#autumn leaves collab

[undefeatablesin]

Brings me immense joy to see the Classicvania renaissance happening lately. So much fresh love for the old games, their stories and characters pouring in and despite having moved on to the Souls fandoms myself, I just want to say how glad I am that more people are seeing the beauty of the classic CV games at last ✨️

[silly-shady]

May I see Harvest Leaves petting Cutesie?

Harvest Leaves: My friend~

Cutesie: Hehehe, aww~

[astraystayyh]

please fall before i fall

jeongin x reader. best friends to lovers. they think it's unrequited love so a bit of angst. but they're just idiots. happy ending :))

summary : 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

winter falls masterlist.

a.n. : i am very happy to finally post my first fic for the winter falls collab with my author xi hehehehhe i hope you'll enjoy this one <333 it's very light and fluffy she's the cute one!! oh and my song rec is i bet on losing dogs by mitski

One. 

Jeongin’s thumb hovers over your contact name, his rosy lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He hesitates for a few seconds before finally dialing your number. 

“What do you want?” you start which makes an incredulous snort escape his lips, a gust of powdery air materializing before his mouth from the cold. 

“How much do I have to pay you for you to come over?” 

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash,” you precise as he mouths along to what you say, already guessing what your next words would be. 

He's come to know you at an abhorrent speed these past few months; since you sat right next to him in your biology class, head buried in an oversized navy hoodie. Your perfume knocked into him like a gentle breeze— Sicilian lemon and white bouquet notes, nostalgic summer amid an unforgiven autumn. Memories of sticky fingers from molten ice cream and feet soles meeting the warm sand wafted in the air, alluring him to the kindness of a long-gone summer, you. 

That is why he talked to you at first, because you smelled nice, incredibly so. He tells you it's because he liked the pair of shoes you were wearing. 

“What if I brought you your favorite coffee?”

“Are you outside my dorm?” you squeal and he imagines you must be scrambling to get up, opening the curtains. He knows he's right as your figure materializes behind the window. “Hi,” you wave, a small giggle escaping your lips. He can't help the fond smile that draws upon his lips. 

He thinks he likes you a little. 

“Hey, please help me wrap my family’s gifts,” he pouts, waving the coffee in the air. Your order that he memorized by heart, not even meaning to, it was just natural for him to order you coffee every day, to remember your preferences as if they were his own. 

“Why are you here if we're going to your dorm anyways?” you laugh, leaning against the window. 

“Because I know I need to bribe you,” he sighs, angling his head to the side. “Are you not going to hang up and come downstairs? The coffee will grow cold.”

“I’m coming!”

An hour later, four gifts are resting beside Jeongin's figure, perfectly wrapped thanks to your skilled hands. He's lying on the warmed tiles, and you're right beside him, so close your knee brushes against his thigh now and then. 

He is keeping count, well, more so his heart, constricting in his lungs each time you touch. 

He's so aware of you, so much he's sure you’ve crawled into his skin, morphing him into nothing but a shell of you. 

Perhaps he likes you a lot. 

“You're an insane man. Who leaves gift wrapping to the last minute?”

“You're best friends with said insane man.” 

“Remind me how did that happen again?” you ask, propping your head on your elbow, and turning to the side to look at him. Jeongin has to pretend that the sight of you hovering over him doesn't affect him. That his eyes aren't drawn to your lips, heart dissolving at your feet, hoping to brush against your own. 

Please fall before I fall, he nearly pleads.

“Why are you so close,” he feigns disgust, pushing your face away with his pointer finger. 

“What? Does that fluster you?” you question, amused, bringing your face even closer to his. He scrambles away before a blush sprouts on his face, one he wouldn't be able to justify to your scrutinizing gaze. 

“As if. You're ugly,” his eyes squint, lips thinning into that particular smile he knows annoys you. He moves to the side swiftly, anticipating the shoe you throw at him.

“You're literally— remind me to never help you again, asshole.”

“I'm kidding. Thank you for today, seriously. I didn't know wrapping gifts could be this hard.” He falls back to the floor dramatically, banging his head against the tiles in the process.

“Well deserved,” you whisper. 

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you giggle, before gently massaging the spot where he has bumped his head. He purses his lips against one another, afraid of what words might escape the confines of his throat, vocal cords moving to the gentle rhythm of your touch. 

“Will you keep on being this clumsy, Innie? mm?” you muse, tone quieter. 

The nickname makes his insides churn, it is always so tender when it falls from your lips. No one has ever called him this softly before. No one has ever called his heart before you. 

He shouldn't be this clumsy with it. It is a fragile organ, akin to glass, easily breakable, so translucent— it'd be easy for anyone to peer inside and find you in it. 

“Yeah, I probably will.”

He'll stop liking you next year. He hopes. He'll try. 

Two.

Next year has come, familiar frigid winds pulling you to Jeongin’s heart, perhaps even more so than before, cementing your being into the nooks and crannies of his soul, perfectly so, as if it was destined for you alone to fill the emptiness inside him. 

Seasons have changed and yet summer remains, its essence stored safely within the notes of your perfume, it tickles his nose as you're seated on the countertop, legs swinging lazily while he scouts through his fridge. 

“Remind me why we're doing this again?”

“Because I made a bet with Yoon.”

“Your sixteen years old brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are in college.”

“I know.”

“Why are you taking it to heart?” 

“Because I have my pride,” he says solemnly, hand on his heart and you roll your eyes. 

“You literally begged at my feet fifteen minutes ago to help you.”

A year later, Jeongin stood beneath your window once again, phone brought up to his ear, hand hidden behind his back. You pick up on the first ring. 

“Look out the window,” he quickly says before you can even speak. 

“Hello, Y/n, how are you, Y/n, are you surviving with the cold—” you say sarcastically as you pull the curtains, the words dissolving in your tongue as he brings a single flower before him— you recognize its pink petals easily, Camellia, the rose of winter.

“I did not have time for coffee, but I plucked this off the sidewalk,” he offers, an amused grin on his face. “Help me bake cookies, pretty please, I'll be forever indebted to you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”

“This is such a poor rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I'm afraid Shakespeare is suffering in his grave right now.”

“Do you think he knows of every theater play that was done to his story?” Jeongin muses.

“That's a good question actually. I hope he didn't see mine,” you shudder before your face pales. 

“You did not tell me you ever did that!”

“I'll bake your cookies and you'll never bring this up again.”

“Deal. My Juliet,” he smirks and you throw a middle finger aggressively to his face before hanging up. He shouldn't find it as endearing as he does.

“Because, my dear Y/n, this is my holiday reputation at stake. I kind of raised the bar last year with my gift wrapping.”

“You did?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and he sighs, taking out the butter before leaning against the fridge.

“We did. Which is exactly why I need your help again. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if Yoon wins,” he shudders and a giggle finally escapes your lips.

The kitchen warms up at the sight of your smile.

“It's cute when you need me once in a while,” you say nonchalantly, hopping off the counter and moving to wash your hands. Jeongin freezes in his place.

“I always need you though,” he confesses quickly, swallowing the words, hoping that this way you wouldn't be able to taste the sincerity coating them, sticky honey dripping from his tongue whenever it speaks of you.

“Good thing you'll always have me then,” you beam, your words hanging into the air, oxygen suddenly harder to inhale.

“Gross,” he fakes a shiver, as his heart drops in his chest, breaks, and twists at the weight your words carry.

He'll always have you, but not in the way he wants to, your eyes would never soften at the mere mention of his name, and you won't think that a season blooms into every room he is in. He has you, but just a fragment of you, not how you have him, as a whole, heart, body, and soul. 

He's already fallen, a terrible, terrible fall.

“Will you help me or just stare off into the distance?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. He smiles bashfully, rolling his sleeves and sidling by your side to mix in the eggs, one by one, per your instructions. 

It smells nice in the kitchen, the caramelized fragrance of browned butter, sweetened by the sugar dissolving into the warm liquid. Tentative sunlight streams through the window, and it falls perfectly on Jeongin's face, highlighting his sharp features. 

Not that jeongin needs any additional light, he reminds you of spring, a flower blooming on his face each time he smiles, his dimples two youthful fountains the roots strive from, brightening his face even more. 

He tentatively glances at you as he adds the chocolate chips to the mix, only to find you staring forward. He misses the fond look on your face by a few seconds, the tinting of your features with soft hues of pink, of spring, of him. He always misses it, always misses you. 

Three.

"I can't believe you have 37 pairs of shoes but not one nice shirt.”

“It's 36, please count correctly,” Jeongin retaliates and you snort, flopping around in bed till you land on your stomach, chin propped up by your hand. Jeongin is still rummaging through his closet, head almost disappearing into the dark void of his wardrobe. 

“What do you need this for anyway?” you question, as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Jeongin’s eerie silence causes you to look up. 

“Um. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh.” 

His words hang over the room like a heavy cloak soaked with rain, the oxygen sucked out of your lungs and ensnared within that singular gasp.

Jeongin swiftly turns around, before kneeling beside the bed, eyes brimming with a hopeless search— you are too focused on steadying your breathing to notice.

“Should I go?”

“I mean… Why are you asking me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't,” he speaks in an overflowing sincerity, as though he'd willingly surrender the reins of his life for you to guide, should you only dare to ask. 

A breath, a pause, and he adds, “In case you'll be lonely tonight.” Your hope deflates in an instant, akin to a birthday balloon tossed into the careless hands of children. 

Pity, that's what he feels for someone who hasn't had a date in a year while he went on ones regularly. Although they never transcended beyond that first meeting, always a first date, never a second. He says none of the people he meets are his type. 

“I have a date too.” It was the truth, Suhoo had told you to meet him at the ice rink. You said you'd think about it. You knew deep down that your answer would be no, solely because he isn't Jeongin.

Perhaps it is too late for him to fall for you.  

“Really?” 

“Yeah, with Suhoo, you know, the guy in our Economics class.”

“He's nice.”

“Mm.” 

Could you lose something you never had in the first place?

“You should wear Seungmin’s white shirt.” 

“Yeah. That's what I thought too.”

“And bring them flowers. The rose of winter, maybe.” 

You had preserved the plucked flower he gave you in a vase. The pink of the petals liquefying and bleeding into the blush on Jeongin’s cheeks once he noticed. 

“That one's just for you.” 

Four. 

You're alone on the ice rink, the frigid winds assail your form, fingers numb from winter's cruel grasp. Suhoo didn't come after all, perhaps he was offended by you calling him at the last minute to confirm your date.

The chill of disappointment is more biting than the frost— you want to melt off the ice, you want your spring. You want your Jeongin. 

But he isn't yours, perhaps he will never be. He is too sought after, too captivated by the fleeting chase of someone new to spare a glance at you. 

But in this instant, you need him. You need him to hold your hands in his larger, warmer ones and get you off the ice rink. You need the sight of his familiar dimples and blooming smile. 

So, you call him. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Are you that bored on your date?” He playfully taunts, and his voice becomes a gentle breeze that stirs the emotions you struggle to contain. Tears cascade down your cheeks in an achingly familiar path. 

“I-Innie,” you hiccup, and you’re instantly met with the sound of scraping chairs against the floor, the hastening cadence of footsteps hurrying out into the street. 

“Did he do something to you?” He speaks so coldly, a tone so foreign to the warmth of your Jeongin. He shouldn't be tainted with winter too. 

“He didn't come. Can you p-please pick me up?” 

“I will. I'm coming in a bit, okay?” 

He finds you rather quickly on the ice rink, a sore thumb unmoving between the gliding bodies. He skates over to you, almost falling twice in the process. 

“You're so clumsy,” you snort as he stands before you, sobs racking through your body once more at the sight of him.

You weren't mad at Suhoo. You were heartbroken over Jeongin.

“I'll beat him up for you. I'll tell Changbin to help me too,” he smiles, hands fidgeting as they land upon your cheeks, trying their best to wipe away your tears.

“Please don't cry. I hate seeing you cry, Y/n, I really can't bear it." The tears only fall harder at his words, as if he's stringing them forth with each touch of his.

“Did he do something to you?” an unknown voice startles you and you turn to your right to find a girl looking at you then at Jeongin, a frown etched on her eyebrows.

“No, I'm her friend I didn't-”

“I wasn't talking to you,” the girl cuts him off and you laugh despite you, as Jeongin’s jaw hangs open, before closing once more.

“It's not him, thank you so much though,” you smile gratefully and she nods, eyes wary as she glares at Jeongin one last time, before skating away.

“I can't believe that just happened,” He exhales, a breath tinged with bewilderment, before he delicately encircles a hand around your back. Gently, he guides your head to rest against the comforting refuge of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you mumble against his navy hoodie, the one he borrowed from you. You can still smell your perfume on him. 

“I'm comforting you.” 

“You don't like hugs.” 

“It's different when it comes to you.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tide of his warmth to envelop you like a cascade of spring petals.

“Where is your date?”

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you. I'm tired of looking for you in other people,” he quickly says and you peel yourself away from him, feeling as if his clothes were suddenly made of fire. 

“What?” you whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he repeats, each word drawn out, much slower this time, his hands cradling your face, tenderly, as though holding the sun between his delicate fingers. “I'm tired of pretending you're not my summer.”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” your voice wavers. 

“I mean it. I've always loved you. You complete me in ways I didn't know were possible, and I know you only see me as a friend but-”

Your lips press against his, a culmination of aching desires that have lingered for two years. Distant laughter echoes in the background, ice cream melting onto your fingers, a soft breeze ruffling your hair, flowers blooming under the soft caress of the sun— two seasons melting sweetly into the kiss.

“You're literally so blind,” you giggle against his lips, and his smile widens, your noses brushing against one another. “I love you too, idiot.”

“You love me?”

“You're my favorite season.” 

“Don't steal my lines.”

“Hey—” he kisses you this time, the winter is long forgotten. 

Was it ever a fall if you caught him in the end?

[cheolism]

✧ UNDER THE SKIN

✧ werewolf!choi seungcheol x reader ✧ synopsis: walking through the autumn forest you know you're not alone. there's a predator after you. but can you really be considered his prey if you're more than willing to be caught? ✧ wc is approx. 4.6k ✧ tags: supernatural au, smut, slight horror? prey-and-predator roleplay except your boyfriend is literally a werewolf. ✧ warnings: minors do not interact. feelings of being watched/stalked, being watched/stalked; prey-and-predator dynamics, mentions of being eaten; power dynamics, strength kink, overstimulation. one mention of breeding. consent !! sex without a condom, sex in the forest; multiple rounds n multiple positions. mean!seungcheol, possessive!cheol. pet names (baby, princess, babygirl) ✧ part of the svthub fall-ing for you collab!! make sure to check out the other works!!!!

the silence of the forest tries to convince you that you are completely alone. 

it was as if the entire wood was holding its breath. no breeze filtered through the leaves; no birds flew overhead. it was just you and the trees. 

it was completely still and you appeared to be alone. 

but you know you’re not. 

you wrap your flannel tighter around your body, the autumn air biting gently at your flesh. it wasn’t so cold that you found it intolerable, wasn’t so cold that you were searching for warmth. instead you sought comfort from your flannel, as if the fabric could shield you from whatever lurked in the forest. 

because you weren’t alone. 

you know that. you know that just as you know night would be falling in a few hours, just as you know that the full silver moon would soon begin creeping into the sky. 

you weren’t ignorant enough presume you would be lucky enough to escape the notice of whatever lurked in the depths of the forest. 

so you walk through the forest, looking up at the trees. their foliage was far prettier than the dull brown of the shrubbery. the trees boasted their beautiful colors, shades of vivid crimson and deep gold; there was an amber leaf on the ground larger than your hand, and you wishes that you had your phone so you could take a picture. 

instead you contine to walk. 

deeper and deeper you walk into the forest. it’s quiet except for your movements. even when you pass a brook, its cold waters rushing over smoothed stones, its song seems muted. 

maybe it was because you are all too aware that you were being watched. 

you can’t see your stalker. but you could feel them. you could feel the weight of their eyes on your body, could feel how the hairs at the back of your neck were rising. 

turning around only meant that you would be walking directly into their path. and so you continue onwards, deeper and deeper. 

you wish your boyfriend was here. 

seungcheol isn’t extraordinarily brave; he isn’t necessarily a hero. he didn’t push you in front of him when the two of you dared to go into haunted houses during halloween but he still rushed through them, his hand clamped tightly around yours as he tried to find an exit. 

he isn’t a physical fighter either. but there is something about seungcheol’s presence that humbled those around him. from his broad stature to his thick brows, seungcheols’a aura just said that he wasn’t someone to mess with. 

but you know him beneath that exterior. his cute pouts, his boyish laughter and charm. his devotion to you. that was who you wanted at your side right now, walking through the forest with that feeling of being watched never leaving. 

it would be nice to even hold his hand, you think. to feel his warm. even if you just linked your pinkie through his you would be all right. 

you pause beneath a maple tree. it is large, its leaves a gradient that shift from bright yellow to a fiery orange. 

a bird sings overhead. and you listen. it stops quickly, and you watch as it breaks from the treeline to fly away, abandoning you to whomever watched you walk through the forest. 

seungcheol wouldn’t abandon you. he would keep watch over you while you rested, would grab your hand and reassure you before leading you back through the forest. 

you continue on your way. 

eventually you come across a river. it is wide enough to where you don’t dare to swim and you know better than to think that you could wade across. fallen tree leaves float along, and you wish for a fleeting moment that you could be a leaf and just float away. 

but you weren’t a leaf. 

you follow the river alongside its muddy edge, walking quickly so your shoes won’t sink too far. there’s a bridge ahead, it’s black metal vivid against the beautiful and serene autumn scene. 

there is a gravel path that leads to the bridge. as soon as you step onto it, rocks shifting beneath your feet, you hear something. 

you can’t be sure of what it is. you couldn’t really make anything out, the noise quiet and muffled. but you know there’s something out there. 

you go still. 

you hear a bush rustling behind you, hidden, and that’s all you need to continue onward. you go onto the bridge, reaching for the cold railing. you slide your fingers along its surface as you walk, its frigidness biting at your fingers. 

you are halfway when you feel it. your entire body freezes, heart hammering so loudly in your chest that it almost sounds like thunder. you can’t move. you imagine this was what your ancestors felt like when they came upon a saber-tooth tiger or some other sort of apex predator. you imagine them frozen with horror; paralyzed with it. 

“look at me baby.”

as if his words were a commandment given by a god, you are powerless to do anything but obey. you turn on the bridge. 

and he’s standing there. 

he is stocky with broad shoulders and hips. his hair is a mop of black waves. you can’t make out his features, but you knew him and knew there was a smirk playing on his dark cherry lips, knew that his lips were twinkling underneath his thick brows. 

