#as my sons said please give a lot of love to it

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙄𝙫𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Angst (Happy ending of course)

Warnings: Abusive father! Violence, Blood, Alcohol, Sick mother, Lots of cursing. Father is a real piece of shit and puts hands on reader multiple times. Sorry for any mistakes or missing tags.

Just for another warning because I think it’s important. This has content that could trigger some people. Please please read the warnings. If any of them make you uncomfortable please don’t read. Also a reminder. You’re not alone. No one ever should be laying their hands on you. I love you. You’re loved. You don’t ever deserve anything like this.

Find The Request Here

-🖤

Changbin wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him. He kissed your neck tenderly nuzzling himself into your neck. You both were snuggled up on the couch watching a show. “My angel” he said softly before softly kissing your neck once more. When you were with him it felt like nothing else mattered like the world was alright. Your moment of happiness was short lived though seeing your phone buzzing. It was your father. Just seeing his name flash on your phone made you anxious.

After your mother had passed away your dad became an even bigger monster. He was always a good for nothing, But now not working as much as he did he stayed home drinking. Your mother had told you before the only reason she had stayed with him was because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her family was from another country, she didn’t have much money or friends. She was such a brave woman though. You don’t know how she dealt with him so long but I guess him never really being home helped. He had gotten fired from his big job because of his drinking and anger problems. Going to work one day hungover and punching a coworker so hard it broke his nose. He had to pay a hefty fine for that. Now he has a slow job where he only works a few days.

One of your earliest memories of him being his asshole self was him telling you how he hated that you were a girl. He hated that in his words ‘that useless bitch couldn’t even give me a boy.’ He wanted a son so badly and he made sure you knew that. He never really bonded with you however he’d be damned if you didn’t respect his authority. The first time he ever laid hands on you, you were 9. You accidentally knocked over a table braking the lamp that was placed on it. He grabbed you by the wrist smacking you across the face. ‘You stupid fucking brat! Look what you did, you’re just like your fucking mother!’ He spat pushing you away from him.

After that day it just kept going. Having to wear long sleeves at school to hide the bruises. At one point you had to stay home for almost a week. You had stepped in front of him to protect your mom when he hit you square in the face busting your lip. It stayed swollen and bruised for a while. Tooth slightly cracked from the incident.

You wanted so badly to tell someone. Confide in a teacher anything. You were scared to though. Scared they’d blame your mom, put her in jail and take you away. So you endured it. As your mom started to get sick he turned more of his attacks on you. Although a complete peace of shit he wasn’t stupid. He knew if he did anything to her the doctors would see it.

After she had passed you kept yourself from the house as best as you could. Not going home as much as you possibly could. You got a job at a cafe down the road and that’s how you met changbin. He was a regular who once you started talking admitted to only coming so much to see you.

You kept your home life a secret to him as much as you could but one day you were getting intimate you forgot about the bruises. When he had lifted your shirt his smile dropped. He looked at you with wide eyes “what the fuck? Who did this to you?” He said clenching his jaw. All you could do was sob he held you in his arms rubbing your back. “I’m sorry for raising my voice I just- y/n please- what happened?” He asked.

Through your sobs you told him, you unloaded everything in a word vomit of sadness. He would and wanted to go find your father. To beat him senseless, to show him how it feels but he knew you needed him more. He held you so tightly, feeling his own heart breaking from your words. Knowing a family member could do this to someone they were supposed to protect. To love and cherish just broke him. He was such a family oriented person and now he realized why you never wanted him to meet him. Never talked about him. He asked why you couldn’t just leave explaining to him how your mother wasn’t from here, how you had no family and no one else to rely on.

“Shit- it’s my dad” you said frantically picking the phone up.

“Where the fuck are you? He spat.

“I’m- I’m just at a friend’s house” you stuttered.

He laughed “sure, you’re probably slutting around. Get your fucking ass home.”

He hung up leaving you shaking. “I gotta go.” You said picking your keys up.

“Y/n you don’t have to” Changbin said with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You said before heading to the door.

Your brain wondered what was going on. Why he needed you home. As you pulled up coming through the door you saw him slumped in his usual chair. “About fucking time” he hissed. “Do something useful and go get me some more beer” he demanded.

You stood there almost dumb founded. Before he hissed again “don’t make me say it again!”

You nodded heading down to the store and getting it for him. When you got home again you sat the beer beside him. He gave you a smirk “glad you know how to listen” he chuckled. Your nose twitched at his smell, you hated being close to him. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and B.O. always radiated off of him. He motioned for you to leave and you did slinking back to your room to text changbin.

Him: Y/n! Text me back! I’m worried!

You: I’m fine. He just wanted beer

Him: I swear I’ll end him one of these days

You: I’m gonna go to bed ok? I’ll see you in the morning! Love you!

Him: Love you to beautiful. Text me when you wake up🖤

You fell asleep shortly after always finding peace in sleep. The next few days were the same old. Going to Changbins after work going home late when you knew he’d be passed out. Today though. You had to run home for your wallet. When you walked through the door your dad was in the kitchen. You took one look around and realized something had to have happened. Things were thrown around. Smashed. Your body froze before you could go to walk back out he saw you.

“Where do you think you’re fucking going!” He yelled. He made a bee line toward you.

“I’m- I’m picking up another shift at work I just came home to grab something.” You lied.

“Bull fucking shit!” He spat.

He grabbed you by your throat lifting you up against the wall. His eyes were dark, knuckles bloody from punching the wall. “I get fucking fired from my god damn job only to come home to see you running back out? For what huh? To go fucking whore around some more?” He said. “No! There’s gonna be some fucking changes!” He screamed.

He dropped you to the floor before grabbing you by your wrist dragging you to the kitchen. “You’re gonna get another fucking job, you’re gonna start paying the other bills!” He spat. “You got it!”

When you didn’t answer right away he slapped more like punched you across the face. “Answer me bitch!” He said gritting his teeth. All you could do was nod scared for your life. You felt a warmth running down, your nose was bleeding.

“You’re fucking pathetic you know that, just like your fucking mother! That bitch. That bitch fucking deserved what she got! I’m glad she’s fucking dead!” He spat. Something had come over you at that point. You shoved back making him stumble backwards. You made a dash to the door luckily in his drunken stupor he stumbled getting back up. You ran. Not even bothering getting in your car afraid it take to long.

So you ran. You ran as fast as you could until you couldn’t anymore. You hid yourself in the bushes at the park panting. Trying to catch your breath as you fumbled to call changbin. “Hey angel” he said happily but when he heard you breathing heavy his heart sank. “Y/n what’s wrong? Are you ok?” He asked.

“I’m- I’m at the- park down- down the road- please” you stuttered out.

“Stay there I’m just down the road!” He said before grabbing his keys speeding to you.

He gripped the steering wheel afraid for what had happened. “Angel? I’m here!” He yelled out.

You peaked your head out, when he got a good look at you anger filled his body. ‘That mother fucker’ he snarled. There was no time to be angry right now though. You needed him. So desperately needed him.

He sat beside you pulling you into his arms. He took his jacket placing it around you as he whipped away the blood from your nose. He noticed the handprint mark around your neck, he gritted his teeth seething. You sobbed, holding onto him for dear life. He rubbed your back “ssh sh it’s ok angel, I’m here, I got you.” He said.

He rocked you back and forth letting your sobs subside before asking you anything. “Does it hurt?” He asked lifting your face to him looking over your nose and neck. You nodded. It hurt to swallow, hurt to breathe, everything just hurt. “Can I take you to the hospital?” He asked. You were hesitant but you nodded.

The car ride there all he could do was watch over you. Scared something could seriously be wrong. Cursing at himself for not being there. He was in the process of finding a new place. A new place so you could move in with him. The only reason you didn’t live with him now was for the fact he had other roommates and if the tenant found out about you they all could be evicted. He was gonna surprise you today with the good news, that he found a place. Close to his work and close to a bakery you had wanted to work at.

When he had gotten to the hospital they all looked at him like he had done it. They checked you over asked him a million questions. The cops being called from below to ask him questions. They weren’t completely shocked when they heard your dad’s name. He was notorious for his anger outbursts and violence. He had a list of charges that had gotten one being the man he punched at his old job. They wrote everything down, took pictures of your bruises and wounds. Asking you lots of questions before leaving.

“Y/n did you know you had a broken rib at one point?” A nurse asking you.

You shook your head.

“Looks like it happened a while ago, it fused back but not properly. You ever have sharp pains?” She asked.

“Yeah, she use to complain about side pains but they kinda just stopped.” Changbin chimed in.

“How is she right now?” Changbin asked.

“Nothings broken however you’re lucky, the pressure he had around your throat bruised your vocal cords. Any harder you could be looking at serious damage”

The nurse had left to grab some papers changbin took your hand into his. He kissed your cheek softly rubbing his thumb over yours. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there” he said softly.

You shook your head “I don’t want him hurting you either” you said looking up at him.

