#and sorry I don’t usually put long as feedback on reblogs

[bearlytolerant]

“Okay, stop.” You hold both hands out. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?” You gasp, “Oh, my god–is he your brother?” 

“Wow, time flies by so fast!” Qimir exclaims dramatically, quickly getting up from his stool and practically tripping on his own feet. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna head to bed. Good night!” 

Bahahah okay their banter is excellent but I’m sobbing at this 🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Uh, I… You want me to kiss him?” he asks in confusion. 

Please he’s SO FUNNY 🤣

And then the shift and the “took you long enough” this man makes me ping pong around the room I swearrrrr.

He’s everything.

obvious

✩‌ merchant!qimir x acolyte!reader | fluff | angst | humor | 2.3k

SUMMARY | during an evening of drinking with qimir, he strangely asks if you've ever thought about dating your master.

WARNINGS | kissing, drinking, implications of a spicy time post-story

RATING | teen+

NOTES | again this is probably outside of canon but all i can say is ilq (i love qimir)

///

In the lower level of Qimir’s newest target of a store invasion, several drunken bottles of alcohol and used shot glasses clutter the front counter. You sit across from him on a high stool, as if you were a customer to his bartending. 

Which wasn’t quite far off, since he was the one who poured and bought everything for you tonight. Qimir had called for a celebration; you had successfully raided a small village nearby, seizing all valuable goods and leaving no witnesses behind. You did it for yourself, but also for your anonymous master–the same one Qimir serves. 

While you are your master’s dedicated pupil, Qimir’s tasked with being your resourceful guide. He follows you across the galaxy, always having anything you need at your disposal and knowing where to go, who to find, and how to concoct everything from anything.

Sure, he may be clumsy and occasionally overly inquisitive, but you’ve grown to like him. 

So much that you're retelling the time when a female Gungan tried to fight you in a cantina on Tatooine.

“And so, it turned out they thought I was the one who stole her ex-boyfriend, but it was the human at the table next to mine!”

Qimir breaks into a smile and nearly spits out the lomin ale in his mouth. After a fit of coughing and swallowing his drink, he shakes his head fondly. He seems truly amused and fully relaxed, though perhaps mostly due to the alcohol.

A few beats pass. It's a comfortable silence at first. 

But then he starts playing with the stem of his bottle, and the air slowly begins to shift. It shifts entirely when he asks the next question–

“Why aren't you like this around him?” 

Him referring to your shared master. 

The mixture of spicebrew, lomin ale, Corellian wine, and whatever else you had has lowered your filter completely. You answer frankly, folding out your fingers to list the reasons. 

“Firstly, he needs to get me drunk. Secondly, he’s not you, Qimir. And third, disregarding everything I just said: how do you know I'm not?”

“Am I wrong?” he presses, his eyes fixed on you as he raises an eyebrow and takes another swig of his drink.

“I mean, if he eventually shows his face to me, maybe I could. But until then…” 

Nonchalantly, you lift a shoulder and down the rest of what’s in your cup. After finishing, you lean back onto the counter, resting your chin in your upturned palm, and wait for him to fill your cup again. 

And so he does, but Qimir becomes uncharacteristically pensive. Eyes focused on serving you, rather than on you. After pouring your drink, his playfulness with the bottle turns into a tight-fisted grip. Maybe drunk Qimir was more somber. Quiet.

“Maybe…” His voice drops to a lower, deeper register than you’re used to, his eyes avoiding yours as his mouth tightens. An index finger rhythmically taps against his bottle, like a dooming countdown. “Maybe he’s not sure if you’re loyal enough to see his face.” 

The sudden slamming of your cup against the counter breaks his demeanor, and he’s back to being his usual, easily-startled self. 

“Well, that frustrates the shit out of me because I respect him!” you cry, almost yelling at him. 

Qimir’s gaze sharpens, giving you his entire attention, and you stare back resolutely. Readying yourself, as if confiding in him might reach your master’s ears, wherever he may be. Hell, he probably was listening with a device somewhere on Qimir, on you, or within the store.  

“I obey him. I've killed for him. I’d do anything for him,” your voice slightly wavers, but you push on. “I am literally devoted to him with every breath in my body.” 

There’s a sting in your eyes, but you refuse to let yourself show weakness, even if it’s just Qimir in front of you. Bringing the cup to your mouth, you let the burn scald your throat, drowning any trace of sadness or frustration. 

You chug for some time. After a while, Qimir lifts a hand, but you abruptly stop drinking and interject with a tired chuckle and small smile; he awkwardly drops his hand. 

The serious moment passes swiftly with a twinkle in your eye. You silently thank the alcohol for that.

“Although, maybe that's half a lie.”

In the corner of your vision, you catch the intrigued quirk in Qimir’s eyebrow, along with a flicker of anger. Barely noticeable, but it’s there, and you wonder why he would be angry.

You waggle a finger. “Keep this between us, but”—you lean in closer and drop your voice to a whisper—“I'm probably more devoted to you than to him.”

You exchange a glance, and the expression on his face shifts from seriousness to amusement, the flicker of anger completely dissipated. He mirrors your earlier stance, resting his chin in his palm. 

“That's only because I help you all the time,” he says, granting you a soft smile that reaches his eyes. 

This is a rare moment from Qimir, so you try your best to commit it to memory. Remembering his warm glow, the crinkles around his eyes, and how close he is to you. So close that the hint of the alcohol in his breath brushes your face, but it’s not as strong as you thought it would be.

“Well, there's that…” you admit, nodding, and you break eye contact as you say–

“But you're also my friend, Qimir.”

You barely breathe the last few words out in a whisper, almost as if you were ashamed to say it. But you aren’t–worry merely runs rampant as you fear rejection or something of a similar shade, despite it being just a platonic confession. 

“I am?” 

His reaction causes you to peer back at him. He draws his head back with a tilt, and you’ve never seen him so puzzled before. There’s a brief pause as he gives it some thought, his eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

Then, he nods his head and his lips curl into a crooked, almost cocky, grin. 

“Huh. I guess I am.”

You clutch your chest in jest and muster your best puppy-eyed frown. “Ouch, if I knew this relationship was that one-sided, I would’ve asked him for another one of his followers to replace you.” 

The glimmer in his eyes reads as good-natured, but the blatant flexing of his grip against the edge of the counter says otherwise. 

“You wouldn't.”   

You push back, jutting out your chin and getting close to him again with a flash of a smirk. 

“Oh, I absolutely would.”

You stare at each other, holding your ground. 

But then he breaks the little game when he slightly drags his lower lip between his teeth, followed by a fleeting glance towards your mouth.

Your breathing hitches. 

In an instant, the moment shatters when Qimir clears his throat and pulls back.  

“Do you…” Qimir begins hesitantly, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing a random spot on the counter. He inhales deeply, almost as if he’s steeling himself, then continues, “Have you ever thought you and him could be, like, something more?”

“You mean…” You squint, searching for the right words. “...have I ever thought about dating my master?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

You raise an eyebrow and stare blankly at him. 

“You've met him, right? We’re talking about the same guy?”

Before he answers, he sips again from his bottle. You become entranced by Qimir’s Adam’s apple as it bobs with each glug. Maybe these thoughts were being filtered through beer goggles, but if Qimir wanted to know about your current ranked dating choices, he'd probably be at the top of your list. 

A soft pop sounds as his lips detach from it. The word kissable flashes through your mind. 

“I mean, I know he's not really the talkative type but–”

“But what if he's butt-ass ugly?” you blurt out in a screech, pressing your hands into your cheeks in your drunken state.

“He is not butt-ass ugly,” Qimir cuts in, more defensively than you expect. 

You drop your hands and chortle loudly, so much that it echoes throughout the store. In disbelief, you grin ear to ear. 

“I thought you said you haven't seen him before!” you say, holding out an arm. 

“I—I didn't. Haven't! I haven’t,” he stammers, raising a hand and shaking his head. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “But why must you assume he's ugly?”

You groan, shaking closed fists and tapping them to your forehead. “Why else wouldn’t he take off that stupid mask?” 

You glance up, seeing Qimir’s nostrils flare as he opens his mouth, but you quickly cut him off. 

“And why would I like him that way anyway? All he does is just bark orders and share wise, yet oddly cryptic, phrases.” 

“Hey, so do I,” Qimir retorts, flicking the tip of your nose with his finger. The force he uses makes your nose sting a bit, but you’re sure he didn’t mean to flick you that roughly. In response, you ruffle your nose petulantly. 

You could definitely get used to being like this with Qimir more often. 

“Yeah, but you’re not as cryptic,” you point out, “and he’d be lucky if he was half as handsome as you, Qimir.”

You lightly touch his arm, expecting him to bask in your compliment, but he catches you off guard with a chuckle instead. 

“Why are you laughing at my compliment?” you ask, somewhat hurt.

“I'm just enjoying your company, my”—he hesitates for a second, as if catching himself from saying something else, before meeting your gaze—“my friend.” 

The way he says friend hangs in the air, carrying an unspoken weight. He shakes his head, as if brushing off a thought, and laughs awkwardly. “I’ve gotta get used to that.”

Surprisingly, he continues to dwell on the subject of you and your master. “I mean, if you really think about it, the guy's probably lonely. Probably also likes you a lot more than he lets on and–”

“Okay, stop.” You hold both hands out. “Why are you trying to set me up with him?” You gasp, “Oh, my god–is he your brother?” 

“Wow, time flies by so fast!” Qimir exclaims dramatically, quickly getting up from his stool and practically tripping on his own feet. “It’s getting late, and I’m gonna head to bed. Good night!” 

In the blink of an eye, he’s already darting upstairs to his temporary bedroom. 

“Qimir, answer me!” you call out. “Is he a distant cousin? You must’ve seen him before if he’s related to you.” 

“Good night, my friend!” he hollers back.

“Qimir, get back here!”

“Sweet dreams! And drink some water before you go to bed!” 

Even in moments like these, Qimir still manages to have the final say, his words always laced with the utmost care for you.

///

A few hours go by, the moonlight shining strongly in the night sky. In the comfort of your makeshift bed nestled in one of the corners of the store, you toss and turn aimlessly. Your mind replays everything with Qimir from the last few hours.

And then realization hits you like a sack of duracrete bricks.

You bolt upright up from the bed and switch between muffling a scream in your pillow and smacking it against your face. 

How could you have been so blind to how obvious it all was?

Throwing aside your covers, you carefully and quietly tiptoe upstairs. 

At the top of the stairs, with the help of a few burning candles nearby, you peek at the sight of Qimir snoring softly on his side, arms flopped in different directions; it warms your heart.

You approach and take a seat on the empty side of his bed, summoning courage to gently trace the contours of his face, following the sharp lines of his jaw. He stirs awake moments later, turning to face you directly. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Qimir mumbles groggily. He rubs his eyes. “Everything all right?” 

“Qimir, can you pass a message onto my master?” you ask urgently. 

“Right now?” he groans in annoyance, sitting up. “Can't it wait until morning?” 

“No, I'm sure you can pass it on now. It’s a pretty simple message.” 

You lean in. It’s a quick kiss as your hand rests on his arm. It has to be quick, or else you might change your mind. 

Plush lips press against yours. It’s still and tense for a beat, and then he replies with a slight kiss back. He’s the one who breaks away first, but he leans his forehead against yours.

“Uh, I… You want me to kiss him?” he asks in confusion. 

You slide your hands to the nape of his neck.

“If you mean kissing yourself, then yes, Master.” 

Like flipping a switch, Qimir’s demeanor transforms into something entirely else. His presence intensifies, exuding confidence and strength you’re unused to. His eyes darken, locking onto yours with a gaze that can penetrate your soul. 

His rich, deep voice returns from before, now tinged with authority.

“Took you long enough, my acolyte.”  

This Qimir—your master—moves swiftly with urgency. His grip on your body is firm, almost possessive. His kisses are passionate, his tongue exploring your mouth with fervor. 

“Told you I'm not ‘butt-ass ugly,’” he mumbles, almost growling, between kisses. You giggle, but your giggle quickly turns into a moan as he presses his body firmly into yours.  

“And my mask isn’t stupid. I'll have you know it saved me so many–”

You silence your master with another kiss, focusing on the present and pushing aside debates that could be saved for later.

For now, all you want is to remain in the comfort of his bed, letting the night truly begin, marking the beginning of what your master and you have unknowingly long awaited for. 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hey!!

could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her

Baby, Please.

it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)

word count - 2.4k

authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.

As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.

And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.

You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.

You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.

“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”

“W-what?”

“Were you stress cleaning?”

He laughs, all full and warm.

“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”

He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.

“Carmen, what’s that smell?”

“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”

“Did you… cook for me?”

“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”

It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.

“What was that for?”

“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”

“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.

Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.

“Dinner first. That after.”

“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.

“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”

With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.

All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”

Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.

“I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.

“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”

“Yeah, but… not really.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.

“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”

He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.

“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.

When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.

“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”

“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”

“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”

You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You still want me though, huh?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.

“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?

Who is he to say no to an offer like that?

You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”

Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.

“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”

“Love what?”

His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Being my bitch.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.

Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.

You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.

He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”

“You can do it here.”

He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.

“Happy now?”

“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”

Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.

You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.

“Wait, baby.”

You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”

You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.

“I am more than ready, Carmen.”

When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.

You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.

“Oh, fuck.”

He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.

You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.

“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”

“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.

You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”

“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.

“Talk like that. Fuck.”

“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”

He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.

“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”

Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.

“Baby, please.”

“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”

You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.

“Shit, honey. Fuck. S’good, yeah? So good. Keep going, don’t stop.”

You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.

Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.

You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.

You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.

“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”

Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”

Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.

He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.

You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.

Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.

“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”

@jazminsjaz @buendiabebeta @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You'll Be Home For Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You agree to do a favour for your coworker but it might be more than you can handle.

Character: Clark Kent

Day Nineeen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - fake dating becomes too real.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"I know it sounds weird, but, my mom's getting up there..." Clark looks away as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

You're not sure how he does it. How someone like him can make himself look pathetic. He's a big man. Mountainous really. He dwarfs just about everybody in the office. Even the desks look tiny next to him. And the chisel of his face is so sharp yet in that moment, he looks heart-wrenchingly soft. 

"It's just you two this year?" You ask. 

"Um, yeah," he rubs the back of his neck then drags his hand around and down his chest. He shifts in his chair and clears his throat. "Look, I know I can be nosy but I overheard you and Maggie. You said you don't have any plans this year--" He cringes and leans forward, putting his elbows to the desk as he covers his face then peeks out between his fingers. "It's a dumb idea." 

"It seems like you're pretty stressed," you fold your hands behind you. You don't want to agree with his last statement and make him feel worse. 

"Yeah, after Lois..." he shakes his head, "my mom's convinced I'm going to be alone forever and she keeps telling me how old she's getting. Says she wants to live long enough to see me happy." 

"Wow, sounds worse than my mom," you kid but quickly deflate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to make light." 

"No, it's ridiculous," he heaves and drops his eyes. "I've asked two of my neighbours, I asked my mail lady, and oh, yeah, the girl who made my coffee today. I'm all out of shame." 

"Can I think about it?" You ask. You know you're going to say no, but you don't want to do it right away. 

He perks up and his blue eyes flick to meet yours. His brows rise hopefully and he rolls forward in his chair, "really?" 

"I didn't say yes." 

"But you're the first person not to say no," he smiles. 

Oof, there it is. You've always had a hard time in situations like these. You're a people pleaser in the worst way. 

"Anyway, I should get back to work," you say. 

"When-- when will you know?" He asks. 

You hesitate. 

"End of today?" He suggests. 

You nod. Alright. You just need to get out of there before you cave to that puppy dog sparkle in his eyes. A man who looks like that shouldn't be able to make himself so pitiful. 

✨

You don’t know why you said yes. You really were going to say no but when Clark came back to check in, you weren’t prepared. So absorbed in your work, that you forgot about the odd request. 

So here you are, right beside him, wound as tight as a spring as you try not to show it. It’s not how you imagined spending Christmas. When your typical traditional obligation felt through, you were almost relieved. Now that dread has returned but in a new flavour. Meeting someone else’s family is somehow more intimidating than your mother’s judgement. 

Clark’s own anxiety pales in his knuckles as he drives silently. Only the radio provides some softness in the tension between you. It’s always strange to spend time with coworkers outside the office and now you’re jumping headfirst into their most personal facet. 

You fidget in your seat and let your eyes blur out the window. You didn’t expect his mom to live this far, yet you should have. He’d mentioned before he grew up on a farm. It must have been nice in a way, peaceful, out where you can’t hear the city honking and hollering. 

The snow thickens as you get further into the country. His large truck doesn’t falter as he steers cautiously through snowed over tire tracks. Would the plow even get this far out here? If it did, you don’t imagine it would come very often. 

Your mind latches onto those random things to avoid the obvious. You’ve always been this way. Instead of worrying about your mother lecturing you about your stagnant work situation, you’re usually more concerned with how your hair lays or if she’s going to the like that bottle of wine you spent too much money on for her. 

“Thanks again,” Clark’s baritone rolls over you like thunder. “Really. I know it’s... strange. I’m just not ready to date again but... my mom...” 

“Trust me. I get it. My mom can be... a lot,” you chuckle, though it’s really not that funny. 

“Oh yeah? I didn’t want to be nosy, but...” 

“Right, uh, you know, my brother asked if we could have dinner on Christmas Eve instead and the rest of us agreed. She insisted that Christmas Eve isn’t Christmas...” Your heart picks up with the anxiety you bury deep down. “Well, she cancelled Christmas since no one agreed with her.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Uh, yep,” you can’t look at him. It’s embarrassing. It’s like when your mother dumped your birthday cake in the garbage because you pointed out you were 13 not 12 that year. Or when she walked out of your graduation because your grandmother wouldn’t switch seats. “It’s whatever. Family, right?” 

“I guess,” he says. “My parents always loved holidays too. Especially when dad was around.” 

“I’m sorry about your dad,” you murmur. 

“Don’t be. Sorry if it seems like I keep bringing that up,” he sniffs. 

You look ahead to the sole structure as it looms closer and closer. A farmhouse that comes clearer through the drift of flakes, and a barn like a shadow near its rear corner. It’s like one of those classic festive paintings printed on an advent calendar or some 1950s domestic dream. 

He pulls up to the house and shifts in his seat. Concern needles in his cheek as he squints over the steering wheel. He wrenches the shifter into park and kills the engine. You sit futilely and let him take the lead. 

“Lights are off,” he mutters. 

You nod, unsure what to say. Is something wrong? 

