#cap on the other had. is well liked by the city and was thought of at a high regard

[redrose10]

I hope you like it! Thanks for the request.

@vicki1031

<Chocolate Fudge and Baby Prints>

Warnings: Mentions of therapy, adoption, feeling guilty and having regret, alcohol consumption, general angst

Prompts are selected in bold

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Never in a million years did you think opening a jar of chocolate fudge would have you panting and sweating and exhausted, but here you were. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was that time of the month and you were desperately craving a hot fudge sundae you would’ve already thrown the jar out of your kitchen window to watch is smash into a million pieces on the ground below.

You weren’t going to be that person that called emergency services to come open a jar for you even though the thought did cross your mind. You could go to the store and buy another one, but you were in no mood to make the trip there and you didn’t have the extra income to have it delivered.

So you did what any rational person would do. You grabbed the loaf of banana bread you had brought home from work, it was a day away from being expired, but it was still good, and grabbed your jar of fudge and headed to your next door neighbor. They had recently moved into the vacant spot next to you within the last couple of days and you were going to do the neighborly thing and introduce yourself and also hope that they could get the lid off of your jar.

“Just a minute”.,someone shouted from the other side of the door as you patiently waited in the hallway. You were feeling a little nervous about talking to a stranger, but your need for the chocolate fudge overrode that feeling.

“Hello.”, the door swung open.

“Hi! I’m so sorry to bother you. I’m your neighbor Y/N and just thought I’d introduce myself and drop off this banana bread. I also have a huge favor to ask and I know it’s a little weird, but I was also hoping you could help me and open up this jar of choco-“

Your moth dropped open when you looked up. The person standing in front of you was the last person you ever expected to see again, let alone standing in the apartment next to yours.

“J-J-Jungkook?”, you stuttered.

“Hi Y/N”, he mumbled, “I guess we don’t really have to introduce ourselves after all.”, came next with an awkward chuckle.

“I’m sorry.”, you quickly said before turning to run away, but he grabbed your wrist pulling you back to the doorway so he could grab the jar out of your hand. Easily he twisted the cap off before handing it back over to you.

“Thanks.”, you managed to squeak out before running back into your apartment and slamming the door behind you. Leaning up against the door you finally let out the breath you were holding in as your mind raced and your heart wasn’t much better off.

It felt like life was really messing with you because out of all the people in this city, this country, your new neighbor just had to be your ex. The same ex that you share a child with whom you gave up for adoption. The same ex that left you days afterwards leaving you alone and scared and heartbroken.

You knew the adoption was for the best. You were young, both of you just having turned eighteen, and you were barely able to provide for yourselves let alone another human being. You wanted your child to have a chance at a wonderful prosperous life and at the time you knew you couldn’t provide that. But the moment you first heard their little cries you lost it and started second guessing everything. The nurses asked if you wanted to hold them for a minute, but you declined knowing you would never be able to let go if you did so they whisked them away out of the room and you never heard another word about them. To this day you still didn’t even know if you had a boy or a girl.

You suffered for years with guilt, regret, longing, dreaming about what life would be like had you not gone the adoption route. And Jungkook seemed to move on with his life just fine. He got a job that paid pretty well and also allowed him to travel the world. He had friends. From what you saw on his Instagram on the nights you spent drunkenly scrolling he had quite a few relationships too. He seemed to have forgotten all about your child and about you. It made you hate him. Not only did you hate him for leaving you at such a vulnerable time, but you also hated him for being able to move on so easily and lice his life like nothing had happened. But maybe deep down you knew you hated him because a part of you still loved him.

Weeks had gone by without running into Jungkook. He seemed to be away most days anyway probably something with his job so it was easy to avoid him. Until one day you opened up your door to see him standing there with a pizza box in his hands.

“Hey uh.”, he nervously scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand, “Want some dinner? I thought maybe we could catch up.”

“Catch up?”, you scoffed., “There’s nothing to catch up about Jungkook?” You tried to shut the door on him, but he was quicker and managed to get his boot in the way preventing you. “Please Y/N.”, he whispered. You don’t know why, maybe you also wanted to get some closure or maybe you were just a sucker for punishment, but you ended up opening the door allowing him inside.

“I got your favorite.”, he smiled opening up the box to show you. You wanted to refuse, but it smelled so good and the pizza was from one of the more expensive places in the city that you had always wanted to try, but could never afford so you gave in and took a slice.

“Why are you here?”, you finally asked him after you were finished eating.

“I don’t know really. I’m tired of traveling. Looking to settle down. I wanted to come back home to do that. This was one of the only buildings with a vacancy that wasn’t a complete mess.”, he laughed.

You shook your head, “No I mean why are you HERE. In my apartment.”

“Oh.”, he mouthed before sipping on his water to stall, “I uh I wasn’t expecting to see you here and guess I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”

Now you were moving from being annoyed to flat out angry.

“Seriously! NOW you want to check on me? Where were you when I came home from the hospital after giving birth to our baby? Where were you the nights I cried myself to sleep? Huh? Jungkook, where were you the days I spent hanging over a toilet bowl because I made myself so sick with guilt because of the choice we made? Don’t come here and pretend like you care about me.”

He stared at you with big wide eyes. For a second you thought he might cry. But then you saw his face redden in anger.

“I’m sorry okay. I am. I really am Y/N. I was young and stupid and selfish and I made a bad choice, but by the time I realized all of that I was too embarrassed to come back to you and figured you were better off without me anyways.”

“You didn’t seem that way.”, you rolled your eyes, “Traveling the world. Parties. Galas. Living it up like nothing had happened.”

“Goddamn it Y/N.”, he shouted slamming his hand down on the table. He’d never shouted at you before and it startled you slightly. He didn’t noticed and continued, “I’m sorry you went through what you did. I am. I’ll never know what it was like to carry the baby or give birth or any of that. BUT do not sit here and say I wasn’t effected by everything that happened. You weren’t the only one who suffered. You didn’t see their little face or their perfect little hands. You didn’t follow them all the way to the nursery trying to figure out a way to make it work, a way to have them stay with us. I’ve spent my life feeling like a failure because I couldn’t provide for either of you so we had to make the choice we did. I’ve spent years wondering what I could’ve done to change things. I threw myself into work. I traveled, I went to events. I tried to make a name for myself. Sure I was selfish and hoped it would ease the pain…help me forget. But I also felt like if I lived my life to the fullest…if I achieved something then it would be worth it. For them, because it meant I didn’t give up and I used this new opportunity we were given to be successful. Again I’m sorry I left you, especially at a time like that. Y/N, I love you to the moon and back. I always have and I always will. I hope one day you can forgive me.”

You looked up at him seeing the tears threatening to fall. Your own tears were already rolling down your cheeks.

You sniffled, “I’m sorry Kook. I never thought of it from your perspective. But…but…you could’ve-could’ve stayed. You could’ve helped me fix things.”, you hiccuped falling into his open arms.

“I know. I’m sorry Y/N.”, he kissed the top of your head, “I was stupid and scared and a coward. I shouldn’t have done what I did, but I can’t change the past. I can only work on the future.”

You snuggled a little closer into his chest allowing him to comfort you., “I needed you. I missed you Jungkook. I…I still miss you.”

“I know me too. I’ve missed you this whole time. I thought about you every single day. I didn’t think you would ever want to see me again which I wouldn’t blame you, but when I found out that you lived next door I knew I had to at least try.”

“What’s going to happen now?”, you questioned.

He sighed, “Well…I’m not gonna lie and say everything is going to be okay, because it’s probably not, but what I do know is that we’re going to get through this together. I think maybe we could both use some counseling. We need to work on things, both individually and together. But maybe with some time and working together we can make this work. I love you Y/N.”

“Yeah that sounds like a good idea. I think it could help.”, you nodded in agreement, “And I love you too Jungkook.”

He held you for a little longer before standing up with a loud groan and a stretch, “Well it’s getting late. I should get going. Um here is my number. You can call me any time you need anything. Even if it’s just to open a jar of chocolate fudge.”, he said writing down his number for you.

You chuckled and walked him to the door. That’s when you noticed it. Hanging from the keys in his hand. It was small, but the color stood out against all of the various shades of metals. You stared at a small foot print engraved on a baby pink key chain. The date written underneath had been seared into your memory. You tried to reach for it, but when he noticed Jungkook panicked and quickly tried to shove the keys back into his pocket.

You stopped him, “No no let me see it. Is it…is that ours?”

Silently he nodded.

“A little girl?”, you questioned more to yourself than anyone, but he stepped forward, “Yeah. The uh…the nurse gave me a copy of it so eventually I had a key chain made.”

You stood in silence while running your fingers over the print. Tears welling up in your eyes once again.

Jungkook cleared his throat, “I uh I actually had one made for you too but I didn’t know if you’d want it. I didn’t want to make things worse for you so I never sent it.”

“Do you still have it?”

“Yeah. It’s back in my apartment. I could never throw it away. I even have the original print too…if you want to see it.”

A million different emotions ran through your head as you thought about all of your options. Eventually though you nodded, “Yeah I would actually like that.”

“Okay.”, he whispered opening the door for you, “You know I actually have some ice cream and a fresh jar of chocolate fudge if you’re interested.”

You eyed him suspiciously before walking into the hall.

“What?”, he sheepishly asked before welcoming you into his home, “I’ve just had a big craving for chocolate fudge lately.

[riff-is-on-a-fucking-crisis]

Thanks to a classmate, an Overblox Personality Swap AU was born. (Except the only things that stay the same are their habits and their reputation in the city)

[dollyichi]

IN-STORE EXCLUSIVE

katsuki bakugou x f ! reader ᯓ★ 1.7k words. fluff / both are pro-heroes / maybe a little ooc but idc / no established relationship, he likes you though / hints on mutual feelings / not proofread

you catch him buying your merch during a morning patrol.

katsuki’s currently getting ready for the day. it’s his day off and could’ve chosen stayed in as usual, but he had an agenda. he’s already thinking of it while he’s tying his shoes, how he could approach it the best he can. well, maybe a bit too seriously.

he thinks it’s stupid but he’s been wanting to visit this new merch store in the city that opened the other day. he missed the big opening, which was fine—better not to get ‘caught’ and bring any attention to him, especially not when midoriya’s the main guest for the opening promotions. he doesn’t want midoriya to run his mouth in front of everybody.

it’s still early morning, and he hopes not a lot of people were in the area, assuming most of them are busy or on the way to work, so their routes should be different from the one he’ll take. he even made sure to check who’s patrolling. it’s just todoroki today, so he didn’t mind. it’s a secluded area, having to pass an alley to enter the store’s street no one should be there anymore since most exclusives for the grand opening should be sold out.

with a huff, he locks the front door and makes his way to the shop. pushing down his cap further. kids were able to recognize him though, giving him a wave while their parents apologized. “i’m on a secret mission kid.” he says as a joke and they nod in enthusiasm, happy to see a hero at work. “pfft.” he laughs to himself when the kid salutes him and goes back to his mother.

once he gets to the store, he’s scanning the area, only a few people were inside. it’s pretty big, seeing how there were also other merch aside from the heroes section.

the staff greets him a good morning from the counter and he gives him a nod. he checks his face if he remembered to put his face mask on. he sighs in relief feeling the cloth on his mouth and goes to the heroes aisle—he looks like a creep the staff doing rounds almost wanted to kick him out.

“lots of me in here.” he mumbles to himself.

he thinks it’s crazy how high the prices were for a figurine of him (the manufacturers usually gives it to him for free). he looks around, cringing when he sees midoriya and todoroki’s section. “shit’s not even worth the damn thing.” he thinks, but then again, he’s a dumb hypocrite.

it’s already a pain to even get to the store. he could’ve ordered anything he wanted to online but this line of collectibles were in-store exclusive and it just happened to be in this store which was a relief. he really would’ve drove to a different city just for it—though, it was also dangerous if someone catches him. he could’ve asked anyone to buy for him too, even thought of todoroki to purchase for him but that man doesn’t have the same shame he would have if he gets seen. plus he didn’t like the idea of a dating rumor of you and todoroki if he’s seen with the merchandise.

he was only supposed to buy one figurine, but ends up buying a few more, pin buttons and one big plushie that he finds really cute of you. he chuckles to himself when it got that ‘same dumb smile’ you always have on your face—the one that causes his heart to skip a beat, even when he didn’t want it to.

this all started when midoriya found out about his little crush when katsuki got into an accident with a victim they saved. it was a big mission where several individuals in the area went missing, turns out a whole gang was using them for blackmail and ransom. every hero in the area, including you, were tracking every villain involved in this case.

a little girl in hostage activated her ‘truth quirk’ when she clung onto the blonde. midoriya was asking him what he’s thinking of—he meant what to do with the villains—instead, katsuki said, “i think y/n’s really pretty tonight.” and he slaps his mouth, he didn’t mean to say that.

apparently the kid’s quirk manages to bring out the deep inner thoughts of the person they used their ability on. “t-that’s n-nice kac- dynamight but i’m asking about the villain… hehe.”

the quirk lasted the whole night and he made sure to keep him mouth shut, having midoriya talk for him instead for their initial report. because when he answered another question from the green haired hero the only thing that ever left his mouth was about you. how he wished he was doing this mission with you instead, or about how many people you saved that night.

eventually midoriya gives him a TCG of you and while he wanted to act like he didn’t want it, it sent shivers down his spine thinking midoriya would have a photo of you, so he takes it (keeps it in his wallet too).

then he got even more invested when he saw collectors online, showing off their ‘rare y/n merchandise’ which got him seething too. he’s not gonna lose, not at all.

which brings him here.

he heads over to the counter with his head down. the staff notices the pink hue on the tips of his fingers and laughs (pissed katsuki real bad). “you like her too huh? i think she could definitely be a top 5 hero soon.” they say. katsuki doesn’t respond instead waits for his total and pays with his card. “fucking nerd shouldn’t talk about her at all.” he thinks. in fact, he thinks your ‘weird fans’ shouldn’t even breathe the same air as you. treating you like some idol, it’s fucking gross.

“have a great day sir!” he takes a breather when he gets out the store. a paper bag in one hand, and the plushie around his arm. he thinks he looks pathetic right now but it’s not like anyone would notice him if he gets home quick, right?

he walks fast but not too much to get him any unwanted attention. taking the same route home quietly and fast.

though he stops in his tracks before even exiting the alley, seeing todoroki waving to him. “you have y/n’s merch?”

katsuki takes off his mask, “mind your business half n’ half bastard.” and walks away flipping him off. it’s fine, it didn’t bother him too much if todoroki were to see anyway.

however, the icy-hot hero was just about to warn him what’s up ahead but it was too late, katsuki’s already gone.

he could’ve hit a perfect home run until he’s stopped on the sidewalk by someone he definitely didn’t want to see right now.

“katsuki?” he internally panics when he hears you. too in shock he looks up from the ground, flashing you his eyes. he blinks and immediately ignores you by walking away, tucking the plushie in his jacket. yet you follow him, already floating to his side with a curious smile. “just what is it with this area suddenly?” he’s mentally screaming right now.

you knew those pair of eyes anywhere no matter how much he tried to cover it. “you’re on patrol right now, huh?” he says with a low voice.

“yup with shou! did you see him? he went first before i did.” you chirp, “didn’t think i’d see you today with…” you look down to see a bag full of your own merch and your newest plushie’s head peeking out of his jacket, “me?”

katsuki’s face turns red. if it was even possible, smoke would be coming out of his ears since he’s been caught by the worst person—fate is really messing with him today. “i’m buying this for that dumb izuku!” he lies, hoping you’d buy it, but you could only giggle. “really? i don’t think you’d do that for him though?” katsuki curses under his breath.

“look kats i’m real flattered. could i take a picture of you like this?” you clap, floating around him.

“fuck off! don’t push your luck. besides, shouldn’t you be on fucking patrol?” he shakes his head and tries to loose you again, unfortunately for him, you’re quicker.

“mhm! you’re right.” you say, “but i only have a few minutes left before i switch shifts.” he’s not even looking at you. “besides i went extra early for today.” you take a quick glance at what’s inside the bag. “it’s a really good thing i did! real great!” you giggle. katsuki’s really flustered, hoping you’d just go away soon and you’d forget about this in an hour. to add more to his rapidly beating heart, you look so good in your hero costume. the fan in him wanted you to sign the toys he just got—well, as if he’d do that at all, he really planned to take this ‘secret’ to the grave (it’s okay to shoot your shot katsuki!)

he seemed lost in thought, and it was the perfect opportunity for you take your phone out and get a quick picture of him before you fly off. katsuki flinches when he hears the ‘click’ but you’re already so up high, laughing away and he’s screaming a string of curses at you.

he didn’t know who to blame, but he knew he fucked up even more when he gave you that stupid excuse. “what the fuck…” he says through his teeth, rubbing his temples with one hand as he walks back home.

katsuki never feels shame, but there’s always that stupid thing you do to him to feel things he’s never bothered to before—right now it’s embarrassment.

tomorrow was supposed to be his shift to patrol with you. he doesn’t even know how to face you after that. when he gets home he immediately sets it up and lays down on his couch.

after a few hours he gets a text from you. ‘i got one of yours after my shift!’ is what it read and it was a small chibi doll of him. you’re so adorable holding the mini version of him close to your face while you’re in your costume, he couldn’t help but save it.

he thinks, “wait, what does that mean?” does it mean you like him too? what’s even the point of you doing all that for his sake?

he then gets another message from you. a picture of him walking out the alley with a smile, clutching the plushie while todoroki’s looking from behind him. sometimes he really hates your flying abilities even when he thinks it’s the coolest.

“ha… you knew all this. well two can play that game.” as if he could even try to embarrass you after that.

oh whatever. he never loses, right?

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i feel like i keep embarrassing reader in front of kats so it’s payback time :p i didn’t mean for this to be so long omg. MINORS AND AGLESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW ME!

[hybbart]

Day 2655: As winter trucks on, everyone hauls up as the snow piles up in the city below...

Short story below the cut

Snow accumulated along the penthouse's enormous balconies, and the many large windows. Beyond was a landscape whited out by the frosty blanket, difficult to discern the shapes of any of the distant buildings through the heavy weather.

Tango's arm quietly ached. These days he could almost ignore it. Jimmy would chastise him if he knew, say it was not healthy, but what was there to do about it? hypocrite that he was, the avian had his own issues, even if it normally was not painful. They'd spent all morning pretending like Tango couldn't hear his unnaturally deep breaths, or that he'd turned his machine up higher. It was already high compared to before they'd been separated.

Today, though, was an okay day for Tango. He could almost ignore it. His prosthetic couldn't, but it was far too cold for it anyways. There was little to do while hauled up, he'd taken to hardly wearing it the past two weeks as the cold settled in. If not for their few chores and Jimmy's returning energy they'd both be hauled up in their room still.

But they still needed to clean and they still needed to eat. So, while he waited for False to return from taking care of the animals for them and the signal from Wels that his brother was still safely locked up, he cleaned. Plucked the dead leaves from the plants, moved muddy clothing to the laundry room, put away the last game they'd played, anything he saw that he could do.

Humming echoed from the hall, riding the same breeze that wafted a lovely smell of spices and meat. The last of a deer False had found. It was easy to mindlessly work with the smells and sounds of Jimmy cooking nearby. Or maybe it was just easier because he knew there was something tasty waiting at the end of it all. His thoughts were quick to get lost imagining the various dishes, unwilling to risk a fork getting thrown at him for interrupting to ask. It couldn't hurt, though, to take a peak..?

The room dimmed as great ruddy wings blocked the whiteout. False's terrifyingly sharp talons seemed like they might crush the railing beneath them, and Tango was silently glad Jimmy's were that of a songbird and not a raptor like their new companions. It wasn't as graceful as Wels' or Grian's landings either, the woman lurching slightly before hopping down to the ground. A few months ago Tango might not have noticed, but he'd seen the three avians come and go so often from that window he couldn't help notice the differences.

"All the chickens are accounted for, and your horse is fed." She announced, giving a salute with her smile that Tango returned.

"Thanks again for this." He said for the fourth time that day. "Jimmy can't even get himself off the ground this week, never mind carrying-"

"I told you it's fine." False waved him off as she slipped off her cap. even just the short flight from ground level to the 40th some-odd floor had it coated in a heavy blanket of snow.

Tango opened his mouth to protest but a yelp escaped instead, accompanied by clattering metal and plastic. It took them both a moment to realize it hadn't been him at all. Both spun towards the hall, a squeaky curse echoing. Tango was the first to rush forward.

Jimmy was leaned over the counter, head in one hand and the other limply stretched over the kitchen island where his leftovers bucket had spilled over the edge. His breaths came heavy and quick, much worse than earlier. Feathered ears twitched, well aware of his new company but unable to pick himself back up to say anything. At least until Tango had his arm around him. Then, he found the ability to give a weak protest, easily ignored as Tango guided him towards the bench-chest on the far wall.

Tango only glanced to False for a second, to check she had followed, "Go turn up the airificator." He directed.

"I'm fine." Jimmy wheezed. It was as though he'd just ran several miles, his hand clutched to his chest to catch a breath of air that would not come to him. "I just got a bit dizzy and dropped my knife."

"Is that all." Tango muttered, running his hands down Jimmy's tubes looking for any knots or breaks. A wing smacked his head until he backed away.

Jimmy huffed, though it wasn't entirely clear if it was frustration or his inability to breathe. "Just give me a minute! It's already high enough. I don't need to get used to it being even higher."

It was pure stubbornness. And if Tango was honest, he wasn't sure what to do with it. Normally it was himself being stubborn about his arm and Jimmy knocking sense into him. Jimmy could be as stubborn as a mule, but it'd never been directed at his health.

Sheepishly, False appeared around the corner. "I turned it up, there's not much room for higher, though."

"See?" Jimmy said pointedly. It was true, that it wasn't good for Jimmy to have it so high for extended time. But if that's what his body needed right now, then what could they do? Suffer and almost drop a knife on himself, apparently. Tango's brows knit together.

"You go lay down, I'll finish the cooking."

Jimmy balked. "You have one hand!"

"That's one more than you right now." He knelt down, allowing the hunched avian to look down on him. "It's not going to get better if you push yourself."

There was a look in his rancher's eyes, one that quickly shifted between several emotions until they were almost glassy, before he dropped his head, his grown out hair curtaining his face out of view. Tango sat there, running his hand up and down Jimmy's arm, until a weak voice escaped between gasps, "What if it doesn't?"

If it didn't? There wasn't much to be done if it didn't. They'd live with it like they did every time things became incrementally worse, and a bad day became a regular day. But if this was a regular day, what would be a bad day? Tango couldn't bring to let himself think about the thought that seemed to be consuming Jimmy at that moment. Not while Revy was still in the back of his mind. So, instead he says, "It will."

There was nothing in Jimmy's expression that conveyed any faith in those words.

"You need to let yourself rest." False interjected, hesitant to step forward when both men's eyes turned to her. She fiddled with the tube in her gloves, still having yet to even remove her coat. "Your lungs, if they're straining you need to let them rest for now, build up strength."

"For how long?" Muttered Jimmy, expression resigned. He'd already spent weeks in bed.

False wasn't one for complicated answers. "As long as it takes. You've been straining them for months, it'll take a while. And there's no better time to do it while we're all cooped up in here anyways."

"But it's just cooking. If I can't even do that-"

"Singing while running back and forth and wielding heavy utensils and pots? Your muscles aren't exactly in great shape either after that, it's probably taking it out of your entire body. And there's a difference between exercise and straining yourself."

She pushed he hand to her chest, "If you rest now I can help you with your breathing."

Both ranchers blinked in shock. "What?" Tango asked.

She ignored them at first, taking her time to pull off her scarf and coat, hanging both up on the back of a chair. Hands went to her clothed ribs, and she took a deep breath as her wings flexed. They stuttered, that same oddity Tango had noticed in her movement. "Look, you've met my sister, right? H?"

"Yeah..."

"Then you must have noticed she has a few less limbs." False nodded, fluttering her wings. "She's basic."

"That's a bit rude." Tango couldn't help joke, earning a shoulder bump from Jimmy to quiet down.

She groaned, and then threw her arms out, "I was born from an alteration of her genetics, I wasn't naturally an avian."

That made sense to Tango, knowing what they could do to Doc when he was already alive. It quickly cascaded, other pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

"I had to learn things you already know, and make up for things that didn't quite take. This included an obnoxious amount of physical therapy, especially dedicated to lung capacity." She put her hands on her hips, taking in a deep breath as if it were an example of her newfound capabilities before releasing. "I don't exactly know all the doctor-y mumbo jumbo behind how it all works, and we don't have all the big fancy equipment, but I know what helped me and what will probably help you some."

"False..." Jimmy sounded torn, and Tango couldn't blame him. It was hard to have any hope after living with his lung damage for seven years, steadily watching it get worse and worse. Their conditions had been very different, but was there really something False could offer that Scar hadn't already offered them in the past? How much was there that she could realistically do? At some point there had to be nothing at all. But it was tempting, even if just to get back to what it had been before, or at the very least prevent it from getting worse. There wasn't much farther it could fall, after all, any lifeline looks tempting.

"It's worth a shot, innit?" She shrugged, giving a tentative smile. "It's the least I could do, is at least try. At worst it does nothing."

"At worst I get my hopes up." Jimmy sighed, leaning his head against Tango. It seemed his body was beginning to decide for him that it was time to rest.

Tango brought his hand up to his rancher's hair, running his claws through the long strands in comfort. Whatever you want to do, I support it. That was how they always operated, wasn't it? He let his tail curl around Jimmy's talons. "I think either way, for now rest is in order."