“I’m proud of you though, pushing back and getting yourself out of there. Your mom would be proud” he said with a small smile. His words made you smile a bit. “She definitely would.”

“I had some news to tell you” he said hoping this would make you smile.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m moving. Well we’re moving” he said with a smile. When you looked at him a bit confused his smile grew “I got a place for the two of us. Wish it could have happened sooner but-“ he said.

You wrapped your arms around him hugging him tightly “we’re gonna live together? I’ll get to spend all the time with you?” You said eagerly.

“Yep! Got the keys today!”

When the door opened you thought it was the nurse however it was an officer. “Y/n we have your father in custody. Do you have a place to stay for the mean time?” He asked looking over at your boyfriend.

“I do, but can I go back and get something’s you asked.

The officer nodded “I’ll have to escort you because it’s a crime scene now.”

You nodded.

“Whenever you get discharged we can go alright?” He said before walking out.

After you went to the house grabbing your clothes, laptop and a few things you smiled saying good riddance to this place. You had the few things from your mom packed, having nothing more in this house for you.

Moving in with changbin was something to get use to. However he helped you every step of the way. You got into much needed therapy and after your father’s sentence you felt like things were going up. As a little house warming gift Changbin had surprised you with a cat. You had bonded with him with the many times he had taken you to the cat cafe. You always said how much you wanted him and now you had him. You had your little family now.

Changbin showered you in love as usual, never missing a chance to compliment you, praise you and tell you how much he loved you. You knew in your heart your mom wherever she was, she was happy. Happy seeing her little girl finally get out of the situation. To live her life to the fullest.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[moeblob]

Impulsively shoving a guy's hand in your mouth after having the thought "oh just like when my little sister used to prick herself on a rose thorn" and then immediately being treated like a pet who ate something they shouldn't have? Wonderful. Thank you, Thane.

(also not pictured is Thane apparently trying to scrape your tongue with his hand BEFORE pouring the holy water down your throat because NO. BAD.)

[chestharrington]

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear. 

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces. 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names. 

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up. 

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone. 

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table. 

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question. 

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents. 

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery. 

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with. 

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. 

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. 

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom. 

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box. 

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

 He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. 

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. 

“That’s—���

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement. 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

[luveline]

Hi lovely!

I saw you’re looking for Hotch requests and I think I requested one before but I forgot what it is oops.

Could I please have one where Jack calls R mom for the first time and she feels super guilty about it but Hotch is super sweet.

Thanks!

ty for requesting 💞 fem (mom and stepmom!) reader, 1.4k

You’re obsessed with your little baby, but you’d loved Hotch’s son for a long time before you had your own, and you’ve continued to love Jack as your own regardless. If anything, having a baby only cemented that you love him. 

Though you’d never disrespect his mother or what she gave up for him, you’re a parent to Jack. When Hotch is home, Jack is home, and when he isn’t you have Jack four days out of the week anyways, splitting him lovingly with his Aunt Jess. You take care of him and you love to do it; being his stepmother is a gift. You love Jack. 

And he loves to cuddle. 

“Rub my hair,” he demands sleepily, crushed as far into your neck and chest as he can be without pushing his brother out of the way. 

“Say please,” you say, already bringing your hand up where it’s sandwiched behind him to stroke the hair from his eyes. “Like this?” 

“Thank you.” 

He’s pretty much always polite when he’s not tired. Which has little to do with you and everything to do with Haley and Hotch, you’re sure, he’d been a picture of a golden child the day you met him and besides the occasional tantrum or naughty spell, he’s a grateful child. He says thank you for things you want no thanks for, when you towel dry his hair at night for bed, or when you help him into his socks. He once said thank you for a kiss on the cheek, as if it wasn’t something you’d wanted to do. 

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his brow. “Can I have a little kiss?” 

You kiss his brow when he smiles, letting your eyes flutter closed, nose still pressed to his skin. 

“I love you, mommy,” he says, wrapping his arm around your neck with a sleepy snuffle. 

You struggle to answer. The baby gurgles against your chest.

There has been a lot of mommy talk lately. Hotch is calling you mommy often now that the baby’s born, cutesy stuff like, There’s mommy! when you come back from a shower, or How’s your mom? when he’s home from work and he wants to hold the baby, but he wants to check on you at the same time.

He’s never called you Jack’s mom, but Jack’s six. He was bound to get confused, or to feel new feelings, though you weren’t expecting him to do it right now. 

Eventually, you figure you’ll do what’s best for Jack even if that best isn’t something you deserve. “I love you too, baby.” 

“Are you falling to sleep?” he asks. 

You have arms full of children and Hotch will be home any minute if what he said on the phone is true, so you won’t. “Maybe not yet, but you can sleep if you want to. I’m sure dad will wake you up when he gets home.” 

Jack settles in with the baby. Your promise gives him the solace he needs to sleep.

…What if Hotch is angry? 

You’ll tell him what happened, of course, because you don’t have secrets with each other, and even if you did this is something he’s owed, right? He’s been completely candid with you about everything, how he loved Haley, how he feels he failed her in more ways than her death, and how he loves her still. 

You don’t feel like you’re competing for his loyalty or affection, it’s simply clear that he respects Haley’s memory very strongly. What if you tell him what Jack said, and what you hadn’t said, and he’s furious? 

The door opens downstairs. Hotch calls hello, but with Jack and the baby both sleeping, you stay quiet in fear of waking them. You listen to him do a familiar dance, the click of the safe where he retires his firearms, the rushing water of the faucet as he makes himself a glass of water, and then a second you assume to be for you. 

You shuffle Jack from your chest gently, pulling the baby into the curve of your arm and depositing him with an overabundance of caution into the crib. 

You hurry to the door, finger on your lips, startling your husband on the last stair. 

“I need to talk to you about something,” you whisper. 

He gestures for you to walk back down with him. He’s unperturbed by your worry, two glasses in one hand so he can use the other to feel at your shoulder as you take the stairs in front of him. “What happened?” he whispers. 

“It’s–” You wince, descending the stairs with a distinct sense of nausea. “Can we sit down? I’ll make you something to eat.” 

“I’m fine,” he says, following you to the kitchen, where you sit in adjacent chairs at the dinner table. 

You brace your hands on a placemat. 

He laughs and takes them into his own. “Nothing you tell me is worth all this worrying.” 

“It’s about Jack.” 

His smile fades. “What about him, honey?” 

“We were upstairs… You know how he is, he climbed on top of me and we were cuddling because Noah finally fell asleep, and,” —it’s best to just tell, even if you feel clammy and guilty before you’ve admitted to it— “he called me mommy. I’d never tell him to, I promise.” 

Hotch brings his hands up slowly, yours raising with them where he’s holding your wrists. “What did he say?” 

“He said he loved me. ‘I love you, mommy.’” 

“What did you say?” 

Your grimace is apologetic, eyebrows pinched. “I said I loved him too.” 

“And you’re worried that’s not okay?” You nod. “It sounds to me that he was just telling you how he feels. When you wake him up in the mornings and you tuck him in at night, and you’re the person he goes to when he needs a bandaid, you must feel like his mother.” 

“But I’m not.” 

“No.” His dark eyes are relaxed, his brow only a shade of its usual downturn. “Haley is his mother, and she’d love how you treat him. He will always, always know who his mother is. But if he wants to call you mom, a woman who loves him and looks after him with the same tenderness as you do your own, then I think that’s okay, especially with Noah getting older… How do you feel about it?” 

“I love him.” 

He does that silly smile where he’s more happy than he’ll admit to, leaning forward, pressing your hands to his arm and then his lips. “He loves you,” he says. 

Hotch stands and offers a hug. When you take it, he sways you from side to side. “She really would’ve liked you, honey. It was me who let her down.” 

“But her baby calling me mom…”

“I know. It’s a conflicting feeling.” 

You let out a big sigh and slouch in his arms. You’re warm butter under his touch. He reacts accordingly, bending and cupping the back of your neck. 

“It felt awesome,” you confess. He might as well know. After the remorse, you were happy. Jack must really love you. 

“You’re very, very good to him. Just let him love you however he wants to, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget who his mother was, and how much she loved him.” 

You wouldn’t let Jack forget her either. 

Hotch leans away to dot a kiss to your cheek before he hugs you again. “How are they? The boys?” 

“Sleeping. Waiting for you to come home and wake them up. Maybe please don’t wake up Noah, he might sleep through the night tonight if we leave him alone.” 

“I won’t. I’ll see him in the morning.” His smile is audible. “I’m a little jealous, I think. Jack hardly ever says he loves me first.” 

“You clearly don’t cuddle enough.” 

“That,” he says, giving your hip a squeeze, “is a low blow. But I’ll allow it.” 

“You’ll allow it?” 

Another adoring sweep of his arms on your back. “You can say what you want,” he amends. “Thank you for taking care of things while I was gone.” 