He gets out and you watch the snow dust into his dark hair and across his broad shoulders. He is unfettered by the deep snow. You zip up your coat and turn to your door. You push it open and look out into the perilous carpet. 

Clark surprises you as he comes around. “Here,” he puts his arms out, “it’s deep.” 

You grab his hand and his other goes to your waist. He as good as lifts you and sets you down in the path he’s stomped through the piles. You thank him and awkwardly detach. He shuts the door and moves around you closely. 

He leads the way to the porch so you can walk through his footsteps. Your lashes catch the snow as you look up at the grey sky. You don’t think you’ll make it home that night. Shoot. 

Clark kicks off his boots as he digs in the pocket of his coat and pulls out some keys. He unlocks the door and gestures you in ahead of him. You try to clear off your treads before you enter. He reaches around the frame to flip on the light. 

He crowds you as he enters. You try not to step off the mat and make a mess of the floor. You slip free of your Adidas, not the best choice for the weather, and shuffle aside. He hangs his jackets and combs his fingers through his hair to clear the flakes out. The dark strands glisten with the moisture. 

“Give me your coat,” he reaches for you. 

“Oh, yeah,” you unzip your jacket and hand it over. It isn’t exactly climate appropriate either. You’ve been meaning to invest in winter gear. A lot of times your intentions are only ever that. “Thanks.” 

“Quiet...” he mulls as his eyes skim the ceiling and he hooks your jacket on the rack. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

“Ma’s probably laying down,” he utters with a hint of concern. “I’m gonna go check and see what’s going on.” 

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” 

“No worries. She stays up all night reading,” he shakes his head. “Feel free to make yourself at home.” 

“Right, er, okay.” 

You back up as he passes you. He heads upstairs and you slowly pivot to take in the interior. The pale wood is marked with knots which give it an even more rustic atmosphere and the decor is simple but in a quaintly traditional way. The details etched into the slender drawer of a side table or the dainty trim of the area rug give a lived-in effect. 

You tiptoe into the front room and hug yourself as you feel a draught whisper in around the window. You find the light switch and flip it on to cast more light across the neatly arranged furniture. There's an old-fashioned iron firestove in the middle of the room, the flue built up to the ceiling.  

You can hear Clark moving around above. The rest of the house is silent. You look at the old grandfather clock standing against the wall. It’s just after eleven in the morning. 

You turn as the stairs creak. Clark appears in the doorway with a sober expression. “Mom’s just waking up. It might be a while. She... she’s having a tough day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she sick?” 

“She is and she isn’t. Just getting older, you know? Ever since she broke her hip last year, she’s been a bit slower,” he explains. 

“Oh, gosh, Clark,” you say. “Is there anything I can do to help? You said she was planning on dinner but I can get all that started for her.” 

“Sure, she usually thaws the turkey in the sink overnight,” he says. “We should probably start there.” 

“Right,” you chew your lip. 

“It’s nice of you to offer but if it’s too much--” 

“No, no! It’s cool. I’ve just never stuffed a turkey on my own,” you say. “I was always just an observer.” 

Your mother never believed anything was done right unless she did it herself. Then she’d complain about having to do it. 

“I can help,” he offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan. I think she might appreciate the help, huh?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stares. He clears his throat and nods at last, “she would—will.” 

“Show me where it all is,” you show your palms, not wanting to presume too much. 

He beckons you after him as he leads you through the doorway perpendicular to the one you came through. He turns on another light. This place feels desolate with them off. 

“So uh...” he begins as he goes to the counter and peeks in the sink, “yep, turkey’s in here.” 

“Great, hopefully it’s dethawed,” you say. “Alright, do you mind if I poke around?” 

“It’s all yours. I’ll try to help but gotta be honest, as a kid, I was out in the field,” he stands back to watch you. 

“Right,” you come forward to look the turkey over. Good thing is it won’t need extra time due to being half-frozen. 

“Hum... do you know if your mother does stuffing from scratch or a box?” You turn back to him. 

“Scratch, probably,” he shrugs. 

“Cool, uh, I need bread,” you declare. It’s almost nice being in charge. A very new but refreshing feeling. 

✨

The smell of turkey wafts from the stove as you work at the other fixings. You follow the list on the fridge. The paper is a bit yellowed but you can read it nonetheless. At least Clark’s mother is a planner. Although a few of her ingredients are a bit... aged. Nothing you can’t use but the spices have a little extra dust on the caps. 

Clark appears again. He’s been pacing in and out, helping where he can, but he seems too restless to focus. You tap pause on your phone to stop the music. You don’t get any signal out here but you have a bunch downloaded. It helps ease the silence that thickens with the fall of snow. 

“So, how’s mom? She doing okay?” You ask. 

“Mom?” He hesitates, “yeah, she’s getting there. Sorry about this. I know the whole reason you did this was to make her happy. For me. I just didn’t expect--” He blows out a heavy breath and leans on the counter. “It’s hard when you get older and everyone you love starts to leave. Or change.” 

Your heart flickers. You try not to frown too deep, “I’m sorry, Clark.” You look back down at the bowl of soaking cranberries. You take your family for granted. The might be a little toxic but they’re there. 

“Not your fault. I just... I thought I had it figured out with Lois. Everyone was happy and my mom was ecstatic,” he clutches his hands together. You meet his eyes sheepishly. “I just wanted her to be that way again. And you’re so sweet and nice.” 

“Aw, Clark. Well, you know, I should thank you. At least I’m not alone on Christmas,” you try to pep yourself up. “Um, I gotta wait for these cranberries a little long. Could I use the bathroom?” 

“Right, er, it’s just down the hall,” he points towards the second doorway that interconnects with the same hallway that leads back to the stairs. 

“Thanks,” you wipe your hands on a dishcloth and leave him with a thin smile. 

As you flit out, your chest sinks. You think of everything you’ve said since you got there, how insensitive it must have seemed. And back in the car when you complained about your mom. Ugh, he must think you’re so ungrateful. 

You close yourself in the bathroom and tend to your business. You’d been holding it since he picked you up from your building. You wash your hands, pumping the soap bottle hard to dislodge a clog in the tube. You finally finish up but find the smell of mildew stuck to your hands from the towel. 

You come out of the bathroom and look up and down the hallway. You shift to see the framed picture a bit better. Those must be his parents, and little Clark. You can’t believe he was ever that small. 

There are other pictures across the table below. A cluster of frames; class photos, impromptu snaps of memories, and posed family shots. Beneath one, there’s a slip of paper. You try not to be intrusive but the fading font catches your eye. You lean in as you tilt the frame to see the full letter, the card bent and forgotten beneath. 

‘Our condolences. We were so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing. Please do let us anything we can do for you.’ The message is signed Mallory and Chuck. You blink in confusion. Maybe it’s an old card meant for his mother; for a grandparent. 

“She died last year,” Clark startles you so you whip up and nearly tip as you stand straight. “It’s my first Christmas without her,” he continues. “I’m sorry I lied but I didn’t want to be alone.” 

You shake your head. Confusion swells through your stomach and clouds your brain. The fog clears and your eyes wander up to the ceiling. 

“Your mom?” 

“I miss her,” his voice cracks. “She took care of me.” 

“Oh, well, yeah,” you quaver unevenly. You’re reeling. Why would he lie about that? And to get you here? You’re just coworkers. “That must be hard.” 

“Mhm,” he nods and pouts. As he comes closer, you tense, wavering with his steps. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Your lips part then close. The wind whistles outside and reminds you of how isolated this place is. Clark drove you here... 

“I’m just... wondering why you need to lie,” you eke out. 

“I know it’s wrong but... if I told the truth, you might say no.” 

You nod and as he reaches for you, you wince away. You hug yourself and push your shoulders up. You swallow, “Clark, what is the truth? Why am I here?” 

He tilts his head and his eyes drift to the side. The light fades in his pupils and his jaw clenches. His fingers twiddle by his leg. 

“To be with me,” he looks at you again and smiles. A smile shadowed sinisterly beneath the worn bulb above. “You’re alone too.” 

You stare at him. Terror floods your veins and paralyses you. You want to turn and run but you won’t get far. All you can do is bide your time and hope that you can find a chance and way to get out. But for now, with him so close, so much bigger, you have to pretend. That is exactly what he asked you to do, after all. 

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?” 

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover. 

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so. 

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.” 

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.  

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath. 

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in. 

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing. 

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?” 

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you. 

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table. 

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.  

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into. 

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf. 

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream. 

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew. 

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with. 

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter. 

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall. 

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear. 

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum. 

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you. 

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[23victoria]

six thrity

pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cussing, rude reporter, sexual innuendos, lil angsty, fluff, semi-complicated relationship

authors note: i’m so sorry if this is bad, i’m trying to finish up this 1k celebration cause i def made it too long but that’s my fault lol, also i’m almost at 2k…you guys are insane wtf, thank you, bedsides that ignore any typos, any feedback, comments, reblogs, are appreciated and i hope you enjoy!!

wanna be apart of my taglist?! CLICK HERE!

f1 masterlist 1k celebration

The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the bustling paddock at Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya. It was Carlos Sainz's home race, and the atmosphere was electric. Fans waved flags adorned with his number, and the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. You watched from a distance as Carlos navigated his way through the media zone, his expression a mix of focus and polite detachment.

It was media day, and Carlos was in his element, handling the questions with the ease of a seasoned driver. You stood near the paddock's edge, trying to blend in with the sea of team members, engineers, and journalists, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. Despite the numerous interviews he had done over the past few days, Carlos never failed to flash that charming smile that had you falling for him in the first place. Today, however, there was an edge to his demeanor, something just beneath the surface that only you, someone who knew him so intimately, could detect.

From your spot, you could hear bits and pieces of the questions being thrown at him. They started as the usual race-related queries about tire strategies, car performance, and his thoughts on the competition. Carlos answered them with the poise of a driver who had been through this routine countless times.

But then, the questions shifted. The reporter in front of him, a man you recognized from a particularly notorious tabloid, changed his tone, his voice taking on an almost casual disregard that immediately put you on edge.

"Carlos, you've had an impressive season so far," the reporter began, and you could see Carlos nodding along, a polite smile on his face. "But let's talk about something a bit more personal, shall we? There have been some rumors floating around about your relationship with Y/N. Everyone knows you come from a well-off family and have a successful career ahead of you. But don’t you think Y/N, with her background, might not really fit into this world? Some people are saying she's with you for the status, that she might be out of her depth here. How do you respond to that?"

Your heart sank, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. The reporter’s tone was dripping with condescension as if he were speaking about something trivial, not your life, your relationship. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of humiliation and anger, every fiber of your being wanting to rush over there and demand he take it back. But before you could even move, you saw Carlos’s posture stiffen, the polite smile on his face faltering as the question fully registered.

For a moment, the paddock seemed to fall silent, the world narrowing down to just the two of you and that reporter. Carlos’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. His smile faltered, confusion clouding his expression. His brows furrowed as the full weight of the question settled on him. It wasn’t about racing anymore; it was an attack on the woman he loved.

"Perdón, ¿qué dijiste?" Carlos's voice was low, measured, but there was a dangerous edge to it that you had never heard before. It was the kind of tone that warned of a storm brewing beneath the surface.

The reporter, clearly not expecting the reaction, stammered, "I-I was just asking if—"

Carlos didn’t let him finish. "No, no. Who do you think you are to disrespect my girlfriend like that? Do you think you can speak about her like she’s some kind of accessory or fling?" 

Carlos straightened in his posture, his gaze turning steely as he locked eyes with the reporter. "Are you serious right now?" he began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of anger. "I think you’re gravely mistaken if you believe Y/N is with me for any reason other than love."

The journalist opened his mouth to interject, but Carlos held up a hand, cutting him off. The room was utterly silent now, every eye fixed on Carlos as he continued.

"Let me tell you something about Y/N," he said, his voice firm. "She is one of the most intelligent, driven, and compassionate people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t need me or anyone else to define her worth. In fact, I’m the lucky one in this relationship, not her. I wake up every day grateful that she chose to let me be a part of her life."

Carlos’s eyes blazed with intensity as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of his conviction. "Y/N isn’t just some accessory to me or anyone else in this world. She’s built her life on her own terms, with her own strength and brilliance. She’s accomplished so much without the privileges that others might take for granted, and she’s done it all with integrity and grace."

The reporter shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Carlos wasn’t done. His voice grew more impassioned as he continued, "Y/N doesn’t need me to validate her existence. She’s fiercely independent, and she’s made it clear that she stands on her own two feet. But she chose to be with me, and that’s something I never take for granted. Every day I am humbled by her presence in my life. She inspires me to be a better man, and I strive to be worthy of her love."

Carlos leaned forward slightly, his gaze never wavering from the reporter’s. "So, to suggest that she’s with me for status or that she doesn’t belong in this world is not only disrespectful to her but also profoundly ignorant. Y/N belongs wherever she chooses to be, and if you can’t see that, then that’s your problem, not hers."

The silence that followed was deafening. Carlos’s words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and emotion. The journalist who had asked the question looked visibly shaken, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Carlos’s response.

But Carlos wasn’t finished. Switching to Spanish, his tone softened slightly, but the edge of protectiveness remained. "No tienes ni idea de quién es ella," he said, his voice low but firm. "Ella es la mujer más increíble que he conocido. Mi madre siempre me enseñó a valorar a las personas por quienes son, no por lo que tienen, y Y/N es el mejor ejemplo de eso. Ella es amable, fuerte, y mucho más inteligente de lo que puedes imaginar. No necesitas mi vida para brillar, ya lo hace por su cuenta. Yo soy el afortunado aquí, no ella."

Carlos’s gaze swept across the room, making sure his words were fully absorbed by everyone present. He then fixed his eyes on the reporter once more. "And as for your question about her ‘fitting in,’" he added, now back in English, "Y/N doesn’t have to fit into anyone’s expectations. She’s too extraordinary for that. So let me make this clear: If anyone should be worried about ‘fitting in,’ it’s not her—it’s anyone who doesn’t see her value."

You watched, stunned, as Carlos ripped into the reporter with a ferocity that left no room for doubt. The entire paddock seemed to hold its breath, everyone frozen as they witnessed Carlos’s fierce defense of you. But he wasn’t done. Switching to rapid Spanish, he unleashed a tirade that had the reporter shrinking back in fear.

"Eres una vergüenza. No tienes ningún respeto. Claramente, tu madre no te crió bien, porque si lo hubiera hecho, sabrías cómo tratar a las personas con dignidad. Eres un pedazo de mierda por hablar así de mi novia."

("You're a disgrace. You have no respect. Clearly your mother didn't raise you right, because if she had, you'd know how to treat people with dignity. You're a piece of shit for talking about my girlfriend like that.")

You understood enough Spanish to catch the general gist of his words, but the intensity with which he delivered them left you reeling. The Carlos you knew was calm, composed, always in control. But here he was, publicly tearing apart a journalist who had dared to insult you, and doing so with a passion that made your heart race.

As Carlos’s assistant finally intervened, gently pulling him away from the confrontation, you noticed that Carlos didn’t hesitate for a second before turning and striding toward you. The fury in his eyes softened the moment they met yours, and without a word, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if anchoring himself to you.

He led you away from the paddock, away from the prying eyes and whispering voices, his grip on your hand firm yet comforting. You barely registered where he was taking you, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred up by the encounter. It wasn’t until you found yourself in the quiet sanctuary of Carlos’s private motorhome, the door closing behind you, that reality finally caught up.

Carlos turned to you, his expression filled with concern as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. "Cariño, are you okay? I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I should have protected you better."

You blinked up at him, still trying to process everything that had just happened. "I… I didn’t know you felt that way about me."

Carlos frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, your voice trembling as you spoke. "I know we’ve been together for a year, but with you always traveling and everything, we’ve probably only seen each other for half of that time. And with everything… sometimes I wonder if you’re going to stay with me at all. I thought eventually you’d get tired of me, maybe decide you wanted to be with someone else, someone more like you. Someone who understands your world better."

Your words hung in the air, heavy and raw, the weight of your insecurities finally laid bare. You had never wanted to confront these fears, had always pushed them aside, but now, in the wake of Carlos’s fierce defense, they came spilling out uncontrollably.

Carlos’s eyes widened in shock, his hands trembling slightly as he moved them to your shoulders, grounding himself in your presence. "No, mi amor, no. I had no idea I was making you feel that way. I didn’t realize I was making you doubt how much I love you." His voice was thick with regret, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how he could have missed this.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, ashamed of the vulnerability you were exposing. "It’s just… I know I can be a lot sometimes. I get jealous easily, and I know that’s not fair to you. You have so many people around you, beautiful women who are more your type, who are part of your world. And I’m just… me. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a distraction for you, someone you’ll eventually outgrow."

Carlos’s heart broke at your words, the self-doubt that had been gnawing at you for months finally coming to light. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his expression filled with nothing but love and adoration.

"Listen to me, cariño," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "You are not just ‘you.’ You are the woman I love, the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care where you come from, what your background is, or what anyone else thinks. You are the most important person in my life. No one else compares to you. Not models, not actresses, no one. I want you, and only you."

You stared at him, your breath hitching as you tried to comprehend the depth of his words. "But… what about all the times you were away? All the events and races where I wasn’t with you? Didn’t you ever feel like… like I was holding you back?"

Carlos shook his head, his grip on you tightening as if to physically reassure you of his feelings. "Never. Every time I’m away from you, all I think about is getting back to you. Every race, every event, I wish you were there with me. You’re not holding me back; you’re the reason I push forward. Because I want to build a future with you, a life where we’re always together. I’ve been a fool not to realize how my absence was affecting you, and for that, I’m so sorry, Y/N."

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks, but they were tears of relief, of finally hearing the words you had longed to hear for so long. "I just… I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared that one day you’d wake up and realize I wasn’t enough."

Carlos’s eyes softened, his thumb wiping away your tears as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "You are more than enough, mi amor. You are everything. And I promise you, I’m going to spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me. I’ll make more time for us, for you. This summer break, I’m going to show you how much I love you, how much I’m in love with you."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you sniffled, the tension in your chest slowly unraveling. "Even if I want to do silly things?" you asked softly, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to keep the emotions in check. You felt vulnerable, laying your insecurities bare, but there was also a strange sense of relief in finally speaking them aloud.

Carlos smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He gently stroked your hair, his touch soothing. "Yes, cariño. Even if you want to do silly things."

You bit your lip, feeling a little more confident as you continued. "Even if I want to play video games at 2 a.m. or cook some food in the middle of the night because I woke up hungry?"