“you’ve walked awfully far, princess,” he says. he steps onto the bridge entirely. you watch him the way prey watches their hunters; fearful and observant. “don’t you think it’s time to stop? time to give in?”

for another horrifying moment you can’t speak. pure horror freezes your entire being. you were right, you had been followed, had been stalked through the forest. you wish you had been wrong. 

you knew him, knew the danger that lurked underneath his skin. 

your thigh twitched from being held so tightly for so long. you became alive again. 

you make a step back. he takes several more towards you, walking casually, uncaring of your fear. you can only move a little compared to his broad, relaxed steps. 

he continues to talk as he moves towards you. “i thought you would’ve given up by now, baby. would’ve turned back to the car before now.”

“you --” your voice breaks. “you’re -- you leave me alone.”

“aw,” he says, now close enough that you can see his grin. “it’s cute that you think you’ve got any authority here, princess.”

it’s horrible the way that his words electrify you. they send shocks of fear and something you refuse to name through your system; make your entire being alive with something other than fear. 

he looks up to the sky. you can’t help but follow his gaze. the sun was sinking, the light blue of the sky making way for sweet pinks and soft oranges. 

“the full moon is tonight.” he puts his hands into his coat pockets, looking back at you and still grinning. the two of you are still too far apart for you to make the fine details of him, such as his eyelashes but you swear you can see his canines; see hos abnormally long they were and how they glinted in the light. 

“the sun’s going down.” he keeps his gaze on you as he continues across the bridge, his footfalls striking fear further into your heart. “looks like we’ve missed supper, princess. but don’t worry. i think i see something temping in front of me . . . “

“and i just can’t wait to eat you up.”

his words seem to get you back into motion. you turn on him and begun to run to the other side of the bridge, footsteps loud, every fiber in your being screaming at you to get away. 

get away, get away, get away from him, get away from that wolf. 

you can hear him running after you. you need to go quick, need to go faster. 

“come on princess!” he shouts. you try to pick up speed. you need to go and go and go, needed to find your way back to your car. need to get in and lock the door and go far far away. 

the wolf was going to get you. and he was going to devour you. 

“stop running babe!” you leave the gravel path behind, breaking into the treeline and into the forest. “I’m gonna get you! running will just prolong it!”

the trees blend, and your breath becomes harsher. your heart hammers in your chest. 

you can’t keep running. you can’t hide either, not with his superior sense of smell due to his nature. 

you conclude that you will have to try and fight when you feel something grab you. you’re yanked back and you can feel arms wrap around you before the combined momentum of his body hitting yours makes you strike the ground. 

you don’t land on the ground but on him. for a moment you are breathless, hands clenching at his flannel as you fight for breath. he’s not out of breath at all, and his thick eyebrows are high on his face as he watches you. 

“told you i’d catch you,” he says, smug. his eyes flicker over your face, drinking you in. “now you’re mine, princess.”

you push back against him, trying to tear yourself out of his arm, thick arms. he lets you go for a moment, letting you think that you can get away. then his arms are wrapping back around you, pushing. 

he traps you against the ground. you can hear leaves crinkling underneath your body as you lash out against the man, trying to push his body away. but he’s sturdy, his thick thighs framing yours and his hands pressing against your shoulders and keeping you down. 

“come on, baby,” he says, thick lips pushed into a pout. “stop fighting me. i’ve got you.”

you nearly have your breath when he begins to lower his face to yours. you can’t help but look at him, take in his striking features. the set of his eyes, the sweet brown of them. his smirk and how his lips are slightly cracked. 

his breath ghosts over your face as he takes you in. his lips hover over your cheeks; your temple. his body is warm and heavy on you, to the point where you can no longer feel the bitter autumn air. 

he moves his hand to your face. he presses his palm against your cheek, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. he has you in the literal palm of his hand and you were helpless. all thoughts of fighting has left your system and you can’t help but bask in his presence now that he’s here. 

“see?” he is smirking. his thumb tugs at your mouth. his canines look awfully sharp. “all the fight’s left you, baby. you’re in my arms, where you belong.”

that sends the fight back into you. you wrinkle your face, hands releasing their grip on his flannel to push at him again. “fuck you!”

he laughs. “come on, princess. just a taste, babygirl. just a bite.”

he shifts on you, weight going to your thighs. he moves his face back to yours, lips skimming over the curve of your cheek and the line of your jaw. 

“just a bite,” he echoes. as soon as you feel his teeth against your skin you freeze, hand going back to his coat and twisting. 

it’s horrible, you think. horrible that you’re so eager for him. 

you tilt your head back, baring your neck. 

you can feel his smile against your throat. he bites at your neck weakly, without any real intent. you can’t help but whine. 

“see princess? you’re so eager for me, so willing.” his words send a flood of warmth through your body and you can feel it as they settle in your cunt, could feel the way your juices begin to wet your panties.

you whine something that sounds like a name. he exhales against your skin, one of his hands moving against your body. he moves his hand up underneath your shirt. you can’t help but jolt as your body is exposed to the chilled autumn air. 

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes. he presses his nose against your throat, breathing you in. his hands settles against your stomach, thumb swiping at your skin. “i’ll take good care of you, princess.”

it’s horrible, you think. your boyfriend is such a sweet man. he buys you more clothes and jewelry than you know what to do with, spoiling you relentlessly. he treats you as if you’re a princess. he loves you with every fiber of his being, loves your fiercely and treasures you more than any diamond. 

and here he is, body settled over yours. he stalked you through the forest, used his werewolf senses to track you down and make you feel like you were being hunted. he has you trapped beneath him, has you wishing so desperately he would just devour you. 

he was your kind, sweet boyfriend.

and here he is reminding you that underneath his skin he’s a predator. 

and you are his prey. 

seungcheol's hand moves further up your shirt as his mouth diligently works against your neck. he nibbles at your skin, alternating between biting gently and sucking. he's teasing you, you know; teasing you and making you nothing but putty beneath him.

"get off," you mumble, words quiet and body moving against him, trying to feel more and more of him. "leave me alone."

you can feel seungcheol grin against your skin. his fingers skim along the underside of your breast and through your bra, but you can feel the scrape of his nail against you. your mind focuses on the tingling sensation, and when he shifts on you again, his knee coming up and pressing against your cunt, you can't help but get truly desperate.

immediately you're flattening your cunt against his knee, rubbing against it through the layers of fabric.

he laughs at you. "see? i've barely even done anything to you and you're so desperate for me, princess. you could cum from just this, can't you?"

you shake your head in denial. seungcheol moves his hand over your breast, tracing your nipple through your bra. his begins sucking at your skin in favor, grinding his knee up against your cunt.

"cheol," you sob out, fingers grabbing at him. "need more."

"so much for pretending," he laughs. he pulls his face from your neck. "chasing you really got you all bothered, didn't it?"

"don't make fun of me!" you can't help but whine at him.

seungcheol chuckles again. he's grinning at you, eyes sparkling with affection. "what do you want to do? keep playing?"

you sniffle. "please."

his smile hardens into something more cunning. he takes out his hand from underneath your shirt, letting the cold air hit your stomach again. "hm? what's that, baby? want me to be the big bad wolf? want me to be mean and rough?"

you want it. horribly, you want it. the thought of your boyfriend, your big strong werewolf boyfriend, loosing himself.

"come on babygirl. use your words."

"please," you beg.

seungcheol laughs again. "fuck, princess. such a fucking slut, aren't you? so fucking desperate. you don't care what's going on as long as i'm fucking you."

"just want you," you agree. and you did. you wanted seungcheol so fucking much. wanted him, his strong hands pressing you against the forest floor, his fat cock fucking into your cunt. you wanted him in a way you never wanted anything else, a way completely foreign to except for when you were with choi seungcheol.

"cute." seungcheol moves off of you just enough so he could begin working at your pants. he pops the button of your jeans quickly, pulling your jeans off just as fast. you can't even despair at the cold air before he's moving his body back over yours.

"can't believe you ran from me." he pushes his knee back up to your cunt. now that your jeans were out of the way you could feel him better, could feel the scratch of his jeans against your cunt and through your panties better.

and it feels so fucking good. grinding your cunt down on his knee, using him. it sends sparks to your gut and cunt, and your hips move on their own, searching.

"ran from me and here you are, fucking yourself on my knee." seungcheol lowers his face back to yours, lips skimming over your cheek. he doesn't kiss you. normally his lips are constantly against yours, devouring your mouth. but he keeps his mouth away from yours, and it does something to your mind to know that your boyfriend, the man who would give you the world, won't give you this one thing.

"my hands are cold, baby," he says. seungcheol moves his hand back along your chest, letting his fingers skim over you. "guess i'll just have to use you to get warmed up."

you shake your head, trying to remember the plot. "nnn -- no -- pervert --"

but then you grab his hand and push it down. seungcheol slips his hand into your panties, finding your cunt and molding his hand against it naturally.

"fuck, princess," he sighs, lashes fluttering. "cunt's so fucking warm. gonna feel so good milking my cock."

your cunt tightens at his words, wishing it was his cock. he grins, mouth to your neck. he mouths at your neck, kissing sloppily while his hand slowly moves at your pussy.

he works his hand against you, fingers slow. he draws his fingers against your cunt and clit over and over and over, playing your pussy through your panties languidly; as if you were in the comfort of your bed and not on the forest floor, bodies surrounded by fallen autumn leaves.

seungcheol works you to orgasm slowly. satisfaction escapes you -- you want more. you want him fucking you, want him rough against you.

but seungcheol refuses. he bites and licks at your neck, marking you. he maneuvers his fingers so his thumb is pressing flat against your clit through the fabric of your underwear. he focuses on your clit, dragging his thumb over it.

and you hate it.

his hand at your cunt has you whining, hips bucking up and begging for more. your panties are soaked through, warm from the heat of your pussy. you can't feel him the way you want to, can't feel all of him the way you so desperately need.

"need," you rasp out. one of your hands moves to the forest ground beside you, grabbing. leaves crinkle in your grasp. "more, please. more, need more, cheol."

seungcheol removes his hand from your cunt. you whine high at the back of your throat. you wanted more, didn't want him to take his hand away completely.

"such a little slut for me," he laughs. he moves back, sitting. seungcheol grabs your panties in both hands and pulls. your underwear is ripped, and he tosses them aside. "all i had to do was get you beneath me, huh? just had to show some dominance and you're nothing but an eager little slut."

"not," you protest. his hands smooth over your thighs and then he's pushing them apart. "not a slut."

"no?" he moves his hand along your skin, fingernails dragging and sending sparks through you. "then what would you call it, princess? running from me only to give up as soon as i get my hands on you?"

"you're mean."

seungcheol raises a thick brow. he doesn't disagree. his hand finds your cunt naturally. two of his thick fingers hook into your pussy just as quickly, familiar with your body.

"i'm mean?" he slowly feeds his fingers into you, sliding them until you've taken their entire length. you can't help but let your eyes roll back, mouth parting in a wordless moan. his fingers were always so thick, stretching out your cunt and making it burn in the most delightful way.

"i'm mean and yet here i am, fucking your little cunt with my fingers on the forest floor."

"you're not," you argue, voice tight. "you're just sitting there. not moving them, just fucking using my -- my --"

he grins. "your what, princess?"

you refuse to say it, twisting your fingers against the leaves on either side of you. the autumn air bites at your skin but you can't care, can't care when seungcheol's body is framing you and his thick fingers are up your pussy.

"say it." with one hand in your cunt he uses the other to push back his hair, showing off how he has one eyebrow cocked. "gotta use your words, baby. or i'll just leave you here. make you walk all the way to your car with no panties, cunt wanting more."

you whine. "i -- cheol."

he hums, shifting. the movement has his fingers sliding, just slightly, in your pussy. it's just enough to remind you of how desperate you are.

"please," you beg, "please cheol. i want -- i want you to fuck me, want you to fuck -- fuck my pussy."

seungcheol laughs, and then he's pulling his fingers from your pussy. you don't have a chance to miss his fingers before he's shoving them back in. he isn't gentle, and he's fucking your cunt with his fingers the way he would use his cock.

the pain of being opened isn't pain so much as it is that pleasure-pain that you crave. the sort that you seek out after a long day. it's the sort that has you moaning and letting your legs fall all the way open, allowing seungcheol to move closer.

you could cum like this.

but then seungcheol moves his hand from your pussy entirely. you groan, hips still moving up in hopes of him sinking his hand back into your pussy. you want, you want and want and want and here he was, depriving you, turning you into this wanton creature.

seungcheol then works at his jeans and all the protests vanish. you watch hungrily as he discards his jeans and underwear.

his dick makes you drool as soon as you see it. thick and long and pretty. he wraps his hand around it, rubbing at the head. you can't help but watch, greedy, as a white pearl of cum begins to bead at its tip.

"want it?" he asks despite knowing you do. "should make you beg, shouldn't i? make you beg for my cock."

you open your mouth to do just that but then he's on you. seungcheol's large hands are on your body, moving you, manipulating you. he flips you onto your front, moving you to rest on your knees. you can feel him press his cock against your ass, and, like a slut, you push back against him, hoping he'd fuck into you.

seungcheol does. he fucks into your cunt, shoving his dick into your pussy and mounting you like an animal. as if you were both animals. he allows your pussy to adjust for just a moment, just long enough for you to grab at the ground and bury your face against the cold dirt.

and then seungcheol's fucking you. he rams his cock into your pussy, relentless. the angle due to the position has you drooling, has you biting your lips and moaning.

"take it," he commands, hands grabbing at your hips. he holds you still, making you take his cock. "running from me like you're not mine, like you're not mine to fuck. like your cunt isn't mine, princess, like you're warm little pussy isn't mine to fuck and breed and your body isn't mine."

and seungcheol fucks you like you're his. fucks you like you're his and nobody else's, like he owns you, owns you just to fuck you.

you could nearly cum like that.

but he doesn't let you.

because choi seungcheol looks like a cute, doting boyfriend. but underneath underneath that he's a mean, greedy wolf that wants.

seungcheol draws out of you, the slide of his dick making your toes curl. he manipulates you again, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting. he uses his strength to bring snap his dick into your pussy over and over, relentless in his search.

"fucking princess," he growls. and then his fingers are back to your cunt, sliding against your wet pussy and finding your clit. he matches his pace with how he rubs at your clit, and soon enough he's bringing an orgasm that comes crashing through your body.

he doesn't stop there of course. seungcheol continues fucking you. he rams into your pussy, shoving his fat dick into your warm pussy.

"mine," he says, voice low in the back of his throat. seungcheol ducks his head, pushing you back to the ground and covering your body with his. you can see his canines, long and white, glinting; can see the ring of golden that had begun to grow around his pupils.

"yours," you agree.

you quickly become oversensitive. each thrust in and out has you whining, has you wiggling in his grasp. seungcheol doesn't care. you don't protest and so he continues, fucking into you.

you orgasm again. seungcheol grins, teeth sharp. "that's it," he says. "milk my cock, pretty girl."

he's moving you again. you're light underneath his hands, his strength allowing him to move you however. he's moving you back onto your front, one arm looping around your middle to keep your ass pressed against him and his cock sheathed deep in your pussy.

but it's not satisfying. not to him.

and so he moves again. he pushes you, his hand between the blades of your back and keeping you still. each slap of his hips against you leaves a sting, but it's so delicious you can't, and don't want to, do anything other than take it.

in this new position he seems to find what he was searching for. seungcheol growls, something that sounds more animal than human. he rams into you, cock striking your core with each thrust, harsh and strong and rough.

you know you're making loud, obnoxious whines. but you can't stop. not when he's fucking you like he wants to breed you, when he's fucking you like this.

"fuckin' running from me," he hisses, "running like you're not mine. i've got you, princess. fucking got you."

when seungcheol cums he's filling you to the brim. he's painting the inside of you white with his spunk, marking you. when he pulls out he's still hard, and he takes himself in hand. seungcheol fucks into his fist as he looks at you, eyes roaming over your body as you lay against the forest floor.

when he spills again it's on your bare ass, marking you on the outside. you don't think he'll ever stop cumming. eventually, however, he does.

seungcheol drapes himself over you, ignoring the mess. he pants into your ear, arms wrapping around your body and holding you.

you don't know how long the two of you lay on the ground. the front of your body, the part pressed against the dirt, is cold. everywhere seungcheol touches is warm, and when he finally goes to pull away you whine, not wanting to loose his touch.

in the end seungcheol carries you back to the car. he holds you like you weigh nothing. you can see the gold begin to eclipse the brown of his eyes, and when he speaks its in a rasp.

he tucks you into the car, pulling the blankets around your body. seungcheol presses kisses to your face, lingering, not wanting to leave.

when he finally does move from you he's at the edge of transformation. he can barely speak, sweat beginning to dot his hairline.

but seungcheol darts forward for one more kiss despite this, clingy and wanting. because despite the werewolf exterior, despite the fact that he is, by all appearances he is a monster, seungcheol, under his skin, yours.

[silly-shady]

Sorry for the late response!

Honestly, I think any of those ideas would work. Traveling to the Internet might be more convenient for Autumn, but I also wouldn't mind letting Neko/Nala/Clara give the fusion a more authentic feel for the world either. I will probably figure it out whenever I get to it

@tessathegamefreak @silly-shady

[cheollipop]

☂˚.⋆｡ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙨

navi | taglist | part of svthub's fall-ing collab

pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader

w.c.: 5.0k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, apple picking and pie baking and some sweet lovemaking <3

a lovers’ retreat—golden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven’s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.

☂ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, praise, edging, some begging, some cockwarming, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (f), nicknames (min; baby, babe, love), some aftercare, seokmin is so fucking whipped (so is reader), there's so much love talk in this, I hate myself.

☂ A/N: nobody come for my inconsistent pie recipe, I didn't use one (also idc if you don't knead the dough, i needed it to describe seokmin's bulging muscles tyvm). other than that, this fic means a lot to me and despite struggling for the most part, I really enjoyed writing it. happy reading! :]

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Slender fingers rounded the hanging fruit, examining for imperfections with eager eyes and the tip of a tongue held between pearly whites. The crisp air contrasted the solacing warmth of the morning sun under which you basked, strolling between green leaves and bright reds with a near-empty basket dangling at your side. You wanted him to work faster, to disregard whatever negligible bumps lay on the apples’ exterior, but you opted to remain silent, simply watching him from the sidelines while he carried on with his meticulous inspections.

Seokmin was spring. Smiles that could bring a barren land to life, vivid flora and singing birds fluttering around within the glimmers decorating his irises. But spring had long since ended, now treading deeper into the cooling weather of autumn, and yet, Seokmin still offered verve to everything he touched. Even as green turned to yellow then amber, and tanned skin rested beneath thick layers of cashmere and fleece, he still wore his spring smile—a reminder that the season of life will come again. He carried warmth wherever he went, and the biting chill attempting to penetrate thick layers of clothing stood no chance while his towering figure remained by your side.