He doesn’t need to say thank you, you’re a family, but you appreciate the gesture. “You’re welcome, handsome.” 

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Seven Minutes

luke castellan x reader

A/N: i was so excited to write this request as soon as i saw it so i hope you enjoy!

TW: smut, luke being a cocky little shit

word count: 1,172 words

Playing seven minutes in heaven is not an appealing idea to you. You don’t like the idea of being trapped in a closet with a guy who isn’t of your choosing and it isn’t some stupid kissing game that’s over in a second, but there is sadly no saying no to Silena Beauregard. Your friend is literally the embodiment of an Aphrodite child with her ability to persuade. For gods’ sake she actually has the word ‘beautiful’ in her name and everyone knows that someone with such a likeness to the love goddess isn’t someone that can be refused.

“There’s going to be lots of good looking people there I promise… Charlie, Clarisse… Luke.” Silena murmurs the last name.

“What?” You’re clearly pissed. She can hear it in your tone.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” She asks innocently.

“What was the last name you just said?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just listing people at camp who are objectively attractive.”

“Just objectively attractive or objectively attractive and playing seven minutes in heaven tonight?” You ask, giving her a pointed look.

“The second one.” She replies quietly.

“I’m not going if Luke is going to be there.” You tell her petulantly, stopping in your tracks like you’re going to turn around and head back to your cabin.

“So you did hear me.”

“I’m not going.” You start to walk back but she grabs your wrist.

“Yes you are!”

“I’m not. I hate him. I want him dead. I pray for his downfall on every quest he goes on.”

“All I can hear is that you spend a lot of time thinking about him.”

“Silena!”

“I’m sorry but if you think about it, all this hatred could just be pent up sexual frustration.”

“It’s not.”

“It could be!” She realizes that she isn’t anywhere close to getting through to you so she holds both your hands in hers. “Please just come. The bottle most likely won’t even land on him anyway. Just think about it as a fun night.”

“Fun night my ass.” You grumble but turn around and begin to walk back to the Aphrodite cabin. Silena giggles excitedly.

When you walk in, almost everyone of the older campers in Silena’s friend group are already there. Your eyes fall on Luke first and he gives you an annoying little smirk.

“Okay, now that everyone important is here…” Silena smiles before sitting down. Clarisse hands her an empty beer bottle. “I’ll go first.” She spins the bottle and grins when it lands on Charles. If your eyes aren’t deceiving you, you could swear Clarisse’s face drops for a millisecond.

The person next to Charles goes next, and then Clarisse goes and now, it’s your turn. You’re not really sure how it’s your turn already, but you aren’t about to argue with Silena over the spinning order. You look at Luke before you spin and he gives you another cocky smirk. You try to ignore him and spin the bottle, doing it perhaps a touch too hard because it goes in circles forever. When the bottle slows, it is clearly about to stop on some Apollo kid before it shifts a little more and lands on Luke.

What the fuck?

He looks away from a son of Boreas to you. “Up you get then, princess.” He stands.

You look at Silena with ‘help me’ eyes but she shrugs with a guilty grin. So now you’re walking over to Luke. He holds out a hand so he can lead you to the closet but you slap it away as you pass him. He turns on a dim light as you enter and shuts the door behind him.

“Look at my luck.” He says in a suave tone, holding his hands out like it was the gods’ bidding.

“Did you really bribe a wind god kid so that the bottle would land on you?”

“Perceptive.” He comments. “I was just lucky that I happened to be sitting North of you. So maybe it is the gods’ will.”

“You think it’s the gods will that we fuck in this closet?” You scoff.

“You said it, baby not me.” His right hand falls to your waist, gripping at your love handles. “But sadly, we don’t have enough time for me to fuck you properly.”

“Get your hands off me.” Your gaze is filled with a lot of passion. Whether that passion is lust or hate, he isn’t sure.

“Make me.”

When you don’t make him take his hands off you (which you most could) he takes that as a sign that you want him just as much as he wants you, so he pulls you in for a rough kiss. You hate how you kiss him back, whimpering into his mouth when you feel his hand slip up your thigh to rub you through your jeans. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he begins to make quick work of your zipper. Luke tugs your jeans down and chuckles at the sight of your lacy panties.

“Were you planning on getting screwed tonight or is this just coincidence?” 

“Shut up.” You murmur before forcing your mouth back against his.

He rubs you through your panties for a second but you both know you’re short on time so he slips them to the side, sliding his fingers through your arousal. 

“Gods, you’re so wet.” He whispers into your mouth before plunging two fingers inside of you, curling them in just the right spot. You whine softly, pissed at how good he is at touching you. He leans his head down and begins to kiss your neck. He suckles on the same spot for about a minute so he leaves a deep red mark. “Oops, left a little colour.”

“Luke!” You scold quietly and he begins to rub your clit with his thumb so you can’t think straight enough to say anything else.

“Just have to let people know who’s girl you are, princess.” He starts rubbing your clit a little harder. “Who’s girl are you?”

You’re feeling so good and you’re so close to your peak that you moan out, “Your girl.”

“That’s right. Cum on my fingers, baby.” He demands and you do right away, squeezing around his fingers as you get your release. “You better get dressed.” He says as he checks his watch. “You’ve got about 12 seconds before they open that door.”

He’s clearly amused as you struggle to get your pants back on in time but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice as he licks your cum off his fingers, moaning just a little bit.

“Times up, lovebirds.” One of the other Aphrodite girls says as she swings open the door.

You walk out as soon as she does and you don’t make eye contact with anyone as you storm out of the cabin.  

“We’re done with the game for today.” Luke says cockily as he quickly grabs both your jackets and chases you out the door for round two.

Silena grins. “I knew it.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween 

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? Their son, Jack always wanted a pet but with them traveling the world for the races, it was not possible. But when Charles recently adopted Leo, Jack asks his mother to help him. Knowing Toto wouldn't say no to her. With "indistinguishable squeaky noises' when Jack got what he wanted all along. And "Aww! A PUPPY!". They both give Toto a very crushing hug. Just major fluff and cute. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))

Here you go! Enjoy reading it and I also add a small part of SMAU 🤭, well, since lots of you guys have been sending me texts telling me how much you like it! I read it all and I cherished each and every message. Love you all!

Jack was on a mission. He had been begging his parents for a pet for months now, but with their busy lives full of Formula One travels, it was impossible. He knew his dad would probably say no, but his mom was a softie when it came to family, especially him. So he went to her with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Mama, can we get a puppy?"

She smiled at his eagerness, knowing that she would have to be the one to persuade Toto. She lowered down in front of her son, ruffling his hair playfully. "Sweetie, you know your dad has a lot on his plate with work, right?" Jack pouted, his shoulders slumping. "I know, but I really want a puppy! Please, Mama? Can't you talk to Papa?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. She chuckled softly, unable to resist his adorable expression. "Alright, alright," she relented. "I'll talk to him."

Jack's face lit up with excitement, his eyes widening. "Really? You'll talk to Papa?"

His mother nodded, laughing softly. "Yes, I'll talk to him," she assured him. "But don't get your hopes too high, okay? Your Papa is a bit of a hardass." Jack's expression soured slightly at her words, but he quickly brightened. "But you'll convince him, right?"

She chuckled again, ruffling his hair once more. "I'll do my best."

Over the next few days, she thought about how to approach the topic with Toto. She knew he was a bit of a worrywart when it came to Jack's safety, and a puppy was a big responsibility.

Finally, one evening while they were having dinner together, she decided to bring it up. "Toto," she began, her tone casual.

Toto looked at her, his gaze curious. "Yes, Liebe?" he replied, taking a sip of his wine.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for his response. "Jack has been asking me for a pet," she said, watching his reaction closely.

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression immediately becoming wary. "A pet? Like a dog or a cat?" he asked, setting his glass back down on the table.

She shrugged lightly, trying to appear nonchalant. "I think he's set on a puppy," she replied, gauging his reaction.

Toto's expression darkened slightly, but he didn't immediately shut down the idea. "We travel constantly," he said, his tone pragmatic. "How exactly would we care for a puppy on the road?"

She had expected this argument, and she was ready with a counter-point. "I've been thinking about that," she said quickly. "We could hire a dog walker or a pet sitter whenever we can't be there."

Toto frowned, his expression unconvinced. "It's not just about the physical care," he countered. "What about training and socialization? A puppy takes time and effort to raise."

She bit her lower lip, realizing that his concerns were valid. "I know it won't be easy," she acknowledged, her tone earnest. "But Jack has been such a good kid, and he's wanted a pet for so long."

Toto sighed, his expression softening. "I know he has, but can't just adopt a puppy on a whim."

She nodded, understanding his point but not willing to give up just yet. "I'm not suggesting we adopt one right now," she reassured him. "But we could at least talk about it, right?"

Toto leaned back in his chair, considering her words. "Alright, I'll listen," he said finally. "But you need to convince me why this is a good idea."

