#i absolutely love getting asks from you guys

[jupiterpilgrim]

Silent Night, Whispered Secrets

Christmas Special 🎄

Yunjin x Male Reader

word count: 4.5K words

The office is eerily quiet on Christmas Eve, with only the soft hum of your computer and occasional clicking of the keyboard breaking the silence. Most of your coworkers left hours ago to start their holiday celebrations, but you're still here finishing up year-end reports. The only other person crazy enough to still be working is Yunjin, whose office is just down the hall from yours.

You've known Yunjin for the two years you've worked at the company. She started a few months before you and helped show you the ropes when you first joined. You hit it off right away, drawn to her quick wit and infectious laugh. She's the kind of person who can find humor in even the most mundane office situations, making even boring meetings more bearable with her subtle eye rolls and whispered commentary.

Physically, Yunjin is absolutely your type, though you've tried not to think about her that way given your professional relationship. She has a classic beauty about her, with delicate features framed by stylish glasses that give her a sexy librarian vibe. Her lips are full and naturally pouty, the kind that make you wonder what they'd feel like pressed against yours. She typically dresses conservatively for the office in blazers and pencil skirts, but you can tell she has a slim, petite figure with small breasts that suit her frame perfectly.

The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor pulls you from your thoughts. Looking up, you see Yunjin leaning against your doorframe, her jacket discarded and the top button of her white blouse undone.

"Still at it?" she asks with a sympathetic smile. "You know Santa won't come if you're still awake doing spreadsheets."

You can't help but chuckle. "Pretty sure Santa skips over office buildings anyway. What's your excuse for still being here?"

"Same as you probably - trying to get everything wrapped up before the holiday break." She walks into your office and perches on the edge of your desk, something she's done countless times during your friendly chats. "But I'm officially taking a break and you should too. We've been at this for hours."

The familiar scent of her perfume - something light and floral - wafts over as she settles next to you. You realize she's right about needing a break; your eyes are starting to blur from staring at the screen.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you concede, leaning back in your chair. "Most of this can wait until after Christmas anyway."

"Exactly! Speaking of Christmas..." She swivels to face you more directly, crossing her legs. "What are your plans? Big family gathering?"

"Pretty much the usual - heading to my parents' place tomorrow morning. Mom always goes overboard with the decorations and Dad pretends to complain about it while secretly loving every minute." You smile thinking about your family's traditions. "What about you?"

"Similar, minus the over-the-top decorations. Though my mom does make enough food to feed a small army." She pauses, seeming to consider something before asking, "Will your girlfriend be joining you?"

The question catches you off guard. In all your conversations, she's never directly asked about your relationship status before. "No girlfriend to bring along," you answer honestly. "Flying solo this holiday season."

"Really?" Her eyebrows raise slightly above her glasses frames. "I find that hard to believe. A guy like you, single at Christmas?"

There's something different in her tone now, a slight flirtatiousness that makes your pulse quicken. "What do you mean a guy like me?" you ask, playing along.

She adjusts her glasses in that adorable way she does when she's about to say something bold. "Oh, you know... Smart, funny, easy on the eyes." Her lips curve into a playful smile. "The kind of guy who probably has women fighting over who gets to kiss him under the mistletoe."

Your mouth goes dry as you process this shift in dynamic. Is Yunjin actually flirting with you? After two years of carefully maintained friendship?

"Funny, I was just thinking the same about you," you reply, testing the waters. "Surprised you don't have a line of guys waiting to take you home for the holidays."

She laughs softly, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "Maybe I'm waiting for the right guy to ask." Her eyes meet yours with unmistakable intent now. "Someone who already knows me... understands me..."

The air between you feels charged with possibility. You've imagined moments like this before but always pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to complicate your friendship or work relationship. But now, with her looking at you like that...

"Yunjin..." you start, not quite sure what you're going to say.

She slides off your desk and extends her hand to you. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

You don't hesitate for a second, turning off the computer and getting up from your chair. Your heart pounds as you take her hand, letting her lead you out of your office and down the darkened hallway. Her fingers are soft and warm interlaced with yours. She guides you past the break room and copy area to a section of the building you rarely visit.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though you're happy to follow her anywhere at this point.

"Somewhere private," she answers mysteriously. "Where we can talk without worrying about security cameras."

She leads you into what appears to be a storage room, flicking on a small lamp that casts a warm glow over boxes of office supplies and forgotten furniture. It's cozy in an odd way, like a secret hideaway.

Yunjin turns to face you, still holding your hand. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and you can see her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"I need to tell you something," she says. "Something I've wanted to say for a long time but never had the courage."

You squeeze her hand encouragingly, heart racing with anticipation.

