#TRADITIONAL lifting. no some people gym around

[bycourageandfaith]

I think some people forget that not everyone in the gym is training for aesthetics.

So many gym insta people mocking unusual exercises that probably have a very specific purpose for that persons goals. Or people getting annoyed when someone is using equipment in a different (but still safe) way.

Instead of being an ass why not just play ‘i wonder what sport they play’. It’s more fun and it takes the smacked arse look off your face.

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

Part 17 THE CHAOS CAMP

Carlos glanced at Meredith, who was pacing the living room like a cat on a hot tin roof. “And what exactly do you want me to do in these three days? Sit down and knit?” Meredith snapped, throwing her hands in the air. Her voice had that sharp edge, the one that Carlos had learned to handle with extreme caution.

“Honey, it’s a delicate matter,” Carlos said carefully, keeping his tone as calm as possible.

“Delicate?” Meredith repeated, her tone incredulous. “What do you mean by delicate? What kind of ‘delicate’ requires me to be here, looking like an absolute idiot?”

Before Carlos could respond, the sound of humming drifted in from the terrace. Both of them turned their heads in unison just as Y/N casually strolled inside, looking far too relaxed for the tension brewing in the room. Her hands were in her pockets, and she had that annoyingly charming smile on her face—the kind that made people trust her, even when they shouldn’t.

Meredith’s mouth fell open in sheer indignation as Y/N walked over, clearly unbothered by the chaos she’d just walked into. “Excuse me?” Meredith sputtered, turning to Carlos with a glare. “What is she doing here?”

Carlos sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s part of the deal, honey. We’re going camping. Together.”

Meredith froze for a second before bursting out, “Camping? What’s next—matching family sweaters? Are we all becoming one big happy family?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at that, her expression unreadable but her smirk still firmly in place. “Hey, is something wrong?” she asked, his voice perfectly casual as she shifted his gaze between Carlos and Meredith.

“Yes, something’s wrong,” Meredith shot back, her voice rising an octave. “I wasn’t aware of this.. tradition. And for the record, I don’t agree with the idea.”

“Well, you’re right,” Y/N said, her tone suddenly more serious as she folded her arms. “Imagining the ex-sleeping with your own partner is not exactly a vacation dream.”

Carlos winced. He could tell Y/N was up to something—she always was—but he had no idea where this was going. “Y/N…” he warned, but Y/N just kept smiling, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“I appreciate it,” Meredith interjected, her mood instantly lifting at Y/N apparent support. “Finally, someone with some sense around here.”

Y/N glanced at Meredith, her expression almost too kind. “Yes, and that’s why I’m asking you to come with us.” Her voice was sweet enough to rot teeth.

Meredith blinked, utterly thrown off. “Wait, what?”

Carlos had to bite back a laugh at Meredith’s face, which was a mix of shock and betrayal. “Y/N…” Carlos started, but his ex- held up a hand, silencing him with that practiced charm.

“Seriously, Carlos,” Y/N said smoothly. “I’ve already ruined your weekend, haven’t I? It would be rude of me not to join. Please, consider it my way of making up for everything.”

Meredith looked like she might faint, and Carlos wasn’t far behind. “That’s enough, Y/N,” Carlos said with a forced laugh, but it was too late. The plan was already in motion.

Meanwhile, Matheo and Mattia were busy packing their camping gear when they spotted Meredith, dressed in gym clothes, stepping out of the house with Carlos. The sight alone was enough to make them pause.

“What’s she doing here?” Matheo asked, his voice tinged with annoyance.

Carlos smiled as he loaded the car. “Your mom invited her,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. But judging by the looks on the boys’ faces, it was definitely a big deal.

Mattia tried to argue. “But—”

“No buts,” Carlos interrupted, gently but firmly. “I expect you to be polite. Got it?”

Matheo and Mattia shared a look, both equally disgusted by the idea. But they said nothing, choosing instead to stew in silence as they got into the car.

Well, most of them. Y/N remained planted on the driveway, looking far too smug for Carlos’ liking.

“Have fun!” Y/N called out cheerfully, waving them off like a benevolent queen sending her troops into battle.

Carlos frowned. “Y/N, what are you doing? I thought you were coming with us.”

Y/N’ grin widened. “Oh, I just thought it might be nice to get a little alone time before the big day,” she said innocently, her tone dripping with fake sweetness.

“But—” Carlos started, only to be interrupted by Mattia from the backseat. “Mom, that wasn’t the deal!”

“Relax, darling,” Y/N said, her voice honeyed and calm. “You’ll have so much more fun without me, trust me.”

Meredith looked visibly panicked. “If she’s not going, I don’t think I should—”

“No, no,” Y/N said quickly, her smile growing even brighter. “You’ll do great, darling. Besides, this is your chance to bond with the kids. In a few weeks, they’ll all be yours anyway.”

Meredith’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing, slipping on her sunglasses instead. Carlos gave Y/N one last exasperated look before climbing into the car and starting the engine.

From the rearview mirror, he could see his kids sulking, Meredith stewing, and Y/N waving cheerfully in the distance.

As the car pulled away, Chessy strolled up next to Y/N, sipping on an iced coffee. “I’d pay good money to see her try to survive out there,” Chessy said with a grin.

Y/N laughed, her gaze still on the disappearing car. “Oh, you won’t need to pay anything. Just wait.”

*****

The four of them made their way down the winding trail, with Carlos and Mattia leading the way, their strides confident and steady. Behind them, Matheo trailed slightly, keeping an eye on Meredith, who was practically dragging her feet while grumbling non-stop. Meredith’s complaints ranged from the incline of the path to the unfairness of life, her dramatic tone making the entire ordeal oddly hilarious to Matheo.

Carlos glanced over his shoulder and immediately noticed Meredith’s weary expression. He stopped in his tracks, raising his hand to signal a break. “Alright, let’s take a moment. Another break.”

Mattia groaned, turning to his father with an exaggerated eye roll. “What? At this rate, we’ll make it to the lake by winter.”

“Be wise, Meredith isn’t used to this,” Carlos replied patiently as he unscrewed his water bottle, taking a few steps closer to Meredith.

“I swear, I can’t move anymore,” Meredith panted dramatically, flopping onto a nearby rock. “I don’t get how people do this for fun.”

Matheo exchanged a look with Mattia, mischief flashing in his eyes. Quietly, he picked up a rock and tiptoed over to Meredith’s backpack. Mattia didn’t need any explanation—he smirked knowingly as Matheo began slipping the rock into Meredith’s bag.

“Hey, can you pass me my water bottle?” Meredith asked, oblivious to the antics happening behind her.

Matheo hurriedly zipped up the bag, grabbed the bottle, and handed it over. “Here you go, Meredith.” He bent down mid-motion, catching sight of a tiny lizard darting across the trail. A grin spread across his face as he gently scooped it up.

Meredith guzzled down her water, sighing in relief. Everything seemed to be fine… until she caught sight of the lizard perched casually on the rim of her bottle. Her scream echoed through the forest as she launched the bottle into the air.

Mattia and Matheo clamped their hands over their mouths, their laughter barely contained as Carlos rushed over, concern etched on his face. “What happened? Mer, are you okay?”

Matheo held up the lizard with a sheepish grin. “He just had a little surprise visitor, Dad.”

Carlos couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Don’t worry, Honey. He’s harmless. He’s not going to hurt you.”

“Y-yeah, totally,” Meredith stammered, laughing nervously as she took a step back.

But before he could get too far, Matheo, ever the troublemaker, brought the lizard up close again, this time inches from Meredith’s face. “Look, Meredith, he likes you!”

Meredith shrieked and flailed, dodging backward. “Get that thing away from me! I hate crawling things!”

Carlos seeing his kids teasing Meredith, he ordered them to leave first, “You two go on ahead.”

“Alright, alright,” Matheo relented with a laugh, placing the lizard safely on a nearby rock. But not before whispering something to Mattia, who instantly grinned. Meredith had no idea what was coming next.

By the time they reached the campsite by the lake, Meredith was in full survival mode. The twins, however, were thriving—plotting and giggling as they watched their favorite victim struggle to carry her weighted-down backpack.

Dinner by the campfire didn’t offer much relief for Meredith. The freshly grilled trout was delicious, but after the fourth serving, her enthusiasm had waned. She poked at his plate with her fork, looking forlorn.

“Hey, mom, do you want more trout?” Matheo asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

“How about you call me Meredith? I’m pretty sure Y/N would prefer it,” Meredith shot back, ignoring the new call. “And no, I don’t want more trout. What are we having for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Trout,” Carlos, Mattia, and Matheo answered in unison, their timing impeccable.

Meredith groaned, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t understand how anyone likes camping. It’s mosquitoes, trout, and near-death experiences.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, sniffing the water bottle Meredith had been sipping from. He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Honey, this is sugar water. No wonder the mosquitoes love you. Who gave you this?”

Meredith glared daggers at the twins, who were suddenly very engrossed in their plates. “Enough, I will go to sleep, I will take my sleeping pills and sleeping peacefully.” she stood up, and smiled as she walked over to Carlos, her boyfriend. Without hesitation, she tilted Carlos’ chin up and planted a deep kiss on his lips. Carlos melted into it, a warm contrast to the cool night air.

Matheo and Mattia, sitting nearby with crossed arms and matching scowls, exchanged a look of shared irritation. Their dad was a goner, and they knew it.

Meredith pulled back with a smirk, glancing at the twins. “Good night,” she said, voice dripping with confidence.

Matheo rolled his eyes. Mattia crossed his arms tighter, but neither said a word. Carlos, ever the peacemaker, sighed and looked at his kids. “Kids, leave her alone. I’m not marrying her just because she’s pretty.”

“Then why are you marrying her?” Matheo asked, his tone sharp.

Carlos’ patience was thinning. “Go to sleep,” he said, finality lacing his words.

The twins didn’t respond, but their silence was louder than any protest. Carlos got up and disappeared into his tent.

Hours later, under the cover of darkness, The boy’s tent flap creaked open. Matheo scanned the area cautiously before signaling to Mattia. The two crept through the shadows with the kind of stealth only mischievous children could master.

“I hope the sleeping pills worked,” Matheo whispered as they reached Meredith’s tent.

The twins carefully unzipped the entrance. Inside, Meredith was sprawled out on her mattress, blissfully unaware of the chaos about to unfold.

With coordinated effort, they lifted the mattress, struggling only slightly under its weight. As they began to move it, Meredith murmured in his sleep, “Carlos…”

Mattia slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Damn…” he whispered.

After the momentary scare, they continued their plan, hauling the mattress out of the tent and down to the lake. With one final heave, they pushed it onto the water. The mattress floated gently, carrying its unsuspecting passenger into the middle of the lake.

Matheo smirked, watching their handiwork. “Good night, dear mommy,” he whispered before he and Mattia retreated into the shadows, their laughter barely contained.

Meredith stirred as the cool morning air brushed against her skin. She felt something soft on her neck, half-dreaming it was Carlos. “That feels nice,” she murmured. But as she opened her eyes, she found herself face-to-face with a bird perched on her shoulder.

“What the…?!” she shrieked, startling the bird, which flew off in a panic.

Meredith bolted upright, the realization hitting her like a wave—literally. She was floating in the middle of the lake.

“Carlos!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the forest.

Back on shore, Carlos woke with a start, groggily stepping out of his tent. The sight of Meredith, flailing on a mattress in the water, made him shock. “Oh… fuck…” he muttered. He watched helplessly as Meredith toppled into the water. Shit.

Carlos’ gaze shifted to his kids, who were now standing by their tent, looking suspiciously innocent.

By the time Meredith waded back to tent, she was soaked, furious, and dripping with lake water. She stomped past the campfire, kicking a still-hot kettle with impressive force.

Carlos stood there, arms crossed, unsure what to say. “Umm… what happens now?” he asked cautiously.

