#answered for my 3 current ocs

[yorkshirereaper]

1. Which areas of Skyrim do they find most beautiful and most dangerous?:

Gianna thinks the snowy mountains are the most beautiful so she adores the throat of the world, but tbh she like the view OF the mountains rather than from. A snowy shady cliff side is her favorite in the light of the moons. She finds the area near markarth most dangerous due to the abundance of forsworn, although individually they don’t pose much of a threat to her.

Sirène loves the coastline. She could sit and sing out over the sea of ghosts for hours. She dislikes travelling through the heavily wooded areas as she tries to avoid bears, dragons, and assassins as much as possible.

Gueniviir is partial to the fall forest around Riften as it reminds her of valenwood, plus as a nightingale she is safe from thievery. She won’t go anywhere near Windhelm for obvious reasons, and she is not a fan of the swampy areas.

2. Which cities do they prefer to stay in and why? Which cities to they avoid at all costs?-

Gianna will stay in any city. She is partial to small villages with fewer guards so she can hunt easier, and she is nervous about solitude because of the whole killing the emperor ordeal, but she stops by from time to time anyway.

Sirène dislikes markarth, windhelm, and Riften. She’s not a big fan of the cold enclosed walls of windhelm or the puzzling layout of markarth, and she’s sick of getting robbed in Riften. When she goes it’s usually to visit the temple of Mara and she stays away from any suspicious characters. She’s not a huge fan of Cold but as the arch mage of the college of winterhold she spends most of her time there, hiding indoors until she can make her way back to solstheim. She likes raven rock and loves Tel Mithryn.

Gueniviir again stays mainly in Riften helping run the thieves guild, but she enjoys staying in whiterun for the cozy atmosphere and she often visits Raven Rock for the company of a particular mercenary

3. What are their religious affiliations, and how does their worship (or lack thereof) affect their day-to-day life?:

Gianna was a follower of talos in her youth, but fell away when she saw how the storm cloaks treated him as a god and used him as an excuse to do despicable deeds to some of her elven friends. Although her vampirism derived from molag bal, she despises what he stands for and refuses any affiliation. She had no affiliation to any aedra or daedra between then and hearing the Night Mother speak, when she asked Cicero to guide her through the DB tenets and tell her about Sithis.

Sirène follows Mara, and sometimes claims dibella as well, though truthfully she is uneducated on dibella worship and just wants to partake in certain debaucheries. However since becoming a student of Master Neloth, she has found herself sucked into the service of Hermaus Mora. Neloth is keeping a rather detached eye on her progression to make sure she doesn’t go mad while in his tower, but Talvas is extremely concerned and has asked Tolfdir personally to observe her while she stays at the college.

Gueniviir was a staunch follower of hircine, but as a nightingale serves only Nocturnal. She finds comfort in serving a higher power since being kicked out of valenwood had taken away a huge part of her identity as a Bosmer.

4. Do they believe the College of Winterhold caused the Great Collapse? If no, what is their theory?

Gianna doesn’t know and doesn’t care. She grew up in falkreath and didn’t have anything to do with the college until after she discovered she was Dragonborn.

Sirène does not believe the college was at fault. She has always been fascinated with the ocean and is sure that a storm caused great waves to overcome the structures of winterhold. She despises the Nords aversion to magic and finds their hatred of the college completely unjustified.

Gueniviir has considered the theory that the mages did it, but assumes it was an accident. She doesn’t particularly care either.

5. Would they be able to live off the land if they were lost in the wilds of Skyrim? How skilled are they at foraging and hunting?:

Gianna would feed off of travelers and animals for blood. Her vampirism would easily protect her from the cold, but finding shelter during the day may prove difficult.

Sirène would suffer greatly from the cold. She could magically keep warm for a bit and summon Atronachs for protection, but she knows far more about alchemical ingredients than edible plants and dislikes killing small animals. However, on the coastline she would be a skilled fisher.

Gueniviir would have no issue. She is an exceptional huntress. The real issue would be keeping her from burning the forest down when she gets cold.

6. What is their opinion on Skyrim's "bandit problem"?

Gianna dislikes bandits. She sees them as cowards crowded together in smelly hovels because they refuse to improve themselves, killing whoever they like just for a few coin. She could easily wipe them all out if properly motivated.

Sirène feels for them. The unforgiving nature of the Nordic culture leads many to abandon their restricted lives and find others who feel the same and abandon civilized society. She doesn’t support them, but wished better for them.

Gueniviir has been friends with many bandits, but still thinks it’s odd that they would choose to live in caves. Still, if threatened she won’t hesitate to tear through a bandit camp with her blades.

7. Do they regret journeying to Skyrim? Or, if they were born in Skyrim, do they wish they could leave?

Gianna wouldn’t leave for good. She was born in skyrim and has left to explore other regions, but finds that other lands are far too warm for her comfort and she always misses the snowy mountains and traditions of her kinfolk.

Sirène regrets coming to skyrim, but she never felt she belonged in cyrodiil either. She wonders if she would feel more comfortable in whatever land her biological father was from, though she doesn’t know where that is or why she is so drawn to the sea.

Gueniviir wishes she could return to valenwood or at least travel to the warm sands of elseweyr, but she is no longer welcome in valenwood and has a duty to the thieves guild. She hopes she can take a trip to elseweyr with Teldryn Sero one day.

8. What is their favorite kind of food that can only be found in Skyrim?

Gianna loves a good Nord mead, as well as the taste of blood of someone drunk off of Nord mead.

Sirène does not enjoy Nord food. However she did get some ideas for preparing seafood from the local fishermen. She doesn’t prepare it exactly the same but uses some of the same spices and herbs.

Gueniviir thinks the deer meat from skyrim is the tastiest she’s ever had. Not as lean and dry as the deer in valenwood and just a little fattier than the deer in cyrodiil.

9. Do they believe in snow/sky whales?:

Gianna has never heard of them

Sirène believes they may be spirits of the ancestors of living whales or perhaps a metaphor for a higher power

Gueniviir believes they are a skooma-induced hallucination. Incidentally, she believes she has seen one while using skooma.

10. Are they a part of any factions, guilds, or organizations?

Gianna is the Listener of the dark brotherhood and had previously been in the dawnguard.

Sirène is the arch mage of the college of winterhold and an “honorary” member of house Telvanni.

Gueniviir is a nightingale and a member of the thieves guild

11. If they are a magic user, what is their favorite school of magic? Do they have a natural talent for magic, or does it require diligence and study?

Gianna uses magic, but doesn’t study and doesn’t have a natural talent for it. She has a handful of very powerful spells she’s perfected, and doesn’t tend to search out more unless it’s convenient for her. Her vampirism did give her a boost to her destruction and conjuration spells.

Sirène is an avid magic user. It comes naturally to her AND she studies hard to improve her abilities. Her preferred schools of study are restoration and alteration.

Gueniviir also uses some basic healing spells and destruction to start fires. She will also use conjuration from time to time if she needs a corpse to fight for her

12. What are their prejudices? What groups have they come to think of as 'other'? Mages? Nords? Elves? Lollygaggers?:

Gianna has worked hard to overcome her learned prejudices against mer, kahjiit, and argonians. She still despises Altmer because she has mostly only met thalmor. Also a couple offensive names may come out if she is fighting an enemy of a different race (she has called a dunmer bandit a knife eared grey skinned bastard or a kahjiit a skooma swilling housecat on more than one occasion. She’s never say that to a friend or ally.)

Sirène is unsure of her paternal lineage and has learned much about most races to try to pinpoint where he may be from, and has no prejudice against any possibility. She’s not immune to believing in stereotypes but generally doesn’t judge anyones intentions or worth before meeting them.

Gueniviir dislikes many nords, altmer, orsimer, and argonians, but she acknowledges that they don’t deserve discrimination. Much of her immediate opinions on them she will thoughtfully shuts down and will try to get to know the person. Years and years of taught prejudice are difficult to overcome, but she works on it.

13. Do they believe the old nordic tales about the Dragonborn? If they are Dragonborn how has their experience differed?

Gianna didn’t believe in the legend until she found out she was Dragonborn. She assumed learning Dovah was just easy and no one else actually tried except the greybeards. Her experience has been less “magical” than the legend claimed, and the power of the voice seems almost underwhelming coming from her own mouth. Still, she does enjoy using it.

Sirène believed that was bullshit until Neloth asked her to bring him the Dragonborn to answer some questions and run some tests. When he showed her a portrait of Gianna, she became furious that she was Dragonborn because sirène knows and hates Gianna. Neloth seemed convinced that she was Dragonborn though, so she obliged.

Gueniviir witnessed Gianna’s power firsthand one day while they both fought a dragon outside of riften, but didn’t realize she was actually Dragonborn. She just thought she knew how to shout like the greybeards.

14. Who is their mentor? Who do they go to most for lessons?

Gianna learned a lot from her father about Nord tradition and self defense. her parents disappeared when she was 19. From then on she had no true mentor, but learned a bit from many people she met, forming her identity independently of expectations. However, after joining the brotherhood, she learned a lot from her dark brothers and sisters, but mostly Cicero (especially after Astrid’s betrayal and death). Occasionally, she will summon her spectral assassin, Lucien Lachance, for moral quandaries and more coherent information about the brotherhood than cicero can provide.

Sirènes mentor is Neloth (though he doesn’t seem too pleased about it) although as of late she has been falling into the grasp of Hermaus Mora

Gueniviir saw Mercer as a mentor until he betrayed her. Her greatest mentor before then was her mother, who still resides in valenwood.

15. How do they feel about consorting with daedra? Do they collect their artifacts? Are there some they would never interact with vs. some they would consider calling upon?

Gianna was highly against consorting with daedra as she doesn’t want another being having power over her. She would only call upon sithis via the night mother.

Sirène tried many allegiances; Mara, dibella, arkay, kyne, even mephala, but truthfully she hadn’t found any comfort or guidance from any of them, besides engaging in carnal delights via dibellas blessing. Now she collects the black books so she can discover all knowledge held in apocrypha.

Gueniviir will call upon hircine to offer her power against the dangers of the wilds and nocturnal for all other issues.

16. What are their opinions on the civil war? Do they support a side or leave them to their own devices

Gianna does not care for petty wars. She dislikes ulfric stormcloaks but also dislikes the imperial legion coming in to tell Nords how to live their lives. And she HATES the thalmor for instigating. She wishes to kill both ulfric and the leader of the imperial army, and every thalmor in existence. She hopes someone will take out a hit on each of them.

Sirène doesn’t give a shit. She wants to stay at tel mithryn to be as far away as she can.

Gueniviir hopes the imperial officers die but also dislikes ulfric stormcloak.

17. Do they have family? Who doe they consider to be family?

Gianna considers the brotherhood to be her family, and Cicero to be her soulmate. Her true family vanished years ago.

Sirène considers her mother and sisters to be family, but hopes to find a link to her bio father to find her extended family.

Gueniviir has a different opinion of what constitutes family. She considers all bosmer to be her kin, and the thieves guild as a kind of adopted family. Anyone she likes and wishes to protect is her family.

18. What is their stance on taking a life? Do they kill without a second thought, in the name of a god or daedra, or do they adhere to pacifism?

Gianna doesn’t give it a thought. They go to sithis or to sovngarde depending on why she kills them, but it doesn’t matter which to her. she will not murder children though.

Sirène doesn’t like to kill unless it’s absolutely necessary. She wishes them peace in their next realm no matter what.

Gueniviir is very selective about killing. She will, but from childhood still harbors the urge to use all of the body and devour all flesh, and she doesn’t like to. It’s too much work and often tastes rancid. She prefers to sneak around enemies.

19. How are they with money? Do they hoard, or do they spend until their pockets are empty and they have to find work again? Have they saved for any houses?

Gianna has loads of coin. Being an assassin pays very well, and she’s not above thievery either. She spends it freely because she is not concerned about having enough. She owns 3 homes already

Sirène tends to over spend on spells, inns, bath houses, and magical items. She will then let Neloth do weird experiments on her or run errands for the college for more coin.

Gueniviir makes a through the thieves guild, but only holds on to what she needs and gives the rest to the homeless and the guild. She donates a lot to the orphanage as well.

20. Can they read?

Gianna’s mother made sure she could read with daily lessons as a child.

Sirène attended a prestigious school in cyrodiil and can read in multiple languages.

Gueniviir reads at the skyrim equivalent of a 2nd grade level. She prefers to draw than write if she wants to get her point across. She reads very slowly as she had no need to until he was about 70 (she is currently 75)

SKYRIM OC ASKS

I wanted to make a more in-depth and lore-building set of questions for people's Skyrim-specific OCs! This can be used as an ask game, or if you just want to answer them all without waiting for people to ask, have at it!

(Thanks to my good fandom buddies for all the suggestions!)

Which areas of Skyrim do they find most beautiful and most dangerous?

Which cities do they prefer to stay in and why? Which cities to they avoid at all costs?

What are their religious affiliations, and how does their worship (or lack thereof) affect their day-to-day life?

Do they believe the College of Winterhold caused the Great Collapse? If no, what is their theory?

Would they be able to live off the land if they were lost in the wilds of Skyrim? How skilled are they at foraging and hunting?

What is their opinion on Skyrim's "bandit problem"?

Do they regret journeying to Skyrim? Or, if they were born in Skyrim, do they wish they could leave?

What is their favorite kind of food that can only be found in Skyrim?

Do they believe in snow/sky whales?

Are they a part of any factions, guilds, or organizations?

If they are a magic user, what is their favorite school of magic? Do they have a natural talent for magic, or does it require diligence and study?

What are their prejudices? What groups have they come to think of as 'other'? Mages? Nords? Elves? Lollygaggers?

Do they believe the old nordic tales about the Dragonborn? If they are Dragonborn how has their experience differed?

Who is their mentor? Who do they go to most for lessons?

How do they feel about consorting with daedra? Do they collect their artifacts? Are there some they would never interact with vs. some they would consider calling upon?

What are their opinions on the civil war? Do they support a side or leave them to their own devices?

Do they have family? Who doe they consider to be family?

What is their stance on taking a life? Do they kill without a second thought, in the name of a god or daedra, or do they adhere to pacifism?

How are they with money? Do they hoard, or do they spend until their pockets are empty and they have to find work again? Have they saved for any houses?

Can they read?

[heartofbalemoon]

seen my fellow mutuals do this so im presenting my oc/canon blorbos.... mualani (left) and inti (right) 🦭❤️☀️

and below is my other oc/canon ship: columbina and homura!! 🕊❤️🕊

[skeletalheartattack]

Who was your favourite mario character as a kid, and who is it now?

honestly? that's a pretty tough question for me to answer, because i played a lot of mario games growing up, and i don't know if younger me would've been able to choose a favourite. in terms of established characters, i think a safe option would likely be bowser; he was always my pick in Mario Kart 64, Melee, and Brawl. though in terms of the entire series as a whole, i liked the luigis mansion ghost designs a lot.

a favourite nowadays? i'm not quite sure. if i had to pick an established character, it'd probably be wario or waluigi. in terms of the entire series, i like the Mario Sunshine boos design a lot... but that's narrowing it down too small because i like a whole lot of designs from the franchise, so it's really hard to pinpoint.

[fenharel-archived]

saskia i am on my hands and knees begging for some ysabel info! what’s her backstory? what’s she like during the game? she’s so 🥰💖

[PERSONALITY]

Ysabel is a noble, Lolth Sworn Drow, living in Menzoberrazan and is a School of Divination Wizard

Shes an chaotic neutral ENTP, Gemini, 125 years old and 1.60m tall

Ysabel is creative and intelligent, mischievous and cunning. Some perceive her as quirky, eccentric - funny, confident with a giant ego, but also power hungry and selfish, sometimes cruel. She has always been full of ideas, always thinking of new and better ways to do things. She’s always been curious, more often than not you find her with her nose stuck in a book. Her childhood bedroom was exploding with books about fungi or tomes like “The past and present: a Scholars Guide to Divination”. 

She’s also rather extroverted and a social chameleon, excellent at manipulation and persuasion, something her mother often took advantage of, as she would often use her children like chess pieces in her political affairs.

[BACKSTORY]

The noble house of Do’Rahel is one of the 8 powerful houses in Menzoberranzan

Ysi has two older sisters (Yris, Yvory) and one younger brother (Ysmael, my warlock charlatan & very first D&D oc 😘)

Their mother (Yaelryn Do’Rahel) is a matron mother, a priestess of Lolth and a powerful and influential figure in Menzoberrazan’s affairs

As most intelligent people are prone to, Ysabel was more questioning of things like societal norms or rules and ideas than what was socially acceptable in the Cult of Lolth, something her mother often reminded her of through whipping. But her mother was also more progressive than some would believe - when her daughter showed more interest in the arcane than continuing her training as a cleric she encouraged it. She thought that having one of her daughters in the circle of the Sorcere was something that could be beneficial to her.

After a particularly nasty ambush on Ysabel (your regular weekend in the Underdark really) her mother assigned one of their warriors as her personal guard - a tiefling slave called Lucien (Side note but he’ll be romancing Shadowheart in a future playthrough 🤓)

Lucien was in his early twenties and enslaved for around 5 years at the time, he was passionate and charming, warm and strong. But he was also as cunning as he was kind. Ysabel liked him, and often would spend more time with him than was strictly necessary. He had Ysabel figured out quickly, and noticed that traits in her that might be weaknesses in her mothers eyes, could be his opportunity. That growing close to her could be his ticket to get free.

But things didn't necessarily work out for him at first as he would have thought - both of them fell in love.

He would tell her stories of his previous life, about his ideals and morals, about the world above. How children do not fear for their life where he is from, how parents love their children unconditionally, how he missed feeding the neighbors ducks before he would go to school. Ysi would laugh at him sometimes, call him weak and soft. But sometimes she would indulge in his stories. Catching herself thinking of them in bed before she go meditating. How strange it must be to live so truly carefree.

The influence Lucien had on her was undeniable. Small and meaningless at first maybe but there nonetheless. There were glimpses of true kindness in Ysabel only he got to see. Glimpses of love - real love, not just the craving for flesh or power he was accustomed to from other Drow. He saw that he had shaken her morals and beliefs, slightly perhaps, but shaken. So when she finally wanted to set him free out of her own volition, instead of running when his binding spell was broken he asked for her to come with him.

She helped him to stage his own death and broke his bonds and let him go, but she didn’t go with him. This would be a turning point in her life, something she regretted for the rest of her existence, something she kept thinking about for years on end.

For many years after, she buried herself in her tower. She never dared to think of why she said no, instead she sat in front of her mirror of memories, where she relived the time she had with Lucien. But in doing so, a part of herself, the past party in fact, was lost in it. Her present self was split in half. She was either overly good or overly evil, and she became known for being mad and for research and experiments that were even extreme by Drow standards. 

She was in this state for at least 60 years. She had short periods of time where she managed to stabilize herself through experiments, but it never worked for long. Nevertheless, she made a name for herself, she was an extremely powerful wizard, was considered one of the masters of Sorcere and had a place in their council. (Much to their dismay. Assassination attempts from her colleagues were a daily occurrence tbh.)

[GAME TIMELINE]

House Do’Rahel was infiltrated by Absolute cultists, leading to the almost death of her sisters Yris and Yvory, and the losing a handful of their staff members. Ysabel's mother also heard rumors of similar things happening in House Baenre and other houses all over the city. Sensing a bigger plot, instead of sending warbands like her colleagues, she only send Ysabel and a handful of warriors on a scouting mission. She was to gather as much information as possible. If she would see an opportunity beneficial to them - she should take it, and most importantly she was also to kill or capture any heretic or deserter of Lolth.