"I have feelings for you," she continues. "Real feelings, beyond friendship. I think I have for a while now but I was afraid to admit it, afraid of ruining what we have. But being here tonight, just the two of us... I couldn't keep pretending anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you for a moment before you respond. "Yunjin, I had no idea you felt that way. I mean, I've definitely thought about you like that but I always told myself it was just a crush, that it would pass..."

"And did it? Pass?" she asks softly.

You shake your head. "No. If anything, it got stronger the more I got to know you. You're amazing, Yunjin. Smart and funny and beautiful... I love how you can make me laugh even on the worst days. How you always remember little details about things I've told you. How passionate you get when talking about things you care about..."

She steps closer, reaching up to touch your face. "We've been through a lot together, haven't we? All those late nights working on projects, lunch breaks spent venting about difficult clients, celebrating each other's wins..."

"Yeah," you agree, letting your free hand rest on her waist. "I guess it's natural that feelings would develop. We just... fit."

"We do," she whispers, then rises on her tiptoes to press her lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, tentative, as if you're both still afraid of crossing this line. But then she sighs against your mouth and something ignites between you. Your arms wrap around her waist as hers circle your neck, pulling each other closer as the kiss deepens.

Her lips are even softer than you imagined, moving against yours with growing passion. You can taste mint on her breath, like she'd been preparing for this possibility. The thought makes you smile against her mouth.

"What?" she asks, pulling back slightly.

"Nothing," you murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw. "Just happy."

She tilts her head to give you better access to her neck, letting out a small moan when you find a sensitive spot. "Mmm... want to know what would make me happy?"

"Tell me," you breathe against her skin.

"Letting me give you your Christmas present." Her hands slide down your chest as she speaks.

You pull back to look at her, seeing desire burning in her eyes behind those sexy glasses. "What kind of present?"

Instead of answering, she starts unbuttoning her blouse, revealing smooth pale skin and a simple white bra underneath. Your breath catches as she reaches behind to unhook it, letting the garment fall away.

You can't take your eyes off Yunjin's exposed chest as she straddles your lap in the dimly lit storage room. Her breasts are small, almost flat against her slim frame, but they're absolutely perfect to you. Each one is barely a handful, topped with delicate pink nipples that have hardened in the cool air. The sight makes your mouth water with desire.

"I know they're not much to look at," she says shyly, noticing your intense gaze. "Most guys prefer bigger..."

You silence her self-consciousness by cupping both small mounds in your hands, feeling their subtle weight. "These are exactly what I want," you tell her firmly. "Perfect little tits that fit my hands just right."

She shivers as you run your thumbs over her nipples, watching them stiffen further under your touch. The rosy buds stand out proudly now, begging to be sucked. You lean forward slowly, maintaining eye contact as you take one peak between your lips.

"Ohhh..." Yunjin moans softly as you begin to suckle her breast. Her fingers thread through your hair, holding you against her chest as you worship her sensitive flesh.

You alternate between gentle suction and firm licks, paying attention to how she responds. When you graze your teeth lightly across her nipple, her whole body trembles and she lets out a gasp. You do it again, a bit firmer this time, and are rewarded with a breathy "Yes..."

Your hands knead her small breasts as you continue lavishing attention on her nipples. Despite their size, or perhaps because of it, they seem incredibly sensitive. Every touch, every lick, every gentle bite makes her squirm and moan in your lap.

You pull back slightly to admire your work - her nipples are now swollen and deep pink from your ministrations. "So responsive," you murmur, blowing cool air across the wet peaks and watching them tighten further. "I love how sensitive these little tits are."

"Only for you," she whimpers as you dive back in, this time taking as much of her small breast into your mouth as possible. There's something incredibly arousing about being able to almost fit the entire mound between your lips.

You suck firmly while massaging her other breast, feeling her nipple press hard against your palm. Her hips begin to rock subtly in your lap as her arousal builds. The movement makes your already hard cock throb with need, but you're determined to thoroughly worship these perfect little tits first.

Moving to her neglected breast, you trace circles around the areola with your tongue before capturing the straining nipple between your teeth. A sharp gasp escapes her lips as you apply just enough pressure to toe the line between pleasure and pain.

"Oh god," she pants, grinding more insistently against you now. "That feels so good... I never knew my breasts could be this sensitive..."

You hum against her flesh, the vibrations making her shudder. Your hands slide around to grip her ass, helping guide her movements as she rocks in your lap. Each roll of her hips makes her small breasts sway slightly, a hypnotic sight that has you alternating between watching and tasting.

"Such perfect little tits," you murmur between licks and kisses. "Love how they bounce... love how responsive they are... love how they fit in my mouth just right..."

Your praise seems to turn her on even more. She arches her back, pressing her chest more firmly against your face as you continue your oral assault on her sensitive peaks. Her breathing becomes more ragged with each passing minute.

You bring your hands back to her breasts, squeezing them together so you can move back and forth between nipples more easily. The sight of her small mounds pressed together, topped with those pretty pink nipples, is incredibly erotic. You lap at both peaks simultaneously, making her cry out.