Carlos chuckled softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Especially that. I’ll be right there with you, heating up the stove or grabbing the controller. Whatever makes you happy, I’m in."

You felt your heart swell with his words, but there was still a small, nagging doubt that you couldn’t quite shake. "And what if I want to go to the beach at 6:30 in the morning to watch the sunrise? Or even go during the sunset to… you know…maybe have beach sex" You trailed off, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the idea you were about to suggest.

Carlos’s smile grew wider, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He gently pulled you closer by the waist, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Especially for that. Beach sex sounds like the perfect way to start or end the day."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and full of relief. "So, you’re really okay with all my crazy ideas?"

Carlos pulled back slightly, his expression turning serious as he cupped your face in his hands once more. "Y/N, I love everything about you. Your quirks, your spontaneity, the way you think about the little things that make life more fun. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. You make my life better in every way, and I want to be a part of all your crazy ideas. As long as we’re together, I’m happy."

His words wrapped around your heart, soothing every lingering fear and doubt that had been gnawing at you. The tears that had welled up earlier now flowed freely, but this time, they were tears of happiness, of gratitude, of love.

"I love you so much, Carlos," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Carlos leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss that spoke of all the love he had for you. His hands moved to your back, pulling you flush against him as if he couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch of space between you. You melted into his embrace, your arms wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you shared a quiet moment of intimacy.

"I love you too, Y/N," Carlos murmured, his voice low and full of sincerity. "More than you’ll ever know."

You smiled softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in months. "Thank you for standing up for me back there. I’ve never seen you like that before."

Carlos sighed, his expression darkening slightly as he remembered the confrontation with the reporter. "I’m sorry you had to hear that. I hate that people talk about you like that, as if you’re not the most important person in my life. I won’t let anyone disrespect you like that ever again."

You gently placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "It’s okay, Carlos. You don’t have to fight every battle for me. I’m stronger than I look."

Carlos chuckled, the sound deep and comforting. "I know you are, cariño. But I’ll still protect you whenever I can. That’s what a man does for the woman he loves."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his feelings reflected in them. This was the man you had fallen in love with, the man who would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy. And in that moment, all your fears and insecurities seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment.

"Do you really mean it?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "When you said I’m your future wife?"

Carlos’s expression softened, and he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Yes, mi amor. I meant every word. I see a future with you, a life where we’re together, where we build something beautiful. I want to marry you, have a family with you, grow old with you. You’re it for me, Y/N."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you believe that everything he said was true. A tear slipped down your cheek, and Carlos quickly wiped it away with his thumb, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that," you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. "I’ve been so scared, Carlos. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize I’m not enough for you."

Carlos shook his head, his eyes filled with love and determination. "No, cariño. You are more than enough. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and more. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner how my actions were making you feel. But I promise you, from now on, I’ll make sure you never have to doubt my love for you again."

You smiled through your tears, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Thank you, Carlos. Thank you for loving me."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Always, mi amor. Always."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he held you close. The doubts that had plagued you for so long seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of certainty that you hadn’t felt before. Carlos loved you, truly and deeply, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to fully believe it.

After a few moments of silence, Carlos pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "So, about that beach idea…"

You laughed, feeling a sense of lightness return to the conversation. "You really want to do that?"

Carlos grinned, his expression mischievous. "With you? Absolutely. I’m down for anything you want, cariño. Especially if it means spending more time with you."

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you, Carlos."

He smiled against your lips, his hands gently caressing your back. "And I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ taglist: @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @tellybearryyyy @magixpracticality @eoduuung @danieldaviddarren33 @flowerpetalk @goldenroutledge

[elllisaaa]

Svt reaction to first time kissing their cheek 🤭

first time kissing seventeen cheek

-> pairing : svt × gn!reader

-> words count : 3k words

-> genre : fluff

-> sorry if I made any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | svt masterlist

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

It was on one of the rare days where you were both off of work. You took advantage of that to sleep later than usual, and when you woke up, Cheol was already ready to start his day. You could hear noises and the distant sound of music coming from the kitchen, and you followed the enticing scent of whatever your boyfriend was cooking. You came up behind him, circling his waist with your arms and pressing yourself against his back. All this felt so domestic, it made Seungcheol’s heart crave for more of these little moments. You haven’t been together for long, but instants like these made him realize how attached to you he was. He turned around to look at you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear : “Good morning baby, did you sleep well ?” You nodded, and stood on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek softly. “Thank you for the breakfast Cheolie, bet it tastes amazing.” The look on his face made you giggle a little before he engulfed you in a big hug. He didn’t want you to see how flustered he was, but he was dying inside over how cute you were.

YOON JEONGHAN

“It’s 2 am Y/N, I’m not going to go get you ice cream now, can’t you wait until tomorrow ?” - “Please Hannie ! I’ll do anything you want !” The mischievous smile spreading on Jeonghan’s lips told you that maybe, you shouldn’t have said that. You knew how much of a menace he was, and maybe you should be afraid of what he was going to ask for in exchange for the chocolate ice cream you’ve been craving. “Anything I want ?” - “Yes, I just want my ice cream.” - “Okay. Then kiss my cheek.” You looked at him in disbelief. You were waiting for something more demanding, like doing some chores for him, or buying him dinner the next time you would go out together. But no, and you smiled at the pout aborning his lips when you took too long to give him his kiss. You leaned over the kitchen counter and kissed his cheek, smiling even more when you noticed the faint blush covering his cheeks. “You could’ve just asked for a kiss if you wanted one, Hannie.” - “Don’t push your luck, or you’re not getting your ice cream.” You kissed his cheek again, and suddenly, he was willing to go out every night to get you ice cream. 

HONG JOSHUA

You’ve been working on your assignment for almost two hours when Joshua came back from work. You greeted him and asked him if he had a good day, while still writing and taking notes about your homework. “You should take a break angel.” - “Yeah, I know, I just want to finish this part and then I’ll stop for today.” He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen to bring you and himself a glass of water. He knew you too well, and when you were studying all day long, you didn’t always think about drinking water or even eating. Joshua saw a plate beside you, so he knew you had food, but he couldn’t spot any sign of water. He put the glass of water beside your laptop and kissed your forehead once more. But before he could go back to the kitchen to prepare dinner for both of you, you grabbed him by his wrist. “Thank you Shua.” And just like that, you kissed his cheek before casually going back to your assignment. But you must know that when you kissed him, he would always kiss you back, and give you one hundred more for the fun of it. 

MOON JUNHUI

Jun had asked you to come over tonight, because he missed you and because he had a long day and needed to see you to completely relax. Both of you were currently laying in his bed and cuddling, laptop open with a movie playing. When you started to move around as if you wanted to get up, Jun whined and tried to pull you back, but you only giggled and still got out from under the covers. “I’m just going to the bathroom baby ! I’ll be back before you know it.” But your boyfriend was sulking, and even if he was cute, you had the perfect idea in mind to distract him. You leaned in and kissed his cheek before running out of his room. Jun stayed there, fingers brushing against the spot you just kissed. When what you did really hit him, he felt his cheeks heat up immediately. And he was still trying to process this kiss when you came back and snuggled up to him again. “You can’t do that, baby !”, he scolded you. “Why’s that ?” - “Because you’re too cute, you’re going to kill me one of these days !” But you just smiled, and kissed his cheek again. Yeah, you were definitely going to kill him. 

KWON SOONYOUNG

“But I was saving these cookies for today specifically ! And you ate them ! That’s a betrayal !” Soonyoung had been screaming for almost five minutes about the last cookies you ate, and how you couldn’t even consider yourself his partner if you did things like this. Obviously, you weren’t taking these comments to heart because he was always like this when it came to food. And honestly, you knew Soonyoung had a long week and that he was probably tired. “I’m sorry baby, I really didn’t know you were saving them. Next time let me know and I won’t touch them, okay ? I promise.” Your boyfriend huffed, arms crossed on his chest as he stared at the empty pack of cookies still sitting on the kitchen counter. You grabbed his hands, forcing him to uncross his arms and let you step closer. “I’ll go and buy you new cookies, how’s that sound ?” - “Good…” You smiled and decided to kiss him in hopes it would cheer him up. Your plan must have worked because the next second he was holding you close and telling you all about his shitty day at work while you were caressing his hair. All he needed was a little push. 

JEON WONWOO

Since you knew Wonwoo and his members would have a long day of practice because of the comeback coming soon, you doubted that he would take time to take care of himself today. So you decided to take it upon yourself and bring them all food and drinks, and it also allowed you to spend at least one hour with your boyfriend. Because between his job and yours, it was sometimes difficult to spend time together. And Wonwoo would’ve sworn he fell even more in love with you - if it was even possible - when you entered the practice room, with your arms full of bags filled with food for everyone. The fact that you were loving his members as much as he did, and that you took care of them and he was warming up his heart. “You didn’t have to do all that pretty.” - “I know, but I also know you wouldn’t have stopped for a minute if I didn’t come by. And you need to rest.” - “You’re an angel, I’m so lucky to have you.” You smiled at him, and kissed his cheek before handing him a bag filled with his favorite food. Wonwoo kissed you back, heart beating faster and with the conviction that he would marry you one day. 

LEE JIHOON

You often come by your boyfriend’s studio. Because of his hectic schedule, it was not always easy to go out on dates, or for dinner. But both of you preferred to stay in, and you loved to stay with him when he was working on his music. You found it fascinating that he could create such melodies as if it was natural for him, and he was always willing to explain everything he was doing to you. Plus, you were his muse, his inspiration, so it really was a win-win that you were there with him so often. But some nights, he would stay very late, and you would always end up falling asleep on the couch or on Jihoon’s lap. Tonight was one of those nights. You had a tiring day at work, but you still insisted on coming to see him and ended up falling asleep in his arms. “Can we go home soon ?” Your sleepy voice straddled Jihoon, and he pushed your hair away from your face, smiling at seeing you still half-asleep. “Yes jagi, I’m almost finished.” - “Okay… I love you.” And you kissed his cheek before nuzzling back into his neck and going back to sleep. But Jihoon couldn’t get over it, smiling like a lovesick fool - which he was because he immediately wrapped up his things and got you back home.

LEE SEOKMIN

“I’m home baby !” Seokmin announced as he took off his shoes, and dropped the bag full of food on the kitchen counter. You were too busy today to go grocery shopping, so your boyfriend offered to do it instead when he got off of work. He started to put away everything that needed to be refrigerated, while you got out of your office to help him. You worked from home today, and you had a lot to do, but you could at least take a break to help Seokmin. You kissed his shoulder and you passed behind him to put away everything that was going in the cupboards. “How was your day, baby ?” - “It was normal, nothing to say about it, except the fact that Soonie came to practice with a new tiger shirt.” - “I can’t say I’m surprised.” You rummaged through the bag until you found something that caught your attention. It was one of your favorite snacks, but they were hard to find, and the only shop that was selling them was thirty minutes away. “Did you get them just for me ?” - “Oh, yeah ! Thought you might use them with all the stressful things you have to deal with this week.” Maybe it was just your long day that was catching up with you, or your boyfriend’s sweetness, but you could almost feel tears pricking your eyes. You stepped towards Seokmin and kissed his cheek. “Thank you Minnie.” The boy chuckled and kissed your cheek right back, the biggest smile illuminating his face. “I’m always here for you baby.”

KIM MINGYU

It was Mingyu’s first date with you, and he was so nervous he thought he would pass out before he even got the chance to go out with you. He had been trying to grow the balls to ask you out for almost two years. You were one of Minghao’s friends, and he presented you to his members when you came back to Korea after having done your studies abroad. And Mingyu fell in love with you on the spot. He tried to get close to you over these two years, and also tried to gather enough courage to ask you out on a date. But when he finally succeeded, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, as if the universe was reminding him that you were way out of his league, and that it was a miracle that you agreed. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, it wasn’t how I imagined our first date. It probably was the worst one you’ve ever had and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to see me again.” Mingyu felt bad, because he had promised you a dinner at a fancy restaurant, and that you dressed in consequence but you ended up eating an ice cream while walking around a random park in your classy outfits. “What are you talking about ? It was literally the best date of my life. I’ve never laughed so much during a date, and I must be honest, I prefer to spend time with you rather than these fancy restaurants. I like you anyways Gyu.” You stopped him in his tracks, grabbing his hand in yours and kissing his cheek. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect date, but it was for Mingyu who couldn’t help the blush and smile spreading on his cheeks as he walked by your side, fingers intertwined with yours. 

XU MINGHAO

You were aware of how much Minghao loved his members, and of how much they meant to him, so that was why you were so anxious about how it would go. You wanted to make a good impression on them, because you hoped your relationship would last, even if it was fairly new, you really liked him and didn’t want to fuck it up. And your boyfriend was so sweet about it, telling you that they were a lot to handle, but that if you stayed yourself, they would undoubtedly appreciate you. Minghao held your hand under the table the whole night, his thumb unconsciously brushing against your knuckles and sometimes giving it a little squeeze to reassure you. When both of you left and he walked you home, you were still holding hands. “- Do you think it went well ?” - “It did honey, don’t worry. How could they not like you ? You’re amazing.” You chuckled shyly, and kissed his cheek before turning your head away from his intense stare. “I was anxious mainly because I knew how important it was for you, and I plan on staying in your life for a little while, so I wanted to get along with them.” Minghao pulled you closer to him by your hand so he could kiss the crown of your hair. “Good thing they appreciated you, and good thing I want you to stay for as long as you want to, then.”

BOO SEUNGKWAN

You wanted to surprise your boyfriend by coming to his concert to see him perform. You never had the chance to, and you were dying to. So when he told you about their concert that was going to be on one of your days off, you jumped on the occasion. But you wanted it to be a complete surprise, so you told him you couldn’t come, and did anyway. The moment Seungkwan saw you in the crowd, his vision got blurry because of his tears, but he tried to keep his composure anyway. But as soon as he was backstage and he saw you smiling at him with your arms open, he didn’t hesitate one bit before running to you. “You told me you couldn’t come, you liar.” Seungkwan wanted to sound tough and tease you but he was just so happy that you were here, he couldn’t help the smile spreading on his lips. “I wanted to surprise you.” - “Well… You did.” You chuckled and held him tighter, turning your head to the side so you could kiss his cheek. “You did so good, baby, I’m so proud of you.” Seungkwan felt like he could cry again, but he simply held you closer, overwhelmed by the feeling of being loved, by the feeling of being loved by you. And words couldn’t even express how much this simple kiss meant to him. 

CHWE HANSOL

Taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t work this weekend, you decided to spend a calm and relaxing afternoon with your boyfriend at home. He currently had his head resting on your lap, laying on the couch while you were quietly playing with his hair and holding your book with the other one. You were not the most social person, and you always preferred to stay in rather than going out, and you were glad that Hansol was just like you. Some music was playing as a background noise, and you couldn’t help but smile at seeing your boyfriend so peaceful. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, before going back to your book like nothing happened. But Hansol just stared up at you with the most lovestruck gaze, flustered. You looked down at him once more, a little smirk playing on your lips. “What ?” - “You never did this before.” - “Oh, yeah, I won’t do it again if you don’t like it. You just looked cute like that.” And Hansol felt the need to look away from you, because it didn’t feel right to make eye contact with the deity you were. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again.” You giggled heartedly and kissed his other cheek, your smile widening when Hansol nuzzled against your tummy to hide his blush. And both of you were asking yourselves how you could’ve been so lucky to find each other. 

LEE CHAN

“Love ?” - “Hm ?” - “Could you teach me one of your choreography one day ?” Chan turned to you so quickly it was comical. He had been begging you to let him teach you some of his group dances even before you started to go out together, but you always insisted that you weren’t good at dancing and didn't want to embarrass yourself, especially knowing that your boyfriend was one of the best dancers of the country. So to know that you were giving in made him feel over the moon. “Of course baby !” And that’s how you found yourself in a dance studio, learning the choreo of Chan’s solo song. Even if you couldn’t compete with your boyfriend's style and flow, you were still managing - God knows how - to keep up with him and not look too ridiculous. and even when you felt like you did everything the wrong way, Chan was complimenting you, a big , proud smile on his face. As you were leaving the company, you kissed him on his cheek, making him stop in his tracks and touching the spot you kissed with his eyes wide open. “What was that for ?” - “It’s me paying you back for teaching me your choreo even if I’m not as good as you.” He rolled his eyes and took your hand in his, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Stop it, you know I’ve been begging for you to dance with me. Plus you could’ve been an idol with the way you’re dancing.” You knew it wasn’t true, but in his eyes, it was.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

svt taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@lil-kpopstan @hann1bee @iraisswiftie @bewoyewo @lichyuu @foxinnie8

[candycandy00]

The Maiden’s Voyage - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 3

You’re a passenger on a ship attacked by pirates. The pirate captain Sukuna chooses you to be his entertainment for the voyage.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a Pirate Captain. Noncon/Rape! Very rough sex! Bondage. Violence. Blood. Spanking (with belt). Sukuna is a cruel, sadistic monster here! You’ve been warned!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! There will be multiple parts because I got really attached to this idea and it was getting too long. Any feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. will make my day sunny and bright! 💖 Dividers by @benkeibear!

Pure, unbridled terror overwhelms you as Captain Sukuna drags you back into his quarters and slams the door shut behind him. He’s angry, you can feel it even though he’s still wearing his regular, smug expression. The fact that he’s not outwardly showing his rage is somehow even scarier. 

“Sukuna, I’m sorry! I-“

He suddenly rips the dress over your head, cutting off your pleading voice. You’ve been naked in this room many times, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. You curl in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your body as you shrink away from him. 

“Do you know what I usually do to women who try to escape?” he asks, stepping closer to you. 

You shake your head, tears pouring down your face. 

He grins. “I use a hammer to break their ankles. Then I force them to dance for me.”

You look him in the eyes. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?”

He stares at you, and for a brief moment, the smirk disappears, and an unreadable expression replaces it. But it only lasts a moment before he grins again. “No. I don’t want to hinder your ability to get on your knees for me. You suck my cock so well after all.”

Sukuna puts his hand on your face, wiping your tears gently. “But I have to punish you. You understand that, right? So I’m going over options in my mind.” His hand moves, his thumb brushing over your lips. “I could break your fingers one by one. Watching you try to jack me off with your little mangled fingers might be exciting. Or I could dig one those pretty eyes out of its socket and keep it as a souvenir.”

You flinch as his fingers come dangerously close to one of your eyes. Both his hands are on you now, pulling your arms away from your body. “Of course the easiest way would be to hand you over to my crew for the night, let them take turns fucking all your holes.”