Meredith pointed a trembling finger at the twins. “This is what happens! When you and I get married, I’m sending those two brats straight to boarding school in Switzerland! Got it? Now choose. Is it me or them? You have two seconds.”

Carlos looked between Meredith and his children, his expression unreadable. Finally, he smiled. “I choose them.”

Meredith blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Carlos repeated, his voice firm, “I choose my children. Do you understand?”

Meredith’s jaw dropped. She looked ready to explode, but all that came out was an unintelligible noise of frustration.

Matheo and Mattia exchanged triumphant grins, their dad’s loyalty cemented in their favor.

Carlos watched as Meredith stormed off, muttering about ungrateful families and Swiss boarding schools. He sighed, shaking his head. His kids were a handful, but they were his handful, and nothing—not even Meredith Blake—could come between them.

prev chap

[cartierre]

NIGHTS LIKE THIS | ob3

❝ It's night like this when I need your love ❞

synopsis: and if only one night is meant for the two of us, is it worth falling in love for?

pairing: ollie bearman x fem!reader warnings: sweet, flirting, making out, angst, google translate italian word count: 4k

author's note: inspired by 'nights like this' by the kid laroi! there is a name drop towards the end but throughout the majority of the fic, reader's name is not mentioned.

The gym was packed with loud teenagers, all talking at a rapid speed trying to overcome the booming music that echoed through the big speakers. Everyone was dressed in gorgeous evening wear, most of the girls adorned glittery dresses while the boys stuck to traditional black suits. There was some finger food displayed on tables on the side, bowls filled with alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks quenching the students’ and teachers’ thirst. 

Ollie found himself misplaced among the Italian teenagers. He had only moved there a year ago and since he entered Formula Two, he barely attended any of his classes. He wasn’t even sure how exactly he had graduated, just that the heavy burden of getting good grades got lifted from his shoulders. 

At least one less thing he had to worry about.

His parents were long gone, only having stuck around for the official ceremony until they left him to “have fun with his fellow peers”. It’s ironic, he thought, since he didn’t even know most of their names.

The drink in his hand only had a few sips left, the prosecco leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. He felt a soft buzz from the alcohol, but ultimately decided against getting wasted with people he didn’t even fully understand. It was partially his fault, he never cared enough to pay attention in his Italian language class. 

“Che tragedia!” (How tragic!) He could hear his Italian teacher in the back of his mind. “Your Italian è terribile!” (Your Italian is terrible!)

Tugging at his tie around his neck, he feared he was close to suffocating from all the noise around him. Placing his drink on some of the tables splattered around the hall, he excused himself to no one in particular before sprinting up the stairs in the hallway leading up to the rooftop. He only found out about the spot a week ago, having got lost inside the school and accidentally ending up there.

The fresh air hit his face, though he immediately noticed that it wasn’t much cooler outside than inside. The Italian weather played against his plans, the sun not even fully set as it smiled against his cheeks.

Pulling his tie loose, Ollie still felt more relieved to have left the sticky gym. He felt stupid for not just going home with his parents, why did he decide to stay? It’s not like he had any friends to celebrate graduation with.

“Seems like I’m not the only one in need of escaping.” 

Only then did Ollie see a girl next to him. 

She leaned against the railing, a cigarette dangling between her manicured fingers. Her hair fell down her back, framing her face softly. She wore a black dress, way more simple than all the other girls he had seen, yet so elegant. He couldn’t help himself but glance at her breasts being pushed together by the dresses neckline. Ashamed, he quickly stopped analysing her.

“Cat got your tongue?” She smirked at him, raising her eyebrow as she took a drag of her cig. “Isn’t that what you English people say?”

“You know me?” He asked, perplexed that she knew about his nationality. Did he look that British?

“I’ve read about you.” She shrugged. “Wanted to know more about the futuro della formula uno, the future of formula one, that is supposedly my classmate.”

“I’m not even a Formula One driver.” Ollie corrected, though he felt the tip of his ears get hot from having such a beautiful girl call him the future of formula one. “And I’m even less of a classmate, probably.”

“Well, officially you are my classmate. Or were.” She smiled. “And once you’ll become a world champion I’ll brag about having been your classmate. Even if I’ve never seen you in person up until now.”

“Not sure about the world champion part, yet.” He shrugged, his hand gripping the railing as if he was about to fall. 

“Oh, he’s so humble.” The girl teased him, giving him a slight punch in the arm naggingly. “Well, the newspapers seem sure about it. You being champion material, or something like that.”

“The newspapers say a lot, whether it’s true or not.” He felt his cheek burn in embarrassment. Ollie wasn’t one to push his ego, he’d rather prove his worth on track than talk big without having anything to show for.

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes scanned over him, as if analysing him from top to bottom. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, but right now he wished he could read her mind. She took another drag of her cigarette, and even if Ollie despised the smell of tobacco, he somehow liked it when she smelled like it. 

Gosh, what was he thinking? He didn’t even know her, yet somehow he felt so serene next to her.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” She settled to ask after a minute of observing. 

“I don’t.” He simply answered, though his voice was quivering, unsure of what he should’ve said.

“You’re a bad liar.” She chuckled. “Your posture says differently. You’re unsure of yourself and your abilities, but why?”

“I guess…” He cleared his throat, her intense analysis of him humbling him even more. “I guess I don’t want to put the same pressure and expectations everyone puts on me on myself as well.”

He turned to look at her, finally gathering enough courage to do so. Her head was tilted to the side, her lips wrapped around her cigarette to take one final puff before throwing it on the ground and stepping on it. 

“Wanna get out of here?” She asked instead of reacting to his words.

Ollie was taken aback by her request, admiring her boldness of asking straight away rather than talking around it. Without wanting to sound arrogant, Ollie was used to girls asking him for certain things. Sometimes, he loved the attention, especially right after a good race, but with her he felt shier than ever. 

So it surprised him when he answered confidently.

“Sí.” (Yes.)

With another smirk towards him, the girl clearly satisfied with his answer, the two of them sneaked back down again to escape the facility. He sucked in a breath of fear when he saw her grabbing a bottle of prosecco nonchalantly before exiting the school. Ollie was sure they’d get busted for stealing, however none of the teachers seemed to care much as none of them even batted an eye.

“They have enough of that stuff,” She said as she saw his face drenched in worry. “Don’t act like we’re stealing anything valuable. Also, I bet Ferrari has paid them enough to let you pass so think of it as a little gift.”

He had never encountered someone like her, Ollie realised as she popped the bottle the minute they stood outside. Taking a sip straight from the bottle, she let out a sigh. “They have the good one as well.”

Offering him a sip, she pulled out another Vogue cigarette and lit it with her lighter. “I don’t assume you smoke, but regardless, do you want one?” She said as she held out the pack in front of him.

Ollie hesitated a bit, but ultimately declined. He was sticking to the prosecco. 

“Figured.” She shrugged and shoved the pack back into her little purse. 

“So- uh- where to now?” He asked, taking another sip of the drink. He felt himself growing more nervous every minute he spent with her. 

She smiled, taking his hand boldly and running off into a certain direction. Ollie stumbled forward, not expecting her approach, but then took off behind her and followed her blindly. 

At that moment, he would’ve followed her anywhere.

Giggling uncontrollably, she kept turning her head around to him from time to time. Her hair was flowing behind her as if she was from another planet, somewhere where beauty lit up the night. Her beauty certainly lit up his night.

“Come on,” she slowed down, taking small breaths, her cheeks slightly shiny from the sweat. “It’s not far.”

“Where are you taking me?” Ollie’s face was flushed, his locs sticking to his forehead from all the running. The summer air was hitting his face and he felt warm under his suit jacket. 

“It’s a sorpresa!” She just said, opening her mouth slightly and nodding towards the prosecco in his hands. 

His brain malfunctioned for a second, then started acting without thinking. In a smooth motion, he poured some of the liquid into her mouth, accidentally spilling some. The alcohol ran down her chin, trailing down her chest and inbetween her breasts. 

Ollie felt hot, and this time it wasn’t just the summer heat.

She laughed after gulping down the sparkling wine, wiping her chin with her hand, careful not to smudge her lipstick. 

“Ehi!” (Hey!)

Ollie ducked down, as if he would dodge a bullet, from the sudden shrill voice coming from above. The girl kept laughing, ignoring the old woman screaming at the two from her little balcony. 

“Silenzio!” (Be quiet!) The old woman yelled at them again, raising her fist as if to curse them. “È tardi, idioti!” (It’s late, you idiots!)

“Non essere così duro!” (Don’t be so harsh!) The girl yelled back, still giggling. “Vivi un po', nonna!” (Live a little, grandma!) She stretched out her hands like a starfish, twirling around until she stumbled. 

Ollie was quick to wrap his hands around her waist, keeping her from falling to the ground. Only when she was gripping his biceps to steady herself, he realised how close he was to her. 

“Vai via da me!” (Go away from me!) The grandma kept yelling, Ollie not understanding anything the two were saying. “Voi due piccioncini...” (You two lovebirds...) She mumbled and shook her head, making her way inside her house again and leaving the two on their own.

“Arrivederci!” (Bye!) The girl giggled, waving the old lady goodbye as if she didn’t just curse at them.

“Now the last bit I got.” Ollie joked, stepping away from her again. He took a sip from the alcohol, feeling like that was the only source keeping him stable for now. 

“Look at you, little Italian.” She joked back, brushing her hand against his chest before reaching up and loosening his tie even more. She had to step on her toes to reach him, despite being in heels, then patted his chest when she was done. “Don’t want you to suffocate.” She whispered, giving him a flirty look before stepping away and nodding towards the end of the small alley they were in. “This way, follow me.”

When she turned his back to him, he threw his head back and prayed to whoever to help him get through without losing his mind, before following her yet again.

Eventually, and without any other disruptions, the two of them ended up outside a small pizzeria, which surprisingly was still open. There weren’t many people inside, just your local neighbours and a few drunks getting their snack. 

“Aahh!” The owner smiled as he saw the girl enter. “La mia piccola stella!” (My little star!)

“Zio Enzo!” (Uncle Enzo!) She greeted him, sharing their kisses on each cheek as accustomed in Italy. 

They continued talking in Italian, Ollie gathering one or two words here and there from his lessons, but not enough to properly follow their conversation. He realised his teacher would normally talk at a much slower pace, probably to help him understand each word clearly, though now it seemed of little help to him.

“... Formula…?” The owner looked at Ollie, eyeing him up and down. Ollie felt uncomfortable, not knowing what exactly they were talking about, and awkwardly smiled at him. He waved at the owner, not sure what else to do. 

“He’s your friend, no?” Finally, the owner switched to a language Ollie was able to understand. “Il tuo ragazzo?” (Your boyfriend?)

“No, no.” She shook her head, side eye-ing Ollie quickly to see if he had understood what Enzo had asked her. He didn’t seem so, as he stared cluelessly at her.

“Welcome, welcome!” He reached over the counter to greet the young boy, patting his cheek before stretching his arm out to his co-worker. “A pilota di Formula uno in my pizzeria! Francesco, can you believe it?”

“I’m not a Formula One-”

“Una pizza napoletana da asporto per favore.” (One Pizza Napoletana to go, please.) She interrupted him, smiling at the owner sweetly. 

“Ovviamente!” (Of course!) The owner smiled brightly at the two young people. “Pizza Napoletana to go, Francesco, did you hear that?” He turned back to the couple. “Ready in about fifteen minutes. You want something to drink?”

Ollie held up the half empty prosecco bottle, making the owner laugh out loud and nodding in encouragement before getting back to the other customers. 

“So, that’s your uncle's shop?” Ollie asked, trying to open a conversation while waiting for their pizza. 

“Oh no,” The girl shook her head, laughing a bit. “Everybody here calls Enzo their uncle. He’s been here forever, we all grew up eating his pizza.” 

“Oh.” Ollie’s face got hot in embarrassment. 

She laughed at him, slightly punching his arm when she noticed how red he got. “Is that a British thing?”