"Please," she whimpers, though you're not sure what she's begging for. You respond by sucking harder, drawing one taut nipple deep into your mouth while pinching and rolling the other between your fingers.

Her whole body is trembling now as you continue your relentless attention. You can feel how wet she is through her panties as she grinds against your lap, seeking friction. The combination of your mouth on her sensitive breasts and the pressure against her clit seems to be driving her wild.

"I think..." she gasps, clutching your head tighter. "I think I might... from just this..."

The revelation that she might cum just from breast play spurs you on. You double your efforts, sucking and licking and nibbling at her swollen nipples while your hands massage the soft flesh of her small breasts. Her movements become more erratic as she chases her pleasure.

"That's it," you encourage between sucks. "Let go for me... show me how sensitive these perfect little tits are..."

With a sharp cry, she does just that. Her body goes rigid in your lap as waves of pleasure wash over her, triggered by nothing more than your mouth on her breasts. You continue gently sucking and licking through her orgasm, prolonging the sensation until she weakly pushes your head away, too sensitive to take any more.

"I've never..." she pants, looking down at you with wide eyes. "That's never happened before..."

You press soft kisses to her flushed chest, admiring how her nipples are now deep red and slightly swollen from your attention. "Just proves what I said - these are perfect."

With a smile Yunjin slides down your body with a hungry look in her eyes, her delicate fingers work at your belt buckle as she settles between your legs, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Now I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel," she purrs, finally freeing your throbbing cock from its confines. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight. "So big..." she whispers, wrapping her small hand around your shaft.

You groan at the first contact, already rock hard from getting her off with just breast play earlier. She starts with slow, exploratory strokes, learning the feel of you. Her other hand cups your balls gently, rolling them between her fingers as she studies your reactions.

"Tell me if it's good, okay?" she asks softly, her hot breath ghosting over your tip. "I want this to be the best you've ever had."

Before you can respond, she leans forward and drags her tongue from base to tip in one long, slow lick. Your cock twitches in her grip as she swirls her tongue around the head, gathering the bead of precum that's formed there.

"Mmm," she hums, savoring the taste. "Already so excited for me..."

She continues teasing you with her tongue, tracing the prominent veins along your shaft and paying special attention to the sensitive spot just under the head. Her hand keeps up a steady stroking motion, spreading her saliva along your length.

When she finally takes you into her mouth, you have to fight not to thrust up into that wet heat. She starts shallow, just sucking on the tip while her tongue works against the underside. Her eyes flutter closed as she focuses on the task, clearly enjoying herself.

"Fuck, that feels good," you groan as she gradually takes more of you in. Her mouth is so hot and wet, and the suction is perfect. She hums in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your cock.

One hand wraps around what doesn't fit in her mouth yet, working in tandem with her lips and tongue. The other continues massaging your balls, occasionally trailing lower to tease your perineum. The dual stimulation has your toes curling.

She pulls off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. "I love how hard you are," she says, pumping you with both hands now. "Love feeling you throb in my mouth..."

Before you can respond, she's diving back down, taking you even deeper this time. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of your shaft as she bobs her head, building a steady rhythm. The wet sounds of her sucking fill the room, obscenely erotic.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not guiding her movements but just wanting to touch her. She moans around your cock in response, the vibrations making you groan. Her pace picks up slightly, switching between deep sucks and focusing on the sensitive head.

"Just like that," you encourage as she finds a particularly good rhythm. "Your mouth feels fucking amazing."

She pulls back again, this time to focus solely on your tip while her hands work your shaft. Her tongue swirls around the head before flicking rapidly against the frenulum, making your hips jerk. "Want to taste every inch of you," she murmurs before taking you deep again.

This time she doesn't stop until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there for a moment, swallowing around you, before pulling back for air. Strings of saliva connect her lips to your cock as she gasps.

"So fucking hot," you groan, watching her catch her breath. Your cock twitches in her grip, achingly hard from her skilled attention.

She smiles up at you before diving back in, this time maintaining eye contact as she works you over. The sight of her pretty lips stretched around your girth while she stares up at you with lust-filled eyes is almost too much.

Her technique varies between long, slow sucks taking you as deep as she can manage, and focusing on the tip with quick flicks of her tongue. She seems to delight in finding what makes you moan loudest, repeating movements that get the biggest reactions.

"Getting close?" she asks during another brief break, her hand never stopping its stroking motion. When you nod, she smiles. "Good. I want to taste your cum... want to swallow every drop..."

The dirty talk combined with her renewed oral assault has you right on the edge. She seems to sense this, doubling her efforts. One hand pumps your shaft while the other gently squeezes your balls. Her mouth focuses on your sensitive head, sucking firmly while her tongue works the underside.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum!" you growl, staring down at Yunjin's face as she works your throbbing cock with her skilled mouth. Her designer glasses are slightly fogged up from her heavy breathing, adding an irresistibly naughty librarian vibe to her cock-hungry expression. Those plump, glistening lips stretch obscenely wide around your thick shaft as she bobs her head with expert precision.

