#f: hopeless for the holidays

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 8.7k ❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (new year’s eve party) ❧ genre: fluff, new year’s themed, attorney kun, wedding planner reader (i know next to nothing abt wedding planning, sorry!), aged up kun (he’s like mid/late 30s and reader is implied to also be around that age) ❧ extra info: this is the last of my impromptu series of three (and a half) hallmark-esque fics starring kun for the 2023 holiday season. i've made a mini masterlist here for fun ❧ author’s note: i once again wrote this in like 48 hours and had even less time to proof it bc i wanted to get it out before new year’s so im sorry abt any errors! also a happy early birthday to the loml

“Hopeless for the Holidays?” You snorted, reading the email flyer your friend had just forwarded to you. “You told me you had something fun for us to do for New Year’s.”

“This will be!” She pleaded with you. “It’s a mixer for single professionals who, you know, have no other plans on New Year’s Eve. Like us.”

“Hopeless for the Holidays?” You snorted, reading the email flyer your friend had just forwarded to you. “You told me you had something fun for us to do for New Year’s.”

“This will be!” Eunji pleaded with you. “It’s a mixer for single professionals who, you know, have no other plans on New Year’s Eve. Like us.”

“So, an excuse to get drunk and mack on a stranger at midnight. Did that enough in my twenties. Pass.”

“Nooo, it’s going to be super classy; I swear! It’s happening at the old courthouse downtown. It’s so nice there. The dress code is literally festive black tie—”

“What does that even mean? Is it festive or is it black tie? And how did you even get invited to this?” You read the domain name of the original sender, then zoomed in on the details of flyer to double, triple check. “It’s being held by the Bar Association?”

“Attorneys aren’t that bad,” she replied, clearly miffed.

“Yeah, you aren’t,” you said pointedly. “Former debate bros are.”

“There’s going to be so many mature, serious, single professionals there for you, I promise.”

“It’s literally called Hopeless for the Holidays.”

“So it’s a bit tongue-in-cheek.”

“If its tongue were any more in its cheek, it would bite it off.”

“See? You’re so witty, these guys are going to be falling over themselves trying to have intellectual conversations with you.”

“If a single one calls my job cute, I’m out of there.”

“That’s a yes! Thank you thank you thank you!”

On December 31st, you stepped into the old courthouse downtown with Eunji, out of the freezing cold and into a bright, glamorous venue. The main entry had been converted into a ballroom of sorts for the occasion, all the original marble flooring and walls, and oak and gold detailing preserved. Round, standing cocktail tables had been set up all around, a bar to the back and the side, waiters coming around with hors d’oeuvres, and even a live band set up on the landing of the grand staircase at the back. It was decorated in festive, New Year’s appropriate gold, silver, and black decorations, tinsel, baubles, stars, miscellaneous firework-adjacent shapes.

“Okay… not bad,” you muttered to Eunji as you took it all in.

“Told you it would be classy!” She whispered victoriously to you. Latching onto your arm, she pulled you into the crowd. “Come on!”

She diverted your course towards a table, and you saw a dark-haired man standing there in a neutral grey suit with a red-and-green plaid tie.

“Y/N, you remember my coworker, Kim Doyoung.” Your friend gestured between the two of you.

“Of course, it’s good to see you again, Doyoung.” You greeted the man brightly.

The few lawyer activities that Eunji had dragged you to before—more casual affairs—you had been introduced to many of her coworkers, but Doyoung must have been the only one that fit the criteria for tonight: single and hopeless on New Year’s Eve.

“You too, Y/N.” He nodded to you politely.

You liked Doyoung and all, he was a nice man, but you could already tell from the few times you’d met him before that he was a workaholic. Now, you were aware that most lawyers were, but Doyoung seemed beyond that. Eunji brought you to their firm’s Holiday Party last year, where he was recognized for putting in the most billable hours out of dozens of attorneys—and he was only a junior partner. You doubted he went anywhere but work, the courthouse, and home, where he presumably did even more work.

“Eunji, I’m so glad you’re here, actually,” Doyoung pulled out his phone, opening up his email app. “I was at the office right before I came here and—”

“No, Doyoung.” Eunji snatched his phone from hands, turned it off, and tucked it inside his jacket pocket. “No work. Don’t make any work calls, take any work calls, check your email, none of that.”

“But we’re surrounded by other lawyers.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you can talk about some law stuff, informally. But I want you to actually talk to human people not for the purposes of a file tonight, okay? Sound good?”

“I suppose I can do that for a night.”

“And I want you to find someone to kiss at midnight.”

“What?!”

“That isn’t me or Y/N.”

Doyoung seemed like he was about to pass out. “Eunji, this is very unprofessional—”

“I just said I’m off-limits.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m going to get Eunji and I drinks,” you interrupted their typical bickering.

“Negroni!” She chirped, squeezing your arm before going right back into with her coworker.

With the sounds of their squabbling fading into the din of the crowd, you slowly meandered to the bar on the opposite side of the room. Putting in Eunji’s negroni and your own cocktail order with the bartender, you watched as he got caught by a very insistent older man who clearly thought himself to be very important as he put in what seemed like seven different drink orders as he ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke.

The bartender stopped by you to grab a glass, and you offered, “You can take care of him first, if you need. Seems like he’s in a rush. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go for it.”

And he moved off to do that, you were happy to turn around and people watch for the moment. You’d always known that law was a boys’ club, but this was just… sad. The few women who were here were interspersed, but you were definitely outnumbered at least 10 to 1. That left a lot of the men to group off and chat among themselves. If Eunji didn’t find somebody tonight after dragging you out here, you’d kill her.

A movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you saw three men coming towards you through the crowd on your left, at least one of them already visibly tipsy. You shifted your eyes forward, trying to gauge if you should just abandon your drinks and find Eunji and Doyoung again wherever they ended up.

Then, someone was sliding up to the bar on your right, a pretty, smooth voice, “Hi. Do you have a moment to talk?”

You turned to your right, the voice matched to a rather handsome man, face framed by chestnut brown hair, and lips pulled into a charming, dimpled smile. He wasn’t too close to you that you felt like he was invading your personal space, a polite distance, just near enough so that you knew he was talking to you. Well that, and his piercing, dark eyes focused entirely on you as if there were nothing else he could possibly be looking at in the room. Not unblinking, but not distracted. He was the only man that you’d seen so far who had figured out the festive black-tie dress code, in a traditional tuxedo except in a deep midnight blue color, with several glittering brooches of fine materials on one lapel. Not overdone, and definitely not Christmas, which was a week ago. He already had a drink in his hand, some kind of dark liquor, neat. Whiskey, scotch, or bourbon, presumably.

“Sure.” You offered a small smile in return. “I’m waiting on my drink.”

The man set his drink down on the bar then, and offered his hand that hadn’t been holding it out to you.

“Qian Kun.” He introduced himself. “I haven’t seen you at a Bar Association event before.”

You shook his hand. It was warm. “That’s probably because I’m not a member. I’m a plus-one.”

“Ah, well that makes sense.”

“Y/L/N Y/N, by the way.”

“So what do you do then, Y/N?”

“I’m a wedding planner.”

“Wow, I’ve heard that’s pretty high-stress.” He actually seemed impressed, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair for a moment.

“I’ve heard the same about being an attorney,” you pointed out coyly.

“I don’t have bridezillas or in-laws to deal with on a daily basis.”

“I’ll take talking down a bridezilla over why she can’t have those specific orchids she saw on Pinterest because they won’t survive the two-hour outdoor ceremony and four-hour reception at her summer wedding due to how sensitive to heat they are over having to argue with my whole chest some position that I don’t even believe in just because I’m being paid to.”

“You think trial lawyers are sleazy?” He asked, the corner of his lip quirking up as if he found this amusing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend,” you apologized flatly.

He sipped his drink. “Not all attorneys are trial lawyers, you know.”

“You aren’t?”

“Corporate. General counsel for businesses, contracts, that sort of thing.”

“Paper pusher.”

“You were brought here by a litigator,” he said knowingly.

“How’d you know?”

“Us paper pushers don’t really call each other that.”

“Right. She does insurance defense.” You were interrupted by the bartender finally returning with your two drinks, and you thanked him, opening your clutch for whatever cash was in there to hand him as a tip. Turning back to Kun, feeling the need to clarify something. “I don’t think she’s sleazy, exactly. You know, in criminal proceedings, the defendant is entitled to an attorney, right? And the state provides one if they can’t afford it. I think normal people should have competent representation in civil proceedings, too, just to help navigate the legal system. I think she does something good overall. I just… couldn’t do it myself.”

“A lot of time, it’s not about the facts, or what you believe, it’s about the law. Making the better argument.”

“Yeah, which is kind of what I hate about it.”

“That’s more than fair,” Kun agreed. “So what do you like about wedding planning then?”

“The moment that everything finally comes together, and I get to be the one who delivers the couple’s perfect day to them,” you sighed happily. “Every single meltdown, canceled vendor, whatever, is worth it when I get to see it all come together.”

“You love love?”

“Well, that, and I’ve also been told that I’m a bit of a control freak.”

“Playing to your strengths with your choice of career.”

“I’ve long embraced the control freak,” you declared genuinely. “What do you like about corporate law?”

“I’m not a trial attorney, first of all,” he started, making you chuckle. “And I really like contracts. Reviewing them, drafting them, refining them. I’ve been told I have an eye for detail.”

“Isn’t that a nice way of saying of saying control freak?”

“I suppose it is, yes.”

“And you know why that is, right?” You asked pointedly. “Why you ‘have an eye for detail’ and I’m a ‘control freak?’”

Kun didn’t miss a beat. “Of course. You’re a woman, so the same traits that are desirable in men are things that you get shamed for.”

“Huh.” You hid a pleasantly surprised smile behind your glass as you went to take a sip. So far, he had passed every level on your mental flowchart that you used to quickly weed out men who weren’t worth your time. “So you’re responsible for the Terms and Conditions nobody reads?”

“Possibly.”

“And you’ve definitely heard that one before.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I hadn’t?”

“No,” you shook your head with a smile.

“It was worth a shot.”

You gathered up both of the drinks you’d been given. “It was nice chatting, Kun, but I do have to get this back to my friend before the ice melts and waters down her drink, unfortunately.”

“By all means; I’m grateful for your time that I did get.” He nodded to you graciously. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I hope we’ll talk again later.”

Taking the two drinks back over to the table that Eunji was standing at, she looked at you with wide eyes and a knowing smirk. Doyoung had disappeared at some point, presumably to get on with his assignment from Eunji.

“Your drink, ma’am.” You handed it to her with mock fanfare.

“So who was that?” She asked lightly.

“Hm?”

“The guy you were talking to at the bar for so long.”

“Oh, uhm, Qian Kun? Have you heard of him?”

“No, I haven’t. He say what firm he works for?”

“Didn’t think to ask. But it makes sense you don’t know him, he’s a paper pusher.”

“Ohh… corporate?”

“Yep. General counsel for businesses, contracts. Guy really loves contracts.”

“Oh boring.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste, then took a sip of her drink. “Ack. Y/N, seriously? You let my cocktail get watered down for a contracts guy?”

“I thought I had excused myself before it got watered down, sorry,” you apologized, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “But he wasn’t talking about contracts the whole time I was over there, really. He was asking me about my job.”

You opted to not mention the part of your conversation about trial attorneys such as your friend.

This detail piqued her interest again. “Oh, okay. You didn’t walk out, so I assume he behaved accordingly?”

“He… was nice.” You conceded.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say about a guy!”

“Eunji, hon, I didn’t come out here expecting to find my soulmate, alright?” You patted her shoulder. “A couple free drinks, hanging out with you, chatting with some nice people, and I’ll consider it a success, alright?”

“Why can’t you be open to something?” She sighed.

“I am. If it happens to find me. I’m just not exactly looking for it right now, okay?”

“Fine.”

“How about we worry about you in the meantime, alright? Since you definitely are searching,” you suggested, looking around the large room with intent. “What about those guys over there? By the Christmas tree?”

“God, no.” She coughed and turned her head, very conspicuously covering her face with her hair. “You see the tall one?”

“Yeah, he’s really good-looking.”

“And we’re going to be avoiding him all night. Johnny Suh.”

“Wait, as in—”

“Yeah.”

“—your ex from law school.”

“That one.”

“Well. I definitely get it now.”

“Could you be more obvious that you’re staring, Y/N? Christ.”

You casually moved around the table so that both of your backs were to that group as you continued talking. “How have you been attending like any Bar Association functions then? If you’re like this?”

“He just moved here. I heard rumors but didn’t want to believe it until I saw him with my own two eyes. Which ended up being tonight.”

“Okay, well…” You looked around again, spotting another group at a nearby table. “How about them? The guys that Doyoung is talking to.”

Eunji peered over at where you were looking. “I mean, one of them is Yuta, which, ew. He works in international law at my firm but the other three… yes, sure, yeah. I think I did my clerkship with one of those guys, actually. Let’s go.”

After being introduced by Doyoung to the three men with him—Jungwoo, Sicheng, and Taeil—you found out that Eunji had in fact done her summer clerkship under a federal judge with Jungwoo during law school. As they got to chatting, and the others talked about some recent fascinating court ruling, you slowly sipped on your drink, zoning in and out of conversations. You loved your friend, really, but there was a reason that you had met at yoga and not in law school. Hearing lawyers talk about law was going to make your brain bleed out of your ears. Your thoughts drifted back to Qian Kun, and your eyes briefly flitted around the room, wondering where he had ended up.

“And what do you do, Y/N?” Yuta suddenly yanked you back into the conversation.

“Hm?” You blinked. “Oh, I’m a wedding planner.”

“Cool. Sounds fun.”

You immediately looked over at Eunji, and she flashed you the quickest lift of her eyes in an eye roll that would be imperceptible to anybody else.

“So how’s your mission coming along, Doyoung?” You decided to entertain yourself.

Sicheng and Taeil immediately stopped their conversation to look over, confused.

“I’m talking to people not directly about cases at work.” He looked at you with wide eyes, obviously hoping you wouldn’t divulge the other half of it. “I’ve done it.”

“Okay, and who are you kissing at midnight?”

“Huh?!” Yuta let out a comically bewildered noise.

Doyoung groaned, then pointed an accusatory finger at your friend. “Eunji… ordered me to not work tonight and find somebody to… kiss at midnight…”

You shrugged. “I’m checking in on his progress.”

“Are you offering, Y/N?” Yuta questioned teasingly.

“No,” you snorted. “I’m ineligible. Sorry.”

“You came to a singles event and you’re… not single?” Jungwoo cocked his head.

“I am. I’m just not letting some stranger put their tongue down my throat at midnight because of it.” You finished off your drink. “Sorry.”

“And there’s no way I’d let either of you do anything to my friend,” Eunji grabbed your arm protectively, pointing between Doyoung and Yuta. “I know how you live. And I’m not impressed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Doyoung scoffed.

“Yeah, understandable,” Yuta shrugged.

After a bit more mingling, you and Eunji once again ended up by yourselves at a table. She had her cheek dejectedly in hand, visible pout on her face.

“So? Have you liked anybody so far?” You asked her. “Felt a connection? Seemed like you and Jungwoo were getting along… Or that environmental attorney, uhm, Taeyong?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” she sighed, straightening up. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Come with?”

“I can, or I can get us drinks again. Which do you want?”

“Mm, drinks. Thanks.”

“Of course, hon.”

On your way back to the bar, you spotted a familiar blue suit jacket in the crowd and decided to make a short detour.

“Kun.” You approached, stopping behind him at a table.

The attorney turned around, a wide smile coming to his face as he recognized you. “Y/N, hello again.”

“Yeah, hey,” you beamed. “Mind if I chat with you for a second?”

“Please do.”

“I was on the way to the bar to grab another round for my friend and I while she freshens up, then I saw you,” you explained, settling in to lean beside him at his table. “But she’ll be a while…”

“Lucky me then.” A dimple appeared in his cheek. “And honestly, you might want to hold off on the drinks. They’re going to start bringing out champagne at eleven.”

“What time is it?”

He checked his silver, analog watch. “Ten fifty-four.”

“I think I will hold off, then. Eunji loves champagne. Thanks for the tip.”

“Of course.”

“You here all alone?” You indicated the empty table he was standing at. “I mean, I know it’s a singles event or whatever, but people have at least been talking to friends or colleagues too.”

“I was with some others a few minutes ago, we were celebrating a recent promotion, but they all seemed to have left me.”

“Promotion? Whose?”

“Ah, mine,” he admitted, hand habitually smoothing over the lapels of his suit.

“Congrats. And what have you been promoted to?”

“Senior partner. Non-equity.”

“Celebrating your promotion at an event for lonely singles? Bit sad.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m only here because my friend pressured me.” He nodded towards a dark-haired man in an emerald green velvet jacket, who you had seen darting about the event the whole night. “Ten helped organize it.”

“I was forced here by my friend too, Eunji,” you laughed. “She just about dragged me in kicking and screaming.”

“I didn’t put up that much resistance myself, admittedly,” Kun chuckled.

“Oh? You secretly wanted to come?” You half-joked and half-asked.

“Something like that.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“When Ten was first telling me his plans for the event, I thought, knowing him, it was just a convoluted way to get wasted and make out with a stranger,” he shook his head. “But the promotion sort of put some… things into perspective. And I feel like the New Year always makes me reflect more than others.”

“Why is that? You feel like you reflect on New Year more than other people?”

“My birthday is January 1st.”

“Oh…” You nodded in understanding. “Time marches on.”

“Yes, it does. I get the hit of a New Year and getting older on the same day.”

“I know we just met, but I feel like you’re already sharing something pretty personal, so I’ll ask: How old will you be? At midnight?”

“Thirty-six,” he said it like he was in a confessional, quietly, dipping his head down to looking down at his feet, then straight up at the ceiling, tilting his head back.

“Kun… You know that’s not even half your life, right? Statistically?” You arched an eyebrow.

“I’m aware. I’m not ashamed of my age, really. I’m quite happy to be out of my twenties. But now, about to be closer to forty than thirty… there’s things about my life that twenty-year-old me thought would’ve been quite different than they actually are.”

“Is this connected to your new perspective from your promotion?”

“Yes. A lot of people take their promotion as an incentive to work harder but… I think I’m going to cut back.”

“Does your firm know about this?”

“My new position comes with a certain amount of security.”

“You’re a damn good lawyer, Kun,” you chuckled.

Kun seemed caught off-guard for the first time in your conversation. “Well, I mean, yes, I suppose—”

“You’ve been talking around your point for the past five minutes. Now that you’re at a certain place in your career, you want a family. When you were twenty, you promised yourself you would do it all, career and family, then along the way you slowly started conceding more and more in order to get ahead, and now you’re looking back and realizing you wanted to have more in your life than just work by now. So you let Ten talk you into coming out to this singles mixer hoping that maybe you’d luck into your future spouse in one go.” You poked him on the chest. “Sound about right?”

He raised his gaze from your finger on his dress shirt to your face, a wonder-filled smile on his lips that turned into a knowing smirk as he challenged, “Seems as though you’re… familiar with similar circumstances.”

You took your hand back before giving a casual shrug. “Maybe. How close was I?”

“Scarily accurate. Did my mother put you up to this?”

“No. But, let me guess, she’s been not-so-subtly asking for grandchildren?”

“Only for the past decade.”

“Ouch.”

A waiter then came by carrying a plate of champagne, offering some out. Kun grabbed two flutes off the tray and offered one to you. You accepted it graciously.

“Thank you.” Tilting the golden liquid back and forth contemplatively, you asked, “Do you happen to know if Ten got real champagne or sparkling wine?”

“Whatever real champagne is, he probably did not splurge on it, no,” Kun chuckled.

“Nobody actually knows the difference, I was just curious.” You took a sip. “Good quality wine.”

“What is the difference?”

“Technically, real champagne can only come from the Champagne region of France,” you explained. “Whenever a couple comes in insisting on real champagne, but without the budget for it, I have tell them that they’ve probably never had real champagne in their lives anyway, and their guests will not know the difference between real champagne and a good sparkling wine.”

“Your job must require you to be knowledgeable about a lot of different things, doesn’t it? Wine, flowers, food, logistics.”

“Money, budgeting, color theory, weather, you name it, I probably have to know at least the basics, maybe more.”

Kun’s admiration and interest once again seemed genuine. “And what sort of degree do you get to be a wedding planner? Is there a degree for it? Certification program? I mean, it’s not as linear of a path as being an attorney…”

“There’s some event planning associate and bachelor programs. I have a degree in hospitality, and then mentored under a wedding planner to learn the ropes before going off on my own.”

“So you own your own business?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Wow…” He trailed off, eyes focused on you, beholding you.

You laughed self-consciously. “I don’t think I’ve ever made anybody speechless with that information. You alright, Kun? How much have you had to drink?”

“I’m quite sober, this will only be drink number two.” He lifted the champagne.

“Really?”

“I do need to drive myself home tonight.”

“I’m DD as well. And I’m also past my ��getting shitfaced in public’ days,” you chuckled, lifting your drink to your lips again, looking out over how many of the other partygoers were more than tipsy.

“You’re beautiful, by the way.” Kun’s voice brought your eyes back to him, his eyes twinkling under the lights as he looked at you.

Your skin felt warm, and your heart jumped a bit. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I was thinking about, when I trailed off a moment ago.”

“You didn’t open with that. Earlier, by the bar,” you commented. “Why not?”

“I needed to know if you even wanted to talk to some random man first.”

“But after that.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was walking up to every woman here tonight and telling her that.”

“You’re not?” You teased, the corner of your lip quirking up.

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Well, you’re a paper pusher… so I suppose I can take your word for it.”

“I appreciate that.”

Checking the time on your phone, you then got up on your tiptoes, peering around for Eunji.

“Looking for your friend?” Kun asked.

“Yes, she should’ve been out by now.” You frowned.

“Do you need to go look for her?”

“Let me shoot her a text first. She might just be taking a while fixing her makeup…”

[you: jiji, you fall in? everything okay?]

Thankfully, but much to your surprise, she texted back almost immediately.

[jiji: i’m okkkk! chatting with taeyong from earlier! sorry for leaving you!]

[jiji: GREAT champagne btw 🍾🍾🥂🥂]

[you: that’s fine. you two have fun! call me if you need anything]

“She’s alright,” you chuckled, turning off your phone. “Found a friend. And the champagne.”

“Does that mean you’re free right now then?”

“Why yes, yes it does.”

“Lucky me.” He grinned. “So have you ever been in the old courthouse before this?”

“No, I haven’t. Never been to an event here, and it closed before I was born.”

“Well, we have…” He looked at his watch again. “Fifty-three minutes until midnight. How would you like a personal tour?”

“Can you do that?” You raised an eyebrow. “There’s ropes blocking off the hallways.”

“Ten’s part of the event committee for the Bar Association, and I’m part of the historical committee. We’re in charge of the preservation and restoration of the courthouse. I know which parts we can go in and which ones we can’t. Besides, if we were caught, the person they would report us to would be me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright, sure. Sounds fun.”

“I will have to ask that you leave the champagne. No liquids.”

“Of course.” You nodded, stepping away from your drink.

Kun cordially offered you his elbow, and you took it, well aware that the giddy, warm buzz in your body wasn’t from the few sips of champagne you’d just had. He led you through the crowd, and as you approached the black velvet ropes cordoning off the hallways, he looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then stepped over it. He offered his hand out to you, and you placed yours atop for him to steady you as you also stepped over the rope. You took one more look over your shoulder before you two quickly ducked around the marble column and out of sight.

The darkened hallway you entered was much smaller than the grand foyer you had been in for most of the night. In the dim light being let in through the windows, you could make out the multitude of frames along the walls, sconces clearly meant for oil lamps, and a few pieces of furniture—mainly chairs and tables pushed against the wall.

“This is where the clerk’s office was,” Kun explained. “The door at the end of the hall. But first—”

He stopped at a frame, and with your eyes adjusted to the low light, you could see the art that was in it. It was of the courthouse itself, but a whimsical interpretation, with flying chariots in the sky above it, and mermaids swimming in a river in front of it that certainly had never been there.

“It’s a beautiful etching,” you commented. “Do you know who did it?”

“We think a local artist, but they didn’t sign it,” he sighed, gesturing to the four corners, all blank. “And there’s nothing on the back. It’s something we’ve been working with local art curators and historians to try to track down.”

“That’s… sad.” You couldn’t find a better word. “I mean, it’s incredible that their work survived all these years and is still being seen and people are working to find out who created it… but it’s still sad that their identity was lost in the first place.”

“One of the experts we had look at it believes it’s a first or second state that the artist never intended to actually be the final piece, so that’s why they didn’t sign it.”

“It makes you wonder if they never made the finished piece or if the finished piece didn’t survive.”

“Also makes you imagine that artist all those years ago looking at this and thinking that it wasn’t good enough to put their name on, and now we’re looking at it wishing we knew who made it because we think it’s so beautiful.”

Your eyes scanned over the chariots and puffy clouds and mermaids swimming among the waves, then drifted over to Kun. “What was your undergrad degree in, Kun?”

“History, why?” He looked over at you inquisitively.

“Just curious.” You shrugged. “I know you can do anything before going to law school, so I thought I’d ask.”

“A lot of my peers did Political Science or Criminal Justice, but you don’t actually learn much about the law in those programs like people think you will. Everybody starts on a pretty even playing field when it comes to stuff that’ll be on the tests. But as for practical skills... majors that give you good research, writing, and critical thinking skills were really the best ones to go with. So the humanities majors were honestly running laps around everyone else the first semester or so.”

“You’re on the historical committee, so you just like history, too. Right?”

“Yes, I do.” He nodded, slowly guiding you further down the hallway. “I like knowing how we ended up here. The people that came before us, how they’re still influencing us even today. I think we have a duty to remember them, learn as much as we can, and preserve that knowledge and pass it down. Because I would want somebody to do that for us as well. I know we have cameras, and phones, and can document things so much better now, but that’s probably also what they thought a hundred years ago. But things still get destroyed, and lost, and people pass, and stuff gets forgotten. So I hope we never stop being curious about where we came from.”

“I like that, Kun.” You squeezed his arm. “I really do.”

He smiled almost bashfully, looking down at his feet, then back up as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway, gesturing in. “This is the clerk’s office. We can’t go in since it is very much still pre-restoration and I’m afraid you may get injured.”

“That’s fine, I’ll peer in from here,” you chuckled, looking around from the threshold. There were floorboards haphazardly strewn about, but you could see one main desk, in the same dark oak color as everything else, multitudes of filing cabinets, and several different large, old manual machines that you weren’t quite sure what they did but you were sure there were probably an electric version of most, if not all, at any office building in the city.

“So this is where all the court documents were filed?” You clarified your knowledge that you had picked up from knowing a few attorneys in your life.

“Yes. Court documents were filed, real estate documents, and notary applications. They also did a few other things in this building that weren’t just trials, but weren’t handled by the clerk. I’ll show you in a second.”

Around the corner, Kun showed you where business licenses used to be processed, and where motor vehicle and driver’s licenses were taken care of before they got their own office long before this courthouse closed. In between all of these rooms, there were various pieces of art, painting, photographs, drawings, maps, or historical documents to look at on the walls as well.

The next room was a bit larger, and you were able to actually walk into this one, the first out of all of them. It had higher ceilings and a skylight, but not quite the infrastructure and grandeur to make you think that you were in the courtroom yet.

“The historical committee has been focused on getting this one ready sooner, with some pressure from the event committee. They think it’ll bring some outside business in,” he explained, guiding you towards the front, where there was what looked like a wood countertop of some sort. The windows on the far wall had a funny sort of tint to them, and you realized they were stained glass in various colors. They didn’t depict any specific religious imagery, but they were the only ones you had seen in the entire courthouse, almost giving the impression of a chapel.

“Why is that?” You asked Kun curiously. “Also, why is this the only room with stained glass windows?”

“This was where all the marriages in this jurisdiction were performed for hundreds of years. At least the legal part, the signing of the certificate. The actual wedding ceremonies were obviously up to the couples.” He said, then gestured to the wood countertop. “That’s where the certificate was signed. The stained glass was to emulate a religious setting without directly referencing any one religion. The event committee thinks people will want to hold their actual weddings here.”

You looked around at the room, already thinking about how many people would fit in here, how you would set up a possible wedding ceremony in here.

“So what do you think, wedding planner?” Kun prompted you.

“You want my advice for free?” You teased.

He held his hands up. “I’m humbly making conversation.”