“What do you mean?” He was confused by her question.

“You get red all the time!” She exclaimed. “I look at you and you’re flushed. At first I was honoured to make you blush, but now I think you’re just like that constantly.”

He was like that constantly just because she was there. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a British thing.” He scratched his neck, his face hot again, lying to her face since he didn’t want to admit how flustered she makes him ever since they met.

“It’s a cute British thing.” She slightly pushed him, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t stop.”

He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“Pizza Napoletana for my little stella!” 

Taking the pizza carton, the two bid their goodbyes to Enzo before continuing their way down the small alleys. Along the way, Ollie felt her hand intertwining with his again. He didn’t protest.

“We’re here!” She yelled laughingly, letting go of his hand to run forward. “Come on!”

They found themselves at the beach, the small town behind them glittering in the water as the lights reflected on the surface. There were nearly no people on the beach, surprisingly, and Ollie had to hold back his laughter when he saw the girl getting rid of her shoes to feel the sand between her toes. 

“I love the beach.” She said when he came up to her, pizza in one hand and prosecco in the other. He placed both of it carefully on the ground before taking his jacket off, laying it down onto the sand to somewhat protect them from the sand. 

Sitting down, he realised just how close they were to fit into his jacket. Though he wouldn’t ever complain about it. Sharing the pizza, the two of them were silently enjoying the view and food, sharing a sip of prosecco every once in a while, emptying the bottle. 

It’s gotten late. More and more of the few people around them started packing up their stuff. Ollie’s phone had no more battery left, so he was unsure just what time it was. Looking to his right, he also didn’t care what time it was. 

The two were now laying on the beach, their heads sharing the space on Ollie’s suit jacket. Next to them was the empty pizza carton next to the prosecco bottle. They’d clean it up later. 

“... and that’s Andromeda, named after the Ethiopian princess saved by Perseus. She was chained to a rock, being sacrificed to the sea monster Cetus.” She pointed towards the sky, tracing the star constellation she just talked about. “You see?”

He couldn’t really decipher any of the constellations she pointed out to him, Ollie just liked listening to her talking about something she was passionate about. So he nodded, humming in agreement.

“You’re not paying attention!” She scolded him jokingly, shoving his shoulder with her own and giggling when she noticed how she ripped him out of his trance. 

“No, no, I was!” He tried to defend himself. 

“Really? Then where is Andromeda?” She raised her brow, her lips stretched into a smirk. 

Clearing his throat, Ollie turned his head to look at the stars again, randomly pointing at the bright points decorating the night sky. “See, right there.”

Laughing at his attempt, she just shook her head and took his hand into hers. Stretching his pointy-finger out, she helped him slowly trace the Andromeda constellation. “She’s right here, glowing beautifully above us.” She whispered, her eyes soaking up the beauty of the stars while his eyes were drowning in hers.

Slowly, her hands holding his traced each of his fingers. They went over his knuckles, following the lines on the palm of his hand before stopping on his wrist. None of them talked, enjoying the silence and the feel of each other's skin while the waves splashed softly in the background. 

She felt him staring at her from the side, finally turning to him and meeting his eyes. Their hands were still up in the air, though she dropped hers when he felt his hand coming down. He cupped her face gingerly. 

His thumb traced her cheekbone, just as her fingers used to trace his hand, until they stopped at her lips. Her lipstick had been long gone after they finished the pizza, though Ollie found himself enjoying her natural lips just as much as her painted ones. 

He softly swiped over her lips, feeling the shaky breath she let out on his thumb. He couldn’t stop staring at them, wondering what they’d feel like on his lips, what they’d taste like. 

What she would taste like.

“Now or never.” She whispered, making his eyes snap back at hers. 

He leaned over her, using his elbows and free hand to stabilise himself to not crush her with his weight. “Sì?”

“Sì, Oliver.”

Ollie groaned, his full name sounding so appealing when it came out of her lips, and suddenly he’s never felt so sure about something. 

He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He was sure he'd never felt so many butterflies going around his stomach. He had goosebumps all over his body, his face flushed yet again and the nervosity fading away with every passing second.

His hand cupping her face moved to her hair, his fingers entangling with her hair and his body moving more and more on top of her. He felt her hands wandering up his back towards his neck, pulling him towards her. Her hands settled on his chest, her nails scratching over the fabric of his dressing shirt. 

His hand, previously holding him up which now his knees did, settled on her waist, tracing small circles over his dress. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist, her back arching upwards and pressing against his chest.

Ollie felt himself going crazy when he felt her whimpering against his lips, his mind on autopilot as he kissed her down the neck, sucking on her pulsing point which had her moaning and panting. Her nails scratched against his scalp, the slight pain making him groan against her skin. 

“Ollie-” She gasped, throwing her head back as she felt one of his hands tracing the curve of her boob. “Oh Dio…” (Oh God…)

Hearing his name, Ollie snapped out of his trance. Breathing heavily, he pulled away from her slightly to calm down for a second. “Fuck…”

Her taste lingered on his lips, the feeling of kissing her consuming his whole. He knew they needed to stop before things got out of hand, he figured she realised that exact thought as he looked into her eyes. 

Ollie rolled over, leaving the space on top of her and settling down next to her.

There was silence between them, the sound of the waves mixing with their heavy breathing. Suddenly, she started giggling beside him. Not knowing why, Ollie felt the urge to just join her. 

Both giggling, neither of them sure why, and yet the two of them understood each other.

She sat up, looking down at him sideways. “I think it’s time to go.”

Ollie wasn’t sure if she knew how crushing her words were. He wanted to freeze this moment, freeze this moment with her. If it was up to him, he’d never leave this night. 

But it wasn’t up to him, so he stood up and helped her do the same. Dusting the sand off of themselves, Ollie grabbed his suit jacket and shook it before placing it on her shoulders. She smiled at him, and he was sure her eyes sparkled as much as the sky above them. 

They disposed of the carton and bottle in a trash can in front of the beach. The alleys ahead of them were completely empty and Ollie was sure it must’ve been the early hours of the day by now. 

Neither of them shared many words on their way home. He was dreading the moment they separated, and feared making conversation would only speed up the time until then. So he settled for just holding her hand, and she settled for clinging onto his arm. 

But talking or not, eventually they reached the hotel Ollie was staying in. 

“I guess this is it.” She entangled herself from his grip. “Pilota di Formula uno.” (Formula One driver.)

“Doesn’t have to.” He whispered, his eyes searching the depths of hers. “England isn’t that far away, you know. And there are races here in Italy.”

She just smiled at him. “Don’t forget about me when you’re on top.”

“I don’t think I could ever forget about you.” He breathed out.

“Forever is a pretty long time.”

“Not long enough.”

She chuckled at his response, shaking her head. “You’ve gotten a lot bolder ever since the beginning of the night.”

“Learned from the best.” He winked at her, making her laugh out loud. He felt himself grow prideful, he made her laugh again. Oh how he loved her laugh.

“Yeah, your future girlfriend can write me a thank you postcard from England.” She teased, though her joke fell on deaf ears. He didn’t laugh. 

Awkwardly, she looked at her feet. Now she felt herself grow hot within her.

“I don’t even know your name.” Ollie realised out of the blue. 

She looked up at him, now grinning again and feeling relieved at the topic change. “You didn’t figure it out?”

“Figure out what?” He asked cluelessly. 

The girl outstretched her hand. “I’m Andromeda.”

Playing along, he took her hand, slightly bent down and softly kissed the back of it. “Pleasure to meet you, Andromeda.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” She chuckled at his antics, lightly bowing back at him. They both laughed at their situation.

“Drive safe, Oliver.” She smiled sadly at him, both of them knowing it was now finally the time to say goodbye. “And if you ever find yourself back here, maybe stop by Zio Enzo’s pizzeria, alright? Maybe you’ll find me there.”

“I’ll be looking for you.” He breathed out before taking one final step towards her.

Cupping her face again, he pressed a lingering kiss against her lips, cherishing this moment one more time. She melted into him instantly, her hand falling flat against his chest. 

Parting, they breathed each other’s air. His thumb traced her lips again, his rough skin tasting salty against her tongue. He looked deeply into her eyes, memorising their sparkle just like the star constellation she was named after.

“Addio mia stella.” (Goodbye, my star.)

[nubiawrites]

chapter six

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving). toyplay.

Summary: a night in with Aaron has Iriye ready to risk it all as production of Paradise Lost hits a snag.

Notes: I'm still thinking about Aaron's sleeve. Please let me know what you think about this chapter and where things are going. All the love that has been shared with me excites me.

MASTERLIST

Focus was something Iriye was lacking at the moment. Completely. Especially when she was in the kitchen with the fine specimen, currently chopping up onions on the special marble cutting board in her kitchen, and her eyebrows knitted together as Aaron worked. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he worked, and Iriye stopped going through her fridge to move over to him, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Aaron turned to face her, a small smile coming on her face. She returned the smile, returning to grab the chicken she had seasoned earlier for the rasta pasta she had planned to make.

“I didn’t take you for someone who was such a good cook,” Aaron teased. Iriye playfully glared at him.

“Well, I’m not going to oversell you, but I can at least cook to survive,” Iriye said, moving to find her wooden cutting board. And by cooking to survive, I can call my mom and ask her for help when I’m flailing. " This might have been the night before when Iriye called, needing the pasta recipe her mom often cooked when she was a kid.

“I respect that,” Aaron said, moving the onions into a bowl she set aside. “I hope I didn’t send you into a tizzy when I asked to see you tonight,”

“You didn’t. I was glad you wanted to see me again,” Iriye admitted. “I mean, after the night we had… and the morning,” She was trying to be cool about it, her mind thinking about how he woke her up,”

“Turn over for me,” Aaron breathed. Iriye raised an eyebrow but did what he said, remembering she only wore his shirt. He pushed the material up, moving to reveal her bare backside. Aaron moved behind her and pulled her hips up till she was on her knees, back arched. She felt his hand spread her cheeks, giving him a peek of her pussy.

“Aaron…” She moaned in anticipation, wanting to know what he would do. But she didn’t have to wait further when he began licking at her lower lips from behind…

“That was quite the morning,” Aaron mentioned, and Iriye felt her cheeks warm as he looked at her as if he would eat her again. A girl could hope. 

“It was,” Iriye smiled. “How has shooting been for Lanterns,” The grin that appeared on Aaron’s face lit up the room and she listened as the man began to yap on as they cooked the rest of their meal.

Iriye and Aaron sat at her dining room table, plates finished as they continued talking.

“Do you think you’ll ever get used to being in the limelight?” Iriye asked him, his hand playing with her fingers.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Aaron admitted. “Everyone’s at the top one day and the next, they’re yesterday’s news,”

“I doubt that for you,” Iriye shrugged. “You’re good at this. Acting. You put your whole soul in it. Like, I can tell you enjoy what you do. What you bring to a scene,” 

A small smile crept up on Aaron’s face at those words, and he lifted her hand and kissed its back. 

“I’m glad you think so,” Aaron kissed her hand again. “But sometimes I wish I could just do my job and go home. Not to deal with the extra,” He said.

“Being toted around like a show pony,” Iriye stated. “You know how many agents and managers I had meetings with before I signed with my current one? Eighteen. I felt like none of them saw me. I was just some diversity quota to fill up their clientele roster. And then I met my current manager, Devery. I thought he was this total gym bro, and then he told me one of the details I put in a script. A little tradition my mom and her people would do back in Kingston. And he loved it. Of course, I thought he was about to ask a question about it. But he researched it. It seems tiny but it meant everything to me. After that meeting, I wanted him to sign me, and we’ve been working together ever since,”

“Well, it seems he has your best interest at heart,” Aaron said, Iriye shrugging.

“He does. To have someone that has your back along the way. It's worth its weight in gold,” Iriye explained. She moved to take their plates to the kitchen, feeling his hand trailing against hers as he let go. She came back, seeing he was quiet. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Aaron kissed her hand and pulled her around to stand before him. 