All you can do is look up at him with teary eyes, the occasional shudder or hiccup shaking your body. 

“But I don’t like sharing my toys,” he says, one hand moving to your hair while the other slides down to lightly grope your breast. He jerks your head back by your hair, then kisses you roughly. When he pulls away, he says in that smooth voice of his, “Thirty lashes. With my belt.”

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him right. 

“That’s the punishment I decided on. I’ll give you thirty lashes. That’s the standard on this ship, though we use a whip on the men. I’ll be extremely lenient with you and use my belt.”

You blink away your tears. Being whipped with a belt will surely be painful and humiliating, but it’s far better than broken bones or gouged out eyes. “Why?” you find yourself asking him. “Why be lenient with me?”

He pulls you closer, your body flush against his. “Because I don’t want to completely break you just yet. You’re so delicate,” he says, his large hands moving over your nude, trembling body, “the slightest little thing could crush you. I’m not done playing with you yet.”

You shudder under his touch, his fingers ghosting over your bruises. The room isn’t cold, but you feel an inexplicable chill. 

“Now get on the bed, on your hands and knees,” he commands. 

You do as you’re told, not wanting to anger him any further. When you’re on the bed, facing his headboard, you suddenly feel shaky on his firm mattress. “L-like this?” you ask. 

“Raise your ass higher,” he says, “and spread your knees.” 

You glance back at him in time to see him pulling his shirt off, those mesmerizing tattoos moving with his taut muscles as he unbuckles his thick leather belt. 

He’s seen every inch of you so many times by now, but somehow you feel more embarrassed than usual as you follow his orders. You move your knees far apart and lean slightly forward so that your ass lifts higher than the rest of you. In this position, your pussy is totally exposed. You bury your face in his sheets, mortified. 

“Keep your face up,” he says, stepping closer and wrapping one end of his belt around his fist. “I want to enjoy the expressions you make.”

You look over your shoulder at him as he stands behind you. “Monster,” you mutter under your breath. 

“What was that?” 

“N-nothing!”

He grins, his red eyes seeming to glow menacingly. “I’ll show you a monster.” 

Then, he swings the belt down, hitting it right across both your ass cheeks with enough force to knock your body forward a few inches on the bed. Fresh tears fill your eyes at the pain. You didn’t think it would hurt this much! 

Whack! 

The second hit is somehow worse than the first, and you choke back a sob. You’re supposed to endure thirty of these?!

Whack!

You clamp your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming. In your mind, you’re repeating a mantra: it’s better than broken bones! It’s better than broken bones! 

Whack!

This one hit directly where a previous strike had, and it occurs to you that there’s only so much space on your ass. Meaning most of the hits are going to be on already damaged flesh. 

Whack! 

You whimper, finally letting pitiful cries escape you. 

Sukuna pauses, stepping around to the side to look at your face. “Don’t tell me you’re breaking already,” he says in a mocking tone. 

“It hurts!” you cry, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

Suddenly you feel his hand on your sore ass. He squeezes it, making you yelp. “It’s supposed to hurt,” he tells you. “This is a punishment, remember? Though I’m not sure your slutty body understands that.”

You look back at him. “What?”

He’s behind you again, staring between your quivering legs. “You’re a mess back here, dripping all over my bed. It’s running down your thighs.”

No way. That can’t be true! You’re not enjoying this! But now that he’s mentioned it, you can feel the wetness there, the fluid sliding down your skin. More humiliated than ever, you try to hide your face again. That’s when his hand slides down, his fingers slipping inside your soaked pussy. 

You gasp, your body jerking. Your first instinct is to try to crawl away, but his fingers feel so good! They’re stroking you just right, and the pleasure is such a sweet distraction from the pain. You let out a weak moan, and you hear Sukuna laugh. 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You’re clenching around my fingers.”

“No!” you cry, you legs growing wobbly from the pleasure. “It just… it just…”

His thumb glides over your clit. “It just what?”

“It just feels good!” you scream, on the verge of climax. 

He moves his hand away, and you whine at the loss. “I’m not letting you cum,” he says, and he brings the belt down again. This time the rough leather collides with your sensitive pussy, and the sting of it makes your vision go white. You cry out, but Sukuna is merciless, giving you five more lashings in the same spot, reducing you to a sobbing mess. 

“Now you’ve got my belt sticky,” he says, holding it up. You can see parts of it glistening with your juices. 

“Please, I don’t think I can take anymore!”

He moves to the side again, this time putting a hand on top of your head, rubbing your hair. “You can, and you will. And when it’s over, I’ll reward you. I’ll make you cum until you lose your mind, then I’ll fuck this needy little cunt until you can’t walk.”

*********************

Sukuna loves the look on her face, the mixture of arousal and pain. He’s already so hard he could burst out of his pants, and watching her drenched pussy twitch and leak is making it very difficult for him. But he’s strong enough to hold back until her punishment is over. 

He continues the lashings, enjoying the sight of the red stripes appearing on her soft skin. Droplets of blood bead along some of the lines, and she makes the sweetest whimpers and sobs. She’s shaking, the sheets balled into her small fists, her lovely face wet with tears. He has to start talking to keep himself from cumming at the mere sight of her. 

“Why did you wait so long to try escaping?” he asks her. “I was just about to give up and go back to my cabin. Were you afraid of getting caught? Or… something else?”

Her voice is so small when she answers, “Something… else…” between strikes. 

“Oh?” Has she broken down to the point that she can’t think to lie? “And what would that be?”

She doesn’t answer, so he gives her a particularly hard strike, and she cries out, dropping her head onto the mattress. He gives her a moment to catch her breath. When she raises her head again, she looks back at him. Her pretty face looks so embarrassed! It’s delicious! 

“I just… had trouble walking out the door,” she finally says. “I don’t know why!”

His hand moves to her wet, quivering pussy again, rubbing it gently. She flinches, probably because of the lines etched into the delicate skin by his belt. “I see. Your body is growing addicted to the pleasure I give you.”

As if to emphasize his point, his fingers stroke her clit, making her moan. 

If Sukuna were honest with himself, he’d admit that he’s also becoming addicted to her body, to the way it responds to his touch, to the way she feels wrapped tightly around his cock. 

To the way she looks at him and says his name. 

There’s only a few lashings left, and bizarrely, Sukuna is eager to finish them. Is it because he wants to fuck her as soon as possible? Or because he’d rather hear her moan than sob? 

He’s being very lenient with her already. He didn’t lie when he told her he usually broke the ankles of those who attempted escape. And he did actually consider doing it to her. But when he looked into her terrified eyes, he just couldn’t bear the thought of maiming her. 

It’s strange. He finds the pain of others arousing, especially that of beautiful women. And he certainly enjoys hurting this lovely maiden. But he doesn’t think he could enjoy seriously injuring her. 

“Last one,” he announces as he swings the belt down a final time. Her body jolts from the impact, but she holds back any sound. Her shoulders are shaking, and he feels the inexplicable urge to pull her into his arms and hold her. But he doesn’t. 

“I believe I promised you a reward.”

She looks back at him sharply as his fingers begin caressing her sore, striped body. “Wait, please, I can’t-“

He finds her clit, rubbing it gently, and her words become a moan. Perhaps as a reflex, her body presses back, toward his hand. He looks over the red lines covering her flesh, admiring the way they criss-cross to make beautiful patterns. He traces them with his other hand, then begins lightly kissing them. 

She shudders, sighing softly. The small droplets of her blood cling to his lips, and he licks them clean. Every part of her tastes so sweet. Speaking of which…. 

“Ahhh!” she cries out when she feels his mouth on her dripping pussy, his tongue invading her folds to lap at her swollen clit. He wants to bite her, but remembers this is a reward, so he licks gently until her whole body trembles and she nearly collapses. She cries through her orgasm, overwhelmed by sensation. 

He continues licking her, his fingers sliding in and out of her. Totally exhausted, her arms give way, and her top half falls limply on the mattress, her ass still slightly elevated and her thighs still spread. It’s such a vulnerable position, it’s almost pitiful. But how can Sukuna resist such a feast laid out before him? 

He makes her cum twice more with his mouth, leaving her weeping and pleading for him to stop. She’s overstimulated, sore, and probably getting emotional. That much is obvious. But Sukuna hasn’t had his fun yet, so he opens his pants and pulls out his rock hard cock, then shoves it into her tender, drooling pussy. 

She cries out in sheer desperation, her body practically a rag doll at this point. He firmly grips her waist and pulls it back toward him at the same time as he thrusts into her, allowing him to penetrate even deeper than ever. He thought she’d lost all strength, unable to move, but she’s clenching him so tightly that he has to think of the smelliest, grossest member of his crew for a moment to try to calm himself down. 

He slams into her, over and over, while she lies there with her tear streaked face smashed against the sheets. Poor little thing. She doesn’t even realize her night is just getting started. 

******************

The next few days go by in a blur. You spend all your time in Sukuna’s quarters. If he’s in the room, he’s usually fucking you, or he’s looking over maps at his desk while you suck him off underneath it. 

When you’re alone, you sleep. Once a day you bathe in his private washroom. So far he’s given you no restrictions on how often you can use the bathroom or what you can eat. From what you can tell, you eat the same things he does. 

One day you realize with a start that you’re looking forward to him returning to his room, looking forward to seeing his face. You can’t understand why. You’ve come to crave his touch, even though he’s rough and often hurts you. Because sometimes, his touch brings you so much pleasure that you think you might die. 

“We’re stopping at a small port today,” he tells you out of the blue. “Just to load up on supplies. You’ll be staying in my quarters of course.”

You nod, having no desire to risk another escape attempt. You got off easy last time. If it happens again, he’ll surely do something terrible to you. 

Sukuna leaves, and you spend the day waiting for his return. When he comes back hours later, he reaches you something wrapped in brown paper. “What is this?” you ask him. 

“A present. Something that suits you more.”

You can’t imagine what it could be, but you sit on the bed and carefully open the package. Inside, you find a beautiful dress made of red velvet with white lace trim. You hold it up, marveling at its luster. “This is for me?”

He’s grinning as he watches you. “Try it on. I think I guessed your measurements well.”

You hurriedly pull off the tattered dress you’ve been wearing, barely feeling any embarrassment at all at this point. Then you pull on the new dress. It fits you perfectly, and feels luxurious. You rush over to the mirror in the corner of the room and look at your reflection. You’re bruised and your hair is a mess, but the dress looks lovely on you. 

“It doesn’t compare to your beauty, but it’s better than the rag you were wearing,” he says. 

You feel heat flood your face. You don’t know how to react when he says something like that. “Thank you for the dress. I love it.”

“Good,” he says. “I’ll try not to rip it off you.”

Two days later, Sukuna invites you to join him on the deck. There’s no celebration this time, but the sun is setting over the water, and he pulls you close to him as the two of you watch. 

It’s a quiet, peaceful moment, and you almost begin to relax for the first time in days. But then you hear a strained voice say, “Sukuna!”

Both you and the captain turn around to find a man standing a few feet away. He’s clutching a shiny silver dagger in both hands as he stares at the two of you. Sukuna looks at him for a moment then says, “You’re not a member of my crew. Who are you?”

The man has rage in his eyes as he says, “My fiancé was on a ship you raided a month ago. You bastards murdered her and left her body ripped open on the deck! Now I’m going  to kill your woman!”

Everything happens so fast. The man lunges at you, pointing the blade right at your chest. You scream and try to put your hands up in a defensive manner. And at the last second, Sukuna moves in front of you, his tall body creating a shield. You hear the terrible sound of a blade stabbing into flesh, and blood splatters across the wooden deck as you cry out Sukuna’s name. 

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

☆｡.:*･ﾟ Sweet Nothings ｡.:*･ﾟ☆

pairing: tfatws!bucky x baker!reader

warning: fluff, multiple mentions of cake, mentions of Bucky with children

a/n: Ahhh I had this idea before going to bed and literally stayed up two hours working on it. I finished it this morning, and I've gotta stay I'm proud of my commitment because I usually take at least a month to finish a fanfiction. Hopefully, there's more where this came from. P.S. I'm not a baker, so I'm sorry if I fudged any details. Feedback is always appreciated but please be kind. Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated but no reposting without credit <3

word count: 1.6k

summary: Reader is a baker and Bucky gets a cake from her to take to Sam's picnic party on the docks (scene from tfatws).

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

The bell jingled as Bucky entered Sweet Nothings, the bakery you had started from the ground up. He was instantly enveloped by the sweet scent of baked goods from the array of desserts neatly displayed in the glass case by the counter. Underneath the sugar, he smelled the new chai latte you had just added to the menu. It had been an instant hit, totally trumping the one at Starbucks that everyone raved about. Chai had been a nostalgic drink for you and a completely new one for Bucky. He now had an affinity for it, however, and asked for it every time he entered the shop after you made him the first honorary taste tester of the drink. Now, the shop was bustling since it was happy hour.

Soft music played in the background. Bucky recognized the voice of Taylor Swift, one of your favorite artists. She was one of Bucky's favorites now too. You had impeccable taste, and any song you loved became his favorite. The album that was currently playing was Midnights, the one you had told Bucky he was most like. He loved that about you, how you would associate things like albums and songs with him. It made his heart swell, knowing you thought about him in relation to music, which had a special place in your heart.

You were nowhere in sight, so he assumed you were in the back checking on your bread dough. Bucky approached the barrier that led to the backroom for employees and pushed the door open, hoping to surprise you while you were working. Once he entered, he found you bent over your proving drawer, checking on a fluffy batch of bread dough. He tiptoed up to you and grabbed your waist, lifting you off your feet and causing you to let out a yelp of surprise. Bucky spun you around, chuckling at your reaction (what did he expect when he literally attacked you with a bear hug from behind?).

Finally, he set you down on your feet and spun you around to face him. His eyes were crinkled with laugh lines as he took in your disheveled form. Your hair was in a low messy bun with a few strands astray in the front. You donned a cream-colored beret and a blue long-sleeve over which you had on your cheeky apron that read "Kiss the Cook." It was, of course, gifted to you by none other than your doting boyfriend. A light dusting of flour over your entire being gave you an angelic glow. In Bucky's eyes, you looked more heavenly than all of the desserts in your shop combined.

You blew your hair out of your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest before attempting to glare at Bucky. You didn't last long, however, as his sheepish grin caused you to look down, so he wouldn’t catch you smiling.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me,” you admonished him half-heartedly. “Bakers can be dangerous when startled, you know.”

“Sure, doll,” Bucky still had on that cheeky grin. “I don’t know about dangerous, though. Former assassin here, remember?” He pointed at himself with his index fingers as if you didn't already know. "I think I can handle a blow from a rolling pin." He picked up the nearest tool his hand landed on, which, unfortunately for him, was a basting brush, making his joke fall flat. He sheepishly put the brush away as you tried not to laugh.

You gave him a warning look before turning your back to him and smiling wide. You may pretend to be annoyed by his antics, but they truly brought joy to your heart and brightened up your bland days. You loved your job, but you loved your man most of all.

“I’ve got the cake ready for Sam’s. Just gotta put the finishing touches on it. Did you bring the Oreos, baby boy?”

You turned around to find his face in yours. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve found it incredibly infuriating. But with Bucky, it left you blushing to your core.

He wrapped his arms around you and held up the blue plastic box. “Right here, sweetheart.”

It was a generic nickname that every single boyfriend in the history of the world had called his girlfriend at some point. But somehow, it was almost erotic coming from his plush pink lips with that deep timbre. You sometimes wondered if Bucky knew the effect he had on you.

“Thank you,” was all you trusted yourself to say as you took the box of cookies from him and started peeling off the plastic cover. You moved away from him and carefully placed six cookies on the cake, one on each of the iced rosettes on the border.

“Alright, Buck, I think it’s ready for the party. Lemme just get a box for it, and we’ll be on our way.”

Bucky smiled as he watched you tenderly place the plastic casing on the cake as if it was your baby. In a way, it was, along with all of your other creations.

“Alrighty then, doll,” Bucky grabbed the cake in his gloved flesh hand, then put his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your temple. “Thank you so much for making this, baby cakes.”

You turned pink hearing him use your favorite nickname of all time. “Oh, it’s nothing,” you mumbled bashfully, suddenly shy again in the crook of his arm.

“It’s a Sweet Nothing, which means it’s the opposite of nothing. Doll, this cake is quite literally everything to me.”

“Buckyyy,” you playfully swatted him away. Sure, you were proud of your work, but you still got flustered when people complimented you, especially your boyfriend, who took every chance to make you feel like you were the biggest star in his world.

You eased yourself out of his embrace momentarily to hunt down your assistant. “Lemme just tell Nico to take over the closing shift tonight.”

Bucky nodded and waited patiently by the door for you to rejoin him. You returned and looped your arm around his waist to steer him out of your shop.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

Bucky drove the both of you from the bakery to the docks in his pickup. You held the cake securely in your lap with your right hand and entwined your left with Bucky's. When you arrived, you let go of his hand and moved to open the door, but Bucky reached over you to close it again. Then he climbed out of the truck and rushed to open your door.

"M'lady," you rolled your eyes at him but couldn't help smiling as he took the cake from you so you could climb out of the car. He shut your door behind you, then took off with the cake balanced precariously in his flesh hand.

"Bucky! Be careful!" Your cries were drowned out by Sam's nephews, who were happily trailing Bucky at the sight of the cake. They tried play-fighting with him, pretending to punch him in the face, to which Bucky pretended to stagger backward from the force of impact.

You sighed and let the corners of your mouth lift as you watched your lover boy, totally enamored by his way with children.

Bucky ran to the nearest picnic table and finally placed the cake down safely. You let out a breath of relief you didn't realize you had been holding in and walked over to him.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

Bucky returned to entertaining the kids a little while after everyone had eaten. He stood atop a picnic table, talking to you and Sarah with his metal arm extended out. Sam's nephew and his friend hung off of Bucky's arm. You were trying your hardest to concentrate on what he told you about his days in the Navy, but you couldn't help giggling softly at the sight of him effortlessly holding up two children using only one of his arms.

When you could finally steal a moment alone with him, you handed him a beer and tugged his arm to lead him to the pier's edge. You plopped down and let your feet dangle, the bottoms of your boots grazing the water's surface. After a moment, Bucky crouched down to join you. He scooted closer so his thigh was pressed up against yours. He put his arm around you, and you sighed softly, leaning into his shoulder and staring at the setting sun. Nose pressed against Bucky's shoulder, you inhaled, reveling in the warm scent of freshly-cut pine and the sweet undertones of amber and musky vanilla.