The trail they followed led them to the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t know it at the time but she was on her way to Moonrise Towers when she was abducted. When she woke up in the Nautiloid, the tadpole didn’t just strip her of her powers, but also stabilized her mind.

Being fully herself again after so long felt like having someone forcefully pushing a heart back into her. At the beginning of her journey she’s manipulative (she does a lot of the “heroic” options not because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but because she thinks it’s a smarter way to uncover what is going on and/or because working with the Absolute would go against Lolth), she’s also selfish and a bit cruel, but a lot of things she does suddenly don’t feel the same to her anymore, and an top of that the problem with the tadpole - it forces her into introspection. 

At some point she realizes that her companions remind her of Lucien, and the time she had with him. Her development throughout the game mainly consists of her realizing that she rather wants love and friendship than pure ruthless power. She develops a consciousness, empathy. Something Lucien already built the groundwork of so many years ago. She realizes she was too much of a coward back then, that she couldn't let go of all that power and desert Lolth even though that's what she really wanted. Surrounded by her new friends, she doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. In her mind, she’ll never be truly good, much less a hero. But she doesn’t want to be what she used to be either. Seeing real friendship, love, experiencing it for herself, she realizes the only times she wasn't hollow was with Lucien - and now, with them. 

Her new friends act as mirrors to herself as well. She sees herself in Gale when he gets obsessed over the Crown, she sees herself in Astarion when he’s willing to kill all his former friends for power. And she sees herself in Lae’zel, Wyll & Shadowheart when it comes to the influence a God, Goddess or devil can have on you. They were all on the path she already walked on, and the guilt she is carrying with her over things she can’t change anymore is overwhelming, so she stops them all, helps them see what is truly important. 

About the reason she was in Baldur’s Gate in the first place, she isn’t honest with her companions at first, she has obviously her own agenda like everyone else in that camp. She was forced to explain herself by Wyll when she let True Soul Nere kill the Gnomes. Having a tadpole in her head made everything more personal of course, she starts going against the Absolute not in the name of Lolth or for her mother but for herself and her own beliefs in Act 2.

After the game, her mind is still hers. Going through so much change and admitting her biggest fears repaired herself, like a curse she casted and then lifted on herself. Also, she and Astarion guide the Vampire spawn in the Underdark for a while, and she also researches for ways to make Astarion walk in the sun again (and I like to headcanon that she succeeds :3)

If you want to take a peak, here is Ysabels pinterest 🥺, and since i mentioned Lucien, here is his'.

[duskianfae]

"you're so cute, I could just kiss you!!"

[commissionsdarian]

Order the actions from best to worst ,just ur pov

1-Choking brother and throwing him across the room while being high out of your mind because you just discovered you were being lied to your entire life (he was fine though)

2-Killing all the innocent people in a random car because you just discovered you were being lied to your entire life

3-temporarily locking your sister in a chamber because she slit your other sister's throat and left her to bleed out (the former part being accidental, latter because of a manipulative bf) and is overall dangerous as of now

4-Writing a book about your childhood trauma and using it to write out every shitty part of your siblings' life (both their faults and what happened to them( they were also severely abused throughout their lives)) without their consent or informing them at all

You're really that desperate for my opinions on this?

4, 1, 3, 2

[stormbreaker-290]

Hewo it's me again! What oc would you like me to draw? :3

Ebebeb hai!! My silly TV head Static would be awesome! :Dc you can search em up on my blog with "tv head oc" or "my oc" and he should be there for ya x3

[barnacles34]

Steamy Mornings and Massages (Winter x Male OC)

7k words

Tags: smut, fluff, office sex, office massage, soulmates, romance, very love-heavy

Chapter 1: The Day After

"Let's just stay here," Minjeong murmured, pressing soft kisses to the crown of Junho's head. The morning alarm had shattered what his typically precise mind had categorized as Optimal Comfort Configuration™, but neither of them had moved to silence it[1].

His face remained buried in the crook of her neck, accepting what his mind reluctantly acknowledged as the only form of comfort he'd ever truly wanted. "Well, my secretary," he rumbled against her skin, the possessive pronoun carrying new weight in the morning light, "on a very important day, doesn't want to go to work?" Despite his words, his arms tightened incrementally around her waist, betraying his own reluctance.

Minjeong's embrace constricted in response, her Busan accent thick with morning warmth. "What are you going to do? Fire me?" Despite the implied challenge, she still continued to press soft kisses on his forehead. He tightened his embrace further, relishing in the warmth of Minjeong.

The challenge in her voice activated something primal in his executive functioning. His teeth grazed her neck in warning, hovering over precisely the spot that would make any low-necked blouse useless to wear for the following days. "Maybe," he murmured, his hand sliding to the small of her back with deliberate intent, dangerously close to the curve of her backside, "I'll fire you and keep you here, all day long, so that you belong only to me."

"That's..." her breath hitched as his hand dropped lower, "...rather unprofessional of you."

He lifted his head just enough to fix her with that boardroom stare that never failed to make her pulse race. "Says the woman currently preventing her CEO from attending his meetings." Her CEO? Something warm raced inside of her—she thought, her ceo? And this time, she wrapped her arms tighter—however much her thin arms could tighten; nevertheless, an affectionate hug.

"I prefer to think of it as optimizing your morning routine," she countered, though her professional efficiency was somewhat undermined by the way she melted under his touch, furthermore when he traced the curves of her backside. "Some things are more important than the Zhang Corp merger."

His laugh vibrated against her throat. "Careful, Secretary Kim. That sounds dangerously close to insubordination."

"And what does the CEO do with insubordinate employees?" The question emerged soft and weaker than intended as his mouth traced a deliberate path along her collar, trying her most obnoxiously.

"That depends," he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made her breath catch. "Are they all as beautiful as you when they disobey direct orders?"

She attempted to maintain her composure, though her hands betrayed her by pulling him closer. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen you like this with other employees[2]."

"No," he agreed, suddenly serious as he raised his head to meet her gaze. "You haven't. You won't."

The intensity in his eyes made her throat tight. "Promise?"

Instead of answering, he caught her mouth in a kiss that effectively ended all discussion of work protocols and proper business conduct[3]. The morning sun painted complex equations of light across their entangled forms, but for once, neither of them was counting the minutes.

—

[1] The first recorded instance of CEO Kim's morning alarm continuing past its initial 0.3-second alert phase, a fact that would require significant updates to the home automation system's behavioral prediction models.

[2] The security system's emotion recognition protocols flagged this moment for what its algorithms could only classify as "Unprecedented Display of Executive Vulnerability."

[3] Later analysis would suggest that certain forms of insubordination yielded surprisingly positive results in terms of overall company morale, though these findings were kept strictly off the official record.

—

"You haven't eaten properly in days," Minjeong observed softly, her fingers tracing the subtle tension in his shoulders that most wouldn't notice. But she wasn't most people—she'd spent months learning to read the microscopic signs of his stress levels[4].

"I've been eating," he defended, though his attempt at authority was somewhat undermined by the way he instinctively relaxed under her touch.

"Coffee and quarterly reports don't count as meals," she countered, continuing her gentle exploration of his shoulder muscles. "I've watched you skip lunch three times this week alone."

He lifted his head to study her face, finding that mix of strength and tenderness that had first undone him. "You keep track of my meals?"

"I keep track of everything about you," she admitted, not backing down from his intense gaze. "Someone has to notice when you forget to take care of yourself."

His hand curved around the nape of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Consider it an extension of my secretarial duties," she murmured, then gasped softly as he tightened his grip in warning.

"There's nothing secretarial about the way you take care of me," he corrected, voice low and dangerous. "Is there, Minjeong-ah?"

The informal address, rarely used, made her breath catch. "No," she agreed quietly. "There isn't."

He studied her for a long moment, his analytical mind cataloging the flush in her cheeks, the slight quickening of her breath, the way she yielded to his touch while somehow maintaining that core of quiet strength[5]. "You're dangerous," he finally said, “dangerously beautiful, so beautiful,” then a kiss on the side of her neck which, eventually, will turn into a hickey and Minjeong hadn’t the power to resist her CEO’s advances anymore.

"Me?" She replied, out of breath, tremored, brilliantly transformed by her smile—the type of smile men fight wars for, the type of smile sinewy sociopathic CEOs would drop down for. "I'm just trying to make sure Korea's most brilliant CEO—I mean, my CEO, remembers to eat breakfast." Her small hand collected the waves of his hair, the aroma of the shampoo she recommended wafted in the air.

“Minjeong, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Is that a problem?” She pulled back her hand along his scalp, gathering hair, then trailing all down his nape, to his back: the type of affection that says, even if you were insane, I’d still be crazy about you.

Instead of answering directly, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth—a calculated sequence of kisses that made her melt further into his embrace. "The only problem," he murmured against her skin, "is that you're making it very difficult to want to leave this bed."

—

[4] Her observation logs, never shared but meticulously maintained, included such details as the precise angle of his jaw when overwhelmed, the subtle shift in his typing rhythm when stressed, and the exact tone of voice that meant he'd skipped meals.

[5] The home automation system's behavioral analysis protocols struggled to categorize this new dynamic, where authority and surrender seemed to flow both ways simultaneously.

—

"Three days," Minjeong continued, her fingers finding the knots in his shoulders with practiced ease. "You've had that tension here since the Singapore deal started falling apart." The morning light caught the subtle furrow in his brow as he processed her words, realizing she'd been tracking his stress levels without him noticing. Her touch was methodical yet tender, each pressure point targeted with the same precision she applied to his scheduling.

"I didn't think anyone had noticed," he admitted, then caught her knowing smile. "Except you."

"I always notice," she replied simply. "Like how you've been drinking twice your usual coffee intake, or how your left eye twitches slightly when the board sends those passive-aggressive emails." Her hands moved lower, finding another point of tension. "You hide it well, but not from me."

He caught her wrist, bringing it to his lips. "It becomes…oddly weird when I see you do the things I usually do." The tease in his voice was softened by the way he pressed kisses to her fingertips.

"Consider it preventive maintenance," she countered, not backing down despite Junho trying to hide his habits under the rug, not backing down despite the heat in his gaze. "Someone needs to monitor your functionality levels[6]."

"Functionality levels?" His laugh rumbled against her skin as he shifted to hover over her. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive performance metrics'?" She managed to keep her voice steady even as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "I have spreadsheets..."

"Of course you do," he murmured, teeth grazing her collarbone in retaliation. "My perfectly thorough secretary, tracking every detail."

"Not just details," she breathed, hands sliding up his chest. "I know when you skip lunch to avoid the board members. When you stay late reviewing reports that could wait until morning. When you need..." she paused as his hand curved possessively around her hip, "...someone to remind you that you're human."

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Junho lifted his head to study her face, finding that unique blend of submission and strength that had first undone his carefully constructed defenses[7]. "And you've appointed yourself to that position?"

"Someone has to." Her smile carried traces of Busan sunshine. "Besides, I'm uniquely qualified."

"How so, Minjeong-ah?” Another tease. 

“Because you love me.” Minjeong stated, matter of factly. And this time, Junho seized her tight, trapping her under him, seizing her two thin wrists. Then, pressed a deep kiss onto Minjeong’s delicate lips. After a while, he released himself from the kiss, the kiss that Minjeong reluctantly let go of—her lips pointing outwards like a duck as he left. Finally, he said, “That’s right, I love you.”

Her stomach stirred with butterflies and more.

—

[6] Her personal files, never shared but meticulously maintained, included detailed protocols for managing various levels of CEO stress responses, from subtle intervention to direct action.

[7] The exact moment of this defensive breach had been logged by the building's security systems, though the footage was classified under "Executive Privacy Protocols."

—

Minjeong lingered in bed, her heart performing calculations that had nothing to do with quarterly reports. The smart home system's sensors detected her elevated pulse rate, though no algorithm could properly quantify the joy radiating from her smile[8]. She stretched luxuriously against Egyptian cotton sheets that still held traces of his warmth, letting herself marvel at the reality of being here, in his space, surrounded by evidence of Junho.

Her mind couldn't help but catalog the endearing chaos around her—academic journals scattered across surfaces, a tablet displaying economic projections that had clearly been reviewed at 3 AM, several coffee cups in various states of abandonment. The morning light revealed what darkness and desire had hidden the night before: Junho's private space was a fascinating contradiction to his public persona, a detail she filed away with all her other precious observations of him.

Rising with practiced grace, she padded across cold hardwood floors, her bare feet gliding across the floor. His dress shirt from the previous night—the one that had hung open as they'd discovered more interesting uses for his mahogany desk—called to her like a siren song. She slipped it on, the fabric carrying traces of his unisex cologne and something uniquely him that made her stomach flutter[9].

Junho emerged from his ensuite bathroom to find her like this: drowning in his shirt, examining his space with that careful attention she brought to everything concerning him. His breath caught audibly.

"That's mine," he noted, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that never failed to make her pulse race.

She turned to face him, letting the hem of his shirt brush against her thighs. "Really? I think it’s mine."

—

[8] The home automation system logged this moment as: "Secondary User Biometrics Indicating Unprecedented Levels of Serotonin. CEO Response: Highly Favorable."

[9] Security footage would later reveal this as the exact moment CEO Kim's usually impeccable morning routine experienced a critical efficiency failure, though no one questioned why that particular shirt never made it to the dry cleaners.

—

"You know," Junho mused against her neck, his hands tracing idle patterns on her thighs, "for someone so concerned about my eating habits, you're being very distracting in my kitchen."

"Me?" Minjeong's attempt at innocence was undermined by the way her fingers kept playing with his hair. "I'm trying to feed you."

"Wearing my shirt. Sitting on my counter." His smile carried equal parts mischief and heat as he pulled back to look at her. "I'm starting to think this is corporate sabotage, Secretary Kim."

She tried to maintain her professional expression, though her lips twitched. "I would never compromise company productivity, 사장님."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, fingers sliding deliberately higher under his shirt. "Then explain why Korea's most efficient CEO is currently contemplating skipping his 9 AM."

"Poor executive guidance?" she suggested, then squeaked as he nipped her earlobe in retaliation. "I mean... clearly you need better supervision."

"Is that your professional opinion?" His laugh was warm against her skin. "And I suppose you're volunteering for the position?"

"Well," she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, "I do have extensive experience in handling difficult executives."

He lifted his head, eyes dancing. "Difficult?"

"Demanding," she amended, then added with deliberate sweetness, "High-maintenance?"

"You," he declared, catching her wrists and pinning them behind her back with one hand, "are getting dangerously bold with your performance reviews[12]."

Her answering smile was pure sunshine. "Does that mean I'm not getting that raise?"

"Oh, I'll give you a raise," he promised, his free hand sliding up her spine as he pressed closer. "Right after we discuss your insubordination."

"I have a presentation prepared," she managed, though her breath hitched as his mouth found that sensitive spot behind her ear. "Complete with charts on CEO stubbornness metrics..."

"Using company resources for personal research?" His mock disapproval was somewhat undermined by the way he couldn't stop smiling against her skin. "That's a serious violation of corporate policy."

"And what's the penalty for that?" She arched into his touch, shameless. "More overtime with my boss?"

"Definitely." He captured her mouth in a kiss that tasted like laughter and promise. "Starting now[13]."

—

[12] The home automation system registered this interaction as a significant deviation from standard performance review protocols, though it noted remarkable improvements in overall satisfaction metrics.

[13] Later analysis of the kitchen's usage patterns would reveal this as the morning the coffee maker recorded its latest ever first brew, a delay that would become surprisingly routine.

—

"We're going to be late," Minjeong observed, though she made no move to leave her perch on the counter as Junho's hands mapped new territories beneath his borrowed shirt. The morning sun painted gold across his shoulders, and she couldn't resist tracing the light with her fingers.

"Concerned about punctuality now?" His smile was wicked against her collar. "After deliberately sabotaging your CEO's morning routine?"

"I would never," she protested, then gasped as his teeth found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I'm simply... optimizing your schedule."

"Is that what we're calling it?" His laugh vibrated through both their bodies as he pressed closer, effectively trapping her against the granite. "And how does this particular optimization benefit the company?"

Her fingers curled into his hair as his mouth traced a deliberate path down her throat. "Improved executive mood... increased satisfaction metrics... better work-life balance..."

"Very thorough analysis," he approved, his hand sliding higher up her thigh. "Though I think we need more data points[14]."

"준호야..." Her professional composure cracked entirely as his fingers found bare skin. "The Zhang Corp meeting..."

"Can wait." He lifted his head to meet her gaze, his smile carrying that perfect blend of authority and affection that never failed to undo her. "I'm conducting important research."

"On what?" She managed to arch an eyebrow despite her rapidly dissolving coherence. "How to make your secretary lose her mind?"

"Girlfriend," he corrected, voice dropping to that dangerous register as his thumb traced patterns on her inner thigh. "And I believe we were discussing your performance review[15]."

Jun abruptly stopped their performance review midway because the deal was on the line and time was running short. Minjeong was reminded of this painfully by how Jun pulled away from the kiss—she was pouty about it until they reached the office, when her damascus-like resolve kicks in.

—

[14] The kitchen's environmental sensors registered multiple instances of what could only be classified as "Critical Protocol Deviations," though these readings were automatically archived under "Executive Privacy Settings."

[15] HR would later note a curious correlation between the CEO's improved mood and these new "morning performance evaluations," though no one dared to investigate further.

—

Chapter 2: The Meeting

The Zhang Corp representatives sat across the mahogany conference table, their expressions carefully neutral as they reviewed the merger proposals. Minjeong maintained her perfect professional facade, though her pulse quickened every time Junho's hand brushed hers as she passed him documents[1].

"The third quarter projections," she murmured, leaning close enough that his cologne made her thoughts stray to their morning activities. His finger tapped twice against the paper—their private signal that he needed a moment to compose himself.

"As you can see," Junho addressed the room with that commanding presence that made board members squirm, though Minjeong could detect the slight roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before their morning 'delay', "our integration timeline is aggressive but achievable."

She took her seat beside him, crossing her legs in a way that made his pen pause fractionally on the contract. Two could play at this game of professional torture. His response was to rest his hand on her thigh under the table, hidden from view but commanding enough to make her breath catch[2].

"Secretary Kim," he said smoothly, his thumb tracing dangerous patterns against her skin, "would you pull up the logistics breakdown?"

"Of course, 사장님." She managed to keep her voice steady as she reached for her tablet, though her free hand found his wrist under the table, her fingers curling around it in what could have been either submission or warning.

The meeting proceeded with perfect corporate efficiency, though the undercurrent of tension between CEO and secretary created what the room's environmental sensors could only classify as "Critical Atmospheric Pressure"[3].

—

[1] The conference room's biometric scanners noted elevated heart rates in both CEO and secretary, though this data was diplomatically omitted from official meeting records.

[2] Security footage would later require careful editing to maintain professional appearances, particularly regarding certain "under-table activities."

[3] The Zhang Corp representatives would later confess to the fact that they could tell what was happening, no amount of demure leg-crossing could hide it. Though, they ignored it in order to get that deal (which was integral to them).

—

The private office door clicked shut behind them, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across imported marble floors. Junho rolled his shoulders, tension evident in his posture despite the meeting's success[4].

"Come here," Minjeong said softly, recognizing the signs of his post-negotiation stress. She guided him to his leather chair, her hands already moving to his shoulders. "You get so tense during these meetings." Instead of standing behind him and the chair, she stood in front, impending a mount to get ‘better access’ to his shoulders.

