#and its like what if like. his parents wanted to call him

[usedpidemo]

Savior (aespa Karina)

“Someone help me. Please!”

“Scream as loud as you can, no one’s coming to save you, princess.”

“That’s right. So just be a good girl and give us your money.”

“Help!”

It’s at this point where, against your better judgment, you stop dead in your tracks. The damsel in distress’s right behind you, backed into a corner by two bullies. Her possessions are strewn all over the floor, purposefully kicked out of her reach. There hasn’t been much physical harm done to the girl, but she looks to be the delicate type—someone who’s bound to crumble and break after a few hits.

Looking over your shoulder, the two students spot you and turn their attention against you immediately, recognizing you as a threat. “Hey,” says the first student, stepping forward to intimidate you with his burly physique. “This has nothing to do with you. Run along if you don’t want to join this loser over here.”

“Yeah. Don’t go around acting tough just cause you got two other guys with you. Just keep it pushing,” says the second thug, lankier in figure, in agreement with his partner.

Standing your ground, you steel your resolve, having no intention to run. In fact, it’s the complete opposite: you’re down for a fight. Your two companions also follow suit.

“So you wanna be a hero? You’re gonna regret it,” the first bully says, cracking his fists, ready to swing. “Oh, you’re so gonna regret it!”

That is to say, he’s the one who’s about to regret his life choices.

Like a raging bull, the thug lunges toward you, only for you to swiftly kick his legs from underneath, sending him flying across the hallway before he violently lands head first on the ground, most certainly giving him a concussion. He’s done.

The second bully tries to throw a follow-up punch, but you stop its momentum with one hand. Twisting it sideways, the bones crack loud, immediately followed by a screech of pain from his lungs. He drops to the floor in agony, holding his bent knuckle with his healthy arm.

“Oh—oh God—oh fuck—fuck—” Tears flowing from his eyes, he grovels in extreme discomfort, unable to stand before you. “What are you—”

“Now run,” you order, and he promptly complies, hopping off the ground, then fleeing in the opposite direction.

All that’s left is the girl. She had been watching the entire time. She’s overjoyed.

“Y-you saved me,” she says, tone relieved and her spirits held high. “How can I thank you—”

“Don’t push it,” you tell her, already walking away with your companions, waving her off. You don’t help her as she gathers her belongings. “Don’t get yourself in danger next time.”

Part of you already has second thoughts saving this girl. Jimin, the name written on her ID, is undeniably pretty, but you have nothing to gain from this encounter—or from her. She’s only studying in this university on a scholarship, and it shows in her appearance: she’s not the cleanest, nor is as well dressed as everyone else on campus. At best, you’ll probably get called into the office regarding this incident, as well as getting another target placed on your back by those bullies.

None of which are worth a drop of your concern. You can study anywhere else; you have the resources and the connections courtesy of your rich family, and the two companions by your side are your trusted bodyguards that have been with you since childhood. You can honestly live out your whole life without even lifting a finger. Generational wealth is the ultimate lifehack.

And yet, you’re in college at the behest of your parents, who spend more time abroad than at home. This is you going through the motions, looking after yourself.

After the next class, right as everyone’s packing their things and exiting, you spot her again. Jimin’s natural beauty is a lovely sight for the eyes. It’s only now do you realize you’ve shared at least one class with her. Maybe more; you’re too oblivious to the world around you to really notice. You only care about the bell that rings at the top of the hour so you can finally go home.

“Hey,” Jimin suddenly calls out to you, having noticed you glancing at her every now and then. You attempt to feign ignorance, but she approaches you and seizes your hand, catching you red-handed. “Can I speak to you, please?”

She sounds too nice to turn away. You’d be in the wrong to ignore her.

Still, you won’t fully look at her, the glint in her eyes blinding. You can only pray this is a brief exchange. “Sure. But make it quick.”

“I just want to say thank you—for earlier,” she says, her voice warm and sincere. She’s shaking your hand in appreciation; you allow her. “I’m not as rich as everyone else here, as you can see.” She looks down at her modest wear, apologetic about her appearance for some reason, “So—I don’t really have much. I’m only here on a scholarship—”

“Right.” You interrupt her, trying your hardest not to sound annoyed or bothered, though some of that impatience permeates through your filter. “Anything else you wanna say?”

Jimin becomes flustered, seemingly aroused by your low voice. A brief glance reveals her cheeks flushed red, her body trembling anxiously. She can’t have her way with words, either. “S-sorry. I just wanna say if you need help with schoolwork or anything, my services are available! My grades are good, I promise! That’s all. Again, thanks and see you around!”

Before you can even say a word or call her name, she already has one foot out the door, along with her belongings.

—————

One look at the student database proves her point: Yu Jimin, nickname Karina, might be what she advertised: an academic genius.

Her grades are mostly in the mid nineties across the board, if not low nineties. She’s only a year away from graduating—alongside you. The offer lingers on your mind, positively tempting.

“Sir, this just seems like a waste of money,” your one bodyguard turned hacker tells you, swiveling his desk chair around to face you. “There are more reputable tutors with better qualifications we can fly in from across the country if you really need a personal tutor. Also, your grades are good as they are. You don’t seem to be struggling with any specific major or subject right now. There’s no reason for this.”

“Yeah, and whose money are we spending?” you reply, annoyed at his admittedly sensible comment. 

“What will your family say about this?”

“Did I ask to be enrolled in this university? This course? Besides, they’ve never shown up for any of my graduations! I doubt this will be any different in a year or so. Go find her number so I can contact her.”

Sighing in defeat, he eventually acquiesces. They have to. “Of course, sir.”

—————

The next day on campus, Karina’s seated at the dining hall with her friends. Her eyes can only focus on one thing, or in this case, one man: the person that saved her yesterday. 

“You’re serious? Him?” Ningning looks concerned about her friend. She’s glaring at him with plenty of skepticism. They all know who he is. Not Karina, though. “That guy’s no good at all.”

“What are you saying?” she looks at her, puzzled at her comment. “He really did save me from those bullies. Don’t you believe me?”

“Yeah, but like—he’s not a good person!” Giselle frowns at the man, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her hands. “He’s a chaebol kid. He’s seriously no good! I’ve heard he gets into fights often; that's why he has bodyguards to intimidate anyone who tries to oppose him.”

“Rumor says he’s in cahoots with some crime syndicate—or at least his dad is,” Minjeong interjects, more trepid than anything. “That’s how he got his money. Who knows what kind of evil they might be doing!”

“But he was nice to me yesterday! If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have tried to save me, you know?” Karina stubbornly pays no heed, insisting her case to them, despite their growing frustration and fright. “You guys are overthinking this way too much.”

“It’s just so he can gaslight you into believing he’s a good guy. Please, Karina, he’s not what you think he is.” Ningning implores for her to listen, but to no avail.

“We’re not saying he’s truly bad, but there are signs,” Minjeong adds, agreeing with Ningning. “We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look—if he’s actually a bad guy, I’m running, all right? I’m ditching him right then and there, no questions asked.” Karina reassures them, hoping to calm them down right as the man approaches their table. “He’s coming right now.”

While the others silently avoid any form of contact or communication with you, hiding their not so subtle disdain, she happily waves. “Hi. Did you think about it?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, nodding. “I’m interested.”

“Really?” Karina’s eyes gleam at the opportunity. “What do you need help with?”

“Lots. I’ll tell you after class.” Knowing her friends are evidently uncomfortable with your presence, you simply walk past her and through the cafeteria door. “See you around.”

“Bye!” she waves at you again, delighted that you’ve taken up on her offer.

When it’s clear that you’re no longer in sight, Karina’s friends turn to her in utter disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re not going to—”

“I will.”

“Oh, God dammit.”

“Karina, please.”

—————

Later that day, Karina’s waiting by the campus parking lot, holding on to the promise of you showing up. It’s been almost an hour since classes ended and there’s no sign of you anywhere nearby. It looks like you’ll leave her out to dry, until—

“Miss Karina.” A man calls out to her from inside a luxurious car. As the windows roll down, she recognizes the driver as one of your companions. One of the rear doors automatically swings open. “Please step inside.”

Without a second thought, she enters the vehicle before it drives away.  

During the ride, the bodyguard asks her a question. “Does Miss Yu have a drink preference?”

She’s slowly taking it all in, flustered at how you’re treating her so generously. It’s overwhelming at times. “N-no. I’m not really a drinker. W-where’s—”

“He has already gone ahead. He’s preparing the house ahead of your arrival. When we get there, you will change clothes before meeting him. At his request, I have been assigned as your personal assistant and driver.”

“Y-you? Assistant?” She can hardly believe it. “Wow…”

Karina is rendered speechless for the rest of the ride. She’s taken aback at her sudden change in predicament. It’s a Cinderella story through and through. The only missing element is some antagonistic force threatening to end this fantasy abruptly, but that’s the least of her worries. What’s more concerning is how she’ll compose herself before you.

Especially when she sees the scale of your house upon arriving. She’s never seen wealth this exceedingly open and grand.

There’s no time to admire the opulence, however. She’s brought inside hastily by your bodyguard. Inside, a team of stylists are waiting, rushing her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms for a complete overhaul. They’re careful to measure her hair, her size, her everything. Everything is done on the spot, with next to nothing in terms of personal input from Karina herself.

—————

You hear it. The gentle, careful steps of heels clicking. Karina’s ready. So are you.

Turning around to welcome her, you’ve got this whole speech practiced and memorized, with a card hidden in your pocket for good measure. Instead, you end up tongue tied; her presence proves overwhelming to the senses. You can only stare in awe. All black dress and matching heels aside, she looks like an angel descended from heaven. Without blemish, without any sort of imperfection. She’s unreal. 

Any less of a person you are and you would have fallen to your knees on the spot, groveling on the ground when Karina walks forward, ignoring how nervous she is as you. She modestly smiles, carefully twiddling her fingers. She doesn’t recognize how pretty she is.

It becomes all the more embarrassing when Karina makes the first move. “I knew you were rich, but not this rich.” Her eyes are glancing around the expansive room, admiring all the little details, thankfully dismissing how speechless you are.

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to blurt out, unsure of what to say. In her sight, you’re her hero, her knight in shining armor that can seemingly do no wrong. Meanwhile, you’re overcompensating your lack of social skills by hiding behind a shallow enigma and as much vanity as possible. “Not exactly my money, to be fair. My parents raised me like this.”

You’re trying not to look anywhere in her direction—whether that be her pretty eyes, her warm smile, or her shapely figure in that body-hugging dress. It’s the only way you can function normally without completely falling apart.

“So—you’re gonna introduce me to them?” she asks, her tone saccharine and innocent. 

“I wish,” you reply, sighing wistfully thinking about their absence throughout most of your formative years. She’s unaware; you’ll let the insensitive question slide. Only for her. So you immediately change the topic. “Let’s go outside. Our dinner is waiting for us.”

You reach out your hand to her, and she takes it without hesitation. In your mind, you’re already jumping around, performing cartwheels in celebration, with fireworks blasting everywhere. For the most part, you’ve been punching up, failing to impress girls unimpressed with your wealth and are far beyond your reach. Everyone else in that campus would kill to be in Karina’s position right now, but something about her caught your eye that no one has. 

The purity in this girl’s heart is something else. 

Outside, a table full of hearty food is set before you two, a candle lit at its center. Sitting her down on one end before joining her at the other, it’s only background dressing for conversation. She refuses to eat, struggling to make sense of all this. The appeal behind all this luxury is wearing off at an alarming rate.

“What’s up? Not hungry?” you gently ask, already making predictions of her answer. Your designated assistant for her is on standby for anything she wants.

“Not really,” she says, her eyes staring back, wide, accompanied with her innocuous smile. A direct attack on your heart. “I’m—here for tutoring first. I don’t know what this is all for.”

“Yeah. You are here to help me,” you tell her, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, already in a state of panic. “I’m just—” you swallow a sudden lump in your throat, “welcoming you since it’s your first time visiting.”

“Like, I think this is really cool! I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can’t afford any of this.” Karina’s trying not to put any more pressure on you, but it’s really doing the exact opposite: you’re already seeing signs of a terrible end. “I just thought you were nice because you saved me from those bullies, you know? That’s it.”

“Yeah. I know,” you reply, looking down as the awkward air between you grows larger and larger. See, she has a point: it was never about asking for help, nor was it ever about improving your grades. It was always about her. Something changed overnight. You simply don’t know how to directly convey those feelings. 

“So—let’s just keep things between us simple,” Karina proposes. She rises from her seat, walking over with a hand on your shoulder. “I’m here to help you with whatever project, research, whatever—you only have to pay for my services. Is that good enough?”

“Wait. Karina let me ask one thing,” you say, finally mustering the courage to look her directly in the eye. 

“What is it?”

“Your friends,” you rapidly blink, “What did they say about me?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Her answer is delivered bluntly, straight to the point.

“They think I’m a bad guy, right?”

“N-no,” Karina stammers. That’s where you catch her. “They never said anything like that—”

Suddenly dragging her by the arm down to your level, you whisper in her ear, “Don’t have to lie, princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s only between us. Promise.”

Karina’s unsure of what to do. She’s quietly keening, lightly sweating, looking around for an out. The points her friends made are starting to make sense, but there’s nothing substantial—not yet.

After taking a moment, she folds. “They think your dad’s working with a syndicate. That’s it! There’s nothing else—”

You lightly shove her away, immediately concealing your face in the opposite direction. You didn’t expect her to catch on quickly. Karina’s utterly shocked by what you just did to her, cupping her cheek.

Empathy overrides every other thought.

“Sorry. I just—” You immediately approach her with a handkerchief, immediately assessing the damages, what little they might be. Karina takes a step back, trembling with fear.

“So, it’s true after all.” Her eyes widen. Gone is that sweet innocence; taking its place is a heightened sense of panic. “You’re really a bad guy—”

“Wait, Karina.” You raise a delicate hand, your voice as calm and little as possible. “Please give me a moment to explain.”

“Go on,” she says, cautiously wary, readying herself to run at any given moment. “But say it quickly,”

Stretching your body out to pursue her, examining her every move, every muscle. It didn’t have to end up like this. Surely, there are safer, more inconsequential ways to explain yourself. What a first date you’ve gotten into.

“It’s—not exactly what you think,” you tell her. Out of all the things to begin your justification, you’ve picked the worst possible choice.

“Really?” Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t buy it. “What’s with the reaction, then?”

Hesitating, you’re scrambling to find a believable reason, only to find just one option: the truth. “I—well—your friends are right, but—my dad doesn’t have anything to do with criminals!”

“So it’s you who’s dealing with them?” she replies, her brows furrowing, glaring at you.

“It’s nothing really serious, though. And I’m not involved with anything either! Believe me, I’m not going to get you hurt!”

Throughout this tense exchange, you’ve both made your way back to the house, one big step at a time.

“Trust me when I say: the only reason why I helped you was because I didn’t want to see you hurt,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Goddamn it—this is why I shouldn’t have stepped in, fuck—”

“You did that because—” she pauses, “you cared about me? For real?”

“I guess so,” you say, nodding vehemently, both your hands still raised high starting to ache. “I don’t do that for anyone! My bodyguards tell me to ignore what’s happening, but I just can’t stand someone as pretty as you getting hurt like that.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” Karina blinks, coming out twinkling and doe-eyed at the sudden revelation.

Secret’s out. There’s nothing to hide anymore.

Pausing, you admit, nodding much less energetically, silently cursing yourself spilling your innermost thoughts so casually, “Well, yes. I think you’re beautiful. All the more now.”

Karina stops moving. Her wariness is turning back to more open and willing caution. “So—this was really all for me.”

You continue to nod, this time in agreement. She still has so many questions. About you, your family, your income, your secret dealings. Clearly, her friends are onto something, whether by luck or by some past experience; not a hundred percent, but at least five to ten. It would be rash and irrational to completely trust every word you’ve said. No amount of kindness can possibly make up for the worry you’ve given her—

“Come here,” she says, lunging forward to wrap you in a sudden, tight embrace. Before you can comprehend anything else, her lips are pressed deeply against yours, sealing your fate with a passionate kiss. 

That’s where it should have stopped. A better person would have pushed her away, taken things slowly, spoken her through the terms of engagement. Even Karina said it herself; this is a transactional relationship. But seeing as you’re taking lease of her back, as well as her waist, tasting her saccharine lips—it appears as if she’s reneged on her word. 

You feel her tongue slip between your mouth, humming these incomprehensible delightful sounds your ears want to hear. It isn’t accidental; the taste takes you by surprise. Can’t show a little weakness, even if you’re close to buckling under the rapid growing pressure. The way she pours herself into the kiss, how she pushes you closer inch by inch—you can tell she’s wanted this. To be treated like a princess, to be treated right. It doesn’t matter if it’s coming from the wrong influence, the only thing she sees is your willingness to take her with open arms.

The only thing pulling you away from her is the ceaseless ringing from a phone.

Karina pulls a phone from her skirt pocket, her eyes tilting down, fingers moving with urgency, furiously typing on the screen. Her cheeks burn a rosy red, ashamed of having to put herself first in this situation. She’s smiling innocently at you, a sight you’ve grown to love even more. You understand if she tells you she’s leaving; you’ve already got her ride home on standby.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pressing buttons, hearing the ringer beep as the message is sent. “I’m still living with my parents, so—” Looking around, she’s shaking her arms loose. “I don’t think I can spend the night here, or come home looking like this—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut her off, confident, if not a little smug. “Neither of those things are gonna happen. I’ll get your ride ready and your clothes taken care of. But it’s still a little bit early,” you say, glancing at your watch, grinning at the time. It’s barely past seven in the evening. 

“I told them I’d be home by around ten tonight,” she remarks, putting her phone away, her gaze returning to you.

“That’s all the time we need.”

—————

Like the gentleman she thinks you are, you escort Karina up the stairs, hand in tow, leading her to your bedroom. Once the door is slammed shut and tightly locked, you immediately drop the act, and you’re back to kissing her passionately again.

You can’t be any less patient. Only a few minutes have passed, and you’re already dreading the end. The feeling of letting her go, of having to go back to your normal life the moment she walks through that door. You can’t imagine interacting like normal students again. Most importantly, you can’t imagine being the bad guy in everyone else’s eyes.

Karina brings out both the best and worst impulses from you. Abruptly breaking the kiss, you shove her onto the mattress, issuing a simple command. “Take that dress off.”

It’s been the only thing racing through your mind ever since. This divine, angelic figure straight out of heaven—effortlessly shining, effortlessly wearing the simple piece like she’s meant to be a canvas to be painted and used.

Gracefully rising from the bed, Karina looks you dead in the eye. Taking one strap in her hand, she pulls it down her shoulder, then the other. Reaching around her back, gravity does the rest. The garment smoothly rides down her body, revealing inch after inch of her skin, until she’s reduced to only her panties. 

Kicking the expensive fabric aside, along with her heels, Karina’s near naked presence demands worship.

“Fuck,” is the only thing you’re able to say, and it’s apt—fuck is the only thing you want to do to her. Hard. Fast. Without care for comfort or concern. 

Your eyes have no fixed area to rest on. When it comes to Karina, every little part of her is a treat for the senses, whether it be her slim waist, her tummy, her slender legs. But nothing captures and retains the attention quicker than her well-endowed breasts. So huge, so pliable, you can only wonder in amazement at how she’s been able to keep them secret for the longest time.

“Something wrong?” Karina asks, snapping you from your mindless daze, her tiny voice a contrast to the sheer sexiness she’s radiating just by standing there in the nude. God, she’s so blissfully unaware that you’re oh so obviously focused on her tits only; it’s endearing and sweet.

“Nothing. You’re perfect, actually.” Try as you might, you can only linger on her chest, watching them stare back, inviting you to come closer. Her nipples are taut and rigid, ripe for the taking.

The comment makes her face blush brighter. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, your pants already halfway down, shedding them along with your boxers. You’re imagining how they would feel sandwiched between your cock; you can’t help it. You’re stroking yourself to hardness, made substantially easier thanks to the image before you. “Has anyone told you you have perfect tits, Karina?”

“I’ve heard it here and there,” she says, delivered so casually, like it’s something she hears everyday—as she rightfully should. “I guess people sometimes notice through my baggy clothing.”

Pumping your shaft till you’re fully erect, you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. Button up shirt and coat thrown away carelessly and readily forgotten. Karina takes the hint and slips off her panties, putting you both on equal footing. Creeping toward her, you press your finger on her chin, nuzzling your forehead against hers, setting the mood with a quick peck of her lips. There’s so much you want to do, visualizing all the possibilities with a body like hers.

“I want to touch you,” you tell her, tone low, sultry. Your hand traces down her collarbones, pointing out where they want to be: on her chest. 

“Go. Anything you want, but promise me one thing,” she replies, mimicking your inflection. Any request sounds so much hotter in her voice.

There’s zero hesitation. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll pour all that cum deep inside me. I’ve been in relationships before. Just—give me a good fucking.”

“I will,” you say, kissing her passionately on the lips, your hands firmly pressed on her tits, watching Karina’s eyes close and open in slow motion. Going down, you leave kisses on her neck, collarbones, before reaching your intended destination: her chest. Burying yourself between her breasts, clamping down on her rigid nipple, forcing a sharp cry out of Karina’s saccharine lips. “I love these fucking tits, Karina. I love them so—so—much.”

“Please.” She coos up to the ceiling, grabbing you by the hair, pressing you further into them, intending to suffocate you—which is a demise you’ll happily go out on. Gasping, panting, struggling to keep herself steady, you both collapse onto the bed, allowing you to fully drink in her breasts. Darting your tongue, sucking on her stiff tits, sloppily leaving wet marks on her otherwise porcelain skin. “So—fucking—needy—”

Karina’s right. You’ve got her pinned down on the sheets like she’s prey, devouring her like a hungry animal. Giving her tits equal attention, going back and forth til you’re satisfied—which will never happen. Not with breasts as delicious as hers. Muffled by her bosom, you can only grunt and groan in appreciation, forgoing your ability to speak to keep satiating your unquenchable need. You love how her skin folds, how they crush in your hands. Squeezing them like your personalized stress balls, making her squeamish and erratic underneath you.

Meanwhile, she can only stick her head out, keening and mewling helplessly as you drown yourself in the heat of her breasts, without care for her personal comfort or yours. 

It’s always been part of you—greed. It’s what you were raised on. How you selfishly desire something and will stop at nothing until it’s in your grasp, no matter how little it has in value or how many resources are wasted. Not Karina. She’s one in a million—a diamond in the rough. A treasure worth cherishing over everything else, and you’d give up everything for her without a second thought.

Kissing down her rather tiny figure, her tummy, until you reach the depths of her aching core, already in heat. Looking up at her, so wrecked, so utterly incapacitated, you sink further—and she cries out in pain and in pleasure.

Propping her thighs up in the air, spreading her legs that extra inch wider, Karina cries, cries, and cries. Your tongue sucks away at her sticky nectar, her quivering core, putting immense pressure on her most sensitive spots. Soaking up just how wet she becomes with each passing second, you’ll happily drown in her skin. You love how she clenches, how she throbs and moans a pitch higher with every pass, every lap of your tip against her pussy brings her ever closer to her end.

Had it been anyone else, you would have finished right there. Make them unwind and cum all over your face as you indulge yourself with their juices, then leave them out to dry right after. Instead, you muster up the willpower to restrain yourself, reemerging from the depths of her cunt, before kissing up the path you’ve marked along. You can never grow tired of admiring and worshipping Karina’s breasts. 

Brushing loose strands of hair aside to get a look at her pretty face, glowing brilliantly even under duress. Whispering against her ear, you tell her, “Gonna fuck you right now.”

“Do it,” she says, breathless, gasping—and heaving—for air. “Please give it all to me.”

“Always.”

Slowly dragging your cock between her folds, your usually stiff expression gradually disintegrates upon vicious entry, unable to endure how tight she feels. The pulse and flex of her walls pulls you apart in every direction, her cunt threatening to snap you with one wrong move. Every little bit of resolve counts. Your fingers intertwine with hers, holding her down in place, even though she’s nowhere close to fighting back. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; she wants to be taken and used.