That Jimmy found the strength to grumble about. "Fine, all of you can go hungry. I don't care."

"That's the spirit!" Tango chirped, hauling the whining avian to his feet. He couldn't pick him up with only one arm, so he resigned to dragging him down the hall. He stopped as they reached False, giving her a grateful smile before shuffling past her. He hissed as his stump bumped against the wall. Jimmy's head shot up immediately. "It's fine, I'm used to it." Tango strained to say through the jolt of pain. He'd forgotten just how tender it had been that day.

"You shouldn't be used to it." Jimmy chastised. "It's not healthy."

Tango gaped at him then burst out laughing, "Okay, Mister Hypocrite. Time to go to bed."

"Excuse me!"

[wonderjanga]

Billy and Bars

Now, as you probably know, most of the time Billy is ages 8 to maybe 15 (that’s what I’ve seen anyways) and of course, his Captain Marvel form looks like an adult. So, it wouldn’t be strange for an adult to ask another adult to go to a bar with them. Which is why Billy is caught in a dilemma. On one hand, he could just say no, but after a long mission where they’d all spent like two days on an alien planet under constant heavy fire from a cute and cuddly, yet surprisingly bloodthirsty race? It’d be weird not to accept. They might suspect him for being a kid! And boy, Billy does not want that. But on the other hand, he’s not of legal drinking age.

He ends up going with them anyways. Now, all the heroes are sat at a dingy bar in Central City, out of costume, of course. Though, some of them cough Bruce cough Diana cough Arthur cough and you can’t forget Billy, still in Marvel form. (He took a page out of Supe’s book and wore glasses. He’s also for some reason wearing Hawaiian print. (He didn’t have actual adult clothes and needed to borrow from a bargain bin))

Billy thankfully found a loophole for this whole mess. That’s right, this guys gonna be sipping virgin margaritas for the rest of the night. And, he try as many flavors as he wants because you wanna know the best part? Bruce is paying for everything! If Billy could jump in joy, he would. It didn’t matter that Hal was a little obnoxious when drunk off his mind. He’s dealt with worse and it’s not like it’s all that bad. He’s kinda funnier than usual this way. He gets the spend the rest of the day with people he considers friends, that’s all that really matters.

GL: “Dude, why do you keep ordering virgins?”

Crap. What does Billy say to that? Right off the bat, Billy ignores Solomon’s first, and quite frankly, wild lie to tell.

Marvel: “Hmm? Oh uh… I… like the way they taste…?”

He’s a bad liar.

Aquaman: *drinking beer* “Try again, bud.”

Okay… It looks like he might have to listen to Solomon after all. Gosh dang it.

Marvel: “Uhm… I kinda used to maybe sort of might’ve had an addiction and had to go to AA a long time ago.” *Sips drink*

He was always better at lying when the lie was already prepared.

*Whole table goes silent*

Marvel: “Uh… I’ve been sober for a while. Like…” ‘Twelve years, Billy,’ Solomon supplied in his head. “…Twelve years.”

*Table is still silent.*

Flash: *Interrupts silence by slamming hands on table* “Dude! You cannot keep dropping Marvel Lore Bombs™️ on us like this!” (Btw this is the same universe as the Marvel Compilations post. I didn’t mean to write it like it was the same universe but I might as well connect them cause why not)

Marvel: “Whaddya mean?”

Superman: “Well, Marvel…” *scratches back of head* “You kinda have this tendency to… Gosh, how do I put this?”

Martian Manhunter: “You drop obscure information about yourself at random times.”

Wonder Woman: “Then you just go about your day like you didn’t say it in the first place. For example Cap, you can’t just tell me that at some point you were an Amazonian, you were there for my birth, and then just walk off.”

GL: “Marvel, how old are you?”

Marvel: “Uuuuuuhhhhhhh….”

Batman: “You date back to having existed before Mesopotamia. I want to know the answer to that question Marvel.” *Bat-glares Billy while sipping from his drink.*

Bruce was definitely going to add the AA thing to his quite small folder on Marvel.

The night continues on with the other members of the JL grilling Billy for more information about himself, which Solomon helps with by either supplying him with lies, or with things previous champions did. By the time the night was over, Billy never wanted to go to a bar again. He unshazamed in an alley and went home to his little place. He bee-lined to his sleeping bag and just when he was about to fall asleep, something popped into his mind:

‘Why didn’t I just say I didn’t like the way it tastes?’ That thought kept him up for a couple more hours.

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (5)

Summary: Terry and Patrice enjoy each other with the promise of bright future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Part: 5 of 5

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW

A/N: Thanks so much for joining me on this ride. I hope the journey turns out to be worth it.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four.

“Uh, my name is Terry, I’m from North Carolina, and I wanna dedicate this one to my lady over there in the orange dress. You look good, girl.” 

“Oh no.”

“Sing your song, baby!”

A mix of encouragement and admiration at Terry’s public display of affection rang out in a poorly lit karaoke bar in the French Quarter. Liquor, good food, and good people were the perfect mix for a good time with the vestiges of Summer break rapidly slipping away. Terry stood on stage with a goofy grin and low eyes, pointing everyone toward his favorite audience member. 

Patrice had never been so embarrassed in her life. When she’d dared him to do something crazy on the last night of their spontaneous vacation, she thought he’d finally get that tattoo of her name on his ribs like he promised way back when. Singing in front of a crowd of rowdy strangers wasn’t on her bingo card.

Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her near-uncontrollable laughter. 

Terry couldn’t sing. At least not well enough to give a tipsy rendition of Patrice’s favorite Usher record. She still remembered forcing Terry to listen to Raymond v. Raymond over and over again in her cramped bedroom, many times not getting past Track 3 without gushing over how she hoped to marry the R&B heartthrob one day. Terry secretly carried a deep disdain for Usher up until his mid-20s, but couldn’t dodge the memories any time “There Goes My Baby” would play and take him right back to that cramped bedroom with his dream girl. 

He started just as Patrice expected. Though he knew the words like the back of his hand, his pitchy tenor was a far cry from the vocals needed to properly serenade an audience. He didn’t care though. As long as he could pull a belly laugh from Patrice he’d make a fool of himself in public every time. 

Between the second verse and bridge, Terry decided to take his antics up a notch. He abandoned the stage to make a beeline for Patrice with the mic in hand for a personal show. She was sure to play into the bit with playful hoops and fake screams between giggles. When he was close enough to touch, she pretended to fangirl like she was front row at one of Usher’s Vegas shows. 

“Baby, lovin’ you feels better than everything, anything. Put it on my heart, you gon’ get a ring,” he sang, spontaneously remixing the lyrics so far off-key that, if not for the levity of the ordeal, he’d surely offend every music lover in a 50-mile radius. “And I promise, our time away didn’t change my love.” 

Completely enamored with the absurdity of the moment, Patrice ran her fingertips across Terry’s abdomen underneath his shirt like a crazed fan and winked. Terry acknowledged the dangerous line she was toeing by flashing her a flirtatious grin to match the seductive sparkle in his eyes. 

Their connection overrode Terry’s awful singing performance enough for the crowd to show support through an assortment of cheers and supportive hollers only a city full of spirited Black people could provide. 

Always the perfect gentleman, Terry bid Patrice farewell for a moment with a peck on the cheek before returning to the stage to cap a truly unexpected performance and receive thunderous applause. 

“Oooo-weee. That’s your man, love? I’m talking official official?” The middle-aged tourist’s question and her thick accent interrupted Patrice’s daydreaming while she watched Terry’s every move with part of her bottom lip caught by her top row of teeth. 

“Yeah,” she answered, finally tearing her gaze away to acknowledge the woman while fiddling with the opal necklace he’d gifted her at dinner. It was the necklace symbolizing their first real date and the end of their friends only arrangement. “That’s him. Ain’t he somethin’?” 

“Somethin’ ain’t the word. I might need to head on up to North Carolina and get me one of them. My God today!” 

“He’s got a cute little single friend out in Percyville if you down with our Asian brothers. Former Marine too.” 

“You got a picture?” 

The two women fell into conversation about Ken’s availability while Patrice waited for Terry to rejoin her side. He soon returned with two shots of tequila in hand and a smile fighting to be freed from behind his poker face. 

“What was that about,” he asked, nodding at the woman who’d begun to show her friends photos of her potential beau as he placed a shot in front of Patrice.

“Might’ve gotten Ken somebody to take him out of the streets. You know he like ‘em thick and fine.” 

“I taught my boy a few things.” He used the hand closest to Patrice to breach the split in her dress and grip her inner thigh. He maintained contact, waiting for her to get shy and shoo him away. 

But she didn’t. She met his show of dominance with one of her own and crossed her legs to keep him in place, keeping him close to the pulse at her center. Two could play the secret foreplay game.

“What’s that about,” she asked, pointing at his gift of top-shelf reposado and ignoring the flutter in her stomach once he began rubbing slow circles on the top of her thigh with his thumb.

He smirked. “A little something to toast with.” 

“Oooh. What’re we celebrating?” 

“Being free, being together, and…” He lifted his shot glass, prompting Patrice to follow suit. 

“And what, TJ! C’mon!” 

“And…I got the job.” He followed his surprise by taking his shot, finishing with a quiet laugh while watching Patrice sit in unblinking shock. He squeezed her thigh again. “Don’t let me drink alone now. Bottoms up.” 

Shock gave way to a soft squeal and tiny, animated hand claps before Patrice took her gulp of tequila. Excitement had her rushing to swallow so that she could pull Terry into a series of quick kisses across his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” she complimented against his lips. “Tell me about it.” 

She stole another kiss to taste the remnants of buffalo sauce and alcohol on Terry’s tongue. He let her explore uninhibited until she’d had enough. If she wanted to put on a show, he’d be a willing participant. Even more so in the privacy of the Airbnb that belonged them to until sunrise.

The sexual tension had reached a tipping point and the clock was ticking. Images of her body beneath his were starting to be the only thoughts Terry could concoct.

Terry’s face was completely flushed, usually even caramel skin now red from lust and one too many drinks. A slow, tipsy grin put all his teeth on display before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“We can talk about that later. Can we get out of here right now, though.” 

“Yeah? Why?” 

Patrice assumed they were having a good time with at least one more stop on their self-guided nightlife tour. His eagerness to abandon plans was uncharacteristic. 

Terry continued to smile then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I really wanna make you cum tonight. You been waiting too long.”

A shiver hit Patrice’s spine as she tried to maintain some level of composure in a room full of people. Terry easily pushed her thighs open to free his hand, being sure to brush against her lower lips with the tips of his fingers. 

Terry didn’t need to speak when he stood to pull her chair back from the table. Patrice allowed him to tug her to her feet and out of the bar, waving goodbye to her new friend who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up. 

However, any morsel of confidence she had while they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a taxi had waned once they reached their dwelling for the night and the reality of their situation set in. 

Their first time together was her first time. She was young with too many influences in her ear telling her that the only way to make a man love her was through her body. No matter how many times Terry assured her that they could spend that truly imporable hour of alone time in her hotel room catching up, she insisted that they test the boundaries of their affection. 

Now, with history repeating itself, she couldn’t help but feel a deep pit of nervousness and uncertainty growing in her belly. 

Patrice stood in the bathroom mirror, tussling with her hair that had gone from pressed roots to a mess of frizz and curled ends. She suddenly hated the way her cotton slip dress fit and how the lace bra and panty set seemed to bunch in all the wrong places. The only thing she wanted to do was look like the woman of his dreams, but her confidence was waning with every second she spent judging her appearance while Terry waited patiently in the bedroom. Frustration was building and bringing the sting of fresh tears to her eyes.

On the other side of the door, Terry spent his time adjusting and readjusting the pillows on the bed. His bare back and shoulders glistened under the soft, warm light emanating from the floor lamp across the room, partially from the heat, but mostly from sheer nervousness. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” he whispered to himself, suddenly embarrassed. 

Terry forced himself to take a seat at the edge of the bed to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been on the brink of having her in this way, he was a young man with no clue how to love a woman. Now, all he wanted to do was prove that he’d earn every morsel of her trust back if she let him. 

He never told Patrice that their first time was his first time. He was scared out of his mind, wanting to give in to his fantasies but afraid to send the wrong impression. The memory of that summer afternoon never left him. But, it was time to start anew with a title and the promise of a different result on the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Terry wiped his sweaty palms against the soft fabric of his briefs and sighed. 

“You okay in there,” he called out, concerned as the minutes ticked by with no communication. “I don’t wanna rush you. Just checking in. Tell me to leave you alone if I’m doing too much.” 

“I’m okay. One second. I’m fixin’ my hair.”

“Take your time. I’m sure you look…”

The soft sound of the door opening stopped Terry mid-sentence. Patrice stepped out, one foot in front of the other, until she was past the threshold and under his doting gaze. 

“...gorgeous,” he finished, the word coming out in one breath. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Treece.” 

Patrice had decided on a bun on top of her head with tendrils in the front and back that couldn’t quite reach the rest of her hair. She’d traded her light makeup for a bare face still glowing from her nighttime skin routine. Her slip dress clung and dipped in all the right places without the lace from her lingerie interrupting the smooth fabric. She looked at him through long lashes, her expression reading as the same timid girl from all those years ago.

Terry stood to his full height in reverence of her breathtaking form. The most skilled artists and creators from around the world couldn’t have dreamt of a more captivating marvel in his opinion. She was the pinnacle of beauty. 

Patrice watched him draw closer, her head slowly tilting up as he began to dwarf her with his stature. He reached out to trace her jaw before lightly gripping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, yourself.”

Goofy smiles and giggles followed their awkward introduction to ease the anxious energy in the room.

“Is Terrence James Richmond nervous behind little ol’ me,” she teased with a tickle to his sides. 

“I got a few butterflies, I’m not gon’ lie,” he laughed. “Just wanna make you happy, is all.” 

“I was gonna say the same to you.” 

“You have no idea how happy you make me.” 

His voice came in just above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside. 

Their noses brushed against each other as Patrice stood on her tip-toes to rest her arms around his neck. Her fingers traced circles at his nape, making the hair all over his body stand at attention. 

A tentative peck connected their lips and gave way to more needy, hungry kisses that transformed them into eager teenagers making out for the thrill of physical contact. 

Euphoria wasn’t enough to explain Terry’s headspace. He was high off every kiss, lick, and bite Patrice allowed. He couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t sufficient to pull her closer with a firm grasp on her ass. He needed to taste her, to be consumed by her, to consume her in every way possible. 

“Put me to work. Tell me what you need,” he whispered, breathless as blood began to rush south from the slight pain of Patrice’s fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. 

“You. Fold me, bend me, flip me, I don’t care. I just need you.” 

Patrice was far beyond playing coy. She’d drop to her knees and beg at his feet if he asked. Whatever she had to do to feel him from the inside was on the table. 

Terry didn’t make Patrice go to extremes for his affection. He preferred to acknowledge her request by carefully sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and arms. 

He watched her skin become more and more exposed with intense focus, taking note of the way her nipples seemed to salute him once they met the bedroom air. He acknowledged both of them with a soft caress that earned a whimper from Patrice as she watched him handle her with care.

Never in her life had been methodically unwrapped like a present on Christmas morning. Her heartbeat had gone below her waist, throbbing in an almost painful cry for her lover’s attention. Terry kept her yearning at bay with a slow kiss while he pushed her garment past her hips and to the floor. 

Patrice disrobed him with an equal measure of care, offering quick kisses across the expanse of his chest while she slid her hand past his Calvin Klein waistband. Round, doe eyes looked back up at him to catch the precise moment when Terry’s eyelids blinked closed from the sensation of her fingertips brushing past his sensitive tip. 

Her soft palms worked his shaft - up and down, up and down - until his member was proud and bobbing from the weight of itself without something keeping it at bay. 

Fearing what might happen if he let her continue, Terry pulled her back to his body for sensual openmouthed kisses on her full lips. The soft smack of their lips and tongues created perfect harmonies in the still room, communicating more desire than either of them could effectively vocalize. 

The intensity began to rise at exponential rates, sending them in a clumsy frenzy to the bed for somewhere stable to fully experience one another. Terry’s back hit the cool cotton sheets first with Patrice collapsing on top with a surprised yelp that made them both laugh.

“Don’t fight it,” Terry instructed, pushing a stray piece of hair from her face while he stared up at her lovingly. “Let go. I got you.”

His reassurance made her heart do a backflip on the way to its new home between her legs. She needed him in the worst way.

Terry leaned up to kiss her lips once, twice, and once more to linger. His fingertips traced a blazing path from her waist to the bottom of her ass to partially push her forward in a silent plea to kiss her where he missed her most. 

“Let me taste you. Is that okay?” 

Something about the way he asked for permission with eyes those stormy eyes robbed Patrice of her ability to respond with words. He prompted her to move forward again with a soft tap on her backside, finally convincing her to lift her hips and scoot toward his face. 

Cautiously, she hovered above his mouth with thick thighs flanking either side of his head. 

He moved slow with sweet kisses and lazy licks to mix spit with her wetness in a one-sided love song to his favorite girl. He was effortlessly sexy, combining broad strokes of his tongue between her lips with expertly timed sucks at her clit to elicit filthy words that fueled his best oral performance yet.

He ignored every plea for mercy and her cries for a break to compose herself. There was only one objective. Two if he were lucky to push her into a water show for the ages. 

Animalistic instinct had them trading moans in time with each other, fully in throws of passion. Every grind against his nose and call of his name made Terry want to show her the full extent of his skill. 

His face glistened beneath her with his eyes still low but open enough to get the full visual of her undoing.

“Terry, that is - oh…shit.” 

Full sentences became senseless babble as she clamped her eyes shut to brace for that familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her belly. Patrice struggled to maintain focus on herself while Terry enjoyed his new favorite meal. 

The velvety smoothness of his tongue took broad passes from her entrance to her clit, stopping every so often to chase wetness that had escaped to her thighs. He wanted every drop and then some. 

His moans and groans as he feasted vibrated against her most sensitive spots, turning her mind into television static. Seeing her unravel with every soft suckle at her clit and agonizingly slow, broad lick across her swollen lips drove him to near-obsessive levels of lust. 

Her chest heaved in a fight to keep her heart rate level as his efforts to make her cum for the first time became more targeted. 

“Fuck, baby” she moaned, finally taking a look down to watch the master in his element. “Look at you. You gon’ make me cum, huh?”

Terry seemed to smile at her admiration. If he could get her to talk back, her eventual undoing when all was said and done would be that much more satisfying. 

Taking her challenge, he began to push her to her limit. She was putty in his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, soft sucking turning into a talented tongue making moans devolve into nonsensical utterings until she was squirming for release while his arms kept her locked in place for a wild ride.

Almost there. Almost there. Then a brief pause to start from the top. More lazy passes and passionate kisses to rev her up to the point of delirium and practically screaming to finish. 

Just when she thought she may have to threaten him on the third revolution of his torture, he delivered on his promise from the bar. 

Colors emitted smells. Sounds became vivid pictures across her eyes. She could taste the stars as she erupted in a way she’d never done before. The prickle of his facial hair on sensitive skin felt like shockwaves on her skin. 

“Oh fuuuuck! Yesyesyes!” 

Her hips jerked without her permission, taking Terry’s face on the ride of his life. He kept up through it all with no objections. If death came from her thighs cutting him off from the oxygen needed to breathe he’d wear death like a badge of honor in the afterlife.

Another string of expletives fell from her lips in tandem with Terry’s muffled groan as she gripped the sheets below her for dear life. This was Heaven. She was sure of it. 

Terry took one last deep inhale with his nose pressed against her pussy before kissing along the warm skin of Patrice’s inner thigh while she came down. She caressed what she could reach of his head in appreciation and beckoned him to release his suction on her pussy. 

She rushed to get back to his lips to taste herself on his mouth and he welcomed her with open arms. 

Kissing. Grinding. Skin-to-skin friction. None of it was enough for Terry. He desperately needed to be inside her to satisfy the near-painful stiffness he was experiencing. 

His attempt to flip Patrice on her back was futile once she pressed her weight into his legs to keep him in place. He roughly nipped at her shoulder before trying again with the same result. 

“C’mon,” he pleaded, almost begging for the go-ahead to fill her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Still, she denied him pleasure. Patrice shifted to straddle his waist, slowly dragging her hands up and down his torso while his stomach clenched from the warmth of her core on his body. 

“Lay back,” she breathed out, partially lifting her hips to reposition herself on top of his length. He hissed at the sensation of her gingerly dragging her wet, warm entrance against his shaft. “I’mma handle this one. Relax, baby.” 

If there was a thought to be had, Terry couldn’t piece it together to save his life once Patrice completely enveloped him inside her slick walls. His jaw tightened then fell slack once she began to work her magic. A slow bounce and grind combination in his lap kept her breast rolling in a lewd show with Terry as the lucky winner of a front row ticket. 

Patrice kept her head thrown back like a cowgirl, feeling perspiration gather on her forehead while he gave him all she had. His hands giving her firm smacks on the hip and ass acted as a round of applause each time she buried him deep and pulled back up with expert precision. 

Her right hand slid from its spot on his chest to his throat for a barely there squeeze just as a quiet gasp made her aware of another incoming orgasm. 

The feel of her thumb gripping his esophagus made Terry expel a sound that he wasn’t aware he could make, somewhere between a whimper and a growl awakening each of his senses. 

The sight brought him the beautiful visual of her eyes shut tightly in concentration while she glowed like a heavenly body from the lamp’s light. Her hair had slipped out of its bun, leaving a lion’s mane of coils to toss wildly in the wind. 

Smell brought with it the earthy scent of sweat and the lingering musk of her pussy. A smell that could awaken a deep longing in him in even the direst circumstances. If he could bottle it and wear it as fragrance, he’d do so proudly just to have her with him at all times.

Hearing pulled in the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the intermingling moans in the room. He’d never been so loud before, so unabashedly in the moment with another woman. He cursed, called her name, and praised her with equal ferocity. 

Touch was satisfied by the handful of ass he used to ease the stress on her thighs while she bucked wilder than ever before. 

Something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he strained to hold back release. “You doing so good for me, baby. You know I love you right?” 

“Yes!” she cried out, hips starting to sputter out of control with Terry gently stretching her on every stroke. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist tighter as he fucked into her in search of their shared release. She sagged forward for the ride, her brain turning into mush while her mouth hung open with no sounds.

“Good.” His voice came through clenched teeth. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

She put up no resistance as he paused his pounding to flip her onto her back with a dancer's grace. Having her laid out beneath him, body open, leaking, and waiting for him was as exciting as the first time. He was reinvigorated. Any onset of sore muscles and tired hips was gone the moment she keened for his attention. 

Terry’s eyes were blown wide with excitement while he decided where to put his mouth first. He quickly settled on one of her legs, slowly lifting it by the ankle to lick and kiss the birthmark by her Achilles. His tongue traced an invisible map past her heel, to her pedicured toes, and back to her calf before closing his lips to cap his display of affection. He propped the leg on his shoulder and then pressed forward to bring his chest down over hers. 

Patrice’s small mewls from the burning in her hamstrings became caught in Terry’s mouth as searched her mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. Her whining grew louder still once his tip pressed past her entrance.

“You can take it,” he affirmed, pushing deeper. “I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Affirmations and appreciative pecks across her face overrode aching muscles. She wanted, needed, to please him. 

They released content sighs in tandem once they were pelvis to pelvis. A snug fit made every long stroke intoxicating as Terry set an even pace. 

The repeated squeak of the bed added to their symphony of sounds growing more rabid by the second. They were off to the races on the way to an explosive finish line. 

Terry was relentless as he kept her in place for a proper and precise fuck that reached all the way to her heart. She’d begun thinking up baby names and nursery themes when he split his attention between earth-shattering penetration and the addition of his thoughtful stimulation of her clit to cover all bases. She was just along for the ride and hoping that she could keep her volume at a reasonable level when the inevitable took over. 

Patrice was the first to cum just as Terry intended. Her back arched off the bed in near levitation while she called his full name and the Lord’s to the ceiling.

“That’s what I like, beautiful. Give me everything.” 

He smiled down at his work, obsessed with the sight and sounds of her much-deserved orgasm. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to. Wetness coated both of them as her hips circled to feel him fill her to the brim while a rush of endorphins flowed through her nervous system.

At the crest of her wave is where he came undone. 

The involuntary clinching sent Terry into a tailspin of frenetic strokes and broken sentences with his face tucked firmly into Patrice’s neck. She comforted him through it all, speaking directly into the shell of his ear and punctuating every few words with a soft kiss. 

“I wanna do this for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want that, baby?” Terry forwent a verbal answer in favor of a short grunt as his pace became erratic. “Fill me up. Let’s try for that son you used to tell me about.” 

“Fuck, Treece.” 

“Maybe we’ll name him after you. He’ll have my eyes and your smile, hm. Think you can do that for me tonight. I know you wanna cum. Do it for me, baby. Go ahead.” 

The magic words. He came with a gruff groan and a slew of profane words that would otherwise be offensive to any outside of the bubble they’d created in those walls. His toes cramped, eyelids clamped shut, and ears rang while every breath came out shaky and labored. Patrice joined him throughout the ride until he returned to the Earth’s atmosphere. 

Neither of them moved, preferring to hear the other’s steady in and out while their chests rose and fell together. 

“One year,” Terry started, keeping his attention focused on bringing Patrice’s ring finger to his lips as he lay on her chest. 

She paused the imaginary circles she was drawing on his shoulders and looked down at him. “One year what?” 