"Keeping my hands to myself requires considerable effort," he admitted, then groaned softly as her fingers found a particularly tight knot. "Especially when you keep giving me those looks."

"What looks?" Her innocent tone was betrayed by the way her hands slid lower, tracing patterns down his upper chest. "I was being perfectly professional."

He caught her wrist, tugging her to face him. "Professional? Is that what you call that thing you did with your pen?"

"Taking notes?" She smiled down at him, letting her fingers trail along his tie. "I'm very thorough in my documentation."

"Very thorough," he agreed, pulling her into his lap with practiced ease. "Though I noticed some interesting gaps in the meeting minutes."

"Oh?" Her hands returned to his shoulders, kneading the tension even as she shifted closer. "Like what?"

"Like how many times you deliberately brushed against me," his voice dropped lower as her fingers worked their magic, "or how your skirt kept riding up when you reached for files[5]."

"Maybe," she breathed, her ministrations becoming less therapeutic and more intentional, "your secretary just needs better supervision."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Is that what you need, Secretary Kim?"

Instead of answering, she pressed a kiss to that spot below his ear that always made him growl. His hands tightened on her hips in warning, but she didn't stop her exploration of his neck, her fingers still working the tension from his shoulders even as she created a different kind of pressure entirely.

"The door," he managed, though his hands were already sliding under her blouse.

"Locked," she murmured against his skin. "I'm very efficient."

"My perfect secretary," he agreed.

—

[4] The office's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Post-Meeting Stress Relief Protocol: Executive Override Engaged."

[5] The meeting's official minutes would maintain strict professional standards, though certain observations were kept in much more private records.

—

"You're still tense," Minjeong observed, her fingers tracing new patterns down his spine. The afternoon light painted gold across his desk, where various merger documents lay forgotten. "Let me take care of you properly."

She slid from his lap, moving behind his chair with practiced grace. Her hands returned to his shoulders, this time with more purposeful intent. Junho's head fell back as she worked a particularly tight knot, a sound escaping him that had nothing to do with professional conduct[7].

"That noise," she murmured, leaning close enough that her breath teased his ear, "is definitely not going in the meeting minutes."

His laugh turned into another groan as her thumbs hit a sensitive spot. "Keeping secrets from the board, Secretary Kim?"

"Only the interesting ones," she admitted, her hands sliding lower, tracing the muscles of his back through his expensive shirt. "Like how my very commanding CEO turns to putty when I do this..."

His hand shot up to catch her wrist in warning. "Careful," his voice carried that dangerous edge that made her stomach flip. "You're getting bold with your observations."

"Just maintaining detailed records," she breathed, not backing down despite his grip. "For example, when I press here..." Her free hand found another knot, making him inhale sharply. "Your left eye twitches slightly. And when I do this..." She leaned forward, letting her lips brush his neck. "Your pulse jumps exactly like it did during the merger talks[8]."

The chair spun suddenly, Junho pulling her back into his lap with decisive force. "You," he growled, hands spanning her waist, "are playing a dangerous game."

Her smile was pure innocence, though her fingers were already working his tie loose. "I'm simply being thorough in my duties, 사장님."

"Your duties," he repeated, watching her with dark amusement as she stripped his tie with expert efficiency. "Is that what we're calling this?"

"Would you prefer 'executive stress relief'?" She gasped as his teeth found her collar. "Or maybe 'personnel management'?"

His laugh vibrated against her skin. "I prefer," he murmured, hands sliding deliberately up her thighs, "when you stop talking altogether[9]."

—

[7] The office's audio sensors temporarily malfunctioned during this period, a technical glitch that occurred with suspicious regularity during certain "private meetings."

[8] Her personal files contained extensive documentation of CEO behavioral patterns, though certain observations were encrypted under "Private Research: Ongoing."

[9] The afternoon's remaining meetings would require creative rescheduling, though no one questioned why the CEO's mood had improved so dramatically.

—

"You missed a spot," Minjeong murmured against his mouth, her fingers finding another knot of tension in his shoulders even as she shifted closer in his lap. The leather chair creaked softly beneath them, a sound that would forever carry new associations in both their minds[10].

"Did I?" His hands slid higher beneath her skirt, mapping territories that were becoming dangerously familiar for office hours. "Or are you just making excuses to keep touching your CEO?"

She pulled back just enough to give him that look—the one that somehow managed to be both defiant and yielding. "I take my responsibilities very seriously, 사장님."

"I've noticed," he growled, catching her wrist as she tried to maintain the pretense of massage. "Like how seriously you took those meeting notes earlier. Very... thorough."

Her laugh caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot below her ear. "I was documenting important observations."

"Such as?" His teeth grazed her pulse point, making her grip his shoulders for balance.

"Such as," she managed, though her professional tone wavered as his hands grew bolder, "how the great Kim Junho gets distracted when I cross my legs. How your voice drops exactly half an octave when you're trying not to react to me. How you tap your pen twice when you're thinking about—"

He silenced her with a kiss that effectively derailed all attempts at analysis[11]. When he finally pulled back, her dazed expression made him smirk. "Any other observations to record, Secretary Kim?"

“I must’ve forgotten, I usually remember better when you kiss me.” She hinted, and he obliged, letting his lips connect yet again with Minjeong. This time, the endless teasing reached a breaking point that both of them coalesced to at the same time.

He tightly grasped her backside then pulled her up from the executive chair to the executive table. Wherein, she was splayed across the wide table. “We really have to ban tables when we’re around each other.” She joked. 

“That’d be a terrible idea.”

“How so?”

“Where else could I splay you across like this, then explore you, centimeter-by-centimeter?”

“Hmm…” she hummed, pleased, "Yeah?"

“Yeah.”

“Then come here, my ceo.”

“My beautiful secretary, whatever shall I do with you?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?” She pulled as tight as she could, locking her arms around his neck.

He obliged, meeting lips with her once again. He felt the softness of her face as he explored deeper into the kiss, forgetting time and everything except what was being shared between them. Journeying his hands further, entangling it into the silken strands of his lover as he deepened the kiss, and she replied with a deep sigh—trembling with a mix of her high register. 

“You’re such a good woman for me, Minjeong.” He said before nipping at her lower lip, catching it softly between his teeth with a teasing tug, Minjeong let out a breathless laugh, “you’re devouring me, Junho.” Regardless, he dug deeper, letting his entire body shift into Minjeong’s malleable, petite body—letting his hand explore more of her silken strands, almost saying, yes Minjeong, that is my purpose: to devour you.

Now, instead of every 5 seconds, Minjeong’s soft moans that only served to goad Junho on were musically released into his ears every second. Precautiously, she asked, “how good is the soundproofing in your private room-ah!”

“Not good enough to hide your moans, dear.” He replied, his voice like rough gravel. Her eyes widened suddenly from the need to hide her moans. Yet he dug deeper, letting his loin rub against her wet bottom, daring her moan out loud.

Despite all the regulations, the possible condemnation, their passions only grew more. Mouths moving in sync, gazes meeting momentarily, it wasn’t just kissing anymore—it was a language. The type of language where Minjeong coalesced to his dangerous games and learned to enjoy it, almost as much as him.

“Junho, seriously, I don’t want to be seen as-”

“Minjeong-ah, I don’t give a single fuck if my employees hear you and I.” The teeth that so brazenly tugged on her lower lips trailed down her neck, tracing the soft tendons.

Whispering, in a verbose way, “And as you are my secretary, my extension, my life-line, you’ll follow. Me.” And as Minjeong was getting battered by the gravel-slung voice of Junho—she hadn’t noticed how her blouse was opened, bra pushed down to reveal the breasts that he was so infatuated with—only until she felt the torsion of her nipple.

“Ngh!”

“I love that, Minjeong, scream out. I’ll fuck you until the entire floor hears you call my name.”

And another wet mewl that inspired his further deviance.

Feeling the soft suction of his mouth on her neck, she deduced that it could only mean one thing: another hickey just placed above the collar of her blouse, the same sort of hickey that the Zhang corp executives couldn’t keep their eyes off of—any justification in their minds that it was a skin discoloration was debilitated by how intensely Minjeong and Junho shared those deadly glances, likely to jump on each other as soon as they left—and they were right.

“Junho—ngh!”

“Louder.” He replied, testing her, “fucking. Louder.” Then he pressed deeper, grinding his rough textured pants on the creamy soft bottom of Minjeong.

“Please Junho, seriously.” Was all that she could get out of her bated breaths, her deep moans.

Then suddenly, he stopped, caressing the softness of her cheeks with his, back-handed, knuckles.

“You look so beautiful when you’re all tired and exhausted, did I tell you that before?” Letting the tune of his voice marinate with Minjeong (who was recovering from how hot and bothered she was just a second ago).

However good his intentions were, he wasn’t perfect. The way Minjeong’s body looked splayed against the messy paperwork, her blonde hair all frizzy and stuck to the desk, how her chest went in-and-out catching all the breath she lost—all of it made it impossible for him to resist anymore.

He pounced on her again, connecting lips against her wet, trembling lips that nonetheless accepted him so openly, like a warm cup of milk tea on a winter morning. That momentary pause had changed everything, Minjeong—now fully conquered by him—was begging for that penetrative action that he would give out so liberally to her.

“Naughty woman, bad secretary, what else?”

“Junho’s toy.” 

“Fuck.” And in a flash, his belt flew off, then in another flash, his pants fell down. 

“Tented much?” She was truly in no position to tease: a strategic error.

He grinned at the statement, finally, teasingly, let his underwear fall inch-by-inch. 

Simultaneously, she bunched up her legs then pulled off her panty that revealed the color combinations that he would die for. Though before he could look for longer, she crossed her shins—hiding the cause of Junho’s demise behind her thin legs.

They shared a giggle before Jun hugged her soft body.

“I will penetrate you in this office.”

“Yes. It appears so.”

“No, like, do you consent?”

“Idiot..” Minjeong pulled him in for another kiss. Which, coincidentally, made his tip graze her engorged and swollen core, Minjeong almost came instantaneously from that alone.

And he could tell, laughing, “Seriously, Minjeong?”

“It’s your fault, you trained me like this.”

“This is like our 3rd time.” He said, as if to brush it off.

“This is my 3rd time.” 

And Minjeong would be certainly hurt by the thought that Junho’s partners before her made it more than his 3rd time for him—some of them, the girlfriends, she saw. 

He caught on the clues before it was too late, “Minjeong, not to compare, but who else have I been so crazy about? Who else did I track for every minute of the day? Who else did I let in my home (his girlfriends didn’t, actually, get to enter his home)? Who else would make me lose composure when they’re out of my sight-line?”

Letting his forehead touch against hers, he could feel her heart rend and beat and do all sorts of bothered gymnastics.

“It’s always been about you, Minjeong. You are the brilliance of my life, the expansion of a born star—bright from millions of light years away.”

And she needn’t say anything or reply. Absolving him by wrapping her arms tighter around his nape, then holding up her head to desperately kiss Junho again and again.

In between all the kisses, he penetrated Minjeong. His length, constricted against her core, travelled softly—wringing out all sorts of noises. Her swollen pussy wrapped around him gently but tight. “I love you, Minjeong.” Was the last thing said before Minjeong’s eyes went into the back of her head—a cute habit—before she orgasmed and creamed all over.

As per her request, Junho didn’t stop. He let his hips move as slow as he could possibly go before it could be called torture. During all this, Minjeong grabbed for stability as she was getting fucked through her orgasm, feeling that intense thrusting from the love of her life as she covered his length in more of her slick.

“Oh f-” He covered her mouth this time, respecting her wish to stay at least a little lowkey in the office, whatever the hell that meant right now. Then, shallow thrusts turned into slow thrusts all the way to the hilt, getting Minjeong to scrunch her face in pleasure, eyebrows knitted in the highest pleasure, her mouth agape with strands of her saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to her tongue.

“I love you, Minjeong. Fuck. This is insane, having sex with you in my office.”

“Ngh~ I - I love you so much,” was all that she could get across before succumbing to her dopamine receptors—eyes joining the back her head. Junho connected lips with her again, letting her legs lock around his waist, then rubbing his pelvis against her engorged core, clitoris and all.

After Minjeong finally got used to the familiar motions, he grasped her thin waist, almost wrapping his two hands around the entire circumference of her tight waist. Then their eyes met momentarily, Junho had the I am going to fuck you through this desk eyes whilst Minjeong had the prey eyes that relentlessly coalesced to him. Though, before he could go wild, he brushed off the stray hairs stuck to her forehead, gave a reaffirming kiss on her forehead before pumping all the way in.

The small of her back surrendered to his tight grip, bending against the pushes and pulls. Her legs tightened the lock around his waist—almost painfully tight, but that didn’t matter to him, who’d get to pummel her soft pussy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he planted his body against Minjeong’s, pinning her two thin wrists against the stable table.

“You’re fucking me so good, Junho,” Minjeong replied, her rare use of the curse made him chuckle by the side of her head. 

“That’s right, baby,” Junho bear-hugged Minjeong, only thrusting deeper and deeper, pelvis rubbing against hers, to make her cum again.

“NGHHH~!” The abrupt moan startled him and herself—however, they didn’t care as much about the employees anymore after indulging in each other’s bodies. Instead of stopping or evaluating the situation—as the rationalists would do—they dug deeper into each other, trying to carve each other with their soft and swollen lips.

Suddenly, he lifted Winter and turned her over. Bending her back against the table before dipping his cock into her pussy again. This time, the entrance was entranced with the soft, tight, wet feeling that he was fully obsessed with. This time, he had more ready access to her soft ass that was so soft and supple that he had to relieve it of its aesthetic beauty: with some redness spread across her ass.

“Oh my god!” Winter squeaked as she reacted against the heavy-handed slap against her ass, loving it, spreading—overflowing—his length with her slick.

Leaning over, he held Minjeong’s chin for the last stretch, considerably slowing down and enjoying each other’s presence.

“How much do you bet the coworkers will give us bad looks?”

“The female workers already give me horrible ones.” She said whilst her chin was held stable by his hand, still moaning against the soft thrusts.

“Hmm, broad generalization. How do you know this?”

“That hickey that you gave that was far too purple and far too above the collar of my blouse.”

“No long-necked turtleneck?”

“No, that’d ruin the point, I wanted to show off the gift my Junho-ssi gave.” That was the moment when he moaned hard, pressing deep inside Winter before releasing all his seed—the seed that Winter felt bounce against her cervix, making her moan out and squeal happily.

“God. Minjeong, you will be my demise.” He sighed before Winter turned around and kissed him, “as long as I get to stay with you, through demise and all,” she said between the kisses.

—

[10] The office furniture procurement department would later note an unusual request for "enhanced stability features" in executive seating, though they wisely chose not to inquire further.

[11] The building's environmental controls registered what could only be classified as "Critical Temperature Fluctuation - Executive Override Protocol Engaged."

—

Evening painted Seoul's skyline in shades of amber and gold, the office gradually emptying as another corporate day drew to a close. Only the executive floor maintained signs of life, though its usual efficiency had given way to something far more intimate[12].

"We should go home," Minjeong murmured against Junho's shoulder, though she made no move to leave her position in his lap. His shirt had long since been unbuttoned, her blouse delightfully rumpled, both their professional facades thoroughly compromised.

"Should we?" His fingers traced lazy patterns up her spine, his other hand still possessively curved around her hip. "I rather like having my secretary exactly where she is."

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, finding that unique blend of authority and affection that never failed to make her heart race. "Your secretary has plans for you."

"Oh?" His interest visibly peaked. "More performance reviews?"

"Better." She smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cooking you dinner. Besides, breakfast was skipped."

The surprise in his expression made her laugh softly. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, then added with deliberate sweetness, "Unless my CEO is refusing a direct offer from his girlfriend?"

His hands tightened on her waist. "Using that title to manipulate me now?"

"Is it working?" She bit her lip, watching his eyes darken at the gesture.

Instead of answering, he pulled her into a kiss that suggested dinner might be delayed[13]. When they finally broke apart, his smile carried dangerous promise. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours," she decided, fingers playing with his collar. "Your kitchen needs christening properly."

His laugh rumbled through both their bodies. "Just the kitchen?"

"We'll see how dinner goes," she teased, then squeaked as he stood suddenly, lifting her with him. "준호야!"

"Efficient time management," he explained, setting her on her feet but keeping her close. "The sooner we leave..."

She pressed against him, deliberate and knowing. "The sooner you can help me... cook?"

"Among other things," he agreed, already reaching for his jacket. The predatory grace in his movements suggested cooking might not be the evening's primary activity[14].

—

[12] Security logs would note this as the third consecutive evening of "Extended Executive Hours," though the actual nature of these extensions remained diplomatically unrecorded.

[13] The office's automated systems began learning to expect these end-of-day delays, adjusting power consumption accordingly.

[14] The kitchen's motion sensors would later flag unusually high activity levels, though whether any actual cooking occurred remained a matter of some debate.

Fin

I fixed some stuff that I executed poorly before, like the crazy amount of math references; which, in foresight, was far too much.

I really had to get this out quickly. Now, I think it's a good idea to not expect anything from me for an entire month (hopefully not).

hope u enjoyed.

[lovscb97]

railway (b.cc.) ༉‧₊˚.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ TRACK 001: part of the step out series

synopsis: you didn’t mean to get tied up with your best friend’s ex-boyfriend, but sometimes all you can do is hold on tight for the rough ride ahead of you, even if it means going against all the pre-written rules of friendship.

tags: best friend's ex!bangchan x fem!reader, angst, forbidden romance, mutually toxic relationship, morally grey characters, chan and reader are both kind of awful, mention of other idols (rest of stray kids, stayc, enhypen, etc), oc as chan's ex-girlfriend (aeri), mentions of alcohol and drinking, kissing, use of nicknames (baby, darling, etc), very brief pussy slapping, possessiveness, mild dacryphilia, car sex, fingering, sir kink, squirting, jealousy, slight exhibitionism, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (bitch, slut, etc), dirty talk, very brief mention of strength kink, mirror sex, breeding kink, creampie, brief choking, slight overstimulation, etc

theme board: www.pin.1003 / song link: prod:b.cc

wc: 7.85k

add. notes: welcome 2 the first course >:] i've offered my insights n analysis on railway alr but delving into the meaning of the song n creating a whole fic based off of it was very intriguing for me esp cus i don't usually write based off of music i listen to. i knew i wanted smth wrong to put out but i don't like infidelity n the usual story on toxic situations is tough to pull of so i decided to go down the more 'scandalous' route of sorts n make chan ur best friend's ex instead :3 there's a pinterest board i made for all these fics which for this one u can find linked above to grasp the aesthetics of it n i'd recommend reading this while listening to railway ofc. as always plz make sure u watch out for the tags n dni if ur a minor. also sidenote but aeri (the oc) is not meant to be seen as giselle from aespa but rather i just used that name bcs it's pretty lol just thought i'd lyk that. either way i hope u all enjoy! 

. . .

19:23 PM from: dni!!! Wyd? 

you swallow thickly at the sight of the text which lights up your screen, eyes zeroed in on the simple three letters which still hold thousands of words worth of meaning in themselves when combined. if it weren’t for the rubber case at the back, you reckon you would’ve dropped your phone with how instantly sweaty your palms become upon having received the message. the way you’re staring at your app, maybe even enough to bore holes into the words displayed back at you, doesn't go unnoticed either, and you barely manage to pocket the device as quick as you'd pulled it out just in time as your best friend approaches you. 