The cry of your name escapes from Karina’s lips, delivered like a call for help. A plea. It bounces around the room, echoing repeatedly in your head, the imagery instantly seared into your brain. 

“You fill me so fucking well,” she says, breath hot and heavy, her jaw agape as you hover atop her head. Her eyes snap wide open, on the verge of tears, “Does my pussy feel good? Does it feel so tight around you?”

You’re struggling to keep yourself together, showing signs of falling apart. You’re breathing heavily, only nodding back in agreement. The inability to move your body, desiring to stay inside her warmth out of fear it’ll prematurely ruin the moment speaks volumes. It’s a clearer response than any word can ever answer. 

Karina lightly rolls her hips forward, the friction far too great to remain still. You can only draw back in painstakingly slow motion, as if pulling a piece out of a collapsible tower. Even so, the feeling leaves you dizzy and lightheaded, the suffocating sensation quickly overwhelming the rest of your functional senses.

This little push is more than enough to set you snowballing further down. Thrusting back inside her heat, her fresh wetness allows you an easier passage in and out of her quivering pussy. Between calculated, deep breaths, you watch Karina take every inch of your cock without any resistance, letting these profanities and praises slip from her lips instinctively, punctuated by the growing echo of your skin slapping skin.

It becomes effortless rather quickly. The slide in and out of her heat. The pace more than enough to let all the ecstasy sink in. How she immediately relinquishes any semblance of control to you. Karina’s glued to the bed by your hands, her body rocking with every stroke, her tits jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm that captures your eyes. So perfect. So right. 

Unknowingly, she’s driving you mad. A little bounce isn’t gonna satiate you at this point. One poorly timed blink and you’ll be punishing yourself for it. There’s no going back. You needed more of her. 

As the bed violently creaks below, so does Karina’s tiny figure. As quickly as you’ve found the perfect rhythm to pound her, you just as quickly abandon it. Something about her brings out the best and worst in you, and you clearly see why. It’s the bounce—that damned ripple of her breasts, swinging up and down forcing your hips harder against her, threatening to break her. Her words turn to loud cries—of pleasure, of pain, and everything else in between. 

“More—oh, baby, please—” she keens, her eyes still completely shut, her lips twisting and contorting, struggling to find her words. Freely offering herself to you no strings attached, she takes it—and takes it all. “Harder—I’m so fucking close—please—”

It’s a request you’re more than eager to oblige.

Taking purchase of her back with one hand, lifting her slightly, and grabbing her breast with the other, you’re hammering away at her hot cunt, gasping. Squeezing her flesh, hearing her whine, turning her usually pale flesh red while her arms find solace on your shoulder—anything to keep your rapidly dwindling resolve from dissolving entirely. The end is imminent; you can only delay it by mere moments, minutes at best. 

Karina is so dangerously close, as she said—and as much as you hate to admit, so are you. 

It’s a race that you don’t want to win. As much as you want to keep it together for longer, your body says otherwise. You can’t stop fucking her, no matter how hard you wish to try—and even if you did, why would you even contemplate the idea; your thoughts mostly comprise of how incredibly good she feels around your cock, how they pulsate and grip you with every thrust. Moving inside her is second nature at this point. You eventually lay her back down, only so she takes every inch of you when it eventually happens.

“Don’t stop—don’t ever stop—” she pleads, as if your own mind wasn’t enough to invalidate the idea. Her nails cling to your scalp and neck, barely hanging on for dear life. She’s trembling, uncontrollably jerking beneath. Even she herself doesn’t want it to end. “So good—oh God—”

A handful of thrusts later, Karina cums, with your cock buried in the crevice of her cunt. 

Once again, her voice shoots up to the sky upon impact, screaming your name, her head tilted far back as the sheets allow her to. Jaw widely slack, her neck and collarbone exposed, she can’t stop trembling through her climax. Writhing in your grasp, she lets out a prolonged moan till her vocal cords flame out, her chest heaving for much needed oxygen. 

It doesn’t stop you from pounding into her pussy, even as it overflows with her slickness. If anything, it only accelerates your own demise. The wetness overload coating your cock proves to be overbearing for what little spunk you have left. 

“Me too, Karina—” you blurt out, hammering into her, gasping, bracing for impact as well. “I’m gonna—oh fuck—”

Your own peak overtakes you, rendering you speechless. Everything comes to a standstill. All you can do is bury yourself inside the absolute depths of her pussy, make her take every load, every drop. 

Filling the air with a harmonious moan as it hits you, your cock throbbing achingly, full of all that repressed need, and then—release. 

Spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum you pour into her womb, not wasting a single drop. Karina cries and moans with every shot, while you can only groan a deep groan from your lungs. She takes it up, milking you of all your worth till you can’t anymore. Even as she drains you empty, you can’t stop pounding into her cunt, slowing your movements back to a grinded out pace till your orgasm dies, and so does your strength.

“That’s it—that’s all I needed—so, so good—”

Karina sighs, her fingers digging deep into your neck, dragging them across your shoulders, then sliding down your arms right after. She can barely open her eyes, only to find you slowly crashing into her, leaning your head to the side so you can rest beside her. Even your hips stop moving. You only have enough energy to wrap an arm around her tiny frame before you finally collapse under your own weight.

“You still have to take me home,” she whispers, mindful of your ear directly next to her, delivered in that oh so saccharine tone. 

“I know,” you mutter through the sheets, eliciting a gentle chuckle from her. Karina’s the one coming out of this in a better state. 

“Can you do something for me? Please?” 

She didn’t need to say the word, but it certainly helps her case tenfold.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need you to drive me home.” Karina dips her head at an angle to face you. “Not your bodyguards. You.”

Tilting upward to get a good look at her, you lift a curious eyebrow. “I don’t mind—but why?”

“I just—” she faces away, pausing, breathing heavily. She’s about to say something she’ll regret. “Think it would be safer, yeah? Besides, I wouldn’t wanna be caught by my parents just being dropped off by people in suits.”

“Oh right.” 

“I mean this is nice and all but—” Karina stops again, lightly brushing your arm away. A reminder that wealth does not equate to relationship. “I think we’d be better off if we kept things strictly professional. You didn’t have to do all this. You were kind to me and that’s more than enough.”

You roll onto your back, staring up directly at the ceiling. You can only hope Karina is doing the same. She shouldn’t see how deflated you look—after you fucked her, no less.

“Karina, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You don’t know exactly what to say. You’re only thinking about the what ifs and the what could, expecting the worst. So you look away, unable to face her a second longer.

Moments later, you feel the sudden tug of her embrace, a leg wrapped around yours. The softest kisses on your shoulder. You can feel her soft smile pressed against your neck. She’s cuddled up on you, intent on never letting go.

“Just keep being kind.”

—————

In the days ahead, it was about saving face. 

Karina’s wish has seemingly been lost in translation and disregarded, as you’ve been putting distance from her. Any little sign that she’s around is your signal to leave. It helps when you have two extra pairs of eyes keeping watch and alerting you at once.

All this to reinforce the same statement you’ve heard from her friends: that you’re no good whatsoever. 

Cautiously eavesdropping on their conversation through your unassuming bodyguards, you hear Karina’s distress over your earpiece, lamenting to her sisters about your absence in her life.

“I seriously don’t understand you. Are you deaf? Are you stupid?” says Ningning, vindicated about her stance. “He ghosted you. They always do that! Not just him! Believe me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Please trust us. Rina, we’re worried about you,” adds Giselle, her tone showing more empathy and concern. “There’s no use in worrying about a man after you did—that.”

“No no. I want to believe,” Karina replies, insistent on you, ignoring all the red flags being waved around. “He really appreciates the affection I gave him. I have to. He seems like a good person in heart—”

“Ugh—here we go again with that good guy shit,” interjects Ningning, frustrated at her friend’s stubbornness. You hear a powerful thud, presumably from a table getting slammed in anger. “He isn’t a good guy! God, Karina, this is why you get bullied—”

“Hey, Ning. Let’s not go that far,” Giselle interrupts, her tone low. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

Dead silence follows, seemingly lasting an eternity. And then—

“Good job, Ning. She left and you made us look bad in front of everyone else,” Giselle adds, breaking the vast stillness, huffing before the audio goes quiet again.

“All the girls have left the cafeteria,” says your first bodyguard, the one you’ve assigned to Karina the first time.

“That’ll be all. Great work,” you tell them over the earpiece before disconnecting. 

You’re not hiding anywhere inside campus. In fact, you’ve been resting in the comfort of your own home the entire time. On your phone’s screen is Karina’s number, having been registered in your contacts since last week. Not once have you bothered messaging her, let alone call—yet you constantly return to it. With each passing day, the temptation to press that button grows stronger and stronger. 

You place your phone down on the desk, as if that’s gonna change anything. Seconds later, it’s in your hand, still on those 10 digits. Calling to you, as if her very voice is somehow playing through those tiny speakers. It’s all in your head, yet it feels vivid through your senses.

It all but confirms your own feelings: you can’t move on, and neither can she.

You’re looking around, even though not a soul’s in sight, convincing yourself to turn back before you fall further down. Seeing as there’s not a form of opposition, whatsoever, you pull the trigger, consequences be damned.

In the few seconds between calling the number and her imminent responding, you’re hoping she doesn’t answer. That she sees her friends’ points, to prove that you’re in the right by leaving her to dry.

All it takes is a few key words.

“Hey. I missed you.”

—————

There’s a lot to take in, but first—you swallow your own pride. This is your own doing, after all.

Looking out the window from your couch, it’s already night. Last time you checked, the sun had only begun setting; that was four hours ago, apparently. Meanwhile, Karina lies flat on the bed, every part of her mindlessly used, mindlessly fucked. Her skin gleaming, blemished in a sea of fiery red and sticky white. Her clothes scattered all over the house, their purpose rendered obsolete the moment she walked back in. You were standing there—waiting, expecting. Along with her body, came a simple request, in her words:

“Take me like you fucking missed me.”

Delivered straight to the point, Karina is something else. She’s twisted and cruel in her own way. To make such a demand in the sweetest voice possible—you can only chalk it up to witchcraft. And to think she was the one who wanted to keep things professional.

Any intentions to study and help with projects and research was a complete lie—it was more of a roundabout way for you to get inside her, over and over again. If anything, her body was the primary object of interest. 

All the ways you can fuck her, how she wants it—anything to get you to cum in her pussy. And that’s exactly what you did.

Spearing your hips against her frame, you find that Karina is so flexible, malleable to your every whim. How she complies without complaint or moment of hesitation, propping herself in whatever position your mind thought of in the moment, and there’s a few you were dying to try. On her fours, with her legs spread wide, on her knees, making an example out of her. So utterly shameless.

And God, she takes it all quite effortlessly, like it’s second nature to her. Milking you dry with her cunt, with her mouth, making you cum with some friction from her tits—everything is a little too easy. Taking just one look at her perfectly sculpted figure, it makes a lot of sense. Yet, Karina has to explain to everyone else why she can’t walk properly in the morning.

A week’s worth of repressed desires and wanton needs, completely gone in a few short hours. It may as well have been a year, maybe two, since you last met. 

You can only watch from a distance, from your couch, as everything falls apart. Even a single second that you’re at arm’s length and she’d be burying your grave deeper. As if it’s gonna change tonight’s outcome.

Like a reanimated corpse coming back to life, Karina rises from the bed, assessing the damage. It’s quite a lot. She’s an absolute wreck.

“I think I may have gone too far in some places,” you remark, observing her take your cum into her mouth with her finger. 

“I don’t believe that,” she says, taking another scoop and savoring the taste, flashing her pasty white tongue. You instinctively avert your gaze, much to her amusement.

“Christ—Karina, what happened to setting boundaries?” you ask, genuinely concerned. Even if it’s for one night, that’s all it takes for everything to snowball out of control. “I don’t think we can do this on the regular, even if I wanted to.”

“True,” she tells you, matter-of-factly, before stepping on the ground and pacing towards you, limping, barely recovering, “But I got nothing else except you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You’ve genuinely changed my life,” she says, propping her hands to her knees to lean forward. “No one bullies me anymore. Because they think I’m your girl. I’m your possession.”

The way Karina calls herself yours gives you goosebumps. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” she continues, tracing a finger down her drenched core, splayed and ruined—your handiwork—before rubbing her slick against your arm, eventually pushing it between your lips. You allow her. Her voice turns a pitch lower with each sentence. “I can’t express how much I need you right now.”

Sinking further back into your seat, you slowly tilt your face towards her, greatly alarmed. “You’re scaring me a little, Rina. We really should—”

She places that same finger between your lips, now to shut you up. Pressing herself forward, straddling on your lap, she makes sure her cum-soaked tits are directly in view of your face, threatening to smother you between them. Her smile is the cherry on top, inviting you to relax the senses and let yourself go in that familiar lust once again. “We can talk about this—on the other side.”

And before you know it, Karina’s riding you hard, with your face buried deep between her chest, worshiping her. You had no chance.

The next time you gain awareness, you’re back in bed, cuddled beside her. With her back against yours, she’s soundly asleep, despite the repeated calls from her phone and your supposed agreement to have her home by ten. 

It’s already half past midnight.

“Goddammit, Rina,” you mutter, eliciting a light shudder as your hot breath tickles her skin. “I can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” Karina tells you, as if you aren’t gonna be doing this again tomorrow—and the next night, and the one after. “My parents aren’t home,” she adds, clearly lying through her teeth.

“We seriously need to talk about this,” you tell her, rolling out of bed, scrambling for a fresh pair of clothes from the nearby closet. Meanwhile, Karina remains lying on your bed. She has no intention to leave. You have to reiterate again, “What happened to setting boundaries?”

Even the simple act of propping herself up draws your attention, more so in the nude, especially when she’s glistening in your sheen. The question amuses her; look at her teasing expression, ready to fire back. “You’re the one who called me here. So—”

“Jesus, Karina,” you sigh, working around the clock to get everything in order. Car’s ready, her clothes are in the wash. God willing, she’s actually telling the truth. “Why are you like this—”

She laughs—heartily.

—————

The next day on campus, you make it official. Sort of.

Karina’s friends are seated across the hall, their wary, foreboding gazes singling you out of the whole room. Intentions aside, you have no fight with any of them; it’s nothing personal. After all, it’s her choice. You’ll let them judge. You’re on your own for this one; you’ve told your bodyguards to leave you alone so as to make yourself look approachable in their eyes—even if there’s a negative chance they’ll ever buy it.

Then she enters the room, giving each one a kiss and a hug, as if they’re about to part ways for a long, long time. They’re overreacting; it’s not as though you’ll whisk her away and isolate her in some lonesome high castle.

You get a good look at her when she finally walks over. She’s wearing the new clothes you gave her last night. She makes your heart race with delight.

When she takes her seat directly opposite yours, you can’t help but silently remark, “They really don’t like me.”

She lightly chuckles. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking them to like me,” you tell her, smiling from ear to ear, reaching out your hand, which she accepts. “I’m just—hoping they’ll see me one day as you do.”

“Sure they will. I believe deep down, you’re really a sweet guy.” 

You lower your head, unable to face her, but your face tells it all.

“Just to be clear, you’re not gonna make me actually sign a contract?” Karina asks, puzzled about the need to meet up on campus specifically to set your boundaries. The truth is, anywhere else that wasn’t school would be a distraction.

“Of course not,” you say, baffled at the idea yourself. “Dad usually did the paperwork, and that seems really weird.”

“So is having sex shortly after saving the damsel in distress,” she says, smirking through each word, mentally patting herself on the back for that remark.

Shaking your head in disgust, she laughs at your annoyed expression. That never gets old.

“Right—so what are we then?” Karina leans forward, grabbing your stretched out hand, her eyes widening. She’s looking to kiss you—at least that’s what her face is doing.

Ruminating through your next words carefully, occasionally giving the corner behind her a glance, her friends running through your mind, you reply, “Let’s just say I’m your benefactor for now. I don’t really want anyone to get surprised, and let’s just say, I’m not ready to handle everything just yet. But I want to stay close with you.”

“So we’re friends?”

“Yeah, if that’s how you want to see it.”

“Then there’s no need for this. Aren’t we already close?”

“Well I’m giving you money and clothes, in addition to letting you come over to my place once a week, so—”

Karina tugs your hand forward, interrupting you. “I don’t really need any of this. I just want you to treat me like anyone else. Like a friend. Just do that.”

You end up choking on your own words. Even when she’s admonishing you, Karina remains gentle in tone. And she knows how to bring the conversation around gracefully.

“So, what do you say we go out and have a snack later? After class?” 

With a lovely face and smile like hers, you’d be foolish to refuse her offer.

As the bell rings, you’re nodding in agreement when everyone stands up in unison, heading off to their next class. Karina leaves to regroup with her friends, but not without giving you a kiss goodbye as she walks through the door. You can only stare back—smiling.

Then you get a notification on your phone. A text from an anonymous number, seemingly demanding something urgently in all caps. Something about delayed shipments, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

Paying no heed to the message, you’re cancelling your plans for today to make room for your first date with Karina.

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! Was supposed to drop around Christmas, but then the holidays got busy, and then literally the day after Christmas, my dumbass just had to get food poisoned and hospitalized. Oof. Just poor timing all around, damn.

Fun little prompt, I was feeling a little edgy writing this, not gonna lie. Definitely left some clues for when I wanna revisit it. Karina is unfathomably hot, and I'm starting to like aespa a lot lately. They've probably had the best year of any girl group, and it's well deserved. Thank you for reading!)

[bluerosefox]

So... This was inspired by listening to EPIC (FREAKING LOVE ALL THE ALBUMS, SO GOOD) and by @noxcheshire post of Tim being Odysseus reincarnated and Danny (maybe also reincarnated) being his Penelope (Here) so I had to turn it into a Dead Tired idea.

The song The Challenge is the main one here. (Cause I LOVE that song... along with Would You Fall In Love With Me Again)

So WHAT IF Danny IS the reincarnated Penelope, after becoming the Ghost King Danny's memories of his past life as Penelope returns and remembers how before dying/ or being reincarnated both Penelope and Odysseus promised to find each other in their new lives, no matter who they are, what new form they take, they will find each other.

So Danny/Penelope, just like before waits for their Odysseus to return to them, but also tries to find him in their new life (CW is laughing whenever Danny asks for hints and gets a 'In due time, just wait' answer, ugh Danny wants to smack CW for that)

However just like in his previous life with being in a high position of power, Danny is being pressured to marry/take a spouse (now its not just men/males though so its a huge headache, I head canon Ghosts don't care much for gender preference) mostly by the dang eyeballs that Danny is still trying to find a way to get rid of without upsetting the Infinite Realms dedicate (but slowly healing) balance even if Danny wanted nothing more than to punch all of the suitors out.

So Danny decides to play the long game again.

And waits for their Odysseus return.

Danny's wait is over when they suddenly feel the Realms shift one day, as if welcoming someone familiar home, and the same feeling Danny had when he had been Penelope and saw the storm that was sign of Odysseus coming home, Danny decides its time to bring out The Challenge once again. (CW gifted Danny a few things from his past as Penelope as a coronation gift, like Odysseus's bow (now enchanted to be unbreakable), a painting of when he was Penelope, with Telemchus, and Odysseus, and the Marriage Bed/Olive Tree, AND the Palace Odysseus made that Danny takes to being in over being at Pariah's Keep)

-x-x-

Meanwhile

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, always had strange dreams as a child.

War, Death, Monsters, Gods, Goddesses.

His dreams were more like nightmares, haunting him and he sometimes woke up in cold sweat.

He hated storms. Hated being in the water for to long. Hated how he felt both tense but also at home when around Greek heroes, as if he was afraid to 'disrespect' them (Cassie was the only one he didn't feel that way around, mostly cause they had been somewhat friends before their heroing since their parents knew each other) but also knew how to appease them should he insult them. He also had a strange hatred for the CoO with a burning passion because he felt like they were mocking real Owls.

The worst part of nightmares that always pop up are of what feels like should be his home is being invaded by unwanted guests (they aren't guests), how they are angry over trying to string a bow and shot an arrow through axes, of the terrible terrible things he hear them saying they were going to do to his loved ones (two names that keep getting muted out).

How it ends in bloodshed with echoing of begging, pleading, mercy, and screams.

However in those nightmares at the end. He also finds himself looking for something in them.

Or rather he always found someone waiting for him at the end of the nightmares. Calling him by the wrong name but it sounds just right coming from them.

The dream always ends with the person asking 'How long has it been?' and before he can answer he wakes up.

So yeah Tim has horrifying nightmares/dreams he could never explain.

And the urge to find someone. To go home to them.

It isn't until he and his friends from Young Justice are hit by a spell from Klarion (who may or may not had a visit from a certain chaos encouraging Time Keeper) and sent to a place called the Infinite Realms in the middle of their fight, that Tim is hit hard with déjà vu when he spots a certain Palace in the distance and overhears some of the 'people?' (they glow and float and some don't even look human?! where are they?) talk about how the 'King' has issued a new 'Challenge' for his 'suitors'.

A Challenge involving a bow, and axes.

And Tim, feels like he knows this all too well and needs to do it.

[five-rivers]

Smoothie Chapter 1

Started a fic based on this post. Enjoy!

.

The doors of Long Now creaked open in front of Danny, and he walked in, murmuring thanks to Long Now.  The doors closed again behind him, and once they did, Danny could hear the wonderful sound of Observants shrieking for Clockwork to do something emanating from the Viewing Hall.  

He sighed, disappointed.  Most of the time, when he visited Long Now, he didn’t come for any specific purpose, but today he’d hoped to get some help on a history paper (he didn’t even know where to start, and it was a whole ten percent of his grade by itself) and to get a snack (his parents had forgotten to get groceries earlier in the week, and the nearest grocery store had been trashed by a ghost fight, so it was unlikely they’d get any today, either).  With the Observants yelling at him, it didn’t sound like he’d even be able to hang out with Clockwork.  

The Observants would probably throw a fit if they noticed Danny here, too.  He glanced back at the doors, but Long Now had, rather coyly, in Danny’s opinion, not only barred them but maneuvered a pair of large gears and a stout chain over them.  

It looked like Long Now wanted him to stay, anyway.  He looked up.  For some reason, he always felt a little more comfortable addressing the huge clockwork mechanism at the center of the lair as Long Now, even though Long Now was the entire structure around him.  “I don’t suppose you have any snacks I can eat?”

Danny thought he could probably find his way to the kitchen on his own…  But also that it would be a bit rude to wander in and eat Clockwork’s food like that without asking.  If Long Now gave him permission, though…

The gears in the walls moved, sliding open a door on the other side of the entryway.  Danny grinned.  “Thanks!” he said, quietly.  

He followed the movement of gears and chains through narrow hallways until he reached a small, but well-appointed vaguely modern kitchen.  At first, Danny couldn’t see a refrigerator, but then a door swung open invitingly, and Danny realized that Clockwork had a walk-in fridge.  

Cool.  Literally.  

He snickered at his own joke, then stepped up to the doorway.  “It is okay for me to take some of this, right?” he asked.  The door didn’t slam in his face, so he took that as a yes.  He went in.  

Clockwork’s (cavernous) fridge, as it turned out, was as meticulously arranged and organized as the rest of Long Now.  Each kind of food seemed to have its own dedicated and labeled space.  Wandering, Danny read Rampion - Witch’s Garden on the shelf under some salad, Turkish Delight - Charn underneath some odd, long, squarish blocks, and Pomegranates - Stygian Shores.  

He puzzled at the labels for a little while, before he realized that they must be - what did Sam call them? - cultivars.  Cultivars of different kinds of plants.  Ghostly cultivars?  They looked interesting.  Maybe later, he could ask Clockwork if he could bring some to Sam, she liked that sort of thing.  

In the meantime, though…  He looked around at all the fruit on the shelves and a bucket labeled Spirit Ice - Far Frozen and decided.  “I’m going to make a smoothie,” he told Long Now.  

There was a rustle outside the fridge, and Danny peeked out to see that a blender had been deposited on the kitchen counter.  He grinned and went back inside to find his ingredients.  

