#even though i still get notes on it every now and again

[reiding-writing]

please please please write a part two to adrenaline, i bet Spencer would be so worried about cold!reader in the hospital

OXYTOCIN — SPENCER REID!

you wake up in the hospital after the explosion, and spencer hasn’t left your side.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 2.0k | h/c? | cold!reader masterlist.

part one. | main masterlist.

a/n — singing sabrina carpenter in my head whilst reading this request

When you wake, it feels like you’ve been hit by a truck, repeatedly. The sterile scent of antiseptic and faint hum of machines confirms your location before your eyes even open. A hospital. Great. Just great.

You groan, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. Everything hurts. Your thigh feels like it's been through a meat grinder, and even breathing feels like a chore.

“You’re awake,” a voice says from your side, a mixture of relief and exhaustion colouring the words.

You turn your head—too quickly, judging by the sharp sting in your neck—and find Spencer sitting in a chair near your bed. His hair is a mess, his clothes wrinkled, and his face is pale. There’s a small bandage on his temple and soot still clinging to the creases of his shirt, like he hasn’t left since the explosion.

“What... what are you doing here?” Your voice is raspy, dry. You try to clear your throat, grimacing as the action sends a dull ache through your chest.

“I...” He shifts, looking momentarily sheepish. “I didn’t want to leave until you woke up.”

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at his words. “You should be resting. You were barely conscious when we got out of there.”

His brows knit together in concern. “You were bleeding out when we got out of there.”

You don’t have a good retort to that. Instead, you glance down at yourself, noting the IV in your arm and the thick bandages wrapped around your thigh. A hospital gown replaces your smoke-stained clothes, and your boots—well, they’re long gone.

“God,” you mutter, leaning your head back against the pillow. “I hate hospitals.”

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle, though it’s tinged with guilt. “I know. You need one though,”

You scoff. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,”

The faintest smile tugs at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He shifts in his chair, his hands wringing together in his lap. There’s a heaviness about him now, a weight he seems unable to shake.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask bluntly, unable to help yourself. “You look like someone ran over your cat.”

He winces at your choice of words, his fingers tightening around each other as he leans forward, his elbows braced on his knees. “I didn’t notice,” he says quietly.

“Notice what?”

He meets your gaze, his eyes glassy with guilt. “The injury. Your leg. I didn’t notice it when we were trying to get out. You were helping me the whole time, and I didn’t even see that you were hurt.”

You frown, watching as he rubs a hand over his face, frustration etched into every line of his features.

“It was chaos,” he continues, his voice trembling. “And I relied on you—again—to keep us alive, and I didn’t even—” He breaks off, inhaling sharply as if to steady himself. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve done something. Instead, you almost—”

“Reid. Shut up.” The words come out harsher than you intend, and his mouth snaps shut. You sit up a little straighter, ignoring the stab of pain that radiates from your thigh. “You’re spiraling, and it’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” His voice is incredulous, his brows knitting together.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “Because none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? None of it. Not the explosion, not my injury, nothing.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“You couldn’t have known about my leg. Hell, I didn’t even know about my leg until I was half-unconscious on the ground. And as for relying on me—” You pause, exhaling sharply. “That’s what we do. We rely on each other. It’s how we survive. You’d have done the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Your voice softens, though your tone remains firm. “You’re not a superhero, Reid. None of us are. We make do with what we’ve got, and we did. We’re here. We made it out. That’s what matters.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he looks away, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I just— I hate that you got hurt because of me.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t because of you. It was because some lunatic decided to blow up a building while we were inside it.”

That earns a faint smile from him, though it’s fleeting. He rubs the back of his neck, his posture still tense. “I guess I just... I don’t know. I keep replaying it in my head, thinking of all the things I could’ve done differently.”

“Join the club,” you mutter. “But fuck that, it’s over now,”

He nods slowly, though the guilt doesn’t fully leave his face. You watch him for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression tugging at something deep inside you.

“You’re too hard on yourself, you know that?” you say softly.

He glances up at you, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders like it’s your job,” you reply. “You don’t have to, Reid. Not with us. Not with me.”

Something in his gaze shifts at your words, a flicker of emotion you can’t quite place. He sits back in his chair, his hands resting in his lap as he looks at you.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says quietly, the honesty in his voice catching you off guard.

You don’t know how to respond to that. For once, the words escape you. Instead, you reach out, your pinky finger brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. He looks down at your hand, his lips curving into a faint smile.

For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the weight of the day easing just slightly. And despite the sterile surroundings and the ache in your body, you feel... okay.

And then the door opens. And you regret even thinking such an absurd thought.

“Hey hey hey, look who’s awake, how you feeling?” Derek Morgan strides into the room with a grin that’s entirely too bright for the situation. Behind him, Emily and JJ trail in, their expressions a mix of relief and exhaustion.

“Oh, fantastic,” you say dryly, pulling your hands back to drag them down your face. “The circus is here.”

Morgan chuckles, unbothered by your sarcasm, and sets a small bouquet of slightly wilted daisies on the bedside table. “We were starting to think you’d sleep forever. Reid here hasn’t left your side, you know.” He gives Spencer a pointed look, one eyebrow raised. “We had to practically threaten him just to get his head stitched up.”

Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his chair, mumbling, “I was fine.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emily chimes in, her tone matter-of-fact as she crosses her arms. “You were one sneeze away from collapsing yourself. But of course, you’d rather run yourself into the ground than listen to medical advice.”

“Runs in the family,” Morgan quips, throwing you a knowing glance.

You roll your eyes, already regretting being conscious for this conversation. “I don’t need a play-by-play of Reid’s stubbornness, thanks. I’ve lived it.”

“That’s true,” JJ says with a small smile. “You’re the only one as bad as he is when it comes to ignoring injuries.”

You open your mouth to respond—probably something sarcastic—but Emily beats you to it, her voice softer now. “We were worried about you,” she says. “Both of you.”

The words catch you off guard. You glance at Spencer, who looks down at his hands, avoiding the weight of Emily’s gaze. Your own throat tightens, and for once, you’re at a loss for something snarky to say.

“I’m fine,” you manage eventually, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s for their benefit or your own. “Just... ready to get out of here.”

“That’s not happening anytime soon,” JJ says gently. “The doctors want to keep you overnight, at least,”

You groan, leaning back against the pillow. “Of course they do.”

“Could be worse,” Morgan says with a smirk. “At least you’ve got Reid here playing nursemaid,”

“Don’t tempt me to throw something at you,” you mutter, glaring halfheartedly at him.

Spencer clears his throat, his cheeks tinged pink as he stands. “I should, uh, give you guys some time. I’ll grab coffee or something,”

“You’ve had six cups already,” JJ points out.

“Then I’ll grab water,” he counters, already heading for the door. He pauses just long enough to glance back at you. “I’ll be back.”

“You don’t have to hover, Reid,” you call after him, but he’s already gone.

The room feels quieter without him, though not exactly peaceful—not with the three pairs of eyes now fixed on you.

“Okay,” Morgan says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s hear it. What’s going on between you two?”

Your stomach drops. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, grinning like a cat who’s cornered a mouse. “You and the boy wonder. Something’s different,”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fold your arms across your chest.

“Sure you don’t,” Emily says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it’s completely normal for you to nearly break down a wall looking for him and then collapse from blood loss without saying a word about it,”

You glare at her, though the heat in your face betrays you. “That was the adrenaline. And the smoke. It messes with people.”

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “Right. So the way you two were holding hands when we walked in—definitely adrenaline?”

“We weren’t—” You groan exasperatedly, and then grimace the pain it causes your throat. “I was comforting him. He’s got a guilt complex and I don’t want to deal with that for the next however long if he insists on staying.”

“Sure, sweet stuff,” Morgan smiles. “Maybe I should start calling you a puddle with how fast you melt around Boy Wonder,”

“Don’t you all have something better to do?” you snap, wishing desperately for an escape hatch.

“Not really,” JJ says with a sly smile. “Unless you count pestering you as ‘better’,”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “There’s nothing going on. Drop it.”

“Fine,” Morgan says, though the mischievous glint in his eyes tells you he’s anything but convinced. “But if you change your mind, let us know. We’ve got bets going,”

“You what?”

But before you can unleash your full indignation, the door opens again, and Spencer steps back in, a bottle of water in his hand. He looks between you and the team, his brow furrowing slightly. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing important,” you say quickly, shooting a warning glare at the others.

Morgan grins but says nothing, and for once, you’re grateful. Spencer hands you the water, his expression softening. “How are you feeling now?”

“Tired,” you admit, taking the bottle. “And ready to get out of here.”

“I’ll talk to the doctors,” he offers. “See if they can expedite things,”

The warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you look away, focusing on twisting the cap off the bottle.

The team watches the exchange with barely concealed amusement, but thankfully, they choose to keep their commentary to themselves. For now.

[plumeria1]

A surprise for her birthday part 2

Here is the second part of A surprise for her birthday. It's my first smut so please be lenient. I hope you will like it.

Warning : Nudity, oral (reader giving), fingering, blindfolded, fluff,

Pairing : Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem Reader

Note : English It's not as explicit as I tought but I'm still happy. I think it's more erotica than smut, I'm not sure.

MDNI

This morning :

You had planned everything for weeks. Taking a day off, you decided to go shopping and visit the lingerie boutique you'd spotted the previous week, where Caitlyn had mentioned finding something she thought would fit you perfectly.

Today had been busy; you went to buy the nightgown that the shop assistant had agreed to hold for you because you were determined to make sure Caitlyn didn't stumble upon it by chance. Then you did the shopping, cooked, spent two hours getting ready, and once all that was done, all you had to do was wait for her.

You knew exactly how much time you had before Caitlyn got back. It was easy--ever since you met her, she had always followed the same routine after work.

At the end of her day, she makes a quick stop to get tea, then she heads to her car parked a little further away, sending you a message when she's in the elevator.

So, when you heard the door open, you just had to wait for her to put her things down before joining her.

Now :

You gently pushed her onto the bed, which made her let out a little laugh. You sat on her thighs, leaning over her, rubbing the tip of your nose against hers, before she pulled you into a kiss that made you feel how much she had missed you even though you saw each other every day.

You stepped back for a moment:

- Slow down, we have all the time in the world.

It was as if she could barely hear you. You had finished your sentence when she tried to steal another kiss from you. You stepped back, gently placing your hand on her mouth to make her stop. You felt her smile on your palm.

You slowly withdrew your hand, looking at Caitlyn to make sure she wasn't going to kiss you again. You smiled, seeing that she was still lying quietly.

You took her hands and intertwined your fingers, you felt her other hand rest on your thigh and gently slide under your nightgown, reaching your lace panties. On your side, you let go of her hand to be able to open her blouse.

All along, you didn't take your eyes off each other. She straightened up so you remove her shirt, revealing a white bra that was just waiting to land on the bedroom floor.

Caitlyn removed your panties to free you from that pretty nightgown, even though you didn't tell her, she had guessed that you were starting to feel a slight pain in your back.

You lowered your head and let out a sigh of relief when she unclasped the hooks, and you felt your chest breathe again.

-Thank you.

-Why didn't you say it hurt?

You made a small, annoyed pout.

-I wanted to look pretty for you tonight.

-You are always beautiful in my eyes.

With a smile, you leaned towards her and began kissing her neck, gradually moving down to her chest. With one hand, you made her arch her back, and with the other, you unclasped her bra. Once removed, you tossed it behind you not caring where it fell.

You ran your hands over her waist, moving up to her breasts, which you gently took in your hands. You took one in your mouth and left the other to the gentle care of your hand while the other went down to her pants to remove his belt.

You heard Caitlyn let out one of those sighs you love so much, her hand ran through your hair and the other clenched the sheet into a fist.

- Don't stop.

You released her nipple and moved down to above her waistband, leaving small kisses along her belly, making her let out soft moans.

Once her belt was thrown, you unbuttoned her pants and let yourself fall to the foot of the bed, landing right between her legs. You freed her legs from the fabric and took her leg in your hand.

You kissed the back of her leg and moved up to the inside of her thigh, which you bit lightly, leaving a small red mark. Caitlyn had taken your other hand in hers and had straightened up to see you better.

Without stepping back, you looked her straight in the eyes as your hand left hers to pull gently the elastic of her panties.

After removing her panties, Caitlyn watched you get up, and she wondering what you were doing.

-Where are you... ?

She fell silent when she saw you return with the white ribbon in your hands. You sat down beside her, wandering if she had changed her mind about being blindfolded.

- Do you still want me to blindfold you?

- Yes.

-Okay. Turn around for a second.

With a soft smile, you tied the ribbon around her eyes, and as she turned back to you, you kissed her tenderly.

- Tell me if you want to take it off.

A small nod is enough for you to return between her thighs. If she could have seen you, Caitlyn would have compared you to a hungry lioness, ready to pounce on her prey.

You were teasing her, she promised to return the favor. She could feel your breath on her, and then you placed a gentle kiss just above her clitoris.

She placed her hand in your hair, not for pulling it, but simply to have a sensation other than the desire and anticipation she was feeling.

You stepped back for a moment to grab a pillow on the floor and placed it under your knees.

As your mouth moved away from her cunt, she tried to place her hand on her clitoris. But before she could reach it, she jumped at the feeling of you giving the back of you lightly slapping the back of her hand.

-No, no, don't touch, let me do it.

You took your place again and put one of her legs on your shoulder, feeling her foot touch the lower part of your back.

When your tongue finally touched her, it was like you could feel her pleasure, she was wetter than usual. Maybe it was because of the blindfold or simply because you hadn't been intimate for so long.

No matter the reason, you were thrilled.

Because she couldn't see, Caitlyn's senses were sharpened, and she wondered why you hadn't tried this before. She felt your tongue caressing her all over and your nose pressing against her clitoris.

You gripped on, pressing your nails into her thighs as her second leg connected to your other shoulder. You ran your tongue up to her clitoris while sticking your index inside of her.

Caitlyn moaned deeply and covered the sound with her hand, but you wanted to hear it; you enjoyed every sound she made, but your favorite ones were the ones she did when you made love.

-Don't cover your mouth, I love hearing you.

She slowly lowered her hand and reached out to you. You understood that she wanted you to hold it. What Caitlyn preferred when you made love wasn't the act itself.

Of course, she loved it. But what she loved most were all the caresses and tender kisses you both shared.

Son plaisir grandit à mesure que ta langue bougea plus rapidement, elle atteignit son apogée lorsque tu ajoutas un autre doigt.

The force of Caitlyn's orgasm caused her entire body to arch. Her hands grasped the sheets, and her legs cinched around your back as though they didn't want to let you go.

Her juice filled your mouth, and you didn't lose a drop. She took off the ribbon and threw it to the side of the bed when she collapsed back onto it with a heavy groan.

She propped herself up on her elbows and saw you staring at her, you looked surprised or shocked, she didn't know. In her mind, everything was a bit hazy, she couldn't remember ever having such a powerful orgasm before.

As for you, you were still recovering from the surprise, you had never seen her react like this before. Without taking your eyes off her you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You slowly stood up, you felt like you had been on your knees for hours. Once standing, you looked at Caitlyn attentively.

- Are you okay?

- Yes, I'm a bit shaken.

Suddenly, she grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her, and you fell next to her with a little surprised cry.

You laughed softly as you ran your hand over her cheek; she looked exhausted but fulfilled. She pulled the blanket over your bodies. Neither of you had bothered to put clothes back on.

Caitlyn rested her head on your chest, caressing your arm as she closed her eyes, completely relaxed.

-I would have liked to please you too.

- Don't worry about that, what's important today is you. But if you insist, you can always make up for it tomorrow.

She laughed and kissed your shoulder.

- Thank you for this evening, angel.

- You don't need to thank me, I just took the opportunity, that's all.

- I have a question.

-Tell me.

- At a moment you left me alone in the room, where were you?

-I had put on a very pretty dress for dinner and since you chose the dessert, I had to change.

You stroked her back gently, smiling as you did.

- I have another gift for you.

- You're spoiling me.