“Gimme a year and you’ll be coming down the aisle or standing in front of the judge, whichever one you want. Where you wanna honeymoon?” 

“Mmm, how about Puerto Rico?” 

“Done. Summer wedding?”

“Early fall.” 

“10-4.” 

“Yeah,” Patrice questioned, giggling. “And what else? What’s next?” 

 “Making our parents grandparents, hopefully. I’m trynna be an honest man. Take me out the streets, please!” 

Patrice’s cackle at Terry’s antic invited him to join at full volume. “An honest man, huh? I can do that for you. I’ll make an honest man out of Terrence Richmond, no problem. It’s the least I could do.” 

“Mhmm.” Regaining some strength in his body, Terry kissed his way from her chest to her mouth, only stopping when he had her arching into him for more contact. He spoke with his nose pressed to hers. “Patrice Nicole Richmond. Sounds good, right?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Terry hummed his approval, preferring to get back to the worship he had planned from the moment they set off to New Orleans.

Every second in their lives, together and apart, had brought them to a new beginning that neither of them could’ve imagined. If tonight was day one of forever, they vowed before each other and God to make it glorious one day at a time. 

Terry had lost a lot. Money, family, himself. But under the white glow of a full moon and the touch of the one he cherished most, he’d gained so much more. Something he’d been searching for without the word to call it by its name until he got back to her front step one afternoon.

Love.

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[heartsriki]

FLORAL SANCTUARY ⌇봄의 사랑

pairing ᝰ idol!sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. riki & sunoo | word count: 5.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ fluff, tiny bit of angst, mention of Sasaengs, misunderstandings, assault attempt (not from hoon), kissing, reader is a florist.

synopsis — your life is turned upside down when a mysterious customer, later revealed to be sunghoon of ENHYPEN, starts frequenting your shop. As feelings blossom, they must navigate the challenges of love in the spotlight and a world of secrets.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Im not sure if I like this but :( I worked on it for a little bit of time so I might as well post it also don’t talk about me sneaking riki into every fic fr.. OH I hope yall like the bonuses under every fic as well <3 hope you like it enjoy fr!

The start of spring always brought life to the city. The air smelled of fresh blooms, the sun painted the streets in golden light, and your quaint little flower shop buzzed with new energy. Spring meant love was in the air, and for a florist like you, it was prime confession season.

The day, however, had been slower than you’d hoped. The usual flow of familiar faces trickled in—some grabbing pre-made bouquets, others chatting as they browsed. Earlier, a man wearing a mask and a baseball cap had wandered in, keeping to himself as he strolled among the displays. He seemed like the kind of person who was window-shopping rather than buying, so you left him to it, busying yourself with restocking and rearranging.

The soft chime of the doorbell broke the quiet rhythm of the shop, and you turned to see a younger guy, probably no older than 18, shuffling inside. He looked nervous, wringing his hands as he approached the counter.

“Uh, hey… What flowers are, like, good for confessing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but smile. This was your favorite kind of customer—the ones looking for the perfect way to say something they couldn’t put into words themselves. “If you’re confessing love, red tulips are a classic,” you said, guiding him toward the vibrant blooms.

His face lit up as he picked a handful, and you wrapped them into a simple but elegant bouquet. As you handed it over, you grinned and said, “Good luck! I hope they say yes.”

“Thanks!” he beamed, waving as he left the shop.

You turned back to the shelves, searching for something to keep you busy when the man in the mask from earlier appeared at the counter. He stood tall, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face obscured by the brim of his cap.

“Can I help you?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated like he was working up the courage to speak. “Yeah, uh… I heard you helping that kid, and I was wondering… what flowers are good to give to your mom?”

His voice was deep but soft, and something about it made your chest tighten. You pushed the thought aside and gave a little laugh. “For your mom? Gardenias are perfect—they symbolize love for family. But they’re a bit pricey.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ll take one.”

You nodded and stepped away to grab one of the delicate white blooms. As you did, the radio in the corner of the shop switched songs, the upbeat melody of “Moonstruck” by ENHYPEN filling the air. You glanced at the man, noticing how he suddenly stiffened. His hands fidgeted at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the door.

“Here you go,” you said, returning with the flower wrapped in crisp white paper.

But as you held it out to him, he grabbed it hastily and bolted for the door.

“Hey!” you called after him, heart racing as you hurried around the counter. You chased him to the sidewalk, but he was already halfway down the block, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, out of breath, staring after him. “What the actual hell…”

The next day, just as you were finishing up for the evening, you hummed to the soft tune of the radio while sweeping the shop floor. The faint ding of the bell broke the stillness, and you looked up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closing,” you explained softly, leaning the broom against the counter.

The man who entered smirked at you, his demeanor casual but confident. “No worries, babe. I wasn’t here for flowers anyway,” he said, slowly stepping toward you.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then what are you here for?”

“Your number would be a good start,” he said with a cocky smile, reaching out as if to touch your arm.

Before he could make contact, an arm suddenly pulled him back. Startled, you watched as his head snapped toward the figure standing behind him—the man in the mask and baseball cap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the masked man asked, his voice low and commanding.

The cocky man’s confidence vanished in an instant. “Uh—nothing. Sorry!” he stammered before bolting out of the shop, the bell jingling violently as the door slammed behind him.

You huffed, rubbing your arms as you looked at the masked man. “Wow, that was scary. Thanks,” you said, your gaze now focused on him. Something about him caught your attention—his peek of black hair beneath the cap, his smooth voice, his familiar presence.

“Hey… wait!” you exclaimed, realization dawning. “You’re that guy—”

He tensed, hands raised defensively. “Wait, wait!” he interrupted, wincing as you grabbed the broom and swatted him with it.

“Why did you just bolt out of here with my precious flower?” you asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softening. “Something… happened. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and held it out cautiously, still eyeing the broom. “Here, I didn’t pay for the flower. I came back to fix that.”

You took the card skeptically, lowering the broom. He had helped you just now, and honestly, stealing a flower of all things seemed odd for a thief.

Heading back to the counter, you swiped his card and handed it back. “So, did your mom like the flower?”

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Oh, yes. She loved it,” he said, a shy smile creeping across his face.

You beamed at him, and your mood instantly lifted. “That’s great! I’m glad it worked out.”

The shop fell into a comfortable quiet as he glanced around. The soft glow of the shop’s lights bathed the room in warmth, the scent of flowers lingering in the air.

“Are you closing?” he asked after a moment, his voice curious.

You clapped your hands, laughing. “Oh! Yes, I am. I completely forgot!” Quickly, you disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with your bag slung over your shoulder and your apron folded in your hands.

“Follow me,” you said with a wave, walking toward the entrance.

He trailed behind you, watching as you locked the door and tucked your keys into your bag. The soft glow of the streetlights cast a warm light over you, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked under it.

“Well, this is where I say goodbye. Thanks again for earlier,” you said with a small smile.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Are you heading home? I could take you.” He gestured toward a sleek car parked nearby.

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “I would, but I don’t think it’s smart for a young lady to hop into the car of a man whose name she doesn’t know.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. “But you can walk me to the bus stop over there,” you offered, pointing down the street.

His face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you began walking side by side, the quiet hum of the city filling the space between you. As you reached the bus stop, you turned to him with a smile.

“Thank you again for helping me earlier… and for coming back,” you said, your voice soft.

He nodded, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. “Of course. I guess I owe you for leaving so suddenly yesterday,” he said with a shy laugh.

As your bus approached, he stepped back, the glow of the headlights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Will you be stopping by again?” you asked, half-teasing, half-hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe.”

You smiled as you stepped onto the bus, glancing back at him one last time. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

As the bus pulled away, you caught sight of him standing there, watching you leave, the brim of his cap tilted just enough to shield his face from view.

After that day, he started stopping by your shop around closing time more often. At first, it was casual—an excuse to chat or linger in the comforting atmosphere of the flower shop. But soon, it became a routine you secretly looked forward to.

You learned that Park Sunghoon was funny, sly, and much more interesting than he initially let on. He always seemed more curious about you than willing to talk about himself. Every time you tried to ask questions about his life, he’d expertly change the subject, steering the conversation back to you. It bummed you out a little—not knowing much about him—but the way he listened to you and genuinely seemed interested in your stories made it hard to hold it against him.

Tonight was no different. He strolled in just as the sun dipped below the horizon, setting the shop aglow with warm, golden light.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, dropping his bag onto one of the chairs near the counter.

You looked up from the bouquets you were prepping, he wasn't wearing his mask today. “Hey, Sunghoon.”

He leaned against the counter, watching as you worked. His gaze softened as you expertly arranged the blooms into delicate patterns.

“Why do you like flowers so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

You paused, glancing back at him with the bouquet still in your hands. “Flowers help people express feelings they can’t say. I like to express my love and passion through them, and I think the different meanings of each flower are amazing.”

Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darting toward the bouquet you were holding—a mix of pink and red roses. “Yeah? And what do those mean?”

“Blooming love,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning to place the bouquet on display.

He gulped, his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” you asked a little too eagerly, stepping closer.

“Would you like to… I don’t know, go somewhere with me? Sometime? When you’re free?”

You tilted your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m free now.”

His eyes widened, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “Now? But I… I didn’t dress up or anything…”

You giggled, waving your hand dismissively. “Neither did I. It doesn’t matter. You look cute.”

He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”

With the shop locked up and the sun lingering just above the horizon, you and Sunghoon walked down the quiet street. The gentle buzz of the city surrounded you, and the scent of flowers still clung to you from the shop.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“I figured we’d just wander a bit, see where we end up,” he said with a small smile. “Unless you have a better idea?”

You shook your head, enjoying the spontaneity. “Nope, that works for me.”

As you walked, you found yourselves at a quaint park tucked away from the busy streets. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom, their pink petals floating gently on the breeze.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, your eyes scanning the scene.

Sunghoon nodded, glancing at you. “Yeah… it is.”

You both settled onto a bench near the pond, where ducks paddled lazily in the water. A food cart nearby caught your attention, and you laughed softly. “Ice cream?”

He followed your gaze and grinned. “Absolutely. Stay here—I’ll get it.”

You watched him jog over to the cart, noticing how relaxed he looked for the first time. When he returned, he handed you a cone with a bashful smile.

“Vanilla,” he said. “I guessed.”

“It’s perfect,” you replied, taking a small bite. “Thanks.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The warm light of the setting sun danced on the water, and a soft breeze carried the scent of blossoms around you.

“So, Sunghoon,” you said, breaking the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me more about yourself, or are you planning to stay mysterious forever?”

He chuckled, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I guess I just like listening to you talk.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “That’s sweet, but it’s not an answer.”

He hesitated, then turned to meet your eyes. “Someday. I promise.”

“Can't I even see your full face?” You asked nervously.

He looked at you and thought about it. He has known you for a good bit of time now, you don’t seem to know him for who he is, so he took a risk he hoped he wouldn’t regret. He slowly took the baseball cap off and looked at you with caution.

You slowly smiled and him and looked down. “You shouldn’t hide a handsome face like yours, “ you said giggling.

He blinked and felt heat creep up his neck.

He looked at the bush behind the bench and plucked one of the flowers that was on it. “I don’t know what it means but I can tell It suits you,” he said softly, holding up the pink petal and placing it behind your ear.

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Thanks.”

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you decided to keep wandering through the park. The cherry blossom trees seemed to create a magical canopy above you, the soft glow of lanterns adding a warm touch to the atmosphere. You noticed Sunghoon stealing glances at you as you walked, but every time you caught him, he’d quickly look away, pretending to admire the scenery instead.

As you neared a small outdoor seating area, you spotted a musician setting up his guitar. A small crowd began gathering, and you nudged Sunghoon with your elbow.

“Let’s sit and listen for a while,” you suggested.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. “Sure, why not?”

The two of you found a seat nearby. The musician strummed a few chords before launching into a soft, acoustic rendition of a pop song. You tapped your fingers against your knees, nodding along to the melody.

“You into music much?” Sunghoon asked casually, leaning back against the bench.

You shrugged. “Not really. I don’t keep up with social media or anything, so I don’t know much about what’s trending. I mostly just listen to whatever’s playing on the radio in the shop.”

Sunghoon froze for a moment, then shifted in his seat, suddenly looking a little too interested in the gravel path in front of him. “Oh… really? No social media?”

“Nope,” you said with a smile. “It’s too exhausting to keep up with. Why?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, no reason. Just… not many people are like that.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his sudden nervousness. “What about you? You strike me as someone who listens to a lot of music.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you could say that. Music’s kind of… important to me.”

“Oh? What kind of music do you like?”

Before he could answer, the musician transitioned into a song that made a few people in the crowd cheer. You tilted your head, listening closely. The melody was catchy, but you couldn’t place it.

“I think I’ve heard this one before,” you said thoughtfully. “Isn’t it by that group… what are they called again? En… something?”

Sunghoon stiffened beside you. “Enhypen,” he said quickly, his voice a little too steady.

“Yeah, that’s it!” you said, snapping your fingers. “They’re okay, I guess. Some of their songs are nice, but it’s not really my thing.”

He turned to you so fast that you thought he might have hurt his neck. “Okay?” he repeated, his tone slightly incredulous.

You blinked at him, surprised by his reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, they’re good, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to them. Why? Are you a fan or something?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between offense and disbelief. “I—uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, visibly flustered. “You could say I know a lot about them.”

You chuckled, completely unaware of his internal struggle. “Well, that’s cool. I’ve probably heard more of their songs than I realize. You know how it is—songs play everywhere, but you don’t always know who’s singing them.”

Sunghoon nodded stiffly, looking like he was fighting the urge to say something. Finally, he let out a breath and crossed his arms. “Enhypen is… more than just ‘okay.’”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Wow, you must be a fan. Don’t worry, I’ll give them another chance.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a reluctant smile.

The musician wrapped up his performance, and the crowd began to disperse. As you stood to leave, Sunghoon glanced at you, his nervous energy from earlier now replaced with quiet amusement.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said as you walked side by side.

“A deal?” you repeated, curious.

He nodded. “Every time we hang out, I’ll show you some songs, and you have to give me your honest opinion. But you have to promise to really listen.”

You smiled at him, enjoying the way his confidence seemed to return. “Deal. But only if you tell me more about yourself in return.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”

You and Sunghoon kept going on more and more dates after that first one.

He was always kind and attentive, never pushing boundaries or trying anything beyond the occasional lingering gaze or shy smile. But that’s precisely what started to bother you. You wanted more. You’d made moves to take things further, even inviting him into your apartment after he dropped you off one night. But he’d quickly dismissed himself with a polite excuse.

It honestly made you insecure. Was he just playing with you? Was this something casual for him? You couldn’t help but wonder, especially when he hadn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

Now, on yet another date, Sunghoon seemed even more cautious than usual, glancing over his shoulder constantly, his cap and mask firmly in place despite the intimate setting.

“Hoon,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone as you set down your fork. “What’s up with you?”

You were at a cozy dinner spot, the kind of place where no one batted an eye at couples sharing shy smiles over candlelight. Yet, Sunghoon seemed distant, his shoulders stiff, his gaze darting around the room like he was expecting something—or someone.

He didn’t respond immediately.

“We’re at dinner, for God’s sake. Why do you still have the mask on?” You sighed, leaning closer to him. “Seriously, can you just talk to me? What’s going on?”

“Listen, Y/N—” he began, but before he could finish, a loud squeal pierced the air.

You turned toward the source of the noise, only to be met with the blinding flashes of cameras. A group of girls was pointing and taking pictures, their excited chatter growing louder by the second.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened in panic. He grabbed your hand and bolted out the door, pulling you behind him as a crowd of fans followed closely.

“Sunghoon!” you gasped, struggling to keep up. “I can’t run much longer!”

“Just hold on! We’re almost there!” he shouted over his shoulder, his grip on your hand tightening.

After weaving through alleys and streets, he led you to a sleek black car parked inconspicuously. He opened the door in a hurry and ushered you inside, quickly jumping in after you. The driver sped off before you even had a chance to process what had just happened.

Out of breath, you turned to look behind you, watching the wave of girls shrink into the distance. Then you shifted your gaze to Sunghoon, who was fixing his disheveled hair.

“What the hell is going on?!” you demanded, your voice trembling with equal parts fear and frustration.

“Sir, where to?” the driver asked calmly as if this were a normal occurrence.

“Her apartment, please,” Sunghoon replied quickly before turning to you with an apologetic expression.

“Y/N, please… I’ll explain everything when we get there. Just—just give me a chance to explain.”

You pulled your hands away from him as he reached for you, your trust shaken.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. You stared out the window, your thoughts spiraling. What could he possibly be hiding that would explain this?

When you finally reached your apartment, you stormed up the stairs, Sunghoon trailing close behind. You unlocked the door and threw your belongings onto the couch, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

“Y/N, please listen—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, needing a distraction. The news channel popped up, and you froze when you saw your face on the screen, standing beside Sunghoon.

The headline read: “Park Sunghoon from rising K-pop group ENHYPEN spotted on a date?”

Your head snapped toward him, and his panicked expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked, your voice dangerously calm.

He shook his head, stepping closer. “No… it’s the truth. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Didn’t want it to change anything? Sunghoon, if you’d told me this from the beginning, I could’ve understood! But instead, you left me in the dark, and made me question everything!”

His face fell, and he knelt in front of you, his voice breaking. “Y/N, you’re not a joke to me. You’re so much more than that. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid—afraid you’d treat me differently like everyone else does.”

“Is that what you thought of me? After all the time we’ve spent together, that’s what you got?”

He looked up at you, eyes wide with regret. “No, that’s not—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I think you should leave, Sunghoon.”

The use of his full name hit him like a blow. He hesitated, looking as though he wanted to argue, but the coldness in your expression stopped him.

“Please… just let me make it up to you,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away. “I need time to think this over.”

He nodded reluctantly, standing and walking to the door. He paused for a moment, looking back at you one last time before stepping out and closing it softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, the weight of everything hit you all at once. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands as sobs wracked your body. The room felt unbearably quiet.

A few hours after the incident with Sunghoon, there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, two men in sharp suits stood there, their expressions professional yet apologetic.

“Miss Y/N?” one of them asked, confirming your identity.

“Yes?” you replied cautiously, your grip tightening on the doorframe.

“We’re representatives from Sunghoon’s agency,” the man said. His tone was calm, but the mention of Sunghoon’s name immediately caused your chest to tighten.

“We need to discuss the current situation,” the other man added. “May we come in?”

You hesitated, debating whether to slam the door in their faces or let them speak. Against your better judgment, you stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

The two men sat on your couch, their serious expressions only adding to your unease.

“We’re here to inform you that, due to the recent media coverage and fan activity, it’s in your best interest to lay low for a while,” one of them began. “The situation has escalated, and we’re concerned for your privacy and safety.”

Your heart sank. “Lay low?” you echoed, already dreading where this was going.

“Yes,” the other man confirmed. “The company will compensate you for any financial losses during this time, including your shop’s closure. We’re prepared to cover all expenses until the situation deescalates.”

The mention of your shop caused a lump to form in your throat. “You want me to close my shop?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“It’s only temporary,” the first man assured you. “Once things settle, you can resume your normal routine.”

You nodded numbly, but their words offered no comfort. As the two men stood to leave, they handed you a card with a number to call if you needed anything. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out,” one of them said.

After they left, you shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The shop was more than just a job to you—it was your sanctuary, the place where you felt most at peace. The thought of staying away from it, from the vibrant blooms and quiet hum of your safe space, only added to the ache in your chest.

The weight of everything was suffocating. You’d already lost your connection with Sunghoon, and now you were being forced to step away from the one thing that gave you solace. It felt as though your entire world was unraveling, piece by piece.

As you sat on the couch staring at the card in your hand, tears welled up in your eyes. You didn’t blame Sunghoon for this—not entirely—but the situation had left you feeling isolated and lost.

Two weeks had passed, and there was still no word from Sunghoon. You knew this silence was your own doing—you had asked for space—but you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

After the incident, Sunghoon had left long strings of heartfelt messages apologizing, explaining, and pleading for you to hear him out. But after a week of silence from you, the messages stopped. The sudden quiet felt heavier than you anticipated, and you hated how much you longed to see his name pop up on your screen again.

The company still hadn’t given you the green light to reopen your shop, leaving you trapped in an endless cycle of isolation and overthinking. The emptiness weighed on you, and your apartment felt colder than usual.

As you sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through your camera roll, your heart tightened when you stumbled upon a photo from your first date with Sunghoon. It was a selfie of you both at the park. You were smiling brightly at the camera while Sunghoon, with his cap, pulled low, was looking at you instead of the lens. You couldn’t help but stare at the image, remembering the butterflies you’d felt that day.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Confused, you got up slowly, not expecting any visitors. When you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, standing in front of you with a bouquet in his hands and a soft, hopeful smile on his lips.

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice calm but nervous.

You looked at the flowers, then back at him. “Hi,” you replied softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Sunghoon entered, turning to face you as you closed the door. Without a word, you walked to the couch and patted the spot beside you, silently asking him to sit. He followed your lead, placing the bouquet on the coffee table before taking a seat next to you.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am,” he began, his voice heavy with guilt. “I’m not great at expressing myself, but I need you to know that I never saw you as a joke. I wasn’t messing with you—not ever.”

You nodded, staying quiet as you listened, your eyes focused on him.

“Every time you tried to get closer to me, I… I panicked,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I kept thinking about who I am, about my life and how messy it can get. I was scared—scared that if we got too close, you’d realize how much baggage I carry and leave. I didn’t want to lose you.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with vulnerability. “But I’ve realized something, Y/N. I can’t just be your friend. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything less than love.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and your heart swelled. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love he was finally laying bare.

“Hoon…” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I love you,” he confessed, the words tumbling out quickly as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

You blinked, stunned for a moment, before a smile spread across your face. Without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Your faces were mere inches apart now, and his hands instinctively found their way to your waist. He gazed into your eyes before his gaze dropped to your lips. And then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and sweet, full of the emotions he’d been holding back for so long. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. As the kiss deepened, he gently eased you back onto the couch, his arm bracing him above you while his other hand cupped your cheek.

When you finally pulled away to catch your breath, he rested his forehead against your shoulder, holding you close. His fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of your shirt as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Your eyes landed on the bouquet on the table, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

He lifted his head, confused. “What’s so funny?”

You gestured to the flowers. “What do these mean, Hoon?”

He glanced at them and scratched the back of his neck. “Well… I didn’t know which flowers to get, so I just grabbed all the red ones. I figured they’d all mean love or something.”

You pointed to one in the arrangement. “That one means death, you know.”

His eyes widened in panic. “What?! That’s not what Google said!” He quickly reached for the bouquet, inspecting it frantically.

You burst into laughter, clutching your stomach. It took him a moment to realize you were teasing him. He groaned, leaning back with a playful glare. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Still laughing, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It was a little funny.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The day before, Sunghoon had been pacing in the practice room, his phone in hand.

“What flowers should I get her?” he muttered, scrolling through countless search results.

“Sunghoon, please, just pick one and go talk to her already,” Sunoo groaned from the couch, watching his friend spiral.

“You don’t get it” Sunghoon snapped. “Flowers are really important to her.”

“Then just get her roses,” Riki chimed in from the corner. “Simple but classic.”

“She deserves more than simple,” Sunghoon mumbled, still fixated on his phone.

“Sunghoon!” Riki and Sunoo yelled in unison, exasperated.

[wolverigrl]

The first date

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

!Disclaimer! I made some small changes in the last parts! The movie they made is a fictional one about Lady Deadpool. Everything takes place in 2015. Y/n is in her late 20s. Blake and Ryan got married long before and I changed the ages of their and Hugh's kids so it would fit more!

Warnings: none, only some swearing here and there and a bit fluff, not proofread!!

Enjoy!

Previous part

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The early morning breeze was cool as I jogged through Central Park, the soft hum of the city waking up in the background. The familiar rhythm of my footsteps against the pavement was oddly comforting, almost like a meditation. I pulled my black baseball cap lower, shielding my eyes from the rising sun, and zipped up my running jacket a bit more. My leggings clung comfortably to my legs, and I felt grounded, my mind clear, my body moving with ease.

Jogging here had become part of my routine, a way to escape for a moment. The quiet mornings felt like a reset. As I slowed my pace and started walking toward the park exit, my breathing still steady, I noticed two people approaching from the side, their faces lighting up in recognition.

"Excuse me... are you y/n?" the guy asked, his voice a little shaky with excitement.

I smiled softly, adjusting my cap. "Yeah, that’s me."

The girl next to him looked at me with wide eyes, already fumbling for her phone. "Oh my God, we are big fans! Can we take a picture with you?"

I chuckled, nodding. "Of course, let’s do it."

We huddled together, her phone snapping a few pictures. The guy, who looked like he was around his early twenties, lingered for a moment longer, hesitating before speaking.

“You probably hear this all the time." he began, "but you really inspired me. I’ve always wanted to act, but I didn’t have the courage to pursue it. Seeing you do what you love gave me the push I needed so I just joined a local theater group."

For a moment, his words hung in the air, and I felt a rush of warmth. It wasn't every day someone said something so meaningful.

"That’s amazing! I’m so glad I could inspire you. Keep at it, okay? It’s tough, but if it’s your passion, it’s always worth it."

He nodded, his face full of excitement and we hugged each other as a goodbye. As they walked away, I called out, “You made my day! Love you guys!” Their faces lit up even more, and I couldn't help but feel grateful for moments like this.

This encounter left me with a good feeling, and as I walked back home, I couldn’t help but feel lighter. Connecting with people like that reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.

