to make sure you knew.”

“No – no.” Jimin shakes his head. “I’m trying more often to express how I feel. Mom… the way you and dad acted hurt me. For a while, it felt like everyone in the world was against me, and I didn’t know how to convince them. Or myself.”

His mom blinks several times. “I understand that,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry, dear. I’m here for you, whatever you decide – I promise.”

“And dad?”

Lips twisting, she glances across the rink, where his dad sits on a bench. Not skating, simply watching Hana and Ari be towed around. Seeing this, Jimin understands what she means. His dad still has a long way to go.

“It’s okay, mom,” he murmurs.

She frowns. “No, it’s not. But he’ll come around, Jimin – I know it.”

“Yeah.” Releasing his breath, Jimin looks across the rink and catches your eye.

You grin widely, hand in hand with Ari as Jimin smiles. Something Dr. Nygard once said comes to mind. He told Jimin it was normal to want the attention of others, but it wasn’t healthy to shape one’s entire reality from it. For a long time, Jimin only believed he was good if other people said so. Only thought he could want something when other people agreed.

The moment you asked if you could take a break, all Jimin heard was you didn’t want him. Rather than stay and fight for what he believed in, he left and now, it’s up to him to convince you things are different. Being without you cast things in perspective. No – Jimin doesn’t need your approval to live the life he wants.

But the life he wants to live has you in it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring pain meds this weekend,” you huff, digging around in the endless void you call a purse.

Sheepish, Jimin shrugs. “My tailbone felt better. And then, I don’t know… sitting for hours on a flight didn’t help.”

Stunned, you glance upward. “You’ve been hurt since the flight, Jimin?” you ask, failing to keep your anger in check. “Why are you only telling me now?”

Amused, he crosses both arms. “Y/N,” Jimin tsks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you cared.”

Simultaneously annoyed and aroused, your gaze darts towards your purse. Yanking free a bottle of ibuprofen, you shake out two pills. “Here,” you insist, thrusting them forward. “Take these and be quiet.”

Partly, your dismay stems from this being your fault. Jimin mentioned he was injured outside the house, but you were too mad to hear and made him sleep on the couch. And now, you’ll be the reason for Chicago’s losing streak. You can already hear the disparaging Twitter comments.

“Be quiet.” Jimin accepts the pills to throw them back, dry. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You stare, horrified. “That’s disgusting.”

“You get used to it.”

“Nope,” you say as you turn away. “I don’t think I would.”

Jimin chuckles from behind, catching up when you push open the door to the shop. Once everyone had their fill of ice-skating, you went with Jimin’s family to a lovely place for lunch. Afterwards, everyone broke into pairs for late Christmas shopping. It seems everyone is missing one gift or another, resulting in a need for covert alliances. Jisoo went off with her mom, while Hoseok went off with their dad and the twins.

The fact that you ended up alone with Jimin hasn’t escaped you. Briefly, you wondered if Jimin’s mom was behind this to give you some privacy but banished the notion. If this were the case, she likely would have just said so. The thought makes your face heat as you enter the shop.

Things today have been… different when it comes to Jimin. First, there was his apology in the car and then, the whole skate-tying incident. Merely the memory makes you shiver, recalling the feel of his hand on your ankle. Not to mention his cryptic phrasing, insisting he should have stayed – last night. Or possibly more.

Frustrated, you glance around the stationary shop. For once, you wish Jimin would just say what he means. Then again, you suppose two can play at that game. You weren’t exactly honest when you asked for a break.

Covertly, you glance sideways and find Jimin’s cheeks reddened. Infuriatingly, he looks even better than the day before. Darkly, you wonder if he sold his soul to a witch or is involved in some sort of Dorian Gray situation.

Turning around, Jimin catches you staring. “What are you thinking?” he asks, moving closer.

Rather than fan his ego, you ask something that’s been bothering you the past hour. “I saw you talking to your mom at the hot chocolate stand. What was that about?”

Jimin stiffens slightly, and you stifle a sigh.

Six months prior, Jimin would have brushed aside the question. In the spring, when his arguments with his dad were at their worst, you tried to distract him, but nothing succeeded. Jimin didn’t want to talk about anything, but in every conversation, his mind was elsewhere. You shouldn’t be surprised this is still true but somehow, you hoped.

“Hockey,” Jimin answers, and your face jerks up. “My mom said she was always going to worry about me playing, but she apologized for asking me to give it up. I think…” He pauses. “She may have been giving me her blessing to re-sign? Not that I need it,” he adds, a bit thoughtful.

“Jimin,” you gasp. “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” He smiles. “There’s still my dad, but it means so much to me that she said that. And… I mean, I can’t wait around for them to approve of everything, can I? I need to do what’s best for myself.”

Slowly, you nod. “You do.”

He meets your gaze. “I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. You told me that, and I didn’t agree. I just… I wasn’t ready to hear it. In a way, when you left, it forced me to examine some hard truths about myself.”

Again, your heart sinks. You’re glad Jimin has his therapist and they’re helping to change his outlook. On the other hand, it sounds as though your leaving was an uptick in his life.

“Ah,” you say faintly. “I see.”

Jimin cocks his head. “When you said you wanted a break, all I heard was that the last person to believe in me no longer did. I know that’s not fair,” he adds, seeing your face. “But that’s how I felt. It was easier to fall, to hit rock bottom… than to pull myself out.”

You consider this – and him – for a long moment. In September, you really weren’t in a position to listen. The rapid elation and depression of thinking you were pregnant, coupled with fear from a year of anxiety, resulted in a potentially harmful reaction. Jimin deserved more than what you gave.

“I shouldn’t have come to you like that,” you say quietly. “It wasn’t fair of me to just… spring that on you without explanation. I should have asked you to talk. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, thinking I wouldn’t listen.”

“Maybe,” you say. “If I could go back though, I’d do things differently.”

“Me, too.”

For a while, you stand there and let the words sink in. Frequently since the break-up, you imagined what it would be like to see Jimin again. You wondered if he’d be angry, whether he’d ignore you or cast blame for what happened. Rarely did you imagine he’d apologize, or that he’d taken steps to address what happened this fall.

And maybe that was another mistake you both made – assuming the other person couldn’t change or wouldn’t want to.

Then, another thought occurs that makes your heart sink. Jimin’s mom is fine with him extending his contract. The entire reason you came here was to lessen the difficulty of two pieces of bad news at once. With one in the open, it’s not necessary to continue the charade.

For a moment, you debate whether to say something and instead, you turn smoothly and pluck a card from the pile.

“Look at this one,” you say, holding it up to the light. “Do you think Ari would like it?”

Glancing at this, Jimin tilts his head. The card is covered in glitter, to the point where the pictures and words are rendered obsolete.

“I think it’s perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Look, there’s another glitter one for Hana.”

Selecting them both, you head for the cashier. Jimin diverts to check out a large stack of board games in the back for his uncle.

“You check out,” he says, waving you onward. “I’ll meet you at the register in a minute.”

“All right,” you say, turning away.

Bypassing the colorful pens near the register, you place both cards on the counter. “Can I have a bag?” you ask as they ring you up.

The cashier nods, setting to work and you drum your finger against the counter. Outside, it’s started snowing. You can’t help but smile since it never seems to stop snowing in Garland for long. Hopefully, everything will clear up for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve party. Jimin’s family never misses, barring illness or high water.

Behind you, the bells above the door chime.

“Y/N?” A familiar – deeply grating – makes you go stiff. “Is that you? Oh my gosh!”

Smile frozen, you slowly turn. Vivian Wu shuts the door with one hand, casually unwinding a red scarf from her neck. Her hair is luscious and sleek, billowing over her perfect pea coat. When she walks towards the register, you notice cashmere gloves and boots that seem untouched by the salt on the roads.

Continuing to force a smile, you nod. “Hi, Vivian,” you say. “Yep, it’s me. Y/N.”

Coming to a stop, Vivian tilts her head. As the daughter of the former mayor and a politician herself, she’s practically royalty in a small town like Garland. Vivian also happens to be Jimin’s ex-girlfriend, dating him for three years in high school before they broke up when he was drafted. A fact Vivian never really accepted.

Her smile turns simpering. “How nice to see you,” she says, her tone suggesting the opposite. “Are you visiting the Parks for the holidays?”

You nod, suddenly glad for the charade. “Jimin and I are only here for a few days, unfortunately. Are you attending the Christmas Eve party tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. The Parks are such a wonderful family. It’s a shame you only get to see them once a year.”

Although your stomach twists, you remind yourself it’s not worth it. Vivian only acts this way because she’s not dating Jimin – but then again, neither are you. Your heart sinks, realizing you might be looking at your future. Vivian will be thrilled to discover you’re no longer together. You never learned why she disliked you, only that she’s the only other girl Jimin dated seriously.

Your very first visit, you were introduced to her at the Christmas Eve party. Jimin warned you his ex-girlfriend would be there but failed to mention how beautiful – and vindictive – she was. Apparently, the break-up was Jimin’s idea and Vivian loathed having a total loss of control.

That night ended in a harried fight between you and Jimin, becoming the first time he ever said he loved you. Remembering that night, you can’t help but smile – a gesture that widens when Vivian scowls.

“It’s a shame,” you sigh. “I’m sure they appreciate having you looking out for them, though.”

Vivian sniffs, unable to find the insult. “Of course. Anything for Jimin. Speaking of” – she leans in, her Chanel perfume tickling your nose – “I’ve been watching his games and haven’t seen you lately? Is everything okay?”

You instantly stiffen. Despite what you told Jimin, you genuinely hadn’t thought many people would notice. Of course, Vivian did.

“No,” you say sweetly. “Just busy with work.”

“That’s a shame,” she says, her voice implying that, if it were her, Vivian would make herself available, no matter the cost.

You can’t help but bristle, though the scenario is moot. Neither of you are dating Jimin, so there’s nothing to compare. Still, even when you were together, Jimin never expected you to attend every game. That was his job, not yours, he would joke all the time. Both of you were adults with careers.

Tossing her hair, Vivian nods at your hand. “And I’m surprised, Y/N – no ring? Jisoo and Hoseok got engaged after what, two years? And you’ve been dating Jimin for…?”

“Four years,” you say stiffly.

“That’s right.” Her frown deepens. “Four.”

Your tongue is in danger of bleeding from how hard you bite. Vivian’s words have little to do with you, and more to do with the circumstances, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. And hurt.

Smoothly, an arm slides around your waist. “There you are,” murmurs Jimin, pulling you close. He brushes a kiss to your hair, glancing at Vivian. “You can blame that on me, Viv,” he says easily. “Haven’t found the perfect ring yet. None big enough. Or expensive enough.”

Your lips twitch. “Exactly,” you sigh, laying a hand on his chest. “He keeps proposing and I keep saying, ‘nope, try again.’”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling into your hair. Vivian glances between you, looking vaguely nauseated. You can’t say you blame her.

“How nice,” she mutters.

“Anyways.” Glancing around, Jimin grabs your bag from the counter. “We really should get going. It was nice seeing you, Vivian.”

“You, too,” she huffs, brushing past to the board games.

As soon as she’s gone, your smile drops. “Thanks,” you exhale, slipping out from his arm. “I… well, I wasn’t sure what to say to her.”

Jimin catches you around the wrist.

You hesitate a long moment, then turn. Two days ago, the rules of the game were clear. No kissing with tongue. Jimin sleeps on the couch. And no need to pretend when no one else is around.

Gaze drifting upwards, you find yourself unable to decipher his expression. Slowly, Jimin pulls you closer to casually fix the scarf around your neck.

“Let’s head home, okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, not trusting yourself to respond to him with words. Outside, on the street, Jimin comes to a stop. Exhaling briskly, he turns sideways to face you.

“I just…”

Dropping your wrist, Jimin shoves a hand through his hair.

“Jimin, it’s okay,” you say, stepping closer. “I don’t blame how she acted – really. Being on the other side, like this…” Lamely, you shrug. “I guess I understand how Vivian feels. That’s all.”

Jimin stares at you, wide-eyed. You think that must be it, and attempt to walk past, but he grabs your wrist again.

“Y/N,” he says sternly. “You are nothing like Vivian. Okay?”

You blink, glancing down at his hand. That’s twice in two minutes he’s touched you like this. Gaze snapping upward, you frown.

“Am I?” you demand. Stepping closer, you stand nearly nose-to-nose. “We’re both your exes, Jimin. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to watch you parade someone else around town. God, just thinking about you with someone else drives me crazy. I’d be an asshole to future me, too.”

Dipping his head, Jimin inhales. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmurs into your ear. “I wouldn’t be worried about that, if I were you.”

“What does that –”

“Y/N! JIMIN!”

Adorable interruptions seem to be your curse this weekend. Tiny arms crush your knees as, looking down, you find Hana grinning.

Bending, you scoop her onto one hip. “What’s this?” you gasp when she hands you a bag. “Did you buy me a Christmas present all by yourself?”

“Mhm,” she says proudly. “We got you new gloves to wear when you watch Uncle Jimin play.”

Hoseok groans as he arrives. “Girls, that was supposed to be a secret. Remember? Y/N was going to unwrap the gloves on Christmas.”

Ari frowns, tugging on Hoseok’s coat. “But then the present would tell her, not us.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jisoo and her mom walk up behind you.

“What’d we miss?” Jisoo asks, taking Hana.

“Hoseok was explaining the concept of presents,” says Jimin.

“Oh, good. Any success?”

“No,” Hoseok grumbles.

Everyone laughs, and Jimin’s dad flips his keys. “Are we all set?” he asks. “I thought I’d make hot chocolate back at the house.”

“Yeahhh!” yell the twins, immediately taking off.

Snow starts to fall as you leave the town square. More holiday music plays on the drive, and you find yourself dutifully humming along. Despite what you said, there are several noticeable differences between you and Vivian. You might both be his exes, but Jimin only asked one of you home for Christmas.

And only one of you has the opportunity now to make things right.

By Saturday evening, Jimin regrets asking Hoseok for help. He might mean well, but Jimin’s brother-in-law is the least covert person on the face of the planet. Indeed, he’s done more to detract from Jimin’s goal than to add to it. All day, he’s tried to create alone time for you and Jimin with mixed results.

At dinner, Hoseok leaves a chair open next to Jimin – only for Ari to claim it. Afterwards, the family gathers to watch a movie and once again, Hoseok tries to set him up on the sofa. Unfortunately, Hoseok miscounts, and Jisoo is forced to squish between Jimin and the armrest. Little romance can happen sandwiched between you and his sister.

That’s not to say no romance, though. Ever since the stationary store, you seem to have forgotten your rule about physical contact. While watching the Grinch, you curl into Jimin’s side, holding his hand under a mountain of blankets. Jimin strokes his thumb over the back of your hand, trying and failing not to let his mind wander.

He can’t stop thinking about you and Vivian, knowing the situation is his doing. When he broke up with Vivian, he did it over the phone and barely gave her answers to the questions she posed. He didn’t know how to admit that he wasn’t in love, so instead, he made excuses about distance and hockey. It’s no wonder Vivian hovers now, waiting for you to make any misstep.

The thought of you returning to an ex is enough to make Jimin go wild. His arm tenses on the sofa, despite knowing there’s no reason for him to be mad. Still, it’s all he can think about when the movie ends and you get ready for bed. Bringing his stuff down the hall, Jimin lets you use the bathroom within his room.

The door remains shut when he returns, so Jimin busies himself with making the couch comfortable. He’s debating adding a third pillow when the bathroom door opens, and you step outside.

Jimin nearly drops the holiday pillow he holds. Honestly, he should receive awards for his self-control this weekend. Once again, you’ve decided to clothe yourself – or not clothe yourself – in the skimpiest nightgown known to man. Pink lace skims your generous curves, something you seem oblivious of while crossing the room.

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “What time do you want to wake up tomorrow?”

Gaze skipping past him, you land on the sofa. “You’re not seriously planning on sleeping there?” you demand, folding your arms over your chest.

He forces himself not to stare at your delicious cleavage. “This feels like a trick question.”

“Jimin!” You throw up both hands. “You’re injured! I feel bad enough you had to take painkillers this morning.”

“Oh. Well, don’t feel bad,” Jimin says, bending for the pillow.

“Jimin!”

“What?” He half-laughs as he straightens. “There’s only one bed in this room, and my parents would know if you slept anywhere else. This is fine, Y/N.”

Chewing your lower lip, you glance down. “Unless…”

He waits. “Are you offering to sleep on the couch?”

Your gaze snaps upward. “No.”

A tinge of awareness spreads down his spine as Jimin slowly glances between you and the bed. “Are you…” Jimin hesitates, not wanting to break the fragile truce between you. “Are you offering to break rule number one?”

“Technically, you were the one who offered to sleep on the couch,” you point out. “All I said was we didn’t have to pretend while we were alone.”

“Y/N.”

“Alright, fine!” you huff. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed. But I’m… retracting that rule, for the good of humanity. Only the bed part,” you warn, shifting your weight.

Seeing you slightly flustered wakes a sleeping beast in his chest. Jimin takes a step closer, realizing you’re not immune to his proximity.

“Are you sure?” he asks, coming to a stop. “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I can sleep on the couch, Y/N, and be fine. I promise.”

“Oh?” you scoff, turning around. “And have me be blamed for injuring the ‘best offensive player in the NHL?’ No thanks.”

Jimin stares at your retreating backside. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, slowly following you towards the bed. “Have you been watching my games on TV?”

Your fingers freeze on the comforter. “I… I’ve seen a few,” you say, evasive as you pull back the sheets. Slipping beneath the covers, you pointedly avoid eye contact.

Unable to contain his grin, Jimin folds his arms. He doesn’t miss the way your gaze darts towards his biceps, lingering longer than is strictly necessary.

“How many?” Jimin demands, moving closer.

Gaze snapping upward, you scowl. “Enough to know you’re doing disgustingly well. And that every person with half a brain has a poster telling you so on the other side of the glass.”

Coming to a stop, his brows sketch upwards. “You’ve seen the posters?”

Jimin has seen the posters but then again, he’s the one stepping onto the ice every night. Some of the content has been downright suggestive, which it seems you know from your perturbed expression. Jimin knows it isn’t healthy to savor your jealousy – on the other hand, he’ll take anything he can get when it comes to you. Jealousy implies there’s something to be jealous of.

“They’re creative,” you mutter. “I’ll give them that.”

Jimin’s grin widens. Crossing to the opposite side, he pulls back the covers. “I’ve kept track of you, too,” he admits as he joins you.

Startled, you turn over to face him. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Turning off the light, Jimin rolls sideways. “I liked your last outfit. Sundry Sydney?” he says with a snort. “The sticker was brilliant.”

“Some people thought it wasn’t slutty enough.”

“Sundry Sydney is more than a pleasure bot,” Jimin says, quoting you word for word. “She can do everything – or anything, as she later revises.”

You laugh, delighted. “You remember.”

“Of course.” Jimin softens. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

In the moonlight, he watches your features change. Hesitance follows want in a way that makes his heart ache. Jimin did that. He put this space between you and, almost unthinking, he shifts closer.

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs when his knee brushes your shin.

You blink. “It’s okay.”

Jimin is aware of each time you inhale, the rise and fall of your chest. The last time he slept next to you, he took it for granted. Now, he memorizes every single detail – your lashes on your cheeks, the weight of your body, the scent of your conditioner from across the pillow. If this is the last night Jimin can lie with you, he wants to remember.

Slowly, the sound of your breathing lulls his eyes shut.

Then next time they open, Jimin only feels heat. Warm, silken heat as he opens one eye and is immediately accosted by the sight of your bare shoulder. Stiffening, Jimin realizes his arm is draped over the curve of your waist. Your face nestles in his chest, fingers curled neatly into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Worse, your nightgown has ridden upward during the night, and Jimin can feel your bare thigh pressed to his. Exhaling softly, he tries to pull back. Under no circumstances can you wake and find him draped over you like the worst kind of leech. You let him sleep in the bed, not sleep with you, which is a crucial difference.

Unfortunately, his attempt at removing his arm only succeeds in rolling you closer. Jimin pauses, reevaluating as your curves press to his. When a mumbled sigh leaves your lips, he nearly gives up.

There’s only so much a person can be expected to ignore. Pressed to your soft skin, memories of past mornings come pouring back. If you were dating, Jimin would be figuring out ways to wake you up with his tongue. As it is, all he can do is close his eyes and pray for his hard-on to die.

“Jimin,” you mumble, pressing closer.

His eyes open. The movement brings your thighs flush together, and there’s no mistaking now, that was his name on your lips. Staring downward, Jimin wonders what you’re dreaming of, and whether or not he’s made an appearance.

Mumbling something, your eyes open. When your gazes connect, Jimin expects you to recoil, waits for the moment you realize where you are and withdraw.

Instead, you blink in a sleepy haze. Tentative, you move your hand higher and – Jimin holds his breath – lightly stroke your thumb down the center of his chest. Jimin hardly dares move as your gaze drops to his lips. Slowly – so, so slowly – you shift your hips forward and part your thighs.

Exhaling roughly, Jimin’s fingers find your thigh to drag over his waist. His hard cock fits snugly against your warm core.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Losing all sense of composure, Jimin tightens his grip and rolls his hips against you.

“Oh,” you moan, your head tipping back.

Dipping his chin, Jimin drags his nose up the heat of your throat. Open-mouthed, he ghosts over the place where your neck meets your collarbone. Panting, you roll your hips as his grip on you tightens. Each line of your body melts against his, driving him crazy.

Moving lower, Jimin brushes the silk hem of your nightgown. Your breath catches when his thumb slips beneath, drawing teasing circles against your inner thigh. One of your hands entwines in his hair, tugging in a way that makes him see red.

“Ah, fuck,” Jimin groans. Grasping your ass with both hands, he rolls on his back and brings you with.

Surprised, you land on top of him. “Jimin – oh,” you breathe when he thrusts upward, pressing his cock against your underwear.

Gaze somewhat hazy, you push yourself upright. Jimin moans at the sight of your thighs spilled to either side, your delicious breasts barely contained by the silk. Not looking away, keeping your hands on his chest, you slowly begin to move your hips. Jimin’s hands slide up to frame your waist, helping you get yourself off on his cock.

It won’t take long, he realizes with some shock. Whatever dream you had got you halfway, based on the way your thighs tremble above him. Lips parting, you moan his name and rock your hips faster. Gripping you tightly, Jimin thrusts upward. His fingers slip down your thighs, edging towards your center, when –

The doorbell rings downstairs.

Instantly, you freeze, your chest rising and falling. Jimin opens his mouth, but before he can utter a single word, you swing your leg off him.

“I – sorry,” you blurt, scooting to stand. “That… shouldn’t have happened.”

Jimin’s mouth shuts. No, probably not, but he also can’t bring himself to regret what just happened. Unlike you, it seems.

“I’m… just going to change,” you rush, practically fleeing into his bathroom. The door slams shut behind you, leaving Jimin alone in the bed.

Wearily, he collapses. “Fuck,” he mutters.

The shower turns on, and his imagination runs wild, replaying the past five minutes. Groaning, Jimin rolls over to stiffly stand. Yanking a sweater and jeans from his closet, he heads for the other bathroom to take care of himself. It barely takes a minute before he comes against the shower wall, chest heaving to stare at the water droplets.

With a clear head, Jimin can feel the full weight of dread in his chest. He moved too fast. Even with you instigating, Jimin shouldn’t have pushed things as far as they went. If he knows you at all – and Jimin thinks that he does – you’re probably freaking out in a separate shower. He needs to assure you as soon as possible that he wants this. Well, he wants you. Not just the physical parts.

Exhaling deeply, Jimin finishes showering and turns off the spray. Toweling himself dry, Jimin dresses as fast as he can to head downstairs. He’s nearly at the kitchen when a hand grasps his elbow, yanking him sideways and shoving him in the front closet.

Stumbling slightly, Jimin turns around and finds himself face-first with Hoseok. Flicking the light switch, Hoseok shuts the door and exhales.

Jimin looks past him. “What are you doing?” he asks, faintly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “No – definitely not. Your dad knows, man.”

“Knows what?”

“He knows,” Hoseok says with a pointed look. “He knows you’re planning to extend your hockey contract.”

Jimin’s heart sinks to the floor.

Coming to his senses, he shakes his head. “How?” Jimin demands. “How does my dad know?”

“Not sure.” Hoseok’s lips twist. “I think he went into town this morning, and some of his buddies told him. Apparently, news of the extension leaked online.”

Jimin is utterly still, already coming up with choice words for his agent. He knew this could happen, despite his request to keep this quiet. Sometimes teams leak the news to increase the pressure on players. Other times, another team in the league does it to spur a trade. Jimin hoped he’d have until the new year but apparently, the choice has been made for him.

“Well, fuck,” he mutters.

Hoseok just nods. “Yeah. I heard your mom and dad talking about it when I came downstairs.”

Jimin pauses, glancing at the door. “Have you just… been waiting out in the hall for me?”

“Yeah. I kept pretending to forget things in our room. Jisoo may or may not have caught on.”

“Great.” Jimin decides to push past this. “Did he… I mean, how did my dad seem?”

Hoseok frowns. “Quiet. I don’t know. He went into his office and didn’t come out until your mom started breakfast.”

Shit. Running a hand through his hair, Jimin exhales. “Alright,” he says. “Well, I guess there’s no point in putting things off.”

“Probably not.”