She took another deep breath, thankful that he was at least willing to listen. "Having a puppy could be good for Jack's development," she began. "It would teach him responsibility, and he would have a companion to help him deal with the stress of our travels."

Toto raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "You think a puppy will help manage stress?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Having a puppy to play with and snuggle up with might make his time on the road a bit more bearable."

Toto considered her words, his expression slowly softening. "Alright, I'll give you that," he agreed reluctantly.

His resistance was starting to crumble, and she could see that she was slowly winning him over. "And don't forget," she added with a smirk, "puppies are incredibly cute. Just imagine how happy it would make Jack."

Toto rolled his eyes playfully, a small smile creeping onto his lips. "You're playing dirty, Liebe" he accused her.

She chuckled, loving the banter between them. "I'm just speaking the truth," she responded, her tone innocent. "A puppy would be a wonderful addition to our family."

Toto let out a small huff, a mixture of resignation and affection. "You're really not going to let this go, are you?" he asked, his expression resigned but fond.

She shook her head, a sly smile on her lips. "Not until we at least consider it," she said, leaning forward slightly.

Toto couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. "You're relentless," he said, his tone admiring rather than annoyed. "But you always know how to get what you want, don't you?" 

She smirked, knowing she had won the argument. "It takes a special skill to handle a stubborn man like you," she teased, her voice flirty.

Toto rolled his eyes once more, his expression a mix of amusement and defeat. "You're lucky I love you," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Throughout their conversation, their voices never rose above a quiet whisper, so as not to alert their son that they were discussing his request. Jack was currently upstairs in his room, presumably doing his homework or playing with his toys.

With a conspiratorial smile, she leaned in closer toward Toto. "Jack is already prepared for a puppy," she replied, giggling softly. "He's spent hours online watching puppy videos. Also, he had spent quite some time playing with Leo last week, and did not stop talking about it ever since.” 

Just then, a small voice called out from the staircase. "Mama?"

She looked up to see Jack standing there, a hopeful expression on his face. "Yes, sweetie?" she asked, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

Jack looked between her and Toto, his eyes slightly widened. "Did you talk to Papa about the puppy?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.

She smiled warmly at her son, her heart swelling with affection. She looked over at her husband, who was still leaning back in his chair, a resigned expression on his face.

"We've been discussing it," she replied to Jack, her tone light.

Jack's eyes widened even further, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. "And what did Papa say?" he asked, barely able to contain himself.

Toto let out a soft sigh, knowing that he was outnumbered in this situation. He couldn't help but feel a pang of affection for his wife and son, especially when they both gave him those big, pleading eyes.

"We're considering it," he spoke up, his tone resigned but fond.

Jack let out a small gasp, his expression filled with glee. He practically bounced from foot to foot, his excitement barely contained.

"Considering it" seemed to be enough for Jack, as he squealed in delight and practically ran over to Toto, wrapping his small arms around his father's waist in a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Jack repeated, his voice muffled against Toto's shirt.

Toto chuckled, returning his son's embrace. "Don't celebrate just yet," he warned, his tone mock-stern.

Despite his words, Toto's expression was softened, and his arms remained around his son. He was unable to resist the infectious joy that filled Jack's face.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of her husband and son, their bond evident even in this brief moment. She knew that once they brought a puppy into the mix, their family would be complete.

Toto slowly extracted himself from Jack's embrace, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"But there are some conditions," he said firmly, his tone serious.

Jack looked up at his father, his expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness. "Conditions?" he asked, his voice a little quieter than before.

Toto nodded, his expression still stern. "Yes, conditions. If we're going to have a puppy, there are certain things we need to take into consideration."

Jack nodded, his eyes wide and intently fixed on his father. "Like what?" he asked, his voice a little meek.

Toto ticked off the conditions on his fingers as he spoke.

"First, we need to decide on a breed that fits our lifestyle. We can't have a high-energy dog that we can't keep up with."

He paused for a moment before continuing. "Second, you'll need to help take care of the puppy. That means feeding, walking, and cleaning up after it."

Jack nodded vigorously, his expression determined. "I can do that! I promise!"

Toto chuckled softly, impressed by his son's determination and acceptance of the conditions.

He looked at his wife, who smiled warmly at him, then back at his son, his heart feeling a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yes, that's all," he answered, his voice soft. "If you're still willing to accept those conditions, we'll consider getting a puppy."

As Toto spoke, Jack's expression slowly shifted from determination to excitement. He looked up at his father, barely able to contain himself.

"So that means we can get a puppy now?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Toto chuckled, shaking his head indulgently. "Not just yet, maybe tomorrow" he replied, his tone gentle.

A few weeks had passed since the discussions had concluded, and the day finally arrived when they would bring home their new puppy. Jack was practically vibrating with excitement, his face pressed against the car window as they made their way home.

Finally, they arrived at their house, and Jack all but pounced out of the car, running towards the front door. Toto and his wife followed more leisurely, their hearts filled with equal measures of anticipation and amusement.

When they entered the house, Jack froze in his tracks, his eyes widening at the sight in the living room. There, sitting in the middle of the room, was a small, fuzzy puppy, its wagging tail a blur.

Jack stared at the puppy in awe, barely able to speak. "Is… is that for me?" he asked, his voice soft and trembling with emotion.

Toto chuckled, ruffling his son's hair affectionately. "That's right. That's your new best friend."

Jack slowly made his way towards the puppy, his steps hesitant yet eager. The puppy looked up at him with curious eyes, its little tail still wagging excitedly.

Jack knelt down in front of the puppy, slowly holding out his hand. The puppy sniffed his hand curiously, then licked it, causing Jack to giggle happily.

"Can I hold it?" he asked, looking up at his parents with wide, pleading eyes.

Toto chuckled, his expression fond as he watched his son interact with the puppy. "Of course," he replied, his voice soft.

Jack carefully scooped up the puppy in his arms, cradling it against his chest like a precious treasure. The puppy wriggled a little, settling into a comfortable position in Jack's embrace, its eyes drifting closed in contentment.

Jack looked up at his parents, a huge grin on his face. "I love him already," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

Jack wandered into the garage, the puppy trotting after him on its little legs. The puppy looked curiously around the unfamiliar surroundings, its eyes wide and curious.

Jack settled down against a wall, leaning back against the cool, smooth surface, and patted his lap, gesturing for the puppy to come closer. The puppy obeyed, clambering up onto Jack's lap and nestling in comfortably.

Toto entered the garage, a fond smile on his face as he watched the interaction between his son and the puppy. Toto leaned against a workbench, folding his arms across his chest as he observed Jack and the puppy. The puppy had completely relaxed in Jack's lap, its head resting on the boy's thigh. It looked up at Jack with adoring eyes, its tail thumping quietly against the ground.

Jack was completely enamoured, his eyes fixated on the puppy in his lap. He stroked the puppy's soft fur gently, murmuring to it softly. Toto shook his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You two are quite the pair already," he commented, his voice filled with amusement.

Jack looked up at his father, his expression filled with joy. "Scout's so soft," he whispered, still stroking the puppy's fur. "And he's so smart. He learns things quickly."

The puppy looked up at Toto, its eyes seeming to sparkle with a hint of mischief.

“Papa, can we go out and play? Maybe me and Scout can find Leo.” Jack asked.

“Sure, buddy. But please watch out and be careful.” 

Jack and the puppy were out and exploring the paddock. Suddenly, they heard the sound of playful barking and saw Roscoe and Leo running towards them.

Roscoe and Leo bounded over to Scout and Jack, their tails wagging happily. The three dogs sniffed each other curiously, tails wagging in a friendly greeting.

Lewis and Charles watched as their dogs interacted with Jack and the puppy, a mix of amusement and fondness on their faces. Lewis chuckled softly as he watched Roscoe playfully pounce on the puppy, while Charles watched as Leo and the puppy sniffed each other curiously.

"Looks like they're already forming a pack," Lewis commented, grinning as he watched the dogs playfully wrestle together.