“everything okay? you look kinda pale.” aeri frowns once she’s in front of you, voice laced with concern so sweet that it almost makes bile rise up your throat as you attempt to lean back against jake’s kitchen counter to stabilise yourself. she doesn’t seem to buy the eventual shaky nodding of your head that you offer after realising she’d just asked you something that required an answer, but even if she wants to probe you further, she doesn’t, deciding to immerse you in conversation about something your other friends had told her; another one of her gossip sessions with yoon and jungwon, you presume.

her storytelling fades into background noise at some point, for you can’t ignore the heavy weight of the object tucked away in the back of your jeans, still incessantly burning and buzzing with notifications you know you shouldn’t pay half a mind to. you’re well aware that they’re all most likely from the same person; the one individual you shouldn’t and have no right to indulge and mix with to this day; whose bedsheets you’ve found yourself tangled up in late at night alongside dirty noises slipping past both your lips; the very man who remains as sin personified in the storyline of your current life, and honestly might stay that way for as long as you live.

or in other words, aeri’s ex-boyfriend, chan.

your best friend met chan in her final year of university, bumping into him on chance encounter outside her lecture hall and exchanging textbooks by accident. chan had been all smiles when she’d invited him to lunch as an apology for the mix up, often tagging along with her after that until soon enough, they grew close enough and began seeing each other romantically. he seemed to treat her well for the most part, and you were happy for aeri that she’d found a good man worth her time and effort in the world. she’d drag you with her on their outings one too many times, and you’d gotten to know him from those instances, finding him to be a decent match for her.

unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and the spark between them started dwindling. you’re not sure what exactly happened, only able to recall bits and pieces from what aeri had told you mid-sob on your calls about her previous lover slowly becoming distant nearing the final stages of their relationship, so you’ve always just thought it was a mutual decision to cut ties for the betterment of each other. according to her vividly detailed breakdowns though, chan had been the one to suggest calling it off first, and everything came to a screeching halt three years down the line with much screaming and tears from her side. to an extent, their split did shake up things a little between all your mutual friends, but it also didn’t fully stop everybody from engaging with each other. all this brings you to your current situation— waiting in jake’s apartment for the rest of your friends to arrive for a random party he’d decided to plan on a whim.

“yo, guys!” speak of the devil, you think, tugging yourself out of your thoughts as you turn your body to let jake’s figure come into view. he beams at you like a big puppy, his hair flopping in a way that loosely resembles dog ears, and you remember after a split second that that’s just how your friend is referred to as in your group; the resident golden retriever. he parades up to you and aeri as one too, his vibrant smile lighting up the atmosphere in a way that you can’t stop relief from flooding your system at his presence.

“how are my favourite girls doing this fine evening?” he smirks, his usual flirting the same as always, causing aeri to roll her eyes as you chuckle. “har har up yours, sim.” she sticks her tongue out, prompting jake to do the same as he ruffles her hair, to which she shrieks. “oh, by the way,” jake perks up as if he’s just thought of something, completely ignoring your best friend smacking him on the arm lightly over his actions. “y/n, would you be so kind as to get the pack of beer from my car?” he pleads, doe eyes twinkling under the light of the room. 

you’re about to groan in protest, not wanting to go back out in the cold and freeze your ass off for a measly few cans of alcohol, but the front door swinging open accompanied by the all too familiar voice you’ve grown acquainted to fills the air, making your stomach drop— chan. chan is here. suddenly, you’re not too opposed to getting far away, and you quickly nod your head rapidly in agreement, not bothering to wait for the way jake lights up at you accepting his proposal before snatching the keys from his hold and darting towards the lift. 

chan’s jaw tightens at this. he barely manages to catch a glimpse of you from how you rush out past him, not even able to take in your outfit or face in the dashing haze you leave in. he points his thumb to where you had exited, bluffing something about helping you when jake responds how you’d gone out to grab the load of drinks he’d been too lazy to heave upstairs himself. nobody makes any work to question him when he turns on his heel to catch the elevator himself, thinking nothing of his usual gentleman-like behaviour.

nobody except for a pair of eyes lingering on his disappearing frame that neither one of the visitors in the house manages to grasp onto.

meanwhile, you quickly find yourself in the outdoor parking lot of jake’s building, hugging your shivering body tightly in an effort to warm yourself up against the chilling wind that blows past the trees. the sky has basically turned dark by now, but the streetlamps hanging overhead on the sides of the pavement serve as enough illumination to carry out your task. your breath comes out in heavy smoke to the point you can see it, and you try your best to spot your friend’s car as soon as possible, cheering internally when you manage to do so. after having jogged on over to it, you enter the key into the trunk lock with trembling fingers, twisting it until that same latch you’ve grown used to feeling with your own vehicle opens and makes way for you to push up the boot lid. 

you’re about to hook underneath to manoeuvre it open, that is, until a sudden cold hand tugs on the bare skin of your arm, making you jump out of your own flesh. you open your mouth to yell out loud, ready to alert your friends a few floors upstairs that someone is trying to kidnap you potentially when that same hand clamps over it. only when your vision stabilises in your dimly lit surroundings do you recognise chan in front of you, and you feel your shoulders physically drop as you put down your defences, glaring at him when he removes himself.

“why the hell would you sneak up on me like that? i—“

“are you avoiding me?”

his question comes out gruff and annoyed, causing you to blink at the way he’s glowering at you in suspicion. his arms are crossed against his chest, hiding the black button-up you’ve seen him wearing and committed to memory one too many times from how it clings perfectly onto his chiselled shoulders and biceps. it makes you gulp, but you attempt to hide your affected reaction anyways, delivering a scoff in his direction which only makes chan grit his teeth at your attitude. “so what if i am? you know damn well either way without needing me to spell it out for you.” you bite back, moving to turn around when he catches you by the elbow, leaving you to scowl at him.

“what’s gotten into you? just a few days ago, we were fine, yet now you’re ignoring my texts?” he narrows his eyes, holding you in place so you can’t budge away from him. you let out a faint tch at his words, more so at your own susceptibility to succumb to his advances, but chan tongues the side of his cheek after assuming you’re just being blatantly disrespectful towards him. his voice drops to a lower, seductive tone as he speaks up again. “need me to remind you again? you came over last saturday and humped my thigh before squirting on my tong— hmph!“ 

“god, yes, i fucking remember, okay?” you exclaim in a whisper after having slapped a hand over his mouth this time, eyes darting around frantically to make sure no one heard that. “could you be any more louder? jesus christ.” chan peels you off of him shortly afterwards, his expression souring at the way you address him. something about the anger in his features makes your own rise, and you feel any or all remorse you'd experienced prior to seeing him in person today vanish, replaced with a bubbling hatred of sorts.

you and chan began your weird affiliation with one another around two months ago, exactly a few days after he and your best friend broke up. to this day, you don’t know why he made a move on you, much less why you yourself reciprocated it. sure, you’d always found him objectively attractive when he and aeri were together, and while he may be your exact match of an ideal type to a tee, you would never think to act on the growing tension you experienced for him, especially when he was in a long term commitment with the closest person in the world to you. 

it all happened in the most random of occurrences too. you still remember meeting him the night you were out at the convenience store to run errands, catching him hunched over a table in a hoodie and messy hair with two bottles of soju in front. he’d flashed you a polite smile and offered to drink together, which realistically, you should’ve declined. you should’ve turned the other way in disgust and walked out on him to tell your best friend what he’d attempted to do, regardless of whether that would’ve led to something or not. instead, you found yourself in his bed that day, moaning his name as he ravished you under the moonlight streaming through his curtains in your combined drunken craze.

the next morning had been full of hiccuped cries, chan cradling you in his arms despite the scalding touch of his hold gnashing against you and leaving metaphorical imprints that you would never be able to scrub off. each time he soothed you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair, you felt the waves of guilt wash over harsher than the last. he continued to reassure you throughout anyways, telling you it’d be okay and that no one would have to know. blindly, you’d believed him, promising yourself and him to never act on either of your arbitrary lust by not letting go of your inhibitions.

that was the first lie you told yourself. 

“y’know, i’m really not a fan of this whole backtalk towards me.” chan criticises, and you laugh bitterly after picking up on his audible disappointment as it hits your ears. “see? there it is again. maybe i’ve gotta teach you some manners, hm?” his tone is sultry once more, leaving you fighting the urge to flush under his gaze. you ultimately lose though, wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face with the way he snickers at your cheeks reddening crimson. instead, you try retain the little dignity you have left as you push against his chest, scanning your parameters with paranoia when he steps closer to you.

“we can’t.” you mumble, clearly slipping. chan’s only response to that is a breathless huff, warm against your face as you peer up at him through your lashes, finally getting a good look at him. he’s wearing his signature hoop earrings today, hair brushed down so his bangs fall over his forehead. the collar of that same dress shirt he’s got on is popped despite a few buttons being undone, leaving the styling choice to highlight his collarbone. that same milky skin you’ve ghosted your nails over multiple times hides underneath the black fabric, leaving you to shiver at the memories of it. it also doesn’t help that the way he towers you is sending your mind reeling into submission way too easily, and you only manage to shake out of it when his fingers trail down to wrap around your wrist, allowing you to feel the cold metal of a ring you recognise all too well press into your joint—

the same half of a promise ring you’d helped him pick out for aeri a year ago.

the realisation that he’s still wearing it hits, and combined with the once again forming shame in the back of your head, it all makes you want to shove him away in favour of storming out of here to tell your best friend everything once and for all. a part of you can sense undue jealousy simmering inside at the fact that he’s still got a piece of her with him too, something you know you have no right to feel, but you try ignore it to your best ability. “chan, we can’t.” you repeat with a hitch in your breath, more so for yourself than him. and yet, you don’t even believe your own words, finding the less rational and weak side of you surrendering to the temptation chan tantalises in you; it overshadows whatever morality you have left.

“d’you really want me to stop?” he breathes out, body sagging far too close into yours for it to be friendly, although you suppose none of your interactions since starting this scandalous relationship have ever been that. his fingers, the very same ones bearing the ring on them, move to wrap around your throat, forcing you to tilt your head up and lock eyes with him. goosebumps prick your skin when you catch sight of the way his gaze is hooded, orbs swirling with black desire he’s begun to reserve only for you in these coming weeks. “because, if you want me to stop, i will.” chan points out. “say the word and i’ll turn around. out of sight, out of mind.” he makes a statement out of it by retracting his hand from you, but the very distinct whine you let out is all the confirmation he needs to press his mouth to yours.

kissing chan always feels like playing with fire. it scorches, and singes, and sears, reducing you to a burnt crisp, yet you can’t help but yearn for the flame he ignites in you. even the way he’s clutching onto you now, pressing forward with a fervour only you bring out in him, has his lips moulding against your cherry stained ones despite not fitting as perfectly as you’d want them to. the two of you are by no means a compatible match for each other; neither of you has made a single good decision ever since you began indulging in whatever you’ve got going on, but you also can’t help but crave the scandalous nature of everything. you’re truly a despicable pair, you think.

“get in the car.” chan’s voice cuts through your thoughts when he pulls away. he doesn’t even give you time to think when he walks over and opens the door, gesturing inside to the warm confines of the backseat. ideally, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but alas, you’ve never been one to listen to yourself, instead finding your legs scrambling and following suit to shuffle into jake’s vehicle before the weight of your actions even sinks in. chan’s hot on your trail too, and before you can even get comfortable in the cramped space, he’s returning to making out with you, fingers roaming greedily around the expanse of your skin. 

“t-they’ll know we’re gone.” you stutter, moving your face out of his reach to try and stop chan’s movements when it finally dawns on you that your friends had sent you out on an errand you’d taken far too long to complete by now. chan’s only response is to grunt though, tugging you back in for another smouldering kiss that knocks the wind out of your lungs. his hands grasp, pinch, and squeeze whatever part of you they can, until he’s finally decided that he’s had enough foreplay, opting to cage you underneath him and hike up the tight, red dress that’s adorning your body for today’s occasion. “i’ll be quick. i always am.” he winks, and you’re too far gone now to understand that he’s responding to your previous comment, a fact that only makes him chuckle.

“wore this to tease me, yeah?” chan clicks his tongue at the way he has to practically peel off the bottom half of your clothing, the snug fit of the fabric around your curves leaving nothing to the imagination as he bites his lip. he debates whether he’s glad you chose this outfit to show off for him, or if that pisses him off because it means everybody gets an eyeful of your figure; he decides on the latter. “wanted to slut yourself out for my attention? all you had to do was ask, baby.” you shake your head with a whimper, and he raises an eyebrow at your reaction. “d-didn’t.. didn’t wear it for you.” you manage to breathe out, which proves to be the wrong answer because next thing you know, his hand is coming down to smack your clothed core.

you yelp at the sting of his actions, teary eyes blinking up at him in a way that makes chan’s boxers tighten. he’s so close to losing his composure, but he holds back for your sake, not wanting to let you see his cool slip. “is that so? i guess you’re just a dirty girl then.” he sneers, yanking down your soaked panties in one swift motion, leaving you to gasp as the cool air hits your sticky folds.

chan wastes not even one second, knobby digits dragging through the wetness he’s not surprised to find whatsoever. he spreads it over your clit, getting you messier than you already are, especially from the way you appear to leak even more arousal from his movements. he touches you until you’re twitching under his hold, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape you, which seems to be a fact he doesn’t approve of from the way he pinches your nub between his fingers; you cry out softly from the rush of stimulation it shoots through you. “eyes on me.” chan growls, sliding his hand down to circle your oozing hole before he’s abruptly shoving two fingers inside.

“fuck.” you moan this time, loud and clear. this seems to satisfy him, seeing as he rewards you with a steady pump of his digits thrusting into your heat. his speed in fingering you increases quickly, and it isn’t long before he’s scissoring you open, the sloppy sounds of your juices slicking up his fingers and echoing in the stuffy space of jake’s car. you’re probably staining the leather of the seats, but neither you nor chan seem to care about that right now, not when he’s knuckle deep inside your wet cunt and you’re making such pretty noises all for him.

“just filthy, aren’t ya? getting finger fucked in the back of your friends car. i bet your dumb little brain can’t even understand what i’m saying right now.” chan mocks, his tone laced with a level of condescension that only makes you buck your hips up to chase his movements. you know he’s completely right too, because the way he’s thrusting his digits inside you, stroking your warm walls with the tips of them has you seeing stars to the point you can’t even respond back something snarky in return. “all you’re good for is being a nasty toy for sir’s use, hm?” you barely even register his question, only remembering you need to answer him when he pulls his wet hand away to smack you once more, this time over your swollen bundle of nerves.

“y-yes, sir. only a toy for you. jus’ you.” you mindlessly slur out, and chan groans at that. not even a moment passes before he’s sinking his fingers back inside you, curling them up to massage that rough spot which always has you clenching down on him. his expression twists to a smug one when you jerk forward instantly. bingo, he thinks. “that’s that spot there, yeah? the one that has you losing yourself on me?” he coos, but his voice drips with a smidge of venom you can’t quite fixate on just yet. instead, you nod dumbly, spasming around him as you try grind upwards to chase the rising sensation of your climax. 

chan leans into your frame, one hand splayed flat onto jake’s backseat above your head to maintain his balance whilst his body hovers over you. by now, your eyes are clenched shut, but he can’t even find it in him to get mad at you over that, not when you’re dribbling down his wrist and mewling so pretty under the glow of the night as he works you towards your orgasm. “c’mon, baby. cum f’me. wanna see you cum so pretty for sir.” he encourages, jaw locked with concentration. 

it only takes about one or two flicks of his expertly trained thumb pressing on your puffy clit, combined with the pads of his fingers hitting your g-spot with terrifying accuracy, before you’re shuddering through your climax. a small, clear stream of liquid sprays out the sides of where he’s got you plugged up, and he pulls his hand away in favour of rubbing you over to coax out the last remnants of your high. your quivering body thrashes when he tries to draw out the remaining few droplets again, weakly bringing your arm up to push him away gently when the shocks of overstimulation begin to take over. chan dips down to place one, final kiss on your lips, smooching down to your chin as a way to say you did well. his actions make you heart beat out of your chest, but you don’t say anything about the domesticity of them. 

you wonder if he ever treated aeri like this after having been intimate with her.

“go in first. i’ll clean up the car.” chan clears his throat after a short while, not daring to make eye contact with you as he quietly pulls your underwear back up your legs. you watch in silence while he sits up, looking for a rag to fix the mess you two made when that same awkward air you’ve gotten used to facing with him enters the atmosphere, leaving you to try and ignore how it tugs at the strings of your soul as you give a curt nod. “don’t forget the beer.” you remind him before swinging the door open to step outside, finding yourself back in the nipping cold of the winter night.

you try and stand on your wobbly legs to straighten out the creases of your dress, paying no mind to the way your skin echoes with the ghost of chan’s previous touch. behind you, you can hear him rolling down the windows to let the musky smell of sex out of jake’s backseat, and you almost dare to sneak a glance back until deciding against it, knowing it’ll just hurt more. instead, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, opening them to land on the small balcony of your friend’s apartment where the rest of your group seems to have already gathered from the silhouettes you can see through the foggy glass. your conscience feels heavy with the weight of the knowledge that aeri is up there too, but you brush it off, just like all the other times you have.

i didn’t do anything wrong, you tell yourself, i’m still in the clear. that’s the second lie you’ve tried to believe in these last two months. a long sigh escapes your lips at that realisation, but you bite it down when making your way back inside the building, choosing to rack your brain on what shitty excuse you’ll have to provide this time for being gone so long.

. . .

to your surprise, nobody bothers to question why either you or chan disappeared, simply whisking you back in conversation about unrelated topics when you walk in through the door a few minutes before him. as per usual, your heart still feels heavy when you watch aeri laugh at something heeseung and sieun are arguing over, but you cover it up by letting out a noise of amusement yourself, hoping it throws off any suspicion that might be directed your way. you don’t bother turning your head upon hearing jake’s delight at the sight of chan entering his apartment with the very much requested pack of beer too, deciding to force a smile at whatever point heeseung is busy making over looking back no matter how much your body itches to do so.

it’s even worse how from the corner of your eye, you can see aeri shifting uncomfortably on her feet at her ex-boyfriend’s second arrival, her expression dropping in the slightest so as to not draw attention to herself, but it’s still enough for you to notice. it only makes the weight of your actions dawn on you further, and you can’t help but let your mind wander as to what she’d say if she knew what truly went on behind closed doors. despite your best efforts to bury those thoughts beneath you though, you know there’s nothing you can do to make amends to the problems you’ve created yourself. after all, you’ve got to reap what you sow.

the party continues to kick in on full swing after that, with you and aeri both doing your best to keep your distances from chan for all too different reasons. it doesn’t help that you can feel someone’s stare raking across your figure throughout the duration of the evening, and when you finally do decide to sneak a glance in that direction with expectations of finding chan ogling you over, you’re met with a different answer—

for it isn’t you he’s busy looking at, but rather your best friend that’s been glued to your side since the beginning of the night. 

he averts his gaze as quick as he’d cast it when you catch him, seamlessly blending back in discussion with whatever nonsense changbin is rambling about this time, acting like he hadn’t just been getting an eyeful of his ex-girlfriend moments prior. you also don’t miss how he fiddles with the old ring that adorns his right hand, long fingers twisting it around the middle digit in a way that’s reminiscent of his past behaviour, or at least based on what you’d often find him doing back then. 

his actions spark a memory deep from the confines of your brain, one you wish you hadn’t remembered as the vision of chan asking you to help pick out promise rings for him and aeri crosses your mind. it was raining heavily that day, but he’d insisted that the two of you go out in secret anyways so he could buy his then girlfriend a token of his love and appreciation. he’d claimed you knew her taste the best and could therefore help in selecting a better possible gift for their upcoming anniversary than he ever could. 

you’d hesitantly agreed, and although you weren’t sure how it would all play out, you later found yourself sharing an umbrella and visiting various jewellery stores to point out all the designs you knew your closest friend would adore. chan had settled soon on a matching pair for the two of them, beaming in your direction with a bright smile that left you weak in the knees despite however much you tried to hide it. a few days later, aeri excitedly showed off her own silver band to you, buzzing about how he’d chosen the perfect present that she couldn’t wait to replace with a real one in their future; you couldn’t help then but think if he ever told her it was all your idea instead of his.