Aaron nodded. “I just want to make sure I do right by you, Tamara, Nelly, and everything Lanoire Productions is with Paradise Lost. " 

“You are going to kill it, Aaron,” Iriye tilted his head to look at her, his hazel eyes peering at her dark brown ones. “This story is going to flourish on the big screen with you in it, and I’m not just saying that to stroke your ego,” 

Aaron smiled, his hands smoothing up the back of her thighs, his hands almost catching the silk dress she wore.

“You have a call time, tomorrow,” Iriye stated, remembering him mentioning that he had to be to the lot.

“I know,” Aaron nodded, his hands moving to cup her ass, pulling her till she was straddling his lap. Her hands touched his neck, slowly scratching at the skin, and she licked her lips as she heard him groan. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything?” Iriye said.

“This doesn’t bother you? You know… staying in,” Aaron asked. Iriye looked at him. “I don’t want you to think I like us in these four walls only,”

“You only like me when we’re alone. Well damn,” Iriye teased.

“I like you everywhere, Iriye,” Aaron said. “I want to take you on a proper date one of these days… if you would like to,”

Iriye felt her cheeks warm at the words.

“You’re making it hard to find the red flags, Aaron,” Iriye admitted. She moved to stand up. “So? Are you going to ask me on a date?”

Aaron shook his head at her as he watched Iriye look at her wrist, acting as if she was checking the time. He stood up, his six-foot-three towering over her five-foot-eight frame.

“Will you let me take you out on a date, Iriye?” He asked.

“Of course, Aaron,” She answered quickly. “You have a call time,”

“I know,” Aaron kissed her softly, his hands gripping and squeezing her waist. Iriye moaned as she felt him grabbing her.

“My place is further from the lot,” Iriye reasoned between kisses. “You need… you need a good night's sleep. Because you’re playing a beacon of class and strength,”

“Yo!” Aaron breathed out, Iriye giggling.

“I’m serious. You got a long drive from Baldwin Hills to your place,” Iriye mentioned. “You need to rest,”

“Then put me to bed,” Aaron suggested, raising an eyebrow at her. Iriye bit her lip before leaning on her toes, pressing a tender kiss against his. “We’re going straight to bed. No funny business,”

“No funny business. Scouts honor,” Aaron raised his hand like a boy’s scout, and Iriye rolled her eyes. Iriye took his hand, and he pulled her back into his body as they walked together into her bedroom.

Iriye felt some distance was needed, and while she showered, she left Aaron to his imagination while he was in her room. He made himself comfortable, taking in the most intimate space Iriye had for herself. He set his two alarms on his phone so he could get up and stripped down till he was left in his boxer briefs. He didn’t want to impose on her space, but he took in the different photos and trinkets.

On her bedside table, Aaron saw a picture of her with a woman with the same features as her but was slightly older. He picked up it was her mother as he noticed different photos of them around her room. He smiled because they shared the same smile, finding the beauty in them both. Random pens littered the nightstand, and charging cables were entangled. It was homey and right for Iriye.

The bathroom door opened, and steam billowed out as Iriye shut the door behind her. She opted to change in the bathroom, knowing she would be distracted by him if she got dressed.

When Iriye saw Aaron on her bed, she moved to the right side, where she had slept. She grabbed her scarf and tied it around her head. She then opted for a crop top she had cut herself and sleep shorts to ensure this man got to bed for his call time.

“You need more pillow cause I have some in the chest,” She asked.

“I’m alright, love,” Aaron said, slipping under the covers with her. She settled under the covers, mirroring him as they lay on their sides. “Come here,” Iriye tried to resist, but Aaron snaked his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

“Hi,” Iriye breathed. “Can you turn off the lamp?” She asked. He turned to switch it off, and the room was engulfed in darkness except for the moonlight peaking slightly through her blinds. Even through the darkness, she felt his eyes on her, his hand massaging her hip with his thumb. They were in a comfortable silence, and she loved it. “You didn’t go snooping through my draws while I was showering, did you?”

“Never would dream of it. Don’t want to encroach on any secrets you might have,” Aaron teased.

“Not even my panties drawer,” She teased. 

“Definitely not that,” Aaron chuckled.

“Hm. Too bad. You would have found something really interesting while snooping,” Iriye moved to turn her backside to him. “Night, Aaron,” Though she knew they needed to sleep, like clockwork, he pressed his hands on her hips, and she felt him growing harder against her ass.

“You can’t say stuff like that and then tell me to go to sleep,” Aaron complained, knowing he meant it teasingly.

“You know nothing good comes this late at night,” Iriye nuzzled into her pillow, trying not to let out a gasp as feeling him against her backside.

“What was it?” Aaron asked, whispering against her ear. She could feel the heat radiating from his chest. Iriye tried her best, but this man behind her drove her crazy.

“Turn the lamp on,” Iriye said. He quickly reached out to turn it back on. She shuffled over to her side of the bed and opened the drawer, pulling the device and holding it close to her chest. “Okay. You gotta promise not to laugh,”

“I promise,” Aaron spoke, turning to lay on his stomach and look at her. Iriye turned and showed him the device, and seeing his eyes widen at the vibrating wand was something else.

“Something to help me sleep at night,” Iriye admitted. She was nervous. Not because of her healthy sex life with another person or even solo but because Aaron was silent. His face was blank as he looked at her vibrator. “I think I broke the boy from South London,” 

“Can I see it?” Aaron asked. Iriye raised an eyebrow at him. “I wanna see it,” She handed it over to him, chuckling.

“What are you up to,” Iriye asked. A slight grin came on Aaron’s face. 

“Lay back,” Aaron pushed the covers further down to the end of the bed. She eyed him before propping herself up on the pillows. He set the vibrator to the side and moved to tug his fingers into her shorts, pulling slightly to ask to take them off. Iriye lifted her hips to help him, her lower half now bare. It didn’t help that her pussy was growing wetter as she felt his eyes on her. “Take off your top,”

Iriye didn’t waste time taking her pajama top off, leaving her bare before Aaron. She laid back, spreading her legs as he got between them. He made sure to put her spread legs on his thighs so he couldn’t escape.

“I’ll go to sleep after I get to play with your beautiful pussy,” Aaron stated. Iriye couldn’t even control herself. She pulled him close, her lips on his as she arched her body against him.

Aaron’s tongue licked against her lips before slipping inside her mouth, tongue fighting for dominance as they made out against the bed. Her hand grasped at his hard dick, Aaron groaning against her mouth. He pulled away, seeing her nipples growing harder, and he moved to kiss down her body, his mouth wrapping around her right nipple and sucking it softly.

Iriye whined out with every pull from his lips on her nipple. Aaron let it go with a smack before moving to the neglected one, sucking it as well. She felt every pulse going to her center, her body aching for it and for him. 

“Fuck Aaron…” Iriye pressed her breast closer to his mouth. Aaron pulled away, and she pulled him to kiss her again, her hips rolling up and pressing against his clothed length.

“Relax,” Aaron breathed against her lips. Iriye hummed, nodding at him. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him as he grabbed the vibrator, configuring it quickly to start at a low hum. Iriye reached for it, but Aaron pulled it from her. “I thought you were going to let me have control,”

“I am,” Iriye whined.

“Then we are going slow, baby,” Aaron gave her a grin before he moved the vibrator over one breast, her nipple hardening even more under the vibrations. Her back arched, and she felt him move to her other nipple, the vibrations steadily making her grow wetter.

Aaron bit his lip as he watched Iriye rolling her hips towards the vibrator in his hand. Lips parted as moans spilled from her; Iriye was feeling like he was torturing her. She was used to going fast and hard most nights when she knew she would be busy. She wanted to get off those nights. But Aaron was determined to make her feel.

“Aaron,” She breathed, her hips rolling against the vibrator as he kept pressing it against her clit, listening to her gasps and moans so he could move the toy to what spots were making her react. She wanted to shut her legs, but he was between them. “Please, Aaron,”

“You want me to turn it up,” Aaron teased, leaning down to kiss her lips, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. “Talk to me, love,”

“Turn it up,” Iriye breathed. She whined out as he pressed the buttons, and the vibrations came faster.

Aaron watched how her body rolled towards him, his hand slipping to hold her down against the bed by her stomach. He was so hard, his length begging to feel her, but he wanted to make sure she got hers first. He pressed down a little, flicking the wand against her, and Iriye moaned louder.

“Fuck,” Iriye moaned, pressing closer to her toy. Aaron groaned as he could hear her getting wetter as the vibrator worked against her. She was all breaths and moans, her hands moving to her breast, squeezing and teasing her nipples.

“Take the vibrator,” Aaron ordered her. Iriye took it in her hand, and she felt Aaron slip his fingers inside of her. She whined as he caressed his fingers inside of her, touching her g spot, and she whined. “God, you’re so fucking wet,” Aaron leaned over, his lips colliding with hers and she moaned into his mouth. One hand trailed to cup his cheek as his fingers, caressing the spot inside of her that made her go wild inside of her.

“Mhm,” Iriye moaned, his teeth pulling on her bottom lip as she felt him moving his fingers in and out of her. She wanted more. She needed more. 

Aaron’s lips trailed down to her neck as he continued to thrust his fingers into her, feeling her walls fluttering more and more around his fingers. His lips went to nibble and bite at her collarbone, nibbling at her collarbone. He wanted to leave his mark on her like Iriye was slowly leaving on him. Her whimpers and moans ringing through his ears and him looking up at Iriye to see her head in the pillow and her body rolling sensually against his as she got closer to her end.

Aaron’s hand went over Iriye’s and he took a hold of the vibrator, watching as she peeped her eyes to look at him.

“I’m… close,” Iriye let out between a moan. Aaron began moving his fingers more to fet her closer to her hand. “More…” Aaron took her words and he pressed it to the next setting on the vibrator, the buzzing louder and faster as more moans, whimpers and cries left her mouth. He focused his attention on m oving his fingers faster, testing the waters and slipping a third finger inside of Iriye.

Iriye wanted to pull away when he pressed a third finger in, the stretch feeling so good amd him testing the waters as he watched her. Aaron kissed her again, moaning into her mouth.

“I wish I could feel you wrapped around me,” Aaron whimpered against her lips. Iriye kissed him back, her tongue pressing to lick inside of his mouth. 

“I want you, Aaron,” Iriye moaned. His fingers moved inside of her faster, his finger tips pressing just the write way as she could hear how wet her pussy was around his fingers. She was so close, that edge right there and with a certain flick of his wrist as he pressed back into her, she felt her body fall over it.  Iriye cried out her orgasm against his lips as he focused on making sure she got every bit of it.

Aaron wanted it all. He wanted every moan of hers. Every cry that graced her lips. Every moment of pure pleasure she had to offer. He continued pressing the vibrator against her, his fingers fucking every whimper out of her as he prolonged her orgasm till she weakly pushed him away. 

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed weakly. He pulled the vibrator away to turn it off, slowly pulling his fingers out and licking the essence that covered them as he watched her blissed out face. Iriye worked onc atching her breath, pussy still throbbing from aftershocks. “I want you,” She whispered.

“I want you too, love,” Aaron said. Iriye kissed him again and he wrapped her up closer to him but she stopped him. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Iriye whined. A grin took over Aaron’s face, his hand moving to her chin. She pressed closer to him and he grasped her hips. “As much as I want to, we won’t leave this bed,” Aaron stated. “I’ll want to taste every inch of your body and leave no patch of skin untouched,” He caressed her thigh and she whimpered. 

Iriye moaned at his words and he kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth. 

“I promise, it’ll be worth it,” Aaron said, trailing a finger between her breast. Iriye looked up into his eyes and she could tell it would be worth it. She nodded and he sealed it with a kiss.