The ice first, of course.  Then, he needed some fruit.  He started to browse.  What looked good…?  The pomegranates, Sam said they were good for you, and he'd liked them when she gave him some.  Then a bowl of Snow-Ripe Strawberries - Three Dwarves’ Cottage.  The Immortal Peaches - Kunlun looked good.  He'd have to peel and pit them before putting them in the blender, but he'd have to prepare the pomegranates, too, so it wasn't an issue.  Ooh, he wondered how good Orange - Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus tasted for Clockwork to put his name on it.  Although that might just be a coincidence.  Then, Fairy Apples - Autumn Court rounded out his selection.

That was probably enough to make a decent smoothie, but he’d really like some milk, or maybe a banana, to make it thicker.  He scanned the shelves again.  He hadn’t noticed any bananas, but he was sure he’d seen milk.  There!  Looking Glass Milk - Wonderland.  It even looked like whole milk when he sloshed it back and forth in its glass container, which was better for this kind of thing than skim milk.  

He carried his loot back out to the kitchen proper and pulled out a cutting board and knife so he could get everything prepared before he tossed it in the blender.  He’d wash up as soon as he was done.  

First the ice (a little hard to chip into useable chunks, but his own ice powers helped), then he opened up the pomegranate by cutting off the ends and scoring the sides so he could peel them away (and he didn’t make the kitchen look like a crime scene, so take that, Sam).  He brushed off the seeds into the blender.  They looked kind of cool, the little seeds sifting down between the larger chunks of ice.  Then, he plucked the stems off the strawberries and cut them in quarters before dropping them in (that always made them blend a little better when he was at home).  He decided to juice the oranges, rather than dropping in whole slices, since the skin of the sections might not blend well.  That left the apples, which he cored and cut into little chunks, and the peaches, which he dithered over.  He’d never actually peeled a peach before, but although he didn’t mind the fuzzy outside when he was eating slices, he didn’t want the little hairs in a smoothie.  Eventually, he decided to just go for it.  It didn’t matter how mangled the pieces were before they went into the blender, after all.  Finally, he poured the nice, thick milk over the whole thing, filling in all the nooks and crannies.

Danny made sure the blender lid was securely fastened before he started to pulse it.  He’d made the mistake of not checking once before.  Thankfully, any large kitchen mishaps at home could be blamed on the hot dogs, so he’d gotten out of that without getting in trouble.  

Soon, the contents of the blender were a nice, smooth, thick, pink with a few dots of darker colors here and there.  He found a glass big enough to hold the smoothie in one of Clockwork’s cabinets, then poured it in.  

On the other side of the kitchen, a door creaked open, and Danny, holding the smoothie, investigated.  The room on the other side was the cozy little dining room that Clockwork sometimes served Danny tea in.  

“Thanks,” Danny told Long Now again, before finding a seat.  He’d drink his smoothie here, then clean up the kitchen, and if Clockwork was still arguing with the Observants… well, Danny should probably go home at that point…  He sipped his smoothie.  Oh, that was good.  He took another, deeper gulp. 

The smoothie was very good, in fact.  One of the best he’d made, if he did say so himself.  All of the flavors balanced perfectly, and the temperature and texture were just right.  Although they might not be for someone who wasn’t a cold core ghost.  The good thing about having ice powers was that he never got brain freeze anymore.  

Leisurely, Danny drank his smoothie.  He didn’t trouble himself to drink it very quickly.  He wanted to stay long enough for Clockwork to finish with the Observants.  He at least wanted to say ‘hi.’ 

But by the time he finished the smoothie, Clockwork was still nowhere to be found.  He sighed and carried his empty cup back to the kitchen.  What he really wanted to do was find a comfortable place to curl up in and go straight to food coma land, but he really couldn’t leave Clockwork’s kitchen like that.  

He put the blender in the sink to soak a little (he should have done that before, but he’d forgotten), then washed the cutting board and knife.  There were some crumbs in other parts of the kitchen - and those were not from him - and a few places were dusty, so Danny wiped those down.  Long Now helpfully produced a broom and dustpan, and Danny swept the floors as well.  Then, he went back to the sink and started taking apart the blender.  

The door of the kitchen swung open and Clockwork flew in, shoulders tense and tail flicking with agitation.  He made a beeline directly for Danny.

“Oh, hi!” said Danny, raising the pitcher part blender.  “I was just cleaning up–”

“What did you eat?” asked Clockwork.  He didn’t sound mad, exactly, but there was an urgency in his tone that put Danny immediately on edge.  

“A smoothie?”

“With what in it?”

“Um, some of the stuff from your fridge,” said Danny, gesturing with the blender.  “Some milk, ice, and fruit?”

“What exactly?”

“Um,” said Danny.  “Snow strawberries, eternal peaches, a pomegranate, a clockwork orange, fairy apples, and…  I think that was it?  And the milk and ice.”

“Show me what you took,” said Clockwork.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  “I’m sorry, Long Now opened the door, and I asked if it was okay, I didn’t mean to take stuff you were using later…”

Clockwork’s lips had gone very thin, and Danny could see wrinkles spread out from the corners of his eyes and mouth as he aged forward.  

“Sorry,” Danny said again.  

“It is not your fault, but I must see what it is that you ate.”

Danny nodded and went into the fridge.  He pointed out each place that he’d taken something from, even the ice and milk.  He had gotten some of the names wrong, but he was pretty sure he got everything.  

However, with each thing Danny pointed out, Clockwork looked more and more stressed.  Even when Danny had just taken one fruit out of a whole basket.  

“I’m sorry,” repeated Danny, tapping his fingers together nervously.  He didn’t entirely understand what he’d done wrong, but it was clear he’d screwed up.  “I don’t know these cultivars, but I can get you new fruit from the store or something?”

Clockwork turned to him, face grim.  “These labels are not cultivars.  Rather, they are not only cultivars.  They are the places they come from.  These pomegranates from the River Styx are the brothers and sisters of the one that bound Persephone to Hades for half the year.  The apples are the ones that the fae of the Autumn Court use to trap people in their realm.  The orange carried with it some of the Laws of Mechanus, although I do not know how those will behave exposed to the other fruit.  None of these things were for eating.  They are dangerous and powerful things those Realms have given me as gifts.”

“Oh,” said Danny, feeling very small and stupid.  

Clockwork rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “If the Observants had not blocked me, I never would have allowed Long Now to even show you this room.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” asked Danny.  “Should I try to throw up or something?”

“No,” said Clockwork.  “It is far too late for that.  As for what will happen…  If it were only one or the other of them, then the effects would be clear.  There would even be some precedent for eating one then another.  But when you ate them all at once, all blended together…”  He shook his head.  “Regardless, you cannot be left bound.  We will have to negotiate for your release.”

“Release?” asked Danny, feeling queasy.  

“From the obligations you incurred by eating those things.  Some of them, I think, will not be so difficult.  Others…  There are some things I must put into order before we can leave.  Stay here.  And do not sleep.”

Clockwork left the way he’d come, leaving Danny alone in the kitchen once more.  There was something smug about how the door latched itself.  

“You tricked me,” said Danny, reproachfully.  

The ticking in the walls sounded like giggles.  He didn’t receive any other response.  

With nothing else to do until Clockwork came back, Danny finished washing the blender.  

[smittenmeraki]

There are too mamy itches in my brain. Andreil. Its a peaceful Saturday morning and they're sleeping in, sun just barely filtering through the window as they cuddle together. Neil's pressed against Andrews side and Andrew has an arm around him laying on his back. The phone rings waking them both and Andrew goes to turn it off but its a call from Aaron, a FaceTime. So he answers, groggy and half asleep. He wakes up more after noticing that Aarons been crying.

"You're still in bed" chuckles from the other end of the phone

"Its the weekend, you're crying?" Andrew cuts the small talk and Neil peaks open an eye out of curiosity.

"We have some news" Katelyn wiggles her way onto the screen standing behind Aaron. "We're pregnant" she give a small happy dance. Andrew stares blankly for a moment.

"Youre going to be an uncle." Aaron says, clearly a bit nervous but mostly proud.

"How long?" Is the only response he can think of.

"I'm currently eight weeks, so give or take another 32 weeks, but theres more."

"More?" Andrew sits up a bit dragging Neil with him.

"Twins" Aaron finishes. Neil muffles a laugh into Andrew's shoulder.

"Good luck with that. If they are anything like you, your hands will be full."

"Shut up" Andrew and Aaron say in sync. Neil just laughs again with a shrug.

"You're not saying much." Aaron presses, fiddling with a pen.

"He's excited" Neil says, looking up at him. Andrew scoff and pushes his face away "he's got that look in his eyes, he happy" Andrew shoves Neil off of him.

"If you ever need anything," Andrew mumbles grumpily to which Aaron nods.

"We will be posting updates on our socials, but we wanted you to know first" katelyn says before disappearing off screen.

"Yeah okay." They talk a bit more before hanging up. Andrew stares at the black screen, processing everything.

"Whats on your mind?" Neil whispers crawling back over to him.

"I'm going to be an uncle. He wants me to be apart of it. Of their lives."

"Of course he does, you're his brother."

"A year ago, I would have never gotten that phone call." He drops the phone on his chest, letting it lay face down. Neil lets him be lost in thought for a moment, then reaches out and brushes the hair from his face.

"You two fixed your relationship. Of course he wants you to know his kids."

"Have you ever thought about it?" Andrew picks at his nails, not looking at Neil.

"About what? Drew, what are you asking?"

"Kids. Have you thought about it?"

"I think I'd make a terrible father. I didn't think you were the type to want kids"

"We dont have to be parents. We could foster. Its just an idea, i dont know." Andrew sits up, tossing his legs over the bed. "I don't even think kids would like me." Neil sits up too, watching Andrew's back.

"Do you want to foster children?" Andrew just shrugs at the question, not facing him.

"We could, it would be one more good house in all of the bad ones. Kids might not like us but theyd have their own room. A warm bed and a safe place to be." His words are quiet, contemplating. "Its just a thought."

"We can always look into it. I wouldn't mind."

"An uncle. He wants me to be an uncle." Andrews thoughts go full circle and Neil cant help but smile. Their future seems bright, and possibly filled with young laughter and toys. Neil inches his way to him and whispers "yes or no" a mumbled yes and Neil trails little kisses down Andrews neck, hugging his back to him.

"This also technically makes me an uncle, think Aarons upset about that yet?" Andrew rolls his eyes at him, earning another laugh.

[777heavengirl]

the one with the walk home

sirius black x reader ! - 1,272 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: no one say anything about how this is a few hours late- also i am scoring close to what i need on my practice exams and i am ECSTATIC

“I love you too,” Sirius looked up at you, as you answered his statement from hours ago. The walk from the hospital had been a silent one until now. After you bid your goodbyes to the new parents, the two of you decided to take the tube back to your flat, his hand finding yours as you walked under the mellow hue of the streetlights. His hand was enough to make you forget any embarrassment from wearing an oversized suit jacket on top of your pajamas through the streets. “just by the way-”

Sirius broke into laughter, brief and fleeting but it left a smile in its place. 

“D’you really?” He shoved you with his shoulder, your arms extending before he pulled you back to his side. “Couldn’t tell,”

“I bloody hope so Black, I’m walking in the middle of the night for you- we might even be too late for the tube by now,” 

“Oh please- Like I’d let anything happen to you,” He said with a wink, a smirk curling on his lips. He let go of your hand, his arm easily taking its place across your shoulders.

“Me and my wand would be just fine without you though-” 

“Ah yes- I forget, you’re quite the bright witch,” You hummed in agreement, a giggle breaking from your lips “Don’t know if Professor McCormack would agree- you nearly blew his head off in defense against the dark arts our last year-”

You tskd in annoyance at the mention of your… small, incident.

“That was an isolated incident- We both know I got better scores than you on all my NEWTs-”

“Only because I ditched like half of them-” You rolled your eyes at him, the only one he had bothered to even show up for was Transfiguration out of respect for McGonagall. Not that he’d ever admit such a thing. “How's mum by the way?”

 You smiled softly at the mention of your mom. Sirius loved the woman. She loved him too, maybe too much. You were thankful for it regardless.

“She’s alright- quite tired, I reckon my dad has been driving her a bit nuts these days-” He hummed in acknowledgment, you kicked a small rock on your bath “Not that he hasn't been driving all of us crazy for years…” you sighed “Sorry-”

“For what?” He looked down at you, and you kept looking forward, leaning your head against his side. 

“I really shouldn’t be complaining about him- It could be worse, he just wants what's best for me I guess-”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn't drive you nuts love- parents are tricky that way”

“It's more than just driving me crazy- nothing’s good enough for the man,” you sighed, rubbing your temple with the pads of your fingers. You went down the stairs onto the tube’s platform “It’s exhausting- I got a job like he wanted, not in magic like he asked me to” You shook your head, fighting the wobble of your lip and the hot tears behind your eyes. “I am trying so hard to please him, the other day he had the audacity to call and tell me that he-” The voice over the intercom announced the last train of the night as you both stopped right before the yellow line. You wrapped his suit jacket tighter around your shoulders. 

“He had the nerve to tell me that he thinks I should go back to school… go to some muggle Uni- to do something useful” you mocked his voice, annoyance ripping through you as your fingers air quoted his words. The train rushed through the platform, cutting you off. The doors opened and you instinctively grabbed a hold of his hand again. “I think- Well, I know- that he wishes I hadn't been a witch at all,” you said as you went inside.

The tube’s doors closed, and you went silent. Sirius wrapped his arm around you as you sat down, the emptiness and silence of the cart hanging over the both of you. 

You thought of your parents. Your mother who had been nothing short of ecstatic when you received your letter at age 11. She even wrote a letter back to Dumbledore, a million questions on the tip of her tongue- thrilled at how exciting everything sounded. He answered every one of her questions diligently. Her daughter was a witch. 

Who would’ve thought?

Your father was another story. You thought of him, the way he never answered your letters from school, it was only your mother. But, of course, he loved you.

You hoped. 

He always said he only wanted what was best for you because he loved you. 

You thought of Walburga Black. A woman who, despite the abuse, still had the audacity to say she loved her sons. 

It took Sirius years to stop saying her torture came from a place of love. 

The train car stopped briefly at the next stop. Neither of you stood to get off. You hoped Sirius was paying attention to the stops as you rested your head against his shoulder. He squeezed your shoulder. 

Your father had never been happy about the turn your life took. Wouldn’t let you do magic in the house even when you were of age. He hated it. He wanted you to go to University. Get a muggle career, a normal career. A normal life.

That wasn’t even mentioning how infuriated he was once he found out you were moving in with Sirius. You could still hear his words in your head, even years later. 

“He’s a good-for-nothing rich kid- he hasn’t lifted a finger in his life and you’re attaching yourself to him like this? With his stupid tattoos and his stupid bike- you’re going to get yourself killed- you’re not even bloody together” Sirius squeezed you tighter to him, you didn’t think he knew what you thought about. “What happens when he gets bored of you? Ditches you for some woman- you are so stupid-”

You didn’t know if you were stupid for it. Your mom was basically planning you and Sirius’s wedding while your father cursed his presence in your life.

You thought of his unpacked bags. 

Sirius swallowed the lump in his throat and stared at the map of the train lanes. 

3 More stops.

He tried ignoring the way you went silent, he tried for a second to forget the fact that you just implied you never wanted the job in the first place. Was he being crazy? No, well you just said it was what your father wanted. What about what you wanted? 

He knew the man wasn’t the fondest of him. He assumed it was the motorcycle and the tattoos, the pack of smokes in his pocket. Maybe even the smirk on his face. 

Maybe even the way his wife fawned over him.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

He hadn't even considered, that your non-magical father would hate the fact that you were magical. He thought of his mother, the brief flash of her words about how muggles were undesirables reverberating through his head. 

Who would’ve thought? 

So he held you tighter, in silence, because Sirius Black did not know what else to do but hold you tight in his arms and hope that you’d know. 

Hope that you’d know he loved you. Magic or not. Unconditionally, he thought. Jobless or employed. Sick or healthy. Young and stupid or old and wise. 

He loved you. 

He hoped you could hear his thoughts, so you’d know he was in love with you.

Because Godric knows he didn't dare to say out loud. 

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[thewrittenqueer]

It starts with Regulus taking up gardening

He’s an exceptional potioneer and if he’s going to go far in that career he needs to know how to make his own ingredients. Plus, though, he is one of Slug’s favorite students he can’t just regularly take supplies from Slug’s stash (especially for personal use)

However he can’t make a garden in the dorms. It’s a usually cold dungeon, with the only sunlight being reflected through murky lake water, and only a finite space to work with. So he had to find a place on the grounds to do it.

It’s on one of his late night broom rides or stargazing at the astrology tower when he can’t sleep that he finds it. He only sees a glint of glass from up there, so he goes exploring during one of his free periods.

It’s on the very outskirts of the forbidden forest. A very rundown cabin and an equally rundown greenhouse. Regulus guesses it’s the old caretaker dwelling’s before they were moved closer to the castle.

Regulus spends months fixing it up until he can start planting. He’s pretty much the only one who goes there and he only plants what he needs.

It’s stays that way until, of all things, w**d. Barty keeps complaining about the hufflepuffs raising the price

(Glaring at Barty as his reading is interrupted for the fourth time by this rant, Reg says, “Your dad’s literally the Minister of Magic, Barty. It’s not like you're hurting for money,”

“It’s the principle of it, Reg!”

Not even looking up from the newest witch weekly she’s reading Dorcas adds, “Yeah fuck capitalism and all that,”

“Yes! Thank you Cas!”

She merely flips him off when he turns his glare on her)

Unable to deal with any more of Barty’s complaining, he adds a corner to grow it for him. Which of course leads to the skittles wanting their own area too. In the end its covered in so many various fruits/veg, flowers, and plants (muggle and wixen alike) that it leads outside of the greenhouse

Eventually this leads to all the skittles spending more and more time over there until it goes from Reg’s place to all of theirs

——

The cabin is a perfect hideout. There’s a tiny fireplace that Reg has to chop wood for.

James does start to notice that Regulus’s arms start to get bulgier and more defined. He starts paying more attention to Regulus. Obviously because he has to be doing some over the top quidditch training to win the house cup that James has to steal it (no other reason)

On top of that there’s a cozy little reading nook where he can read muggle books and “trashy” wixen ones without judgemental eyes. As well as a comfy living room and bedroom.

Though the cherry on top is that he’s allowed to relax and be him. He doesn’t have to wear a dozen masks and appear to be the utmost perfect heir to everyone. Most importantly, though, he can freely hang out with all his friends too.

Not only the skittles but Remus and Lily too. (Yes they get their own spots in the garden too and they sit around trading books, reading together, studying together, etc. in the nook. Barty and Evan, the a**holes that they are, loves to call them the swot squad)

Plus through it he becomes friends with Marlene, Xeno, and Mary.

Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora refuse to hide things from their partners. (It does help that they’re free to make out without prying eyes there) He doesn’t have to worry about anyone reporting this back to his parents

Sure they can hang out in the library (a place he never has to worry about his brother or James coming in) but they either have to be tucked back in hidden corner so no one can see or hear them or pretend not to know each other as they sit at the same table (it’s the same way with Slug Club)

Somehow Lily manages to get a whole muggle telly and other electronics in there (no one knows how she manages this as they are hella expensive + it's the middle of the year but even Barty is afraid to ask) and her and Mary make it their mission to catch the group up on Muggle culture, especially pop culture.

He loves it

——-

For close to half a year they manage to keep a secret.

However with Remus disappearing constantly (which alone raises Sirius’s radar) there’s not someone there to reel Sirius and James in. Plus with Peter busy with chess club + his new girlfriend and promising to tone down their pranks as they’re older now, they get bored quicker.

Sirius deals with this by paying more attention to the other people at Hogwarts, or more specifically the slytherins. Snivellus and Mulciber and their gang are as awful as usual, but there is something going on with his brother’s gang. Immediately he believes it to be something nefarious or evil and becomes determined to see what his slimy brother and his friends are up to

James deals with this through trying to find Lily and Regulus. With so much time spent watching Regulus trying to figure out the man’s secret quidditch practice routine, he can’t help but admit the man intrigues him. He wants to learn more about the man outside of his preconceptions from Sirius’s rants. It’s kinda the same in Lily’s case. After spending so long pining after her and getting turned down at every turn and then learning that she has a girlfriend he’s given up. Now all he wants is to be her friend to make up for her putting up with all his antics and shit over the years. Though both he can’t seem to find either of them anywhere

So one day, after curfew, they follow Evan back to the cabin. They wait by the tree line as Evan goes inside. Before James can stop him, Sirius tosses off the cloak and slams the door in. Hoping to catch his brother and friends red handed.

Neither of them except what is actually happening inside.

Xeno and Remus are busy in the kitchen making hot cocoa and snacks

Barty and Lily are about to throw hands over a game of monopoly with Mary cracking up from the sidelines and adding fuel to the fire once in a while

Marlene and Evan are entranced by what’s on the telly and playfully slapping each other (this will eventually lead to roughhousing then full on wrestling with the rest of the group placing bets on who will come out on top)

Dorcas has bullied Reg into letting her paint his nails black as Pandora does his hair with promises of him doing the same for them

Bottles of elf wine and firewhiskey being passed through the groups

They all freeze when the door slams into the wall and Sirius’s resulting shout of “What the absolute fuck is going on here!”

[inmyheaddd]

walkin out the door with your bags - grayson hawthorne x reader - part 9

⤷ ''i don't wanna be forward, i don't wanna cut corners // savor this with everything i have inside of me''

a/n: this took the longest ever to write omg!! im so sorry for the wait but i hope you enjoy ❥❥ also, hot by cigarettes after sex is literally their song i might sob 😭 summary: someone gives grayson a piece of advice, and grayson spends hours trying to decipher and make sense of it, just to find out the right answer was infront of him. series masterlist — other parts

flashback, 16 years old..

''this is highly dangerous, you know.'' grayson's voice was steady as he called out. he climbed right behind you anyway.

you were climbing up to the rooftop of your house on a very tall ladder. perhaps it wasn't the safest thing, but your parents had blocked all the staircases that led to the rooftop to stop you from going up there. you found ways around it, and they hadn't noticed the ladder yet.

''okay,'' you laughed, seeing your breath in the cold air. you looked back briefly to see his gaze trained on his feet below him as you both continued going up the ladder. ''i don't really care.''

''you should.'' he mumbled back, hint of sass in his voice. you weren't sure if he wanted you to hear that or not.

''please, you care enough for the both of us,'' you replied anyways, because you remembered everything about grayson was intentional. he was capable of being very silent when he wanted to.

two more steps, and you finally reached the top of the ladder and climbing onto the rooftop. you didn't struggle much, you came here every time the sky looked pretty, and in winter, that was pretty much every night. you exhaled as you sat, ''it evens things out.''

graysons eyebrows flashed up in agreement for a moment, not arguing on that.

he reached the top and climbed over with no struggle. he sat a few inches away from you, your gaze still trained on the sky ahead. you looked behind you, taking in the the whole sunset with its shades of bruised purple and little streaks of orange.

you pulled out a small thermos from your hoodies pocket.

well, it wasnt really a small thermos, it was... more of a larger flask that you had stole from your parents room because you needed something to keep your drink warm.

but what could you say? desperate times called for desperate measures.

grayson glanced at you, then away, then immediately did a double take again and eyed the object in your hand.

his expression reminded you of a teacher: a stern, disappointed, and confused expression all together. his nose crinkled slightly, and you almost laughed out loud.

''grayson,'' you laughed, ''it's hot chocolate... i couldn't find my thermos, relax.'' you understood where he was coming from, i mean, it was a flask, but you weren't a drinker.

he didn’t say anything, but his expression said it all. he stayed looking at you conspicuously and furrowed his brows slightly.

you laughed in disbelief, ''what? you want it?" you teased. when he simply looked at you with a disapproving brow raise, you gasped.

''grayson!" you brought a hand to your chest, ''you seriously think that low of me?" you laughed and leaned closer, waving the thermos dramatically in his face. “look! see? it’s hot chocolate!”

he leaned back, avoiding the container, his lips twitching like he was fighting off a smile.