“As a favor for taking me on this lovely tour, I’ll tell you what I think,” you giggled. “It’s pretty small. This area attracts a lot of big money weddings. It might work for a couple who wants an intimate ceremony but a bigger reception, if they can also use the foyer for the reception. Especially couples who aren’t necessarily religious, but don’t want to completely go off-book by not having a church wedding, since it feels similar to a chapel, and a courthouse is still formal like a church. You’ll also attract the kind of couples who are looking for unique venues: old bank vaults, railroad stations, cemeteries, that kind of thing. But again, the size of the room for the ceremony is really going to be a limiting factor for booking.”

Kun looked at you with wide eyes. “You can get married at a cemetery?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, unfazed by that factoid at this point in your life. “Halloween weddings are pretty popular in a certain crowd.”

“I don’t think I’d want to get married on a holiday.” He shook his head. “Christmas, Valentine’s Day, anything. Or one of our birthdays. It’s…”

“Tacky?”

“There we go.”

“I agree. I think the only special date that I can make an exception for would be an anniversary. Anniversary of getting engaged, anniversary of our first date, anniversary of when we met, that kind of thing.”

Kun had the same look in his eyes as when you told him that you owned your own business, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed, and he couldn’t imagine ever looking at anything else for the rest of his life. “What if one of those is on a holiday?”

“Then we’d just have to pick a different date. Can’t be tacky.”

“Oh God, of course not,” Kun chuckled jokingly. “My worst nightmare.”

Still gazing around the non-denominational not-chapel, you were overcome with a feeling of unease, suddenly being overwhelmed with memories that you hadn’t thought of in a very long time. You glanced down at your empty left hand, then wrapped it back around Kun’s arm, looking up at the stained glass windows again.

“I was almost engaged once. In my twenties,” you stated into the stillness.

Kun took this pivot in conversational tone in stride. “And how do you almost get engaged?”

“He had me pick my ring and then… never proposed with it.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

“Mm, could’ve been worse. I could’ve married him,” you laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“Tell me.”

You turned to him still with a grin on your face. “He was a lawyer.”

“What kind?” Kun asked, then immediately followed up with, “Don’t say a trial attorney.”

“Nope.”

“Family law.”

“A wedding planner and a divorce lawyer getting married? That sounds like a pretty savvy business model. Or a really great rom-com.”

“You like rom-coms?”

“I’d call it a guilty pleasure, but I’m at the point in my life where I can’t be ashamed of the things I like.” You confirmed your love of the movie genre. “I just can’t watch any that are about wedding planners.”

“Too inaccurate?”

“Yes! It’s always about falling in love with the best man or brother of the groom or something. I’m way too busy to find my soulmate on the job.”

“So was I right? Family law?”

“Nope.”

“IP. Intellectual property.”

“No.”

“I can keep going, there’s practically infinite areas of civil practice that are non-trial.”

“I’m not the one who turned this into a guessing game!” You guffawed incredulously.

“Wait, was he… a corporate attorney?” He let out a fake gasp. “Do you have a type?”

“And who says I’m attracted to you?” You fired back immediately.

“That’s fair, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Kun laughed, smoothing down his lapels. “So what kind of attorney was he?”

“He wasn’t.”

“Wait—”

“He went to law school, so he’s a lawyer, but he never took the bar in order to practice law, so he’s not an attorney,” you declared victoriously through chuckles, much to Kun’s disbelief.

“I can’t believe you got me with that.”

“Don’t contracts require precise language or something?” You feigned cluelessness, making him snort as he knew that you weren’t that dumb.

“Yeah, they do.” He was shaking his head at himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You really got me with that one, goddamn.”

That was the first time you’d heard him curse all night, you realized, despite the fact that you’d already done so multiple times.

“I do… think you’re attractive, by the way, Kun,” you admitted. “And you’ve been great company tonight. I’ve had a wonderful time on this little impromptu tour.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, attorneys need their egos checked every once in a while. I’m honored to have such a stunning woman checking mine this time.”

“Well, any time you need me to lie to your face and say you’re not one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, I’m there.”

Kun patted down the front of his tuxedo jacket almost self-consciously, a pleased smile coming to his face and both of his dimples making reappearances. “Really? Well…”

“And I haven’t been walking up to every man tonight saying that, by the way.”

He laughed with his whole chest, eyes and nose scrunching up as he leaned forward, hair getting knocked out of place with his sudden movement. You smiled fondly as you watched him laugh so genuinely, so unrestrained, not in the practiced, manicured way as before. You didn’t think that they were necessarily forced laughs earlier in the night, you were sure that he did genuinely think what you said was funny, but he presumably had a laugh for these formal types of scenarios. And you’d been right, as the sort of laughing he was doing now was far different, warm, joyous, mirthful. It made your heart full to know that it was because of you.

As he caught his breath, the thought occurred to you of how much time you’d spent on your tour already.

“What time is it?” You questioned.

He checked his watch once more. “Eleven thirty-five. I should hurry this tour up to get you back in time for the countdown.”

“Lead the way.”

You and Kun slipped back into the main party with five minutes to spare, and grabbed a couple more glasses of champagne off a waiter as he walked by. You looked around to see if you could spot Eunji now that you were on the opposite side of the room as before. Funny enough, you saw Taeyong and his colleagues that you had met earlier, but not your friend.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?” Kun asked.

“I’m sorry, do you mind if we go talk to someone?” You couldn’t shake the feeling of something being off, despite the large screen set up behind the band displaying the timer now at less than four minutes.

“Of course not.”

Pulling Kun through the crowd by the arm, you landed in front of Lee Taeyong out of breath, offering him a wide smile. “Hi, Taeyong. I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Y/N, we met earlier.”

“Of course, yes, you’re… an event planner, right?” He offered you a bright smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” You didn’t have the time to correct him. “My friend Eunji that was with me, have you seen her? Is she with you?”

The man’s features immediately turned confused. “No, she’s not with me. But I have seen her.”

“Oh, good. Where?”

“Over there,” he nodded behind you. “With Johnny.”

You turned around, eyes zeroing in on a corner of the foyer where Eunji was in fact pressed up into Johnny Suh’s side, giggling and laughing, his arm around her shoulders. He looked about as tipsy as she was, pink-cheeked and giggling too.

Looking back to Taeyong, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Taeyong, one more thing: To the best of your knowledge, she’s been with him for the past hour or so?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so.” He nodded. “They look like they’ve been having a, uhm, pretty good time together. Not to be indecent...”

“Cool, thanks.” You walked off, taking Kun with you.

“So what was that about?” Kun questioned.

“Johnny Suh is Eunji’s ex from law school,” you explained the gravity of the situation. “Not a pretty breakup. Or second breakup. Or third breakup. From what I heard, I didn’t know her then.”

“Are we going to do anything?” Kun questioned as you were very clearly not walking over to Eunji and Johnny.

“I only got Eunji two drinks spread across two hours, so unless she has been chugging champagne at superhuman rates for the past hour, she’s probably only had one or two glasses, which with her alcohol tolerance would put her at mildly tipsy,” you responded with a shrug. “I’m not going to let her leave with him. But otherwise… she can deal with her choices in the morning. It would be way more trouble than it’s worth if I went over there and tried to remove her right now.”

“Gotcha.” He nodded.

“Besides…” You looked over at the countdown, which was now at 1:30. “It’s almost midnight.”

Kun tapped the side of his glass, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Y/N, I don’t want to be presumptive. Just being able to enjoy your company tonight has been more than enough—”

“Kun, I would be offended if you didn’t want to kiss me at midnight.”

“I do, I do,” he chuckled, clearly relieved. “I’m just aware that you had your reservations about coming here tonight, and about the entire premise of the event.”

“Well I said I didn’t want to get drunk and mack on a stranger. I’m not drunk, and I wouldn’t exactly call you a stranger. I feel like I know you a little bit.”

“Yes, I feel like I know you as well.”

A bauble nearby refracted the light into Kun’s eye just right and turned it a rich honey brown color, and the crowd around you began chanting the final countdown from ten. You and Kun both set your champagne flutes down on a nearby table, and you happily stepped into his personal space.

On one, you leaned forward to slot your lips with his, the cheers of the crowd fading out to silence. Kun’s mouth was gentle against yours, even as you curled your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck, resting your other hand on his lapel, fingers mindlessly messing with his brooches. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You squeaked into his mouth as that arm around your waist was suddenly used as leverage to dip you, the other supporting your back. You laughed against his lips as you wrapped your entire arm around his neck instead of just one hand, before kissing him again.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Happy New Year, Kun,” you stole another kiss. “And, Happy Birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.”

When he pulled you back up to stand on your own two feet, you were still grinning like a madwoman, and stayed pressed against his side. “I have to say… I’ve never been dipped before.”

“Seriously?” Kun seemed dumbfounded.

“Seriously.”

“Every man in your life has been dropping the ball, Y/N. Absolutely unacceptable that you hadn’t been dipped before that.”

“I’ll keep that it mind,” you giggled. “Find a guy who’ll dip me when he kisses me more often.”

“Y/N…” He sighed taking both of your hands in his.

“Yes, Kun, I would love to see you again. Specifically, to go on a date.”

“Wedding planner and a mind reader.”

You laughed, cupping his cheek to kiss him again, letting him slowly, tenderly move his mouth against yours. Just as he went to deepen the kiss, you heard a throat get cleared much too close for it to be coincidental, and you damn near jumped out of your skin.

Breaking the kiss, you dropped your hand down to his shoulder and turned towards the source. Eunji was standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised. Except she wasn’t alone, as Johnny Suh towered behind her.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about getting wasted and letting a stranger stick their tongue down your throat?” Eunji cocked her head to the side, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Kun.

“I’m sorry, and what were you saying about Johnny Suh?” You snorted, pointing to the man with her.

Johnny looked down at her, surprised. “Yeah, what were you saying about Johnny Suh?”

“Nothing you didn’t deserve. Good or bad,” Eunji replied dismissively.

“Okay, that’s probably fair.”

“Anyway, I think it’s JiJi and I’s bedtime, so, goodnight, guys.” You took Eunji’s arm and backed away from both Johnny and Kun. Eunji went willingly on both hers and Johnny’s parts, which you were relieved for.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Kun immediately offered.

“We’ll walk you to your car,” Johnny tacked on, flashing you a million-dollar smile that you were sure had done a lot for him in life.

And so you and Eunji headed out, Kun and Johnny on either side of you. As you were heading for the front doors, you saw a familiar face though, and just had to stop.

“Hey, Doyoung!” You called out to him. “How’d your mission go?”

He stopped, and despite the fact that it was you who asked the question, it was your friend that he focused his stern gaze on. “It’s done, Eunji. Happy?”

Her jaw dropped. “Who was it?!”

“It would be improper of me to say.”

“Oh come on. I’m just supposed to believe you?”

“The deal had no clause for supplying proof. Only that I find someone.” He straightened his tie. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’m going to kill you, Kim Doyoung!” Eunji lunged forward, but Johnny easily caught her and kept her from her intentions of presumably ripping Doyoung limb from limb.

“Maybe you should’ve had a paper pusher like Kun there, Eunji,” you snickered, squeezing Kun’s arm.

The four of you continued your journey outside, Kun holding the door open for the other three of you, as Johnny was still restraining Eunji, just in case. Once the doors had closed behind you all and Doyoung was contained on the other side of them, he let her go.

“God, you get corporate dick one time and you’re brainwashed,” she complained. “Y/N, come back from the boring side! Please!”

“You’re drunk and dramatic,” you deadpanned, leading the way in the direction of your car. “Stop embarrassing yourself more than you already have at your big age.”

She immediately became more serious, but with a slight pout to her bottom lip. “Fine.”

Approaching your car, you slowed to a stop.

“This is us. Thanks for all your…” you paused, looking at Johnny, “…help, guys.”

Johnny flashed you that same million-dollar smile. “Anytime. It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Eunji talked a lot about you.”

“Yeah, sounds like you two were doing a lot of talking from what I heard,” you replied lightly, opening your passenger door for her.

“You’re not subtle, Y/N,” Eunji grumbled, willingly getting in.

You handed her the seatbelt buckle. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

After she had gotten herself situated and you gave her the keys to start the car and the heating, you walked around to the driver’s side, where Kun was waiting for you. Eunji had rolled down her window, and Johnny was bent over, leaning his elbows on the open window to talk to her.

“I have to say, I did not expect to meet someone like you tonight, Y/N,” Kun chuckled, his laughter coming out as fog in the winter air. “You’re… amazing. More than amazing.”

“I think I made it more than obvious that I wasn’t expecting to meet you either,” you laughed. “But thank you, for making this night not only tolerable but incredible. Unforgettable.”

“We uhm, got interrupted earlier, but if we want to see each other, we’ll need to contact each other…?”

“Right, right.” You brought out your phone, handing it to him with a new contact open. “Here.”

He quickly typed in his number, then handed it back to you. “I’ll let you go, since it’s cold and late and you have to get Eunji home.”

“Thanks. I have your number now, so I will definitely be using that.”

“I’ll patiently be awaiting that time then.”

“Goodnight, Kun.” You went to hug him. “And Happy New Year and Happy Birthday one more time.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed you back. “Happy New Year, goodnight, and drive safe.”

“Will do.” You pulled back, giving him a final peck on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.” He was beaming, and you took in the beautiful sight of his dimples one last time before turning around to get in your car.

As Eunji took over the Bluetooth in your car to change it to her own phone so she could play her music, you did one more thing on your phone, going into Kun’s contact that he had just created. Qian Kun, and his number. You had one slight correction to make.

Qian Kun 💍

Putting your phone away, you drove away from the curb, looking at Kun waving to you out the rear window. Yeah, you had a good feeling about this one.

⤷ 2023 hallmark movie marathon | blog masterlist

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 12 - Sensory Play]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Yoongi x sub f.!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, second chance!AU, Gangster!AU

Kinks: romantic love making, morning sex, somnophilia, he wakes her with oral sex, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), hair pulling (m.receiving), biting (m.receiving), finger sucking (f.giving), body worship, sensory deprivation with a sleeping mask, praise kink, good girl kink, sensory play, knife play, wax play, but nothing of it hurts her, use of a vibrator, orgasm control & edging, subby girl tears, lots of begging, he is so gentle and loving with her, penetrative vaginal sex in missionary, hand holding, choking (f.receiving), loving dirty talk, creampie, strength kink, protective!Yoongi, she feels so safe being his sub, loving aftercare, some plot: mentions of past struggles with sex because of bad mental health, mentions of corrupt police work, the character growth we all wanted from Yoongs

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: all you had to say was say gangster!yoongi and vanilla sex and I KNEW I had to give you the sequel to TCOFU about their mountain holiday. like! do we all get her now and why she couldn’t leave him? like he is really that man omfg oh lord

Yoongi regrets a lot in his life. Quite frankly, he regrets most of his life. He regrets the choices he made and the consequences they bore. He regrets the people he killed because he couldn’t save them and regrets the people he killed because he was reckless. He regrets the hearts he broke and the dreams he crushed. He was a good person once, someone with ambitions and dreams. He was someone who wanted to change the world for the better and he truly thought that he could. And then reality woke him and turned him from a dreaming boy to a hopeless man. 

Yoongi still remembers the breaking point. The true, actual breaking point. He remembers what lunch he had that day. Bibimbap with sausages because you ran out of beef the day before. Yoongi loved eating it, but soon felt it sit in his stomach heavily. Yoongi remembers what he wore that day. His uniform with his favourite pair of socks, which he couldn’t look at after that day. Yoongi also remembers that he cried on the toilet that day because that day was the moment he felt helpless for the first time. A crime happened in his precinct, but the criminal was never punished because it was his boss. His former captain, who was caught with pornographic images of non-consenting women on his hard drive. It was swiped under the rug because he was friends with a politician in a rather high position, who just so happened to know some vultures which called themselves reporters from the press. The women were never allowed justice and the captain ended up working for another three years. Yoongi woke up that day and then began making decisions which were so right at first before he was blinded by the power they brought him.

He became a cop who lived two lives. By day he tried to serve the law and by night he disobeyed it for the sake of helping those who were forgotten by it. It was honourable at first but then he became greedy and the decisions he began making were regretful.

Yoongi regrets a lot of the things he did. He regrets the choices he made, the choices he didn’t make and most of all, he regrets how he treated the person he loved most.

You.

He regrets most how he treated you. 

He became cold, distant and took your affection for granted.

He regrets it. He really does. You have always been the person most important to him and yet he treated you like shit. When you broke up with him, he expected it but never welcomed it. He knew he needed to change for your sake. For his woman and his love. He never thought that you would take him back, but you did and he swore to himself to make you not regret it. 

Yoongi woke before you from the thunderstorm outside. The thunder ripped him awake, making him think for just a moment that he was in danger until he remembered where he was. In the mountains with you far away from the cursed city with its disgusting people. 

You wanted to leave it behind and he wanted to make it possible. He knew that you were struggling for quite awhile now. He also knows that it was mostly his fault and regrets it so deeply that it hurts, but he also knows that the city was at fault. It is dirty and corrupt and filled with suffering. You always had a good heart and an empathetic soul and this city ruined you. Yoongi thought that he could fix it for you, he hoped that he could, but he sometimes thinks that he only made it worse. You said so yourself. He fucked it up, just as much as he fucked you up. Yoongi truly regrets a lot in his life.

Thunder cuts through the silence. You flinch in your sleep, instinctively drawing closer to him. Yoongi shushes you quietly, brushing his hand over your head in soothing. Your body instantly relaxes, a content sound leaves you in a sleepy sigh. Yoongi feels happy witnessing it.

He thinks that he might have finally done something right with this holiday. Yesterday he watched you take a deep breath and relax your shoulders afterwards. You haven’t done this in so long. The day before that, you ate two portions of lunch because you finally had an appetite again. In the car on your way to the mountains, there was a moment where you talked about how beautiful the landscape was. And right now, you are smiling in your sleep as he pets your hair slowly. You are starting to feel like the woman he fell in love with all these years ago. Not burdened by the suffering of others, not suffocated by the toxic fumes of the city, not shackled by your own thoughts. You feel like you and you look happy. 

You look really happy. 

Yoongi traces your eyebrows, heart taking each beat just so he could gaze at you for longer. You are the very reason he breathes. From the very first moment he loved you, he knew that he would do anything for you. He would set the whole world on fire for you. Even kill and he has done so in the past. The scar running down his face will be a visual reminder of it for the rest of his life. On most days, he hates looking at it because he feels ugly with it, but on some days he remembers that if he wasn’t carrying this scar right now, you would have to run around with the memory of being violated by cruel monsters which call themselves men. He stops hating the scar then and swears that he would do it again. He would take a knife to the face over and over again if it meant that you will always be safe. He took this oath years ago and swears to never break it.

Another thunder cuts through the silence as if God Herself was whipping the sky. You flinch awake from it, taking a deep gasp of fear. Your eyes show your feelings.

“Hush, it’s okay. It’s just thunder”, Yoongi whispers, cradling your cheek.

Your fearful eyes lock with his’. Your voice doesn’t want to come out as your lips form his name.

“It’s okay. You’re safe”, he promises and kisses your forehead.

You exhale deeply, touching his chest. His skin practically comes alive where you touch him. You are so warm from sleep.

You crane your neck so you are looking up into his eyes. Thunder and lightning. You don’t flinch anymore, instead, your lips curl into a toothless smile.

Yoongi retorts it, brushing his thumb under your eye.

“I’ve been awake for a while. The storm woke me. I thought someone was trying to fucking shoot me.”

You agree with a knowing snicker and a nod of your head. He chuckles with you.

“I watched you sleep.” He traces the slope of your nose, forcing your eyelids to grow heavy. “You smiled in your sleep.”

“It’s because I’m happy”, you get out and shiver with your entire body, “Yoongi, I feel comfortable”, you confess, cuddling into his chest.

Yoongi hugs you, kissing the crown of your head and closing his eyes. Comfortable might be a normal state to most people, but you haven’t felt like this in too long. Yoongi cherishes your confession deeply. 

He begins running his fingertips up and down your back. It draws you closer to him and for your happy purr to meet his ears. 

“Do you like this?” he asks you in a barely there whisper.

You nod your head, humming your answer. He answers you in a hum as well, continuing his touches. 

You fall back to sleep like this, cradled in his strong arms and against his safe chest as he pets you slowly. The rain and thunder lull you back to sleep as well, now that you know that nothing can hurt you. You are with him and he will always keep you safe.

You don’t quite know how much time passed, but it must have been enough for the thunderstorm to stop. Only rainfall can be heard now. But that isn’t what wakes you. No. Warm, slick pleasure between your legs does. 

“Ah”, you get out, sleepily arching your back and reaching down to see what is making you feel so good. Your legs close around a head, your fingers meet bundles of soft hair. 

Strong hands touch your inner thighs and push your legs apart again. The warm, slick pleasure stops in a sucking sensation. Lips against your inner thigh, teeth in soft bites as well. Sucks and licks and kisses. 

“Good morning, beautiful”, Yoongi rasps between his kisses, “don’t let me wake you, just relax”, he breathes and connects his eager mouth with your pussy again. He sucks and licks, moaning softly each time your clit is between his pouty lips.

It feels so good that you can’t help but whimper. He is so warm and soft. Judging from how wet you are, he has been doing this for quite a while. That explains why your dreams started to become so sinful.

You are delirious from sleep, both numb and sensitive, so what he is currently doing is a lot. You can’t talk yet because you are too tired, making a small sound and twisting his hair. You do it so weakly that Yoongi barely feels it. 

He smiles and tongue kisses your clit with his eyes closed in bliss. You are especially precious when you are sleepy. You get so weak and quiet despite trying to be so strong and loud. Yoongi swears he would do unspeakable things to anyone who dared to disturb you in this state. His protectiveness almost makes him feral. 

But he doesn’t let the feralness consume him. No. He runs his big, strong hands to your waist and places a protective touch on the softest part. Your skin dimples where his fingertips lie. Yoongi knows the meaning of to have and to hold when he can hold you like this, when he can have you like this. 

Your weak body writhes helplessly, your throat produces a small sound. Yoongi soothes you by rubbing your waist and purring around your clit. 

“Oh my god”, you get out in a breathy whisper and whimper, legs closing around his head in a quick twitch and body convulsing in the sudden high his purrs drag out of you.

Yoongi moans, wrapping his muscular arms around your tensing legs and moving his hot tongue on your clit eagerly. Your noises are heaven to him. So sweet, so cute, so perfect. He loves nothing more than making you feel good.

You sob softly, overwhelmed by what he makes you feel. You aren’t even properly awake yet to take in the sensations and now he has you orgasming. It feels like too much and yet so good.

He expected you to orgasm quickly, but not that quickly. He is delirious, rutting the sheets with his aching cock as his tongue makes sweet love to your pussy. This is heaven to him. True heaven. 

“Sto…stop”, you breathe out after your high turns into overstimulation. “Plea..stop…” 

Yoongi listens to your begs, kissing a path up your naked body. It wasn’t always naked but he undressed you so he could gaze at you and worship every inch of you. He missed you a lot in the three months you and he were separated. He needs to truly appreciate every second with you and memorise it so it will always stay with him.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your tender skin slowly. Like this, his hard cock rubs against your thigh. He is naked as well because he wanted to share the state with you. Perhaps there is even a chance that he spent a good ten minutes holding you as you slumbered so his skin could finally feel you again. 

You sigh and chase him. Yoongi understands, giving you what you crave so deeply. A kiss. A slow, deliberate tongue kiss where each second counts and each movement is filled with emotion.

You shiver, burying your hands deep in his soft hair and making him shiver with it. You and he draw closer, skins touching and lips moving with so much more passion. This is the first time you and he have sex here. 

Yoongi has been wanting, craving, you ever since this holiday started, but he knew not to pressure you. You seemed drained and in need of healing. He wanted to give you time to do so. He held back, but he can’t hold back anymore. 

The way you kiss him, lets him know that you don’t want to hold back either. You bury your fingers deeper in his dark hair, making him purr contently. 

Yoongi has the thickest and healthiest hair ever. It is dark black, except for when the sunlight hits it and turns it a warm dark chocolate brown. He wears it slicked back on most days because he wants to look his best as police captain. When he is with you like this however, tangled in the sheets with your bodies still warm from sleep, his hair is unstyled. It is messy and it is soft from the lack of product. It hangs into his face or gets ruffled when you play with it just right. You could honestly write songs about his morning hair.

You break the kiss to look at him in his pretty state. You open your eyes. Darkness. A nervous sound leaves you, fingers coming up to touch your eyes. Soft fabric. How peculiar.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just an eye mask. To heighten your senses”, Yoongi assures you, tracing it gently and with it, ridding you of your fear. “Do you want me to take it off?” 

“No.”

You drop your hands again, sighing his name. He kisses your neck, talking to you like this. He rests his hands on your wrists, long fingers stretching along your palms. There is no pressure involved, neither strength, and yet you still feel so claimed. In a good way of course.

“I want more of you”, he purrs, running his thumbs up and down your tender wrists. 

You whimper and squirm, legs opening.

“But don’t worry, I know you’re not ready yet. Let’s play a game.”

“A game?" you talk in the kind of voice you only possess when you are in subspace. It is soft and a little higher in pitch and brings out Yoongi’s desire to protect. 

“Yes a fun game. You’ll like it.” 

“Please.”

Yoongi begins kissing your face as he talks. It feels so good to receive. Everything he does and did to you feels so good. This is what you needed from him for months. 

“Okay so, next to us are five things. My necklace, my knife, a candle, your makeup brush and a leaf. You have to guess with which of the things I’m touching you. How does that sound?” 

“Fun. Really fun.”

“Yes?”

You nod your head, putting your hands above your head in a submissive squirm. Yoongi smiles, heart skipping a beat in giddiness. He would do anything for you. He really would.

“I knew that you would like it. Any of the things you don’t want me to touch you with? I guess most are soft, except the knife and wax. I won’t cut you and the wax will be hot, but not painful. Is it okay for you?” 

“Yes, really okay.” you writhe and sigh, parting your legs for nothing in particular. 

“Good, that’s good. You can stop this anytime you need to. Your voice matters, sweetest. Your safety does as well.”

You whimper in emotion, healing from deep wounds. This is exactly what you needed from Yoongi. This kind of care and love and safety. You were so scared that giving him another chance will end in your heartbreak, but instead he is proving to you how honest he was in his promises to change. 

“You’re important to me”, he kisses your cheek, “you’re so fucking important.”

“Yoongi”, your voice trembles as it leaves you. 

“Mhm, my sweet girl.” He kisses your ear softly and straightens up. He rubs his hands up and down your stomach gently. “Ready for the first item?” 

“Yes.” 

“Don’t be scared to guess wrong. There won’t be punishments, just rewards.”

“Rewards?” 

“Mhm, guess correctly and you’ll find out.”

“Okay”, you sigh. 

Yoongi climbs off your lap. You listen with bated breath. The sheets ruffle as he gets comfortable. Then sudden silence which he breaks in a soft rasp.

“Ready?” 

You nod your head.

“Use your voice, sweetest.”

“Yes, I’m ready”, you whisper cutely, sending his heart into overdrive. 

With a racing pulse, he lowers the brush to your collarbone.

“Oh”, you gasp with the first touch, chasing it. 

Yoongi lets your skin soak up the feelings, guiding the brush up to your shoulder and down your arm. He dances it over your chest, circling your nipples. Then he guides it up your other arm, over your shoulder and back to your collarbone. 

“What’s the first item?” he asks you in soft spoken voice, guiding the brush back to your nipples to circle them. He is obsessed with the way your body reacts. Goosebumps and swollen nipples. You are so beautiful with the most perfect reactions. 

“Feels nice.”

“Of course it does, but what is it?” he is chuckling his words, finding you beyond adorable.

“Uhm..”, you shudder as he tickles your neck with it, “brush?”

“Mhhm good girl”, Yoongi praises, placing the brush aside to get your reward. He turns it on.

You instantly move your head into the direction of the sound, gasping his name.

“Can you guess your reward?” Yoongi asks, guiding the vibrator down the inside of your thigh. 

You moan weakly, writhing on the sheets. You nod your head because you can’t talk. The vibrations feel so good and they’re coming close to where they feel otherworldly. You are so excited. 

“Do you want it?” 

“Please.” 

Yoongi takes your consent and connects the vibrator with your clit, rubbing circles on it. You wail up weakly, hands instantly reaching down to grab his wrist. Your legs close around him, but fall open a moment later, toes curling in the sheets.