You watched him throw the fallen end of his scarf over his shoulder, a woven cream he’d worn on your first date. Hoary yarn ends peeked out along its length, and you reminisced the store tag he’d forgotten to remove while he fiddled with his fingers and laughed anxiously before you all those years ago, so young and eager to impress. You’d mused over the giggles shaking his tense shoulders, the pretty pink painting his face and ears when you failed to rip it off in a discreet manner, and though the embarrassment was debilitating in the moment, the worry weighing down on Seokmin’s shoulders faded away as you laughed. It was well into winter when you’d walked alongside the river, steaming cups of hot chocolate resting between your palms—going cold before you had the chance to sip on them, only there to fight off the bleak midwinter breeze numbing your appendages. Young and dumb, you both were, walking by the river on a chilly day, but young and dumb brought upon you years of easy smiles and hearty laughs, unconditional love and unending happiness, all sprouting from sharing arbitrary details about yourselves with that same cream scarf draped around you both.

Dark locks now dyed the colour of changing leaves, the morning rays casting their golden hue over the wavy strands and reflecting off the specs perched over his nose bridge. Seokmin was a few inches taller now, and his shoulders broader, but the smile he wore, the sparkle in his eyes as he laid them on you were no different than those from that day by the river.

Chatter at your side dragged your attention off Seokmin’s profile and onto the family walking past you—two curious children and their parents inspecting the ripe fruit hanging before them. Scripts of late-night conversations you’d had with Seokmin flooded your mind, your face flushing and butterflies swarming your lower belly at the thought of starting a family with the man. Seokmin's fascination with learning how to braid your hair, his whispered comment—’for the future’—did not go unnoticed as he brushed gentle fingers through the stands he’d tangled in his attempts, a hint of a promise in his tone. He also promised to never leave them alone with Hoshi, which you appreciated. For obvious reasons. You were still young, and had much to experience together before taking a step that significant, but part of you was ready to offer Seokmin the world. A man who’d brought nothing bliss and warmth into your life, how could you not?

Turning your head back to the man in question, your eyebrows raised as you watched him eying the passing family alongside you, and you wondered whether the same thoughts were running through his head as well. But then his attention shifted back to you, and the amiable smile while he took you in told you everything you needed to know.

The curve of his lips persisted as he reached a hand to push the stray strands blown by the chilling breeze off your face, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his pointer and thumb before dropping them back to his side. A gentle gesture, but it lit your insides on fire, blinking quickly as you processed an action so natural to him, yet one that set you ablaze. Swallowing nervously, you redirected your gaze to the three apples resting over Seokmin’s palms as he presented the flawless, shiny Honeycrisps with a proud grin.

You giggled, “those look great, Min.”

“Only the best for you,” he leaned forward to plant a kiss onto the cheek he’d just pinched.

Flustered, you watched him throw the apples into the basket you held, his fingers brushing against yours as he swiftly pulled it out of your hand and carried on walking through the orchard. You might have missed a few additions to the small pile while you pondered about a lifetime by Seokmin’s side, and yes, the basket was significantly more weighed down now that he did. But it wasn’t that heavy.

You skipped a few steps to catch up with him, your bottom lip jutting out in protest. “Min. I can carry it myself.”

“Mm, I know,” he hummed, eyes trained on the novel batch of apples swinging gently at his eye level. “Don’t want you to, though.”

You pushed away the fondness warming your chest, capturing his coat’s sleeve between two fingers as you sulked at his side, his attention still set on those damn apples. He moved the basket to his other hand absentmindedly, allowing you more space to come closer to his side, his free arm wrapping around your waist, and head twisting to look over your moping features with tender adoration gracing his own. Leaning down, he pressed soft lips to your forehead, their warmth seeping into your skin and fluttering your eyelids shut.

Placing another one at your temple, playfulness mingled in his tone as he spoke, “Stop complaining, you’re not getting it back.”

And this time, all you could do was laugh.

The hours hurried by while Seokmin’s endless chatter kept you company, and perhaps you wish it hadn’t, wanting to treasure each passing second you shared in the presence of the man with the unwavering smile. You walked between the endless trees with leisure steps, the fingers entangled with yours occasionally dragging you with them to inspect the gradient of red and green. Some apples made the cut, thrown into the pile of spotless fruit he’d gathered over the past few hours, while others remained swaying with the gentle breeze, bruised exterior reflecting the golden rays.

A particular shade of green caught Seokmin’s eye, leaving your hand behind at your side to wrap slender fingers around the glossy circumference, rotating it gently to inspect it, going as far as leaning forward to get a closer look. Nodding to himself, he snapped its stem off and placed the weighted basket down, wrapping the apple in his cream scarf to give it a good wipe. You felt yourself salivate at the satisfying crunch sounding as Seokmin’s teeth breached the unblemished skin, and you watched the pucker of his lips as he chewed with wide, expecting eyes. A breathy chuckle contained within tightly pursed lips echoed in the back of his throat upon viewing the anticipation etched into your expression, and he moved the unbitten side towards your already-parted lips. Too focused on the apple nearing your waiting mouth, you’d missed the sly smile, the giggle he’d nearly failed at suppressing, and bit into the polished green.

A stream of its juice slipped past to flow down your chin, bitterness overwhelming your tastebuds and forcing your eyes firmly shut. A shiver ran down your spine as you struggled to chew on the unripe fruit, tears prickling in your eyes as you willed them open to glare at the man before you, hints of guilt mixed in with amusement on his face. Underneath all the kind smiles and caring gestures, Seokmin loved being an asshole.

He’d watched you persist and push through finishing the bite, too many people around now to spit it out. He even leaned forward to kiss away the tangy juice cooling over your skin, scrunching his nose at the sourness he’d willingly stolen another taste of. At least he was aware enough to take a step back once you’d swallowed the unpleasant bite down, what you thought was fear flashing across his features.

“Hey,” he put his hand up in defence before you could speak, “we share everything, right?” He took another step backward while giggling anxiously, and he nearly tripped over the apple-full basket he had resting over the soft grass. “Why should I make an exception for fruit?”

“Bad fruit,” you corrected, an eyebrow raised.

“Babe,” he started, but didn’t know how to continue, perhaps hoping the sparkling brown of his irises would do the trick.

And it almost did, you admit. But the bitterness lingered over your tongue, and Seokmin found himself scurrying away and out of the fire zone of the incoming apples you’d launched at him, laughing while you entertained the couples and children harvesting their own fruit with your lively act of revenge.

--

You smoothed your hands down the fresh set of clothes you’d thrown on, the fleece warm against your skin. The ligneous scent of your rented cabin added to its coziness, gentle winds blowing against closed windows and floorboards creaking with every socked footstep guiding you to the small kitchen.

Said footsteps quickened upon spotting bright green reflecting off the sharp metal of the very large knife in Seokmin’s hand, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on dividing the apple into even crescents. The hurried shuffling drew his attention, twisting his head just as you reached for the sharp tool, gently untangling his fingers off its handle to set it down over the cutting board alongside the botched fruit.

“Baby?” Tilting his head to the side, he stared at you in confusion.

You held both his hands in yours, flat over your palms as you inspected the tanned skin. Running your thumbs over polished nailbeds, you followed the protruding veins lining his slender fingers, all the way down each knuckle until you’d made sure he was unharmed. You enclosed his fingers within your palm, bringing them up to press your lips against, finding his pointer to plant an especially tender kiss over the scar stretching across its side.

“I was being careful,” he spoke through a melodramatic pout.

You smiled. “I know you were, Min. But let me handle the chopping this time, okay?”

Averting his eyes to the side, pretending to focus on the yellowing trees past the windowpane, Seokmin nodded, his hands limp in your hold. You lowered them to his side to cradle his jaw, tilting his head down to meet your eyes once again and staring him down in hopes of breaking his composure, but Seokmin’s pout persisted. And so the kisses began, soft and delicate over his cheekbones, forcing his eyes shut as you trailed your lips over the trembling skin. Leaning your head back, you watched his evident struggle against a betraying smile, finally curling the corners of his mouth when you’d dragged his head down with a forceful kiss to his cheek, the skin stretching under your lips while you kept them pressed there for a few more seconds. You moved away with an audible smack, Seokmin’s pout nowhere to be seen as he stared down at you with an uncontainable smile.

“Why don’t you make the dough instead?”

You picked up where Seokmin left off—half an apple chopped sloppily, which you ended up munching on while you worked—going through the washed apples to pick out the greenest, cutting them into even pieces and throwing them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar. You remembered the nutmeg later on, after the frustrated noise at your side caught your attention, confusion raising your eyebrow when you’d noticed the powdery dough Seokmin was working with. He’d forgotten the eggs.  The embarrassment on his face was adorable, rose-tinted cheeks and restrained smile while watching you crack an egg into the crumbly mess he’d been working on for a shameful amount of time. A quick kiss to his jaw and a whispered ‘it’s okay, Min’ seemed to do the trick, though.

Tossing the last of the apples into the seasoning bowl, you sprinkled nutmeg over the shimmering crescents before grabbing a clean spoon from the dishrack, the spices’ aroma wafting in the air around you as you mixed them in with the fruit. Glancing over at Seokmin, you realised he’d begun kneading the dough, flour dusted over the marble counter as he rolled the raw crust in on itself, and as you took in the hard muscle bulging against the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers unconsciously loosened around the spoon you held. Your eyes wandered over flexing biceps and defined, broad shoulders, veins protruding from tan skin as he worked the dough under his palm. Bottom lip tucked between a set of pearly whites, his eyebrows furrowed occasionally while the ball gradually smoothened in his hands, growing less crumbly and eventually forming a near-perfect sphere.

Absentmindedly tumbling the apples with a limp grip around the spoon, you followed Seokmin’s movements, lower belly fluttering with every faint, airy grunt sounding in the back of his throat as he worked the dough.  Your thoughts strayed as you eyed the distracting flex of his muscles—the smile he wore, so sweet and tender, contrasted broad shoulders and the strength to manhandle you without much thought. You were almost certain Seokmin had no awareness of the fact, going about what he was doing without much regard to the blushing mess he’d left behind, the butterflies violently thrashing around within your stomach. The sparkling orbs with which he gazed at you, with charming innocence, oblivious to the effect he had on you. Perhaps that was for the best; you weren’t sure you’d want to find out what would become of him should he learn of the hidden power he’d been holding this entire time.

Sudden eye contact dragged you out of your daydreams when the man before you turned in your direction, the smooth doughball resting over his palm, and a proud smile on his lips. You held back the one threatening to break out on yours when you’d spotted the white dusting the pointy tip of his nose, some lightly powdering his cheeks as well. Instead, your chest warmed at his wordless flaunting as he slowly moved the undented dough towards you, sparkling eyes fishing for praise. And sure, you basically made the dough for him, and yes, all he did was mix the ingredients together with firm, hard-earned muscle, but the slight falter in his smile the longer you remained silent was enough to sway you.

“It looks great, Min!” You stepped closer, inspecting the roundness with wide eyes for a few seconds before straightening up to meet his eyes, “I’m proud of you, my love.”

Though a simple gesture, Seokmin’s face lit up, all but hurling the dough onto the counter to pull you into his arms, grinning into your shoulder while he squeezed your laughing frame closer to his chest. His arms still around you, he pulled away slightly, stars dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you gleefully, smiling against your lips as you got onto your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. But that didn’t satisfy Seokmin, his arm wrapping across your back to pull you back into him, locking his lips with yours once again, this time with hunger and hints of desire laced into the action. He kissed you once, twice, until he’d had a taste and realized he’d never have enough, needing sweetness and plush lips to forever bless his senses. While you held on to his biceps for balance, Seokmin was everywhere—hands up your back, over your arms and waist, and suddenly he was kissing you harder, deeper, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and teeth digging into it with a fervent want that sent waves of heat soaring through your body.

Pulling away for air, your chests heaved in unison, flush against one another as Seokmin peered down at you with hooded eyes, a spark of lust igniting the dark irises. And suddenly you were back in the present, the forgotten apples browning in their bowl, and the dough witnessing the heated exchange from its place on the counter.

“T-the pie!” you quickly diverted, pushing Seokmin away to shift your focus back to the task at hand, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. “Can you preheat the oven please?”

An amused laugh sounded behind you at the shakiness of your voice, “yes, boss.” Just as you were about to sigh in relief, you heard him take a step towards you, his chest bumping into your shoulder and a gentle whisper blowing against the shell of your ear. “You have flour all over your face, by the way.”

And your pants, you thought, as his palm landed a playful slap onto your ass before he made his way to the other side of the kitchen.

The heat coursing through you dwindled as you fixated on the unfinished pie, save for those resulting from the not-so-hidden glances you’d stolen of Seokmin’s defined biceps as he moved the rolling pin over the dough. It was smooth sailing after that, though, missing the heart eyes directed at you as you spooned the filling into the rolled-out crust, perfectly fitted into the baking mould. You attempted to control your expressions as Seokmin tried and failed to cut straight lines out of the leftover dough, begrudgingly allowing him to place the uneven lattice in a questionable pattern, the chipper smile stretching his lips while he worked more than enough to excuse an ugly pie.

Carrying the raw pie over his head like Simba, Seokmin made his way to the oven. You held the door open for him, eyes following the baking mould as he transferred it onto the rack, gasping when his finger met the scorching metal. He placed the pie down and pretended nothing happened, ignoring the forming mark on his knuckle as he swung the oven door shut. And despite the whining and attempts of reassurance, you dragged Seokmin to the sink and ran cold water over his hand, once again kissing his pout away while you stood with barely any space separating your bodies.

His free hand slid across the small of your back, his other leaving its place under the running water to shut it off, wiping the droplets over his sweats before holding onto your hip. Leaning down, he met your lips once more, then again, until short pecks deepened, and a sharp nose nuzzled into the side of yours as he pulled you further into his body.

You pulled away with a gasp, startling Seokmin away from your lips, “the sweet potatoes!”

The initial shock replaced by softening eyes and a breathy laugh, Seokmin squeezed your waist once before releasing you. He stood to the side while you wrapped foil around the sangria exterior, offering to put them in the oven for you, but backing down at the disapproving glare you threw at him. Perhaps Seokmin had unintentionally caused a case of Pavlovian conditioning, one you remained unaware of, because the very second his bottom lip jutted out, yours were pressing consoling kisses over its plushness. Sometimes it took a few tries, but that’s only because you enjoyed watching the man—broad shoulders and all—sulk and whine when he didn’t get his way, only to lighten up and grin once your lips met his. It’s unclear who the winner was in this game, both parties working with a motive and ending with a satisfying result. Peculiar, really.

You settled down on the creaky floorboards across from the oven, your back to Seokmin’s chest and his thighs on either side of yours. His arms rested comfortably around your waist, hands limp at your hips, occasionally squeezing at the clothed flesh. Watching the pie crust brown through the glass, you basked in the cosy aroma circulating the cabin, the heat emanating from Seokmin’s body gentler and more comforting than that caramelising the sugar drizzled over the wonky lattice. Delicate fingers smoothed down your hair, and a silky voice lulled you to a tranquil state of comfort, strong arms holding you within the aura of warmth until a sharp click sounded, with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and caramel to guide you out of slumber’s enticing grip, and back to toothy smiles and a cordial embrace.

--

The night’s breeze was crisp against slick skin, the warmth encased within the confines of the thick blankets now infiltrated through a window forgotten open. Seokmin noticed the raised goosebumps over your arms, and lowered his body until your chests laid flush, his forearms on either side of your head keeping his weight off your form.

“Cold?” he asked, lips pressing against your jaw and up to your cheekbone, over the frosty tip of your nose.

You shook your head, “not anymore,” and wrapped your arms around the soft skin of his waist.

Seokmin smiled, gentle features illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the cracked-open blinds—a cool-toned hue casting shadows over his face, moving as he pressed his pelvis closer to yours with an exhaled moan. Moving his weight over to one arm, he slid the other down to your core, splaying his palm out over your lower belly to thumb at your clit.

He’d been teasing you for so long—his cock filling you up the way you wanted, but only barely teasing your g-spot, refusing to move despite your repetitive whines; instead, he occasionally reached two slender fingers between your legs to relieve some of the arousal burning underneath your skin. This time, though, you’d reached your limit, clenching around him as a sudden high rushed through you, shaking your body within his hold.

Despite a day’s worth of lingering touches and heated kisses, a hand placed a little too low on your back, and eyes lit with unconcealed glints of want, the patience Seokmin exhibited as he guided you through your orgasm was not surprising. He’d always enjoyed giving—curling his fingers just right to take in the elegant arch of your back, your sweet taste on his tongue while he nuzzled his nose into your soaked pussy. But most of all, Seokmin savoured the tight squeeze around his cock as he fucked you through an orgasm, his breath heavy and eyes lidded with the pleasure your walls lavished upon him.

Slowly fading back into the present, you peered up at the man atop you, the column of his throat stretched as he took in the violent fluttering of your walls. But you wanted more, pent up and restless with his scent, his warm touch, occupying your every sense. And he still won’t move.

You rolled your hips experimentally, a startled hand rushing to stop you, fingers digging into the flesh to stifle the motion. “Please,” you whined, “Min, please move.”

Groaning at your tone, cock throbbing between your walls, “oh baby,” he breathed out, bumping his forehead with yours and allowing his eyelids to fall shut. “I’ve been thinking about having you like this all day. I wanna last for you, my love, ‘wanna make you feel so good.”

Arousal boiled in your lower belly, eyelashes fluttering and a shaky breath escaping your parted lips at the words whispered in the air between you. “Min-”

“Let me be good for you.”

A kiss to your temple and a few inhales were all it took Seokmin to regain his composure, his forehead still pressed to yours as he tugged you closer by the hips, languidly rolling his own into your heat. The leisure glide wasn’t much, but it sent a shiver through your body. It was as though Seokmin could read the wordless pleads sparkling in your eyes, pulling his face away just enough to adjust the angle before settling back down onto your body. Fingers tangled in your hair to keep your eyes on his, blinking in unison while you breathed the same air, gentle waves of pleasure drawing breathy moans out of the both of you, his cockhead brushing against your sweet spot every time he drove it inside your cunt.

Sliding a hand over his sweat-coated nape, you dragged Seokmin down to your lips, the sweetness of a pie forgotten outside enriching your tastebuds, the single remaining piece left over the picnic blanket alongside crumbled foil—the unintentionally discarded dessert serving as breakfast for the blackbirds to nip at when the morning came.

The hand lost in your hair found its way to your jaw, cradling your face while he devoured you, the kiss growing deeper the farther Seokmin sunk down the blazing pit of lust growing within him. His cock twitched erratically within you, pace picking up until the echo of skin-on-skin danced between the four walls, hips slamming against yours with fervour as his eagerness finally won over him. Unable to focus on anything but the mind-numbing heaviness of his cock pounding into you, your lips parted to release a staccato of ah’s, his own relentless as they peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your face.

“God, you’re perfect,” he grabbed your cheeks with the hand previously on your jaw, squishing them together to lay his lips onto the forced pout on yours, “all mine.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the repetitive abuse to your cunt, squelching obscenely every time Seokmin fucked his entire length inside. “All—hngh—all yours,” you repeated, exhaling a breath you’d been holding when sudden warmth spread through your abdomen.