“no, no,” you teased, moving the thermos side to side in his face as he tilted his head away. “you’re going to see for yourself.”

“stop,” he muttered, his voice still calm but laced with humor.

“look!” you insisted, waving it closer.

finally, he reached out, his hand carefully covering yours to still your movements. “alright,” he said, twinges of laughter in his voice. “i understand. it’s hot chocolate.”

his hand lingered for a second longer, and your eyecontact remained, before graysons eyes flickers across your face and his hand went back to its side.

''its a tuesday evening. and i'm on a rooftop.'' you sighed as you took a sip of your hot chocolate just to prove it even further, ''i'm not that reckless.''

you screwed the lid back on and put it back in your pocket, then you covered your hands with your sleeves in an attempt to fight off the cold.

''you think you're reckless? you should see my brother.'' grayson muttered, half to himself and half to you, but there was a softness in his voice.

you set your hand back down, and only then realised just how close it was to graysons. your fingertips were a hairbreadth away.

you felt like you physically couldn't pull your hand away, and even if you did could move, it would just make things awkward.

you remembered you had to respond to grayson's statement somehow. ''jameson practically invented dangerousness and recklessness and bad decisions. he doesn't count.'' you shot back jokingly as you looked at grayson.

he huffed a chuckle, looking at his lap and shaking his head slightly. surely he must've felt your hand right next to his.

your fingers twitched slightly. you could feel the tiny movements coming from his own hand- whatever you were thinking right now, he was clearly thinking the same thing.

you were acutely aware of the closeness of his hand to yours. your gaze stayed straight ahead. you didn't dare look at your hands.

your fingers inched a little closer to his. you heard your heartbeat in your chest.

the cold didn't seem like a problem any more, and you felt his callused fingertips run over the back of your hand. then your pinky interlocked with his.

it was a simple action, but it was near impossible to ignore the way it fuelled the part of your brain that screamed 'you like grayson!'

you stared down at your intertwined hands, you knew grayson did too, but neither of you said anything. he swallowed thickly and simply brought up a story of his brothers being 'truly reckless,' and how you seem like the furthest thing from it.

soon enough, the minutes turned to hours, and you discussed everything with grayson.

from the way school had been, plans you had for the winter, if you wanted to come to true north with him and his brothers for a few days (you said yes), stories he had from true north, and sharing horror stories of ski trips.

the conversation naturally began to lull. not in a bad way, but in a comforting way. you scooted a little closer to grayson with your hands still intertwined.

you looked up at the glittering sky, ''you know, i feel really bad for you right know.

''why?'' grayson looked at you,

''because you're not wearing your glasses, and you can't see the moon tonight.'' you responded simply, glancing at him for a second before looking back at the sky. ''it's really pretty.''

grayson took his gaze to the sky, and you were right, he couldn't really see it. he could just about see the shape of it, but that was it.

he took his gaze back to you, watching you admire the moon. ''i'm sure it is.''

you hummed a little in agreement, dangling your feet back and forth over the edge. a gush of freezing cold wind suddenly rushed past the two of you, and the way you physically shuddered made you both laugh.

''god,'' you chuckled, ''i should've worn a coat or something. i didn't know it would be so cold.''

grayson nodded, '''we are quite high up, naturally, its going to be colder up here,'' he gestured to the ground below. everything looked so small from all the way up here. that was partly why you loved it.

you had a hoodie on, but grayson held his arm open anyway and invited you in. you felt 10x warmer when he enveloped you into a side hug, but surely that was because of the cashmere sweater he wore, and not him.

''grayson?'' you hummed, your head on his shoulder.

''yes?''

''you know, um thanks for always being here,'' you muttered, feeling his fingers trace patterns on your arm , ''even when i'm irrational and i'm messy and I annoy you.''

he was silent for a moment, and you were tempted to look up so you could get a read on his face. ''you could never annoy me.''

you could practically feel his voices' vibrations, and his tone was soft. different from the way he usually talks with others- stern, assertive. but he wasn't that way with you.

''but i'm irrational and messy.'' you insisted.

his hand began to slowly run up and down your arm, soothing your nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. ''those aren't bad things.'' he told you. ''not when its you, at least.''

you stared at his hand interlinked with yours. not when its me? what does that mean? you thought.

you opened your mouth, just about to respond when— slam.

you and grayson jolted out of each others touch. your heart was beating crazily fast.

''holy shit,'' you put a hand on your chest, catching your breath as you and grayson caught eachothers gaze and laughed out of relief.

you quickly realised you had missed being in his arms, but you just couldn't return to a moment like that. a part of you wonders if it even happened, it felt so fleeting.

you nervously laughed, tucking your hair behind your ears before you carefully peered down over the edge to where you heard the noise.

you didn't feel any better or less frightened, though. the scene below you was your mom storming out the car, dressed like she had just gotten back from an event. you quite couldn't make out her words, and her pace was as fast as ever. even from afar, her posture looked rigid and her neck looked strained, like she was holding back tears or screams.

your dad got out of the car right after, slamming his side of the door too and shaking his head to himself as he tried to catch up to your mom. his hands were out like he was pleading or reasoning, and his expression was something dark that you didn't like.

grayson followed your gaze, seeing the scene you were looking at. he hadn't realised he was smiling a little until he felt his face drop.

grayson looked back at you, but it was hard to tear your gaze away from the scene, even when this scene was something you saw quite frequently. you tried to hone into your eavesdropping skills to hear what they were arguing about this time, but you were simply too far.

you name fell from his lips, and he repeated it twice when you didn’t answer. then finally asked, “are you alright?”

you didn't look straight at him, but he saw your expression. and he saw the way your fingers curled into a fist. you chewed on your bottom lip and blinked rapidly, then untucked your hair from behind your ears so it shielded your face.

he felt his heart drop. he had never seen you cry before.

you always acted as if nothing bothered you, and when it was obvious that something did, you hid it.

for a terrible moment, he worried that he wouldn't know what to do, that he'd somehow make things worse, but he simply let his actions come naturally.

he silently wished that this would be the last time he’d see you cry, he wished he could keep you happy forever.  

you seemed to finally realise he was still looking at you, and you sat up straight.

''sorry— i’m sorry.'' you mumbled as you quickly wiped at your eyes with the back of your hands. ''oh my god,'' you let out a chuckle, like it would make him forget the tears. ''that was so embarrassing, i'm literally fine. i don't know what that was.''

grayson watched you try and regain a sense of normalcy, ''its not embarrassing to feel,'' he told you.

he knew that was highly hypocritical of him to say that, considering the way he acted, but he would truly sit with you for hours listening to you talk about your feelings. for days, until the end of time, even.

he'd always be there for you, and he wished you would believe him when he said it. ''would you,” he trailed off, gaze flickering between your features, “would you like to talk about it?”

he knew the answer was likely going to be no, because he knew you, but he wanted to let you know that he’d be there for you always, if you suddenly decided you did want to talk.

you were silent for a moment, and every second of it, with every shuddering breath you took, he felt a stronger urge to be the one who wiped your tears, the one who held you. he watched you tentatively, concern written all over his face.

he recently felt like his feelings were blurring over the lines of them being simply friendly.

“actually,'' you sniffled a little, ''can we not talk about it?” you said, just like he had suspected.

you felt him nod, and said no more after that. he wouldn't push you. he knew when it was right to be persistent, and when to simply stay silent.

you took a deep breath. ''i'm feeling even more messy and irrational right now,'' you tried to lighten the mood with another laugh, but it just sounded sad. ''i don't know why i got like that, i mean, its not even that bad, compared to others.''

graysons brows knitted together. ''it doesn't matter what its like compared to others.'' he told you, his voice steady while yours wavered.

you finally raised your head from his shoulder ever so slowly and looked at him. your expression was unfamiliar. it was pained.

his gaze flickered between your eyes. he found himself speaking once again.

''i don't care about the others, i care about you.'' he squeezed your hand slightly, ''you should care about you, too.''

present...

grayson was oddly exhausted. he doubted that has anything to do with the fact that he had slept at 2 in the morning, though. the first thing he did was take a cold shower, but even that didn't help.

he didn't like to have caffeine so early on an empty stomach, but it seemed like he had no choice.

''good morning.'' he nodded curtly at gigi who was leaning on the counter, making his way to the coffee machine.

she was looking at him strangely, but that wasn't a rare occurrence, so he paid it no mind. grayson took a mug out of the cabinet, then he heard gigi clear her throat from behind him. he raised a brow to himself, still looking down at his cup.

then he finally realised- gigi was in his house.

he turned around swiftly, cup still in his hand as his eyes glazed over gigi suspiciously.

''you're in my house.'' he pointed out blankly, and gigi rolled her eyes.

''why are you in my house?'' grayson ordered. now, he was definitely shaken out of his previous stupor.

''you know, you're a real idiot, grayson.'' that was not a good morning, or an answer to his question.

''excuse me?'' he put his cup down on the counter he was standing behind. he was confused why gigi was in his kitchen to begin with, much less calling him an idiot at the ripe hour of 6 in the morning as he tried to make his black coffee.

''listen,'' gigi put on a stern face and hopped on the counter, but it was difficult to take her seriously with her bed head and ever so slightly puffy face, clearly having just woken up. how could grayson possibly not hear her come in?

''im gonna cut straight to the point.'' she started, and Grayson was glad she said that, because he was not in the mood for anything else but an explanation. ''I'm here because you did something. ever since about 3 days ago when you visited she’s been acting all weird. she won’t tell me what’s wrong, but i know something’s up with her. and i know it has something to do with you.'

she didn’t even have to say your name, there was only one her when it came to grayson. ever since that day where you came up to him so many years ago, asking him why he sat alone. there was always one her. you.

a heavy weight settled over his chest. “what makes you think i visited?” he forced himself out of his thoughts and asked, not confirming he did visit you, but not fully denying it either.

gigi rolled her eyes like it was obvious before she stole a grape from the fruit basket on the counter she sat on top of. “she won't tell me anything, did her whole control freak routine. i woke up the next morning with the whole living room redone, her room layout completely changed, and every surface literally polished and sparkling. she doesn’t just do that for no reason. for anyone.”

gigi tried to sound unbothered about the topic when she spoke, but the way she fiddled with her hands gave it away to grayson. it was obvious though, no one would like to talk about how their best friend was hurting. just as much as no one would like to hear about it, and know they caused it.

could he even call you his best friend anymore? he had never said it outright to you, but he suddenly wished he had told you how much he appreciated you every second he had the chance.

“you must've messed up bad, gray.” 

grayson averted his gaze. suddenly the fruits looked extremely interesting.

he couldn’t take back the horrible actions he made, the ways he tried to cope, the way he tried to silence his fears. they were done, they were his fault. that didn’t stop him from regretting them every single moment of his days. but even then, he still somehow seemed to be making the wrong choices. 

“I suppose you wouldn't be able to give me any advice on what to do?'' he asked rhetorically, his voice carrying too much emotion than he would like. he sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat. 

grayson never asked for advice. he never asked for help. he did everything alone.

and look where that got him.

“hey, i'd give advice to you any time you need it!,'' gigi said half jokingly, tucked her hair behind both of her ears, her voice carried a weight that revealed that she could tell just how grayson was feeling.

''listen, i’d like to be super cool and mysterious, and give you some vague advice like ‘do whatever your heart tells you,’ or, ‘the right choices will find you,’'' gigi said, putting on a deep voice and making quotation marks with her fingers. ''but you somehow manage to always make the worst decisions ever. without fail.” her voice was back to normal, raising her eyebrows and pointing at him.

even he knew she was right. 

“you’ve messed up way too much, and i don’t want you hurting my best friend any further, so i’ll give you this:” gigi continued, and grayson realized she wasn’t doing this for him, she was doing it for you. then, another thought that he been trying to avoid came up again: he hurt you much more than he had realised. 

“talk to her. and stay. you know her better than anyone, why on gods green earth would you believe that when she said she’s ‘fine’ or that ‘she doesn’t care’ that she was seriously saying the truth?” gigis expression turned sour as she furrowed her brows, like the topic annoyed her to even speak about. 

believe me, grayson thought, however aggravated you are about this, i’m infinitely more aggravated with myself. 

“you’re annoyingly persistent sometimes, so make some good use out of it.” gigi said, “i’m not going to tell you the things she’s told me exactly, but, you must’ve been a real idiot to just stand there and nod when she tells you that a kiss you shared was a mistake.”

grayson wasn’t surprised gigi knew all of that. grayson figured that was all he would get from gigi, but he selfishly found himself wanting to know more about how you were feeling. he was grasping for anything. you had both seemingly cleared up the air, decided you were 'friends' again and nothing more, but you hadn't even talked since.

usually, in a time back when things were as perfect as they could’ve been, you would’ve been telling him first hand. now, he had to find out about how you felt because of him by his half sister. 

it would never go back to the way it was. grayson could only hope to make it better than before.

he was no stranger to saying something, and meaning, truly longing for something completely different, so he didn't blame you for not

he wonders what he did wrong this time.

the girl, ella.

he was told it would be a good pr move on his end. he hadn’t been seen in the media for a while— which was how he liked it— but his team argued it would be good for him to resurface before the additions to the charities, to get more press. 

he would’ve simply said no. it would've been final, and his team wouldve never brought tbut the girl, ella, was what ended up convincing him. she was trying to hide her relationship with a co star of hers, another girl grayson couldn’t quite remember the name of.

all he remembered was being told ella was being bombarded with rumors, and she needed to out a stop to them before the second season of her show premiered. she was severely distressed—it was her first show, and she herself hadn't even come out to the public yet.

so he agreed. it went on for 2 weeks until there was enough social media posts and tabloids posted of them two.

he thought about the way your voice wavered when he went over to talk, the way you eyed him silently, the way your body language contradicted your words. you were silently angry at him, but you stayed friendly. he didn't have to solve anything to figure that one out.

he could always understand you even when you didn't have the right words to say it yourself, or when you simply didn't want to. a picture played in his mind— one of him nodding his head with an arm around your shoulders, offering comfort silently when you mumbled ''actually, can we not talk about it?" into his chest quietly. he remembered how his heart ached.

you had both mastered the language that had been created and growing between you since the day you met. now, he still knew it, but he had nowhere to even put it to use. he doubts he could ever truly forget it, though.

grayson realised too late how horrible of an image the ella debacle must've painted in your eyes. it was possibly the worst choice he had ever made. right after the days he went not speaking to you, and the times he didn't stay. 

he hated himself for the decisions he made, and gigi should've hated him too.

''why are you here, telling me this?'' grayson finally said. he was aware that his eyes were instinctively narrowed suspiciously, but he couldn't help it. gigi looked at him sympathetically.

''because, unfortunately, you guys are too stubborn and stupid to see what's clearly right infront of you.'' she said simply with a dramatic sigh. ''and you need me— the super-smart-all-seeing-gigi, to help the process along a little. and, despite the way you've been acting, you're my brother,'' her voice softened, ''and i don't like seeing you sad.''

he didn't even deny he was sad. there was no point. he contemplated asking more, brows furrowed as he looked at the counter infront of him, hands gripping the edges tightly. but he stayed silent instead, replaying gigi's words and trying to make more sense of them.

''...well, if that's all,'' she said, breaking the silence. ''i've got to go, i have a flight to catch.'' that explained why she was awake at 6 in the morning.

''where are you going?'' his grey eyes narrowed once again, this time, he was acutely aware of it.

''none of your business.'' she taunted, slipping right back into their sibling banter. ''well, actually—'' a smile stretched across her face despite her efforts, ''its noah, i don't know if you even remember him, but, he's taking me on a trip.'' she blurted, clearly too happy about that fact to remember that she was supposed to be holding a grudge against grayson. ''but— not that its any of your business, of course.''

grayson nodded. a part of him was hurt that gigi doubted he'd remember someone significant to her, but his mind went to a different place before he could dwell on that fact any longer.

he remembered one of the conversations he had with you, on the night you kissed.

''we know eachother. i trust you more than most.'' he once told you, remembering the way your eyes looked into his and the way they glinted when he finished his sentence. he remembered wanting to smile at that.

''yeah, and gigi knows noah. you should be able to trust her with her choices.''

“is she truly happy?”

“yeah, gray, she really is happy.”

he cleared his throat and brought himself back to the present moment. he wouldn't focus on the past right infront of someone, he couldn't, it simply hurt too much. ''right.'' he said coldly, ''of course. have a safe flight, gigi.''

she smiled awkwardly and got up from the counter. she took an apple with her, and gave him one last look, one that made graysons heart twist.

''why did you have to ruin this?'' her eyes seemed to say. ''you're my brother. she's my best friend. why are you making me choose?"

grayson wished he had a response. instead, he just watched her walk off with his brows knitted slightly.

he exhaled a long breath once gigi left, his elbows on the counter as his head fell into his hands. he raked both hands through his hair, roughly, not like the way you would. he shook before he abruptly stood up.

so many feelings, yet he couldn't articulate a single one properly.

there was one that seemed clearer than the rest. he hated himself--for ruining things for and hurting you when all he wanted was to protect you.

he let out a low, bitter laugh to himself.

some protector he was.

he did the one thing he always did when he needed to think clearer, to have control over something when all else seemed to be wrong and disorderly.

he made his way outside, grabbed a towel, and went for the pool.

the water was icy against his skin, but he welcomed it. he pushed off the edge and began swimming laps, each stroke more forceful than the last.

the tension in his chest didn’t lessen—it grew, tightening with every thought of you.

he swam faster, rougher, but not deviating on his strict rigid form. he couldn't. 'you need to talk to her. and stay,' gigis words played out in his head.

should he reach out again? what if you get annoyed? what if you're sick of him?

he knew you must've been somewhat sad, judging by the fact that gigi came to him, but what if you were more angry? what if gigi read it wrong, and you really wanted nothing to do with him?

the only reason he doubted the last one was because gigi knew you better than anyone. she couldn't have read whatever you were feeling wrong. whatever she saw, she felt the resolution was for you two to fully see it out to the end. to 'talk and stay' with each other.

'you're grayson davenport hawthorne, you don't worry about what ifs.' he reminded himself. what would his grandfather say? much worse, he had no doubt.

besides, you were his best friend. doing something would be better than doing nothing and let the friendship and possibility of more slowly fade, then disappear.

he swam and swam, and ran through all the possible outcomes in his mind. he did this until his arms burned and his lungs begged for air. it still wasn’t enough, though.

grayson pushed through the pain, through the ache in his muscles, until he couldn’t anymore. gasping for breath, he finally stopped and hung onto the edge of the pool, his head tilted forward as water dripped down his face.

his chest was heaving, and the pain he had felt was finally all crashing down. it was easier to ignore when he was moving. he clenched his jaw with his grip on the pool’s edge tightening. he didn't feel any better. he didn't feel like he had any more control over his life.

he was an idiot. an idiot who was still drowning, even now, on dry land.

he pushed himself up and out of the pool, his brows furrowed frustradely and muscles taught as he dried off.

he wouldn't let himself mope around any longer.

his hair was still slightly wet as he sat at his office desk. he had taken another shower, this time, it was steaming hot.

his eyes kept flickering to his phone as he worked on his laptop. he found himself wanting to reach out and call you.

no, he needed to plan it better. he couldn't just expect you to answer and for you to listen to him.

but- wasn't how the problems arose in the first place? waiting for the perfect moment that never came?

it was that way years ago, it was that way a few weeks ago, and it seemed like it was about to be that way again.

he closed his eyes for a brief moment. focus. then he got back to work.

still, despite his efforts, he couldn't focus. his mind was in an entirely different place. he read over an email before he pressed send.

how did he manage to mistype no as know?

he stared at the powered off phone laying on his desk once again.

the last time he had texted you, every single one of his brothers had pushed him to.

now, he was utterly alone in his office. his brothers were all out of the house, and his black out curtains kept his room dark, except for the low orange lamps you had forced him to put in there 'to make it look less robotic'.

his eyes flickered to his phone one more time, and he finally retracted his hand from his laptops keyboard.

he turned on his phone, and from then on it was muscle memory, the one thing he would do whenever he was feeling lost. whenever he needed clarity in his peculiar life of his.

he called you.

the phone rang, his thumb hesitated over the red cancel button, but he couldn't. he'd look like even more of a coward.

he was still unblocked, and despite not speaking to each other for so long, you picked up.

''hello?''

his heart beat faster than it did when he swam. ''hey, its grayson.''

you were silent for a second, ''I know.''

you phrased it like a question, almost.

''i apologise for the abrupt call, but, there seems to be a gap in my life where our daily phone calls once were, and to be frank, i missed them.'' he said it straight forward. he prayed that gigi's advice was right. he started the talk part, now he needed to stay. ''how have you been?''

“uh,” you laughed slightly on the other line, and grayson found himself missing the jokes you’d make that he’d call terrible, the nonsensical rants, or the way you’d beg to pick the movie to watch every single without fail on those movie nights you’d hold every friday. the one time he picked, it was the night you kissed. the night where everything changed, and grayson couldn’t tell if it was for the better or worse. 

''well, I just broke my glasses, for one.'' you replied, ''like, literally two seconds ago.'' he heard the laugh in your voice, like the reasoning behind it was funny. but you didn't tell him the the story behind it.

you stayed silent, and that was one of the major tells things weren't how they used to be. stay, he reminded himself.

you were the type of person that when he'd ask about your day, you'd talk about every single detail, down to the tiniest things like your losing your favourite pen or tripping over a rock on your morning walk.

he didn't realise he could miss something so much.

''so uh,'' you cut into his thoughts with a small laugh that he could tell was out of nervousness. ''i need to go fix that. but other than that, i'm pretty good.'' grayson nodded, even though you couldn't see him.

''shame about your glasses, those frames did really suit you.'' he let the words escape his lips before he could think twice.

''thanks, but, they are long gone, for now, at least.'' you said. ''besides, them breaking now gives me an excuse to wear contacts. looking on the bright side.. but uh, enough of me, how are you?

grayson leaned back in his chair, ''ive been alright. however, i've been thinking,'' he began, ''i know we've sorted things out since i last saw you, but we haven't talked much, and i think it would be quite nice for us to see each other some time.''

''oh,'' your voice was quiet on the other end, and grayson sat back up straight again. ''yeah- yeah, sure. i was actually thinking about that earlier today. but i didn't really know how to talk to you, so, I'm glad you said something.''

gigi's advice was right.

'didn't really know how to talk to you.' that part made graysons chest hurt strangely, like he was back in the pool.

''what an odd coincidence,'' he responded simply.

you hummed before you spoke, your voice was quiet on the other line. ''I thought you didn't believe in coincidences.''

he was silent

''sorry,'' you chuckled, ''I don't know why I said that, it just popped up in my mind- you used to say it all the time, and... yeah.''

don't apologise, you haven't done anything wrong. youre right, I usually don't.

what changed?

the response in his mind was instant: he met you.

''strangely enough, i'm not too sure.''

he heard you snort from the line, ''well, isn't that a first?'' you muttered, not giving him a chance to respond before you started again. ''um, gigi actually left for the airport this morning, so i'm incredibly bored right now.''

''would you like to organise something for today, then?''

you laughed again, ''is that your weird way of asking me if i want to hang out today?"

''you know i've never been particularly skilled in these areas.''

''oh boy, i know.'' you exhaled, ''well, i'll be heading to the park at like, 12, so...'' you trailed off, and he heard a slight smile in your voice. he wished he was seeing it, instead. ''if someone happened to, you know, coincidentally be there, i wouldn't necessarily turn and run away.''

he couldn't stop his own grin, though he knew he shouldn't feel too happy just yet. ''is that your strange way of telling me to meet you at the park at noon?''

''yes,'' you didn't miss a beat, ''it is.''

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee @hijabi-desi-bookworm @goldi-1-graysons-version @saigonharrington @peppapigsposts @thoughtdaughter3 @cant-see-sam

[loserlvrss]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 s. hanbin ( 성한빈 )

synopsis | after your car breaks down in the middle of a winter storm, you have a bright idea on how to keep warm.

pairing : hanbin x fem!reader genre : oneshot, smut, established relationship, light argument, light comedy warnings : unprotected sex, language, pet names, slight exhibitionism, a little rough for a second, hair pulling word count : 1702

authors note : i love this man so bad

“You’re joking,” You spit out a pained laugh, “Babe, stop fucking around and just turn the car on.” 