“Is this nice for you?” he asks you, eyes flitting between your pussy and your face. They linger on your chest as well, soaking up the view of you writhing in pleasure.

“Nice”, you whimper, rolling your hips up into his touch.

“That’s good”, he says and then falls into comfortable silence with you. 

Not that the moment is truly silent. The pitter patter of rain enters the room. The low purr of the vibrator mixes with your quiet moans and breathy sighs. Yoongi’s own heightened breathing matches you. But there is no traffic, no loud neighbors, no emergency sirens or people cursing on the streets below. There is no city. No burden. Just you and him and nature. 

Yoongi knows from how quickly he brings you to the edge that you are truly enjoying the sex you are having. When he fucked in the past, trapped with you in his penthouse or your small apartment, you often struggled to reach climax. Sometimes you didn’t orgasm at all, no matter what Yoongi tried. And be certain that he tried. Your pleasure has always been important to him. He tried, you tried but the city had an awful grip on you, keeping you tense and nervous and too anxious to truly be in the moment. 

But not anymore. You gasp and tense in the way you always do when you are close. It happens so fast that Yoongi feels high. You are so into this, so relaxed. He is doing this to you. He is making you feel good. Yoongi wants to give you an orgasm, but knows not to rush it. If you climax, you should really enjoy it. You should crave it so violently that you have nothing else on your mind.

He takes away the vibrator, soothing your squirms with gentle touches.

“I was close”, you whine.

“I know sweets, I know”, he kisses your neck, “it’ll be worth it. I promise.”

“Oh god.”

He kisses your cheek and sits up, “next item. Guess whenever you are ready.” 

You wait with bated breath and an aching pussy. You really wanted this orgasm. Sheets ruffles, silence. The sensation. 

“Oh god”, you get out, arching your back to chase it. 

Something metal and tangly. It is cold and light. He guides it down your sternum and stomach, letting it tickle your belly button before he guides it up to your neck. 

“Chains…” you moan, writhing from the memories of feeling them hit your skin whenever he fucked you deep. 

“Good girl”, Yoongi praises, rewarding you by tangling them over your face. He makes sure that they hit your skin in the ways they sometimes do when he is buried inside you. 

You chase it, moaning his name.

“You’re thinking the same, right?” 

“Yes. Yoongi…”

“I fucking love being with you, my sweet girl”, he says, tickling your face one last time before he gives you your true reward. 

The vibrator. He keeps the same setting and the same spot, but rubs your stomach the entire time. Your moans are louder than before, your pussy so much wetter and your hips a lot more restless. 

It also takes you way less time for your orgasm to be close. Yoongi really draws out the moment he takes it away from you, keeping you on the edge until the last second.

“No please”, you beg, bucking your hips against nothing, “please.” 

“Patience, sweetie, patience. You still have three more items to go.”

“Please.” 

“Patience”, he whispers and lifts the third item, “time to guess. Focus on the sensations, not your pussy. Do it for me, sweetest.”

“Yoongi, oh god”, you whimper, almost spilling tears. 

“Take a deep breath for me.” 

You obey only to have it knocked out of you when sudden burning warmth hits the skin of your chest. You sob, arching your back and twisting the pillow edge. 

“Wax, aah”, you mewl, feeling dizzy. It is hot, but it’s not painful. Exactly how he promised. You still weren’t ready for how good it will feel. 

He starts at your sternum, leaving a puddle of it on your skin. Next he covers your breasts with it, your soft flesh first and your nipples last. You sob again when he covers them in the hot wax, pleasure soaking so deep into your fibers that you find it hard to breathe. 

“Good girl, correct again. Is it too hot?”

“No, feels so good. Yoongi please fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sweetie. First you need your reward.”

“Please…”

As the wax hardens on your chest, Yoongi presses the vibrator against your clit again, rubbing it up and down for a change. You mewl his name, digging your heels into the sheets and thrusting against the toy. Judging by how much your voice pitches, you are already close. 

Yoongi takes it away, pinning your hips down easily as they try to squirm.

“Please no more edging, please”, you beg in desperate croaks.

“Sorry sweetest, sorry”, he rasps, kissing your neck and jawline. “It’s soon over. I promise.”

“Yoongi please just fuck me, please.”

“Soon, sweet girl, soon. Two more items. I promise.” 

You mewl, squirming in agony. Yoongi sits up and gets the fourth item. He decides to guide it over your stomach and thighs. You instantly open them wider, skin covered in goosebumps.

“Your knife. Feels so good.”

“Good girl. Mhm your skin is so soft. I could cut it, mark it as mine, but I won’t”, he lulls, tracing the inside of your shaky thighs.

“Please do. I’m yours.”

“Another day. promise”, he says and picks up the vibrator. He puts the knife aside, using his unoccupied hand to pin down your squirming hips. 

He managed to edge you to a point of such sensitivity that he only has to keep the toy on you for a few seconds before your body tenses in your approaching high.

He takes it away, shushing you lovingly when you keen in agony. He lies down next to you, cradling you against his chest and kissing your cheek. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I can’t do it anymore please”, you beg, “please I want to be with you, please.” 

“One more item, I pro-”

“No! Please. I want to be with you, please.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat.

“Okay. You can”, he gives in.

“Please I wanna see you, please Yoongi.”

“Okay, sweet girl”, he whispers, pulling the blindfold off your eyes. When you beg like this, he can’t say no. He has to fulfill your every wish.

You instantly look at him, spilling tears because of how happy the view of him makes you. 

He wipes your tears away, speaking to you in a soft voice.

“Why are you crying, my love? Is it getting too much for you? Should we take a break?” 

You shake your head and open your legs.

“Please. Be with me.” 

Yoongi smiles in order not to tear up. He hums a yes, nodding his head vigorously before dropping it against yours. His right hand cradles your cheek safely.

“I’ll always be with you, my love.” 

“Promise me.”

“I promise you”, he says and climbs between your legs.

You roll to your back, following him this way. He takes your hands and pins them in the pillow above your head, holding them tightly. 

“I'll always be with you.You have me”, he says and seals his promise by finally connecting with you. 

You and he moan together, hands squeezing the other’s and eyelids fluttering. Both of you refuse to close your eyes, wanting to see the other. 

“You have all of me, my sweetest girl”, he says and picks up a deep and gentle pace. “All of me, you’ve got all of me.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, body shaking instantly. You spill tears, sobbing softly.

“Does it hurt? Are you getting tight again like you sometimes do?” 

“No, feels so good”, you sigh and place his right hand on your throat. 

Yoongi moans your name, hips stuttering in shock. 

“Please”, you beg and Yoongi knows what to do.

He applies pressure on your veins, watching the last piece of sanity disappear from your pretty eyes. You roll them back and moan. You moan in ways you haven’t moaned in too long. Quite frankly, Yoongi already forgot that he could help you make such noises. 

“You know I don’t believe in god, not with the kinda suffering the motherfucker allows to happen to innocents, but holy fucking god”, he gets out and picks up speed. Not too much. Just enough to make your back arch and your toes curl. 

He drops his forehead against yours, resting on his one elbow. His fingers are still holding your neck, feeling your pulse race uncontrollably.

“Holy fucking god, baby. Fucking god.”

You reach up with your free hand, twisting his hair. It feels so good. All of it feels so good. You don’t know what is happening to you. Sex hasn’t felt like this in so long. Can it really feel that good? Can you really be so without burdening thoughts?

“Don’t stop please.”

“Mhhm never. Gotta make you feel so fucking good.”

“Good. Yoongi. Ah!”

“Fuck I was such an idiot, fuck I forgot how alive I feel when I dedicate my all to you.” He thrusts into you deep and passionately. “I’m on a high, my sweet girl. You feel so good”, Yoongi gets out, letting you taste each word.

“Yoongi please.”

“Too much?”

“Please can I cum? Please.” 

“Fuck”, he curses and growls, kissing your nose softly afterwards. “Do you need more?” 

“No, just please. Soon.”

“Whenever you’re ready, sweetest. I’m right here. Your Yoongi’s right here. I’m not fucking leaving you again. I’m here.”

“I love you”, you sob and break. He didn’t even get to let go of your neck before you fell victim to your high. You simply feel way too good. There was no other way.

“I love you too. Ah, I’m-”, Yoongi’s voice breaks and turns into desperate whimpers as your intense high throws him over the edge as well. 

He makes sure to keep moving, so you could really enjoy yourself. And oh how you do. 

You are so lost in your pleasure that you pull him close enough that you manage to bite down on his shoulder. 

Yoongi mewls in pain, guiding your mouth away gently with the hand he once had around your throat. You instantly take his fingers inside your mouth, sucking them eagerly as you and he ride the waves of your shared highs. 

Once you and he come down, his fingers are messy from your drool and you seem so deeply satisfied that you can’t help but cry. 

Yoongi instantly cradles your face, kissing your tears away. 

“What’s the matter? Too tight?”

“No, I feel safe. Yoongi, I feel safe.”

“Oh.” 

You haven’t felt safe in so long. He knows that you don’t mean physically safe, but emotionally safe. 

He smiles and rolls to his side, taking you with him in his arms. He lets you cuddle into him and use his chest to get through your tears. 

Yoongi knows that you need this cry. He put you through so much and you went through twice as much on your own. Knowing that you can finally cry about it, is healing to him as well. 

Once you calmed down, you feel sleepy and cold. Yoongi cocoons you and him in the blanket, allowing you to rest your head on his arm while he traces your face. His head rests on a pillow which he folded up half to make it sturdier. You are looking up at him. He smells like him. Good, clean, masculine, familiar. He smells so calmingly familiar. 

“What are you thinking?” he whispers, tracing your brows and nose.

“Just that I’m happy.”

“You are?” 

“Very. I haven’t felt like this in ages.”

“I know. I…” he struggles with his words, gnawing on his lower lip.

You reach up and begin tracing his scar. He instantly knows that he is allowed to talk freely.

“I know you’ve been struggling with enjoying sex. I could beat myself because I know it’s partially my fault.”

You shake your head, “it was never your fault. You tried to make it good for me. I could see that you did. It was the only time I felt like you actually tried for me.”

He furrows his brows, “I’ve done so much wrong in my life and most I’ve done to you. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl.”

“Thank you. I know that you’ll be different from now on. That Us will be different again.”

“I will. We will. I fucking promise you. And I-”

“And you never break a promise. I know”, you interrupt him in a soft whisper.

Yoongi’s smiles, nodding his head. You giggle because it feels good to know him so well and be known in return.

“I felt so good today.”

“That’s good. That’s all I want when I’m with you like this.”

He brushes his thumb over your eyelid gently. You close your eyes with a smile, enjoying his tender touch for a moment.

Once it passes, you look up at him again.

“I’m scared of going back.”

“To the city?”

“Yes. I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’ll take care of it. I promise I’ll make your life happy again.”

“What do you mean?”

“You won’t have to return to the city if you don’t want to. I meant it when I said that I’ll fucking set it on fire if you want me to.”

“What about your job? The things you keep hidden from the law?” 

“I’ll take care of it. You won’t get hurt, I promise.” 

You cup his cheek, eliciting a shaky gasp from him. Your eyes widen as you stare deeply into his eyes.

“I’ll kill whoever needs to be gone. Just tell me.”

“Oh sweetest”, he kisses your forehead before cradling you against his chest, “don’t make such promises. I don’t want you to have to get your hands bloody.”

“But-”

“No buts. I’ll get my hands dirty, so you won’t have to. Now enough about the future, right now I wanna hold my woman and let her know I’m entirely here for her.”

“Good. I’m glad you are”, you say and melt into his strong embrace.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Happy Valentine's Day, Javier Peña

Summary: You've never been the biggest fan of Valentine's Day. But when you and Javi celebrate it for the first time together, he goes out of his way to make sure it's everything you want and more.

Pairing: Fiancé!Javier Peña x F!Reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't do that pls), face sitting, oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (it's me), PREMATURE EJACULATION, cumming untouched, subby Javi (he is no better than a teenage boy and can barley keep it together bc he is so obsessed with you AH), Javi picks you up to carry you, Javi being a hopeless romantic, sweet, cute fluff bc I said so

A/N: HEYOOOO. It's me, back with our favorite menace couple 🤪 You know damn well Javi goes all out for Valentine's Day, bc Javier Peña is a man in LOVE and the world's biggest softie (I will not be taking counter arguments, it's fact). So in love, in fact, that sometimes, things are finished before they're even started!!! Happy Valentine's Day, Y'all!! 🫣💕 Unbeta'd bc my body won't let me sleep and I'm too exhausted to edit

Can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

You hated Valentine’s Day. 

Well… Hate was a strong word, but it was the only word strong enough to try and convince Javi that the last thing he needed to worry about doing was going all out for you on a Wednesday in the middle of February. Because for a very long time, all Valentine’s day was for you was just that- another day in the middle of winter. 

For as long as you could remember, you had either spent Valentine’s day alone, wishing you had someone special to share it with, or the person you were sharing it with really didn’t give a shit about you, bought you some chocolate and flowers to cover their ass and called it a day. Your most recent ex had been kind enough to follow your request about not making the holiday anything special by forgetting about it completely and ditching you to go to a hockey game with his friends and then drunkenly calling you to come pick him up that night. 

It was safe to say that Valentine’s day really didn’t mean much to you at all, or at least you thought it wouldn’t, until you’d met Javier Peña- A man who had quite literally bumped into you and proceeded to change the course of your life for the better and found yourself falling head over heels for, so much so, that it didn’t take you long to realize there was no one else that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with than him- leaving your first Valentine’s day together also the first time celebrating the holiday with your fiancé, now that the two of you had gotten engaged. It also meant your first of many years of having to convince Javi that he really didn’t need to do anything special for you to celebrate, and that just getting to spend time with him was more than enough for you. 

Unfortunately, it was not good enough for Javi. 

“Baby, I’m being serious, I promise I do not care. I would be happy if all we did was got pizza and watched TV together. All I wanna do for Valentine’s Day is just spend time with you. I don’t need a random weekday in February for you to prove that you love me, I think you’ve already proven that, Jav.” You laughed, pausing from washing dishes to pull your left hand out of the kitchen sink to point to the engagement ring on your finger. You found yourself now laughing even harder at Javi’s audible sigh as he snuck behind you, flushing his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, practically feeling the weight of his signature puppy dog pout drooping on you. 

“I know, but it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m not gonna not do anything. And you deserve much more than pizza.” Javi sighed, pressing a kiss on your cheek, squeezing you in his grasp just a little tighter, making you giggle as he flipped you around to face him, caging you under his broad body against the kitchen counter. “You have to let me do something for you, Hermosa.” 

“I don’t know Jav, pizza does sound really good. You really think you’re gonna be able to top pizza?” You teased, raising your eyebrow at him and sporting a sarcastic smirk as he rolled his eyes at you. 

“Oh shut up, you dork. Seriously, Osita. I totally get if you don’t wanna do anything big, but, I am not doing nothing for my beautiful fiancé on Valentine’s Day. You deserve it. How about this? If you don’t wanna go out, then I am making us reservations here at Restaurant Peña.” 

“Oh, Restaurant Peña? They must be new around here, never heard of them before. Does the chef take requests?” You smirked, biting down on your lip to keep your goofy grin from growing between your cheeks, only giggling more as Javi leaned in to pepper ticklish kisses across your face. 

“Normally, no, but I have a feeling the chef can make an exception for you.

“Does the chef make pizza?” 

“The chef will make fucking pizza if you want pizza.” Javi laughed, rolling his eyes, tightening his grip around your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around in a fit of laughter before setting you down on top of the kitchen counter, slotting himself in the open space in between your legs and digging his fingers into your hips. “Whatever you want, baby, I’ll make it for you.” 

“You choose, Chef Peña. Surprise me.” 

“Hermosa, you hate surprises.” 

“Well, then whatever you’re making better be good.” You shrugged, cocking your head to the side with a smug grin. 

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that.” 

“Yeah, no shocker there. Seriously though, thank you, Javi. This is really sweet of you. You know you don’t-”

Cutting you off, Javi brought his lips to yours, cradling your jaw as he swallowed the rest of your sentence, making your heart flutter from the electric kiss your fiance had just given you to politely shut you up. 

“I know I don’t. But I want to. Te amo, tozuda (I love you, stubborn).” 

“I love you too, pendejo (jerk). Now help me down, I have dishes to finish and a menu to plan for Laredo’s newest top chef.” 

As you pulled up to the parking lot of your apartment, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see that Javi had already beat you home to get a head start on your Valentine’s Day dinner, laughing to yourself in disbelief, wondering how you had gotten so lucky that you had found someone that genuinely cared this much about making something so special just for you. 

As you fumbled for your keys and pushed open your front door, you saw your apartment was dimly lit, candles scattered around the living room and kitchen, the shadows of the flames flickering and dancing along the walls. You could hear soft music and pans sizzling in the kitchen, along with the sweet humming of Javi’s voice. You closed the door behind you, taking a few more shocked steps into the living room before Javi noticed your presence. 

He grinned, quickly setting down what he was working and wiping his hands on the towel he had tucked in his waistband while he was cooking before coming over to cup your face for a long, sweet kiss that made your heart race, leaving you speechless.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor.” He cooed, now pulling away from his embrace to reach behind you for the bouquet of daisies that had been hiding on the entryway table, handing them over to you with another peck on the cheek. 

“Javi, these are, baby, these are beautiful. Did you- you left work early just to do all this?”  You grinned, burying your nose in the flowers before looking around the living room to admire the setup Javi had prepared for the two of you, finally meeting his soft, sweet gaze staring down at you. 

“Maybe. You’re Restaurant Peña’s first customer, wanted to make a good impression. Speaking of which, dinner is almost done, and as much as I would love to do nothing but stand here and kiss you, the chef doesn’t want to be the first meal he serves to be burned to a crisp.” 

“Well in that case,” You paused, giggling as you pressed up on your tiptoes to press a kiss onto his plush lips, “I better go change for this classy event. Can’t wait to see what the chef has in store.” 

Handing your flowers back to Javi, you set down the rest of your things from work, and quickly scampered back towards your bedroom, peeking back out of the doorway to shoot Javi a quick wink, making him quietly laugh to himself as he ran his hand over the back of his neck, shaking his head, trying to hide the completely lovestruck smirk plastered all over his face before heading back to the kitchen. 

Gently closing the door behind you, your face mirrored Javi’s, heat creeping through your cheeks, grinning to yourself as you made your way to your dresser, starting to shuffle through your top drawer, looking for personal Valentine’s Day gift for your fiancé that had been hidden away under your folded piles of socks and underwear. 

After digging for a few moments, you felt the lacy texture running through your fingers, pulling out the new lingerie set you had bought a few days ago to surprise Javi with. You quickly shimmied out of your work clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket next to your bed before slipping the delicate fabric over your body. Although this wasn't the first time you had surprised Javi with an outfit like this, you’d never get over his awestruck reaction, watching his eyes grow wide with his hungry gaze, ravishing in every inch of you, barley keeping himself together enough even remain coherent as you revealed yourself to him. 

Giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you pulled one of your nicer, fitted black dresses out of your closet, hiding the matching red bra and thong held up by the lacy garters around your thighs, quickly touching up your hair and makeup from your long work day before making your way back out into the kitchen to greet Javi, back turned to you as he picked up two plates off the counter to bring to the table, nearly dropping them in the process as he turned around to see you standing in front of him. 

“Fuck me…” He muttered under his breath, his jaw nearly dropping as he gave you another once over after looking you up and down, having to shake his head to snap himself back to reality, having enough sense to set his plates full of food down on the table before they ended up on the floor. “Baby, you look- fuck, you look fucking stunning.” 

“I heard Restaurant Peña’s a nice place, figured I should dress for the occasion. Plus,” You smirked, taking the few steps to close the space between you and Javi, draping your arms over his shoulders and pressing up on your tiptoes to giggle in his ear, “I heard the chef here is really sexy. I’m really hoping that he’s free after dinner so I can treat him to some dessert.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ… Hermosa, if you keep talking like that, we’re not gonna make it to dinner.” Javi groaned, biting down on his lip as he looked down at your mischievous grin, letting out another deep breath as his hands traveled down the curves of your waist, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass, kneading it over the fitted fabric covering it. “Fuck… can we just skip dinner and go straight to des-” 

“Javi! No! You made me this whole delicious meal, I am not letting you skip this because you can’t keep it in your pants, mister.” You teased, giving Javi a playful nudge, taking a step back to cross your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him to tease him, even you knew damn well you would have been more than happy to give in to Javi’s plan, but the gurgle in your stomach and the inkling you were going to need some energy for the night ahead gave you enough logic to at least have some rational thinking left in your brain. 

“Fine…” Javi sighed, holding up his hands in defense, laughing at your sassy remark, stepping back to the table to put both your plates in their rightful spots before making his way over to your chair to pull it out for you, leaning down to whisper in your ear as you sat down, the hot breath of his words dancing across your neck as he spoke. “Can you blame me when you look like this? You keep fucking teasing me like that, Hermosa, and dessert’s about to get very interesting.” 

You could feel the rasp of his voice shoot straight to your core, your thighs instinctively clenching together to try to keep the ache growing between your legs at bay, letting the softest moan escape from your lips, using every ounce of brain power you had left to try and conjure up some sort of response. 

“Yeah? Is that a threat or a promise?” 

“Depends, which one do you want it to be?” 

“Whatever the chef wants.” 

Although the dinner that Javi had cooked was absolutely delicious, after adding a few glasses of wine during your meal to the already thick and palpable sexual tension in your kitchen was not helping either of your causes, the two of you probably rushing through eating much faster than you had intended to when the night had begun. 

Taking the final sips left in your glass and watching the last bits of your plate cleared, all your inhibitions had been thrown out the window, giving Javi longing look as you stood up out of your chair, pushing in your seat and slowly slinking your way over to Javi, lifting your leg over his lap as you straddled him in his spot, your hands slowly running up and down his chest, toying with the buttons of his dress shirt and carefully unbuttoning button by button as you nipped at his ear. 

“So, are you ready for dessert? I think I have a treat for you that you’re gonna like.” You rasped, trailing kisses across his neck and jaw, your lips meeting his in an electric passion, catching the muffled moan escaping his mouth as you began swirling your hips feeling the bulge beginning to grow in his pants. 

“Fuck… Yeah? You gonna tell me what it is, huh, Hermosa?” Javi groaned, his hands wrapping around your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pressing you down further into his crotch, making you whine as you felt his hard length beneath you rubbing against you, only fueling the fire burning in your stomach and the wet patch growing in your underwear. 

“Why don’t you take me to the bedroom and find out.” 

You could barley finish your sentence before Javi was tightening his grip around you, standing up out of the chair to lift you up as he stood, carrying you to the bedroom as you stumbled down the hallway, becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth as the back of Javi’s knees finally hit the bed, situating you back in his lap. His hands roamed relentlessly over your body, letting his hands creep up your thighs, pushing up your dress high enough to stop in his tracks as he felt the lace of your garter band, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the realization of what treat you had to offer for him. 

“Oh fuck… Baby, are you- what do you have on under here?” He asked, breathlessly, very clearly knowing the answer before he had even asked the question, his hands now pushing further up your legs, his fingers dancing across the delicate waistband of your thong as he looked up at you with his pleading brown eyes, now growing darker and darker with lust. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javi.” You mewled, reaching behind you to unzip the back of your dress, letting it fall of your shoulders and reveal the red bustier underneath, the floral, lacy pattern leaving very little to the imagination, and leaving Javi’s jaw to practically drop to the floor as you showed off your hidden outfit. 

“Osita… Fuck… This all for me, sweet girl? Jesus Christ.” he practically whispered to himself in disbelief, soaking in every inch of you as you stepped of back off his lap to let your dress fall to the floor, unveiling your lingerie in its entirety in front of him. Letting his elbows rest on his knees, he brought his hand over his mouth, gaping open in awe, soon balling his hand into a fist and biting down on his knuckle as you slowly turned around in a circle, showing off all angles of yourself before meeting Javi’s gaze again, smirking to yourself at the incomprehensible mess your fiance had become. 

“You like it?” You giggled, raising a knowing eyebrow at Javi as you stepped back towards him, running your hands up his strong thighs hanging over the edge of the bed, letting your fingers barley brush over the undeniable tent in his pants, teasing at his belt buckle before dragging your hands back down, resting on his knees. 

“Y-yeah, I- yeah, fuck.” Javi gulped, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed, trying to find a way to string together a coherent sentence as you let your fingers trace over his legs and crotch, melting into a puddle under your touch. 

“Yeah? I had a feeling.” You smirked, now palming at the bulge in his pants more firmly, eliciting another audible moan from Javi, his breath becoming heavy and shaky as you sat yourself back over his lap, your ass resting perfectly on top of his erection as you began to slowly swirl your hips over his. Your hands worked their way down the rest of the buttons of his shirt, creeping between the parted fabric to rest your hands on his bare chest, nestling your face in the crook of his neck as you sucked at his pulse point, whispering against his skin. “You gonna be a good boy and let me take care of you, baby?” 

There were few times in his life where Javier Peña had found himself at a complete loss for words, but you had him wrapped around your finger as you sat in his lap, all dressed up just for him, whispering sweet praises in his ear did something to him that even he couldn’t quite comprehend. Truth be told, the only thought he could process right now was the all too familiar clench in his stomach and tightening in his balls leaving him on the verge of busting in his pants before you had even touched him. 

Scrunching his face in concentration, Javi nodded rapidly as his hands dug a bruising grip into your hips, every grind of your ass against his crotch only tightening the undeniable knot in his gut. Javi was convinced he’d be strong enough to keep it in check, as long he could use every ounce of his being to focus on not falling apart. But that was before you decided to fight dirty and press every button you knew to make Javi absolutely crumble. 

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me, baby. You want me to touch you, Javi? Let me make you feel good, sweet boy.” You cooed, nipping at his ear as your hands ran through the thick, dark curls of his hair before sliding down the width of his broad shoulders, sliding his shirt down his arms and gripping around his biceps as you sunk your hips deeper and deeper into his lap. 

Before he even had time to process what was happening, Javi found himself instinctively bucking his hips up into you, holding on to you for dear life as he let out an absolutely wrecked moan, slumping his head into your shoulder as you felt a warm, wet sensation begin to spread below you. 

“Fuck… Fuck me…” He whispered, silently cursing himself over his shallow breathing, making you pause in confusion as you looked down at Javi, taking a moment to quickly piece together in your brain what had just happened. 

Javi had just cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. 

“Javi…Javi, did you just-” 

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m- I’m sorry. Fuck me.” Javi grimaced, running his hand over his face, tilting his head back up towards the ceiling, his cheeks turning red in pained embarrassment, not even able to bring himself to make eye contact with you until you brought your hand under his cheek, gently cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze onto you, locking his lips in an intense kiss before either of you had the chance to speak. 

“Well, that’s a first.” You giggled, trying your best to lighten Javi’s clearly distraught mood, feeling his pouty frown through your kiss. “Javi, it’s okay, we can just- Oh!” 

Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s back was to the bed, dragging your body across his chest until you were straddling just below his shoulders, his hands digging into your ass and pulling you closer towards him. 

“Nuh uh. I just need a few. Lemme make you feel good, baby. Please. Fuck, I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking sexy, I couldn’t help myself. Let me make it up to you, please, Osita.” 

It wasn’t very often that you found yourself like this- you being the one who turned Javi into a whimpering and babbling mess, begging for forgiveness. And even though it was a position you found yourself in often, you very well knew that you were going to take advantage of every last second. 

“Oh yeah? And how are you planning on making it up to me, Javi?” You cooed, cocking your head to the side apathetically, arms crossed over your chest as you sat straddling Javi’s. 

“Sit on my face, baby, please. Fuck, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want. I wanna taste you so bad.” Javi moaned, his sweet, brown eyes pleading with you for just a taste of the arousal that had been steadily pooling between your legs. 

“Yeah?” You paused, leaning down to capture his mouth in a passionate kiss, your teeth tugging at his plush bottom lip as you pulled away to nip at his jaw, “and what if I still want you to fill me up after you’re done? What if I need you to fuck me full of you?” 

“Jesus fuck…” Javi groaned under his shallow breathing, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Hermosa. I promise.” 