The thoughts of the night before replayed through Iriye’s head, knowing she should be focusing on Tamara’s words as she spoke to her and Nelly during lunch. But all she could think about was when she and Aaron would fu-

“Earth to Iriye,” Tamara raised a brow at her friend. “You listening,”

“Yeah, I am,” Iriye looked between a concerned Tamara and smirking Nelly. “What?”

“You’re chewing the hell out of your food. Thought you might bite your tongue or something,” Tamara chuckled. “So, the camera test footage looks good but the executives want to float someone else into the mix for Nora,”

“But we like Sam for Nora,” Iriye tried her best not to be annoyed.

“Well it landed with someone. Vivian Kincaid,”

“Shut up,” Nelly whispered. “I love that  talented messy bitch,”

“Vivian Kincaid? No,” Iriye shook her head. “I get it. She’s the wonder girl for WB but at this moment, we’re locking in Sam,”

“They want her and Aaron to test together. See how it goes,” Tamara said. “I don’t think they will touch what Sam and Aaron did but she reached out Davis directly he said. I guess she’s looking for a more serious role for a comeback,”

“But this could be a breakout for Sam,” Iriye stated. “She’s worked jsut as hard as us to get to this point,”

“I think it’s more of a formality of letting Vivian throw her hat in. I wouldn’t worry,” Tamara said. She checked her phone when it rang. “It’s Jay…” Iriye tried her best not to roll her eyes at the mention of her ex. “He asked to talk about some camera shit. I’ll keep it short and cute,” Tamara stood up, pressing a kiss to Iriye’s head and leaving her with Nelly.

“So…” Nelly said. Iriye rolled her eyes playfully. 

“Ask away,” Iriye said.

“I didn’t tell anyone what I saw with you and Mister Pierre,” Nelly teased. “What is going on with you two?”

Iriye tried not to smile too hard as she thought of the man who she shared an innocent shower with earlier that morning. The one who she walked down to his car because she wanted to make sure he go to the studio on time, kissing him slowly against his car in the early dawn of morning. But she couldn’t help it.

“We’re just… taking things slow,” Iriye admitted, even if she was ready to spread her legs for him if he asked in a hearbeat. 

“Taking things slow my ass,” Nelly teased. “But it’s cute. I’m happy to see you having fun. And if he’s not showing you a good time or treating you right, I’ll kick his ass. I don’t care if he’s six foot two,”

“Six foot three,” Iriye corrected.

“I knew you were obsessed with him,” Nelly shook her head.

After lunch, Iriye made it back to the production office, seeing a bouquet of lilies waiting by the door. She smiled, picking them up and heading inside of her office. She knew Tamara and Nelly were busy on the lot and she would have the afternoon to herself so she put the flowers at her desk. Finding the card attached with them, she read it was from Aaron and smiled to herself.

Iriye picked up her phone, sending him a text along with a thank you for her flowers. It ook him a few minutes but he called her, Iriye putting it on speaker.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the flowers. I figured I should properly court you,” Aaron’s voice flowed through the phone.

“Properly court me?” Iriye laughed softly.

“Yes. I’m kind of disappointed I didn’t send you flowers before getting a taste of your personal garden,”

“You better be in your trailer,”

“I am. But let me focus. By properly courting you, I was wondering what plans you have Friday night,” Aaron asked. Iriye hummed, pretending to check her schedule. “Nothing at the moment,” Iriye replied.

“Good. May I take you out Friday night?” Aaron asked. “I promise. You won’t regret what I have in store for you,”

“Yes, Aaron. You can take me out Friday,” Iriye smiled to herself. Even with the nerves she felt, it was refreshing and terrifying but Aaron was someone she wanted to see the end of this journey with.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[octuscle]

The Transformation of Alexander to Sasha

An exchange semester in Moscow was really not a good idea. Everyone told him that. But Alexander was researching Russian constructivism in art history. And he had to go to Moscow to do it. Just one semester. What could happen there? So Alexander, an art student from California, embarked on an uncertain journey. Into an unknown world that was characterized by a new, dark atmosphere. His days were mostly filled with discussions about politics, literature and human rights, far removed from a world of masculinity, muscles and testosterone.

During his stay at Moscow State University, Alexander met Yuri, a burly Russian with a penchant for nationalism and bodybuilding. Yuri's invitation to the gym was met with skepticism by Alexander, but he accepted because he thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know Russian culture outside of the classroom.

When they entered the gym, Alexander felt like a fish out of water. The air was drenched with sweat and the clanging of weights echoed off the walls. Most of the people training there were muscular, tattooed men with serious faces. And most of the people there were not only fitness enthusiasts, but also avid right-wing hooligans. Alexander took a deep breath. There was something else. There was not only the smell of sweat in the air, but also of testosterone, pure aggression and something else. Of pure, hard and honest sex!

"Come on, Alexander, let's pump some iron!" Yuri grinned and patted him on the back. Shit, Alexander was building a tent in his training pants.

Despite his initial discomfort, Alexander enjoyed the training sessions. The adrenaline rush, the feeling of camaraderie, it was all new and exciting. But it wasn't just the physical aspect that attracted him, it was the ideology. The ideology of the superiority of the Russian man. In between training sets, Alexander listened to the conversations around him and soaked up the toxic masculinity, the nationalist rhetoric and the anti-liberal sentiment. It resonated with him in a way he hadn't expected. The more time he spent with Yuri and his friends, the more he agreed with their views.

It started with small changes - a shaved head, a scrotum piercing here, a tattoo there. But soon Alexander was completely immersed in the world of the Patriots. He began to espouse their beliefs, railing against immigrants and extolling the glories of Mother Russia. The further the semester progressed, the more obvious Alexander's change became. His once slender stature grew in muscle mass, and his liberal beliefs began to fade, replaced by a newfound nationalism. He immersed himself in Russian culture, learning the language and embracing the traditions.

By the end of the semester, Alexander was unrecognizable. He had taken the name Sasha and become a Russian citizen. Instead of returning to California, he stayed in Moscow, dealing steroids on the darknet and working as a bouncer in a nightclub frequented by the same right-wing hooligans he had once felt uncomfortable around. Now he fucked them in the back room. And they fucked him.

Sasha didn't give a shit about liberal thoughts and art. Lifting iron, fucking the comrades and honor for Mother Russia. That's all he needed. That's all he wanted.

[unspeakable-imagination]

Cigar smoke and Sleepless nights | part two

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x reader

Reposts and likes are appreciated

Cw: Cigars and smoke, drinking, reader has ptsd. Logan has ptsd, canon-typical violence, references to abuse

Part one three four

it had been another two nights since the mysterious biker had arrived, and since then, the atmosphere of the whole school shifted. In the middle of the night, people of all sorts would wake up and crowd around the door to listen to the screaming man who'd allegedly been having nightmares.

Every whisper you'd hear from people headed back to their rooms were that the man, the animal's name was Logan, only a few called him 'The Wolverine.' Was this the logan that Hank had told you about? You'd spent more time exploring the mansion, especially on these night, since you knew you'd not be interrupting anybodies sleep since Logan has woken them all up.

Usually when this happened, it was between midnight and three, most if that time you were in the kitchen, making one of your meals, or in the library, looking at the notes that the teachers hadeft you so you could carefully educate yourself.

Sleeping during the day was surely a hassle, because you weren't getting the socialization you needed. Not even with the adults that were your age. It was tiring learning the same material about history that you had missed growing up. It was upsetting that the most you ever saw was Hank, a crowd of students that oggled at the man with the nightmares, or the man himself, who'd either run off on the motorcycle that you heard in passing was Scott's, or he'd eventually tey to go back to sleep.

Bumping into the students made you uneasy. They'd not really spoken, or knew who you were. After they had watched Logan wake up, they'd always have an air- a smell of anxiety around them.

Deciding, since another nightmare had happened in the recent hour, it was a good time to go outside and have a cigarette. After heading to your room, Breitling hearing footsteps, and finding a back door that took you to the outside brink interior, you flinched. About seven feet from the door stood that man.

Logan. He had a lethar jacket on and a thick, traditional smelling cigar hanging out of his mouth. He turned his head when he hear the door and quirked a brow at you. It's like he was inspecting you, and suddenly you understood why the children felt so troubled after viewing his wakings. He smelled like metal, and alot of it. It was more punget than the smoke that billowed from his lips and the liquor that wafted from his jacket.

Silently, she moved to the opposite side of the door, leaning against the wall in her own. Fishing for your cigarettes and lighter, you turned away and hunched around, as if you were protecting the flame and embers from the brisk cold air. After taking a deep drag, officially keeping the cigarettes lit, you were able to turn back around. Protection from the cold was no longer required for your little cancer stick.

You carefully eyed the man, constantly looking without turning your head. He didn't try to talk to you, and you didn't even think he was looking at you. He only leaned against the wall, smoking.

You were half way through your cig when you listened to the man goan quietly. It brought your attention to him. He had the previously lit end of the cigar pressed against his palm, the last few dying wefts of smoke spreading into nothing. He threw his head back, mildly wincing before he lifted the dead heat and looked at his palm. Not a single mark was therex you noticed. He turned, stepping towards the door, briefly glancing at you before stepping in.

Humming in some form of a lesser shock emotion, you just blinked, before turning and finishing your own cigarette.

It didn't take much longer your drags becoming more frequent as the temperature dropped, and when you finished, you headed inside, down to the basement where the gym was. You still had a few hours to work out before the sun came up.

[pillowbugs]

"you lost to the subway bosses? well! great job, boys! though, if you're challenging us now, trainer... let's just say, our sons had to have learnt their skills from somewhere."

submas' parents won the poll! here's a quick drawing of them. if they make eye contact with you, as a trainer, you're probably screwed.

+ some alternate outfits for laylea

had some headcanons but lost steam to draw them out so i'll just dump them here under the cut:

Laylea

a (currently retired) top battler in the pokémon tournament circuit. has high placings in a lot of regional championships under her belt. after retirement, now mostly helps others work with more aggressive pokémon.

a passionate and affectionate woman. some may underestimate her, thinking her a kindly old lady to take advantage of... before she utterly decimates them, with or without her pokémon involved.

speaking of which, she loves battling. she isn't particularly fond of all the usual fragile 'gifts for mom' usually found in stores. so, every mother's day, ingo & emmet give her something she actually enjoys: a good, tough battle. and other things, of course, like a nice dinner, or coming home to help with all the housework, but the battle is the Big Thing. a tradition at this point.

her husband is a short king with a brilliant mind and she loves him a lot.

her kids inherited at least some of her height, so they aren't short, but she's still taller and stronger physically than them. and she loves them to bits too.

youngest of four siblings, the eldest being gym leader / mayor drayden of opelucid city. everyone in this family is super tall and/or super buff, and she's no exception.

a tradition in her family is for the firstborn child to receive an axew egg from their parents... but laylea was indignant about not getting anything special, so she went out to catch an axew herself - her first pokémon, astrid. she does continue the tradition later on with ingo receiving an egg of astrid's as the slightly elder son.

while prodigial son drayden focuses exclusively on dragons, laylea also raises various vaguely draconic / reptiliean pokémon outside her family's type.

she cut her blood family off years ago, however, because... well, let's just say the scars on her body aren't all from pokémon or strangers, and neither are those on her kids'.

in terms of battling, her skill lies in being able to adapt on the fly in the midst of battle; knowing when to go on the offence or defence, when a powerful strategy just won't work and switching tracks to counter the counter, etc.

her design is slightly based off the bw/2 female veteran sprite.