The man in the driver’s seat emphasized pulling the key out, putting it back in, and turning it—only for the engine to try to turn over with all its might, and then off. 

“Babe…” You were in complete and utter disbelief. How could this happen? Of course, it had to be on a day when you needed to be somewhere: your parents house in 20 minutes, to be exact. “Are you kidding?” 

He deadpanned, “I really wish I was.” a disbelief smile cracking against his features as his hands gripped the wheel. 

“You hate my parents that much, huh?” 

“Do you even like them?” 

“Touché.” You huffed, falling back against the seat, arms crossing. You looked out the windshield that had started fogging because of your breaths (and conversation), watching as the snow danced through the air. It would’ve been beautiful, and you did think it was…about 5 minutes ago when the car was still moving, heat blasting. 

You sighed, coming to terms with what had happened, “I’ll call them. You call the tow place.”  

And you did, asking your dad if he’d come pick you up—he said no, and you would’ve laughed in his face if you knew he wasn’t actually being serious. He blamed it on the snow, saying your sister had taken the truck to get last minute preparations for the party, and that, evidently, a small car wouldn’t be of any help. 

After you hung up the phone with a frown, you listened to the way your boyfriend spoke to the towing place. He sounded so calm despite the situation possibly being dire. He explained how you were only a couple of minutes from the town your parents lived in and that they weren’t willing to come pick you two up. He even double-checked all of the questions the man was asking him: does it roll-over? Do the lights turn on? Is it smoking?

You didn’t know your boyfriend had that side to him. Of course, you knew Hanbin was mature, that’s why you liked him initially—besides his looks, you’ve got eyes after all—But him taking control over the situation was…hot on a below-freezing day. 

He hung up the phone, catching your gaze. You’d been staring, and he’d noticed. 

“What’s up?” 

“You’re kinda hot.” You blurted so nonchalantly. 

He laughed, “Thanks, I’d hope you think that way. I am your boyfriend.” 

Your head shook slowly, eyes still wide from the staring, “Lucky me.” 

He started to open the door after popping the hood of the car, which made you slightly jump back to reality at the sudden noise. “I’ve got to check something, you stay here though.” 

“Do you think the car will blow up?” You only-kind-of joked, “I hope so,” 

He gave you a knowing look, “Shut up and just stay here, babe. It’s not gonna blow up.” 

“Bummer.” Your eyebrows knit at the command, “Do you even know anything about cars besides how to drive one?” 

“Well, you were too busy staring, but he did tell me what to look for over the phone.” 

You replied in a duh-tone, “Well, excuse me,” A slight huff left his lips at your response, and you shivered, only now realizing that the door was slightly cracked, “God forbid I ask a simple question…and can you close the damn door or get out? If you haven’t noticed, it’s fucking snowing.” 

Hanbin looked outside and then to you, mocking the feeling of being shocked, “Oh my God, it is snowing! Thanks for telling me, captain fucking obvious.” 

“H-holy shit,“ You remarked, feeling anger at the situation, “Just get out, I don’t want to fight.” 

He hummed, almost like he was debating your proposition, “Yeah, because I don’t know if you were still mentally aware when he said this, but they’ve gotten a lot of calls tonight. It will be like an hour before they even get someone out to us. But let’s not fight. That would really dampen our holiday spirits, wouldn’t it?” 

Without a shred of thought, your hand came up and smacked against your forehead. Hanbin snorted loudly at the action, dissipating whatever resolve he had brewing for you. 

His hand reached out, taking yours off your face, “It’s okay, we’ll just go home after this and watch a movie. Maybe we even have some hot chocolate in the cabinet—I bought some a couple of weeks ago.” Your cheek found its way between your teeth, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Don’t freeze to death—That would really dampen my holiday cheer.” 

He didn’t freeze to death; he just slipped and fell comically on the way back, like one would on a banana peel in a stupid cartoon. A loud announcement of “fuck!” following. 

After making sure he got up, you burst out laughing, a scowl on his face. Though he started to giggle once back in whatever residual warmth the car had to offer. 

“Are you okay?” You asked as he shut the door beside him, noticing the wet patches on his jeans now as the snow melted. 

“Wet and cold.” 

You mumbled, cracking another joke, “I know what you can make wet,”

However, it must've not been that bad of an idea because now you couldn’t think about how awful you were feeling, your head clouded with the pleasure of your boyfriend under you. 

“Fuck, y/n,” He sighed, earning your fleeting attention. His voice trailed off into nearly a whisper, “You’re so perfect.” 

His hands gripped your hips painfully tight, sure to leave his prints in its wake. He pulled you chest to chest, hearts beating in unison through the fabric blocking you. 

You moaned, rocking in tandem with his small thrusts into you. 

“So much better than awkward small-talk with your parents. I’m glad this—fuck—car broke down.” You tried your best to laugh, “Did me a favor.” 

Though the thrusts were sloppy, all you could feel was the warmth and security he brought upon you. He held you close, caged onto him, and whispered sweet-nothings into the skin of your neck. He made you feel better despite the pleasure, your heart swelling with affection that only he could deserve. 

He said something along the lines of: I love you, and you were made for me, and so wet, so tight. 

Hanbin wasn’t even cold anymore, and he had long forgotten about the ache in his hip from falling. This was better. This was worth it. 

The feeling of you wrapped around him, the light kisses you kept pressing against the side of his face, the claw marks left in the wake of thrusts that hit just right inside you. 

It was all worth the inconvenience, in hindsight. 

You felt the bubbling sensation in your lower abdomen, pushing back against his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” You swore, staring down at his lidded eyes—the ones that were locked on you. His fingers dug into your hips, assisting your attempt at quickening the pace. 

He looked so unforgivingly good under the slight moonlight shining through the window. His lightly tanned skin glimmered with sweat, tattoo on full display as the collar of his shirt rode down. His hair was now tousled from the grip you’d had on it earlier, and he looked so utterly ruined. 

You almost felt shy over such a sight. 

You couldn’t possibly show up to your parents house anymore. 

As his hands guided you up and down his length, you dove in to kiss the exposed skin of his neck, overwhelmed and trying to get ahold of yourself. You were building up to your peak quickly with this newfound vigor. 

“Don’t hide from me,” He must’ve heard your inner monologue, “I wanna see you when you come, baby, that’s my favorite sight. You always look so pretty, falling apart because of me. I need to see it. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” 

You nodded into his neck, still sucking marks along the underside of his jaw. A weak moan escaped your lips and went directly into his ear, butterflies swarming inside him. 

The sudden movement made your stomach drop—in a good way—cunt clenching around him as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back upright. 

“Look at me,” His grip got tighter, forcing your mouth open to assist with the pull, “Don’t hide from me, y/n.” He warned again, low moans now tumbling out of your mouth. 

You weren’t usually quiet, but there was something about the sorta-kinda publicity of a car that made you feel self-conscious—though you’d not seen or heard a soul. And Hanbin evidently didn’t like that. 

He let go of your hair, letting you collapse just a bit into him, now doing most—if not all—the work. “I know you’re close, babe,” 

And he was so far from being wrong. 

His hand came off your hip and snaked between your bodies, rubbing circles along your clit. You squeaked, forcing your eyes to stay open with whatever willpower you had left and looking at him. Just as he desired. 

“C’mon,” His voice was low, intimately so, “Let go for me, baby.” 

Oh, you did, with or without his words of encouragement; your ears were ringing so loud you could barely comprehend. 

Your head felt fuzzy but clear enough to hear the groan he let out, nails now digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he came too. 

Hanbin finally let you fall into his shoulder again, chest rising and falling abnormally as you both let reality back in. He gently stroked your back as you kissed his cheek, a reminder you were still awake and aware. 

He liked the reassurance of your body, knowing that only he could make you feel the way you do. And vice versa. 

“Shit,” He slightly laughed as lights filled the car from behind. He saw it approaching through the rearview mirror; however, he didn’t process that it was the tow truck. 

You jolted up, squinting from the brightness. There was no way you were hiding now, but you had to do what you had to do to keep warm.  

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[deafeningdestinyaster]

Mike Wheeler : Unarmoured Knight (long ass post)

The fact that I find Mike struggles with is his limitations to meet the expectations or mostly the expectations that he has set for himself. As a GA what we can find is that objectively speaking Mike has got everything that a normal child needs. A fully functional 2 parents, siblings, financially well stable and good friends. The thing is that this might be something that he himself might be completely aware of. This might be something that make you feel that your problems are significantly trivial compared to others (in his case he's friends).

But the normal picture doesn't go much far as it has its own issues. Mostly a perpetual need to prove yourself and for Mike to be in the armour of a good friend, a leader and a boyfriend..For first 2 seasons Mike had a more central character and this kinda reflects how we personally finds him.. which is a really good friend, best friend. But from season 3 onwards we are shown find him not meeting his par. Thing is Mike was never actually given a chance to go through his emotions one by one but rather rushed through.

'Will came back' doesn't necessarily just erase the sadness or hopelessness that you have gone through be it an adult or a child of 12. Will's arrival was also accompanied by the disappearance of El whom he has taken as a friend. Be it romantic or not he does find something in her that made their connection special. Like Will, she made him feel needed. He was always 'protective over Will' but I think more than him Mike was the one more dependent over Will. Will is often portrayed as sensitive child but that never stops him being honest or to call over Mike's BS. He is indeed a voice of reason for Mike and Mike knows that himself.

Back to El, rather than a friend he/she wants him to be a boyfriend to her which tbh is rushed in this series. I don't think a relationship that's made when your super-straight friend and sister prompted into when you were just 12 is really a good one. He was kinda pushed into this role based on his own guilt for not looking for her enough in S2 and also societal expectations.

Unlike Will for whom Joyce and Jon are completely supportive to be himself, Mike is set up with a family who just tries to fits in with all that society demands which is kinda evident in Karen's wardrobe over the series unlike Joyce.

So Mike wants to be a good boyfriend. He tries to have quality time with El ignoring his friends, tries to win her over thru presents, gives up on anything that associates to be childish cos he def loves her.. but what he fails to realise is the fact that he was also losing someone who has been consistent throughout his life, someone who has never changed. His best friend.

And Will made this super clear. This was something that he couldn't forgive himself for and which is why, yeah.. But in case of El he doesn't find he has done anything wrong. In fact he was just begrudgingly following her dad's order. Now, he wants to get back with her, why? Cos it makes him crazy? Thing with Mike and El is that they never reciprocate what the other wants. For El it was a physical confirmation of love be it letters or even a kiss. For Mike, he wanted someone who makes him feel needed and to sometimes lean on him emotionally. To make him, be himself. But sadly, they don't trust each other with their fears or inner turmoils. They both tried. But El doesn't need to lean on Mike for his romantic love but rather to show that she's capable on her own. Even during Mike's monologue what pushed El was not his love confession but rather him prompting she must do it cos she can. But there's someone who makes him feel needed, whom he doesn't treat weak or as a mistake.

What I really feel is that Mike didn't realise that his definition of a best friend is something that's quite parallel to a lover. Mike is needed by Will in a way that makes Will accept himself for being who he is and not like a monster. And Mike needs Will cos he's friendship is something that makes him grounded and can't live without..

.

.

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Most of these are covered by y'all..just my take on it

[schrijverr]

I Mean, You Love Him, Don’t You?