“hey, can you hold my phone?” your best friend’s voice cuts through your inner replay, and you blink in a daze to find her facing you, expression innocent. “hyunjin asked to play beer pong, and i don’t have any pockets to put it away in safely.” she explains at your confused face, but all you can do is nod as you robotically outstretch your arm to take it off of her. unfortunately or fortunately, that’s when you notice it—

the same matching ring on her hand.

aeri doesn’t pay you any attention when she drops off her device into your awaiting palm, not even realising you’re zeroed in on the jewellery that decorates her left hand with a fire burning in your eyes that you’re both ignorant of. you don’t stop gaping even when felix shakes your shoulder, asking you what you’re so fixated on before leaving you be under the impression that you’re probably just drunk out of your head. meanwhile, you’re still frozen in place, everything around you seeming to slow down.

why is chan wearing a ring he bought for his ex-girlfriend two years ago to a party he knows she’s going to be at? no, why does said ex-girlfriend also have her matching pair of the ring on her hand at a party she too is aware he’s going to be present for? much less, why are either of them hung up on each other to the point they’re carrying around reminders of their past relationship with one another? you know the answer to all these questions, but you don’t wish to sit and delve into them in fear you might throw up at the conclusion they’ll give you. instead, all you can do is squeeze the can of seltzer you’d spiked in your hand dangerously tight out of unwanted emotion, enough for some of the liquid inside to spill out. you can’t be bothered to care about it though, just like how you can’t be bothered to care about how anybody in their right mind could probably see you gawking at chan right now.

you watch as he cracks up at a joke seungmin makes, his head falling back in a fit of laughter you’ve been a happy witness or recipient of multiple times, yet this time it fills you with emotion that you don’t wish to identify in fear it’d mean something more than what you’re capable of confronting right now. even so, you can’t stop the train of questions invading your thoughts at the view in front of you. did he laugh like that with aeri? smile so wide with her? couldn’t help the joy that spread across due to her presence? maybe that’s why he came today, because he couldn’t take his mind off of her, especially seeing as he was wearing a symbol of their time spent before right now. 

but, what does that say about you in this picture? were you just a scapegoat to escape all those feelings for him? had you been one this entire time, only deluding yourself into thinking what you both had translated into a situation deeper and could potentially progress into one even more had things happened under different circumstances? the more you think, the more you feel nauseous, and you can’t stop yourself from diverting your gaze to where your best friend is, observing her concentrated face as she attempts to aim a ping pong ball into one of the lined up solo cups. your eyes involuntarily flicker to the ring on her finger once more, its evident shimmer reflecting in the light causing you to clutch your drink tighter. 

you’re not a jealous person by any means. you know your boundaries, hence you know chan isn’t yours. he isn’t an object you can own, and neither are you to him. that was the unspoken agreement you both nodded on when you got into this entire ordeal— you’re both free to see other people openly in front of aeri as long as it’s not each other, because the latter you manage in secret despite the shame that surges in you two upon doing so. it doesn’t matter if you wish to stake your claim on him, to see the marks you leave on him evident on his skin the next morning for him to show off other girls who think they stand a chance at him taking them to bed. it doesn’t matter how much your heart aches when you wake up to the blanket strewn aside from his absence, the sheets long gone cold to indicate that he’d left hours ago. it doesn’t matter how much you wish to cling onto his arm in public and profess your.. feelings for him in front of everyone else.

it simply doesn’t matter, it never did. chan’s never been yours, and he never will be anytime soon.

20:51 PM from: Myself meet me at the upstairs bathroom in five

you punch in the message before you can even think, watching it turn from delivered to read in a matter of seconds. the three dots next to chan’s side of texts appear, indicating that he’s typing, but you choose to lock your device rather than waiting like a dog to see him reply. instead, your feet lead you to your designated location, taking one step at a time leisurely as opposed to in a rush so as to not draw unwanted attention to yourself. right as you reach the door handle, your phone pings with a familiar ringtone.

20:52 PM from: dni!!! Reacted with “👍🏻” to your message

you sigh. tonight was going to be a long night.

. . .

skin slapping. heavy panting. low grunting. 

that’s all you can hear from where you’re splayed across the sink in the small confines of jake’s bathroom, aside from the occasional thumping of music booming from downstairs. if you strain your ear enough, you’ll be able to make out the lyrics to the cliche song that’s come up on shuffle, but you honestly lack the mentality to care about that right now, especially considering the way chan has your legs pushed apart in favour of drilling his length into you. each thrust is rapid and fervent in nature, seeming to knock the wind out of your lungs to the point you don’t even realise how loud you’re being until his hand comes up to shove two fingers in your mouth. “be fucking quiet.” he sneers, leaving you to drool everywhere. the only reaction he spares when you try muffle out an apology is a sickening smirk at that too. 

“needed this, didn’t you, slut? always need to be filled with some cock like a bitch in heat.” chan chuckles, but there’s a dark edge to his voice that sends shivers crawling up your spine. he presses down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers, and you can’t stop the garbling of spit choking past your lips from the way his thickness nestles deep inside you. each heavy drag of his dick against your rough walls leaves you clenching and attempting to buck your hips forward, but you can’t even manage that with the grip he has on your waist. the mere idea that all chan really needs to restrain you is the simple strength of his one hand sends your mind reeling, so much so that you don’t even realise he’s speaking to you until the hand that was previously in your mouth pulls out to slap light and wet against your cheek.

“i asked you a question, whore.” chan growls, the sound resonating warm within your stomach despite the mean undertone to it as his movements still. you blink up at him in confusion at this point, doe eyes brimming with tears that threaten to spill from the loss of pleasure in a way that has chan damn near finishing. it doesn’t help that he’s buried to the hilt currently, hissing painfully at how you squeeze down on him in involuntary instinct. for a split second, you swear you see the ridges on his face soften, and the manner in which he looms over you feels filled with more comfort than intimidation, but that smidge of emotion vanishes as soon as it arrives. “i said,” chan’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “do you wanna get caught?” you rapidly shake your head no at that, and chan cocks his head to the side.

“oh, really?” he muses, nails sliding over to dig into the supple flesh of your thigh, making you whine out loud. “‘cause with the way you’re making so much noise like that, i’d have assumed the opposite.” with a click of his tongue, his actions resume. luckily, all that escapes you is a loud gasp this time, an anxious clamp of your palm over your mouth barely covering up the rest of your lewdity. you wish so desperately to refute, to plead him in favour of slowing down and having some mercy, but the sensation of his bulbous cockhead slamming roughly into that one spot only sends stars in your vision and prevents your previous desires. 

your body jerks in chan’s hold even more when his same hand still lubed with your saliva finds it way between where you’re connected, leaving you to suppress a pathetic whimper that longs to bubble out of your throat as he presses the tips of his fingers to your swollen clit. his touch is harsh, filled with an overwhelming need to make you burst at the seams, but the fear that lingers in the back of your head refuses to let you fall apart so easily, not when aeri is barely a flight of stairs from your vicinity. chan decides he isn’t fond of the silence you’re giving him though, pulling out with a quiet mumble for you to get down and face the mirror. he sheaths himself back in just as quickly, setting an unforgiving pace from the seemingly more accessible position, and this time, you really can’t stop the long drawn out moan that escapes you. 

“j-just like that, yeah, baby? all those filthy noises are just for me, aren’t they?” he sounds more delirious this time, presumably drunk off the essence of this situation from the possessive gibberish he’s spouting, just like he always does in the heat of the moment. unfortunately for you, you’re no better than him, nodding furiously in agreement as you babble high-pitched and breathy. “so good, sir! s-so, so fucking good, feels so good! wan’ cum f’you, p-please. ‘m a good girl, please lemme cum, please, please, please.” small stutters spew out of you mid-sentence, but neither of you can be bothered by them, too wrapped up in the throes of all-consuming passion and contempt even to register what’s being said. 

“such a nasty, nasty girl.. getting fucked by your best friend’s ex. don’t you feel a-any shame?” chan groans almost wearily in midst of his lust-filled haze, eyes catching yours from the reflection of the mirror that’s displaying you getting absolutely wrecked right now. the sight of you so fucked up and in bliss, no coherent thought visible by the looks of your dazed expression and tongue halfway lolling out— it all has him burning with hot, rampant hunger. hunger for you, hunger to claim you. “look at yourself.” he rasps, fingers clutching at your chin to force you into meeting where he is. “look how dirty you are, fuck. what would she say about you wrapped so warm and snug around my cock? hm? think we should— ah. think we should call her in and find out?” 

the tears that were brewing in your waterline are streaming down your face by now, horrifically mimicking the disgusting manner in your wetness seeping and dripping down chan’s balls. you feel awful. downright terrible and tainted, forever branded by the searing touch of chan’s skin grazing against yours because that’s what you are, that’s what you have been for the past two months. down from the night you let him lead you into his sheets, following the countless occasions you found yourself returning there, and finally falling to now, your underwear strewn across the tiles of jake’s bathroom as you spread your legs for the same man who broke your best friend’s heart; the same man who you’ve let into yours after very consciously disregarding the repercussions of your actions. 

you’re truly a loathsome piece of work.

“think she’d like to watch me fill this pussy up? watch me shoot my load deep inside you over and over again until i’m sure it’s taken?” chan mutters, hot breath fanning against your sweaty neck. “maybe i should breed this stupid cunt full of my seed and send you back out there with it spilling past your legs. that way, every time you sit down, you’ll feel it inside you.” the mental image of his release lodged in your walls as you’re surrounded by all your friends, surrounded by the one person you’ve both been hiding from, all of them oblivious to the way he’s staked his claim on you except for the shared knowledge between you two and you two only— it has you quivering to the point you physically keen in his hold. chan, however, just laughs sadistically at your reaction. 

“you’ll feel it as a reminder of me, yeah? a reminder that you’re just as terrible as me. coming to me to get this slutty cunt stuffed even though you know you shouldn’t.” he continues to whisper. “after all, it takes two to tango, darling.” chan makes it a point to tilt his hips up in an effort to ensure his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with precise force, all the while breathlessly uttering more sickening words in your ear in hopes of fulfilling your need for relief. 

surely enough, the combination of his cock shoving itself past your opening and his guilt-inducing remarks that only make you sob harder work you up to the point of no return. all it really takes after that is one touch of his thumb to your pulsating nub to eventually have you seizing up in no time, your pussy messily tightening and gushing as your high crashes over you in large waves of ecstasy. it seems to trigger him too, because by the time you even realise you’re there, chan’s twitching and leaking spurts of thick cum inside you. there’s so much of it that it trickles past where he’s got you plugged up, and you barely comprehend yourself pushing a hand near your oozing hole to catch it on your fingertips. 

you both come to slowly, ragged breathing that fills the air growing quieter to pair with the musk of the room. chan’s gaze is still trained on you through the mirror, unreadable just like always whenever you’ve made the same mistake again, but you take the opportunity in this instance specifically to raise the hand that’s collected his seed in it to your mouth, proceeding to lick up the droplets of his excess release. even though you don’t catch his stare in the reflection, you can still feel it burning holes through your head, a fact that only leaves goosebumps rising over your skin. it’s only when you pull your hand away once more to catch the last of his remaining cum that he decides to finally interject, grabbing your palm in his coarse one with hooded eyes. they’re blown out when he tugs your back flush into his chest, the impact leaving his length pushing deeper inside, and they’re blown out when his fingers wrap around your neck to give it a slight squeeze, the little loss of oxygen making your mind spin.

“you think that’s funny? teasing me even after i just fucked you? after i left my mark on you and made sure you know that you’re mine?” chan murmurs, lips sultrily ghosting the shell of your ear. you want to fixate on what he’d addressed you as, let it marinate in your thoughts and brood over it for the next weeks to come even if it was just an absentminded slip of the mouth, but your focus is interrupted by the moving of his hips against yours picking up once more. the previously repeated actions send his dick driving into you again, breaching your cervix and pressing deliciously into every nook and cranny in a way that has you nearly losing your footing, but chan is quicker to hold you up with his free hand. “w-wait, ‘m still sensitive.” you manage to tremble out at a particularly well-placed graze of his cock, but chan doesn’t seem to care, grinding into you even more eagerly at your admission to the point you struggle to keep the sounds spilling out you at bay.

there’s a resounding knock on the door all of a sudden, one that makes your breath hitch and your chest twist in uneasiness. some part of you feels wary and on edge, and you would assume chan’s movements would halt at that, but he doesn’t show any signs of stopping, ignoring your frantic attempts to make him do so by holding you in place instead as he begins to pick up the pace. “s-stop, we’ll get caught.” you heave out upon the noise of skin slapping rising in volume. you do your best to stand your ground, to avoid the gradual closing of your eyes and the mushy fog of your brain clouding over in euphoria, but it’s to no avail. you’re about to let go of your inhibitions completely, to forget about what had just happened and throw caution into the wind in order to lose yourself in the moment, until—

“y/n, i know you’re in there with chris.”

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

© all rights reserved to @/lovscb97, do not plagiarise, translate, re-upload, etc 

[ryuuseini]

I'll be honest: sometimes I take those "is your MC a Mary Sue" quizzes, not because I buy into the belief that a Mary Sue is a real thing, but because I want to see how absolutely baffled these tests are when I show up with my 29 year old OC who is arguably very conventionally attractive at the cost of his sanity. But I've noticed as I try to answer yhe questions of these tests - some of which are old and only exist as an archive (the Mary Sue Litmus Test, for example) and some of which that are pretty damn recent - is that some questions are Literally Impossible to Answer.

And look, I get it, you can't account for everyone’s OCs because that's impossible. However, a trend I've noticed is... Every question that revolves around how your OC is seen by others is phrased as if the "other characters" are a monolith.

Let me explain. So I come in with my OC, who I'll refer to as Kaz from now on ('cause that's his name), and come across the question of "how do others view him?" I get the choices of "love him, hate him, neutral, likes him" (for example.) How do I answer this question? No legitimately - how do I answer this question? Because there are two characters who absolutely love him in a found family like way, four characters that hate him, three that like him (and out of those three, one is "likes him enough to put up with him"), and one who has an "its complicated" relationship but ultimately would end up in the "likes" category. So, doing our math, that's:

2 people who love him (and not even in the way we're assuming the question is asking)

4 people who hate him

4 people who like him (with an added caveat that half of them have some sort of disdain towards Kaz)

And like. What do I do here? Because it's an even split, among the named characters at least, between "hate" and "like". And because of how binary these results are, they will heavily screw if your OC is perceived as a "Mary Sue" (which, doesn't exist, but given how often the term comes up to this day, I can see young creators hoping their OCs don't fit into this box).

And sure, you can argue with me "well its just a quiz you're not supposed to take it seriously" and true, you're right, it is just a quiz. But it doesn't represent how much of a sliding scale OC development really is. And that's my major problem.

Character development is a sliding scale. Not everyone will love your OC and in that same breath, not everyone will hate them either. Back to Kaz as an example - he's got an ex-boyfriend (named Reiji) and a girl he has a platonic crush on (named Remi). Kaz and his ex are on bad terms and its justified because they both hurt each other! Meanwhile when Remi first meets Kaz she thinks he's cute (but then kinda... takes it back because of the way Kaz responded to that but she does try to move past that because sometimes first impressions are impossible to judge people on) and then still ends up liking him as a friend. And the reason I bring these two up is because Reiji and Remi are childhood friends! So Reiji vents to Remi about Kaz and Remi goes "oh okay" and adjusts her perception of Kaz to be far more nuanced than what she had understood with their first two interactions, while when Remi talks to Reiji about Kaz he uses it to adjust his perception of Kaz to fall more into the disdain category.

So it's like!! Your OC is gonna be perceived in so many ways by your cast (and the surrounding background characters too!!) that putting them into a box isn't going to help! So like. Please don't take those tests as a way to see where to "fix" your character because they will never account for your whole story. You could have a queen ruling a nation and everyone loves her and people who speak out against her are seen as unreasonable. Would that make her a Mary Sue? Like. Genuine question here. Because I think not, but that is a question on multiple Mary Sue tests.

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

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thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ State Championship

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 6.4K

☆ ━ warnings: underage drinking, smoking

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: covid doesn’t exist in this fic yall. also… we only got like 2 maybe 3 more chapters left 😔😔 nearing the end

IT’S MARCH now, and Dani’s life feels as close to perfect as it ever has—though, like everything else in her world, it’s stitched together with careful seams, fragile and vulnerable to the wrong touch. She and Paige are inseparable, their relationship deepening with every stolen moment, every knowing glance, every night spent whispering beneath the glow of a shared secret. They’re in love, entirely and helplessly, in a way Dani never thought possible. They’ve built their own kind of sanctuary, a place where Dani doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t have to pray for the version of herself she can’t force into existence. A place that’s home.

Her father is still blissfully ignorant. Somehow, he hasn’t pieced it together, hasn’t realized that the “Beau and Dani” façade is a flimsy excuse for Dani to avoid questions she can’t answer. All that matters is her dad hasn’t found out about Paige, and as long as Dani can keep it that way, she can hold onto this little slice of happiness a bit longer.

Her camera is still her refuge, the one place she can express everything she’s too scared to say. She photographs everything these days: the crackling electricity of Paige on the court, Thaliah and Jalen during their group hangouts, the fleeting, golden light of early spring as it kisses the Minnesota snow. Photography gives her purpose, and in a way, it’s her excuse to be near Paige without raising suspicion. At almost every game, Dani can be found on the sidelines, her lens trained on the girl she loves. Sometimes she’s there for the yearbook, sometimes just as a spectator, but she never misses an opportunity to catch Paige mid-layup, her form perfect, her expression fierce. Those photos always end up in a folder on Dani’s laptop, separate from the yearbook shots, and Dani finds herself scrolling through them late at night, smiling at the way Paige lights up the screen.

Dani’s friendships with Thaliah and Jalen are as strong as ever. The three of them and Paige have returned to normalcy, often found loitering at diners, driving aimlessly through town, or sprawled out in Thaliah’s basement watching movies and laughing about nothing. They’re her grounding force, her reminder that she’s not alone in navigating the chaos of being seventeen and confused about almost everything. Paige fits into their dynamic seamlessly, too, and on the rare occasion they’re all together, Dani feels like the world might actually be okay.

College acceptance letters have been rolling in, and Dani’s future is starting to take shape—though not without its complications. She’s been accepted into every school she applied to, but it’s her UConn acceptance that sends her heart racing. It’s not just the great program or the nearly full-ride scholarship they’ve offered her—it’s the fact that Paige will be there. That, for once, Dani might have a future that feels like hers, not one dictated by her father or her faith or the crushing weight of expectation. But she hasn’t told her dad yet. She can’t. He knows Paige is going to UConn, knows about her basketball career and the national attention it’s garnered, and Dani knows he’d connect the dots too easily. So she keeps it to herself, tucking the letter into the back of her desk drawer and avoiding the subject whenever college comes up at home.