Back in my apartment, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. My mind wandered to everything that had happened over the past few days—work, interviews, photoshoots—but one thing stuck out more than the rest: Hugh. I had been thinking about him more than usual, and after yesterday’s intense moment, it was hard not to.

Still, before I let my thoughts drift too far, I got got into the bathroom for a quick refreshing shower. After that I changed into a comfy office look, grabbed my phone and dialed my parents. I hadn’t caught up with them in a while, and I missed hearing their voices.

“Y/n! Pumpkin! How’s our superstar?” my mom’s voice greeted me on the other end.

I smiled, sinking into the cushions. "Super busy, as usual. But everything’s going well. I'll have a meeting with the team today. lots of interviews coming up."

We chatted for a while about my schedule, how they were doing, and the usual family updates. I purposely avoided mentioning anything about Hugh. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell them, but I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Not when things between us were still so undefined.

After saying goodbye, I got up to get ready for my meeting at the office. As I was applying a bit of makeup, my phone buzzed on the counter. Hugh’s name appeared on the screen.

HUGH: Good morning, beautiful❤️ How's your day starting?

I couldn’t help but smile as I typed back, already feeling my heart speed up a little.

Y/N: Good morning handsome🥰 Doing pretty good so far. Just came back from my morning run. How about yours?

Almost immediately, his reply came through.

HUGH: I still don’t know how you can enjoy running😅 Mine's good too. Picked coffee with a friend and now we're at his house already working.

Y/N: Maybe you're just getting old?👀

HUGH: Why so mean? Did you trip on your run?

I snapped a quick selfie in the mirror with my tongue out and send it to him.

Y/N: I'm not mean. It was a legitimate question. I'm heading to the office now! Wish me luck!😘

HUGH: Looking great as always! And good luck, though you don’t need it. You always kill it sweetheart😘

A moment later, another message appeared, this time with a photo of Hugh, standing in what looked like an unfinished house. He was wearing a tight-fitting shirt, his arms slightly dusted with sawdust, his hair messy in a way that only made him look better. I paused, biting my lip. He looked really good. And my mind, much to my frustration, flashed back to that kiss.

Y/N: Somebody pls call the fire department🔥

HUGH: Lady, stop exaggerating😂

I chuckled, shaking my head. There was something so annoyingly attractive about how casual he was, even when he looked like that. After a few more texts, I realized I had to leave or I’d be late.

The management office was buzzing with energy when I arrived, as usual. I greeted everyone warmly, settling into the meeting room where we began discussing upcoming interviews and events. Everything was going smoothly, just the usual PR talk—until one of the managers, Sam, leaned forward with a more serious expression.

“So, we’ve been thinking,” he began. “The buzz around you and Hugh has been great for both of your images. The movie’s coming out soon, and the fan speculation has been... let’s just say, active”

I nodded slowly, already sensing where this was going.

“We think it would be smart to keep that momentum going." Sam continued. “Even after the release of the movie, we want you two to keep up the appearance of having something going on. Publicly, deny it in interviews, of course. But tease the people a bit more. Keep them guessing.”

I blinked, processing what he was saying. "So, you want us to pretend we’re together, but not really confirm anything?"

Sam nodded. "Exactly. It’ll keep the public engaged, and your fanbases will stay hooked. It’s good for both of you."

The idea sat heavy in my chest. I could see why they wanted it—it made sense from a PR standpoint—but the thought of turning something personal into a game made me uneasy. What if it messed things up between Hugh and me? What if it turned whatever we were trying to figure out into a spectacle?

“I’ll talk to Hugh about it." I said carefully. “And I think it’s best if you reach out to his team as well, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Sam smiled, satisfied. "Good call. Let us know what you both decide."

They nodded, and we moved on to other topics. I was particularly excited when they mentioned a potential collaboration with a fashion brand. Modeling for a brand had always been a dream, and eagerly agreed.

After sorting out some paperwork, I left the office, my mind still swirling with everything we discussed. As I stepped outside, my phone rang. It was Chris.

"Hey!" he greeted me. "I'm in New York earlier than planned. Are you free?"

Of course, I agreed, and we arranged to meet up at his hotel. Soon, we were stroling through the city together, talking about everything from movies to work. Even though my phone buzzed several times, I ignored it, wanting to be fully present with Chris.

After a while, Chris turned to me with a grin. "So, about those rumors with you and Hugh... anything you want to share?" I felt my stomach twist. Lying to I Chris didn't sit right with me, but Hugh and I had agreed that only Ryan and Blake knew about us. So, I gave him the standard answer.

"We’re just friends,” I said, not quite meeting his eyes. “You know how the rumors go. Our Managers want us to play along because it looks good. That’s all.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but letting it slide. “If you say so.”

Then, with a sudden shift in tone, he said, “Actually... I’ve been meaning to tell you. I met someone.”

I blinked, surprised. "What? When?"

“Not too long ago. Her name’s Alba. She’s incredible—smart, sweet, talented and down-to-earth. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

As Chris spoke, his eyes lit up, and I could tell he was smitten. I felt a surge of happiness for him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Chris, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you.”

He smiled, clearly touched by my excitement, and we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the city, talking about Alba, his family and how things were going. Eventually, I had the idea to skip the pub and order takeout instead. Chris agreed, but only on one condition.

"We have to watch a Disney movie!" He said with eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Deal!" I laughed.

After heading back to my place, we posted a photo of us together on Instagram, and as expected, the comments looded in.

>>ginainabottle: Where's Hugh?😭<<

>>markix69: Y/n always with the dilfs. QUEEN💯<<

>>teddy1xoxo: How is it living my dream?❤️😭<<

I finally checked my messages and saw a few from Hugh.

HUGH: Have fun tonight😘

HUGH: Meeting up already?

HUGH: Everything okay?

Guilt twisted in my stomach and I quickly called him.

"Hey.." I said softly when he picked up. "I'm so sorry I didn't respond earlier. I was just... you know how it is... We've been talking non-stop."

"Y/n it's fine." Hugh replied, but there was something off in his tone. "What've you two been up to?"

I told him everything--how we spend the day walking around, catching up and now were getting ready for a movie night.

"Chris is still here, actually." I added. "We're about to watch The Little Mermaid."

There was a pause before Hugh spoke again, and I could swear there was a hint of something... maybe jealousy? But I brushed it off.

"I miss you." he said, his voice softer now.

"I miss you too." I replied, smiling at he thought of seeing him soon.

"Oh, by the way." I added remembering the management's idea. "My team suggested we tease the fans a bit more online. Even after the movie releases."

Hugh chuckled. "Yeah, we can play around with it. Deny everything but drop a few hints. But what do you think?"

I bit my lip, thinking back to the conversation with my team. "I'm not sure, honestly. I don't want the media or public pressure to affect what we're building between us, you know? But if you're okay with it, maybe we should continue."

Hugh chuckled, the tension easing from his voice. "Like a soft launch, huh? So, we hint at things but never really confirm it?"

"Exactly." I said, smiling at the idea now that it was being said out loud. "We can have fun with it. But still deny things if people ask outright."

"Deal," he said, his tone light again. "Let's tease them a little, but keep the mystery alive."

We both laughed at the absurdity of it, and the playful tone of the conversation helped ease my earlier guilt. Then, Hugh's voice turned a bit more serious, though stillwarm. "By the way... how about gym and breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us?"

I hesitated, not out of uncertainty but because of how much I wanted it. "Like... our first real date?" I asked, grinning into the phone.

"Yep. Our first official date." he confirmed, the excitement in his voice clear.

"Then, it's a yes!" I said, feeling butterflies stir in my stomach at the hought. "Where should we meet?

We hashed out the details and after a few more minutes of casual banter, we finally said our goodbyes, both of us feeling lighter.

As soon as I hung up, I turned to find Chris giving me a curious look from the couch. "So. first date, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't hide it anymore. "Yeah, fine. You got me," I admitted, plopping down beside him. "Hugh and I... there's something going on. But we're keeping it quiet for now. Chris grinned, clearly happy for me. "I had a feeling. And honestly? I'm happy for you. Hugh's a good guy He was always super nice when I had the chance talking to him."

"Thanks, Chris. It's just complicated, you know? With the media and all."

"Yeah, I get it." He said with a knowing nod. "But if anyone can handle it, it's you." He then smirked, his teasing side coming back. "So are you guys gonna do a soft launch like the rest of us normal people, or something more dramatic?"

I squealed and shoving his arm. "What the heck?! He mentioned a soft launch too! What are you? Telepathic?!" And we both bursted into laughter.

We calmed down and shifted our focus back to The Little Mermaid. Chris singing along to Part of Your World with exaggerated enthusiasm. It wasn't long before he dozed off, his head lolling back against the couch. I smiled fondly at him, his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions, but it was nice to end it with someone I trusted so much.

Grabbing my phone,I snapped a quick picture of Chris, chuckling to myself as I did and quickly posted the photo to Instagram with the caption:

>>y/n instagram: Disney and chill with my favorite co-star🧜🏻‍♂️<<

The comments poured in almost instantly, but I ignored the notifications, setting my phone on the coffee table and grabbing a blanket to drape over Chris. After making sure he was comfortable, I turned off the lights, heading to my bedroom. I slipped under the covers, the events of the day replaying in my mind. Hugh, Chris, the PR idea and the upcoming date.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Chris moving around the apartment. I got up and changed into comfy clothes as I walked into the living room where he was packing up his things, looking like the human version of a Disney prince as usual. As I stretched and rubbed my eyes, he glanced over at me with a soft smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead." he teased, zipping up his jacket. “I’ve got a meeting downtown, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

I sat up and gave him a playful wave. “Didn’t want me to think you snuck out, huh?”

“Exactly. I’m not that kind of guy,” he joked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Then his tone softened. “Hey, keep me updated on the Hugh situation, okay? I’m curious how things go. And don’t forget to tell me about that first date.”

I smiled, the warmth of his support making me feel even more confident. “I will. Thanks, Chris.”

He leaned down and gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “See you soon, y/n. And don’t forget, I’m always just a text away if you need me.”

“Will do. Good luck with your meeting!”

With a final wave, he headed out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts—and a mess of nerves about my first official date with Hugh later that morning. I had no idea what to expect, but I hoped it wouldn’t turn into a disaster.

After Chris left, I freshened up, threw on my workout clothes, and made my way to the gym where Hugh and I had agreed to meet. This wasn’t just a casual workout—it was our first date, so I kinda did a big deal out of it.

When I arrived, Hugh was already there, looking ridiculously good in his gym gear. He waved me over with that easygoing smile that never failed to make my heart race.

“You ready?” he asked smiling down at me.

“I was born ready!" With this Hugh opened the door and let me go in first.

We started with some light cardio to warm up, and things were going smoothly—until we hit the weight section again. I’d watched Hugh easily lift a set of dumbbells like they were made of air, and, in a moment of misplaced confidence, I thought 'Why not?'. I grabbed a barbell and decided to push myself a bit further than usual. The first few reps went okay, but as I tried to push the barbell up again, my arms started to shake. I tried to power through it, but I quickly realized I had overestimated my strength. Just as the weight became too much, Hugh was beside me in an instant. “Need some help there?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. I tried to save face. “I’ve got it, just—just give me a second…” Before I could protest further, he gently but firmly took hold of the barbell, lifting it with ease and placing it back on the rack.

"Yeah, you totally had that under control." he teased, his smile widening. “Okay, maybe I overdid it a little." I admitted, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks.

"No shame in asking for help." he said, giving me a playful nudge. “Just don’t hurt yourself trying to keep up with me.”

I playfully groaned and lightly slapped his chest. He just laughed, pulling me tighter against him, his arms wrapping around my waist. I looked up at him, grinning, my gaze lingering on his lips for a beat too long.

“Do you need a kiss to forget that little mishap?” he teased, moving his face closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.

I smirked, voice dropping to a whisper, “Oh, I’ll need more than one to forget that.”

Before he could respond, I closed the gap between us, pulling him in with my arms wrapped around his neck. My fingers tangled in his messy, sweat-damp hair as our kiss deepened, the heat between us rising instantly. He brushed his tongue over my bottom lip, and I parted my lips, welcoming him further. His hands gripped me firmly at the waist, keeping me pressed tightly against him, while my hands couldn’t stay still, roaming over his broad shoulders and chest. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire, completely overtaken by the moment, the world around us fading away.

I didn’t even realize when my hands slipped under his shirt, fingertips grazing his warm skin. But just as quickly as the moment ignited, Hugh pulled back, breathless, his forehead resting against mine.

“We’re only on our first date,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “I haven’t even given you flowers yet.”

I chuckled softly, my head still spinning, and nodded. “You’re right. We said we wouldn’t rush things… and, well, making out in a public gym might be pushing it. I don’t think our management would be too thrilled if the media caught wind of this.”

Hugh laughed, loosening his hold on me, though his hands lingered for a moment longer. “Yeah, I can already hear the headlines.”

Reluctantly, we stepped back from each other, both grinning, but still feeling that magnetic pull between us.

After that little incident, we wrapped up the workout, and I offered to cook us breakfast back at my place. It was the least I could do after Hugh saved me from total humiliation. But as soon as I started cooking, I realized maybe that wasn't the best idea.

The eggs burned almost immediately, the toast was so hard you could break a tooth on it, and I somehow managed to get pancake batter all over the counter.

Hugh stood nearby, watching the chaos unfold with a mix of amusement and concern.

"I swear, I'm usually better at this." I said, desperately trying to salvage something from the mess. Hugh laughed, leaning against the counter. "Better at lifting weights or cooking?"

"Oh shut up!" I laughed and tossed a burnt piece of toast at him, which he dodged easily.

"You sure you don't want me to handle this?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

"Hugh, I already said no. I'm perfectly capable." I said defensively, though the evidence clearly suggested otherwise.

"You keep telling yourself that." he teased.

I flipped another pancake, only to see it land halfway off the pan.

I let out a dramatic sigh, slumping my shoulders in mock defeat. Hugh chuckled and wrapped his arms around me from behind, pressing a quick kiss to my neck. The warmth of his lips and the slight scratch of his beard sent a shiver down my spine, goosebumps rising instantly. I turned my head towards him, and with a soft smile, he said, "Looks like the universe is giving you a day off from cooking. Let’s clean up and eat at the café instead."

Eventually, we gave up on my culinary attempt and decided to head downtown to the next café. We settled into a cozy corner table, ordering some coffee and toast. As the food arrived, I couldn't help but laugh.

"At least this can't go wrong, right?" joked, gesturing to the perfectly normal-looking plate in front of us. Hugh raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure. With us, anything's possible."

I pretended to look horrified. "Don't jinx it!"

He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "So, What do you think of our first date so far?"

I paused, meeting his eyes.

Hugh leaned back smiling. "Well I've gotta say, it's been pretty great so far."

I chuckled, feeling the warmth spread through me. "I agree. Disaster-prone, but definitely memorable."

We spent the rest of breakfast chatting, laughing about the little mishaps from the past couple of hours, and just enjoying each other's company. It, again, felt easy and natural, even with the nerves of a first date hanging in the air.

As we finished up, Hugh reached under the table for my hand and squeezed it gently, giving me a soft look that made my heart skip a beat. "You know, I'm really glad we do this."

"Me too, Hugh." Iadmitted, feeling the same.

Later that afternoon, Hugh and I met up with Ryan for an interview promoting the movie, which finally releases tomorrow. It was just the three of us sitting in a comfortable setup, no live audience, just cameras, and a quiet room. I always looked forward to interviews with Ryan—he had a way of making everything fun and unpredictable.

The interviewer greeted us friendly with a firm handshake and began with the usual questions about the film after introducing us to the already recording camera.

"So, y/n, how did it feel stepping into the shoes of Lady Deadpool?”

I smiled, leaning forward slightly. “Honestly, it was a dream. She’s such a chaotic, yet deeply emotional character. Playing her meant getting to do some wild action scenes while also diving into her personal struggles. Plus, I got to wear a lot of leather.”

Ryan jumped in, grinning. “And kick some serious butt. Let’s not forget that.”

The interviewer nodded and turned to Hugh. “And how about you, Hugh? Wolverine is such an iconic character. How was it returning to the role?”

Hugh smiled, looking relaxed. “It’s always an honor to play Wolverine. This time around, the dynamic with Deadpool—and Lady Deadpool—added a whole new level of fun. The banter, the action sequences, it all just felt... electric.”

Ryan leaned in dramatically. “But let’s be honest. It was terrible. We all hated each other on set!"

Hugh, the interviewer and I bursted into laughter as Ryan continued, completely straight-faced. "No, seriously, it was a nightmare. Every day was a battle I'm surprised we even finished the movie."

"I mean, you were pretty hard to work with.: I teased, leaning into the joke.

Ryan shrugged dramatically. "I do my best to bring chaos wherever I go."

The interviewer then introduced a fun segment: Fan questions pulled from Twitter. “Alright, we’ve got some tweets here from fans. Let’s see what they want to know.”

He read the first tweet aloud. “@MarvelFanGirl asks: ‘What was the funniest moment on set?’ "

Ryan immediately jumped in. “Oh, I’ve got this. There was actually a pretty intense kiss scene between y/n and Hugh in the original cut of the film, but - spoiler alert - it got cut because the film was running too long. Marvel classics." Hugh chuckled, already shaking his head in amusement.

"And I swear by the mother of my children, Blake Ellender Lively!" he dramatically paused. "They just kept going after the director's cut! The crew didn't know if they were still in the scene or... well, if it was method acting, if you know what I mean."

At this point the interviewer started laughing uncontrollably and held his hand in front of his mouth.

I laughed, hiding my face in my hands. “Why do you always bring that up?”

“Because it’s comedy gold!” Ryan laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

"Don't listen to him, Hugh said, grinning. "He's just upset he didn't get a kiss scene."

"Eeeexactly!" Ryan exclaimed, pointing at Hugh. "Where's Deadpool's kiss scene, huh? It's an outrage!"

Even the crew behind the cameras started laughing and the interviewer moved on with the questions, still giggling.

"Ryan, if you could switch roles with anyone in the cast, who would it be?" asked the interviewer.

Without missing a beat, Ryan replied.

"Y/n, hands down. She got the sexiest costume, the coolest weapons, and she gets to kick more butt than anyone else. Plus, let's not forget--she gets to kiss Hugh."

I groaned, shaking my head while Hugh laughed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never!" Ryan said with a grin.

The next tweet came in, and the interviewer read it out. “@WolverineLover asks: ‘If Wolverine and Lady Deadpool had their own spin-off movie, what would it be about?’”

Hugh pretended to think seriously. “I imagine it would be about trying to stop Lady Deadpool from blowing up everything in sight.”

I shot him a mock-offended look. “Hey, Lady Deadpool isn’t that destructive.”

Ryan snorted. “Oh please, she’d turn the whole thing into a circus. Wolverine would just be there for damage control.”

We all laughed as we moved on to the next question. “@DeadpoolRocks asks: ‘Ryan, how much of Deadpool is actually you?’ "

Ryan grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, about 90%, I’d say. The other 10% is just me trying to look cooler than I actually am.”

As the interview wrapped up, we exchanged a few more lighthearted jabs, and I couldn’t help but feel how much fun we had together. Ryan and Hugh had a way of making every moment a little less serious and a lot more entertaining.

“Alright." Ryan said, standing up as the cameras shut off. “Who’s ready for round two tomorrow?”

I moaned, already dreading whatever he had in store. “I’m not sure my dignity can handle it.”

Hugh laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we walked out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to save you. Again.”

“Let’s just hope there are no weights involved this time,” I quipped.

After the interview, we walked off stage, and Ryan clapped Hugh on the back.

"Man, I'm still disappointed they cut the kiss scene. We were all waiting for the slow-motion sparks."

Hugh just laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I'm sure that's why the audience would come to watch the movie. For that."

Ryan wagged his finger. "Don't underestimate the power of romance, Jackman. Fans live for that!"

I shot both of them a look, trying to keep a straight face. "As long as no one mentions the breakfast disaster, I'll consider this interview a win."

Ryan blinked, clearly intrigued. "What breakfast disaster?"

Hugh grinned mischievously, but before he could spill, I put my hand over his mouth in protest. "Nope! Not happening. What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen."

Ryan raised his eyebrows, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. "Im going to get that story out of one of you. Just wait!"

"Ha! You wish!" I called over my shoulder, heading out of the studio with them.

Eventually, we split off, with Ryan going in one direction, and Hugh and I in another, after we said our goodbyes.

Hugh opened the passenger door for me so that I could get in. After my little "Thank you", he closed the door with a smile and sat down on the other side. "My place or yours?"

I kissed his cheek. "Let's go to your place."

With that, Hugh drove off, placing his hand on my thigh as he drove.

Smiling, I looked out of the window and stroked the back of his hand with my thumb. What a day.

---------------------------------------------------

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild

Next part

Sorry if it's not proofread! Struggled with a migraine today but still wanted to finish this part. But I tried my best! And I hope I didn't confuse anybody with the small changes.

[jgracie]

sports car ♡ f1!percy jackson x fem!reader

in which you get tired of percy’s neglect, so you go to the one person you know would be able to help

warnings jealousy (on percy’s behalf), swearing, argument (good ending tho i promise) | masterlist

'Percy has been ignoring me for far too long,' was a thought you never thought you'd have.

Anyone who knew Percy knew he was obsessed with you and therefore couldn't go more than a couple minutes without needing to be around you. However, the New York City race weekend seemed to prove otherwise.

NYC was a new addition to the F1 calendar, and ever since it was announced, you knew how important it'd be for Percy. Sure, all the other US races counted as home races for him before, but New York was his real home, not Las Vegas or Texas. He finally had a proper home race and he had to be the first to win it.

If it was just the importance New York held for Percy, the two of you would've been fine. In fact, you would've been more than fine - during every significant race weekend for Percy, he always happened to be more doting than usual, desperately needing to be reassured that everything would be fine by the one person he trusts to tell nothing but the truth no matter what. That's why you were confused. Had you done something to upset him and drive him away? Is that why he'd rather go to his SF-25 for comfort instead of you?

It was much more than that. Percy wasn't the only New Yorker on the grid this year, the other being his teammate, Luke Castellan. Luke was the first F1 driver you'd been introduced to and the first to find out about your and Percy's relationship back when it still consisted of whispered confessions and late-night kisses. He was nice enough and very funny and you quickly became good friends. Not close friends, but good friends. Although Percy was happy you managed to find a place for yourself in his world at first, he soon began to dislike your friendship with Luke.

This wasn’t your fault, of course, but Luke’s.

What you didn’t know was that there had been tension festering between the two Ferrari drivers ever since Percy joined the team. Luke was Ferrari’s golden boy, having been taken by them as soon as he left F2 thanks to the terrific season he’d had there, and for a good while, he dominated. That was until Percy arrived. In his first year at Ferrari, Percy managed to beat Luke by several points, placing third overall compared to Luke’s fifth. The golden boy had begun to rust, and so the competition between the two grew.

After Percy took everything from Luke, he wanted him to lose everything too, and that included Percy’s most prized possession: you.

“Hey Luke, can I talk to you please?” You asked, walking into his garage. Quali had finished and so everyone was busy packing up and preparing for the big day tomorrow. Well, except Luke, who was on his phone.

Looking up at you, the driver smiled and shook his head, standing up to pull out an empty seat for you, “of course, what’s up?” He said as he took you in.

You were easily the most beautiful person at the paddock today, with your little red top and the Yankees cap Percy had bought you the first time he took you to watch a baseball game. To Luke, you would’ve looked even more beautiful with your arm wrapped around his.

"Well, I feel like Percy's been... off," was how your rant began. As you explained the situation, Luke couldn't help but feel as though Aphrodite was on his side. He was sad for you, of course, but this was the perfect moment for him to take the one thing Percy loved most. If he won the race tomorrow, surely you'd be his.

Unfortunately, Aphrodite was not on Luke's side. As soon as he put his hand on top of yours in a comforting gesture (that weirded you out a little), Percy appeared, looking for you. Finding you with Luke, who so clearly had his 'Prince Charming' act on, Percy couldn't help but see red. He was already dealing with so much crap from Luke, but him going after you was too far.

Swiftly, Percy strode over and grabbed you by the arm, nearly hauling you off your chair in the process, "let's go babe, I think you left your bag in my garage," he mumbled, kissing the top of your head. You looked up at your boyfriend, expecting his usually loving gaze to finally be cast upon you. Instead, you found him glaring at Luke. And... Luke seemed to be glaring back? You were confused.

"Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me," you said, standing up. Instantly, Luke was up too.

"Hey man, we weren't done yet." He said to Percy, who now had his arm wrapped around your waist. Although you weren't sure what was going on and were now a little mad at him, you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. You really missed his touch.

"I'm sure it can wait," was all Percy said before manoeuvring you away, not even giving you the chance to say goodbye.

The walk to his garage was silent, but as soon as you got there, Percy started ranting at you as he sloppily gathered both your things. You watched for a second before realising you were done with his bullshit. This was going to end whether he liked it or not.

"Percy," you said, calmly approaching him. Although you were mad, you didn't want things to escalate. You just wanted your Percy back. Said Percy ignored you. You tried again, and he ignored you again.

Oh well, third time's the charm.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you said, "Percy, can you please listen to me?" Almost instantly, he turned around and had you pinned on his car, tightly gripping your shoulders.

"What? What do you want from me? Seems like everybody wants something from me these days, so let's add you to the list as well! Or would you prefer to go ask Luke instead?"