Divergence from chapter 31, where Shannon sees the bombing on TV and immediately realizes (or thinks she does) what is happening; what has happened without her there. However, upon arriving at the hospital, she realizes it’s a little more complicated than that.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: injury, referenced emotionally abusive parenting

~~~

Shannon is at home by herself when she sees the news. Ever since fleeing El Paso and the death of her mother, she’s been working on herself. She’s going to community college at night and has a pretty okay job as receptionist.

The dating game is something she’s been out of and she only has a few friends, but she tells herself that she isn’t lonely. That she’s doing okay.

Though, maybe sitting alone on her couch and mindlessly watching TV isn’t the best way of proving that to herself.

However, it works in her favor, because otherwise she wouldn’t have seen the breaking news segment interrupting the game show she was starting to find annoying. The bomber that’s been terrorizing LA blew up a firetruck and is holding a bunch of firefighters hostage.

“If you’re just joining us, witnesses are reporting that this LAFD ladder truck, belonging to station house 118, was hit by some kind of an explosive as it was making its way to a call. Now, you can see there’s a firefighter pinned under that truck.”

The camera pans and Shannon drops her tea cup as she gasps: “Evan?”

She thought of Evan from time to time after she left, the boy that she couldn’t love that she used as an escape from the boy that couldn’t love her. She wondered what happened to him, after she left Chris with him, a thing she still feels guilt about. Wondered where he went after. What job he worked. If he got out of there like she did.

To see him after all these years and in these circumstances is shocking. He did get out. He’s been in the very same city as her. He has a different job now, probably a whole new life. And he’s being held hostage!

Her hands start shaking and she starts reaching around, as if there is something she needs to grab or do that will change the situation. But she can’t. She’s sitting on her couch and he is on an intersection somewhere pinned by truck and some jackass with a bomb.

On the screen, you can see some commotion to the side, before someone is running. The journalist reports: “This is unexpected. A civilian now confronting the young man with that vest. We’ve got no details on this man’s identity.”

As they continue to speculate and report on what’s happening, Shannon is on the edge of her seat. She has always wished Evan nothing but to best. To see him like this now hurts way more than expected.

After what feels like forever, the man that walked onto the scene tackles the bomber. There appears to be somewhat of a scuffle, but then more police, bomb squad looking people are moving in and the reporter on the scene tells them the bomber is taken into custody.

Shannon lets out a sigh of relief, sagging slightly and allowing herself a thankful gaze to the heavens. She hasn’t moved her eyes away ever since she first recognized Evan and she’s pretty sure the tea will stain her rug and her couch.

God, that was super stressful. She doesn’t think she can handle anymore revelations like that today, she thinks to herself.

“Well, that firefighter really appears to have taken the brunt of all of this. That’s an entire ladder truck that you see there. We can only hope for the best at this point.”

She sits back up, wanting to at least keep watching until Evan is freed and on his way to the hospital, maybe even send him a card or something. Then, naturally, because the universe loves to fuck with her, another revelation gets thrown in her face when she looks back to the screen. The camera zooms in on the firefighters helping and she spots a very familiar silhouette among them; Eddie.

Holy shit.

She rubs at her eyes and blinks a few times, before squinting at the screen. She has half convinced herself she’s imagining things, but no, that is still very much Eddie.

From the angle and distance, she can’t make out many of his facial features, but she doesn’t really have to. The way he’s kneeling beside Buck, hand continuously running over him again and again, while his counterpart medic doesn’t, tells her enough.

There is a desperation there when he looks up to the man that rushed in earlier to talk down the bomber. His shoulders are both tight and slumped. He almost looks a little like he did during the last glance she send to him, before she was whisked away by doctors during her birth.

The thought makes her swallow and a pit grows in her stomach when the man responds and Eddie almost collapses in on himself, only held up by the steel in his spine that has been forced in there by his father.

Shannon claps her hand to her mouth, nearly choking on her tears. She can’t have just been forced back into this sphere she left behind just to face another tragedy. She can’t watch as Eddie loses another person dear to him after her. She doesn’t even want to begin to think what it would mean for Christopher.

“Now, look at this. Bystanders stepping in. They're gonna help out. This really is an amazing scene that’s unfolding. What an incredible show of support and gratitude.”

Oh thank God. Bystanders are indeed stepping in, running over the blockade to help and lift the truck off of Evan. The tears now truly start to fall and she can only feel gratefulness towards everyone there, who stepped up and helped.

She watches as Evan is lifted on a stretcher by the woman who was helping Eddie earlier and another man. Eddie is also there, but he doesn’t appear to be helping, instead holding Evan’s hand as he disappears into the ambulance.

Despite following along every moment, it doesn’t all register until the camera pans away from the disappearing ambulance.

Shannon tunes the journalist out, who is babbling about beautiful moments of support, instead again realizing that, holy shit, Evan and Eddie are in the same city as her. Christopher is probably in the same city as her. Evan and Eddie still know each other. Work together.

When she left Christopher with Evan, she did so, because leaving him anywhere else would invite questions that would crumble her resolve. She always felt bad about it, but she never questioned what that would have meant. Now, she understands that her leaving the way she did, forced Evan and Eddie into each other’s orbit.

She has always assumed that after a while, Evan would leave El Paso too. That he would have saved up enough and leave that shithole town behind like they both always wanted to. In a way, he did, though he didn’t leave it alone.

Or he ran into Eddie again at work and this is all coincidence.

However, Shannon has a hard time believing that. She remembers Evan clearly no matter how many years have passed, the way he was always ready and happy to help, delighted in watching Christopher, showing him all the chickies. Seeing them together still, it doesn’t feel unreasonable to her that he stayed when she left. That he kept offering to help.

A part of her feels like she should be surprised Eddie took the offered help. When she was still there, he wanted nothing to do with Evan – the boyfriend – always making sure she did drop off and pick up when Evan watched Christopher.

But she doesn’t find it weird. Evan is so open and earnest and Eddie must have been panicking when he found her gone. Guilt stabs through her again. She can totally believe that he would have been weak to those baby blues just like she was, especially when she divorced him for the reason she did.

Yeah, sure, Eddie never confirmed she was right and resisted her more delicate way of bringing it up, but he signed those paper without too much protest, and looking at him now, even tiny on that television screen, she can tell he nearly lost the love of his life.

She needs to find him.

She knows it sounds crazy, because she walked out on not only him, but their child soon and she never turned back. After all she did, she is probably the last person he wants to see. Ever.

However, he just went through something ginormous and he needs people to lean on. Shannon might not know anything about accidents, but that looked bad, and she does know what it’s like to have hospitalized and dying loved ones. You need people to prevent you from drowning. Eddie needs someone right now. A friend.

Before she got pregnant and responsibility took them down – something much bigger than they could prepare for tying them together – they had been friends. Good friends. They’d spend hours driving around, talking, laughing, sharing things they never shared.

If she hadn’t become pregnant, Shannon believes that even though they wouldn’t have worked out in the end as partners, she would have had a lifelong friend in Eddie.

Besides, if her theory about what happened between them is correct, then Christopher just had one of his dads be severely injured. If wanting to support her child, even if Eddie won’t let her see him directly, isn’t a good reason to at least try to find him, she doesn’t know what is.

So, she spends some times trying to figure out where the truck bombing happened, before finding nearby hospitals, driving to the wrong one first, before finding the right one.

Shannon is a little anxious, just as she was the first time, when she gets out of her car, but pushes through anyway. She’s been running for long enough from this. The people that were once her family need her, she isn’t going to abandon them again.

She is glad she gathered herself in the car, because she runs into Eddie a lot quicker than she thought she would, finding him slumped on the ground next to the ER entrance. His knees are up to his chest and his head buried between his knees.

Her stride pauses for a second, unsure how to get his attention. His shoulders are shaking a little and it hits her that he’s crying. She can’t recall ever seeing Eddie cry before. Not when he left for boot-camp, not during the birth, not after that doctor’s visit that got Chris a diagnosis. Not when they fought and not when they divorced. He always seemed so strong, so perfect, so much more in control of himself than her.

It’s almost odd to see this version of him, but it humanizes him too. He isn’t the perfect parent that she could never be, the good son to her bad daughter. He’s just a man. And right now he is alone. Everyone just walks past him, letting him cry by himself.

After hesitating for a moment longer, she takes a deep breath and makes her way over to him, sliding down the wall and sitting down next to him. She doesn’t say anything or touch him, just sits close enough so that he can feel her presence.

“Are you going to be disappointed at me again?” Eddie asks after a moment, voice rough and raw. He doesn’t look at her when he says it, she isn’t even sure he knows who he’s talking to.

“Why would I be disappointed in you, Eddie?” she asks, proud of herself when she doesn’t waver when she talks to him. She is also curious at the answer, wondering why that’s what he expects anyone that is here with him to be with him.

Eddie’s head whips up at the sound of her voice. His eyes are red-rimmed, wide in their shock, and his hair is an absolutely mess. He gapes a few times, then almost seems scared as he softly asks: “Shan?”

“Hi, Eddie,” she smiles crookedly. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“Wha- what are you doing here?” he asks, scrabbling back a little.

A part of her withers in her chest. She didn’t expect a warm welcome, but this is also a little extreme, though to be fair, she did ambush him slightly. So, she tries not to take it to heart as she explains: “I saw what happened on the news. First recognized Evan, then you. I kinda guessed what might have happened, since I left. I wanted you to not be alone.”

Eddie stares at her as if she’s an alien, clearly trying to find his wits and failing slightly. She might not know him well anymore – maybe she never did – but she knows his overwhelmed face from miles away.

“I know being alone sucks,” she says, when he stays quiet, wanting to give him more context. “I never meant to stay gone. Never meant to leave the way I did. I just didn’t know how to come back. This kind of felt like a sign, I guess?”

“Signs aren’t real,” Eddie tells her, almost instinctively. He startles a little at the sound of his own voice, then blinks himself into the presence and frowns: “You didn’t know how to come back? Maybe pick up the phone? Call? Send a card? Or a text? Hell, even a telegram or a fax.”

She can’t help the humorless chuckle that escapes her and she shakes her head: “It’s not that easy, Eddie.” He is about to protest, but she cuts him off: “I am sorry. I am. So incredibly sorry. You have no clue how guilty I’ve felt all these years. I want to make it right. Make it up to you. To Christopher. But right now, I just want to be here for you. Are you okay?”

With the way he looks, Shannon would have thought she slapped him, instead of merely asking a question.

Then he glares at the ground, as if his eyes can burn a hole in it. There is a small tremble in his lips, but he bites down harshly, pushing it all down. “I’m fine,” he grits.

Watching him now, she wonders how much he pushed down when they were together, how much of his hurt she didn’t see, like he didn’t seem to notice her hurts. God, they had just been stupid kids, hurting themselves in doing something neither of them wanted to.

She nudges him and waits until he is looking at her again, before she gently says: “It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know. I mean, you love him, don’t you?”

His eyes go from a mild glower to a wide eyed stare and he lets go of his bottom lip to gape at her. For a few moments, he’s silent, then he says in a hushed whisper: “Oh my god, I love him.”

“Did you- did you not know that?” Shannon asks, almost cautious. Maybe her assessment that they ran into each other and it was a coincidence was more correct, but then how long have they been working together for Eddie to fall for him the way he has?

“Yeah,” Eddie squeaks. Then he looks panicked as he asks: “Does this- Am I… am I gay?”

Shannon freezes, unsure if it is considered rude to answer yes to that. Finally she settles on saying: “Do you think you’re gay?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie yelps. “Do you think I’m gay?”

“Uh…”

“Oh my god, you totally think I’m gay.”

“Well, you just agreed that you love a guy, pretty sure that’s kind of gay,” Shannon exclaims, hands fluttering about awkwardly. “And, like, I kind of thought you were… when I divorced you. But you can say you’re not.”

“I mean, yeah, but I didn’t know that,” Eddie says.

“You didn’t?” Shannon can’t help but ask.

Eddie groans and buries his head in his hands, but she can see his ears have turned pink. Embarrassed he asks: “Was I- Was I that obvious about it?”

“A little,” Shannon winces apologetically. “But I only noticed after Chris was born. Too caught up in it all before that, I suppose.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs. “I- I wasn’t a great husband.”

“No, you weren’t,” Shannon sighs. “But I don’t think either of us were great at being married. God, remember how we fought?”

“Yeah, that got bad,” Eddie says, uncurling slightly and managing a small smile. He is relaxing again, seeming slightly more grounded than when she first arrived and accidentally made him question his whole identity. Them being able to joke about their marriage won’t fix everything and there is so much she still has to make up for, but it feels like a good first step.

With them on more solid footing, she feels a bit of curiosity burning, both at what happened with Chris after she left as well as with Evan and Eddie. Slightly suggestive, she asks: “So… you and Evan.”

“Buck,�� Eddie says. “He goes by Buck.” Then he blushes at the correction that seems to come almost instinctive.

“Okay,” Shannon nods with a smile. “So… you and Buck.”

The blush get worse and he curls in on himself. “It’s not like that. We’re best friends. He probably doesn’t even like me like that. He’s just so good and nice. Too nice.”

Shannon can recognize that. She can still remember the way she said the same thing to him. It hadn’t been a compliment then, not entirely. But the reproach was mostly directed at herself. How she didn’t deserve his kindness.

Eddie rubs his face and groans again: “God, he is so fucking nice. And sweet. And good with Chris. He loves that kid to death, you know.”

Vaguely she thinks, that maybe her first assessment was right, except the being in love together kind, but just that Buck stayed to help. That realization, though, gets overshadowed by a stab through her heart at the words. At the knowledge that someone else is good with her kid, that Christopher has a bond that she was supposed to have with someone that is not her.

However, she knows that she can grieve the feeling of a lack of connection to Christopher, but it’s her that walked out. So, she swallows it and with a wobbly voice, she says: “I’m glad Christopher has him.”

“Me too,” Eddie says, voice tight. “Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m going to tell him about this. What can I even say to him? Do I bring him here to wait for Buck to wake up? Or do I wait until Buck is out of surgery? Let Chris sleep tonight and burden him tomorrow, but risk him feeling like he missed out on being here for Buck or – god forbid – saying goodbye to him?”

Shannon’s breath catches and she almost doesn’t dare to reply. She hesitates, wondering if Eddie is actually asking her on advice about raising Christopher again, if he trusts her with that, or if this is just him ranting.

Cautious, she asks: “Would the security of knowing Buck is okay later be better for him or the ability to be here for him now regardless of the situation?”

“The- the last,” Eddie finally decides. “He’d want to know. He’d want to be here.” He nods to himself, then goes to fish his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. “Hey, Carla. Did you see the news?”

She has no clue who Carla is and tries to remember if it’s anyone from Eddie’s vast extended family that he mentioned when they were married, but no one comes to mind. It sits wrong in her chest that she doesn’t even know the person who is with Christopher right now.

“Yeah, he’s in surgery. He’s probably going to live, but his leg- it’s bad. Really bad. Uh, can you- can you bring Chris to the hospital? I- I want to tell him myself. In person. And I can’t just leave Buck alone here,” Eddie’s voice snaps her back to the conversation.

When he replies to whatever Carla said, he sounds like there is something stuck in his throat. “Thank you so much. I- I don’t know what I would do without you.” Then he quickly hangs up, clapping a hand over his mouth and squeezing his eyes closed.

She pulls his tense form into her side. Her ass is cold and kind of numb from sitting on the ground outside, but she doesn’t care. She’s run so long from this. Not just from El Paso, her in-laws or Christopher, but Eddie too. They had never been there for each other, no matter how much they tried to be. If she wants to come back, that has to change too.

So, she holds him, lets him tuck his head into her neck and feels the way he cries. Even now, he is restraining himself, shoulders tight to prevent them from hitching and cries silent, only felt as hot tears hit her skin, not heard and carefully hidden from view.

Still, despite his restrain, he doesn’t succeed in stopping himself from crying and it takes a few minutes before he stops himself.

Once he does, he pulls away from her. He roughly rubs his tears away, frowning as if annoyed with himself that they’re even there. Before taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.

Shannon just watches in a weird sort of fascination as a mask gets pulled on, then realizes with a start that mask is more familiar to her. She wonders if she’s a stranger to Eddie too. Wonders if they were ever anything other than two strangers pretending they weren’t.

“I need you to go,” is what he finally sees when he has gathered himself completely.

“What?”

Her heart constricts, cracks and gets folded in on itself to punch her in the gut. She knew not to expect a warm welcome, but she thought she at least broke the ice somewhat, opened herself up, apologized, and it seemed like Eddie accepted that somewhat. But now that is undone and he is shutting her out, like he always does.

The instinct of all their years together is to fight, to get angry, but she suppresses it. Eddie is not her husband anymore and she gave up the right to call herself Christopher’s mother. It’s up to Eddie to let her in again, to let her make it right. It crushes her that he doesn’t want her to, but it’s not on her to force this on him.

So, she swallows the bile that comes up. The taste of broken hope foul in her mouth.

However, then it seems Eddie’s words register in his own mind and he waves his hand around kind of panicky as he says: “Oh, no, not- not like that. I just- For now.” He pinches his own brow and takes a breath, then steadier he says: “I need you to go. For now.”

“Just for now?” Shannon asks, unable to help keep that vulnerably hopeful note out of her voice as she does.

“Yeah, just for now,” Eddie assures her. “I- I can’t- Right now, I- I have to worry about Buck and- and Chris and our- our job. Fuck, I- I only just realized I love him. I can’t- I need to process that, be here for Chris, for Buck. I can’t deal with you being here on top of that. I need to talk to- to Buck first.”

“Of course, yeah, no, I get that,” Shannon immediately says. She can’t even begin to imagine how tonight must have been for Eddie. Her showing up was a gamble and it paid off, but not right now. Not in the midst of all this.

Still, she is going to do it right this time, not abandon Eddie to his fate like she felt abandoned. It’s a terrible feeling, trust her. So, she checks: “As long as you’re gonna be okay. Are you alone here? Will you have anyone here other than Christopher? Someone you can lean on?”

She almost asks after Carla, but stops herself. It sounds jealous even in her own mind, even though it’s not meant like that. God, what if Carla is Buck’s girlfriend? That would make this whole thing even more of a mess.

“I’ll- uh, I’ll have Carla? Maybe,” Eddie offers. “She’s an at home care aid, watches Chris. That’s something.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of anything,” Shannon breaks kindly. “Is there anyone you can call? Didn’t you get here with coworkers?” She’s pretty sure she saw more people on the news.

Eddie winces at the mention of coworkers and he says: “Uh, they all kind of hate me right now.”

“What? Why?” Shannon frowns. She now remembers how their conversation started, how Eddie thought there was someone there to be disappointed in him. She can’t imagine why someone would be in these circumstances. Unless Eddie somehow caused the accident, but that seems unlikely.

“Uh, they all found out me and Buck are married,” Eddie mumbles, not meeting her eyes as his cheeks flush once more.

“You’re married?”

The flush only strengthens and Eddie ducks his head, still refusing to look her in the eyes. “Yeah, we, uh- we are. Marriage of convenience. So, Buck could adopt Chris and watch him while I re-enlisted. I- I didn’t want my mom to take him. She might not have given him back.”

That is a loaded sentence and Shannon needs a moment to process every part of it.

Firstly, marriage of convenience? Does Eddie mean to tell her that these two idiots got married, because it was useful and it’s taken him until now to even realize he’s in love with the guy? That he’s fucking gay? Really?

Secondly, Buck adopted Christopher. She doesn’t know why that feels like a punch in the gut. She already knew that Buck has a prominent spot in his life, that he took over for her after she left. But hearing that he has a legal claim on him, while she gave up hers, makes it real in a way that tears her up inside.

Thirdly, they did that to prevent Helena from taking Christopher. Out of everything, that’s the easiest to absorb. Helena has wanted to raise Christopher on her own from the moment he was born, even before that too. If it wasn’t a federal crime, Shannon maybe would have snapped at some point and just taken Christopher and ran across state borders to get away from her.

Once everything has settled, she has to pick what to focus on, finally deciding to say: “Only you, Eddie, only you.”

“Uh, thank you?” Eddie replies, horridly awkward in a way that reminds her of the eighteen year old she fell in love with once upon a time.

She giggles, unable to help herself, the laughter only growing stronger as Eddie squawks and gently pushes with a pout.

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiles. “It’s just very you. Bet it was your idea to lie about it to your coworkers.” He blushes. “Oh my god, it totally was.”

“I said shut up!” Eddie exclaims, but there is something lighter about him when he does.

Shannon holds her hands up in defeat as she smirks: “I will, I will.”

“Good.” Eddie eyes her suspiciously, then pouts: “It wasn’t meant to get this much out of hand. We just started lying and then we got in too deep and couldn’t get out anymore.”

In a way, the words remind her of what he did with her. The way he convinced himself that he loved her, kept going and going until they had a child, a marriage, a home, and he couldn’t get out. How both of them got trapped in his lie.

This time, he has a different lie, however. This time he probably kept telling himself it wasn’t that deep, that it was just convenience and didn’t mean anything. That no one had to know, because then no one could tell him what he was doing meant something. Then no one could force him to see what he’s been ignoring for so long.

Her chest constricts for him and she squeezes his shoulder. “I hope it works out well for you this time, Eddie.”

He frowns for a moment, probably confused how she got to that response, then smiles crookedly: “Me too, Shan.”

“Tell them they need to be there for you, yeah? And let them,” she asks, because she’s sure Eddie won’t let them, even if they extended an invitation. He has always been stubborn like that.

In response his face contorts and he doesn’t meet her eye as he says: “Maybe,” which is probably all she is going to get from him now, unless she wants to push, but she doesn’t.

As predicted, Eddie decides he’s had enough of this for today, because he hauls himself onto his feet and holds his hand out to pull her back up. A part of her feels like maybe she should call him out on it, but he’s probably has had a hard enough day. Plus, he still has to break the news to Christopher. She wishes she could be there for that, but knows it’s too soon. It wouldn’t be good for Christopher and she refuses to be a horrible mother. So, she lets Eddie pull her up.

Eddie pauses for a moment when they stand there, clearly hesitating for a moment. His spine straightens with resolve and then he quickly wraps too arms around her, squeezes her for a moment, before letting go and stepping back. “Uh, thank you. For coming.”

The bashful little look he gives warms something inside her and for a moment, she remembers the moments like this one that made her fall in love with him all those years ago.

However, she’s older now. Wiser too. The warmth is no longer the flutter it used to be, instead it’s a nostalgic fondness. A love she used to feel, now whittled down into something else, something more friendly. She likes that that still exists too.

“Of course,” she smiles. “Is it too early to make an in sickness and in health joke?”

“Probably,” Eddie snorts loudly at that. That stupid snort he always did when he genuinely found something funny. God, she missed that. She missed the friend she had.

“Then I’ll wait with that,” she grins widely. A little more timid, she asks: “Will you call me when you have news on Buck?” and news on if I can ever see my son again, she doesn’t say, though she’s pretty sure Eddie picks up on it.

He sends her a sympathetic look, but it doesn’t make her feel pitied like it used to do, even if Eddie has his mother’s face. “I will,” he promises. To add a bit of lightness to it, he jokes: “Does that mean you’ll unblock me?”

Shannon lets out a short laugh at that, though it’s more of a wet chuckle if she’s honest with herself. “I will,” she promises too. Both promises feel like more than coordinating an update.

For a moment, they just stand there, next to the ER entrance. Silently. Then Shannon jerks with her thumb in the general direction of her car and says: “I guess, I should go now?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie agrees, obviously feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. “Uhm, goodbye, then, I guess? For now.”

“Yeah… Goodbye. For now,” Shannon nods. She hugs him again, then quickly walks away before she can find another excuse to stay. Christopher has to deal with this first, before she can come back. She isn’t going to be a horrible mother. Not again.

So, she leaves.

Well, she goes to her car. Then she sits behind the wheel, telling herself to turn the key and drive away, but finding herself unable to do so. Before tonight, she thought she would never see Christopher again, that he was halfway across the country. But now he’s in the same city as her. Almost at the same building. So incredibly close.

Which means that Shannon sits right there. Unable to move, eyes trained on the ER entrance Eddie disappeared through moments earlier. She isn’t going to talk to him. She just wants to see him.

After fifteen minutes, there he is. He’s walking with an Afro-American woman, who is leading him gently. He’s dressed in his pajamas and looks a little sleepy, but he’s walking easily with his crutches, glasses firmly in place. He looks okay. Happy. Healthy. So big.

A breath catches in her throat and without her permission a tear slides down her face. It’s immediately followed by another, then another one, until she’s crying in her car. Alone.

It’s not even an entirely sad sort of crying. It is a little, but it also isn’t. Sure, she is sad because the baby she once held is now a little boy, easily standing on his own too legs and no longer tripping over his crutches and it aches, because she missed so much. But he looks okay. He lived. She didn’t irreparably fuck him up for life and that’s a relief she didn’t see coming, until it suddenly hits her now, sitting in her car, watching him.

She waits until he’s inside, then sits there for a few minutes longer. It’s a Herculean task, but she turns on the ignition and manages to drive away.

At home, she falls into bed feeling exhausted. She is anxious about how tomorrow will go. If Eddie will ever contact her again, if Buck will let her back in Christopher’s life, or if he’ll block her return while Eddie would have let her back in. If she will ever see Christopher again. If he will still want her there.

It gnaws on her. Her mind keeps running and sleep alludes her until the late hours. In the end, she finally manages a few hours fitful sleep.

However, she shouldn’t have worried, because when she finally wakes up the next morning, it is to a series of texts from a number she hasn’t had contact with in years. The contact name is still Edmundo, which she had done to be petty after the divorce. She changes it back to Eddie, before opening them.

Is a hospital a weird place to confess?

This is Eddie, by the way.

Chris took the news about Buck as well as he could.

Buck is okay too.

We’re with him now.

Might take a while to bring it all up.

A knot unclenches in her stomach and a smile comes on her face. It’s not perfect, it will be a while for her to be allowed back in, but Eddie isn’t pulling back and Christopher and Buck are both okay. She couldn’t ask for more.

So, she decides to be hopeful instead. She’s been working on herself. This is a good step for her. It’s maybe even a first step to getting some semblance of a social life, because when she’s honest has been a little lonely.

With a shit eating grin, she texts back: A hospital is a great place to confess

Hug Christopher tight from me?

Would it be ok for me to send Buck a card?

~~

A/N:

Does this AUAU primarily exist to fuck with people that check the titles for this fic on tumblr to trick them into thinking the reveal wasn’t happening in chapter 30? Mayhaps. However, I am happy about bringing Shannon back for this, just to let her know what happened in her absence, since that will always be iconic to me, because that is wild from her POV

I am sad I didn’t bring Shannon back in the main verse, but you can’t bring her back without having to deal with all the messy emotions that come with the way they split up and the insecurities and whatever and that isn’t what the main fic is about. And if I brought her back, that is what it would have become about. However, dipping my toe in it through these AUAUs is very fun :D

[liveyun]

a silent gift | eyes like stars — j.jk

drabble of the series eyes like stars

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem oc/reader

genre. (series) e2f2e2L (you get it), angst, drama, romance, boy next door sorta situation

warnings. (for this drabble) jeongguk and oc are both 15 in this! oc being grumpy and in denial, jealousy and loneliness, toxic parenting and neglect :(, overthinking,, a bit of fluff to balance it out tho 🥹, jungkook is so sweet and he deserves the world , oc is kinda.. rude. + feelings, feelings, a very cute stolen moment. english isn’t my first language so excuse the mistakes, + the ending..

wc. 4k+ wtf happened

divider credits to @issysh3ll ! 🌰

The ceiling above you is a dull, lifeless white.

You stare at it as if it holds the answers to questions you’re too afraid to ask aloud. Your limbs feel heavy, sinking into the lumpy couch you’ve claimed as your refuge. The faint glow of Christmas lights from the window bathes the room in soft, muted hues, but it only makes the emptiness feel sharper. . . colder. . .

You’re alone.