You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulder, suddenly needing to be closer to him than you already were. He seemed to understand and gently twisted to the side, snaking one arm around your lower back and using the other to bring your legs into his lap. You moved in to kiss him tenderly. Your hands were in his hair, his hands were on your hips, and everything felt perfect at that moment. You could still taste the Oreo cake on his breath, and you broke away from the kiss slowly, smiling all the while. Bucky returned your smile warmly as you turned to look at the sunset.

Bucky watched it paint your face the most gorgeous shade of pink and thanked his lucky stars at that moment. Somehow, life had brought you to him. He had never thought of himself as fortunate, but he was ecstatic now that you were in his arms, and he damn sure was never going to let go of this beautiful thing he had with you. He pressed his lips to your forehead and tightened his hold on you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

☆｡.:*･ﾟ

[covenha]

Woo's Brews

Synopsis: Seonghwa, Wooyoung's black cat familiar, decides to help him out with his dry spell. Pairings: witch!Wooyoung x reader; familiar!Seonghwa genre: crack, fluff?? i guess it's a smidge bit suggestive but i think it's completely innocent, witch warnings: talks of sex but nothing too suggestive, oc's land is cursed for the plot WC: 762 words a/n: sorry i just fell off the face of the earth, midterms is kicking my ass and my body decided to get sick if that was not enough. again, this work is fictional so this does not portray any of the characters in actual life. another small HIMYM reference in there iykyk. hope you guys enjoy this baby drabble. and as always, reblogs and feedback is deeply appreciated. happy reading!

As the small pot at the back of the shop was boiling away, Wooyoung was dusting some shelves at the front. Just then, a ring of a bell signals a customer walking into the shop. 

“Hello?” You walk in, black cat in hand. It’s sharp eyes looking around the shop, looking around for its owner. 

“Hi! What brings you to Woo’s Brews?” Wooyoung asks with a smile. 

“Oh, well, your cat was playing in my garden and it was getting late so I thought to bring him here to make sure he was safe.” You smile back. The cat in question hops down from your hands, tail swishing from side to side. It stares back at its owner, as if waiting for its owner to do something. 

“Sorry you had to bother with Seonghwa. He usually doesn’t go around making pretty girls return him home. But thanks for making sure he got home safe…”

“y/n” you say your name. 

“Thank you, y/n.” Wooyoung says. 

“Well, since I’m here. I heard this place had something that could help me with my garden?” You ask. 

“Oh yeah, sure. We have some charms and some potions here that could help. What did you have in mind?” Wooyoung motions to the cabinet to his right and guides the both of you over to it. But, not before giving Seonghwa a look. 

“There’s this area in my garden that just refuses to grow anything! It’s like somebody put some sort of hex on it. It’s so odd.” You explain your gardening predicament to Wooyung, but he can barely focus on your troubles. Not when you have the cutest look in your eyes when you recall the horrific scene of your dead tomatoes, or your wilted daisies. 

“Well, this may just do the trick. Sprinkle some of this liquid on the ground in 3 circles. Then wait for the next full moon before planting something in the area. If that doesn’t work though, you know where to find me.” Wooyoung winks at you.

A soft meow is heard behind the both of you. Wooyoung scoffs at this, and you look back to see Seonghwa perched on the counter, grooming himself. 

“Thanks for this!” you motion to the brown paper bag filled with the goodies you bought that would hopefully help you in your cottage core dreams. 

“Just doing my duties as the friendly neighborhood witch.” Wooyoung waves goodbye as you walk out the shop’s store. 

He watches as you walk away from his store, and winces and facepalms just as you are out of sight. 

“Friendly neighborhood witch?” Seonghwa repeats, now in his human form. He looks unimpressed, raising an eyebrow at Wooyoung. 

“I panicked, okay? Hwa, you know how I get.” Wooyoung winces as he thinks back at what he said to you. 

“She seems to like you though. Don’t screw it up this time.” Seonghwa says, sharp eyes staring at Wooyoung. 

“Dude, you really need to put yourself out there! It’s been ages since you’ve even been on a date.” Yunho, one of Wooyoung’s witch friends who was visiting to stock up on some lizard’s tail from the shop. 

“I guess you could say he’s in a… dry spell.” Jongho, Yunho’s golden shepherd retriever familiar pipes in. 

“Ha Ha. I’m glad my misery is entertaining to you, Jjong.” Wooyoung deadpans at him. 

“8 months, 2 weeks.” Seonghwa suddenly cuts the banter. 

“Hwa?” Yunho asks him. 

“8 months, and 2 weeks. That’s how long Jongho has been…. How do I say this in a classy way…. Gotten laid.”  Seonghwa blinks at the three of their confused faces. Jongho’s face goes red as he sputters out an excuse. 

“Okay, let’s not get into the nitty gritty with this one.” Yunho tries to calm the situation. 

“5 months 3 days.” Seonghwa motions at Yunho who scrunches his eyebrows together in horror, but also a little bit of amazement.

“You should work at a carnival.” Jongho says. 

As they calm down from their conversation, Yunho and Jongho pack up to head back to their cottage to make it before dark. All the while Wooyoung is nervously looking around, trying not to make eye contact with Seonghwa. 

“10 months, 1 week.” Seonghwa says. 

“Dammit.” Wooyoung sighs. 

“I can help you. Just leave it to me.” Seonghwa shrugs at him.

“Seonghwa, I don’t know if I like the idea of that.” Wooyoung shakes his head at the black cat.

“Trust me. You’re gonna like this one.” Seonghwa smirks to himself. 

“Jesus, you’re like some kind of occult Tinder.” Wooyoung shudders as he goes back to tend to his brewing potion.

[itzynabi]

goodnight call

summary: in which a goodnight call takes an unexpected turn

set: early may 2024

word count: 2.4k

warnings: smut [please skip if you are a minor or are uncomfy with explicit content]; swearing

an: didn’t expect to get this done so fast tbh... it’s my first time writing smut so lower expectations everybody. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

nabi’s masterlist

Nabi sighed, hearing her phone ringing. She had just laid down in bed, ready to go to sleep early, as recommended by her therapist. She turned over, reaching for her phone on the bedside table. A lazy smile spread on her face as she saw the called ID.

“Hi, Biyah,” he greeted, his voice sounding tired.

“Hi, Sannie. How are you?”

He sighed on the other side of the line. “Tired. We had a long day of practice and I only just got home.”

Right. San was busy with preparations for ATEEZ’s upcoming comeback. Since it was at the end of the month, the group was probably practising every day for it. With how intense ATEEZ choreographies were, Nabi could only imagine how tired he was.

“Have you eaten dinner?” She asked, concern evident in her tone.

He let out a weak chuckle. “I did. I had a sandwich in the car, it was really good.” He paused for a second as there was rustling on his side. “What did you eat for dinner?”

“Pasta!” Nabi cheerfully answered. “With chicken and white sauce. The leftovers are probably going to last me awhile.”

“That’s nice.”

Nabi nodded even though he couldn’t see her. She wondered if San had changed into pyjamas or if he was still wearing his day clothes. Judging by how tired he was, he probably just plopped himself onto his bed the second he got home.

(Nabi tried to stop the flutter in her chest at the thought that San called her despite how tired he was.

She failed.)

“How are you?” San asked, returning her first question.

“I’m good,” Nabi answered truthfully. “I was just about to fall asleep when you called.”

“Oh, I’m sor–” He began to apologise.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” she gently interrupted him. “If I didn’t want to answer, I wouldn’t have.”

“Yeah…”

Their conversation stalled there for a while and Nabi closed her eyes as she listened to San’s breathing on the other side of the line. It was a very comforting sound, almost like white noise, and it began to make her sleepy.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” San softly admitted, his voice taking on a raspy edge.

Nabi peeled her eyes open. “Oh, yeah? What were you thinking?”

There was silence on the other end of the line and Nabi could imagine him gathering his thoughts. “I was thinking about how I miss you. How I love you. How you’re so gorgeous. And sexy.”

“‘Sexy?’” Nabi snorted. “I’m the furthest thing from sexy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re… Fuck, you’re making me hard right now,” he muttered.

Nabi’s heart stuttered in her chest, shocked to hear him say that. “What?” Her voice came out breathier than expected, suddenly feeling very awake.

“Your sleepy voice is the sexiest sound in the fucking world,” San said. “It’s so sweet and soft, more than your voice usually is, and it’s so lazy. You sometimes put a lot of breath into your words and it’s… hot.”

Nabi felt her face begin to heat up as her centre began to throb gently. “Shut up,” she breathed out, accidentally proving his point as he let out a groan.

“Do you want me to?” Nabi could hear the grin in his voice.

Nabi swallowed heavily, trying to think of an answer. The change of conversation was sudden, having caught her off guard. She felt embarrassed to hear San say the things he was saying, but she also… liked it. She liked knowing she had an effect on him — as much as the one he had on her. The way she saw it, she could either say yes, she did want him to shut up, and he would, but that probably wouldn’t stop the throbbing in her core. She would probably have to take care of it after they hung up. Her second option was saying no, she didn’t want him to shut up, and he wouldn’t, and the throbbing would get worse until… she didn’t know what would happen. But she wanted to find out.

“Don’t,” she said, voice soft with shyness. “Continue.”

She could practically see his grin get wider as he let out a chuckle.

“Tell me, Biyah, what are you wearing?” San asked.

Nabi blinked her eyes, shocked at the change of topic. She put her unoccupied hand on her stomach, toying with the edge of her shirt. “I… I’m wearing pyjamas.”

“Which ones?” He pressed, his voice going deeper.

“Uh… The pink ones. With the lace on by the neck and the ribbons.”

He hummed in thought. “The flowy one?”

“No, the ti–tight one,” she told him. On the few occasions San had seen her in those pyjamas — whether in person or over FaceTime — she had noticed how he would stare at her. The pyjamas didn’t really leave much to the imagination, especially the shorts, but she liked them because of how cute they were.

“The tight o– Fuck.” He grunted. “The ones with the short shorts? That don’t cover anything when you bend over?”

“Yeah, I… I didn’t know you noticed,” she admitted.

“I notice a lot about you,” he truthfully said, sincerity in his voice. “I notice a lot,” he repeated, his voice back to sounding… sensual. “Those shorts are basically boxers,” he muttered and Nabi had to stifle a laugh in response.

Crossing her right leg over the other, Nabi let out a sigh of relief. She thought she was quiet, but was shocked by San’s groan.

“What are you doing, Biyah?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“No,” she rushed to answer, her cheeks warming up.

“Do you want to?”

Not for the first time since the start of the call, Nabi’s breath hitched. “What?”

“Do you want to touch yourself?” Without giving her time to answer, he carried on speaking. “I do.”

“You want to… touch yourself?” She hesitantly asked.

San chuckled, the sound warm and velvety. “Well, that too. But I also want to touch you.”

“Oh,” Nabi breathed out.

“But I can’t do that.”

“Right.”

“So I guess I’ll have to touch myself,” he said, and Nabi felt her head grow fuzzy. “Are you fine with that?”

“Y–Yes. Yeah. I’m fine with that.”

The sound of San shuffling around was enough to send a shiver of anticipation through Nabi, the sigh he let out a few seconds later made her clench down on nothing. The hand that was fiddling with her shirt moved down to play with the bow on the front of her shorts, dangerously close to where she was aching.

“This feels so good,” he said, his voice several octaves lower. A groan followed his statements and Nabi tried her best to not picture San sprawled on his bed, his hand gripping cock. She tried not to picture the expression on his face, tried not to envision the pleasure that would be present there. She tried not to–

“What does it feel like?” She blurted out before she could stop herself.

San cleared his throat. “It feels… phenomenal. There’s a buzz, it’s not too much yet, just right. I could keep doing this for hours. I could–” He gasped. “I wish I was with you. I could do so much more.”

Nabi trailed her hand a little lower, just beneath the bow on her pants. “What would you do if you were here?” What would you do if you were with me?

San chuckled, low and fucking sexy. “I would kiss you. For a while. Maybe I’d pull you onto my lap, maybe I’d make you keep your hands to yourself, either way, you’d be turned on. Then, I would start to tease you. Light touches here and there, soft whispers… just anything to get you riled up. Then, I’d open your legs and admire you. I’d kiss your thighs, your knees, your ankles, then I’d go up. I’d kiss your hips, your waist, just under your boobs, your chest, your throat,” he listed off. Nabi’s breathing got heavier and she was sure he could hear. Her hand drifted down some more, stopping just above the throbbing.

“I’d look you in your eyes and check on you, because I’d want to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Then I’d continue. I’d make my way back down, and by that time, I’m sure there would be a wet patch on your panties and–” He suddenly stopped. “Is there a patch on your panties now, Biyah?”

Nabi took a few seconds to register his question, having to fight through the haze in her brain. “I–I don’t know.”

“Can you check for me, baby?” He sweetly asked.

Nodding her head, her hand made the very incredibly short journey to her core where, sure enough, there was a wet patch. “There is,” she softly admitted, trying her best not to apply pressure. “My shorts are wet.”

“Yeah? How wet?” His voice was tense, as if he was straining himself.

“They’re soaked,” she gasped. The throbbing in her core had gotten worse and she needed reprieve, but she was holding herself back. “What would you do next?”

A pleased chuckle left San’s mouth. “Then I’d take your panties off. And I’d kiss you right there, on your lips. I can’t promise you that I’d go slow, but I’d try. For you, I’d try. I’d keep going until you came. I’d stop to see your face, to see your reaction. Then I’d continue. I’d use my fingers, I’d have you to prepare you for me.”

Nabi let out a soft moan at the implications of San’s words. Her fingers twitched as the last of her restraint wavered. Her and San had never done something like this before, and it was exciting.

“I’m sure you can tell what would come next.”

Nabi let out a slow exhale, swallowing before speaking. “The thought of you inside me makes me wet,” she whispered. “So fucking wet. I want to touch myself.”

“Fuck, Biyah,” he muttered. “Then do it, baby. Touch yourself.”

With the last of her resolve broken, Nabi pressed her fingers against her core through her clothes and let out a drawn-out moan. More wetness flooded her core.

“Does it feel good?” He rasped.

“So good,” she softly cried out. She trailed her fingers up, going under the fabric of her shorts.

“Do you wanna get out your toy?”

Nabi’s breath hitched. “My… What are you talking about?”

“Your vibrator,” San said plainly, as if he were talking about the weather.

Sure enough, Nabi had a vibrator that she stored in her bedside table, covered by a bunch of knick knacks in case anyone was looking through her stuff.

“How… How did you know about it?”

“A few weeks ago, you asked me to look for something before I left. I found it there and I had to fuck my hand when I got home.” His words were accompanied by an occasional hiss. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum so much.”

Nabi could do nothing but moan in response.

“Why don’t you get your vibrator out, baby?”

Slowly, Nabi removed her hand from her panties, letting out a whine at the loss, and fumbled around in the dark for her bedside table. She quickly opened the drawer, feeling for her vibrator. Once she found it, she laid back down and switched it on. A soft buzzing sound filled the quiet of her room. Nabi reached down and placed the vibrator on her centre through her panties, her hips twitching upwards as a moan left her lips.

“That’s it, baby,” San encouraged, his breaths coming out shorter and shorter.

A sudden desperation for a climax hit Nabi hard. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to last long before needing to cum. She expertly shifted her vibrator around so that it was no longer on top of her panties, but instead against her folds. Her moans got louder as she glided the toy across her folds. After some time, she placed the toy snug against her clit, removing her hand and leaving the vibrator there.

“Keep making those sounds,” San urged. “I’m so close.”

Nabi dropped the phone, both of her hands going to her body, touching and squeezing. As the stimulation on her clit began to become too much, she swivelled her hips, chasing more.

“I’m almost there,” she managed to say.

“Yeah? You gonna cum, baby?” He panted. “You gonna be a good girl?”

Nabi let out a particularly loud moan at that — and thanked every deity in existence that the soundproofing in her apartment was top notch — something that San noticed.

“Do you want to be my good girl, Biyah?”

“Y–Yes,” Nabi answered, feeling the knot in her core grow tighter. “I want to b– Ah! I want to be y–your good girl.”

“Then cum, Biyah,” he hissed. “Cum with me. Fuck!” He let out a low, rough grunt as his orgasm hit.

Nabi reached her hand up and squeezed her boobs, her other hand reaching down to press the vibrator flush against her folds. Her hips jerked as she came apart, her back arching as a desperate, filthy sob left her lips. Her limbs shook as she wrenched every ounce of pleasure from her body, keeping the vibrator where it was, continuing to stimulate herself as she let out soft whimpers.

“That’s my good girl,” San grunted through the phone that was right by her ear. “I came so fucking hard,” he croaked, sounding breathless.

With shaking hands, Nabi removed the vibrator from her panties, throwing it onto the bed. Through the phone, she heard San pull tissues out of a box. She laid on the phone, body feeling weightless and more tired than when they started.

“How are you, Biyah?” He asked, becoming concerned by the silence on her side.

“I’m… so fucking fine,” she drawled, fighting off a yawn. “Next time we do this, can it be earlier?”

“Next time, huh?” He teased good-naturedly.

“You know what I mean.”

The line went quiet and Nabi took that as her cue to get herself cleaned up, imagining that San was doing the same. Quickly returning to her bed, she made sure to sleep on the side that was dry, making a mental note to put the sheets in the washing. She checked to see if San had hung up and smiled when she saw that she hadn’t.

“How are you, Sannie?”

“I’m way better than before.” He chuckled before his voice grew serious. “I don’t want you to think I called you for that. We were just talking, and I was tired, and–”

“I know you didn’t,” she reassured him. And she really did.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Goodnight, Nabi.”

“I love you, San.”

“I love you too.”

an: the pyjamas are these ones in case anyone was interested. please let me know whether you want to be tagged in explicit scenarios!!

tagging: @cafemilk-tea

©️ kim nabi

[obsessedelusional]

asleep in bella’s arms

paring ✦ Bella Ramsey x Reader

summary ✦ Bella is finally coming home to your shared apartment. The recent success of TLOU has kept them away from you. They’re so tired when they get back, you two have a chill night in.

word count ✦ 1,000ish

authors note ✦ THIS WAS A REQUEST OMG thank you I’ll link the request - here

masterlist

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

After years of dating, you and Bella had officially moved in together. It would of happened sooner but when Bella landed her role as Ellie in TLOU, that skyrocketed her career. Constantly flying back to America to film, sometimes when you could ask for time off you’d tag along. The two of you were extremely private about your relationship. Mostly because of your own anxieties.