Percy knew he made a mistake as soon as his eyes landed on yours, a watery barrier keeping them from properly meeting his. He sighed and let go of you, running his hands through his hair.

Your voice now shaky, you said, "I just wanted to see if you're okay. You've been ignoring me ever since we landed in JFK, and it hurts, Percy. I want to be here for you, but you're not letting me. I went to Luke to ask if you were okay, since you refused to tell me, but now I see what the problem is. You don't trust me, do you? You don't trust me to know what's wrong, you don't trust me to be around your own teammate, you don't trust me at all, Percy. Relationships need trust. If you don't trust me, I don't see the point in us staying together at all."

Percy's brows furrowed. He hadn't expected you to come to that of all conclusions. Just as you were about to take your things and leave, he had you pinned to the car yet again.

"I trust you. I don't trust him," he began. Your lips parted in shock. How couldn't Percy trust Luke? Luke had been his idol for as long as you could remember. He was more excited to be teammates with the Luke Castellan than he was to drive for Ferrari back when the deal was first signed.

"God, I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to hurt you. There's been so much pressure on my back to do well in this race not just because my home race, but because its his, too. Luke has been out to get me since this season started, I just know it. If he wins this, he'll have enough points to bump me down to second place in the championship, and then God knows what'll happen to my seat. I've been working so hard to make sure everything's perfect for this one, and seeing you with him of all people drove me crazy. He's been trying to take everything from me, he can't take you too."

Tears were now rolling down your cheeks, and you cupped Percy's face, pulling him to share a heartfelt kiss.

"No one," you said as you pulled away, "could ever take me from you, Percy. I don't ever want you thinking that again, promise?" You stuck your pinkie out for Percy to link his to, which he did.

Smiling, he whispered, "I promise. Now let's go home, I have a lot of girlfriend neglect I'd like to make up for." At this, you laughed, glad to have your Percy back again. Putting your jacket on, you rubbed your back where it had been on the car. Those things had way too many hard parts.

"You have got to stop slamming me on that car of yours though, Perce, my back can't handle it," you mumbled as you zipped the jacket up. New York winters were no joke.

"Oh yeah?" He said, smirking. Your noses nearly touching, Percy's eyes glimpsed the necklace you were wearing - the one with his initials on it. "Don't you worry, I have better ideas for what we can do in that car of mine."

[trying-harder-then-u]

Johnny's Daddy

Johnny has been my friend since forever, and while we grew apart in High school, we would always make sure to comfort each other through all the tough times. He helped me with my breakup, and I helped him when he lost his job.

Johnny was always on the smaller side; Puberty Hit never really got to him, and while he never got the muscles he wanted, he eventually became quite happy with his body and my numerous numerous offers to wing man him and help him get a girl were always turned down.

Earlier today, my phone pinged while I was at work. Johnny had messaged me:

"Hey man, could you come to my place after work?"

"Sure? What do you need?"

"I'll explain when you get here."

Me and Johnny had always been open and clear without ever really needing to talk outside of texts, so I thought this must be something big if he wanted to talk about it at his place, so after work finished up, I got in my car and drove to his apartment in the city. After a good 50 minutes of driving through the winding roads, I finally arrived.

As I opened the door, he came and hugged me. "How was the drive?" "Nothing special, just some traffic jams and that stuff," I responded. For the first few hours, we just hung out talking about life and playing games before I finally asked why he wanted me here: "Well, I wanted to tell you I was gay." he blushed as he said it, "Damn man, thanks for telling me; I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me, do you want to go to a gay bar or  something?"He shook his head at my question: "You don't understand; I've been trying to get a boyfriend for awhile now, but it never works out, and I wanted to ask you if...." "I'm sorry, man," I interjected. "I love you like a brother, but I don't feel the same way about you." "Okay, sorry, I hope we can still be friends," Both of us laughed awkwardly at the incident, but decided to hang out some more. At about 6, we were both getting hungry, so he ordered a pizza, and he got up to grab us a drink. I heard what sounded like pills rattling in the kitchen before he returned with some beers, caps removed. "Thanks, man," I said as he handed me one. Taking a sip, I thought it tasted funny, but I just shrugged it off as the pizzas had just arrived and i was starving.

As we ate and played video games, it became latter and latter, and the beers piled up, each tasting stranger, then the last. At some point, my mind started to became fuzzy. "Ugh, I don't feel good," i said. "You don't look good either. Maybe you should just sleep here for the  night."Johnny commented, Too tired to argue, I ended up on his couch and fell asleep quickly as he went back to the room. "You'll be fine; I bet you feel like a new man tomorrow morning," he called as he closed the door.

That night, as I shuddered in my sleep, my body began to change, moving around as my stature grew, stretching from 5 feet 8 to 6,2. My flab melted away as my skin tightened around new abs that began to push out one by one, and calves became strengthened along with arm muscles. My round face gained structure as a square jaw and clear skin gave my face a new, more attractive look. But it wasn't just my body changing; my dreams began to shift; thoughts that I used to have about women became directed towards Johnny; as I dreamed of dominating and using him, the apartments that we each had eventually became one, just as my place had his boyfriend cemented, and soon I was picturing him submitting to me every night. As these dreams peaked, I felt my dick pulse, lines of cum shooting out as my rock-hard cock lengthened, growing longer and longer inside my underwear from it's normal 4 inches to a monstrous 9, and my boxers turning to briefs as they were soaked in my semen. The transformation was over, and my new place in the world was confirmed.

The next morning, Johnny smirked as he walked in to be greeted by me staring at him in nothing but my briefs. "I have a job for you, boy; I need some services," I commanded, His dick jumped up, and his body shuddered as he moved towards me. All memories of my past life disappeared as he wrapped his lips around my dick; all that mattered was teaching my boyfriend his place.

[taylorswiftstyle]

Chiefs vs Bills | Kansas City, MO | January 26, 2025

Louis Vuitton 'Monogram Jacquard Knit Jacket' - $5,000.00 Louis Vuitton 'LV Spark Beanie' - $550.00 Steven Battelle 'Ancient Coin Necklace' - price varies Louis Vuitton 'Trunk Chain Wallet' - $2,850.00 Louis Vuitton 'Le Damier de Louis Vuitton Small Ring' - $3,950.00 Louis Vuitton 'Le Damier de Louis Vuitton Medium Bracelet' - $18,500.00 Cartier 'Panthère de Cartier Medium Watch Diamond' - $32,200.00 Louis Vuitton 'LV Medallion Gloves' - $495.00 Calzedonia '50 Denier Tights in Dark Red' - $15.00 Louis Vuitton 'Star Trail Ankle Boot' - $1,760.00

More monogram. Taylor appeared at the AFC Championship game wearing a literal head to toe look (mostly) by Louis Vuitton. Proving that sometimes it does have to be Louis V up in KC.

What I Learned From Those Two Years: Prior to the game I had wondered if last year’s championship outfit might be a playbook (pun intended) for today’s look - knowing that comparisons were bound to happen. I can see the similarities year over year in the oversized top, pleated mini skirt, tights, and boots combination. On the skirt, I’ve been told this is not the same skirt as last year, with thanks to the LV team for the confirmation, and is a slightly older one within the LV catalogue. However, it feels like a close enough of a callback to make the choice seem intentional. Perhaps a way of nodding to superstitions in sport with repeating “lucky” items to bring forth an optimal outcome. Whatever the reason, let’s say that it worked because the Chiefs defeated the Bills 32-29 and are - once again - headed to the Super Bowl.   

When We First Met (Gala): But even without the other LV elements of this look, I clocked these boots right away. Why? Because Taylor has a pair of Star Trail boots that she has worn on two other occasions. The first was the night before the 2016 Met Gala. The second was while out to dinner with Travis in October 2023. After a lot of staring, I can confirm this pair of ‘Star Trails’ are an updated version - discernible by the slightly different finish and the cap toe detail being absent. One of Taylor’s style pillars has always been repetition, so I’ll give half points here given it’s a style we know she has in her closet and has repeated in the past. I can imagine this fresh pair from a later collection was meant to coordinate with the rest of the recent LV pulls. 

Louis V up in KC: When it came to accessories, Louis Vuitton jewelry and bag felt like natural fits. However, knowing that Taylor has a LV watch in her collection that would have coordinated well with her head to toe (literal) branded ensemble feels noteworthy to me. The accessory that felt like it had the most story behind it was her necklace. Taylor has worn a number of vintage coin necklaces recently, including at a few Chiefs games. What immediately came to my mind was her 2024 season opener outfit which was also styled with a vintage, ancient bronze coin necklace. I imagine that something about it feels like embodying a fighting / warrior mindset to fit in with the “go fight win” of sports and the Gladiator ethos. Or else perhaps even a chic reference to a game day coin toss. I spoke with the designer, Steven, who confirmed that the face depicted on the coin, struck in 109-108BC during the Roman Republic, is the goddess Roma. Steven said, “[Roma] was believed to watch over the city’s citizens and protect them from harm, as well as being a fierce defender of Rome in war.” Steven said the necklace took approximately 1.5 days to create by Balinese goldsmith artisans with traditional handmaking techniqes. “The pendant was designed to highlight the coin and accent it in a classical manner,” he said. From an intentional styling perspective, there’s a lot of thought that goes into creating a cohesive and consistent storyline where every look “speaks” to one another to create a progression, but is distinct enough to stand as its own moment. Small callbacks like this (and the skirt - more on that later) demonstrate that thought well. I look forward to doing a full breakdown of this season’s looks (particularly in comparison to 2023-24’s season) when the final whistle blows. This artist uses real ancient coins in their work so every single piece is unique and different. Pictured above is what appears, to my eye, to be a close match to Taylor’s. 

Photo by Jamie Squire via Getty Images

[formulawolff]

xiii. show the world - t.w.

pairing: female!driver x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, angst, lots of angst to be completely honest, pining, age gap relationship, toto being down bad per usual, two idiots in love but won't admit it, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“be honest with me. are you seeing someone?”

daniel brings a wine glass to his lips, tilting it back as you sit across from him, your fork clattering against the table. heat radiates off of your cheeks, flourishing into your neck as your eyes snap away from his intense stare. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

the sun was starting to set over the water, casting a tangerine glow across its surface. fluffy clouds float along, the sky bursting with lavender, fuschia, and cerulean hues. yachts drifted along, their lights beginning to glimmer as the sky grew dimmer and dimmer. on your left, it was almost like the city was given its first breath of night life, locals strolling along the streets, their conversations and the growl of engines as they zoomed along the streets merely white noise. 

it was truly a breathtaking view, distracting you for just a moment, taking your focus away from the conversation at hand.

yet, you remember he’s awaiting your answer, arms folded across his chest, brows knit together. scrambling to formulate some sort of response, you gnaw on the inside of your cheek, shoulders slumping. 

“what if i told you i was?”

“hmm,” daniel hums, downing the rest of his wine, “then i would say good for you, i guess.”

“oh come on,” your regain your composure, frustration brewing in the pit of your stomach, “i thought we consensually agreed that we wouldn’t explore a relationship because we needed to keep things professional.”

“i did that because that’s what you wanted,” daniel swivels his head, glancing out at the water, “i never agreed to that. i only respected your wishes because that was what you wanted. i never wanted that. i wanted you.”

“but you never told me,” you protest, absentmindedly picking at your ratatouille, “that night in jeddah, i vividly remember you telling me that you never acted on your feelings because you knew that it was one-sided.”

daniel huffs, shaking his head, “i didn’t think i would’ve had to spell it out for you. i was under the impression you knew that i had feelings for you. and actually, i thought you reciprocated those same feelings. thank you for reminding me of the cold hard truth. i feel so much better about this. thanks for that.”

“you’re not being very mature about this. what happened to staying emotionally mature about the matter?”

“i was doing that until i heard from alex that you were dating someone,” daniel retorts, his tone seething with fiery anger, “you couldn’t just tell me yourself? also, how long were you going to keep that from me? were you just not going to mention it until i found out?”

“i didn’t think it was important,” you shrug, shrinking in your seat as pairs of eyes sear into you, the stares becoming more and more prominent as daniel’s voice carries throughout the patio.

“starting a relationship with someone isn’t important?”

“daniel,” you hiss, desperately wishing you were wearing a cap or some sunglasses, “people are starting to stare.”

“okay and?” he cocks his head, “i don’t give a fuck. you have no fucking idea how heartbroken i’ve been these last few weeks. i feel like my entire world has been turned upside down. meanwhile you’re frolicking around with some douchebag from st. louis. obviously the dick is must have you in a chokehold because you’ve been a completely different person.” 

“daniel, please,” the notes in your tone raise an octave as your lower lip trembles, “stop, please. people are listening. can we talk about this some other time–”

“well luckily for you,” daniel inhales sharply, rising to his feet, “i don’t want to discuss it any further. i’m done here. see you around, america’s princess.”

tossing his napkin on the table, the australian snatches the keys to his rental, muttering under his breath. you remain at the table, people resuming back to their previous conversations as the waitress comes by, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“is everything all right, madame?” 

“i just need the check please,” you mumble, tears threatening to spill over as you reach for your purse, “i’ll pay for it all. i am so sorry about that.

“no worries madame,” the waitress chirps, “would you care for a free dessert for your troubles?”

you know what? free dessert didn’t seem too bad after all. 

“oui, s’il vous plait.”

at your response, the waitress’ lips curve into a wide grin, “tu es le bienvenu.”

letting out a shaky breath, you wipe away a tear, pulling your phone out of your purse. swallowing the lump in your throat, you message the one person you needed most.

i hope things are going well on your end tonight. is there any chance you can come by my hotel room, or i swing by yours? it would be later tonight. i want my sexy, smoochable, handsome boyfriend. :’((((( 

the moment you send the message, three little bubbles appear, signaling that he had received it, and was crafting a reply.

i take it the dinner didn’t go well? what happened, meine liebe? ich vermisse dich auch. 

wrinkling your nose, you highlight the text, tapping the copy option. thumb gliding across the screen, you click on the google translate app, pasting it into the textbox. 

what happened, my love? i miss you too. 

i can explain more later. you type, are you busy? 

never too busy for you. remember, we’re in monaco. i own a place here. 😘 you can just come by whenever you need. i’m at home. do you need the address?

yes please. i’ll be there as soon as possible. 

i can’t wait to see your beautiful face. here’s the address. i’ll be waiting impatiently. 

the second you type his address in your phone, the waitress comes by your table, a box in one hand, billfold in the other. placing the box on the table, you anticipate her to do the same with the check. yet, she doesn’t keeping it in her grasp. 

“madame, your meals have been taken care. a gentleman called, inquiring if he could foot the bill. he stated he did not want you to worry about anything else this evening. is that all right?”

your heart flutters, “did he say a name, by chance?”

“no madame,” the waitress flashes you a quaint smile, “again, i am so sorry if your evening has been ruined in any sort of way. i hope the dessert helps in some fashion!”

“thank you,” you reciprocate the gesture, “and again, thank you for the dessert.”

“it is no problem,” the waitress dips her head, “have a great evening, madame!”

rising to your feet, you push in your chair, ensuring that you don’t forget the plain white box that was placed on the table. carrying it under your arm, you pull up your maps app, feeling a grin form.

maybe tonight will not end as poorly as it began. 

you could thank toto wolff for that.

ever since miami, you felt as if the weight of the world was off your shoulders. the stress was alleviated, dissolving almost completely. you could go about your day without that ever-present thought in the back of your mind, gnawing away at you. 

however, there were more mountains to climb. more obstacles to face. 

you had yet to sit down with james, alex, or anyone else really, to discuss your decision to depart from williams at the end of the 2024 season. 

toto was the only one who knew. 

and for the time being, you were okay with that. 

but you were running out of time. the days were soaring by. you would blink and suddenly it would be time to board that flight. it would be time to get behind the wheel, adrenaline coursing through your veins. it would be time to step on that podium, raising that gleaming trophy above your head, your team roaring below. 

with four grand prixs wins, three of which were back-to-back, you were unstopabble. 

a force to be reckoned with. 

max tried to catch you, he really did. 

but you were too fast, fueled by the thrill of victory. 

it was intoxicating, sending an electric, exhilarating buzz throughout your entire being every time you breezed across that finish line.

and with a man like toto by your side, how could you possibly lose? 

with the monaco grand prix on the docket for the weekend, you were preparing for a challenging race. the circuit was extremely tight, the track interweaving through the buildings and sights the city. it was an infamous track, known for its rich history and well, the accidents. 

additionally, there was little to no room for overtakes. so if you wanted to be on that podium on sunday, you had to execute a stellar qualifying lap. with that added pressure, you were a little apprehensive for what was to come. 

yet, you couldn’t let that anxiety creep in. you had to maintain your composure. it was crucial that you kept a calm, cool outlook on the race. 

and as you found yourself at that massive gate, pressing the button to your left, you couldn’t help but feel peace of mind. 

you could thank toto wolff for that as well. 

with every moment spent with the team principal, you couldn’t help but shake this aching, nagging feeling. 

it was a pure, innocent feeling. one that filled you to the brim with bliss, a cozy warmth blossoming in your chest, your heart swelling with joy. one that had you beaming from ear to ear, your once gloomy days now shining with this golden, rich light. 

you were in love with him. 

hopelessly in love, your whole heart resting in his tender hands. 

you couldn’t tell him that though. you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

at least, not yet. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“all right,” james’ sucks in a breath, his head swiveling from side to side, taking in the commotion all around. 

“are you ready?” 

“come on,” you wave a hand, “you know the drill. i was born ready.” 

“i know,” the team principal’s lips twitch as he fights a smile, “but this is a pretty significant race. there’s a lot of history and heartbreak on this track.” 

“are you saying that you don’t think i can win?” you tease, your voice muffled slightly by the thick exterior of the helmet, “james, i can do this. believe me, i can do this.” 

“there’s a lot at stake here,” he places a hand on the top of your head, patting it, “just remember, whatever happens, i believe in you. always.” 

i believe in you. always. 

your lower lip trembles, and in that moment, you want to confess right there. you almost blurt out the words that had been lingering on your tongue for weeks now. 

james, after this race, we need to to talk. 

however, you don’t. you simply nod, drumming your hands against the steering wheel, “i’ll make you guys proud, i promise.”

“oh, you already do,” his eyes glimmer, bursting with pride, “you’ve made us so fucking proud these last few weeks. and you know what? i know you’re going to continue to make williams racing proud. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us.” 

fuck. 

that conversation was going to absolutely destroy you, splitting your heart into two. 

you couldn’t think about that, though. 

the race was about to start. 

on the grid, you were behind charles leclerc and oscar piastri. it wasn’t terrible positioning, but with the limited space, you knew that getting ahead would be nearly impossible. it would be a miracle if you were able to cross that finish line in first place. 

yet, you were more than willing to take the risks involved to get to that position. 

all you needed was a little bit of luck. 

which, these days, it seemed like you were full of it. like you were carrying a four leaf clover in your pocket at all times. 

as rays of sunshine filter through the clouds, a gold streak of light dances in your peripheral vision. 

nestled on your wrist was the charm bracelet toto had gifted you that fateful night in jeddah. the charm gleams, reminding you of two things. 

one, your very first grand prix victory.  

two, that he was always with you. 

perhaps he was that good luck charm you were desperately searching for.

maybe. just maybe. 

in about seventy-eight laps, you would have that answer. 

“and she has done the impossible! she has shattered yet another record! miss america has won monaco! she has won her fifth grand prix!” 

“fuck yes!” you shout, “we won! we won monaco!” 

“brilliant fucking job,” james’ voice trembles, thready with excitement, “bloody good job!” 

euphoria crashes over you like a tidal wave, leaving you speechless as it sucks the air out of your lungs. burying your head in your hands, your shoulders shake as you sob. 

never, in your wildest dreams would you have expected to have made it this far. 

never would you even imagined racing as a little girl, let alone racing at this caliber. 

and winning races? five of them?

little you, cheesing with her toothy five-year-old smile, standing next to a kart, helmet under her arm, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of this moment. 

you had improved miles upon miles from the driver you were last season. you made history. time and time again. you had shattered records, obliterating barriers in the world of formula one racing as a twenty-two year old woman. 

and fuck, you weren’t even done yet. 

you still had a world title to chase after. 

“holy shit. holy shit. holy motherfucking shit.” 

stepping out of the car, your heart races, your team nearly sprinting to congratulate you. picking out james, you flash him a thumbs up. the crowd raves, whooping, whistling, and hollering your newfound nickname. 

“miss america! miss america! miss america!” 

cameras appear out of thin air, recording as you step down, james and alex swathing you with their embrace. alex rattles your helmet, james’ grin shining bright as the cameras flash. 

“what a bloody brilliant day!” james shouts, a glossy sheen over his eyes, “what a fucking day!” 

“what place did you finish, alex?” your voice rises above the noise, “what did you get?” 

“ninth!” he chirps, “two drivers in the top ten? that’s a pretty fucking good day!” 

“a very fucking good day,” laughter rises in your chest, spilling out, “fuck, that nearly took everything out of me!” 

“well you better shape up,” alex pats your back, “because you have a podium that’s calling your name.” 

as the team gathers, making their way to the finish line, your heart yearns for one thing. well, one person. 

toto. 

pursing your lips, your eyes scan through the garages, attempting to make out the mercedes paddock. yet, there is too much movement in your line of sight as the crew members assemble, circling around their respective drivers. 

the euphoria lingers as your step onto the podium, the crowd below applauding. there are shouts that rise above the clapping, yet you can barely make them out. 

surveying the mass, your heart skips a beat as you locate him. 

his eyes lock with yours, pure, radiant adoration painted across his features. 

that’s my girl. he mouths, dimples apparent with every word. 

a few strands of hair flutter in his face, the top button of his shirt un-done, the fabric slightly wrinkled from the chaos of race day. 

yet, he was as gorgeous as ever. 

as charles and oscar pop open the champagne, you hesitate, fingers trembling as they wrap around the neck of the bottle.

you know what? 

fuck this. 

“hey!” charles calls out as you step down from the platform, “where are you going?”

there’s a brief moment of confusion from the crowd, a few gasps ringing out as you shoulder your way down the stairs, muttering numerous apologies as you accidentally elbow several people along the way. 

there was only one thing on your mind as you nudged your way through the throng of people gathered beneath the podium. although your skin burned beneath your suit, sweat clinging to every part of you, there was this tugging sensation at your heart. it urged you to keep going. to keep searching. 

you were face-to-face now, his brow furrowing with concern, arms folded across his chest as you take another step forward. 

“what are you–"

that’s when toto wolff found your lips colliding with his, the entire world crumbling away as he found himself lost in you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal @annaaepf1 @paigelouise @bborra @bblouifford @upsteadsstuff @omgsuperstarg @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower

as always, if i forgot to add you, or if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know! thank you all for the endless support and love for this series! y'all are the sweetest! <3

[minxmut-cafe]

FETISH

Pairing: STALKER!! Jimin x Reader

Word count: 16k

Warning: smut, sex, stalking, dark themes, voyeurism, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex, vaginal sex, penetration etc

Authors note: I honestly had so much fun writing this!! I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if I should do one about another member as well

Synopsis: "When Jimin wants something, he'll have it. One way or the other."

The bakery was quiet as Y/N worked the counter, the early afternoon sunlight spilling across the wooden tables, casting soft shadows on the cream-colored walls. The rich scent of butter and vanilla wafted through the air, mingling with the faint dusting of flour on the counter. A delicate hum of the oven's warmth was her only companion as she carefully arranged freshly baked pastries in the display case.

Y/N had always loved the rhythm of the bakery. The way the dough felt between her fingers, the way the heat from the oven would settle around her like a comforting embrace. It was simple, predictable—exactly the kind of life she wanted. No drama, no distractions. Just the steady flow of flour, sugar, and quiet.

But there was always something strange about this place. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was the way certain customers lingered a little too long, as if they didn’t just come for a croissant, but for something else—something she could never define. Or perhaps it was the way the silence would sometimes stretch, too long, too deep, as though the air itself was holding its breath.

A woman entered, her steps light, but her gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. Y/N smiled politely, forcing her attention back to the pastries as the woman selected a few items and moved to the counter.

"Just the usual?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet, practiced.

The woman nodded, placing a few crumpled bills on the counter before leaving without a word. Y/N watched her go, the door chiming softly behind her. The silence returned, but something felt different today. She couldn’t explain it.

Her eyes drifted to the window. Outside, the street was as bustling as usual. People hurrying by, oblivious to the quiet life she led. She was used to the hustle—she’d grown up in cities where the noise never stopped. But here, in this small corner of the world, there was a strange stillness that she could never shake.

As her gaze drifted past the street, something caught her attention. A figure, standing just outside the bakery window, hidden partially behind a lamppost. A man, his face obscured by a hood and sunglasses, his posture tense and watchful. She blinked, sure she was imagining things, but when she looked again, the figure was gone.

She shook her head. Just a trick of the light, she thought.

Y/N returned to her task, pushing aside the odd feeling that clung to her. She had no room for paranoia. She couldn’t afford it.

From the shadows, across the street, Jimin observed her, his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his cap. He hadn’t come here to buy pastries, nor to admire the delicate art of baking. He’d come to watch her.

His lips twisted into a slight, cynical smile as he watched her move behind the counter, her fingers graceful as she shaped the dough. She was so... unaware. So focused on the small world she had created for herself. It was almost too easy.

Jimin’s world was not like hers. His was loud, filled with flashing lights, cameras, and the constant hum of voices singing his praises. He was Park Jimin, a star—a god, in the eyes of many. And yet, here he was, in the shadows, lingering in the corners of her life like some kind of invisible force.