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and others

y/n_user Say hello to our newest member in the Wolff family, his name's Scout Wolff

mercedesamgf1 Hello fur boss

user1 SCOUTS SO CUTE !!!

user2 New bestfr

user4 this is adorable

georgerussell63: scout 100%

maxverstappen1: 🐈's better

mercedesamgf1 🐺's better y/n_user Thanks admin redbullracing 🐂's better scuderiaferrari 🐎's better

carmenmmundt bring him to the race, wifey 🤩

lilymhe and I will bring my kids too, wifey 😚 alex_albon yours? kids?? wifey??? y/n_user yes, and 🤨 that's my wives right there! mercedesamgf1 wives? Liebe, we need to talk - toto wolff lewishamilton last time I checked I went to y/n's wedding only, not sure who she got married to

landonorris when can I visit Scout

y/n_user anytime little lando norris 🤭 oscarpiastri CAN you adopt me so that I can have Austria as my home race to🥺 y/n_user where can I sign 🙌🏻 oscar piastri-leclerc-wolff has a nice ring to it mercedesamgf1 Liebe? We have our child already? - toto wolff y/n_user the more the merrier AND give the acc back to the poor admin pls

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and others.

y/n_user Studied so hard so Daddy took us to the beach 🌊

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[iluvzaddies]

drunk confession

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight nsfw

summary: thomas shelby walks into your bedroom in the middle of the night and confesses his love for you.

you awoke from your slumber after hearing the door to your room suddenly open in the middle of the night.

you felt your heart pound through your chest, scared that it was one of billy kimber’s men, ordered to harm you as a way to get back at the peaky blinders.

but you needn’t fret for it was only thomas shelby.

thomas was the leader of birmingham’s renowned gang, the peaky blinders, and the second eldest son of the shelby family.

you knew him when he was a young lad. he used to be a troublemaker, always bringing trouble everywhere he went. he laughed a lot too.

you, on the other hand, used to be a loner. you didn’t have a single friend whatsoever. you were always alone, a sad look plastered on your face as you watched other kids getting along and playing with each other. young tommy felt bad for you, therefore, offered to let you play with him and his siblings. from then on, you became close and formed a bond, not only with him, but with his siblings too.

it was sad how much things have changed after the war in france.

the horrors of the war had changed him drastically.

he became a soulless, empty shell.

but there was one thing that didn’t change, and that was his feelings for you.

he always felt a sense of peace whenever you were around. you were a breath of fresh air and a reminder of his childhood days, where he hadn’t gone to the war yet, where he didn’t live a life of crime, where everything was normal.

he didn’t want to admit it, though. he was never good at expressing himself…

…until tonight.

“tommy!” you gasped. “why are you here?”

“because i can.” he said nonchalantly.

“just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” you huffed in frustration.

he shrugged.

“how did you get in my house?”

“key under your doormat.” he drawled, approaching you drunkenly.

you let out a squeak as he collapsed on your bed, nearly crushing your legs.

“okay, congratulations for knowing where i keep my house key, but that doesn’t give you the right to just barge in my house.” you looked at the clock on your wall, checking the time. “especially at three in the morning, you dimwit!”

“‘m sorry… it’s just… i’ve been thinking about you.. a lot– actually, an unhealthy amount. i couldn’t help it. i just wanted to see you again.”

“what?” you blinked.

“you heard me.”

“yes, i did, but…” that was unexpected. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

“by god, woman.” he sat up and you flinched when he started to yell. “how fucking oblivious are you? i’m in love with you, for fuck’s sake!–“

you covered his mouth, shushing him, trying to get him to calm down. you were already dealing with a drunk thomas, who barged into your home uninvited, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with noise complaints from your neighbors.

“please, quiet down, will you?”

he grabbed your wrist, prying your hand off his mouth and guiding your hand to his cheek. he closed his eyes, sighing in bliss, reveling in the warmth of your touch.

“tommy.” you muttered under your breath.

“i mean it, (y/n). i love you. i’ve loved you ever since we were kids.”

was it true?

was it really true?

well, you were aware of the saying: “drunk words are sober thoughts”

and that made your face heat up.

“i–“ you gulped, trying to build up the courage to confess, so he didn’t think it was one-sided. “–i love you too, tommy. i’ve loved you ever since you offered to let me play with you when i had no one to play with.” you moved your thumb up and down his cheekbone. “you may be a dangerous gangster to the world, but you’re just tommy to me. my tommy. you think you’ve changed, but deep inside, that innocent, kind-hearted little boy is still there.”

thomas’ lips curved up, a genuine smile on his face.

you widened your eyes.

it had been so long since he smiled in such a way that you had forgotten just how beautiful it was.

he leaned towards your face and connected your lips together. you were caught off guard, but happily obliged and kissed him back.

he tasted like a mix of cigarettes and whisky. nonetheless, it was amazing.

he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. he entwined your fingers together and with his other hand, he pulled your body against his.

he proceeded to gently place you on your back, with him on top of you, not breaking the kiss for a second.

“fuck, i love you.” he said in between kisses. “i love you so much. i’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life.“

he roamed his hands around your body whilst you raked yours through his hair.

he pulled away just to get a quick glimpse of your messy appearance before reconnecting your lips.

he slithered a hand under your nightgown and you moaned as his fingers made contact with your clothed clit, rubbing it through your undergarment until a wet patch formed.

he moved your nightgown up to your stomach, fiddling with the elastic band of your undergarment, and yanked it off. he reached down to touch your bare pussy, inserting two fingers inside. with how wet you were, he was able to put them in with ease.

your moans were becoming louder each time he thrusted and curled his fingers against your walls, so you clasped a hand on your mouth to prevent any more noise from spilling out.

he stopped and demanded, “no, let me hear.”

“my neighbors–“

“if they even think about coming here and ruining this, i’ll fucking send them six feet under.”

he scooted backwards, placing his head in between your legs. you could feel his hot breath hitting your core and your core clenched. he darted his tongue out, licking a long stripe up your clit, before attaching his entire mouth onto it. he sucked harshly, eating you out like he was a man starved, making your eyes roll back at the insane amount of pleasure he was giving you.

your vision turned white as the coil inside of you intensified into a powerful ball of energy. and then it bursted, the ecstasy setting all your nerves ablaze.

it felt good, so so good.

he crawled back on top of you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself.

then, he pulled away once more to admire his work.

he loved the way you looked beneath him.

how swollen your lips were.

how breathless you were.

how red your cheeks were.

he loved knowing that your current appearance was caused by him and only him. rightfully so.

“all for me, eh?”

his deep, sultry voice sent shivers down your spine.

“all for you, tom.”

note: help, my unexperienced ass doesn’t fucking know how to write nsfw content. this is so bad.

[girllblogging777]

𝑈𝑁𝑇𝑂𝑈𝐶𝐻𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (cousin’s best friend)

↳ word count : 0,6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo riddle has never done feelings, but that was until draco’s french cousin transferred from beauxbatons

✩✩✩✩

you were “untouchable”. that’s what everyone thought. that’s what everyone said. the first word pronounced when someone mentioned you. the “mysterious french girl” the “exchange student from beauxbatons” and most of all “draco malfoy’s cousin”. you couldn’t go anywhere in this school without hearing those words. everyone knew better when it came to daring looking your way or crossing your path.

as mean and cold as he looked, your cousin draco had a habit of being quite overprotective when it came to you. since you had transferred to hogwarts a couple of months ago, you had never been seen without him and his friends. the slytherin boys all had quite the reputation in this school, and ever since draco had introduced you to them, you knew the other students would leave you alone.

however, the “untouchable” rule came to your cousin’s friends too. they knew better than that, and to be honest you didn’t care much. enzo was caring, blaise was loyal, theo was compassionate, but what you and them had was purely platonic. the only person to whom that rule didn’t apply was the one and only mattheo riddle. the captivating brunette had been draco’s ride or die since first year and unfortunately for you, that meant you had to spend a lot of time together. but for some reason, the boy always seemed to be avoiding you. it wasn’t obvious at first but you had started to notice it in the little things, like when he’d leave the great hall everytime you sat at their table or go for a cigarette break when you approached the boys at a party. “what did i do to make him hate me ?” you often thought. “he doesn’t even know me…”

you always ended up brushing it off by talking and joking with the other guys, who unlike mattheo, were always here for you. what you didn’t know was that the dark lord’s son didn’t hate you, he just hated what you made him feel. the way his heart fluttered when you were around was nothing but platonic, wich is why he always felt like bolting when you approached him.

but what could he do ? you were breathtakingly beautiful. hell, captivating even. the way your hair was always perfectly falling around your face like an angel. how you made the cutest sound when you laughed at his friends’ jokes. and that sweet accent of yours didn’t help. every word that rolled out of your tongue made him lose his mind. the minute you had walked inside the great hall back in september, he knew he was done for. “they weren’t lying when they said french people were attractive”. imagine what he felt when right after being sorted into slytherin, you ran into draco’s arms. did his best friend have a girlfriend ? how could he have missed that ? he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard “meet my cousin, y/n y/l/n”. and that’s when he realised the mess he was in.

mattheo riddle wasn’t known to be a romantic guy, he didn’t do feelings. the only times he was seen with girls were during drunk make out sessions at parties, or quickies in broom closets when he needed some relief. all his life, he had stayed away from love and its problems. the “untouchable” girl was the compete opposite. you were a hopeless romantic, saving yourself for the perfect romance you had read and dreamt about ever since you were little. and most of all, you were his best friend’s little cousin. he knew he should’ve stayed away from you, and he really tried.

but everything changed after that one time…

✩✩✩✩

a/n : this is my first time writing so please give me some feedback !!! also please like, comment and reblog, i’m taking requests (tell me if you wanna be tagged in my posts <3)

@pizzaapeteer @tateshifts @iris-qt @deadghosy @mattheosdior @sadnymi

[wintfleur]

thinking about Daryl Dixon dating a book worm girly . . . they would meet on the Greene farm. She was a good friend of Hershel’s son Shawn, and stayed and lived with the family when the outbreak started. She would spend most of her time with Hershel and Beth or with her face in a book . . . she would like to be alone a lot, having her own spot on the farm away from the house where she could peacefully read and not have to worry about interacting with anyone, a spot that used to be her and Shawn’s . . . also a spot where Daryl decides to set up his own small camp away from everyone . . . well everyone but her. He would be hesitant at first to approach her when he gets back from another search for Sofia, seeing her leaning up against a tree with a thick book in her lap. He’d seen her around a few times in the short amount of time he’s been at the farm, only with Beth or Hershel. He’d ask her what she wants, assuming that she was waiting for him. She’d apologize, saying that she just wanted to be away from everyone, and surprising the both of them he said with a grunt she could stay as long as she didn’t touch his shit or start reading aloud. And for the first time he sees a small smile on her lips . . . but it was quickly covered when she lifted her book up from her lap.