It’s not the kind of aloneness that you savor after a long day or the type that lets you gather your thoughts. No, this is suffocating — the kind that wraps around your chest and pulls tighter with every passing minute. It presses against your ribs and reminds you, with every flicker of those cheery lights outside, that this is what your Christmas looks like.

Your parents’ voices play in your mind, their parting words etched with an offhandedness that stings even now. “You’re a big girl now,” your mother had said, brushing your cheek with cold fingers before hurrying out the door. “You’ll be okay.”

The cash they left sits untouched on the kitchen counter. You hate the sight of it, its crisp edges mocking you, as though money could fill the void they left behind, the empty feeling in your chest.

You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, but it doesn’t do much to keep out the chill. Not the one seeping through the windows, nor the one curling inside your chest.

Your gaze drifts toward the window again, where the Jeons’ house glows like a beacon against the cold, dark night. Glows. Even from here, you can hear faint sound of their laughter, the flow of life and warmth spilling from their walls.

Your chest tightens.

You turn away from the window. You close your eyes and try to push it out, but it sneaks back in — along with the memory of that morning.

Mrs. Jeon had called you. She sounded like she was in a crowded place, probably somewhere in the market. You remember her voice, warm and soothing, like honey on a sore throat.

“Sweetheart, come over for Christmas dinner,” she’d said. “We’d love to have you.”

The invitation had been so kind, so genuine, that you’d almost said yes without thinking. Almost.

But then, in the background, you’d heard his voice. Jungkook’s laughter, loud and carefree, floating over the line like an unwelcome reminder of why you couldn’t go.

A spike in your chest, like a thorn pricked in your finger.

You’d stumbled over your words, mumbling some excuse about needing to stay home. You could practically hear Mrs. Jeon frown through the phone.

“Are you sure? It won’t be the same without you here,” she’d pressed gently, her concern as tangible as the warmth in her tone.

Your throat had tightened. “I’m fine,” you’d managed, though the words felt brittle and false.

She hadn’t argued, but you could tell she didn’t believe you.

Now, hours later, her words run through in your mind, looping over and over.

You want to go. You want to be surrounded by the warmth and laughter that seeps through their walls, to feel even a fraction of the joy that seems to radiate from their home.

But you can’t.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because of him.

Or. . . are you just blaming him?

You grit your teeth, hating the way his name lingers on the edge of your thoughts, unspoken but ever-present.

Jungkook.

He’s the reason you can’t bring yourself to cross the street, to knock on their door and accept the invitation that feels both like a lifeline and a trap. You can’t face him. . . at least not tonight.

Not when the sight of him laughing with his family would only twist the knife already lodged in your chest.

You don’t know when it started, this. . . thing. This feeling you can’t name, the one that makes your stomach flip and your heart race whenever he’s near.

You hate it. You hate him.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But deep down—so deep you barely admit it to yourself—you know it’s not true.

Because no matter how much you want to hate him, you can’t. Not really. . .

You sigh, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes as if you can rub the thoughts away. But they don’t budge.

The quiet stretches on, heavy and suffocating. Your stomach growls, but you don’t move. The thought of eating feels pointless, like trying to fill a void that’s far deeper than hunger.

You glance toward the window again, unable to help yourself. The Jeons’ house is as bright and inviting as ever, a stark contrast to the dim, lonely space you call “home”. Trying to read or write feels way too much of a chore, not when you feel like if you move the cold will consume you.

For a moment, just a moment, you imagine what it would be like to be over there.

To sit at their table, surrounded by laughter and warmth. To not feel so. . . alone.

But then, just as quickly, you shove the thought away.

You bury yourself deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket over your head like a shield. You tell yourself you’re fine. You tell yourself you don’t care.

But the lump in your throat, the sting behind your eyes, and the ache in your chest betray you. You want to go to the Jeon house.

You’re not fine. And you do care.

You just wish you didn’t.

────⋆☃︎⋆────

There’s a knock on the door.

Faint, but there. You ignore it, like you ignore every other thought which pops up in your mind. The house is empty. . . nearly empty, anyway. Whoever is in the door would go away.

So you don’t pay much attention.

Knock.

You close your eyes. Your feet are freezing. The visitor can fuck off.

Knock.

The knock comes again, just as soft and insistent as before, like the visitor knows you’re here but is too kind to make a fuss. You hesitate, a bitter taste in your mouth, still wrapped in the cocoon of your blanket, your fingers clutching the edges like it’s your last defense.

The third knock follows, a little firmer this time, and you sigh, dragging yourself toward the door.

Okay, you lose. Peeking through the crack, you catch a glimpse of Mrs. Jeon.

Oh.

Her familiar figure stands in the faint glow of your porch light, snowflakes gently dusting her coat and hat.

She’s holding a plate covered with a red-and-green kitchen towel, and the unmistakable scent of macadamia nut cookies wafts in as soon as you open the door wider.

“Hi, sweetie!” she says with a warm smile. Her voice is soft, laced with the kind of kindness that makes your throat tighten.

You glance at the plate, then back at her, trying to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “Mrs. Jeon?”

“I brought you some cookies, child.” she explains, holding the plate out slightly, her grin bright and sweet like her voice. “I thought you might like a little Christmas treat.”

Your stomach growls, loud and embarrassing.

Uh-oh.. You flush, tightening the blanket around yourself like it could shield you from her gentle gaze. “I’m fine,” you mumble, the words coming out far too quickly.

She tilts her head, her smile growing a little. “Your stomach doesn’t agree.”

“I—” You start to protest, but she interrupts with a soft laugh, brushing snow from her shoulders.

“No need to explain, darling. Just take them.”

You reach for the plate hesitantly, your hands brushing hers as you take it. The warmth of the cookies seeps through the towel, and the scent wraps around you like a hug. Holy shit, you don’t even remember the last time you had freshly baked cookies . . .

“T-Thank you,” you mutter, stepping back into the doorway.

“You’re welcome little darling,” she says easily, but her expression shifts slightly, her eyes searching for yours. “Now, I know you’re planning on staying here all alone, but it’s Christmas, and nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

Your grip on the plate tightens, and you shift awkwardly. “I.. I’m fine, really,” you insist, even as your voice wavers. You cannot look up to her eyes. The kindness they hold, the softness they radiate, you’re sure to crumble down like cookies if you ever look straight to those kind eyes.

She shakes her head gently, her tone soft but unwavering. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s just dinner. We’d love to have you.”

The word we makes your chest tighten, your mind immediately jumping to him. “I don’t want to intrude,” you mumble, staring at the cookies.

She lets out a soft chuckle, her hand reaching out to rest lightly on your shoulder. “You’d never intrude. You’re family.”

Family.

The word hits you like a jolt.You glance at her, at the way her eyes crinkle with genuine affection, and something inside you twists painfully.

“I really shouldn’t. . . ” you start, but she interrupts again, her smile turning playful.

“Now, none of that,” she says, her voice firmer but no less kind. “Grab yourself a coat. You don’t wanna be freezing, yes?”

Your gaze drops to the plate, the cookies warm against your palms. You nod slightly, a very warm feeling in your chest settling down. “Okay, but. . . let me put these away first.”

“Of course,” she agrees, her voice lighter now, like she’s won a small battle.

You step back into the house, setting the plate down on the counter and carefully transferring the cookies into a jar.

They feel soft and delicate in your hands, plus the white chocolate chips on the top . . . ! you can’t resist sneaking one into your mouth before you close the lid. Your eyes nearly flutter close as the first taste settles down on your tongue. . . nutty, comforting, sweet and warm.

Chewing quickly, you glance back toward the door where Mrs. Jeon waits patiently. The thought crosses your mind — should I have invited her in? — but it passes as you grab your coat from the back of a chair.

Before you slip it on, though, you pause. “Maybe I should wear something festive,” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the mirror by the door. “I should look nice, right?”

You call the question over your shoulder. “Mrs. Jeon?”

“It’s family, darling,” she responds warmly. “You always look your best to us.”

Her words make you pause, guilt mingling with a faint warmth in your chest. You grab the nearest scarf, something red and soft, and wrap it around your neck. “J-Just a second!”

Her laughter floats in from the doorway. “Take your time, child.”

You tuck the jar of cookies onto a shelf before hurriedly shoving your arms into your coat.

When you finally step outside, she’s still standing there, her smile never faltering despite the cold.

“I-I’m ready,” you say, though your voice comes out quieter than you intended. You feel nervous, almost expecting her to make a comment about your old, worn scarf.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she beams, taking your arm and gently taming a few stray strands of your hair. Her fingers brush your scarf, straightening it slightly, before she dusts off the crumbs from your lips with a soft laugh.

“There,” she says, satisfied. “Now you’re ready.”

The feeling in your chest intensifies.

Her arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as she guides you toward the Jeons’ house. Her warmth seeps into you, her steps sure and steady against the crunch of the snow.

You glance up at her as she hums softly under her breath, her gaze fixed ahead. There’s something about the way she carries herself, so full of ease and care, that it makes you wonder if you’ll ever be as comfortable in your own skin. . .

When you finally reach the Jeons’ door, the laughter and chatter spilling out makes you pause. For a moment, you consider turning back, retreating into the quiet of your own home. But Mrs. Jeon’s grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly, a silent reassurance that steadies you.

“It’s okay, child,” she murmurs as the door opens, the warmth of their home washing over you like a tide. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Her words settle into your chest, soft and steady, and you nod slightly, stepping into the glow of their home.

It’s warm.

It’s the kind of warmth that’s more than just physical, though; it seeps into your chest, wrapping around you like a soft blanket.

The entryway smells of pine and cinnamon, and the soft glow of fairy lights draped around the staircase banister casts the entire space in a golden hue. A small shoe rack lines the wall, neatly arranged with indoor slippers and shoes. Mrs. Jeon nudges you gently.

You slide off your boots and try not to feel self-conscious as you step into the house.

The living room is straight out of a Christmas postcard. . . like the ones you see in magazines.

There’s a beautifully decorated tree in the corner, its branches adorned with red and gold ornaments. Beside it, a few neatly wrapped gifts are stacked, their ribbons catching the light. You feel your heart racing at the thought of presents. How good must it feel to receive presents from someone you love?

You’ve been in their house so many times that navigating through it isn’t a big job, but accidentally stepping on a decoration and ruining it is.

You crane your neck up as you see framed family photos hanging on the walls . . . — holidays, birthdays, candid moments. There’s even a framed picture of Jungkook as a baby, his toothless grin making you pause.

Cute.

“Ah, there she is!” Mr. Jeon’s voice booms from the kitchen doorway, already dressed as Santa, but he’s wearing bermuda shorts instead. His face lights up as he strides toward you, his apron dusted with what looks like flour. “You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

Mrs. Jeon laughs softly beside you. “It took a little convincing.”

“A little?” He quirks an eyebrow at her, then turns back to you with an exaggerated grin. “You mean you actually succeeded in persuading her? I’m impressed, love.”

You manage a small smile, feeling your cheeks warm as he ruffles your hair like you’re still the same little girl who used to kiss his cheeks for a toffee every evening. “We’re glad you’re here, kiddo.” he says, his voice softer now, full of genuine warmth.

“T-Thanks for having me,” you mumble, feeling awkward and unsure of where to place your hands.

“You’re always welcome,” he replies easily, gesturing toward the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Mrs. Jeon nudges you forward gently, guiding you into the heart of their home. The room feels alive, filled with the faint sounds of Christmas music playing from a vinyl recorder and the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

You settle onto the couch hesitantly, your hands folded in your lap as your eyes roam the space. Everywhere you look, there’s another memory framed — photos of family vacations, certificates, and little trinkets.

It just makes you realise you barely have any photo frames back in your own house.

On the shelf beside the sofa, nestled between two larger frames, is a photo of you and Jungkook. You don’t even remember when it was taken — maybe last. . . summer? — but there you are, smiling wide and carefree, with his arm slung casually around your shoulders, both looking like dorks grinning under the sun.

Your stomach twists.

The photo feels like a piece of home you didn’t know you were missing, but it also reminds you of what you don’t have. To be carefree. To be. . . happy.

You tear your gaze away quickly, focusing instead on the glow of the Christmas lights. But the feeling doesn’t leave—it sits heavy in your chest, a reminder of all the ways you feel like you don’t belong.

Mrs. Jeon appears moments later, handing you a warm mug of tea. “Here you go, sweetheart,” she says, sitting beside you and resting a gentle hand on your knee. “Are you feeling okay?”

You nod quickly, forcing a small smile. “Y-Yeah, thank you.”

She studies you for a moment, her eyes soft and understanding, before giving your knee a gentle pat. “You’re home here, you know,” she says quietly.

Home. You nod again, murmuring another thank you before taking a sip of tea to distract yourself.

The warmth of the tea doesn’t quite reach the cold knot in your stomach, though, and as the minutes pass, the room’s liveliness feels almost overwhelming. You glance around, watching the Jeons move seamlessly around each other, their laughter and conversation filling the space with a kind of ease that feels foreign to you.

It’s not that your parents are cruel—they’ve never been anything but practical, efficient, busy. But sitting here, in the midst of the Jeons’ warmth and love, you can’t help but feel the sharp contrast.

The way they joke with each other, the way Mr. Jeon steals a kiss from his wife as she passes by, the way the house feels alive — it’s so different from the quiet, cold efficiency of your own home.

Your parents are either always fighting, on each other’s throats, and when they’re not, they’re on yours. There’s always these two options — nothing in between, nothing after.

Your gaze drifts back to the photo on the shelf, and the bitterness bubbles up again, sharp and unforgiving. You try to focus on the warmth of the mug in your hands, on the hum of conversation around you, but it’s no use.

You feel like a puzzle piece in the wrong box—close, but never quite fitting.

────⋆☃︎⋆────

The soft patter of footsteps pulls your attention toward the staircase.

Jungkook stands at the landing, the dim Christmas lights casting a warm glow over him. His face is flushed with the kind of easy joy you used to know so well, framed by a mess of dark hair that falls softly over his forehead. The thick, oversized sweater he’s wearing swallows his frame, its sleeves hiding his hands as he shifts awkwardly in place.

His jeans are slightly loose, cuffed at the bottom, and you catch a glimpse of fuzzy socks that make something in your chest twist unexpectedly.

But it’s his eyes that hold you captive, even if only for a moment. They’re wide, sparkly from the reflection of the lights, and impossibly soft as they lock onto yours. Innocent. Earnest.

A little too happy to see you.

Your breath catches, and for a second, you feel like you’re drowning — pulled into something you don’t quite understand, something that makes your heart stutter painfully in your chest. His face morphs from sheer surprise to that of great joy, his eyes lighting up like . . . stars, though you try to reason that they’re just the lights.

“Hey!” he says, his voice breaking through the haze. It’s cheerful, just like his face, and he’s already bounding down the stairs like a puppy too excited to sit still.

He nearly trips on the last step, catching himself with a sheepish grin, and it only makes him look more endearing.

You hate how cute he is.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he says, his grin widening as he comes closer. His sweater sleeves flap slightly as he raises a hand to scratch the back of his head, his shoulders shifting with boyish awkwardness. “Eomma’s been trying all day to get you over here.”

You can’t stop staring, and it makes your chest ache in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He’s warm, in every sense of the word, and for a moment, you think it might actually burn you.

You wrench your gaze away, gripping the mug in your hands so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter. “She convinced me.”

Jungkook chuckles softly, shuffling his feet like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” His voice softens, and it’s so tender, so genuine, it nearly undoes you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The warmth in his voice feels too much, too close, and you hate it.

Hate the way it makes your chest feel tight and your head feel heavy.

So you pull yourself back, withdrawing behind the walls you’ve carefully built. “Yeah . . . I guess,” you mutter, barely glancing up.

For a split second, you see his smile falter, the light in his eyes dimming ever so slightly. He recovers quickly, his grin returning, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression.

“Still as talkative as ever,” he teases gently, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop, just a little.

You swallow the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to look away. “I’m just. . . tired,” you say, the words clipped.

He nods, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he steps back, his voice soft. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone.”

And just like that, the warmth is gone, leaving you colder than before. You hear him retreat, his footsteps growing quieter, and the bitterness you’ve been clinging to feels hollow. You feel terrible. Shitty.

Why did you even do that?

Mrs. Jeon squeezes your shoulder, her touch firm but kind. When you glance up, her eyes are knowing, her expression gentle.

“He was so happy you came,” she says softly.

The ache in your chest only deepens.

────⋆☃︎⋆────

The night air is crisp, biting against your cheeks as you sit by the glowing bonfire.

You pull your knees to your chest, burying your hands under your arms in a futile attempt to stay warm. There’s this quiet crackle of the fire fills the space, the occasional pop echoing in the stillness of the yard.

Dinner had been. . . . a lot. You’d felt impossibly guilty throughout. Mr. Jeon had been all jokes and warmth, constantly refilling your plate despite your half-hearted protests. Mrs. Jeon had been the epitome of kindness, making sure you had everything you needed.

And then there was Jungkook.

He’d barely said much to you, only offering small smiles and passing glances, but each one had sent a pang of something sharp and unrelenting through your chest. He’d nudged your calf lightly under the table, trying to get you to take the hotteok he’d placed on your plate.

When you ignored him, pretending to be too busy with your food, he’d silently taken it back, the disappointment in his eyes so subtle it almost went unnoticed. Almost.

You’d wanted to say something, to apologize for how grumpy you’d been, but the words had tangled in your throat.

Why are you such a coward? Why is it so difficult for you to look him in his eyes and not be so mean?

Now, sitting alone by the fire, the warmth of the day still lingers faintly, like an aftertaste. And it’s not bitter. For once, you feel full — not just from the food, but from something deeper, something unfamiliar.

This house, this family, they feel like the kind of love you’ve only ever read about in books. It makes your chest ache, makes you want to cry, and you don’t even know why.

“Hey.”

His voice startles you, soft and familiar. Jungkook. You glance up, and there he is, standing a few feet away with a shawl draped loosely around his shoulders. His cheeks are pink from the cold, his hair a little mussed from the wind. The glow of the fire reflects in his eyes, making them look impossibly warm.

You swallow hard, looking away. “H-hey.”

“You look cold.”

Before you can respond, he steps closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate. You blink up at him, confused, as he sits down behind you and opens his arms, spreading the shawl over your shoulders in one smooth motion.

“Wh-what are you—”

“Sharing,” he says simply, wrapping an arm around you to hold the shawl in place. His voice is light, almost teasing, but there’s a quiet sincerity in the way he pulls you closer, his warmth seeping into your side.

Your chest is about to burst out.

Your heart thunders in your chest, and you’re sure he can feel it, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he reaches up to smooth your hair, his touch gentle. Soft.

“Eomma does this, you know,” he says softly, his fingers combing through your hair. “When I’m upset. It helps.”

You squeak, your whole body stiffening, but he only chuckles, the sound low and comforting. He’s so close now, his steady heartbeat thumping against your upper back.

“Relax, dummy.” he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “It’s just me.”

Just him. That’s the problem, isn’t it?

You want to be mad, want to shove him away and demand why he has to be so. . . so him. How he always looks up to you as the friends you two always have been . . . But you can’t. For some reason, you’ve understood today that not only are you a coward, but also very weak.

“I. . . ” You start to say something, anything, but the words dissolve before they can form.

Instead, you let yourself lean into him, just a little. His heartbeat is steady, a comforting rhythm against your own erratic one. You can’t bring yourself to apologize, but you hope he can feel it in the way you let yourself rest against him.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. The fire crackles softly, the world around you growing quieter. . . warmer.

Slowly, your eyes grow heavy, your body sinking into his warmth as exhaustion takes over.

You fall asleep with your head against his shoulder.

Your brows are still faintly pinched, like you’re fighting off a troubling thought even in your dreams.

Jungkook stays completely still, his heartbeat steady as he watches you. There’s a softness in his gaze, a quiet wonder, like he can’t believe you’re here, like he doesn’t know what to do with the way his chest feels so warm.

Hesitantly, his hand rises to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingertips linger, ghosting gently over your cheek. It’s a small, familiar motion — one he’s picked up from watching his mother. His thumb strokes your cheekbone with the utmost care, almost like he’s afraid he’ll wake you if he moves too quickly.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re not glaring at me, you know that?” he whispers, though he knows you can’t hear him.

From the corner of his eye, a movement catches his attention.

He glances toward the house and freezes when he sees his mother standing at the kitchen window. Her arms are crossed, her expression practically glowing with amusement. She doesn’t say anything, just raises her brows at him with a playful smirk that makes his whole face flush.

Jungkook’s hand quickly drops from your cheek, and he hunches his shoulders like that might somehow make him invisible. His mouth opens, ready to deny whatever it is she’s clearly thinking, but no words come out. Instead, he huffs, pulling the shawl tighter around both of you and burrowing his face into your hair in an effort to hide.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” he mumbles, as if she can hear him through the window.

When her footsteps fade back into the house, he lets out a shaky breath, glancing down at you. You’re still sound asleep, your face soft in the firelight but not without its usual furrowed brows.

His heart squeezes; you even look grumpy in your dreams. Somewhat. . . troubled.

That’s when he remembers.

He wiggles a hand into the pocket of his PJs, fishing out a small, clumsily wrapped package. The corners are wrinkled, the tape slightly askew, but the tiny red bow on top makes up for it . . . or, at least he thinks so.

His fingers hesitate over it.

Maybe it’s a dumb idea. Maybe you won’t even like it. But. . .

Carefully, as if any sudden movement might wake you, he nudges the present into your lap, tucking it snugly beneath the edge of the shawl.

His lips twitch upward at the sight. Satisfied, he leans back just a little, his arms still holding you steady.

He rests his chin atop your head, smiling to himself, silently vowing that no matter how grumpy you act tomorrow, you’ll surely smile when you see what’s inside.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, his words meant only for you.

a/n : aw 🥹 i would really love to hear what you think! i would also recommend you read the original series to get a glimpse of their world <3 merry belated christmas. i hope you smile a bit more today 🤍

[inubaki]

The Sea Queen

Chapter 5

————

story commissioned by the amazing @libby-for-life! Based off one of the first pics @sir-tater-of-the-tot made that got me hooked on this fandom to began with. I blame them entirely.

——-

19 years layer

Adam stood proudly amongst his crew, the salty sea breeze whipping through his hair as they reveled in the aftermath of their latest conquest. The massive corpse of the Kraken lay sprawled across the deck of his ship, its tentacles still twitching in a feeble last gesture. This creature had proved to be as cunning as legends foretold, squirming and thrashing as it tried to evade capture. But with quick thinking and expert aim, his first mate, Lute, had plunged her harpoon into its flesh, sealing its fate with a triumphant cry that echoed over the waves.

Now, under the glow of the golden sun, the crew gathered around, their laughter ringing out like music over the gentle lapping of the ocean. They passed around tankards of rich, aged mead, its sweet aroma mingling with the briny scent of the sea. Each sip of their drink celebrated not only their victory but also the bond they shared—one forged through countless battles and nights spent under the stars, anchored far from the safety of land.

Adam surveyed the scene before him, his heart swelling with pride. Each member of his crew had their scars and stories, etched upon their skin and in their eyes—tales of bravery and hardship that had only made them stronger. He couldn’t have asked for a better team; they were fierce, loyal, and relentless, ready to face whatever menace the ocean threw at them.

"Come on, Sir!" Elara called out, her voice cutting through the salty sea air as she waved energetically from the deck. Adam couldn't help but smirk at her enthusiasm; she had a knack for making even the most mundane tasks feel exhilarating. With a few confident strides, he joined his all-female crew, each member displaying a mix of grit and camaraderie that always inspired him. 

Most captains would scoff at the idea of having a woman aboard their vessel, let alone an entirely female crew, but Adam was far from your average captain. He had handpicked these women not just for their formidable skills, but for their indomitable spirits. This was a crew forged in the fires of adversity—steeped in the kind of relentless discipline and bravado that would put even the most seasoned pirates to shame.

The crew had a reputation that preceded them. They were a fierce and ruthless bunch, capable of dispatching anyone who dared to underestimate their capabilities. Each had their own story, some even worse than Adam's. He knew that Lute was once a high-class lady whose family fell on hard times and in a desperate attempt to keep what little money her parents had left, sold their only child to prostitution. Adam had found her when she had burnt the man keeping her to death.

Elara had been a slave. Lucy had been an orphan, like Adam except there wasn't anyone to take pity on her like the islanders of Adam's former home did. Cicely was a thief who was wrongfully accused of murder and was going to be executed as a scapegoat. The list went on, some more gruesome than others, but they all found a family in each other.

Adam had navigated a winding path to justice, one that he had dedicated himself to for years. He had become a beacon of hope for those who had struggled to find their own footing in a world that often turned a blind eye to their suffering. His all-female crew, a tightly-knit group forged through shared struggles and victories, held a deep respect for him. They admired not only his courage and determination but also his unwavering commitment to helping them confront their personal battles.

As they sat together, recounting their past achievements, a common desire began to blossom among the crew members: they wanted to aid Adam in realizing his long-held dream. They knew the pain that lingered in his heart, stemming from the sea monsters that had ravaged his home and torn his life apart. Driven by loyalty, they decided to unite their skills and fierce spirits to support him in his quest to hunt down these behemoths of the deep, vowing to confront the nightmares of his past, together. This journey would not only seek vengeance but also healing, as they set sail toward a future determined by their shared resolve.

And now, they had hunted their 74th Kraken. They had slayed the beast and they reveled in the blood that soaked the deck. Adam had noticed that when the beasts were near, his bites would sting. He used that as his compass. This one wasn't the Kraken that had befriended a young and naive child so long ago. The pale monster continued to remain unseen. But, Adam wouldn't rest until the monster that had a hand in killing his people and destroying his home was dead.

Adam lifted his gaze to the horizon as a brisk wind whipped against his face, carrying with it a sense of impending change. As a seasoned pirate, he had spent years navigating the unpredictable temperament of the sea, and this current shift in the air was a familiar harbinger of trouble. He could taste the salt of the ocean mixed with something more ominous on his lips. It clung to his skin like an unwelcome warning.

Furrowing his brow, he scanned the azure sky above, seemingly uninterrupted by any clouds. The sun glimmered brightly, casting warm rays that danced across the waves. Yet, despite the deceptively tranquil appearance, a sense of unease settled in the pit of his stomach. The gentle lapping of the water against the ship's hull sounded almost mocking in the face of his instincts. After all, the ocean had a way of disguising its fury, and Adam knew all too well that storms often brewed silently, waiting for the right moment to unleash their wrath.

"Ladies, I believe we have a storm coming."

———

pervs:

[withjaejae]

Hole-in-one | JJK pt. 4

Paring: Jungkook x Reader

High society, richie rich type

Warnings: slight angst, secret keeping, oral (f), vanilla sex (?), jk rips another thong, spit kink unlocked

A/N: Jungkook’s “If he wanted to, he would” moment.

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5

++++++++++

“And the final touch…” Your stylist sprays on the setting spray and a bit of glitter in your hair.

You stare at yourself on the full mirror, the deep velvet purple hugging your waist, the sweetheart neck pushing your ‘golden globes’ (because they belong Jungkook according to Jungkook) together.

“You look lovely, darling.” Your mom smiles as she stands behind you. “Jungkook is gonna lose it when he sees you.”

“Oh my god. Mom, please.” You playfully roll your eyes. She’s right though.

The charity ball is being held at one of Jungkook’s parents’ hotels and your parents are this year’s major sponsors.

Yesterday was graduation, you and Jungkook took photos like how all couple do. It was so cute that you’ve already made it a wallpaper.

As soon as you’re ready you take your lilac shawl and drape it over your elbows. The lavender clutch in your palms. A little too much purple? Heck no. Its not even enough.