Currently, Dani sits among Paige’s family, her camera resting untouched in her lap. It’s the state championship, and Hopkins is favored to take the title the second year in a row. The student section is a riot of blue, loud and chaotic, but Dani has chosen the quieter comfort of this row, surrounded by people who feel like home. Jalen and his family are nearby, and Paige’s parents and siblings flank her on either side, a reassuring presence amid the frenzy.

On Dani’s left, Drew is practically vibrating with excitement, barely able to stay seated. Every few seconds, he glances over at her, his words tumbling out in bursts. “Did you see Paigey’s spin move?”

“I saw it,” Dani says, a small smile tugging at her lips. “She’s locked in.”

Bob, seated next to Drew, leans forward slightly, his voice carrying over the noise. “She used to practice that on me at the park. Couldn’t guard her then, can’t guard her now.”

Dani chuckles, turning to meet Bob’s grin. There’s an ease to him that she’s always appreciated—an unspoken acceptance. Bob has known about her and Paige for as long as she can remember, and though they’ve never had a direct conversation about it, the way he treats her makes it clear he’s always been on their side.

On Dani’s right, Amy is a comforting presence, quieter than Bob but just as attentive. She’d driven all the way from Montana with Ryan and Lauren to see Paige play, and Dani’s heart had softened the moment the woman exclaimed when she saw her, immediately engulfing her in a hug after over a year without seeing one another. Amy’s kindness is effortless, and Dani feels it in every question she asks—about school, about Dani’s photography, about her plans for college.

In front of Dani, Lauren, restless as ever, leans back against the Callan girl’s legs, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her Hopkins sweatshirt. She twists her head around to look at Dani, her eyes wide.

“Paige is so fast. I wanna be that fast,” she says, her voice barely cutting through the noise of the arena.

Dani stifles a laugh, glancing down at her. “Paige’ll train you if you ask her,” she tells Lauren, messing with her hair a little.

Ryan laughs at his younger sister. “You’ll never be as fast as P, Laur.” Lauren doesn’t say anything, just hits him a little on the shoulder.

And, true to their words of Paige’s quickness, the girl threads a pass through traffic to set up her teammate for an easy layup. The crowd erupts, and Dani’s heart swells with pride, even as she tries to keep her face neutral. Paige’s brilliance on the court always manages to take Dani’s breath away. It’s not just the skill—it’s the way she moves, like the game is an extension of herself, as natural as breathing.

Amy leans closer to Dani during a brief timeout, her voice soft so as not to disturb the boys’ running commentary on the game. “She loves having you here,” she says, her eyes fixed on Paige. “Plays better when you’re watching.”

Dani swallows the lump forming in her throat, her gaze fixed on Paige. “She doesn’t need me for that,” she murmurs, trying to brush it off, but Amy gives her a knowing smile.

“Maybe not. But she lights up around you, Dani. Always has.”

The words lodge themselves in Dani’s chest, warming her from the inside out. It’s moments like this—Paige’s family’s unwavering support—that make her feel like maybe, just maybe, she and Paige could have something not just real, but something lasting.

The game resumes, and Hopkins builds their lead, point by point, until victory feels inevitable. Paige is everywhere—driving to the basket, setting up her teammates, sinking jump shots with a precision that seems almost effortless. She makes it look easy, but Dani knows better. She knows the hours Paige spends on this court, the bruises and exhaustion she never complains about. And so Dani can’t help but beam every time Paige does something spectacular, her pride radiating from her in waves. Drew nudges her arm every few seconds, practically yelling over the noise.

Lauren shifts again, this time pulling on Dani’s sleeve. “Do you think Paige will win?”

“She will,” Dani answers without hesitation. “She always does.”

The final minutes tick down, and the crowd is on its feet, the noise swelling to a deafening roar. Paige drives to the basket, weaving through defenders, sinking the ball cleanly through the net. Dani can barely hear herself think over the cheers, but she doesn’t care. Her eyes are locked on Paige, her heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of the game. Victory is so close she can taste it.

And, when the final buzzer echoes through the gym, the crowd erupts in cheers, Dani screaming her throat raw, her grin so wide it aches. Hopkins wins, as everyone knew they would. On the court, the team jumps and screams, a chaotic tangle of joy, and in the middle of it all is Paige—beaming, her face radiant in the bright lights. She’s never looked more alive.

Dani can’t take her eyes off her.

Spectators flood the court, and Dani moves with Paige’s family and Jalen’s, weaving through the chaos. When Paige spots them, her gaze locks on Dani first, as if the rest of the world has faded away. Without hesitation, Paige rushes to her, weaving past her teammates and friends.

Dani doesn’t have time to react before Paige’s arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her close. Paige hunches slightly, burying her face in Dani’s neck. Her body is damp with sweat, and she smells faintly of effort and adrenaline, but Dani doesn’t care. She wraps her arms around Paige, steadying her.

“I’m so proud of you, P,” Dani says softly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Paige doesn’t pull back. Her lips brush against Dani’s hair, and she whispers so only Dani can hear, her voice a quiet tremor of affection, “Thanks, baby.”

Dani closes her eyes briefly, savoring the moment. Around them, the chaos continues—teammates screaming, parents cheering—but it feels like they’re standing in a bubble, untouched by anything outside of this.

When Paige finally pulls away, her parents are watching with fond smiles. Amy steps forward, already reaching for Dani’s camera. “You two, hold still. Let me take a picture.”

Paige grins and slings an arm around Dani’s shoulders, pulling her close. Her other hand lifts the gold medal hanging around her neck, the metal catching the light. Dani mirrors her smile, her own arm draped loosely around Paige’s waist. They don’t need to pose—the happiness radiates naturally, their closeness effortless.

Amy pulls back, glancing at the camera’s screen. “Oh, this is a good one. Come look.”

Dani leans in to see, and her breath catches. The image captures everything—the joy in their faces, the warmth in Paige’s gaze, the way their bodies lean toward each other as if they’re two halves of the same whole.

Paige and Dani meet eyes, sharing a grin.

The moment is brief but perfect before Paige turns to scoop Lauren into her arms, spinning her little sister in a circle. Drew tugs on her jersey, demanding his turn, while Ryan just hugs at Paige’s waist, proud of his older sister. Paige laughs, pulling them all into a huddle.

Dani steps back, giving them space but staying close. She does what she does best, taking her camera from Amy and getting a few candid shots—Paige holding Lauren on her hip, Ryan clapping her on the back, Drew trying on her medal for size. Joy radiates through every frame, and Dani knows these moments will stick with her for the rest of her life.

The state championship trophy gleams in the background, but to Dani, the real victory is right here.

IT’S THE NEXT night, a Saturday, and the house feels a little emptier now. Paige’s mom, Amy, had left earlier that morning to drive back to Montana with Ryan and Lauren in tow, their visit too brief but nice. Paige’s dad, Bob, had also left with Drew, heading to Paige’s grandparents’ house for a sleepover. Dani knows Paige had been invited too, but she’d turned down the invitation with a practiced excuse. “I’ve gotta lock in on my homework,” she’d said, a perfectly reasonable answer now that basketball season was over.

Dani, however, knows better. Paige had needed her house empty for a party in celebration of her state championship win. It’s not every day you lead your team to a perfect season and cap it off with a trophy. If anyone deserved to celebrate, it was Paige, and she wasn’t about to let the night pass without doing exactly that.

Now, the house is quiet but charged with anticipation. Everyone else isn’t supposed to arrive until 8:30, but Dani, Thaliah, and Jalen had shown up early, their small group finding an easy rhythm on the couch in Paige’s living room. Music hums softly in the background, a playlist already on shuffle as the three settle in, waiting for the night to kick off.

Thaliah sits in the middle, her legs crossed, the bottle of Pink Whitney balanced on her knee as she grins at the others. “Pregame!” she announces, her voice bright as she pours the syrupy pink liquid into four cups she’s pulled from her bag. She slides one toward Jalen, one toward Paige, and one toward Dani.

Dani hesitates, glancing at the cup in front of her. She knows the routine well enough—this isn’t the first time they’ve started a night like this. But tonight, the idea of drinking, of letting her guard down even a little, makes her stomach twist.

She shakes her head, gently pushing the cup back toward Thaliah. “Nah, I’m good.”

Next to her, Paige straightens, her arm slipping from Dani’s shoulders as she turns to look at her fully. “Why?” she asks, her tone light but curious, her brows pulling together in that way they do when she doesn’t understand something.

Dani doesn’t meet her gaze right away. Instead, she glances at the bottle of Whitney, at the three cups still sitting on the table, and then back to Paige. The truth hovers on the tip of her tongue, too heavy to say aloud: My dad’s next door. If he hears this party, if he figures out I’m here, it’s over for me.

She needs to be sober in case something might happen.

But she doesn’t want to ruin Paige’s night—not when Paige is practically glowing, her excitement infectious, her smile impossible to dim. So, Dani shrugs, keeping her voice casual as she says, “I’m just not really in the mood.”

Paige narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. Dani sighs, then adds, “Besides, we both know how you’re gonna end up tonight, so someone’s gotta babysit you.”

That gets a reaction. Paige gasps, clutching at her chest like Dani’s just insulted her honor. “I don’t need babysitting. I am a perfectly responsible drunk.”

Dani doesn’t even need to respond. Thaliah and Jalen both exchange a look, their silence loud enough to say what they’re all thinking: Paige is not a responsible drunk.

“Fine,” Paige relents, leaning back into Dani’s side with a dramatic sigh. Her arm finds its way back around Dani’s shoulders, her fingers drumming lightly against Dani’s collarbone. “As long as it’s you babysitting me, then I guess I’ll survive.”

Dani hums, a quiet sound of acknowledgment, and watches as the others down their drinks in quick succession. Thaliah pours herself another almost immediately, the bottle already half-empty, while Jalen laughs at something on his phone.

Paige leans closer to Dani, her weight warm and familiar. “You sure?” she murmurs, quieter this time, like she’s still trying to figure Dani out.

“I’m sure,” Dani says, her tone firm but not unkind. She offers Paige a small smile, hoping it’s enough to keep her from asking again.

The clock ticks toward 8:30, and the energy in the room begins to shift. Thaliah’s already scrolling through her phone, checking who’s on their way, while Jalen adjusts the playlist, turning the volume up just a little. Paige doesn’t move from her spot next to Dani, her leg pressed against hers, her head tilting to rest briefly on Dani’s shoulder.

The first wave of people start filtering in just past 8:30, the quiet hum of the house replaced by the buzz of voices, the bass of the music turned up to match the growing energy.

It’s not just close friends who show up—there are teammates, classmates, random people from their grade, and even a few who Dani swears she’s never seen before. Paige doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she thrives on it. By now, Paige is already tipsy—not slurring her words or stumbling, but the telltale signs are there. Her laugh is louder, her smile wider, and her touch more insistent.

Dani feels Paige’s hand on her arm before she even sees her. Paige leans into her, shoulder bumping hers, her other arm draped casually across Dani’s waist like it belongs there. “You good?” Paige asks, her voice warm and loose, her words just slightly stretched out by the alcohol.

Dani nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Paige grins, her fingers giving Dani’s side a small squeeze before she turns her attention to someone else who calls her name. Even as Paige moves to greet them, her hand doesn’t leave Dani’s waist, her thumb brushing absentmindedly against the fabric of Dani’s shirt.

It’s not unusual for Paige to be affectionate, but the alcohol has made her even clingier than usual. Dani feels the weight of her touch constantly—Paige’s hand at her back, her arm slung over Dani’s shoulders, her knee pressing against Dani’s as they sit on the couch. It’s both comforting and a little overwhelming, especially when the house starts to fill with more and more people.

Eventually, Dani manages to slip away. Paige is busy chatting with Jalen and a couple guys on his team, and Dani uses the distraction to excuse herself, heading toward the bathroom for a moment of quiet.

When she emerges, the noise hits her again—laughter and music and the occasional sound of someone yelling in victory or frustration. Dani spots Thaliah near the kitchen and makes her way over, grateful for the familiar face.

Thaliah grins when she sees her, holding up a drink. “Surviving?”

“Barely,” Dani jokes, though there’s some truth to it. She’s still nervous about her dad, what probably won’t—but could—happen, a pit in her stomach.

She and Thaliah end up standing together near the makeshift beer pong table in the dining room, watching as Paige and Jalen take on two of their classmates. Paige is a little unsteady but clearly having the time of her life, laughing and leaning against the table as she lines up her shots. She’s unsurprisingly good, sinking cup after cup while Jalen cheers her on. It’s not long before Thaliah’s getting bored of spectating, mumbling something about needing another drink and walking away.

When Paige and Jalen win, the aformentioned throws her hands up in triumph, her laugh echoing above the rest of the noise. “Let’s go!” she yells, her voice bright and slurred, and Jalen high-fives her enthusiastically.

Then Paige turns, her eyes scanning the room until they land on Dani. Her entire face lights up, and before Dani can brace herself, Paige is weaving through the crowd, heading straight for her.

“Did you see that, baby?” Paige exclaims, throwing an arm over Dani’s shoulder, her weight pressing into her side. Her lips brush against Dani’s cheek as she leans close, her breath warm against Dani’s ear. “I won!”

Dani can’t help but laugh, steadying Paige with a hand on her waist. “Yeah, you did, P. Nice job.”

Paige beams, her cheeks flushed, and leans into Dani even more, her head briefly resting against Dani’s shoulder. For a moment, they just stand there, Paige sipping from her cup while Dani tries not to think too hard about how Paige’s hand is now resting on her hip.

“Dan,” Paige says suddenly, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “If you don’t wanna drink, that’s fine, but…” She pauses, fumbling with her pocket before pulling out a sleek vape pen. She holds it out to Dani, her grin lopsided and playful. “At least take a couple hits of this. You’re sooooo tense.”

Dani blinks, caught off guard. “I’m not tense.”

“Yes, you are,” Paige insists, nudging the pen closer to Dani. Her other arm tightens around Dani’s shoulders, as if to emphasize her point. “Come on, baby. Chill out, we’re supposed to be havin’ fun!”

Dani rolls her eyes, a small smile lifting her lips as she takes the pen from Paige’s hand. She supposes she is a little tense. “Fine,” she mutters, earning a victorious cheer from Paige.

She takes a couple hits, the smoke smooth and warm in her lungs. It’s not much, but it’s enough to take the edge off, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

When she glances at Paige, she finds her already staring, her gaze heavy and a little glazed over. Paige leans in closer, her eyes locked on Dani’s mouth as she exhales, the smoke curling between them.

“Gimme some,” Paige murmurs, her voice low and slightly rough.

Dani starts to hand her the pen, but Paige shakes her head, a drunken smirk tugging at her lips. “Uh-uh,” she says, her tone teasing as she nods toward Dani.

It takes Dani a second to understand, but when she does, her cheeks warm. Still, she doesn’t argue. She takes another hit, holding it briefly before leaning in, her lips just barely brushing Paige’s as she exhales, the smoke passing between them.

The moment stretches, charged and intimate, and then Paige closes the distance, her lips soft and insistent against Dani’s. The kiss begins softly, almost tentative despite the alcohol in Paige’s system. Her lips are warm and slightly parted, brushing against Dani’s like a question she’s waiting for Dani to answer. Dani freezes for a moment, caught off guard, but then Paige presses closer, her hand cupping Dani’s cheek, and Dani lets herself fall into it.

Paige’s lips move against hers, slow and searching at first, but as the seconds stretch, the kiss deepens. There’s a quiet desperation in the way Paige tilts her head, her fingers sliding into Dani’s hair as if anchoring herself there. Her breath is warm and faintly sweet, carrying the tang of the vodka she’s been drinking, and it mixes with the sharp taste of smoke lingering on Dani’s lips.

Dani’s hand comes up instinctively, resting on Paige’s waist to steady her as she kisses back. Paige melts into the touch, leaning her entire body weight into Dani like she’s afraid to let go. Her other hand moves to Dani’s jaw, her thumb brushing over the edge of her cheekbone in a way that sends a shiver down Dani’s spine.

It’s messy, uncoordinated in the way that drunk kisses often are, but it’s also charged with a kind of raw emotion that makes Dani’s heart ache. Paige’s movements are eager and insistent, her lips sliding against Dani’s with just enough pressure to make Dani feel like she’s on the edge of something big, something she’s not sure she’s ready for.

Paige tilts her head again, deepening the kiss further. Her teeth catch lightly on Dani’s bottom lip, and Dani feels a quiet gasp leave her mouth, barely audible above the noise of the party. Paige takes the opportunity to slip her tongue past Dani’s lips, tasting her.

Dani doesn’t mean to respond so strongly, but her fingers tighten on Paige’s waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between them. Paige responds with a soft, almost needy sound, her nails lightly grazing the nape of Dani’s neck as she presses closer still.

The world around them blurs completely—Dani is vaguely aware of the music, the distant hum of voices, but it all feels far away, like a dream she’s not ready to wake up from. All she can focus on is Paige: the warmth of her mouth, the way her breath hitches every time Dani kisses her back just a little harder, the way she clings to Dani like this kiss is the only thing keeping her grounded.

Paige pulls back just slightly, enough to breathe but not enough to break the moment. Her lips are red and slightly swollen, her breath shallow and unsteady as she whispers, “God, Dani…”

Her forehead rests against Dani’s for a beat, her eyes fluttering open to meet Dani’s as she catches her breath. But then Paige is leaning back in, capturing Dani’s lips again with a hunger that takes Dani’s breath away. The kiss is deeper now, more urgent, and Dani finds herself gripping Paige’s waist harder, her other hand sliding up to rest against Paige’s back.

Paige’s fingers thread through Dani’s hair, tugging gently as she angles her head, and Dani feels her knees wobble slightly. Paige must notice, because she shifts, pressing Dani back against the wall for support without breaking the kiss. The cool surface against Dani’s back contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from Paige, grounding her even as the kiss makes her head spin.

Paige’s lips trail down Dani’s jawline, the kisses wet and clumsy but full of a drunken intensity that leaves Dani breathless. By the time Paige reaches her neck, her lips part, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin there, her breath warm and uneven. Dani feels herself shiver despite the heat radiating between their bodies, her hands reflexively gripping Paige’s hips to steady her.

Paige hums low in her throat, the sound almost like a purr, vibrating against Dani’s skin. “Dan,” she murmurs, her voice desperate and slurred, “need you so bad.”

Dani lets out a soft laugh, unable to hide her amusement at Paige’s sheer neediness. She tilts her head slightly, giving Paige a bit of space while teasing, “Uh-uh.”

Paige immediately protests, her lips brushing against Dani’s collarbone as she pulls back just enough to grumble, “Yes, huh.” Her voice is petulant, like a kid arguing over bedtime, and it’s so quintessentially Paige that Dani can’t help but chuckle again.

“P,” Dani says, still laughing softly, “you’re so drunk.”

Paige finally pulls back, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, and she pouts at Dani, her big blue eyes glassy with alcohol and indignation. “No, I’m not,” she insists, her tone petulant but her words slightly slurred, betraying the lie.

Dani raises a brow, smirking as she tucks a stray strand of Paige’s blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah, babe, you are,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “And we aren’t doing anything here tonight.”

Paige groans dramatically, throwing her head back like Dani just told her Christmas was canceled. “You’re no fun,” she mumbles, before collapsing forward and leaning all of her weight into Dani.

Dani stumbles slightly, pressed fully against the wall as Paige rests her head against Dani’s shoulder, her arms wrapping loosely around Dani’s waist. Dani pats Paige on the back, still laughing at her dramatics. “You’ll survive.”