Rather than slow down at your warning, she doubles her efforts - taking you even deeper into her hot, eager mouth. Her full, pouty lips form a perfect seal around your cock as she sucks harder, her tongue dancing and swirling along your sensitive length. Drool runs down your balls as she services you with single-minded determination, the wet sloppy sounds of her enthusiastic sucking filling the room.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in her silky hair, accidentally knocking her glasses slightly askew. She doesn't miss a beat, continuing to worship your cock while reaching up to adjust them with one hand. The intellectual look of her wire-rimmed frames contrasts deliciously with the absolutely filthy things she's doing with that talented mouth.

Her crimson lipstick is completely ruined now, smeared all over your cock in scarlet streaks. The sight of those perfect dick-sucking lips wrapped around you, combined with her sultry gaze behind those sexy glasses, has your balls drawing up tight. She must sense how close you are because she takes you impossibly deeper, until you feel the back of her throat squeezing your sensitive cockhead.

Her nose presses against your pelvis as she deep-throats you with practiced ease, her glasses fogging up even more from her heavy breathing. The rippling sensation of her throat muscles working around your length finally pushes you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck!" you roar as your orgasm hits like a freight train. Your cock pulses violently, shooting thick ropes of hot cum directly down her eager throat. She moans in satisfaction around your spurting length, continuing to suck and swallow rhythmically as you empty yourself into her hungry mouth. Not a single drop escapes those perfect cock-hungry lips.

Even after you're completely drained, she keeps gently nursing on your sensitive head, her tongue lapping up every last trace of cum. Only when you're trembling from overstimulation does she finally release you with an obscene pop. Your cock emerges glistening with her saliva, still twitching occasionally.

She looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes behind her slightly steamed glasses, licking those full, swollen lips with obvious satisfaction. A thin strand of saliva and cum still connects her mouth to your cock. "Mmm, fucking delicious," she purrs, her voice slightly hoarse from taking you so deep. She gives your softening length one final kiss before sitting back on her heels.

Your legs feel weak as you watch her run her tongue over her lips again, savoring your taste. Her ruined lipstick smeared across her mouth and chin. Combined with her messy hair, fogged glasses, and the hungry look in her eyes, she's the perfect picture of debauchery.

"That was incredible," you manage to say once you catch your breath. She just grins wickedly, clearly proud of her cock-sucking skills. And rightfully so - you've never had your dick sucked with such enthusiasm and expertise before.

"I love the way you taste," she says, running one finger along her bottom lip while pushing her glasses back up her nose. "And the way your big cock feels stretching my mouth open. Makes me so fucking horny." To emphasize her point, she brings both hands up to her small breasts, squeezing them firmly through her top.

The sight of her playing with herself while looking at you with those intelligent eyes behind her frames makes your spent cock twitch with renewed interest. She notices and laughs, her hands still kneading her chest. "Already wanting more? Such a greedy boy." She leans forward to plant soft kisses along your shaft, which is already starting to harden again.

"Can't help it when you've got such perfect dick-sucking lips," you tell her, running your thumb across her plump bottom lip. She captures the digit between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth with a sultry look. The combination of her hot tongue swirling around your thumb and her glasses sliding down her nose again makes your cock throb.

"These lips were made for worshipping cock," she agrees after releasing your thumb with a wet pop. "Especially yours. I love how thick you are - really makes me work for it." She emphasizes her point by wrapping those gorgeous lips around just your sensitive head, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact through her slightly fogged lenses.

You groan at the sight and sensation. "Fuck, you really are insatiable aren't you?" Your hand finds its way back into her hair, careful not to knock her glasses off this time as you guide her movements. She starts taking more of your rapidly hardening length into her mouth again.

She pulls off just long enough to say "When it comes to sucking your cock? Absolutely." Then she's diving back down, taking you to the root in one smooth motion that has you seeing stars. Her throat contracts around you as she swallows, making you gasp.

Your grip in her hair tightens as she starts bobbing her head with renewed vigor. The wet sounds of her enthusiastic cock-sucking fill the room once again. She alternates between taking you deep in her throat and focusing on your sensitive head, her talented tongue doing incredible things that have you moaning.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise her, making her moan around your length. Her glasses fog up completely as she works your cock faster. "Love watching those pretty lips stretch around my thick cock. You were born to suck dick, weren't you?"

She responds by taking you even deeper, until her nose is pressed against your pelvis again. The feeling of her throat squeezing around your cock while she looks up at you with those big, eager eyes behind her steamed-up lenses is almost too much to handle.