Time-skip to after the farm falls and before they find the prison. They would become closer . . . well as close as two antisocial and closed off people could get. It was more like they found comfort in each other’s silent presence. She was so good at being quiet and finding her way around in the woods that she would often join daryl tracking/hunting. The first time daryl sees her smile since the farm is when he gives her a book he found in the trunk of an abandoned car. Since she couldn’t carry a bunch of books since they were traveling, every time she was done with a book he’d try and search for another to switch it with . . . would let her quietly mumble about the book she was reading when she couldn’t sleep and he was on watch. Would walk next to her as she walks n reads, making sure she wouldn’t trip.

When they make it to the prison, he’d bring her back multiple books whenever he goes out looking for supplies, and over time the small desk she had in her cell was cluttered with books . . . all from daryl. He would let her ramble about her books whenever they were on watch in the watch tower, him standing up and looking out while she comfortably sat on the floor with her book. He’d realize his feelings for her at the strange and unfamiliar feeling he felt in his chest as he watched her read a book to Carl and Beth who was holding Judith.

Time-skip to when they are now together, he would come back late from his shift at the look out tower in the prison and would check on her in there cell, expecting to see her sleeping since it was late . . . Instead she was curled up in her bed, technically now there bed, reading with a lit candle next to her. Not wanting to sleep without him by her side . . . and wanting to also finish another chapter. Whenever daryl would wake up from a nightmare she would quietly read to him, taking him out of his tortured mind and into the lovely world of her book. Whenever she was too focused on a book he’d surprise her with a kiss on her cheek or lips . . . completely stealing her attention. All she would have to do is bat her eyelashes and say please and daryl would fold . . . reading to her when she’s to tired to read herself, she feels so safe and warm when she’s in his arms as she listens to him read to her . . . he always kisses her forehead when he notices she fell asleep, tucking her bookmark a few pages back, knowing that she probably wouldn’t remember the last few pages he read to her.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( take this as my application to write for twd !!! I wrote this in 20 minutes at 1am, soo it’s probably not the best I just couldn’t sleep without getting this written down. Please let me know if I should continue writing for twd . . . I’m currently rewatching the show and my love for daryl just grows stronger !!! Again please let me know what you guys think, don’t be a silent reader <333 )

main masterlist twd masterlist

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat

Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

James Stewart propaganda:

"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."

“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”

“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”

Toshiro Mifune propaganda:

"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”

Submitted: this gifset

Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)

"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."

"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."

[vivwritesfics]

Hooked On A Feeling

Chapter Five - The B*tch

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

1.5K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

ik people have been asking to be added to the taglist, but it is officially closed and has been for maybe two chapters now

Series Masterlist

The last time Y/N saw Daniel was Monday at daycare. She picked up Milo as he picked up Olivia for the last time before she was to stay with her mother.

Y/N and Daniel waited together for Milo and Olivia to walk out of daycare. They were bound to walk out of the gates together, so Daniel and Y/N stood side by side as they chatted.

When they picked up their children, Y/N wished him one more good luck on his race and took Milo home.

Now that they had each other’s numbers, Y/N and Daniel texted a lot. The number was just meant to be for playdates, but the moment he started sending her pictures from the location of the grand prix, it was game over. They spoke every moment, like a pair of teenagers.

For the next week, Olivia was with her mother. Although she was there every afternoon, Y/N never met her. It was Olivias doing. She was five, sure, but she was smart as hell. She was going to do anything in her power to keep the women apart.

But then on Friday, Y/N let the eyes scan the children's face for Olivia. She watched as, with shoulders slumped, she walked over to a tall woman with a stern face. She immediately grabbed a hold of Olivias arm.

"Come on, Milo," Y/N said softly, holding his hand as she walked over to Olivias mother. She weaved around other parents and their kids, giving their teacher a grateful nod.

In just seconds Y/N was standing in front of Olivias mother. "Hey," she said, offering her a kind smile and a wave. When Olivias mum just stared at her, she continued. "I'm Milo's mum and a friend of Daniels."

"Okay," replied Olivias mother, her voice flat.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. This was going to be a hard conversation. "So, my son and your daughter are good friends, and he was wondering whether Olivia would like to come over on Sunday to watch the F1 race?" She offered.

Still, Olivias mother stared. And then she laughed. Well, more like cackled. "Piss off and leave my daughter alone," she said and began dragging Olivia away.

With a gasp, Y/N covered Milo's ears. "Please don't swear in front of my son!"

Olivias mother waved her off and dragged her daughter away. Y/N just watched, still holding Milo's hand, as they walked away. When Olivias mother turned around and saw her staring, she held up her middle finger and flipper her off. Y/N quickly covered Milo's ears and walked with him back to their car.

They got home and Milo instantly set about playing with his toys. His mother set about finishing the work she had brought home with her while he watched television.

As she typed away at her work laptop, her phone vibrated against the kitchen table, ringing. The face that appeared on the screen was familiar, the face she had been hoping would appear for the last few days. Daniel grinned at her, the picture being the one he had taken in the park.

She slid her finger across the bottom of the screen and held the phone up to her ear. “Sup, Mr race car driver,” she said, continuing to type.

But she slowed down as Daniel began talking. “Sup, Miss Milo’s momma,” he responded, with equal enthusiasm.

Y/N let out a laugh. “Is that all I am to you? Just Milo’s momma?” She asked, but it wasn’t serious. The inflection in her voice said that much.

Daniel brushed it off. Well, he more laughed at it and moved on, instead of ignoring her completely. “Did you see Olivia today? I’m supposed to call her mother in a minute.”

Scratching the back of her neck, Y/N sucked in a breath. “Uh yeah. Yes, I did. And I met your ex. Daniel, I say this with the utmost respect, but she’s the-“ she looked towards the door and dropped her voice to a whisper “-fucking worst.”

Daniel let out a sigh. He knew. He knew how fucking terrible his ex was. If he could take Olivia away from it all, he would. But he couldn’t. “I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know. But how was Olivia?”

“She seemed… okay,” Y/N answered. “Milo and I tried to ask her mum if she could come to ours to watch the race on Sunday, but she immediately shut us down.”

It didn’t surprise Daniel. As soon as he was mentioned, his ex had probably made us her mind about Y/N, and there was no way she was going to let Olivia go to her house. She was a threat now, at least in his ex’s eyes. “I’ll talk to her, don’t worry,” he said. “I should get going.”

“Wait!” Y/N called suddenly. “Have you raced yet today?”

Daniel couldn’t stop himself from laughing. She really knew nothing about F1 (it was adorable). Daniel quickly ran her through the Friday free practice. He explained that he wasn’t in the fastest car on the grid, but he was still performing well, better than the previous year. He even described to her what car to look out for when they watched the race on Sunday.

Finally, they said their goodbyes. Y/N went back to her work while Daniel called his ex.

***

It was Olivia who picked up her mother’s phone. She was going to get into trouble for that, but it was a chance to speak to her daddy. She wasn’t going to miss out on that.

“Daddy!” Olivia shouted as she pressed the phone against her ear.

“Hi Badger!” Daniel cheered. “Listen, kiddo, I need to speak to your mum for a minute, but I’ll talk to you after, okay? Do you think you can pass me over to her?”

Although her father couldn’t see it, Olivia nodded. She hopped down from the sofa and went up the stairs, searching for her mother. “Mum!” She called.

Her mother appeared from her dressing room, in a skintight black dress, hair done, and makeup almost finished. “What?” She snapped at Olivia. As soon as she saw the phone in her hands, she snatched it from her and looked at the caller ID.

Sending Olivia away, she pressed her phone to her ear. “Hey Danny,” she said in a sultry sweet voice, but Daniel knew better than to fall for it. “What can I do for you?”

“You’re not letting Olivia go to Milo’s house to watch me race?”

The fake smile she had been wearing dropped from her face. “So what? She can watch the race here if she can figure out how to use the television,” she said and sat back at her vanity to continue with her makeup.