“No, I won’t,” Paige grumbles into Dani’s shoulder, her voice muffled and childlike. “You’re so mean.”

Dani shakes her head, her grin widening. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the meanest girlfriend in the world.” She shifts her weight, trying to stand upright despite Paige’s clinginess.

Paige nuzzles into Dani’s neck, her lips brushing her skin again, though it’s less intentional now and more out of sheer drunken affection. “Still love you, though,” Paige murmurs, her words slurred but earnest, and it makes Dani’s chest tighten in spite of herself.

“Love you too, P,” Dani says softly, smoothing a hand over Paige’s back. “Let’s go sit down, ‘kay?”

Paige groans again, half-protesting, but she doesn’t resist as Dani gently guides her toward the couch. She’s still clinging to Dani, her steps unsteady and her grip loose but insistent, and Dani knows it’s going to be a long night. But she doesn’t mind—not when it’s Paige. Never when it’s Paige.

Paige slumps against the couch cushions, her head lolling to one side, her legs sprawled out in a careless, almost exaggerated manspread that makes Dani roll her eyes, though she can’t suppress the small grin tugging at her lips. Paige looks completely gone—her eyelids heavy, her cheeks flushed, and her movements languid.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” Dani says, brushing her hand over Paige’s shoulder.

“Nooo,” Paige whines, her hand shooting out to grab at Dani’s wrist. It’s a clumsy effort, her fingers barely wrapping around Dani’s arm. “Don’t go.”

Dani lightly swats at Paige’s hand, shaking it off gently. “I’ll only be a second. Be patient.”

Paige groans, letting her head fall back against the couch dramatically, but her grip loosens. “Fine,” she mutters, dragging the word sulkily.

Dani steps away quickly, navigating through the still-buzzing crowd of teenagers in the house. Music thumps in the background, but it feels like white noise compared to the task at hand. She reaches the kitchen and pours a glass of water, the sound of liquid filling the cup drowned out by distant laughter and chatter. Dani moves fast, threading her way back to the couch.

When she returns, Paige is still slumped where Dani left her, looking half-asleep. Dani hands her the glass. “Here. Drink.”

Paige takes it reluctantly, holding the cup like it’s some kind of punishment, but she starts sipping. Her free hand tugs at Dani’s arm until Dani sits down beside her again, and Paige immediately leans into her, her weight warm and heavy against Dani’s side. Dani sighs, wrapping an arm loosely around Paige’s shoulders to keep her upright.

By now, it’s well past one in the morning, and the party has started to blur into a sluggish haze. Dani glances around the room, noting how many kids are still there, laughing, drinking, some making out in corners. It’s chaos, but a controlled kind—the kind Dani knows Paige thrives in, especially when she’s drunk and her walls are down.

Thaliah appears suddenly, stumbling over to them with a grin. She eyes the glass of water in Paige’s hand and giggles. “Mmm, good idea,” Thaliah slurs, nodding approvingly. “Sobering up so you can go drink more later. Maybe I’ll do that.”

Dani watches, wanting to bang her head against the wall as Paige’s eyes light up at Thaliah’s word. “That is a good idea—”

“No,” Dani cuts in sharply, shooting Thaliah—and then Paige—a pointed look. “No more drinking.”

Paige whines, turning her face toward Dani. “Why not?”

“Because you’re already—” Dani starts, but she doesn’t get to finish.

A shadow falls over them, and Dani’s heart drops. She looks up, and there he is. Bob Bueckers, standing in front of the couch, his face a mix of fury and disgust as he takes in the scene before him: his house packed with drunk teenagers, music blaring, solo cups that are undoubtedly filled with alcohol littering every surface. Clearly, he decided not to spend the night at his parent’s house with Drew.

Thaliah freezes, her eyes wide as she immediately begins tiptoeing away from the couch, leaving Dani and Paige to fend for themselves. Paige, still leaning heavily against Dani, looks up blearily, her expression slow to register what’s happening. When she finally recognizes her father, her reaction is painfully on-brand.

“Uh-oh,” she mumbles, blinking up at him with an almost childlike innocence.

Dani closes her eyes briefly, resisting the urge to facepalm. Paige’s drunken state is painfully obvious, and Dani already knows this is going to be a disaster.

“Uh-oh?” Bob repeats, his voice low and dangerous. Then, louder: “Uh-oh?”

Paige straightens slightly, though her movements are still slow and uncoordinated. She raises her hands in a sloppy gesture of surrender, smiling hazily. “It’s… it’s a party! We’re… ce-celebrating.”

Bob stares at her, his jaw tightening as his face flushes with barely contained anger. “A party?” he repeats, his voice sharp. “What the hell, Paige?”

Paige just shrugs, looking far too pleased with herself for someone caught red-handed. Dani feels like she might melt into the couch from secondhand embarrassment.

Bob doesn’t wait for an answer. He looks around the room, his voice booming as he yells, “The party’s over! Everyone out, right now! If you’re not gone in two minutes, I’m calling the cops!”

The reaction is immediate. Teenagers start scrambling for the exits, grabbing their coats, phones, and friends as they rush to leave. Dani watches the chaos unfold, spotting Thaliah and Jalen slipping out the front door together. She sighs, about to stand and leave too, assuming that Bob will want her out of the house as well.

But before she can move, Paige’s arms tighten around her waist.

“No!” Paige protests, pulling Dani back onto the couch with surprising strength for someone so drunk. Dani sighs again, her back stiff as Paige clings to her like a lifeline.

“Paige, let go,” Dani whispers, glancing nervously at Bob.

“No,” Paige mumbles, burying her face in Dani’s shoulder.

Bob, meanwhile, is still ushering the last of the partygoers out the door, his voice firm and unyielding. Once the house is empty, the silence feels deafening. It’s just the three of them now—Bob, Dani, and a very drunk Paige.

Dani swallows hard, her pulse thudding in her ears. She braces herself, waiting for Bob to unleash whatever wrath he’s been holding back. If she’s lucky, she’ll escape this with just a scolding. If she’s not… well, she doesn’t want to think about that. She really hopes he doesn’t end up hating her after this—he’s the closest thing she’s got when it comes to the good father figure department.

Paige, oblivious to the tension, tightens her hold on Dani and sighs happily. “Love you,” she mumbles into Dani’s shoulder, and Dani wants to disappear entirely.

Bob finally comes back over to stand before the two teenage girls on the couch, massaging his temple with the heel of his hand. Dani sits stiffly, her back ramrod straight and her knees pressed tightly together. Paige is draped against her side, unbothered by the tension crackling in the air, her head lolling lazily against Dani’s shoulder. Dani can feel the warmth of Paige’s skin through her sweatshirt, a stark contrast to the icy knot forming in her stomach.

Dani has never seen Bob angry before. He’s always been the calm dad, the fun one, the nice one. But there’s something in his posture now—the way his shoulders slump under an invisible weight—that reminds Dani of her own father. And if it’s anything like that, she’d prefer to run now.

But she doesn’t. Her legs feel glued to the couch, her posture rigid, fingers drumming anxiously in her lap. She fights the urge to bite her nails, her gaze darting nervously between Bob and the floor. The silence stretches on, unbearable, until Bob finally looks up.

His eyes flicker over Paige first, scanning her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, before shifting to Dani. His gaze lands on her like a weight, making her squirm despite herself.

“Are you sober?” Bob asks, his voice low and steady but with an edge of exhaustion.

Dani nods quickly, her throat too dry to speak. Before she can even think of a follow-up, Paige chimes in, her words slow and slurred. “She is,” Paige announces proudly, as if Dani’s sobriety is some kind of personal achievement. “Said she wanted to be reeeesponsible.” The word stretches out into a lazy drawl, and Dani winces.

Bob’s gaze sharpens as it shifts back to Paige. His jaw tightens, and when he speaks, his voice is harder now, disappointment cutting through every syllable. “I wish that responsibility would’ve reflected onto you.”

Paige shrugs one shoulder, an exaggerated, floppy movement. “Lighten up, Dad,” she mutters, reaching for the hem of Dani’s shirt and fiddling with it absentmindedly.

Bob doesn’t lighten up. Instead, he launches into a quiet but firm tirade, scolding Paige for the party, the drinking, the sheer lack of judgment. The words spill out like a steady stream, but Dani can tell they’re bouncing off Paige, who isn’t even trying to follow along. She’s too busy twisting the fabric of Dani’s shirt around her fingers, her head tilted back against the couch cushion like this is just another ordinary night.

Dani can’t take it anymore. She clears her throat, shifting forward on the couch as she tries to catch Bob’s attention. “We’re really sorry about all of this,” she says, before flickering her gaze over to Paige who looks like she couldn’t care less. “I’m really sorry about all of this. I shouldn’t have let her drink so much. I should’ve kept everyone else more in check since I was the sober one. I’m really sorry.”

Bob rubs his temple again, his eyes closing briefly as he exhales through his nose. “I appreciate that, Dani,” he says finally, his tone softening just a fraction. “I just—look, I think you should go home, okay?”

Dani’s stomach sinks. She knows it’s the right thing to do, knows she probably shouldn’t even be here right now. But guilt claws at her, and she can’t help but offer, “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up? I don’t mind.”

Bob gives her a tight, strained smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shakes his head, saying, “It’s okay. I—I gotta deal with her.” He gestures to Paige.

Dani nods again, swallowing the lump in her throat. She starts to shift away from Paige, untangling herself from her girlfriend’s grip, but Paige immediately grabs at her arm, her fingers curling tightly around Dani’s wrist.

“No,” Paige protests, her voice suddenly sharper, though still slurred. “Dad, she’s not leaving.”

Bob’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Yes, she is,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No more arguments, Paige. I swear to God.”

The words hit Paige like a bucket of cold water. For a moment, she’s silent, blinking up at her dad with a look that’s almost confused. Dani uses the opportunity to slip out of her grasp, standing quickly and smoothing down the front of her sweatshirt.

She turns to Bob, her voice soft but earnest. “I’m sorry again for all of this, Mr. Bueckers.”

Bob’s expression softens slightly, and he gives her a small nod. “Thank you, Dani. And you know to call me Bob.”

Dani manages a faint smile, relief washing over her. At least he doesn’t hate her. She taps Paige gently on the shoulder—a silent goodbye—before turning and heading toward the door. Paige doesn’t say anything, just watches her leave with a glazed-over look in her eyes.

As Dani steps out into the night, the cool air hits her like a slap, and she pulls her jacket tighter around herself. She spares one last glance at the house before setting a quick pace to her own next door, needing to get out of the cold.

[x-i-l-verify]

A couple more playlist suggestions that I thought of only after I sent the ask. orz I hope you like at least some of them!!

Yonji @ Sanji

"The Lament of Eustace Scrubb" by The Oh Hellos

"Be My Escape" by Relient K

"Start Again" by RED

Yonji @ Judge

"Monster" by Starset

Yonji @ his family right before he left

"Goodbye" by Ramsey

Yonji @ his family after he left

"Echoes of You" by Marianas Trench

So I discovered this AU about 5 hours ago and it has me in a chokehold. Your Yonji is a precious bean and he must be protected at all times, and Sanji being a big brother is everything I didn't even know I wanted. <3 I hope you don't mind the influx of questions I have after going through the whole tag.

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics? Some that came to mind for Yonji are:

"Stray Italian Greyhound" by Vienna Teng

"To Be Human" by Sia

"Zephyrus" by The Oh Hellos

"Stigma" by V

And I think "Soap" by The Oh Hellos maybe fits Sanji's feelings toward having his brother back in his life and being willing to extend a second chance to him after seeing how he's changed.

Holy shit that's a long ask! Lemme see...

So speaking of Sanji being a big brother, have he and Yonji ever hugged? If so, what prompted it? Is Yonji more touchy-feely than Sanji in general, or are they both pretty touch-averse?

They've hugged, mostly at WCI arc. But for the most part they're touch adverse (despite being touch starved). Yonji enjoys instigating physical affection to anyone but he's not great at taking it.

How does Yonji fight? Did he develop his own style of fighting after leaving Germa 66, much like Sanji did, or does he still fight the way he did when working under Judge? Is he still really good at fighting, or does he easily become a nonfunctional, overwhelmed mess, bombarded on all sides with everyone's heightened and fraught emotions?

Yonji very rarely fights anymore. He usually quickly gets overwhelmed and becomes a mess, yes, due to all of the emotions. Whenever he gets into a fight he loses control of his Haki and it's a bad time. However, if he has a goal, (protecting someone, getting something etc.) he can power through it. His fighting style is still mostly brute force punching because he hasn't learned any other way. However, when he joins the Revs, he gets taught to be more smart about it.

Does Yonji's prosthetic arm have attachments and hidden weapons? How does he upkeep it? Does he know how it works decently enough do to it himself, or does he have a mechanic that he goes to for tuneups?

It used to! He broke a lot of them/refuses to use them. He knew how it worked enough to keep it functional up until he meets the Strawhats and upon finding the frankly horrendous state of the prosthetic, Franky helps make Yonji a new one, specialized for tailoring! He rarely gets issues with the new are but if he does he can usually troubleshoot himself or attempt to contact Franky.

Who taught Yonji tailoring and fashion? Sanji had Zeff to help him become a master chef, so did someone take Yonji under their wing in a similar fashion? Or is he entirely self-taught?

For the most part, he's self-taught! Maybe I'll give him a mentor but I'm usually pretty adverse to making OCs for my AUs. Hmmmmm. He definitely had a training arc under some big name shops at one point though.

Does Yonji ever feel bad for leaving his brothers and sister behind? Unlike Sanji, who had normal human emotions from the get-go, Yonji's been on both sides of the fence, and he knows what it's like to be the sociopathic killing machine their father turned them into. Does he wish there was some way to trigger what happened to him in them as well? Do he and Sanji ever talk about their family? We know Sanji was the only one to regularly go and visit their mother, but do you think Yonji has any memories of her as well? Does he beg Sanji for stories about her?

*smacks yonji on the head* This good boy can fit so much guilt complex in him! He's guilty about everything all the time! Yes, he does want to help Ichiji and Niji, which comes into play post WCI. While Sanji and Yonji tend to avoid talking about Judge or their siblings, Sora has been brought up before. I know I haven't mentioned it on tumblr yet, but I sometimes draw Yonji with a necklace, which is supposed to be a trinket of Sora's that Reiju gave to him when Yonji ran away. Yonji's memories of Sora is hazy and he pretty torn up about it. Yeah, he asks Sanji for stories about her. <3

Where does Yonji live? Does Sanji swing by to visit him every so often, or do they keep in touch by air mail, does Yonji join the Strawhats or just travel with them?

He lives on this random island along the Grandline! Something kinda like Saboady or Hand Island. The Straw Hats (specifically) Sanji has visited few times post the initial meeting but Yonji does not actively travle with them. He might had, like, one adventure with them but otherwise he's not part of the crew or anything. He does get the SH's den den mushi number and keeps in touch that way. Occasionally he'll send packages- usually at the behest of Sanji at the behest of Nami, lol. Later, Yonji ends up getting roped into joining the Revs and he splits his time between being at his shop and at Baltigo.

Does Sanji ever have a "O shit, I think I might actually love him" moment when it comes to Yonji? It could be something domestic like laughing together in Sanji's kitchen they work together to prepare a meal, or something like seeing Yonji about to be injured or even killed in the middle of a fight and going "This is the only little brother I've got, not on my watch, dammit!"

YES! Specifically Yonji crying and gushing about how good Sanji's cooking is. Yonji is a little foodie and while he can't cook to save his life, he does happen to know a good bit about how food gets made and really learned to appreciate the effort that goes into cooking. Sanji is not normal over this fact. He has the "Don't touch my brother!" moment at WCI screaming at Judge. Which sends Yonji into a blubbering mess. (A lot of things happen WCI lmfao.)

Lastly, do you have any songs in mind for you AU, aside from the ones you've used for your animatics?

My ass doesn't actively listen to a whole bunch of music but I have made a playlist for this AU! The vibe mostly is like upbeat songs with sad lyrics lol.

Forgive my terrible terrible taste in music:

Thank you for the songs! Gonna snag 'em and add 'em to the playlist hehe.

Also, thank you for the ask!!!! <3 <3

[apollo-just-ice]

10 people I’d like to get to know better

Tagged by @strix-x thank youuu :)

Last song: Calisto Yew’s theme from Ace Attorney Investigations 1. Listening to it as I type this, lol. From my Spotify Wrapped 2024 playlist :)

Favourite colour: don’t do this to me… many colours are beautiful… green, blue, pink, purple… thank you…

Last book: Still something I’ve gotta work on is reading more books. Last one I read was the Doctor Who Rogue novelization! That was enjoyable, I liked the extra scenes and backstory it added :)

Last movie: Uhhh hmm I don’t see movies all that often… I’m unsure, but by tomorrow the answer will be Wicked?

Last show: Dandadan season 1 finale… which, tbh, I hadn’t realized was the season finale until after I watched the episode lol! Very looking forward to season 2 tho :D

Sweet/spicy/savoury: Hmm probably savoury? Sweet is also good, tho I think there is definitely a thing as too sweet… and as for spicy? I like some spicy stuff even tho it may burn my mouth after loll

Relationship status: single as can be 😽✌️ alas

Last thing I googled: movie theatre tickets lol

Current obsession(s): Dandadan beloved omg… I haven’t watched a lot of anime, but I’m starting to! Grateful netflix recommended this to me lol, it’s so. It’s got everything you could ask for. Wacky, funny, has a lot of heart with the characters… great music… and maybe I’m a little bit of a sucker for high school students getting pulled into crazy adventures. Momo and Okarun are so cute too… sillies <3

Fire Emblem Heroes isn’t going anywhere for me… with Book 9 having a law theme, it excellently combines with my love for Ace Attorney, and I love Rune already!!

Then ofc Ace Attorney… had a blast playing the Investigations Collection, and I’m continuing to catch up (the timing is almost never right for me to watch live) on Mark Ota’s streams of TGAAC, which are always a ton of fun :D

Then I am also trying to now and then write stuff for my own ocs too… I don’t talk about them enough… but I love them very much, please do know <3 Maybe I show a bit of favouritism for Willow and Pyg, but hey, they are the main characters :3

People to tag: ack my least favourite part, I always fear I’ll forget someone!

@rosymaraschino (I want to return the favour, I appreciate it whenever you tag me in one of these kinds of things! :) )

@ actually anyone else, my mind is blank </3

[thecapricunt1616]

Lily of the Valley - (c.b. oneshot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important. “No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. 

O/S INSPO:  Lily of the Valley Soothing, calming, draws peace and tranquility, and repels negativity. Assists in empowering happiness and mental powers. Married couples should plant Lily of the Valley in their first garden to promote longevity of the marriage.  POSTED DATE:03/30/2024 W/C: 4,114

A/N: FINALLY!!!! I am so sorry this took forever! This O/S is based on this adorable request from the LOML @daysofyellowroses - please check out her blog! I hope this satisfies your Carmy Proposing idea! I'm sorry it took so long i've been sick, but we’re back baby!!! Requests are opennnn y'all!

WARNINGS FOR BTC: Smut, Swearing, NO USE OF Y/N - As little physical description as possible, fluffy Carmen, OC Carmy - (He's more emotionally grown obvi hahah)

You pushed the heavy, bulging tote bags full of groceries up your arm as you walked back to Your&Carmy’s shared Condo Building. The wildflower seeds you’d thrown on the little patches of grass on your walks to the train, along the sidewalk on your block had finally started to bloom. Adorable tiny little flowers in vibrant shades of blue, pink, purple, yellow, and white peeking out over the sidewalk's edge. 