"That's it, take it all like a good girl," you growl, using your grip on her hair to hold her in place for a moment. She moans and squirms, clearly loving being used like this. When you finally let her pull back for air, she gasps and immediately dives back down for more, quickly adjusting her glasses before wrapping those perfect lips around you again.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You start thrusting your hips slightly, fucking her willing mouth while she moans encouragement. The sight of your cock disappearing between those perfect cock-sucking lips over and over, combined with her sexy librarian look, has you racing toward another orgasm embarrassingly quickly.

"Gonna cum again," you warn her through gritted teeth. She responds by sucking even harder, her cheeks hollowing as she works to draw out your load. Her tongue does wicked things to your sensitive head while one hand massages your heavy balls.

This time when you explode, she pulls back just enough to catch your cum on her tongue. You watch in awe as rope after rope of hot cum paints those gorgeous lips and fills her eager mouth. Some of it lands on her glasses, making her look even more debauched. She makes a show of swallowing it all down before licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile.

"Mmm, even better the second time," she purrs, giving your sensitive cock one final kiss. Her lips and chin are glazed with a mixture of cum and saliva, her lipstick completely destroyed, and her glasses are splattered with your seed. "Well, what did you think of my blowjob? Think that lived up to being the best you've ever had?"

"Fuck yes. Your lips, your mouth, your tongue, those fucking glasses... You're perfect, Yunjin.”

Still on her knees, she reaches for the open cardboard box nearby. It’s crammed with small packs of wet wipes. She plucks one out, tearing it open with her teeth before pulling a single wipe free. As she starts cleaning her glasses, she laughs softly. “These glasses? Expensive as hell,” she says, wiping the lenses with a casual ease. “But having you cum all over me while wearing them? Fucking worth it.”

Her words make you shudder slightly, your breath catching as you watch her throw away the last used wipe, her face and glasses less messy now. She smirks, using her thumb to rub at the the forgotten bit of smeared lipstick.

When Yunjin finishes, she sighs, looking at you with those big lovely eyes. "Did you like your present?" she asks softly.

You pull her closer, crushing your mouth to hers, tasting yourself on her tongue but too far gone to care. “Best Christmas present ever,” you murmur against her lips, your hands finding her hips, pulling her impossibly closer as she melts into you.

"Merry Christmas then," she says with a playful wink, wiping her mouth delicately.

"To be honest, I've never liked Christmas as much as I do now," you tell her when your lips move away.

She laughs softly, tucking her head against your neck. "Just wait until you see what I have planned for New Year's."

You hold her close, both of you catching your breath as the reality of what just happened settles in. Outside the windows, snow has begun to fall, dusting the city in white. It's still Christmas Eve, you still have family obligations tomorrow, but right now none of that matters. All that matters is this moment, this woman in your arms, and the promise of more to come.

"We should probably head home soon," Yunjin says eventually, though she makes no move to get up. "It is Christmas Eve after all."

You press a kiss to her temple. "Five more minutes," you bargain, and feel her smile against your skin.

"Five more minutes," she agrees.

You sit there together in comfortable silence, watching the snow fall outside while your racing hearts slow to normal. Whatever happens next, you know this Christmas will be one to remember. And as Yunjin snuggles closer in your arms, you can't help but think that sometimes the best presents come when you least expect them.

The office will look different from now on, you think. The familiar halls and rooms now charged with memory - her hand in yours as she led you here, the first press of her lips against yours, the way she looked on her knees between your legs…

Finally, reluctantly, you both begin to dress. You help Yunjin button her blouse, stealing kisses between each button until she laughs and pushes you away playfully. Her hair is slightly messed up from your fingers and her lips are still swollen from their earlier activities.

She's never looked more beautiful.

"Walk me to my car?" she asks, slipping her hand into yours.

"Of course," you reply, squeezing her fingers gently.

As you make your way through the quiet building, you can't help but marvel at how much can change in a single night. Yesterday, Yunjin was just your friend and coworker. Now... now she's something more, something precious and exciting and full of possibility.

In the parking garage, she turns to face you before getting in her car. "Text me when you get home?" she asks, and you nod.

"Definitely." You pull her close for one more kiss, slow and sweet. "Merry Christmas, Yunjin."

She smiles against your lips. "Merry Christmas."

You watch her drive away, snow swirling in the headlights, before heading to your own car. As you drive home through the quiet streets, you can't wipe the smile off your face. This Christmas is already shaping up to be the best one yet.

Your phone buzzes with a text just as you're pulling into your driveway. It's from Yunjin: "Already missing those five more minutes 😘"

You reply quickly:

"We'll have to make up for lost time after the holidays."

Her response comes immediately:

"Can't wait 💕"

As you head inside, you find yourself actually looking forward to returning to work after Christmas. Who knew the office could hold such possibilities? But then again, with Yunjin involved, anything seems possible.