“I—hah—‘m sorry,” he stuttered as his rhythm turned sloppy, shuddering when he finally came. Sheathing himself deep withing your heat, he fed ropes of translucent white into your womb while attempting to keep his eyes on you, long eyelashes fluttering while ecstasy flowed through his body.  “Felt so good, I couldn’t…” he paused to lower his head, interrupted by a string of airy moans as the last, weak spurts of cum emptied out of his twitching cock. “I couldn’t help it,” he muttered.

The reassurance died on your tongue when the sensitive cock drew out halfway, only to slam back into you as though the arms bracketing your head didn’t continue to tremble with the continuing effects of his orgasm. Lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, he lowered his hand back down to play with your cunt, dipping down to feel around your stretched hole and back up to circle your clit with the slick he’d collected, a silent promise of “I’ll be good” glimmering in his lidded eyes while he watched you fall apart under his touch.

And he was, so good.

You tumbled over the edge unexpectedly, cockhead pounding into your cunt while he rolled your clit underneath his fingertips until your features contorted gracefully, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you shut them and tilted your head back to welcome a stupefying orgasm. You tensed for a moment, then began spasming uncontrollably in his arms, hips simultaneously jerking towards and away from his touch as he guided you through your high, languidly gliding his cock along your dripping, clenching walls, both hands now gripping the soft flesh of your hips.

And when the stimulation sent pangs of pain up your body, a whispered repetition of his name paired with limp tugs at his wrist finally broke Seokmin away from you and the bewitching melody he drew out of the perfect circle shaping your mouth. He slid his softening cock out of your heat to allow thick dollops of pearly cum to stream out of your pussy, watching as your hole clenched uselessly until your abashed whine dragged him out of his thoughts.

You found yourself tucked in under layers of thick blankets while running water sounded in the bathroom, bare feet padding over the floorboards until Seokmin—with his boxers on backwards—reached under the covers to blindly drag a warm washcloth over your skin, hoping it would catch all the sweat and cum without having to expose you to the chill air. You drew your lips into a straight line to avoid laughing at the concentration furrowing his eyebrows, cheeks flushing as he washed your middle. Any other day, Seokmin would make a big deal of cleaning you up properly, but you could see the hair on his arms raising, the autumn night’s chill piercing through his skin.

He didn’t even bother with returning the rag to its place, tossing it over his shoulder to dive under the cosy blankets with you, limbs tangling as soon as he made it there—arms circling your tired frame and legs pushing between and over yours. The momentary frigidity dissipating, his body heat seeped into your very being, and you inhaled the fresh scent of laundry mixed in with remaining hints of his cologne. Nuzzling the pointy tip of his nose into your hair, he planted a kiss onto your crown, the gesture faint as his steady heartbeat lulled you to much-needed slumber, the serene trip to dreamland occupied with solacing thoughts about a forever home within Seokmin’s tender embrace.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[crownedinmarigolds]

We have entered the month of August, which means Autumn is steadfast approaching! The Gangrel are roving out to perhaps watch the leaves change, enjoy the nights as they begin to grow long, feel the spirits in the air.... whatever gets them going! Trixie - business operator/mother wolf/bodyguard of the Wolves Den strip club - is smiling with her friend Damaris - your classic adventurer scholar who may have his hands on too many ancient artifacts.

If you'd like! I'd love for everyone to try and drop their Gangrel here, let's make a new pack!! :D Like the other collaborations, I will take all submissions at the end and smush them all into one final collab piece - the deadline will be September 6th!! (A Friday!) I tried to answer how to submit here in case you were curious! (For reference, Damaris is 5'10" and Trixie in heels is 6'3"!) IF YOU WANT TO DRAW AND FEEL LIKE YOU CANNOT DRAW DO NOT LISTEN TO THAT VOICE THAT IS THE DEVIL DECEIVING YOU! Please draw your OC next to them if you want to I would cry and love to see it!

[boundinparchment]

Autumnal Delights

Modern AU-esque. In which you and Sunday visit an apple orchard and create something delicious. Sunday/GN Reader, established relationship. Written for @owlespresso's Autumn Festival collab! On AO3 here. kudos, comments, and reblog are appreciated

The air was crisp and fresh, a reprieve from the oppressive summer heat that carried the slightest sweetness.  Dirt crunched under foot as you stepped off the line of people, two paid bags in your hand.  Sunday hung back from the clusters of people, instead taking a picture of the orchard map and stepping away to research the variations listed on it.

The first attempt at this had gone rather poorly.  That day, it was muddy and the harvest wasn’t that good.  Most of the remaining selections were picked clean and he’d torn a sleeve reaching to prevent you from falling.  He couldn’t fathom why people willingly picked their own fruit when it meant such an ordeal.

And so you planned better.  Made sure the weather was ideal.  You arrived as early as you could.  He was still a little uneasy but prepared.  More rugged but still stylish shoes joined a light modern jacket and while he still wore slacks, they were more durable than his suit pants.  You could tell by his wings that he felt at ease, and when he cast a warm smile as you approached, you saw a fraction of a flutter skin his cheeks.

“We’re all set,” you said, holding up the plastic bags.  “We can pick as many as we can fit.  Where should we start?”

Sunday assessed the map again, this time marking up the photo, drawing a loop around certain patches that ended at the entrance.  He showed you the result.

“This allows us to hit every grove that has the types you need—Granny Smith, Golden Delicious, and Honeycrisp—while also providing the most variety and enjoying the entire area,” he explained.

He pointed to particular groves along the way.

“I, for one, would love to try this…Keepsake variety,” Sunday said, making a note.  “It is apparently sweet and aromatic.”

You stifled a laugh as you looked over the grove listings.  “Sounds a bit Ludacrisp if you ask me.”

Your companion shook his head and shot you an enigmatic smile before you began to head towards a particular grove.  Sunday extended his arm and you took it, nestling your hand in the crook of his elbow as you surveyed the orchard, the trees absorbing much of the surrounding chatter.  The sky was clear and vibrant, a sharp contrast against the greenery.  Grass rustled as you walked and when you came to the grove with Granny Smiths, both of you began assessing the best options.

“Was there ever anything like this on Penacony?” you asked.  “Not apple picking, necessarily, but…did any dreamscape ever have its own seasons, ever emulate certain qualities from other planets?  The Charmony Festival is once in an Amber Era but…”

You plucked one apple, and then another, dropping them into one of the bags.  Sunday reached up above you and, after examination, pulled it from its perch with a snap, leaves shivering from the vibration.  It joined the others with a hiss of friction against the plastic.

“The Moments of Oasis and Scorchsand both have certain qualities that would allow for it, but considering they are still parts of a dream and one is asleep…it makes for a poor substitute compared to the feeling of the sun pouring down and the tickle of leaves or hearing genuine laughter and excitement,” he said.

Sunday’s words sat with you for a moment as you watched his eyes skim the tree, looking for a suitable candidate.  The morning sun glinted off of his halo and made his silver hair sparkle.  He was clearly trying to be present and cognizant of the moment, focused not only on being efficient but enjoying the day.

You moved on to the next section, looking for Golden Delicious next, every once in a while pausing and taking in a particular view or scent or sensation.  Along the way, you came across trees with irregular shaped apples, red coloration over yellow skin.  Sunday checked the map and paused, careful in his section.

“So these are Keepsakes…” he murmured.  “Quite vibrant.”

You held out the other bag, still empty, wordlessly offering your assistance.  Two bags made it easier to keep the apples you needed for baking separate from what you considered the edible options.

He picked three but paused with the third.  His hand hovered over the bag before it pulled it back, wings folding in careful consideration before he let the apple join the others.  

“I don’t know if I’ll enjoy them.  It seems quite wasteful to take up space if there’s another type you would like.” 

“The whole point is to try something new, not just get what we need for baking, Sunday.  Pick what you think you might want to eat,” you replied, adjusting the bag to lay a reassuring hand on his upper arm.  “Don’t hold back all because of a possible what-if that might not be the end result.”

Sunday leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.  You felt his words of gratitude against your skin more than you heard them as his wings grazed your cheeks.  You continued on until both bags were bursting; the smile on his face during the drive home was worth every aching bone in your feet.

The next day, you tied an apron around your waist and assessed the haul closely, ingredients laid out and recipe card nearby.  It was an old thing, a copy of a copy passed down over the years, boxed at the corners with a coffee ring marring an edge.  You knew it by heart by now.  But you wanted Sunday to have the full experience.

He was already neatly folding up his sleeves and pulling them up so they stayed without constant checking.  Much like yesterday, he was wearing clothes that wouldn’t need dry cleaning and could handle the inevitable mess.  You couldn’t help tracing the lines of his hands up into his forearms, shaped from his time adventuring on the Express.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sunday caught you watching him and his wings fluttered as pink crossed his cheeks.  You smiled and mouthed an apology, only for him to step behind you, hands on your waist as he nestled into your neck, feathers tickling.

“I am always flattered by your admiration, my beloved, but you shouldn’t allow yourself to be so easily distracted.”

With a peck to the curve of your neck, Sunday pulled away and plucked his own apron from the nearby rack, ready to start.

You washed the apples together before you began to peel them.  At first, you expected to have to show Sunday how to hold the small knife and angle it just below the surface; he surprised you, picking up both with practiced ease.  The skin came free in long, curling ribbons that were pushed aside to be baked separately.

“It wasn’t often but I used to do this for my sister,” Sunday said when he caught the curious tilt of your head.  “Peeled and cored, with the skin left to be given to the visiting birds and other creatures in the gardens.”

There was more to the simple tale, you sensed, but you remained quiet and waited until he finished an apple before pressing a clean hand to the space between his shoulder blades.  Chances were, like all things, he stopped not because he didn’t want to, but because of his growing duties as Family Head.  

He said nothing else but cast you a soft smile before you stepped away to take care of the dough.

Butter, flour, baking powder, salt, were whisked together as Sunday continued peeling, humming as he went.  You added ice-cold water to the dry mixture, mixing with a fork before you reached over and pre-heated the oven, the soft pop of the ignition barely audible underneath Sunday’s melody.  Often, he wasn’t aware he was doing it but had said that it was a reflex when he was content, relaxed enough to focus his thoughts elsewhere.  

You didn’t recognize the tune but swayed softly as you sprinkled flour across the counter and began to roll out the dough.  Your heart skipped as he continued, his humming only broken by the snick of the apple corer and slices dropping into the ceramic bowl nearby.  

With the dough tucked into the pie dish and pricked with a fork, you turned your attention back to Sunday, who was finishing the last apple.  All of them were uniform and perfectly peeled, the air smelling tangy and sweet.  Baking took a specific exactitude that seemed to fit him like a glove and he measured each ingredient out precisely as needed.  You, in turn, stirred the apples to coat them, pausing only so Sunday could add a liquid after each thorough mixing.  Lemon juice, and then water, and then flour for good measure.

“Wouldn’t that upset the flavor balance?” Sunday asked.

“It’ll keep the filling from being too runny,” you replied.  “Otherwise it can ruin the crust, too.  Can you pour this into the pie dish?  I have to start on the dough for the top latticing.”

You made quick work of the second batch of dough, and rolled and cut strips, showing Sunday how to weave them between one another.  Here, too, you watched his precision at work as he kept the strips equidistant, spacing them perfectly.  Even after the edge of the dish was finished, both of you were left with a sizable amount of dough.

“We could decorate it a bit,” you offered.  “There’s enough here for a braid around the edge, maybe?”

After a beat, Sunday said, “I have an idea.  If you’d permit me?”

As soon as you nodded, he was undoing the ties of your apron, shooing you from the kitchen.  Your face must have carried a look of concern, eyes darting to the oven, because Sunday only chuckled and wiped a stray dusting of flour from your cheek, smile steady.

 “The recipe is very exact about the rest of the baking process, don’t fret.  I’ll come get you when it’s finished.”

With no other choice, you retreated from the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon and cloves and apples and butter wafting through the entire living space.  The timer went off roughly an hour later and Sunday retrieved you after you heard the oven open and close, the corners of his lips quirked upwards, proud in his triumph.

He covered your hands with his eyes and led you back out into the kitchen, chuckling softly when you mentioned how thick the scent was.

“That was your handiwork, you picked the arrangement.  I merely measured,” Sunday said, the tip of his nose nuzzling the back of your head.  “Okay, you can look now.”

His warm hands pulled away and you gasped at the golden perfection.  The edge of the pie had a vine-like pattern and small flowers dotted the cross-sections.  Tiny leaves were placed along the edge, carefully shaped to look like some of the leaves you picked up and pressed earlier in the season, the first leaves to fall this year.

You turned around, beaming.  “It’s so pretty I don’t want to eat it!  You have to have the first bite when it’s cool, I insist.”

Sunday, instinctively, was about to protest and defer to you as he always did, thinking of the joy of others; he paused when you shook your head and his wings relaxed, his face turning pink again.  It brought him delight to see others partaking, you well knew, but why deprive himself of the same?  He, too, deserved to feel the excitement and joy of his hard work every once in a while, not just witness that of others.

A compromise was reached—a shared first piece—and you swore you knew no greater joy than his expression, eyes closed as he ruminated on every flavor, wings fluttering with exuberance.  Warmth spread through you as you took a bite, sugary spice running along your tongue with buttery crispness from the crust.

Next time, you reminded yourself silently, he had to try it with ice cream.

[sipsteainanxiety]

rotten to the core || bkg k.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 4k

mentions: no pronouns i blv, pro hero bkg, aged-up chars (24+), meet cute(?), slight fear of heights, bkg being a dick but what else is new, ur kinda used as a scapegoat for him, part of the meet fruit collab hosted by @willowser !! check out the other fics posted!! & ty to my friends who helped me brainstorm a title LOL (kissa u will!)

🍎 in which you get stuck in an apple tree... and have to get help from a certain pro-hero to get down 🍎

In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have taken your walk today. 

It was just—perfect weather, though. The first wink of sunshine that’d blessed the earth after a week of non stop rain. The air was cool and crisp with the gentle grip of Autumn, vibrant leaves colored in all shades of tangerine, burnt red, and daffodil yellow lining the trees and roads. You had to get out and stretch your legs after wallowing miserably at your window, confined to your little apartment for what felt like forever. 

Your skin basked happily in the soft caress of the sun as you walked down a bricked path through one of the parks in your neighborhood. It was a delight to venture through since it was nice and tranquil—able to leave you to your thoughts as you watched the way light filtered happily through the canopies above you. Occasionally you’d see another pedestrian walking in the distance, but they hardly ever bothered you. 

A sigh left your lips as you stretched your arm out and glanced at the watch on your wrist. You never brought your phone with you when you went on these little outings. You didn’t really need it, after all, and all the notifications you’d get would only serve as a distraction when you were supposed to be clearing your mind and enjoying the bumbling outside environment for once in your technology-infused life. 

It was just after three in the afternoon. Nice. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket and continued on. Maybe you could stop by one of the café’s on your block for a warm drink later. A motivating thought. 

As the path took you past a small, open field, you noticed a group of children loitering around one of the trees lining its perimeter. They were loud as they chattered and argued with each other, pointing up at the tree’s branches and making attempts to climb it to no avail. You’d fully intended to walk by, sparing them not much more than a curious glance, but one of the kids had spotted you and started loudly shouting and waving his arms. 

“Hey! You!” he called across the field, and you paused for a moment and looked around before pointing at yourself in confusion. Was he talking to you? “Yeah! C’mere!” Apparently he was. 

You slowly made your way over, wondering what the kid could possibly want with you. His friends all turned to look at you curiously as you approached. A few lingered at the base of the tree they’d been attempting to climb. Suddenly, you had a little audience and you weren’t quite sure what to do. 

“...Yes?” you eventually asked to break the silence. “What’s up?” 

“You’re tall,” the kid pointed out bluntly. You blinked down at him owlishly. To him maybe you were, but you weren’t going to say anything. “Can you get those apples for us?” He pointed up at the tree—your gaze following—and you realized they’d been attempting to pick the small, honey-crisp fruit that was way out of the reach of their tiny limbs. 

There was only one problem. “I can’t reach those either. They’re too high up,” you told him with a frown.  

He made a face at you, but before he could say anything, one of his friends piped up. “You can climb, can’t you? Please! We’re trying to fill this basket.” A weaved basket was held out in their arms, a few apples already rolling around in it. They all looked up at you in anticipation—nearly half a dozen little faces with hope glistening in their eyes. 

You hesitated. This was not what you had expected to be doing on your little walk.  “I dunno—” 

“Please! Pretty please!” You were almost immediately interrupted as they all started begging you at once, a chorus echoing in your eyes. A few small hands reached out to tug at the bottom of your jacket. You were frozen, the weight of their tiny expectations weighing heavily on your shoulders. “Please! With a cherry on top?” 

“Okay! Okay,” you acquiesced as you side-stepped towards the tree, your hands raised up as though in surrender. They were persistent, and you doubted they’d give up even if you’d said no. They all immediately started cheering as you trudged your way over to the apple tree, a grumble under your breath. This was fine. You would get them their apples and then continue on your path. Maybe you’ll get a drink and a pastry at that café later, you thought to yourself. 

You stopped at the base of the tree and eyed the trunk for a second. A quick glance behind you showed that the kids had followed you, surrounding your figure in a half circle as they eagerly waited. You didn’t know why they thought you would be able to climb the tree to get the fruit when they’d obviously been failing at it before, but you supposed that was them placing you—an adult—on a more capable pedestal than them—little kids. You sighed again and started the arduous task of climbing your way up to the first thick branch you could see. 

The tree’s bark was rough under the soft skin of your palms. Your feet braced themselves against the trunk as you used the strength of your legs to push yourself up. Your hands gripped onto the branch and you pulled yourself on top of it carefully, ensuring that it could hold your weight. It could. This branch—and the ones surrounding it—was bare of any apples, unfortunately, so you’d have to go higher. You huffed slightly as you stood on the branch—knees bent to help with your balance—and climbed your way to the next sturdy branch using the smaller ones around you.

It took you longer than you’d like to admit, but eventually you plopped yourself down on a higher branch and wiped the sweat from your forehead. You could hear the kids yelling encouragingly at you from below, telling you to Go higher! The good apples are higher! You rolled your eyes and looked around. They could make do with what you could get now.

It was kind of nice sitting in a tree. The leaves around you were mostly green, though you could see many of them starting to dip into a yellow color with the Autumn weather. There were a few ripe apples on a branch to your right that you could easily reach without having to move too much. You picked them easily and looked down so you could find the kid holding the weaved basket. 

“Catch!” you called as you dropped the apples one by one. There was a flurry of motion from all the kids as they scrambled to move the basket up to catch the fruit before it could hit the ground. They sounded delighted and a small smile lingered on your lips as you watched them. 

“More! More!” they chanted once you’d tossed down all the apples you could reach around you. Guess you really did need to go higher, then. Unfortunate. 