Nodding, Jimin turns to pull open the door and Hoseok’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Yeah?” Jimin asks, turning around.

“Just letting you know that I’m here for you,” Hoseok says, stepping into the hall. “I may be married to your sister, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jimin says quietly.

Squaring his shoulders, he follows him down the hall and into the kitchen. All voices cease. His mom’s spatula clatters against the bowl, and Jisoo falls silent at the kitchen table. Even you turn to face him, a mug of coffee in hand.

Jimin moves forward. “Hey,” he says tentatively. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Jimin!” says his mom, shooting a look at his dad.

Jimin’s dad pushes himself up from the table. “Jimin, can we talk?” he asks, gesturing towards the door. Based on his tone, this isn’t so much a request as a statement.

Although his stomach twists, Jimin manages a nod. “Sure, dad.”

He leaves the room, not looking behind to see if Jimin follows. Taking a deep breath, Jimin follows. When he nears the door, he feels a hand on his elbow. Gripping him tightly, you turn Jimin to face you.

“Hey,” you murmur. “Whatever your dad says – I’m here, okay? I believe in you, Jimin. No matter what.”

There’s steel to your voice, making him believe every word. No hint of weirdness from this morning remains, unraveling an unknown knot in his chest.

“Thank you,” Jimin rasps, gaining the strength to follow his dad.

The door to his dad’s study is as familiar as Jimin’s childhood, known as the only place off-limits to play in. Entering now, Jimin shuts the door and turns around.

His dad sits on the edge of his desk, hands clasped, and face lined. Jimin steps closer, about to plead his case but his dad holds up a hand.

“I think it’s best if I spoke first,” he says quietly.

Jimin stops, then nods.

Exhaling lowly, his dad drags a hand down his face. For the first time, Jimin notices moisture in the corners of his eyes when he looks up. “I heard this morning your contract is up for extension.”

Jimin decides honesty is best. “It is, yeah.”

His dad swallows, and then nods. “When my friends told me… I told them they must be mistaken. I said you would’ve said if that was true, and then they showed me the article…” Steadying himself, his dad continues. “I spent a lot of time this morning thinking about this past year.”

“Oh?” Jimin finds his voice. “What, specifically?”

His dad’s expression shifts. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to create a relationship where you couldn’t tell me things. Of course, I don’t want you to get hurt on the ice” – his voice strengthens – “but I know you. I know my son, and you don’t start things you don’t finish. You worked hard this past year to prove everyone wrong – to prove me wrong, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

His voice breaks slightly and, hearing this, Jimin rushes forward. Pulling his dad into a tight hug, Jimin lets out a sigh that sounds more like a sob. They stay there like that, their first hug in nearly a year as Jimin slowly exhales.

For so long, he’s wanted to hear those words from his dad. They feel good, but oddly enough, it feels even better to know he didn’t need this. Jimin has worked hard this fall to divorce self-approval from others. It will always take effort to maintain, but progress has been made, and that makes Jimin happier than anything else.

Pulling back, Jimin’s dad smiles. “We can go back now,” he laughs. “I know your mother made waffles. I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. And you can talk to me about the contract if you want. There’s no need to keep things from us any longer.”

“Thanks, dad,” Jimin says.

His dad nods once, pulling open the door to gesture at the hall. As Jimin follows him out, you’re the first person he thinks of. Your face, saying you’d support him no matter what. This morning when you sighed his name into his t-shirt. Jimin recalls all the seconds, minutes, days he wanted you by his side this fall and knows he needs to tell you what he wants.

Even if you break his heart, Jimin needs you to know that it’s yours.

Something has changed since this morning.

Well, obviously something has changed. You woke up with your body flush against Jimin, one of your thighs flung over his delicious ass. You nearly came just from dry humping him, already close from the dirty dream you were having – about Jimin, no less. Something has changed though, and that something is you – because you’re no longer concerned about what might happen. About what hurt might befall you if you confess and it fails.

You want Jimin. You love Jimin, you never stopped, and you need him to know that. You just have to figure out how.

That’s proving to be the hard part. Jimin returned with his dad at breakfast, looking relaxed for the first time all trip, and his mom immediately suggested wrapping the gifts. You helped the twins wrap all morning, glitter getting everywhere, and once lunch ended, you needed to get ready for the Christmas Eve party.

Trying to cut down on time, you got ready down the hall – which proved to be a mistake, since it meant you didn’t see Jimin until going downstairs. He went all out this year, and part of you wonders if he did it on purpose. His hair has been slicked, styled away from his face in a wholly devastating manner. He’s wearing a taupe suit he once wore for an interview, a dark turtleneck beneath hugging his pecs in a way that’s distracting.

You only drove two cars tonight, and somehow you ended up in a van with Jimin and his parents. Not that you mind their company – you love Jimin’s parents, but his outfit is rated NC-17. For twenty minutes, you’re forced to sit next to Jimin and not say how good he looks in that suit.

Even at the party, your attention is immediately monopolized by neighbors and friends. Forcing a smile, you nod at the appropriate times in conversation, but your attention is elsewhere. It’s not anyone’s fault, but they just can’t compete with your ex-boyfriend. Slash pretend boyfriend. Slash man you want to be your boyfriend.

An hour into the party, you excuse yourself for the bathroom, shutting yourself in a stall to lower the lid and sit down. From there, you pull out your phone and scroll through the texts.

Namjoon: you did WHAT?! [7:14 PM]

Yoongi: they dry humped, Namjoon [7:16 PM]

Namjoon: Yes, I ‘m aware – my exclamation was one of shock, not confusion [7:17 PM]

Namjoon: what does this mean?? [7:17 PM]

Yoongi: Isn’t it obvious? They’re getting back together. Why else would she fly halfway across the country for Christmas? [7:18 PM]

Scowling darkly, you text them both back.

Y/N: excuse me, I never said anything about getting back together [7:21 PM]

Namjoon: you didn’t need to – Yoongi is right, Y/N [7:21 PM]

Yoongi: per usual [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: you said when you left that you were scared to get hurt because you still had feelings for him [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: well, this is you, having feelings [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: and possibly getting hurt [7:22 PM]

Your scowl only deepens.

Y/N: I’m not going to get hurt [7:23 PM]

Yoongi: … has he said anything about getting back together? [7:23 PM]

You stare at the screen several moments before you respond.

Y/N: no… not exactly [7:24 PM]

Yoongi’s ellipses blink, then disappear and are replaced by Namjoon.

Namjoon: look – no one is saying he won’t ask you, okay? Just… maybe you should talk before dry humping him again. Make sure you’re both on the same page about what this all means [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: what Joon said [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: also – where are you? Hasn’t Jimin noticed you’re glued to your phone? [7:25 PM]

Y/N: no. I’m texting you from the bathroom, smartass [7:26 PM]

Namjoon: go back out there and have fun [7:27 PM]

Y/N: consider it done [7:27 PM]

Returning your phone to your purse, you use the bathroom and freshen up. Once you return to the party, you take a deep breath and scan the crowd.

This year’s Christmas Eve party is at the local ski lodge. The main lobby has been decorated within an inch of its life, the focal point being a gargantuan Christmas tree. Glass windows at the back overlook the ski slopes, butter-yellow light disappearing to shadows.

A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and you snag a glass for something to do with your hands.

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice calls, but before you can turn, Jungkook wraps you into a hug. Jungkook Jeon is both Jimin’s childhood friend and his NHL faux rival. Being from the same town, the media love to compare them at every turn – something that’s become a fun rivalry. The last time you hung out, his hair was much longer. Tonight though, he’s wearing all black with a sharp undercut.

“How have you been?” Jungkook grins, pulling back. He’s careful not to mess up your hair or dress, for which you’re grateful.

“Good,” you say with a laugh. “What about you? I hear the Kraken are leading the division – you must be happy.”

Jungkook’s smile disappears. “Not the conference, though.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing his perfectionism rivals only Jimin. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Someone’s got to be. And besides,” he adds, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s not like we have the best offensive player in the league,” Jungkook calls in a sing-songy voice.

A familiar arm wraps around your waist. “Did you two watch the same special, or something?” Jimin gripes, brushing his lips to your cheek. “There are so many good players, calling anyone ‘the best’ is kind of pointless.”

“I believe they totaled your points,” you say, much to Jungkook’s amusement.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Jimin sighs with a shake of his head. “And of course, Jungkook swoops in to steal you.”

“Can you blame me?” Jungkook winks, drinking from his champagne. “Look at Y/N! If he ever messes up, Y/N, give me a call,” he jokes, and you feel Jimin stiffen.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

He relaxes ever so slightly, squeezing your waist with one hand. Jungkook grimaces at this, trading his nearly empty champagne glass for a full one.

“You two are annoyingly cute,” he says, but he grins. “Seriously, though, you’ve been putting in work, Jimin. It’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” Jimin nods, toasting his glass.

“Have you seen Tae and Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, standing on tiptoe. “I keep getting cornered by moms wanting me to date their daughters, and I could use some high ground.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jimin jerks his thumb. “Alcove off the balcony. Everyone is gathered there – I was just coming to get Y/N.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook says as he leaves. “I’ll meet you there.”

Once he’s gone, Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung and Seokjin are two of their closest high school friends. Seokjin is currently single, but Taehyung got married early this year. Unfortunately, you couldn’t attend their wedding, but the ceremony looked beautiful, and you sent a gift.

Setting down his champagne, Jimin grabs your hand and tugs you into a corner. Turning to face you, his cheeks flush slightly pink.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking you up and down. “Have I said how beautiful you look tonight?”

Heat stirs in your belly. “Not yet, no.”

“Well, you do,” Jimin says, his gaze dark.

Admittedly, you were a bit unfair in packing this dress. Your original intention in buying it was to wear New Year’s Eve and post jealousy-inducing photos on Instagram. Instead, you’re wearing it here with Jimin on your arm. Silky and emerald, the dress clings like a second skin, dropping in the back to a point just above your ass. Slightly impractical, but you borrowed a coat from Jisoo.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over the silk. “You deserve to hear it again,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re being kind of unfair to everyone else at this party.”

“How so?”

“Poor Jungkook will have to find someone else.”

Your upper lip twitches, stepping closer. “Is that what you’re worried about?” you coo, sliding a hand up his chest. “That I’ll take Jungkook up on his offer? Not interested,” you say, allowing your gaze to linger. “You, on the other hand – that suit is designed to ruin hearts.”

“Only hearts?”

“Mm.” Softly, your voice drops. “Why? Were you planning on ruining something else?”

“Only if you asked nicely.”

Your eyes widen, stunned and Jimin smiles. His hands grip your body, cedar and black pepper scent wrapping around you and doing its best to make you come undone.

“Come on.” Taking your hand, Jimin turns away. “Let’s go and say hi to my friends. Everyone was asking earlier where you were.”

Slightly dazed by his former implication, you nod and follow. Jimin leads you through the crowd, bypassing everyone who attempts small talk. By the time you reach the alcove, Jungkook is already seated.

“What happened to you two?” he asks, smushed between Taehyung and Seokjin on the couch. “Making out in a corner? Couples are the worst,” he mutters to Taehyung before realizing who he’s talking to. “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

Taehyung’s wife, Alya, laughs from her armchair. “No comment. We may have been making out in a corner earlier.”

A lone strand of hair falls over Taehyung’s forehead. “Guilty,” he says, raising his glass.

Seokjin pokes Jungkook in the side. “If you hate couples so much, why are you sitting here,” he groans. “This is a two-person sofa.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook says. “It’s weird for you and Taehyung to sit together, since he’s married. I’m actually saving you.”

Settling onto an armchair, Jimin pulls you down with him to sit on his lap. His arm snakes around your front, pulling you backwards to rest.

“Anyways.” Jimin looks around. “How is everyone?”

Hoseok and Jisoo appear from the hall. “Oh, thank god,” Jisoo says, sitting between you and Alya. “This area was a complete sausage fest the last time we swung by.”

“Hey!” Seokjin cries. “I offered you a drink.”

“You offered her your drink,” Hoseok says drily, sitting next to his wife. “Doesn’t count.”

Jisoo leans over her armrest. “Y/N,” she hisses. “Do you have a tampon? They didn’t fit in my purse, and of course, my body waited until now to announce we’re not pregnant.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yes, of course,” you say, handing her your purse. “Left inner pocket – go wild.”

“Thanks.” Flashing a smile, Jisoo stands from the chair and disappears down the hall.

Jimin holds you against him, his thumb lightly stroking the ridge of your hip. Your entire body melts, perception heightened at each point he touches.

“So.” Jungkook turns towards Taehyung. “What did you get Alya for Christmas, Tae? Aside from the wedding, obviously.”

Alya laughs and sips her champagne. “Go on, tell them.”

Taehyung turns red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“What is?” Jungkook asks, glancing between them.

“It’s not.” Alya shakes her head. “Taehyung was so excited about the gift he gave it to me early. This morning, he surprised me by having our wedding bands engraved. I wanted to do it last year, but it didn’t fit in our budget. Anyways, he borrowed my band to clean it and got it done! I didn’t suspect a thing!”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “I love that idea.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Taehyung smiles.

“What about you, Jimin?” Seokjin jostles Jungkook to face him. “What did you get Y/N this year? What is it – four years?”

Jimin tenses slightly, so you jump in. “Oh, we decided not to do gifts this year,” you hasten. “There’s been a lot going on, and we –”

“I got Y/N a gift,” Jimin interrupts. “But it’s a secret until tomorrow.”

Surprised, you crane your head sideways to see him. “You got me a gift?”

He nods. “Yeah. Is that alright?”

“Mhm.” You shift in his lap. “I, um… actually got you something, too.”

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jimin keeps you still. “Oh?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You bought Jimin a gift months ago, and never returned it. When you were packing, you decided at the last minute to throw it inside – along with this dress and the skimpy night clothes.

“I want to know!” Seokjin blurts. “Just whisper it in my ear, Y/N. I won’t tell.”

You laugh, facing forward. “Sorry, Seokjin. That’s confidential. Mr. Kim” – you nod at Taehyung – “may not respect the sanctity of Santa Claus, but I’m not risking getting coal in my stocking.”

Softly, Jimin laughs, nuzzling your shoulder with his lips. It hasn’t escaped you that he stilled your hips to conceal his reaction to you on top. Something which distracts you more than it should.

“Get off,” Seokjin groans, pushing Jungkook upward. “I swear, you make this party worse every year.”

You grin, watching their antics as Jungkook walks off. Taller and heavier than Jimin, you know he only stood from the seat because he wanted to. Wandering to a free armchair, Jungkook flops down.

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” he asks, waving his glass of champagne. “I was just about to tell you the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.”

Alya and Hoseok both laugh, and Taehyung shakes his head. Conversation then devolves to the Seattle Kraken, and Jimin’s fingers dig into the silk at your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “Did you actually get me a present? Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I sprung this trip on you, and we’re not – well, you know…”

“I know,” you say back. “But yes, I got you a gift. Actually.” You pause. “I bought it for you a while ago and held onto it.”

“Ah.” Jimin pauses. Slipping his thumb beneath your chin, he turns you to face him. “Y/N. I just wanted to say –”

“Hey, Y/N, someone’s calling you,” announces Jisoo, walking into the room. Reaching into your purse, she pulls out your phone and frowns. “Who’s Mike?”

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Jimin’s body tenses beneath you, and you fight for a way out of the growing panic. Worse, everyone else seems to have heard, since all gazes lock on you. Struggling to breathe, you stand abruptly and snatch your phone.

“No one,” you blurt, grabbing your purse from a blinking Jisoo. “I mean, Mike’s a client. I should probably take this call outside.”

Before they can respond, you grab your phone and rush off. Brushing past Jisoo, you ignore her look of concern. Loudly, your heels click on the wooden floor. Whispers rise in your exit, but you ignore them, face burning as you turn your phone over in your hand.

Reaching the foyer, you stumble to a halt and glance overhead at the mistletoe. Purposefully side-stepping this, you see one missed call. In addition, there are several missed texts from Yoongi and Namjoon, but these you ignore.

Fingers trembling, you swipe open the text from Mike Davis.

Mike: hey, Y/N! I was doing laundry and found your Ventra card in my pocket. I think I grabbed yours by mistake. Want to meet up and exchange in the new year? [8:10 PM]

Mike: you know, I had a really great time meeting you the other night [8:13 PM]

You grip your phone tighter. He can’t be serious. The date ended so poorly, you were surprised the bartender didn’t film and put it on TikTok. Mike can’t actually want to hang out again. Orthink reaching out to you on Christmas Eve would be a good idea.

Brow lowered, your fingers punch the keyboard.

Y/N: Hey, Mike. You can keep the Ventra card, no worries [8:25 PM]

Deleting his number, you exhale in relief and turn around – only to run into Jimin, who stands right behind. Close enough to have seen every word on your phone.

Jimin’s fists clench, having read both the texts. There’s no reason to be jealous, he reminds himself with zero success. You aren’t dating, so it’s perfectly reasonable for you to text another guy. The fact that this Mike guy hasn’t come up is none of Jimin’s concern. And yet.

“So.” Voice cold, Jimin tilts his head. “Mike is…?”

He pauses for you to complete the blank, knowing you won’t say just a client.

“He’s…” Shifting, you avoid eye contact. “Someone I know.”

“Please.”

Your expression shifts, meeting his gaze. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you demand, stepping closer. “Tell your friends a client called me. They’ll buy it, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jimin growls. “And I could care less what my friends think.”

Bewildered, you stare. “I don’t understand. That’s literally the entire reason you asked me to come here this weekend. So you wouldn’t have to admit we broke up.”

Jimin’s heart flatlines. “Is that really what you think?” he demands, reaching out. Catching your wrist, he pulls you even closer. “You thought I was so terrified of explaining my contract to my family, I couldn’t possibly tell them we broke up, as well?”

Your brows furrow deeper. “That’s what you told me, so, yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Right. And is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

“This guy – Mike. Are you two serious?”

Your jaw hangs open a second before it snaps shut. “Are we – no, Jimin,” you say, the words dripping with derision. “We’re not serious. You and I broke up only three months ago! Do you really think I managed to move on so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admits, even as his head spins. “I didn’t–”

“I mean, god,” you exhale, ripping your hand from his grasp. “I go on one date, and somehow, I’m the bad guy. Never mind that you’re the one who wanted to break up,” you add, whirling around to jab him in the chest. “You” – a second prod – “were the one who asked to break up!”

Closing his hand around your finger, Jimin tugs you forward. “I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but I am. I’m jealous, and I’m wrong, and I don’t even fucking care because I miss you, Y/N. I know you’re right here, but I miss you.”

Something in your gaze breaks. “I miss you, too, Jimin.”

“I know I didn’t fight hard enough to keep you back then. I should have, and I can’t say how much I regret it.” Sliding his hands up your arms, Jimin grips your elbows. “I don’t care if you went out with one guy or a hundred. I asked you to come here this weekend because I wanted you. I was too afraid to ask you outright, so I used my career as an excuse.”

“An… excuse?”

Gripping you tighter, Jimin exhales. “I mean, everyone knows. My parents know I’m extending my contract, and they’re fine with it. I still don’t want to tell them we broke up.”

“Well, sure.” Your gaze darts across him. “Because you don’t want to spoil Christmas – right?”

“That’s not why.”

“Then, why?”

Before he can lose his nerve, Jimin slides his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You inhale when your chests touch, the silk of your dress rucking beneath his palm.

“I think you know the reason,” he rasps, his gaze finding your lips.

“All the same” – somehow, your fingers curl into hair at the base of his neck – “I’d like to hear you say it.”

Bending, Jimin’s lips skim your throat. “I told you I don’t care what my family thinks. I just want you, Y/N.”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head. Your lips briefly touch, then you still.

Jimin hesitates, his brain short-circuiting before he connects. Springing into motion, he slides both palms to either side of your face and kisses you deeply. Walking you backwards, he only stops when your spine hits the wall. Reaching lower, Jimin grabs your wrists with one hand to yank overhead.

You stare upward, eyes lidded, as your chest rises and falls. Jimin nearly groans, sliding his knee between your legs to widen your stance.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, crushing your mouth with his.

All he knows is your scent, wrapped around him. The feel of your mouth, the curves of your body arching against him. Jimin loses himself in the moment – in you – to the point where nothing else seems to matter.

Releasing your wrists, Jimin grasps the hem of your dress with one hand to drag it upward. Inch by inch, your bare thigh is revealed to his touch.

“Oh,” you gasp, your head hitting the wall.

Taking advantage, Jimin kisses roughly down your exposed neckline. Each time you inhale, it reminds him of your chest against him. Withdrawing, Jimin glances down and nearly curses. Whatever bra you have on does little to conceal your hardened nipples, easily visible through the silk of your dress.

“Mm.” Jimin exhales, running a thumb over the tip. “Can’t have you returning to the party like this, can I?”

Your thighs clench. “People definitelywouldn’t suspect we broke up.”

Again, Jimin circles your nipple, making you moan. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Like I said, though – this isn’t about the people out there. This is about you. What do you want, Y/N?”

Jimin holds his breath as he waits for an answer. Really, this is what it comes down to.

Your grip on him tightens. “I want you to take me home right now, Jimin.”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes.

Grasping you by the hand, Jimin tugs you into the hall. You giggle, stumbling as you fix the strap of your dress, and he can’t keep a stupid grin from spreading over his face.

“We’re leaving now,” Jimin says, bringing you towards the exit. “Otherwise, I’m going to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you like that.”

Your heels dig into the floorboards, and he turns to look at you, concerned.

“Oh.” You blink innocently. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a threat?”

Jimin goes still, consumed by images he’d rather not face. Visions of your panties pulled down, bent over his knees while he fingers your dripping pussy. Or your hands, curled around a doorframe while he lowers himself to drag his tongue up your slit. Or pressed against a wall, your panties pushed aside for him to –

“Alright – enough,” Jimin growls, grabbing your hand.

You laugh when he pulls you onward, bringing you to the lodge doors. Reaching the front, Jimin pauses long enough to hand the valet his ticket. While you visit the coat closet, he pulls you close and runs his nose down your throat.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” he murmurs, low in your ear. “Any idea just how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower this trip?”

“How sad,” you say, turning to face him. “Pray tell, what did you think about?”

Sliding his hand over the curve of your ass, Jimin presses you closer. “Lots of things,” he exhales. “Your pretty lips around my cock. Finger-fucking you slowly, making you take it. How wet you were beneath those ridiculous excuses for nightgowns.”

Your laugh is throaty. “I brought those specifically for you, you know.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin growls. Outside, he sees the valet arrive and releases your waist. “Now, let’s go.”

Slipping both arms into your coat, you follow Jimin outside to the car. He helps you in, shutting the door and traveling to the passenger side. Shoving a hand through his hair, he attempts to regain his composure. The two of you need to get home safely – that’s top priority.

Of course, by the time he sits down and glances over, all thoughts of safety fly out the window. You’ve left your coat unbuttoned, enough that he sees each sinful line of your body. Suddenly, his top priority is to get you home – now.

Shutting the door, Jimin puts the car in drive and pulls from the lodge. You exhale, somewhat breathless as you shift to face him.

“This is going to be fast,” you admit, a bit breathy. Jimin’s hands on the wheel tighten. “You said you’ve been jerking off in the shower? Well, I haven’t had any alone time. You’ve just been edging me for three days.”

“Don’t say edging,” Jimin groans. “I’m trying to concentrate on getting you home.”

“Oh?” Tilting your head, you lean closer. “Do you find that topic distracting?”

“Yes,” Jimin huffs, and then pauses. “Actually… I think you could use a little more distraction. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t miss the way your fingers still, your breath hitching beside him.

“Maybe,” you say.

Jimin glances in your direction. “Spread your legs.”

Without breaking eye contact, you spread your legs until the silk is stretched tautly over your thighs.

“Pull up your dress.”

Casually, you grip the hem to tug upward. Jimin tries not to look, watching the road, but the position is torturous. As soon as you come to a stop light, he turns.

Your thighs press against the edge of the seat, silken dress hitched over the top of your thighs. Jimin exhales, unable to see what he wants, but the shadows and skin are more than enticing.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, and desire flares in your gaze.

Arching slightly, your hand inches lower to dip beneath your dress. Jimin keeps his eyes on you, watching and waiting for your reaction. When he hears the slip of your finger, your lips slowly part as your eyes fill with lust.

“Oh,” you exhale, and Jimin’s body tightens.

“That’s it,” he breathes, listening to your finger drag upward. “How wet are you, baby?”

“So wet,” you groan, eyelashes fluttering as you spread your legs further.

“No.” Jimin’s gaze drops to your hand. “Press your thighs together. Keep touching yourself.”

The light turns green, spurring him onward as the night changes. He watches you obey in the corner of one eye, legs pressed together with your hand trapped between them. Head hitting the headrest, your chest rises and falls with the motion of your fingers.

 “That’s it, baby,” Jimin murmurs, switching lanes to go faster. “You’re doing so well. I want you to come once for me before we get home. Okay?”

Your eyes open. “You want me to come?”

“Just once.” Jimin lowly chuckles. “I know you, baby. I know you can come at least twice more tonight.”

“Fuck,” you groan, your need evident.

The record number of orgasms Jimin has given you in one night is five, but that was only one time. Jimin thought it’d be fun to see how many times he could make you come with only his tongue. Five, it turned out – or rather, that was the point you frankly begged for his cock.

A few minutes away from home, Jimin relents. “Alright,” he exhales. “Spread your legs again.”