The place was packed with your neighbors, investors, prospect, and some relatives. Even Taehyung’s parents were here but he missed it by a day by going back to Paris.

You scan the crowd for Jungkook.

“Looking for someone?” You smile as you turn to see your ‘freakishly handsome boyfriend’ (according to Jungkook).

He’s dressed in a custom Dior suit. A purple crystal flower tucked in his coat pocket.

He scans your outfit biting his lip.

“Wanna skip?” He asks and earns a smack to the head from his mother.

“At least wait an hour before running.” His father whispers while, his mother just rolled her eyes gives you a hug.

“I do hope my grandkids take after you.” She side eyes Jungkook.

The mention of grandkids made you laugh nervously. Jesus, its only been six weeks.

The host announces that the program starts in a couple of minutes for the guests to settle.

Jungkook offers you his arm and you both walk towards the table to the front.

Most, if not all, eyes were on you two. Heirs to the city’s biggest developers. You’ve heard the rummours, ‘arranged marriage’ ‘marriage scam’ ‘denying bankruptcy’ ‘the jeon’s dowry money’

It all ended up with marriage. Sure, you can see it happening but its too soon. Even Jungkook avoids the topic.

As soon as you settle at the table you share with your parents, the host welcomes everyone.

It was a talk about what the firm achieved, the items for auction, the progress of the charity. Its really something to be extremely proud of.

Your father finally took the stage.

He welcomes everyone and makes a speech about the future endeavors.

“… not only did I gain a new Interior designer, my daughter, YN…” You stand up and wave to the crowd earning some applause. “But I also gained a new architech, my future son-in-law, Jungkook.” Jungkook hesitates but his mother nudged him to stand next to you.

The announcement made you freeze, suddenly feeling covered in cold sweat but you smile through it as you clap for the man next to you. He smiles nervously.

When he wanted you both to be seen as a couple tonight, he didn’t expect a marriage proposal from your own father.

Jungkook had no idea what he agreed to when your fathers asked him to join the firm. His parents bought and invested in properties while your family did the buildings and designs, it only made sense but he didn’t think your father would make it this big of a deal.

As soon as your father leaves the stage and the silent auction began, you excuse yourself from the table, rushing to get some fresh air.

A series of congratulations met you along the way, all you could do was smile and nod. Doing your best not to be rude.

You try to tune out the noise, you can feel your name being called but you don’t stop walking.

“YN!” Your father’s sister blocks you by the hall and hugs you. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Auntie, how are you?” You try to distract her.

“Same as always, drunk and single.” She laughs and abruptly stops. “Guessing from tour dad’s speech, you haven’t told him yet?”

“No and I will but…” You sigh.

“You should tell him, Spain can really spark up a lot of inspiration, when are you leaving?” She smiles then her eyes flicker to someone behind you. “There’s my future nephew-in-law.”

You turn to see Jungkook who already had his eyes set on you. His breathing heavily at what he just overheard.

“Kook.” You peep.

“You’re leaving?” He frowns. Your mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out.

“This is my cue to leave.” Your aunt walks away slowly.

“Kook, its just an internship.” You finally say.

“When were you planning on telling me?” His piercing stare drooped down and now he looks like a kicked puppy. Damn it, you just wanna kiss him right now.

“Tomorrow…” You step closer. “Don’t be mad. I sent the application two months ago, I didn’t expect to hear anything back. They reached out a week ago…”

“A week ago? Baby, we’re together everyday and you didn’t tell me?” He starts pouting.

“We had graduation, the charity ball, my parents and then you with the firm. I haven’t even told my dad yet.” You take his hands in yours. “I didn’t know what to do with it yet. Is it the best program for interior design? Sure. Its it the only program? No. I was looking into some other options here—“ You were cut off by Jungkook’s lips.

“Babe, go for it.” He finally smiles, it was small and a bit sad but he does. “I’m just upset you didn’t tell me. I had to overhear it from your aunt.”

“She has an apartment there, I asked if I could rent it out for a couple of months—“ Jungkook groans and his lower lip juts out even more. “Again, still looking into it.” You kiss him again.

He sighs and holds your face with both hands. “Babe, do it. Come on, its Spain. The food, the architechture, the views, everything there screams beauty. It’ll be great.” He pecks your lips again. “Don’t overthink it.” You smile.

“My dad is going to be really really sad I’m not gonna be joining the firm asap.” He lets go of your face and intertwines his hand with yours.

“He will be. I’m not gonna lie, my part in his speech scared me for a second.” He chuckles. But that didn’t mean he was against it, he thought.

“Yeah, I mean its only been six weeks.” You both slowly walk down the hall towards the balcony. “It’s not that I’m not ready for marriage, I do love you but I don’t think we’re far from there yet plus—“ Jungkook stops walking. “What?” His eyes search yours.

“You love me?” You stare into his soul and bit your lip.

“Well, shit. Kookie, you make me feel alive and seen. You’re the best part about my day.” He pushes you against the wall, for anyone to see. He looks deep into your eyes.

“I love you. For a while now.” This time it was your turn to pout. She flashes you his bunny smile and you can’t help but kiss him.

“Oh dear Lord, at least get a room, honey.” Jungkook’s mother was standing to your left making you both stand up straight and hold back the giggles. “This is a four star hotel, the beds here are top tier.”

“Mother!” Jungkook scolds as his mom cackles just the way he does and turns away, waving us off.

He sighs and turns to you. The smirk you loved so much appearing on his face.

“Wanna test it out?” He wiggles his eyebrows while your furrow in confusion. “The beds, if they’re top tier.” You smack his shoulder but grab his hand.

“Lead the way.” You bite your lip.

Jungkook makes one call and you’re already being met by a hotelier at the elevator. It takes 10 more floors before it opens again, you shoot your mother a quick text about stepping outside with Jungkook.

By outside you mean inside a fucking suite. Jungkook tips the man before he shuts the door.

“Now, you don’t even wanna fucking know what that dress does to me.” He slowly stalks towards you, ripping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

You drop your shawl and purse as you hastly chuck your heels to the side, waiting for him to get to you on the couch.

The moment he reached out for you, your lips lock together. Teeth and tongue clashing, battling for dominance which he always wins.

He picks you up and takes you to the bedroom. You try to reach for the zipper but he stops you by snatching your wrist.

“Keep it on, for now.” He whispers against your lips.

He sits on the edge of the bed lies back taking you with him.

“Wanna taste you.” You mumbles and nudges you to sit on his face.

He wraps his hand on the band of your thong and you stop his wrist too.

“Rip this and I’m never wearing a thong again.” You warn and he smirks.

“Why wear any at all?” He goes ahead and rips the bands.

“Fuck, Jungkook. That’s so hot. But so damn expensive.” You whine. “Why can’t you take it off like a normal person?”

“Because…” He completes his sentence by letting the tip of his tongue tease your clit. “I can buy you all the thongs you want just so I could rip them again.” Jungkook is smart but he can be a dumb hunk when horny.

“You should just buy me— fuck.” You were gonna tell him to buy you the entire store but then he starts to lap up your pussy. Tasting your sweet saccharine juices. Its as if he’s feeding off you.

His view was perfect, your tits nearly slipping out of your violet dress, your hair getting loose from the bun. Your lipstick smeared over your cheek, mouth wide open chanting his name.

He reaches up to grab your tits as he fucks your hole with his tongue. You instinctively move your hips over his face. The sounds make you feel wilder than usual.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Your thighs start shaking. “Jungkook. Baby. Can’t hold in.” You moan and fall forward, your hands landing above his head. You let out a long moan as you cum all over Jungkook’s face.

He gives you as second to recover before gently turning you both over. Your slick running down his chin. He hovers his face for yours, you lick up your own juices of his face and he found that extremely hot.

He slowly reached behind you to unzip your dress, he’s taking his time tonight. Kissing every section of skin that shows as he takes it off.

You sit up once you’re naked and take time to undo his pants too. Staring into each other. Your souls speaking to each other.

He leans down to kiss you again, soft this time. As if the world stopped and he wishes it does because right here with you is where he always wants to be.

Fully undressed he lays you back down he starts kissing your neck as he gently enters you, sighing at the intrusion. You may have been fucking several times a week but he still gives you a stretch.

Your fingers laced in his hair as he takes on of your nipples into his mouth, teasing both tits alternately.

“Kookie, move.” You whine. He starts a slow pace, but even he has limits.

He starts catching speed. “Fuck. Harder, please baby.” You moan. Begging over and over. “Jungkook. Fuck, yes!” Your nails digging into his back, your legs thrown over his shoulder as he nips at your skin.

“So fucking tight for me.” He groans through gritted teeth. “Holy fuck, babe.” He pounds into you.

Your back arched off the bed, he’s lifting you by the ass. Slapping your tits.

“Open your mouth.” His wish was your command, he spits into your mouth. You moan, he feels you tighten around him. He smirks at the discovery of a new kink.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asks as he rams harder into you. “You’re pussy takes me so well. So fucking perfect.” He places his hand on your throat. You fucking smirk.

He cuts off your air and you start shaking, your second orgasm ripping through you. He cums deep within your pussy.

He releases your throat as you both come down from your high.

He lands on top of you. Chest flushed against each other you can feel each other’s heartbeats.

“She was right, this bed is top tier.” You both laugh.

“I love you.” His lips tickle your neck and you giggle. “I love you, YN.”

“I love you, Jungkook.” You kiss him, over and over.

“Hey baby.” He picks up the call. “I miss you.” You’ve just gotten off your shift and decided to go for a walk to your favorite spot.

“I miss you more… Namjoon asked me to go golfing today. I said I couldn’t, not without you.” He says, you kick the pebble off the ground. You pout even though he can’t see you.

You’ve been exploring Barcelona for a week now. The program is going very well. But this is the longest time you’ve been apart since you started dating and it drove you both mad.

“Namjoon sucks at golf. Wish you were here, its getting cold.” You pout as you sit on the bench, admiring the Sagrada Familia.

“Okay.” He says before abrubtly ending the call.

Someone casually sat next to you, the familiar cologne making you grin. His arms wrap around you.

“Is this warm enough?” You turn to plant a kiss on his cold lips.

Of course he’d book a flight just because you joked yesterday that he should see your view from your favorite spot.

+++

A/N: Will end this with pt. 5. Please continue loving me.

[dark-elf-writes]

for ur birthday bash (happy extended bday by the way !!!!): nb izuku discovering theyre nb w fellow nb mentor!mic - w shitty parent!inko. as a bonus. :3

“Listener?”

Izumi blinked, dragging his eyes away from the ground so far below to need the gaze of the hero leaning casually against the low wall of the roof next to them.

(Mostly casually. Izuku didn’t miss they kept themself within arms reach. Just in case.)

“You’re Present Mic.” Normally Izuku would have been thrilled about it. Would have already been chattering away about quirks support gear, mind flashing through a dozen questions he has had from the moment he first heard them on the radio. But…

He was tired. He was hurting. He was… something that he couldn’t explain.

“I am, Listener. We’re across the street from the station, you know. Just right over there.” They pointed to a building across the way, tall and covered in neon signs.

Huh. Izuku hadn’t noticed. He had just picked the first building with mostly easy roof access he had found to think. An increasingly common occurrence after his meeting with All Might if he was entirely honest.

It figured he would pick the one spitting distance away from a hero on today of all days.

“So,” Present Mic drew the word out, long and almost teasing if not for the way they were hovering, “wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

They shrugged. “In my experience people don’t come to sit on the edge of roof’s with that kind of expression unless they have something worth talking about.”

Izuku shouldn’t. He should leave. He should run. He should—

“Every time I look in the mirror I want to scream.” Not the confession he had intended to say, but, considering how the last time he told a pro hero he was Quirkless went, the safer one. “My best friend hates me, and every time he hurts me or breaks my things I think I might hate him a little too but if I admit that he’s not really my friend then I’m actually alone. My mom keeps calling me the man of the house and her baby boy and every time she does I want to pull my skin off, but she doesn’t notice because she would have to actually look at me to see which she hasn’t done since I was five. I don’t even think she stays at the apartment just leaves some money on the table at the start of every month and a note to ‘Be a man.’”

Present Mic hummed so low Izuku could feel it in his chest. “Sounds like you have a whole lot to talk about, Listener.”

A choked laugh forced its way through Izuku’s too tight throat. He scrubbed under his eyes harshly to force away tears he couldn’t let fall. They didn’t help him last time he talked to a hero after all. “Yeah. Guess I do.”

Another hum, then, “Do you feel like a boy, Listener?”

Izuku opened his mouth, a reflexive agreement on his tongue, then snapped it closed again.

Did he feel like a boy? He had to… right? But no, he didn’t. Not when the hero standing next to him was proof.

(How a stranger had noticed in less than twenty minutes when no one else in Izuku’s life had said something that he was going to ignore.)

“You don’t need to answer now. Just think about it, yeah?” Present Mic tipped their head back into the warmth of the sun, a smile that wasn’t anywhere near happy on their face. Their hair, down Izuku realized when he finally turned to look at them, practically glowed in the light. Liquid gold hanging around their shoulders.

Then, the moment passed, and Present Mic looked back at them with a smile that matched the warmth in their eyes. “If you want, there’s a training room in the station. I could show you some moves to protect yourself if that boy tries to hurt you again.”

Izuku knew he shouldn’t. Knew that it wouldn’t end well. Knew that if he was left alone on another roof, the story wouldn’t end so well a second time.

But as he looked at their green eyes and the gloved hand they held out to him, Izuku couldn’t have stopped the question if he had wanted to.

“Do you think that someone without a quirk can still be a hero?”

“Of course.” Present Mic didn’t so much as hesitate. Don’t even have to think about it. Like it was a given. “Plenty of heroes have non combat quirks, why couldn’t someone quirkless be a hero like them?”

Izuku laughed as he took that gloved hand, feeling lighter than he had in years.

[onskepa]

Stxeli: Trust

Helloooooooo~!! Here is another part of the ongoing series! Hope you all enjoy~!!

Stxeli series

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

Trust is one of the main important elements in a person's life and in the overall society. Trust helps gain and benefit from others by mutual trust. Trust creates long lasting relationships, no matter the type. Trust is as strong as a stone, but fragile as glass. One wrong move and the trust is gone, one right move and its stronger. 

And sometimes, trust takes a long time to develop. Just as it can quickly grow. 

There really is no between. 

It has been some time now since Jake has joined the clan. Learning their ways and even speaking better, heavy on his english accent but better. His hunting skills are improving, but much better than his first day. His relationship wih the villagers has also improved greatly. Many have come to like him, sharing their honest words to their leaders. 

Even neytiri has come to enjoy his presence. Would often look forward to spending the day with jake. 

This leads to mo’at and eytukan having to think very long and hard about what their next move is. 

Is jake trustworthy enough to meet their child? 

Mo’at can come up with millions of excuses to not have the dream walker see her precious child. But at some point, it has to happen, if jake is to become part of the clan, the seeing stxeli is inevitable. 

She just wishes there were other ways. 

“And then you add just a pinch of this aaaaaaaaaaand tada~!!” stxeli proudly shows kame how to make instant healing glue should he need to heal an injury fast enough. 

“This still needs work, I recommend doing this for small cuts, I plan to make this glue be a replacement to stitches” stxeli explains. 

Kame claps his hands in amazement. 

“Incredible, it also shouldnt hurt as much right?” he asks. Stxeli looks at the glue then back at him. 

“No….?” she says in more of a question. 

“No?” he repeats. 

“Well, that is the goal. I have seen so many go to my sa’nu and get help. I know she is tsahik, but when I help, I see many get stitches. And those hurt a lot, but it's to help with their wounds. So, to help them without causing anymore pain, I want to make a special glue that can help! Still needs work though” 

Kame listens to stxeli, his eyes stare with adoration at her goal. What she wants to do to help with their people is very inspiring. In kame’s eyes, stxeli is kind, very creative, maybe a bit too obsessed with the yovo, but stxeli is just simply amazing. 

That is someone kame loves to have around. And being around her lifts his own spirits up. 

“I still need to make lots of adjustments but! I like to think I am on the right path” stxeli says happily. 

“Are you going to show it to the tsahik?” Kame asks. Stxeli slightly frowned. 

“Not so soon. I still need to figure out how I want it to be. I won't show it until it's ready” she answers. 

“But if you tell her, maybe she can help you make it better,” kame suggests. 

True, her mother is an expert and can look at any plant and instantly know what it is and what it does. 

“Yeah, but she has enough to deal with. Im gonna figure this out, so, promise not to tell anyone?” stxeli stares deep into kame’s eyes. 

“Yes, I promise. You can trust me” 

“He has tamed his ikran today” neytiri informs her parents. She looks over at Jake as he retells his recent victory of having an ikran of his own to the other na’vi. All seemed very interested in his overly exaggerated story. 

After a huge success, it called for a huge feast. Everyone gathered to celebrate his accomplishment, now there is only one last step to take. 

Well, more like 2 steps in this case. 

“He has to meet stxeli before he can complete his iknimaya” eytukan says suddenly. 

Mo’at, neytiri, and tsu’tey all turned their heads towards him. Shocked that he said that. “Eytukan, you cannot mean that” mo’at says, fear crawling in. 

Jake isn't ready, he will never be ready. One look at her and its over. 

“If he is to become one of us, then he must meet our daughter” eytukan affirms. 

Neytiri switches places, now sitting to her father’s left side, “sempu, jake sully is growing but this, this is too much to demand. What if he hurts her?” 

The olo’eyktan turns to his daughter, “you spent more time with him than any of us combined. As his teacher, you see how he progresses. You shall give the final judgment”. 

All eyes were on neytiri. 

Mo’at silently pleaded with her daughter to say no, tsu’tey felt the same. But eytukan remained neutral. 

Neytiri looked up to see the soft glow imitating from stxeli’s little nook in the tree. If they could, they would keep her baby sister hidden forever. But this is about mutual trust. Jake has given his all, it's only fair they do the same. 

“Jake shall meet her” 

Kame was making his way back to his home after a playful evening with stxeli in her little nook. Supervised of course. But it was fun nonetheless. She even gifted him some of her better version of the healing glue. 

“To heal long scratches,” she said. 

He will use it wisely. Kame also promised to take note of how long and how well it heals should he get hurt. 

“Little boy” a female voice called to him. 

Kame turns to see an elderly woman. Her body and hair are adorned with various beads, unique clothes and a head piece that oddly resembles something a tsahik would wear. Not that kame takes a closer look, this woman has more items decorating her than tsahik mo’at wears. 

“Hello child” she speaks again, her smile trying to be soft but kame can sense something is not right. 

“Hello…” he responds. The need to leave intensifies. 

“Easy child, I bring you no harm. My son teaches you” the lady tells. 

Kame tilts his head, “your son?” 

“Tsu’tey, he speaks very highly of you” 

The lady is tsu’tey’s mother then, still doesnt help in easing his nerves. 

“The vile you have, is it to heal?” she asks as she gets closer. Kame wants to back away, but this is his teacher’s mother. Would it be rude and disrespectful if he moves away from her? 

Kame gently touched the vial that held stxeli’s healing glue. 

“Why?” he asks, a bit defensively. 

“If it is to heal, may I have it? My poor son comes home nearly every day with bruises, scratches, even deep cuts from all the training and hunting” the woman explains with some sense of true worry. As a mother should for her child. 

“But nearly every day I see him go to the tsahik so she can fix him. Even her youngest daughter helps” he said. 

It was quick, despite how dark it is, kame caught a sneer from the woman. Her face back to being a false happy smile. 

“Hm, yes. A tsahik’s duty is to help those in need. However, my son comes home still in pain, even after visiting the tsahik….” 

Kame was not liking where this was going, he felt a bit of anger rise within. “Are you implying that our tsahik does not do a very good job at healing tsu’tey?” he snaps. 

“Oh I know mo’at is not doing very well at healing, much less being a good tsahik” 

If stxeli was here, no doubt she would bite the face off of this woman. The audacity! The boldness she dares say! 

“If I were the tsahik, I would make sure not only my son, but everyone leaves the tent free of pain. Wouldn't you agree?” she pushed on. 

Kame held the vile tighter, ready to head back to stxeli. To tell her what he is hearing. She would believe him. 

“And I would make sure your father lives to see your iknimaya complete. Unlike mo’at who let your mother perish. Wouldn't you agree, kame?” 

“Are you alright sa’nu? You look like you have a lot on your mind” stxeli observes her mother. Her eyes are heavy with deep thoughts. Usually her parents come with bright smiles and are ready to sleep. Even her father seems hesitant. 

Mo’at shakes her head and easily picks up her daughter. 

“Nothing worth telling you. Besides, you have a full day tomorrow” mo’at says as she boops her daughter. 

Stxeli boops back, but curiosity now takes over. 

“I do? I was gonna play with kame” she says. 

“No, I believe you had enough from today” eytukan mutters as he guides his mate and daughter to their hammock. Mo’at rolls her eyes but gets comfortable. 

“Sempu, kame is my best friend. You have to accept him at some point” stxeli giggles. Seems like eytukan still doesn't like kame no matter how much he proves himself. 

“Bah, when he passes his iknimaya, we shall see” 

Mo’at decides to change the subject. 

“Your big day is coming very soon ma’ite. Are you excited?” she asks. 

Stxeli nods enthusiastically. 

“Mhm! Neytiri is helping me with my new outfit! I wanna look extra pretty!” 

Eytukan and mo’at look at their sweet baby with great love, her big day is coming soon. The day the whole village celebrates Eywa gifting her to them. 

“You will always be pretty, my sweet girl. Eywa bestowed you with potential beauty” eytukan proudly comments. 

“Enough now, best we rest before stxeli here riles up again” mo’at says as she gently tickles her daughters tummy, making stxeli giggles. 

They huddle together, letting sleep take over. 

Jake sits on his wheelchair and he makes his way to his bed. 

“Good news” he says while mid-munching on some food crap. 

“It better be damn good news, fucking lighter won't work” grace grunts impatient as she tries to light up her last cigar for the night. 

Jake boldly took the unlit cigar from her mouth, having her full attention while making sure no one else listens. 

“I gained their trust just enough to meet someone special” he whispers. 

Grace furrows her eyebrow, wondering who. 

“That human kid living among them. Neytiri said it's time I meet her little sister” 

In that moment, Grace's heart sunk deep inside. 

“Here you go sempu” kame gently offers a neon green liquid to his ill father. 

“Thank you my son” his father praises as he drinks the herbal liquid. Kame smiled but his does not meet his beloved fathers. 

Already guilt is eating him alive. 

[forgive me stxeli….I broke my promise to you…] 

his hand reaches for his side, where the vial of stxeli’s healing glue should have been. But it's gone now, he given it to artsute. With the promise from her that she will heal his father way faster than mo’at can ever heal. 

He is doing it for his dad to get better. If that is the case, why does it feel he made things worse…? 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand that is it for this chapter! How do you guys like it? Whatchu guys think of what will happen next? lemme know your thoughts!

Until next time! see ya!

Liking the story? click HERE to join the taglist!

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[madly-enthusiastic]

Uhhh, GUYS.

I think I wrote the first chapter of a Radioapple fanfic...

Just- Tell me if it's good, 'kay? It still doesn't have a name cuz it's a work in progress so, I'm still thinking of a name, I can't ask you for help with the name without telling all the story's AU so, I'll resort to the one thing I trust. My sister.

______

How much love can a parent express for its child?

If you asked Lucifer, he'd start rambling about how much his daughter is an amazing woman, already planning her own hotel with... redemption?

"Redemption, you say?" A voice Lucifer much liked and adored asked.

"Yeah... It's a bit silly and in my opinion, impossible even. But I trust her and I know she'll reach great lengths, heck, maybe Heaven itself!" He answered back, chuckling a bit. "I'm currently helping her to find a territory she can estabilish as hers, I could just give her a part of my territory but she says she wants to win something on her own. Regardless of what she wants or needs, I'm very proud of her!" He soon added, gesturing vaguely to the North as to show where the hotel was most likely to be constructed.

A comfortable minute is passed between them until the soft laugh from Lucifer's company interrupts it.

"Perhaps I'll visit it later."

​_______

Lucifer's dream was interrupted by the sound of his alarm going off, he groggily sat up on his bed before he slipped his hooved feet in his duck slippers. Another dream, another memory, I guess... Lucifer thought as he stood up, letting his wings strech so his back wouldn't feel sore later on.

He grabbed his phone and checked the messages he received. Satan's email for a new meeting... Charlie inviting me over... Goetias- He froze for a minute before he checked his phone again to make sure he didn't misread it. Charlie is inviting me over?!

Needless to say he cleared his agenda just so he could visit his daughter, it has been 7 years since they last spoke after... No! Don't think of that, Lucifer! Think of your precious daughter and how she invited you over despite years of not talking to her! Lucifer interrupted himself from going to dark memories.

He took a deep breath before he called her. Thankfully, Charlie picked up right away as if she was expecting her dad to call back.

"Oh! Hey Dad!" Her voice was like music to Lucifer's ears, it had been so long since he spoke with her, he almost forgot how the sound of his daughter's voice was!

"Hey Char-Char! I... just read your message, are you inviting me over to that hotel of yours? What was it again... The... Happy Hotel?" He asked, unsure if he got the name right.

"Ah, yes, dad! Actually, we changed it to the Hazbin Hotel! I had some help with the name!" She answered, happy that her dad remembered the hotel's old name, it meant that he was interested enough to learn it.

Thank Father. Lucifer thought, letting out a sigh of relief that didn't go past his daughter but she just laughed at it. "Sorry for the reaction, Char-Char... The old name was horrible, I never said anything 'cause I wanted to support you." He explained, chuckling awkwardly.

"It's alright dad! I don't blame you for that, the old name was... something, I guess? Well! What do you think of the new name? Is it hellish and ducking enough for you?"

Lucifer couldn't see Charlie's expression, but he was sure she was grinning while he blushed heavily. He felt embarrassed whenever his daughter brought up his ducks but he tried to ignore her teasing and focus on her question.

"Well... The Hazbin Hotel does have a nice ring to it! I also liked the joke... The 'has been' hotel, it's somewhat clever, I guess!" He answered, the joke was funny enough to make Lucifer laugh, it remembered him of the dad's jokes he used to do with Charlie and his friends.

"I'm happy you like it! Anyway, I was wondering if you could visit us! I mean, I know your agenda is kinda tight and you must be pretty busy with Hell and stuff but—"

"No, no, no! Don't worry about that, I didn't had much to do today," Besides a maybe important meeting with Satan about Hell's hierarchy. Lucifer didn't say that part out loud, though. "I can arrive there in, uh, let me check... Two hours! Is that good for you, Charlie?"

Charlie stayed quiet on the other side of the line before she started jumping out of happiness (Lucifer couldn't see it but he assumed she was jumping by the sound of the ground being hit by a pair of hooves many times). "Yes, yes! That's perfect, dad! It's enough time for me to clean up the place, arrange some decorations and—" She stopped to take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "... Thank you, dad. For everything, really."

Lucifer smiled as he heard his daughter. Even if he thought redemption was impossible, he'd have support Charlie no matter what, he loved his daughter and there was nothing that could change that fact. "Don't thank me sweetie, you were the one that achieved that. Not me, I just helped you through it."

"I'm still thankful, dad. You helped me when I need and you keep helping me whenever I need something... You're an amazing dad. I love you." Lucifer couldn't barely contain the tears that risked to fall from his eyes, but he held back until he answered he loved her back.

As Charlie hang up, Lucifer finally let the tears fall, they fell like a waterfall but he didn't try to stop them. His daughter still loves him after all, she still appreaciates all the silly things he did for her.

After a few minutes of crying, he wiped his eyes and checked the apple shaped clock on his bedroom. Two hours... He sighed, looking around the mess in his room. I could just teleport there but... I should get some things done before I visit Charlie, it's better to do it now than to do it later. And for the next two hours, Lucifer cleaned his room, organized his books, explained the situation to Satan, who was mad at him but he allowed Lucifer to postpone the meeting to Saturday. Thank Father...

When it was finally time to visit Charlie, Lucifer made sure to wear his best clothes. Charlie already knows me but what if she has residents there? Sure, this is Hell but it's better to be safe than sorry!

He took a deep breath before he opened the portal, staring at the hotel's door for two minutes before he stepped in.

It's time to do this.

____

AAAAAnd that's the end... It's more of an epilogue than a chapter, just to give a quick explanation on Charlie's relationship with Lucifer:

• Charlie and Lucifer's relationship is better than in the original series cuz Lucifer would have helped Charlie to create the hotel, they managed to bound through it

• Lucifer was an absent father, that is no difference, what changed was that his friends told him he should try to spend more time with Charlie and that's what he did

• Charlie and Lucifer stopped talking for 7 years after an event on both Charlie and Lucifer's lives that left them scarred, principally on Lucifer's side of the story.

And before you ask, there're some differences on my characters from the originals designs. For example: Lucifer has goat ears, Charlie has them too, both have hooves and it goes that way with many characters! Husk is the same cuz he's already perfect, Angel changed a bit and Nifty is... still Nifty.

Pretty please, tell me your thoughts about it!!