He knew everything about her. Where she lived. What she liked to bake. The quiet way she carried herself. The subtle tension in her posture when she felt eyes on her, though she never acknowledged it.

It made him smile to think of how perfectly she fit into the life he had carefully crafted for her. A life where she would never escape him. Where he could watch, and wait, until she was ready to let him in.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed as Y/N glanced toward the window again. She didn’t see him, but he knew she felt something. She’d been sensing him for days now, and it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out.

But he wasn’t ready yet. Not yet. He wanted her to feel the fear first. To see him lurking in the background, like a shadow waiting to pounce. The fear would make her crave him, would make her realize that the only way out was to let him in completely.

He allowed himself a few more moments to study her. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Her movements were deliberate, efficient—exactly how he liked it. She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t demanding. She was content, trapped in the little world she’d made for herself.

But that wouldn’t last.

He’d make sure of it.

Y/N's attention snapped back to the counter as the bell above the door jingled again, the sudden intrusion breaking her train of thought. The figure she’d seen earlier? Gone. The street was just as it had always been.

She frowned, pushing the feeling of unease aside. It was nothing. Probably just someone waiting for the bus or some curious stranger with too much time on their hands.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. It wasn’t the first time, and she was certain it wouldn’t be the last.

Y/N sat at her small kitchen table, the soft glow of her laptop screen casting an ambient light across her face. It was late—almost midnight—but she didn’t mind. She’d gotten lost in her sculpting, her hands covered in clay, the world outside slipping away.

As usual, she was lonely at this hour. The bakery had closed, the last customer had long since left, and now there was only silence. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she sat back, debating whether she should check her messages. It had become a small ritual for her. In the last few weeks, someone had been reaching out to her through her online art account. They weren’t aggressive or overwhelming, but their words were kind, supportive.

Y/N had grown used to the occasional comment on her work—most of it generic, encouraging, but nothing that stuck. But this person, "ArtLover23," seemed different. They never just complimented her work—they asked thoughtful questions, made observations, and had a deep understanding of the techniques she used.

Her fingers clicked on the message notification, and a new message from ArtLover23 appeared.

ArtLover23: "I’ve been following your work for a while now. Your sculptures are so unique, they almost seem to have a life of their own. The way you bring such expression to stone… it’s incredible. Have you ever thought about making a piece that tells a story?"

Y/N smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through her. It wasn’t the first time they’d praised her work, but tonight the words felt different. She’d always struggled with loneliness, her quiet life filled with the hum of the bakery, her art, and the occasional student loan reminder. She wanted to believe that someone truly saw her—her work, her passion.

Y/N: "Thank you. That really means a lot. I’ve thought about telling a story with my art, but it’s harder than it sounds. Maybe something a bit abstract, like capturing the movement of water or the fragility of time."

There was a pause before a reply came through. The thoughtfulness behind the response always struck her. It made her feel... seen.

ArtLover23: "I’d love to see something like that. I think you’d capture the essence perfectly. It’s like you’ve already told a story with every piece."

Y/N typed back quickly, the connection sparking a little bit of excitement inside her.

Y/N: "I’m not sure if I’m that good, but I’m glad you think so."

The message she received back was immediate.

ArtLover23: "I know you are. I can tell by how much care you put into your work. You’re different from the rest."

She bit her lip, a small flush rising to her cheeks. There was something about the sincerity in his words that made her heart flutter—just a little. It wasn’t anything she could place. It was all so... harmless, right?

At least, that’s what she told herself.

---

Jimin leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on his desk as he stared at the screen. His lips curled into a small, calculating smile. It was easy, almost too easy. She was responding just as he’d hoped.

Her art had captivated him from the very first time he’d stumbled across her profile. He’d seen so many works in his life—so many faces, so many bodies—but her sculptures had a raw, delicate vulnerability to them that drew him in. The way she shaped the clay, the way she sculpted with such care—he could see it in the way she moved, the way she placed every finger against the surface. She poured her soul into it.

And now, he was the one she would pour her soul to.

He’d watched her from afar for weeks now. It was almost poetic, really. The quiet girl with the simple life. She had no idea who he was—not really. She had no idea that he could see everything. Every movement. Every glance. Every sigh.

And soon, she wouldn’t be able to turn away.

But for now, he was content to play the part of the faceless admirer. "ArtLover23" was the perfect guise—sweet, supportive, and above all, anonymous. He didn’t need to reveal himself just yet. Not until she had become comfortable with him. Until she was so deep in the web he’d woven that she would never dream of escaping.

---

Days passed, and Y/N found herself looking forward to the messages from ArtLover23 more than she cared to admit. He wasn’t just a fan—he was someone who understood. And for someone like Y/N, who often felt isolated in her little world, it was a relief. She looked forward to his thoughtful words as though they were a lifeline.

But as the weeks went on, small, strange details began to pop up. At first, they were easy to dismiss. A comment about her favorite painting—one she’d mentioned only once, years ago, to a friend. A mention of the small park near her apartment, where she often walked to clear her mind. The way he seemed to know exactly how she liked to spend her Saturdays—long afternoons at the pottery wheel, always listening to the same jazz playlist.

Y/N brushed it off. Coincidence, she told herself. He must just be observant.

But the unease crept in. A whisper in the back of her mind. Was it really coincidence? Or was it something else?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she typed a message to him.

Y/N: "You always seem to know so much about me. It’s a little… weird, don’t you think?"

The reply came quickly, as expected.

ArtLover23: "I told you, I’ve been watching your work for a long time. I think I understand you better than most people."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. It was such an innocent reply, yet something about it unsettled her. She wanted to ask more, to confront him, but she didn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she replied with something that felt safer.

Y/N: "Well, I hope you’re not watching me in person too. That’s… that’s a little too much, don’t you think?"

The screen went still. No response. Her fingers tapped nervously on the table as she stared at the message. Then, just as she thought he wouldn’t reply, the response came through.

ArtLover23: "I would never. You’re too beautiful to scare, Y/N. You’re safe with me."

Her pulse quickened as she stared at the screen. There was something about the phrase “you’re safe with me” that struck her wrong, and yet, part of her wanted to believe it. It was a paradox. A tangled mess of fear and comfort.

She didn’t respond. Instead, she closed the laptop with a sharp snap, the weight of the message pressing on her chest like an anchor.

---

Meanwhile, Jimin sat back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips.

He knew he had her. The seed of doubt had been planted. She was already questioning herself, and soon, she’d be begging for answers. But the answers wouldn’t come easily. Not from him.

He leaned forward, fingers brushing over the camera he’d installed in her apartment. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the reward he’d been waiting for. He’d make sure she needed him, and when that moment came, he’d step out of the shadows and claim her completely.

The cool morning air filtered through the bakery's open windows, carrying with it the faint scent of fresh bread and the distant hum of the city. Y/N moved mechanically through her routine—mixing dough, shaping pastries, and setting up for the day. Her hands worked skillfully, but her mind wasn’t entirely present. Lately, there was a gnawing feeling at the back of her mind, a weight that followed her everywhere.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed, breaking her from her thoughts. She picked it up and unlocked the screen, her heart immediately skipping a beat. Another message from ArtLover23.

ArtLover23: "Had a thought about your latest piece. What if the stone wasn’t the medium, but the message? What if you could shape the heart of someone, not the material?"

It was thoughtful. It was weirdly insightful. But as Y/N scanned the message, something about it felt... off. The choice of words felt oddly personal, almost as if he knew her more intimately than he should.

With a sigh, Y/N put her phone down, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. She turned her attention to a new sculpture she was working on—a large, abstract piece that would require hours of careful attention. Yet, even as she worked, her mind kept drifting back to the messages, to the strange sensation that someone was watching her.

---

It started small, almost imperceptible. At first, it was the missing jewelry. A necklace she always wore, one with a pendant shaped like a crescent moon, had gone missing from her bedside table. Then it was the earrings she’d been sure she left in the bathroom. Little things. Tiny pieces of her life, slipping away, as if someone had taken them just to remind her they were close.

The strange events didn’t stop there. She began to notice things in her apartment—subtle, disturbing things. The windows she always double-checked at night were sometimes left ajar. Her bathroom mirror would fog up, even though the shower had never been turned on. And once, in the middle of the night, she swore she felt someone brushing her cheek, their breath hot against her skin. When she sat up, heart pounding, the room was empty.

She thought she was losing her mind. Paranoia was setting in, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed. At night, when she walked home from the bakery, her every step seemed too loud, her heart beating too quickly. She’d glance over her shoulder, but no one was there. Not visibly. But the feeling—it was there.

The final straw came when she received another message from ArtLover23. This one was different. It was a photo, just like before, but this time it was more explicit. The image was blurry at first, but it was clear enough—bare arms covered in tattoos, jewelry glinting in the sunlight, the faint outline of a chest.

No face. Just his tattoos. The same ones she had noticed before, but this time, they were more. The swirls of ink on his forearm. The intricate designs on his fingers. It was unmistakable—this wasn’t just any person. These tattoos were too specific, too unique. She had seen them before.

Her breath caught in her throat. Could it really be?

Y/N: “How do I know these aren’t just random pictures? Who are you, really?”

She didn’t send the message immediately. She sat with her finger poised over the keyboard, the weight of the decision settling on her chest. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend it was just another coincidence. But deep down, she couldn’t. The images felt too personal. Too real.

The response came quickly, far quicker than she’d expected.

ArtLover23: "You’ll know soon enough. I think you’ve already guessed, haven’t you?"

---

The unease became a constant companion. Every time she turned a corner, every time she glanced over her shoulder, it was there. The paranoia crept in, weaving its way into her every thought. It wasn’t just the online messages anymore. It was the feeling of eyes on her wherever she went.

One afternoon, she left the bakery for a quick break, needing to clear her head. The streets were bustling with people, but as she walked along the crowded sidewalk, a sharp chill ran down her spine. There was a figure—just a shadow, standing under a tree near the corner of the street. She couldn’t see their face, but the way they stood, so still, so aware, made her feel like they were waiting for her.

She turned the corner sharply, trying to shake the feeling off, but when she passed by a crowded train station later that day, it happened again. She was walking down the stairs, carrying her bag, when she felt a warm hand brush against her lower back. It wasn’t accidental—this was intentional.

Her heart pounded as she whipped around, but there was no one there. The crowd had shifted, and the person was gone, lost among the others.

A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t move.

And then, before she could catch her breath, it happened again. A firm hand pressed against her arm, pulling her against a figure in the crowd. She stumbled for a moment, her breath hitching, and tried to push away, but the hand held her firmly in place.

"Careful," a voice whispered against her ear, muffled by the sounds of the city. She could barely make it out, but the voice was deep, smooth. Familiar. It felt like it was laced with a dangerous amusement.

"Who are you?" she managed to ask, trying to pull away, but the grip was too tight.

He didn’t answer her immediately. Instead, the stranger chuckled softly, his breath warm against her neck.

"You’ll find out soon enough, Y/N. But you already know, don’t you?" His voice was laced with something unsettling, something dark. "I’ve been waiting for this moment."

Before she could ask anything else, he slipped away into the crowd, leaving her trembling on the edge of the busy street. She looked around, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he had melted into the crowd, disappeared completely.

She didn’t know what was worse—the fact that someone had touched her so intimately without her consent, or the fact that she felt a strange thrill in it. Her pulse raced as she fought the contradictory emotions inside her—fear, curiosity, and something darker.

---

Back in his apartment, Jimin sat in the dim light of his room, the shadows of the city stretching across the floor. He had watched her—watched her in the bakery, watched her when she was on the streets, watched her when she was completely unaware.

His fingers tapped on his phone screen as he sent her the latest message. He watched her reaction with a quiet, satisfied smile. The game was close to over, but he wasn’t ready to reveal everything just yet.

He would keep her on edge, keep her craving him, until she couldn’t imagine a life without him.

Y/N could feel it in the air. The tension had been building for days, creeping into her life like a storm that she couldn’t outrun. She could no longer dismiss the feeling that she was being watched—couldn’t ignore the sense that someone was always nearby. It wasn’t just the missing jewelry, the opened windows, or the hand on her back in the crowd. No, it was everything. The gifts that appeared in her apartment when she wasn’t looking, the cryptic texts, the unnerving photos—each piece of the puzzle had been carefully placed, one after the other, until they formed an unmistakable pattern. A pattern she had refused to see until now.

But tonight, everything would change. Tonight, she would find out who had been behind it all.

She walked through the dimly lit streets, her steps quick but unsteady. The bakery was closed for the night, the warm, comforting scent of bread replaced by the sharp, metallic taste of fear in her throat. The closer she got to her apartment, the more her unease grew. She could feel it. Someone was there.

And then, as she approached her building, the familiar pressure of being watched pressed into her chest. She heard the rustle of a coat, the faint shuffle of footsteps behind her. Her breath quickened, her heart pounding in her chest, but she refused to turn around.

She had to face this.

When she reached the door to her apartment, she fumbled with the keys, desperately trying to get inside, but her hands were shaking too much. The sound of footsteps grew louder, closer, and just as she was about to step inside, a hand—warm and firm—pressed against the door, halting her.

“Not yet,” the voice whispered, smooth and dangerously familiar.

Y/N’s heart skipped. Her stomach twisted. It was him.

Before she could react, the door was pushed open, and she was pulled inside, her back slamming against the cool, hard wall. The lights were off, but she didn’t need them to recognize the figure standing before her. She had seen him before—through the photos, in the shadows, in her every waking thought.

Park Jimin.

Her pulse raced as her mind struggled to process the sight before her. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

Jimin’s eyes glinted in the darkness, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re surprised,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. “You really didn’t know?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as the realization crashed over her like a wave. “You… you’re him?” she choked out, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You're the one—you have been stalking me? All this time?”

Jimin didn’t answer at first. He simply stepped closer, his presence looming over her like a dark cloud. His eyes never left hers, watching, studying her with a calm intensity that made her feel exposed—vulnerable in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“Did you think it was just some random stranger?” His voice was almost playful now, as if he were enjoying her confusion. “Did you think this was all just a coincidence?”

Y/N’s mind raced, her thoughts a blur. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him for everything he had done, but her body betrayed her. She stood frozen, unable to move. Her hands were clenched into fists, but they hung limply at her sides.

Jimin reached out, gently cupping her face in his hand. She flinched at the touch, but he didn’t pull away. “You were never just a random person to me,” he continued, his voice dripping with something dark, something possessive. “From the moment I saw you, I knew. I had to have you.”

The words hung in the air between them, suffocating. She recoiled from his touch, her pulse racing as the anger surged within her. “Why? Why me?” Her voice cracked with disbelief, but there was an edge of something else beneath it—fear. “Why would you do this to me? All of it… the stalking, the messages, the pictures—am I just some game to you? An object for your twisted obsession?”

Jimin didn’t flinch. He only smiled, the expression almost affectionate. “No. You’re not a game.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw, his touch light but insistent. “You’re everything to me. You always have been.”

“Everything?” Her voice rose, her fury igniting. “Everything?!” Her hands clenched, her chest tightening with rage. “You’ve been stalking me, invading my life, and you’re obsessed with me? How the hell could I be ‘everything’ to you?”

Jimin’s smile never wavered. He took a step back, his gaze never leaving hers, and for a moment, he was silent. The weight of his words pressed down on her as the room seemed to shrink. The quiet tension between them was palpable.

“You don’t understand, do you?” Jimin’s voice was softer now, almost pensive, as though he were explaining something delicate, something necessary. “It’s not about control. Not about owning you. It’s about needing you. You don’t belong to me, Y/N.” He took another step forward, his eyes narrowing. “But I can’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Her breath came in quick bursts, and she wanted to push him away, to run. But part of her—something dark and dangerous inside—wanted to hear more. It sickened her, but the curiosity was there, burrowing under her skin.

“No, you’re wrong,” she spat, her voice trembling with both fury and confusion. “You can’t just take someone, not like this. It’s sick! You’re sick! How could you think I would ever want this—this madness?”

Jimin stepped closer again, and this time she didn’t pull away. He raised his hand and gently brushed his thumb against her lower lip, his eyes searching her face as if he were studying her very soul.

“You want it, Y/N,” he said softly, his words almost a whisper, like a confession. “You want this. You feel it too. That’s why you keep coming back. That’s why you didn’t run.”

Y/N froze, the words ringing in her ears. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her heart hammered in her chest. “No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “No, I don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Jimin replied, his voice sharp now, confident. “You do want me. You wanted this from the moment you noticed me, didn’t you?”

Her eyes filled with anger, but there was something else there too—a glimmer of truth, something she didn’t want to face. She felt the pull, the sick fascination, the twisted part of her that couldn’t deny the thrill of it all. Of him.

She stepped back, trying to gather her thoughts. “I hate you,” she spat, the words laced with venom. “I hate everything about this.”

Jimin simply smiled, stepping even closer now, until his body was almost pressed against hers. “You’ll learn to love me. You’ll need me. And when you do, you’ll realize how foolish you were to resist.” His lips brushed against her ear, and he whispered, “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. I just needed you to see it.”

---

The room felt heavy, suffocating with their emotions. Y/N’s heart raced, her body trembling with a combination of rage and something darker, something that disgusted her even more because she couldn’t deny it—there was a part of her that wanted him. The power he had over her, the way he twisted her thoughts, it scared her, but it also made her feel alive in a way she didn’t want to admit.

As Jimin watched her, his expression unreadable, she realized something. She could hate him all she wanted. She could push him away, scream at him, but it didn’t matter.

He was already inside her. The damage was done.

The tension between Y/N and Jimin had reached a fever pitch, each moment a precarious balance of power, manipulation, and twisted desire.

Every move she made, every breath she took, seemed to be under his watchful eye, but the strangest part was how he always knew how to stay one step ahead. It was like a game-one where she was both the prey and the willing player, her instincts torn between fighting back and giving in.

He had warned her. She had ignored him.

The night she went out with another customer- an innocent enough date, or so she thought-had been the line she crossed. His texts were brief, cold, threatening: "I warned you about consequences, Y/N. Don't make me teach you a lesson."

She should've listened. She knew better. But her anger, her stubbornness, her need to prove something-it made her reckless. The man on the date had been charming, attentive, everything Jimin wasn't. And for a moment, as she laughed at his jokes and enjoyed the normalcy of it all, she had almost forgotten about Jimin and his suffocating grip on her life. But the moment she stepped through the door to her apartment, that illusion shattered.

Jimin was waiting for her, his posture relaxed but his eyes dark, calculating. The air was thick with anticipation, the quiet hum of power pulsing between them like electricity.

"You thought I wouldn't notice?" His voice was deceptively calm, but there was an underlying edge that made her spine stiffen. "You really thought you could go out with another man and not face the consequences?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words got stuck in her throat. She had pushed him too far. She knew it, and deep down, she regretted it.

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words got stuck in her throat. She had pushed him too far. She knew it, and deep down, she regretted it.

His eyes narrowed, and without another word, he motioned for her to come closer. "Get over here," he demanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Her feet moved instinctively, but her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of fear and something darker-something dangerous. She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream at him, to shove him away and tell him she didn't need this, but deep down, she understood that this was his world. She was just a pawn in it, and he held all the power.

As she stood before him, her defiance rising, Jimin didn't give her a chance to argue. With one swift movement, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her down across his lap. She gasped, her body tense with shock, her hands bracing against his leg to steady herself.

"I warned you," he murmured, his fingers gently caressing the curve of her hips before his hand came down hard across her bottom.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, a mix of pain and shock rippling through her. She tried to squirm away, but Jimin's grip was unyielding, his fingers digging into her sides. Another smack landed on her other cheek, and she gasped again, the sting sending a shiver down her spine.

"Still think this is a game, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and filled with an eerie calmness that made her blood run cold.

She glared at him, her face flushed with a mix of humiliation and rage. "You're sick," she spat, but the words felt weak, impotent.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked, the amusement in his eyes cutting through her like a blade. "You wanted this, didn't you? You pushed me, and now you're here. Don't pretend you're not enjoying it." Another slap, and she winced, the stinging sensation making her flinch.

Tears welled in her eyes, her chest heaving with the rawness of the moment. Her body trembled from the sting of his strikes, but it wasn't just physical. It was the betrayal-the realization that she had given him control once again.

She should have fought harder. She should have run.

But here she was, in his lap, tears blurring her vision, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The anger, the humiliation, the desire-it all tangled together in a twisted knot that she couldn't undo.

Jimin's hand gently stroked her back, as if he were soothing her, and it only made her more furious. "Shh, it's okay. You know I'm doing this for your own good, right? You need to be taught a lesson. You need to learn that you can't just go around doing whatever you want."

The punishment had been excruciating. The sting still burned in her bottom, a reminder of her defiance and his dominance. She sat on the edge of her bed, her chest heaving with the aftermath of Jimin's touch and the power he had over her. But instead of the quiet moment of reflection she’d expected, the anger inside her surged, bubbling up like a volcano ready to explode.

"You're sick!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "You think you're some god, some... some king who can control every single part of me?" Her hands trembled with rage as she pulled at her hair, pacing around the room. "I hate you! I hate how you watch me, how you manipulate me, how you—"

Her breath hitched, and the words came out faster, more venomous. "You're nothing but a coward, hiding behind your games, your little tricks. I don’t need you!"

She turned to face the bed, her eyes blazing with fury. "You don’t get to decide who I am! You don’t get to control me, Jimin!"

But even as she screamed, even as her mind raced with all the things she wanted to hurl at him, she knew he wasn’t there. He was gone.

Or was he?

Her hands went to her phone—her constant tether to him, to the man who’d been watching her every move—and unlocked it. She opened the messages he’d sent her, rereading the cold, calculated words. The threat in each message. The subtle pull he had on her. And yet, there was nothing. No message. No sign of him.

Nothing.

A sick, twisted part of her—part of her that she had come to hate—waited for the ping of a new message, a new sign that he was still watching. That he was still there. But the silence grew more oppressive.

Was he really gone?

Y/N stood up abruptly, her blood boiling. She couldn’t stand it. The silence. The absence.

Her fists clenched at her sides as she stormed out of her room, her steps echoing through the apartment. She went straight to the drawers, rifling through them with a sense of desperation. Where were they? The cameras. The ones she had always known were there, hidden, watching.

She tore apart the living room, throwing cushions, upturning furniture, desperate to find something—anything—that would confirm he was still here, still controlling her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ripped through the place. The more she searched, the angrier she became. Each empty space, each hidden corner felt like a taunt.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she found a small, hidden device in the corner of the living room, partially obscured behind a bookshelf. She grabbed it, holding it up like a weapon.

She was panting now, her body trembling from the rage that had overtaken her.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she hissed, glaring at the camera. “You think you’re so damn obsessed with me. You think I can’t see through your games.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, raw from the emotions tearing her apart.

Her fingers were shaking as she typed out a message to him, but her anger was so palpable that her hands could barely hold the phone steady. "If you’re so obsessed with me, Jimin, then come out. Face me. Take me. I’m done with this game, I’m done with hiding. If you’re watching me, come and take me, because I can’t do this anymore."

She threw the phone on the couch with a frustrated scream, her breath heavy as she stared at the empty space around her. The silence felt deafening now, unbearable.

Where was he?

The room felt colder, the absence of his presence almost suffocating. But as she turned around, a shadow in the corner of the room caught her eye. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward, her heart racing in her chest.

And there he was.

Jimin, standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. He was silent, his gaze steady and calm, almost as if he had been waiting for this moment.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, a mixture of anger, frustration, and something else—something darker—raging inside her. Her fists clenched at her sides.

“You were watching,” she spat, her voice trembling with the force of her fury. “You were always watching.”

Jimin’s lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. “I’m always watching, Y/N. And you know that.”

He took a slow step forward, his presence suddenly overwhelming as he closed the distance between them. He was calm, collected, but the way he looked at her made her feel like prey.

“You didn’t have to search, you know,” he said quietly. “You already knew I was here. You wanted me to come.”

Her heart raced faster. The realization hit her harder than she expected—he knew. He always knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

“You’re sick,” she whispered, but this time, her voice was softer. There was no fight left in her.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Am I? Or are you just as twisted as I am?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The silence between them now held all the weight of the truth.

The silence in the apartment had thickened after Y/N's words, her confession hanging heavily between them. But Jimin wasn't fazed by her fury. He was calm, too calm, and that only made Y/N's pulse race faster, her breath hitching in her throat.

She hadn't expected him to stand there. Hadn't expected him to just... wait. It infuriated her even more.

"You think you can just walk in here, and everything will be fine?" Her voice was barely more than a growl, but the edge in it was clear.

"You think after all of this, I'll just let you have me?"

Jimin stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. Every movement was slow, deliberate, as if he enjoyed watching her struggle against the growing pull between them. His eyes never left hers, the heat in them unmistakable.

"You already know the answer to that," he said quietly, his voice low, as though they were the only two people in the world. "You've always known it."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. The distance between them was so small now, yet it felt like an eternity. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him, but every inch of her body craved him. The tension between them was unbearable, a raw need that neither of them could deny.

Jimin reached for her, his fingers grazing the side of her face, soft yet possessive. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she swallowed, trying to control the emotions threatening to overtake her.

"Why do you think you're here?" he asked, his lips brushing her ear as his hand slid down her neck. "Because you wanted this. You wanted me to make you mine."

Y/N's body responded against her will, her skin flushing, her breath quickening. She hated how much she wanted this, how much she needed him. But she couldn't stop herself. She wanted to feel everything-wanted him to prove that he could make her forget all the anger, all the hate.