You fall asleep that night with thoughts of soft lips and gentle hands, of whispered confessions and promises of more to come. In your dreams, it's still snowing, and Yunjin is there, smiling at you through the white flakes, reaching for your hand.

Tomorrow will bring family gatherings and holiday traditions, but tonight belongs to the memory of her - the taste of her kisses, the sound of her moans, the feel of her skin under your fingers. It's the best Christmas gift you could have asked for, and it's only the beginning.

[electrosuite]

okay. al. i need something put into words. idk if you've seen it but in "we live in time" andrew and florence didn't hear cut when filming a sex scene. so i was wondering. could you do something where eddie has taken up acting. it's an experimental movie, so y'all are actually fucking. it's unsimulated sex. y'all don't hear cut, but you're so into it that neither of you stop. you don't notice until he cums, then you both remember the cameras.

warnings: swearing, fingering oral sex, descriptive sex, sex on camera

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i saw we live in time opening week and absolutely loved it. put andrew garfield's bare ass in more movies!!!

masterlist

One of the best decisions you'd made was moving to Hollywood to pursue acting. You loved it, and you were a natural. You could make yourself cry on command, you often lost yourself in scenes, and you weren't afraid to get nude on camera. That was something that was pretty common for the 80s, specifically female nudity.

You'd filmed many sex scenes in your career, but they were all simulated. Prosthetics, body doubles, cushions between bodies. But when you were approached to do an experimental film, one with completely unsimulated sex, your curiosity was piqued.

You were told you wouldn't meet the other actor until the day of, which turned out to be the first day on set. You were told that some studios, this one included, preferred to get sex scenes out of the way first and film the rest after. Your first impression of this guy would be when you had sex with him.

So when you were sitting on set in your tight black dress — which would be removed in the scene — and he walked in, your eyes widened. He was very handsome, just your type. He had long curly black hair, he was covered in tattoos, and immediately started joking around with the crew. He was wearing a suit, one which fit his body nicely.

When he spotted you, he walked right over and sat next to you.

"You my co-star?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"That would be me."

"Eddie." He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

"Y/N."

"You look familiar. I feel like I've seen you in something else before."

"Maybe. Sorry, but I don't recognize you."

"I haven't been in anything big, just a couple of low-budget movies." He noticed your nervous energy. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, just... I've never done anything... real. It's always been fake sex."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, it's a first for both of us, then. It's a first-first for me, I've never done anything like this."

"Really?"

"Yep. Never even taken my shirt off on camera."

"And you're just jumping right in, huh?"

"Why not? If I'm gonna do it, I might as well go all in."

"Well, are you at least experienced?" you joked.

"Oh, I'm experienced. Yeah." You chuckled. "Also, I was told to tell you that they had me go ahead and put a condom on so it wouldn't disrupt the flow or anything. They said you were pretty adamant about it."

"Thank god. I really don't want to leave here today pregnant."

This made both of you laugh, but it was true. That was the most important thing to you when agreeing to do this movie.

"Alright, actors in positions," announced the director, who settled into his chair next to the camera.

Before you could get up, Eddie looked back at you. "Hey, I know we'll be recording, but don't let that stop you from telling me if I'm crossing any boundaries, alright?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Thank you."

"Of course."

The scene immediately started with the two of you standing at the edge of a bed, inches away from each other. So that's where you went, your calves touching the mattress.

You'd read over the script for this scene numerous times. There was a camera a few feet from the bed, and one strapped onto the ceiling above where you would be laying. Neither of you would speak, just moan.

You were getting more nervous by the second, the lack of space between you two making your heart pound.

"Hey," he whispered, making eye contact with you. "You still good?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You got yourself into the acting mindset as they finalized the cameras. "Ready."

"Quiet on set," yelled the director. Everyone hushed, the silence making you realize how many eyes were on you. "Action!"

You reached up and slowly undid Eddie's tie, his eyes never leaving your face. Once it was on the floor, he pulled you in for a kiss. It was gentle yet deep, both of you taking in a deep breath. His hands gripped your sides, your palms flat against his chest.

He reached around you and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor. He then effortlessly unhooked your bra and you pulled it off of yourself. So far this was exactly like some of the other scenes you'd filmed. It was always a little bit nerve-wracking to expose yourself on camera — how could it not be?

He pushed you down onto the bed, his knees on the edge between yours.

He wasn't supposed to kiss you as long as he did. It was only supposed to be a couple before he moved on, but he was going off script a bit. His hand cupped the breast visible to the camera, which was now a bit closer.

He began kissing down to your neck a bit, then trailing along your body. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling it. You couldn't help but tangle your fingers in his hair, knowing it would help the scene.

As he kissed down your body, he maintained eye contact with you, watching to make sure you were still comfortable with this. Once he was to your thighs, he knelt down next to the bed and pulled you by the legs closer to him.