You instantly obey, thighs spread as you groan, your fingers slipping lower.

“Can you stretch yourself for me, baby?” Jimin murmurs, the words low and thick. “Keep that other hand on your clit, now.”

Adding another hand, you arch on the seat. Every ounce of blood in Jimin’s body rushes towards his cock, enough to make things painful as you near the house. You push a finger inside, releasing a moan that makes his grip tighten.

“That’s it,” Jimin exhales, driving as carefully as possible over the dirt road.

“Ah,” you gasp when he hits a bump, jolting your fingers deeper.

Jimin clenches the wheel. “You liked that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing at him, your expression almost shy.

Fuck. Jimin does his best to angle the car, creating more friction as you rub your clit. He does his best to remain facing forward but is distracted every so often by the sight of your hips moving against the seat.

Throwing out a hand, you grasp his lower arm. “Jimin,” you groan, your head hitting the headrest. “I’m so, so close.”

Pulling to a stop in the driveway, Jimin puts the car in park and throws off his seatbelt. Shoving open the door, he goes to the passenger side. Your eyes widen when he yanks open your door, unbuckling you and dragging your hips to the edge of your seat.

“Eyes on me,” Jimin directs, gripping the seat on either side. “Just keep touching yourself like a good girl, Y/N. I know that pussy is so pretty and wet. Can’t wait to lick it clean later. Can you spread yourself wider? Add another finger?”

Your thighs fall on either side of his waist, enough for Jimin to know you can feel how hard he is. The dress continues to cover your waist, and he doesn’t lift it higher. Doesn’t so much as touch you, just keeps his gaze trained on yours.

“I need your fingers,” you whimper, and Jimin feels you grip his wrist, guiding his hand in between your slick legs.

“Shit,” he exhales, feeling how wet you are.

The slick core of heat, your hips arching against him, breaks his last scruple. Keeping his gaze steady, Jimin slowly slides two fingers into your perfect cunt. Relief washes over your face, your lips parting as fresh arousal coats Jimin’s hand.

“God,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers to pull out. Slowly, he pushes back in and watches you hiccup. “You really did need my fingers, didn’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimper, scrambling to sit straighter. Pulling him closer, your thighs widen. “I need you inside me.”

“In what way?” Jimin muses, stretching you as he pulls out.

“Want your cock, Jimin,” you groan, your chest heaving.

Pushing aside your coat, his free hand yanks down the strap of your dress, revealing what can barely be construed as a bra. The tiniest silk triangle barely covers your nipple in a flimsy excuse for support.

“You’ll get my cock,” Jimin promises. Lowering his head, he sucks your nipple – silk and all – between his lips. “Want to taste you first.”

“Jimin,” you moan.

“Patience.” Yanking your hips closer, he leans over you on the seat. Using this angle, he works his fingers deeper as your body tightens. “Like that, yeah?” Jimin murmurs, brushing your g-spot. “Want to come like this?”

“Please,” you whimper, spreading your thighs.

Jimin loses himself in the haze of your body, the tight slick of your heat while he finger-fucks you. Each thrust of his forearm has your breasts bouncing, your tiny scrap of a bra doing nothing to hide the movement.

“Once we get upstairs” – Jimin thrusts harder – “I want this dress on the floor. I want you dripping wet and naked, ass in the air so I can push my cock inside you.”

“Jimin!” you gasp, your entire body shuddering.

“And then,” he adds, low in your ear, “I want you to ride me. Need these tits in my mouth, your ass bouncing on my dick as you come again.”

You cry out, head thrown back as you come apart. Continuing to thrust his fingers, Jimin slows his movement as your breathing lengthens. Slumping against him, you hold tight with both arms.

As gentle as possible, Jimin slips his fingers from your body to fix your dress and coat. Shifting your weight from the seat to his arms, he shuts the door with his heel and starts to walk up the drive.

Stirring, you look around. “Oh,” you exhale, seeing the front porch. “Are we home already?”

Jimin stops to stare at you in his arms. “Did you… think I just pulled aside on a random highway?” he asks, equal parts puzzled and amused.

Sheepish, you feel your face heat. “Maybe?”

“Fair enough.” Jimin chuckles and keeps moving. “You should know, though – I wouldn’t risk anyone else seeing you like that.” He pauses. “Unless you wanted them to.”

You squirm in his arms, somewhat embarrassed by how much you like the prospect. Seeing this, Jimin’s eyes gleam and he leans closer.

“Seems like you might want that,” he murmurs.

Unable to articulate, you nod and watch his lips curve.

“Noted.”

Reaching the front door, Jimin bends to set you down. Once inside, he strips from his coat and boots, turning around to face you.

God, just looking at him is enough to make you weak. He just gave one ridiculously satisfying orgasm – it should be too soon for another and yet, your traitorous body feels barely sated.

“Was I not clear?” Lifting a brow, Jimin walks closer. “I thought I said I wanted you naked.”

You lift your chin. “Wanting is different than getting.”

“Oh, I think you want that, too.”

Fuck. You absolutely do, but you know Jimin enjoys being teased, so you lift your chin in the air to walk past him. “Well?” you demand, placing one hand on the railing. “Are you coming?”

You let your coat drop to your elbows, stepping out of your heels to head upstairs. Jimin groans from behind, and you hear his footsteps follow.

Entering the bedroom, you drop your coat on the couch and turn. Jimin stands framed in the door, several buttons on his jacket already undone. He doesn’t come any closer, and you lift your thumbs to slip under the straps.

“Was this what you wanted?” you ask, innocently slipping them down your shoulders.

Jimin moves forward. Coming to a stop, he replaces your thumbs and casually tugs. The dress slips from your shoulders, catching on your chest, and he motions you to turn.

Obeying, you watch in the mirror as Jimin steps closer. He meets your gaze head-on, slipping a hand around your stomach to mold himself to you from behind. Finding your zipper with his other hand, he tugs down.

Both of you watch the dress fall, silk pooling at your feet to leave you naked. Well, mostly naked. A red, silk thong remains, along with your bra. Really, just two triangles of silk held up by thin straps. Your breasts spill around the materials, creating a tantalizing visual his gaze is locked on. Jimin fingers the clasp of your bra, then releases.

“Actually,” he says, his voice husky. “I want to play like this.”

Before you can fully digest his words, Jimin walks around and grasps your hand. Leading you to bed, he sets you down and urges you backwards.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, nudging your ankles apart. “Just like that.”

Releasing you, he takes a step back to run a hand through his hair. You stare upward, propped on your elbows, your chest rising and falling. Jimin stares like you’re something to be savored, then devoured. His gaze traces your body, starting at your ankles to work his way upward.

He takes in your spread legs, dripping pussy visible beneath the scrap of silk. By the time Jimin finds your breasts, your nipples are painfully hard, and he groans, reaching down to palm his cock. Your breath catches, seeing how hard he is in his pants.

“Jimin,” you moan, sliding one foot lower. “I want you.”

Lowering his knee to the bed, Jimin plants a hand on either side of your head. “Patience,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to yours.

You curl around him, fingers tangling in soft stands of his hair. His fully clothed body presses against you, nearly nude, and you shiver. The feel of his suit against skin is intoxicating. Jimin pulls back to nip your lower lip, grasping you by the waist to pin you fully.

Thrusting forward, he allows you to feel how badly he wants you. His achingly hard cock grinds against your center, and you arch beneath him.

“Jimin,” you pant, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Ah – fuck,” he groans, helplessly rutting between your spread thighs.

Your hands fumble, slipping beneath his suit jacket to cast this aside. Jimin sits up, helping you shed his dark turtleneck. Thrown to the ground, he lowers his mouth, eagerly flicking your chest with his tongue. You moan, hands fisting his hair to anchor him. Tugging the other silk cup down, Jimin switches to suck a hardened nipple.

“Get rid of it,” you pant, reaching underneath to unsnap your bra. Jimin grins, tossing your bra on top of his pile of clothes. Swiftly returning, he bends to lick and suck at your breasts.

Your hips roll beneath him, desperately searching for your release. Jimin knows how sensitive you are, knows you can come like this, but doesn’t seem inclined. Instead, he sits back and runs a hand through his hair.

You nearly come at the sight – Jimin, shirtless with mussed hair and reddened lips. Pushing yourself upward, you struggle to undo the first button of his pants.

Chuckling, Jimin replaces your hands with his. “I need these on,” he says, scooting backwards. “I need something to keep myself from coming.”

“But I want you to come,” you protest as Jimin lowers himself to his stomach.

“And I appreciate that.” Turning his head, his breath touches your knee. “But I’ve spent three months fantasizing about what to do if I ever got to touch you again. First things first.”

Lowering yourself to your elbows, your entire body throbs at the sight of Jimin between your thighs. He looks at you, reverent, before slowly dragging his thumb down your aching center.

“Oh,” you inhale, opening further.

Gaze dark, Jimin pulls the fabric of your panties aside. Your face burns, hearing your wetness, but all that dissolves at the first sweep of his tongue.

“Fu-ck, Jimin,” you groan, head tipping back.

He takes his time, working you open with long, tender strokes. No man has ever eaten you out so well, and you doubt anyone ever will again. As though driving this point home, Jimin switches from tender licks to sucking hard on your clit. You moan, helplessly splayed beneath his torture.

“Jimin,” you gasp, hands fisting in sheets.

Shifting closer, Jimin nudges one leg over his shoulders and grips your ass with both hands. Pulling you into his mouth, he devours, licking up and down in a way that’s obscene. A half-sob climbs in your throat, your back arching when he adds a finger.

“That’s it, Y/N,” Jimin pants, lifting his head. “Such a pretty pussy. Can you come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp.

Jimin lowers his mouth, adding a finger while slowly sucking your clit. Staring down your body at him, you feel your thighs tremble. Jimin’s shoulders flex while eating you out, his hips grinding into the sheets to get himself off. Imagining his cock pushing inside tips you over the edge, and you break apart. A wave of pleasure sweeps through you, seeing stars as Jimin curls his fingers.

Muscles limp, you collapse on the mattress. When your eyes open, your thigh is still flung over Jimin’s shoulder. Grinning, he pushes himself upward, taking your leg with him. Turning, Jimin presses a soft kiss to your calf.

“Fuck,” you groan, one arm flung over your face. “That was even better than I remember. And trust me, I’ve thought about that a lot.”

“Oh?” Jimin gently sets your leg down. “Do tell.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “Take off your pants.”

Jimin drops his hands to his belt. “Tell me” – he undoes the buckle – “in explicit detail” – he pulls the length through the straps – “what you thought about.” The belt is dropped on the floor.

Your tongue swipes your lower lip. “I thought about a lot of things.”

“Be specific.” Shoving his pants and briefs down, Jimin lingers at the point where his hips are exposed. “When you touched yourself, did you think of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Mm.” Jimin tilts his head. “What about when you used your toys?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs on his bed. “Yes.”

“And were they good enough? Did your pretty pink dildo stretch you as nicely?”

“No,” you whimper, watching him stand.

Still looking at you, Jimin pushes his slacks to the floor. Your heart pounds when his length is released, so hard it seems painful. The head of his cock glistens with pre-cum, the thick veins prominent. Wrapping a fist around himself, Jimin places one knee on the mattress.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, and you hasten to obey.

Once they’re removed, you’re left naked before him. Gaze glinting, Jimin inclines his head. “Turn around. Lay on your stomach.”

Heat throbs between your legs as you do so, glancing over your shoulder. Jimin positions himself behind you, kneeling over your thighs with his cock in his fist.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he exhales, slipping two fingers into your pussy. Arching your back, you squirm to get closer. “When you come, I want to see you, but right now…”

You feel the head of cock nudging your thighs apart, getting wet with your slick. Leaning over, Jimin pulls open a drawer on his nightstand to retrieve a condom. Pulling this open, he rolls this onto himself and pushes between your thighs.

Each messy thrust rubs his cock against your clit, making you push your ass backwards. Jimin smacks your ass swiftly, then makes a low noise and rubs it.

“God, I missed you,” he exhales, pushing himself into your cunt.

You moan, burying your face in your arms to lift your ass higher. Jimin is thick, even more than you remember, and you feel your walls stretch with a pleasant burn. He pauses a few inches in to gently tug your hips upward.

Keeping your chest to the bed, he lifts you almost to your knees. Leaning forward, Jimin slips an arm underneath you to play with your clit. From behind, his hips slowly thrust in and out a few inches. Stretching you, yet barely sating the edge of your desire.

“Jimin,” you groan, turning your head to capture his mouth.

His fingers nudge your clit, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock gets even deeper. Each time he slowly thrusts and withdraws, you accept him a little more. Buried halfway, Jimin draws leisurely circles around your throbbing clit.

“More,” you moan, pushing back.

Jimin chuckles, retreating to grip your hips with both hands. He thrusts in slow, easy motions to work himself deeper. By the time he bottoms out, your hands are fisted in sheets.

“Fuck,” you exhale, thighs spread to accommodate him inside you.

Jimin stays there a moment, thumbs drifting over the shape of your ass. “Y/N,” he mutters. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

Leisurely, he withdraws until only the head of his cock remains. Jimin thrusts forward slowly, making you feel every inch of him. Moaning, you bury your face in the sheets, and his hand comes down again.

“Louder,” Jimin demands, gripping your waist. “Don’t hide from me, baby. Want to hear you.”

Head thrown back, you pant as he sinks into you fully. All you do is take it, breathless and eager while he slowly fucks you. Casually, Jimin pushes your hips down so you lie flat on the bed. One foot on the mattress, he adjusts himself to push inside you like that.

“Oh,” you moan, toes curling.

Thighs pressed together, your clit rubs the sheets, making it messy and tight as he moves inside you. Gripping your ass with one hand, Jimin anchors himself to fuck you in slow, rolling movements. You arch underneath him, gaining friction but when you clench tighter, Jimin pulls out.

A strangled sound leaves your throat. “Excuse me,” you blurt, rolling sideways to face him. “I was enjoying that.”

“Oh, I know.” Jimin grins from the spot where he kneels. His cock is hard, glistening with evidence of your arousal. “But what I really want is to have you on my lap.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Turning over, you arch your back and watch Jimin’s eyes glaze. He reaches for you swiftly, helping you onto your knees. Seating himself against the headboard, Jimin arranges your body over his thighs.

Hovering above him, you grasp his shoulders. “Is this what you wanted?’

“Fuck, yes.” Jimin drinks in your body. His fingers swipe through your cunt, teasing as he bends to suck a hard nipple between his lips.

Spreading your ass with one hand, his fingers stroke up and down your aching pussy. Arching against him, you present your chest further as your grip on him tightens. Jimin slips a finger inside you, casually fucking like that until you moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper. “Please.”

Moving to grip his cock, Jimin positions himself at your entrance. “All you had to do was ask,” he says, guiding your hips.

The head of his cock pushes inside, then stops, waiting for you to take over. Greedy, you seat yourself in a single motion. One second, you’re empty and the next, you’re full of his cock. Jimin swears, gripping you tightly as you inhale. Chest pressed to his, you stay there, pussy throbbing as you grow accustomed to his girth.

“Fuck – Y/N,” Jimin chokes out.

“I thought you wanted this?” you tease, lifting your hips to swivel. Jimin’s eyelashes flutter when you start riding him, rising and falling on the length of his cock.

Thighs spread, you grip his shoulders to move up and down. Jimin groans, lowering his head to tease one of your nipples. He continues this while you fuck him, sucking and releasing with a lewd pop. Needing him deeper, you start to bounce up and down. His cock soothes a tight ache inside you, stretching your body like he was made for it.

Breathless, you press closer, curling your fingers into his hair. Jimin responds eagerly, widening your thighs to grip your ass with one hand. Tightly entwined, you move against him until he takes over, slamming your hips down again and again.

“Jimin,” you pant, your legs trembling. “I need more.”

“More?” Jimin pants, his expression truly fucked out. “Alright, baby.”

Lifting you off his cock, he ensures the condom is snug and positions himself on his knees. “Lie down,” Jimin demands, and you hasten to obey.

Settling on your back, you spread your thighs for Jimin to move between. Gripping your ankles, he lifts your legs upward. Pushing them towards your chest, he exposes you fully.

“So pretty,” Jimin murmurs, dragging his fingers through the slick of your folds. Switching your ankles to one hand, he lowers them to his shoulder and positions his cock at your entrance. When he pushes inside, you moan at the tightness. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coaxes, getting deeper. “You take me so well, baby.”

“Better than other girls?” you pant, the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Jimin goes still, then gently parts your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Jimin leans forward until your lips brush.

“What other girls?” he murmurs, thrusting into you slowly. “Y/N. You don’t seriously think I had any interest in fucking other girls while we were apart?”

Your heart hammers as you try – and fail – to squash your insecurities. With everyone else, you have no trouble saying what you want. With Jimin though, you’re aware he could crush you with a single word. It’s harder when the stakes are as high as they are.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” you whisper. “We were… broken up, and –”

Jimin bends, rolling his hips to shove his cock deeper. Your words break on a moan, legs encircling him tighter.

“I don’t want to hear that again,” Jimin says, low in your ear. “You are the only person I want, Y/N. The only one in my bed. The only pussy wrapped around this cock. The only one coming beneath me,” he murmurs with another hard thrust.

Your thighs start to shake, but you fight to keep present. Hips lifting, you match him thrust for thrust as your fingers curl in his hair. Jimin moves faster, pounding you into the bed hard enough to see stars.

“I don’t care if you slept with someone else,” he says hoarsely, reaching between you. You tremble when he circles your swollen clit. “I just want you thinking of me from now on.”

“Y-yes, Jimin!” you cry out, not sure what you’re agreeing to, but knowing you don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want this to end when the weekend is over.

His mouth crushes yours, tongue sweeping forward to match every thrust. Jimin’s scent is all around you, within you as you begin to lose track of where you end, and he begins. Your focus narrows, becoming nothing but pinpricks of building pleasure. Jimin’s cock pounds into you harder, hands grasping, breath mingling as you come undone.

Gasping his name, you clutch him tight as your pleasure explodes. Jimin coaxes you through it, keeping his fingers on your clit to ride out the tremors. Once you’re slumped, fully sated, Jimin releases the hold he had on himself. Nearly withdrawing, Jimin slams his cock forward to fill your still-spasming cunt.

You cry out, thighs widening as he lets you have it. Fucking you with full abandon, Jimin hammers your g-spot in a punishing manner. Nearly as swift as the fall, you feel your climax building. This time, your body feels beyond your control, practically weightless beneath the force of his cock in your pussy. It’s all you can do to stay conscious when another orgasm rolls through you.

Jimin groans when you come, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock. Burying his face in your neck, Jimin thrusts deeper to release. Clasped tightly around him, you feel the warm pulse as he fills the condom. Bittersweet, you wish this wasn’t there, so he could play with his slick. Breathless and panting, the two of you lie there until Jimin withdraws.

Gathering his strength, he sits back on his heels. Removing the condom, Jimin ties this in a knot and tosses it in the trash. When he heads for the bathroom, you stretch out both arms, feeling limp.

And happy.

By the time you and Jimin trade places, your eyelids are drooping. Exiting the bathroom, you find the lights off and Jimin already in bed. You attempt to grab his t-shirt from the floor and are met with a loud throat clear.

“What are you doing?” Jimin huffs.

Straightening, you find him already in bed, the sheets pulled down beside him. Jimin looks pointedly at that side, then at you.

“I was trying to wear your t-shirt to bed,” you say, slipping between the sheets to face him. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’ll have you know. December in Washington. Brr.”

Moving closer, Jimin slips an arm over your waist. “There,” he murmurs, pulling you towards him. “Use me to warm up.”

For this, you have no retort. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers you should talk to him, that there are important things to discuss, but everything fades in the warmth of his arms. Eyelids so heavy, you can barely keep them open, you fall asleep.

For the first time in months, you sleep through the night.

You wake the next morning with a start.

Eyes wide, you stare at the wall and feel Jimin’s arm on your waist. Rather than joy though, panic claws at your throat. There were so many things you should have asked him last night. So many things you should have said instead of immediately falling into bed with your ex.

As quietly as possible, you slip free of his arm and stand from the bed. Grasping a sweatshirt and jeans, you tiptoe down the hall to swiftly get dressed. Gripping the bathroom counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to sort through your feelings. Twice, you pull out your phone only to hesitate, setting it down.

Today is Christmas, meaning Namjoon and Yoongi will be with their families. Dr. Germain, your therapist, is on vacation, although you know she would respond to an emergency. This could hardly be considered an emergency, though. This is just you, acting rashly and – your heart sinks, knowing this was exactly the opposite.

You want Jimin. You’ve wanted Jimin since the night you broke up, but were so near-sighted last night, you didn’t stop to ask if he wants the same. Abruptly, you turn and open the door to the hall. Heading downstairs, you sort through the facts.

Jimin apologized for this fall. He said he regretted not staying. He said he thinks of you often, and that he hadn’t been with anyone else. If this were last year, you might read between the lines and assume he still wanted you. This isn’t last year, though. Current you has experience with expecting Jimin to do one thing, and he does another.

Dragging a hand down your face, you stop by the kitchen for coffee. The only way you’ll be able to sort through this before opening presents is with massive amounts of caffeine.

Gazing outside, you see freshly fallen snow and wonder if it’d be crazy to go for a walk. Once your coffee is full, you pad down the hallway and slip on your boots. Your coat is halfway zipped when a throat clears behind you.

Whirling around, you nearly drop the mug as Jisoo appears.

“Oh my god,” you blurt, one hand on your chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize anyone else was awake yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” she laughs, walking closer with her own mug. “Two three-year-old daughters on Christmas? They’ve been up since the crack of dawn.”

Nervous, you laugh as your hand falls. “Ah, right. Is Hoseok keeping them in their rooms?”

Jisoo shakes her head, coming to a stop. “They fell back asleep – Hoseok, too.” Curious, she glances past you at the door. “Going for a… walk?”

“Thinking about it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“Yeah. I thought it might help… clear my mind.”

Her brows furrow, pensive enough that you nearly curse. You couldn’t be more obvious that you and Jimin are having trouble. There’s no other reason to be up this early, trying to escape into the wilderness rather than face your ex.

Plaintive, she takes a sip of her coffee. “You know, I know you two are broken up.”

Well, fuck. Someone will have to scrape your jaw from the floor. Stunned, you stare as Jimin’s sister takes another long sip of coffee.

Seeing your face, Jisoo steps closer. “You stopped talking in the group chat,” she explains softly, patting your arm. “And Jimin… well, he seems slightly better now, but we all saw how he was after the injury.”

“I don’t… we, we’re not,” you fumble, the words dying.

“It’s okay. I get why you didn’t want to tell us. Why he didn’t want to tell us.”

At this point, it’s too late to make any denial. Jisoo has already seen the truth in your face. You suppose the important part is she hasn’t told their parents – although part of you wonders if his mom knows, as well.

“It’s been a long year,” you admit finally, your voice cracking.

“Oh, Y/N.” Setting down her mug, Jisoo pulls you into her arms. “There, there,” she exhales, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry I brought that up. I just thought… well, I thought you might want to talk to someone not my brother.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

Patting your arm, she pulls back. “So, do you? Want to talk?”

“I…” You trail off. “It’s complicated. We broke up last September, but Jimin asked if I’d help him break the news of his contract to your parents. Things have been different this weekend, but I don’t know if Jimin is on the same page as I am. I want to get back together, but… he’s the one who asked to break up.”

Jisoo’s eyes fill with sympathy. “You should talk to him.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I know, and I will. I just… I can’t stop thinking about the last time we had a serious conversation. How badly that went.”

Understanding crosses her face. “I get that, I do.”

“He seems different. But it’s only been three months. Jimin is playing hockey so well – he seems to have his shit together, and I’m just a mess. What if I want to get back together, and he says no? Maybe this whole thing – the holidays, the hot chocolate – was just a way to say goodbye.”

Jisoo’s gives you a look. “Y/N. Listen to me – I know my brother. I knew within two seconds that you’d broken up. And I’m equally certain he still loves you – partly because my husband is a terrible secret keeper.” She shakes her head. “Apparently, Jimin asked for Hoseok’s help to win you back.”

You blink. “That… that can’t possibly be –”

Footsteps clatter downstairs, and you both turn your heads.

“Y/N,” Jimin blurts, slipping a little. His sweatpants are only half on, hopping wildly to avoid Hana’s toy on the landing. “Thank god. I thought you left,” he admits, rushing forward to grab both your arms.

Jisoo pointedly clears her throat.

Jimin glances sideways, then does a double take. “Have you been there the whole time?”

Rolling her eyes, Jisoo grabs her coffee and turns. “Merry Christmas, Jimin. Go and make up with your girlfriend.”

He watches her leave, then shakes his head, and looks back. “Are you okay?” he breathes, scanning your frame. “I woke up and you were gone. I thought…”

Putting two and two together, your eyes widen. “You thought I left.”

Jimin seems a bit queasy, but he manages to nod.

Taking another step closer, you grip his elbows. “Jimin, no,” you say. “My suitcase was still there. Didn’t you see?”

“Oh.” He blinks. “I didn’t notice.”