Up and up and up you went, adhering to the whims of the children who watched you safely from the grassy ground. You picked more apples and dropped them carefully to the earth. Until finally, finally, their basket was full to the brim. 

“Thanks stranger!” the original kid who’d caught your attention called up, his friends already rushing away as they giggled and laughed. He waved up at you, a bright smile on his face, and you thought to yourself that maybe helping them out had been worth it. “You’re the best!” And with that he ran off, hollering at his friends to wait for him. 

You watched him go, then sighed wearily. At least you’d gotten some sort of workout in. Already your arms were starting to ache from hoisting yourself up the tree. You stretched them out, then moved so you could start to lower yourself to the hand holder branch below you. 

The moment your foot placed weight on it, however, it let out a sharp snap! 

Something in your gut dropped. You yelped and scrambled back on top of the branch you’d been sitting on, your foot having met nothing but air. Your heart pounded a steady beat in your ears as you sat solidly on the branch and looked down. The branch had broken and the next one for you to put your weight on was too far away. Shit. You swallowed heavily and found yourself looking at the ground. It seemed… awfully far away. And now that you were staring—realizing just how high up in the tree you were—you noticed there was this odd feeling in your stomach that only got stronger the longer you looked. Your jaw tensed and you forced yourself to bring your gaze to the tree trunk in front of you as you slowly moved to straddle the branch. A better position in case you… fell. 

You took a moment to just calm yourself down. Damn it. Were you really stuck in a fucking apple tree? You chanced another look down and felt a bit lightheaded once more at the height. You guessed you were. You never should’ve taken that goddamn walk. You breathed in deeply, then exhaled it all in a loud sigh. No, no way you were going to be stuck here for who-knows-how-long. You needed to get it together and just climb down. Like a normal person. 

You peeked around you, looking for any other branches you could use to climb down. But there were none—none that were within reach, that is, or that could hold your weight long enough for you to get to the next sturdy branch. Fuck, had that one branch really been the only one? Just your luck. Climbing up a tree was one thing, but climbing down? It was terrifying. 

Maybe you could call someone for help? But no, you realized with a curse, that wouldn’t work. You didn’t have your fucking phone. You slapped a hand against your face in agony and mentally shook your fist at your past self. Well, you never would’ve expected something like this to happen, so maybe you should cut past-you some slack. Still, you think this is a sign to start bringing your phone with you on your walks, technology-cleansing be damned. 

You slumped forward and resigned yourself to being stuck until you could call out to a passerby for help. There was bound to be someone walking the paths through the park—even though it was a rather… lonely place. It was only the afternoon, though. You could wait. 

…

You were going to die up here.

Forget the café, you grumbled to yourself as you wearily held your head in your hands. An hour had gone by with no one in sight and you were slowly losing hope with each minute that ticked by. You were going to need a strong ass drink after this. 

You sighed and reached above you to pick one of the honey-crisp apples innocently hanging from a branch. At least you wouldn’t go hungry while waiting. You glared down at the apple, its skin gleaming slightly with the golden sunlight that winked at you from the West. This is all your fault, you thought unhappily. You huffed and bit into the apple, the juicy sweetness of its flesh flooding your mouth and dribbling down your chin. You hoped those kids were enjoying their basket of apples. 

Actually, it tasted rather good. Crisp and honeyed—fitting for its name. You reached up to grab another apple and stuffed it into the pocket of your jacket. Might as well take one home. At least you’d gain something out of this venture. 

A movement caught your eye. You looked up from the apple in your hand and immediately spotted someone making their way down the path you’d been on not so long ago. It was a kid, from what you could see, holding a ball in her hand that she bounced occasionally. Your heart seemed to soar in hope. You swallowed the bite of the apple down so quickly that you nearly choked and raspily called out to her as loudly as you could. “Hey! Kid with the ball!” Your voice almost seemed to echo across the little field. 

She paused and looked around curiously. You tried again. “Over here! By the trees!”

Once she’d turned in your general direction, you waved your hands and—after realizing she wasn’t looking up—shook the nearest branch to you so that the leaves would flutter around with a rustle. It worked. She slowly approached, clutching onto her ball, until she was standing at the base of the apple tree and looking right up at you. “...Whatcha doin’ up there, stranger?” 

“I got stuck,” you confessed to her, the hand not holding onto your half-eaten apple gripping tightly onto the branch you were sitting on. You dared to feel just the brief twinges of relief. “Listen to me. Can you go get help? Any help, really. The fire department, a hero, a construction man with a ladder. I can’t get down and I’ve been up here for hours.” 

The kid cocked her head at you and blinked, her weight shifting onto one leg like she was waiting impatiently at a bus stop. “And what’s in it for me if I do?” 

What the— Were all kids like this? You tried not to let exasperation bleed into your voice. “Don’t you wanna be a hero or something? Please help me.” You were not above begging. 

“I wanna be a doctor,” she told you smartly instead. Good, great. Could she hurry up and go already? You were starting to lose feeling in your legs. 

Your teeth gritted together, but you let the frustration building up inside you fade away. She was just a kid; she didn’t truly know about your circumstances, though you’d practically spilled everything to her just a second ago. You licked at your lips and heaved a sigh. “Doctors are heroes too, you know,” you told her. She only looked expectantly up at you and you grumbled a little before reaching out to pick another apple. “Okay, fine. Catch.” 

You dropped the apple down. She caught it in a small hand and looked closely at it for what felt like a long time. She held up a finger. “One more.” 

This kid was really testing your patience. You rolled your eyes and grabbed another apple to drop down. She caught it again, and after a small nod to herself, started walking away. “Be back soon.” 

Oh thank god. You felt like crying from sheer relief. You watched her disappear down the path and slumped forward, bringing your apple up to your mouth so you could take another bite. And now to wait some more. You tried swinging your legs around a bit to regain some feeling back in them. Hopefully she wouldn’t leave you out to dry. You grumbled to yourself as you finished off your apple and chucked the core as far as you could out into the field—an oddly satisfying action. It’ll decompose eventually. 

You didn't know how much time passed as you waited for the kid to bring help. It was all a blur, honestly, broken up occasionally by you checking the watch on your wrist and not really processing the time on it. But eventually, as you found yourself boredly counting the number of fully green leaves on a branch to your left, you heard someone call up to you in a gruff voice. 

“Hey! You the dumbass who got stuck in a tree?”  

You looked down and made eye contact with what appeared to be a pro-hero. He had ruffled ash-blond hair that stuck up around the black mask over his eyes. Arms crossed over his chest as he glared up at you with glinting carmine eyes that reminded you of the apples surrounding you. A quick glance to the park’s path showed the kid with her ball, waving a hand at you before she disappeared out of your line of sight. 

Aw hell, you thought as you recognized the hero’s costume of orange, black, and green. She’d brought fucking Dynamight—a hero known for his short temper. What were the chances of something like that happening? He must’ve been on patrol in the area. 

“...What's it to ya?” you grumbled down at him, wishing you could conflagrate on the spot to avoid this embarrassing encounter. Just suck it up, you told yourself. You needed to get home, and the only way you were going to do that was by letting this hero get you down. Man, you’d really hit an all new low, hadn’t you?

“Right.” He scowled up at you and you wondered why he looked so angry. Maybe that was his default face. “I’ll jus’ leave, then, since ya don’t need my help—” 

“Wait no! Nonono!” you called out only just a little bit desperately as he made a move as though to turn around. “I’ve been stuck here for hours, man! If I don’t get down I think I might die.” 

Dynamight rolled his eyes and uncrossed his thick arms as he looked back up at you critically. “Yeah, yeah. Gimme a sec’.” 

You watched as he seemed to grumble to himself for a moment, then positioned his arms with his palms pointing towards the ground and tensed his legs. You blinked at him. Was he going to—

‘BOOOOM’

You yelped and nearly toppled right off your branch at the sudden explosion that erupted below you like a miniature volcano. Dynamight shot up into the air, a plume of smoke in his wake, and grabbed onto a branch that could support his weight. Then he set off another smaller explosion to propel himself up further, jumping from branch to branch until he finally landed next to you. Or rather, behind you, with the way you were sitting on your own branch. 

You twisted your head back to look at him. He hardly seemed out of breath, and you were a bit impressed at his parkour skills. “Uh. Hi.” 

“Shut it,” he groused. Without even a warning, he grabbed you around your torso. You yelped as he tucked you close to his body—the warmth that radiated from him that was a comfort in the chilly Autumn air, not that you’d admit that out loud—and promptly leapt off the branch. You had to swallow down a scream, your hands holding onto the singular arm wrapped tightly around your body for dear life as he used his other one to set off an explosion to offset his fall. 

You both landed on the ground with a gentle thump and he immediately let go of you so you could stumble forward. Sweet Earth, how I’ve missed you so. Your heart raced in your chest—from the jump or from his unrelenting grip, you would never know—your hands moving to brush your windswept hair away from your face. What the hell, he really didn’t hesitate. Could’ve grabbed you a bit gentler, though, you frowned as you rubbed your chest. You were probably going to bruise later.

You turned around to face him, fixing your rumpled clothes in the meanwhile. He was much taller than you now that you were both on the ground, all muscle and attitude as he glared at you like you’d just spat in his dinner. You paused. “...I was gonna say thanks, but you look like you wanna kill me.” 

“Don’t get stuck in a fuckin’ tree, then,” he snapped. You recoiled slightly at his words, then frowned up at him in offense. 

“Excuse me?” You placed your hands on your hips, incredulous with his behavior. “Like I had wanted to get stuck up there in the first place! For hours, might I add!” 

His jaw tensed like he was going to retort, but he scoffed instead and turned around to start storming over to the bricked path. “Whatever.” You gaped at his back and jogged after him. He was going in the same direction as you anyways, might as well figure out why he was being such a dick. Weren’t heroes supposed to be, you know, nice?

Though, you supposed you were dealing with Dynamight, after all. You’re not sure if he had a single nice bone in his body. 

“No! Not ‘Whatever’,” you mimicked his gruff voice as best as you could once you’d caught up to him and kept pace with his long strides. The thick soles of his boots stomped against the ground with each of his steps. He shot you an annoyed look out of the corner of his eyes, but didn’t say anything. “Who pissed in your bed? Huh?” 

You could practically hear his teeth gritting together before he responded. “Nunya business.”

Maybe it wasn’t, but it really didn’t excuse him treating you like this. “No, tell me why you’re being such an asshole right now. Aren’t heroes supposed to be not-assholes?” 

He turned his head to give you a withering glare with carmine eyes that appeared nearly aflame in the sun’s golden light. It almost made you regret pressing in the first place, but you had at least some self-respect, and you weren’t going to let this guy walk all over you like this. 

“‘M a fuckin’ hero, yeah,” he eventually hissed. “Supposed to be fightin’ villains ‘nd not dealing with dumbass extras who’ve gotten stuck in trees.” 

You huffed at his response. Okay, maybe—just maybe—you could see why he was so aggravated. Didn’t let him off the hook, though. “Okay, first of all, ouch. Second of all, you’re a hero because you’re supposed to help people.” He opened his mouth to snap back at you, but you were too quick and cut across him. “Whatever. Look. I’m sorry you didn’t expect to be spending your afternoon helping me out of a tree. I didn’t expect to spend it stuck up there either. I appreciate the help, for what it’s worth. You saved me from a very uncomfortable night.” Even if he was being the biggest dickhead on the planet right now. Maybe he had a rough day, who knew. You decided to be the bigger person about this whole… situation.

Dynamight stared at you for what felt like a long, long time. It made you realize that you’d both stopped by one of the entrances of the park, just outside of it along the desolate sidewalk. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets as you waited for him to say something—anything, really—and almost startled when you felt the cool skin of the honey-crisp apple you’d picked come into contact with your fingers. You wrapped them around it. 

Eventually, he closed his eyes and let out a deep, deep sigh. Tension that you hadn’t realized was present along his shoulders seemed to melt away as they slumped slightly down. He sniffed and jutted his head out to the side slightly, sunlight painting smooth planes across his face and turning his hair into a pale blond in a way that was honestly pretty gorgeous. You’d take that admission to your grave. 

“...Yeah.” And then he added a mumbled “Sorry” under his breath that you figured was the best you were going to get at the moment. He didn’t seem like someone who apologized often, from what you knew about him. “Rough day.” 

“I figured,” you said lightly. Then, you brought your hand out of your jacket and grabbed his own gloved one to place the apple you had within his palm. You patted it gently. “Here. As a thank you.” Then, after just a quick moment of hesitation, you added, “Hope all goes well for you.” 

And with a small nod at him, you turned around and started to make your way back home, hands in your pockets and an eagerness to your steps at the prospect of getting to rest after what felt like a very long day. 

Dynamight stood there, at the entrance of the park, and looked down at the small apple within his hand after he stared at your retreating back for a few moments. His lips twitched for a slight second and he turned to head down the street in the opposite direction as you, his hand bringing the apple up to his mouth so he could bite into it with a crisp, sweet crunch.

[moonlightisdancing]

Lips Like Sugar/j.t.k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 3465

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+ drinking, protective jake, touching, fingering, edging, oral (m+f receiving), food play(?), unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), butt stuff, soft aftercare jake

PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED ANY WARNINGS

A/N: this fic was a collab with @starcaughtsam she sent me the sauce and i wrote this ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~🖤~~~~~~~~~~~

The cool autumn air sends chills across your barely covered legs as you walk up the driveway, hand in hand with your lover. The music is so loud that you can feel it rumbling the ground beneath your boots. Jake reaches for the handle and gives you a peck on the forehead before opening the door.

“Y/N! Jack! Looking good!” Your ex-coworker, the host, James greets you at the door dressed as a vampire.

“It’s- Jake…” Jake reaches his hand out, to which he’s completely ignored.

“Whatever you say, big guy.” James moves his gaze to you, looking up and down. “And what are you guys supposed to be?”

“Oh, Jake and I are pirates.” You smile wide pointing between the two of you, resting your head on Jake’s shoulder.

“Hm. Imagined the skirt to be a little… longer.” James shrugs his shoulders.

You let out an awkward giggle as Jake pulls you closer to his side, walking with you towards the kitchen for drinks. James turns to watch you from the doorway.

“Here, baby.” Jake hands you a cracked Topo Chico, grabbing one for himself.

“No whiskey?”

“Keeping it light, gotta drive.” He places his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to the crowd of dancing bodies.

The two of you were never big on dancing, instead finding your way to the opposite side of the crowd, plopping onto an old couch. You cross one leg over the other, ankle resting on Jake’s thigh. He places his free hand on your calf and rubs soft circles with his thumb. You share a few drinks over the course of an hour, keeping casual conversation and innocent touching. Jake had cut himself off after three drinks so he could drive, but encouraged you to have some fun.

“Feelin’ good, doll?” Jake asks, bringing his cool hand to your reddened cheek.

“Very good.” You smile stupidly with half lidded eyes.

“Would you like another drink?”

“Mm, maybe one more.” You reach to grab his hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“I’ll be back.” He gives you a kiss on your temple as he gets up to get you another drink.

He saunters into the kitchen, you watch him like he’s the only one in the crowded room. In a sea of costumes, your pirate is all that exists. He makes sure you’re watching before he cracks open another seltzer, licking the foam off the side of the can, undressing you with his eyes. It’s taking everything in you not to touch yourself under his gaze, slick pooling in your panties. You’re snapped from your trance as James emerges from seemingly nowhere, taking Jake’s place on the couch.

“Hey, Y/N. Where’s John? He leave?” James places his arm on the back of the couch as if he’s going to wrap it around you.

“Jake? No, he’s right there.” You point at Jake, who’s standing at the counter looking at you.

Jake trusts you, only watching for any signs of discomfort. You smile and wave at him, earning a little smirk and wave back.

“I don’t get why you’re with him. He seems like a dick.”

“I’m sorry?” You rip your eyes away from Jake to look at James.

“He seriously can’t be that good.” James inches closer to you, reaching his hand toward your knee.

You look back over to Jake who’s now making his way back to the couch empty handed.

“Not that it’s your business, but I can assure you he’s perfect at everything.” You move your leg away from his reach.

Jake finally makes it over to the couch, your knight in shining armor.

“That’s my spot.” Jake points to where James is seated.

“Move your meat, lose your seat.” James remarks.

“What are you fucking twelve, bro? Move.”

“See? Told you he was a dick, Y/N.”

You reach for Jake’s waist, hoping to diffuse the situation before it gets ugly, fast. “Baby, I’m getting tired.” You whine, dipping your thumb into his belt loop.

Diffuse the situation, Y/N. Diffuse.

“Already? I was just getting ready to start a game. Can’t have Halloween without candy!” James tries his best to persuade you, but he’s painfully unsuccessful in his attempts.

You look up at Jake through lustful eyes, images of him in the kitchen playing through your head like a melody.

“It’s up to you, my love.” Jake gently squeezes your hand in reassurance, looking down at you with his brown doe eyes.

You pull yourself up from the couch and stand in front of him, leaning over to whisper into his ear.

“I wanna go home. I have something for you.” You trail away, leaving a kiss below his ear.

“Mm, getting tired, myself. Think we’re gonna go home.” Jake pulls you into him by your waist, sliding his hand down to cup your ass before placing a kiss on your jawline. “Besides, with someone as sweet as her? Who fuckin’ needs candy?”

“Really?” James sucks his teeth, shooting Jake a dirty look.

“Awh, stop being such a downer.” Jake chides as he pulls you away with him, heading for the door.

The car ride is filled with teasing touches, his hand constantly alluding to something more but never giving into your desires.

“Just touch me already!” You tug his hand towards your center, hoping he’ll cave.

He shakes his head and gives in, he’s never been one to restrain himself from pleasure. Jake runs his calloused fingertips up and down your leg until chill bumps rise on your soft skin. His fingers carefully dance along the expanse of your thigh before sliding them under your skirt, meeting with the hem of your panties. He pushes the lacy fabric to the side, running his fingers through your folds before curling his digits into you. He presses his thumb against your clit, working languish circles until you teeter the edge.

“You’re soaked, doll. All from me?” Jake questions tenderly, taking his eyes off the road long enough to catch a glimpse of you falling apart under his touch.

Just as your walls start to tighten around his fingers, he removes them leaving you empty and hungry for more.

“Why did you stop?” You ask quietly, redness failing to dissipate from your cheeks.

“Wanna fuck you right, make you feel so good.” He mumbles, bringing his slick coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

You reach your hand over to his visibly hardened length, palming him through his pants. You unzip the zipper and reach your hand past the waistband of his pants and briefs, rubbing the pads of your fingers slowly across his sensitive tip. Jake wraps his hand around your wrist, restraining you from stroking him any longer.

“Don’t, not yet.” His eyes flutter back as he removes your hand from his length.