Today was an extra long day at work. It would all be worth it when you get to go home to your partner. They were finally getting that well deserved break the so desperately needed. They should be there at home waiting for you when you got off. When the clock reads 5:00 you wasted absolutely no time, rushing to clock out. Making the rather short drive home felt much longer than normal.

Arriving at your apartment, you jump out you car so fast. Locking it behind you before you enter the front entrance. You debate wether or not you should take the elevator, usually it was much longer especially if someone else was trying to use it too. You end up make the trek up the four floors, a slight jog. You were so eager to get home, feel the sweet embrace of Bella. It had been nearly a month since you last got to see them.

You fumble with your keys, taking longer than it should to unlock the door. You outwardly groan before breathing for a brief moment so you can unlock the door. Expecting to see your handsome partner but instead your greeted by darkness and silence. A sudden sadness falls over you that’s until you notice their belongs thrown on the kitchen counter. They made it home.

You put you belongings up and make the short walk to the bedroom. Slowly creek the door open, it’s just as dark. The soft sound of Bella’s snores is all you can hear. It brings a smile to your face to hear that familiar noise. They must be so exhausted so you shut the door and head back into the kitchen. Turning on a few lights so you can start making dinner. They’re probably gonna be starving when they wake up.

—

You’re nearly done with dinner. The sauce and meat, nearly done. Your in the process of stirring the noodles when you feel the warm embrace of Bella’s arms wrapping around your waist, slighting lifting your the bottom of your shirt in the process. You had changed into a extra large t-shirt and a pair of underwear, your favorite pajama combo.

“What time is it?” They ask in they’re sleepy voice, still half asleep.

“Almost seven.” You explain before turning around to face your partner, their arms never leaving your waist.

“I’m sorry babe. I missed you coming home.” They pout, bringing a smile to your face. Their hands hungrily explore your skin, not so much in a sexual way. More in I missed your soft skin kind of way.

“It’s okay, you must be exhausted so I let you rest.” You say before Bella places a sweet short kiss on your lips.

“You hungry? Dinners almost done.”

“Yes please, smells delicious.” Bella smiles before letting go of you to lay on the couch. Turing on some television show the two of you enjoyed watching together. Once dinner is done, you put two bowls together of the pasta you made. Handing one to Bella as you sit next to them on the couch.

“We can eat at the table. I know how much you prefer it.” Bella goes to stand up.

“Don’t worry about, it’s a dinner on the couch kinda night.” Bella’s tired eyes smile at you before sitting back down, only closer this time. It doesn’t take long before you both finish your servings. You take the empty bowls and set them in the sink, you’d worry about that later.

“How’d I get so lucky?” Bella asks, reaching for you from the couch. They pull you down so you’re on top, you plant small kisses all over their face, causing them to let out a tired laugh. You missed their face so much.

“I dunno,” You tease before laying down on Bella’s chest. Taking this moment to breath in their smell, you missed the way they smelled. It was your favorite smell, nothing compared.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Bella asks, you nod yes head still resting on their chest. They plant a small kiss on your head before reaching for the remote. You let Bella pick out the movie, their presence more than enough for you right now. Bella’s hands rest under your shirt, feeling your soft skin.

Also well aware of the fact that you’re not gonna last all that much longer. You felt the most comfortable with them around, the safest. You were already exhausted so the combo meant you were falling asleep shortly. You try your best to keep you eyes open but when Bella starts lightly playing with you hair that what does it. You knock out laying on Bella, your legs intertwined.

Bella only notices because of the quiet snores that leave you. Something you would deny to this day that you do, the memory of her accusing you of snoring the first time met with nothing but denial caused Bella to laugh. Stopping only when you move in your sleep, grabbing onto them tighter. Bella looks down at you for a few moments, sleepy grin plastered on their face. Deciding in that moment to give up on the movie, shutting it off to join you in sleeping.

“Love you,” Bella whispers in a attempt to not wake you. Only you were awake so you whisper it back, Bella squeezes you tighter. The two of you sleep on that couch almost all night. Only for you to wake up around two, the feeling of you getting up wakes Bella too. They tiredly walk in to the bedroom, you follow closely behind. Only to assume the position you two shared on the couch but now in the bed.

[irisintheafterglow]

More Than It Seams (Chapter 2)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 1.4k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader, mentions of food/eating

note: sorry for the shorter chapter, i got carried away with the first one establishing exposition oops. but! next chapter is gonna be real cute cuz it has pining! and angst! and stubborn shoto! hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are much appreciated!

It becomes an odd kind of routine, a handsome distraction walking into your office every day with some random, minor flaw in his costume; he started getting creative, presenting a tear in the sleeve, a loose button, an undone seam, and you start to wonder if he was wrecking his suit little by little on purpose. He visited at the same time every day, 11:30 sharp, and you started to watch the clock to see if he really did appear as if on a timer. 

On the first Friday he visited and one week before the ball, time seemed to run away from you as one problem stacked on top of another like a dread sandwich. One of your suppliers had run out of the fabric for Red Riot’s suit, pushing back finalization to late next week; Cellophane’s secretary had called to reschedule his final costume fitting, and you were trying to find a hero to come in earlier to fill his timeslot; the office had lost electricity for two hours because of a blown fuse upstairs; and, on top of all this, you’d foregone breakfast in favor of clocking into work early. 

“Psst,” your designer whispered to you as he slid boning into a corset. You followed his gaze to the clock and felt a mix of excitement and fear. Today was not the day for Shoto to visit, especially when stress painted your face and office morale was particularly low. 

But, in all his punctual glory, he exited the elevator at 11:30 exactly, dressed in his hero costume as if he’d just gotten off patrol. Wiping the sweat from your forehead and putting on your best “everything is fine” face, you waited for him at your station as he pushed open the gate and approached your table. Thankfully, your seamstresses had grown accustomed to his visits, and didn’t bat an eye as he passed them. You don’t bother with the faked surprise at his presence in your workplace again, letting out a long exhale as he questions your visible stress with a single arched eyebrow. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” The way he spoke to you evolved over the past few days, morphing from formal salutations to casual, slightly patronizing remarks. His keen intellect was matched by a biting wit that you guessed not a lot of people had the privilege of witnessing. He waited for your usual sarcastic remark at his presence, but you simply shook your head in exhaustion, eyes wordlessly conveying that everything had gone wrong. 

The silence punctuated the horrendously loud growl that your stomach released, reminding you of the breakfast you had skipped. 

“You haven’t eaten.” 

“No, but it’s alright. I’ll manage.” You unconsciously shrunk away from his piercing stare. 

“When is your break?”

“Technically ten minutes ago, but–”

His stubborn, even voice cut you off, a hand extended to raise you from your station. “Let’s go, then.”

“What?”

“Lunch. Right now, or I’m reporting you for insubordination. I have ideas for my Hero Ball appearance.” You couldn’t help but smile at his childish chivalry, taking his hand and playfully squeezing it once. A corner of his mouth quirked, and he squeezed back. “Do you like soba?” 

Coincidentally, there was a small soba shop within walking distance of your office. For heroes’ privacy, it didn’t allow cameras inside, and the owner greeted Shoto by name as she led you two to a small booth in the very back corner of the restaurant. She muttered something to Shoto about “finally bringing in that friend you like to visit” and his face turns the lightest shade of pink, barely noticeable if you weren’t already staring at him. As you sit together, conversation flows effortlessly about his family, his career, and his friends. You’d known that many of the top heroes had attended UA High School together, but you found yourself laughing at the intimately detailed stories of their teenage escapades. 

“Wait, so Bakugo was always like that? Scary?” 

“Midoriya’s existence tended to exacerbate his violent tendencies. But, to put it simply, yes. He has always been scary.” He smiled subtly in that way you had started to memorize by heart, making your stomach backflip despite the delicious food. 

“I had an, uh, interesting experience with Bakugo last year for the Hero Ball.”

“Interesting how?”

“He burnt my shit to ashes saying that it didn’t ‘match his fucking eyes!’” Shoto’s eyes widened as he choked on his soba, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his embarrassingly startled laugh. It was so easy with him. Easy to talk, easy to smile, easy to just forget about work expectations and focus on these little moments with him that no one else received. He gathered himself with several sips of water and a deep inhale, smiling boyishly as he exhaled. 

“So how did you end up becoming a designer? Did you always want to work for big companies, like M?”

“Honestly, no. I kinda took this job because it was the only place that would hire me and didn’t feel threatened by my quirk. This job was meant to be temporary, a way to make money so I could start my own business, but that fell through and I never left.”

“How long have you been with M?”

You hesitate, mentally counting the years in your head and unable to stop your face from falling as you answer. “Five years.” 

“You’ve been at a temporary job for five years?” You shrug and nod, suddenly feeling the urge to steer the subject away from something so personal. He must have sensed your reluctance to talk about it, too, as he nodded with finality. “I saw your designs in the office. It truly is remarkable how talented you are.” 

Your face heats up at his praise, and you stutter out a thank you as he pulls his phone from his pocket, holding it out to you with a magazine photo from the late 80s. The model wore a simple slightly closed buttonup tucked into highwaisted, straight-leg leather trousers. A subtle silver chain fell from the waistband of the pants and connected to the back pocket. It was an awfully casual look, and you looked up at Shoto in question before he swiped to an image of an intricately decorated trenchcoat. Flames ran from the corner of the front panel to the back where it exploded into a fire loosely resembling a crane taking flight. 

“You want to wear this?” You asked in disbelief at how bold the look would be in comparison to the simple two-piece suits he’d worn since the beginning of time. 

“If possible, yes. Would it be plausible to create something like this given such short notice?” 

The trenchcoat was beautiful, and it would probably be one of the few designs that you truly had fun creating. “I think I can. Did you want the fire embroidered on your left side and ice embroidered from the right, like your quirk?”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You grin at him, excited to get started on such an eye-catching piece as he pulls his phone away. To your surprise, he held out his phone again, catching you in the middle of planning the colors of embroidery thread. On the screen was a contact profile for you to put in your phone number. “Here, so we can stay in contact.” 

“You know, guys usually ask for my number before the first date,” you innocently remark, pleased at the way Shoto’s complexion becomes slightly pinker. In a flash, it’s retrained into its carefully blank expression, but his voice has the slightest teasing air to it. 

“Consider it more of me taking care of a business partner. It’d truly be a shame if you starved to death before I could debut your work.” He gently swats your hand away when you reach for the bill, placing down a hefty, solid metal card. “Though, I do have the intention of taking you on a proper first date when the events of the ball have concluded.” 

You breathe out a laugh at the childish glint in his eye as you take his hand again, allowing him to lead you outside. A quick glance at his phone washes his face with concern and slight disappointment as he looks back at you and squeezes your hand one more time before releasing it. 

“I have to go. There’s been a coordinated attack on the Dynamight agency.”

“Oh, alright. Please be safe.”

A sharp white eyebrow arches teasingly. “Worried for me?” 

You nudge him gently with your shoulder, and he sways jokingly at the contact even though you know it takes much more to make him stumble. “No, just wanna make sure I don’t make such a show-stopping look for nothing.” The warmth in his smile almost makes your knees collapse. “I’ll see you Monday?” 

“I look forward to it.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on. 

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call. 

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming. 

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on. 

“Thank god. You got everything?” 

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere. 

“I believe so--” 

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently. 

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.” 

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat. 

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.” 

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally. 

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego. 

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen. 

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother. 

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you. 

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much. 

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.” 

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades. 

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat. 

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?” 

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him. 

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists. 

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--” 

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.” 

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--” 

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.” 

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously. 

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious. 

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him. 

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly. 

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say. 

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.” 

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing? 

“Mr. Han--” 

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?” 

“What’s going on?” 

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says. 

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek. 

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.” 

“Mr.--” 

“If I have to tell you one more time--” 

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.” 

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.” 

“What? That’s-- This is insane--” 

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--” 

“Huh?” 

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.” 

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--” 

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks. 

“Sir--” 

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.” 

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur. 

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.” 

“Oh god,” you utter. 

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns. 

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious. 

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house. 

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands. 

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.  

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.” 

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes. 

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs. 

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.” 

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?” 

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses. 

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him. 

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.  

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.” 

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.” 

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp. 

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.” 

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.” 

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.  

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.” 

“Right, sir.” 

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.” 

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...” 

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious. 

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!” 

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs. 

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her. 

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.” 

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman. 

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand. 

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?” 

“Mom,” Lloyd utters. 

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.” 

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door. 

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?” 

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers. 

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back. 

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts. 

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls. 

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.” 

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--” 

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps. 

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...” 

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average. 

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?” 

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you. 

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?” 

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.” 

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?” 

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door. 

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around. 

[parkerrogersgirl]

Birds of a Feather- Chapter 3

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: you're stationed at Top Gun with your brother's long time best friend/your forever crush, Bradley. When you finally realized that your feelings were unrequited, you settled for Adrian. But what happens when Rooster reveals the truth about the man you thought loved you endlessly?

A/N: HI GUYS! I'M BACK!! Again, if y'all didn't see my post earlier, I am very sorry for the long hiatus, I have had no motivation. But! This is one of 3 new chapters this week! Please enjoy, reblog, and give feedback! This is not beta read

Warnings: fluff, pining, cheating, language, angst

Word Count: 1,460

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

Reader’s POV

You wake up the next morning feeling more well-rested than you have in months. Leaving Adrian last night had given you such peace of mind that you were finally able to fall asleep without worrying about the man next to you. As you wake, you realize there’s an arm around your waist, but it feels different than it usually does. You feel safe. Warm. You slowly reach down and put a hand on top of the one across your belly. You hear a groan and feel stirring behind you.

“Morning, sweet girl,” he says against your hair before ruffling it, “how’d you sleep?”

You stretch for a moment and sit up, turning to look at him, “I slept wonderfully. I don’t remember the last time that happened. Thank you for everything you did for me last night.”

He puts a hand on your knee, “well, since Mav gave us yesterday off, we have to go in today. It’s pretty early, but if you want to take a shower, I’ll make us coffee and breakfast. Take your time.” He kisses your forehead and gets out of bed, leaving you to your thoughts as you bring yourself to take a shower. Once the water is a temperature akin to the surface of the sun, you step in and let the extremely hot water wash away all of the drama.

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

Rooster’s POV

Once he’s changed into his flight suit, Bradley goes downstairs and starts on breakfast. As someone who can’t actually cook, he figures pancakes are the easiest option that he won’t mess up. As he assembles all of the ingredients, he lets his mind wander to last night. Now that Adrian was out of the picture, how long should he wait before he confessed his feelings? There’s probably not a statute of limitations on dating your best friend after a bad breakup, right? You had told him things had been “off” for a while. Were you giving permission? Or were you just venting? If he did tell you, would you be okay with it? Would you leave and go stay with someone else?

He hears you coming down the stairs as he finishes plating the pancakes, and resolves to tell you after work. Enough had happened yesterday that needed to be processed on its own, and you needed to be able to focus on work. He could wait.

“ROOSTER! You know you’re not allowed to cook!” You shout from the doorway to the kitchen, rushing over to see the damage. 

He rolls his eyes, “listen, smartass. Pancakes are easy. I only burnt the first two, and I tossed them so you didn’t have to eat them. Now sit down and eat your goddamn breakfast before I take it back and bring it into work. I’m sure the Daggers would love my cooking. They’ll eat anything.” He brings the plate to the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, and you sit down and take a bite, immediately recoiling.

“Roo, you’re my best friend, but I don’t even think Payback and Coyote would eat these. What did you do?” You grab a paper towel from the roll on the counter and spit out your bite.

“What are you talking about? They’re fine.” He grabs one off the plate and takes a bite, then gags. “Jesus CHRIST what happened to these?” He grabs the box of pancake mix and starts scanning it for clues. 

You grab it from him and look at the top flap, gasping, “BRADLEY THIS PANCAKE MIX EXPIRED A YEAR AGO!” 

He shrugs and grins sheepishly, “coffee? I’ll buy.”

You grab your work bag, badge, and phone, then toss him his keys, “damn right you will.”

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

In the car, Rooster isn’t sure what to talk about after your coffee stop. He can’t tell you how gorgeous you look in your uniform. Your long, blonde hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and your flight suit is perfectly smoothed over. It’s still early enough that the sun is still coming up, and the light on your face is hypnotizing. Of course, Rooster is having these thoughts at a red light, and doesn’t notice when it changes to green. Nor does he notice the car behind him honking at him.

“Hello? Rooster? Green light, dude.” You wave a hand in front of his face and he shakes himself back to reality.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he says as he continues driving. “Do you know what we’re flying today?”

“No idea. I just hope Hangman takes it easy on me today. I hate it when his WSO is out. Flying with him sucks.” 

He shoots you a sympathetic look as he pulls in to the gate and shows the security officer both of your badges, then pulls through in the direction of the hangar. “Do you want me to talk to him for you?”

“Oh my God, no. Don’t you dare. I’m dealing with enough, I don’t need him finding out I’m single and harassing me for my number. I’ll just sing Chappell Roan in my head or something.” 

He parks and you both head over to the building, and you hear your callsign echo from somewhere to your left. You both turn your head and roll your eyes. Of course Hangman would find you before you’d finished your coffee.

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

Reader’s POV

As you watch Hangman jog over to you, you start chugging your very strong coffee as fast as you can. 

“Jake, please. It’s so early and I’m not in the mood.”

He smirks as he reaches you, “what’s wrong, darlin’? I just came over to offer my condolences.”

You wince, “condolences for what?”

“Well, Adrian came by Hard Deck last night. Imagine my surprise when he was looking for you because you left him.”

“Yeah, Hangman, I left him. As in, no longer together. So just tell me what you want,” you tell him as you head to the locker room to put your bag up.

He pulls you to him before you can enter the locker room, “I was hoping you’d let me take you out for a celebratory dinner. And then an even more celebratory breakfast the next morning.”

“What exactly are we celebrating?” You try to pull away, but he’s got a hand on your arm. 

“You finally being single, I’ve been waiting for this.” 

You reach down and remove his hand from your arm, and you decide you’ve had enough. “You know what, Hangman? I am so, so sick of this shit. I’m not going to go out with you. Why do you think you’ve never gotten any luck with anyone in the Navy? It’s because we all know what kind of person you are. You’re an incredible pilot. There’s no question about that. But the way you treat people is the reason you have no fucking friends. Ever think you’d have better luck if you changed everything about yourself?”

“I just-”

“Jake, leave her alone,” you hear over your shoulder. You turn your head and see Rooster towering over you, “she’s going through a lot and she doesn’t need you all over her ass.”