He slowly pulled your underwear off, dropping them on top of your dress. He continued to leave kisses on your thighs, making a genuine and impatient whine escape your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue on your clit made you gasp, your hands immediately finding their way back to his hair. This was weird with cameras, and at first it made it hard for you to really get in the mood.

But he was good with his tongue. You were so used to fake moaning that the real ones that came out of you felt foreign. His hands on your thighs, keeping them spread, were also keeping your hips still.

Usually when you filmed cunnilingus scenes, they kept their mouth closed and just positioned their face between your legs. So it was a foreign feeling to actually be eaten out on camera.

He couldn't stop staring at you, you looked so beautiful. Your head thrown back, back arched, tits out and nipples hard, fingers pulling his hair.

He wasn't supposed to make you cum, the script didn't call for it. He was supposed to do this for about thirty seconds and move on to the actual sex. But he was told that if the scene lasted too long, they could just edit it down. So he decided before even meeting you that he would make sure you had at least one orgasm today.

And it didn't take you long to get there. The camera had moved now so that it was behind him and to the side, getting a shot of his back and your face simultaneously.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself as you felt your orgasm approaching, and fast. You were worried about how you would look, actually cumming and being recorded. You were trying to remain as calm as you possibly could, but you'd never been eaten out like this.

You were much louder than you anticipated when you finally came, and Eddie had to hold you down to keep you in the shot. When he finally stopped, he was immediately back to kissing you. He was still fully clothed, so you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders.

Instead of unbuttoning his shirt, he just pulled it over his head. He had a beautiful body, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You reached down and helped remove his belt, but he took over a moment later.

Within a minute, he was completely nude, and you got a good view of what he was packing. You were told before the shoot that you'd be having unprotected sex, and as you were already on birth control, it wasn't that big of a deal to you. Or at least, it wasn't until you were finally here. Now it was sinking in that you were about to be creampied by a guy you just met less than five minutes ago.

He was already rock hard, the sounds that escaped your mouth having gotten him bricked up immediately. He loved giving oral. It was one of his favorite things in the world. If it was up to him, he would've kept going, gotten you completely out of your mind before fucking your brains out.

He positioned himself back at eye level with you, reaching down and lining himself up with your entrance.

"That okay?" he whispered into your neck as he pressed kisses to your skin. He wasn't supposed to say that, the script calling for no dialogue aside from the natural swears that would occur. But he'd already gone against it, and asking for consent was something he insisted on.

"Mm," you moaned simply, nodding as minimally as possible.

With zero hesitation, he pushed into you, and the gasp that filled the room was almost comical. It was such a perfect porno moan that you couldn't believe it was genuine, even though it came from you.

He stretched you out so much, so perfectly, you weren't sure you could handle much of this. It was almost too much, too good.

He engulfed your mouth into his, kissing you deeply as he immediately picked up his pace. The bed was already squeaking, and your chest was already red.

The camera was above your head now, recording from an angle that showed the top of your thighs and your head thrown back as Eddie began sucking hickeys onto the skin of your neck.

That was when the scene was supposed to end. It was the shortest one in the script, which was another reason they wanted to get it over with first. But when the director shouted "Cut!", neither of you could hear him over the animalistic moans you both were letting out.

In fact, he called it about three times. But you two were so immersed, and your moans were so loud in each other's ears that it was useless. After a moment and after all the equipment was put down, the entire crew left the room and just allowed you to finish.

Out of all the times you'd had sex before, you didn't expect the best to be a completely scripted one. Eddie wasn't lying when he said he was experienced, he knew how to hit every nook in cranny in you like it was the millionth time.

When he felt himself getting close, he reached down and began circling your clit with his thumb. In the movies he'd seen, they always came at the same time. That didn't happen much in real life, but he wanted to make it look cinematic because, to his knowledge, they were still filming.

You gasped at the sudden contact, not expecting it. Thirty seconds later, you were cumming in sync, moaning into each other's mouths. He kept it going as long as he could but eventually he had to stop. Both his and your legs were trembling, sweat beading on your upper lip.

He kissed you for a moment, thinking in his head how great that would look on camera.

But when you both looked over at where the crew was, they were gone. You were confused, wondering why they didn't film as much as possible.

"Oh my god," you said, looking back up at Eddie. "Did they yell cut?"

His eyes widened. "Did they?"

"Did you hear them at all?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation. "Holy fucking shit."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck."

"That's kind of hilarious."

He pulled out of you, pulling the condom off before grabbing one of the robes from the crates behind the camera, tossing another one to you. He opened the door to the rest of the set and the crew's heads shot up to look at him.

"Did... you yell cut?" he asked the director.

"Yep. Three times. You guys were so into it we figured we'd just let you finish."

That was when you laughed even harder, your head fuzzy and body tired.

After everything was cleaned up and you were heading back to your trailers, you caught up with Eddie outside his.

"Sorry we didn't hear cut earlier," you apologized.