Spring had most definitely sprung in Chicago by this point. Your commute whilst walking to work down Michigan Ave, passing the stunning array of tulips, had told you that fiercely every time you walked to and from the train this week on the way to work. It was finally Friday, and you couldn’t be happier. 

Carmen had been so busy this week- busier than normal. You’d usually just hang out with your best friends to fill that pathetic, lonely void while grading papers and doing your own assignments- but they were busy this week too! You were convinced the universe had bound you to loneliness this week, so naturally, all you wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed, and sleep- until Carmy came in around 2 to 3 am, and get that savored 15 minutes of cuddles after his shower, before exhaustion came over you again and you fell back asleep. 

You used your special key fob to get in the door of your condo’s shared building, which to your standards was very luxurious- it included amenities you’d never even thought of. You and Carmy had moved in together 3 months ago, it took a lot of convincing on your end. You and Carmy had lived on opposite ends of town, so every time you’d see eachother, (which was very often) -  it would be an hour's drive that he insisted- or, him losing the battle- and allowing you to take the train back all those stops. 

You weren’t particularly religious,  it was more just a personal preference - that you would be at least engaged before you were to move in together. Especially before having a mortgage together. You’d told Carmy this, and he’d given you the same answer each time over the last two years he’d been begging - “Baby we know we’re in love, you know we’re eachothers forever person - we tell eachother every day! We’ve been together 3 years, Let me take care of you” 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be taken care of- it’s just…you liked working. You loved your job, you’d went to school and earned a masters degree for Christ sake, and were currently working on your PHD. You couldn’t ever see yourself giving that up, and moving in with a boyfriend and him insisting on paying all the bills made you fear you’d fall pregnant, and then your professional life would be over. 

But, Carmen had insisted to you he wasn’t interested in children unless you were. You were sure at one point you never wanted them, but you were becoming more afraid, because seeing as amazing an uncle Carmen was, how naturally kind and understanding he was of children- it brought out something in you. It was so sudden that you could imagine turning your shared library / art studio into a nursery during slow time at work. 

You walked down the hall, in no rush to be home. The only presence waiting being your cat, Truffle, Carmy had insisted on the name due to his deep black fur. 

You approached the door, confused as to why you were hearing…music? From your apartment? You shook the hope of Carmy being home this early away, not wanting to be dissapointed. The neighbors downstairs must be blasting that same kind of jazz instrumental Carmy listens to so loud that you heard it through the floor. 

You unlock the door, and sure enough the music playing softly through the condo gets a tad louder but the first thing to catch your eye was the white and pink rose petals making a trail to the kitchen. You heard Carmy humming lightly, the sound of chopping on the cutting board. 

“Bear?” You quickly nudge the door shut with your hip, not even bothering to take your shoes off and rushing down the hall into the kitchen. Sitting atop the breakfast bar, was a vase packed with beautiful pink and white roses. 

He looks up from the cutting board “My favorite girl” he stops what he was doing immediately coming and taking the bags from your shoulders, setting them down before greeting you with a sweet kiss. He cupped your cheeks gently, pulling you in to him so you were flush together with his other hand.  

“You used our card f’that right?” He asked softly when he pulled away. You roll your eyes a bit, he had insisted you get a shared credit card, and that you purchase everything with it- and at the end of the month, he will show you the statement, and only pay a quarter of the total, just another one of the ways he assured every financial burden of yours was eased significantly. 

“Yes, what is all this baby?” You asked, motioning to the roses. “Did I forget somethin? Our anniversary isn’t for another 2 months” you asked a bit nervously. Carmen wasn’t a stickler for dates, but it would break your heart if you were to forget something important. 

“No- no. I just…just love you- I wanted to show you, and especially after this week I know I’ve been crazy busy, and I’ve been comin’ in late and leavin’ early, and…I just wanted to show my best girl how much she means t’me” he kissed your forehead sweetly and you felt a blush creeping to your cheeks. 

“That’s so sweet Bear. Thank you I love you, this is…no one’s ever done this- oh my god- are those balloons?” You giggled, seeing heart shaped foil balloons tied to your chair at the table and he smiled proudly. 

“Mmhmm, the lady at the flower place said that - we can talk about it later. You wanna cook w’me? You can just watch if you want?” He asked, gently brushing his fingers through your hair. 

“I never turn down a lesson from the best, let me go get changed real quick” you headed toward the bedroom and he stopped you by your hand pulling you back into his chest, kissing your neck with wet open mouth kisses earning a giggle that you couldn’t contain. 

“Mmm- don’t go in there right now, it’s for later. I already got your pajamas right here” he said going over to the couch and grabbing your favorite pair of sweatpants and his old ‘the beef’ tshirt that to you was the most comfortable thing in the world, especially when he wore it to bed for a few nights before giving it back. 

“For later huh?” You muse, taking off your heeled booties and unbuttoning your slacks before peeling them off and trading them for your soft fuzzy grey sweatpants. 

“Mmhmm” he hummed in response and took your pants for you and your blouse and bra as well, bringing them to the laundry room as you put the shirt on and got your hair situated into a bun. 

“What are we cooking today, chef?” You asked, heading over to the kitchen to see there were little bowls of vegetables that have been precut and you gasp happily. “Stop- are we really?” You giggled. 

“I told you that it’s easy baby but you hate eggplant so ratatouille isn’t gonna be something you’re a big fan of” he chuckled. You had watched the movie with him, and told him that the ratatouille dish looked insanely delicious and that you wanted him to make it for you, but he told you your aversion to eggplant would probably turn you off the dish. 

“But there isn’t eggplant” you said looking over the dishes filled with various vegetables. 

“That’s right, this is princess ratatouille. I’ve been figurin’ out different vegetables w’Syd that would work for it, we finally got it right. We have zucchini and a few different squashes, and we have onion and garlic, tomato, bell pepper, everything you like. I think you’ll love it baby.” He said rubbing your back gently. 

“Of course I’m gonna love it bear, I love everything we make together you have the magic touch. So what’s my job?” You asked eagerly. 

“You my special sous chef, are gonna help put the veggies in and I’m gonna do the sauce” He kissed your temple gently. 

“Ok! Let me get my apron” You said, happily turning to the drawer you kept your aprons in.

“Wait-” he said, holding your arm. You look back at him and he looked…nervous.”Is…something wrong?” You questioned, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“No- no I um….i got you a new one” he said sheepishly, walking over to the island and opening up the cupboard beneath you never used. 

“Oh- ok..Leveling up are we?” You joked, happily leaning against the counter. 

“Jesus-” he chuckled, “Close y’r fuckin eyes- carnival psychic” he teases and you laughed, obliging and closing your eyes.

“Carnival psychic?” you asked and he came over gently putting bundle of fabric in your awaiting hands.

“I swear t’god- you went snoopin’? Open your eyes” he said. You opened your eyes, looking into your hands and seeing an apron. It was white, just like his, and folded perfectly. In thick black letters, intricately painted, ‘ Will You Marry Me? ‘ Adorned with a little red heart over the center pocket that had a square shaped bump.

You felt all of the blood leave your face, your knees feeling wobbly, your mouth gaping in to an O shape, as you stare down at the apron. “Where did you get this?” you whispered, completely awestruck. 

“I-I…um…made it?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I- shit. Fuck- is this not how you pictured it? I’m so fuckin sorry babe- I-I thought…I dunno- like.. You wanted it private? Cause I know you said you’d never-” he’s interrupted by your lips crashing on his in a fervent wanting kiss, a mix of spit and teeth and lips and tongues, he moans softly into your mouth, squeezing your waist.

You were pressed together so firmly that the small box dug into your ribs, eventually pulling away from him with shaking hands and reaching into the pocket, pulling out the small black velvet box. You ever so carefully opened it, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the absolutely breathtaking ring.

“I-it’s not uh..not a diamond- cause I know you said-” you interrupt him

“Princesses and Queens don’t wear diamonds, they wear crystals” you finished, staring at the beautifully cut opal, at least 8 carats, banded by a intricate edwardian band… nothing short of a ring for a Goddess.

“But..But- this one…it does- it has both…because uh” he swallows thickly. “It…in my mind- when I s-saw it, it represented your soul, and your physical body.. And I liked that. Cause- y’re my diamond, but you’re also my queen, my everything, baby. Like how - how you said that…you wished your aura was opal? It is. It is, angel. And every time you look at that, I want you to remember that you’re beautiful from your diamond exterior, to your opal soul” he brushed his finger over the ring, before meeting your gaze once again.

He gently wiped the tears that were running down your cheeks freely, hot and wet and open. It was rare that Carmy genuinely used his words rather then his actions to express his love for you, so you were nothing short of savoring this. “Holy fucking shit” you laughed, shaking your head and looking down at the ring box. “Put it on my hand” you held your left hand out. 

He chuckled a bit, “so… yes? You will?” he asked carefully, pulling the ring out of the box.

“Are you kidding, YES! Put this ring on my finger and fuck me dumb- this is all i’ve ever wanted, Bear, I fucking love you- and youre asking if I want you to be my husband?! I’ve wanted nothing more for two years- at least!” you shake your left hand for emphasis, a wide large grin on your face.

He carefully slid the ring over your manicured finger, and it just made you cry more how it fit perfectly. “How do you know my size?!” you asked, since most of the vintage rings he'd bought you were adjustable so it didn't matter the size of the rings he’d gotten for you before.

He chuckled a bit, “so- y’re ring…y’know the one…y’thought you lost it at Chipotle like…ahhh- 8 months ago now? In the bathroom? Y’took it off at the table, you wore it on your ring finger so I had to take my chance. You kept sayin how it was like- the only ring you’d found that fit without takin’ it to the jewler. So uh” he dug in his jeans pocket, placing your beloved vintage ring with your starsign on it in your palm.

“I got that ring, based on the size. I got it uhhh…sorry dont be offended- it’s not new… I got it at an estate sale of this lady- it was crazy- the way I came across it babe… like fate. It was when Syd and I went to New York for that interview, she literally dragged me to this sale cause she said the lady who died was said to have a bunch of vintage fur and stuff she was looking f’somethin- anyway. We met the lady’s daughter- Stella? I think it was? Doesn’t matter… but she um..said her Ma was some crazy astrology nut, also said she only wore crystals. So I took a look… that was the first box I opened. And y’ring on my pinky, it fit perfect, so I tried it on- it fit like a glove. I’m glad we don't have to size it. Asked her if it was real, she said - her Ma told ‘er some…. Like life coach? Er- astrologer life coach author? Gave it to ‘er on a trip to Jamaica in the 60’s. Told ‘er ‘this ring will someday be worn on a hand proudly as a devotion of true love’- Miss- No! Madame ! Madame Stardust. Nutty name right?” he chuckled a bit. 

You smiled proudly at the ring, a devotion of true love indeed. “I think” you turned to the counter, stacking the bowls of vegetables together and putting them in the fridge as you friskily countered “you are not going in to work at all next week- wifes orders” you walked over to him, hips swaying. “And after you fuck me absolutely stupid” you grabbed his collar, pulling him in so your faces were meer inches apart “Oh- and we talk about how this mademe stardust? Confirms that our souls are indeed woven together like a fucking wicker basket” you kiss him roughly, weaving your fingers through his dirty blonde curls and tugging firmly. 

He moaned into your mouth, his hands trailing down and squeezing your ass firmly. You hummed in satisfaction, leaning against him and he stumbled back, back, back, pushing the bedroom door open with a squeak. You looked up, Breaking your kiss with wide eyes.

All throughout the bedroom, were printed photos of you and Carmy throughout the years, suspended with clear wire so it was as if the photos were floating midair. You clasp your hands over your mouth, admiring all the hard work and pure thought that had went into the gesture. You looked over all the photos, three years of memories hanging before you like a gallery of love surrounding you, all of your fondest happiest memories at every flicker of your eyes.

“Carmen” you whispered, walking forward and admiring each and every photograph…

He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y’know how you said no work next week…” he said softly, kissing up your neck with wet, sexy, open mouthed kisses. “We leave Sunday… F’Cyprus” He said hotly in your ear, his breath tickling your neck causing a moan to escape your lips as he gently lifts your shirt, palming your breast gently.

“Is- is that-” you breathe out

“We’re getting a tour of Aphrodites Baths” he said softly, rolling your taught nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ah- y-you remembered?” you gasped, he let out a soft deep chuckle, Kissing the corner of your mouth and gently laying you down upon the soft sheets of your shared bed. 

“I’d have proposed over a year ago- when I got the fuckin’ ring if i coulda gotten us the tour sooner” he muttered into your skin, tugging off your- (his) shirt, leaving supple, gentle kisses over your stomach and up your ribs.

“Mm- are we- can we swim?” I asked hopefully.

He  gently wipes your tears away, “No” he said a bit sadly, “We can dip our hands… some asshole ruined swimming for people years ago…before we met…but- we were also gonna Parga Greece, baby. We’re spending 2 days in Cyprus, then flying to Parga on a charter- we can swim, fuck, do whatever in those waters baby. Amidst the Goddess of the Underworld f’five whole days” he smirked and you gasped, as if he’d gotten you the moon on a string.

“The Acheron River?” you whisper and he nodded, gently rubbing his thumb over your lips.

“That is the sexiest thing i’ve ever heard in my life- you’re gonna make me cum in the 2nd most famous river of Hell?” you giggled and he snorts a laugh, pushing you on the bed gently.

“Fuck yeah, you little fuckin’ freak” he teased, tugging off your panties and sweatpants in one swift pull, leaving you soaked and bare before him.

You gasped at the rough action, quickly being soothed by soft, sweet kisses over your hipbones. 

“I fuckin smell y’kitten fuck” he growled, kissing the inner of your thigh in the way that made you creen. 

“Shit- good- right? If y’compared me to a seafood market i’d break your nose” you teased, hooking the crooks of your knees over his shoulders, shivering when he leaned in closer, his hot breath directly over your clit- his lapis blue eyes boring into yours.

“That question doesn’t deserve an answer” he grumbled hotly, spreading your folds with his fingers and admiring the wet, slick, mess in front of him. “S’fuckin pretty princess- fuckin’ prettiest pussy in the world” he nearly moaned, burrying his mouth where you needed him most, eyes fixed on yours.

You couldn’t even make a sound- a hot breathy gasp escaping your slack-jawed stance as your head flopped back on the mattress with a soft bounce. “Mmmmm shit” Carmy hummed, satisfied with your taste as if he was devouring his favorite dessert.

“F-Ffuuuckkk” you whimpered out pathetically, voice cracking and bleeding out between the fracture lines of your hot intense pleasure.

“Mmhmm-mmmhmmm” Carmy mumbled confidently against your now firm clit, tongue flicking over it at a mind-numbing pace, bringing you right to the edge and hanging you there by a single finger.

“Ahhhh-Ahhhh-Fuck!! Carmy! Oh- ohhhh!!!” You whined, spine pointing in an arch off the mattress, your hips and thighs quivering and shaking wildly as your orgasm crashed over you like hot lightning before you could even warn him, or know yourself it was so close.

“Goooood girl, thats it- mm- my good fuckin’ girl- Y’gonna be my fuckin’ wife baby? Mmm? Gonna be mine? F’rever?” He grumbled, placing a gentle kiss to your clit before placing gentle yet firm pressure over it with the pad of his tongue that made your hips buck with a mind of their own.

He chuckled slightly into your heat, the vibration causing you to whine pathetically. “Y-yes-yes-fuck i’mfuckinyoursBear-y’gonnamakemey’wife? Yeah? Gonna make me Mrs. fuckin Carmen Berzatto?” you slurred, pulling him into a messy wanting kiss, soughing at the flavor of your core coating his spit.

“Fuckin- spit in my fucking mouth- claim me” you groaned. He smiled against your lips, pulling away slightly, a thick hot string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“So fuckin dirty” he grumbled with a smirk “Open that filthy fucking mouth” he ordered, getting quiet for a moment as he gathered saliva in the front of his mouth.

You obeyed him immediately - your jaw going slack, tongue stuck out ever so slightly and eyes fluttered shut. Then- you felt it, hot, sweet, salty saliva coating your tongue, you groan at the flavor as it continues pooling over your tastebuds. “Do not fucking swallow yet- greedy girl” he tapped your chin firmly, before pulling your jaw open wider with Tthe pad of his thumb. 

“Stick out that pretty little tongue” he grumbled, you obeyed with a smile, opening wide as you could, sticking your tongue out far, showing off the creamy white saliva he’d dressed your tongue in, so much it was seeping down onto your chin, threatening to coat the front and back of your throat.

“Good girl- that's my good little kitten” he purred, “How d’you want me princess?” he gently collected the excess saliva from your chin on his thumb, sucking it off his digit hotly as he awaits your response while you swallow gratefully, the taste setting your soul ablaze.

“I want you to fucking claim me, Carmy, holy fuck- use me, worship me, fuck me like a goddamn animal- whatever you fucking want- please” you begged after you’d savored the taste while you swallowed, his sky blue eyes going dark as navy slacks with lust at the admission. 

“Yeah? Why not all three?” he pushed you down to the mattress by your throat, not hard enough to bruise- but hard enough for the breath to leave your lungs and your core to throb so hard you were clenching your thighs, trying to give any solace of pressure to your swollen aching clit.

“P-please” you stuttered, writhing against the mattress and he chuckled darkly. 

“Are we a little needy? Mmm princess?” he pushes your knees apart with his thigh, aiding the throbbing pressure with his strong fingers, rubbing firm, slow circles into the twitching bud that made your hips snap into the mattress and head fall back to the bed, eyes rolling back with a sharp gasp of pleasure. 

“Pl-please-” you gasp out, spine arching sharply as he replaced his fingers with his mouth on your clit, 2 fingers slipping inside of you with no resistance due to the fact your core was so soaked it was beginning to pool at the dip of your bum and soak the sheets. The squelching as he pumped into your g-spot mixed with your high-pitched moans and frisky growls was absolute sin.

He opens his jaw wider, tonguing your entrance wildly and nuzzling his strong nose against your clit in broad strokes, randomly flicking back and forth quickly making you squeal in pleasure as you grind against his mouth, fully out of control of your movements as if you were a puppet on a string.

“H-Hooooo-i’m cumming- oh- don’t you dare fucking stop Carmen” you growled, grabbing his curls and pullinghim further into your core. “I’m cumming- i’mcumming-holy-holyfuck-imfuuuckiing-AAAH!” your thighs and hips shake and quiver, stars of ethereal white filling your vision.

“Mmhmmm” he grumbled, coming up and sucking your nipple with his slick lips, his chin and nose soaked with your arousal, so much so his chin dripped onto your ribs. 

“H-Oh-yes Bear” you whined out, head tilting to meet his gaze. “I need you- I-I need you inside- like- fuck- when you- you have my knees around your hips and y-you fuckin’- just drill me Carmy- I need that- need you deep” You reverberated wantingly, wrapping your thighs around his waist taughtly, making it easier for him to take you exactly how you wanted.

“Jesus Christ- I can’t fuckin’ stand y’baby. Y’re like a fuckin’ drug- it’s like I fuckin’ function unless I’ve had a hit” he nibbed your collarbone, quickly removing his jeans and boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

You gave him a mischievous smile, inching your hips forward. “C’mon- I don’t give a fuck ‘bout cooking right now- fuck me absolutely dumb- then take me to Sam’s f’r chocolate chip pancakes- sure that waitress will be over the moon bout my ring” you mused, capturing our lips together, as he scoops up your shoulders and holds you chest to chest, your third of many orgasms that night building throughout every muscle.

It was going to be a long night….