Jimin's hands moved lower, pushing her clothes aside with practiced ease. There was no hesitation, no mercy in his touch. He wasn't going to let her run. Not now. Not ever again.

With a swift motion, he pressed her against the wall, his lips crashing into hers, silencing the words, the anger, everything between them. His kiss was hard, demanding, a physical manifestation of everything he'd built up in the silence, in the stalking, in the control. His mouth claimed hers as though he had every right to do so, and the fierceness in his kiss made her knees weak.

Y/N struggled to breathe as his hands roamed her body, touching her in ways that made her tremble. She tried to push him back, to pull away, but he wasn't having it. He pinned her there, his body pressing against hers with a possessiveness that left no room for escape.

"You're mine," Jimin whispered against her lips, his breath hot and heavy. "You always have been."

His hands slid down her body, caressing her skin with an almost reverent touch, as if he were marking her. His lips followed the trail of his hands, kissing down her neck, nipping at her sensitive skin. The more he touched her, the more she felt herself slipping-slipping into something darker, something she wasn't sure she could control anymore.

"Jimin-" Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire.

"You don't get to say my name like that," he growled, his tone filled with a possessiveness that made her stomach tighten. "Not unless you're ready to be mine. Completely."

She wanted to say no. Wanted to scream, push him away, and tell him she didn't need him. But when his lips found her collarbone, when he kissed the skin beneath her ear, she melted. She couldn't fight it. Not anymore.

He pulled her closer, lifting her easily as if she were nothing, and carried her to the bed. Every movement, every touch, was calculated. Every inch of her skin he touched, every time he kissed her, it was a claim. A claim on her body, on her heart, on her soul.

Y/N's hands trembled as they touched his chest, tracing the tattoos she had seen in those secret, faceless photos. His body, the ink, the jewelry- all of it. It was him. And in that moment, she realized she could never escape him. Not now. Not when he made her feel like this.

She reached for him, desperate, and pulled him down on top of her, her legs wrapping around his waist. Jimin groaned against her mouth, the sound of it sending shivers down her spine.

"You're mine now," he whispered again, more urgently this time, as if reminding her of something they both knew deep down.

Her pulse raced as he lowered his lips to her neck, kissing the soft skin there, marking it with the same possessiveness that filled his voice. His hands were everywhere, claiming her as his, branding her with every touch. She could feel the heat between them, the intensity of the moment, and there was no going back now.

As Jimin moved over her, taking control in a way that both terrified and thrilled her, she finally let go. All the anger, all the frustration-everything melted away. There was only him, only this moment, and she couldn't deny that it was everything she had been craving.

In his arms, in his touch, she finally understood.

She had always been his

And now, he was making sure she never forgot it.

He pinned her hands above her head as his free hand reached behind her back to unbuckled her bra. He leaned down to kiss her breasts and suck on her nipples “Fuck you taste so fuckin' good baby, just how I imagined” she whimpered as he bit down on it and moved lower and lower, palming her through her shorts.

He slowly pulled her shorts down with his teeth while making eye contact with her, she almost let out a moan at how hot he looked. He pressed his mouth on her clothed cunt, pressing his tongue on her before pulling it down as well.

She was beautiful, and so fuckin' wet— he couldn't help but dip one of his finger inside her, drawing out a whimper from her, “you've been fantasizing about these fingers for a while, haven't you baby? I've seen you use that weak little vibrator on yourself” she blushed, throwing a hand on her eyes to try to shield herself from the embarrassment.

He pinched her clit, receiving a surprised yelp from her— god she would be the death of him the way her pretty little eyes threw him a glare almost made him cum right there in his pants, he doubled down spanking her clit, it hurt so good it was enough to make her moan out his name and make her eyes roll back.

He smirked “I want your eyes on me princess, you've already been so bad…don't make me punish you twice. Have I made myself clear, doll?” She bit her lip and rested her hand on her side.

He spanks her thighs, “use your mouth pretty” he smirked as she let out a firm yes.

He bent down to flatten his tongue against her— fuck she tasted so fucking sweet, he moaned against her as he pushed two digits inside her sopping cunt, she gasped “hnngh hurts jimin…” he scoffed “if you're hurting with just my fingers how do you plan on taking my cock doll?”

She let out a pathetic whimper and he sighed “don't worry, I'll take good care of my princess. My pretty girls never been fucked, has she?” She shook her head, earning another harsh slap on her clit, “no..” she replied, her lips forming into a pout. Jimin snickered and picked up his pace, bending down to suck and lick on her clit.

He kissed her folds and clit, moaning and praising her. Her head was spinning from the overwhelming pleasure Jimin was providing. It felt so good.

He continued his ministration until she came all over his tongue, letting out an almost guttural moan of his name.

Jimin hummed and sneaked his hands underneath her, pinching her ass cheeks before flipping her over. She heard a muffle sound of belt unbuckling and his pants falling.

Jimin stroked his cock slowly, rubbing it between her folds making her gasp. She peeked over her shoulder trying to get a glimpse of him and the sight alone was enough to make her cum. He looked so fuckin' delicious— his tip a pretty berry coloured and he was sooo deliciously thick her mouth watered at the thought of having him inside her. Jimin noticed her expression and chuckled, rubbing it against her clit, drawing out a small whimper “pretty girl likes my cock hmm? Don't worry baby, a few more minutes and I'll have you bouncing dumb on it”, he pats her head, giggling when he sees her blush.

Jimin grabbed a handful of her ass, fondling it. He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy “your pretty little ass is still so red from the punishment earlier princess. Tell me, did you secretly enjoy it, doll?” she blushed, hiding her face and he kissed his teeth and reached down, sliding his hand up her head and grabbing her hair before pulling her up against him. She let out a startled moan as he pulled her flush against him “ I asked a question princess. Did you secretly enjoy your punishment earlier?” He asked lining himself against her “y-yes…I-I did Jimin” he slowly pushed him tip in, making her eyes roll back as she shook her head “n-no please not…not like this…I wanna..h-hold you please” she begged looking back at him and he hummed kissing her neck and pulled out.

He knew this was her first time and as much as he wanted to pile drive her into oblivion through the back, he wanted to make sure she's comfortable and felt good for the first round. He laid her down comfortably and got on top of her, “is this better my pretty girl?” she nods, and pulls him closer, circling her arms around his neck pulling him close and hiding her face in his shoulder. Jimin kissed her neck before reaching down to rub himself against her, “look at that princess…fuck your cunts so fucking tiny…how's my cock supposed to fucking fit in hmm?” He mused, chuckling to himself.

“It'll fit” she moaned, her chest heaving.

“Is that right princess?” He bit her cheeks, kissing her to distract her from the burn as he pushed himself inside her in one swift motion. She moaned, whining into his mouth. He sucked on her tongue, making her eyes roll back as she rubbed her clit.

He kissed her, squeezing her nipples teasingly. He gave her some time to adjust before pulling out. He was hitting each and every spot inside her. So fucking thick— her eyes rolled back as she clutched on jimins back, scratching it in process as he slowly started thrusting in and out of her.

He slowly picked up his pace. Her eyes rolled back as he started rubbing against her G- spot. Her legs clamped shut around his waist, pulling him unbelievably close to her. “God—fuck princess, don't wrap your legs around me like that if you don't want me to fuck a baby inside your sweet cunt” he moaned, his eyes wandering over her face as it contorts in pleasure.

She looked so pretty as he bounced her dumb on his cock, the only thing leaving her mouth was the moans of his name. She said it like a prayer. He loved it. He had been dreaming about it for the longest time. He kissed her, flicking her tongue with his own as he pounded against her sweet spot.

He felt her throbbing around him, his own cock twitched at the sensation. She clenched around him so tight his vision went blank.

She felt a sharp spank land on her ass “fuck— princess, shit— loosen up! cmon doll, or I'll end up blowing my load inside your pretty little cunt”

Jimin moaned “fuck— that's right baby, cream around my cock, fuckfuckfuck you're clenching so hard—ahn, fuck that's right milk my cock for all it's worth, attagirl” as he fucked her through her orgasm.

“Inside, please…do it …I'm so..so close jimin—fuck, you're…you're so thick” she moaned arching her back against him.

Jimin groaned as he continued thrusting inside her, his hips snapping against her harder and faster. He pulled her In an open mouthed kiss, sucking on her tongue, flicking it and reaching his hand down, rubbing her clit.

Her legs started shaking and her vision went black, as she clenched around him and came all over him.

He pinned her hands above her and started chasing his own high as he came deep inside her. The sensation of him cumming inside her was so fucking addicted, she found herself beggin for more. Wanting him to cum inside her over and over again as he fucked her dumb on her mattress all night long.

[seouljazzbar]

selfish (m.)

𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹𓂃𓂃𓃹

about— wonbin’s a musical prodigy, having worked alongside critically acclaimed producers, and now he’s your guest lecturer for the semester. correction, your hot lecturer for the semester (producer!wonbin x f.reader)

author’s note— this is a little rough but i still like the way it turned out! title is from this song if anyone's curious hehe i think it's wonbin coded lowkey

warning— language, teacher-student dynamic, me blatantly lying about new york/nyu, alcohol use, (soft?) dirty talk, fingering (f. receiving), whiny wonbin, oral (m. receiving), teasing, penetrative sex (with a condom!!) 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 5.3k

Thursdays and Fridays from four to six, those were his office hours. It was difficult to have office hours that fit everyone’s schedule and that was the best he could do given he was only a guest lecturer. Even worse, he wasn’t given an office for said hours due to the deconstructed nature of the city. Going to university in New York was already far from traditional, and the conditions were no exception. But Wonbin didn’t mind, reserving a nice table on the second floor of Gregory's coffee on Broadway. It wasn't much but it was enough for the four or five students who took advantage of the time.

You were one of them. You knew all too well the struggle of falling behind in a class by thinking you had a handle on the material, only to be drowning in confusion come midterms. The class, The Sociology of Pop Music, interested you too much for you to risk completely flopping just because you failed to utilize your resources. But it wasn’t just your grade that you cared about. It helped that the guest lecturer in question was unbelievably sexy, an absolute dreamboat wunderkind who was just barely older than the students he was in charge of. 

Park Wonbin, musician to the stars. He’d worked with countless acclaimed producers, written for most of the Billboard Hot 100 artists, and even put out his own flawless body of work that gifted him one Grammy and several nominations. He was an absolute icon at the ripe age of twenty-two and you were dying to sink your claws into him. Soft and athletic, inky black waves, a bashful smile and a voice that the heavens surely blessed him with. His presence was more distracting than conducive for your precious six-figure education, your thighs clenching together every Tuesday and Thursday that he took his place at the professor’s podium.

But you weren't the only one. Nearly everyone in the class was crushing on him, eyes batting as they asked elementary questions and giggles erupting at even his worst attempts at jokes. You felt like a dime a dozen lusting after him, gnawing your lower lip at the way his back muscles flexed when he turned to write something on the board. Get a grip, you’d think to yourself. You’re fighting for a slot on a list of many. 

So you amused yourself with your self-labeled delusion, daydreaming about him outside of class and showing up to his office hours to clear up even the smallest of questions about the week’s lectures. He was careful with every word, taking his time to cultivate thorough responses to any and all questions you thought up for him, even ones that stemmed outside of the class's margins. 

You still remember the first time you saw him, your jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he entered the lecture hall like any other student. Except he headed straight for the front of the room, placing his bag down at a table near the podium where the staff chaperone was setting up. He picked up the small expo marker that sat on the table, taking off the cap to write wonbin on the white board in messy penmanship before he followed it up with a squiggly smiley face. You knew who he was, his name notorious in the music wing of your school considering what he’d accomplished at such a young age. His looks definitely didn’t hurt, either.

He smiled at you, sitting in the second row waiting for class to start. Most people opted to sit as far back as possible, in the seats that were easier to slip out of the classroom unnoticed. But you sat proudly in the second row, alongside a few other eager students who’d heard good things about the class. His smile felt so personal, the glint of his teeth nearly causing heart palpitations as you smiled back. He didn’t know your name just yet, and suddenly that was your life’s mission; to make this man say your name.

It almost made you think he was giving you special attention with the way he paid close attention to you, his eyes lighting up whenever you came around the coffee shop steps with your notes in tow. He’d even stay past six o’clock if there were too many people before you who needed help, always offering to buy you a cup of coffee or a pastry after having waited for so long. He was so attentive, leaning into your space to look over the notes you took and making sure you were following along correctly. It was hard not to drool over him, especially when you were two of the last people left on the second floor, looking like a couple to the onlooking world. 

“I’m serious! I think I’m gonna ask him out.”

Winter rolled her eyes, closing the magazine that she was never really reading in the first place. "So, what? You'll fuck his brains out in his office and then walk into class like nothing happened?"

"Actually, he doesn't have an office." The thought made you blush, sneaking around with Wonbin while your classmates and professors were none the wiser. The taboo was too hot for you to let go of.

Another roll of her eyes, this time meant for you to see. "___, get a grip. You're just slobbering all over him because he's famous. At the end of the semester, you'll go back to eyeing that one saxophonist."

Winter was numb to the novelty surrounding celebrity and the likes of it. She was a not so struggling artist whose parents funded her entire lifestyle, and it had been that way her whole life. She'd had her fair share of moments in Page Six, and the lavish New York socialite life had grown old for her. Her friends were still in the scene, but she had long since retired. Winter's idea of a fun Friday night these days included watching The White Lotus while experimenting with cookie recipes (with hopes of making it into the NYT Christmas Cookie lineup, of course).

You didn’t tell any of your college friends, though. Sure, the whole university knew that he was guest-teaching a music-related course and that he was unbelievably attractive, but you never mentioned to your friends that you felt something between the two of you. As much as you trusted your small circle of friends, you knew that student-teacher relationships were absolutely prohibited, no exceptions. Knowing this did nothing to quell the insatiable thirst you had for him, or the flutter of your heart every time he locked eyes with you. You were willing to throw caution to the wind for him, knowing you officially had it bad for him the moment you started doodling his name in your notebook. It got to the point where you were ready to make your move, ready to invite him to an apartment party one of your friends was throwing. 

It was a Thursday evening, another night of attending his office hours despite your ninety-five percent in the class. You were the last student left in the final minutes of his office hours, just the two of you at the moderately sized table of the café. Your hands were mere centimeters from touching where they were laid out on the table, his warmth radiating onto you as he penciled in some helpful reminders in the margins of your notes. Just as you parted your lips to speak, he interjected. “I think it would be best if you stopped coming to office hours.”

That was not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh, um. Alright. Can I ask why?”

“You’ve clearly got an amazing grip on the material, and if anything you’re wasting your time showing up so frequently. It would be better if I had the full two hours for the students who are really struggling.” He refused to look you directly in the eyes as he spoke, opting to stare at your notes instead.

“Oh. Okay.” You gathered up all of your notes and pencils as quickly as you could, shoving them into your backpack without caring if the edges curled. The chair skidded back as you stood from it, not bothering with a goodbye as you saw yourself out. It was humiliating, almost, for him to have given you such a backhanded compliment. You started ruffling through your attendance record in the class and decided that you could afford to miss Tuesday, too embarrassed to be seen by him so soon after.

You really dodged a bullet there, then. Just seconds away from making a move on him when he told you that you should stop showing up to the only semi-private time you had together. It made you feel more delusional than ever before, allowing yourself to think he might actually feel something for you, too. You ignored the tears of frustration teasing the corners of your eyes, running off to the subway station that would deliver you back to your lousy campus housing safely.

What you didn’t see, however, was Wonbin nervously pulling at the ends of his hair. He was always such a bad liar but he knew he needed to put on the performance of a lifetime in order to get you to leave him alone. Considering it was quite the opposite of what he wanted you to do. There was something so intoxicating about you, your voice, your lips, your scent, that had him thoroughly fucked for you. Legally, he didn’t feel bad about it. But the professor he was working under, as well as the university, had already told him that under no circumstances was he to have dalliances with any of the students. So there he was, stuck thinking about you and not being able to do anything about it.

He had everything under control, at first. A few stolen glances during class but nothing to raise suspicion, just long enough for it to seem casual. Then it was finding you on social media, careful not to like any posts or to actually follow you, which made him feel like he was in full creeper mode. That was where he decided to draw the line until you started showing up to his office hours consistently, just as gorgeous as ever as you plopped down next to him in full concentration. He let himself indulge for a while, showering you with just a bit of special treatment until he realized he was crossing into dangerous territory. So he drew the line without a second thought.

You felt like you were back in high school, throwing a fit over being rejected by your longtime crush. All he’d done was politely ask you not to attend office hours anymore, but it felt like he’d told you off. You tried to convince yourself that it was because of your education, that you didn’t appreciate him taking away a resource that was proving itself helpful for you. But the real reason, the one you didn’t want to admit, was that you knew he felt it too. The storybook surge of electricity when his shoulder brushed yours and the way he never offered to get any of the other students coffee and pastries. The way he’d sometimes call you by a nickname when you were together or the way he spoke so highly of you in your exam notes. It was more than a one-sided schoolgirl crush and he was denying it just the same as you, and you couldn’t ignore how much it stung.

Saturday night was your chance to forget all about it. A friend of Winter's had convinced her to open up her ridiculously large penthouse for a laidback party, and she reluctantly agreed. You went to the party having skipped Wonbin’s office hours the evening before, successfully resisting the urge to 'drop by' the coffee shop casually; that would've been worse than just going to office hours. You were ready to let loose, your body a bit tense after the marathon overthinking session you had when Wonbin all but rejected you. All done up in one of your favorite ‘going out’ getups, you set yourself at a three drink maximum before starting the trek there.

You arrived considerably late, the party in full swing by the time you stepped off the elevator and onto the floor. There were so many people, sweaty bodies and intoxicated breaths, so much so that you almost missed him. He was leaning up against one of the kitchen countertops, nursing a drink of his own as he chatted with your friends. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sight, almost annoyed that you ran in the same circles. But you pushed it aside to go talk to them, knowing they’d have a drink in your hand faster than you could make one. “___! You made it!” Wonbin’s eyes shot up to you making your way over to them, a raspy ‘fuck’ making its way off of his tongue. He suddenly felt trapped, nowhere to run as his student joined his little conversation circle. “Have you met Wonbin?”

“Yeah, we know each other. From around.” You avoided his gaze at all costs. “I need a drink.”

Wonbin quirked an eyebrow at you, “You drink?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight to the other foot as he avoided eye contact with you. “I just, you know… Are you old enough for that?”

“Ew, don’t be gross. I’m a uni student, I’m not in daycare. I’m twenty-one, promise.”

You were baiting him, and he knew it. Your anger was directed at him and only him, your bubbly demeanor intact for your friends as you caught each other up on the last month or so of your lives. You had no intention of making this night, or his life, easy. You knocked back the drink your friend Sohee gave you easily, sending Wonbin a sarcastic wink as he stared at you.

Even though your mind was begging you to run, you refused to let him ruin your night. They were your friends, too, and things were only awkward because he made them so. You stood your ground, pretending like he wasn’t even there as the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, the party music seeming to follow suit. Everything was fine until someone who’d had too many came barreling into the kitchen, spilling their sticky spiked punch all over your legs. You let out a curse as it spilled into your shoes, the sensation far too uncomfortable to ignore.

“Here, go clean up in my bathroom.” Winter handed you the key, sending you off with a gentle shove in the direction of her bedroom.

You didn’t bother locking the door back behind you, knowing you’d be in and out before anyone could miss you. You took the time to freshen yourself up as well, poking around in Winter’s cabinets to see if she had anything exciting or ridiculously expensive. Perfumes, hand creams, serums. Sometimes you forget how rich New Yorkers could be. You turned the light off in the bathroom, turning to leave when you nearly jumped out of your skin at the pair of eyes watching you. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t lock the door back.”

Wonbin crossed further into the room, hands in his pockets as he watched you. Even when you were irritated with him, his charm was able to cut through your faux harsh exterior. “I'm sorry, is this allowed? Or does this count as office hours, too? Should I see myself out so that other partygoers can take advantage of your precious time?”

“___, stop. I was just trying to make a decision based on what I thought was best.”

You scoffed at that, trying to ignore just how close he’d gotten to you. “Yeah, right. There’s only like five people who bother showing up anymore, so I don’t know why me showing up is such a big deal? Like you must think awfully highly of yourself if you th—”

He cut you off with a swift kiss, lips finding yours in the pale lighting of the bedroom as you froze. Time seemed to slow; just barely noticeable, but you could feel it. Like one minute felt like two with his hands cupping your cheeks and his hips pressed against yours. You relaxed into his touch, daring to kiss back as the party outside seemed to disappear. All your senses could focus on was him and the way he seemed to consume you.

He walked you backwards, stopping as you stumbled into a wall. The once innocent kiss grew in desperation, your hands everywhere at once as your  tongues clashed over and over again. It could’ve easily been a dream with how much you’d both had to drink, the taste of tequila fresh on his lips as you begged for more. Your leg hooked around his waist to draw him closer, a gasp slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. And then he just stopped.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.” He was breathless, his words not matching his desire as he slowly backed away from you. “This is exactly what I was trying so hard to avoid. I'm your superior, ___, I'd get fired for this.”

Your mind was blank, not a single thought worthy of being voiced in response to him. You knew it was wrong, knew his position could be terminated, but you didn’t care. Not when his touch was so addictive and your name sounded so sweet on his lips.

“This… this never happened, okay? And it can never happen again.”

He stalked off to rejoin the party, leaving you breathless and unsure of if any of that was real. The only evidence was the faint waft of his cologne that stayed behind, taunting you with the memory of his kiss. His soft, heated, spine-tingling kiss that had your head spinning from the feeling of it. Your lips were puffy from it, fingers reaching up to touch them delicately as if you could scare away the feeling somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by him coming back in, locking the door behind him as you fixed your hunched over posture. “Fuck it, fuck this job, I don’t need to be a guest lecturer.” His hands found your hips as he pulled you in once again, kissing you with much different intent behind it. “This is all I've been able to think about this semester.”

You let out a whimper, clawing at his shirt as his teeth pulled at your lower lip. His hands smoothed their way up your body, cupping your breasts through the material of your shirt as you moaned into his mouth. This felt real, no doubt in your mind as you melted like putty in his hands. “Do something.”

His lips migrated to your ear, licking along the shell of it as your head tipped back. “Do you want my fingers?” You nodded sheepishly, cheeks flooding with heat in a sudden wave of shyness. “Then spread your legs for me, baby.” Your body obeyed him without question, legs spreading for him to slip his hand between. He could feel how wet you were through the pants you were wearing, your underwear no match for the arousal he was responsible for. Your fingers fumbled with the button of them, popping it open and dragging the zipper down.

You knew this was a bad idea. Whether you cared or not, having his hand slip past your panties was wrong on so many levels, no matter how good it felt. His reputation and your academic career were on the line, but you couldn’t will yourself to stop him. Not when your body was yearning for more, thighs clenching at the circles he was rubbing against your clit. Not with his lips scaling your neck with kisses that only made your knees weaker than they already were.

Your resolve finally melted when he slipped a finger into your warm heat, the stretch easily out-rivaling anything your own fingers provided. The relief sent you into a spiral of high pitched sighs and moans as he added another, curling them near perfectly against your g-spot.

“Sound so pretty for me, baby. Wanna put your moans in a song.” The thought alone made your stomach twist, visions of riding him in his studio while he held his microphone up to your lips. He could see the shift in your expression at the suggestion, teeth practically destroying your lower lip. “Is that what you want, baby? Wanna be my muse?”

All you could do was nod as the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your orgasm crashing over you much sooner than you expected. He kissed you through the waves of pleasure, swallowing the pleas of his name and the whimpers from the slight overstimulation of your clit. The cherry on top, though, was when he licked his fingers clean of your arousal without once breaking eye contact. It made you shudder.

Neither one of you knew where to go from that moment on, the heat of it all long gone as you faced reality head on. You zipped your pants back up to break the silence, fluffing your hands through your hair to alleviate any signs of sexual activity before rejoining the party. Not a word to Wonbin before going back like nothing happened, even though the uncomfortable dampness of your panties said otherwise. 

unsaved number, 3:25am

↳ it’s Wonbin, i got your number from sohee. we should meet soon

you, 9:08am

↳ yeah? where?

wonbin, 9:09am

↳ 150 east 14th st, @ 11

you, 9:12am

↳ smh making me get my day started on a sunday morning

His apartment was as well kept as him, minimalistic in all its glory but decorated with his achievements wherever he saw fit. Awards, records, framed lyrics, any and everything he felt deeply proud of. You knew that you shouldn’t be there, no matter what occurred the night before. Wonbin was irresistible, and giving into his invitation was practically asking for trouble.

“I got coffee and bagels, if you’re hungry.”

Not just any coffee, though. Coffee from Gregory's. Of course he’d do something like this, you thought. He's trying to prey on my sentimentality to get me in bed. Kinda smart. “Why am I here, Wonbin?”

“Well as of three o’clock this morning, I’m no longer your teacher.”

You nearly choked on nothing as he smiled at you, pulling up the email correspondence from the Dean. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I never needed that teaching job, anyway. I took it because it felt good helping students, but it was getting to be too much, cutting into my own work time. And then when we crossed that line last night… I knew quitting was just the right thing to do.” He walked gingerly toward you, assessing your reaction carefully as he closed the gap between you.

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed as if he’d grown a second head. “Y-you’re not my teacher anymore?”