He locks his fingers in yours before placing a kiss to your knuckles. He holds your hand pressed to his lips for the rest of the ride, the air from his nose tickling your skin. Upon pulling in the driveway, Jake’s barely in park before rushing you both inside. He rustles for the keys, unlocking the door to your shared home. Jake wastes no time getting his hands back on you, pressing his body against yours forcing the door shut behind you. His hands move up and down your body, squeezing and rubbing on all his favorite spots, as he peppers heated kisses on any and all exposed skin.

“Jakeyyy, hold on!”

“Sorry, sorry. You okay, my love?” He pulls away, grabbing your hand as he steps back.

“Yeah, but remember? I have something for you?” You drag him towards the hall closet with you.

“Damn, I’ve been that bad? Gonna lock me in the closet?” He giggles, waiting for your response.

“No, you weirdo. Gotta get something.” You let go of his hand to lightly smack his shoulder before you open the closet door.

You stand on your tippy toes and shuffle around on the top shelf until you find the little black bag you’d tucked away at the start of the month. Jake’s hands rest on your hips to help balance you, his calloused pads gently pressing into your skin.

“You got us matching costumes… so I got us something matching!” You watch the curiosity wash over Jake’s face as you remove the contents from the bag.

CANDY g-string

“We don’t have to, I thought it would be fun for Halloween.” Your voice grows quieter as you watch Jake’s face for some sort of reaction.

Silence washes over the room, the only thing to be heard is the pounding of your heart behind your chest. The nervousness continues to build up until you watch his lips part in response.

“Am I wearing them too…?” He points to the boxes and then to himself.

“Only if you want, I got two incase you did.”

“Do you want me to?”

You wait a second before nodding yes.

“Okay.” He reaches for one of the boxes, inspecting the packaging.

All you can do is stand in disbelief, his willingness to try new things always astounds you.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go, sugar lips.”

You practically run to the room, Jake hot on your heels. You start to open the boxes as Jake gets undressed, handing him a pair of the candy panties.

“Don’t think my dick’s gonna fit in this…” He says, hanging the panties from his index finger.

“Oh, it’s coming right off anyways.”

Jake comes over to you at the edge of the bed, laying you back.

“Let me do it?” He asks, reaching for your pair of candy panties.

“Okay.” You whisper in response.

Jake’s hands trail up your legs, fingertips dragging across your calves and thighs until they slip under your skirt to meet the waistband of your thong resting on your hips. He slips his fingers past the band and leaves them there for a moment. He’s hovering over you, staring into your eyes.

“You okay, Jake?” Your brows furrow.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re just so beautiful, had to take you in for a second.” He leans in and places a few heated kisses to your lips before working his way below your skirt.

Jake places soft kisses to your thighs before removing your thong. He slides them down your legs and off your ankles followed by unzipping your boots and tossing them to the side. He reaches over for your matching pair of candy panties and slides them up your legs, adjusting them over your center. Jake’s kneeling between your legs at the edge of the bed, looking down on you.

“Y’know, these things feel weird.” He giggles, snapping the band of the panties against his hips.

You push yourself up off the bed, meeting his lower abdomen with your face. You pepper kisses across his supple skin, making way to his prominent hip bone. You snake your tongue under the string resting on his hip and pull a piece of the candy between your teeth, biting down to break it free. One of Jake’s hands find their way cupped around the back of your neck as you continue kissing the expanse of his stomach. Center with his navel, you start kissing in a line down his body until your lips are against the candy holding his cock. You adjust your hands to hold onto his hips as you start to break off pieces of the candy covering his length. Each time you go for a piece, you snake your tongue between the candy and his flesh to avoid biting him, the feel of your tongue against his cock earning you soft moans. You bite off a few pieces before you grow impatient, pulling the panties to the side to free his length. You drag your tongue up and down his cock a few times before taking him in your mouth, pushing him as deep as your throat will let him. You get about a minute into pleasing him before he grows hungry for more of you. Jake places his hands on yours, removing them from his hip as he lays you back and puts them above your head.

“My turn, sweetness.” He moves his hand down and unzips your corset, laying it flat on the bed behind you, letting your breasts feel the cool air.

Starting at the hollow of your neck, Jake kisses a trail down the valley of your breasts until he meets your lower stomach. He tucks his thumbs into the panties resting on either of your hips before reattaching his lips to your skin. He lightly bites the soft skin of your tummy, your hands resting on top of his at your hips. Jake bends his wrists back enough to intertwine your fingers with his as his lips work their way down to your center. He brings a piece of candy from the middle into his mouth and breaks it off the string. He uses your hips as support to push himself up, bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. He licks his tongue along your bottom lip and slips the piece of candy into your mouth. Lips still on yours, Jake presses his hand over your mound and moves it side to side, stimulating your clit with the hard candy. You lift your legs up and wrap them around his back, trying to push yourself into his touch more.

“I know, baby. Just let me take care of you.” He removes his hand from your center and wraps his fingers around your ankles.

Jake brings your knees to your chest, placing kisses along the back of your thighs before he reaches your candy covered center. He moves them over with his teeth, exposing your slick heat to himself. He licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, adjusting his lips to suck on your swollen bud. He lets go of your legs to free his hands, allowing them to rest over his shoulders. His hand comes down and replaces his lips, thumb now pressed to your clit as he teases you with his tongue. He dips his tongue past your entrance, pushing it as far as he can. Once you grow wetter under his touch, he moves two fingers to your entrance, slipping them inside of you as his thumb continues working fast circles over your bud. In a matter of seconds you start to tighten around his fingers.

“Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me.” He curls his fingers up more to aid the process.

“Fuck… Jake, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby, I’m not.” He whispers.

You watch his eyes intently watching you writhe under his touch.

“Jake, please.” You reach down to hold his wrist stopping him from moving.

“Are you okay?”

“Just wanna cum on your cock. Wanna make you feel good, too.” You reach further down to wrap your hands around his thick length, stroking and guiding him to your center.

He places his hand over yours and follows your stroking motion, dragging his tip between your folds before pushing into you. Your walls flutter around his width as he gently works himself inside fully. He lays on top of you, hands wrapped around your torso holding you into his chest. There’s not a single part of you going untouched by Jake’s body in some way. His fingertips pressed into the skin of your back and his chest laying on yours, you wrap your legs around him again. Jake’s face is nuzzled into your neck, lips against your ear allowing you to hear every obscenity mumbled from him. A mantra of fuck’s and oh my god’s leave his mouth as he slowly engulfs himself in your touch. Your arms are wrapped around his torso, pulling him in as hard as you can. The pressure of his weight rubbing against your nipples combined with him inside of you forces your own breathy moans out, creating a one of a kind melody just for the two of you. His body so close to yours has allowed the candy panties to rub against your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. Just as you start to tighten around him, he stops again, eliciting a groan from deep inside of you.

“I know, I’m sorry, had an idea.” Jake pushes himself up and pulls out of you, making you groan at the loss of contact. “I promise this time I’ll make you cum. I’m sorry, baby. Can you flip over for me?”

You weakly roll over onto your stomach, body growing tired and sore from Jake’s consistent edging.

“Can I take these off now? Kinda getting in my way.” He asks, toying with the string on your ass.

“Only if you’re gonna make me cum this time.”

He answers by removing the candy panties from your hips and slipping them between your lips.

“Give that mouth something to do other than talk back.” He mumbles as you hear his pair hit the floor.

Jake pushes your legs together and situates himself around you before you feel the tip of his cock against your ass. He leans his torso into your back and brings his lips to your ear.

“Ready?” He whispers.

All you can manage is a nod and Jake slips his cock back inside of you. A few strokes in and Jake’s already pushing you to the edge again. He leans back up and places his hands on your hips, pulling you up to your knees. He adjusts your legs around his frame, spreading out the view for him. He begins thrusting into you again, hands on your hips and his fingers digging into the skin. He moves one hand from your hip and runs it over the swell of your ass. His thumb rests over your back entrance, rubbing in circles for added stimulation.

“Is this okay? You like that?”

“Yeah…” You moan. “Put it in.”

You hear spit leave his lips and make contact with your ass as he uses his thumb to spread the manmade lubricant over your entrance. He slowly pushes his thumb into your ass, resting his palm against your lower back. He slowly moves his thumb in and out of you as he works his cock inside your pussy. Jake removes his other hand from your hip and wraps it around to toy with your clit. Chasing his own release, he starts thrusting into you harder, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix every so slightly. With all of the added stimulation, you start to tighten around his wide length again, this time with the promise of finishing. Jake removes his thumb from your ass and brings it up your back to grab your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He wraps it around his hand and pulls your back into his chest. You bring your arms behind you, pressing your hands into Jake’s sides, squeezing his love handles. He fully pushes you over the ledge, gifting you your promised release as he himself comes undone. The two of you fall to the bed, Jake’s cock still buried deep inside of you. After falling, you both catch your breath, Jake pulls his now soft length out of your aching core. Jake rolls off the bed and collects the candy pieces from around the room, tossing them into the bathroom trash can. You turn your head to watch him as he leans over the tub and begins to draw a hot bath. He shuffles through cabinets under the sink and pulls out a handful of bath products.

“Rosehip or coconut?” He shouts out into the bedroom.

“Rosehip is good.” You mumble just enough for him to hear.

Jake saunters out of the bathroom and over to the bed, picking you up in his arms and bringing you to the bath.

“I’ll be back, just relax a little, okay?” He says, lowering you into the water and placing a kiss to your forehead.

You watch him enter the bedroom several minutes later with a cup of chamomile tea and an assortment of snacks. He comes back to the bathroom with your mug and hands it to you before climbing into the tub with you.

“Nightmare on Elm Street is ready on the tv when you are.”

After the bath grows cool, you guys get out and dry each other off before making your way to the bed.

“Wait, don’t lay down yet.” He walks to the closet and grabs fresh sheets, stripping the bed of the old ones and discarding them in the dirty laundry.

Once the bed is done up with clean sheets, Jake gets you settled with the snacks before climbing in next to you and starting the movie.

[spade-riddles]

Who else decodes you? Me. Let's decode Karlie's latest posts...

This is the second time in a row now that Karlie has posted on her story just a couple hours after Taylor made a tour stop post.

I've been doing math lately between important gaps, and so when I saw the first thing she posted was a vending machine with "Route 66" on it I knew exactly what the reference was already.

Taylor's entire NOLA stop post focuses on her collab with Sabrina which was on Oct 26th 2024.

Karlie's first story post is directly in response. Because exactly 6 weeks and 6 days after Oct 26th is... you guessed it. 12/13/24. Taylor's birthday. The alleged coming out. Done through Reputation TV via the KARma the album vault tracks. Double 6 albums. Twin albums.

"Karma is the fire" (quote from KARma the song)

"The Reputation vault tracks will be FIRE" (quote from taylor)

And it is important to note that in Taylor's post for NOLA she used "flare" instead of flair. Flare as in a sudden burst of flame that is used to send a signal and draw attention. Taylor does not make spelling mistakes. The 11th slide she included, when Karma is track 11, shows orange flames burning behind her as she is in her full 1989 yellow/light orange toned outfit head to toe twinning with the flames. Engulfed. Burning so bright.

But this wasn't the only bread crumb trail she left. She redirected us to Derek Blasberg's insta page. Where he posted something very suspicious... and very current to what's been going on lately.

On October 18th, Karlie's stunt "wedding anniversary" date, and the first day that the Eras Tour returned in Miami Florida, Derek posted:

"Some people call it fall, some people call it autumn, and some people call it black velvet tuxedo jacket weather 🖤"

So call it what you want Derek?

To highlight the significance, Taylor played call it what you want exactly 1 week later. And going anon posted the emoji message that decodes to call it what you want, the day Taylor played it. I am unsure of the time going anon posted this, whether it was before or after Taylor played the surprise song, so feel free to clarify Spade.

Call it what you want was also played the day right before Oct 26th 2024 when Sabrina joined Taylor on stage. None of these things are coincidental or happenstance. They are all telling the same story if you look closer than what meets the eye.

For instance..... how playing Espresso was not just a surprise song. No, that was not it's purpose. Rather, it was a plan in advance coming full circle that's been in motion since the Karma MV released. Not everything is what it seems on the surface. Shift your perspective. Look to the constellations. The truth is Karmic.

I will explain soon if it is in your wishes for me to do so, but that will need a post of its own. For now, I will leave you with this.

"I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee" - Carly Simon ☕ ☕

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice. 

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[silly-shady]

Miss Malt Shake's opinion on Harvest Leaves?

And Harvest Leaves' opinion on Miss Malt Shake?

Miss Malt Shake immediately loves Harvest Leaves, and vice versa. Tootsie thinks her best friend just looks so adorable in this fusion, and Autumn thinks Tootsie looks so pretty in hers!

I am not sure how Cassidy's relationship with Petalina is and such, but I can tag @redscorpiocat real quick to help add to this :p

[writingmingyu]

Fade Into You

Title: Fade into You Pairing: Joshua x Gender-Neutral!Reader Genre: Fluff, childhood friends to lovers Summary: After drunkenly agreeing to meet an online friend in real life for the first time, you discover this wasn’t the first time you’d met. Word count: 4.8k plus 2

Author’s Note: This was part of the @svthub Fall-ing for You collab! I had fun writing this as it's something different for me. I wanted to give off Gilmore Girls vibes with this and I think I achieved it.

I hope you enjoy reading! And don't forget to check out all the other fics that are part of this collab!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You double-checked your appearance in the rearview mirror before taking a deep breath and leaving the car. You were about to go on your first blind date in forever and you were freaking out. 

Well it wasn't entirely blind, you had been talking to JH48536 for about a month now and finally had the confidence - or too much wine - to agree to meet in person. You were just worried it was going to be a disaster. 

Everyone had warned you that meeting up with someone from an online chat room was dangerous. You had about six friends in a group chat on standby ready to jump in and save you at a moment's notice. Even as you walked through the parking lot towards the cafe you spotted Soonyoung and Minghao chilling in Soonyoung's car. 

Subtle. You texted Minghao as you opened the cafe door. 

Just say the word and we'll create a diversion. Was the response you got back. You shook your head with a smile before pocketing your phone, imagining Minghao running into the cafe with ketchup on his face yelling that there was some kind of crash outside. Soonyoung would be lying in the middle of the street. 

You open the door to the cafe and are immediately hit with the warmth and smell of coffee beans. You loved coming into a cosy space after being out in the autumn air, no matter how little or how long you were outside. You approach the counter and read the specials board, just as someone is calling out the name of the next person’s order.

“Joshua!”

You’re head turns on instinct to look for who this Joshua might be. It couldn’t be, you thought to yourself as you scanned the room. But sure enough, it was as if you had materialised him from thin air.

Joshua Hong stood up from the corner of the room and made his way to the counter. He was taller and his hair was darker, but there was no mistaking this man. It was Joshua, your Joshua. The same Joshua you had been best friends with when you were ten years old. The one you had kind of had a crush on but were too afraid to admit and then his family moved out of town and you never saw him again. Until now.

He smiled as he thanked the waitress for his coffee, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He still had the same mischievous smirk that used to get you two into plenty of trouble as kids.

“Joshua?” You say, catching his attention before he heads back to his seat.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Joshua walked over to give you a hug. It had been ten years, but he still smelt the same as you remembered, like toasted almonds and sandalwood.

“What’re you doing here?” You were still in a bit of a daze when you separated. Your heart beating faster and a flush coming to your cheeks. You hadn’t really thought about Joshua since he’d moved away but now he was standing in front of you and memories came flooding back.

“I just moved back into town, I was actually thinking about you the other day.”

“Really?” You cursed yourself for sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you still lived here. And here you are.”

“Here I am,”

“Do you wanna hang out for a bit? I’m supposed to be meeting someone but they’re not here yet.”

“Yeah sure, let me just order some coffee first.”

Joshua headed back to his seat and you ordered a pumpkin spice latte. As you were waiting at the counter, your phone pinged with a message. It was just Soonyoung asking if everything was going okay, but you’d been distracted by your childhood friend reappearing that you’d completely forgotten why you were there.

Yeah, everything’s fine. He’s not here yet but ran into an old friend. You texted back.

You got your latte and went to sit down opposite Joshua. You still couldn’t believe he was back after all this time. But as you fell into conversation, it was almost as if you two had never been apart. You were instantly reminiscing about the past and all the adventures you had together.

“So I’m thinking I have been stood up,” Joshua says after a while. You had both finished your coffees and time had been ticking on.

“Oh, I totally forgot you were meeting someone!” Come to think of it, you were supposed to meet someone too. You check your phone to see a few messages in the group chat - Minghao had done a drive-by of the cafe window to scope out your ‘childhood friend’ and everyone was wondering if he was cute.

Pics??? Soonyoung had asked.

He’s definitely her type. Minghao had reported back to the group.

You rolled your eyes and opened up the app where you had been talking to your mystery man. Your heart almost stopped when you saw he was online, and you felt like time had slowed when you could see he was typing. This was definitely going to be a ‘sorry I can’t make it’ message. You had been talking with Joshua for at least half an hour, there was no way this guy was going to show up now.

“Is something wrong?” Joshua asked.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, the guy had stopped typing and you looked up to see Joshua had pulled out his own phone. “It’s just, I was supposed to meet someone too, and I was just checking to see if he had messaged, it looked like he was typing so I think he might’ve changed his mind.”

“Oh no, that sucks,” 

“It’s fine,” you tried to brush it off. It wasn’t the first time you’d been stood up, besides you had your friends outside so you wouldn’t be lonely. “Did you hear from the person you were supposed to meet?”

“I’m actually just going to send them a message now,” Joshua turned back to his phone and began typing again, you watched as he typed out his message and pressed send. Maybe he was having better luck than you were. “Maybe they didn’t see me in the corner.”

As Joshua puts his phone away, you’re phone pings with a message. Your heart is beating in your ears as you glance down, prepared for the worst.

Hey, I’m here but I got caught up talking with a friend - I don’t know if you’re here yet but just wanted to let you know I didn’t forget about our meeting today 🙂 We are in the corner of the cafe, just come over and say hi.

“Oh my God,” you whisper to yourself. You read the message a couple of times over before looking up at the man in front of you. Was Joshua the person you were supposed to meet today? This didn’t make any sense. You had been talking to this guy for weeks, surely you would have pieced together if you were talking to someone you knew? 

You looked at the username again and suddenly it clicked - JH48536 - Joshua Hong. How it hadn’t occurred to you before you had no idea. You had never asked this man his name, he had never asked for yours either and most of the time you just thought it was a random username with letters and numbers. You didn’t think it actually stood for anything.

“Joshua, is your online username JH48536?”

“Um…yes?” He responds looking confused.

“And did you just send a message saying you are with a friend and you didn’t forget about your meeting today?”

Joshua’s confused face turns to one of realisation as he pieces together what you’d just told him. “So you’re HopelessRomantic24893?” Your username was not your best, but you hated being put on the spot for that kind of thing.

You nod still in shock, thinking about when Joshua was talking to you online. He had mentioned something about his childhood best friend, he was sad that you’d never kept in touch after he moved and you had related to that saying you missed the old boy next door. It’s crazy how you never made the connection about each other before.