“Good boy.” You mewled, running your hands through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair before shuffling your body so your lace covered and soaking heat was hovering over Javi’s face. You began to slowly lower yourself down, Javi’s fingertips gripping the flesh of your hips, forcing you to shift your weight onto him, making you moan as you felt his strong nose brush against your clit, nudging your panties out of the way. You could feel the width of his tongue dragging along your cunt, slowly and deliberately working himself along your sensitive bundle of nerves. His face nestled between your legs, he took his time with each lick, taking extra time to press harder on the spots he knew made you weak, loving how wrecked he could tell you already were as you rolled your hips over his face. You could practically feel his smirk buried in your pussy as the movements of his tongue became more precise, flicking at your clit making you whimper as you braced your hands by burying them in his hair, tugging at the ends of his thick curls. 

“Javi… Fuck, oh my god.” You cried, feeling the tension begin to build in your belly as Javi wrapped his plush lips around your mound, sucking feverishly as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding down harder, the hairs of his mustache brushing against your thighs. You could feel him hum in approval against your cunt as your back began to arch, a familiar tingle growing at the base of your spine as his mouth latched firmer around your clit, desperate to make you come undone. 

“Fuck, baby- oh shit- Javi, don’t stop, fuck, fuck, I’m so close. Fuck, I’m- mhhhmmmmmm.” Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning. Your orgasm crashed through you, pleasure overtaking your body as you came, whimpering and moaning Javi’s name as he dug his fingers deeper into your flesh, holding you against him as he continued to work you through your high. 

Dipping his tongue into your hole, his muscle plunged into your cunt, drinking up your arousal while the bridge of his nose brushed against your clit, making good on his promise to redeem himself from earlier, not letting up until he felt your body tense and legs begin to shake as you came again, feeling about as sturdy as a pile of jello at this point. 

Your body went slack, draping your upper half over Javi’s body as you felt his face free from out from under you, looking down to see his face glistening in your slick, accompanied by a boyish grin and pleading eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and gazing back up at you. 

You had caught your breath enough to sit yourself back up, looking over your shoulder to see the bulge in Javi’s pants was back in full force, slowly scooting your way down his chest and stomach to sit yourself back on his lap, grinding your hips in his, circling slowly over his painfully hard bulge, digging deeper and deeper with each sway of your hips. You slid your hands up his chest, into his hair, gently tugging at his dark curls as you rocked against him. You could tell how hard Javi was trying to control himself, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw as he watched you, the moans escaping from his mouth only becoming louder as you began to gently tug at the straps of your bra, letting them fall from your shoulders, teasing him even further. 

“You think you’re ready for me, baby? You’re gonna be a good boy and fill me up like you promised? You smirked, slipping your hands behind your back, you unclasped the hooks holding your top together, letting it drop to the floor and leave your top completely bare. 

“Promise.” He sighed, voice trembling, feeling the muscles in his body tense with your question.  

“Good.” You smirked, “Gotta ask nicely, though.” 

“Osita, please, baby, fuck- please.” Javi whined, his voice ragged and wanting as his brown eyes met with yours, watching you crawl up over him, your hands now working at his belt buckle. The metal clinked as you pushed his pants down his hips before ever so gently tugging at the waistband of his boxers, already tented from his stiffness.

“Please, what, sweet boy?” You cooed, pulling just enough to let his cock spring free, revealing how painfully hard he was, his tip dark red and leaking with precum that had left additional stains on his boxers, mixing with his premature spend from earlier. 

“Hermosa, please. Please, baby. I need you to fuck me, please.” Javi whimpered as you settled yourself on top of his legs, your hands now creeping towards his shaft. 

“That’s better. So handsome when you beg. Need me to take care of you? I’ll take care of you, baby.” You wrapped your hand around his cock, thumbing at the precum dripping out of his tip and rubbing it around his head before taking the same hand and running it through your folds, collecting the arousal that had been rapidly pooling between your legs and using the mixture to stroke him. 

With his shaft sufficiently slick, the both of you gasped as you sunk down on Javi’s length, his cock bumping against your cervix as you took every inch of him inside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sweet sting of his fullness. “Fuck, you feel so good, Javi. I love feeling you inside me. Can’t wait to feel you dripping down my thighs. Gonna keep me full of you all night.” 

The groan Javi let out was low and deep, feeling your hands rest against his chest as your hips rolled back and forth, burying Javi’s cock deep inside the warm, wet walls of your cunt. The hairs at the base of Javi’s cock rubbed deliciously on your clit, the sensation of that, combined with how frantically you were rocking your hips back and forth had your heart racing, so worked up from trying to keep your cool that you could feel the tingle building at the base of your spine rapidly. 

“I will. Please let me, I will. I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Fuck, I wanna cum so deep in you, please, Osita. Please, baby.” 

You could tell Javi was close, too- The gritting of his teeth, the wild and wanting look in his sweet brown eyes, the sloppy pace of his dick pounding into you, all the tells you knew far too well to realize he was quickly about to come undone again. The arousal pooling in your belly continued to build, the lewd noises of your wetness and mixed moans coating the walls of your bedroom as your fingers dug into the skin of Javi’s chest.

“Fuck, fuck- I love you, Javi. Holy shit- I’m so close. I need you to fill me up, baby.” 

“I love you too, Hermosa. I’m not gonna last much longer either, so fucking wet and tight, oh my god- I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. I promise, promise I’ll be a good boy and fuck every last drop in you.” 

It wasn’t often that you had seen Javi turn into such a mess, watching him whimper and beg to with such desperation and neediness, barely hanging on by a thread from the moment you had crossed the threshold of your bedroom, and holy shit, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Javi had already cum once without you even touching him, and now, he was so worked up he was teetering on the brink of falling apart again. 

In a frantic desperation, Javi sat himself up, caging your chest against his, wrapping his arms around your back as he held you in his lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck, sweaty curls of his hair resting against your shoulder, while he fucked up into you, each thrust becoming reckless than the last.  

“Oh fuck, Javi, fuck, don’t stop- fuck, fuck, I’m gonn-ahhhhh” 

The coil building in your belly snapped, screaming Javi’s name over and over again as your cunt clenched around his cock, feeling your orgasm flood your body with pleasure. You braced your hands on Javi’s chest as you felt your body go numb, euphoria flowing through your veins while Javi fucked you through your high, quickly chasing his own. 

“That’s it baby. Fuck, Mierda- God, you’re so fucking perfect. Tu eres mio para siempre. Mi amor, mi vida, fuck, te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir. (You’re mine forever. My love, my life, fuck, I love you more than words can say). Jesus, fuck- Oh fuck, Osita, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, I-” Javi quickly followed behind you, thrusting a few more times up into you before letting out a low, ragged groan as he spilled deep inside your pussy, his warm spend coating your walls, making sure to milk himself of every last drop, as promised. You could feel the mixture of the both of you leaking down your legs into Javi’s lap as you sat on top of him, his dick still pulsing as your chests heaved in sync, squeezing your eyes tightly to try and bring yourself back to earth. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi muttered under his breath, his body still slumped into yours until you began running your fingers through his hair, prompting him to look back up at you, the blissed out grins on both your faces making you let out a quiet laugh of surprised disbelief at what had just happened. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Javier Pena.” You giggled, cupping his face, tilting it up towards yours and locking his lips in a long and tender kiss. 

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, baby. Fuck, that was hot. Sorry, uh- sorry about earlier.” He sighed sheepishly, gesturing over to the very thoroughly stained pair of pants now lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. 

“It’s okay. Definitely a good confidence booster if me putting some lingerie on for you is enough to make you blow your load faster than a middle school boy.” You snickered, giving Javi a playful nudge as he rolled his eyes at you, letting out a little sigh. 

“Shut up. You have no fucking idea. God, you’re so fucking sexy, you know that? I can’t believe you get to be my Valentine for the rest of my life. I’m a lucky fucking man, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“I could say the same, handsome. I love you, Javi. Alright, what do you say we go clean up so we can have real dessert. I have a whole plate full of cookies left over from our class party, along with some very questionable candy from several 3rd graders.” 

“Sounds like the perfect plan to me.”

Taglist:

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[almostfoxglove]

GOING DOWN

an I'LL CARRY YOU one shot

written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Javier Peña x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k TROPE: #14 Trapped in an elevator CW: Claustrophobia, description of a panic attack, excessive alcohol consumption, characters kiss while very drunk but they're in love and desperately down, so much yearning.

SUMMARY: You and Javier get stuck in an elevator after a New Years party.

Takes place within the timeline of part II (characters are 25) - I recommend reading the first and second installments for these characters to make sense (so sorry).

READ GOING DOWN ON AO3.

part I & II | series masterlist | series on ao3 | main masterlist

Tonight the moon hangs like a cardboard set piece painted in icy blues. The whole sky awash with strange and opaque cover, giving the streets of Laredo a backdrop befitting the theatrics of one year’s death and another year’s birth. Probably won’t see the fireworks with all these clouds, but you don’t mind. Not when you’re already three shots deep—still yet to make it to the party—with Javier leaning against you on the sidewalk. “Should wear sequins more often,” he smirks, his breath sparkling against your cheek, carbonating the air. “Suits you.”

You roll your eyes, knock your elbow into his ribs, and send him stumbling a few steps back as you stride ahead, hands quickly skirting down the front of your dress. Hopeless, really. Even if the breeze were to settle, there’s no way you don’t accidentally flash someone tonight. No way you haven’t flashed half the people the two of you have wandered past already, staring up at each brooding apartment tower trying to make sense of the shadowed building numbers in the dark.

You’re getting closer now, you think. Just a block or so to go.

“Cabrón,” you chide, as Javier jogs up to fall into step with you again. Those long legs—always agile, strutting around like some loose-hipped wildcat. You can huff and speed-walk all you like, but there’s no world in which he doesn’t catch up with that smirk haunting the corner of your eye. That flint that hisses in his gaze, the spark before a fire. Twenty-five, the new year looming. Dressed up for some party neither of you care enough about to show up on time for, forget trying to remember the name of who’s hosting. Someone from college. Who knows. All that matters is the glimmer of it all: a whole night of liquor and music and clothes you’d never wear anyplace else and Javier—Javier, right here, choosing you all night.

A frog for a heart, you croak at the thought. One part guilt and another terror: how glad you are that Lorraine is off in Houston for the holidays, leaving him with no one to celebrate with but you.

But the real trouble isn’t guilt or fear—the trouble is that he doesn’t look troubled. He doesn’t look like his girlfriend isn’t here, like he’s missing anyone. Doesn’t look the slightest bit disappointed to be wandering around the city all night with you.

Sighing, Javier exhumes two cigarettes from his jacket pocket—a blazer you found at a thrift store together that fits him villainously, so snug in the shoulders—and pinches both filters between his lips to light from the cup of his hand and his wheezing lighter. You cross your arms, feigning that your attention is pinned solely on the passing buildings that slap down the long shadows through which you stride, and wait for him to hold one out to you.

He smirks as you take it, his smooth cheeks hollowing with a drag. He’s started to grow a mustache and it still looks silly to you, that dark slash across his cupid’s bow that seven years ago he let you kiss. It’ll suit him in a matter of weeks. In a matter of months, you’ll no longer remember what his face was like without it. Or you will, but you wouldn’t ever choose to go back.

“Told you we went too far, baby,” Javier says now, watching as you take your first long breath, kissing lipstick to the filter graced first by his mouth.

You shake your head, slip the cigarette to your hand, and point it at the crosswalk up ahead. “S’that one,” you tell him, blowing smoke from the corner of your mouth.

Without needing to say, you fall into make-believe—some echo of being children together, a habit neither of you care to kick—and at the stoop of the apartment building Javier swoops around you, cigarette clinging to his bottom lip, and yanks open the glassy front door with a little bow. “After you,” he smirks, his dark eyes slinking to your bare legs as you pass.

“Qué caballero,” you reply.

Gold light in the lobby, a doorman standing guard behind a matte black desk. The elevator slips down to greet you with a graceful whoosh.

Javier whistles as you thumb the topmost button. Penthouse. “Fancy,” he says.

“Parents must be rich,” you agree.

He’s beautiful, like always. Cheeks blushing from the brisk night air. An eternity of him reflects in the glossy elevator mirrors as you rise—a long queue of his blazered shoulders, his throat bobbing as he swallows, his wide hand passing the cigarette back to his lips. Between you, fronds of smoke rise like the spines of ferns. A forest of your indulgence, the way you pretend. It’s not invisible, how he watches you with interest, hardly bothering to hide the glimpses he claims of your hips, your collarbones, the straps balanced on your shoulders. The pain of your friendship is not that Javier doesn’t see you—it’s that he does. Always has, from the very first day.

It’s that he sees you, and doesn’t want you.

You aren’t Lorraine.

Now his brows pinch together, forming that worried bracket above his nose. It feels as if you’ve been rising for hours, but that could be the liquor sponging things, making them blur. Minutes and hours that too easily appear the same. “Tell me,” he says, reading you. Around him, the mermaid-color of your dress sparkles, drags out in the infinite reflections, but you can never see your own face—the angle is wrong—so you don’t know what you look like to him. How worried, how afraid, how convincing.

A grin for him alone, the private kind. Your lips pulling at one corner as you drink down smoke with a nod. “Don’t think I’m drunk enough,” you admit, and Javier huffs softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

Just as the elevator pings, its silver door sweeping open in welcome, he glides up to hang one long arm around your neck, pulling you against his chest as you walk out into the party. There’s that hearth, that home which you’d know in any dark: a smell that has over the years imprinted itself onto your very bones—cigarette smoke and skin, the bergamot in his cologne. Javier nudges his lips against your temple, the still sharp prickle of his mustache scraping your skin, and mumbles, “We’ll fix it.”

He almost never lies to you and this is no exception. The party—already knee-deep into raucous chaos in your absence—is electric inside, a hive of buzzing streamers and proud balloons doomed to wilt by morning. Everywhere are dresses like yours, sequins and sparkles and slashes at the leg, but no one looks like Javier. There’s no competition, never has been. Every other man here in a nice shirt is just some guy you forget between shots and glasses of champagne.

Several of which you and Javier drink, always from just one glass. The mark of his lips melding with the mark of yours on a plastic flute. Not once all night does he wander off and leave you on your own; there is always something of his somewhere on you. A hand brushing stray locks behind your ear, his bicep settling against yours as you rest against the kitchen island, a palm laid over your spine when he leans in to hear you over the party’s din. Briefly he’ll entertain conversation with someone if they approach—the host of the party with glitter on her cheeks; someone’s cousin who’s heard all about him, somehow; a pretty thing from his psychology class—but never with his full attention and never for long.

Soon the drinks shimmer in your bodies—and yes, you feel it too in his. Like you share just one sometimes, like a cigarette.

“Come, cariño,” Javier says, two songs from midnight.

Fixed like he promised, you feel just drunk enough to let him whirl you into the crowded living room where two walls open onto balconies that look out over the wintered city. There’s that blue moon again, no less barren than usual at its outpost in the sky but somehow painted, you think, dressed up for the occasion. Then Javier pulls you against him, hips already swaying, his forehead damp against yours as you start to dance, and all thoughts of the world beyond him evaporate.

Though you’re a terrible dancer—every bit as left-footed as he is lithe—it feels as if the parquet floor is a sheet of ice on which you skate, never faltering nor in danger of falling so long as you can feel his hands. “See?” comes his voice, the press of his lips to your ear over the caw of music pulsing from the walls. “You’re not so bad.”

His eyes crinkling at the corners when the hand at your back presses you closer, presses you against him: a change in choreography he makes no announcement for, but you don’t mind. You can press your cheek against his collarbone like this, nose notched against his throat, and breathe him in. Imagining he’s yours as the crowd chants its countdown—riotous in its build and yet you’d swear that you’re alone. That it’s just you and him, this body you know so well.

“Must be drunker than you look, baby,” you reply, grinning mostly to his chest, one hand drawing lazy patterns over the nape of his neck and the other planted over his speeding heart, beneath his. Your voice sluggish, drowsy. You’re drunker than you look, too.

Why else would you touch him like this, where people can see. People that for all you know, know Lorraine.

Javier’s chest shakes with a laugh you can’t quite hear over the sudden thunder of fireworks disrupting the sky. Neither of you look up for midnight; you don’t kiss. You just sway and sway and pretend until he ghosts his lips over the top of your head, mumbling let’s go home into your hair.

Something he’s said a thousand times before, somehow transformed. To your champagne-stained ears, it sounds brand new.

A thief in those sinful slacks, thighs rigid beneath their taper, Javier takes your hand and winds you between strangers, snatching an opened bottle of champagne off a table without breaking his easy stride. Somehow the elevator appears in an instant, as if it’s waited all night for the two of you to slip out early. Javier smacks the lobby button and the door slinks closed, muffling the cries for a newborn year as he tips the champagne bottle to his lips. A slug of liquid crystal slipping from the corner of his mouth, over the curve of his chin, down the slope of his neck.

How you long to lick it from his skin. To redo that night in your dorm room seven years ago, show him how much better you are now. How much more you want him.

But you’ll compromise; you always do. You settle for taking the bottle and swigging your share of the gold. As you swallow, chin tilted to watch the floor number shrink above the buttoned panel, the light in the elevator flickers, but you write it off as a long, drunken blink.

Javier bristles beside you. “Did you feel—” he starts to say, cut off by a groan in the walls, a sudden stutter.

The glossy elevator buckets in an instant. Your stomach flips like you’re going to be sick. You’re not sure exactly how it happens, but your eyes slam shut and the heat of his body clamps over yours like a shield in the darkness, one hand holding your head in the safe hollow of his neck as you plummet.

You think you might scream.

Then with a jolt the world comes to a screeching halt. The elevator stills and you open your eyes, lashes fluttering against Javier’s skin. The moment he feels you move, both his hands cradle your face, his pupils blown black by fear. “Are you—shit, are you okay?” he asks, his voice scrubbed hoarse. Maybe he was the one who screamed. Maybe you’re not sure whose body you felt that in.

Nodding, you swallow. “Are you?”

He nods. “Think—” voice gone again as he cranes over one shoulder, refusing to let go of your face. “Think we’re stuck.”

Your eyes round, owlish in their panic. Not panic for you, though.

Panic for him.

Already his hands have begun to stutter on your cheeks. Not pulling away, only trembling—the first shivers before a quake. “Hey, hey, baby,” you say quickly, letting the champagne bottle drop from your hand to pull his face back to yours until you’re mirrors of each other: two sets of hands framing two sets of cheeks. “Just look at me. It’s gonna—gonna move soon.”

You have no idea if the bottle shattered when it hit the floor, but neither of you dare look down.

Because Javier is a child again, regressing years in a second, terror black and leaking in his eyes. You know what he’s thinking about, what he’s remembering: sixth grade, brand new to your elementary hallways. How you once found him shut away in someone’s locker at recess—screaming his throat raw and bloody while everyone played outside, fists pummeling the inside of the metal door—still new enough at school to draw attention. You’d had to kick the lock to break him free, and he’d collapsed in a wheeze of panic at your feet, one hand coming out to grab your ankle in sheer desperation, his body curled tiny and terrified.

That might as well have been yesterday. That’s how clearly you remember what it felt like to fall to the hallway floor and drag him into your arms until he could breathe. No one ever messed with him again, and you still don’t know who did it. Javier’s never been a snitch unless it does someone good, and telling you wouldn’t have done him anything.

Was it that moment that started everything? This thing that you have that you can’t replicate.

You can’t really say.

Now you feel Javier’s heart slamming against his ribs as if it’s slamming against yours. You’ve wondered if anyone else ever feels this connected to someone—so entwined that their fear can poison your veins. That their heart can beat in your chest.

You’ve wondered if you’ll ever feel it with anyone else.

You’ve wondered if he feels it with Lorraine.

“Just look at me,” you say again, as Javier’s chest begins to rabbit. Thumbs softly stroking his cheeks as he stands against you, looking down with his lips dropped open in his daze. The railing on the elevator wall biting into the small of your back. “Just look at me, it’s okay.”

His next inhale comes in a gasp, shattered and glassy. Letting his forehead drop against yours, Javier blinks and blinks and blinks with no brown left in his eyes. The champagne is making this harder—the act of being steady—but you do your best to claw back his swelling alarm. This little box, however glossy and infinite in its reflections, must feel like a coffin to him, like a locker. Something smaller than a tomb.

“Baby, it’s gonna move, okay? Gonna move soon I promise, just breathe, Javi baby, just breathe—”

Every shudder in him rips a chasm through you.

Is this even helping, you wonder, or is this hurting.

Maybe you aren’t the comfort to him that he is to you.

Meanwhile the elevator stays exactly where it is, suspended somewhere between two floors. Who knows how long he’s gonna have to wait for someone to kick you both free. How hideous a thing it is to watch his once warm eyes go timorous and cold, his grip tightening on your face.

You’re drunk. You don’t know the right thing to do, so you do the first thing that comes to you—the thing you hope might make him hold his breath long enough to snare it—and bull your mouth against his. A crash of lips and teeth punched between two gasps in which you scramble to wind your arms around his shoulders, pressing the whole of your body against him in some desperate, besotted ploy for his salvation.

You’re breaking a promise. One time—that’s what he’d said in freshman year, but here you are kissing him again.

The way he takes to you would bowl you over if this were any other place, any other time. If you were sober. Instead it comes heaven-sent and unquestioned, a whole-body relief: the way Javier’s arms snap around your ribs and waist and crush you to him, pinning you to the wall.

It is a fever dream, a plague—the touch of death. How seven years gone it is still, amidst his panic, the best anyone has ever kissed you. All champagne and his sweet mouth, the shudder of his breath as he matches it to yours.

“It’s okay,” you mumble to him, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes that are—in the dim light of the elevator—still two tunnels into child-like dread.

You thumb his cheeks, his chin, his stupid mustache, and Javier shakes his head. “M’drunk,” he says, closing his eyes.

“I know, baby. Me too.”

“M’not gonna—” a short gasp, the kindling building again. “Don’t think m’gonna remember this.”

What else is there to do but nod? He’s right, after all—that’s the feeling you have. That when the elevator moves and you’re back on earth again, stumbled or taxied back to his or your apartment, that daylight will swallow this away. The new sun will rise and this will vanish. You won’t remember kissing. He won’t remember the panic, the elevator stopping. It’ll just be hangovers the way you’ve always done them—cheap coffee and greasy hashbrowns and cigarettes, Javier’s head on your lap or on your chest all day in bed, your hand in his unruly, bed-swept hair. All of this forgotten.

Or you will forget, at least.

Javier will remember—though not at first. Not for a while. It’ll take him a whole year, in fact, to recall this moment. Next New Year’s Eve, he’ll be in The Last Man Standing with Lorraine on his arm and she’ll look up at him just before the sweaty patrons cry HAPPY NEW YEAR— all Texas sunshine and everything he oughta want in the palm of his hand.

And in the last moment before she leans in, Javier will look out beyond her shoulder and catch your eye across the bar by what he’ll tell himself is an accident. You’ll be working, handing tequila sours to some dumbfuck who doesn’t have a shot in hell with you but is gonna slip his number to you anyway, and like you can feel him watching you’ll look up and stop Javier’s heart. It’ll come back in fragments, sure. But there’ll be no fighting it. You in that sequinned dress that made Javier feel like the whole world fucking flipped the second he saw it, scratching your fingernails through his hair and saying,

“It’s okay, I know, just kiss me, baby. Just breathe with me, and it’s gonna move soon. It’s okay.”

And kissing you in an instant, his whole body stammering until your tongue tastes his—then the elevator that just moments ago was pinching in triples in size. Everything, even the shake of his lungs falls quiet, and all that matters in the whole world is you kissing him like you’re saving his life.

You were. Saving him, that is. He’ll recall too a glance at his watch when you at last stepped out onto the barren street at twenty three past midnight. That’s how long you kissed him—twenty-three minutes—without break or pause or falter, without asking for a breath. Just because he needed it, and you knew. Because you saw.

Yes, he’ll remember just before Lorraine kisses him at the last tear of the calendar, and you’ll just smile behind your bar in that black apron, already busy serving up your next half-mixed cocktail, clueless to the year before.

And Javier will lie to you, just this once, when he takes it to his grave.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto - tag list & some mutuals!

@pedritosgfreal @thundermartini @guiltyasdave @jolapeno @reluctanthalfwayoptimism 

@myownwholewildworld @sunnytuliptime @indiegirlunited @anoverwhelmingdin @beezusvreeland

@perotovar @pedgito @harriedandharassed @casssiopeia @sweetpascal 

@noisynightmarepoetry @pedritosgfreal @theoraekenslover @luxurychristmaspudding @kyberblade

@itsokbbygrl @wannab-urs @milla-frenchy @yopossum @encasedinobsidian

[krysalla]

rack of his / pound of flesh

thomas hewitt x f!reader

word count: 5.1k

read on ao3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, cannibalism mention, blood, pregnancy mention, baby trapping (?), bad sex :(

It’s one of those insufferable days. The clouds are brewing in the sky with the sun still blazing behind them, creeping its heat into the moisture in the air. Even with the clouds, nothing stops the temperature from rising. What is it that they say about the frog in the pot? If you slowly turn the heat up, the frog won’t notice that it’s being boiled to death until it’s too late and its muscles are cooked away until they are of no use to him anymore. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day, you would share that same fate thanks to the Texas summers. Though, maybe it would be your own fault, you choose to be outside, rain or shine, to work the laundry. It’s easier for you, even if your hair and clothing are soaked in sweat and your whole body burns from exhaustion. You get to be on your own with only Luda Mae’s eyes glaring out the kitchen window, trying to drill a hole in the back of your head. 

Out here on the back porch, there is no bickering, no staticky TV to set your head ablaze, no one to answer to and no one to make cruel, lecherous comments about you. Sitting on the porch swing, a bucket of water between your feet, the chirping of the birds and your own singing is as close to paradise as you can get in the Hewitt farm. They all sequester themselves inside, hiding themselves away from the rest of the world in this decaying house. Out here, you think of your life before. You wonder how long it took for your mother to report you missing when you didn’t show up on her doorstep like you had planned with her. Has your sister noticed a gap in between her ribs, like you do, where you always kept a piece of her? You can’t remember what color your kitchen cabinets were or if your bedroom window faced east or west. You can’t remember the title of your thesis paper. Maybe you didn’t decide on one before you took off for the holidays. Did your advisor like your last submission?

It’s easier not to think of before and focus on the now.

You have a garden that you keep and a perpetual workload of laundry to do.

You’ve been working on one of Tommy’s shirts for the last five minutes, trying to rub the blood out of the cream fabric, but no matter how much you scrub or how much soap you use, the stain just won’t come out. You’d been hoping to save this one, it’s his best shirt. You sigh and drop it into the tub with clean water. It’s hopeless to even try and make anyone in this family look presentable. A sheepskin does little to make a wolf look friendly.

“Baby, come ‘ere!” Luda Mae shouts from the kitchen.

“Coming, mama.” You wring out the water in Tommy’s shirt and lay it flat on the seat next to you. 

You heft yourself off the swing and make your way inside. 

The air is just as thick, heavy and miserable and dank as it is outside. At least outside, there was a breeze. The air in the house is stagnant and reeks of sweat and blood and the scum of years worth of build up when Luda Mae had felt too hopeless to clean, before the Hewitt’s had come into their own. Now, it seems as though there is no way to get rid of the filth. No matter how hard you scrub the walls or how much bleach you use, the yellow tint won’t wipe away.

Luda Mae stands with her back to the counter, a large knife in hand. Behind her, you can just make out a cutting board and vegetables pillaged from your small garden. So much for a bountiful harvest. She pulled the potatoes and carrots from the ground too soon.

“Almost done with the laundry?”

You wipe your hands down the apron wrapped around your waist. A nail snags on a loose thread. Your hands are all dried and eaten up from the detergent. “Yes, mama. Just gotta finish wringing out the water and put ‘em out to dry.”

“Don’t bother putting them out on the line. A storm’s coming in. You’ll have to string them up in the family room.”

You tighten your jaw and quickly glance out the doorway leading to the room. Monty and Hoyt are out there watching TV. They make it so much harder to get anything done, especially Hoyt. Monty for the most part leaves you alone unless you block his view of the television or upset that pitiful dog that he keeps on his lap, but you can feel his eyes on you nonetheless. Hoyt will get in your face for no reason at all, just to scare you for his own kicks. 

You don’t school your twisted expression fast enough. She catches the contempt curling on your lip.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Luda Mae smiles with that wolf grin, laying out her trap for you.

“Nothing, mama.”

She comes close to you, knife still in hand, and even though you’re taller than her, she still has the presence to have you shrinking in on yourself. This little, old lady has just as much of a proclivity to violence as the men. She’s mean and cruel and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always been this way.