She pretended not to care, but she eventually caved.

- What's this?

You reached out your arm to the drawer of your nightstand and took out an envelope that you gave to her.

- Is it ? Is it true? You're taking me to Thailand?

- We're leaving in a month, so make sure you get your days off ready, love.

She set the envelope down and then hugged you tightly. She had always dreamed of visiting Thailand ever since her mother told her about the trip she had taken in her youth

- I love you.

- And I love you too.

You spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, sharing soft kisses until you both drifted off to sleep.

If you liked it I maybe do another one with another character.

[salvieslovenotes]

give me vi who's just a total hot mess...

Don't get me wrong, I love confident Vi who knows exactly what she's doing, a little smug and self-assured that she knows exactly what you like and how to give it to you. Who always has a shadow of a smirk tugging at her lips. But I feel we're sleeping on canon Vi—like that girl was a mess. Did you not see the way she looked at Cait?! My girl is the definition of "sure babe whatever you say".

So here's some little hot mess Vi headcanons I love

She's always bumping into stuff. She's got bruises all over her hips and legs from the amount of times she's caught herself on the table corner or counter top. It's gotten to the point where if there's a cupboard door open on a high shelf, you automatically cover the corner with your hand when Vi's around because she'd pretty much guaranteed to bang her head.

On that note, she's always dropping things. She's not allowed to touch the fancy dinner plates or empty the dishwasher because of it. Every few months you have to buy new glasses because yup, the others are all somehow broken. Again. ("I don't understand where they all go!" Vi complains, genuinely confused "I can't have broken them all.... did I?" Spoiler alert she did, in fact, break them all.)

Still on that note, she trips over everything. Everything, her path could be completely clear and she'd still stumble. It's sort of endearing, like you're leaving your flat and she's tripping over the front mat—"Who the fuck put that there?" She's so indignant it makes you smile. "We did, it's a mat. You know, the thing that goes before a door?"

When undressing you or tugging off her own clothes, she'll inevitably get an arm tangled, or struggle with buttons or a belt buckle. It always makes you both laugh a bit, because she's always so impatient and gets stuck on the smallest things. "Who the fuck invented these?" she laughs, amused at herself, her shaky fingers. But when you try to help she'll whine, "No, no, almost got it." (Half of your clothes end up ripped when she inevitably loses patience.)

She's super clever and can pick up things pretty quickly, but she's always trying to cut corners and experiment to make it "easier." Baking? Who needs all that measuring crap, she can just eyeball it. And sure, the cake tastes amazing, but it also swelled up like a balloon because she accidentally tipped in half the container of baking soda. The fire alarm gets set off at least once a week; now if you smell smoke you just... leave her to it.

She's super into tech and fixing stuff, which means lots of taking things apart, and the odd yelp here and there as she gives herself small electric shocks. One time you come home to smoke wafting through the kitchen, the distinct smell of burning rubber and a very sheepish Vi, who accidentally melted some kitchen utensils. How?! You don't even ask. (After that she has to work in the garage.)

She's always covered in grease from "improving" things on her motorbike. You're terrified every time she takes it for a spin, thinking for sure one of those "improvements" is going to get her in some sort of trouble.

Climbing onto the roof without shoes to fix something, sticking her hand through a dubious hole in the wall without gloves, leaning close to a faulty socket without glasses. "Hey, don't panic Cupcake, what's the worst that could happen, huh?" and you wave a wild hand around "Ugh, you could die?!"

Like sure, she's confident and daring and smirks her way through everything, but also laughs until she chokes, and pulls every "push" door, and basically will fall over her own feet if she's not gripping your hand. She thinks dad jokes are hilarious and doesn't know her way around your neighbourhood even though she literally grew up there. Whenever she's out you'll inevitably get a "hey I'm lost" call. "Where are you?" "Uhhh, like... opposite a post office?" You think for a second, orientating yourself. "Okay, turn so the post office is on your left, and keep walking." There's dubious silence from Vi's end and you sigh, biting back a smile. "Your left, like the hand you write with." "Ohh! Got it, got it..."

In a new city it's even worse, because she refuses to use maps. "Who needs directions when you can have adventure and discovery!!" "Vi, I'd hardly call the red-light district of Paris adventure, I just wanna see the bloody Eiffel Tower!"

Walking out in the sexist outfit ever, tattoos on full display, chains around her waist and looking unholy in steel capped boots, and your mouth has never been so dry in your whole life and "Hey Cupcake, can you help me? The stupid zip is tangled..."

anyway disaster Vi everyone, she has my whole heart

[ddongtsan]

What If I Said Yes? - Kim Donghyun

Leehan x fem. reader

Note: I confess that sometimes I also feel tired of being a girl. But then I think that I actually just need someone to make me feel like a real girl.

Warning: Friends to lovers, fluff, drabble.

The rain tapped against the window, the rhythmic sound filling the quiet of your room.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of the day pressed down on you.

Nothing had gone right.

First, you’d forgotten your umbrella and arrived at school drenched.

Then, the test you’d spent countless nights studying for turned out to be full of questions that seemed written in a foreign language.

And to top it all off, the group chat with your friends was silent — everyone seemed too busy to talk.

With a frustrated sigh, you grabbed your phone, scrolling aimlessly through your messages. His name was at the top of your recent chats: Leehan.

Leehan was… complicated.

He was the kind of person who could light up a room with just a smile and always seemed to know the right thing to say.

You couldn’t deny the flutter in your chest every time you thought of him. But you two weren’t anything official. Just friends.

Friends with an unspoken tension that neither of you dared to address.

Without giving yourself time to overthink, you opened the chat and typed:

Being a girl sucks.

The moment you hit send, regret washed over you.

What if he thought you were being overly dramatic? Or worse, what if he didn’t respond at all? But before you could dwell on it, your phone vibrated.

Being my girl wouldn’t.

You blinked at the screen, your heart skipping a beat.

Did he really just say that? Typical Donghyun, always so confident, always knowing how to throw you off balance.

Still, you tried to play it cool.

Oh yeah? And what would make it so different?

This time, he didn’t reply with a text. Your phone buzzed with an incoming call, and his name lit up the screen.

You hesitated for a moment before answering, already feeling the nervous flip in your stomach.

“Do you really want me to explain this over text?” His voice was low, teasing, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest.

“I thought you were busy today” you said, feigning nonchalance.

“I always have time for you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto your face. Kim always had this effect on you, and he knew it.

“Alright, convince me then. Why would being your girl be so amazing?”

He laughed softly, the sound so warm and genuine that it made your heart flutter.

“Well, for starters, I’d make you laugh every day. Like right now — I know you’re trying not to smile even though I’m totally getting to you.”

“I’m not smiling!” You protested, though it was a blatant lie.

“Sure you aren’t.” He paused, and you could almost picture the smirk on his face.

“And more than that, I’d remind you every single day how amazing you are. On bad days, like today, I’d take you out for your favorite milkshake or do something dumb to distract you — like singing terrible karaoke songs.”

For a moment, you didn’t respond, the warmth in your chest growing stronger. His words were so simple, yet they meant so much more than he probably realized.

“And what if I said I want to test that theory?” You asked, surprised by your own boldness.

There was a brief silence on the other end before leehan spoke, his voice slightly lower, almost serious.

“Then I guess you just became my girl.”

Your heart was racing now, but at the same time, you felt an unexpected calm, like this was where you were meant to be all along.

“Okay” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “But I’m holding you to that milkshake part.”

He laughed again, the sound sending butterflies straight to your stomach.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And for the first time that day, everything felt right.

Maybe, just maybe, being a girl wasn’t so bad — at least, not if you were his girl.

[jhyoos]

Dreams Come True

Chapter 6: Good Enough

summary: you start to doubt your self worth and wonder if you’re any good for vi.

mentions: angst, modern!au, fame!au, self harm, vi being stubborn 🙄, hospital talk, they were actually celebrating cait’s birthday, timebomb 🤭, dramatic reader maybe it’s all the painkillers.

notes : im writing this on the same day of me being sick and on period. y’all better be glad i love yall. 🫵🫶

You woke up to the sterile smell of a hospital, the faint beeping of machines around you breaking the eerie silence. Your throat ached with every shallow breath, and as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, you noticed Jinx and Ekko seated beside your bed.

"Tinker?" you rasped weakly, your voice hoarse and raw.

Jinx immediately jumped up, grabbing your hand tightly. "Don’t talk too much! The doctor said it’s not a good idea," she said quickly, her voice filled with worry.

You nodded faintly, glancing around the room as if searching for someone. Jinx seemed to understand immediately. “Vi isn’t here… yet,” she muttered, her voice dropping. “I’ve been calling her, texting her. I even used your phone, but she hasn’t answered.”

Her words stung, more than you wanted to admit. After all the things Vi had said—how much she loved you, how much she wanted to be with you—you couldn’t understand why she hadn’t shown up. The hurt seeped into your chest, but you forced yourself to push it aside.

“Mel is on the way, though,” Jinx continued, attempting to comfort you. “She’s bringing some stuff to help with your throat—and food. You need to eat.”

Ekko, who had been sitting silently, stood up and placed a hand on Jinx’s shoulder. “Let’s step outside for a minute,” he said gently, his tone indicating there was more he wanted to say out of your earshot.

Jinx hesitated, looking at you. “I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, her hand lingering on yours before Ekko guided her out of the room.

Now alone, you let your eyes wander, spotting your phone resting on the table at the far end of the bed. You sat up slowly, wincing as the IV tugged at your arm. You reached out, stretching to grab it, but the effort was futile.

Just as you tried again, a hand appeared, stopping you. You looked up to see Mel standing over you, her expression firm but laced with concern.

"I don’t think you want to look at your phone right now," she said softly, setting it back down out of reach. She sat on the edge of the bed and held up a bag. "Here. I brought you your favorite Chipotle order—and some tea to take home later."

You blinked at her, surprised, but took the bowl and fork she offered. The warmth of the food in your hands was grounding, even if you didn’t feel particularly hungry. As you took a hesitant bite, Mel relaxed a little, seeming relieved to see you eat.

“Don’t worry about anything else right now, please,” Mel said, her voice steady and soothing. “Jinx told me you haven’t eaten all day. You need to focus on getting better.”

You nodded, taking another bite, the weight of her words settling over you.

Mel continued, her tone gentle but firm. “The meet and greet is next week. We’ve doubled security, so… no need for this to happen again.” Her eyes flicked briefly to the faint bruise still visible on your neck, her jaw tightening.

You could only nod again, your voice lost to the ache in your throat and the heavier ache in your heart.

attention away from the food in front of you. You glanced at Mel, who had been quietly sitting beside you, and gestured for her to hand you the phone. She picked it up, glanced at the screen, and her eyebrows raised slightly.

"It’s Vi," she said softly before handing it to you.

The contact name Vi 🫶 flashed across the screen, and your heart clenched. You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the green button, but finally, you answered the call.

“Hello, babe?” Vi’s voice came through, casual yet tinged with concern.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sharp ache in your throat stopped you. Instead, you glanced at Mel, silently asking for her help. Understanding your plight, Mel gently took the phone from your hand.

“She can’t talk,” Mel said firmly. “But she’ll listen to you.”

There was a pause before Vi sighed audibly on the other end. “I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your calls,” she began, her tone apologetic but far from desperate. “Me, Ellie, and Abby went clubbing, and I wasn’t checking my phone. I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

Her words felt like a weight pressing against your chest. You glanced at the bedside table, your thoughts spinning. Grabbing the paper and pen a nurse had left behind, you began writing. After a moment, you turned the note toward Mel.

It read simply: HANG UP.

Mel’s eyes widened in surprise, but she hesitated. “Are you sure?” she mouthed silently, her hand hovering over the phone.

You nodded firmly, your expression unreadable.

“Sorry, Vi,” Mel said into the receiver, her voice steady, before she ended the call.

The line went dead, and Mel set the phone back on the table. She turned toward you, her expression shifting from confusion to mild concern. “Why did you want me to do that?”

You shook your head, dismissing the question. Picking up your fork again, you took another bite of your food, avoiding her gaze. You wanted more than a sorry. She should’ve been here by now. That asshole…

Mel watched you for a moment, clearly debating whether to press further. But as you focused on the food in front of you, she sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Okay. But… when you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here."

You didn’t respond, the silence growing heavy between you. Instead, you focused on the mundane act of eating, using it to block out the swirl of emotions Vi’s call had stirred.

Once you felt like you had eaten enough, you closed your bowl and placed it on the nightstand. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone, preparing yourself for the inevitable flood of notifications. You unlocked it and saw the chaos waiting for you—texts from your parents asking if you were okay, increasingly frantic messages from Steb, and even a few from the CEO.

But what caught your attention most were two TMZ notifications.

The first headline read: Aurora’s (Y/N) Attacked by Deranged Fan Outside Burger Joint!

Your heart sank as you opened the article. It detailed the terrifying encounter you had endured earlier, describing your attacker and mentioning how Jinx and Ekko had come to your rescue. Your stomach churned as you scrolled through photos taken at the scene—your bruised neck was visible in a few of them. The comments section was already flooded with concern, questions, and speculation.

Shaking your head, you closed the article and moved on to the second notification, but this one made your blood run cold:

Hockey Star Vi, Spotted Clubbing with Olympic Ice Skater Caitlyn!

Your eyes widened as the article loaded. There it was: a series of photos of Vi out at a club with Ellie, Abby, and Caitlyn. What struck you most wasn’t just the carefree look on Vi’s face but the way her arm was wrapped snugly around Caitlyn’s waist in one of the shots.

The article speculated about a possible romance between Vi and Caitlyn, with no mention of you. It stung in ways you hadn’t expected. Even though you and Vi hadn’t confirmed anything publicly, her actions felt like a betrayal.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you zoomed in on the photo. The flood of emotions—hurt, anger, humiliation—came crashing down all at once. Vi had said she loved you, promised she cared, yet here she was, looking perfectly content with someone else.

Mel noticed the change in your expression and the tears streaming down your face. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

You couldn’t respond right away, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. Instead, you tilted your phone toward her, showing her the article.

Mel’s eyes scanned the screen, her expression hardening as she took in the details. “That’s low,” she muttered, placing the phone back down.

The tears started flowing freely now, your sobs coming out raspy and broken. You couldn’t hold it back any longer. All the effort you had put into your connection with Vi, all the late nights and vulnerable moments—it felt meaningless.

“No, no, no, don’t cry,” Mel said softly, pulling you into a hug. Her arms were steady and comforting, but they couldn’t stop the ache in your chest.

Jinx, hearing the sound of your sobs, rushed into the room. She froze when she saw the tears streaming down your face and glanced at your phone, still open to the article. Her face fell as she put the pieces together.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” Jinx said quietly, stepping closer. “Maybe… maybe I should’ve told you about it earlier instead of letting you see it like this.”

Jinx joined the hug, wrapping her arms around you and Mel. Her warmth added to the cocoon of comfort, but it didn’t stop your body from trembling as you cried harder.

Mel hugged you tighter, resting her chin lightly on the top of your head. “Hey, hey, don’t jump to conclusions just yet,” she said gently. “There could be an explanation for this. You know how the media loves to stir up drama.”

Jinx nodded in agreement as she knelt beside the bed, placing a comforting hand on your knee. “Yeah, (Y/N). Vi might’ve just been out with friends, and Caitlyn was probably just… there. That picture doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

You sniffled, wiping at your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. The image of Vi holding Caitlyn like that was burned into your mind, making it hard to think rationally.

Mel noticed your hesitation and gave you a reassuring squeeze. “I know it’s hard, but you should hear Vi out before assuming the worst. She might not even realize how this looks.”

Jinx chimed in, her voice softer now. “And, honestly? If it were something serious, don’t you think she’d have at least mentioned it? She’s never been one to hide things from you before.”

You nodded weakly, though your heart still felt heavy. You wanted to believe them, to hold onto the possibility that there was some innocent explanation, but the hurt and doubt lingered.

Mel pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. “Look, you’re already dealing with so much. Don’t let this photo ruin everything. Focus on getting better first, and then you can talk to Vi and figure this out, okay?”