“That’s wild,” Joshua leans back in his chair. He was probably doing the same thing you were doing, trying to see if there were hints in your previous conversations about who you were. “I had no idea,”

“Me neither,” you wanted to laugh, it was a strange coincidence but you were relieved to know that you weren’t stood up and grateful that the person you met online wasn’t a total stranger.

“So what now?” 

“Well, I should probably text my friends and let them know you’re not a serial killer.” 

Joshua laughs, “how do you know it’s been a long time,”

“I feel like if you wanted to kill me, you would’ve lured me into a dark alleyway by now. Besides you didn’t know I was your mystery date,” you typed out a message to your friends that you were fine before stowing your phone away.

“True, but now I know, there’s still time.”

“Well, my friends know who you are now so I’d say reschedule the murder plans for another day.”

“I guess I’ll have to go with plan B.” Joshua gets up from his seat and holds out his hand. “Y/N, would you like to come with me on a trip to the town’s autumn fair?”

“I’d love to,” You take his hand and you head out of the cafe.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You hadn’t been to the annual autumn fair since you were sixteen. It was the kind of thing that only appealed to families and elder people. It was held at the farm on the edge of town and the whole community came together to celebrate the harvest season. 

Before you step out of the car, you begin swiping away messages from the overactive group chat. Once you had told the boys, Joshua was your blind date they started freaking out and wanting more information. All you told them was you were safe and they could go home. But you couldn't help looking over your shoulder to see if Minghao and Soonyoung had followed you. They had to be around here somewhere, they weren’t going to leave without photos for the group chat.

"Wow, I haven't been here in forever." Joshua yawned, stretching his arms above his head. You couldn't help but notice his sweater ride up when he stretched, revealing some of his stomach. 

"Me neither," you replied, taking a breath and looking around. "Still looks the same though."

You had loved coming to the farm with Joshua as a child. You would compete in apple bobbing and he always won, chase each other through the corn maze and spend hours in the pumpkin patch choosing the perfect pumpkins for carving. 

"Where do we start?"

"Well, I don't know if apple bobbing is still your thing," you say as you pay for your entry fees. "But I think you still hold the record."

"No way, really?" Joshua's eyes lit up. "Let's go see."

You approached the apple bobbing stations by the barn. There were a group of kids huddled around a barrel trying to grab apples with their teeth. Looking back you realised it probably wasn't the smartest thing to be doing growing up, but it was tradition. 

The leaderboard was pinned to one of the barn doors and Joshua walked ahead to read it. 

"Joshua Hong, twelve apples." He read. "I was good."

"Y/N, three apples," you pointed at the bottom. "I shouldn't even be on there."

"Three's pretty good, considering." Joshua tilted his head toward the group of children. They probably had one apple between them.

"Apple bobbing is hard, you just have a big mouth."

"Nah you just didn't wanna get wet." 

"Getting a little wet never hurt anyone, you wanna go again?" The words come out of your mouth before you realise what you've said. It wasn't exactly the first date activity you had in mind, and you usually wouldn't be so forward but being around an old friend made things easier. If anything, it was your childhood competitiveness coming out. 

"I'm game if you are," Joshua was already shrugging out of his coat and scarf.

You rolled your eyes. "Game on," you pull your own scarf off and knelt down in front of a free barrel. 

"Y/N? Joshua Hong?" The woman who was supervising the apple bobbing came to stand in front of you. 

"Mrs McDonnell! Nice to see you!" Joshua smiled, he always was a charmer to people of authority, your old principal especially. 

"Don’t tell me you two are really going apple bobbing,” the principal looked down disapprovingly at both of you but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Absolutely, we are. I came to defend my title.”

"Well, you know the rules, you have two minutes to get as many apples as possible. You can only use your teeth, no hands! I know you used to cheat Joshua.”

“So that’s how you have managed to get so many apples,” you should have known he was cheating but you were always too busy focusing on your own apple-bobbing attempts to notice.

“That’s not true! And I’ll prove it, right here, right now.” Joshua put his hands behind his back. 

“All right, I’ll be keeping a firm eye on you then.” Mrs McDonnell opened her phone to set a timer. “Your two minutes starts…. Now!”

You and Joshua both lean down towards the apples in the water, immediately being brought back to being ten years old, you begin to work an apple over to the edge of the barrel to try to bite into it. Joshua’s head was next to yours and you could feel him struggling next to you, he definitely cheated when you were children.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally had a good enough grasp on the apple with your teeth to pull it out of the water and you dropped down next to you. Before heading back in, you took a few seconds to watch Joshua. He was trying the same technique as you and was furiously biting at an apple trying to get enough of a grip to lift it, but it kept floating away.

“Not so easy without your hands, is it?” You smirk.

“You’re just a square for playing by the rules.” Joshua shot back, finally managing to grasp the apple with his teeth and pull it out of the water.

“Thirty seconds left!” Mrs McDonnell calls.

You both dive back into the water and almost bump heads, but you work hard to get a second apple. All you needed was one to beat Joshua and that was something you could hold over his head forever.

Thankfully, you were able to spy a smaller apple and were able to get a good hold of it and you pulled it out of the water just as the timer finished.

“Ha!” You said triumphantly. “I win!”

“Congratulations Y/N! I knew you could do it.” Mrs McDonnell handed both of you towels to wipe your faces. “Now, go cause havoc somewhere else. I have children to supervise.”

You dab your face and pick up your belongings. “Don’t feel too bad for losing, it’s your own fault for cheating years ago. There was no way you were going to live up to that.”

“Well, there goes my plan to impress you with my apple-bobbing skills.”  Joshua reached over to wipe some water from your chin. He lingered for a second and your cheeks flushed at the intimate gesture.

“Oh please,” you brought yourself out of the moment. “It was never your apple-bobbing skills that impressed me.”

“Then what was it?”

You thought about your answer as you both left the barn. There were a lot of things that Joshua did to impress you as a child. He was an adventurous kid, and he never backed down from a challenge. The confidence he emanated was contagious and he pushed you out of your comfort zone. 

“The way you were so fearless as a kid.” 

“As a kid? You mean I’m not now?” 

“Well, we only just got reacquainted I don’t know if you still take risks like you used to.”

“I definitely do,” there was a twinkle in his eye, he had a plan.

“Like what?” you were curious, so you played into it.

“Like meeting up with a stranger I met online,”

You rolled your eyes, “I did that too, doesn’t count.”

“What about this?”

Joshua turned to face you, his hands coming up to cup your face and tilting your head up to kiss you. The kiss was soft and only lasted a few seconds, but the spark you felt when your lips connected was electric. You’d never imagined kissing Joshua Hong, you only realised you had feelings for him after he’d moved away but even then, you never pictured anything coming from the crush. You never thought you’d see him again, but here he was, standing in the middle of the fall fair with you, kissing you. 

When he pulled away, you only wish he’d stayed longer, closer to you in your space. Your face felt cold from where his hands had been.

“It was a mistake wasn’t it?” Joshua said, interpreting your pout for him stepping over a line.

“No! The opposite,” you rushed to say. “I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised because I’m still a risk-taker or because I’m an awesome kisser?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Surprised that you think you’re an awesome kisser. Come on, let’s go check out the rest of the fair.”

The rest of the afternoon passed by peacefully, you walked together through the vendors selling trinkets and produce. Both of you willingly taking any free sample that someone offered, just like when you were kids. Though this time, you felt a little guilty so ended up buying a few items from the sellers.

At the end of the stalls, you see someone selling hot chocolate, so you both decide to stop to have a cup. It was the same stall you had always begged your moms to take you to, and they rarely said yes, but now as adults you were not going to deny yourself the pleasure.

Once you had gotten your cup you turned to try to find a place to sit amongst all the people in the makeshift food court area when two people in the corner caught your eye. “I’ll be back,” you tell Joshua.

Your hunch was right about your friends following you to the fair. You headed towards Soonyoung and Minghao.

“What are you guys doing here?” You demanded trying to keep cool.

“Making sure your friend isn’t a murderer,” Soonyoung replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Just because you knew each other when you were twelve doesn’t mean anything, he could have turned into a murderer since then.”

“That’s funny, he said the same thing. But as you can see, I’m still alive.”

“Look, we’re just enjoying the fair like everyone else, what’s the big deal?” Minghao asked.

“It’s just weird for you to be stalking me on a date. I don’t stalk you guys on your dates.”

“You asked us to,” Soonyoung had a point.

“I guess I did initially. But I told you guys everything was fine.”

“Yeah but if we hadn’t come we wouldn’t have seen the kiss!” Minghao exclaimed, pulling out his phone. It was zoomed in and very blurry, but there was no mistake that was your first kiss with Joshua caught on camera. Had they really been following you that closely?

“Oh my God, tell me you didn’t tell the group chat?!” You pull your phone out to see a LOT of unread messages.

“Sorry, we’re excited for you. This guy seems like a keeper!” 

“That’s great but could you leave us alone now?”

“Fine, but you better text us to make sure you get home safe,” Soonyoung said.

“Sure thing Dad.” 

“I’m just saying, the murderer thing has yet to be disproven. There’s still time for him to lure you into the woods to your death.”

You sighed, Soonyoung was always one for dramatics. “When do you think he’ll pass that test?”

“Maybe by the third date, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Okay, I’m leaving now. You guys should too.”

“We love you too!”

You turned back to your date and hoped you didn’t look too flustered. Joshua had found a table and was just scrolling on his phone. You couldn’t help but get butterflies as you made your way back towards him. It was a strange feeling, one that reminded you of when you used to see Joshua as a kid. You thought it was just excitement for seeing your best friend but maybe there had always been something more there.

“There you are, I thought I’d lost you.” Joshua put his phone away.

“Sorry I just ran into some friends, I just wanted to say hi.”

“That’s cool, so what next?”

“I’m not sure, I’m just glad we were able to get some hot chocolate.” You take a sip of your drink, it had cooled down while you were talking to your friends but it still tasted just as you remembered. Sickly sweet and smooth like silk.

“I think I have an idea.”

Joshua wrapped his hand around yours as he pulled you towards the corn maze. You protested as you were sure to get lost since you hadn’t been there in ten years. “Muscle memory,” Joshua had said, walking backwards as he pulled you in. “I bet I could get us out of here blindfolded. 

You let yourself be dragged into the maze but you didn’t think anything good was going to come of it. The maze was giant and even as kids you usually had to be rescued after getting lost in there. It was one of the only times you were allowed to use your cellphone as a kid and while Joshua always put on a brave face, he was just as scared as you were back then.

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever made it out of this maze,” you remind him as you begin making turns, left and right, right then left.

“Not with that attitude we didn't. I'm pretty sure we go right here…”

You let Joshua take the lead as you navigated your way through the maze. You were surprised at how well he was doing, or at least amazed at his confidence. You two didn’t speak much as you passed by families, groups of children and other couples. 

A few times you hit dead-ends but Joshua didn’t let you dwell on it too long before he was taking off in a new direction. Even if you were going to be stuck here for a while, you didn’t mind watching Joshua’s broad shoulders and his behind as you followed him around.

“Ah ha!” Joshua exclaimed as you made your way out of the exit. Or rather…the entrance. Somehow you had gone in a huge circle and ended up at the beginning again.

“At least we made it out,” you laughed. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, is it possible the place got bigger since we’ve last been here?”

“Probably, I mean they have to do something to keep people coming back year after year. Still, your navigation skills were very impressive. I wouldn’t have been able to get out of there without you.”

“You’re welcome,” Joshua smiled.

“So we’ve conquered the maze…sort of. Now come on, there’s one last thing we have to do before we leave.”

You led the way this time as you made it to the merry-go-round in the middle of the grounds. It was one of your favourite things about the fair and the place where you always imagined you would have your first kiss.

When you told Joshua this he leaned over from his horse and kissed you on the cheek. “I know we had our first kiss earlier, but we can pretend this was our first.”

“I’ll tell everyone, we had a magical day at the fair and he kissed me on the merry-go-round.”

“That's all I ask,”

You look over at Joshua, but this time not as the boy you once knew but the man he is. It was different now, knowing that all the things an online stranger had told you now applied to the same person you knew as a child. He wasn’t that boy anymore and while you might have had a crush on the boy he was, you were wondering if you could love the man he is now.

As you exited the merry-go-round the fair was shutting down so you made your way back to the car. 

You were sad the day was ending because it had been so perfect. You didn't think you'd ever have a first date like this again. Hopefully, you won't have any more first dates at all. 

When you pulled up to your house, Joshua insisted on walking you to your door, you rolled your eyes but allowed him to anyway.

“You know, no one has ever done this for me before.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t let them.”

“No, it’s because no one has ever offered.”

“Well that’s silly, how else are they going to get their goodnight kiss?”

You blush, knowing that’s what the end of the date was coming to. Even though Joshua had already kissed you a couple of times today, this was the one you had mentally prepared for, and even then you weren’t sure you were ready.

“I guess they don’t get one,”

“And do I?”

“Of course,”

You close your eyes and lean in as Joshua does the same, your lips gently brushing against each other as you feel the jolt of electricity you felt earlier in the middle of the fair. This time Joshua’s hands found their way to your waist to pull your body flush against his, his tongue parting your lips to deepen the kiss.

It lasted minutes, maybe hours, you couldn’t tell the time when you finally pulled apart. Remembering that you were on the porch and any one of your nosy neighbours had probably seen you.

“So?” Joshua said when he stepped back.

“So what?”

“Now will you admit I’m an awesome kisser?”

“Please, that was all me,” You laughed.

“As if,” he laughed too. “I definitely contributed at least 75%.”

“Hmm, let’s agree it was 50/50.”

“Fine, so when can I see you again?”

There was a glint of hope in Joshua’s eyes that made your heart flutter. He was nervous as if you would deny him the chance to see you again.

“Tomorrow?” You bit your lip hoping it didn’t sound too eager. The day had been so fun and you didn’t want to go without seeing him for too long either.

“Sounds good,” Joshua leaned in to give you another kiss, this time on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight,”

“Goodnight, Joshua.”

You stayed on the porch until Joshua had disappeared out of sight before heading inside to warm up. You had desperately wanted to invite him inside but based on the kiss you had had on the porch things probably would have escalated a lot faster than you were ready for. But given the fact you were seeing him tomorrow, you weren’t sure how much more self-control you’d be able to have.

You went upstairs to run yourself a bath and finally let yourself wrap your head around the events of the day. You opened up your phone to reread messages you had sent to Joshua before you knew who he really was. Rereading the texts, you began to read between the lines and piece together the Joshua you knew before with the one you saw today. It was easy now that you knew what you were looking for.

As you reached the end of your messages you saw a new one had appeared while you were scrolling.

Hey, glad to have met you today. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds. 🙂

You smiled before typing a reply and sinking into your bath. Another message arrived on your phone and you checked to see yet another message from Soonyoung asking if you got home yet, he had sent at least five in the last half hour. You rolled your eyes at the messages before texting back that you were alive and then opened up the group chat to fill them in on your date.

“You guys will never guess what happened today…” You started, knowing they’d be hanging on to your every word.

[idyllic-ghost]

title: To Keep You Warm pairing: minghao x reader genre: fluff, romance warnings: mentions of food, mentions of sickness (cold) synopsis: You hadn't spent much time with Minghao yet, but you knew that this new relationship could become something that lasts. The true test presents itself when, after a wonderful date walking around in the chilly fall weather, you become sick. Minghao offers to help, without even mentioning that he might have caught a cold as well. wordcount: 3.7k taglist: @enhacolor @shuabby1994 @junhui-recs @dkakapizzaboy @just-here-to-read-01 @loviehan @userjunhuii @novalpha

a/n: very happy to be apart of this collab! this is the first out of two fics i will be posting for it, so look out for the next one soon!!

see the Fall-ing For You Collab here!!!

join my taglist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Surrounding you were walls of red and orange. Even the ground you walked on was covered in the autumnal colors. The sound of your feet walking down the laid-out path was dull, the soft ground barely making a sound as you stepped on it. The only thing you could hear was the wind soaring through the trees, and even that was muffled. You were in your own bubble while walking there, which is just what you had wanted. As soon as the leaves started changing colors, you had been craving to go out to the forest - see the beautiful seasonal change, smell the dewy grass, and be surrounded by nothing but nature. Minghao had answered your call. His hand was holding yours, his thumb slowly rubbing circles on the back of your palm, and your arms were swinging between you. Minghao’s hand was so warm and soft, that you were unsure of how you’d make yourself let go of it later. Your hand was warm… but the rest of you was freezing.

Minghao had been smart, he had looked at the weather report and wore light, but many, layers. You had looked at the sunny day, felt the air for a little bit through your window, and deduced that a thick sweater would be all you needed. You were deadly wrong. You had tried to focus on Minghao’s warm hand, but not even the butterflies in your stomach could make you forget how cold you were.

After shivering for a while, you came to a halt when Minghao suddenly stopped walking. Without a word, he let go of your hand to shrug off his jacket. You watched him with a wrinkle in your brow, trying to figure out what he was doing. He wrapped his coat around your frame, and you finally understood.

“You don’t have to…” you said but didn’t make much more of a protest against his kind act.

“Of course I do.” Minghao helped you get your arms into the sleeves of his coat. “There you go.”

He looked at you with a warm gaze and, even though the jacket helped a lot, it was enough to make you heat up again. After fixing the collar, he held out his hand for you to take again. You gladly accepted the offer, and the two of you started walking again.

“Won’t you be cold?” you asked.

“I’ll be alright, I have my scarf.” He proudly motioned to his scarf. “Besides, I was getting cold from just looking at you shivering. It’ll be much better for me like this.”

“If you say so.”

Minghao hummed and pulled you a little closer, your arms now touching from time to time as you walked

✦ .

While the walk in the forest had been idyllic, the journey back definitely wasn’t. As soon as you left the metro station, it started raining. People were lined up at the edge of the metro station, except for the lucky few who had brought umbrellas with them. Minghao squeezed your hand gently, gaining your attention.

“This isn’t stopping any time soon.” He sighed.

“Definitely not.”

“Should we run for it?”

“... sure.”

Minghao grabbed your hand even tighter, and the two of you ran through the streets. The rain was freezing cold, hitting your face like small icicles. Nevertheless, neither you nor Minghao stopped smiling and laughing because of that. 

By the time you got home, you were drenched - leaving water stains all over the floor of the entrance of your apartment building. Your hand was still gripping his tightly, and you had no plans of letting go. The two of you walked in silence, still gaining back your strength from the bad weather, and made your way to the elevator. You didn’t have to tell Minghao which button to press, and the doors closed quickly thereafter. The elevator took you up the apartment complex, and as you were nearing your floor you settled in a bitter-sweet feeling.

“Do you want to dry off a bit at my place before you leave? Maybe wait until it’s stopped raining?” You looked straight at the doors of the elevator, not daring to look at the man beside you. “... I wouldn’t mind having you around for a while longer.”