Oddly enough, his panic gives you the courage to speak. “I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted a walk. You know… clear my head. Think about what happened last night.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts?” you say in disbelief. “Jimin, we never discussed a first thought. You weren’t clear about what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t clear?” His brow furrows. “Y/N, I said I didn’t want anyone but you. That you were the only person for me. I apologized for September and said that I’m trying to change. What else could I have meant?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but you push on. “I know,” you admit, voice catching. “It’s just… well, I thought I knew what you’d say in September, and I turned out to be wrong. I was scared, and I asked for a break, but you agreed.”

Sudden understanding dawns on his features. Jimin’s hands slide up your arms to cup your face, his gaze gentle.

“Y/N, no,” he murmurs. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. I just… didn’t want to hear what you were saying, which was that our relationship had problems. You wanted to fix those problems, and I ran away. I’m not running now, though.” Determination flickers in his gaze. “Y/N, I want to stay. Whether that’s as your boyfriend, fiancée, husband, or something else entirely – I don’t care. I just want you.”

Hearing him say this, your heart swells. Unbearable lightness spreads through you, and you take a step closer. Jimin pulls you against him, hands finding your back as he lowers his head.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmurs. “I should have been clearer last night. I was, uh, a little distracted.” Jimin huffs out a laugh.

“I’m sorry you woke up and found me gone,” you whisper, tightening your grip. “I just… didn’t want to assume, and I was scared.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not assuming, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I will never stop,” he adds. “So, you might as well get used to this.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I –”

Jimin cuts you off, crushing your mouth to his. Bending at the knees, he lifts you over one shoulder and heads for the stairs. You yelp, smacking his shoulder but Jimin doesn’t stop.

“Jimin,” you laugh. “It’s Christmas! We should –”

“Celebrate our relationship at least once before everyone else gets up? Yes, agreed.”

Breath catching, you briskly nod. “Yes, yes. Good point. That.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest, carrying you down the hall and for the rest of the morning – until the twins bang on your door – you lose yourself in blissful certainty. Jimin is yours, and you’re his.

With no end in sight.

Seated beside you on the loveseat, Jimin plays with your fingers, entwined in his lap. With his other arm, Jimin brings you closer to brush a kiss to your temple.

Smiling, you face him. “What’re you doing, Mr. Park?” you lowly scold. “You do know we’re not alone, right?”

Jimin lowers his nose to your hair. “More’s the pity,” he murmurs.

Heat flushes through you, but he sits back in his seat. The Christmas Eve party this year is at the ski lodge again, and all of his friends have gathered in the same spot. Tonight though, you sit beside him with a ring on your finger. Jimin barely made it to the playoffs before he proposed.

Thumb brushing over the stone in the center, Jimin can’t help but smile. From far across the room comes the sound of Jungkook booing.

“We get it,” he calls, hands cupped over his mouth. “You two are disgustingly happy. Get a room, why don’t you?”

“We will,” you call back, snuggling into Jimin’s side. “Later.”

Seokjin laughs and elbows Jungkook’s ribs. “You’re only annoyed because you’re the only single guy left.”

Jungkook pouts and sits back. “True. What’s that all about? Why’d you have to bring a super cool, amazing date to the party this year?”

Seokjin’s date, Nova, laughs. “Thanks? I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Jungkook nods, then faces you and Jimin. “But seriously, you two seem very happy and I’m glad for you both.”

Jimin blinks. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Jungkook casually crosses his arms. “Your current level of happiness will make it all the sweeter when I kick your ass in the playoffs this year, Park.”

When you snort-laugh, Jimin gives you a look. Said look makes you squirm against him on the sofa, though no one else seems to notice.

“Yeah.” Drily, Jimin looks at Jungkook. “Because that worked out so well for you last year.”

“Ohhh,” Hoseok calls, entering the room with Jisoo on his arm. She’s noticeably pregnant, with a due date next month. “He got you there, Kook. Remember when you lost and now, you and Jimin are tied for Stanley Cup wins?”

Jungkook stares at him blankly. “Hm, no. Don’t recall.”

The entire room laughs, conversation shifting to topics other than the NHL. Squeezing Jimin’s thigh, you snuggle closer and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I am, though,” he murmurs.

You glance upward. “You are what?”

“Happy.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Happy you gave me a second chance. Happy to choose you, again and again.”

Breath hitching, your fingers tighten in his. “Easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so, so much for reading! HAPPY HOLIDAYS to anyone who celebrates!

[msfantasy-comics]

The Wayne Welcoming

Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary: A short story sequel to The Family Meet and Greet, where Y/n meets members of the Wayne Family one by one.

A/n: honestly… I don’t like what I wrote…. But it took me a whole month to write it - so I’m just going to publish it.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown

Steph keeps following Damian because she really wants to meet Y/n, Tim is following Steph to ensure her enthusiasm isn’t over exerted, as if it wasn’t already.

“Go away!” Damian shouts at the two who’s standing by the light post. Stephanie wearing her incognito hat and glasses. Whilst Tim just stands there out in the open with his hands in his pockets, not even attempting to hide himself unlike Steph, whose standing behind the thin pole as if it was a genuine hiding spot. Steph looks over her shoulder to see what Damian was talking about. As if her disguise wasn’t absolutely transparent. “Stop following me.”

Steph releases a small whine. “Aw but you two have been dating for like ever… I just want to meet her.”

“I don’t care, you weirdos will scare her off. I’ll never introduce her so long as I live.” Steph begins to swoon.

“Aw that’s so cute Dames, you’re such a protective boyfriend… too bad she’s here anyway.” Reaching her hand over Damian, Steph joyfully grabs your hand and begins to shake your hand with an unmatched enthusiasm. “Hi my name is Steph, and this is Tim! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Damian is sooo secretive! I tried to meet you like a million times but Damian always ruined our plans!” You begin to giggle, caught off guard for the unfiltered joy running off of Steph. Her over excited hand shake continues to the point of shaking your entire arm. Damian grits his teeth, ripping Stephs grasp from your own.

“Go. Away.” He says, eyes bearing into Stephanie’s soul, an earnest threat swimming in Damian’s ominous gaze. Steph winces at the sincere danger floating in the air.

“Alrighty, so what are we doing today?” Tim asks, immune from Damian’s demands.

“No. No. No. Go home. Right. Now. Or else I’ll call Conor to come get you.” The two besties look at each-other silently before laughing.

“… you know Conor would just join, he’s dying to meet Jon’s new friend.” Damian goes red in the face. You slug your arm around Damian’s shoulders in a friendly embrace.

“Come on, let’s seize this impromptu meeting! It could be fun!”

Jason Todd

You stood alone at the end of the red carpet, the cameras were flashing as arriving couples walk the velvet floor to have their photos taken before entering the Wayne’s Gala.

You looked around nervously, looking for Damian, waiting to walk the carpet with him. Instead, the ushers were rushing you to begin your walk alone.

Your requests to wait for your partner falling on deaf ears as they attempt to force you to walk the carpet by yourself. Panic filling you as the ushers continue to shout and push you towards to start of the velvet walk. You felt incredibly anxious to step out in front of the cameras, the attention was overwhelming.

Jason sucks his teeth, irritated that the ushers were putting unnecessary pressure and seemingly, ruining your night.

“The brat needs to pay better attention.” Jason mutters to himself, abandoning Roy with an eager gold-digger who is clearly not catching onto Roy’s disinterest. Walking up behind the beautiful girl. He loops his arm around your form, resting his hand on the small of your back.

“I’ve got things from here.” He guides you towards the velvet carpet and begins to stride slowly as the cacophony of shouts and flashing lights assault your senses. Jason digs his fingers into your side, grabbing your attention.

“Don’t pull faces, the press will run it for months.” He reminds you, pulling out his sparkling toothy smile.

You both walk the carpet together, before shortly reaching the entrance to the Gala.

“See first timer. It’s not so bad.” He says with his award-winning smile. His attention turns to a cranky Damian and Roy.

“I can’t believe you just ditched me like that.” Roy utters in betrayal as Jason shrugs unapologetically.

Dick Grayson

A drawn out yawn escapes Damian as he slowly stumbles into the sun room, ready to start the day with Alfred’s world famous onsen eggs.

But instead Damian is greeted by the most peculiar sight.

Shoulders touching, Damian sees his beloved girlfriend oddly cosy with his older brother Dick. More specifically, why the fuck is Dick slinging his arm around his girlfriends back, his chin resting on her shoulder as he looks down at the phone held in her hand. Giggles escaping the odd duo as they continue to watch whatever is on your screen.

Jealousy bubbles under Damian’s skin watching his brother touch his girlfriend in and oddly familiar way. This level of physical touch took Damian months to build up to, only for Dick to do it seemingly over night.

“Morning!” Dick beems seemingly, unbothered by the evasion of his girlfriends personal space.

“Morning Grayson. If you touch Y/n so familiarly again, I’ll break your fingers.” He threatens without so much as a blink.

The two sit, staring, only to break out in fits of laughter.

“Aw Dames! You’re such a protective boyfriend!” Dick cooes pulling Damian into a embrace, the scowl on his face looking dangerously similar to that of a cornered dog.

“Hehe, so protective.” Y/n also cooes, sandwiching Damian from the other side with a playful peck on his cheek.

“Oh god, now there’s two of you.” He mutters limply between his overly affectionate brother and partner.

Duke Thomas

The incessant buzzing amongst the couch cushions is ruining the heart-wrenching scene playing out on the TV screen.

On one hand, Duke is keen to remove the irritation immediately as to not further ruin his viewing experience.

On the other hand, Duke is not keen to relive the experience of finding Damian’s phone only to see a private message not meant for him.

However, the continuous vibrations running through the couch is grating on Dukes nerves. He cannot hold back any further. Stripping the cushions which were once perfectly place, moulding around his form, now strewn amongst the floor until Duke is able to find the black phone laying innocently under the seat covers.

Turning the screen he sees dozens of missed calls from Y/n.

Immediately, Dukes stomach drops to the floor as he quickly realises that Y/n may needed urgent help and instead of answering the phone like a normal person, Duke just tried to phase out the noise until it went away, all because of his favourite show.

Fumbling the phone, Duke quickly returns the call immediately, praying to any god that Y/n was okay and not dead just because he wanted to finish the last 7 minutes of the episode. God that would suck.

“Hello?” Y/n answers, her voice is shaky, as if confused.

“Erm-Y/n? It’s Duke, I found Damian’s phone and I saw your missed calls - AreYouOkay?” Duke blurts quickly. The line is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time because a snorting laughter blasts through the phone.

“Oh my god! Yes I’m okay! I was just calling Damian’s phone because he can’t find it! I promise I’m okay!” Giggles follow, which leaves Duke stunned.

“Why don’t you guys just use phone location services?” The line falls dead silent before another snorting laughter burst through the phone.

“Honestly I completely forgot that was even a thing! Hey do me a favour? Don’t tell Damian, I want to see how long it takes him to figure it out.” Oh Duke likes you. Damian’s loving girlfriend now pulling a harmless prank of the Wayne’s resident bad boy.

“Okay. $20 he finds the phone through some form of tech tracker.”

“$20 that he’ll use Goliath to try and locate his phone.” Oddly specific, but Duke is game.

Bruce Wayne

Damian would never willingly come to any Gala. Not without trickery, bribery, or blackmail encouragement.

But right now, Bruce stands in astonishment as Damian grills the poor event planner for not arranging for Y/n’s place at the VIP table.

“Everything has to be perfect. Please reset the table immediately.” Damian orders with crossed arms. Now examining the staff scrambling to reset the VIP table to ensure you had a place to dine next to him.

Shock was one synonym for what Bruce was feeling. He was sure Damian, would never set foot in the ball room, so long as he lived.

Yet to Bruce’s utter surprise, Damian pitched the gala event, hired the planners and set out the invitations.

Damian wasn’t just attending the gala… he was hosting the gala.

“I’m late for my red carpet walk with Y/n. Hurry up and finish.” Damian snaps, taking quick strides towards the exit.

Why was his dear son hosting a gathering he loathes attending? Why, it’s because Damian’s beloved girlfriend expressed her desire to one day attend such an event. She was in aw of the glitz and the glamour and wanted to try it at least once.

Instead of just taking his beloved partner to the next event. Damian insisted that if she was to attend, it will be the best gala she would ever attend.

So now, Bruce watches in delight as his children, who also never willingly attend a gala, along with Y/n boisterously bound around the hall, engaging with other guests, eating the hors d’oeuvres, clapping along to the entertainers and finally eating the delicious four courses whilst the MC engages the crowds interest, greasing the wallets of the wealthy for funding of social causes.

Damian’s eyes looking at his partner in adoration, gaging her delight at his hard work.

Y/n abandons her seat during the speeches to sit next to Bruce.

“Hi Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. My name is Y/n, it’s a pleasure to finally meet Damian’s father.” You smile shyly, sticking out your hand.

Your face is set with confidence, but your slightly shaky hand suggests your nerves are firing away with nervousness.

Smiling he takes his future daughter-in-laws hand and gives it a sturdy shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Y/n. Please, call me Bruce.”

Talia al Ghul

“So you’re the girl whose stolen my sons heart.” Your neck just about breaks, your startled heart thumping at the sudden presence. Your demeanour is reminiscent of a frighten bunny.

A scowl presses along her face in irritation and dissatisfaction. “You’re who Damian picked to partner with?” Her mocking tone dripping with venom.

“Uh… yes?” Y/n utters awkwardly, not quite sure what to say in the presence of Damian’s supposed mother.

She hums unamused. “This is going to be interesting.”

And just like that, she was gone.

[eemcintyre]

Reunion (Terry Silver)

TW- just a general warning for sex-ish things, lowkey body worship; nothing crazy kinky like some of my other content. Very tender and intimate vibes and yeah I got emotional writing it

Summary- You and Terry spend a night together in the bath after a long time apart.

Did I manage to publish the first post-CK Part 2 Terry Silver bathtub fic?? I may make some minor changes to this in the future, but I hope y'all enjoy <3

Y/N sunk into the foamy water and onto Terry’s lap, settling into his arms. The air around them was heavy with the steam of the bath, the sweet scent of soap and the lit candles dotted around the perimeter of the room, and the smoke smoldering from Terry’s cigar, resting in a nearby ashtray.

After a very stressful and busy few weeks, during which they’d seen a lot less of each other than usual, this was an attempt to make up for it. Both of their schedules had been cleared, starting with the current Friday evening, and extending through the weekend.

It was almost overwhelming to be in his arms again, and it was a relief for him to be able to hold her. For a while, neither one of them said anything, apart from Terry checking with Y/N that the water wasn’t too hot. Intermittently sipping from the drinks Terry had ordered for them, they merely studied each other, as if getting reacquainted, mutually entranced by the way the dim and flickering lighting of the room bounced off the exposed surfaces of the water and reflected patterns on their skin.

Y/N reached out a hand to cradle the side of Terry’s face, and their eyes met as he placed his own hand over hers, expression stoic, but melting into her gentle touch. She toyed almost shyly with the charm at the end of his chain necklace, ghosting her fingertips over his firm chest and the shimmery dusting of white hair.

Most of the time, Terry was not opposed to (and actively encouraged) drawing out the tension and elaborate foreplay, but tonight he needed Y/N as close as he could get her and now. Terry was almost harsh as he took the sides of her face in both his hands, pulling her to him in a passionate kiss. He dove hungrily into her mouth with his tongue, removing his grip on her face to pull her flush against him.

“I go crazy when you’re not around, sweet girl,” he murmured against her ear. As she gasped for air, he realized he’d hardly let her breathe between kisses.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, figuring he’d let her catch her breath while he laved kisses and bites down her neck and collarbone- although it merely took her breath away in a different manner. He froze, awaiting her reply. He needed to hear her say it. “Tell me that you missed me.”

She grinned sweetly, giggling in bemusement. “How couldn’t I, you fool?”

Anyone else spoke like that to him and they would catch hands- knowing this, she only abused the power and teased him occasionally. But, in this particular instance, she could see that this was no teasing matter and that his hunger for her to fulfill his request remained unabated.

She pressed her lips to his gently. “I missed you.”

She kissed one side of his face- “I missed you,” and then the other. “I missed you.”

She kissed the tip of his chin. “I missed you.”

She stretched to brush his forehead with her lips. “I missed you.”

No one had ever treated Terry so softly before- the sensation was so foreign and intense that it was almost painful, churning in the pit of his stomach, mixed with the alternately familiar pulse of desire.

The thoughtful silence was interrupted by the turning of the bathroom doorknob as one of the home’s many employees stepped in. “Mr. Silver, you just got a call about…”

Y/N froze, letting out a surprised cry, even while being halfway concealed under the water with her back to the doorway. Normally, Terry would find this sort of modesty amusing, and he certainly didn’t care whether he was seen in such a state, but for her comfort, he’d made it a rule among the staff to never enter the bathroom or bedroom when he and Y/N were spending time together. Terry threw an arm around her, pressing her to him protectively.

“What the hell are you doing in here? I’ve told you, absolutely no interruptions when she and I are in here together. Get the fuck out, now,” he bellowed, and after a few more sputtered words, the man stumbled over the threshold and closed the door, his rushed footsteps disappearing down the hall.

“That motherfucker’s seen his last day working in this house…” Terry growled as Y/N finally relaxed her shoulders, peeling herself far enough off of him to face him.

“Baby, now don’t do that…” She grabbed the bottle of soap from the side of the bath, spreading some on her hands and rubbing his shoulders soothingly.

After a minute or so of fuming, downing the rest of his drink as he kneaded her hip with his free hand, Terry finally relented, giving into her touch. Though he was still aching to take her fast and rough, curiosity got the better of him and he watched with reverent, rapt fascination as Y/N spread the soap across his shoulders and then his arms, before smoothing it across his chest and delving her fingers under the water to reach his stomach.

She finished the ritual by scooping handfuls of water over his soapy skin, acting completely oblivious to the way his cock had started to prod against her center- apart from the blush that tinted her cheeks. Eager to return the favor, Terry turned her so that he could caress the expanse of her back, tracing the path of her freckles. He coaxed her to lay back against him and began to brush his fingers over her nipples, pinching them just hard enough to draw a whimper from her lips before taking her breasts fully into his hands and kneading them.

One at a time, he extended her arms above her head, dragging his touch up the side of her body from her waist to her wrist as he did so. The gesture left her shaking and panting in his grip, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, maneuvering her forward in his lap again and resourcefully using his empty drink glass to pour water over her hair.

“You know, it’s the fucking tragedy of my life that I found you so late,” he murmured, lathering and then rinsing the shampoo from her hair, and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her eyes glisten. She would likely spend most of her life without him, too. But she also had the rest of her life to contemplate that, and the present moment demanded her attention, lest she regret it forever.

Feeling daring, she reached up to gently tug the ponytail holder from the back of Terry’s head. Though his posture tensed and his jaw stiffened, to her surprise, he did not intervene. He liked to be the one doing the touching; he typically didn’t like to be touched- especially to have his hair messed with. But this had started as an evening of returning favors.

She dampened his silver curls, threading her fingers through them, until the tenderness of the situation finally became too much for him to stand. He lunged at her, pinning her to the side of the tub and caging her in with an arm on either side of her.

“We’d better start making up for lost time.”

[theliteraryarchitect]

So... What Does an Editor Actually Do?

First off, “editor” is one of those words that causes a lot of confusion for writers. It seems simple—someone who works with words, right? But the truth is, “editor” can mean wildly different things depending on the context.

So, let’s clear things up.

When we’re talking about writing and publishing, “editor” usually refers to one of two roles:

1. The Gatekeeper: This is the person who commissions or selects work for a publication, like a magazine, newspaper, or publishing house. Think of phrases like “Her book was chosen by the editor at [Big Fancy Publisher].”

2. The Helper: This is the person who works directly with writers to improve their work. They might suggest revisions, clarify ideas, and polish the manuscript for grammar and style.

Both are called “editors,” but their jobs are completely different. To make things more confusing, in smaller operations (like indie presses), these roles often overlap. The same editor might choose your story for publication and offer stylistic or copyedits before it goes to print.

The 4 Types of Editing

Beyond the word “editor,” the types of editing writers encounter also vary widely, further boggling the mind. Here’s a quick breakdown of the four main types of editing your manuscript might go through:

1. Developmental Editing

This is the kind of editing I do, and the kinds of issues that are covered by the majority of my blog posts. Developmental editing:

• Focuses on the “big picture” of your story—plot, character, pacing, worldbuilding, and structure.

• Asks questions like: Does the ending make sense? Are the characters believable? Is the story too slow?

• This is the most intensive (and expensive) type of editing because it shapes the foundation of your book.

2. Stylistic Editing (Line Editing)

I don't do this kind of editing for my clients, but I occasionally publish line editing tips on this blog because I'm kind of a nerd about it :) Line editing:

• Works on clarity and flow at the sentence and paragraph level.

• Addresses repetition, awkward phrasing, and other issues that muck up your writing flow.

• Happens after developmental editing—no point polishing a scene if it might get cut!

3. Copy Editing

Once in a while I give copy editing tips on this blog, but they're usually wrong and I'm promptly corrected. Let it be known: The Literary Architect is a terrible copy editor. Copy editing:

• Focuses on technical details like spelling, grammar, punctuation, and consistency (e.g., making sure a character’s blue eyes don’t randomly turn brown).

• Think of this as quality control for your manuscript.

4. Proofreading

• The very last step before publication. The proofreader checks for any typos or layout issues that might have slipped through the cracks.

Whether you’re submitting to a publisher or self-publishing, editing matters. Great stories get rejected because they weren’t polished enough. And self-published books that skip editing often lose readers due to glaring errors or clunky prose.

If hiring a professional editor isn’t in the cards, learning to self-edit can help you get your manuscript into the best possible shape before publication. That way, if you do decide to bring in an editor later, they can focus on the deeper work instead of fixing things you could have tackled yourself.

Hope this helps!

/ / / / / / / / / / /

@theliteraryarchitect is a writing advice blog run by me, Bucket Siler, a writer and developmental editor. For more writing help, download my Free Resource Library for Fiction Writers, join my email list, or check out my book The Complete Guide to Self-Editing for Fiction Writers.

[yoomiwrites]

Can I ask for another Shanks and female Reader? That he doesn't see how hard is it to be a woman and all because I am SUFFERING right nowwwww

Awww, of course! It's a short one, but I hope you enjoy it and feel better soon! ♡

Period Pain

Summary: Shanks doesn't know how difficult it is to be a woman.

Note: It's short, short, tomorrow I'll post a similar short Smoker one, maybe the second part of the Ace one. Missing Ghost will be updated in two days! I just want to let it sit to proof-read it before I publish it.

♡♤♡

The sea breeze was unusually gentle that morning, but it did little to soothe your sour mood. The Red Force rocked lightly against the ocean’s steady waves as you sat on the deck, arms crossed, scowling at nothing in particular.

Shanks, ever the carefree captain, was lounging nearby, his arm draped lazily over the railing, a half-empty bottle of rum swaying in his grip. He watched you with an amused tilt of his head, noting the way your jaw clenched and the fire in your eyes flickered with irritation.

“You’re looking awfully grumpy today, sweetheart,” he mused, taking a sip. “Someone steal your last piece of meat?”

You turned your glare on him, and he raised a brow. “Oh, I don’t know, Shanks. Maybe because I feel like my insides are being ripped apart? And my back feels like someone took a mallet to it?” You gestured sharply to your stomach. “It’s called a period. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Shanks blinked. “Ah,” he nodded sagely, then shrugged. “So you’re bleeding a little. Happens all the time in fights.”

Your eye twitched. “Did you just compare my period to getting stabbed in a fight?”

“Well,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kinda?”

You groaned, slumping forward and burying your face in your hands. “Men,” you muttered under your breath. “You’ll never understand.”

Shanks chuckled, clearly entertained. “Come on, Y/N. It can’t be that bad.”

That was it. That was your breaking point. You lifted your head, eyes blazing, and pointed a finger at him. “Oh, really? You think I’m being dramatic? Let me paint you a picture, Captain Oblivious.”

Shanks smirked, enjoying himself far too much. “Please do.”

You stood up and planted yourself in front of him. “Imagine this: once a month, like clockwork, your body decides to punish you. You get cramps that feel like something is twisting your insides, your lower back throbs, and your emotions are so out of whack you could cry because your sandwich fell apart.”

Shanks snorted, and you jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not done!”

“Of course not,” he murmured, biting back a grin.

“Then, you get bloated like you swallowed a damn watermelon, your energy tanks, and on top of that, you have to worry about leaks!” You threw your hands in the air. “Oh, and let’s not forget mood swings. One moment, you’re fine. The next, someone breathes wrong, and you’re contemplating murder.”

Shanks, to his credit, at least looked thoughtful now. “Huh. Sounds like a real pain.”

You exhaled sharply. “It is.”

Shanks leaned back, looking you up and down. “Alright, I’ll admit, I didn’t really get it before. But I think I do now.”

You crossed your arms. “Good.”

He tilted his head. “Anything else I should know?”

You huffed. “Yeah, bras suck.”

That caught his interest. He grinned, intrigued. “Oh?”

“They dig into your skin, they’re tight, uncomfortable, and if you wear the wrong one, it’s like a personal torture device. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to wear something that’s constantly trying to suffocate you?”

Shanks’ lips twitched. “So… you could just not wear one.”

You shot him a look. “Shanks.”

He leaned in, his grin turning undeniably mischievous. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind.”

Your face burned. “You’re impossible.”

He threw his head back and laughed, pulling you into his arms despite your protests. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. You know you love me.”

You sighed, leaning against him despite yourself. “Yeah, yeah.”