Jinx gave you a small, encouraging smile. “Yeah. You don’t have to figure everything out right now. Just take it one step at a time.”

Their words gave you a sliver of hope, enough to calm the worst of your sobs. You nodded again, letting out a shaky breath as you leaned into Mel’s comforting presence. You’d deal with Vi eventually, but for now, you just needed to focus on healing.

The next day, you went home to your apartment, seeking the solace of familiarity. Mel had decided to stay with you for a few days, insisting she wouldn’t leave until you felt comfortable being alone. You were grateful for her presence, even if you didn’t say it out loud. The days passed quietly. You sipped on warm tea to soothe your voice, occasionally humming softly to test your range as you tried to regain your strength for the meet-and-greet.

Throughout it all, you hadn’t texted or called Vi. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to; it was that you couldn’t. Every time you even considered reaching out, the memory of that TMZ article flashed in your mind, and the tightness in your chest returned. You knew it wasn’t fair to leave her hanging like this, but you also knew that hearing her voice might break you all over again.

Mel had finally moved out of her temporary home in your living room after you assured her that you’d be fine. She had insisted on installing a ring camera for extra security before she left, and you appreciated her thoughtfulness. That night, you sat in your living room with a mug of tea, trying to focus on the calming rhythm of a playlist you’d made.

The doorbell rang, and you assumed it was Mel coming back for something she’d forgotten. Without hesitation, you opened the door. “Come on, Mel. I’m fine—”

You opened the door, expecting it to be Mel again checking in on you, but when you saw Vi standing there, you froze. The sight of her—the woman you loved but felt so betrayed by—unlocked something in you that you couldn’t hold back anymore. Without a word, you burst into tears, your sobs uncontrollable as they wracked through your chest.

Vi immediately stepped forward, pulling you into a hug, her strong arms wrapping around you as she held you close. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered over and over, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and even the tears streaming down your face. She moved down to kiss your neck softly, her touch tender and full of regret.

But as comforting as her embrace was, the anger and pain you’d been holding onto flared up, and you pushed her away with a surprising amount of force. “Don’t!” you shouted, your voice cracking. “Don’t you dare act like everything’s fine, Vi!”

Vi took a step back, her hands raised in surrender, her eyes wide with guilt and concern. “I know,” she said softly. “I know I messed up, but—”

“No! You don’t know!” you interrupted, your voice rising as all the emotions you’d bottled up spilled out. “Where the hell have you been, Vi? I was in the hospital, bruised, terrified, and you couldn’t even show up? You couldn’t answer a single call or text?”

“I—” Vi started, but you didn’t let her finish.

“And then I find out through a *photo*—a fucking photo, Vi—that you were out clubbing, arm around Caitlyn, like nothing even happened! Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Do you even care?”

“I care!” Vi said, her voice louder this time, but still filled with desperation. “Of course, I care! I just—I didn’t know how to handle it. I was scared, and I fucked up, okay? I didn’t think—I didn’t think it would hurt you this much.”

“That’s the problem!” you yelled, your voice trembling. “You didn’t think! You didn’t think about me, about us. You didn’t think at all!”

Vi’s shoulders slumped, and she looked at you, her eyes glistening with tears she was clearly trying to hold back. “You’re right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think. I was selfish, and I hurt you, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

The room went silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. You wiped your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, your breathing still shaky. “Then why are you here?” you asked, your voice quieter now. “Why now, Vi?”

Vi stepped closer, her hands reaching out tentatively. “Because I love you,” she said, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes. “I love you so much, and I can’t lose you. I know I haven’t shown it the way you deserve, but I’m here now, and I want to make things right.”

You looked at her, searching her face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and a genuine need to fix things. “It’s not that simple,” you said softly. “You hurt me, Vi. You made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

“I know,” she said, stepping even closer. “And I hate myself for it. But I swear to you, I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. That’s why I didn’t ask you to be my girlfriend yet. Not because I don’t want you to be, but because I wanted it to be perfect. I didn’t want to rush it and mess it up like I always do. I wanted the moment to be special, something you’d remember forever.”

Her words caught you off guard, and you stared at her, your anger slowly melting into something softer. “You mean that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi nodded, her eyes filled with sincerity. “I do. I’ve been scared of messing this up, but I realize now that I’ve already done that by not being honest with you. I love you, and I want you to be my girlfriend—officially, publicly, in every way. But I want to earn that. I want to earn you.”

The vulnerability in her voice broke down the last of your defenses, and before you knew it, you were stepping into her arms again. She held you tightly, her chin resting on top of your head as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You nodded against her chest, your tears soaking into her shirt. “You’ve got a lot to prove, Vi,” you said softly, your voice muffled.

“I know,” she said, her voice firm. “And I will. I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope. Things weren’t fixed, not yet, but maybe, just maybe, they could be.

an: aye yo jhyoo why this ho so short? let me work my magic…the next four chapters are gonna be very happy and satisfying.

taglist: @val-k13 @snowbunnyboo @taurtel @justsomegaygirlig @alex-thegiraffeboyy @tobiotruther @krilara @veladeangl @kl1q @maruiin @ren-ren23

[sweetmisery]

first kiss with piwon | hyung line

pairing: theo | keeho | jiung x female!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: just a little drabble of sharing your first kiss with piwon, hope you like it :) pt 2 with maknae line will follow soon!

THEO - Between the Strings

The recording studio was dimly lit, as Theo sat there alone, his fingers fumbling on the guitar strings. His brow furrowed in frustration as he plucked and strummed the same chords over and over again. His lips moved silently as he worked through the song under his breath, his fingers slipping once more on the neck of the guitar.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself. He let out a frustrated sigh, slumping over the guitar.

It had been weeks since Theo had felt like himself. The pressure to finish the new album, the late-night recording sessions, and - most of all - the tension between the two of you were getting to him.

He didn’t know why things had become so awkward. At first, everything had been easy - your quick wit and creative eye as the groups stylist had made every interaction exciting, even fun. But lately, something had shifted. Theo found himself tripping over words around you, and he couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced every time you walked into the room.

You hadn’t seemed unaffected either. Your usual sharp comebacks had softened, replaced by a hesitance he couldn’t quite read. Every time you brushed past him backstage or adjusted something on his outfit, he’d catch you looking away a little too quickly.

Theo strummed the wrong chord again, his frustration bubbling over. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head.

Then the door flew open with a bang.

You froze in the doorway, wide-eyed. “Oh god, Theo, I’m so sorry! I thought this room was empty!”

Theo startled, nearly dropping his guitar as he turned to face you. His pulse quickened, the sight of you making it impossible to find his voice for a moment.

“No, it’s fine!” he said quickly, standing up so fast he almost knocked over the stool. “You’re fine. Really.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, already backing toward the door. “I’ll just-”

“No!” The word came out louder than Theo intended, and he winced at himself. Clearing his throat, he added more quietly, “I mean, don’t go. I could, uh… use your help.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “My help?”

Theo set the guitar down, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Yeah. I’ve been working on this song, but I’m stuck. I just need someone to listen, and everyone else is… busy.” He left out the part where he didn't even ask anyone else.

For a moment, you hesitated, your hand still on the doorframe. Then you nodded. “Okay. Sure. I can do that.”

You stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. Theo swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were as you leaned against the wall.

“I’m still figuring out the melody,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Then he started to play.

The first notes were soft, tentative, but as his fingers found their rhythm, his voice followed. The melody unfurled like a thread in the air, and when Theo sang the first line, you froze.

His voice was rich and haunting, a perfect match for the bittersweet lyrics. The emotion in his tone was palpable, like he was pouring pieces of himself into every word. You couldn’t look away.

Leaning against the wall, you let yourself get lost in the sound. It wasn’t just that his voice was beautiful, though it was. It was the way he sang with such vulnerability, as if baring his soul.

When he finished, the silence in the room felt almost holy.

“That was…” you began, but the words wouldn’t come.

Theo set the guitar aside, shaking his head. “Terrible, right?” He gave a self-conscious laugh, breaking the spell.

“No!” you said quickly, your voice firm. “Theo, that was… incredible. Your voice- it’s-” You stopped, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I mean, it’s beautiful. The whole thing is.”

Theo’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, something passed between you, an unspoken connection that made your heart race. But as quickly as it had disappeared, the tension returned, settling heavily between you.

“I, uh, should probably go,” you said, pushing off the wall.

Theo’s heart sank, but he nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for… listening.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers lingering on the doorknob for just a moment before you slipped out, leaving Theo alone with his unfinished song - and the sound of your voice still echoing in his mind.

-the next day-

The next day, Theo couldn’t get you out of his head. The way you’d looked at him during the song, the way your voice had softened - it played on repeat in his mind like an earworm he couldn’t shake.

He told himself he was imagining things, that he’d misread the moment. But when you walked into the studio again that afternoon, this time deliberately, he felt hope flicker to life.

“Hey,” you said softly, lingering by the door.

Theo straightened up on the stool, setting the guitar down as if unsure what to do. “Hey.”

“I was thinking about your song,” you said, stepping inside. “And I realized… I need to hear it again.”

“You do?” Theo's surprise melted into a small smile.

You nodded, your expression a mix of nerves and determination. “Yeah. I think… I wasn’t really listening yesterday. Not the way I should’ve been.”

Theo’s throat felt dry, but he nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll play it for you.”

He started the song, his fingers moving more confidently this time. But as the melody filled the room, his gaze drifted to you. You weren’t leaning against the wall like before - you were standing closer, watching him with an intensity that made his heart race.

His voice was mesmerizing - angelic, even. The emotion in it was undeniable, raw and achingly real. It made your chest tighten, your breath catching as you took a step closer to him.

By the time he finished, you were standing just a few feet away, your heart pounding.

“That was…” you began, but your voice broke. You took another step forward. “Theo, that was incredible.”

His eyes met yours, his expression soft but searching. “Thanks,” he murmured. Theo set the guitar aside, standing up so that you were just a foot apart.

The tension between you was thick now, impossible to ignore. For weeks, you’d both danced around whatever this was, but now there was no escaping it.

”You know…,” Theo said softly, taking a step closer. ”Things have been kinda weird between us lately.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, they have.”

“I don’t know why, but…” Theo said, his voice low. ”I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “Me neither.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air felt electric as Theo suddenly took a tentative step closer, his gaze flickering to your lips.

“Can I…?” he began, his voice trailing off.

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips brushing his.

Theo froze for a split second, then melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His lips were soft, warm, and impossibly gentle, and the sound of his breathing mixed with yours, creating a music of its own.

When you finally pulled away, Theo’s forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling through the nervous energy still buzzing between you.

“So,” you teased, your voice still breathless, “guess I should storm into recording sessions more often.”

Theo laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’d be my favorite distraction.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as the two of you stayed close. The guitar still sat on the stool behind him, but the song felt complete now, even without another note being played.

KEEHO - Drenched in Love

The rain began as a soft drizzle, cool against your skin as you walked beside Keeho. The two of you had just left the café, where your usual flow of chatter had been replaced by long, quiet stretches. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt different - charged, somehow.

“Guess we didn’t check the weather again, huh?” Keeho said, his laugh cutting through the sound of raindrops hitting pavement. His dark hair was already damp, strands clinging to his forehead in a way that made your stomach do an unwelcome little flip.

You pulled your jacket tighter, though it did little to keep the rain, or your emotion, at bay. Being with him had always been easy, effortless. But lately, you’d felt something else creeping in, something that made you hyper-aware of how close he was or how his smile lingered when he looked at you.

By the time the rain picked up, the two of you had ducked under the awning of a closed bookstore. It was familiar ground, a place you’d stopped at countless times to joke about bad book titles or dream up absurd stories. This time, though, neither of you seemed to know what to say.

Keeho leaned against the wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Yeah?” You tried to sound casual, but it came out more uncertain than you’d hoped.

“You’ve been…” He paused, his gaze flicking to yours before darting away again. “I don’t know. You’ve been kind of different lately.”

Your heart skipped. Was he guessing at the feelings you’d been struggling to keep hidden? The ones that made your chest ache whenever he smiled at you like you were the only person who mattered?

“What do you mean?” you asked, hoping you sounded more composed than you felt.

Keeho hesitated, one hand lifting to rub the back of his neck, a habit you knew well. “I mean, not in a bad way. Just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

The rain filled the silence that followed, the steady rhythm matching the nervous thrum of your heartbeat. You wanted to say something, to push him to clarify, but fear rooted you in place.

“It’s probably stupid,” Keeho added with a quiet laugh, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before looking away again.

“It’s not stupid,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “Just tell me.”

He turned to face you fully then, and the intensity in his expression made you forget the chill of the rain. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he said, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

Your throat tightened. “Mess what up?”

Keeho opened his mouth as if to answer, but a sudden crack of thunder made you both jump, the sound splitting the air and breaking the tension. You laughed nervously, the momentary distraction easing the tightness in your chest. Keeho’s laughter followed, warm and familiar, and for a second, things felt normal again.

But then his hand brushed against yours - whether by accident or not, you couldn’t tell - and the warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you. He didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

“We should probably find better shelter,” he said, though he made no move to leave.

You nodded, but your feet stayed rooted to the ground. His gaze found yours again, and this time, it didn’t waver. The rain fell harder now, soaking through your jacket and chilling you to the bone, but you hardly noticed.

“Keeho,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer.

The distance between you seemed to vanish in an instant. You could see the rain clinging to his lashes, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

“I-” Your words faltered, caught somewhere between your head and your heart.

Before you could gather the courage to continue, a gust of wind whipped around you, scattering rain in chaotic waves. Keeho laughed, reaching out instinctively to steady you as the storm raged on. His hand wrapped around your arm, and the touch was electric, sending heat coursing through you despite the cold.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you standing there, soaked and shivering but unmoving. The words you wanted to say hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t need to speak them to know they were written all over your face.

So were his.

The rain was relentless now, soaking through every layer of clothing. You and Keeho were still standing there, frozen in a moment that felt like it had been years in the making. His hand lingered on your arm, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill seeping into your skin.

He didn’t let go.

The world around you seemed to blur, the pounding rain and rumbling thunder fading into the background. All you could focus on was him, the way his dark eyes searched yours, like he was trying to find the courage to take the leap you both knew was coming.

“Keeho,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

His name on your lips seemed to break something in him. He took a small step closer, his fingers tightening slightly against your arm. “I… I’ve been wanting to say something,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But I didn’t know if-”

“Me too,” you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, and suddenly the words came easier. “I didn’t want to mess things up either. But… I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this.”

Keeho let out a shaky laugh, a sound of relief and disbelief. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to figure out if you felt the same way.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache. How could you not have seen it? The way he looked at you, the way his hand would linger when he touched your shoulder or brushed against your fingers. It had always been there, just below the surface, waiting for one of you to acknowledge it.

And now there was no going back.

“I guess we’re both pretty bad at this,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

Keeho grinned, his usual confidence creeping back in. “Maybe. But we’re figuring it out, right?’’

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The rain poured down, soaking you both to the bone, but the cold didn’t matter anymore.

Keeho’s hand slid down your arm, his fingers brushing yours before settling on your hand. The touch was tentative, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you took a step closer, your free hand lifting almost instinctively to push the wet strands of hair out of his face. His breath hitched at the contact, and for a heartbeat, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your own pounding pulse.

And then he leaned in.

It was slow at first, as if he was giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. You tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your heart racing as his lips brushed against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, but it was enough to set your world spinning. Keeho’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The rain continued to fall, cold and unrelenting, but all you could feel was the heat of his touch, the warmth of his lips moving against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your rain-chilled skin. “Was that okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed, the sound breaking through the storm. “More than okay.”

Keeho smiled then, the kind of smile that made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered. “Good,” he said. “Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

You didn’t know what would happen next, but in that moment, you didn’t care. The storm could rage on around you, but all that mattered was that you were here, together, no longer hiding what you both felt.