“You think you too good for this family, girl? Don’t insult me with ‘em lies of yours. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and my boys will fall right in line. You think you’re here because of my boy? I am the be all and end all of this house. Just one word and you’ll be next on the serving platter. No matter how much my boy thinks he loves you, you ain’t family.”

You hang your head like a scolded child, “‘M sorry, mama.” 

She coos and sets down her carving knife on the counter. It’s a complete one-eighty that leaves your head spinning and stomach knotting. Luda Mae holds your face in her hands and tilts your head back to face her. Gone is that terrifying look in her eyes. Now, she treats you with the tenderness of a mother with her child.

“I know you’re sorry, baby, but you gotta know the way it works. Don’t want to lose the only daughter I ever had.” Luda Mae runs her hands down your shoulders, over your arms, squeezes your hands. She can be very affectionate with you when the mood strikes her. Your skin crawls as she clicks her tongue. She chucks you chin. “Now, give mama a hug.”

You wrap your arms around her back and push your face into her shoulder. You can feel the sting of tears, hot and angry, in your eyes and you will them to go away. You hold onto her tighter and she rocks you from side to side on your feet, cooing and shushing you with a spindly hand stroking over your hair.

“I love you, baby,” she says when she breaks the hug.  

“I love you too, mama.”

She kisses your cheek. “Now, go bring Tommy in from the barn. I’ll have dinner done soon.”

“Yes, mama.”

---

Anxiety is coiling deep in your stomach and you’ve only got until you reach the barn to shake it off. No matter how much he might worry and fuss over you, you know Luda Mae is right, at the end of the day if she wanted you dead, Tommy would follow her orders. He is a dutiful son after all and family–blood– comes first. Tommy is dangerous, but not to you, not without Luda Mae pulling his strings. There’s no way you make it out of this alive without her complete and total confidence or until she is rotting six feet deep.

What bond can compare with a parent and their child?

You look up at the sky. Luda Mae is right, there is a storm coming. The clouds are darker now and the breeze has started to pick up. 

The barn doors are wide open. It’s dark in the barn, cluttered with rusted over farm tools intermingled with suitcases and mountains of car parts and an engine that someone in the family had the intention to put back together again. It looks better than the last time you were in here– though it was much darker then. There aren’t so many hiding places. You wonder if Tommy has found your suitcase yet.

“Tommy?” you call out. 

You hear a rustling from the back of the barn followed only after a few short moments by Tommy and his heavy footfalls. He looks subdued, as close to looking happy as he gets, his shoulders are relaxed and his pace lazy as he makes his way to you. You watch him carefully. As much as you might hate it, you care about the man that has taken you captive. It’s wrong and you know that deep down, once you break free from this family, you will no longer have any tenderness for him. He’s treated you well enough since you stopped fighting every second you could. He keeps an eye out for you, always keeping you out of trouble, and when he has no work to do, trails after you like a lost puppy imprinting on the first kind soul to reach out to him.

There’s one other way to make it out alive.

You know what your saving grace will be, what will solidify you as a Hewitt and give you the reins to control Tommy, to end the ever present danger he presents to you. A child. You will give him a family of his own, one of his making and one that will come willingly. You will give him everything he has been denied. You will become mother and wife, madonna and whore, prey and predator. Luda Mae will have her reckoning.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach up on your toes to press a kiss to the leather covering his cheek. “Look how much work you got done. Very impressive.”

He huffs, quick and short, and bows his head in an almost bashful manner. You hem and haw and lay it thick with compliments as you walk around the mostly cleared out area. You really play it up for him and maybe just a little bit for yourself just so you can glean a smile out of him, no matter how small, and make blood flow to his cheeks. It will serve as an opening.

There’s a smudge of dirt on his forehead and that just won’t do. You lick your thumb. He gently swats at your hand, grunting low in displeasure, but you pay it no mind— he’s only pretending not to like your gentle fretting. 

“Oh, quit that bellyachin’ of yours. I wanna be able to see that handsome face of yours.” That earns you a small victory. You catch the crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, right above the cut of his mask. His guard is down.

The wind picks up outside. You can hear the drops of light rainfall. 

“Do you love me, Tommy?” you ask quietly. You brush his hair out of his face, clearing up his eyes so you can see his answer. 

Your question takes him off guard, shoulders stiff and eyes wide. He looks around the barn, looking for something, someone. The Hewitts don’t talk much about before when you’re around, something you will never be privy to, but you can guess why he’s looking around for someone to come out from the thick, wooden beams to laugh and point and mock at him. Big, stupid, ugly animal. He’s not the average man and in a small town, you can only imagine not fitting into the norm can only have meant one thing for him: cruelty.

“It’s just you and me, Tommy.” You look conspiratorially around the barn with a sly smile. “I love you. Don’t you love me too?”

His eyes go wide, and you’re sure he believes you when he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand. Maybe one day it will be true. For now you’re playing a game of survival. He pushes your hands away from his face and pulls you by your wrists until your chest touches his. Large hands pet over your back, your shoulders, down to the wide breadth of your hips and back up over your face. He creeps over you like a spider. He must be craving this, he’s never been particularly touchy with you, no thanks to Luda Mae who watches you like a hawk when the two of you are together. I won’t have any hussies in my home, she said to you when she stripped you bare of the clothing you arrived in. She threw your denim shorts and tank top and anything else in your suitcase she deemed inappropriate into the fire. 

You take a deep breath and slide your hands down to his chest and push him away from you. There is no force on earth that could get Thomas to move unless he allows it. He takes a small step back and whines, brow drawing down in hurt betrayal. You ignore his whining and make your way over to the cluttered workbench. The table top surface is a little too high for you to be able to push yourself up on, but you’re sure Tommy will be able to help you out here. 

You pick up the edge of your dress and pull it up, giving him a view of your leg, and crook the index finger of your free hand to him. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen as he follows the curve of your calf. The display you make of yourself makes him look hungry. You catch his tongue peek out from his lips and lick over them, there’s a sharp glint of teeth in there too. His steps are heavy as he approaches you and your stomach turns over. There’s no going back after this. You are making a permanent home in the belly of the beast. He won’t let you go after this, not when he will have everything he has been denied– love, affection, a warm, wet cunt to stick his cock in. You may not escape, but it will guarantee survival, especially if the fruits of your labor begin to show.

His hands fall on your hips and he lifts you clear off the ground. You shriek, holding tight to his shoulders. You’d been expecting it and yet it still surprised you. The strength of his arms give you something no man has been able to do for you. Even after he sets you on the table, you still cling to him, heart pattering in your chest from the anxiety of being dropped. He heaves you up as if you weigh nothing to him. 

He seems pleased with himself. 

It’s gotten so warm, it’s crept under your skin, crawling throughout your body.

You grab the wrist of his left hand and bring his fingers to your mouth. He tastes like sweat and grime. You lap your tongue around his index and middle finger, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. You suck and and suck, and you can feel saliva falling from the corner of your mouth as you work his fingers. It slides down his fingers, into the creases of his palm and to his wrist where your hand wraps around him.

“C’mon, big boy.” You suck in a breath and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Show me how bad you need it.”

He grabs your thighs, his short nails bite into the fat of your thighs and he pries them apart, pushes himself further into your space, crowding you until you’re overwhelmed with him, hips aching as you accommodate his sheer size. Anything you were going to say, even if you could work out a word, is snatched from you when you catch his heady gaze, eyes dark and unwavering, waiting for any slight movement or any tell of yours.

You force his hand between your legs, fixing his fingers beneath your panties and rock against him. You moan loud and exaggerated, just to break him out of whatever spell you’ve got him under and get him to make a move.

He curls his fingers into the crotch of your panties and yanks at them. He tugs your underwear off, the cotton stretched out and the elastic useless. It gets caught around the tops of your thighs and Tommy manhandles you, moving your body like a doll to pull the offending garment down your legs and flip your skirt up for his own viewing pleasure.

You don’t have time to scold him. Underwear is invaluable around here, especially pairs that fit. Tommy drops down onto his knees and lands with a loud thud. It’s the last thing you expected of Tommy– you had a suspicion he really wouldn’t know what to do except to ram himself into you from behind like animals do. He must have seen this on one of the many gutter trash pornos Hoyt has on video, the fucking pervert.

There is no technique or finesse to what he’s doing. He just tears into you with teeth and tongue. He’s making a sloppy mess of you. 

You take the reins, knotting your hand in his hair and pulling him back from your cunt. “Fuck, just a little less teeth, Tommy.”

You push his head back into you. He listens. He drools against you, the only source of wetness that you’re sure you will need in time. You’re too stiff, too on edge to feel anything. There’s no grace in his movements, his tongue completely misses your clit and his lips are too rough against you. 

You grip his hair as hard as possible and yank him away. “That’s enough. I need you.”

With one hand, he does his belt and tugs his pants down enough to free his cock, and the other to pull your neckline down to expose your breasts. You look down at him. Your heart skips a beat and your lungs struggle for air. It’s a fucking beast, a lead pipe that will split you in two. You’ll die before you even get a chance to see your plan through. 

There’s no consideration on his end or he simply doesn’t know. He pushes into you with no warning and you cry out. The wind washes out the sound. 

You feel like you’re on fire, burning from the inside out with how he stretches you open. The pace he sets is brutal beyond belief. You lean forward, one arm draped loosely around his shoulder and push your face into his neck. It hurts with the minimal lubrication you’ve got, just his messy display of eating you out. You try to smother your grunts of pain against the thick column of his neck, you close your eyes and clench your jaw, trying to find anything pleasurable in this act. There’s nothing you can do now.

He doesn’t sense your discomfort, just continues pushing through it. He pulls you closer, big hands pawing at your back, fingers catching in the fabric of your dress, before he remembers your chest is exposed. His hands come circling around and even his hands are not big enough to hold your breasts in full. You look down at the flesh spilling out between his fingers and you moan. The sight turns you on more than it should.

The way he looks, hungry and wanting more, makes you act. You tear the leather mask from his face, your nails scratch his cheeks from the force of you fitting your fingers under the mask. He grunts. His face is ruddy and pockmarked from both his skin condition and his own self mutilation, his nose rotting away. His brow is heavy and thick and his eyes the darkest shade of brown you’ve ever seen. He’s beautiful and your heart lurches in your chest when the thought comes tumbling through you. It’s sick and you lash out against him, this is all his fault and you will make him pay.

You lay into him and bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Warmth overflows in your mouth, the tang of iron on your tongue and a bit of flesh stuck between your teeth. You smile into the wound you inflicted on him and lap at the blood pouring out of him. You’ve gotten your pound of flesh from him. 

He fumes, glaring down at you with a deep frown set into what is left of his lips and snarls, showing off the glint of yellowed, sharp teeth. You push your fingers into the bite you gifted him with, collecting the blood and smear his over his mouth, fearing no repercussions as he nibbles on the finger that breeches his mouth. He could very well bite it off, but he won’t. He won’t bite because to Tommy you’re family now and family ain’t meat. Meat is mean and angry. Meat is filth and stink and lesser than. Meat is a corpse wasted on a walking, talking sack of shit. He loves you and being loved makes you family. You are family, so you are better than meat.

He picks up his pace. The sound of flesh smacking is almost too much. You can feel yourself grow wetter and feel the ease he thrusts with. You choke out a moan. He pushes you down by your shoulder onto the messy workbench. Something digs into the middle of your back. You squirm against it, but he pays you no mind. He is busy positioning you exactly how he wants— your ass close to the edge of the bench, your legs wrapped around his waist, his weight resting on his forearms, leaving no room for you to escape. As if you could. 

Outside, the rain begins to pour with fervor. 

It’s all starting to become too much. His weight, the heat, the thick of him splitting you open. You clench down, hoping to encourage him to finish. You can’t take it any longer. There’s no room to breathe beneath him, what little air you can manage is punched back out of you with each thrust of his cock. The guilt and fear rearing its ugly head again. It’s been too long, you need him out of you, off of you. You dig your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching as hard as you can, leaving red welting lines down the planes of his shoulders. He grunts louder. He likes it, you think. 

This is sick, this shouldn’t be happening. You should be at home bickering with your roommates about who’s turn it is to do the dishes or tucked away in the library, scouring through the library catalog to find just the right book for your thesis. You would have already graduated if Tommy hadn’t yanked you by the back of your shirt out of your car. Your future was bright and full of potential and now you’re here, crushed under the weight of a man who kills without remorse, trapped by a woman who wants a daughter but will not value you the same as a son, and planning a pregnancy that will inexplicable tie you to this family, to this chapter in your life until death. You cry out.

He comes soon after and you feel disgusting.

He pulls out and his spend leaks out of you onto the dirt. You wipe your tears away and piece yourself back together into the character of hopelessly in love with the man who has taken your life from you. There’s no time to feel sorry for yourself. 

You grab your ruined panties from beside you and clean yourself up as well as you can. 

His blood has started to coagulate around your bite. He gingerly puts his button up over it, careful not to disturb the bite mark and start the bleeding over again. The last thing you need is Luda Mae questioning why he’s bleeding and what exactly you two got up to in this rundown barn.

Thomas offers you his hand, ready to help you down off the workbench, but you press your dirty underwear into his palm instead. He takes them eagerly, stuffing them into his back pocket. He’ll sniff at them later, keep them under his pillow and when he finally can’t smell you on the fabric, he’ll finally give it back to you for washing. It’s not the first time he’s hidden a pair of your used panties around for his own private pleasure. You’d found your blue panties mixed in with his clothing. The fabric was stiff and coated in white.

You brace your hands against the edge of the bench but before you can push off, his hands encircle your hips, gently lifting you up from the bench to avoid scraping the back of your thighs or your ass along the wood, and sets you down on the ground. His hands pet over you again, mussing up your hair in an attempt to smooth it, his fingers too big and gentle touch unpracticed. His fingers get caught in your hair and he frowns. You pull him apart from the nest he’s made in your hair with delicacy.

Are you supposed to hate him or love him? He’s the reason you’re here, why you are under the constant threat of butchery, but he treats you with such care even after he destroys you.

“C’mon, your mama will be wondering where we went off to,” you murmur.

The sky has turned dark blue, almost black, with heavy storm clouds. Hail the size of nickels and rain pelts down from above you—it takes only a moment before your dress is completely soaked. Lightning splits open the sky. The storm rages, wind blowing so hard it sends the rain horizontally. 

Tommy looks down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and he presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes. It’s so nice to be treated like glass after such rough handling. He takes your hand in his and your heart shatters. Why are you letting a few gentle touches turn you upside down? 

You are guided back to the Hewitt residence but the light flooding out of the kitchen window.

Luda Mae is full of accusations when you come back through the door, her eyes narrowed at you–always the first to be blamed. “What took you so long?” 

Under the weight of her stare, you feel like she knows exactly what happened, like she can see it on your face. You feel something trickle down your legs. You’re not sure if it’s rain water or cum. You hope the rain has washed away the scent of sex and sweat on your skin. 

You let go of Tommy’s hand and duck your head in supplication to Luda Mae. “Sorry, mama. Tommy was showing me all the hard work he did today.” 

“That so?” Luda Mae turns to Tommy and her whole demeanor changes. She smiles so wide and reaches up to cup his face. “You’re such a good boy, Tommy.”

“Go on and set the table, baby,” she directs you. “Let Monty and Hoyt know it’s time to eat. After that you can finish hanging the laundry. You gotta finish your chores if you wanna eat.”

You breathe deeply before giving her your best smile, “Yes, mama.”

“Now you go and sit down, Tommy. It’ll only be a minute.”

---

You’ve long stopped thinking about the implications of this child’s conception, it’s less than moral reasoning. They will not be born out of want, but of need for your own survival and assurance of your status as a Hewitt. You will have a leg up for giving Thomas a child and Luda Mae a grandchild. While it might not provide you with the status of matriarch, you will hold more sway over Thomas. Besides, Luda Mae can’t live forever. Once they are all gone, it will be easier. You will take the child with you and hope that they are young enough to forget about the Texas heat and the stench of blood.

Tommy presented you with a ring not long after that day in the barn. It didn’t fit right, nothing here does. It hangs around your neck on a delicate gold chain. Hoyt had hooted and hollered and went out, drunk as a skunk, with his shotgun and shot off two rounds. Luda Mae had been as happy as a clam–her boy was finally getting everything he deserved.

You wear the ring, biding your time. 

Luda Mae has let you move into the same room together. Privacy has given you more chances to try for this hypothetical child.

You wash out the blood in your underwear in the sink. It will catch one day and when that day comes, you will no longer be at the bottom of the food chain. You will be a prized bitch for breeding. What an honor to carry on the Hewitt name! 

You will suffer the sickness, the distortion of your body both temporary and permanent. You will endure hours of labor, blood and mucus membranes spilling out from you by the buckets, the shifting of bones and tearing of skin for a child that will come out too big for your body. You will put yourself through the wringer for just a taste of the power that will come from it.

Tommy has no idea about your intentions. It’s sweet almost how he doesn’t sense what you're doing and you almost feel guilty for using him this way, letting him soak up all the physical attention he’d been denied by other women, but he will be overjoyed at the results. Tommy will be a good father. He will teach them how to pluck a chicken clean, how to suck the marrow out of a bone, the proper way to cut an artery to drain an animal of blood, how to use every piece of livestock so nothing goes to waste–all the same things he taught you. He will love them fiercely as he loves his mother. He will be a protector. You’d never planned for children yourself and you have no warm or soft feelings at the prospect of your future child. This child is just a means to an end. Maybe one day you will grow to love it. Until then, you have other things to worry about. 

There is food to grow and laundry to do.

[moonstruck-poet]

Let's Have One

Pairing - Ben Barnes x reader!

Summary - Seeing you play and bond with his sister's baby sparked a new feeling of want and love in Ben.

Warnings - none!

This one is a thank you for a hundred followers!! I love all of you sm <33

"You ready, love?" His soft voice addressed you as you finished applying some light compact powder, thus finishing your simple and elegant look.

"Yeah just done," you gave yourself a scan and smoothed down the simple blood red dress. And even with the three cups of caffeine that you had downed in the past two hours, a yawn still managed to escape.

"God I'm hopeless," you chuckled lightly, fighting the urge to rub your eyes so as to not ruin the eyeliner.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and pulled you closer by the waist. "I can see how tired you are and I can't do anything at all".

"Hey it's fine," you kissed his cheek, lingering for a while and nuzzling into his neck. "It was my fault for staying up late on that case".

"You sure you're feeling okay? No headaches or anything?"

"I'm fine," you smiled at his worried expression before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the door. "And besides it's Sarah's birthday party, I wouldn't miss it for the world, you know?"

"I know," he replied and followed you without a doubt, opening the car door like an absolute gentleman before getting in himself.

"I should've done that since I'm driving," you laughed when he shook his head.

"You open the doors for me at restaurants and I do it for cars. I think it's only fair".

The drive to the party was spent in silence, with the radio and Ben's humming being the only source of sound.

"You need to have a small holiday," he interrupted the quiet and took your free hand in his. "You're working too hard".

"I'll get one as soon as I finish this, I promise. This one's a lot more complicated than we expected so naturally it is taking more time".

"I find you absolutely cool have I ever mentioned that?" He asked with a teasing smirked on his face.

You couldn't help but laugh and smile yourself, "I think you have, indeed! For the past week or so".

"Seriously though, I still can't believe that I'm married to a crime branch officer. Who could've thought?"

"And it's beyond my understanding how I managed to snatch for myself a literal Disney prince for the record," you retorted and he grinned proudly.

You two had arrived at the destination and the car was parked quickly by your efficient hands.

As usual, he got out first and opened your door, offering a charming smile and his hand as if you were a queen.

You accepted it without a moment of hesitation and placed your palm on his cheek to give him a rather unexpected kiss, one that he immediately reciprocated.

"Goodness," he whispered to himself after you pulled away, leaving him rather breathless and following with a wink.

Ben just felt himself fall a little more in love.

As soon as you opened the doors, you were swarmed by his family members. Eveybody coming closer to greet you with enthusiasm while your husband watched from the sideline, a fond and adoring smile on his face.

"It's so good to see you sweetheart!" His mother cupped your cheeks and surveyed your face in the most motherly way possible. "You're resting well aren't you? Eating properly and getting enough sleep? He's taking care of you isn't he?" She pointed towards her son and playfully narrowed her eyes as if threatening him.

"Don't worry, Mum. He's always taking care of me," you laughed at his nervous and scared face.

"He better be," Thomas, his father patted him on the shoulder sternly before chuckling and pulling his boy in a hug.

You finally managed to extract yourself from his loving family and he joined your side a second later, straightening his blazer.

"I honestly think they love you more".

"Well, I know they love me more".

He rolled his eyes at your smirk and extended his arm which you took, placing your palm on his bicep.

"You look beautiful by the way," he muttered in you ear as you searched for an empty table. "Like breathtakingly gorgeous".

"Thank you," was all you managed to utter because the way he was looking at you made you feel all sorts of things.

"All these years and I can still make you blush huh?" He grinned knowingly while you poked and slapped his abdomen.

"Let's sit here," he pointed to one with two empty seats and you followed, settling down at last and letting out a sigh as you slipped your heels off.

His hands found their way to yours, as though it was second nature to do so. His fingers fiddled with yours, occupying his attention till the party began.

And it started soon enough with everyone standing up as the birthday girl cut her cake and both her husband and son placed a kiss on her cheeks.

"Awh," you said to yourself, a smile forming on your face at what you saw a perfect family. You wanted that too. You already had a loving husband, the only thing left now was an adorable little one.

You lips were pressed together as you looked at your man, letting your eyes rest on his sharp but smooth features.

How beautiful would it be to have a little baby, a perfect combination of yourself and someone whom you held so dear. Maybe they'd inherit his dark eyes and hair or yours, it would be beautiful either way.

How lovely would it be to see this small, tiny human being blossom into a fully mature adult with their own unique personality while also sharing some common traits.

Your heart felt heavy with love at the thought and Ben could certainly feel you planting holes in his face and he looked at you quizzically, though a smile was still there.

You shook your head, suddenly overcome with emotions as you rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to be close.

He didn't say anything and merely pulled you closer, if that was even possible while pressing a kiss to your hairline.

The celebrations were in full swing and all of the couples were currently on the dancefloor, swaying to the romantic rhythm which soon changed into an energetic beat.

"Goddamn," a breath escaped your lips as you pushed your sweaty hair out of your face. "You're quite the dancer, Barnes".

"Care for another one, my love?"

"Unfortunately though I have to decline your offer, darling. I'm quite tired," you laughed lightly and he guided you to sit on a chair.

He knelt down on the floor and touched your feet making your eyes widen as you instantly grabbed his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Shh just relax and trust me," he whispered and you watched as he undid the buckles of your heels and removed your sore feet from their tortuous clutches.

He then went forward to gently rubbing the top and sides and then moving towards the sole. The slight pressure helped immensely and you had to literally push him to get the man to stop.

"Thank you," you said into his ear once he settled down next to you, his chair close.

"Always," he murmured back and leaned down, capturing your lips in his and savouring the moment before it was broken by the party host.

Drinks and food were served once again, probably to energize the crowd for another round of crazy dancing. And Ben too had been dragged away by his many relatives, you laughing at his face that screamed 'save me from these hooligans'.

The sound was getting too loud for your rather sensitive ears so you decided to go to the more quieter areas but suddenly a loud crying stopped you in your tracks.

Pinpointing the source was easy enough and your heart dropped in your chest on seeing a toddler sitting on the grass all alone.

"Christ," you almost sprinted to the baby, recognizing him to be Louis, Ben's nephew. You sat down on your knees, offering him a smile and slowly moving closer.

"Hey Lou," you whispered, the smile still intact as you held out your palm. "You remember me, love?"

Fortunately the one-year-old had stopped crying though tears still stained his cheeks. He looked at you through wide set of eyes, his mind racing as he tried to identify.

After some time of silence you concluded that he didn't recognise you, which was fair considering you had only ever seen him twice in his life.

"Come here," you beckoned, now sitting on your heels and grinning as he raised his arms, allowing you to pick him up.

"Now what might you be doing here all alone, hmm?" You spoke softly, tucking him close to your body and finding a secluded spot in the party which didn't invite a lot of noise.

A sudden giggle was heard from him and you looked, surprised and laughing upon finding the cause. His tiny fingers had found your small butterfly necklace.

Sitting down on a chair you placed him on your lap, facing you. "Yeah that's a butterfly!" You smiled and gently wiped his moist cheeks.

"Fieee!" He grinned, his voice melting you immediately. He was an adorable boy, with blond hair and sea blue eyes.

"You wanna play a game? Let's play a game," saying so you kept him engaged for quite a long time and were entertained yourself.

"More!" He said happily, swinging his little feet as you tickled his sides making him squirm away but also lean in.

There was a tissue box kept on the table and you folded one to create a boat, an aeroplane and some simple shapes much to his excitement.

"Boat," he pointed towards the craft kept on the left and you clapped.

"Good job!" You chuckled and kissed the top of his head with every ounce of love. A wave of pride filling your chest at his correct answer.

Your shenanigans went on for another thirty minutes before Louis started yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Someone's getting sleepy," you adjusted his position so that his face was resting comfortably on your chest and your palm was patting his back.

Ben's blazer that had been resting on your shoulders for almost the entire night was now shielding his nephew from the cold. You draped the black coat on him and it fit like a warm blanket.

"Goodnight sweetheart," you murmured and kissed his forehead before resting your cheek gently on his head.

"Nigh Nigh," he replied, eyes closed completely and one of his fist grasping on your necklace.

Looking at him sleeping so peacefully made your tired body feel dizzy as well and before you knew it, you were knocked out.

Ben Barnes on the other hand was roaming around the hall for the past ten minutes, trying to locate you amongst the crowd. He was getting agitated and couldn't help but release a sigh of relief upon seeing you.

Walking closer a small noise of surprise left him as he saw you fast asleep with his nephew resting on your chest. His heart took up its pace as he gazed at the domestic scene, his brain already creating various scenarios which depicted you and a tiny one nestled in your arms.

He swallowed, sitting down in the empty share and pulling out his phone to click a picture, knowing it would last longer.

His eyes surveyed every inch of you in that beautiful moment.

Moving from your creaseless eyelids to the small movement of your lips while you were asleep, then to the protective but gentle hold you had on the baby who was snuggling closer to your cozy figure under his own blazer making his smile widen.

"God I adore you," he said with a small chuckle, getting up to press his lips to the top of your head.

"Oh thank goodness," his sister Sarah's voice was heard from behind as she panted a little.

"What's wrong?" He stood up straight, concerned upon seeing her frazzled state.

"I left Lou with an uncle of ours and I saw the said person drunk some time ago and freaked out," she took deep breath, glad that her son was safe and sound.

He scoffed is disbelief at the carelessnes shown before turning back to you as you were rubbing you eyes and blinking rapidly, trying to move before remembering the child that was alseep too.

Ben and Sarah watched with a smile as you adjusted the coat, tucking it carefully and brushing the small strands of hair from his face.

"Oh hey," you greeted when your eyes fell upon the pair and you stood up, "He fell asleep as we were playing," you explained and handed him to his mother.

She took her son in one arm and pulled you in a warm embrace, "Thank you. I was worried sick after not seeing him," she said, shuddering slightly and you offered her a comforting smile.

"Its okay I can understand, glad to say he was in good hands," you said softly and they nodded while laughing.

"See you around then, visit soon, Ben," she hugged her cousin and bid goodbye.

"You slept well?" Your husband asked and brought you close to him while you arms went around his neck.

"Mhmm, needed that power nap".

"I've been thinking.." He began slowly making you pull away to look at his face, noticing the slightly nervous expression.

"Go on," you encouraged him, leaning ahead.

"We've been married for almost four years noe, yeah? And have been together for ever longer," he said and you nodded. "How about- How about we have a child now?"

Your eyes widened and you stilled in his arms, your heartbeat increasing with both nervousness and excitement at his declaration, "Y- You sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He questioned and gently swayed you two together. "I want a future with you, my love. Have been dreaming about it for ages".

"Me too," you admitted, a small smile forming against your lips. "Seeing Lou again just increased that feeling tenfold".

"I second that. And honestly? I really want to take the next step now. I think we're ready. What'd you say?"

"I think I'm ready too".

"Well then, I supoose we should start practicing soon," he said, now a teasing smirk on his face making you blush.

"Indeed," you replied and the two of you laughed, placing your foreheads against each other and simply staring into each other's eyes, making a whole new world of promises by sharing looks.

===============================

[fractualized]

2023 Batjokes Secret Santa Round-Up

Happy holidays! Big thanks to everyone who participated in the exchange this year. Gifts are listed below, split between art and fic, and SFW and NSFW. (Most art titles are unofficial, just text for me to link.)