Shanks pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice filled with warmth. “Next time, just tell me when you’re feeling bad. I may be an idiot, but I can at least get you some snacks or something.”

You smiled against his chest. “Deal.”

[sc0tters]

Just One Tub | Leon Draisaitl

summary: who would have thought that your freezer breaking on a hot summers day, would be the perfect start to your love story?

request: yes/no (was actually meant to be for a summer fic exchange but it is now December so…)

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking.

word count: 2.91k

authors note: so this was all ready to go in August before I totally fell off of Tumblr but I pressed save rather than post so I figured I’d edit it before I published it and now here it is!

You knew it was dangerous falling for him.

From the moment you knocked on his door needing a place to leave your frozen foods after yours decided to stop working in the heat of June. Leon was days away from going home after an anticlimactic end to the season, but when you showed up the idea of packing was pushed to the back of his mind.

There was something endearing about the way your voice cracked with panicked rambles as you begged him to hold your ice cream and frozen meals that you weren’t prepared to lose when your freezer broke. Leon didn’t know how or why things changed, but in the midst of offering him a spoon as you sacrificed a pint of mint chip ice cream that didn’t make the cut to join his freezer, he knew you were different.

And before he was even ready to snap his fingers, Leon found himself more focused on learning your quirks and less about packing his suitcase for his inevitable return home.

𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨

Leon grinned as your giggles were masked with soft sips of red wine “no I’m being serious!” He complained recounting the story of how he never cooked in his kitchen after the time he burnt a pot of cooked pasta.

You shook your head half-amused, half-concerned as you placed your wine glass down “I’ll teach you to cook sometime.” Your offer lingered in the air making his cheeks grow warm at the thought of spending more time with you “you don’t have to do that.” He shook his head not wanting to have you see just how bad his skills in the kitchen were.

It was bad enough that he already had your lasagne engraved into his tastebuds forever, and that was something you said you just ‘threw together.’

But it seemed that you were on a different page as a lightbulb popped above your head “consider it a thank you for housing my ice cream.”Your offer made him nod as he scratched his beard “I’ll be gone for three months though.” His tone was disappointed as he was still trying to figure out how to approach his pretty neighbour, and to this day he swore he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t knocked on his door.

So call him stupid but he was willing to ask your electrician to come over and teach him how to blow a fuse, in the hopes of getting you over more.

You couldn’t help it as you looked around his living room “what is it that you do for a living?” The hockey memorabilia that lay scattered on the walls dawned on you. Yet it still didn’t occur to you that he could have been a hockey player, honestly you thought he was a fan.

After all, a lawyer wouldn’t exactly have court memorabilia just lying around…

It felt like the world stopped around him as you seemed to be the only person in the building who didn’t know who he was “i-i work in sports.” He watched tentatively, almost immediately assuming that he was caught “cool.” You shrugged growing distracted as the timer on the air fryer went off.

Like puzzle pieces falling into place Leon realised that he could have been screwed “I’ll get plates.” No Leon was definitely fucked.

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙅𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

Just like clockwork as Leon came back you had caught on to what his true profession. It had been weeks of teaching him how to cook but now after days of radio silence from you, Leon had to admit he was confused when you didn’t schedule a weekly cooking session.

So as he watched you walk back into your apartment he couldn’t help it when he practically followed you in “are you okay?” His face displayed amounts of concern, as his voice made you freeze

The truth was that you had known for weeks after a season highlights video popped up on YouTube where you learnt all about what he actually did. And at first you really didn’t care, but when you told your friends about it they considered it a red flag from the German.

So with the logic of if he was hiding his profession what else could he be hiding, had made you pull away “I’m fine Le.” You had shortened the boys name highlighting that you were irritated “you know you’re doing that thing when you lie.” He crossed his arms following you into your apartment.

It made you furrow your eyebrows “doing what?” You tapped your foot on the floor partly intrigued as to what he could have picked up on “you hollow out your cheeks when you’re hiding something.” It was something always had your parents knowing you were lying and part of you was amused that someone had brought it up after all of those years.

So as the small smile formed on your lips you finally broke “why didn’t you tell me?” You asked holding up a newspaper that’s front image was of him in his full hockey gear.

It was clear you were more confused than hurt or even irritated and that’s what stuck with the boy most “you gave me a chance to be just me.” His confession had you cursing yourself for opting to avoid him “look you will always be just you to me.” You watched his lips form into a smile at the words.

He nodded running his fingers through his hair “but if I am fully honest with you then I hope to get the same back.” Your words made his heart bloom with joy, he liked being just Leon to you.

𝙊𝙝 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙤𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙗𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨

The boys knew that something was going on with Leon. First it started with silent daydreams in the middle of team outings, before they knew it then Leon started feeling much happier. The grin that was left constantly left plastered on his face served as only one of the mere hints to the fact that he was clearly in love.

So as any good teammate would, the boys started with basic badgering. In the hopes of getting to know who the mystery girl was.

But what the didn’t expect was that they’d finally learn about you when Leon wasn’t even around “hi Lenny!” You grinned looking up from your clipboard to see one of your favourite patients with someone you had never met, his dad.

The widened eyes were a clear give away as he laughed “thought Lauren mention that I would bring him in today.” Connor laughed as he held his hand out for you to shake “No it’s just that Le made you seem shorter.” Your mouth was never one for keeping you in check and today seemed to be no different.

Now it was the boys turn to freeze “you’re the girl from next door with the ice cream?” It made total sense, Leon’s description of you was bang on, and as your cheeks shone a crimson shade of red you couldn’t deny it.

It made Connor laugh “I hope that it’s the only thing the bugger has shared.” Leon had watched you break a blender upon seeing a spider in it and eat a cake from the floor that you spent all week making.

Lenny reminded you that he was there was he let out a bark, making you crouch down to stroke him before you started your examination “it is but he is like so clearly adores you.” Connor had to admit the joy he got watching you hide your cheeks as you so clearly felt the same way.

It seemed that you weren’t going to remain a mystery girl to his teammates for long because by the next week, all of them were changing their dogs vets to you.

𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

Years had gone by and Leon wished he could say that his curiosity about you had diminished. But as you integrated yourself further into his circle, he knew he was so incredibly screwed.

Day by day he was falling deeper in love with you “are you even listening to me?” Connor whined as he snapped his fingers in front of Leon’s face. It was the all stars break and as neither boy joined the list, they instead opted for a holiday in Mexico.

Leon practically begged you to come along as he didn’t want to third wheel, and knew that you deserved a break to be a good bit of company.

You were stood at the bar chatting away with some guy that nobody from the group had ever seen before “someone needs to remind him that he should go up and get her back.” Lauren smirked as she sat on her fiancés lap.

It made Leon roll his eyes “I am not jealous.” He shook his head cutting himself off when he heard you laugh “you sure about that?” The couple teased making him scoff.

Lauren knew all about how you were into the German as she had been up to be your shoulder to cry on during the many nights where he had left your apartment after making sure his outfits were good enough for the nights that he was going out on. His smiles and laughter as he spoke about the excitement of how a girl would invite him out for a night out as he prayed that you would ask him out.

You never thought that you’d ever see the girl outside of the center, but Lauren loved getting to know the girl who made Leon’s smile grow larger than she had ever known it to be.

As the blonde duo watched on they couldn’t help but smirk they watched him get up “you going to go get her?” Lauren couldn’t help but be somehow proud of herself as she had given you the confidence shot to get you over to the other guy.

Because of course whilst Leon had gone on these dates, you could never find yourself with the confidence to do it too. But at least this trip seemed to be your breaking free moment “maybe she needs someone to make sure she’s okay.” Leon shrugged as he looked to his took his jacket off knowing that he was going to completely over power the other guy in size and build.

Now Connor and Lauren would have totally be lying if they hadn’t rolled around to watch what happened in front of them “hey peach.” A chill came down your neck as you felt the Germans hand rest against your back.

It seemed that the American in front of you matched your expression “hey bro I didn’t know that she was taken.” As he raised his hands in surrender slowly backing away, your rambles of protest seemed to do nothing for him.

Leon realised that his hand was still on you as you turned to him “peach, really?” Laughter erupted from your lips as you shook your head “honestly it could have been buttercup.” He shrugged as you noticed the couple hide on their lounger when they saw you looking back at them.

You knew you couldn’t have been mad for too long “what was it about him that you hated so much?” Your question lingered in Leon’s mind as he sighed knowing that he couldn’t truly tell you what he thought. Because honestly, it was the fact that he hated how it was someone else who made you laugh the way he could. That was when he knew that he couldn’t try be with another woman ever again, you were all that he wanted.

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

Valentine’s Day had always been a bit of an odd day for you. It wasn’t necessarily a sad day, but somehow your luck always meant you were home alone watching Netflix with a tub of ice cream as you waited for your dinner to arrive.

Even as it had been almost a year, your question from Mexico still lingered on his mind with every date night he got ready for, because you seemed to constantly plague his mind, even if you weren’t in his presence.

You had finally settled on the couch when a harsh knock came at the door “what the hell?” You mumbled letting go of the remote as you got up again “I’m coming!” You repeated assuming that it could have only been an irritated delivery man with your pizza.

Your wallet was in your hand as you made your way to the door “Leon?” You furrowed your eyebrows seeing him soaked from the pouring rain “you are going to catch a cold.” You clicked your tongue as you ushered him inside of your warm apartment.

Your eyes traveled down to the bouquet that he held in his hand which resulted in him panicking as he thrusted the roses into your chest “t-these are yours!” He stammered forgetting all about the words that he had come up with on his walk to the florist.

It made you softly smile sensing his nerves “what’s going on?” You asked letting the door shut behind him as your hand reached for his.

The gesture made his heart bloom “I hated that he was the one who made you laugh.” His confession made your eyebrows furrow as you cocked your head “I don’t follow.”

Leon took a step closer to you “in Mexico you asked me why I hated the guy that hit on you.” His calloused fingers were rough against your cheek as you tilted your head to him, leaning into his touch.

His breathing was heavy “I don’t like the fact that there gets to be a guy who makes your world whole and he isn’t me.” The words seemed as if they had the power to freeze time where it stood.

You felt nauseous thinking that this was all just a dream as your mind played tricks on you “why can’t it be you?” The question painted the walls as his ears ached his heart pounded so loudly.

But that was the question that remained unasked for all these seasons, why was it that two people fit so well together but couldn’t find a way beyond mere friends.

Each of your families knew the other and at this point everyone saw it as a mere matter of time until you guys would be more than just neighbours.

The answer was on Leon’s tongue but his lips stayed sealed as his mouth went dry “I want this but if you aren’t all in then I’d rather not lose you than get the joy of calling you mine.” You whispered shutting the gap between the both of you.

There lay the answer as the atmosphere suddenly became warmer around you both “please say it.” You pleaded bringing your hand up to cup his own cheek.

That was all it took to light what seemed like a fire beneath his ass “I’m yours forever and always.” Leon declared dipping his head down to let his lips brush against yours.

You swore that the harps played as you melted into his touch letting your body mould against his “shit that’s my pizza.” You pulled away from him hearing a knock at the door.

𝘼 𝙏𝙧𝙞𝙥 𝘿𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙈𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙮 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙚

You swore you hadn’t dropped from cloud nine over the last twelve hours “you looking at it won’t make it any less real.” Leon smiled as he walked out of the bathroom “I just can’t believe we’re here.” Your cheeks grew sore because of how big your grin had been that day.

Leon had his towel loosely hung by his hips “and I wouldn’t change it for the world.” His voice was rough as he pressed a kiss against your shoulder “but I can’t believe you refused to join me in the shower.” He nipped at your skin, causing you to let out a gasp.

Your hand raised to softly hit his chest “well Mr Draisaitl you have to work for rewards like that.” It made him laugh as a knock came at the door “well I think that your husband deserves a treat Mrs Draisaitl.” The hockey player made his way to the door.

It made you grow confused as the sounds of someone calling “room service.” Came from the other side “thank you!” You watched as Leon shut the door bring what he ordered in.

There he held a tub of ice cream, the very same brand and flavour that you begged him to put into his freezer first all those years ago “you did not.” A laugh left your lips as he held out two spoons in the other hand.

The gap between you both closed to nearly nothing as he smiled “figured it was only right we started off marriage with how we started back then.” Leon placed it on the table next to you “what did I do to get a boy as sweet as you?” You asked as your arms wrapped around his neck so that you could peck his lips.

The comment made him scoff as he picked you up resulting in a squeal leaving your lips “don’t give me a chance to remind you that I am a man, peach.” Leon dropped you onto the bed as he crawled onto the mattress to join you.

Well it looked like that ice cream was going to have to wait.

Let’s just hope that it doesn’t melt this time.

[bulletswithribbons]

"Fucking hate journalists"

Kai Anderson X Fem!reader // NSFW

Warnings: Kai Anderson. You guess it. Very little plot, degrading, non-con/dob-con, mentions of murder, implied masochism, rough oral sex (m receiving), gun play, slut shaming, hair pulling, let me know if I missed any.

Summary: Kai breaks in your house to teach you your place after non-stop asking him back handed questions during the interview. Events eventually take a twisted turn, you were never that much of a good girl anyways.

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This is my first ever fic, I've read plenty and wrote smut before so I'm pretty confident. But first time publishing so here we go.

Interviewing Kai right after his campaign was not the best call at all, especially the way you kept pressing him. You knew you shouldn’t have but this is war whether he knew it or not. You took a vow on yourself to make him expose himself on his own. You’ve always been suspicious about him but you had no proof of your accusations, and calling someone out based on your gut is not really professional, especially as a journalist. 

Even though someone had to confront him about his mistakes and fear mongering, your questions only made things worse, for you at least. You pushed too hard, making him feel small in front of the media. He could sense your suspicion with every question, and it's clear you put a big dent in his ego.

You were sitting on your desk, ticking your pen as a form of anti-stress. A bit of a mess actually, papers scattered, pens strewn about. Newspapers and magazines pile up, post-it notes plastered everywhere and a coffee cup long forgotten. Your desk lamp sits on the edge, casting a soft, warm glow in the room. You've always preferred gentle lights especially when working, it helps you think.

Your thoughts spiral around making your headache worse than it already is. How could you possibly put him down, once and for all..?

A bone-chilling breeze whispers over the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You enjoy it while it lasts, a refreshing breeze in this stifling hot night. It must have come from the window behind you, although you don't remember leaving it open... It doesn't matter. Nothing does as long as you still have work to do.

Your slender fingers reach for your white blouse, unbuttoning it. Once removed, you toss it aside, letting it fall to the floor, trying to cool your temperature down. You're digging through Kai's files, searching for a gap to use against him. It wasn't your job to do so. But as a journalist of course, you'd investigate and research to report the facts and keep people up with the facts.

Perhaps it's because you take what he says in the media personally. After all, a part of you is a feminist, a part you're not ready to let go of, at least for the sake of all the women who fought for their place in this world. You see through his manipulation tactics because you've seen them before. You know a narcissist when you see one.

"Fuck!" You shout as you throw the papers off your desk.

"Hm, come on now, how dare you throw these papers. We don't want little big mouth to lose her temper." He tsks, with an overly sweet tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shocked, you recognize the voice as you feel something hard poking you in the back of your head, trailing down to your neck, detaching your hair that was hardly holding up in the messy bun. Cold, metal. Sudden realisations hit all at once, but most importantly is the outsider in your house -your room- you pissed off earlier this day holding a gun to your head.

"Mr. Anderson, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. What the fuck are you doing in my house?!" you ask, your voice rising towards the end. You're trying your best to stay calm. One mistake, and you’re dead. Young lady in her 20s corpse’ found shot in her bedroom because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Mr. Anderson?”He repeats after you, chuckling. “They’re always respectful when fearful.” A sinful smirk tugs his lips, a look of pride in his dark cold eyes after hearing his last name coming from your trembling lips. “But I would have to politely decline your offer. I’m here to fix the mess of a situation you’ve just created for yourself. After all, I don’t want to lose voters over something so foolish. Especially this… close to the election.”

"Like hell I—or anyone with a brain that knows right from wrong—would vote for you!" You yell as you stand up from your seat.

His jaw clenches and nostrils flare, showing his annoyance. His grip on the gun tightening as he lifts the gun up to your temple, his finger twitching on the trigger. His voice, on the other hand, remains eerily sweet. “I really think you should keep your voice down.”

You swallow, your throat drier than ever. 

His voice lowers to a whisper, "I see you started learning. Good girl, I'm proud of fast learners." He takes a step towards you, his free hand stroking your chin and cheek, his touch alone giving you goosebumps. The gun rests on your temple, his eyes darting around the room.Then his focus shifts back to you. "Get on your knees," he orders and pulls his hand away from your face.

“I’m sorry?” You rush out, your eyes widening.

“Now,” he responds, his tone dripping with impatience as he jerks his gun to signal his order. “Expecting company?” He inquires looking down at your —bra only— chest.

You crouch down on your knees, his gun still pointing to your head. “No,” you respond short and clearly. For a minute, you believe you saw him smile slightly. A smile of pride.. 

“You’re such an obedient slut, aren’t you?” He pauses, “You defied me, made a fool of me in front of everyone. That doesn't go unnoticed.” He whispers, his voice pitch getting higher towards the end.

“So you’re going to shoot me? Because I hurt your little pathetic ‘man ego’? Because I’m small and vulnerable while you’re big and strong?” You retort, fake amusement hiding your fear.

“You’re smart. Most girls aren't smart. Well, that was the plan.” His smirk widens, his tone sounding even more sadistic as he slowly traces the gun barrel around your jawline— tracing it slowly with the tip of his gun. You notice him staring at your lips. “But now, seeing how big of a mouth you have, I’m going to show you what whores like you are made for.” He informs, his tone bled dry of emotion.

“The kitchen and carrying useless men’s babies. I Get it, trust.” You lash out. Although you know keeping your mouth shut is probably the better option, especially in this exact situation. But that never really happens, at least not most of the time.

Kai’s grip tightens on the gun as his rage begins to seep through his body. His other hand darts out to your face and before you even notice it, a slap lands with a sharp crack, sending a jolt of pain rippling through your cheek and leaving you on the floor. It stings, you can feel a red mark in its wake. Leaving you feeling shocked and humiliated.

You were lying down there on the floor, your body stretched out, limbs motionless. There was no sense of ease in your posture nor the room, rather a stillness that borders on tension. Even the air itself felt stifling.

Your eyes widen at the sight of his free hand darting to his zipper, pulling it down tooth by tooth. “You see, you just know how things work.” His tone becomes condescending, he pops the button and grip the waistband of his pants pulling it down until it’s enough to pull his dick out. “You have such a delicious looking mouth. I'm sure it has been put to good use for the benefit of passing by men. I'm guessing you've had a lot of fun.” He grabs the elastic of his boxers, lowering them down over his balls and pulling out his half hard cock.

You stare at him, your face frozen in shock. “You’re sick!” you shout.

“Am I now? You're the one who's been around so many men in your life. You should be used to it by now.” He grins, his hand holding his gun and moving it from your cheek to beneath your chin, pulling it up, so you were looking at him. “You should be grateful I'm bothering to even look at you.”

Although the men you’ve been with aren’t that many, you don’t bother to waste your time explaining. He believes what he wants to believe.

“Get back here,” he orders as he starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip. A bead of precum glistening from the tip.

You crawl back to him on all fours, doing as he says, and getting back on your knees, looking up at him. “Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment before tilting his head with a small grin. “Isn’t that what you deserve? Do you want me to hurt you? Is that it? You like pain? Is that what you crave, y/n?” 

Fear… Regret.. Along with arousal.. Unwanted arousal specifically. You always knew you had a thing for troubled —twisted— men, but this is beyond fucked-up. Not to forget, he’s your worst enemy. He’s any woman’s worst enemy.  Feeling your pussy weeping in response to his tall figure towering over you is not really something to be proud of. The heat between your thighs only grew bigger every second and you knew you needed to get rid of the feeling.

He stops pumping his cock, his hand darts to your head caressing your hair with —almost— a soft touch.

“Suck,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, your tongue ready to curse at him, “I’m not going t-” 

“I won’t ask again, suck.” His hand darts up to your face squishing your cheeks painfully together. “You run your mouth a lot, might as well put it to good use. I’ll show you what exactly happens to smart mouths. Suck it like the slut you are.” His eyes burn with anger while he’s squeezing tight, his voice dripping with venom. The tip of his heavy warm cock caresses your soft lips, tempting you to bite it off.

He roughly lets go of your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to the back to force your mouth open.

He forces the tip past your teeth, hatred spewing from your eyes.

“Wider,” he demands, but you want him to beg. Beg for it on his knees and switch the table, be the one with the gun ordering him around like a house pet. Getting back your dignity sounded good but not enough if you compare it with its consequence, having your life taken away from you.

You ignore his request. Making him reinforce his hold in your hair, pulling at it harder making your jaw drop so he can get deeper to your throat. The salty taste of precum evades your taste buds.

You loved the taste of him, your mouth watering with his cock inside it. But you couldn't admit it, of course you never would. It didn’t take too long for you to wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft.

Your head bobbing up and down. A breathy moan escaped him.

“Do enlighten me,” he breathes out, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your tongue massaged the veins that swelled on his thick cock, flattened out on the thickest one underneath and flicked at the tip.

Ragged breaths escaped his mouth as you began to inch your way down, taking in more of him. The tip of his cock bumped against the back of your throat. Kai tightens his grip around your hair, and shoves your face down against his cock, making you gag around him, violently forcing you to deep throat his dick, making you gag. His length occupying your whole mouth down to your throat. You were practically choking, but he didn’t really care about it, he’s there for one reason and one reason only, teaching you to know your place.

“Fucking whore. You thought you were so smart with those non stop questions?” He pauses panting as he thrusts harder into your throat, the sound of you gagging and the wet thrusts echoing through the room. “Fucking hate journalists. Tell me… Who got the upper hand now?” 

You can't help but ignore him once again. It's not like you would give him what he wants and come undone beneath him, right? Of course you can’t answer him, after all you’re his number one hater. But even haters would give in when it’s the most mouthwatering cock a man can ever have. 

When you avoided answering, or maybe couldn’t answer since you were basically choking on his cock. His dick alone is enough to murder you if he wanted to. It only made him thrust faster, the asshole didn’t stop mouth fucking you even when he noticed your cheeks turning to a bright red and your eyes watering. Your cries turned him even more on. Kai forced his cock further into your throat, until your nose was pressed in the bush of his pubic hair.

Finally, you gave him a wobbly nod, motioning that he has the upper hand.

His head fell back to his shoulders, “That’s good to hear.. You’re learning, you’re such a good girl…Fuck…” 

You smile at the praise. Surprisingly, him being somewhat ‘sweet’ only made him ten times hotter. 

Tears keep running down your red cheeks, your cries echoing through the room.

“Just so you know, I’m enjoying this. Your whimpers are music to my ear.” He groans. “But god dammit don’t whine like a fucking bitch.” He spits at you and it lands on your cheek. Add it to the list of body fluids covering your face, along with the sweat gathering at your forehead and drool drenching your chin. 

You moan around his thick cock, sending him vibrations through his whole body. After all, you’re not putting on an act, you are enjoying it which is something you, yourself, are afraid of. But mostly you were focused on getting oxygen into your lungs. And maybe he is right, as always. Maybe there really is a part of you that enjoys the pain. That burning stinging sensation in the back of your throat. It’s scary because it’s true. 

His thrusts then began to lose their rhythm, but still managed to keep up with his pace. You knew what was coming for you. You shut your eyes, dramatically accepting your fate. Your jaw was already tired from him using you. His shaft was heated up, thrusting in and out of your red swollen lips. His hand gripped on your hair even more tightly holding you in place while his hold on the gun loosened. 

“My cock is a reward, tasting me is a blessing. Fucking thank me for letting you suck me off.” He says between breaths. 

No response, just a wet sticky cough. But afraid of his reaction, you choke out with a full mouth, “thank you.”

You could promise that you felt the disgusted face he did, “what a filthy bitch didn't your parents teach you not to talk with a full mouth?” He says while non-stop grunting like a wounded animal. That's probably what he is anyways... A wounded animal.

Few seconds later, ropes of cum spurt out from his dick into my throat, milking it after the abuse it went through when he was hammering into my mouth. He pulls out from your mouth and tug his dick back into his boxers then his pull his pants back up.

“Swallow,” he orders. “Fucking swallow my cum.” Kai grabs your face and presses his fingers into your cheek flesh.

Desperately, all you wanted to do was spit it at him, right in his face, but you don’t. You actually swallow like the obedient little slut he said you are. His seed slides down your throat, alongside your dignity and maybe your hatred towards him. 

Your fingers reach to your face drying up the tears that ran down your cheeks and the saliva running down your chin along with lines of cum. Looking up to him, you see him breathing heavily. His body working hard to get the oxygen he needs from how hard you sucked him off.

He looks at you up and down, judging you, it can't be anything good.

You expected him to do something, whether beat you up, shoot you, the least of it is spit at you telling you how much of a filthy whore you are.

But he didn't, and you were grateful for that... For him..

The taste of him still lingers at the tip of your tongue. You lick your lips unintentionally and in the most discrete way possible. Last thing you want is having him know you liked it and boost his ego, not that it could possibly needed any more promotions. But he already knows, you're sure of it. The way you sucked the life out of him like it was the best thing you laid your lips on, you can't hide that from anyone.

He turns and walks to the door, completely silent. What could he be possibly thinking about...?