“I don’t think I can.” He squeezed your hand and you could feel his eyes stare holes into your skin. “Even though I want to... I have an early day tomorrow.”

You knew that it was already starting to get dark outside, and you wished that time could move just a little bit slower.

“Next time?” You finally met his gaze, and it sent a jolt of fireworks to the pit of your stomach.

“Next time,” he promised.

The doors to the elevator opened, and Minghao walked you to the door. You still hadn’t let go of his hand, you didn’t even think to do it. After unlocking the door and opening it, you turned to him again. He was still smiling like he had before - warm and caring.

“I had a really nice time,” you said.

“So did I,” he answered.

It was quiet. You were just looking at each other. But it was okay to just stand in silence with him. He was like a safe space. Always welcoming and never judging. Much to your dismay, his grip on your hand loosened until only his fingertips held onto yours.

“I should leave,” he murmured, glancing down at your lips.

You leaned a little closer, and he took a little step forward - both of you closing the distance as much as you could without making any too hasty movements. Minghao’s hand finally let go of yours, but you were soon reconnected with his touch as he cupped your cheek. Your noses were touching, but he didn’t close the gap. Taking the last step, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. It was a short kiss, some might even say it was just a peck, but it left your entire body tingling. He wasn’t nervous or overly cautious at all, he just needed your permission. Minghao stole another kiss before stepping away. You put your hand on the door handle while he walked backward to the elevator.

“Text me when you get home,” you peeped, not knowing what else to say.

He looked amused by your flustered state but nodded and replied with an “alright” before walking into the elevator. As soon as you heard it go down, you leaped into your apartment and slammed your door shut with an outburst of giddiness. Dancing around the hallway, you suddenly come to the realization that you’re still wearing Minghao’s jacket. You take it off carefully, feeling the thick fabric beneath your fingers, and put it up on the hanger. 

✦ .

You hadn’t been dating Minghao for very long, and you hadn’t been able to meet as often as you wanted to, but everything seemed to be going so well. He was the kind of guy you had been dreaming about… which is why you hadn’t been able to let yourself fall for him. You toyed with the idea of letting go of your emotional restrictions, but your past experiences wouldn’t let you. In your mind, you still had to be careful no matter how kind and loving Minghao was. Still, when you see his text show up on your home screen you can’t help that your heart skips a beat.

The next day you woke up with a stuffy nose, an explosive headache, and a dull ache in your entire body. Even turning to pick up your phone was a chore, but you had to call in sick somehow. You spent the morning in bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom and get something to eat. Everything was either too hot or too cold; you couldn’t find a good balance. So, of course, you ended up napping for most of the day.

The buzzing sound of your phone on your bedside table woke you up from your slumber. It had only been a few hours, but it felt like it had been several days since you first got sick. You looked at the caller ID and your eyes widened as you saw Minghao’s name. Clearing your throat the best you can before answering, you tried to make yourself sound like you weren’t sick.

“Hello?” you asked and cringed at how rough your voice was.

“Hi… are you okay?” The background noise of the city slightly muffled Minghao’s voice.

“I’m okay!” You tried to make it sound convincing, but you weren’t very successful. 

“Are you sure? You sound like you have a cold.”

“I’m just fi-” Before you could finish your sentence, your body betrayed you by sneezing. “I’m fine…”

“Sure…” he said, “Listen, I was just calling to ask if I could stop by to grab my coat but I can grab some food for you. Maybe soup?”

“Oh, you don’t have to! I can hang your coat outside my door, you can pick it up without getting close to me.” The words were pouring out of your mouth. “You shouldn’t have to get sick because of me- I know that you’re busy-”

“I’m not busy right now. Text me what you want and I’ll get something for you, I’m on my way to a grocery store.”

“Thank you.” You let out a sigh. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you right now.”

“I’m just doing what anyone would do. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

The knock on your door was expected, but still made you jump. You were standing right beside it, you hadn’t been able to sit still on the couch while waiting, but when he knocked you slowly counted to five in your head before opening it. There he was, in all his glory, dressed in sweats, a knitted cardigan, and his glasses sitting low on his nose - still managing to look put together, even when his hair had been ruffled by the wind. Minghao’s face lit up as he saw you, and he held up a plastic bag of goods. You welcomed him inside, taking the bag from him, and watched as he took off his shoes. When he stood up, his eyes were met with his coat.

“Ah, perfect,” he hummed. “I’m sorry for intruding on you like this.”

“It’s okay, you’re not in-” Your sentence was cut off by a cough forcing its way out of your throat.

Minghao’s eyes were filled with pity. He took the bag back from you and helped you over to the couch. Once you sat down, he covered you in a blanket and put his hand against your forehead. His hand was cold, and you leaned against it.

“You’re burning up.” He sighed and removed his hand from your forehead. “I’ll go prepare this soup for you, is that okay?”

“I can do it myself, Hao, I don’t want you to waste your time-”

“I think I’m spending my time very wisely,” he said, “But if you want me to leave I will, of course.”

“... I’d like you to stay.”

“Good.”

Once your heart had settled, and as you watched Minghao working in your kitchen, you noticed that he looked a little tired. Maybe he just had a rough day or didn’t sleep well last night, but you were worried for him. Just as you opened your mouth to ask him about it, he turned around to see you staring.

“Where do you keep your spoons?” he asked.

“That drawer right there.” You pointed. “The top one.”

He looked and let out a satisfied “Ah!” when he found it. You smiled and continued watching him cook, your worries slowly fading away.

✦ .

You and Minghao ate on opposite ends of the couch, a random movie playing in the background on the TV. Every so often, you’d sneak glances at him - and only get caught when he was already looking at you too. Then you’d smile at each other awkwardly and go back to watching the movie. There was comfort in sitting in each other’s presence but also a lingering tension that was impossible to deny. It had started raining again. In the quiet parts of the movie, you could hear the pitter-patter of the raindrops against your windows. The sun had gone down too, the only light now was coming from the TV. You looked down at your bowl, which only had a few scraps left, and put it away on the table. Minghao had already done so a while ago. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Minghao tore his gaze away from the screen to look at you, slightly confused. You motioned to the bowls and he brushed it off.

“It was nothing, I’m glad I could help.”

“Still. I’m happy you stopped by,” you said, “Otherwise I’d probably just eat cereal for dinner.”

He moved closer to you, slow enough for you to tell him not to, and put his arm around your shoulders. You shuffled even closer to him, despite a nagging voice in your head telling you that you shouldn’t be getting him sick, and Minghao put his head on your shoulders. When you put your head on top of his, you could feel him relax and put more of his weight against you. The movie came to an end, and the credits rolled, and suddenly the apartment was dark. Neither of you moved, you didn’t dare to. Your fingers crept towards his, and he met you halfway. Trying to navigate in the dark, you fumbled around with your hands before eventually intertwining them. Minghao squeezed your hand, and you squeezed his hand back. You could feel him smiling against your shoulder. But then he started shuffling around, trying to get up.

“Don’t go,” you whined. “You’re so warm…”

“If I stay here, I’ll never get up,” he said, “And I have to do the dishes.”

His head left your shoulder, but you refused to let go of his hand. Minghao turned to you, still smiling. You could barely see the outline of his features in the dark, even when you focused as hard as you could. He leaned his forehead against yours, and you let out a soft sigh at the warmth coming back to you.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you hummed. “Tomorrow.”

“You won’t be sick tomorrow?” he asked.

“No, you’ve cured me.”

Minghao let out a short laugh and moved to place a kiss on your forehead. You hesitantly let go of his hand and watched as he walked away to the kitchen. He turned on the light, creating a warm spotlight right above him. With the light surrounding him in this way, you thought he looked like an angel. And maybe he was. An angel sent just for you, to care for you and keep you warm. 

You watched his back as he did the dishes. The way his shoulders moved, how he went from resting on one hip to the other, and how his hands, somehow, elegantly put the dishes on the rack. With the blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders, you made your way over to the kitchen. Your arms wrapped around his midsection, and you put your head against his back. Listening to his breathing, you could tell that there was something wrong.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“I’m good now that you’re here,” he joked with a flirty tone.

“No- I mean, are you sick? Your breathing…”

You were cut off by Minghao trying, but failing, to hide his cough. The pieces were falling together; his tired eyes, how warm he was, and now the cough.

“Oh no, I’m sorry- did I get you sick?” You let go of him and tried to get a look at his face by standing beside him.

“I was sick before I came here,” he explained but you weren’t listening.

“You shouldn’t be doing the dishes, let me take over, please. Here, you can have the blanket- why don’t you go sit down?” You tried to take off the blanket, but Minghao grabbed your wrists.

His hands were still wet, so he quickly let go of you. But he had managed to stop your racing thoughts. You pulled the blanket tighter around you again.

“Leave the dishes in the sink, please. I’ll take care of it later,” you murmured. 

Minghao sniffled and put the leftover dishes away before drying off his hands. You smiled at him, silently thanking him for listening. Then, you grabbed his hand and brought him back to the couch, and gave him another blanket.

“I’ll go change my bedsheets, you can sleep there tonight. I’ll take the couch.” You went to leave, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

Instead, Minghao pulled you back down to sit on the couch with him. He looked shy, for once, and wouldn’t hold your gaze for very long.

“If you don’t find it uncomfortable… Could you sleep in the bed with me?” he asked.

He was playing with your fingers, looking down at what he was doing. You smiled and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Sure.”

After changing the bedsheets, you told Minghao to come join you in the bedroom. You didn’t have many clothes that he could borrow, but you found him a shirt that he could wear to sleep. It was dark again. The two of you were lying under the sheets, with at least another person’s worth of space between you. You were on your back, staring up at the ceiling, and you could only assume that Minghao was in the same position. 

“I was tired all day, but now I can’t sleep,” you whispered.

“Me neither,” Minghao whispered back.

You shuffled around, trying to find a better position but you ended up giving up rather quickly. You could hear Minghao turning to lie on his side.

“Could I…” he mumbled, “Could I hold you?”

You nodded, but realized that he probably couldn’t see you, and whispered out “Okay”. Minghao shuffled towards you, and you met him halfway. It seemed to be a theme between the two of you - things were never out of balance. When his arms met your waist, and he pulled you to lay against his chest, you felt your muscles slacken and your mind went blank. Your arms wrapped around his midsection, and you tried to pull him even closer. Minghao let go of one of his arms from you, for just a second, to pull the covers up around both of you. Now that everything felt right, the two of you lay in silence. Neither of you could fall asleep still.

“Thanks for coming over today,” you whispered.

“I wanted to see you again…” he said and added, “The coat was just an excuse.”

“Good. I wanted to see you too.”

You lay in silence again. Minghao started drawing small patterns on your back with his fingers, and you nuzzled your face closer to his chest. He smelled faintly of roses, or something else floral, and of your detergent - but you knew that was just from your shirt. He smelled like comfort. And his body was so warm, which you now knew was partly because he was sick, and it was finally the perfect temperature for you. Minghao let out a soft sigh, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“I have a hard time sleeping when I’m sick,” he murmured, “But when we were on the couch before - when I was leaning my head on your shoulder - I almost fell asleep immediately.”

You hummed in response, already feeling drowsy.

“Are you asleep?” he asked, and you shook your head. “If this is what it’s like being sick with you, then I don’t think I mind it one bit.”

“Will you stay tomorrow?” you whispered.

“Of course.”

✦ .

You didn’t know when you had ended up passing out. Something about Minghao’s presence, and his running hands on your back, put you in a trance. When you woke up, you were still in the same position. The sheets were a little bit more wrinkled, and your hands might have been in different positions but you couldn’t tell. Minghao was still asleep, and his grip was loose around you. You managed to get up easily, but immediately regretted it. Your apartment was freezing, one of the downsides of fall. Tip-toeing over to the closest piece of clothing that you could wrap around your bare arms, you picked it up and immediately recognized it as Minghao’s cardigan. You looked over at the still sleeping man in your bed, and decided to steal it from him - just for a little while.

While you were still sick, you were feeling better than the day before. So, you decided to make breakfast as a thank you to Minghao for making dinner last night. It wasn’t fancy, but it was the thought that counted. When you brought it into the bedroom, balancing it carefully on a tray, you found Minghao already awake. He smiled as soon as he saw you, but had to turn away to cough as you put down the tray on your bedside table.

“Good morning,” you said.

“Good morning,” he answered in between coughs. 

You gave him a glass of water, which he gladly accepted. While he was drinking, you put your hand on his forehead. You had about the same temperature, but you knew that you had a fever as well. Minghao groaned when you pulled your hand away, immediately trying to get closer to you again. You took the half-empty glass from his hand and put it on the tray. He had his head on your chest, breathing softly against your skin. Forgetting the breakfast, you made yourself comfortable in bed and tried to make him more comfortable. Minghao started fidgeting with the cardigan you were wearing.

“Is this mine?”

“... yes.”

He smiled and pressed a skin on your clavicle, silently accepting you stealing his clothes.

“You can wear it,” he said, “As long as you let me stay like this.”

[zorosdimples]

pairing ⛧ creepy medical student! law x gn! reader

warnings ⛧ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. while there’s no smut, this is suggestive, and everything that happens is nonconsensual (law is gross). mentions of masturbation, fucking inanimate objects, bruises, and death. additionally: cum sighting, cursing, knife play, a little blood, some spit, manhandling, and general grimetown weirdness.

word count ⛧ 1132

notes ⛧ this is another installment of the garden of earthly delights series, as well as a contribution to @bastardblvd’s house of slimy horrors collab—my prompt was “pumpkin patch”! the plot is nonexistent… just go with it <3

something isn’t right.

the early evening sky is hazy, the sun obscured by a leaden film that shrouds grimetown’s pumpkin patch in a deathly hue. the barren field before you is more of a squash graveyard than anything else—the vast expanse of dirt is littered with a few dozen orange carcasses.

this is certainly not what you were expecting when your date suggested a fun autumnal outing.

“this has to be the world’s most depressing pumpkin patch,” you grouse, craning your neck to look up at law’s stony expression; as usual, his face doesn’t betray his thoughts. you can never get a good read on him. you don’t know him well enough to tell if he’s simply awkward or if he genuinely doesn’t emote. “we should go somewhere else.”

the jet-haired man places a firm palm on the small of your back, urging you forward. “c’mon, we’re already here. we can’t make jack-o-lanterns without pumpkins. toji joe’s is out of ‘em.”

there’s a peculiar lilt to his words—a faux positivity that makes you hesitate for a split second. but you move forward anyway.

the blustery air ruffles your clothes as you drift across the dark earth with law, searching for a pumpkin that isn’t in some state of decomposition. this is exactly the sort of scenario you hear about on your favorite podcasts and documentaries: a careless person accompanied by a man they barely know in a remote area, not so much as a whisper of nearby life on the wind.

all you really know about law is that he’s a handsome medical student who shares similar interests, namely in true crime and literature. that, and he had been unusually pushy about this outing.

“hey, that looks like a good one.” law points to a suitable carving prospect. crouching down to get a closer look, a gasp leaves your lips when you find a hole a few inches in diameter bored into the side of the pumpkin. what appears to have once been a pale cream fluid is now a flaky crust, caking the opening. “is that—”

“probably,” law cuts in, resting a cold, tattooed hand on your shoulder. startled, you nearly topple over, but his strong arms catch you and pull you to his chest. now standing, you jerk in his embrace; he releases his hold and you take a few steps back. “it’s one of kappa upsilon mu’s fall festival activities.”

it’s impossible to hide the disgust that furrows your brow and creeps into your voice. ���they mutilate pumpkins and fuck them like fleshlights as a frat tradition?”

law shrugs. you swear you see a glimmer of humor flit through his amber irises. “it’s not even close to the weirdest thing they do. ever heard of a ‘cum fountain’?”

you hold up a hand to stop him. “i don’t even wanna know.”

but something isn’t adding up you think with a frown. “if you knew all the pumpkins were going to be cut up and…violated, why did you bring me here, law?” you tried to measure your words carefully, but now that they hang in the open, your accusation is evident.

your date’s lips curl into an ominous smirk. the familiar chill of dread nips at your heels and paws at your chest. “well,” law starts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade. your eyes rivet on the tool—the weapon—as he fiddles with it, nimble fingers gliding along the handle before flicking it open with ease. his bored, yellow gaze unnerves you; his words ooze calculated confidence. “i’m gonna practice my carving skills with you.”

his statement rips the breath from your lungs. unsure of what to do, you chuckle uncomfortably, praying that he’s still talking about the goddamn pumpkins.

law edges closer to you, a hunter testing his prey. you don’t move—you don’t think you could if you tried. your mind is racing in countless directions, but you can’t settle on an action, a plan. and this freak—your date—is one small thrust of the blade from you, crowding your space. so you stare down the predator’s maw.

“you’re beautiful,” law states, though it doesn’t sound complimentary; it’s an observation. there’s a clinical coldness to his words that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a microscope slide. he gestures to you with the knife, the unspoken threat palpable.

“oh. um, th-thank you,” you stammer, eyes darting wildly, cornered prey.

you force yourself to think: how do you escape this fucker? you had to take a shitty taxi to get to the pumpkin patch, but the driver could barely keep the car in its lane and tried to proposition you for sex. is everyone in grimetown a slimeball? you don’t realize your nails are biting so deeply into the skin of your palms that blood is dripping onto the dirt.

as though he can read your thoughts, law says coolly, “i wouldn’t run if i were you.”

options dwindling, you remember your lifeline. slowly, you inch a hand toward your back pocket where your phone sits. but your opponent is perceptive; law cracks a wide smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. he raises the knife and presses the flat side of the blade against your neck.

it’s an effective warning.

“there’s no signal out here—the only cell provider that services grimetown is slime mobile. you can check, though, if it makes you feel better,” law taunts.

to your horror, your phone reads “no service” at the top of the screen. your skin itches, nerves buzzing with adrenaline. your hands shake, fear and rage coalescing into an unshakeable tremor that has sweat beading at your temples. hot tears of frustration singe your cheeks. but the cold steel of the blade against your throat saps the fight from your body.

your final resort?

“fuck you,” you hiss with all the venom you can muster. and, before you can stop yourself: ptui. you launch a glob of spit that lands squarely on law’s cheek, punctuating your insult.

law doesn’t flinch. rather, he swipes two calloused fingertips through your precious gift. he holds his wet digits up, admiring the glistening pads of his fingers, then pops them into his mouth. the groan he emits while enjoying your taste makes you lightheaded. he pivots his blade so that the honed tip scrapes an angry line up the column of your throat. the pressure isn’t enough to slice your flesh—yet.

you shriek when law forcefully grabs your jaw and pulls you to him. bruises in the shape of his fingers will bloom on your face tomorrow—if you live that long, anyway. for the first time, his wide grin crinkles his hawkish eyes.

his voice is thick with desire as he murmurs, “i’d like to fuck you first.”