And as Keeho pulled you back into another kiss, you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

JIUNG - Before You Go

The styling room was unusually quiet, the hum of activity that normally filled the space replaced by the soft rustle of make-up supplies being packed into your suitcase. You moved systematic, putting the powder brushes into a small etui and tucking it into the case. The air carried a bittersweet tension; it was strange to think that tonight would be the last time you’d close this door behind you.

Working as P1Harmony’s stylist had been more than just a job. You had shared laughter during fittings, offered comfort during stressful shoots, and your heart ached, not just for the job you loved but for the unspoken feelings you had buried deep inside for Jiung.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your feelings for him started to grow, but over time, his subtle smiles and quiet moments with you had become the highlight of your day. Of course, those feelings could never be acted upon. Being a stylist for an idol group meant following unspoken rules, and dating an idol was taboo.

It wasn’t easy to walk away, but this job could no longer sustain the financial pressures you faced. The offer from another music label was too good to pass up, even if it meant leaving behind the people you had grown to care for deeply.

You sighed, brushing aside the wave of emotion that threatened to consume you. “Just a few more things,” you whispered to yourself, trying to keep the ache in your chest at bay.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Startled, you turned to see Jiung standing in the doorway, his dark eyes scanning the room before locking onto you. He was dressed casually, a black hoodie pulled over his head, but the way he stood there made your heart race.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Jiung,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “I didn’t expect-”

“I.. I wanted to see you one last time,” he interrupted, his gaze never wavering. “Before you leave.” His words hung in the air.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The intensity of his presence in the quiet room made it hard to breathe.

You forced a smile. “You’ll be fine without me. You’ve got a great team-”

“Don’t say that,” Jiung interrupted, his voice trembling slightly. He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “Do you really have to go?”

His question caught you off guard. “Jiung, it’s not that I want to leave,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze. “I just… need something different. I need to pay off some debts, and-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But… if it's about the money, I will talk to our boss. I'm sure they are willing to match your new offer. You don't have to leave."

You shook your head, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "It's not just the money. I thought maybe it was time for something new, even if it hurts to leave."

Jiung frowned, his brows knitting together. "But you love working with us, right?"

"Of course, I do," you said, your chest tightening. "It's not an easy decision."

“Please don’t go,” Jiung said, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle not seeing you anymore.

His words struck a chord deep inside you. The thought of leaving P1Harmony, of leaving Jiung, had been tearing you apart. But you had convinced yourself there was no other option. Now, standing here in the intimate stillness of the styling room, his plea cracked the walls you had built around your emotions.

"Jiung, what are you saying?" You whispered, barely trusting your voice.

He took another step closer, reaching out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping around your hand. His touch was warm and grounding, sending a jolt through your body.

Jiung took a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. "I should've said this sooner, but l didn't know how. I was scared. Scared of what it could mean for me... for us. But now, with you leaving, I can't keep it in anymore."

Your heart was beating fast in your chest as he hesitated, searching for the right words.

"I like you," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. "No, I- I think I've fallen for you. I don't know when it started, but every time I see you, I feel... I feel something I can't ignore. And now, knowing you won't be here anymore, it's killing me. I had to tell you, even if it's too late."

The world seemed to stop. Jiung’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Jiung - the person you had been secretly pining for - felt the same way about you?

“Say something,” he urged, his voice cracking.

"Jiung," you said, your voice barely audible. "I... l feel the same way."

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope replacing the nervousness on his face. "You do?"

You nodded, a smile breaking through despite the tears threatening to spill. "I've liked you for so long, but I thought it was impossible. I thought you'd never feel the same."

He let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him. "I should've told you sooner."

Before you could reply, he closed the distance between the both of you, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of emotions you had both kept buried for far too long.

The kiss deepened, and you felt a thousand butterflies take flight in your chest. Jiung’s hands gently cupped your face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. You were both breathing hard, your emotions tangled in a beautiful mess.

“Please stay,” Jiung said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

You hesitated. “Jiung… this is risky. What if someone finds out?”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I care about you. And I can’t let you leave without trying.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I didn’t want to leave in the first place. But I thought it was better this way. I thought… I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Jiung smiled softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’ve felt this way for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you. But now that I have, I can’t let you go without a fight.”

His words melted the last of your doubts. “Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?” Jiung asked, his eyes lighting up with hope.

You nodded. “I’ll stay. But we have to be careful.”

A relieved laugh escaped his lips, and he pulled you into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you for staying.”

As he held you close, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, the future felt bright, even if it was uncertain. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

© sweetmisery - please do not repost my works! ♡

[hyunjiiniw]

*ੈ✩ (현진)

FLOWERS?

after your ex cheated on you and you cried to your friend hyunjin,there were flowers at your door when you hang up.

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✩ friend!hyunjin fem!reader ONESHOT,open-ending,just friends,cute,comforting,fluff,teasing and confessing.

✩ hyunjiniw’s note decided to not put a label on what they finally ended up to be or will be,it’s all up to your imagination considering it’s oneshot,i got mad at myself too when i wrote this and let it end like that,not doing a closed-ending,but i hope you’ll enjoy!

✩ happy reading to you <3

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the moment my phone slipped from my trembling hands, i crumbled onto my bed. the weight of my chest felt unbearable, as though every ounce of air had been sucked from the room.

my cheeks were streaked with tears, and my throat was raw from sobbing.

i couldn't believe it.

i’ve seen the proof-clear, undeniable proof. messages i was never supposed to see. pictures i couldn't unsee. my boyfriend of two years had cheated on me.

and now, all i felt was hollow.

the first person i thought to call wasn't my family or even my closest girl friend. it was hyunjin.

hyunjin, who'd been my friend since high school. hyunjin, who always had a way of making me feel seen. hyunjin, who i’d once sworn to myself that i’d never fall for. i couldn't ruin what i had with him, no matter how many times my heart betrayed me.

i hadn't told him about the cheating yet,i only managed to choke out the words "i need you." and, like always, hyunjin came through.

the screen lit up, signaling his incoming call. i swiped to answer, my voice barely above a whisper.

"hey," he said gently. "talk to me. what's going on?"

my voice cracked on the first word. "he-" i sucked in a shaky breath. "he cheated on me,hyun. i saw the messages. the pictures. it’s over."

silence.

not the awkward kind, but the kind that felt heavy, like he was trying to process what i’d just told him.

"y/n," he said softly, and his voice broke something in me. "i’m so sorry."

the sincerity in his tone undid me. i started crying again, the sobs shaking my entire body.

"i don't get it," i hiccupped. "was i not enough? was i... too much? how could he do this to me,hyun? after everything—after everything—“

"hey, no," he interrupted, his voice firm but still comforting. "don't do that. don't you dare blame yourself for his garbage decisions. you're incredible,y/n. if he couldn't see that, it's his loss."

i sniffled, trying to catch my breath. "it doesn't feel like his loss. it feels like mine."

"you haven't lost anything," hyunjin said, and the conviction in his words made me pause. "if anything, you've gotten rid of someone who didn't deserve you. and now, you have space for someone who does."

his words felt like a balm on my wounded heart, but the ache still lingered. "you really think so?"

"i know so," he said without hesitation. "you’re one of the most amazing people i know,y/n. anyone would be lucky to have you."

i tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "you’re just saying that because you're my friend."

"no,i’m saying it because it's true."

i didn't know what to say to that, so i let the silence stretch between us. it wasn't uncomfortable-just... quiet.

after a while, hyunjin spoke again, his voice softer this time. "i wish i could be there with you right now."

"me too," i admitted, fresh tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

"tell you what," he said, his tone lightening. "put on your favorite show, grab a blanket, and pretend i’m sitting next to you, making sarcastic comments about everything"

a laugh bubbled up despite myself. "that actually sounds nice."

"good. because you deserve nice things,y/n. don’t forget that, okay?"

"i’ll try," i said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"you’re gonna be okay," he promised. "i’ll check in tomorrow, yeah?"

"yeah," i agreed, feeling the faintest spark of hope.

when i hung up, the weight in my chest felt a little lighter. but the emptiness still lingered.

i hadn't expected much for the rest of the evening-just the quiet comfort of my blankets and the distraction of my favorite show. so,when the doorbell rang not fifteen minutes later, i froze.

cautiously, i made my way to the door, wiping my cheeks to look somewhat presentable. when i opened it, my breath caught in my throat.

sitting on my doorstep was a bouquet of flowers.

not just any flowers.they were my favorites-soft, pastel blooms wrapped in crisp white paper, tied with a delicate ribbon. my hands trembled as i picked them up, noticing the small card tucked inside.

i unfolded it, my heart pounding as i read the familiar, neat handwriting.

"because you deserve beautiful things, even on the ugliest days. -hyunjin"

my knees nearly gave out.

clutching the flowers to my chest, i sank onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. but these weren't tears of sadness. they were something else entirely-gratitude, warmth, something, that felt achingly close to love.

hyunjin had always been there for me. through every heartbreak, every failure, every joy.but this... this was different.

it was a reminder that even in my darkest moments, someone saw me . someone cared enough to remind me of my worth.

i stared at the flowers for what felt like forever, the petals soft and vibrant against my fingertips. the scent was delicate and sweet, wrapping around me like a gentle hug.

for the first time that night, i felt something other than heartbreak.

i felt hope.

[bangtan-junkie]

Dissonance (Part 2) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (f)

Part 1, Part 2

Genre/Tags: coworker!JK, enemies to lovers, smutttttt, slow burn (ish?), ANGST

Word Count: 6799 words

Synopsis:

After being left alone and humiliated on the floor of a dirty bar bathroom by Jungkook, you had to pick yourself up off the ground (literally). You had to get even, embarrass him like he'd done to you. Maybe you were mean to him before, but you were about to become a nightmare to humble this man. Unfortunately for you, your anger was short sighted, while Jungkook's wasn't. So you never predicted how your plans might backfire on you...

Note:

it's finally fucking here omg. ik it's super late but i'm finally decently satisfied with this. i'm looking forward to writing part 3 bc that's where the tension finally breaks and y'all aren't even ready for the revenge y/n gets lol. i hope y'all enjoy this and it lives up to part 1! i'd love to know your thoughts, if you're still pissed with jk lol, and any suggestions or requests are always welcome! chatting with you guys is my fav part <3

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Dread consumed your senses from the moment you woke up. The weekend had passed, but your chest still burned with rage at the thought of having to see Jungkook again. You hadn't even noticed the time go by over the last two days, too busy seething in your own anger. If you hated Jungkook before, you loathed him now. You forced composure as you got dressed for work. Jungkook already had the upper hand when he'd left you in the bar bathroom. He knew that you'd seen him with the girl afterwards too. You couldn't even think about whether he'd went home with her that night without being sick. After all that, the last thing you wanted was for him to think he had any kind of effect on you. You were going to go back to work with pride and confidence. At least you wanted to.

When you finally got to work, you made a beeline for your desk, pointedly not looking for Jungkook. As you settled in, one of your coworkers stopped by your desk.

"Oh hey Y/n, you feeling any better?" he asked. Your head whipped up, a gentle voice ripping you away from your resentful thoughts. You looked up at him in confusion, eyes settling on his red hair. "From Friday? You left early because you weren't feeling well?"

"Oh, right," you cleared your throat. Just then, you saw Jungkook's unmistakable figure from the corner of your eye. He was talking to someone but you could feel his eyes boring into you. Your blood began to boil but you forced yourself to stay calm. You refused to indulge him at all. "I'm feeling much better actually, thanks Jimin," you replied, shooting your coworker a sweet smile. Jimin was your acquaintance in the office; someone you could actually stand in that place. He was always kind and helpful which automatically made him better than 70% of the people there. Even though you hung out in the same circles, you never really became close friends. Probably because you were always more focused on how annoying Jungkook was whenever you were out. And you were doing it again. You made conversation to force any thoughts of him out of your mind.

"How does your hair seem more red every time I see you?" you asked with a light-hearted laugh.

"I can't be caught slacking. I put in a lot of work to keep this hair ya know," he smiled back at you.

"I still don't know how you got permission from the boss for that," you gestured to his hair. "I asked before and she shut me down so fast." Jimin laughed at the annoyed expression on your face, finding it endearing.

"I guess I'm just that charming," he shrugged, holding back a chuckle. You couldn't help but snicker. Jimin's jokes weren't that different from Jungkook's, but he wasn't obnoxious about it. Jungkook obviously believed his jokes and thought he was god's gift to the world, which made him insufferable. Jimin, on the other hand, didn't take his jokes too seriously and wasn't constantly flirting with anything that moved.

Jungkook, who was barely listening to the person talking to him, had heard your exchange with Jimin. He felt annoyance build in his chest. He knew that if he'd made the same joke, you would've been rolling your eyes and making fun of him. So why were you giggling when Jimin said it? He tried to distract himself by trying to focus on the conversation he was supposed to be having.

A quick chat with Jimin later, you turned back to your desk. You made the mistake of looking up and caught Jungkook's gaze. He looked at you, an indifferent look on his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting; maybe you'd look away in embarrassment, maybe you'd glare at him angrily. But what he didn't expect was the cold, empty look you gave him - like you were looking right through him, like he wasn't even there. His brows furrowed for a quick second, even more annoyed now. You went right back to work.

That's how the next few days went by. Every time Jungkook was remotely in your vicinity, you'd look through him without ever acknowledging him. If he even tried to walk your way, you left the room immediately. At first, Jungkook thought you were just being childish. But when you regained your confidence after a few days, he knew that you weren't through with him just yet. If he thought your insults were bad before, the newfound loathing you had for him made things ten times worse. It started with you amplifying the spite in your voice when you insulted him for his work. You refused to speak with him directly either, so all the insults were being thrown indirectly and in front of your other coworkers. With every second this continued, Jungkook felt his patience running thin. But if you were stubborn, so was he. He kept up your little game by firing back with his usual sarcastic or flirty remarks. Internally, he was burning with fury, just like you wanted him to.

All the animosity and anger eventually came to its boiling point when you crossed the line for the last time. You had walked to your desk that morning to find that your boss had paired you and Jungkook on the next project. Your skin crawled at the idea of having to work with him over the next few weeks. Part of you wondered if Jungkook had something to do with this. Thinking about him getting your boss on board with making you his partner for this big project was only adding to the fire that was spreading through your body. You already hated the way your boss melted around him, but to think that he could manipulate her to this level? After spiraling for a few minutes, you forced yourself to take deep breaths. You had to remind yourself that you were jumping to conclusions and then convince yourself not to march over to Jungkook's desk and give him a piece of your mind. You tried to get back to work, but all you could think about were what reasonable excuses you could make to get out of this situation. The rest of your morning was spent racking your mind. With no luck, you decided to join your coworkers for lunch; hoping that it would give you a distraction.

Unluckily for you, Jungkook walked into the staff lunchroom soon after, only to find you and some of your other coworkers chatting around the coffee machine. Well, they were chatting and you were busy glaring him down from the second he stepped into the room. Your dark eyes peered at him over the rim of your mug as you sipped your coffee. You knew that there was no way in hell he was going to approach you to talk about this. The solution to your problem practically fell into your lap when you zoned back in to the conversation around you. If he really did get the boss to put you on the project with him, you'd make him regret that decision.

"I can't believe you got that huge project Y/n! You're so lucky," one of them said, playfully pouting.

"Talk about lucky," someone else chimed in, "You even get to work with Jungkook. But I guess that isn't so lucky for you." They laughed lightly, poking fun at you. Clearly they hadn't noticed that Jungkook was in the room, listening.

"Everyone here knows how much you hate him, even the boss. Really, what was she thinking pairing you guys up?" They continued to laugh at your misery. But you weren't annoyed. Instead, your mind lit up with the perfect way to get under Jungkook's skin in that moment. The second he saw the way your eyes lit up, he knew he was in for it. Jungkook prided himself on the fact that everyone liked him and thought highly of him. So what better way to get your revenge and get him to kick you off the project than to take that away from him?

"Yeah," you said skeptically, "She's never paired us up before." You continued to stare directly at Jungkook. Your coworkers looked at you with confusion and amusement.