“Alright, whatever. See you in the air,” Jake says as he scoffs and walks away. Once he’s gone, Bradley pulls you into a hug. It’s not as tight as the one yesterday, but it’s somehow better. You feel… safe. And the only thing you can think is that you want to feel this way with Bradley every day forever. 

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

After a grueling day of flying with Jake, who wouldn’t speak to you unless it was an instruction, you shower in the locker room and go out to wait by Bradley’s Bronco. You were usually out first, but he’s already standing next to the rear bumper in his civvies.

“Ready? I was thinking we’d pick up some pizza and beer.” 

You high five him before making your way to the passenger’s side, “what a guy,” you say lovingly as you hop in. You order the pizza on your phone, then make a stop at a convenience store for beers before going to pick it up. 

Once you get to Bradley’s, you go straight to the living room and put the pizza and beer on the table. You hear him rummaging around in the kitchen and grab the remote, hoping to choose something before he comes back in the room. You successfully choose “Alien,” just to see how much Bradley will let you get away with in your state. You queue it up on the Netflix screen as Bradley walks in with extra ranch and marinara and sets it on the table. He sits next to you, looks at the TV, then back at you. 

“Actually, can we talk about something?”

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

@my-emotional-self @thankyouforanonymity @supernaturaldean67 @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @princess76179 @srgntjbarnes @jcc04220 @ilovethefandomwho-blog @a-tale-of-two-comics @magellan-88 @healojane @mizz-kraziii @lostinspace33 @esther-maslow-90 @astheskycries @turningtoclown @sonofadeanwinchester @roosterforme

[mylostloversbookmarks]

thank you!! My request is: Joel x female reader. Age gap. They met after Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, they started to know each other, at first they kept it a bit like a secret but then, when things started to get more serious, they didn’t hide anymore. Things got so serious that after a while (not immediately, like a year or two) Joel asked reader to move in with him and Ellie.

Ellie loves reader and she’s more than happy that Joel found his special someone. Could you add a scene where reader is with Ellie one afternoon and they see Joel with a woman, acting really intimate, which connects to reader’s thoughts about Joel being a bit weird the previous days. She thinks he’s cheating on her, also because the woman is really close and intimate to Joel in that situation.

She wants to leave before he sees her but Joel notices her presence, tries to talk to her but doesn’t deny the accusations at first, (so a lot of angst!!!) which makes reader think she lost the love of her life.

They don’t talk for a few days and try to ignore each other when possible, despite living together. Ellie is sad and suffers from this situation. Joel loves reader too much to ruin things so he puts his pride aside and tries talking to her. They eventually talk it through, he was not cheating (choose whatever the alternative to that is!!) maybe a little fluff at the end or also something else? You choose!

also, if you have any rules or have triggers about something that I requested please let me know and change the story how you need to.

And I’m extremely sorry if this request is too long and detailed.

thank you!!!

Guiding Lights - a Joel Miller one shot.

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count - 8.7K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol consumption, , Sus!Joel, Soft!Joel, insecurities, suspected cheating, no actual cheating, I think thats all?

A/N - @addictedtotlou This is my first ever fic request and I cannot thank you enough for sending it through, and also for dropping into my inbox to let me know it was you that requested it! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy <3

Feedback, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

You often find yourself reminiscing on the day you met Joel and Ellie, it feels like forever ago now, though it has only really been a few years.

The winters in Wyoming were never kind, but that year, Mother Nature had been particularly cruel. Strong winds and vicious snow blizzards reduced visibility to almost nothing. You had heard those posted to the lookout stations talking over lunches and complaining about how bad the conditions were getting.

So in a bid to keep the good folks of Jackson safe, Tommy and Maria decided to double the number of patrols around the commune in an attempt to keep an eye on the horizon for any potential threats who could be hiding just beyond their sights.

Needless to say, it had been a rather slow work day in the Tipsy Bison, with the usual counting and re-counting of stock, checking on the latest brew of beers and whisky, ensuring everything was going as planned, and cleaning of the already immaculate bar, all finished in record time.

Expecting the usual after-work rush that never came, you sent the other two bar staff over to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needed any help with preparations for tomorrow's meals.

As the two said their goodbyes over their shoulders, you heard one of them mumble a shocked "What the hell?"

With your interest piqued, you stepped out from behind the old wooden bar and crossed the floor to the large square windows at the front of the building. Your eyes followed their gaze and watched as the afternoon patrol crew filed through the large wooden and steel-clad gates of the commune.

You waved as a few of your regulars passed you, a few tipping the brims of their ten-gallon hats. You quickly realised what had drawn your colleagues' attention when your eyes landed on two new faces in the middle of the crew.

The first newcomer was a man; he wore a thick brown winter coat and jeans that looked like they could stand up on their own, and you could see the toe of his work boot was mended with what looked to be duck tape. His eyes were sharp and focused, darting around him as if in search of someone or something.

Instantly, he gave you the impression of someone who had been on the road for quite some time. Having been there yourself, you felt a surge of sympathy for him, but you were still wary of him, not knowing why he had been brought inside the walls.

The second was a girl, whom you assumed to be the man's daughter; she was small and looked to be in her early teens. Strands of her tawny brown hair peek out from under her winter hat. big, bright eyes, taking in her surroundings in wonder, while the man stared straight ahead. The girl seemed to be unaware that all eyes were on her, from those who stood on the street to others standing in shop windows, just as you were.

You followed the other barstaff out to the porch and offered the girl a small smile as your eyes met, she quickly looked away without returning it. It wasn't often that Jackson took in new people, opting to keep off the radar to try and protect what you had here. Maria was on this afternoon's patrol and had no doubt made the call to bring the two into the commune.

As the crew passed, heading further into the small town, you saw the man's head snap to the left, and he opened his mouth.

"Tommy!" he shouted, his deep, booming voice ringing in the silence. In an instant, he was off his horse and running in the direction of the scaffolding that had been put up to repair some of the damage to a neighbouring building.

You watched on in stunned silence as the two men ran towards each other, unsure of what the newcomers intentions were, but before you had made it down the two steps of the porch, the man wrapped his arms around Tommy and began laughing, disbelief colouring the sound.

The two men stood embracing each other, both breathless from laughter, and you knew immediately who the newcomer was. This was Joel, Tommy's brother.

Tommy had spoken of him before; usually after one too many whiskies at the bar, he would open up to you about how guilty he felt about staying off the radio. He would say things like, "It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me, Y/N; what am I supposed to do? Turn him away?" and "One thing about my big bother is that he's persistent."

You had always offered words of understanding and comfort and almost always cut him off and sent him home after those conversations, knowing that no good could come from him drinking any more alcohol.

Part of being the town's main bar tender was also being a listening ear whenever someone needed it, but with Tommy, it was different. He and Maria had become your closest friends, and you would always be there when either of them needed you, working or not.

You always got the sense that something had happened between the two men that couldn't be fixed. As you watched the brothers reunite, you realised that the thought couldn't be further from the truth.

Maria caught your eye as she dismounted from her horse and jerked her head to the side, beseeching you to join her. You nodded at her and crossed the road to where she was standing, hitching her horse to one of the many posts dotted around town.

"Maria, is that who I think it is?" You asked her quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," she spat. "I don't know how the hell he found us out here." She continued, venom dripping from each word.

You knew that Maria had never actually met Joel, but from the stories Tommy had told you both in the early years, she knew what he was capable of and decided then and there that she did not like him. You, on the other hand, had a more objective outlook on things.

You were not involved in the same way Maria was, of course; she and Tommy were married after all, so you could understand her reservations when he opened up about his past with his brother and the things they had done and what they thought they needed to do to survive.

The problem was, Maria had been in Jackson longer than you and Tommy and therefore had less of an idea what a brutal hellscape it was outside the walls. Maria wasn't stupid; she knew that it was dangerous, but it had been so long since she had to live like that, to really be surviving, not trusting anyone you met along the way, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or if you were going to make it to worry about the next meal.

You, on the other hand, had lived that life for longer than you would like to remember, and though you didn't have innocent blood on your hands, they were far from clean. So you could sympathise with Tommy and the demons that clearly kept him up at night. So you felt the hatred that Maria has for Joel was a little unfounded.

"I'm happy he found him again," you admitted, unable to help the undercurrent meant by your works. What you really wanted to say was "This should have happened a long time ago if you had let him respond to Joel's calls on the radio" Meeting her narrowed eyes, you saw a flash of anger in them. No doubt you will get an earful for that comment later.

You knew what she was going to say: that Joel wasn't going to fit in here in Jackson, that Tommy was better off without him, and that you should keep a safe distance from him. But she didn't have the opportunity, as Tommy was already walking towards the two of you.

Joel had walked back to where the girl waited on her horse; a worried, almost disappointed expression crossed her face as he gestured towards Tommy. You watched as he gently helped her down from the animal, making sure she was steady on her feet before the pair followed behind Tommy.

"Y/N, Maria, ah… this is my big brother, Joel," Tommy announced, his tone a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"Hey, it's good to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you." You smiled kindly at him; he nodded once in response, his expression guarded.

"I'm Ellie! It's nice to meet you," the girl chirps cheerily before shoving her elbow into Joel's ribs. "Joel, say hello," she all but hissed at him, which makes you chuckle.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ellie." You beam.

"It's, uh, good to meet you," he managed quietly.

Two years later...

A loud knock at your front door startles you. Your hand flies to your heart as you curse under your breath. Who the hell would be calling on you at this hour of the morning?

You pad down the hallway and open the door to find Joel standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed keyed up, and your heart drops to your stomach; something must have happened.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is Ellie alright?" You squeaked at him, the panic rising in your chest causing your voice to go up an octave.

"Yes, darlin, everything's fine, Ellie's good; don't worry; I just need to talk to you about something, that's all," he assured you in his thick Texas drawl.

"Everything's good… but you need to talk to me about something at 6 a.m." You questioned him dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I promise everything is fine; I have morning patrol and was hoping I could catch you before I head out," Joel explains, the ghost of a smile playing on his plump lips.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense, sorry; c'mon, handsome." You laugh as you open the door for him to enter and close it after him.

He follows you down the hall into the small kitchen, lingering in the doorway and studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your figure as you pour him a cup of coffee. Strong, black, no sugar—just the way he likes it.

Turning with the mug in your hand, you let out a breathy laugh at the sight of him. He looked wired, far too awake for this hour of the morning. Was he sweating?

"Joel, baby, are you alright?" You ask curiously as you hand him his coffee and take your usual seat at the end of the dining table.

"Yeah, I just…I wanna ask you something but I don't know how" he confessed sheepishly, his large hand coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

"I'd like to think you know me well enough by now to know you can ask me anything." You said it with a smile, hoping to calm whatever was causing his nerves.

"Yeah, no, I know, I just don't want to freak you out; there's no pressure, and I understa-"

"Just spit it out, Joel." You interrupt him. In the two years you had been with Joel, you had never seen him struggle for words with you, and it was making you anxious.

"Okay," he huffs out, pulling the dining room chair out so he could sit facing you. He takes a long drink of coffee before continuing, and the suspense is killing you.

"So I was speaking to Ellie, and you know we both love you; hell, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me!" He chuckles fondly: "Look, we've been seeing each other for a while, and now that everyone knows, I think it would be good, you know, f-for Ellie if she had a…I dunno, like a mother figure on a more permanent basis." The words were falling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He desperately hoped he was making sense, but you still weren't understanding.

"Permenant basis? What do you mean?" You ask, confusion clear on your face, making him laugh again.

"Yeah, like on an everyday basis," he enphasises. Urging you to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Okay, um, I mean, yeah, I think that's a great idea. I love that kid. I will tell her about making an effort to hang out every day." You promise him sincerely and are touched that he thinks of you as a mother figure to his daughter.

"That's not really what I was thinking, baby; I mean, on a permanent basis, like you would live in the same house." He husks softly, his eyes searching your face for your reaction, and his heart sinks to his boots as he watches your brows knit together.

"Did you have another fight?" You ask him, reaching your hand up to stroke the side of his face, your thumb lingering on the heart-shaped patch of his beard where the hair refused to grow. "Ellie's always more than welcome to stay here when she likes, but Joel, I don't think her moving in here is the answer."

He takes your hand from his face and holds it between both of his; he huffs all the air from his lungs and slowly takes another deep breath. Straightening in his chair, he locks eyes with you.

"I knew this would be an easy ask, but I didn't imagine you making it this hard on me," he says exasperatedly, huffing out another loud laugh.

"I don't understand." Confusion layers your tone, and you are sure your face is doing the same.

"I'm not asking if Ellie can move in with you; I'm asking if… if you would like to move in with us Y/N" He admits. His brown eyes are soft and lingering on your face, and his thumb is tracing small circles on your wrist.

This was not the conversation you were expecting to have over your morning coffee; your brain was barely functioning, and your mind started to race. The last two years of your life, with Joel and Ellie passing by before you in a blur of colours and memories.

You had sympathised with Joel's struggles to adjust to life in Jackson, and given that you worked in the only bar in town, he quickly became a familiar face. You ignored Maria's warnings to stay away from him; after all, she didn't know him from Adam, and you felt it was unfair to judge someone on the things they had done as the world fell apart overnight.

So, slowly but surely, you found yourself at work, hoping each night that he would stop in so you could get to know him better, and he always did. Always opting to sit at the bar, despite there being plenty of more comfortable booths to sit at.

At first, it was always you who initiated the conversation, asking him how his day was, how the patrol had gone, and how Ellie was fitting in, and you listened tentatively to what little information he would give you. Until eventually, after a couple of months of the same routine, he started to open up to you.

He would ask you how you were, how your shift had been, if you had a good day off, and on occasion he would let slip that he "missed you yesterday" when he called in for a drink on his way home from patrol, only to be disappointed that you were nowhere to be found.

It made you giddy; he was on your mind constantly; it made you feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in your belly, but you thought it was only harmless flirting as there was a considerable age gap between you both, with Joel being in his fifties and you in your early thirties, you didn't think Joel would be interested in a relationship with you.

But how wrong you were! After a couple of weeks of late-night drinks after the bar had officially closed, Joel had bitten the bullet and asked you out, though he asked if you wouldn't mind keeping it between the two of you as he didn't know how Ellie would react to him seeing someone and you gladly accepted.

You understood that Ellie was and always would be his first priority, and you admired his unwavering dedication to her, especially after finding out that Ellie wasn't his blood relative; he had taken her on as "cargo," as he affectionately put it. As a way to get one step closer to finding his brother, but she had worked her way under his skin, much like she did with everyone she met. It was so difficult not to like her. With her quick wit and foul mouth, she never failed to make you laugh. She was definitely his daughter, blood or no blood.

The thought of Ellie brings your mind back to the question at hand: should you move in with them? Was now the right time? Was Ellie even okay about this? Did she even know Joel had asked you? Each question raced through your mind until your mouth found one it could form words around.

"What does Ellie think of this?" You asked Joel intently, reading his face for any signs of worry or panic at your question, but there were none to be found.

"I mentioned to Ellie a few months ago that I thought it would be nice if you were around all the time, and she agreed, and then I sat her down yesterday and told her that I was thinking of asking you today, and she was all for it. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, though; it's okay if it's too soon; you can say no, and we won't be offended in the slightest!" Joel assures you, his voice is low and genuine.

He lifts his right hand to the side of your face and gently brushes the hair out of your eyes, his calloused thumb stroking back and forth as you lean into his touch, allowing your eyes to fall closed. Taking a deep breath, you throw caution to the wind.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, your voice drops to a whisper. "Yes, I'll move in."

Suddenly your body was moving, and not by its own volition; your eyes were still closed, so your brain was having trouble registering what was happening. When your eyes flashed open in surprise, you were caught up in Joel's arms, spinning around your small kitchen with your feet no longer planted on the floor.

"Joel!" You squeal through breathy laughter, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I'm sure handsome, but I have one condition!" You warn him, arching a fluffy brow.

"Name your price, sweetheart," he smirks at you through the whiskers of his full moustache.

"I get to tell Ellie," You beam back at him, your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers scractching lightly at the curls that have formed there.

"I think she'd like that," he ghosts against your lips, lightly brushing his nose against your own until you lean up and crush your mouth to his.

Three years later...

It has been a hectic few weeks for the community in Jackson, working through yet another savage winter. You were just through the middle of it, and the end was in sight. The snow storms were not as frequent and the winds were not as wild.

Work has been keeping you busy. You are still the main bartender at the Tipsy Bison, but much to Joel's dismay, you have also picked up a few patrol shifts to lend a hand to Tommy as a few of the older patrol crew stepped back into other work duties due to ill health.

It has felt like months since you and Joel have spent any quality time together, despite living in the same house and working in the same community. Whenever you were both home, he seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he would only give you short answers before retreating into his own thoughts.

At first, you thought that he might just be stressed out from work duty or the weather, as bad as it has been, but as the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a growing sense of unease. You have never seen Joel act this way before, not with you at least, and you don't know what to do.

You miss his closeness; the late-night conversations at the bar while you finished up your shift—all of that has stopped, and no matter how many hours you spent trying to figure out why, you always came up blank.

So needless to say, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with Ellie this evening to help take your mind off your worries. You had stood under the shower for longer than you intended, just enjoying how the steaming water rolled down your tense frame.

With a sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel, headed into your bedroom to get dressed, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that the house had heating, an especially rare commodity with the world's current condition. Jackson really was a paradise of sorts.

"Ellie! C'mon kiddo, we're going to be late for the movie!," You shout from the bottom of the stairs, shrugging into your winter jacket.

Movie night Fridays have quickly become a tradition for you and Ellie, especially now that the winter has rolled back around and it's too cold to spend much time outdoors.

"Alright, I'm coming; Jesus, keep your hair on!" Ellie mutters as she makes her way down the stairs, where you wait for her.

"We only have 20 minutes before the film starts, and I know you're going to want to get snacks, so we've got to make tracks." You laugh as she rolls her eyes at you.

"Alright Mom," she mocks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You're such a little shit, you know that, right?" You tell her fondly with a warm smile.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," she grins.

"Ah, I see, and does Dina know all about your charm?" You playfully jab her ribs with your elbow, wagging your brows up and down.

"Ugh, you're so annoying; you know that, right?" Ellie counters, always so quick-witted.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," You repeat her words back to her, earning another eye roll.

The two of you leave the house and trudge out into the snow; thankfully, the blizzard has calmed, and now fat, fluffy flakes of snow flurry around you like something from a movie scene.