Akito

a former travelling trainer and top battler. like his wife, he has quite a few tournament wins to his name. now tutors others in battling techniques.

while certainly a kindly, reasonable person, he also definitely leans more pragmatic, to the point of being considered, by those who know him, as a bit of a sly trickster, who gets his fun from catching others by surprise.

in fact, in his youth, he was considered quite a polite sweet-talker, except he used his charm mostly to convince people to battle him, so he could win and take their money, which is essentially how he covered all his living costs on the road. it's how he met laylea, in fact, deciding that this rich girl was going to help him top up his funds for the next few weeks... only to get his ass whooped hard.

they became friends, and eventually a couple, after that, though. laylea was moping over people underestimating her as a lady and hence not wanting to battle her, and suddenly this handsome guy around her age shows up asking for a battle? hell yes.

his right leg was severely injured in a run-in with team plasma a few years before bw1; now needs a walking frame to move around by himself, or otherwise the support of his pokémon. or, he can just ride his pokémon around. or just let laylea carry him - she can easily lift him, even considers it good weight training to maintain her strength. he still makes it a point to walk by himself sometimes, though.

he really loves his wife who can beat the stuffing out of everyone (including him) in multiple ways. he also loves his weird wonderful kids.

his mother was from a small town in kitakami, but fell in love with and married a foreigner. the happy couple still stays in kitakami, and akito brings his wife and kids to visit them every year. however, growing up mixed-race in a small, rural, conservative town wasn't a very happy experience for akito, which is why he decided on the life of a wanderering trainer to get out of there.

in fact, akito's mother descends from hisuian immigrants from the pearl clan, forced out of their home by the galaxy team's annexation of the region. so, akito and his parents can speak the old hisuian language relatively fluently, and i&e picked it up at their grandparents' behest to not let the language die out. (which comes in very, very handy later for one of them...)

akito is the strategist to laylea's general; his skill lies in laying out battle plans and combinations to be used in battles, e.g. beat up + justified, consistent speed control via tailwind, hazards + force-switching opponents etc. they make a good pair: akito charts the course, laylea pilots the team.

his design takes cues from the dppt veteran sprite. also, he's bald. ingo had to have gotten it from somewhere.

Some other assorted notes

mom has grey hair turning white, dad has black hair turning grey. mom has golden eyes, dad has silver.

yes, one parent having a krookodile and the other having a togekiss is an intentional reference to the glitch submas mons from a bw beta build.

in fact, this is how i realise that krookodile (ground) + togekiss (flying) = gliscor (ground/flying). it's most likely a coincidence given we were never meant to know about the krookodile and togekiss, and gliscor has a whole other list of genius reasons for it being ingo's ace, but it's still cute.

absol was chosen over lucario as the justified pokémon on akito's team (krookodile can provide the beat up) to 1) not copy cynthia / volo and 2) additional yin-yang theming.

ingo really takes after both his parents (haxorus from mom, probopass from dad + considering giving laylea a flygon as well so ground types also from mom). the way i draw his hairstyle hatless is also swept back similarly to his mom's.

meanwhile, emmet, uh... i'm considering giving akito some bugs to better play into the "seemingly weak but terrifying with the right strategy and direction" theme, but don't have any solid ideas for which ones yet. any suggestions are appreciated. was also considering switching probopass with magnezone (also part of ingo's l:a team and adds electric typing for emmet), but imo the latter is too popular and i'd rather give probopass a chance to shine.

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i feel so high school (au) pt 2. charlos

anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle

(based on american high school setups cause of the song)

theatre kid!charles/stage crew!carlos: probably goes without saying but carlos knows how to ball, charles knows aristotle (though maybe not in the traditional sense). so here we’ll have carlos as the stereotypical jock, plays like four sports and is the team captain in all of them, lowkey giving frat boy energy and is honestly the only reason the school has won a game in the last four years. he’s probably known for being the only guy who’s both like a jacked up gym-is-life bro and also an utter gentleman, he’s always the one holding open doors and giving up his seat. and he’s usually pretty quiet/disengaged but if anyone disrespects a female teacher you know for a fact he’s death staring them into a puddle until it stops. the only fight he’s ever gotten into was with a guy who was harassing a girl at a dance and wouldn’t let her go when she tried to pull away.

charles is like the school heartbreaker, because he can never seem to make a relationship work no matter how many times he tries… and it seems like he’s a player and he’s got a different girl every week which isn’t entirely false but he also just doesn’t know how to say no to anyone which is the root of the problem. anyway so yeah i’m making charles a theatre kid, like one who can fit pretty much any role but he prefers the classics (he’s the kind of guy who knows a shakespeare quote for pretty much any situation). he usually gets cast as the love interest whether he wants the role or not but he does get a lot of stage time which he’s happy with. he’s way more comfortable on stage than when he’s actually with people, and his looks get him pretty far but in reality he’s just really awkward and kind of shy and gets flustered so easily.

carlos is on stage crew because he needed to fill the “arts/language” requirement to graduate and stage crew counted as performing arts even though it’s all behind the scenes. so he’s there almost every day, spending more and more time as the shows approach helping build sets and man the ropes and (insert lots of other cool and technical stage crew activities here). so even they know of each other this is the first time their paths really cross and they meet.

this is going to be the most cliche romance ever. charles having breathless pearl-clutching moments of gay panic when carlos gets paint all over his shirt and stops to take it off, or lifts giant sandbags or ladders or planks around like they don’t weigh anything. except ofc charles is way too shy to say anything or make any kind of initiative move so he just finds excuses to stay longer after rehearsals, maybe he starts helping paint the sets/designs cause he’s not bad at visual arts (emphasis on alternate in this alternative universe). bonus if he makes friends with one of the stage crew girls and all of the sudden he’s got a new handler (“look around twink! everything in this office is either dead or dying even the therapy dog killed itself”) who is constantly rolling her eyes at BOTH of their inability to take a hint

this would be the kind of hc that involves dressing rooms and unexpected moments behind curtains etc.

[fitnessnirvana]

GYM EXERCISES TO IMPROVE YOUR POSTURE

As you may have noticed from some of the depressing news reports and articles going around the internet, a lot of individuals these days have fairly bad posture. Stooped shoulders, forward heads, back ache, and all that. The reasons for this are not difficult to figure out. Many people spend a lot of time sitting, and as a result, certain muscular imbalances—often associated with a weak posterior chain—occur naturally. Without further ado, here are a few simple gym exercises you can do to start improving your posture today (or whenever you next visit the gym).

Deadlifts:

Standard deadlifts are likely the best exercise for exercising the posterior chain muscles, which comprise the hamstrings, glutes, spinal erectors, and trapezius muscles, among others. When these muscles are weak, a variety of posture problems develop. Spinal lordosis, for example, is characterized by an excessively arched back and is associated with muscular imbalances in the posterior chain.

To perform standard deadlifts:

Load and place the bar on the ground. Then, place your feet about shoulder-width apart, with the bar resting on your midfoot. Drop down by hinging your hips backwards, grip the bar with your hands shoulder width apart, squeeze it hard, and lift it by pressing up through your heels. Throughout the action, keep your core engaged and your back flat, rather than hyperextended or bent.

Kettlebell Swings:

The kettlebell swing is a traditional explosive workout that works the same muscles in the posterior chain as the deadlift.

To perform a kettlebell swing:

Grab a kettlebell in both hands. Keeping your legs fairly straight, "explode" the weight in front of you with a fast hip movement, finishing with a firm core like a plank. Then, with your legs mostly straight and your back flat, let the weight swing down between your legs before repeating for the next rep. When done correctly, a kettlebell swing is essentially direct training for "standing up straight".

Kettlebell swings are a high-intensity exercise that will significantly improve your cardiovascular conditioning. If you're prone to joint soreness when completing big deadlifts, try slightly smaller weights and higher reps.

Seated Cable Rows:

Not all postural disorders are caused by problems with the lower back muscles. Some conditions, such as rounded shoulders, are caused by muscle imbalances in the upper back. Seated cable rows on a rowing machine are an excellent approach to strengthen some of the important muscles while also increasing blood flow to the joints due to the high repetition nature of the activity.

To perform the exercise:

Position yourself on the rowing machine's seat and hold the handle attached to the cable. Push back with your legs while leaning back and "rowing" the cable to your mid-torso simultaneously.

[confusedgoldenflower]

[Images: woman working a plow struggles to move a rock out of the way; a rock that can’t be more than ~20 pounds.]

Rant about women in writing. . . .

*Heavy sigh*

🙄

I’m so fucking tired of this.

Where is her strength?

Where. Is. Her. Strength.

I don’t care HOW minuscule and absolutely microscopic your dick-ego is (even if you happen to be afab), a farmer, a warrior and peasant would have a shit tonne more strength than this. You Hollywood, writer dingbats are too used to and spoiled by city people and high class women who don’t have to do such things. Farming women need—not “can,” need—to do just as much as the men (y’all talk like testosterone is some super power, but we all watch the Olympics and women in strongwomen programs can out lift any dudebro easy-peasy with more reps with the same working-workout routine).

Don’t you dare be mysogynistic and transphobic in the same breath saying “oh, well, you’re talking about male-to-females.” No. No, I am not and it’s both distressing and disturbing you’d shit on your foremothers and women in general like that. Not to mention history revisionist to think women are just so weak and fragile and can-barely-haul-a-water-bucket or pick-up-the-baby. If you think women everywhere all the time could have the luxury of not having to do things (let’s not even go into every single woman not wanting to), you’re stupid. You’re so fucking stupid, you let TV inform you and you sit there without question.

In this movie, Rebel Moon (I’m not finished w part 1 but I’m livid), she’s a warrior. Do you know how extra delusional and insulting that makes it for her to not be able to lift a ~20 lb rock? UNBELIEVABLY.

Back to speaking in general, I’m afab and I’m also very disabled. I didn’t do my “work out” for about three months. I’ve only been back at it for about three days but not consecutively because I went and made myself sore and the holiday stuff has made it so I can’t have the energy for that AND the event/family things, and I bought TWO fifty pound bags of cat litter the other day for my children which I had to pull off of the top shelf to put in the cart, pull out of the cart and put into my car, and finally take inside. Before anyone spouts nonesense: I don’t “work out” in the traditional sense, I have a few exercises I do in the comfort and non-overstimulating/triggering or anxiety-inducing environment of my home. It’s not a lot. It’s a pathetic “regimen” compared to all that my PT people wanted me to do, especially to anyone who knows their way around fitness/athleticism. And I’d have pulled that little fucker out no problem.

Sure, it’s her last few rows, but I have no idea how big her section is. The place is arid and dry and it’s sunset so I’m to assume she’s sweating that much just from the area they’re in and she’s been out in the sun. Even if it’s because she’s tired from moving stones all day (okay, one, how is there that many stones so close to the surface when this place has been worked for, it looks like, generations. Two, the horse-thing is pulling the hoe for her, so don’t even), stop, a few deep breaths, grab and pull in one exhale, there you go. I’m disabled and I could do that, even if the world was spinning for me at the time and I could feel my heart perform some tricks.

She’s a WARRIOR and FARMER (see: supremely able bodied), she is stronger than this! Shame on the writers or directors or whoever the fuck is responsible for this “I’m a warrior and farmer but ohhh, a rock foils me!” Fuck you. I pity your mother.

Take note, writers, women can and are strong. We compete closely with men in athletics, if you need that, and in case you’ve never in your life seen a cow much less spoken to an honest-to-hay farmer, they would make the gym bros weep so, so sweetly it would water the entire field, and amuse her enough to pity his pathetic ego and offer him shade and water.

Also, her arms should be significantly larger as well. No, afab muscles don’t get fat and *sculpted* like amab, but it still shows, there’s still “puffiness” from the tissue. And I know actors can train for their roles, so when the fuck will we get ACCURATE representation of literally ANY female bodies? Hm? Oh, wait, everyone’s too mysoginistic and need to perpetuate the falsities that women are weak 🥺🥺 to make their dicks look bigger.

Sorry, but she looks like no warrior nor farmer to me, they have more muscle development. And our sports are also behind. If that gets your speedo in a twist, it sounds like you need to confront your internalised mysogony.

(These women would/are only so weak if something big happens i.e. accident/injury/sickness.)