"What changed this time?" Jimin's voice rang through the room as he walked in to join you. He'd already spotted Jungkook in the other corner of the room, and he saw the dark glint in your eyes. It was clear to him that you were up to something. So he helped you out by stirring the pot a little. Jungkook squinted his eyes at you, annoyed at seeing Jimin again and wondering where you were going with this.

"I think Jungkook really wanted this project," you answered. "And it's easy to get whatever you want when you're fucking the boss," you said, not breaking eye contact for a second. Gasps erupted across the circle as they all looked at you in disbelief. Jimin's brows raised and he scoffed, slightly taken aback that you were making that accusation. But you were more focused on Jungkook's reaction. The look on his face was beyond furious. His eyes darkened and you saw the tick in his jaw as he clenched it.

"Wait, you really think so?" one of them asked, everyone already engrossed in the gossip.

"He is a manwhore," you shrugged. Jimin stifled his laugh, not wanting to be too mean to Jungkook. You finally looked away from Jungkook and back at the group. "And he always gets the good projects. Boss doesn't favour anyone else like that." Your coworkers immediately started gossiping amongst themselves, making random connections because what you said made sense. Some of them already started getting riled up, thinking that their opportunities had been snatched by Jungkook through the boss. You obviously didn't know for sure whether Jungkook was sleeping with your boss or not. But you didn't have to. You just had to plant the idea and you knew your coworkers would jump to conclusions.

"You must be really pissed at him," Jimin whispered, leaning back against the counter. You felt Jungkook's eyes glaring daggers at you but you paid him no attention.

"I promise he had it coming," you whispered back, a devious smirk settling on your lips.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," he chuckled. You just shot him a smirk. When you glanced back at Jungkook, you barely caught him walking out the door. You didn't know what you were expecting. Maybe you wanted him to lose his shit in front of everyone, or yank you out of the room with him. So the disappointment you felt only annoyed you more. By the time you finished your lunch and made your way back to your desk, you already began hearing whispers about Jungkook and your boss. For a moment, you wondered if this was crossing the line. Definitely. But so was getting you to blow him and ditching you in that bathroom. Now you're even. You couldn't help but smile, knowing that he must be seething about the rumours.

A couple hours later, you were being called to your boss' office to discuss the new project she'd assigned you and Jungkook. You reluctantly grabbed your things and made your way there. You couldn't keep in your scoff when you saw Jungkook already there, making your boss giggle about god knows what. Your boss cleared her throat as she noticed you in the doorway, peeling herself off her desk from how far she was leaning forward towards Jungkook. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Way to be subtle.

"Y/n," she announced, "Come, sit down." You forced a smile as you sat down in the chair next to Jungkook. He didn't say anything to you, didn't even bother looking at you. Just being in his proximity was pissing you off, especially since he had nothing to say to you. Obviously he couldn't say anything in front of the boss, but you wanted to see that you'd made him just as angry as he'd made you. Maybe all this rage was clouding your mind and judgement...but who cares?

You pulled out your pen and began taking notes as she started talking about the project. Despite hating working with Jungkook, you weren't going to let that ruin your work on this project. You rolled your eyes when you saw that he wasn't taking notes at all. Of course. As your boss began wrapping up the conversation, you gathered your things again, getting up to leave.

"Listen you two," she started, her tone changing. You raised your brows and sat down, curious what she had to say. "I know you don't like working together, but this is an important project. So please, put your feelings aside and work on this together." You scoffed, forgetting to keep your composure. That's when Jungkook finally looked at you. His eyes were fiery but he looked vaguely amused that you had the courage to scoff at the boss. Your boss was also looking at you expectantly, waiting for an explanation. That was all you needed to decide that maybe you weren't even with him just yet.

"Sorry, but it's not about feelings. Our work ethics don't match. I'd rather work on this alone," you said, straightening your back as you felt like you were in the spotlight. Your boss didn't look too happy.

"This isn't a one person project Y/n," she pointed out.

"I know, but it would honestly be easier to do the work myself instead of having to chase him around, begging him to get anything done." The amusement quickly disappeared from Jungkook's face.

"Excuse me?" he finally spoke. You ignored him.

"Maybe we can switch him out for someone who's actually focused on their work instead of flirting," you boldly stated. Your boss scoffed in disbelief.

"What is your problem? Do you think I want to work with you?" Jungkook spat, just about done with your shit. He shifted in his chair to face you, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to see the whites of his knuckles. Oh now he had something to say.

"You're lucky to be working on this with me. Or else this project would've gone to shit," you retorted with an equal amount of spite.

"There's a reason I'm on this project Y/n. Because I'm good at my job. So if you're letting your personal feelings affect your professionalism, you need to get a grip." His words stung but you refused to accept that there was some truth to them. He was giving you a taste of your own medicine; humiliating you in front of your boss like you were doing to him. All your self control and common sense went out the window when you felt that embarrassment.

"Yeah, that's why you're on this project," you said sarcastically, referring to the rumour you'd started a few short hours ago. You could practically see his nostrils flare as he willed himself to keep his mouth shut.

"You're out of line Y/n," your boss jumped in. She hadn't heard the rumours yet, but she could clearly see that Jungkook didn't like the implications of what you had said. "I don't care whether you two like each other or not. You will put aside...whatever this is...and work together on this, and that's final," she said firmly. Irritation coursed through you, seeing her take Jungkook's side yet again.

"Yes ma'am," you barely grit through your teeth. You'd be darned if you got fired over Jungkook. You quickly stood up and left, rushing to the file room for a moment to cool down. It was the only place you could get some silence - no one ever really stepped into the filing room because most of your work was stored digitally anyways. You pressed your back to one of the metal cabinets, sliding down to crouch as the door slowly shut. You took some deep breaths to calm down. If you went back out there now, you would rip someone's head off. How did Jungkook have the audacity to continue being a dick to you? You knew you'd without a doubt crossed the line back there, but despite that, you didn't feel even with him yet. After a few moments of dragging your mind away from these thoughts, you took one last deep breath and stood back up. You straightened your skirt and fixed your hair. Since you were already there, you decided to grab some files you needed for the project before going back out there. You turned around, pulling a drawer open and digging through the files before you found them. Just as you pulled them out, you heard the door open behind you. You already knew who it was, getting a waft of his cologne. Your heart already began beating faster, not knowing what to anticipate. There was a beat of silence as the door slowly shut.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jungkook grit through his teeth, trying to keep his voice down. You didn't bother turning around or replying to him. Any semblance of self control he had left snapped when you didn't even acknowledge him. With three quick strides, he was right behind you, pressing you face flat against the cabinets. He yanked one of your hands behind your back, making you drop your files. You yelped as his entire body caged you in, slight panic rising in your chest.

"You don't get to ignore me now," he snapped, voice low. "You haven't shut the fuck up for the last few days, don't start now." He yanked your arm down further so he could hold your wrist with one hand. You groaned at the ache, but decided against complaining about it. His anger was palpable; you could practically feel it seeping through your skin, igniting your own fury. In the shock of the moment, you'd almost forgotten that Jungkook wasn't the only one with reason to be upset. This was all a consequence of his insanely disrespectful behaviour, and he had the nerve to be mad at you now?

"What is it? What's got you so fucking riled up, hmm?" He sounded bewildered, gritting the words through his teeth. The more he pressed against you, the harder it got to ignore the heat building in you. An ugly satisfaction was creeping through you seeing the way you'd managed to get under his skin. This was what you wanted; to see that you'd affected him.

"Didn't get enough cock last time? That it?" he growled, bending down next to your ear. His words pierced right through you, as if he knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Fuck you," you spat before you could compose yourself. You strained in his hold, your arm coming up to elbow him in the ribs. To your dismay, Jungkook predicted your move and held you tighter, keeping you still.

"I thought it'd be enough to keep you satiated for at least a week. But you're just a cock hungry whore hm? " he taunted, his lips grazing your ear and sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "I should've fucked your throat a little harder. Wouldn't be able to lie about me to everyone - including our boss - then, would you?" Despite the bitterness in his voice, your body reacted to his words. Your mind was scolding itself for the rush of arousal that coursed through you. How was he still affecting you like this?

You shook your head clear. No. He wasn't going to have his way this time.

"Lie? I haven't lied about anything," you replied with a snarky tone. Jungkook chuckled in disbelief. He quickly flipped you around so you were forced to face him. You didn't hesitate to meet his ravenous gaze with your own.

"No? So you really think I'm sleeping with the boss?" he asked, tone getting serious. You shrugged nonchalantly, annoying him more.

"You'll fuck anything that moves," you jabbed. "At least fucking the boss has some real benefits unlike the girl from the bar. Maybe she'd even give you a raise if you could satisfy her properly." Jungkook couldn't hide the disgust that flared across his features; insulted that you thought so little of him. The urge to shut you up was growing stronger by the second, burning through his insides. You were going to drive him insane.

"Watch yourself," he warned, the words coming out dark and gravelly. But the surge of excitement that you felt, knowing that you had managed to provoke him, was addicting. You wanted more.

"If it was anyone else, I'd be all for it. Get that bag, you know?" you said with indifference. "But you? I thought the boss had better taste. Her bar must be in hell." That was enough for Jungkook. Before you even had a second to process what was happening, one of his hands was wrapped around your neck. His fingers dug into the flesh, limiting your breath in the most delicious way.

"You didn't seem to think so when you were begging me to touch you - to fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom," he growled, stepping closer, face inches from yours.

"Yeah, obviously I expected too much," you sneered. "You don't know how to please anyone but yourself. Boss must be a real masochist to keep going back to you. Poor thing," you tutted, knowing you'd practically nailed the head in your own coffin before you'd even finished your thought. Jungkook's face contorted in a snarl as his grip tightened around your throat. You gasped, the dark swirl in your core intensifying.

"Maybe I should talk to her," you patronized, chasing the high from pissing him off. "I can recommend someone who can actually make her feel good - get her off. A man. Not a selfish boy," you emphasized. "Think she'll like me better than you after that?" With that, his other hand was pressed firmly against your mouth, effectively shutting you up. You grunted at the sheer pressure of his hold, now struggling to breathe.

"You just don't shut up, do you?" he spat. The look in his eyes was nearly feral; like he was going to eat you alive. His ego took a hit to your words, even though he knew you didn't actually believe everything you'd said. Still, you seemed to be stuck on his 'selfishness'. It infuriated him that you didn't understand why he wasn't giving you what you wanted, but he'd had enough of you running your mouth. If you'd forgotten how easily he made you melt under his touch, he'd just have to remind you. And make sure you never forgot again.

With each passing second of silent seething, you thought he might actually choke you out. But then he let go of you. You gasped for air, coughing as you caught your breath. Just as you were about to shoot him the dirtiest look you could muster, Jungkook sank to his knees. The snarky remark on your tongue vanished as you watched him kneel in front of you, looking up at you with a carnivorous gaze. Lust consumed your senses as he wordlessly loosened his tie, tugging at the collar of his shirt. You'd think that seeing him on his knees would make you feel more powerful in the situation. But the hunger in his eyes made it clear that he was still very much in control.

Simply put: Jungkook, in a suit and on his knees, was enough to wipe away your last bit of common sense.

"This is what you want, right?" he asked, his hands slipping under your skirt. You felt paralyzed, your breath caught in your throat. His hands moved up your thighs, slowly dragging your skirt up with them. "You wanna cum, yeah?" You were genuinely struggling to form any thoughts, your senses heightened.

"Want me to make you cum?" A strangled groan bubbled in your throat at his tone. He'd barely done a thing and your breathing was already heavy. So much for your resolve. As your skirt bunched above your hips, you suddenly became hyper aware of your situation. You were still at work, in a file room, door unlocked.

"Someone could walk in," you gasped, trying to convince yourself that you didn't want this. He ignored you, trailing his fingers down your hips and legs instead. "We've already been gone for a while. What if someone comes looking?" You desperately tried to focus your wandering mind.

"I guess I should hurry then," he sneered, shooting you a glare. Then his fingers were sliding between your legs, making you close your eyes and sigh as they eased the ache in your clit. By that point you were too far gone to even feel embarrassed about having soaked through your panties. Jungkook hissed as your slick coated his digits. "I put the bar in hell, but still, you get so wet for me," he snapped, adding more pressure. For the first time all day, you had nothing to quip back with. Your sweet silence was like music to his ears. Mindful of the time, Jungkook hooked his fingers in your underwear and pulled them down your legs. You knew there was no going back as you stepped out of them. Your knees felt weak as you watched him hastily shove them in his pocket. But before you could ask what he was planning on doing with them, he hooked a hand under your thigh, lifting your leg up and to the side. With your legs spread and your pussy staring him in the face, Jungkook was struggling to control himself. He wanted to tease you - make you beg and plead - but he didn't. Fuck. He couldn't; not when he felt like he'd lose his sanity if he didn't taste you right away.

Without wasting another second, his lips were pressed to you, the velvety heat of his mouth engulfing you as his tongue licked at your wetness. Your mouth was left agape as your hands buried into his hair, using the locks to keep yourself tethered. Jungkook groaned into your heat; he felt like he was getting drunk off of you. His fingers dug into your thighs as he hungrily lapped at your pussy. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a drawn out moan as his lips wrapped around your clit, creating the perfect amount of suction. You would've thought he was starved seeing the vigor with which he ate you out. He didn't stop, didn't pull away for a single breath - too consumed with the taste of you on his tongue. You were embarrassingly close already, struggling to contain your moans and whimpers. You bit your lip, trying to hold them in, but another particular harsh lick to your clit had you groaning Jungkook's name. Seeing you unravel so quickly only fueled Jungkook's appetite; the sound of his name on your lips going straight to his aching cock. All it took was him groaning into your cunt after that to send you over the edge. Your fingers yanked at his hair, desperately pulling him closer as you felt the white heat build up.

"Jungkook, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," you cursed, voice whiny as you tried to keep quiet. "Gonna cum," you moaned right as you crashed over the edge. Jungkook felt you tense in his hold as you came on his tongue. He diligently lapped at your slit, sure to pay attention to your clit as well to help you ride out your orgasm. He slowed down as you came down from your high. Naturally, your legs tried to close together once his tongue became overstimulating. But Jungkook's hold was firm, keeping your legs apart. You tried to catch your breath, mind reeling from the mix of pleasure and pain flooding your senses.

"Jungkook... wait," is all you managed to get out. He ignored you again, picking up his pace despite your cringing.

"So fucking good," he growled against you, like he hated admitting it to himself. It felt weird hearing him compliment you after all the bickering and degrading earlier. Yet you couldn't deny that it boosted your ego seeing him so fucked out and angry. He pushed you further up against the cabinets, giving himself better access to you and delving his tongue into your dripping hole. And just like that, the sensitivity was replaced with a delicious pleasure once again.

"Please, wait..." you breathlessly pleaded. In contrast to the last orgasm, he was building this one up slowly. Unfortunately for you, that meant it felt twice as intense and you were getting increasingly worried about being caught.

"Thought you wanted to cum, sweetheart," he mocked. "That's why you're being such a bitch, right? Mad that I didn't make you cum last time?" he grit through his teeth. You cursed him under your breath, but were more focused on the feeling of his soft lips against. You finally looked down at him properly, ready to glare at him. But the second you saw his dark eyes staring up at you, the rest of his face buried between your legs, you lost your train of thought entirely. Then you saw his hand sprawled across your lower stomach while his thumb rubbed circles into your clit. Fuck, why was he so hot?

"What if we get caught?" you half-heartedly complained, trying to muffle your whimpers.

"They'll see what a fucking slut you are for me then," he grunted. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he picked up his pace, continuing to plunge his tongue in and out of you. "Keep your hands down," he demanded, pressing harder on your clit. "You're gonna keep moaning like that for me," he hissed, delving right back into the heat of your cunt. In that moment, all you heard was his demanding tone and your hands instinctively went back to his hair without a second thought. You whined, trying to keep your voice down as he slowly built up your pleasure.