He pauses at the door, turning his head to see you, he’s sweaty.

“If I see you run your mouth about any of my work, newt time will be much worse.” He promises, which you thought was kind of cute.. Promises… 

Zipping up his fly, and slipping his gun in his pants, he finally turns away and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

[carlottawllms]

Reputation

Mason Mount x Reader Angst / Fluff Word Count: 6.1K

Important: The article used in this is fake! It was only created for this fic and has nothing to do with reality! Please keep that in mind at all times!

I won’t lie, I’m very unhappy with myself. This was one of the most exciting requests I’ve ever received, and I was hit by a bloody writers block, which is why I ended up writing the what feels like worst fic ever. My apologies if this is utter crap.  

I hope you still somehow like it! Enjoy <3 And as always, feedback is very much appreciated.

“Hi, I’m Mason.” The young man, whom you’d only ever seen on photos, posters and social media posts, smiled as he stretched his hand out for you to shake.

You’d already seen that he’d won over many of your colleagues straight after setting foot on the ground not even 10 minutes ago. A pretty smile here, a soft giggle there, and everyone was blown away by the admittedly handsome man.  

Of course, a Premier League player working for a good cause in his spare time instead of being photographed for the next magazine could only be wonderful and you assumed that some of your female colleagues would try and shoot their shot, but you’d try to keep away as best as you could.

Yesterday, shortly before you’d called it a day, your boss had informed you about the new arrival: Mason Mount. You weren’t too much into football, but even you knew who he was. Especially after that one headline had been plastered all over the internet:

And that was the main reason why you weren’t happy about him being here and trying to lend a helping hand. He wasn’t here because he wanted to, but to redeem himself and his reputation. Showing his face while working for a good cause would make people swoon and he’d be in their good books with a snap of his fingers and the thought of the organisation that meant so much to you being dragged into a PR stunt like this made your blood boil.

A lecturer from your university had introduced you to the Holly Wilshere Foundation, a charity organisation that helped people and families in need with handing out affordable or free food, buying necessities for nursery or school kids and partial payments for e.g. school trips.

After having spent a couple of weeks with Holly and the other voluntary workers, you’d grown incredibly fond of the people who came there for support and putting a smile on their faces had become your favourite thing in the world.

Which was why you were very reluctant to let Mason be part of this and potentially ruin it because of who he was.  

“y/n.”, you greeted him briefly and shook his hand. “Has anyone already told you what to do?”

If he was surprised by your brash manner, he was good at hiding it. Mason simply shook his head. “No, David only told me to go and find you as you’d take me under your wing.”

“Lovely, that’s the opposite of what I asked for.”, you mumbled, aware that you probably came across as the biggest bitch, but you didn’t care enough to change your attitude. You didn’t need him to like you, in fact, the less he liked you, the less he would be around. At least, that’s what you hoped.

“We are having some sort of party next week for the people who come to us for help and there are still hundreds of things to be done for that. It's probably not your standard but now that you're here, you're going to have to pitch in.”

“I’m not too bad with my hands.”, he told you. The ambiguous undertone was probably not intended, but it still made you roll your eyes. “As long as you don’t make me paint, I should be fine. Last time I painted with my niece she thought my dog was an airplane.”

When there was no reaction from your side, Mason sighed quietly. It was obvious that you weren’t his biggest fan, and he couldn’t really blame you for it after what the press had published about him. It was all blown out of proportion and spun to attract more attention and generate clicks, but he already had a feeling that it wouldn’t change anything for you.

It didn’t sit right with him that you seemed to pigeonhole him, but at the same time he was aware how some of the people in the footballing industry liked to use charity organisations for their own advantage and you probably weren’t aware that he was patron for another foundation as he genuinely liked working with people – preferably away from the media.

“The party is the coming weekend, meaning we have about 5 days to prepare everything, whilst also doing our main work. Now that you’re with me, we can split the tasks so I can help a little more with our normal work.”

“Do you think I could also get to know the other work?”

“I won’t lie, I’m not a fan of the idea, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Mason hated that you were so cold and distant with him, but he was willing to try a little more. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to like him and despite you being a little bitchy, he felt that it was worth trying.

David had described you as a wonderful person, someone people loved to be around and who genuinely loved working here which was why Mason didn’t buy any of your snappy behaviour. Maybe you just had a bad day.

“What can I do? I don’t want to be in the way, so just tell me where I can help, and I’ll try.”

You nodded, thinking it was best to get him to work on something rather than having him talk to you some more, so you asked him to follow him into one of the bigger offices. The others had already put down everything you’d need. Paper, pens and everything for the party bags.

Mason, who’d followed you quietly looked at all the stuff, obviously unsure of what you’d ask him to do. “Well, the name tags have to be made, there’s about 200 of them and then the same number of party bags that need to be put together. There’s more to do, but I think you could start with the tags.”

“Yeah, sure. Shouldn’t be a problem.”, he smiled. Copying names didn’t sound too difficult.

“Here you have the list with the names and all the information you need. Can I leave you with those?”

He was a little disappointed you’d leave him on his own, but he agreed anyway and got to work. The sheet didn’t state anything other than the names, some of them super long and after thinking about it for a moment, he decided to stick to the last name and one letter for the first name.

You didn’t come back for a while and whilst he wondered if you’d just leave him on his own for the rest of the day, his thoughts just continued to travel around you. Despite your bad mood, you had to be a very kind-hearted person as you not only worked here in your free time, but also seemed to get along with everyone here.

And you were pretty. Very pretty. The kind of pretty that had him staring at you in a way he shouldn’t. He knew it was ridiculous, he’d just met you and you didn’t seem to be very fond of him and it sounded pathetic, but he really wanted you to like him.

When you got back into the room, you’d calmed down a little. You’d had a chat with Henry, one of your colleagues who’d become a father not too long ago and the pictures of his absolutely adorable daughter he kept showing you never failed to put a smile on your face.

That smile however faded when you looked at the name tags Mason had finished already. “It’s first and last name, Mount.”, you sighed. “Just like it’s mentioned on here.” You waved one of the tags someone had prepared as an example and Mason just silently looked at the example, knowing he’d messed up. “You’re about as useful as an ashtray on a motorcycle.”

He gulped as his heart dropped into his tummy. Writing name tags was probably the easiest of things and he hated himself for doing it wrong. A blush spread over his cheeks in embarrassment whilst he kept his eyes firmly on the tag in front of him.

“Sorry, I just…I’ll do it again.”, he mumbled. Mason was mortified, knowing you had to think of him as the biggest idiot ever, but you didn’t comment on it again. Instead, you flopped down on one of the chairs and grabbed a couple of empty tags for yourself.  

You knew it wasn’t a bad mistake, rather something that probably would’ve happened to you too, so you didn’t say anything and instead enjoyed the way the both of you worked away in silence for a while, the only sounds in the room being the sharpies gently scratching on the paper as one by one, the names were copied onto the tags.

Had you done some research before, you would’ve known that Mason wasn’t one of those people who could stay quiet for long, but as you hadn’t, him speaking up again only irritated you further.

“Are you here every day?”

“No, I have a paid job during the day and can only be here two afternoons per week and then every other Saturday.”, you explained without raising your gaze from the tags. “This week is an exception as otherwise we wouldn’t get everything done in time.”

Mason hummed understandingly as he slowly began to realise just how much dedication it took for someone to work fulltime and work for free three times a week on top. David had mentioned how much you loved the foundation and how much you gave, but he had never thought about what it meant.

“I like what you do here.”, he mentioned, trying to start a topic you might feel comfortable with. “You know, using your free time to help and put smiles on those people’s faces.”

“Look, you don’t have to pretend, Mount.”, you said as you looked up from the tags, eyes locking on his and if you weren’t mistaken, you saw a flash of emotion in them. “I know why you’re here. You might be able to fool everyone else with a couple of smiles and some carefully chosen words, but I know you’re only here cause it’s perfect for getting your good-boy-image back.”

Mason was taken aback by the brashness of your words. He’d suspected that your problem with him had something to do with the latest headlines, but he hadn’t expected you to be so open about it and as used as he was to being disliked, he felt like he had to defend himself. Especially as helping others was something that was very close to his heard.

“I really do like it, y/n. There are so many people, families and kids especially who need help. I’m part of a charity foundation, too it’s-“

You tried to block out the fact that he kept talking despite you not making more sounds than an uninterested hm or the occasional okay, but today didn’t seem to be your day.  

“Mount, for the love of god, please be quiet, I can’t even hear myself losing the will to live.”, you mumbled under your breath. It had actually only been meant as a low murmur to relieve yourself of the annoyance burning in your tummy and not for him to hear, but out of the corner of your eye you saw his smile disappeared from his face.

“Sorry.” His voice was quiet and the way he dropped his head to focus on the task at hand, had you feeling a little guilty for being so bitchy, but this ugly devil on your shoulder kept you from apologising.

You just had a really bad day. A really bad one.

In the office this morning, basically everything had gone wrong. Your boss had been moaning about your colleague who hadn’t met the deadline he’d set and then he’d handed it over for you to finish it within half an out. Another colleague had spilled coffee all over your desk and papers, causing your stress level to rise significantly cause less than five minutes later the clients whose house you’d designed came in to take a look at the suggestions only to make a complete u-turn and ask for the opposite of what they’d initially wanted.  

It wasn’t an excuse, but you were running low on patience and kindness today and you took it out on the next possible person: Mason.

For the rest of the day, you worked quietly alongside each other, writing the tags and once they were finished, you started with the party bags. When you eventually got up to go and find David, half of the bags were already done.

Mason sighed quietly once you left him on his own without so much as a word. He knew it was probably his fault. Instead of respecting that you were in a bad mood and didn’t want to engage with him, he’d kept talking until you’d snapped. “Just shut up tomorrow, Mount.”, he mumbled to himself.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to finish all the bags or at what time he could leave, but when he grabbed another bag to fill, David came in.

“Hey Mase.”, David smiled as he patted him on the shoulder. “We’re calling it a day for today, so you can leave to. Thank you very much for your help, mate, we really appreciate it.”

“Okay, I’ll head out then.”, Mason smiled. “I erm…”, he scratched his head, unsure if he should even propose it without having spoken to you first. What if he only made things worse?

“Yeah?”

“I thought maybe for the kids you know…it would be fun to do a little sports tournament and…I could bring some cones and balls from Carrington?”, he scratched his head. “Only if you don’t have anything else planned that is.”

David’s face lit up at Mason’s suggestion and nodded quickly. “Oh, that would be really perfect. The kids will absolutely love it. Thank you very much, Mason!”

-

When you came in the next morning, Mason was already there, sitting in the same office as yesterday and already back to filling the party bags.

He looked up when you stepped into the room. “Morning.”, he sent you a shy smile, but dropped his gaze back on the table rather quickly. The atmosphere was awkward, but you couldn't blame him. You’d been a mardy arse yesterday, it was no wonder he didn’t want to speak to you.

“Morning.”, you smiled although he couldn’t see it anyway. “We can set the tables in the big hall first and then get back to working on the bags. Bit of variety hasn’t hurt anybody, has it?”

Mason didn’t acknowledge your attempt at a joke to lift the tension, but he nodded and got up, following you into the big hall where the food would be served at the party. He didn’t speak at all on the way there, obviously careful around you and it made you feel even worse.

For a while, you set the tables on the opposite side of the room, whilst Mason did the same. Your gaze kept wandering to Mason every once in a while, observing how he was a little quiet and far from the energetic person he’d been yesterday, even when others came in to talk to him.

You knew it was because of you and what you’d said yesterday, and you kept thinking about a proper apology. Once you’d woken up this morning the realisation of what you’d said had kicked in and left you feeling like the biggest piece of shit.

Obviously, you still weren’t super happy with him being here and the potential scratch his name could bring to the foundation, but the way you’d acted had been far from okay.

After mulling about it for another couple of minutes, you eventually made your way over to where Mason was about to finish the first table.

Your eyes quickly flitted over the arrangement of the plates and you noticed not only that it wasn’t done in the way it was supposed to be, but more importantly the lack of the instruction sheet.

“It’s supposed to look like this.”, you mentioned as you handed him the missing sheet.

“Sorry.”, he blushed, trying to quickly rearrange the stuff as he was incredibly embarrassed at messing up another thing. The day couldn’t have started better…

“No, it’s okay, you didn’t know. I thought there was an instruction sheet out here, too.”

You helped him correcting the arrangement quickly before moving on to another table. Mason still didn’t speak, his gaze firmly set on the table and it as the minutes passed by, it became more and more obvious just how uncomfortable he was around you.

With a deep sigh, you placed the cutlery aside. “Hey erm…Mason, I’m sorry for yesterday, okay?” You squeezed his arm gently to make him look at you. “It’s not an excuse, but I’ve had a really bad day and took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I can be a lot. You weren’t the first to tell me.”, he chuckled, but in his kind brown eyes, you could see that he didn’t find it funny at all. He looked hurt – understandably so. Especially if people had actually told him he was too much.

“You haven’t been too much or anything.”, you shook your head. “Actually, if the day hadn't been so crappy, I would’ve loved to hear your stories.”

When Mason raised his eyebrows with a small smile on his face, you blushed.

“And you’ve been a great help. I know I said something else yesterday, but I didn’t mean that. Mistakes happen and I should’ve told you what exactly you were supposed to do instead of leaving you on your own and snapping. You’ve lifted a huge weight off my shoulders with how much you’ve managed to do and I’m really thankful for that.”     

“Oh, it’s nothing.”, he shrugged, but he couldn’t hide the bright smile. “Listen, y/n. I know you think I’m only here because of that headline and I won’t pretend it has absolutely nothing to do with it because yes, my agent told me that something positive would get me back into people’s good books, but he gave me a couple of choices and I chose this because I genuinely like helping people.”

His tummy flipped when he caught your soft smile. Now that you both seemed to be on better terms, he finally allowed himself to admit that you were incredibly pretty. Your kind eyes crinkled, and you tilted your head a little when you smiled and for some reason, he found it adorable.

“You’re a patron for a foundation, right?”, you asked, and he nodded quickly.

“Yeah, it’s a charity for children’s palliative care. They made me patron two years ago on my birthday and I know it wasn’t meant as a birthday present in that sense, but for me it felt like it. The work they do there is absolutely amazing and I’m really proud to be part of it and to help them and support those kids as best as I can.”

The broad smile and the gentle expression in his eyes as he talked about the charity organisation had your heart leaping in your chest. He meant every word he said, and it impressed you.

“I wish I could do more, but with our schedule it’s quite difficult.”, he sighed. “I think now that I’ve settled in here in Manchester, I’ll see if I can find something.”

The two of you kept talking while finishing with setting the tables and now that you finally got along, it was way more fun than before. Mason was a genuinely funny person and being around him was surprisingly easy. He had good jokes up his sleeves, asked about you and your life and he never seemed to be bored by what you said.

And he was a bit of a touchy person, never inappropriate or assaulting though. It was just a brush of his hand against yours when he passed you, his knee knocking against yours as you sat down for your lunchbreak or grabbing your forearm whilst laughing at something you’d said.

Soft and gentle touches that made your tummy flip from time to time.

“David told me about the idea you’ve had, you know? The idea with the tournament for the kids? I think it’s amazing.”

Mason tilted his head a little. “You think so?”, he nudged your shoulder with his, a hint of a proud smile playing on his pink lips you found yourself staring at more often than you should.

“Yeah.”, you nodded. “We’ve planned some sort of games and stuff, but we can’t provide the fancy things you can bring and the whole idea making it a bit of a competition is great. The kids will all love it.”

Once your break was over, you patted his toned thigh. “C’mon Mount, you asked to get to know the other work we do here. You can join me at the food station if you want to?”

You could basically see the way his eyes lit up as his smile grew even wider, making the dimples pop a little deeper.

After you’d brushed him off yesterday, he hadn’t expected to be allowed anywhere near what you usually did, so you suggesting otherwise felt like he’d won the lottery. As much as he liked assisting you with the preparations for the party, the idea of getting to see you doing what you loved so much and doing his bit too, was something else entirely.

Bringing someone new in was always a bit of a risk. You knew how much of an effort it was for people to come here to get cheap or free food for themselves and their families. Many were ashamed and saw themselves as failures and it was your job to make them forget that. A premier league footballer who earned millions of pounds in a year probably wasn’t exactly helpful with that.

But to your surprise, Mason was a natural with people and especially kids: Joking around with them whilst handing out food, talking to all of them and making them all feel welcome and respected. He was one of a kind, a gentle and respectful, polite and empathetic. He was special and you couldn’t help but smile.

-

The whole week passed rather quickly; too quickly for your liking and you found yourself being sad the second you had to say goodbye. You and Mason had grown close over the last couple of days, and you’d realised that you not only worked well together but would also make great friends.

“I know we didn’t start off as the best of friends, but I think we’ve made it work.”, you laughed as it was time for him to leave and Mason nodded.

“Yeah, I like you a little more now.”, he chuckled as he nudged your shoulder gently.

“Seriously though, thank you for helping Mase. You’ve done a lot and I know all the kids will love the tournament. You’ve been great with all of them, and I know you probably won’t be able to make it, but you’re of course invited for the party tomorrow.”

Mason smiled at you softly. “I’ll see what I can do, y/n. Thank you for having me and letting me be part of this amazing team. I genuinely enjoyed being here.”

“Take care Mase. Get home safely.”

“I will.” He leaned down and to your utter surprise pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, making you blush deeply before pulling you into a hug. “See you around.”

-

The party had started about an hour ago and so far, everyone was enjoying it. You were mingling with the crowd as you tried to speak to as many as possible, but your eyes kept wandering over to the entrance door, hoping he’d show up.

It was difficult for him, you knew that. From what you’d understood training had re-started today after the small break they’d had and you didn’t think he’d actually have time to come, but the tiny bit of hope inside of you was relentless and kept you on your toes.

“I hate to interrupt.”, David smiled apologizingly at Liza you were just talking to. “I need to steal her for a moment.”  

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no, everything’s fine. I just need you for something real quick.” David didn’t say any more than that as he pulled you away from the crowd and into the office section of the building. “It’s a bit of a surprise.”

He steered you towards the end of the hallway and when you eventually entered one, you were met with three young men. You furrowed your brows at David, wondering why he would present you three people you’d never seen before as a surprise.

“Right, I forgot you have no clue.”, he laughed. “This is Marcus Rashford, Luke Shaw and Lisandro Martinez. They all play for United.”

United players? What the hell?

“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you.” The first one, Marcus apparently, held his hand out for you to shake. “Mase has told us lots about you and this organisation and since we had time and love what you’re doing here, we thought we’d stop by after training.”

It wasn’t typical for you, but you were actually speechless as you shook the other’s hands as well. Mason had spoken to his teammates about the charity and you? But as happy as it made you, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that his teammates had made it, whilst he hadn’t.

“Wow…erm…well thank you for coming.”, you stuttered, sending them all a grateful smile. “The tournament will start in about 10 minutes so if you want to see everything, I can show you around a little.”

“Oh, I’ll do that. They brought some paperwork you will have to look through. It’s about the prizes.” David didn’t give you any chance to protest as he took the three players with him, leaving you on your own with the paperwork.

“Prizes?”, you mumbled as you skimmed the papers in front of you. “What prizes?”

You flinched as hands came to rest on your shoulders and a quick kiss was pressed to your cheek. “Well, what’s a competition without a prize, hm?” His voice was deep and very close to your ear, his lips just about brushing against it as he spoke, and it sent chills down your back.

“Mase? What the fuck?” Turning your head, you smiled brightly, eyes locking on his warm ones and the way he was so close nearly cost you your composure. “You really came.”

“Did you actually think I’d miss this?”, he laughed. “C’mon give me a hug you muppet.”

In the blink of an eye, you were up from your seat and fell straight into his arms, head smushed into his chest as your arms wrapped around his waist. Mason’s heart skipped a beat at the close proximity and your scent filling his nose. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he’d missed you.

He squeezed your smaller body tightly, causing you to chuckle and eventually pull away.

“I can’t believe you actually came and brought teammates. You could’ve told me.” Lightly, you hit his chest in jest, shaking your head.

“Well, that would’ve been too boring.”, he shrugged. “Also until around lunchtime I wasn’t even sure we would make it cause the gaffer kept sending us on new rounds around the pitch.”

Mason grabbed the papers from the table. “And now about the prizes. You’ll find I’ve not only spoken to Luke, Rashy and Licha, but also to our manager. Him and I, we’ve convinced the club of inviting all the kids for a tour at Carrington. Well, the kids and the staff obviously.”

You gasped at that, not believing any of what he was saying, but Mason simply smiled.

“Some of us will be there too. The kids will get to play a bit of football with us, ask all the questions they want and then will also get to see Old Trafford.”

“Mase, no that’s too much, seriously, we can’t-“ But he didn’t let you finish, simply shutting you up by pressing his finger to your lips.

“That’s not all. At the moment it’s still a maybe cause I’m waiting for the final confirmation, but I’m trying to get them tickets to watch a game this season. And I promise you, no media at all. Not at Carrington, not at Old Trafford and it won’t be mentioned for the game either.”

You had to try hard to keep your tears at bay, but you were sure he could see how your eyes had welled up as he cupped your cheek with his warm hand.

“No, Mase we can’t-“

“But you can, y/n.”, he interrupted you again, tilting your head back a little so he could catch your eyes. “Please.”

The second he dropped his bottom lip, you knew you were a goner. No one would ever be able to say no to those big brown puppy eyes and that adorable pout of his.

“Mason, that’s…wow…I don’t really know what to say. They will love you so much for it.”

“I don’t want to be mentioned anywhere. This will come from the foundation, not from me.”, he kissed your forehead gently. “All of you here do so much for the kids and it’s so obvious just how much it means to you. You are the heroes and I know all the parents and adults know that already, but with this you could be the heroes for the kids too.”

As a tear dropped from your eye, Mason was quick to catch it with his thumb. “After I got to see your space here, I can’t wait for you to see mine. Okay?”

“Okay.”, you whispered, completely overwhelmed by the emotions shooting through you. “You’re insane, Mason Mount.”

With the exception of the small tournament, where he ran through the disciplines with his teammates and the kids, Mason spent the entire day by your side. His hand kept sneaking on the small of your back or the back of your chair, always searching for some physical contact and whilst you normally weren’t too much into it, you actually enjoyed it.

And just like the whole week, the afternoon passed way too quickly and sooner than you wished, it was time for them all to leave.

“Thank you so much for being here today. You’ve made those kids’ days. They won’t shut up about this for the next weeks, if not months. Also please send the biggest thanks to the club for making it all possible.”

“We will. Thank you for everything you’re doing here. It’s such an important look and I know it gets overlooked a lot, so we’re happy to support you in any way.”, Marcus smiled.

Once they’d bid their goodbyes, it was only you and Mason left. The latter seemed to be a little nervous as he kept playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I really liked working here.”, he admitted. “Do you think I could come back?”

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say you’re welcome to come back anytime.”, you nodded, watching as a bright smile spread over his features.

“That’s good to know.”, he grinned. “There’s something else I wanted to ask, though.”

You watched a deep blush tainting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“You know, I really enjoyed working with you and erm…well…you can totally say no, that’s okay…I was just wondering if maybe erm you’d like to go out with me? Like…on a date?”

For a moment, you only stared at him. At a loss for words as you most definitely hadn’t expected him to ask you out. Not Mason out of all people.

“I’d like that a lot.”, you whispered shyly, your cheeks now a deep red too.

*

Due to his hectic schedule, it had taken two weeks for you to finally go on that first date. He’d decided to keep it lowkey and booked a table in a small, Italian restaurant where he knew they had small, secluded spaces, so you could enjoy a bit of privacy.

He’d also told you about the article and what had really happened in the bar that night. That those guys had harassed him all night long up to a point where they’d pushed him and he’d simply defended himself.

For the second one, he’d taken you to the cinema, where you’d cuddled in the furthest corner, away from prying eyes whilst enjoying Barbie and now about four weeks after you’d first met, your third date was just about to end.

Mason had invited you over to his. He’d made his favourite pasta dish and whilst you’d already loved your first two dates, this one was different. You both were a bit more carefree and less observant as without any people around, you could be yourselves and as touchy with each other as you’d liked.

After dinner, Mason had convinced you to stay a little longer. He’d pulled you into his side on the sofa and put some random film on to prolong the little time he had with you, but now it was late, and you found yourself in the hall putting your jacket on, dreading to leave him.

“When will I see you again?”, he pouted, feeling a little sad that he had to let you go so soon.

You shrugged. “You have an away game this weekend, why don’t you message me once you’re back and I’ll come over after work? I could bring some take-away.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I really liked today, Mase.”, you mumbled. “I liked the other two as well, but today felt…”

“Special?”, he offered, hoping you’d feel the same and when you nodded, he sighed in relief. “Text me when you’re home, yeah?”

“Will do. Good night, Mase.”

Mason smiled and leaned in just like he always did. You felt his lips brushing your cheek and pressing a proper kiss to your skin and whilst he’d done that countless of times already, it never failed to make you feel all giddy. His hot breath fanned over your face as he pulled away a little, leaving nothing but an inch between you and all of sudden, the atmosphere changed.

There was this tension, you’d never felt before, as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips, making you feel all weird and fuzzy inside. The way his lips hovered over yours for what felt like an eternity had your heart beating out of your chest and when he brushed his nose against yours, your knees went weak.