[art-of-manliness]

The Right Way to Do Leg Extensions for Strong and Meaty Quads

Last month, I talked about how I’ve reincorporated weight machines into my strength-training workouts to good effect. This year, we’ll be doing some articles on how to use various weight machines properly. One of the benefits of using machines is that they have a much easier learning curve than lifting barbells. But there are a few things you should know about using each in order to avoid pain and injury and use them most effectively for building size and strength. First up in these tutorials is the leg extension machine, which targets your quadriceps and your quadriceps alone.  There is some folklore out there that the leg machine can cause injuries and puts too much stress on the knees. But this isn’t borne out by research, which has found that leg extensions are safe, including for ACL rehabilitation.  There’s also a myth that leg extensions aren’t functional. But quad strength translates to everything from walking to running, and particularly to explosive movements like jumping and cutting. Also, because people often use compensating muscles when doing other leg exercises (especially if they’re dealing with injuries), leg extensions, by isolating the quads, can help correct strength imbalances created by these compensating strategies. This is useful in preventing new injuries, as well as re-injuries, particularly a second ACL tear.  Not only are leg extensions a safe strength-building exercise, they also help give you defined and meaty legs, so you can confidently wear your shorty shorts around town. And, since you’re only moving a single joint, they perform this function without requiring the kind of recovery you need after doing the squat or leg press.  But since leg extensions, like all exercises, are only safe to do if you do them right, let’s get into how to perform them properly. Setting Up the Machine My home gym, plate-loaded leg machine doesn’t have as many adjustment options as one you’ll find in a commercial gym, so I couldn’t dial in my position as much as you might be able to, but this a generally good set-up position. The leg extension itself is a simple movement. The big thing you have to pay attention to is setting up the machine before you start doing them. There are several adjustments to make to the machine before you begin this exercise to ensure ergonomic comfort, maximization of strength-producing, hypertrophy-creating force, and the prevention of undue pain and strain on your joints:  Weight stack/plates. There are different schools of thought on what weight you should use for leg extensions. One is that you should go with lower weight because you’re only using a single joint to move the weight, and you’re not able to exert that much force without form breaking down. To get the hypertrophic stimulus with lower weight, you’ll need to do high reps in the 15-20 range. If you’re going to go the high rep route with leg extensions, perform them at the end of your workout, so you don’t fatigue yourself for the main leg exercise like the squat. The other school of thought is that as long as you can perform the reps with good form and without pain, you can stick to the traditional 8-12 rep range prescribed for hypertrophy and go heavier. Experiment and find what works for you. Seat back distance. The seat back can be adjusted forwards or backwards. Positioning it correctly will minimize undue strain on your knees and allow you to produce maximum force. You want to move the seat back so that when you sit down, your knees are not too far in front of the edge of the seat’s base, nor too far back. Your knees should align with the leg bar’s pivot point. The creases at the backs of the knees should sit against the edge of the butt pad.  Leg pad height. The pad that will sit on top of your lower legs can sometimes be adjusted up or down. The pad should rest where the ankle flexes. Not up on your shins or down towards your toes. Leg bar range of motion. The leg bar can be adjusted so that it sits more or less under the seat’s base. The further back it… http://dlvr.it/T4ywTj

[alltimefiness23055]

Should You Wear a Lifting Belt When Strength Training?

 If you regularly hit up the weight room, you may have noticed some folks with lifting belts strapped around their waists as they deadlift, squat, or do other big moves. The belts can look like a wider version of a traditional belt—leather with buckle closure—or come with a wide Velcro closure instead. But do they have a purpose—besides making you look like a hard-core Olympic lifter?

And, maybe more importantly, should you be wearing one too?

Lifting belts do serve a purpose. But they’re best used only in certain circumstances: when you’re lifting heavy weight, and your goal is to lift even heavier weight.

Below, we dig into everything you need to know about lifting belts, including what they are, how they work, and when you may want to consider strapping one on.

What does a lifting belt do?

Basically, a weight belt—which wraps and fastens around your abdomen just like a traditional belt—helps you lift safely by providing core-bracing support that protects your spine.

Your core muscles help protect your spine while strength training and a weight lifting belt helps provide extra support to them. Your core muscles fire during compound exercises like the deadlift, squat, or overhead press to help support your spine and keep you from falling forward or backward (bending or flexing) under heavy loads. Remember, your core actually includes your diaphragm on the front of your body, obliques on your sides, and muscles (called the spinal erectors) on your back, as well as your transverse abdominis—your innermost, deep core muscles, which are often referred to as your body’s internal weight lifting belt. All of these muscles engage to help support your spine and complete a movement.

Engaging your core, or core bracing, involves breath too. When powerlifters lift heavy loads, they take a breath into their abdomen, engage their core muscles, and hold the breath throughout the rep, exhaling at the top of the move. This creates intra-abdominal pressure so their entire trunk stays stiff when hefting heavyweight, exercise physiologist Tom Holland, MS, CSCS, author of The Micro-Workout Plan, tells SELF. (This technique is called the Valsalva maneuver, and there’s been much internet and scientific debate over its safety. In short, it’s a breathing method that’s not intended for beginners and should not be practiced without working alongside a pro first. Read More

Do lifting belts work?

While the mechanism above is sound, the actual research on weight-lifting belts—especially in a strength training setting—is a little more hazy.

“The research into the efficacy of weight belts is mixed and surprisingly limited,” says Holland. He says we need more (current!) research on belts for performance and injury prevention, as well as more research on belts for people in gym settings rather than occupational environments. (Lots of the existing research on belts focuses on people who lift heavy weights for work, like delivery employees or stock unloaders.) Related Post

[sapphiewritesstuff]

Any chance you could spare us some soft family man Namor hc’s?

omg yes ofc anon ;-; he would love a family

Warnings: GN reader (baby is mentioned, but it is not said whether reader gave birth or not), slight Dark and protective Namor, Namor is described as having multiple partners in the past but is now loyal to reader, slightly suggestive content, not proofread

-Namor has never had time for a family, even though he wished to bring Talokan a heir. He was always too preoccupied with the duties that came along with being the king and god of Talokan.

-So, even though he is over five-hundred years old and refers to his people as 'My child', he has never had kids of his own. Sure, he is a very experienced man and the thought of there being heirs he doesn't know of has crossed his mind, but he has never held a baby in his arms, one that he can call His.

-Namor would want to be wedded to you as soon as possible. He's over the moon to have finally found his soulmate after years of searching, and he knows that you're the one he wants to hold onto for as long as he can.

-When you do bring him your first born, be it from adopting an abandoned Talokanil child or by giving birth, the first thing he does is lift them up into his arms gently. He wipes stray tears from the corner of his eyes as the little one wraps their hand around his index finger. They’re so small, and precious, he thinks.

-Namor values both his royal duties and family duties, he doesn't prioritize one over the other. So be ready to walk in on your children climbing him like a jungle gym as he holds an important meeting.

-The people of Talokan accept your children immediately, quicker than they accepted you as their new ruler along with Namor.

-Namor loves to spoil his kids, and I think he would love a daughter!

-He would love to dress her up in fancy traditional garb with nice jewelry

-He doesn't want to stop at one child, he wants atleast three

-He would play Pok-a-Tok with them, lifting them up into a hug and spinning them around whenever they do well.

-He would always make sure he verbalizes his love to them

-They are never allowed to visit the surface as long as he's around, even if you're originally a surface dweller and have relatives on the surface

-Talokan is your home now, you're safe here.

-He would tear the world apart if anyone dared to hurt his children.

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[kookie-doughs]

Your Voice

Oikawa Tooru X Reader

-In a world where only a few people has a soulmate, and they are burdened with a disability until they meet their other half.

Chapter 18: The Taste Of Love

Italic signed, Bold written

Oikawa once again had his entire, table, lockers and bag full of sweets. He absolutely dreads this day.

People would say it'd be his favourite day as a chance to reap all his narcissism, but its really not. Having the fact he's still alone and will probably be for i dont know perhaps forever with food he can never enjoy thrown at him.

He hated sweets, he doesnt understand why people kept giving him. Years and years of him declining and saying no. No one listened.

So he did what he's always been doing to the sweets he's always gotten.

having them all in his bag. He went to the gym, it was after school and they had another practice.

"Yahoo~" He sang.

"You took forever."

"You got more than you did last year huh." Hanamaki smirked.

Oikawa groaned and tossed one large bag full of cookies and chocolates. It had been a tradition for the boys to gather valentines gifts and make it into a potluck so everyone in the team would get some. It was always Oikawa bringing them but hey, he doesn't like it anyway.

The man looked around. "Is Y/N at the locker room?"

"No she's at Shiratorizawa. She's giving their sweets." Iwaizumi said.

"SPEAKING OF!!!" Matsukawa cut off. "She got me something too, it was sweet of her. I didnt know she can bake!"

Oikawa blinked. He may not be a fan of sweets but he takes note of who gives them. Not one of them had your name. But you gave Matsukawa one?

"Oh, yeah I got one too!" Hanamaki bragged.

Even Hanamaki? Was it because he told you he doesn't like sweets? Was that why you didnt give him one?

"She made one for everyone." Yahaba interjected.

Oikawa's heart broke. Everyone but him. He wanted to have a bite. Even not being able to taste it, eating something you made... the thought of it makes him excited.

"Get the potluck ready already. Im going to get something."

Oikawa went to the locker and placed his stuff. He sat there too for a while.

He was thinking of you. He appreciates the fact you remembered he doesn't like sweet but it hurt that he was left out.

He took a breathy breath. It hurt him. Not wanting the others to check up on him, he left the locker room so he doesnt over stay.

Upon exiting, the boys had already put all the chocolate and cookies in a big bowl. Some were already eating.

Matsukawa saw Oikawa's expression. He handed him a chocolate.

"Maybe it'll lift your spirits."

"He hates those." Iwaizumi reminded him.

"Right..."

Oikawa put it in his mout anyway. The flavor of nothing made him slump more.

"Surprise attack!" Hanamaki then shoved a cookie to Oikawa's mouth.

The boy was about to spit it out when his stomach dropped.

"No." His eyes widened. Tears were forming.

This wasn't what he wanted.

It was chewy. It was his first encounter with flavor so he doesn't understand how to explain jt. It bittersweet chocolate chips. Chunks of chocolate were around, chocolate spreads to his tongue in each bite. It also had walnuts. They added crunch and a nice nutty flavor and a hint of bitterness that’s different from the bittersweet taste of the chocolate.

He had no words. It tasted amazing. It tasted beautiful. No words could come to his mind.

He pushed the guys away and looked around at the potluck

"OI SHITTYKAWA WHAT THE-" Iwaizumi was about to kill him.

"Fuck!" He sobbed.

He looked for any signs of nuts on cookies. But there were too many. He moved the cookies around looking for something. He'd bite from every cookie with a nut he found.

"Oikawa!" Hanamaki shouted.

He didn't stop searching. That was his only link to his true love. He couldn't lose it like this.

The boys were getting worried.

"Oi, oi, oi," Iwaizumi pulled him away. But Oikawa was struggling against him.

He needed it.

Matsukawa helped Iwaizumi.

"Oi, Oikawa what's wrong?!" The entire team was surrounding him.

"Fuck!" He sobbed throwing away the cookie he was holding.

He curled up and sobbed to his knees.

"Oikawa I'm sorry for feeding you... come one it was a joke..." Hanamaki was feeling so shit.

But they didn't know.

"I lied." His voice broke.

"What do you mean...?" Iwaizumi asked hand behind his friends back.

"I just lost it..." His sobbing was coming back to him. "I'm never going to find them..."

"Find who?" The guys asked.

"Oikawa-san..." Yahaba gasped.

"You lied about it? How?" Kyotani looked at him shocked.

"Lied about what?" Kindachi asked the couple.

"Oikawa-san has a soulmate..." Yahaba answered.

Everyone looked at his sobbing form.

"I'm assuming he also lost his taste... Until Hanamaki fed him something his partner made."

Oikawa tighten his hold on his knees.

"No way..."

"Your whole life you lied about it???"

"No fucking way..."

He couldn't careless about what they said. All he could think about was the love he had just lost thanks to his stupidity. Why hadn't he thought of tasting them before this potluck?