90% of the gifts are batjokes; nonbatjokes are at the end of each section. I’ve included some other notes and warnings with the links, but as usual it’s on you to check fic tags.

🎄 SFW Art

Summer Selfie [Lego Batman] by arcthie

Lego Meme/Holiday Wrapping/Shark Repellent [Lego Batman, DOTF] by batjokestm

Joker by botoartist

Destined Dance [Telltale] by chokit-pyrus

Team-Up Selfie by clownedcrime

Under the Mistletoe by flurpyz

Gentleman's Arrest by the-hopeless-fanboy

Caught in the Spotlight by kitty-cat-boi

Partners [Telltale] by Koda

Christmas Sweaters [Batman '66] by garrett-strangelove

Cozy Christmas Evening [Telltale] by maple-chuu

Christmas Headgear [Telltale] by m-e-f-y

Rooftop Dance by metionohre

Caught by pipermint8magic

The Joke's On You [Batman '66] by Nex

His Bat and His Clown by occultkings

Playing Cards by pinkopalina

Keeping A Promise by powrbottomjoker

Visiting Room by riddlekid

I Won't Tell [genderbend] by Star

Loving Embrace [TDKR] by stewbud

Snow Globe [Telltale] by stryx123

Knife Dance [BTAS] by vongeist

Eye to Eye [riddlebird] by foolcunting

The Heart Outweighs All [twiddler, mild gore] by Ingo

Well-Trained [Punchline/James Jr] by venombiote

Wallypillar [Welcome Home] by marxtheimpish

Octogoblin Christmas [Spider-Man] by moxis

🎁 SFW Fic

Normal People Things (Rated Mature) by bang-the-smoke

once isn't enough (Rated Mature) by batsyjokes

This Strange Effect (Rated Explicit, but not in chapter 1) by battybrownboo

A Fine Addition To My Collection (Rated Teen and Up) by darkpurpledawn

What to Get for the Man Who Has Everything (Rated Teen and Up) by faygomonkey

kiss me (you animal) (Rated Teen and Up) by luxamea

That Deathless Death (Rated Mature; vampire Bruce) by superherogrl

I’ll Be Your Mirror [Breaking Bad; Mike/Jesse] (Rated Mature) by TheDykeKnight

🎅 NSFW Art

Hello Nurse [bondage] by drones-art

Lazy Morning Breakfast [pregnant Joker] by Emilia

Santa Lingerie by K

Tunnel of Love [TDKR] by Mara's shelter

Threshold by razzbatty

Men of Science [extremely dubious consent, Arkham staff] by Ring

⛄ NSFW Fic

let our bodies be awoken (Rated Explicit; zombies) by distortopia

I want to make you proud and play with your head (Rated Explicit; AU) by fractualized

If I missed your gift, let me know and I’ll add it.

Happy Holidays!

[caramel1mochi]

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [1]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎ 

TW: Depression and implied suicidal thoughts (I swear it’s not all sad haha) ‎ ‎ 

Words: 4k ‎ 

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer. ‎ ‎ 

NOTES: 'Tis the season! Ha, I rushed to get this out before Christmas was over. Christmas is still going, right? Happy holidays!! ‎  Anyway, this story is HEAVILY reliant on flashbacks and the past in general, so keep that in mind. Have a good read! ‎ ‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Winter, one year ago.

 ‎ 

If there was one thing you loathed with every inch of your being, it would be the winter season. It was a season that was associated with only despair and heavily encouraged death. Both physically and mentally. The death of plants, the death of animals, the death of people, just death in general.

And you hated it. You hated the overwhelming feeling of melancholy that would loom over you whenever snow would fall.

Your arms rested on the ice cold metal railing that overlooked a mystifying lake, one that had gotten frozen over the past week. The thick sleeves of your hoodie blocked the freezing temperatures like dutiful guards surrounding a castle. This comfort, however, felt like a miniscule droplet in the ocean of despondency you felt.

A tired sigh escaped you. And like a furious dragon, a vapour of pure white billowed from your lips.

 ‎ 

“Disgusting.”

 ‎ 

You muttered under your breath whilst you looked at the ice. In the distance, you heard something crack, and it took you only a few seconds to spot where it was on the icy surface of the lake.

 ‎ 

“Look on the bright side, at least.”

 ‎ 

Yu, your boyfriend, piped up from your right. He rested on the railing just as you did, with his jacket protecting him. But his upright posture and bright purple eyes conveyed something you didn’t: joy.

 ‎ 

“Like what?”

 ‎ 

“Look around you, observe the snow.”

 ‎ 

He pointed to the blankets of snow that surrounded the forest around the bridge, each snowflake collectively gathered to envelop every tree your eyes laid on. Like a mother huddled with her children on a cold night. To him, the landscape looked like a stunning painting, one meticulously slaved over by an artist who desired perfection over all else.

 ‎ 

“Isn’t it breathtaking?”

 ‎ 

Maybe to him. But to you? All you saw were dead trees, shells of the beautiful bearers of fruit and life they once were. That wasn’t to mention the corpses of animals buried under the feet of snow he was so enamoured by.

You rested your head on your arms in silence.

 ‎ 

“It’s winter.”

 ‎ 

Two words. Curt, but enough to summarise the maelstrom of thoughts that roamed your mind.

And it’s not like he didn’t know, either. He did, which was why, despite his optimism, he also started dreading this season once you both started dating nearly five winters ago. Yu placed one hand on your shoulder, the wooden planks under him loudly creaking as he stepped closer to you. Then, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer, the warmth from his body counteracting the one from the railings.

 ‎ 

“I understand.”

 ‎ 

For a moment, that was all he could say.

 ‎ 

“But… Y/N, you shouldn’t think about them every single day.”

 ‎ 

You shut your eyes and took in a deep, slow breath, allowing the cold air to be warmed on the way to your lungs.

As much as he denied it, and as stiff as his face was, Yu was incredibly expressive. Whenever he’d try to conceal how he felt, his body language simply betrayed him at every turn. He meant well, both of you knew that. Especially you. But Yu wasn’t exactly the best when it came to dealing with things like… this.

 ‎ 

“It’s difficult to get over them, Yu. It feels impossible.”

 ‎ 

Since Yu’s hands were gloved the whole way here, the slightly cold temperature of it didn’t bother you as much once his fingers intertwined with yours. Add on to the fact your hands were in your pockets, the warmth immediately cooled him down as he began gently outlining the lines on your palm with his thumb.

You lost your parents in one hazy winter. And every one after that would be a depressing reminder of that fact.

 ‎ 

“Every winter, I ask myself why I should keep going.”

 ‎ 

He paused.

 ‎ 

“What’s waiting for us at the end? Some silly award for putting up with this?”

 ‎ 

“Don’t say that. There’s more to life than baseless questions like that.”

 ‎ 

The white tint of the snow was bright. So bright, it began piercing your eyes, and you were forced to close them for a hint of relief.

  ‎ 

“What do you think?”

 ‎ 

You flipped the question on him, your words cutting through his benevolence like acid through a rotting cadaver.

Silence settled for a moment. Between it and the blankets of snow that surrounded you, you could hear Yu’s very pulse echo with each passing second. That, and how his lips parted. But for a moment, no words left his mouth, and he stayed quiet.

 ‎ 

“I… I don’t know.” He turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think about things like this.”

 ‎ 

It figures, you thought. Nevertheless, he began outlining the lines on your palm all over again, and the sound of the shuffling in your pocket as he did this started to stick out to you.

A few rapid clicks caught your attention. And once you lifted your head, you noticed a peculiar sight.

A bird had landed on the lake’s icy surface. Though it was a few dozen feet away from you, somehow, It felt as if all the sound waves were channelled in one direction just to reach you, and you could see it with clarity that would rival a telescope. With each step, you heard a loud click. And each time it pecked at the ice under it, you heard a little pick that accompanied it.

You wanted to ask why there was a bird here. Around this time, they’d usually disappear and leave the grey sky more dreary and lifeless than it ever could be. So… why?

You diligently watched it stretch its stunning wings, shades of blue reflecting off of the sunlight and complementing each other. Somehow, it spawned various new shades on its wings. Like ballet dancers, the colours played off each other's movements gracefully.

You lifted a hand and pointed at the bird.

 ‎ 

“It looks just like you.”

 ‎ 

Yu stopped to get a glance at what you were looking at. Then, he chuckled.

 ‎ 

“You think every bird looks like me, Y/N.”

 ‎ 

“I...”

 ‎ 

Your words were interrupted once the bird’s feathers reached outwards. For a moment, it puffed and formed a fluffy ball of white, blue and black, before it rapidly shook its head and relaxed all over again.

 ‎ 

“There. Did you see that?”

 ‎ 

“See what?”

 ‎ 

“It puffed up.” You met his gaze. “It looked just like you whenever you’d wake up.”

 ‎ 

Even on the hottest days of summer, Yu would have at least three blankets wrapped around him whilst he slept. That wasn’t to mention how messy his hair would be whenever you had the pleasure of catching him in this way. Yu grinned, pulling you closer as you both watched the bird for a few seconds.

A few short-lived seconds, until it flew away and disappeared into the clouds, cutting the enjoyable moment short.

But before melancholy would dare set in once more, Yu immediately turned to meet your gaze, his purple eyes glimmering under the bright winter sky. Just like the bird’s wings, the colours mixed with each other in a captivating manner.

 ‎ 

“How about we go home and watch a movie? I’ll even make you hot chocolate. What do you say?”

 ‎ 

“Movie?”

 ‎ 

A moment of silence settled.

But just as Yu thought he failed in his endeavour to cheer you up, all of his doubts evaporate once he saw a smile form. The sensation of such a move, though weak, still felt foreign to your face.

 ‎ 

“Can we take the movie out of the equation?” 

 ‎ 

…

 ‎ 

“Definitely.” 

‎ 

Before another word could be uttered, he suddenly pulled you much closer, trapping you in a warm embrace. And you couldn’t help but grin at such an unexpected yet sweet move.

‎ 

“Yu, we’re in public.”

‎ 

“You don’t know how much I missed your smile, Y/N.”

‎ 

“Be reasonable. It couldn’t have been that long.”

‎ 

You said, your words muffled as he had your face pressed up against the inside of his jacket. Your arms were wrapped around him to allow the heat to pass on over to you.

‎ 

“It has.” He muttered. “Longer than you think.”

‎  

The pleasant fragrance of lemons entered your nostrils. Familiar, especially since it was the only type of musk Yu ever sought after. Other than yours, of course.

‎ 

❤ฺ·。

Winter, present day.

‎ 

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Yu once the week after that conversation. He didn’t answer his phone, and, like you, none of his acquaintances knew where he went. Even with the police alerted, he was still legally considered missing.

On your way to work that dreadful morning, you’ve had your eyes stuck on your phone the whole time you walked down that repetitive path. You were calling Yu for the umpteenth time in hopes that he’d miraculously answer. But just as expected, your call was sent to voicemail again.

He was gone.

And you didn’t shed a tear. Not that you didn’t care, quite the contrary, in fact. You lost a ton of people. He was just another added to the list.

With a deep sigh, you pocketed your phone and looked up at the sky, a group of clouds concealing its previously blue colour thanks to the season. White and pale, just like bones.

‎ 

Your fingers wrapped around the cold golden handle. And with one swift push accompanied by a cheerful ding of the bell above you, you’d entered the café you worked at. The warmth hit you like a slap in the face once you’d fully entered the café. The boring music inside, and not to mention the decor you were borderline sick of seeing every day.

Your boss, Ying, and another one of your co-workers were chatting behind the counter. But your entrance immediately halted the conversation and shifted their attention towards you.

‎ 

“There you are! I was getting worried.”

‎ 

“Hi.”

‎ 

Ying earned a boring greeting from you. Just like every other day. And just as you turned back to the counter, you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.

‎ 

“Y/N, how have you been? Here– would you like me to make you something?”

‎ 

She pulled away and held your shoulders in hopes of catching a change in your expression this time, but there was naught.

Ying, despite being your boss, had been treating you like her daughter for the longest time. And with Yu’s disappearance, her treatment was laced with worry and an overwhelming desire to tend to your needs. But every time, she’d earn the same response accompanied by the same vacant look on your face.

‎ 

“I’d like to clock in.”

‎ 

“Would you like to take the day off instead? Take a moment to catch yourself?”

‎ 

Though you had no circles under your eyes or any other noticeable blotches, she still noted the subtle gaunt look on your face. Pale, lifeless skin, and that wasn’t to mention the dull heaviness in your pitch black irises. A massive contrast to Yu, whose very presence brought life to any location lucky enough to bear his presence.

You shook your head.

A sigh escaped her and her gaze turned to the ground for a moment. Then, an idea popped up.

‎ 

“How about some passion fruit juice? We still have some in stock from yesterday.”

‎ 

Ying said with that kind smile as she looked back up at you. It almost widened to a full-blown grin once your lids slightly lifted at this random offer. Passion fruit was your favourite. And she remembered, even though you mentioned it offhandedly many winters ago.

You still shook your head.

‎ 

“I’m not too fond of the artificial flavour.” You held her wrists and put her hands down. “Thank you, nonetheless.”

‎ 

It took you only two seconds to walk away from Ying’s benevolent aura and move behind the counter where the sickening one lay. The very creaks of the floorboards and the ticking of the machines churned your stomach.

‎ ‎ 

“I’m leaving. You need any help in here?”

‎ 

Your co-worker exclaimed, earning the same response you gave Ying twice. And with that, he immediately tossed the towel on the counter and walked out, leaving your boss in the awkward position of asking the same question.

‎ 

“Y/N?”

‎ 

“I’ll be okay.” 

‎ 

Juxtaposed to the loud slam emitted from the door once your co-worker left, as if to announce his departure, for Ying, it was a gentle woosh of the wind, followed by a click once she’d closed the wooden door. You didn’t even realise she left until you lazily glanced at the exit for a moment, then turned to the task at hand.

‎ 

You grabbed the towel and began wiping the counters. The hum of the refrigerators around you remained as the only thing that broke the heavy silence that encapsulated the small café.

Everyday was the same routine. Wake up, go to work, go home and wait for sleep. At this point, the only thing amiss today was Ying’s offer to make you passion fruit juice. A delightful offer, but the juice here was artificial sugar. If anyone would know that, it was you.

You jumped once you felt a hand on your shoulder, looking over to see Ying.

‎ 

“Oh, Ying, I– I assumed you left.”

‎ 

“No, I merely closed the door.”

‎ 

Your pupils dilated as you took in her soft features once more. But before you could allow this conversation to blossom, you turned away and continued wiping the counters.

‎ 

“Y/N, are you okay?”

‎ 

“What makes you think otherwise?”

‎ 

“Every day, you look more and more like a zombie. I… I cannot help but worry every second you’re not with me.”

‎ 

With a loud clunk, you set down one of the cups on the marble counter and stared at the wet towel in your hand, its temperature combining with the one around you to freeze your bare hand. But that didn’t matter to you. There was only one thing that caught your eye; its colour.

Purple.

A deep sigh escaped you, but you didn’t dare lift your chin to look at your boss.

‎ 

“When are we opening?”

‎ 

Ying held herself and watched you continue working.

‎ 

“Please, just speak to me. I fear the day you won’t walk through that door, and I feel as though it’s coming very soon.”

‎ 

“Enough with the fear mongering. I just don’t want to talk, okay? I don’t even want to look at you.”

‎ 

She opened her mouth, but the words were lodged in her throat. Clearly, though those words escaped you without second thought, Ying was still taken by surprise.

You needed to act fast.

‎ 

“Everything reminds me of them, Ying. And you remind me of him now. More than ever.”

‎ 

“I… I understand. What you’re going through is horrible, nobody deserves to experience anything like this. But, Y/N, please,” she cupped your cheeks in her hands, “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

‎ 

You were forced to look up at the tall woman to even meet her gaze. And that, you hated. You hated how her features somewhat matched Yu’s. The more you scrutinised her, the more similarities you found. Their nose, lips, their height, and the way their silky black hair framed their face. Hell, even their soft voices matched.

‎ 

“You haven’t eaten breakfast today, have you?”

‎ 

Her amiable voice suddenly took on an incredibly stern tone, one alien to someone like her. And to say you were caught off-guard would be a massive understatement.

‎ 

“Pardon?”

‎ 

“You’re pale. Your blood pressure is low.”

‎ 

“Pressure…?”

‎ 

You watched Ying immediately pull away and rush towards the fridge, a gust of cold air hitting you like a whip. On another note, it was winter. Why the hell was the fridge still on?

‎ 

“Ah, I meant sugar, Your blood sugar. We need to get you something to drink!”

‎ 

You eyed the passion fruit juice she took out of the fridge, golden fluid swirling inside in a hypnotising manner. And with a slam of the fridge’s door, its movements grew more rapid and dramatic. Then, you met her gaze with a vacant expression.

‎ 

“Ying, I’m fine.”

‎ 

"For the love of God, please accept some help and get your sugar back up. Just this once, at least!"

‎ 

She desperately held out the juice for you. And, although you were incredibly reluctant, you gave in and grabbed it from her.

‎ 

“Fine, but if I’m going to drink juice, I might as well make it myself.”

‎ 

Ying’s eyes bore into yours whilst you twisted the green plastic cap. Then, a particularly contagious smile lifted her pink lips. That statement must’ve evoked something within her.

‎ 

“Do you still remember how?”

‎ 

“What? Of course I do–”

‎ 

“Wonderful! Then I’ll take out everything you need.”

‎ 

She lit up and trotted over to a nearby counter, her large black ponytail swaying with each step. Ying immediately bent down and took out a few dusty slick grey boxes from inside, but your eyes were only focused on the dust that fell to the ground with every box she took out.

A mess you’d have to mop up.

Nevertheless, you took a sip and immediately grimaced at the unnatural flavour.

‎ 

“I bought a container of passion fruit yesterday, but I was afraid you’d be offended had I asked you to make some again.”

‎ 

"Why would I be offended by that?"

‎ 

With a huff and a loud thud, she slid out the blender’s box onto the ground. Then, she fixed her posture and grabbed it on both sides, ready to lift it.

‎ 

“I did not wish to pressure you into making this again. I understand your circumstances, however…” she lifted the box and set it on the counter, meeting your gaze with a smile, “your products are very addictive!”

‎ 

You took another sip in silence and set the drink next to the cash register, before moving to the fridge to take out the container of passion fruit.

‎ 

“Do you need any help with those?”

‎ 

You shook your head and took out a spoon and a bowl. It didn’t take long for her to catch on to what you were trying to do, clasping her hands together nervously.

‎ 

“Are you going to wash and scoop all those seeds? Alone?”

‎ 

“Are there people outside?”

‎ 

She glanced at the wooden double doors. If the massive windows on the walls weren’t enough, the doors allowed an even wider view of the sidewalk outside. Thankfully, the snow didn’t obscure much of her vision, either.

‎ 

“Ah… No, not quite. This morning is as idle as the others.”

‎ 

“Then I’ll do it.”

‎ 

She smiled and nodded.

‎ 

“I admire your patience.”

‎ 

That was all she said before she turned to unbox the blender. Thankfully, she let the silence in the air settle and allowed you to work alone. At this point, the conversation already grew exhausting enough. You couldn’t be bothered to say another word.

‎ 

❤ฺ·。

‎ 

Winter, three years ago.

‎ 

At first, it started out a chivalrous act.

One day, Yu, your co-worker at the time, randomly offered to escort you to and back from work with a peculiarly red set of cheeks. You said yes. Not that you needed the protection. And quite frankly, looking back, it was clearly a thin veiled attempt for him to get close to you; but you still entertained the offer and walked with him. It quickly became a day to day thing.

First, you’d see him by the gates every morning and head to the café.

Afterwards, once you both went back, you’d part ways at said gate. He’d go to the bus to return to his house, and you’d go up to your apartment. But after you started dating, he started sleeping over. Then, he began spending more time in your cramped home instead of his lavish abode.

Then… Well, to say he simply ‘took over’ would be an understatement.

‎ 

Once the both of you had arrived at the entrance that would lead to your dwelling, you took off the earbud and handed it back to Yu, promptly pushing the thick door to your apartment open. Back then, whenever you’d enter, the gust of air that enfolded you used to have a… melancholic feel to it. 

Now, it was anything but.

‎ 

“Every day you visit, this place looks less and less like the house I live in.”

‎ 

You randomly commented, not bothering to glance at him as you spoke. An audible creak echoed through the small area. Then, with a loud flick, the lights switched open and allowed the comfort of familiarity to finally envelope each of you.

‎ 

“How do you mean?”

‎ 

“Look around. Look at what you’ve done to my home.”

‎ 

You haphazardly gestured around you whilst turning on more lights. And it was only after a moment of confused silence did he finally respond to your comment.

‎ 

“I’m not following.”

‎ 

You turned around, and both of your eyes bore into each others’. Judging by the blank expression he carried, he truly looked lost. So… you’d show him.

You held his hand and guided him down the entrance hall towards the living room, and pointed at the couch that faced the television mounted on the wall. Just looking at it proved your point, seeing how it was covered with blankets.

‎ 

“Two blankets,” you then pointed at the armchair on the corner where another one sat, “three,” the other armchair, “four,” the heaters, “and five.”

‎ 

You turned to face him with crossed arms. 

‎ 

“And the three on my bed.”

‎ 

By the time you finished pointing everything out, both of you had stopped at the doorway that led to the corridor. He knew by the way you pursed your lips; you definitely weren’t done yet.

You took a deep inhale, finally taking in the air that lingered around you like a lovesick ex.

‎ 

“It smells like the inside of a lemon, as well.”

‎ 

Yu smiled politely once you had finalised your sentiment. Sure, your tone was dry, but he wasn’t insulted. In fact, judging by his upright posture, he seemed quite proud of how he unwittingly changed up the place.

‎ 

“I... hear you. On another note, it's been three years and I still haven’t gotten to the balcony yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. He just couldn’t be subtle even if his life depended on it.

‎ 

“I’m not giving you the keys to the balcony, Yu.”

‎ 

“Just a peek?”

‎ 

You turned away and began taking off the heavy jacket you wore, earning a particularly endearing huff from him. The shadows on the ground let you know he crossed his arms and turned his gaze away to the living room. Probably eyeing the blankets on the couch you pointed out just a few minutes ago.

He muttered something under his breath. But before you could ask him what it was, he immediately moved over to the couch. Huh. Your hypothesis was correct.

‎ 

Not paying him any mind, you began slipping off your boots and taking off the hair tie that started to give you a headache.

Then, your eyes widened once you heard a distant spray. You immediately turned around.

“Yu, we don’t need anymore–”

‎ 

The words were lodged in your throat once you realised he wasn’t spraying the room with his lemon mister again. He wasn’t doing that at all, no. Instead, he was misting the potted plant set in the corner of the living room. Holes lay in the edges of its dull leaves. And thanks to the weak sunlight that bled through the windows, you could see that the soil was dangerously dry, as well.

You stepped up solemnly, watching him mist it.

‎ 

“How long has it been since you last watered this?”

‎ 

Judging by the curious tone, you knew that he wasn’t mocking you. He just wasn’t as knowledgeable as you were when it came to plants. You nervously clenched your fists and turned your gaze away, eyes landing on the dark vinyl flooring.

‎ 

“I… must have forgotten about it.”

‎ 

Of course you did. It was a miracle you even slipped out of bed every morning, let alone take care of something like this.

A gentle pat on your shoulder snapped you out of your maelstrom of thoughts, and you hesitantly looked up to meet his gentle gaze.

“That’s okay. You were busy.” He chuckled. “It’s probably why the smell of lemons is so strong, right?”

‎ 

You playfully flicked his forehead with a vacant expression, before grabbing the mister from his hands and aiming it at the plant. That’s one incentive for you to take care of the plant, that’s for sure. Oh, but you’d never tell him that.

Nevertheless, you continued misting. And spraying water on it felt so… weird.

But also relieving.

[mazeinthemiroh]

you need a holiday. [part 2]

pairing: hongjoong x best friend! reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn / slow romance, slight angst, and, of course, a sprinkle of crack

word count: 1.2k

warnings: cursing (mainly the f bomb), allusions to mental health issues + insomnia, hongjoong being stubborn af, helpful wooyoung <3

summary: hongjoong has been told to take some time off work, which he wanted to resist. confused and stressed, he tries to figure out what to do [part 1, part 3.]

author's notes: for those who missed it. i reckon this series will have 4 or 5 parts, just fyi. thank you for joining for part 2, and thanks for those of you who have supported me in part 1! let me know if you want to be tagged in the rest of these :] otherwise, enjoy the rest of them! <3

It wasn't that Hongjoong didn't trust your judgement. Of course, he did. It was the reason why he came to you in the first place. But it didn't sit right with him to take time off.

He knew that everyone needed time off but it was just bad timing. Although, if he was being honest, it was always bad timing. Whenever he had a break or a vacation, he could never fully relax. It was always right after a comeback and on to the next one, with things still very much in the air in terms of promotions.

He always felt restless. Like he should be doing something. Sitting and just... existing was a weird sensation. Not to say that Hongjoong is a man of action. He is usually calm and collected and fine with little stimulation. But his mind was always working. It felt hopeless, trying to relax during his breaks, because his mind naturally goes haywire. Thinking about the next comeback or the song he hasn't quite completed or the important photoshoot coming up next month. He thought about all these things.

"He's driving himself crazy, you realise that?" You were on the phone with Seonghwa, talking about your shared concern for Hongjoong. "I don't think I've ever seen him fully relax. Like... fully let go of all the things worrying him. It's so frustrating."

Seonghwa sighed through the phone, "Try living with him." He loved Hongjoong dearly and you could sense it through the concern in his voice. You were glad, at least, that Hongjoong wasn't alone. Seonghwa being there to keep an eye on him always put you at ease, because you couldn't always be there for your friend in the way you wanted to.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong slaved away. Hunched in what looked like the most uncomfortable position ever, he leaned over his desk and stared at the blank sheet of paper before him. It felt like he'd been sitting there for hours in the studio, and yet he had written nothing. No lyrics for the new song. Not a single thought. His brow was furrowed deeply as he closed his eyes. Thoughts swirled around in his busy head, and he couldn't make sense of anything.

He hadn't eaten or drunk anything in hours. His throat was sore and parched, his eyes dry from the air-conditioned room. Numbness took over him.

"Hongjoong."

He turned around slowly to see Eden, making his way back to the studio to gather some paperwork he'd left behind.

"I thought you'd gone," Hongjoong stated, his lifeless voice attempting to sound vibrant. Eden's jaw tightened.

"I don't want you here, Hongjoong. You don't look well and I think you need a break."

'Oh, so now Eden was telling me I need a break? What was up with everyone,' Hongjoong wrestled with the urge to fall asleep as he blinked his eyes open to stare at Eden's genuine expression.

"God, I'm not dying, geez. You've never taken any concern before," Hongjoong tried to snap back, but his tired voice and his weak state made him seem as threatening as an angry kitten.

"Well take it as a sign then," Eden replied back abruptly, before setting a hand down on Hongjoong's shoulder. "Go home, get some rest. Take a couple of days off."

"I don't need days off, I need to finish this!" Hongjoong exclaimed, his eyes now wide with exasperation. He felt heat rising to his head.

His phone buzzed on the desk. A notification. And when he eyed the phone screen, he saw your name:

Flight leaves tomorrow morning. I already bought your ticket so you might as well join me ~

His eyes wavered as he calmed his breathing, before looking back at Eden desperately.

What was he going to do...

"Help me pack my fucking case."

Hongjoong's weak body chucked the suitcase to the floor of his bedroom. 1 o'clock in the morning. At this hour, he could be writing another song. He could be perfecting the new album. He could be working on Ateez's new concept. But no. He was packing. Packing.

"Huh?" Wooyoung looked at him, wide-eyed and confused, "Are you going? You're actually going?"

"I don't fucking know okay? Everyone's telling me to leave so maybe I fucking should," Hongjoong shouted, his breath hitched in his throat. He could barely breathe as scrambled for clothes and shoes and necessities of all sorts. His mind wasn't thinking straight and yet he persisted.

"Calm down," Wooyoung urged, "you and your colourful language can hush. There are people trying to sleep!"

"You're one to talk about colourful language," Hongjoong hissed, quieter now. He was usually so considerate of being quiet when he got back at late hours, but his brain wasn't working the way it used to.