“I really want to kiss you, y/n.”

You didn’t know who went for it first, but only seconds after his admission, your lips met in an innocent and shy first kiss that had your tummy erupting in butterflies.

Mason could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he reached out and grabbed your waist softly, his shaking hands just about making contact with your body. His thoughts were consumed by you and your taste, by the way you felt against him and how the kiss felt it was the most perfect one he’d ever had.

And he never wanted it to end, but when he eventually ran out of breath, he pulled away slowly, eyes still closed as he wanted to savour the feeling. You had to take a couple of shaky breaths, your fingertips brushing over his arms causing goosebumps to erupt on his skin and the thought of having such an effect on him, had your tummy flipping again.

Mason smiled sweetly the second he opened his eyes and locked them on yours. Foreheads touching, you kept close to one another as neither of you wanted to let go yet.

“Good night, y/n.”, he whispered before kissing your cheek again, just like he always did when saying goodbye, but this time you felt like it wasn’t enough. Not after the mind-blowing kiss you’d just shared.

And it was as if Mason felt the same as he only shook his head and dipped down to kiss you again. A little firmer this time, more passionate and like he really meant it.

[adamsrcnan]

i just wanna take a minute to appreciate my girl Allison Reynolds and the way she cares for Neil in TKM (despite what happened with Seth) in her own special way just gets me

She hears about Neil getting tortured and beaten to a pulp, she can only guess how bad he looks, but she stops by the store and buys out every shade of foundation and concealer ready to help Neil before he or anyone asks

Then proceeds to dedicate her mornings to fixing him up until the bruises fade

She asks if Neil can even chew before the team orders food which seems like a callous thing to ask but is in Neil's favour anyway bc Yes he should be eating soft food

She's doesn't hesitate to speak up when Andrew outs that the FBI are trying to take Neil away telling them to go to hell

She offers to pay for Neil to get his number 2 tattoo removed bc fuck Riko, Neil is a Fox

She, without question, drags him into her car so he doesn't have to suffer and climb into Matt's truck and drives him to the court

She instantly sorts out a cabin for them to all spend their holiday together so they can watch over and be with Neil after finally getting him back

She was in support of Neil defending the Foxes against the Ravens and the press despite the consequences (i.e their ruined cars)

There are so many instances where she wants to pry and get information from Neil but she holds off and waits for him to be ready to speak up instead

She 100% see's Neil as a troubled younger brother with the exact amount of fire in his vein's that she's come to love and respect. So, here are a couple of silly hc's about them post canon

Allison continues to keep up to date with Neil's career after he goes pro and is always posting support in his favour to her socials

An article comes out about Neil's sloppy style outside of the court and Allison insists on becoming his personal shopper for a month and if Neil won't pay attention to what clothes get him a more lingering look from Andrew, Allison sure does

She'll send Neil and Andrew co-ord suits whenever they have to attend any events so they always go in style and are the best dressed

She definitely personally designed their wedding suits for their big day

Once her fashion brand gets really really big she makes Neil and Andrew global ambassadors of the menswear which meeeanss photoshoots ~

She insists on being present for every one so as to make sure the photographers and crew don't make Neil and Andrew do anything they wouldn't be comfortable with

She makes sure to send the final cuts to Neil for approval before publishing/posting anything

(She then sends all the b-cut's of Neil's photos to Andrew in the mail and calls him saying "did you like your early bday present monster?" cackling loudly to herself when Andrew cuts the phone bc of course he did ((bc how could she miss he subtle heat in Andrew's eyes as he watched Neil pose behind the camera in jeans that were perfectly tailored to show his toned ass and slim waist)). Meanwhile Neil is shuffling through the pictures across the room, a faint blush on his cheeks bc no way does he look like this?!?!?? Andrew watches him for a good minute in silence before throwing them out of his hand and pushing Neil down to slowly take him apart with his hands and mouth)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Jan 21, 2025

Day one. It’s already started. ‘Elon Musk appears to make back-to-back fascist salutes at inauguration rally’ claims the Guardian. ‘Elon Musk accused of giving “Nazi salute” at Trump inauguration celebration’ says the Independent. The activist media are positively priapic with glee that Donald Trump’s most powerful ally just publicly endorsed Hitler live at his inauguration. Except of course that didn’t happen. And we know it didn’t happen because we do not have cabbages for heads. Let’s just hypothetically suppose for one moment that Musk is a clandestine fascist, one so ingenious and Machiavellian that he has managed to inveigle his way into the White House and is now poised to initiate the Fourth Reich. Does any sentient human being suppose for one moment that such an evil genius would now accidentally reveal his scheme to millions of people live on television?

Nobody believes this, of course. Or if they do, they should be supervised at all times, especially around cutlery. That goes for Rex Huppke at USA Today, who has published a piece entitled ‘Elon Musk’s “odd-looking” salute sure looked like a “Sieg heil” to me’. Perhaps it does. But I could have sworn that I saw the face of David Hasselhoff in my spinach frittata yesterday, and yet I’m pretty sure that’ll be the old pareidolia playing tricks on me again. If I were as literal-minded as Huppke, I’d probably assume that The Hoff had actually found a way to invade my breakfast and call an exorcist or something.

Within an hour of Huppke’s article being posted online, the following note was appended: ‘This column was updated to add new information’. God knows what defamatory nonsense that hit-piece contained before I got around to reading it. The media class still hasn’t quite grasped that falsely smearing someone as a Nazi is libellous, and that perhaps someone like Musk has the financial means to do something about it. (Also at the end of the article we have this little nugget: ‘Follow USA Today columnist Rex Huppke on Bluesky’. That explains quite a lot.)

I’m starting to think that avoiding libel should be included on the first day of any basic journalism course, given how often we see media outlets posting lies and then having to frantically apologise for it. And while they’re at it, the course should probably also include a session on why male rapists, paedophiles and murderers shouldn’t be referred to as ‘she’ and ‘her’. Just a thought.

While I would usually be prepared to concede that Huppke might just be as simple-minded as he seems, there’s something about his article that suggests otherwise. If he genuinely believed that Musk was giving a Nazi salute, why did he have to misrepresent the story? Not once in his piece does Huppke mention the context for the admittedly ill-advised gesture. Musk said to the audience, ‘my heart goes out to you’, which is why he struck his heart and mimed throwing it out to the crowd. He then turned and did it again, and the meaning is perfectly clear when the clip is seen in its entirety:

Now look at the clip that was being shared online by Musk’s detractors.

We have seen this kind of dishonesty so often, and it simply never works. The internet has certainly enabled the media to spread this misleadingly edited clip, but it also enables us to check its authenticity. And when people release that they have been lied to, the inevitable outcome is resentment. This is why throwing the word ‘Nazi’ around as though it has no meaning other than ‘someone I vaguely dislike’ is not an endearing or astute way to behave.

Naturally, Democratic politicians have been quick to exploit the situation as much as the press. Jerry Nadler, Representative for the 12th District of New York, jumped on to X to post his verdict:

‘I never imagined we would see the day when what appears to be a Heil Hitler salute would be made behind the Presidential seal. This abhorrent gesture has no place in our society and belongs in the darkest chapters of human history. I urge all of my colleagues to unite in condemning this hateful gesture for what it is: antisemitism.’

Thankfully, there have been some voices of reason. The Anti-Defamation League put out a sensible statement in an effort to subdue all the frenzied mutual masturbation of the Bluesky clan:

‘It seems that Elon Musk made an awkward gesture in a moment of enthusiasm, not a Nazi salute, but again, we appreciate that people are on edge. In this moment, all sides should give one another a bit of grace, perhaps even the benefit of the doubt, and take a breath.’

Musk and Trump have their political opponents; that much is obvious and all for the good. But given all the histrionic hogwash about ‘Nazis’ and ‘fascists’ during the run-up to the last election, I was hoping they might have all grown up a little. As I say, it’s absolutely clear that this strategy is wholly ineffective. The public are capable of reading history books. They understand that Nazis generally don’t pay visits to Auschwitz to learn about the horrors of the Holocaust and lay wreaths at memorial services there, as Musk did last year. They also are unlikely to be seen dancing to ‘YMCA’ with the Village People.

So once more for the hard of thinking in the media: calling people Nazis doesn’t work anymore. It’s not only unethical, it virtually guarantees that the very people you don’t want to be in power will win their elections. By all means, criticise Musk and Trump as much as you like. Those in power must be criticised; it’s essential for any functioning democracy. But lying about them and smearing them as fascists only lets the public know that you’re not to be trusted.

--

==

It's all so fucking tedious.

You don't hate legacy media enough. You think you do, but you don't.

[lilacmingi]

LIVING WITH 8 VAMPIRES | PART 3

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: ATEEZ x fem reader (they’re not dating, but they flirt with her)

Word count: 7,913

Note: Alright. We’re all caught up now. This is the most recent part which was published earlier this week on my Wattpad. From here on out, any time I post a new part for this series on Wattpad it will be cross-posted here :)

You sat at work, bored out of your mind, fingers tapping on the nearest surface as you stared off into space. Your phone began to ring, catching your attention—it was a FaceTime call from Seonghwa.

Upon seeing his name pop up, you were confused. You accepted the call, watching the screen until the top part of Seonghwa's head showed up. All you could see was the top of his raven-colored hair and his eyebrows.

"Seonghwa, how did you—" You began to ask.

"Mingi taught me how to Face... Time." He explained.

You immediately begin to panic because of all people Seonghwa was the one FaceTimeing you.

"What's wrong?" You asked, knowing immediately that there had to be an issue back at home.

"My sanity is slowly leaving me." He answered.

"What? What's going on?"

"The boys have turned to savagery."

"Oh no."

You then hear a scream, and because Seonghwa is only showing the top of his head, you see Hongjoong in the background running past shouting, "Give it to me!"

He then pummels Wooyoung, tackling him to the ground, a loud thud resonating on the other end of the line.

"I have lost Hongjoong to the others." Seonghwa stated abruptly.

"Oh jeez." You muttered. "What happened?"

"I wish I could tell you."

"Listen. I have a lunch break in 10 minutes. Let everyone know I'm expecting a group FaceTime."

"Very well."

Seonghwa then attempted to hang up, his strong brows pulled together in concentration as he tapped the screen a few times before finally hanging up. You let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

•

When on your break, you went somewhere you could be alone because you knew the call you were about to make would be a messy one.

You FaceTimed Seonghwa, praying that he knew how to respond to a video chat call. It took a while before you got an answer. Yeosang's face popped up on the screen, his lips pressed together and brows scrunched in worry.

"Yeosang?"

"Seonghwa is a little... busy right now." Yeosang informed you as he propped the phone up somewhere, stepping back and taking a seat on the couch with the others.

Wooyoung's hair was an absolute mess. It was sticking up everywhere and looked as if it had been grabbed a few times, presumably by Hongjoong. The vampire kept his eyes focused on his hands that were clasped together on his lap. Hongjoong looked similar, his gaze stayed focused on the floor as his face showed immense guilt and shame. Mingi seemed shifty, his eyes looking everywhere but the phone. Jongho had his head resting against the back of the couch as he stared at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh. San's shirt appeared to be ripped and hanging off his shoulder, and Yunho had a rash on his cheek and upper neck.

You took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you stared at the seven boys on the couch. Yeosang looked rather worried as he stared into the camera, his leg bouncing nervously.

"Why am I so far away? You could've propped me up on the coffee table." You told the boys.

No one said a word and that made alarm bells go off in your head.

"Guys." You spoke, warningly.

"About that." Hongjoong stood up, slowly picking up the phone and showing you the broken coffee table.

You could see Seonghwa in the background pacing back and forth in a distressed manner.

You then heard a faint, "Oh no, our table. It's broken."

You didn't have to see the group on the screen to know it was Wooyoung.

"Shut up!" Hongjoong snapped.

You let out a long sigh, trying to keep your cool.

"I would like to enjoy the rest of my lunch break, because unlike you guys, I need food to survive. I expect a full explanation of this when I get home."

"Yes, Y/n." You heard some, if not all of the boys mutter collectively.

"Now, clean this mess up and let me talk to Seonghwa."

The phone gets handed back to the eldest. You assure him that you'll be home in a couple hours.

"Just please try not to kill them before I get back." You tell him.

"I shall try." He responded, his tone unnervingly even.

•

You stood in front of the eight vampires with crossed arms, eyeing each of them.

"Alright. Who's gonna tell me what happened?"

"We decided to play mafia." Yunho answered.

"That doesn't explain why the table is broken."

"Mingi was so upset about losing, that he broke the table." Yeosang spoke up.

"Hongjoong won, but amidst Mingi being so upset and breaking the table, Wooyoung took the prize back and tried to run away with it." Yunho added.

"A prize?" You asked.

"Yeah. To make things interesting, we decided to play for a prize." Yunho explained.

"What was the prize?" You asked, knowing you'd most likely regret it.

"A photo." Answered Wooyoung.

"What kind of photo?"

Wooyoung slowly pulled out a Polaroid photo of you sleeping. You quickly snatched it up.

"This is going with the rest of your contraband." You snapped.

The boys knew right away where that photo would be going. Inside your room, you had a drawer in your nightstand that had silver handles, so none of the boys could get inside.

"How come she always gets to touch that drawer and we can't?" Yunho asked when you left the room.

"The handles are made of silver, you idiot." Jongho muttered.

"I am so ashamed of myself." Hongjoong dropped his head in humiliation, wallowing in his own self-pity.

•

You made your way down the hall after putting some laundry away, pausing when you saw Yeosang standing in his room, staring at something. Out of curiosity, you poked your head into the room, checking out the situation. Yeosang stood, his eyes focused on a large painting of himself hanging on his bedroom wall. He wore an extravagant Victorian-style suit with a ruffled shirt and tailcoat; you know, typical vampire attire.

"What are you doing?" You asked aloud.

Yeosang glanced over his shoulder at you before answering.

"I want to update this portrait. It's outdated."

"You look exactly the same."

"No. My hair is different." He pointed, pulling at the long strands of hair in the back.

You chortled, shaking your head.

Gazing up at the portrait, you noticed a pinkish splotch next to his eye, tilting your head slightly in curiosity. You never noticed him with that mark before.

"I didn't know you had a birthmark." You commented.

"Ah." Yeosang reached up to touch the spot next to his eye where you assumed the birthmark was. "I started covering it up."

"Why?"

"I didn't like it."

"Well, I like it."

He gave you a timid smile. "You do?"

"Yes. You should stop covering it up. Based on this painting, I think it makes you unique."

"Do you know any painters?" Yeosang asked, trying not to show how flustered he was.

"No, sorry. I don't think portrait painters are very common these days."

Yeosang hummed to himself.

"I do have an alternative idea. You have a cell phone, why don't you just take a selfie? Or even better, we can have a mini photoshoot. What do you think?"

"I quite like that idea." He smiled.

After that, you both got to work, making a small set for the photoshoot. You took sheets and tacked them up for a background, then moved a fancy winged-back chair in front of it. Yeosang grabbed a few of his favorite trinkets and placed them on a table that he positioned beside the chair. Once everything was all set up, you instructed him to choose a nice outfit for the shoot. You offered to leave the room while he changed, but he said it wasn't necessary. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was in a completely different outfit, this one was a bit more modern than the previous one in the painting.

"Vampire speed." You muttered mostly to yourself.

The setup you'd thrown together looked incredible. You had found some red fabrics to drape along the white sheet background that really made the props stand out. It almost looked like a professional set. Before getting seated, Yeosang grabbed a handkerchief from his dresser and wiped away the makeup that concealed his birthmark, turning to you for an opinion.

"How do I look?" He asked.

"You look great." You smiled. "Now it's time for the fun part. We'll use my phone to take the photos and I'll send them to you if you want."

The vampire took a seat in the chair, figuring out a good position.

"Wait!" You exclaimed. "That pose is great. Stay like that."

Yeosang was situated slightly sideways in the seat, his right hand resting on the arm of the chair, the left resting in his lap. You made sure he was centered in the photo before snapping it.

"That one was good. Try another pose."

Yeosang positioned himself differently, trying out different poses as you took pictures.

"Wow. You look so handsome." You praised.

Yeosang seemed to get all flustered at your praises, muttering a small, "Thank you." as he moved around into another pose.

You then began shouting positive words of assurance like a real photographer.

"Perfect! That's it, that's it. Beautiful! Just like that!"

Yeosang really seemed to enjoy it because he kept chuckling and getting giggly.

Once you wrapped up the photoshoot, you made some adjustments to the photos before showing them to Yeosang, who was eager to get a look at them.

"I think there's a company that will make these pictures really big and put them in a nice frame." You told him as you scrolled through the photos.

"Really?" Yeosang asked, intrigued by this new information.

You nodded. "All we have to do is send whichever photo we like to them and pay a small fee."

"Let's do it!" He urged, excitedly.

"You said you wanted it to look like a painting, right?"

He nodded.

"I did a little something." You told him, swiping to one of the photos you edited to look like a painting.

He gasped. "Y/n, you're incredible! You created a painting from a photograph within seconds!"

"Actually, I just opened the photo in an editing app and put a filter on it that made it look like a painting." You explained.

"Ah. A filter. That's so cool." He grinned.

After Yeosang marveled over the magic of editing, you got to work placing an order for him. He was so excited, and unfortunately didn't quite understand shipping; he kept asking every thirty minutes or so if the picture would be here.

"Yeosang, it'll take a few weeks. Maybe even a month. They have to process the picture, print it, frame it, then send it."

"Ah. That's alright. I can wait."

•

You went outside to check the mail like you normally did, spotting a huge box on the doorstep. After getting the mail, you dragged the box inside. Yeosang just so happened to be standing in the living room when you stepped back inside the house. As soon as he saw the box he appeared at your side, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked.

"It is. Should we unbox it?"

"Yes!" He clapped, excitedly.

You removed the giant frame from the box, setting it upright so he could look at it.

"How does it look?"

Yeosang gasped. "It's magnificent."

"It is?"

"Yes! I have to hang it up right away." He took the giant photo from you with ease and hurried up the stairs.

You followed him to his room where he flew up to remove the old photo, setting it aside. He picked up the new one and ascended up to hang it on the wall in place of the former painting. Slowly, he lowered to the ground, stepping back to admire the new piece.

"I love it." He smiled, brightly, his tiny fangs on display. "Thank you, Y/n."

•

You looked down at the brand new table sitting in the living room, a proud smile on your face.

Seonghwa was devastated that his prized mahogany table had been destroyed, so you took it upon yourself to buy him a new one. It wasn't from the 1800s, but it looked pretty similar to the original. You scoured the Internet for the exact table, but deep down you knew you wouldn't find it. The piece of furniture was practically ancient, there was no replacing it. At the very least, you found a table that was similar.

"Seonghwa?" You called his name, heading up the stairs.

"Yes?"

You heard his voice behind you, causing you to spin around. He stood at the foot of the stairs, patiently waiting to see what you needed him for.

"Ah." You smiled softly. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Yes. Follow me." You walked past him leading him to the common room area, gesturing to the table with a grin.

"What is this?" He asked, running his fingers along the table's surface.

"I know how much that table meant to you, so I replaced it... sort of."

"You are not the one who broke it."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Well, we needed a replacement. The living room looked empty without a coffee table. Also, like I said earlier I know how much you loved that table. Sorry this one isn't the same. The original was irreplaceable, but I did the best I could."

Seonghwa's lack of response was beginning to worry you, so you glanced over at him only to find that he was smiling.

"Thank you, Y/n. This means a great deal to me."

•

You stood outside the front doors of the mansion, feeling a bit on edge.

"My roommates are a little... strange. So if they say or do anything weird, just ignore them." You told your new friend, Chan, wanting him to know what he was possibly getting into.

Last time you brought friends over, San got jealous and ended up having an allergic reaction to the garlic bread you made.

"They can't be weirder than my roommates." Chan chuckled lightheartedly.

"They are." You responded. "I can almost guarantee it."

You pushed open the front door and all eight of your roommates were gathered in the living room, which wasn't unusual. They often spent time in the large gathering room doing their own thing, unless San or Wooyoung was off causing mischief.

"Y/n!" Yeosang piped up, a smile on his face, his eyes shimmering with joy.

That smile quickly dropped from his features when he saw Chan.

The rest of the boys turned towards you, their eyes immediately locked on your new friend. You paused for a moment, glancing back and forth between your roommates and the man beside you, noticing the very obvious tension in the room.

This happens every time I bring a guy friend over. You sighed internally.

"Who is this?" Asked Hongjoong, his sharp gaze pointed at the man standing awkwardly beside you.

"This is my new friend, Chan."

"Where did you meet... Chan?" He inquired, his voice dripping with annoyance when he uttered the name.

You'd never heard Hongjoong speak that way before, which made you wonder what was actually going on. He was one of the few respectful vampires in the house and was always so polite, but now he was the complete opposite.

"I met him last week when I went on a walk at the beach."

"I knew I should've accompanied you that day." You heard Hongjoong mutter under his breath.

Shuffling awkwardly, you announced that you and your new friend would go hang out elsewhere in the house, but Yeosang stopped you.

"Stay in here." He told you sternly.

Yeosang was yet another person you'd never really seen get angry or agitated. This was your first time hearing him speak so firmly.

"I suppose we can stay in here." You responded. "Come on, Chan. Make yourself at home."

"I wouldn't get too comfortable." Mingi commented in a low voice.

"Mingi." You scolded him quietly, surprised by his remark.

Chan seemed to pay no mind and took a seat beside Jongho. As you go to sit in the empty spot to the left of Chan, Wooyoung scooted over, sandwiching your new friend between him and the youngest vampire, leaving no room for you.

"Sit here." Yunho gestured to an empty spot beside him on the opposite end of the couch.

Suppressing a sigh, you head over, taking a seat between the arm of the sofa and Yunho.

"So," You started, glancing around the room. "what did you guys do while I was gone?"

"Nothing." Jongho answered without looking your way.

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife and it was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

"Um." You cleared your throat. "I'm gonna go get something to drink. Chan, would you like anything?"

"I'm fine. Thank you, though."

You stood up and excused yourself from the room, needing to get away for a moment. The tightness in the space was so palpable it made you feel suffocated.

After you stepped out of the living room, the boys' eyes still lingered on Chan, not moving from him at all.

"So, this is a nice place." Chan smiled softly, wanting to ease the tension in the air.

"Don't make small talk with us." Snapped Yeosang.

"Jeez. I'm just trying to be polite. And you guys say I'm the dog."

"You are." Seonghwa remarked. "We are dignified and classy gentleman. You are a mutt."

"A mutt?" Chan turned to Seonghwa. "Real clever."

Chan knew they were just trying to get a rise out of him. They wanted to see him lose it and he wouldn't allow that to happen.

"You're not going to provoke me."

"We'll see about that." Hongjoong said.

"What's a human doing living with eight vampires anyway?" Chan asked, eyeing the group.

"She's our roommate." Yunho responded.

"And we take very good care of her." Mingi added firmly in a matter-of-fact manner.

Meanwhile, you had stepped outside on the back patio to get some fresh air for just a couple minutes. You only used getting a drink as an excuse to take a few moments to gather yourself. You'd seen the guys jealous before, but this was a new kind of jealousy, one that was almost possessive—territorial, even.

Once you felt a little less suffocated, you went back inside, hoping Chan was alright being left with your eight roommates. As soon as you stepped foot in the living room you were met with utter mayhem.

Seonghwa had his arms and half his body stretched over his new table, protecting it while chaos ensued around him.

"If any of you barbarians break my table I shall stake you myself with the remnants!" He hissed.

You stared in disbelief as you watched seven vampires battle with Chan, who you noticed looked a bit different. Amidst the mayhem and disorder you managed to spot bright yellow eyes and claws.

That's when it dawned on you.

You totally brought a werewolf into a house of vampires.

You unknowingly stood and watched it all go down with your mouth hanging open in disbelief, unable to process much of what you were witnessing. You had only left for three minutes maximum, how did this happen?

Yunho lunged forward, tackling Chan to the floor, both of them hissing and growling at each other, tumbling along the wooden boards. They barreled towards Seonghwa who lifted the table off the ground just as the two hit the floor. You didn't miss the way San and Wooyoung were off to the side cheering on Yunho.

Not a second later, Mingi came running into the room with rubber gloves on and a pair of tongs, holding a piece of your silver jewelry with it.

"Everyone stand back! I'm gonna French fry this sucker." He shouted.

"Look who you're calling a sucker, sucker!" Chan snapped, still trying to fight off Yunho.

"Oh yeah, real mature." San scoffed.

"Rip his throat out, Yunho!" Wooyoung shouted from beside his counterpart.

You'd had enough, you couldn't take it anymore. This behavior was absolutely barbaric and uncivilized.

"Enough!" You bellowed, causing the room to fall silent.

"Y/n!" Yeosang gasped, his eyes wide as he not-so-discreetly placed an old sword back onto its spot on the wall.

Jongho, who had picked up a lamp, was quick to drop it, the object clattering to the floor.

"Don't worry, Y/n. I'll protect you from this beast." Hongjoong stepped in front of you with one arm protectively held out.

"No." You shoved his arm away. "What's going on?"

"Y/n, I can explain." Chan pushed Yunho off him, getting to his feet. "I know this looks bad and you're probably really scared, but-"

"You're a werewolf. I can see that."

"Well, yes, but you're living with-"

"Vampires." You finished.

He paused, visibly surprised by your knowledge on that fact.