They were all looking at him in pity.

"He lost his only link to the love of his life." The couple said.

The flavour of the cookies still linger at his mouth. His heart tightens every time he thought about it.

He will never find his true love. The taste lingering, is the taste of his true love. The true love he lost forever.

And he won't ever find her.

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @wormonastringonastick @the-sander-fander @rukia-uchiha-98

[extremelyblackandwhite]

ascendance - 01

PAIRING: mob!bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: violence, dark themes, age gap (reader is 23, bucky is 37)

SUMMARY: she was at the wrong place at the wrong time and a misunderstanding dooms her to a life as an ascendance card under the watch of the executer.

A/N: i’m so excited to go back to my mob writing roots with this one. there’s a bit of a few twists and changes to the traditional mob writing i’ve done before and i am really excited to be sharing chapter one with you. hope you enjoy it xx

> NEXT CHAPTER 

The ambience was dark, badly lit by the yellow flickering lights in the halls with echoes of the buzzing of the hot old light bulbs. There was no sound but that buzz and the heavy sound of his boots hitting the rotting wood floor boards. The scent in the air was putrid, a mix of what seemed like life meeting its end stage, cheap cider and weed. It was definitely different and he didn’t trust it. 

At the end of the corridor there it was. 107. The 107th flat in purgatory with the door slightly opened. He pushed the door open, the smell getting more intense and his boots sticky with the liquor spilled on the floor. 

     - What did you do? - each word was punctuated with intense disbelief, as if this was all a nightmare. 

     - Bucky, help me!

PRESENT

The wind brushed and pulled her hair into different directions as she stepped off the train’s step. She rushed through the streets of New York, hair pin stuck in the middle of her teeth as she fought the winds to try and set her hair into an appropriate hair do while running down the street at the same time. The chattering people and the sun peaking through the clouds was hopeful as she grabbed her coffee from the same vendor off the side street as her eyes gazed upon the Metropolitan Opera House which had been gracing the New York landscape for longer than she had been on this earth and now she was part of it, she was a small speck in an almost 60 year long history. 

Her smiled widened as her sneakers hit the pavement, eyes gazing over the fountain and the flags of the production coming down from the opera house’s arches. The same production she was part off. Sure, she was a chorus girl but the mere thought of singing on that stage, of watching that public in those red velvet seats under the chandelier just made it all more exciting. She walked inside the theatre through the stage door, meeting the manager at the door. 

     - Hi. - she leaned her hands against the desk where the manager was surrounded by attendance and cast sheets as well as a big laptop shining a blue light onto her face. The woman didn’t even look up, instead putting up a board with the names of all people in the production in front of her. - Do you need to see my ID? 

     - Just sign in front of your name. 

Y/N giddily looked at the list of names, hers closer to the bottom but there, written in bold Arial font. She signed her name in front of her printed one with the barely working pen, before pinning it over the board and handing it over to the manager who pointed inside the opera theatre. She held onto her gym bag harshly, padding the sublime floors and looking around with such wonder one would believe she’d never been here. She’d been here before, she was here every month to watch a performance but now she was not guest, she was not just another person walking in with a ticket, she was part of it, she was part of the show. After years of doing community plays, workshops and failed auditions, she had gotten here and suddenly all those days spent in bed feeling miserable in bed after getting rejected yet again didn’t matter anymore she was here.

Her eyes glanced at every tiny little ornament in the opera house until she entered the theatre room. Her heart filled with joy and happy nostalgia as the red and golden tones of the room involved her. There wasn’t anyone in the theatre yet except for a few musicians from the instrumental pit and some cleaners so she was free to roam around. Her fingers traced the suede velvet of the red seats, finding a few missing binoculars on the grounds but not really caring. 

     - You! - she whipped her head towards the voice which came from a woman, probably in her mid 40s all dressed in black with a gold name tag slightly above her left breast. 

     - Hi. - Y/N smiled, extending her hand towards the woman. - I’m Y/N, I’m the new ...

    - I don’t care, we need silk ribbons, now. 

    - Oh, I ... I’m new, I don’t know where I’d get silk ribbons, m’am.

    - The costume room? Go, stop looking at me as if you were Bambi and go.

    - Oh, okay. 

She made her way hastily out of the theatre room wondering how she was going to find silk ribbons, where she was going to find them and why she had to find them. Maybe it was a hazing ritual for new people, after all, she had been into various hazings during her career, including downing a whole bottle of honey which she couldn’t even finish, only eating one fourth of it before becoming nauseous. 

She stopped in the middle of the hall, wondering where the costume room could be. It couldn’t be on the top floor, that was usually where the bars and common rooms were so if the building followed regular construction protocols for opera houses, it was probably on the underground section of the house where the dressing rooms used to be. Y/N ventured into the lift, pressing the lowest number on the number chart of the panel until she reached the underground floor. Y/N looked around, people running in and out yet no one stopped whenever she tried to question where the costume room was. She had managed to find the costume shop but no luck finding the costume room until she was pretty much pressed against a dark door with those exact words by the passing crowd. 

She twisted the knob of the costume room door, tumbling onto the dark room as a result. The room was filled to the brim with costumes on each side of the room, a plexiglass divider between the two sides which stopped every meter or so and also appeared to be divided onto female and male costumes with the ensemble costumes at the back. She padded across the concrete floors, looking through dresses and accessories for ribbons but no successful attempt. The ruffling from the other side of the room had her turning around, forehead furrowed as she walked towards the plexiglass divider. 

     - Hello? - she questioned, wondering if there was someone in this room who could help her find silk ribbons. Great, she had barely joined the company and was already screwing up. Great, Y/N. Way to go, Y/N. 

She saw someone all dressed in black just like the women before, yet there seemed to be something which didn’t match up; black jeans, black shirt and black leathe jacket as well as a pair of also black boots, scruffed and probably entirely too old to still be holding up together. Her eyes caught his which despite the low almost non existent light of the costume room, were light, a sort of greyish blue like the calm sea before of storm. His gaze pulled hers in, like gravity and she couldn’t help but clutch the jacket next to her as a bad feeling along with something she’d never felt before settled in her stomach. 

His hair was mostly pushed back yet the ones which framed his face fell like dominos. She moved along the side where she was to one of the plexiglass gaps and he did the same still maintaining eye contact with her, until the two reached the gap. She didn’t notice she was holding her breathe in until she breathed out.

    - Hi. - her own hand gripped her wrist, shoe grinding against the floors. - Uhm, I’m new here and this lady sent me down to find some silk ribbons but I can’t find any. Do you ...

    - I... uh ... I don’t know where they are. - he faltered for a few seconds before regaining his posture.

    - Oh, I thought since you were here, you might be one of the stage managers. 

    - I’m not. - his tone was monotonous, almost as if he had the answer to her question before she even made it. 

    - Oh ... - she rubbed her neck. - Are you also looking for silk ribbons?

    - I’m looking for the dressing rooms, actually.

    - They’re down the hall. -  she pointed at the door as if it was the “down the hall”. - Hum ... Are you new here too?

    - Yeah. Thanks. - he walked towards the door, opening it and stepping out before catching her gaze once again. 

Y/N remained in the middle of the room as if she were in a transe and maybe she was. It felt like she was falling yet she was firm on her feet and she did not like that feeling. She did not like that feeling of falling, it wasn’t feeling, it was hopeless falling and she wondered why looking at a man who looked like an 80′s glam rock reject made her feel like that, so lost. Maybe it was the respect he appeared to command by merely looking at her or maybe it was the nerves about being new and not being able to find some goddamn silk ribbons. Damn it. 

    - Call for 30 minutes before dress rehearsal. - the voice came from the intercom and immediately her mind dropped the idea of finding silk ribbons and moved to finding the ensemble dressing room and get dressed and ready. Damn it, this was going well. 

She rushed down the hall, bag almost slipping off her shoulder until she saw the door with the ensemble plaque on it. The young woman peaked inside the room where pretty much everyone with a role on the ensemble were already sat down. She shyly walked in the middle row until she found her own little corner, her name written on a sticker on the mirror along with photos of how the makeup should be done as well as how to get the costume in correctly. The same goofy smile returned as she sat down and saw her name above her. It was fine, she was here, she was part of a company.

    - Hey you’re new. - the girl next to her twirled her chair to face her. She already had her makeup on and hair pinned curled up and ready to put a wig cap on. - I’m Elliot but people call me Elle.

    - Y/N, I’m the new chorus girl. First day. 

    - Aw, welcome. - she had a bright smile, inviting and almost as exciting as the whole experience of being there. - Do you want help pincurling your hair? I can get it done while you do your makeup. 

    - Yes, please. - she pulled out a big box from her bag which had all her makeup and pins. 

Elle started pin curling her hair up while she put an inappropriate amount of blush on which was just appropriate to get on stage under the bright yellow lights. Turns out half the practice for opera is learning to do your makeup under bright yellow lights and then learning to sing. 10 minutes to rehearsal start, she was along with Elle going down and up to the main stage where most dancers were warming up. Elle left her to do so, leaving Y/N once again to just stand there, looking around like a little sheep in the middle of wolves. 

    - I’ve never seen you around. - her shoulders almost went up as he turned to see one of the principal sopranos, if not the principal soprano. She had seen all of her shows ever since she was a teenager and she had even wrote an essay for university on her for a module. Catherine Vargas, the best New York could offer, if not the best the world could offer. - I didn’t know they were still casting dancers.

    - Oh, I’m a chorus girl, Mrs Vargas. 

    - A chorus girl? - she furrowed her brows at her, looking her up and down. - What type?

    - The type who ... is in the back with the ensemble. - her voice lowered at least a few volumes down, back curved as if she were bowing. 

    - I know what chorus girls do. I asked what vocal type. 

    - Lyric soprano, m’am.

    - A lyric soprano in the chorus. Interesting. Where did you train?

    - Julliard, m’am.

    - Julliard? - she looked her up and down again. - That is a great school. What is a Julliard graduate doing in the chorus line?

    - Everyone starts somewhere. - she laughed nervously, scratching her arm as she did so.

    - Not a lyric soprano from Julliard. Composers sure do love an ingenue, don’t they? Don’t worry, a few months with me and you’ll be supporting. 

    - That’s ... that’s really kind, Mrs. Vargas. Thank you.

    - Don’t thank me. Could you get me some honey from my dressing room? I’m feeling a bit strained. 

    - It’s 5 minutes until rehearsal starts.

    - It’s okay, chorus normally doesn’t do much during rehearsal. Can you get it?

    - Yeah, I think so.

She straightened her crinkled skirt, looking behind her back before going down the stairs which led down to the dressing rooms. This was good, right? Getting into one of the main star’s good graces besides she was right, the chorus didn’t really get much attention during rehearsals, at least not as much as the main characters. It’s easier to get away with screwing up in the back than in the front, her teacher would tell her which would always earn a few laughs from her colleagues. Yet, Y/N hated to make any mistakes. She would stay up all night in front of a cheap piano she had bought from a charity shop, playing and singing the same 5 note progression until her flatmate yelled at her to shut up. For her, if it wasn’t perfect and if she didn’t get any criticism while performing it, she hadn’t done it right. It didn’t matter at the end of the day but what did matter was to climb up the ladder. She didn’t want to be a star, all she wanted was to be able to be on that stage forever with the spotlight shining on her and she knew there was only one way to climb up. Actually there were two, extreme luck and connections. Now, she didn’t have the best of luck so her major choice was to make connections and reach that status. 

She made her way into the principal dressing room. It was probably one of the biggest she had ever seen, with expensive decor and various flowers covering it. She wondered how many flowers she received on opening nights if that was the number she had on regular days. Y/N made her way to the desk, opening drawers and more drawers to find honey until she found it on the lowest drawn. She went down on her knees to grab it, mindless and careless to everything that was happening until she felt a sharp pain on the side of her her.

Then everything went dark. 

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