As brutal as they can be, you have never seen anything more beautiful than Jackson in the winter. It was like something you would see on a postcard of a ski village in the French Alps, all timber buildings and string lights illuminating the small town.

On Friday nights, the mess hall was turned into a makeshift movie theatre for the youth that lived in the commune, offering them some respite from the grind of daily life. It was complete with candy, drinks, and, of course, pop corn.

At first, Ellie hadn't seemed all that interested in going, not knowing many kids her age, but after a lot of coaxing and the promise that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to go again or even stay for the full movie, Though she quickly found her feet with Dina, the rest was really history.

"Where's Joel tonight? I thought he was going to come with us." Ellie asked curiously.

"Oh shit, I meant to tell you earlier; he said Tommy asked him to cover the evening patrol tonight, so he can't make it." You explained, not really sure why Tommy needed him to cover after already doing the afternoon patrol, but it must have been important, so you didn't give it a second thought.

You and Ellie walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful walk through town. You were about to ask her how she was getting on with her work detail when she came to a standstill.

"I thought you said Joel was on patrol tonight?" she demanded, her face contorting in confusion.

"Uh yeah, Ellie, I just told you that." You confirm, your own confusion mirroring hers.

"Then what the fuck is he doing in the bar?" She fumes, gesturing behind you to the window of the Tipsy Bison.

Sure enough, there he sits at the bar with Jenna. Joel was nursing a whisky, and she was playfully peeling back the homemade label of her beer bottle. They are sitting in the corner booth by the window, leaning towards each other to the point where their heads are far too close to be appropriate.

In that moment, your breathing stopped. Your stomach sank to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of panic and dread began to claw viciously from your chest up your throat, resting heavy on your tongue.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks nervously, not really sure what to do or say in this situation. It could be nothing, but even to her, it definitely looked like something.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Ellie, why don't you go on down to the mess hall, and I'll meet you there in a few?" You tell her more than ask, your eyes never leaving the window.

"No way fuck that I'm staying with you!" she demands, her eyes growing wet around her long lashes.

"No, Ellie, I need to talk to Joel; I will catch up with you in a few, okay?" You meet her eyes and nod in the direction of the mess hall. She only nods in response; your tone is final as she turns on her heel and storms towards the makeshift movie theatre.

What the fuck is happening right now? You trusted Joel; it never bothered you when the ladies in Jackson would bat their eyes at him or when their glances lingered a little too long. You took it as a compliment; hell, if you were them, you would stare too.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of honesty and trust from the very beginning. You have told him things you have never shared with another living soul, and he has done the same with you. Never in your life did you think you would be lucky enough to share a connection with someone the way you have with Joel, let alone after the world had ended.

And now here you stand in the middle of town, watching the man you love cosy up with another woman in plain sight, not even having the decency to try and hide it from you.

You stand there for another few minutes, watching how he leans across the table to talk to her, laughing and caressing his arm in response. It sets fire to your blood, and you can feel it moving like molten lava in your veins.

You're moving before you realise you have made the decision to do so, your feet carrying you furiously forward, up to the short creaking steps and through the entrance to the bar, and then there you are, looming over their table. Your eyes bore holes into his skull. He jumps in his seat and scrambles frantically to hide the notebook that was sitting open on the table between them. You didn't pay it a second glance.

"I didn't realise the bar needed patrolling this evening," you state pointedly at him, ignoring Jenna, who is doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with you, fidgeting in her seat, and clambering to get her things together. Grabbing her coat and scarf from beside her.

"Hey darlin, I thought you and Ellie were heading to the movies." He asks, his voice rough with his attempts to hide his nerves.

"We were on our way there when she saw this cosy scene from the street." You gesture with your hand towards the table, your voice icy as you let your hand drop to your side with an audible slap, which made Jenna flinch.

"I think I'm going to head out…" Jenna murmurs in a small, quiet voice, still avoiding your gaze.

"That is a wise decision" You agreed without taking your eyes of Joel.

She throws Joel a cryptic glance before clambering out of her seat and quickly making her way to the door, shooting Joel an apologetic glance over her shoulder, which only fuels the rage bubbling up in your throat.

"What the fuck?" You growl at him, doing your best to keep your voice under control. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Especially not at your workplace, regardless of whether you were on shift or not.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, genuinely confused by your anger.

"Please tell me you're joking," you seethe.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend." He scoffs, incredulous.

"Seriously Joel? Since when have you had to lie about working to have a drink with a friend?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" he countered, avoiding the question.

"No, I really don't think I am. How could you do this? How could you do this in front of Ellie?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel huffs back at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes begin to prick with anger fuelled tears; the feeling of betrayal rips through you, leaving you exposed to his hard gaze. You can't take any more of this. It feels like the room is closing in around you. That you will suffocate if you don't leave right now. You look at him once more, and the fact that he hasn't denied it or assured you that this is anything other than what you fear it to be ,allows your world to crumble around you.

"Alright," you manage in a broken whisper that comes out as a choked sob.

With that, you turn and bolt for the door, desperately gasping for air but unable to get enough to fill your lungs. You have to brace yourself on the railing of the porch. You can feel his eyes on you as he watches you leave from where he sits frozen at the table, but he makes no move to follow after you.

Willing your legs to move, you push off the railing and slowly make your way to the mess hall, slipping in just as the movie is starting. You can see Ellie is sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and she has saved you a seat beside her.

You make your way to the restroom, taking in your reflection for the first time that evening. Your face is red and splotchy from crying, your eyes puffy, and your lips swollen from your teeth worrying at them. With shaking hands, you reach out to turn the tap on, splashing the icy cold water over your face as you try to make sense of what has just unfolded.

You knew Jenna; she is one of the few people trained in blacksmithing in Jackson, but you had never been especially close with her. She would frequent the bar and chat with you about her work day and vice versa, but that was the extent of your relationship with her, and you have never seen Joel interact with her. It just didn't make sense; why would he throw everything away for a fling with someone who lives in the same commune? Did he really think you wouldn't find out?

You do your best to shake the thoughts from your head, focused on spending the rest of the evening with Ellie, you will do everything in your power to shelter her from this. So with a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and left the restroom, smiling and waving politely at familiar faces as you made your way to your seat, stopping by the makeshift concession stand to grab Ellie some popcorn and a soda on your way.

"Hey, I've got you some snacks, kiddo." You whisper to her, not wanting to interrupt the film.

"Thanks, are you okay?" She murmered with a small smile. Taking the snacks from your outstretched hands.

"Yes, of course everything's fine; there was a mix-up with the patrols, so Joel didn't have to work tonight after all." You reassured her softly.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

You weren't really sure what movie was even playing tonight, so lost in your thoughts that it was just a blurry hum in the background. Ellie had to nudge your shoulder several times to tell you that the movie had was over. Glancing around to find a steady stream of people filing out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm just a bit distracted tonight; work has been so hectic recently, and I have so much to do when I open tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off. Hoping that she will let it go and that she wasn't being as observant tonight as she usually is. The girl misses nothing.

"It's okay, the film was a repeat anyway," she shrugs, not pressing you on the matter, though you know all too well that the questions will come eventually.

"Shall we head home? It sounds like it's getting pretty rough out there," you noted, as another howl of wind wipped around the wooden building.

"Sounds good; I want to have a shower before Joel uses all the hot water again," she ribs in a peel of bright laughter that sends warmth radiating through your now hollow chest.

When you reach the house, you find it in darkness. Joel hasn't made it home yet, and although you are beyond angry, you can't help but worry about him. Of course he can look after himself, but it isn't like him to be out this late if he wasn't on patrol.

The seething voice in the back of your head reminds you that he could be with her. You try to push those thoughts out of your head, but they linger like a dark cloud, casting a grim shadow over what was your perfect - or as perfect as it could be - life.

"I'm going for a shower and then head to bed, you okay?" Ellie asks, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, of course, kiddo, no worries. Do you need anything? You want some tea?" You offer as you head to the stove and place a pot of water on to boil.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though, g'night!" She calls over her shoulder, and then you are alone in the small kitchen.

"Night kiddo," You call quietly to her as you reach for the herbal tea blend that you and Ellie grew in your little garden last summer.

As you wait for the water to boil, your mind starts to race with worry and anxiety. You can't help but think of all the possible scenarios that could be keeping Joel out this late, and the thought of him being with another woman makes you want to break things. You have tried to push those thoughts out of your head so many times this evening, but they keep creeping back.

A few hours later, you are sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, desperately fighting to keep your eyes open, but in the end you give up, gently placing your book on the coffee table and removing the blanket from your lap. You look at the clock on the wall, and it's just after 3am.

You pad into the kitchen and leave your mug in the sink, too tired to wash it now; that's tomorrow's problem. Heading up the creaky stairs to your bedroom and crawling into the cold sheets. It feels wrong going to bed without Joel by your side, but he is god knows where right now, so you lean over, turn the bedside lamp off, and sink into a restless, uneasy sleep.

You wake to the wintery morning sunshine seeping through your bedroom window. Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you stretch your tired bones, sore from your restless few hours of sleep, and swing your legs out of bed. It's only 7 a.m.; you don't usually open the bar until midday, so you have plenty of time to get ready.

You slink down the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie as you do so. Heading into the kitchen mid-yawn, you stop in your tracks as you find Joel standing at the stove, hovering over a pot of boiling water on the closest ring to him.

"Mornin'," he husks without turning; he must have heard you yawning with his good ear to the doorway.

You ignore him, knowing full well that it's petty and childish and ultimately will not resolve anything, but with the way he behaved last night, you feel the cold shoulder is justified.

You both continue with your morning rituals in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn't know where to begin broaching the subject, and the more you stewed over it, the more you felt he should be the one to open the conversation with an explanation, but if you were being totally honest with yourself, you were beginning to worry that you may have jumped to conclusions.

But when you thought about the way they were huddled together, her hand on his arm, and the way she tipped her head back in laughter at each thing he said, the pit in your stomach grew. As did the silence between you.

Things went on like this for days, with the two of you skirting around each other and avoiding eye contact. Only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, like dinner times, and giving each other your work duties for the week.

You could see the effect this was having on Ellie; she has been especially quiet the last few days, so once Joel leaves for work, you sit with her on the couch and try to get her to open up.

"Ellie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"I don't know. You and Joel have been acting weird lately, and it's making me tense." She shrugs, not meeting your gaze.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you can't keep avoiding the issue. "Yeah, we've been having some problems. But it's nothing you need to worry about, kiddo."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she retorts. "You guys haven't spoken in days. It's not like you."

"I know, Ellie. I just don't know how to fix it." You sigh.

"Maybe you could start by talking to him," she suggests.

"It's not that simple, Ellie. There's a lot going on." You shake your head.

"Well, maybe it would help if you talked to me about it," she offers.

"Thanks, Ellie. But it's not something I can really discuss with you. Just know that Joel and I are working through some things and we'll get through it." You smile softly at her, grateful for her kindness.

She nods, not looking convinced but not pressing the issue. You sit in silence for a moment before she stands up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. Need to clear my head."

"Okay, kiddo. Be safe," you say, watching her leave.

You're left alone in the quiet house, the weight of your problems still heavy on your shoulders. You know Ellie is right; you need to talk to Joel. But the thought of confronting him is daunting, and you don't know if you want to hear what he has to say.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he's not happy and hasn't been for a while?

You decide that enough is enough. After work this evening, you are going to speak to him and attempt to clear the air, hear his side of the story, and try to move forward, if not for the sake of your relationship but for Ellie. It's not fair to have this weighing on her shoulders; it's not her fault, and you hate seeing her unhappy, and you know that Joel will feel the same about his if nothing else.

The workday drags on uneventfully; the only thing standing out was that Jenna had come to the bar for the first time since that evening. She gave you a small smile, and you returned it with a polite nod. You were at work after all and took it upon yourself to remain as professional as possible.

Jenna approaches the bar and orders her usual, which you pour for her without issue, though it makes your skin itchy to be this close to her.

"Have you spoken to Joel yet?" she asks quietly. Wiping her fingertips across the bartop.

You stare at her blankly; the audacity of this woman boggles your mind.

"No," you respond curtly.

"Okay, well, when you do, come and find me. We'll have a lot to discuss." She states matter-of-factly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Before you have the chance to give her a piece of your mind, she is walking away from the bar, her long auburn hair swishing to her lower back. What the fuck is her problem?

You try to get through the rest of your day without dwelling on the conversation you had with Jenna, focusing more on the impending conversation you are going to have with Joel this evening. Thinking about what you were going to say to him, how you were going to explain how you felt, and how hurt you have been over the last few days.

You lock up the bar and head towards home for the evening, taking a little more time than you usually would, feet dragging, dreading the fight that would likely ensue once you had spoken to him. You tell yourself you will keep a level head, but you know deep down your temper would not allow that to happen if he gave you some bullshit excuse.

As you approach the small, snow-covered pathway that leads to the back porch of your home, you pause there, unable to bring yourself to go inside. So you take a seat on the second step and watch the flurries of fluffy snow as they make their way through the air to join the pillowy blanket that covers everything in sight.

You sit there for what feels like hours. Jackson was always quiet; it needed to be in order to keep what you have here safe, but as you sit in the darkness, the only light coming from the dim porch light and the light seeping through the thin linen curtains from the living room, it feels eerily silent and still. The sound of the backdoor creaking open made you jump. The heavy footsteps that followed, however, were all too familiar.

"You gonna stay out here all night?" He asked quietly, his voice low and soft.

"No, I was just… well, I don't really know what I was doing." You offer a small laugh, void of any humour.

Joel takes a few steps and groans loudly as he lowers himself to join you where you sit. He is quiet for a few moments until he finally speaks.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the other night and how it must have looked. I'm sorry for not explaining to you then and there what it was; I didn't want to tell you, and I still don't really. But I promise you on my life that it is not what you think it is, Darlin," he says softly, regret heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand Joel; I just want to understand what the fuck has been going on," you pleaded, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"I know, baby, and I'm going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise. I also didn't want to tell you without speaking to Ellie first, but I spoke to her at dinner, and now she understands." He assures you, his hand coming up to brush your cold cheek for the first time in days, and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of his palm.

"Okay, so now everyone knows but me, why were you all cozied up with Jenna? Why did you lie to me about going to work?" You challenged him, removing your face from his touch.

"Hold on," he huffs, shifting his weight to one hip as he fishes for something in his back pocket before continuing. "It will make more sense once you see this, or I hope it will at least," he offers as he hands you a beaten-up, leather-bound note book.

"What is this?" You ask him, you remember seeing it on the table in the bar the other night.

"Would you just open it?" he sighs, rubbing his hand through his patchy whiskers nervously.

You do as he says and open the notebook, and what you find takes you aback. The notebook is filled almost front to back with little sketches of rings and little notes about different metals and gems in his familar handwriting and another that you don't recognize.

"Wh-what is this?" You repeat, stunned. So many thoughts racing through your mind and you are beggining to realise that you have completely misread the situaiton the other night.

"I know I was going to have to tell you about it eventually, you know for your size and all but I was planning to do that after I asked you…but then with the other night I wasn't sure what to say and I was kind of pissed off that you where angry at me, I didn't stop to think that you weren't in on the secret and what it must have looked like to you," Joel's hand came to rest on your knee squeezing reassuringly as he explained the circumstances that lead to what you saw in the bar.

"I have been meeting up with Jenna over the last few weeks, she's the only blacksmith in Jackson that used to make jewelry…specifically engagement rings," he paused allowing his words to sink in before finishing his explination.

"We've been trying to figure out how to make you one, what metals mix well from what I have found on supply runs, whether to hold off if I could find a stone or a gem, or if we could make it without one,"

You stare at him, a mix of astonishment and disbelief washing over you. The pieces start to fall into place, and you realize the truth behind Joel's actions. The anger and hurt that had consumed you begin to melt away, replaced by a flood of emotions, the most promanent being embarrassment.

"You were planning to… ask me?" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air as you struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Yeah, I was. I've been saving up for months, looking for the right opportunity, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Jenna's been helping me because she's skilled at crafting intricate pieces. I wanted to make something special for you, something that would last a lifetime." Joel nods, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of your mistake dawns upon you. You reach for Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice trembling. "I jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story. I never thought…I feel like such a peice of shit, I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, darlin'. I should've communicated better, explained everything to you beforehand. I understand why you were upset." He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"But why did you lie about going to work?" you inquire, still wanting to grasp every detail.

"We thought it would be best if we kept it a secret until it was ready. And I didn't want you to suspect anything. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, and I was afraid if I told you I was hanging out with Jenna, you'd figure it out before I had the chance." He shrugged.

"Joel, I can't believe you're doing this. You've put so much thought and effort into making something special for us. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I have been so awful to you over the last few days," You let out a shaky breath, your heart filled with a strange mix of relief, shame and joy.

A soft smile graces Joel's lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Don't say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Tears stream down your face now, but they're tears of happiness. You lean in and rest your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. The weight of the misunderstanding lifts, leaving behind a newfound sense of trust and appreciation.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch and for overreacting. I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Hey, we all make mistakes, darlin'. It wouldn't be the first time I've got pissed at you for something I misunderstood now is it?." he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I guess no ones perfect," you echo his laughter leaning into him further.

As you sit together on the porch steps, surrounded by the beauty of the snowfall, you realize that the snow isn't the only thing that's melting. The icy barriers that had formed between you and Joel are slowly thawing away, leaving behind a comfortable quiet.

"So, now that the cats out of the bag, will you…?" he asks his deep voice thick with emotion.

"Will I what handsome?" You look up at him teasing, your eyes twinkling.

A playful grin tugs at the corners of Joel's mouth as he meets your gaze. "Will you marry me, my beautiful, stubborn, and occasionally misunderstood partner in crime?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a surge of excitement courses through you. You pretend to ponder his question, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Well, I don't know, Joel. I mean, after all that's happened, can I really trust you with my heart?" you tease, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel feigns a look of hurt, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh, come on now. I've endured snowball fights, kitchen mishaps, you and Ellie ganging up on me and even your questionable taste in movies. If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

Laughter bubbles up from within you, and you lean in closer, pressing your forehead against his. "Joel, you are my love and my rock. Of course, I'll marry you," you say, your voice filled with so much love.

In that peaceful moment, wrapped in the calm of the snowfall and the safety of his strong arms, you realize that there will be silly arguments, misunderstandings and cold shoulders, but you will always find your way back to each other. You let out a sigh of contentment as Joel presses silent kisses against your head, happy to sit here forever wrapped up in him.

Knowing that Joel and Ellie will forever be your guiding lights.