Wooyoung saw his desperation and came to his rescue, folding through his chosen clothes and placing the efficiently in his suitcase. He was surprisingly good at organising where everything went. Why, if it was his own suitcase, he would likely shove everything in there and hope for the best. But he knew Hongjoong needed clarity, so that's what he strive for.

"Where are you going by the way?" Wooyoung asked in order to ease some of Hongjoong's tension.

"Spain," replied Hongjoong, his voice blunt and tired.

"With who?"

"Y/N."

Wooyoung slowed his movements, a grin forming on his face. "Ahh."

Hongjoong whisked his head around to face his friend.

"And what the hell does that sound mean?" Hongjoong's eyes may be tired, the bags under them dragging, but they were still piercing beyond belief, dangerous if you looked for too long. Which is why Wooyoung didn't bother looking up at all.

"Nothing, nothing," Wooyoung's playful voice sounded as he tried to contain his massive smirk.

Hongjoong shook his head and huffed, finally zipping up his suitcase and collapsing on his bed.

Was he really going to do this? Just Go? Leave everything and everyone behind for a bit? It felt wrong. It felt unnatural.

Wooyoung made his way onto Hongjoong's bed and snuggled up to him, which made the captain grimace and turn away slightly.

"I'm not in the mood, Wooyoung."

"Well, you're welcome for helping you pack," Wooyoung poked his sides aggressively, making the man squirm a bit.

Then they both lay there. Hongjoong was too exhausted to protest Wooyoung's affection, who was readily offering it. Not to annoy the captain, but to reassure him.

"Okay, I'm going to leave now," Wooyoung stated, deciding he had had his fun, and felt he did what he could. Hongjoong lay there unresponsive, and the younger member couldn't tell if he had drifted off to sleep or had just ignored him.

"Goodnight," he whispered loudly in Hongjoong's ear, before getting out of bed and stretching slightly, yawning as he did so.

Hongjoong stayed in his slightly curled-up position, blankets hugged to his chest.

"Have a safe flight if I don't see you," Wooyoung didn't hear Hongjoong's whispered 'thank you' as he closed the door.

Hongjoong lay awake for a little bit figuring out his next move. His next plan of action.

But the temptation to drift off into slumber was beyond his resistance, and soon he was snoring softly in a comfortable, dreamless state, the question of tomorrow awaiting him.

taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @toolovelyforyou, @dutchessskarma, @saltedplum-squid, @dandycharmer, @baek-at-it-again95, @whatisnttakenbynow, @yeosxxx (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[moonlight-prose]

EVERGREEN WASN'T SUCH A BAD DREAM

➝ A HURT DRABBLE

a/n: this first started out as a small idea jotted down in my notebook way back in august. i was trying to write hurt and it was being put on hold cause honestly i was scared to continue it. i didn't think i'd ever write it and honestly it didn't make much sense to me given the way the fic played out. but i couldn't get over the idea that these two got a little bit of joy in their lives. it's pre-chapter six so i hope y'all enjoy! divider by the incredibly talented @saradika.

summary: in the middle of destruction nature continues to follow the same path as before. starting with the first snowfall of the season. you just happen to be there to witness it with him.

word count: 1.5k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, soft joel, cold weather antics, fluff, a tad bit of romance, angst, grief, talk of the future in a hopeless world.

SERIES MASTERLIST

A blanket of white covered the world, turning everything brighter. The sun reflected off the snow, practically sparkling. You heard the crunch beneath your boots—the sound familiar and inviting. It called to the small fractured piece of joy that still remained in your body; begged you to finally let go and have some fun. Even as the world went to shit, the first snowfall never failed to make you smile.

Your breath collected in the air in front of you. Showing you just how cold it really was. Which only made you smile more—your nose practically numb with the frigid air.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slipping on the heavy gloves that he found in an old shop a few towns back. “It’s too cold.”

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath that burned on its way in. ‘Yeah but…it snowed.”

His eyes narrowed at your overjoyous smile. “It’s a pain in the ass to travel through snow.”

That was true.

Yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to be upset about such a beautiful thing. Snow has always been attuned to joy in your life. The start of fun spent outdoors with your brother. Hot drinks with friends as your university began to set up for the worst. And sure there were the annoyances and hardships that came with this weather. But you had always found that the positives far outweighed the negatives in this case.

Joel couldn’t necessarily say the same. A bitter feeling of grief began to build in his chest—Sarah’s face entering his mind. They spent holidays in the snow. Holed up in the house as they watched a movie—usually a Christmas movie with a predictable script—often inviting Tommy for the night. It was a time he’d give anything to return to.

The weight in his chest pressed down painfully—attempting to drag him down. Back into the darkness he was so used to residing in.

Except something bright broke through its walls. As if sunlight was once again shedding its light over him. Warmth consumed him; offering him hope with a soft press to the agony that splintered him half. Only when he tore himself out his mind did he realize what it was.

The sound of your laughter.

Small flakes began to fall from the sky, catching on his hair and jacket. They stung his face slightly. He couldn’t focus on that though. Not when you were smiling, your bare hands trying to catch each snowflake—your tongue sticking out. For the first time he saw a childlike wonder in your eyes. The cloud of grief he’d grown so accustomed to—now dissipated as you played in the snow.

“Havin’ fun?” he asked as his lips pulled up at one side.

You laughed again and Joel felt a bolt of lightning go through his heart. Even though it was freezing outside, that warmth spilled into his chest, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. He understood what love felt like. How it affected a person, but this…this was more. This was the missing emotion he thought he’d never see again in this lifetime.

“As a matter of fact—I am having fun.”

You stepped closer to him, letting your freezing nose press against the hollow of his throat. He jolted, eliciting another small giggle from your lips. But he refused to move. Simply shifting slightly to open his jacket in order to pull you closer until his body heat seeped into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, tugging you until your feet were pressed between his.

“Gonna get sick,” he muttered under his breath.

A puff of cold breath left you, caressing against his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. “C’mon Joel, it’s fun.”

“Boston—”

“Don’t you remember fun?”

He stiffened, hands frozen on your back. Only this time you didn’t immediately apologize for possibly saying the wrong thing. You remained silent. Gave him a chance to process the pain that was no doubt overtaking his body, a grief you would never be able to understand. Each of you carried your own demons—dragged down by the weight of them daily, and only for a brief moment did you see him allow them to lift.

“I do,” he replied, his voice thick with torment.

You shut your eyes, ran your hands up his back and let out a breath. “Tell me about it.”

Tell me about your past. Tell me about her.

Joel rarely mentioned anything when it came to his past. That continued to be a locked door you held no key to and you accepted that. You took what you could with him. But standing there in the middle of a snowy serene winter, you finally wanted to see each broken part he hid from you. You wanted to watch the sunlight glint off them like glass and catch their beauty in the palm of your hands.

You wanted to know him.

“We’d celebrate Christmas,” he said softly, lips pressed to your hair. “Nothin’ fancy. Nothin’ big. But we’d get a tree.”

He never told you who Sarah was to him, never revealed what happened to her. You were just happy to finally hear about something joyous in his life. That once upon a time…he might have smiled. Hell he might have even laughed often. You could tell by the lines around his eyes, proof that this man had experienced more than just this.

“In Texas?” you pressed, face peeking up to see his gaze already on you.

He nodded. “My brother usually joined us.”

Surprise lingered in your body, but you pushed past it. “You never told me you had a brother.”

And there it was, that small hint of a smile showing through the heartbreak on his face. “Yeah…Tommy.”

You tried to conjure up a picture of the other Miller. Did he have brown eyes like Joel? Was he older or younger? Was he still alive? Something told you with the way Joel reacted simply by saying the man’s name, that he remained okay. That somewhere on this Earth he was alive. You wanted to ask more, see if he’d let you in on a life you were never meant to be a part of. But pressing Joel to do anything—especially talking about his past—was not something that would go over easily.

“Did you play in the snow?” you asked, a smirk pulled at your lips.

He sighed, glancing up at the sky, a soft red stain flushing across his face. “We did.”

“I knew it.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, fingers pinching at your hip. Only to feel his heart flutter at the echo of your laugh being pressed to his chest.

He swore his heart responded to the sound, twisting in a way that he didn’t know was possible. It wasn’t wracked with pain, it wasn't threatening to drown him beneath his grief. It simply just existed.

Perhaps that’s what he could do for this one moment.

Stand in the snow as a man, holding a woman he loved, and exist.

“Hey Texas.”

He ran a soothing hand up your back, fingers lightly tracing the hem of your jacket. “Hm?”

“Will you play in the snow with me?”

Something lit up his eyes, the brown suddenly a lighter gold that struck a chord in your heart. He played you like a fucking guitar and with that one look, you’d let him. Joel took a breath, mouth parting, and did the one thing you longed to see. He smiled. Nothing small or minor, but a full blown smile that made your heartbeat cease to exist. For the first time…he looked happy. As if the man from before had shoved his way forward to finally give you a proper look at who he once was.

At the man he longed to be again.

“Yeah Boston,” he said, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours. “I will.”

A laugh escaped your mouth when he shoved you back lightly, hands reaching for the freshly fallen snow on the ground. You did the same. Digging your fingers into the freezing icy ground, pulling up a small amount to make a ball. Only for Joel to throw one at you, hitting you square in the shoulder.

“I wasn’t ready!”

He chuckled, heading for you. “Move faster.”

“Ironic you’re telling me that.” He stuttered, eyes flashing dark at the memory of having you the day before, but that faded with another grin. One that taunted you with something more.

A promise of a life that could be.

His arm wrapped around your waist, the snow falling from your hands as he hauled you backwards. A yelp escaped your mouth when he fell, your body landing on top of his—snow sticking to his hair and yours. The sun still burned bright in the sky, flakes continued to rain down around you, but for this one single moment…you existed in a space that felt good.

That felt normal.

“We’ll have a tree,” you said softly, rolling over to lay beside him.

He turned to look at you, eyes tender. “A tree huh?”

You nodded. “One day.”

“Okay,” he murmured, hand cupping your cheek. “We’ll have a tree.”

[starlightkun]

oh my GOD i just finished another kun holiday fic it's 8.6k words and i just need to proof it by new year's CHRIST ALMIGHTY

[neonwaste-bah]

headmate based off the holiday Valentine’s Day? Make the xenogender and neopronouns COMPLETELY unrelated! Also, give them a typing quirk if you wanna!!!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

❝╰ Name(s) ⊹ : Amanda, Amora, Marian, Mary, Lavi, Latte, Cinnamon, Cinnaba (from the mineral Cinnabar), Darling, Kyuu (from the Japanese pronunciation of Cupid), Parfait

╮✧ Gender(s) ⊹ : Cinnaromic, Pluvialgender, Autumgender, Blackberrian, Crystalic, Luminyx

⊹╰ Pronouns ⊹ : zey/zem (preferred), she/her, they/them, sy/skyself, crys/crystself, dia/dialself, rayne/rayneself, rain/rainself (secondary preferred), light/lightself, nya/nyaself, glow/glowself

╮ ᶻz Sexuality ⊹ : Abrosexual, Aceflux, Panromantic, Ambiamorous, Panqueerplatonic

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

❝╰ Age ⊹ : 19

╮ ✧ Role(s) ⊹ : Comforter, Delight, Intermediary, Moderator, Peacemaker, Matchmaker, Playmate

⊹╰ Likes ⊹ : Roses, sunshine, spring and autumn, cute things, Decora fashion, magical girls, desserts, love and love/romance related things, candy, butterflies, stories with a lot of lore/worldbuilding, fantasy stories, writing, drawing, DIY (specifically papercrafts), astrology + astronomy, physical touch (cuddles, sweet kisses, etc), rainy days, gemstones and shiny rock collecting, fruit

╮ ᶻz Dislikes ⊹ : Not being taken seriously, most bugs, making hard to keep promises, thunder, excessive heat (90°F and above)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

❝╰ Personality ⊹ : A very upbeat, easy to befriend person. Zey're very cheerful a lot of the time, and love to spread zeir joy to rains headmates. Zey're very loyal, but also strong willed, and won't hesitate to call someone out for their behavior. Outgoing and talkative, especially about things rains passionate about. A hopeless romantic, often pondering about things like love and romance. Rain is wonderful with littles/syskids and similarly energetic headmates, easily keeping up with their childlike enthusiasm with a smile on zeir face. Zey always have the system's best interests in mind, coming to aid zeir system in times of need. Call zeir name, and zey'll be right there to help !

╮ ✧ How they type ⊹ : Typing Quirk: replaces "s" with "z", uses kaomojis a lot, puts spaces before exclamation marks and question marks.

"hello there !! iz there anyzing you need ? ^^" / "there'z thiz book i'm reading, wanna hear a piece of it ? ^.^" / "butterfliez are zo beautiful… zometimez i wizh i waz one.." / "awwh, that'z adorable !! ><"

[tq translation: "hello there!! is there anything you need? ^^" / "there's this book i'm reading, wanna hear a piece of it? ^.^" / "butterflies are so beautiful… sometimes i wish i was one.." / "awwh, that's adorable!! ><"]

⊹╰ Other Info ⊹ : Zeir main aesthetics are Lovecore and Candycore

╮ ᶻz Face Claim(s) ⊹ :

(link to picrew)

(link to picrew)

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

sorry for taking awhile ! orz -- this was a fun one to do ^^ hopefully the neos and xenogenders are unrelated enough lol

have a great day !

[sometimes-i-write-good]

Compromise

** Part Two of “Where I’m From” **

Top Gun: Maverick - Hangman x f!reader [no use of y/n]

2k || Jake never thought he would fall in love with the woman who cried on the first date he ever took her on, but here he was months later standing in her kitchen even more in love than ever.

===

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

CW: swearing, kissing, relationship insecurity, mentions of past relationships (neglect)

Author’s Note: I just love this version of soft jake so much. And yes, this completely self-indulgent I am not sorry || cross-posted on ao3

Part One

===

===

“I hate Valentine’s Day.”

Jake’s posture didn’t change as his statement filled your kitchen alongside the sizzle of uncooked batter hitting the pan. You wished you could say the same for yours. Smile slipping and shoulders slumping as you realized you had been getting your hopes up for someone like Jake, as chivalrous and kind as he had been these few months, to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you were. As if to accent your thoughts he added a damning, “It’s a consumer holiday.”

You swallowed a disappointed ‘oh.’ Then stepped around the breakfast counter into the kitchen to start setting the table. Jake gave the barest of a glance over his shoulder, but you made sure to turn your face away from him. Ever since the mess of a first date - or, rather, second date - where you broke down in tears at dinner, Jake had been the model of a perfect boyfriend. Sure he had an ego and would flirt with you at inappropriate times, but there was no denying that Jake was a gentleman at heart. He would bring flowers home just because. Every time the two of you went out he paid. Unless you put your foot down, then he would let you take the check. It opened the door to make that same joke about confidence being a good look on you.

A point you had begun to agree with. Having Jake Seresin in your life helped you grasp at the most basic staples in the concept of self-worth, particularly when it came down to relationships. Compromise did not mean turning a blind eye to your own wishes. Honest and open conversations were possible. Even more so, they were expected with Jake.

“I find it hard to believe,” Jake had said to you one night after a long day at work where the only time the two of you really had to talk was his impromptu sleepover. “That a woman like you spent so much time in a relationship and didn’t once stand her ground.” It wasn’t supposed to come off as rude as it had. That was just Jake. Blunt, coarse, and completely well-intentioned. That latter point was what you’d chosen to focus on.

“I don’t know what it is,” you had responded, tucking yourself in between his arms as far as you possibly could. “When I get into a relationship, I forget that I can be my own person. I try too hard to be the perfect partner. Like I’m only allowed to be an extension of whoever I’m dating.”

Jake had merely brought a hand up to trace your face with his fingertips and said, “I love you, but I would rather break up with you than ever let you feel as though you were nothing more than an extension of me.”

And that’s how Jake Seresin first told you that he loved you. In the late hours of a night where, just a few hours before he’d shown up, you had been crying over not knowing why someone would date you in the first place. Feelings of doubt and inferiority clawing at your skin, desperately trying to find a way to burrow in deep. How could someone who had been proven to be unloveable time and time again suddenly get so lucky? Of course, you didn’t miss the way Jake had used the words ‘break up,’ but the fact was that you hadn’t gone into a spiraling mess of negative thoughts. Instead, you let yourself cling to the knowledge that you were loved by someone you felt truly inclined to believe for the first time in your life.

A love that could last you through a lifetime of pancake breakfasts, you thought as you reached up in the cabinets to start pulling down plates, but your mind still lingered in the after hours of that first ‘I love you.’ The only thing that brought you back to reality was Jake sliding up behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching out to grab the plates you were fumbling with.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” He asked.

A dismissive hum escaped you. Force of habit. Hey, do you mind if I skip this intensive dinner you made to hang out with the guys? Hum. We can’t go out because work is so weird about us dating and without that paperwork from HR it’ll be hell to deal with. Hum. Thanks for giving me head, but I’m actually pretty tired now. I think I’ll just go to bed. Hum. Easier to avoid the conversation to confrontation pipeline. You had never been on the winning end of one in a relationship anyway. Jake had attempted to convince you otherwise but biting loneliness in comparison to a tenuous companionship felt like too much of a step in the wrong direction.

Jake said your name softly. Your eyes fluttered closed at the gentleness in his voice. “Hey,” he said, and you heard the clinking of plates being set on the counter next to you. “Talk to me.”

Arms opened; Jake used that to his advantage to swing you around to face him. You cracked an eye open. The hardest part about dating Jake was the talking. “Doll, if I did something, I want to know.”

Maybe because he always said shit like that. You felt the pressure of his thumb draw circles on your hip. This man had seen you naked. He had sat on the toilet while you took a bath just to talk. He’d mopped sweat from your brow and cleaned up puke when you had a stomach bug a few weeks ago. Yet nothing ever prepared you for the nervousness that kept creeping up during domestic moments like this where you were in his arms, and he stared down at you with the look of a lovesick puppy.

No one had ever looked at you like you were their entire world. You could feel the entire weight of it on your shoulders.

“Valentine’s Day.”

He quirked his head. “What about it?”

“I’ve never celebrated it before.”

Before you could turn your face away, Jake repositioned so that his forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were massaging the skin on your waist. “Doll, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eye then prompted, “And?”

“It’s stupid, never mind.”

“It’s never stupid if it means something to you, darlin’,” he said with that accent that made you weak in your knees. It was a good thing Jake was holding you up or you’d be nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

You bit down on your bottom lip. Embarrassment creeped up the back of your neck. “No one has ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You let out a sigh, but winced because it made you sound like more of a whiny high school girl. “I don’t know. I just thought - I’ve always wanted a cliche Valentine’s Day… gifts, chocolate, going out for dinner that’s way too expensive. With my other relationships there wasn’t much to celebrate… but with you, Jake, I want to.”

Jake smiled at you. That dazzling smile that made you nervous when you went out in public because it made you want to say something stupid.

“Okay,” he said then, at the confusion on your face, added, “We’ll go all out for Valentine’s Day this year.”

Guilt gnawed at your gut. He had sounded so adamant earlier in his dislike for the holiday. “But you said-”

He cut you off. “I say lots of stupid shit, doll. You really should know better than to listen to me by now.”

“I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to though, Jake.”

“I want to make you happy.” Jake leaned in to press a kiss to your lips. When he pulled away you asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Of course, I am. Where I’m from we go all out. Bigger the better in Texas.” You rolled your eyes at the cocky grin that settled onto his face. “It’s a compromise, darlin’. This year we go out and do every cliche imaginable. If it’s too much for me, I’ll say something. If it’s not what you imagined, you’ll say something. Then, next year, we can pick and choose whichever parts we liked and change what we don’t like. We’ll start a tradition that’s perfect for us. Sound good?”

You nod, matching his wide smile. “I would really appreciate that, Jake.”

“Plus, when would I pass up the opportunity to celebrate my girl?” He took a step back so your back pushed against the counter and he laid flush against you. “I like taking you. It gives me a chance to show everyone how much better I have it.”

You let out a laugh. “Jake!”

“I’m serious,” he said, kissing your cheek. Then trailed them across your jaw and down your neck. You weren’t paying attention too closely, too distracted by his tongue on your skin, but you could have sworn he ground gently into you. “I’ll celebrate you every day if you let, doll.”

You tilted your head to the side. Jake jumped at the chance to press more kisses to the exposed skin on your neck. “I love you,” you told him, your voice between a breathy mound and a dreamy sigh.

In shock Jake jerked away from you.

And that’s how you first told Jake Seresin you loved him. And the moment you realized the pancakes on the stove had burned to a crisp. Jake had too many stars in his eyes to pull the pan from the stove. Not that you minded. Cleaning up the mess was the least you could do after he went through all the trouble - no, not trouble. He cooked, you cleaned.

A compromise. The hallmark of a healthy relationship. Something you did for someone you loved, and you really loved Jake Seresin.

Bonus:

“What the hell are you doing?” You glanced over to the other end of the counter at Jake. It was taking longer than expected to scrape the burnt bits of batter from the pan, which should have given him plenty of time to make a new breakfast plan. Except for the fact that he looked elbow deep in a crime scene. “I’m making pancakes.” The batter in the glass bowl was a bright red. Alarmingly red, but Jake spoke as though you were supposed to know exactly what he was doing. “They’re going to be shaped like hearts.”

You shook your head at him, going back to scrubbing. “Try not to burn these ones then. That would be a bad omen.”

“Try not to distract me by being so damn beautiful.”

“Can’t promise anything.” You could feel his eyes on you.

“God,” he said, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re confident.”

You turned to look at him, catching his eye, and let a mimic of his smug smirk settle on your lips. “Focus on not burning my breakfast this time flyboy.”

He scoffed at the nickname but set his focus back on intensely stirring out the streaks of red dye in the batter. You didn’t even realize that you had food dye in your kitchen.

“Jake? You do realize Valentine’s Day is next week, right?”

“It’s not every day the love of your life tells you that they love you too. And if Valentine’s Day is celebrating your relationship, then every day is Valentine’s Day for me.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you use those cheesy lines like that on me.”

His eyes were on you again. Hotter this time. “Should we forget breakfast,” he asked. You slid your gaze back over to him. The pan splashed into the sink, splashing water up onto your his shirt.

“I have to go change this shirt,” you said in response.

Jake dropped the spoon. Globs of red batter splattered in all directions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were too busy racing him to the bedroom laughing in pure joy the entire way there.

===

taglist: @potato-girl99981 @milani-marie @gizmodear​ 

[honestlyspookytyphoon]

Little Cupid

Summary: you meet an adorable little girl at your friend’s wedding. At the end, she happened to be the best possible wing-woman her really attractive cousin could have asked for.

Wordcount: +/- 3.5k

Pairing: non-famous!Charles x non-famous!reader

Warnings: Angst, but I am also a hopeless romantic so the end might turn out sweeter than Pixie Sticks 👀  Not really proof-read. My apologies for any incoherence and bad writing. Feedback is, as always, more than welcome! 😊

L/G/N: Little Girl’s Name - Y/N: Your Name - I will go with Charles for now as male lead (I mean, look at him!) but feel free to change it yourself - Y/F/S: Your Favourite Song

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

It was July 23rd, meaning that summer was at its peak. It was 1.30 pm and the sun had been shining brighter than during every other day that year, which you believed had to be a good omen. It is not that you were superstitious, but life had been rough on you the past couple of months and you made it your personal mission to find those little sparks of happiness again everywhere you went and in everything you did.

A few months ago, you and your boyfriend went separate ways after almost 6 years together. It was truly a wonderful relationship and, in contrary to what everyone seemed to expect once you break up, you did not regret a single second of it. He had been your everything, your rock-bottom. He was the person you first called when something happened in your life. He was there through all the highs and lows. He was your first ‘good morning’ and last ‘good night’. He was the one who loved you when you did not. Your family absolutely adored him and you really thought you two were endgame.

However, after 5 years together and looking for a little house for you two, you noticed him slip away. His texts became shorter and less frequent. Instead of going on holidays with you - under the guise of not being able to close his business for so long - he chose to go on holidays with his friends or to go to the track to support the GT3 team he used to work for. He did not seem keen on moving in anymore, on sharing his life with you. His own dreams became bigger than the dreams you shared. He always said he wanted to marry and have kids - god, you two even made a shortlist with names -, but he seemed to become more and more reluctant to both ideas. You were no longer his number 1 and your future together was no longer the reason he worked long hours for. You both did not known when exactly things started to go south but they did and there was no going back. The split rather came as a shock to you two and both of your families and you were still not entirely over it, but you knew it was for the best.

Hence, you were a bit scared to arrive at the townhall alone instead of with your expected +1, not ready to be met with pitying looks and well-meant but unneeded break up advice. It even took quite some convincing from your friend’s part to get you to come to her wedding in the first place, but after a while you gave in. You owned her that after everything she did for you the past months and, as a close friend, you were more than happy to celebrate this special day with her.

The ceremony had been brief but wonderful. While the newly-weds got into the car that would bring them to the party venue a few kilometers up north, you looked back one more time and you hoped that you would ever be able to find that type of love again.

After returning home, you replied to the most urgent emails and ran some errands before you got ready for the wedding reception and afterparty. Luckily for you, the thermometer still indicated 25°C , which allowed you put on the most gorgeous festive attire you owned. It was a mustard-coloured one-shoulder jumpsuit that hugged your petite frame in all the right places. It highlighted the few female traits you did have and, helped by a pair of solid nude heels, it made your legs look endless. After a last quick check in the mirror, you closed the door and made your way towards the party.

Although you were right on time, the reception was already in full swing when you arrived. You spotted some friends in the back of the garden, so after congratulating the couple again and having a short chat with the family, you got yourself a glass of champagne and walked to their table.

On your way, you were stopped by a small girl who was without a doubt the most adorable little creature you had ever seen. With her braided curly hair, cute mint green dress, matching shoes and little tiara, she looked like she walked straight out of a Disney movie. You guessed she was not older than 4. To your surprise, she had a mustard-coloured flower clamped firmly between her two small hands, almost as she was scared to lose it.

You looked around to see if someone was searching for her but since nobody seemed to be bothered, you kneeled down to meet her level and greeted the little girl.

“Hello there, what is your name?”, you asked. 

 “Ello. My name is L/G/N”, she said. 

 “Hi L/G/N, I am Y/N. How can I help you?”. You did not know her and you were curious what she was up to. 

“I wanted to give you this”, she answered and handed you the flower. “Also, I think you are really pretty”, she giggled coyly.

“Oh, thank you! That is very kind of you”, you smiled and signaled her to come closer. “Can I tell you a secret?”, you whispered. She nodded eagerly, causing her tiara to wiggle up and down so hard it almost fell off her head. 

 “Did you know that I wanted to buy this dress as well?”, you asked, slightly tugging at the small sleeves of the little dress. 

 “Really?!”, she whisper-yelled. 

 “Yes, really. But the shop assistant said that I could not buy it because it belonged to a real princess. And since you are wearing the dress, you must have been the princess she was talking about! Do you like princesses?”, you tried. 

 “Uhu, my favourite princess is Belle, she is so pretty. And I like Pendule too”, she said, showing a toothy grin.

“He is really cool indeed”, you replied, remembering him from the times you watched Beauty and the Beast yourself. “Are you here alone?”, you asked. 

“No, I am here with mommy and daddy but they are talking to nanna so uncle Charles decided to play hide-and-seek with me. But I found him, look!”, she exclaimed enthusiastically and she pointed towards a guy you had not seen before. He was already looking your way, probably alerted by the squeals from the little girl.

Charles was absolutely breathtaking. He seemed to be your age and he was wearing a slick black suit, which was perfectly tailored and highlighted his athletic form. Together with the black tie and patent shoes, he just radiated confidence - something you found widely attractive. His dark brown hair looked thick and healthy and the small golden earring in his left ear gave him some edginess. He really was what you called a picture perfect. Charles smiled at you politely, already intrigued by the gorgeous woman his niece was talking to and wanting to meet her later that night too.

You smiled too and averted your attention back to the cute girl in front of you. “Oh, okay. What about you back to Charles and continue playing?” 

 “I want to play with you too”, she said softly, clearly disappointed that you were leaving. 

 “Look, what about I go to my friends now for a while and you come to me after dinner? Then we can draw and do silly dances?”, you asked, “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, ‘s good”, she giggled, “Bye Y/N!” and off she went.

Later that night, not even a minute after dinner had finished and the speeches were given, you found L/G/N standing next to you. This time, however, she was not alone. 