“Oh, come on.” It wasn’t normal for Daniel to get angry, but his ex just brought it out in him. “Milo is the first friend she’s ever made. Don’t fuck this up for her and let her go to his house, please!”

“It’s my week with her, I can do what I want.”

“She’s not some sort of pet! She’s a human being, and she deserves to be treated like one!” He yelled (thank god he was alone in his hotel room).

“She’s my kid too, Danny!”

“Don’t call me that.” His voice was suddenly low.

She grinned, realising she had gotten to him. “Or what, Danny? What’re you going to do about it?”

But Daniel didn’t let it get to him. He sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t going to get to him, not if it meant screwing things up for Olivia. “Look, you do this for me, and I’ll owe you one, okay?”

It was a risky proposal. She could have asked for anything, and he would have said yes, if it meant Olivia having fun with her friend. “Fine,” his ex said. “Fine, she can go, but I’m not picking her up.”

“Great, thank you,” he said. “Can I speak to Olivia now?”

Instead of answering, his ex ended the call and put the phone into her bag. That was fine; he got her another playdate, he could call her another time.

With the confirmation from his ex that the playdate would happen, Daniel sat about texting Y/N.

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

good news, she's happy for Olivia to come over

y/n (milo's momma)

great! I'll get them some snacks

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

olivia's gonna love it one problem though, you're gonna have to pick her up from her mothers house I don't want her having your address

y/n (milo's momma)

that's more than fine, danny

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

are you okay if I say milo's name on television? i wanna say hello to the kids when i'm getting interviewed

y/n (milo's momma)

that's fine, danny just keep it to his first name pls he's so excited

daniel riiiiiciaaaardoooo

i know olivia is gonna be excited too i'll see you monday, okay?

y/n (milo's momma)

see you monday, danny

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lillians-world-is-f1 @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @stay1strongbeautiful @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

[rafesslxt]

✧.* 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑶 𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵

[ aftercare ] ― he would cuddle you right after and clean you up depending on the mess you two made. I can also imagine him smoking a cigarette next to you If you‘re okay with that and If not he would cuddle you for a while and then stand up to smoke at the window – then coming back for cuddles ofc

[ body part ] ― he is a ass type of man to me. Always has a hand near your booty but also your face ? Like his hands would always stroke your cheeks and he would leave kisses all over it - oh and ofc he LOVES your pussy

[ cum ] ― he‘d go NUTS seeing you covered in it, marking you as his

[ desires ] ― He would go crazy for any kind of sort of begging from you - hearing your whiny voice begging him to do the filthy things to you he loves so much. Teasing him would also he a big turn on for him. Bending over things, accidently brushing your hand over his thigh near his dick

[ experience ] ― HONESTLY i know most of us like to think he‘s experienced and knows what he‘s doing bc he had mich sex before BUT I think a lot of girls would be terrified of him being the dark lord‘s son. So yes he is a natural and knows just what feels good, studying your reactions to his touch all night long but he would not have that much experience

[ first time ] ― Like i said he wouldn‘t sleep around that much so maybe it‘s with his first girlfriend or situationship he has with a girl he likes

[ grooming ] ― he wouldn‘t be very picky about how you groom as long as it‘s not completely out of control - he himself would make sure it‘s always clean and trimmed ? Idk man i never thought of that

[ horny ] Mattheo is a horndog 100%. And she wouldn’t even have to try since he would get a boner from almost everything she does. I think physical touch would be important to him since he never got much of it and also wants to try so much with you so he can win more experience to please you even better.

[ intimacy ] — Depends on what you like - he‘s a pleaser in my head so If you would want soft he would prepper you in kisses and praising words "you‘re doing so good baby i love you so much." but If you‘d like it rough he would dirty talk to you until your eyes roll back and manhandle you "fuck baby you feel my cock inside your belly? M' gonna fuck every other thought out of your head."

[ joker ] ― he could laugh when slmething clumsy happens but otherwise he‘d be more on the serious/passionate side

[ kinks ] ― Mattheo loves seeing u begging as i said but also is into you calling him daddy or sir, anything that makes him feel powerful. A kink he didn‘t know he had was his being sub. It didn‘t happen that often but he‘d enjoy it so much after like a rough week - you taking care of him and not judging but loving his little whimpers - also a little orgasm denial on you

[ locations ] ― literally anywhere - he would not give a single fuck If someone saw you two fucking as long as he can shield or hide your naked body - but If it would he a quiecky with him just sliding under your skirt he would love the drill of being caught and claiming you as his for other‘s

[ masturbation ] ― he‘s a horndog + single? Then he‘d masturbate quiete a lot but when he finally got you, he didn‘t need to anymore

[ no go ] ― anything that has to do with other people - he‘d be way too possessive and jealous for including someone else into your sexlife

[ oral ] ― MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH you cannot tell me otherwise! He would get drunk on your pussy, eating it out for hours sometimes. But he also enjoys getting sucked off by you too

[ positions ] ― he loves seeing your face twist in pleasure and your little gasps for air when he fucks into you. so anything like fucking you from behind but in front of a mirror or you riding him and trying your best bouncing up and down on him would do it for him - but I also think when the two if you argue and fuck he would push your face into a pillow while grabbing your hips from behind so you would shut up

[ quickies ] ― he‘d love them cause that means he get‘s extra sex in between classes, before quidditch training or studying

[ rounds ] ― i think his stanima is good like 2-3 long rounds before he would have to take his first break. Either he would smoke a cigarette or eat you out in the meantime

[ secrets ] ― he doesn‘t have real secrets since he‘s really comfortable with you

[ toys ] ― he would be confused when he first caught you with one - poor voy thinking you don‘t enjoy his cock but after you explain it to him he would use it here and there on you vut mostly just when he try‘s teasing and edging you

[ underwear ] ― he LOVES when you wear red for him, not caring what kind of underwear as long as it‘s red. He‘d also almost come directly in his pants when he notice you don‘t wear any under your skirt but would punish you still

[ volume ] ― Mattheo loves your loud moans and screams of his name, he would praise you so much for it and just gets drunk on your little whimpers for him - mattheo would also be quiete vocal always dirty talking to you or groaning at how tight you feel around him

[ watch ] ― he would never let anyone watch you - not even over his dead body but like i said before when you have clothes on and he slips under your skirt he‘d enjoy someone catching you two

[ xxx ] ― would only watch when he‘s single but even then not that often

[ yearning ] ― he would be the biggest tease ever! Stroking your inner thigh under the table in class or at dinner. He‘d tease you by whispering all the things he wants to do to you in your ear while all your friends are around, slowly brushing his hands over your clothes pussy when nobody‘s looking

[ zzz ] ― usually depends on his day. If he had quidditch training or was awake all night then he‘d be tired after it but otherwise he‘d kind of get his energy from fucking you

you do not have to agree on that – remeber he‘s fictional and that‘s MY opinion 🫶🏻

here‘s my masterlist If you wanna read more <3

taglist: @justarandomcanadiantransdude @sofa-couch26 @helendeath @thatonepansexual2000 @imabee-oralizard @supernaturaldawning @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @jeannie-beannie @belle-blue @izriddle @kr-1-sta @sagetakami

xoxo sarah <3

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes. 

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

*** 

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you. 

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass.  “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. “Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic. 

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it. 

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out. 

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago. 

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost. 

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to. 

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.” 

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay. 

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you. 

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment. 

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?” 

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?” 

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?” 

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

hiii omg istg your modern jace works have been living in my mind RENT FREE THEY'RE SO DAMN GOOD but like a modern college jace bringing reader to meet rhaenyra and his brothers for the first time would be soooo cute, like i feel like joffery would LOVE that his big bro had a gf and would like pull her to colour with him and do stuff like that and rhaenyra would love her like a daughter, luke would LOVE embarrassing himm <3

Season 2 is premiering right now, but I have to wait until 10pm to watch since I don't have access to HBO Max... Please come to my ask and send me requests/let's talk about the new episode!! I will be opening them after I watch and giving my thoughts on the episode every weeks 🐉⚔️🖤

Thank you  so much for the love for modern!Jace. I really enjoy writing about him. This one was challenging to write as there was a lot of people to write about. I hope you like it!!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Jacaerys came home for Thanksgiving, he didn’t tell his family about you. You had only been dating for a couple of weeks and were still getting to know each other. It was too soon to announce that he had someone in his life. But a mother's instinct never fails to recognize the smile on her son’s face whenever he looks at his phone or the hushed phone call she had heard when she walked by Jace’s bedroom. 

Although she wanted to know everything about Jace’s new girlfriend, Rhaenyra respected her son’s privacy and let him tell her in his own time. That was until Luke spilled the beans after coming across a picture on social media where Jace was holding and kissing a girl’s cheek.  

In typical brothers behavior, Jace sent a lot of middle finger emojis to Luke for spilling to their mother. 