"Good," he praised, his words muffled as he continued to eat you out. "I should make you scream, so that everyone knows that you, Y/n, are cumming on my tongue." His words were bitter but they turned you on more. You clearly had some problems. It didn't take very long after that to feel that white heat building up again. Jungkook could tell you were almost there, so he sped up the pace of his fingers and plunged his tongue deeper into you. "Including our boss," he rasped. And then you were cumming again; gripping tightly onto his hair and groaning his name once more.

"There you go," he coaxed, letting you ride his face. You hadn't realized, but at some point, your hips had started moving on their own. Seeing you with your eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open, as you unraveled under his touch, only fueled Jungkook's hunger. When you started coming down, he finally pulled away; giving you a second of reprieve. That was until you looked down to see his blown out, dark eyes staring at you. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices and he looked ravenous. He quickly pulled off his suit jacket, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes never leaving yours. Your chest heaved; partly because you were still catching your breath, and partly because of how fucking hot Jungkook looked in the moment. His hands went right back to your thighs, pulling them apart once more.

"Wait, what're you doing?!" you asked, eyes going wide. "I can't cum again, please," you nearly cried. His fingers dug into your thighs as he watched you plead.

"You can and you will," he said firmly. "You know why?" He slid his fingers between your folds, gathering all the wetness that had pooled. "Because you fucking love my touch," he growled. Your already weak knees felt even weaker.

"You're so desperate for it; for my mouth, my fingers, my cock." Your legs threatened to buckle under you if it weren't for Jungkook's hand holding you up. "So desperate that you're being such a fucking brat," he spat. "Trying to piss me off. So, what? So that I'd finally touch you again?" he mocked. Your senses were overwhelmed and his words settled in a pit in your stomach. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes; whether it was because of his harsh words or the overstimulation of his fingers, you weren't sure. Just as you were about to retort, Jungkook slipped a slender finger into you which slid in smoothly with how wet you were. He let out a throaty groan, quickly slipping another finger into you and curling them upwards. You nearly doubled over as he pressed right into your g-spot.

"See how tuned your body is to me? I've barely done a thing and you're already a mess," he taunted. Seeing how flimsy your legs had gotten, he quickly threw the leg he was holding over his shoulder, getting even closer to you. His name left your lips in a whine, your body torn between pleasure and worry. "Well here, I'm giving you what you want." He punctuated his words by curling his fingers again, making you moan. "You wanna cum? I'll make you cum...over and over again, so you never forget how good I make you feel." And with that, he finally pulled his fingers out before slamming them back into you, setting a hard pace.

Your mind was left blank, so consumed with pleasure that you couldn't even think about staying quiet. Whimpers and moans shamelessly tumbled out of you as he filled you up so delightfully. Jungkook wasn't unaffected either. Feeling how warm and wet you were was driving him up the wall, numbing his own thoughts.

"So wet for me, fuck. My cock would slide right into you with how drenched you are," he thought out loud. He felt you tighten around his fingers, making him snarl and pick up his pace. "Filthy fucking cockslut. I can't wait to feel you tighten around me like that when I'm fucking all this brattiness out of you," he growled, voice low. You could only moan in response.

"Jungkook, s-slow down, please," you begged, knowing that you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Before you knew it, his free hand came down on your pussy, leaving a delicious sting spreading through you. A half yelp-half moan sound came out of you, making Jungkook scoff.

"You're gonna take what I give you, like a good little slut," he grunted. "What do you have to say now Y/n?" he asked, annoyance lacing his voice. "You're so convinced I'm fucking every woman and leaving them unsatisfied. Do you feel satisfied yet?" With his fingers pumping you, grazing your g-spot with every thrust, it was nearly impossible for you to form a coherent thought. When you didn't answer, he gave your pussy another smack, making you hiss.

"Answer me," he demanded, "How do you feel now Y/n?"

"F-feel good," is all you could come up with. Jungkook chuckled at your fucked out state.

"Who's making you feel good sweetheart?"

"You," you moaned, feeling yourself reach your climax again. "Oh my god. Jungkook, please...don't stop. Feels so good, I'm gonna-"

Jungkook's ego inflated as you finally found your words again, saying exactly what he wanted to hear. Hearing you beg for him almost made up for all the shit you'd put him through that day. Almost. You were creaming on his fingers before you could even finish your sentence, moaning his name way louder than you should.

"Now you're finally being a good girl," he praised, continuing to pump his fingers through your orgasm. "Fuck, you're getting so tight. Keep cumming on my fingers like that, yeah?" he groaned, imagining how good you would feel on his cock. Your orgasm was so powerful, you were cumming for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook didn't mind; continuing to work you through it. When it was finally over, your legs gave out. Jungkook quickly caught you as you collapsed, and he placed you down on his discarded jacket on the floor. You closed your eyes and waited for your heart rate to go back to normal. When you opened your eyes after a few moments, Jungkook was still kneeling in front of you. His gaze was trained on your still exposed cunt and he had slipped his soaked fingers into his mouth, tasting you all over again. You worried for second that he still wasn't done with you. He slowly dragged his glazed over eyes to meet your. You gulped at the voracious look on his face, your legs instinctively closing.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was battling with his own insatiable thoughts. He knew he couldn't forget about this, about you, about your pussy after this. As infuriating and insufferable you were, he couldn't deny how good you tasted and felt. And he sure as hell couldn't deny how hard you'd gotten him either. With his hormones surging through him, all he could think about was being inside you, in any way. He saw the look on your face and nearly scoffed. You fucked up his reputation and humiliated him all because you wanted to cum, and now you couldn't take it. He took a deep breath, forcing his thoughts away so he could be rational.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you cum again," he said. You scoffed, easing up a little with his reassurance. "You got what you wanted, right? Now maybe you'll keep your mouth shut." The high of your pleasure was wearing off and the weight of his words were hitting you. Did he really just think you were desperate for him? Had he forgotten how he was shamelessly flirting with that other girl right after leaving you in that bathroom? Reality finally caught up with you, and you realized how vulnerable you'd made yourself to him. If someone came in right now, the only person who'd be humiliated was you. Clearly, all of this was just a game to him; a way to shut you up. Jungkook was toying with you and you were letting him. A similar shame and hurt creeped across your skin as the night he'd left you in the bar bathroom. Part of you had started to feel bad about what you'd done earlier, but if Jungkook really was just using you, then you were still nowhere near even.

Without saying a word, you stood up, pulling your skirt back down. In the process, you remembered that he'd taken your underwear. But you'd have to talk to him to ask for them back, and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to him. You'd just have to clean up later and make it through the day without them. You straightened your clothes, trying to make them look as less wrinkly as possible, avoiding Jungkook's piercing gaze. When you finally felt like you looked presentable, that's when you looked at him. This time it was him that was left a mess. His hair was ruined by all the grabbing and pulling you'd done, and his collar was soaked with your juices. You looked at his jacket that you were not standing on, and sure enough, you'd left a wet spot and now heel marks on it too. It made you feel a little better, knowing that this time he'd have to fix himself up instead of you. You picked up his jacket with the toe of your shoe before kicking it over to him. You shot him a cold look.

"You're an asshole," you stated before walking out the door. Jungkook was left on the floor, even more frustrated. He'd felt more gratified after putting you in your place, but then what was that? You'd obviously enjoyed yourself, so what was the problem now? He groaned loudly. Despite his anger, the bulge in his pants was now aching. Everything about you was infuriating to him, so how did you have this much of an affect on him? His mind wandered back to how you felt in his hands and on his tongue. He growled as he palmed his crotch, slowly taking out his hard cock. He stroked himself harshly with the frustration you'd left him with. He quickly pulled out your panties from his pocket, unable to stop himself. His head rolled back and your name spilled past his lips along with low groans as he brought up the thin fabric to his face.

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Tag List: @myjungkookthighs @bemuas @junecat18 @exortedgoods @jahnaviii @jk97bam @itsmekylabear @blueberriesm @marvelbun @vantelover1306 @runariya @btstrology @diame93 @curse-of-art @minyoongi7016

[notpixl]

HSR Character Drabbles (Ft. The Stellaron Hunters & The IPC)

Had to change the title since like the realizing part is kind of restricting my headcanoning ahh and I want to just-

Your honor just kill me I just wanna write ���

GN!Reader as per usual

And if there was a Title to describe this whole bananza then it’s: What do they do when they’re in love with You?

But it feels… you know what? Just enjoy this mess.

Also! Established Relationships for Topaz and Aventurine. I would’ve gone insane by the time I had something for them that isn’t in the relationship phase…

—————

———

—————

Kafka

She’s “somewhat” clingy

Been like this ever since she’s laid her eyes on you

You just bring a… certain charm that makes her enamored

And this feeling soon devolved into something more…

I wouldn’t say worse but…

It reaches to the point where she cherishes every moment with you

Be it longer hugs

Her hands intertwined with yours at any chance she gets

Or a few more minutes just so she can lay in bed you a little bit longer (the whole one room one bed is orchestrated by her, of course)

You’re just…

Mm…

She just wants to be with you

Every second

Smile for her, will you? Just once? It’ll get her going

Silver Wolf

Holed up in her room

Otome games stacked beside her

Reading text at near light speeds as if it isn’t even difficult

And once she meets her own reflection from the end credits…

She concludes that it isn’t enough

…she wants everything to go right

Not to make an embarrassment of herself

It has her spiraling downwards and staying up for days until you’re told by Kafka to check in on her

Her eyes flutter open

Words of concern spill out of your mouth

She’s not even listening to you

Just…

Wondering if these hands on her shoulders are real or not

Thankfully she does get ahold of her senses and willingly heads to bed

Not before having more… thoughts

Damn can she be just normal for once-

Tip for Boss: Give her a hug

Blade

Sort of good news…?

He’s in love

Bad news?

He’s in love

He goes to such lengths in distancing himself from you, often taking missions that’ll definitely take a month or two to finish…

It’s only when Elio and Kafka step in with these countless missions that he begrudgingly takes in your presence again

Though… some part of him appreciates your company

Even if one day you…

Well…

Let’s just ignore that for a second

All that matters now…

Is that you’re here

Side note: Ruffle his hair at least once or twice a week.

Pretty please.

Firefly

She’ll be fine she says!

Cues to her trying to get a grip of everything the moment you wave at her

Firefly is… a mess to put it at words

Girlfailure if you will

From spacing out just by calling her name or her brain needing a reboot when you hold her hand

Heck, even Kafka and Silverwolf are teasing her about this!

But… she isn’t afraid to improve

Because one day

She’ll have the courage to…

To ask if you’re fine with eating cake rolls with her…

…

Doesn’t that just sound like a date-

Fun fact: She will stay still as a rock if you lay your head on her shoulder. Use this for whatever you want

Aventurine

Countless paper bags scattered across thr living room

You don’t deny these gifts of course it’s just…

You know

You’re not used to this

This amount of…

Appreciation

So, who would’ve thought that one day…

He decides to visit you!

Without warning!

…How did he even know your addre-

Right, your wallet…

That aside he’s just…

Standing there

Processing what’s in front of him right now

“…do you want more?”

“Wh-what?”

“Do you want a mansion instead?”

“Navi, can you get ahold of yourself please-

Call him nicknames. Makes him a tomato.

Topaz

Lap Pillows

And also Numby laying on your tummy

This has been an occasional thing whenever the weekend comes by

There’s also a switch in roles! And it happens quite often during weekdays when she comes home from work

Which lets you pepper her with kisses, leaving her a blushing mess afterwards

She’ll also fake getting sick just so she can be enveloped by your lovey dovey hugs just a bit longer

Though that always ends in her grumpily heading back to work…

“I miss my S/O, Numby…” She says as she closes the front door

Tip: If you kiss her then keep kissing her then make out and head to fourth base did you know she’ll be really needy an

Dr Ratio

After countless research and conducting…

Does he finally come up with a solution

…

A change in attitude

His rather… harsh demeanor would only lead to distancing yourself from him

Which explains itself very well in not having a chance at expressing his feelings for you

…but he’ll do what he can

Big or small

So long as you see him…

The way he sees you

Then writing this Thesis about Love isn’t so bad after all

I.E. Dr. Ratio turns soft for your sake and everyone else’s

…

“What’s this?”

“Tea. I thought you might need it for the gargantuous amount of paperwork.”

“Thanks… are you sure you aren’t possessed?”

“Why the assumption…?”

“You’re smiling.”

…

….

…

Yell at me if I did something bad for anyone in thi sob drabble :(

And that if this gets more than eleven likes I will have to acknowledge the fact that people like this

[savvthedate]

Skz!Smalltown!Au:

Chapter 1 - Screw up

Authors note - sorry if this felt rushed I just wanted to get back on track with the posting, happy late new years, happy late Christmas ❤️

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N?, Do you not understand how much we've had to do to put you in that school?!” You sat there as you barely listened to your dad scream at you without breaking his contact with the long dirt road. You sat in that car for 5 hours getting yelled at every 20 minutes. You didn't mean it, you were desperate.

“Plagiarism, huh out of all the damn things,...” your father had said scoffing as he stopped at thread light

You didn't know how to tell your parents that shit would've hit the fan if you failed that test, it was only a few answers, you didn't know that the school was that strict.

Your parents had worked hard for as long as you knew, trying to get you to be successful so you could take care of them too. You didn't want to disappoint them so you just looked at a few rough questions that's it. In fact if that one guy didn't catch you, you wouldn't be in this situation now.

After your parents found out they pushed you and all your things into the car and that's how you wonded up here

—------

Finally

The car came to a full stop.

You didn't know where you were, but you didn't like it. It wasn't what you were used to. It was a small town, kinda like the ones you'd see in a show about teens in the 80’s, the type of town where everyone knew each other and their business. The stores were close together and decorated, they were cute though, someplace called Hwang florist had painted flowers over the windows the main one being a van Gogh painting you recognized the one with sunflowers, next to the florist was a small little library, and two stores down was ‘Bang convonvience’. It was a small brown quiet store with another story on top of it. Your dad had stopped right in front of the store and told you to wait in the car. Now you are with your mother.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry, but… you have to understand, there's a good school down here for you… you'll love it here, I grew up around here” your mother said as she tried to fake a slight smile.

“We’re moving here?” You asked surprisingly, this was way to far from where you used to live

“I'm so sorry, but with money, we won't be able to move here, but you'll be staying here. Your father just wanted to drop you off at a farther city, but my old friend lives here, so you'll be staying with her”

You were in disbelief. Your parents were just going to give up on you like that? They were going to drop you off with some random woman for cheating? In the heat of the moment you protested in the only way you could, you cried.

No amount of crying stopped your father from pulling you out of the car and driving you off at the entrance of the store. You were devastated, so devastated that your parents asked a store worker to bring in your things and put them upstairs.

Your parents didn't even say goodbye and about time you were finished crying, they were gone.

“I'm so sorry about how we're meeting and all but, I'm glad you're here, im mrs. Bahng” the woman said, she looked young and calming when you looked at her.

You barely managed to choke out a introduction, but she welcomed you regardless and showed you the second floor, where you'd be staying

—------

Later that night, as you lay in bed, sleep refused to come. You didn't eat what was offered. The silence around you was unsettling and unfamiliar, broken only by the occasional sound of footsteps drifting up from the floor below. You thought of your parents and of home, you thought about yourself and that's when you cried again.

Finally, unable to lie still any longer, you sat up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was late, but you decided to go downstairs, hoping maybe a drink from the store might calm you down.

As you quietly walked down the stairs, you saw a figure moving around the shop, stacking items on shelves and turning off lights. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you paused, taking in the scene. The boy looked about your age, with messy dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes as he focused on his work. He wore an old band t-shirt and looked relaxed, humming softly to himself as he went about.

Suddenly, he glanced up and noticed you standing on the bottom step. He blinked, surprised, but then a small, friendly grin crept onto his face.

“You must be the guest, sorry I didn't get to talk to you much,” he said, setting down the box he was holding. “I’m Chris”

“Yeah… i’m Y/N,” you replied weakly, throat still sore, feeling a little self-conscious as you walked closer.

Chris gave a sympathetic nod. “Rough first day, huh?”