“I'm not your teacher anymore.” He backed you up against the wall of his foyer, the position eerily similar to where you were mere hours before. Heat rose to your face as he gazed at you, his smirk painfully malicious as his hand cupped your jaw. “Lemme take you out on a proper date. Dinner… the Angelika… dessert.”

Your gulp seemed to echo the walls of his apartment, giving up any and all fronts you were trying to put up. You could feel his lips hovering over yours more than you could see them, the soft hum that reverberated as he asked you if you’d like that. “I'm… not sure we’ll make it to dessert.”

“I thought I taught you last night to always leave room for dessert.” He popped open the first button of your blouse, getting a peak at the lavender bra beneath it. You’d dressed up for him, knowing very well where things could lead and not wanting him to see you in your far less alluring Sunday attire. Your breath hitched at his touch, your mind shouting for you to just wait for the date before crossing any more lines. But there he was, just as sexy as ever, sliding the sleeves of your top down your arms with his forehead pressed against yours. Youd didn’t stand a chance.

Your back was hitting his mattress before you could gather the strength to hold off, more of your clothes in a tangled web on his floor than on your actual bodies. Your skin was saccharine, a sweetener he’d been searching for ever since he could identify its name and he couldn’t get enough of it. Marks of his lips were blooming on every inch he could reach, your body signed with his name in a way you never knew you needed. His name rolled off your tongue like it was the only word you knew, the two syllables your new favorite combination in the entire world.

His hands guided your slip skirt down your legs, discarding it carefully with the rest of your clothes as you tugged impatiently at his boxers. He was hard, dangerously so, and it was killing you not to see him in all of his naked glory. “Canisuckyouoff?” You didn’t even think about it, the words flying out of your mouth before you could even try to stop them.

“Seriously?” You were already flipping the two of you over, inching your way down his legs until your face was leveled with his hips.

“Yes, please. I wanna make you feel good.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you properly for his length springing out of his black balenciaga underwear. It would’ve been a shame if he wasn’t as well-endowed as you wanted, but you were mature enough to know that it wasn’t all about size. Wonbin, however, was all about size. He was probably just barely above average in length but he was thick with veins in all the right places that had you close to drooling all over him.

You licked at his tip in a graze, not enough to satisfy him but enough to get him squirming. Small, agonizing licks here and there that had him fisting at his hair in sheer frustration. You pitied him with a bold lick up the underside, but went right back to the teasing that had him close to tears. “___, fuck, I can’t take anymore of this. I thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby, you just have to be patient.”

He whined out, not sure how the rest of the afternoon was going to play out if you kept teasing him so mercilessly. He was just about to beg again for you to touch him when your lips wrapped around his tip, his back arching involuntarily and sending him further into your mouth. A guttural groan accompanied the pleasure pumping through his veins as you bobbed her head along his cock, swirling your tongue around him every so often. You had a primal need for more of him, more of the way he tasted and the precum that was oozing out of him. More of the way his groans switched to melodious moans as his climax neared him, more of the way his face was contorted in pleasure as your hands rubbed at his thighs. 

His orgasm was building up in the pit of his stomach, the twine of tension pulling further and further until he was sure it was going to snap. Your mouth abandoning his cock in favor of his balls almost did the trick, your hand wrapping around him to jerk as you sucked one at a time. He pulled you off of him reluctantly, wanting so desperately to cum in your mouth but knowing he’d regret passing up the opportunity to fuck you. “I have condoms in the drawer.” His breath was ragged as he pointed the drawer out to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as his body heat was skyrocketing. You handed one to him before shuffling back to the bed, letting him climb over you clumsily with his arms supporting his weight.

He tapped his tip against your clit, running it between your folds as you bucked your hips toward his. “That's not fair.”

He slipped inside of you, barely an inch before pulling back out. He repeated the movement over and over until you were gripping at his hips in an attempt to force more out of him. “Isn’t it, though? You had your fun…” You were so wet that it was making it hard for him to keep up, your soaked walls pulling him in with every shallow thrust. “Have you learned your lesson yet, baby?”

You nodded your head furiously, feeling almost embarrassed by how much you needed him. He refused to give up so easily, though, continuing his perfectly angled thrusts that grazed your g-spot just enough to make your hips buck. "Wonbin, please."

His first full thrust had you clenching around him so tightly that he almost came on the spot, the warmth of you wrapped around him so overwhelming that he had to screw his eyes shut. Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction as he filled you to the brim, the stretch burning deliciously. All you could think about was the next time, and the time after that, and how he could stretch you out whenever he wanted to now. He was yours now.

His lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly dragged himself in and out of you, savoring how tightly you were squeezing him. It was all the anticipation finally materializing into something he couldn’t get enough of. Your moans, your faces of pleasure, your scent, your taste. He wanted as much of it as you’d let him have, for however long you’d let him have it. "Is this what you were thinking of while I was trying to teach you? Hm? Thought about me stuffing you full of my cock?"

The only noise you could manage was a raspy moan, mind completely numbed by the sensation of his skin pressed against yours. You could feel your lips move, saying something along the lines of wanteditsobadbinnie, but the feeling of his nose dragging up the side of your neck distracted you.

Your bodies seemed to mold together as he picked up speed, drilling into you relentlessly as your nails dug into his hips, asking for more. The slap of your skin against each other was his kryptonite as he wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to hear it again and again until it played in his mind on a loop. He could feel the knot in his stomach warning him to slow down, to relish in the feeling a bit longer, but he didn’t care. Not when your lips were pressed right to his ear begging him not to stop. “Are you gonna cum for me?”

He tried to respond with a ‘yes’, but the absentminded clench of your walls sent him over the edge in a flash. He emptied himself into the condom, trying his hardest to focus all of his efforts on pushing you towards your own orgasm. His fingers found your clit between your sweaty bodies, the rough pad of his thumb orbiting your clit until you joined him in your own throes of euphoria. Your nails clawed down the expanse of his back as your vision blurred, ecstasy replacing every cell in your body as he kissed along your jaw.

The room smelled of sex and the remnants of his body wash, both of you fighting for air as you wrapped yourselves in his sheets. Your fingertips danced across his chest as he watched you wordlessly, face flushed with the evidence of your Sunday afternoon in. “What are you thinking about?” He caught your hand in his, eyes still trained on your face.

“Honestly? Trying to remember if there are any hidden corners in the Angelika where we can have sex.” You looked up at him as he laughed, a smile of your own creeping onto your lips. “What? Too honest?”

“You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

His lips pressed chastely against your temple. “Yeah, actually, I do.”

[moonlight-alexia]

pair of pests | k.c.c.

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 1.1k | you and kyra should never be trusted together alone without supervision, especially when alcohol and a marker are involved

ˏˋ°•*⁀this is catley!reader - reader being Steph's younger sister! maybe i'll write more with this pairing bc it's quite fun to think of ideas for!

‘You ready yet loser,’ You heard your best friend call out for you since she let herself into Steph’s apartment where you had been staying since you’d moved from Manchester City to Arsenal. The Aussies internally dreading the moment you and Kyra would be reunited at club since they already had to deal with the two of you together on national camps. You always said Kyra was the fun sister you never had.

‘I’m ready!’ You posed in the hallway just outside your room, quick to pull Kyra into your room closing the door behind, ‘It’s just us tonight. Steph said something about not wanting to babysit us,’ You rolled your eyes, a light smile on your lips while you got out your little alcohol supply you had stashed away in your room.

‘Lame. Well we don’t need her to have fun,’ Kyra smirked, grabbing the vodka and shot glasses you’d pulled out. After a few shots you had an idea, taking the shot glasses and vodka out to the kitchen but demanding Kyra stays in your room. Smiling and laughing a little to yourself while you brought back the three shot glasses only one having vodka in it and the others just water.

‘Russian roulette?’ You laughed, raising your eyebrows slightly at her sitting down on the ground across from Kyra.

‘It’s not the same without a gun,’ Kyra mumbled out a little louder than expected.

‘Maybe one day,’ You casually shrugged before you both laughed out loudly knowing that would never happen. Steph would definitely intervene before the thought even got into action. She’d be able to tell something was up and stop whatever it was you were planning just by seeing the two of you share one tiny look at each other.

‘You totally got the shot! You can’t take it with a straight face to save your life,’ Kyra exclaimed laughing at the way you had scrunched your nose slightly. You did it every time and you’d been around Kyra enough that she had picked up on it.

‘Kyra,’ You whined, ‘No fair,’ 

‘Can’t help that I know my best friend better than she knows herself,’ Playfully flicking her hair behind her shoulder, making you shake your head and roll your eyes, pushing at her arm.

By the time you and Kyra even made it out of Steph’s apartment you were both a little more than tipsy, it was a surprise you even made it into anywhere. Wasting no time in grabbing drinks before you pulled your best friend out onto the floor to dance. Getting lost in the music and enjoying dancing with Kyra, only stopping when your head felt like it wouldn’t stop spinning.

Despite your head spinning you both made it back to the bar ordering round after round. You had no idea what Kyra was even saying anymore all you could do was sit there and smile nodding to make it seem like you weren’t just staring at the freckles on her face and how they seemed to be moving around.

Putting your empty glass down on the bar, you let out a huff since you couldn’t work out what pictures her freckles were trying to make. Too far gone to realise that nothing was actually moving around. When you were putting your glass down you’d spotted a marker sitting on top of the bar. Smirking you leaned over to grab it, Kyra watching you intently laughing when she saw you take the cap off and take it towards her face, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Connecting the dots,’ You said it so casually and without any hesitation as if it was just a normal thing to do. Soon enough Kyra’s face was filled with random shapes, hearts and flowers, all things you thought you could see in her freckles. 

‘Let me have a turn,’ Kyra whined and tried to grab the marker from you.

‘But I don’t have any freckles Ky,’ 

‘Don’t be silly, they're everywhere!’ You let Kyra take the marker to your skin, her hand barely able to draw a straight line from how intoxicated you both were.

The rest of the night for the two of you was a complete blur. You don’t remember how you tried to get the bartender to give you more drinks, trying to get them to take you seriously that you weren’t out of your mind even with marker covering your faces. You don’t remember how you tried to dance again but ended up falling onto the floor and having to be escorted out of the bar. You don’t remember sitting on the sidewalk contemplating whether you should call Steph to pick you both up, but you couldn’t see the screen properly, getting annoyed and determinately getting up to walk back to the apartment.

You have no idea how you both even made it back to Steph’s, all you knew was that your neck and head hurt after waking up on the bathroom floor. The tiles were cool against your skin which you were thankful for, wanting to lay there until you could move your body properly. The smell of food being cooked ruined that idea for you, waves of nausea rolling through your body. Managing to lift yourself up you made your way into the kitchen.

‘Mornin’,’ You mumbled out towards Steph before seeing Kyra appear next to you, ‘Ky, how you feelin’?’ You weren’t paying much attention to her, more focused on the food wanting to ease how you were feeling.

‘As good as you look, like shit,’ Kyra shrugged, sitting at the counter grabbing the coffee Steph put in front of her, ‘What’s on your face by the way?’ Kyra was looking at your face, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

‘What do you mean?’ You saw Steph stifle her laughter, so you looked up at Kyra, eyes wide and holding back your own laugh, ‘You should see yours,’ Kyra pulled out her phone, turning to the camera and holding it up in front of your faces.

Fingers traced over the drawn lines that, in the end, weren’t even making any sense, ‘What are they even connecting? Are they supposed to be something?’ Kyra voiced the thoughts you were also thinking. Your memories of the night were hazy and you honestly had no explanation for the state you’d both found yourselves in. 

‘Please tell me you didn’t use a permanent marker,’ Steph’s voice was shaky, trying to hold back laughing at you both but her amusement was evident in her tone. Kyra groaned at the thought, really not wanting to deal with it.

‘I don’t even know where we got a marker from, let alone what type it was,’ You’d thrown your head back, sighing softly. Steph was quick to sneak a photo of the two of you sending it to both your arsenal and national teammates, knowing you’d never hear the end of it for a while.

‘Remind me to never leave you two alone again,’

[wheeboo]

you're alright, i guess | kwon soonyoung

SYNOPSIS. in which you accidentally miss the bus and decide to stay the night at your date's place for the first time. PAIRING. kwon soonyoung x gn!reader (ft. chan as soonyoung's roommate) GENRE. fluff WARNINGS. chan makes like a sex joke, kissing WORD COUNT. 2.9k

notes: hi everyone this ended up being a lil longer than i thought but it was saur cute to write so i hope u enjoy :') tagging @etherealyoungk hehe

Maybe you do lose all track of time when you're with someone special. Perhaps that's one of the aspects of starting to fall for another person𑁋that it's just so easy to lose track of time because you're too caught in the moment since the entirety of this day had gone right.

On the other hand, Soonyoung had spent the past week meticulously planning this date with you. This is only his second date with you, since the first one he was a nervous wreck the entire time and was terrified that you didn't want to see him again by the end of it (he sobbed when he got back to his place). But when you told him you wanted to see him again, he made his roommate Chan remind him every morning that yes, you do want to see him again and that he wasn't hallucinating.

The date didn't even require much planning, it was mainly because Soonyoung kept overthinking every little detail.

"How about we go to this ice cream place instead because Y/N prefers something simpler? Or maybe raid the convenience store to have a picnic by the Han River?" Soonyoung suggested to Chan one evening, who was currently sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in his phone.

Chan looked up, his eyebrows raised. "You're planning this date like it's a military operation."

Soonyoung let out an exasperated sigh, pacing back and forth in their living room. "I need to cover all bases, Chan!"

"Hyung, you don't need a battle strategy for a date. It's supposed to be fun and relaxed."

"But what if Y/N doesn't like ice cream, or they have allergies or something they never told me of? And what if the convenience store doesn't have the right snacks? What if I mess it up?"

"Christ, hyung. You're overthinking this," Chan muttered, before letting out a sigh. "You really like them a lot, don't you?"

Soonyoung only flopped back down on the couch next him. It's almost overwhelming how much he does like you. "Yeah..."

By the time the date rolled around, he offered to pay for your snacks from the convenience store for the picnic and the ice cream by the end of it.

It wasn't extravagant nor entirely too simple, but he likes to think it was just the right amount of perfect to make up for the jittery disaster he was for the first one. And from the pretty smiles to your face that he caught glances of from to time, perhaps he was a bit more successful than he thought.

The time was probably around ten o'clock now, and you both find yourselves strolling side-by-side down the tranquil, quiet cityscape, the path ahead illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights. You had an arm around Soonyoung's, telling him about something that happened when you were younger, and he was listening intently, hanging onto every word that left your mouth, occasionally getting distracted from how the city lights seem to dance in your eyes or how you glow when you spoke.

"And like... everyone stared at me! I can't believe I was the first person to spell in every freakin' round."

Soonyoung tries to imagine it𑁋a younger you participating in the school spelling bee standing awkwardly by the microphone in front of the entire school. The thought makes him grin.

"Cute," he mutters aloud, yet the grin to his face disappears when he feels a flick at the yellow cap he was wearing. "Hey! What was that for?"

You only pout, and Soonyoung swears you look even more cuter. "It's not cute. It's embarrassing."

"Well, it's cute because it's you."

You roll your eyes, chuckling at his words, but the flush to your cheeks doesn't go unnoticed by him.

His eyes linger on you for a few moments, and when you look up to meet his gaze, you catch sight of the most endearing smile to his face, one that melts your heart and brings a sweeter taste to your mouth than the ice cream you had earlier. It looks like he wants to say something, but before he can, there's a gasp that leaves your mouth at a moment of realisation.

"Crap, that's my bus over there!" You exclaim, pointing down to a bus farther down the street that was accepting the last few people inside and getting ready to close its doors.

Almost instinctively, you reach down to grab Soonyoung's hand before you're dashing down the street and dragging him along in a frantic sprint towards the bus stop. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you used all the remains of whatever energy you had left. However, by the time you both arrived at the bus stop, it was already half a block away from you.

"Dammit," You groan out frustratingly, letting go of Soonyoung's hand to catch your breath. "That was the last ride back home."

Soonyoung stands beside you, also panting heavily from the impromptu sprint. Once he catches his breath, he leads you to the seats under the bus stop, giving you a few moments to recover yours as well. And in that short amount of time, he lets himself think, his hand wandering to the urge to place over yours on your thigh, but he hesitates and retrieves it back.

"Sorry, I-I should've been more aware of the time," he says sheepishly.

You shake your head, managing a small smile back at him. "It's not your fault. I didn't even notice the time either."

His apologetic expression eases, yet the few moments of silence that passes afterwards does nothing to rid of the nerves that was crawling up his spine. He tries to think of other ways𑁋maybe a taxi, but the street appears almost barren of any𑁋but no other solution seems to come up, other than one last one.

"Um..." He clears his throat nervously. "Do you... want to stay over at my place for the night? It's, uh, not that far away, and we can figure out a way for you to get home tomorrow. If-If you want to, of course."

You feel your heart flutter to his suggestion, a mixture of nervousness and anticipating racing through you. Soonyoung feels the pang of regret to his chest at the sight of your contemplative expression. He shouldn't have asked that. What if he made you uncomfortable?

"Would you... be fine with that? What about your roommate?" You ask him, remembering that he mentioned another boy named Chan or something that also lived with him.

Soonyoung can sense the slight hesitation in your voice, and it makes his nervousness resurface.

"Chan's cool, I promise," he reassures you lightly. "He wouldn't mind."

You take a moment to think it over. Staying over at Soonyoung's place is a big step, especially for only your second date, but there's something about his sincerity and the way the entire night you've felt at ease with his presence that makes you want to take that leap of faith. Plus, you didn't have much of a choice anyway since you lived on the outskirts of town and the buses had stopped running for the night.

So you look back up at Soonyoung, noticing the way he's anxiously awaiting your response from the way his fingers seem to be kneading at the loose strings of his pants. With a warm smile, you reach out and gently place your hand on his.

"Okay," You tell him. "I'll stay over."

It takes nearly every muscle in his face to relax from your words, the relief washing over his features and the corner of his lips curving upward into a grateful, precious smile.

"Okay." He lets his hand interlock with yours, and he has to refrain himself from squeezing it too tightly out of excitement. His heart does a little dance in his chest as he stands up, gently tugging you up with him.

It's a peaceful walk on the way to his place, and the night air is crisp and cool like a tender graze against your skin as you make your way through the streets and into the local neighbourhood of apartment complexes. The city seems to have a different charm at this late hour𑁋quieter and more intimate. Soonyoung is careful not to let go of your hand, as if afraid you might disappear if he does. His brain still can't even process that you're about to see his place for the first time.

As he leads you inside the apartment building, you follow up a flight of stairs to where his apartment stood. He clumsily fumbles with the keys in his hands as he stands in front of the door, finally managing to unlock it. With a shy smile, he pushes the door open, gesturing for you to enter first.

He follows in behind you, and for a moment you both find yourselves a bit squished together in the entryway, the warmth of his body close to yours as you take off your shoes. There's a fleeting tension in the air as your eyes meet, and then you both chuckle nervously, breaking the moment.

"Hyung? Are you home now? How was the date𑁋" A sudden voice makes you and Soonyoung turn your heads simultaneously, and you're met with a younger boy whom you presume to be Chan, appearing exhausted with disheveled hair as if he had just woken up from a nap. You quietly greet him with a friendly smile, and he offers you one back in return.

Tackling the somewhat awkward atmosphere, Soonyoung gestures you to follow him into the living room, where you place yourself down comfortably on the couch.

"Can I get you something to drink or... anything?" Soonyoung asks you.

"Yeah, just some water is fine," You answer, before letting your gaze travel around the room.

The living area is very homey, a bit messy with some folded laundry at the ends of the couch, an empty can of soda and some snack wrappers sitting on the coffee table. You can't help but chuckle to yourself at the sight, finding the small mess endearing rather than off-putting; nonetheless, you still feel comfortable and welcomed.

When Soonyoung enters the kitchen to retrieve your water, he's pulled to the side by Chan.

"A reminder would have been nice if you were bringing them home," he mutters lowly, a bit of an annoyed tone to his voice.

"They missed their bus, what else was I supposed to do?" Soonyoung whispers back as he fills up a glass with water. "I-I couldn't just leave them stranded there."

Chan just sighs, giving the older boy a few pats on the back. "Just... don't do anything weird, okay? Keep it PG. And if I have to block my ears or whatever just, like, knock on the wall."

Soonyoung feels the heat in his face as he gives the younger boy a light smack to the arm. "We aren't𑁋it's not like that!"

That was enough for a round of laughter to leave Chan's lips and for you to catch sight of Soonyoung's slightly embarrassed expression once they enter back into the living area together. Chan only shoots one last knowing glance between the two of you before uttering out his goodnight and disappearing into his own bedroom.

"Sorry about the mess, by the way," Soonyoung says as he hands you the glass of water.

You take in the glass in your own hands, your fingers brushing momentarily against his. When you take a sip, you feel a refreshing wave hit you all at once. "It's fine. You weren't expecting company anyway. And... it feels cozy. I like it."

Your words make Soonyoung's eyes soften. He takes a seat beside you on the couch, not too close to invade your personal space but close enough that you can still feel the warmth of his presence. It's comforting, you think, because despite the quiet moments in between, you both feel contented in simply being together.

You know Soonyoung tried his best to make this date perfect, since your first one was more on the awkward side. But there was something about him𑁋whether it was his endearing clumsiness, the way he genuinely cares about your comfort and happiness, or the amount of effort he put in to actually want to get to know you𑁋that made you feel like this was right where you were meant to be.

"Do you... want to see my room?"

You glance up at him curiously, placing your empty glass on the coffee table. "Can I?"

Soonyoung leads the way, and you follow him down a short hallway to a door on the right. However before he opens it, he turns to look back at you. There's a sense of anticipation in the air, as if he's eager to let you into this personal part of his life but also a bit (very) nervous about what you might think.

"Wait, let me just... tidy it up a bit," he murmurs as if in shame before you have a chance to respond. He quickly steps inside the room, leaving you standing in the hallway. You hear some shuffling and a few muttered apologies to himself, and then he reappears back out with a sheepish grin.

He pushes it open, revealing a cozy and small bedroom. The walls are painted a soft shade of blue, and there are posters of various artists and bands you recognise like SHINee and BIGBANG. His bed is hurriedly kempt with a couple plushies of what seem to be tigers, and there's a desk piled with notebooks and a laptop.

There's a shelf in the corner of the room filled with collections of ticket stubs from concerts, a row of trophies and medals, and a stack of old photo albums. Then you take a seat at the edge of his bed, taking one of his tiger plushies in your hands and smiling to yourself. It's incredibly soft to the touch, carrying a scent of the remnants of Soonyoung. You can't help but snuggle it for a moment before placing it back on his bed.

"Here, I got some clothes you can sleep in," Soonyoung says after rummaging through his drawer.

"Thanks," You take the piece of clothing in your hand: a large hoodie that he bought at a concert a while ago.

He leaves you for a few minutes to allow you to change. Once he comes back in, it takes him a few moments to get used to you wearing his clothes with a hoodie that's slightly oversized on you, his cheeks deepening with a rosy hue that stretches up to his ears as he takes his place right next to you on the bed.

As the night goes on, you both start to feel a sense of exhaustion from the day's events. Soonyoung offers you his bed while he'll take the couch, but you decline. You don't mind sharing his bed; in fact, you'd prefer it.

"Are... Are you sure?" he asks, a hint of concern, hesitation, in his eyes. "I-I can sleep on the couch. It's completely okay."

You nod with a warm smile. "I'm sure. Plus, it's your bed, anyway. You deserve to sleep in it."

He seems to relax at your response, his tense shoulders loosening as he takes in a deep breath, and he finds himself crawling under the covers right next to you. It's strange, considering you're only two people who are still getting to know each other, yet the closeness feels natural and comforting.

You lay on your sides, facing each other, with only a few inches of space separating you. The room is dimly lit by a soft, warm glow from a bedside lamp, and the sounds of the city outside are barely audible.

"Hi," Soonyoung whispers, face cutely half-buried in the pillow.

You faintly grin, whispering in his same tone, "Hi."

For a moment, the two of you only lay there, only carefully studying each other's faces.

"You're really pretty," Soonyoung admits shamelessly, his words making you giggle and the heat sprout to your face.

"So you've mentioned," You tease him back playfully. Many times.

Soonyoung chuckles softly, the sound muffled by his pillow.

"I really like you, you know," he tells you, and it's so quiet that you can barely hear it, but his words send a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You prop yourself up on one arm, keeping your eyes on him. "Is that why I'm in your bed right now?"

Despite the darkness of the room, his cheeks tint a deeper shade of pink. He shifts slightly, scooting more closer towards you so he can face you more directly, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Partly, yes," he replies, voice low. "I feel comfortable around you, and I... I want to get to know you better. It's... a bit scary how much I like you."

You can feel the weight of his words, and you're not sure how to respond. Instead, you reach out, gently cupping his cheek with your hand, and guide his face toward yours. Your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. Soonyoung doesn't hesitate to kiss you back, his lips moving against yours slowly, gently, enough to feel like you're flying. The kiss deepens just slightly, but it's not rushed, as you feel his hand come to rest at the small of your back to rid of whatever distance was left.

And when you pull away, the two of you a bit breathless, Soonyoung only smiles.

"Does that mean you like me too?" he asks, as if the kiss you just shared wasn't the obvious answer.

"Hm." You look at him square in the eye, resisting the urge to smile though you can feel your lips twitching. "You're alright, I guess."

Soonyoung just grins, leaning in once again so that his lips hover over yours.

"You're so mean." he pouts, before kissing you again.

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