After a long phone call with her, a date was set. Joffrey’s birthday was coming up, so Rhaenyra saw it as a good opportunity to meet you. And Joffrey would love for his big brother to be there on his seventh birthday since he missed it last year. 

‘’Mom, we’re home!’’ Jace called as he opened the door of his childhood house, carrying small bags for your weekend stay. 

The sound of footsteps on the second floor filled the small entryway as Jace dropped the bags with a thud, making you jump. You took a deep breath, your nerves getting the best of you.

‘’It’s going to be fine. They’re gonna love you,’’ Jace reassured you, kissing your temple sweetly before an overexcited Joffrey came down the stairs. ‘’Here’s the birthday boy!’’ 

Joffrey hugged Jace, happy that he was home. It must not be easy for him to not see Jace everyday anymore. 

More footsteps came from the back of the house as Rhaenyra, with a blond toddler in her arms, came to greet you. Her warm smile was welcoming. You couldn't help but notice how Jace's features mirrored hers. Except for the hair and eyes. He must have gotten them from his father. 

‘’Hi. It’s lovely to meet you,’’ she said, her voice kind and genuine. ‘’I would give you a hug, but I’m worried Viserys is going to try to pull on your hair… He picked up this bad habit last week and we’re working on it.’’ 

You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. ‘’No worries, it’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Targaryen,’’ you replied, glancing at the curious toddler who was eyeing you with fascination. 

‘’Please, call me Rhaenyra.’’

Joffrey tugged at your and Jace’s sleeves, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘’Come, I want to show you my birthday cake. There’s a big dragon on it.’’ 

Rhaenyra was quick to correct the young boy, laughing dryly. ‘’There is no birthday cake in this house.’’ 

You chuckled politely, figuring out that Joffrey must have seen the cake by accident and Rhaenyra was trying to keep it a surprise. 

‘’Jace told me you have a massive dragon collection,’’ you said, driving the young boy’s attention to something else than the birthday cake. ‘’Is that true?’’ 

Joffrey grinned and began to tell you all about his dragons. He fetched some from the playing room and brought them over to show you on the couch, giving you all sorts of information about dragons. There was one of every color and size. Some had horns and a threatening stare, while others looked simply beautiful. 

While you were occupied with Joffrey, Jace went upstairs to drop your bags in his bedroom. When it came back, he watched the two of you from the corner, finding it sweet how quick Joffrey took a liking to you. He was usually shy around new people. 

‘’Where’s Luke and Aegon?’’ 

Rhaenyra set Viserys down on the floor so he could play with his blocks, and shook her head. ‘’I don’t know. Probably upstairs. Aegon is with Daemon in the backyard. Since we cleaned the old playset, he always wants to go outside.’’ 

Leaning over the banister, Jace called out to Luke.  ‘’Luke! Come here, you little shi—’’ 

‘’Language,’’ Rhaenyra scolded, her eyes pointing at Joffrey and Viserys. 

He apologized and you bit back a smile. He truly was a mama’s boy.

You didn’t meet Aegon and Daemon — Jace’s step father — until dinner. The latter looked intimidating, but he kindly smiled at you as you shook his hand. As he was helping his wife getting the food on the table, she gave him a subtle nod of approval, silently telling him that she liked you.

‘’I told you my mom would like you,’’ Jace said, pulling you with him in the hallway while the younger ones were being bathed and put to bed. His arms were around you, chasing your worries away.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension leave your body as you smiled up at him. ‘’Now I know where you got your kindness and charm from.’’ 

‘’You think I’m charming?’’ 

Rolling your eyes, you tried to get away, but Jace didn’t let you. 

‘’Joffrey is very fond of you too,’’ he continued, his eyes sparkling with amazement. ‘’I’ve never seen him so at ease with someone he doesn’t know.’’ 

‘’He gave me a full lesson about dragons. He is so sweet.’’ 

Hearing this made Jace happy. For him, family was very important, so it meant a lot to him that you were getting along with his family. 

His gaze softened, his eyes locking onto yours before leaning down to kiss you. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his zip-up hoodie, kissing him back until  a loud, exaggerated gagging sound broke through the moment. 

You both turned to see Luke standing at the end of the hallway, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. 

‘’Do you want to see Jace as a baby?’’ Luke asked with gleeful enthusiasm. ‘’He had chubby cheeks…like Theodore from Alvin and the Chipmunks.’’

Jace groaned in embarrassment and you chuckled, imagining baby Jace with chubby cheeks. ‘’I’d love to see those photos,’’ you teased, nudging Jace playfully.

But Luke wasn't done. ‘’Do you know why there is no school picture of him in fifth grade?’’ he continued, leaning against the wall, clearly relishing the moment. ‘’There was this guy at school who was bullying me and Jace decided to put his big brother pants on and take him on a fight. This guy was two inches taller than him and much bigger, so Jace lost and fell, which knocked his front tooth out the night before picture day at school.’’

You laughed, picturing a brave little Jace standing up for his brother. ‘’You’ve always been protective, I see,’’ you said, turning to Jace.  A small smile tugged at his lips. ‘’Okay. Luke, that’s enough,’’ Jace decided, taking you away from him before more embarrassing stories could come out of his brother’s mouth.

—

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[luveline]

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white. 

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?" 

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says. 

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?" 

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern. 

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through. 

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?" 

"Spencer!" 

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?" 

"I miss you so much." 

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?" 

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks. 

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!" 

"I can tell." 

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin. 

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation. 

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated. 

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic." 

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?" 

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too." 

"She's making toast or something." 

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas." 

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear." 

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache." 

"It makes me miss you," you whine. 

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?" 

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to." 

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's." 

"Exactly!" 

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of. 

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks. 

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great." 

[boyfhee]

ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼

﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.

꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy

꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light

꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^

001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL

sunghoon is spiralling again. 

a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it. 

but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.

for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister. 

back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait. 

if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.

sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you. 

‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.

however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks. 

“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away. 

“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.

“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”

he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”

“my phone died,”

“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”

“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”

and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”

“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”

sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.

he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?

and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?

sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.

he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”

“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,” 

sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night. 

it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two. 

“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts. 

“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”

“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”

and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips. 

he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.

it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension. 

“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer. 

“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”

sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms. 

002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY

sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.

“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee. 

he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”

he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.

“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips. 

“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”

your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”

“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”

“we’re not dating,”

“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”

“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”

he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you. 

“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”

“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”

you two just bask in silence after that.

he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing. 

“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”

those words ring in his mind for a good while. 

you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out. 

it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it. 

noh chaeun  4:15pm hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled are you up for some coffee?

sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.

you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke. 

that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys. 

it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh. 

sunghoon  4:21pm sure, i’ll pick you up in ten

“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful  for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”

“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.

sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out. 

“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”

“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”

“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”

“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.

“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”

and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.

he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.

what the heck?!

surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything. 

for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.

he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock. 

“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?” 

“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”

and his heart drops down to his stomach.

this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. ) 

you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”

“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice. 

he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay. 

jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones. 

but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you. 

in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep. 

it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.

003. A CHANGE OF STANCE

sunghoon thinks you’re hot.

what the fuck?

“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”

“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain. 

even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked. 

absolutely. completely. fucked.

nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,” 

you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”

“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,” 

“are you high?” 

well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course. 

“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.

“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.

“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.

a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed. 

a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck. 

“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck. 

now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.

“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down. 

but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot. 

he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.

it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.

a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.

“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”

“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”

and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”

“do you think he’s pretty?”

“of course,”

“do you think she’s hot?”

“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”

“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.

“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up. 

“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”

and…silence.

absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief. 

“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”

“she’s my roommate,”

“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.

“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.

“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”

he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”

“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”

and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.

perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.

sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.

you look miserable.

and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.

“let’s go inside,”

004. CANDLELIT 

“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”

“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,” 

it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries. 

on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”

“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.

“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”

“stop it!”

he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.

you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.

he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat. 

“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.

“are you cooking?”

he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?” 

you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.

you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room. 

sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.

“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”

he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered. 

“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.

“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”

“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.

sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light. 

you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow. 

“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.

it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”

you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his. 

it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips. 

he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”

and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently. 

it takes a passing second for you to realise what you’re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.

he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin. 

he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire. 

your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again. 

“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.

“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,” 

005. WHERE THE LINE FADES

when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness. 

he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.

the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.

“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”

actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.

“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”

you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room. 

you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—” 

“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”

and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.

it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.

“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”

you don’t even like the sound of that.

“yeah,”

you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”

and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.

or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.

there’s no sign of you.

it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.

but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.

which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.

he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response. 

he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”

“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch. 

it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out. 

it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question. 

“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply. 

“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”

“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.

you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands. 

sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it. 

and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips. 

“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”

“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”

“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”

there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of. 

you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you. 

he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed. 

“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”

and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it. 

“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.

you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him. 

“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.

of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”

˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things