You nodded, a bit embarrassed, unsure of how much he knew about the situation. But there was a warmth in his gaze that made you feel a bit more at ease. He seemed to sense the awkwardness and gave a lighthearted shrug, gesturing to the shelves around him.

“Well, this place is as thrilling as it looks. Welcome though. It might not be the most exciting place, but there are some good things here.”

You managed a small smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. His energy was calming, even in the quiet shop. He looked at you for a moment, as though debating something, then gave a slight nod.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, “if you ever need anything, just… you know, let me know. It’s not easy, new place and all.”

You nodded, appreciating the kindness.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

With that, Chris gave you a small bag of chips and a soda and went back to work and you turned and headed back upstairs.

@cuddleycloud1 @skz-2022 @hyuuukais

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Have you ever thought what alternate versions of Killer would be like if they came from other AUs? I've seen an Underlust Killer flying around here and there and Underswap Papyrus being put in the role of Killer somewhat, but what about variants from Underfell, Outertale and elsewhere?

I made a Dancetale Killer once. Gotta redesign and rename him but the shape of his soul was supposed to be a musical note that gradually got more distorted as he switched from one Stage to the next.

I wonder how Color would react to these guys, but it's likely it would be the same treatment as every other Killer he rescues.

It would be fun to imagine though that every process of Color bonding with these guys would be vastly different from the last, and he probably can't dance so Dancetale!Killer would keep fucking tripping him out of misguided spite before any progress is made.

I personally think every Killer gets a different version of Color. It’s still the same Color, just Color trapped in his own special form of a time loop of failure. Again.

Sometimes Color is a lot more closed off and withdrawn, trying to maintain distance, not wanting to get attached again. Trying to maintain that emotional distance they had at the very beginning, wanting to help purely because Killer is someone that needs and wants Color’s help, not because Killer is also someone so important to Color. It wasn’t a good idea to get attached to someone in Killer’s situation at all, was it.

A Color fresh off the heels of a recent lost of his best friend, maybe the current Killer views him as too clingy and is exceedingly dismissive and manipulative of Color; and experiences with this Killer effects Color by the time the next one comes around, tensing up at every touch, as if torn between pulling or pushing away or leaning into the touch.

Being ignored or overlooked or dismissed could send Color reeling from the amount of pain and hurt and anger he feels. Especially with Nightmare whispering in his mind that Killer would never be happy with him anyway, and he should just let himself become nothing more than a faint stain on Killer memory he’ll soon forget, like everyone has.

I think everything with Killer and Nightmare and Color deeply traumatizes Color and the souls. He just refuses to give up on Killer, filled with Perseverance, even if it kills him. Even if Killer kills him. Even if Color kills himself. Much to the souls and Color’s distress and fear and anger.

By the time he manages to convince a Killer to leave, and actually manages to keep this one alive and safe, everything starts coming and rushing forward in memories and emotions and sensations in the form of the souls. Once it finally clicks that he and killer are actually safe now, and that constant ball of worry and stress in colors chest starts to unravel.

Everything Color was able to dissociate from, everything he couldn’t handle that the souls took on, everything comes rushing back at some point. And Color is torn between past and the present, what he desperately wants to have with Killer, and the memories and pain it took to even get here.

And the feeling that none of it should matter anymore, it was years ago, with a different Killer. They’re gone now, he should focus on the one in front of him. The one who seems to want and need him, actually sees him.

All is to say, Color and Dancetale!Killer have definitely had a dance battle and it was very..homoerotic and yet very spiteful.

[nameuserlee]

Sylus — Night of Secrecy 💋❤️

❤️- Screenshots -❤️

❤️ - Kindled scene below the cut + my thoughts/rambling -❤️

.

.

.

Uhm. Wow. Just, wow. My sincere congratulations to Sylus and MC, the kiss card finally came and so did they, hallelujah.

I still can't believe this card is real, though. I'm genuinely dizzy, and I mean that in the best possible way. Because it’s sooo perfect. 10/10. No notes. Would swipe for again in a heartbeat.

I didn’t really know what I wanted their first kiss to look like. But I know that whatever I could’ve imagined wouldn’t have been nearly as good as this was. Now let me yap about this!

MC finally gets to bring Onychinus' leader to her place! After learning he needs a place to crash for 3 days before leaving for “business”, MC very generously offers her apartment as a safe house, both to keep him close and to figure out where he’ll be going since he won’t tell her (for her safety, of course).

And my god, these 3 days of them living together are the cutest, most domestic thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to read.

Shopping for groceries together, getting him his own pair of house slippers, him using (all of) her body wash. Sylus being in her space feels right, despite the smaller doorframes and treacherous bathroom cabinets.

(Grown ass man needs us to blow on his boo-boo. ADORABLE.)

But nevermind how cute this is, the situation is still unusual. Sylus and MC’s worlds kinda clash, despite how well they now get along and how much they care for each other. They are both aware of this, and no matter how fun this little play-pretend is, it’s going to have to end soon.

On their drive to the supermarket, Sylus prompts MC with a question: “When you’re in danger during a mission, do you think of anyone?” And the exchange that follows means a lot to me.

“But after my dirty work is done, I’ll wash my hands before going home.” I need this line tattooed across my forehead.

Sylus can’t leave his life back in the N109 zone, but he also doesn’t want to give up MC. And above all else, he wants to keep her safe. He tries to keep her away from his actual “business” as much as he can (which explains why he refuses to tell her where he’s going after their 3 days together).

If it weren’t for the N109 zone being risky for him to stay in right now and MC very conveniently proposing her place, he definitely would’ve found somewhere else to crash.

And so his best way to protect her while indulging their desire to see each other is to promise to “wash his hands before going home.” Whenever he gets to come back to her, he is not bringing his work to her. He will not allow himself to carelessly “taint” her life with his lifestyle. Very sweet, very thoughtful, very mindful (are we still saying mindful in 2025?) .

I’m gonna fast forward to their last night together/the kindled scene because I fear I could talk about every single line in this card.

Where to even begin.

BEST PROMPT IVE EVER SEEN ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

MC initating the kiss means everything to me. Thinking back to their first meeting, it’s him forcing her to resonate with her. Now, she’s pretty much the one who sets the pace in their relationship, which leads to this beautiful first kiss. It’s just too good.

“You really don’t want me to leave?” NO SIR SHE WANTS TO CLIMB YOU LIKE A TREE SHE WANTS YOU BAD and there’s no more denying it. She’s been worried sick throughout the whole card about him, trying to make the most out of their time together, and now that it’s down to the last hours, she wants it all.

And when things start to get heated, our consent king doesn’t only ask her once, but TWICE if she wants to do it.

And it’s soooo HOT!

In the kindled, he hopes MC hasn’t changed her mind, since she kinda nudges him away right after saying yes. He wants this to happen just as badly, but no matter what he’s always, always going to put her first, and so he checks in again with her.

Is this the bare minimum? Well yes! But I still think it’s worth noting. Especially if, again, we compare to how cold he was with her at the beginning of the relationship and how he was forcing her to go along with what he wanted.

Consent is sexy, asking for confirmation is hot as hell. 12/10 would smash again.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Peace at Last

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader

Word count: 5k+

Part 2

Warning: Violence, blood, masturbation, misogyny and a hint of religious rigidity (the fic is set in the medieval era, what else do you expect?)

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited and poor attempt at medieval-world description

He is swinging.

Muffled sounds, yelling, groaning, hooves, metal....

He is laid somewhere.

Cool cloth on his face, and a faint fragrance he fails to grasp, despite being almost within his reach.

Cool, warm–it burns!

John gasps awake, feeling a particular area of his torso burning.

There are muffled voices around him. He blinks, trying to clear his vision, but it dims again.

The next time John wakes up, he is startled by a jerk. Through his limited vision, he can make out two people struggling on the floor. Grunting, he sits up, despite his arms shaking and his vision unclear, but his eyes manage to focus every now and then. 

—--

You know you should not be visiting Lord John’s chamber at this unholy hour. But the royal healer had given you a vial of essential medicine that you forgot to administer. That is the excuse you have managed to come up with as you near his chamber with a water-filled vial. 

Why would you do that?

You should be leaving for the capital by now.

But the Earl and Duke requested that you stay for the feast, which has most of the residents distracted at the moment. Your steps slow down when you do not see a single guard outside his chamber. 

Something does not feel right.

You rush inside his chamber just in time to find a maid holding a dagger. Before you know it, you pounce on her. She gasps, caught off guard and the weapon drops while the world around you tilts as you crash on the floor with her. 

“Who sent you?” You ask, breathlessly trying to pin her, but she elbows you on your side, making you wheeze.

Perhaps fate truly is yours this night. By pure chance, you manage to hold her ankle as she tries to flee, it earns you a haphazard kick on your chin that could have been a lot worse had you not been holding her ankle. But it makes your teeth sink into your lower lip. You do not even register the metallic tang on your tongue as you pull her down with all the strength you can gather. 

“You are going to be found out and beheaded anyway but—bitch!”

Your attempt to negotiate is met with another hard shove. It makes you cry out and lose your hold on her before she scrambles towards the dagger and raises back on her feet. You follow after her, but she already has the dagger in her hold. She is now attacking a sat-up John, who groans, trying to keep the blade away.

It happens so fast. You are not thinking of the consequences, but you get hold of the first heavy item that you find and swing across her face. It turns out to be an elaborate candle stand—heavy, intricate, now marred with the girl’s blood who has fallen, bleeding on the floor. 

“Are you alright?” You rush to a groaning John whose blood tricks through his palm. The struggle has opened his wound.

“Guards! GUARDS!!”

—-----

There is stillness in the chamber, except for the hushed whispers. The ‘maid’ is dead, and while you recover from the shock of having killed somebody, your mind is flooded with questions.

“This is a grave misstep in our honoured man’s safety and it shall be investigated.” the Earl tries to assure.

“Until then…”

“Until then me and Borachio shall be in this chamber with John,” Conrade speaks up.

“He’s right, we cannot give the snakes another opportunity,” Borachio adds.

“Lord Juan must rest. He has already done so much, gone through—”

“I am well, my Lord. Sleeping had almost cost me my life.” 

Whether it is the herbs mixed with pain or an ambush of emotions, it feels as if his voice has gained a layer of gruffness as he cuts off the Duke

“I would like some peace for now.”

“S-sure, My Lord, the knights shall be guarding your chamber every hour of the day and the night from now on.”

With that, the Earl begins to urge everyone to exit the chamber, leaving behind only his two most trusted friends. You follow them out as well.

“My Lady…”

Your steps cease and for the first time in the night after what has transpired, you look into Don John’s eyes. You are yet to come to terms with the fact that you have indeed killed someone. But his eyes seem to have the most alluring shade of brown, especially under the candlelight. The rest of the people have left, leaving only four of you in the chamber.

“I cannot thank you enough…You have risked your life to save mine. I have no clue how to return this priceless favour.”

You did not save his life for a favour. You were expecting nothing at all, you still are not.

“I expect nothing in return, My Lord. I acted on reflexes and by God’s grace, you are unharmed.

“Seems like I have cheated death too many times now.” His lips curve up in a cynical but faint smile before he nods “You have been exceptionally kind and generous to me. I shall never forget it.”

You try searching for anything other than the pure gratitude and admiration you see in his eyes. You can find nothing else.

“You are our honoured guest, I was doing my duty.” 

He saved me once, I am simply returning the favour

You manage to give an appropriate response despite your mind’s state and with a nod, you greet him good night and exit the chamber. Once outside, you feel like you can finally breathe.

—---

The rest of the two days pass in peace—two days. That is how long Lord John can wait before he insists on riding his horse again, against the royal physician's advice. By now, a letter from the capital has arrived, revealing that the Emperor of Spain has officially extended his support to the Kingdom. George has been captured and taken to the capital, and you deem the King of France no fool.

Peace reigns for now.

The journey back is slower, but at least there is no hovering threat of war. Back in the palace, the wedding preparations have taken full swing. 

“You had me on the edge for whole four days, five days, if we count all.” Maddie is by your side as soon as you enter the palace, while a grand welcome is prepared for the commander, and Lord Juan who volunteered and risked his life in the battle.

“I am well, as you can see. Lord John though…By now you must have heard what has transpired.” 

Maddie nods and squeezes your shoulder “Everybody here speaks of your bravery.”

“I didn’t want—” Your throat closes in as you vacantly stare at the crowd cheering for the men entering the palace gates or horses “ I didn’t want to…”

“Hush, I know, I know. Everybody knows you have the Queen’s support.”

You understand that nothing is permanent here.

“But, I don’t understand, what were you doing there in his chamber at that time? There was a feast, right?”

 Your friend’s question makes your thoughts still for a moment and by pure coincidence, Lord John rides through the gates, the cheerful uproar heightens but his eyes rise to meet yours as you stand along with your friend, waiting from above.

“He’s looking at us,” Maddie whispers.

You dare to think that there’s something akin to a smile in his eyes.

“I know.” 

You reply before dropping your gaze and greeting him with a curtsy, subtle enough not to garner attention, but obvious in your movements for him.

—---

Ever since the battle, every waking moment, the image flashes behind John’s eyes—the man, wearing the Kingdom’s armour attacking him. His blade was crimson, and the helmet protected his identity. He was so close, and yet, due to the brutality of warfare and general chaos, John could not quite catch any sign of identification.

But, does he need to?

“I do not understand, you have been quiet since the attack, don’t you want to find out?” Borachio whispers into his ears as they sit to bear witness to the beheadings—a punishment for treason.

The name of the next rebel baron is announced as soon as the fourth head rolls down to the ground.

“Do not appear distracted, Borachio. This is a very important event.” John’s tone gives away nothing, surprising his friend.

“John—”

“We shall not speak of it now.” His jaw clenches with his words and Borachio is wise enough not to poke further.

Throughout his life, John has been playing a delicate dance with death. First, as a boy, when fortune has been on his side and perhaps death, slightly merciful—why else would he survive then?

But as he grew into a man, he learnt that death always followed him, especially as long as he was in the palace—a glaring threat to the Crown Prince’s claim to the throne. He never released how much the weight of the title of ‘bastard’ held until his first brush with death, the first time his steps faltered and he almost fell into the waiting abyss. 

There have been times when he was ready to embrace death—for so long, John the Bastard deliberately danced on the risky side of death, waiting, just waiting to fall finally and be free. But once he understood the potential he had and the power his sword and mind wielded—the freedom that came with being a bastard—his steps slowed and turned more graceful. He wished to live. Ever since, he has not been dancing with death with open arms, he has been cheating death, bidding his time. 

But Don Juan, the recognised bastard knows that death shall take him when it decides it must. He will live. He will live to rise.

He has always been ambitious, but never truly eyed the throne. It was too much. He hated the court, after all. And yet he is a threat. Every breath he takes is poison to his own so-called family. They fear him and paint him as a villain. John knows he is no noble-hearted hero. But he is not a villain either, not yet at least.

He has been a fool, though. He thought that once the Crown was secured, they would let him be. His mentor has never been wrong, the old man told him. But he should have known better. He had enough.

John’s steely gaze remains fixed on the ongoing beheadings. 

Oh how fragile the human life is, one forceful swing and everything turns into a ‘has been’. No sky cries, no leaf flutters and the world moves as it always has. Great deaths make no difference. Great lives do. 

John’s eyes turn to the Crown Prince, sitting with his brothers.

They feared that a child would bring chaos to their empire, and marked him as an enemy ever since his first breath into this world, while all John has ever done is to avoid conflict. As a boy, he stood no chance against them anyway, and he respected his mother and her choices. But the world he is a part of is not run by kindness. She did not believe in revenge, she did not like brutality. But she is gone now. 

He thought choosing tact, winning the Emperor’s favour could earn him what he deserved, a noble title—he could then retire far away from the court, maybe take a wife—he never wanted the throne, he wanted a regal title, he wished to have many dreamed of, rising from nothing, they could keep the crown. And yet they stabbed him from the back— even when he fought for the Empire’s favour. 

But this will be the last time he allows it. He has had enough.