“I am so sorry”, Charles said, “But I really couldn’t hold her down any longer”. He gave you an apologetic smile. “She seems to be very fond of you”, he continued. And I can totally see why, he whispered to himself. 

“It is okay, really. I promised her to play after dinner, didn’t I?”, you said, picking up the little girl. “And I mean, isn’t she adorable? Come on L/G/N, let’s draw and dance, yeah?”

After an hour or two filled with drawing and dancing, the little girl started to become tired. “Oh, look at you”, you said, “you are almost falling asleep. Let’s go find your parents, okay? They can bring you home.” She nodded sleepily. You stood up, but soon realised that you had no clue who her parents were. So you decided to look for Charles instead and ask him to get her parents. You spotted him sitting at a table with other relatives of the groom and although he was surrounded by people, he looked lonely.

“It’s sad, isn’t it?”, you said, “so many people here to talk to and have fun with, but everybody is still on their phones. A sign of the times, I’m afraid. I hate it.”

 “Yeah, it’s horrible. And I am even feeling worse since my favourite niece decided to ditch me for you!”, he answered teasingly. 

“Oh, I am sorry”, you replied, “but nobody said you couldn’t join us and have some fun too”. You shot him a wink. 

“Maybe I should have done that, yeah”, he smiled. 

 “I am Y/N, by the way”. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, he thought.  

“I am Charles. Thank you again for doing this, Y/N, I know she can be a handful at times.” 

“No problem, I love kids - especially cute ones like her”, you smiled while looking at the little girl you were still holding and you noticed she had fallen fully asleep on your shoulder. “Do you know where her parents are? I mean, I have been playing with her for hours and it was fun, but putting this little one to bed is a bit too intimate I feel. And, to be honest, I really want to be alone for a second and get some fresh air”, you whispered. 

 “Of course, Y/N, I totally get it”, he stated, “If you hand her to me, I will get her parents. Enjoy your time off, you deserved it”, he said cheekily. 

 “Thank you, Charles. She’s lucky to have an uncle like you.”

The venue your friend had chosen for her wedding was absolutely beautiful. It was a 18th-century Renaissance building at the country side. It had a large main room, several small rooms that could be used as storage, a wine cellar, a bridal suite at the first floor and a wonderful garden. In the middle of the garden stood a small garden house, which was surrounded by flowers whose colours seemed to have darkened even more upon the sight of so much love today. The sun had started to set, turning the sky into a sea of warm red and orange shades. What a beautiful day to get married, you said to yourself. You managed not to think of your ex for the entire night, but now that you were on your own, you could not help but wonder how it would have been with him by your side.

He would have looked great in his suit.

He would have adored my outfit, saying that he could not wait to be back home and show me how much he loved me.

He would have enjoyed the mingling with the other guests and free drinks.

He would have liked the food.

He would have befriended the groom, since they share a thing for fast cars.

He would not have liked you spending your evening with L/G/N, she was too energetic for his liking.

He would have been on his phone as well, watching bits of the 1000 km of Palanga instead of talking to you. 

He would have not danced with you until he was sufficiently drunk.

He would have stopped you from saying ‘What do you want our wedding to be like?’, because he thought it was too early to discuss these things.

“Do you mind if I join you?”, someone asked, breaking your train of thoughts. You turned around and saw Charles standing there with two glasses of still water in his hands.

“No, not at all. I could use some grown-up company now after spending so much time with a toddler”, you smiled. 

“I thought so”, he chuckled. “And I could use some human interaction as well, after being around phone addicts the entire night. Here”, he offered you a drink, “I figured you might be thirsty.” 

“Thank you, Charles. That is very kind of you.” You took the glass and took a sip. “Damn, I was secretly hoping for vodka”, you joked. 

“Oh, I am sorry”, he stuttered, “I just...I just did not see you drink any alcohol tonight so I assumed...sorry, that sounded weird, I did not stalk you, Y/N. I did not mean it like that, it just slipped, I...”, he was rambling now. 

“Easy, Charles. It is fine, water is perfect, thank you. I was just teasing you a bit, that’s all”, you said, holding back a smile. 

He let a sigh of relief, “Thank god.”

Conversation with Charles flew effortlessly. The two of you happened to share several interests and opinions on both important and irrelevant things, such as political matters and which ice cream flavour is superior. You talked about your jobs, hobbies, idols and ideal holiday destinations. You talked about your families and how much they meant to you. You reminisced your childhood and shared funny stories. You gossiped about the other wedding guests. For the first time in months, you genuinely felt happy again. All thanks to him.

The sun had now set completely and the temperature had dropped, causing you to shiver slightly.

“Do you mind going back inside?”, you asked. “It is getting a little cold and I actually also need to go the toilet real quick”. 

“Yeah, sure. I was going to get a re-fill anyway”, he said, “I had a great time talking to you. This might sound a little weird, but do you maybe want to share a dance with me later? From what I saw earlier, you seem to have the moves”, he winked.

“I had a great time talking to you too”, you said genuinely. “And I wouldn’t say that, I mean, it hard not to slay the Chicken Dance”, you laughed. “Especially compared to a four-year old, but please don’t tell her I said that”. 

“You’re secret is safe with me”, he promised jokingly. “So what do you say, Y/N? Do we have a deal?”, Charles asked hopefully.

“Deal. You know where to find me”, you winked.

You had gotten back to your table after your conversation with Charles, catching up with your friends. Charles was also back at his seat, and to his surprise, his absence did not go by unnoticed. He had been listening to his brother’s and cousins’ teasing for a good hour now when suddenly one of his cousins made his way to the DJ.

“So, since you are too scared to act upon your feelings, I did”, he said upon returning, “I requested Y/F/S, so you can dance to that song with her”. 

“I am sorry, YOU DID WHAT?!”, Charles hissed. 

“I helped you, mate!”, he exclaimed, “I am sorry, but I can no longer deal with you sitting here and looking at her with those puppy eyes. Listen, we saw you two sitting outside for hours...We could see the sparks fly, I think even the astronauts in the ISS noticed. So man up, go get her. Have some fun. She’s a great gal, Charles.” 

“But...how do you know her favourite song anyway?”, he questioned, “How can I be sure that you’re not pulling a cruel prank on me?”

“Look, I know I am not sharpest tool in the shed but I am not an idiot. I can see how happy she makes you and how happy you make her. You would be perfect together and this might be the perfect first step”, his cousin said sincerely, “And to answer your first question, I follow her on Spotify and that song is her most played one”.

Just when he was about to ask more, he heard the intro of Y/F/S playing. Getting a nudge from his brother, he knew his time had come so he got up and rolled up his sleeves. Taking one last deep breath, he made his way to your table. “Good luck bro!”, his cousin shouted, “Sway her off of her feet!”.

All his doubts disappeared as soon as his eyes locked with yours. You just looked so radiant he was sure you even put the sun to shame. The glisters in your eyes were visible. You were actually excited to dance with him.

This song is good. She’s got great taste.

I hope I do not step on her toes.

Oh god, does my breath smells? Do I have peppermints?

Am I sweating? Oh no, what if...

“Could I have this dance please, Y/N?”, he asked politely as if you did not agree on this just over two hours ago. 

“Of course you can, Charles”, you said, giggling like L/G/N had done hours prior when you told her ‘a secret’.

Once he had led you to the dance floor, he took your hand in his and rested his other hand in the small of your back. “I was already wondering what took you so long”, you teased, “I thought you were going to back out”. 

“I would never, Y/N. I just...wanted to wait for the perfect song, if that makes sense?”, he wondered. 

“It does”, you smiled, “I love this song too.” He was definitely buying his cousin a beer afterwards. 

“You’re doing great, by the way. You’re a natural”, Charles said before twirling you around with ease. A soft giggle escaped your lips when he pulled you back in his arms. 

“Well, it’s hard to be bad when you have such a great dance partner”, you replied.

You continued to dance in silence until the song ended. Once the last note died down, you two kept standing on the dance floor as neither of you was ready to part again. Charles was the first one to speak up.

“I really enjoyed this dance, Y/N, and...”, he hesitantly continued, “...meeting you was by far the best part of today. I know we just met, but I like you and I was wondering if, maybe and only if you want to, we could see each other again? Preferably not with our friends and family spying on us though”, he laughed. 

“I think we can”, you smiled, “I would love that, actually.”

Your fingers intertwined for the first time that evening and at that very moment you knew you were ready to open your heart again. For Charles and L/G/N, his cute little matchmaker.

[kristinamae093]

Blame It On The Mistletoe

Everything else can be found here.

Book/Universe - TRR

Pairing - Liam x F!OC (Kyla)

Summary - A festive rewrite of Liam and Kyla's meeting/HCTS P1 (HCTS AU - AU)

Word Count - 2500

Warnings - language, mature themes, NSFW - 18+ ONLY 🍋

A/N 1 - I am using the following holiday prompts-

12, 31, 48, from @choicesflashfics, which will appear in either red or green

Strangers in a bar from @choicesficwriterscreations

Also submitting this to @choicesholidays because well... Christmas.

A/N 2 - This is happening because I was trying to get @ao719 to write some holiday spice (it's not too late for that, either 😉). But she suggested that this prompt would be perfect for a little holiday rewrite for the first chapter of HCTS, so here we are... PLEASE NOTE - This does not contribute to their story and does not change anything. Consider this an AU of an AU with very little purpose, lol. Also, this is only my second (public) attempt at smut, so... just keep that in mind 😬.

Song Inspiration - Blame It On The Mistletoe - Ella Henderson x AJ Mitchell (Thank you for that @ao719!)

Please excuse any errors, and thank you in advance for reading and sharing!

Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Liam walked through the crowded club with his head dejectedly hung. Life wasn’t going at all how he foresaw this time two years ago; he expected to be happily married and thriving but instead, he was alone on Christmas Eve, wallowing in his self-pity. To make matters worse, his father’s recent remission only added to the plethora of emotions Liam was fighting to keep under control. He felt defeated, angry, hopeless, but most frequently lonely.

He hadn’t looked twice at a woman since Riley, yet here he was — out in disguise seeking any kind of companionship. He longed to check out from his grim reality, even if only for a moment. 

He glanced at the dancefloor and all he could focus on was the couples. They didn't have a care in the world, as they held each other close. Envy filled his veins, but it faded as he spotted the only lone woman in a sea of pairs. She wore a sheer black dress that fit her curvaceous figure immaculately, combined with a festive elf hat. Her smile was radiant, reflecting off the lights and nearly blinding him, even from afar. She danced as if nobody was around, and didn’t seem bothered to be the only person without a partner. He grinned for a split second, admiring how she could let loose so easily. 

With a heavy sigh, he went to the bar, plopped down, and ordered a scotch on the rocks. The noisy commotion continued, but everything faded as Liam’s thoughts wandered back to the dark place he’d been trying to escape from; leaving the palace did nothing to halt the spiral. Just when he was about to call this mission a failure and head back to self-isolation, a soft voice spoke beside him. 

“Excuse me?” She politely attempted to get the bartender’s attention. After a moment of being ignored, she tried again. “Sir?”

Liam realized this was the dancing woman; the hat was a dead giveaway. The bartender obviously heard her, as he threw her a side eye, so Liam figured he might as well lend a hand. “HEY!” When the bartender faced them, he calmly stated, “A lady is speaking to you.” 

The man huffed but approached and took her order. As he left, the woman addressed Liam. “Thank you for that — seems like he was avoiding me.” 

“No problem.” 

She extended her hand to him. “I’m Kyla — It’s nice to meet you.” 

As he stared at her outstretched palm, he realized this woman didn’t know who he was; the notion was exciting. “Liam,” He smiled, returning her gesture. He met her gaze and goosebumps erupted on his skin as he peered into the brightest diamond eyes he’d ever seen. 

“Well, Liam — how about I buy you a drink to repay you for getting his attention?” She giggled. “And if you stick around, I’ll let you get it for me next time, too.” 

Liam took in the glint of mischief in her eye, and his heart palpated. “I’ll stay, but it would be impolite of me not to buy you a drink — I am the gentleman here, after all.” 

Kyla grinned from ear to ear. “Then that means it’s time for shots!” 

Liam grimaced. “Perhaps a mixed drink would suffice–” 

Kyla playfully rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me that such a big, muscular man can’t handle his liquor.” 

Liam scoffed, but the color creeping up his neck gave him away. “I can — I just don’t normally consume spirits with such predominant—” 

“Woah,” Kyla held her hands up. “Who are you — freakin’ Shakespeare?” She laughed. 

Liam chuckled. “I apologize. I can get — unusually formal when I’m…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh. 

“Sad? Mad? Stressed?” 

“How about all the above?” Liam shook his head and glanced away. 

Regardless, Kyla still noticed his dejection. “Listen… I know I’m totally a stranger but… It’s Christmas and you’re clearly going through some shit, so… if you want to get it out I’ll listen to all of your problems — or — we could dance or something until you forget about it…” 

As Liam took in her vibrant demeanor, a yearning flourished in the pit of his stomach; he wanted — no, needed — to enjoy her company. However, he was hesitant. “Surely a beautiful woman like you isn’t here alone. Won’t your boyfriend be upset?” 

Kyla flushed at his compliment. “No — no boyfriend. I don’t have anyone, really…” A brief glint of sadness flickered behind her gaze, but it disappeared just as fast as he saw it. 

“Then it sounds like maybe we could help one another… Like you said, it is Christmas Eve, so perhaps we can keep each other company.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Kyla giggled as a wide smile spread across her face. “Then we’re going to be needing those mistletoes!”  

Liam nearly choked on his saliva. “I’m sorry — we need — what?”

“Not literally,” Kyla howled with laughter. “It’s a yuletide shot — the kind that’ll make you holly and jolly.” 

“... Must we, though? I’m not entirely sure that I should partake—” 

“I bet those big, fancy words of yours only last two shots, tops…” she smugly replied. “Maybe three.” 

Liam’s brows lifted skyward. “Is that a challenge?” 

“What if it is?” 

Liam smirked. “You’re on — I hope you’re prepared to lose.” 

“Woo!” Kyla exclaimed with a fist bump. “The tree isn’t the only thing getting lit this year!” 

Liam chuckled and shook his head. A moment later, the server delivered their drinks and Kyla downed hers, Liam mindlessly doing the same. What was supposed to be one quickly turned into four until a content silence overcame them. 

Kyla stared at Liam, the silent question prominent in her patient gaze. He couldn’t place it, but there was something about this woman; almost as if an aura of comfort accompanied her presence, and Liam felt drawn to her in multiple manners. 

He smiled, gently grasped her hand, and led her to a secluded corner of the dance floor. Although he wore the disguise of sunglasses, he didn’t want to risk being spotted and swarmed. Bastien lingered somewhere, but regardless, the media circus that would create would be a nightmare. 

As the heavy bass rattled his bones, a sudden wave of nerves hit Liam; he’d never danced this way, and certainly not with a partner. He didn’t know what to do and unfortunately for him, four shots weren’t enough to make him throw away propriety. Kyla sensed his hesitation and gave his shoulders a firm shake, eliciting a loud rumble of laughter from Liam. He instantly relaxed and instead of overthinking what he was doing or his problems, he focused on Kyla and the beat of the music.  

The first few songs they kept their distance, but an invisible force pulled them together; by the third, Liam’s hands securely gripped Kyla’s hips with her back pressed against his chest. The way she moved, the softness of her skin, the fragrance of her hair; everything about her mesmerized Liam, and he didn’t dare look away. He mindlessly swayed along behind her, using all of his willpower to control the stiffening in his pants. Unfortunately for him, it was a losing battle; after being deprived of a woman’s attention for so long, his body reacted without consent. 

Liam flushed and suddenly stepped away, causing Kyla to spin around with worry prominent in her features. “What’s wrong?” She yelled over the music. 

"Nothing," Liam answered, as he tried to cover himself nonchalantly. 

Kyla noticed and heat instantly bloomed in her core; she bit her lip with a soft whimper that wasn’t heard over the loud bass. Liam saw her staring but Kyla slowly approached, holding his gaze with a smirk that intensified with every step closer. Liam stopped breathing as he followed her every move with rapt attention. She pressed her chest directly against his with her face tilted upward, and Liam’s hands fell to her lower back, almost out of muscle memory. Kyla took her time dragging out the anticipation but carefully inched closer until she finally made contact. 

When their lips connected, Liam swore fireworks exploded around them. Everything else faded away in an instant, as he let the electrical current transferring between their lips consume him. Kyla secured her arms around Liam’s shoulders, but as their urgency rose, her fingertips traveled downward, intently headed for the imprint bulging from Liam’s trousers. 

As she reached her quarry, Liam broke away with an elated gasp. He saw Kyla’s bright orbs darken at least two shades, making his cock pulse with every rapid course of blood flow. 

Kyla stared into his lustful eyes through her lashes, her chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. The moisture between her legs amplified and she clutched her knees together, seeking any kind of friction. For a split second, she considered asking if he wanted to leave, but she wasn’t willing to wait even a second longer. 

Kyla grasped Liam by the collar and pulled him away from the crowd, down a long hallway. He eagerly followed behind, not even knowing where this enticing stranger was leading him. She entered a door labeled staff and Liam stepped in behind her. As the structure closed, Kyla flipped on a light and he realized they were in some kind of linen closet; he recognized the dark colors of the hanging shirts from the staff around the establishment. 

“Do you work here?” 

“Nope,” Kyla answered. 

Liam’s brows furrowed. “Then why—” 

Kyla suddenly lunged for Liam, capturing his lips with such intensity that he stumbled backward. After the shock wore off, he returned her energy with enthusiasm, happily swallowing her needy whines. He shamelessly wandered every crevice of her figure as she headed for the buttons of his shirt. 

Clothes flung everywhere within an instant, their lips never straying far from one another. As Liam completed his mission, he used his weight to pin Kyla against the wall, his middle finger eagerly seeking her slick folds. He easily glided through, teasing her clit for a moment before plunging deep inside. Kyla loudly moaned, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as Liam expertly worked her toward release. His lips caressed every inch of her neck and chest as she squirmed against his palm, the sensations from his ministrations forcing her to see stars.  

With a loud wail, Kyla came on his hand; he growled at the sounds of her pleasure, drowning out the music in the distance as he worked her through the high. The next instant he hoisted Kyla up, placing her back flat against the wall. Kyla shrieked, but it turned into a needy whimper as Liam’s swollen manhood circled her entrance; she tightly closed her eyes, anticipating the stretch from his impressive girth. 

“Look at me… I want you to watch as I personally make sure you’re on the naughty list…” Liam rumbled, the deep baritone in his voice vibrating Kyla’s chest. 

Kyla met his gaze. “Joke’s on you. I’m already on the naughty list.” She smirked. 

Her attention shifted to the shelf beside them, and Liam followed her inquisitive gaze. He spotted what gathered her attention and shook his head. “No…” 

“Come on, just wear the Santa hat for a little bit. Please?” Kyla pouted. “You can be Santa and I’ll be your — helper elf…” 

Liam snickered. “Or, you could be my ho ho ho…” 

They erupted with laughter, Kyla still securely held in Liam’s arms with his cock nudging against her abdomen. “This is the only time that joke will be appropriate.” She reached for the hat and placed it on his head, afterward admiring her handiwork. “... There.” 

“Better?” Liam smiled. 

“Mmmhmmm,” Kyla hummed but quickly captured his lips; it was soft and felt natural as if this were a normal occurrence. It rendered both speechless at the intimacy of the moment; nothing was demanding or hasty but gentle, comforting, and warm. They parted and shared a flushed grin, staring into the other’s gleaming eyes with heavy breaths, but they could not resist the burning fire of desire a moment longer.

 Kyla pulled him closer and pleaded, “Take me…” against his lips. 

Liam didn’t need to be told twice; he used the wall to help keep Kyla steady as he lined himself at her tight opening. Never breaking eye contact, he delicately broke the threshold, Kyla’s fingernails sinking in and creating crescents on his shoulder blades. Buried to the hilt, Liam stilled, using every ounce of willpower that he had not to tip over the ledge immediately. 

“Shit,” Liam groaned, as her velvety walls accommodated around him. “You’re so tight… So wet…” 

“Oh — OH God — Yes,” Kyla hissed through clenched teeth as Liam steadily built their pace. 

Sweat coated their bodies as a tidal wave of euphoria appeared on the horizon. Liam tried to control himself but his thrusts turned frenzied as the cliffs of completion neared dangerously close, but he wasn’t willing to jump until Kyla launched over first. 

“You’re a decent elf,” Liam started, as his thumb found her clit and circled with determination. “But I want you to be a good little ho and cum for me.”

Kyla reacted immediately; her back arched off the wall, pressing her pert nipples securely against Liam’s chest. Her legs quivered as a burst of fluid coated his pelvis, adding to the sounds of wet skin relentlessly slapping together. Kyla chanted his name, the intense high hitting like an abrupt wall and forcing all coherent thoughts away; the only thing she understood was Liam. 

As if her contracting around his dick wasn’t enough to do Liam in, hearing his name roll off her tongue did something to him; satisfaction swelled in his chest, creating a whole new rush of endorphins. With a few more labored thrusts he coated every inch of her spasming walls. His balls twitched as he rode wave after wave of pure, unfiltered bliss. 

He held Kyla’s hips as close as possible, but soon slipped his softening member out of her. He gently lowered her to the floor, offering a hand to assist as she got her bearings. They breathed heavy breaths as their pulses returned to a normal rate, but they did not make eye contact or speak as they dressed.  

Finally, it was Kyla who broke the silence as they finished with their garments. “I… I don’t normally do the whole hooking up thing…” 

“Me either,” Liam agreed, but that earned him a snort from Kyla. “What? I’m being serious!” 

“Please — you can’t be that fucking chiseled and not lay it down on the regular.” 

Liam smirked at her boldness. “Really — I never do this… Ever… It’s been quite a while for me, actually…” 

“Me too,” Kyla shyly admitted, but just as their gazes locked, the door abruptly flung open. 

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” A man in uniform suddenly appeared. “The sign was clear — staff only.” 

“Sorry!” Kyla squealed. “I lost my purse, and we were trying to find it.” 

“Well, it’s not in here — so beat it.” 

“Will do,” Kyla quickly answered, tugging on Liam’s sleeve to pull him along. 

Just as Liam made it to the doorway, the man suddenly froze with wide eyes. “Wait… Are — are you–” 

“Let’s go,” Liam grabbed Kyla’s hand and took off, not stopping until they were outside. As they made it he spotted Bastien waiting, and a conveniently placed cab pulled behind the SUV. 

Liam stopped before the vehicles and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “Kyla, I — I’d really like to see you again…” 

Kyla sighed heavily. “We’ll have to see what happens these next couple of weeks…” Liam nodded, but as his features fell, her chest constricted. “But I could give you my number… Then maybe if fate allows it, our paths will reconnect.” 

Liam smiled and exchanged devices with her. “Hopefully fate will be on our side, then…” The pair shared a flushed grin, but Liam soon led Kyla over to the waiting cab. He helped her inside but lingered before closing the door. “Hey, Kyla?” 

“Yeah?”

“... Merry Christmas.” 

Kyla fixed the askew hat that Liam forgot was on his head with a vibrant smile. “Merry Christmas, Santa.” 

Tags (Let me know if you'd like added or removed):

@choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @queenrileyrose @angelasscribbles @tessa-liam @kingliam2019 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @bascmve01 @busywoman @belencha77@mysticalfangirl @nestledonthaveone @lovingchoices14 @lunaseasblog @malblk21 @sfb123 @emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @choicesflashfics

[sashi-ya]

𝑥𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡; 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 ⋆˙⊹ roronoa zoro x f! reader

request: Anonymous asked: Hi love, may i ask u to do a sfw zoro x f!reader ⊹ jingle bell??? I miss some sweet zoro 🤗💞. Love and happy holidays sweety 💞💞💞|tw: none. sweet shy marimo. a bit inspired on my own current experience | wc: 993 | masterlist | taglist: @zella07 @jin-supremacy01 @alexkanroji @jenwooly @owlham|

Now the ground is white, go it while you're young Take the girl tonight, sing this sleighing song… Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells. Jingle all the way!

A friend group and a Christmas gathering, sweaty palms even if outside you could freeze.

She looks so pretty; her hair flows like the strands of an angel. She is always so serious but sometimes she laughs, and to Zoro there is nothing more beautiful than her smile. Since she arrived to their friend group, everything has changed for him…

“Marimo! Oi!” his blond friend elbows him. Zoro seems to be absent tonight.

“What- curly?” he asks, grunting as always at his best friend.

Sanji lifts one of his peculiar looking brows, and then looks at you as you have fun with your beloved girls. Soon, he realizes what’s been going on with his green haired friend. “HAHAHA MARIMO, ARE YOU IN LOVE?” he jokes, pushing his friend to the side. Of course, a simple touch it’s enough for them to start a fight… but Zoro couldn’t even do it… your dress is too pretty for him to stop looking at you.

Sanji smiles kindly. His friend has finally fallen in the traps of love, and he couldn’t mess with it. In fact, even if it felt weird, he wanted to help him… although he would have loved to get you for himself.

The chef walks away, and giggles at how silly his friend looks only taking sips of alcohol, completely spellbound for you. As he is a completely hopeless romantic himself, maybe a little bit of help would make you and Zoro to finally get together.

“Oi, Brook… let’s put some slowed songs. Let’s make some couples dance closely together” Sanji asks his friend, who is also the dj of the little party. Of course, Brook loves the idea and as soon as Sanji asked, he delivered.

The soft music starts playing, and, inside you the only thing you think of is to dance with your kendo instructor friend. But, he doesn’t know how much you like him… As one by one your friends get the chance to dance with their crushes and lovers, you keep playing with your glass. Your dress looks stunning, your hair does too. But nobody looks as good as him… it is weird to see Zoro dressed in a suit… but it’s even weird that he is looking right at you.

You wink several times, there is no way he is looking at you. You turn around, just to see if there was someone else behind you, but it’s just the walls of Luffy’s brother’s home.

Tilting your head, you try to understand if he needs something, and even if the music was loud enough not to hear properly his lips aren’t moving. “Wha-“ you ask yourself, looking to the floor. Zoro has an intense gaze, it’s almost impossible not to blush and take your eyes away…

“Hey, (Name)… what is going on? Let’s da- oh…” Nami says, stopping her pulling motions on your arm. “Oh lord this idiot…” she grunts, walking right towards him.

The red head snaps her fingers in front of Zoro’s intense gaze. “Oi, Zoro!! Quit looking at her and just invite the lady to dance!!” she scolds him, with her hand on her waist and her classic ordering tone.

Zoro snaps out of it, and looks at his -witch- little sister. “Wha- what do you want?!” he growls, looking at Nami, taking his eye off you from some bare moments.

“Go ask her to dance, you airhead…” she commands, pushing Zoro towards where you are.

Of course, the Kendo champion protests, but he continues to walk to you. And it’s so insanely topping that you end up feeling little compared to him when he is in front of you.

“Dance?” he asks handing one of his calloused hands to you; as always his null dating skills really do shine.

You bite your lower lip, giggling. He surely is a brute, but a sweet one. And when you say yes, you notice his cheeks a little blushed… perhaps it was just the alcohol, or maybe it was you.

When both of your hands join, and his other one heavily -but with utmost care- lands on your waist your eyes meet. A little side smile joins your lips, while Zoro’s are barely open. He can’t speak, but his body starts moving.

Dancing to slow songs, he looks so pretty wearing a suit. The white shirt underneath lets his muscles show just the right amount and it’s such a beautiful eye candy to you.

Perhaps both should have said something, however after so many looks there is no need. Zoro invites you to come even closer to his body, and you accede almost naturally. Your eyes meet once again, and this time your noses become the closest they have ever been.

Zoro tightens his mandible, drawing a sharp line that could cut like his swords. You swallow. You have no idea which music is playing in the background, perhaps the slowed songs have finished already… but, none of you care. You are just in your own little bubble.

The flickering fairy lights that Franky and Usopp have included as a basic decoration for the party shine around you two, and never you imagined doing this with Zoro. He didn’t seem romantic at all… well, not until he met you.

“Can – Can I – k…?” he wants to ask something he is about to do. Was it really necessary if your lips could feel the other’s warm -and shaky- breathe?

You nod, smiling and closing your eyes to receive his soft peck.

A new friend. You were just a new friend. And soon Zoro’s new girlfriend…

“Who the hell kiss while “Jingle Bells” is playing? Wonder why they took so much…” Sanji asks, while feeding Luffy some kind of Christmas treat he made himself.  

“Them…? Give me more food! shishishi”