"You... you know?"

"Of course I know. They spilled the beans before I even moved in."

"And you're okay with it?"

"I am. What I'm not okay with is how uncivilized they are when it comes to guests." You eyed all of them sharply.

"Did they brainwash you? Did they bite you?" Chan stepped over, pulling your shirt collar down slightly to examine your neck for any bite marks, this causing all eight vampires to hiss at him.

You gently took his hand, pulling it away.

"No. They're all very respectful—for the most part." You eyed San and Wooyoung after saying that last part. "And they're all good at controlling their thirst."

"That's right." Yunho piped up.

"Butt out."

"Sorry." He murmured, lowering his head like a puppy that had just been scolded.

You sighed, turning to Chan once again.

"Are you alright? You didn't get hurt or anything, did you?"

He gave you a small chuckle. "I'm fine. A little banged up, but nothing that won't heal in a few minutes."

"Good." You nodded. "Sorry to cut the visit short, but I think it's best that you head home."

"I agree."

As you led Chan outside you glared at the boys, giving them the I've got my eye on you gesture before stepping out the door.

"I'm sorry I brought you into this." You apologized to Chan, who you noticed had returned to normal, no longer sporting yellow eyes, pointed ears, or sharp teeth.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." He gave you a warm smile, dimples making an appearance on his cheeks.

"Had I known what you were, I wouldn't have brought you to my place. We would have gone somewhere else."

"Again, it's fine. You didn't know." He smiled, softly.

He got attacked by your vampire housemates and he's still being so understanding.

"I'm still sorry you had to experience that."

"Maybe next time I could take you to my place and you can meet my roommates." He offered. "They're a handful, but I think you'd like them."

"Yeah, like that'll ever happen." A muffled voice said from inside the house.

Glancing over, you saw Wooyoung with his face smushed against the window, the others standing behind him. Once you spotted them, they all scrambled away from the window. Suppressing a sigh, you turned back to Chan.

"I live with those doofuses, I'm sure I can handle a few werewolves."

"If you say so." He laughed softly.

After apologizing again, you bid Chan goodbye, agreeing to stay in touch and maybe schedule a day to meet his friends.

You made your way back inside to address the troublemakers, eyeing them as you paced around the room.

"What was all that about?" You questioned.

"He was going to take you away from us." Yunho pouted.

You sighed, walking over to the sullen-looking vampire, pulling him into a hug.

"He was not." You told him. "We're just friends."

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice muffled as his face was buried in your shoulder.

"Yes I'm sure."

"You can only be friends with one supernatural species." San frowned.

"Says who?" You challenged.

"Me."

"Well, I say you guys need to start trusting me more and stop being so territorial. I thought that was more of a werewolf thing anyway."

"As much as I hate being compared to those mutts, vampires are territorial too." Jongho stated. "If someone means a lot to us, we don't really like other people hanging around them."

Ignoring the heat in your cheeks, you pressed your lips together, choosing to look past the comment.

"I'd still prefer it if you guys would let me have other friends."

The eight vampires exchanged glances and though Jongho tried to put on a stern face, you could tell he was about to cave. Even Hongjoong, who was poking his tongue against his cheek in an agitated manner looked as if he were about to break.

"Please." You added.

And that's all it took to make them crumble. Hongjoong's form deflated and Jongho rolled his eyes begrudgingly as all eight of them grumbled collectively in agreement.

•

Seonghwa's brows were pulled together in frustration while his fingers tapped the screen of his iPhone. He hated the retched thing, but at the same time he was curious to know how it worked, but only a little. You had mentioned once about all the things you could do on the device besides texting. As he scrolled, he came across a video that grabbed his attention. He got to his feet right away and headed directly for your room making sure to knock first before he entered. He may have been in a hurry, but he didn't forget his manners.

"I have an inquiry."

"Okay."

"What is this?" He held his phone out to you.

On the screen was an ad for Disney+. It was flashing different clips from some of the movies offered on the platform.

"That's a streaming service like Netflix and Hulu."

Before he could tilt his head in confusion or ask what any of those things were, you continued.

"You can watch movies and shows on it."

"I desire to have it."

"You're in luck because I have a subscription." You smiled. "You'll need to download the app first."

"App." He murmured, trying to recall what that was.

"Here." You took his phone from him and opened up the App Store, letting him watch you from over your shoulder.

He didn't think he would ever download any of these "apps" but he would at least like to know how to do it just in case he changed his mind.

Once the app was downloaded you put in your  login information, allowing him access to your account.

"There." You handed the device back to him. "You can watch whatever you want."

"What is the one with the spaceships?"

"Hm?"

"I saw spaceships on the video for this application."

"Oh. That was probably Star Wars."

"Star Wars." He repeated. "I want to see that."

"Scroll through the movies."

He hesitantly placed his index finger on the screen, sliding it along the surface so he could browse through the list.

"There it is." You pointed. "Those are all the movies right there. There's also a few spin off shows which are like side stories, but you don't have to watch them. Not unless you want to."

"Ah." He nodded. "Which film do I start with?"

"They're all in order, so you start right here." You pointed on the screen. "And end here."

"There are nine?"

"Yep. But hey, you're a vampire. You don't really need sleep so you could binge watch all of them if you wanted."

"Binge watch?"

"It means to watch a series in one sitting wether that be a TV series or a movie series."

He nodded, making a mental note to jot that down in his notebook later.

"I will be going now. Thank you."

"Alright." You chuckled. "Have fun."

•

"Alright everyone." You announced giddily as you descended the stairs. "Who's ready for Medieval Times?"

You wanted to have a group outing with the guys and had been looking forward to the trip for a while, so much so that you decided to dress the part, decked out in renaissance wear with a corset and everything.

"I wonder what that corset looks like without the dress." Wooyoung whispered to San.

He received a swift elbow to the gut from Hongjoong, causing the younger vampire to double over and groan.

"Do not speak that way about a lady."

"Sorry." He wheezed out, clutching his stomach.

"Wow." Mingi gaped. "You look so pretty."

"You think so?" You asked, glancing down at your dress, smoothing out the fabric.

All eight boys nodded eagerly in agreement.

When you first pitched the idea of going to Medieval Times and watching a jousting match, everyone was on board, except for Seonghwa who made some comment about it being unrealistic. Of course, he ended up agreeing to tag along, albeit reluctantly.

"Come on." You beckoned, jingling the car keys.

As soon as you stepped foot in the establishment, after letting the guys take a few moments to marvel at the realistic castle exterior of the building, you made a stop at the gift shop so they could look around.

"Wow." Mingi gaped at a light-up sword, his eyes sparkling.

"What's that?" Yunho asked, looking over his friend's shoulder.

"A magic sword."

"I want one." Yunho reached forward and took one off the shelf.

Unbeknownst to the duo, Seonghwa was standing off to the side, his eyes widening.

"A saber of light." He whispered in awe.

In seconds, he was standing by Yunho and Mingi, his gaze stuck on the plastic light-up sword.

"Do you have any idea what you possess?"

"Yeah. A magic sword." Mingi stated.

"No. That is a saber of light."

"What?" Yunho snorted. "No it isn't."

"Yes it is."

"It is not."

"It is."

"Is not."

"That is a saber."

"It's a sword."

"Saber."

"Sword."

"Saber."

"Sword."

Meanwhile, you stood by Yeosang as he pulled a velvet cape off one of the display racks, examining it.

"I like this." He commented.

"Do you want it?"

He nodded.

"Well, if you're getting a king's cape, you need a crown too." You reached over and pulled a plastic gold crown off a stack, placing it delicately on Yeosang's head.

He gave you his signature small, closed mouth smile.

While you were preoccupied with Yeosang, Yunho and Seonghwa continued their arguing.

"Have you watched Star Wars?" The eldest inquired.

"No, but I know what a lightsaber is and this is not it."

"Yes it is."

"It is not."

Mingi, who had been watching the two go back and forth, walked over to you with the plastic toy that had caused so much commotion.

"Can I get this?" He asked.

"Of course."

Once out of the gift shop, Mingi and Yunho had the light-up swords they wanted so badly and of course Yeosang had on his royal ensemble, wearing it proudly. He looked very princely and seemingly more dignified than usual, fully embodying the princely persona you see him as. You couldn't seem to look away from him, mesmerized by his beauty.

"Are you sure you weren't a prince back in the 1800s?" You joked.

"Yes." He chuckled, his small laugh sounding so melodic. "I was just a simple townsperson."

"Y/n, please come and settle this quarrel." Hongjoong requested, rubbing his temples. "I've had enough of all the back and forth."

Trailing behind Hongjoong was Seonghwa and Yunho, both of them arguing about weather or not the light-up sword was a "saber of light" or not. It seemed as if the two of them had dragged Hongjoong into it.

"What's going on?" You asked the two.

"Yunho is infuriating. That weapon he wields is a saber of light."

"It's not." You told him. "That's just a light-up sword. Lightsabers don't have little plastic skulls on the hilt." You mentioned.

Seonghwa looked visibly disappointed.

"I told you." Yunho remarked.

Your footsteps came to a sudden halt as you realized there were only seven boys with you.

"Guys, wait." You glanced around. "Where's Yeosang?"

Before you could go into panic mode, he appeared, walking back over to the group.

"Where have you been?"

"I got offered a job."

Your mouth dropped open.

"I declined."

After purchasing tickets, you and your group proceeded to the entrance of the jousting hall, a couple employees standing by the opening with paper crowns.

"They're giving out crowns." Yunho nudged Mingi.

"Those are pathetic excuses for crowns." Seonghwa pointed out.

"Stop being a buzzkill, Seonghwa." Wooyoung muttered.

"A what?"

"C'mon guys." You gestured, entering the arena and going to find your seats.

Mingi wore his paper crown proudly, holding his light-up sword with a grin so large you thought his face might split in two. Yunho had accompanied him in wearing the paper headpiece, pretending to be a knight as he jabbed at the air.

"Human things are so fun." Mingi commented. "Back when I was human they didn't have cool swords like these."

You ended up sitting in between Hongjoong and unfortunately Wooyoung. It seemed as if the group had split themselves up and you were directly in between the calm group and the chaotic one. Yeosang, Seonghwa, Jongho, and Hongjoong to your left, Wooyoung, San, Mingi, and Yunho on your right.

You were in for a wild evening.

A staff member came by and informed you all that your knight would be the blue one and that booing the opposing team was highly encouraged, which seemed to excite San and Wooyoung greatly.

"The people in the different colored areas on either side of you are your allies." The staff member stated.

Seonghwa's face scrunched up. "What do you mean allies? It is every man for himself."

The employee chuckled, thinking the comment was made as a joke. "Enjoy the show, guys. By the way, I love that you all dressed up."

Hongjoong and Seonghwa shared a confused glance, but before the latter could speak up, you thanked the staff member and he walked off.

The show began shortly and it wasn't long before one of the staffs came walking by to serve you each some tomato soup that had been referred to as dragon's blood. Seonghwa looked at the server in disgust as the man poured the soup into the small bowl provided.

"Surely you do not expect me to consume this."

As if that wasn't bad enough, a slice of garlic bread, aka a dragon scale, was served with the soup which caused a lot of discomfort for the group. Seonghwa had visibly taken offense and started to accuse the server of trying to kill him while San discreetly pushed his plate away.

"I'm not doing that again." He shivered.

"Um. Would you like my garlic bread?" Hongjoong asked you, holding his plate out.

"Sure."

There was no way you were turning down extra garlic bread and since all eight of them couldn't consume garlic without breaking out in hives, you got eight extra pieces of the delicious bread.

The actors dressed as knights sat upon their horses, prancing around the arena and putting on a show while you ate. At some point, the queen came out, waving to the crowd while riding around. After the introduction ceremony, a man stepped out into the middle of the arena with a falcon on his arm. Everyone in the stands was advised to stay in their seats by the announcer. The falcon took to the air and flew around the arena, narrowly missing the tops of everyone's heads.

"Wow." You gaped in awe. "So pretty."

"I can catch it for you." Jongho responded without missing a beat.

The show proceeded and you were each served the main course, which Mingi and Yunho devoured, even if it didn't taste the same as it would have if they were still human. Mingi and Yunho were two of the four vampires that would indulge in a meal every once in a while, but they liked to have a glass of blood with it.

"How was it?" You asked the two, leaning forward so you could speak to them across San and Wooyoung who were seated to the right of you.

"Delicious, even if it doesn't provide any benefits to me." Mingi smiled. "Though I wish I had some blood. That would've made it taste better."

"You do." Wooyoung picked up his small cup of tomato soup, wiggling it in front of Mingi. "Dragon's blood."

The slightly older vampire laughed in response to Wooyoung's light humor.

"Well, if you really wanted blood, there is another option." San not-so-discreetly gestured towards you with his head.

Your jaw dropped and your hand immediately landed on his upper arm, delivering a stinging smack to it. Hongjoong, who had overheard San's comment stood up from his chair, ready to pounce on the younger vampire for being so disrespectful.

"Woah. Woah. Woah." You got to your feet and placed a hand on Hongjoong's shoulder, slowly lowering him back down to his seat before things could escalate.

"If we weren't in public I would rip your head clean off your body." He seethed.

"He's made that threat a hundred times. He's never done it." San whispered to you.

"Hm." You hummed. "I hope he follows through this time."

San's mouth fell open in shock.

Two knights stepped out onto the dirt flooring of the arena to battle, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Oh, this is where it gets good." Wooyoung nudged San.

They drew their swords and began swinging, blades clashing as they battled relentlessly. Impressed by their acting skills, you watched in awe while cheering on the blue knight.

Throughout the entire battle, Seonghwa was complaining about the reenactment not being accurate which you couldn't help but laugh at.

"Seonghwa, it's just for fun."

"They could at least make it realistic." He remarked.

"You weren't even alive during medieval times. How would you know if it's accurate?"

"You act as if I have never witness a sword fight."

"Have you?"

"Yes. Swords were still used in the 1800s."

At some point, you leaned over to check the right side of the group and make sure they were behaving. San, while continuing to watch the arena, tugged open the collar of his lace up shirt to expose more of his chest in hopes that you would notice—you pretended not to. There was no way you were giving him attention after that comment he made earlier.

Finally, after a few more brief performances and skits, the jousting began.

It wasn't long before Seonghwa began complaining again while Hongjoong and Jongho were in deep conversation. Even though you were all seated in the blue section and were told to cheer for your section and the colors on either side of you, they were speculating who would actually win, even if it was knights on the opposing side. Hongjoong even brought a pair of opera glasses, using them to observe the jousting match below, occasionally passing them to Jongho to point out different things about the knights.

"His form is off." Hongjoong commented.

"You're right. He's not gonna get a good hit with posture like that." Jongho shook his head in disapproval.

"Give me those." Seonghwa held his hand out.

He held the small binoculars up, gazing through them. "This is horrendous."

You turned to check on the other side of the group to find Wooyoung and San losing their minds, both chanting your section's designated color while pumping their fists in the air.

"Blue, blue, blue, blue!" They chorused.

"Destroy him!" Wooyoung shouted.

"Rip him apart!" San added.

Yunho looked like he wanted to join in, eventually yelling out, "Skewer him!"

On your way out, Mingi lightly grabbed the sleeve of your dress, tugging on it to get your attention.

"I want to be knighted. Can I?" He asked excitedly.

It wasn't often that the boys got to leave the house, so you agreed to let Mingi get knighted.

You watched in amusement as he stood behind a couple kids in line, the six foot tall vampire towering over them, his eyes sparkling with unadulterated joy.

He came back to the group with a bright smile on his face, talking about how he was officially a knight.

"Alright, Mingi. Are you ready to go now?" You asked.

"That's Sir Mingi." He corrected, puffing out his chest while holding his flashing light-up sword proudly.

"Oh, I see." You chortled. "Sir Mingi."

"That was the worst thing I have ever witnessed." Seonghwa commented as the nine of you left the building. "In today's words, it sucked."

"Woah! Look at you talking like a normal person." You chuckled.

"It was the only word adequate enough to describe the atrocities of which I just witnessed."

•

(The following scenes occurred before the boys got cell phones and were able to see themselves)

Since Hongjoong had become so interested in new mirrors that were made without silver, he wanted to buy one for the mansion. On an overcast evening, the both of you set off to a nearby household store.

"This way." You gestured, leading him to the back wall of the store where all the mirrors were displayed.

His eyes widened when he saw his full reflection for the first time in decades. His first thought was that he looked incredibly well-dressed in his black waistcoat and ruffled blouse, momentarily smoothing the fabric.

"You okay?" You asked.

He nodded, slowly approaching one of the mirrors, a large one with a black, metal frame that had a detailed design cut out of the material.

"This one."

"You don't want to look around some more?"

He shook his head. "This one is perfect."

As soon as you got home, Hongjoong started trying to figure out where to put the mirror, carrying it around the sitting area and holding it against different places on the wall. The new object caught the attention of some of the others who had been passing through.

Yeosang was one who stopped to watch, Mingi following after.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Mingi asked quietly to Yeosang.

The latter nodded, his large eyes staring widely at Hongjoong, who's reflection he could see clearly in the mirror.

"Here." Hongjoong finally announced.

You got to work right away, helping him to secure the mirror to the wall. Once in place, the both of you stepped back to admire the new piece decorating the living room. Hongjoong turned to Yeosang and Mingi, excitedly beckoning them over.

"Come look."

Mingi was downright terrified, his eyes staring warily at the mirror, brows furrowed and lips set into a pouty frown. Even Yeosang seemed hesitant. Despite that, he stepped up first, moving over to the mirror, jumping slightly when he saw his own reflection.

"What is this?" He inquired, stepping forward to tap the glass.

"Mirrors aren't made with silver anymore." Hongjoong told him.

"So we can see ourselves now?" Yeosang asked softly, staring at his reflection in awe.

"You can." You nodded.

"Mingi, come here." Yeosang beckoned.

In the most apprehensive manner, the vampire stepped forward, leaning forward just enough for the top of his head to appear in the mirror.

He gasped, jumping back.

"There's no need to be afraid, Mingi." You assured him with a light chuckle. "You can't be scared of your own reflection."

He seemed to toughen up after that, stepping directly in front of the mirror. His eyes were blown wide in disbelief. He hadn't seen himself in so long he had forgotten what he looked like. His look of surprise was quickly replaced with a prideful grin.

"I don't remember being so handsome." He smoothed his hair back.

Hongjoong and Yeosang were quick to shove him away from the mirror, rolling their eyes at his arrogance.

•

You passed through the living room, moving towards the stairs only to come to a stop when you saw San standing in front of the mirror. It had only been there for a few days and everyone seemed completely enamored with it at first, but San was the one who seemed to have the biggest attachment to it.

"What are you doing?"

"I can't stop looking at myself." He responded.

"How narcissistic of you." You remarked.

"Y/n, I don't think you understand. I haven't seen myself in centuries. This is weird."

"I'm sure you look exactly the same."

"I do."

"Then why do you keep standing in front of that thing?"

"Because I haven't been able to see my reflection in so long, I'm not used to it. Plus, I look really good. Don't you agree?"

You decided not to answer, exiting the room without turning back, not even when San called out to you, begging for a response.

"Come on!" He whined. "Just say yes!"

•

You cut away the tape excitedly, opening up the package you had been waiting for. Since giving Seonghwa your Disney+ password, he had become obsessed with Star Wars and wouldn't stop talking about it and trying to explain the plot to the guys.

Since he loved it so much, you thought it would be fun to surprise him with a little gift. He had shown a lot of interest in Darth Vader and mentioned how he was his favorite character, so you went online and bought him Darth Vader's lightsaber. You weren't sure if it was something he would enjoy or not, but considering any Star Wars fan would love a lightsaber, you figured it'd be a nice gift.

"Seonghwa!" You called for the oldest vampire.

He appeared before you in seconds, something you had gotten used to.

"I have a surprise for you." You beamed.

"What is the occasion?"

"Just because." You shrugged. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

He did as told, his palms facing upright while waiting patiently for your surprise.

Ever so carefully, you placed the lightsaber into his hands, telling him to open his eyes.

His brows were furrowed at first, however, it didn't take long for him to realize what he held.

"A saber." He murmured.

"It's Darth Vader's lightsaber." You pointed out.

"I know."

You were about to ask him if he liked it, but he turned around and started walking away.

Curious as to where he was heading, you moved behind him, following him to the living room. He reached for the sword that hung on the wall in the living room, removing it from its perch and replacing it with the lightsaber.

"There."

"So, you like it?" You asked.

"Very much so."

•

Jongho stepped into the large sitting room, finding Seonghwa removing one of the many swords that decorated the walls. Taking a glance around the room, he noticed all of the swords displayed had been replaced with what he could only assume were lightsabers. Seonghwa hadn't shut up about the things since binging the Star Wars movies.

"What are you doing?" Jongho asked.

Seonghwa placed the last lightsaber into its holder before stepping away to admire his work.

"We are now a modern household."

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Masterlist ᝰ

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[matsmi13]

Hello, Long time follower here. I haven't seen you posting captions or stories in a long time. WIll you publish some new stories soon? I miss you and your work. Would love to see new stuff from you, and if i can ask, could you do something with Charlie Puth or Michael Jaroh on inanimate and unwilling themes. That would be awesome. Take care and finer crossed to see more stuff from your talented mind :)

Ready to accompany me during my workouts ?

As a journalist for an local sports magazine, I had landed an exclusive interview with Michael Jaroh after his victory at the national gymnastics competition. The room was filled with excitement, fans were shouting his name, and camera flashes lit up every corner of the hall.

After congratulating Michael on his outstanding performance, we sat down in a press room. I had prepared a series of questions about his training, his motivations, and his future goals. "Michael, can you tell us about what motivates you every day to push your limits ?" I asked. Looked at me with surprising intensity, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "You know, it's hard for people to really understand how we feel. There's so much going on beneath the surface, aspects that no one can see or feel." Intrigued, I continued, "How could we understand that better ?" Michael shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Maybe one day you'll have the chance to find out for yourself". I took this as a vague answer, intended to add a little mystery to our conversation. However, I had no idea how serious this remark was.

A few weeks later, I received a invitation from Michael inviting me to join him at the gym to discuss his habits and techniques further. Curious and excited by the opportunity, I accepted without hesitation.

Arriving at the gym, I didn't immediately find Michael. The room was deserted. Gymnastics equipment, parallel bars, rings and floor mats were laid out in an orderly fashion, but there was no one in sight. I ventured deeper into the gym, going into the changing rooms and calling out to Michael, but only the echo of my own voice answered. Suddenly, a furtive movement caught my attention. Michael appeared behind me, silent as a shadow. Before I could say anything, I felt a prick in my neck. An icy chill invaded my body, and my vision instantly blurred. The last thing I heard was Michael's voice: "You wanted to understand, didn't you ? Now you will."

When I regained consciousness, everything had changed. The feel of my skin had disappeared, replaced by a soft, elastic synthetic material. I panicked as I realized what had happened to me. I had become a compression tight. It was a whirlwind of confusion and terror. My mind was desperately trying to comprehend this new reality. I could feel the texture of my fabric, each fiber reacting to the movement of the air. I was aware of my shape, my seams, and the pressure exerted on me as I rested on the bench.

Suddenly, I hear something coming closer to me. "Hello, my friend. Ready to accompany me during my workouts ? ". I wanted to scream, but I no longer had a voice. I could only hear and feel. Michael took me in his hands and I felt every touch of his fingers like a wave of electricity passing through my fibers. It was a sensation both strange and terrifying. He slipped me on without further ado, and I immediately felt the warmth of his body against my fabric. Every movement he made I felt intensely. His leg muscles contracted and relaxed, and I could feel the power and precision of each movement.

I was trapped in this inanimate form, feeling every stretch, every twist. Michael was training intensively, and every jump, every flip, every landing gave me an unprecedented sensory experience. My mind tried to adapt, but the pain and exhaustion were constant.

Psychologically, I was struggling to maintain my own identity. The thoughts of omnipresent. Yet, in time, my mind became accustomed to this new reality.

Over time, I discovered new instincts, reflexes I'd never imagined I had. I could feel the slightest change in temperature, the tension in Michael's muscles, even his heart rate.

When Michael sweated during his intense workouts, I could feel every drop of sweat penetrating my fibers. The first time this happened, it was a shock. The sensation was both unpleasant and strange, but as time went on, I realized that this was one of my new roles. My fabric absorbed sweat, holding it in place to keep Michael dry and comfortable. This absorbing function soon became a natural instinct. With every drop of sweat, I reacted automatically, my fibers expanding to absorb the moisture. I could feel his body temperature, the saltiness of his sweat, and even detect when he was pushing his physical limits.

At first, Michael seemed almost sympathetic. Every morning, as he put on his tight compression, he would slip me a word of encouragement. However, As the weeks went by, his attitude changed. Michael became increasingly distant and indifferent. One day, as he was getting ready for training, he didn't even speak to me. Instead, he put me on like any other item of clothing in his wardrobe. I could feel the distance growing. Michael was absorbed in his routines, his competitions, and I had simply become part of his equipment.

As the months passed, memories of my old life faded for both Michael and me. I realized that my new existence was no longer that of a human, but that of an inanimate garment. Michael had forgotten me, as one forgets a dream upon awakening. And I was now a silent spectator of his life, living each day through his movements, but never recognized or noticed. And although my life as a human was over, I found a strange consolation in the fact that, somehow, I had finally understood what it meant to be a top athlete.