They always feared that the Empire’s bastard son, the true firstborn would be the cause of their downfall. 

So be it.

John turns his eyes back on the executioner as he swings the weapon, cutting off another head—clean and precise, with crimson all over.

He shall turn all their fears into reality.

John vows to himself, watching the head roll down.

Picking up the previously untouched cup, he gestures to a servant to fill it with wine. 

He shall give them a reason to fear him. They have watered the poison tree for too long, now it bears the fruits, and they must consume it. Must face the consequences of their deeds. 

—------

You do not understand its necessity. Why does your presence matter here? You stand behind the Queen and the King, tense and barely keeping your tears from showing. Every death reminds you of the night.

There was blood on the candlestand. It was heavy, carved with gold, maybe—you don’t remember.  But you remember how you hit the girl with all your strength, bringing it down to the side of her head. There was so much blood—-on the floor, on the side of her disfigured face, from the gash on her head. Her hair was matted with blood, her eyes were cold and open and—

A hand on your elbow makes you flinch. 

“The Queen,” Maddie whispers, nudging you.

You look at the Queen waiting with her cup of wine.

“Forgive me, Your Grace.” With quick, precise movements, you refill her cup. She looks away but gestures for you to bend and come close. You oblige immediately.

“It is important to stay, George has not been beheaded yet. So chin up and watch. Get used to it if you wish to stay in the court and rise.” 

You stiffen and gulp but nod anyway

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The world is no kind place, you know this much and you have witnessed enough to know how brutal the court can be.

Straightening up, you square your shoulders and steel your heart as you watch George being brought for execution. He is given no privilege of any speech before his death. He has not even confessed to his sin, he does not need to. With his baleful eyes, he glares at the Queen and the King. His lips move as he keeps his eyes lacking any fear or remorse until the executioner swings the axe and his head rolls down, joining the rest on the ground.

You let out a slow quivering breath. This is the first time you have witnessed so many executions together. The Queen ordered that you must be present, so here you are, watching headless bodies fall. 

But you know deep down, that if you cannot stand to witness brutality, you will never be able to rise, have a place in the court. Is it not what you want? What have you always wanted?

Your gaze flickers towards Lord John, sitting at a distance, drinking wine while he watches with the nonchalance that you know only comes with a certain proximity to death and bloodshed. Perhaps he has witnessed many.

 Perhaps that is why he is where he is, at the edge of Dukedom. You conclude, looking away. You want power, so you must play safe now. Lord John seems like a dangerous temptation in flesh and bones.

—------

You feel ashamed, but not half as much as you should. Is it not a sin? Touching yourself at the thought of another man? Regardless of the fact that you have no husband or lover, yet. You lay in your bed, finally able to relax. There is nothing to worry about other than the upcoming feast in celebration of victory, a masque shall be hosted as well. As the Lady-in-Waiting, you have the privilege to choose from some of the finest materials to be sewn together. But none shall be finer than the royal family, of course.

Should you not be wondering about the dress? You need to oversee the food arrangements along with the Earl of Casterwood and, of course, make sure that there is plenty of wine incoming.

You do worry about it, you have been, but you as if seamlessly, your thoughts have shifted to the enigmatic Bastard Prince— Lord John. You admit that throughout your years in the court, you have shielded yourself with the Queen’s shadow, being close to her, resisting temptation. Any fool would think you are religious, but you are not, none of them are. But you know that it is impossible without marriage if you have to climb the ranks. You are a woman, after all.

You admit that apart from a brief, fiery affair with a squire around your age, that sizzled down as quickly as it had burst in flames, no man has made your head turn. He was too eager to bury himself between your legs and you could not have done that to yourself. You never intended to marry him anyway. You never allowed him to go beyond your breasts, and he was sloppy even then. A boy. Yes, you were no more than fourteen, but even then you knew you did not want him, you wanted more.

But Lord John has managed to turn your head and keep your gaze. You are afraid to admit that he is, indeed an attractive man and not just objectively—there are so many of them in the court already. But you find him handsome in every way you know attraction works for you. He is the only man you are afraid can disarm and seduce you before you know it and it has kept you on edge, you want to keep your distance. 

In the darkness of the night though, you cannot help but remember him as you saw him at Katherine's. The body tanned to a beautiful bronze—almost golden, and the way his sheen of sweat made him glow under filtering sun rays. His raven hair is always brushed to perfection, but that day, it was tousled so perfectly, strands falling on his forehead, as if fueling the fire that simmers just below the surface of his deep, dark eyes—the perfect brown, under the sun, it was dipped in gold. His nose almost matches his eyes in sharpness, the straight defined line that shapes his handsome face to allure even the most indifferent eyes. But despite the sharpness and subdued fire in his eyes, there is the subtlety of something—maybe the worldly experience, but it almost seems…soft.

Yet, he possesses a body that seems crafted by some divine force. But you know, it is crafted by skill, war and scars. You saw him that day, half-naked, the pants so loose it almost exposed him to your eyes. Something about the deep, straight scar on his stomach makes him twice more attractive. 

You remember the glimpse of his back against the supple, thighs, the way he bent as his hips rocked in rhythm, it was just a glimpse but that was enough to know. Your hand finds comfort between your legs and you grasp your inner thigh, imagining it to be his hand. They are big, you have noticed that too, but even with the fleeting, formal touches, they have been gentle with you. Tonight, you allow yourself the delusion of a fairytale, imagining him to be a loyal, gentle lover, even though you know that it is far from the truth, none of the men from any royal court can be loyal. You can bet from the stories and whispers you have heard, rarely a man is gentle or cares about anything beyond his own pleasure. You envision the loosely hung pants around his lower waist, the strings in his hold as you rub yourself, slow and firm at first, imagining his thumb on your pearl.

 That day, you heard his laughter—honeyed, deep and echoing in that chamber, and his moans that rang with Kathrine’s. There was an elegant sweetness to the raw masculine sounds. You gasp, feeling the pleasure building, remembering the way his body glowed, the way he sauntered towards you, the mirth in his eyes along with the dying heat of pleasure. You imagine his lips on your breasts, his hips along with yours, moving in rhythm as you gasp, biting your lips to suppress the sounds of pleasure as you come undone, your slick covering your fingertips. 

Warmth flushes in your cheeks and the rest of your body when you open your eyes, floating down from the pleasure with laboured breaths, you sigh and stare vacantly at the ceiling, feeling cold and ashamed of touching yourself to the thought of a man whose intentions are still veiled.

For now, Lord John is an enigma you are strangely drawn to, but you have enough confidence in yourself to not make any life-altering mistakes. Folks like you do not get second chances.

—-----

A few days before the great feast when the engagement and the Spanish alliance are to be declared, the King decides to host a grand game to amuse himself and his guests. The Empire’s fleet shall touch the Kingdom’s coasts in a few more nights—until then, the festivities keep on their swing.

“Does it taste better than the last?”

Maddie and you have chosen a table that offers an unrestricted view of the ground only a few feet below.

“I like the tarts more.” You disagree, taking another tart onto your plate.

“Look at that, how the energy has shifted now. People are cheering for the Princess, the king, the Queen. These days have been so tensed, I couldn’t sleep, worrying about you.”

You smile and hold Madeline’s hand across the table. “It’s done now. The Pretender is dead, France would not dare to take a head-on conflict with Spain by our side, and all we need to worry is about our role in a wedding that shall go down in history.”

“By God’s grace, may this be true.” She squeezes your hand and you return the gesture keenly.

She glances at the ongoing sports when something catches her eye. “Look at that stallion. Isn’t it magnificent?”

You follow her gaze to find Lord John riding his infamous stallion, Igor. You have heard whispers about Igor’s speed, power, and rebellious nature. His hooves will kick anyone but Lord John. Under the autumn sun, Lord John rides his beloved jet-black stallion, its mane dancing with the wind. The simple, white and beige attire suits him. He appears regal with a rugged edge, the kind of man they would write and sing ballads about.

You return your gaze to your plate as soon as you realise that you have been staring longer than you should. You have a world before you. A simple mistake can dismantle everything—all you have earned and built. Besides, the Queen is cautious about him, and so are you.

“What? Don’t you find him handsome? The dashing half-brother of the Crown Prince who led a battle against a looming threat and won?”

You let out a chuckle and meet your friend’s gaze “Write a ballad about him.”

Madeline shrugs “I might, you know me. But there has to be a lady love for that. He wins every battle just to return to her. Someone he burns for.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and drink from your cup “Shall we find him a bride then?”

Maddie tilts her head and scoffs “I think he already has a name in mind.”

You scoff and shake your head when she continues to stare at you, “Oh come on, why on earth would you think that?”

“Mhm.” She smirks and takes a sip from her cup as well “It is subtle but keen eyes can never miss,”

“You’re thinking too far Maddie. He is pleasant for the sight and certainly knows how to treat a lady but…there’s nothing more.” 

You clarify, smoothening the non-existent lines on your dress while you try not to focus on your heating cheeks and think about his piercing gaze. You watch as his sword cuts through hanging targets. You never bothered to investigate what they are, but they seem heavy and are constantly moving due to being hanged from the high branches and clean cuts are impressive. Most men there struggle while he makes it seem as easy as cutting butter. 

You scoff and look away. Men and their silly games. The court is the real game. You pretend not to hear how the young girls and women swoon over him, but they try not to be obvious. After all, he is the Bastard Prince, his fortunes are uncertain.

“How much do you think he knows of the court?” You put the question out of whim.

“Looking at where he is, he must be good,” Madeline replies.

“Hm, a man who knows the battlefield and the court…” you trail off, leaning closer before continuing “You think he desires the throne, Maddie?”

Madeline sighs and leans away, resting her back “Who doesn’t?”

There, your answer. The one reason you were looking for is to ground yourself. Don John is not the man you should harbour any feelings for. This response is the water you need to kill the simmering fire.

—----

You find yourself in the chapel on your knees. You have been visiting regularly these days, paying attention, searching for a word, some explanation, assurance.

You did not want to kill that girl, it was a desperate move in the heat of the moment. You know it, God knows this is true but she haunts you, that night haunts you in your dreams. The silence in the chapel is soothing to you, a little place you can hide away from side-eyes, whispers and scoffs.

Your fingers intertwine in a praying position as you wait for an answer—a thought, an explanation, an epiphany? Anything. You are faltering, you know you are. Are your ambitions impossible? Is it a sign that you stop? You have not even begun.

“Show me a sign, Father. Lead me out of this darkness.”

“May the light shine upon us all.” 

You flinch and turn around, only to find Lord John sitting on one of the benches, head slightly bowed, eyes closed and fingers crossed in prayer. But they open in no time and the hypnotic gaze meets yours.

“My Lord?” You raise and greet him.

“Please.” He smiles, and it makes your heart flutter in all the ways you would not want it to. “John will be fine, I don’t mind.” He shifts, making space for you to sit. “Do me the honour, my Lady.”

You want to say that in the traditional sense, you are no lady either. You are safe as long as the Queen has power, or you have her favour. Instead, you smile, slightly confused but walk towards him anyway to sit beside him.

“Forgive me,” He begins after a moment of pause.

“Forgive you? You rode all the way to the battlefield, fought a battle that was not even yours, risked everything—-”

“But you saved my life. And I feel I have not thanked you enough.” He finishes.

The setting sun casts perfect rays over the glass windows, which are painted with intricacies, and some of the light falls on the side of his face. He almost seems…harmless and sweet. But you would not fall for that. You are not one of those sheltered, privileged court maidens, trying to find fairytales in real life like beautiful fools. 

Maybe it’s not their fault. Deep down, you know you do resent them. You are not the most enchanting rosy-cheeked maiden, nor do you have an aristocratic surname to make up for it. You have nothing but your wit and knowledge, and you hold on to them like the lifelines they are. 

“I was doing my duty, My Lord.” 

His smile conveys more than simple politeness, but he turns to look ahead before you can read him.

“Good, because I thought you were repaying the favour. I saved your face that day at Katherine’s and so you saved my life.”

Remembering that day, you had slightly shrugged off the garbs of courtly mannerisms. You had been as direct as you could to him, and perhaps, he had been honest to you.

“You said you want ‘everything’ that day.”

He smiles but keeps his eyes on the alter ahead “I still do.”

“And what does ‘everything’ mean? Don’t you have everything you could possibly ask for?”

“Are you afraid?”

“Of you?” You scoff, though deep down, there might be a seedling of truth to it “No, My Lord.”

“Good, fear hinders growth in this world. So does guilt, and plain kindness. You have come so far, I understand how it must feel, to receive disapproving stares, thinly veiled threats and reminders that you do not belong here. I would know.”

You have been staring at the altar as well, the candles’ steady glow has something hypnotic about it. But his words make you turn to him. You can only imagine the amount of pain he had been put through being a bastard, living right under the same roof as his half-brothers and their mother, a reminder of the Emperor’s infidelity.

“I can only imagine the conflict and pain you might have faced growing up.” You mean it, you cannot possibly fathom his pain.

“There, and the snakes will have you…” He clicks his fingers and turns to you. “...just like that.”

You frown, confused.

“You wish to rise, don’t you? People like us know that we are meant for greater things but we don’t have an easy path.”

You cannot deny that, but choose to respond with silence.

“Whatever happened that night, you did to save my life. I know you feel guilty. But allow me to give you this piece of advice. This will not be the last time your hands have someone else’s blood on them if you make up your mind to rise in court. How do you think Empires are made?”

“I do not wish to rule.”

John raises an eyebrow “Everybody wants to rule the world. It’s only a matter of chance and time.” He turns to meet your gaze

“So your ‘everything’ encompasses a lot.”

His smile is cryptic this time “I have everything I could possibly ask for, you said it yourself, My lady.” There’s a sharpness in his gaze, the simmering fire you had first seen, just below the surface.

“Then I am happy for you.”

“And you, My Lady. Do you have everything you could possibly want? Would you dare to eyes a higher seat? Something more than the court here could offer you?”

You frown, unable to read him this time “I…I don’t think I understand what you suggest my Lord.”

He turns to the alter again “I think you would do excellent in the Spanish court.” 

“As the Princess’ Lady-in-Waiting?”

He is silent for a moment before he makes his intention clear “As my partner. We can empathise with each other and are familiar with the conflicts we face. Besides, you could evade the sorry fate of marrying a fat old man and have all your potential wasted being a nurse.”

“Are you…Are you offering me to be your mistress?”

What else can it be? John is an ambitious man and he would choose a worthy ally through marriage. Despite your best efforts, it stings you as you gulp a lump down your throat. 

“I find you fitting and your company quite pleasing. You have ambition and potential for court politics, while the heart to never judge someone by their birth.”

“You ask me to be your mistress, right at the chapel and try to make it sound like you are taking vows.” You can barely keep your voice from cracking as you raise, struggling to keep your tears from showing. 

Why must it hurt you far deeper than it has to? More than it is supposed to?

“If your sharp and knowing eyes could read even an ounce of me, My Lord, “ you grit out “Then you you would know, I am no whore.”

With that, you give him a courteous bow and march out of the place, no longer trusting your voice or your eyes.

—-----

You manage to hold back till you are back in your room, but as soon as you shut the door, the tears flow. You are not sobbing—-that can be counted as slightly dramatic for your standards. You simply are hurt. 

What were you even thinking?

John is an ambitious man, standing on the edge of everything he has built from the ground, at the very doorstep of the life he probably had envisioned. Dukedom is a surety after his heroic victory at the battle. Of course, he will seek a strong alliance with a powerful family through marriage. 

Why would he choose you? A nobody. Someone with nothing to offer.

He has, royal blood running in his veins after all. Perhaps he considers that he is doing you the honour by offering the position of his mistress.

The thought fills you with anger. Surely, he has never led you on. Whatever silly attraction you have developed for the half-prince is purely your doing, your fault.

But no more of it. You wanted answers, God gave you one. You have something to keep yourself grounded. You must not falter now.

****

[yujeong]

Somehow, I now have 200 followers. I didn't expect this to make me emotional, but it does. Thank you to every single person who follows me. It means a lot ❤️

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…�� With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.