"I'm not." He smirked slyly, and you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Do you think you'd do something like this again? Real sex on a set?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. With the right person."

"Well, if I get another opportunity like this, you're the first person I'm recommending."

"God, please do." His voice was raspy now, seductive, sultry. Normally you didn't pay any mind to men who flirted with you. But something about actually fucking Eddie seemed to form some kind of bond, maybe just in your head.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a napkin, which had your phone number written on it. You leaned in close, wanting this to stay between the two of you.

"Well, if you ever want to do something without cameras, call me." You turned around to walk to your trailer, his eyes glued to your ass the whole time.

He swore he could get rock hard again right now if he wanted to. Something was different about you. You were one of the best fucks he'd ever had, and he intended on using that phone number sometime soon.

[rindreamery]

NISHI BFF !!!! ( ≧ᗜ≦) congrats on 300 followers !! <3333 u really deserve it since all of ur writing are good :3333 anw ! i'd like to place an order w itoshi rin !! (shocking, i know) i'd like the flavor to be sweet with the 🍨 and 🍦 as toppings !!! hehe that's all, thank u for ur service <33 CONGRATS AGAIN & LOVE U LOTSSS !!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶 - totally not miro

ORDER 6: READY TO GO !

rin + sweet + kiss on the lips + fake dating w.c. 1.5k+

note. THANK YOUU SO MUCH MIRO !! (idk if i should tag, but @choccorin) whew i got carried away writing this 👩‍🦯 rin kissers and those with the rin yearning agenda, this fic is for you guys !! (me included LOL)

interested in more? check out the lounge !

luck just never seems to be on his side, rin concludes. 

the overhang on the roof does nothing to shield you two from the downpour— the raindrops feel like they’re coming down in sheets, hitting from an angle that renders the overhang absolutely useless, and there seems to be no end in sight. the storm seems to only roar louder the longer you stay out, and you’ve both come to terms with the fact that you’re bound to get sick after this. 

you’re both drenched, shivering from the cold seeping through the fabric of your clothes, and the only warmth you can feel are your shoulders pressed up against each other. he’s glaring at the sky, as if cursing it in his mind, and you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the situation is.

he eyes you from the side, with no real malice. “this is insane,” rin grumbles under his breath, wiping away the stray droplets that slide down his face. it's useless; the rain is relentless, his hair is already soaked all the way through, and his bangs are sticking uncomfortably to his face. “all this because you wanted some damn ice cream.” and now you’re both stranded, waiting out a storm for who-knows how long. 

“hey,” you frown at him, voice laced with offense. “i didn’t ask you to come with me. you tagged along on your own!”

he doesn’t refute, partly (mostly) because he knows you aren’t wrong. but he doesn’t bring up the fact that it was bordering nighttime, the sun on the verge of setting right as you were about to leave, and that he was not going to let you walk by yourself. so he sulks instead, face still as displeased as ever, and looking off to the side as his ears and face flood with heat.  

it doesn’t stop you from feeling guilt, however. you look at the side of his face, lips pressed into a tight line as you think of what to say next. “let’s try to look on the bright side,” you nudge his arm, trying to get him to look at you. “it’s kind of perfect, right? this feels like something straight out of a coming-of-age movie. i’ll drag you to the street under the rain— and you won’t complain because we’re both drenched already anyways— and we’ll dance like our lives are stress-free and perfect.”

“absolutely not.” there’s an incredulous look on his face as he shoots you a glance, before he’s shaking his head and scooting further away from you. you both shiver at the loss of contact. “stop watching those rom-coms, they’re giving you stupid ideas.”

you roll your eyes, playfully, though he doesn’t see. you won’t take no for an answer, though, and there’s a glint of determination in your eyes before you’re abruptly standing up. his eyes shoot to you, a look of concern washing over his face as he realizes what you’re about to do. before he could protest any more, your hand is already wrapping around his wrist, tugging him along with you toward the empty street.

he tells himself that he at least tried to yank you back under the “safety” of the overhang, but he’s never really had the heart to be rough with you, so he doesn’t stop you.

“what are you—” he starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your laughter, blending with the sound of the rain falling around the two of you. the words get stuck in his throat, and he mentally reprimands himself for thinking about how pretty your laugh sounded just now. it concerns him, the fact that every little thing you do seems to have such a big effect on him. 

you’re blissfully unaware.

“come on,” you say, dragging the last word, voice on the precipice of pleading with him. but, he thinks to himself, you really would never have to plead with him. (he’d say yes to you, in a heartbeat, if he would allow himself.) 

the lack of resistance allows you to drag him in front of you, and your arms find their way onto his shoulders and your hands clasp behind his neck. he stiffens visibly against you, unfamiliar with this feeling of being this close to you. at least, not like this— not when it’s just the two of you and everything feels more real. as if you actually like him, but he pushes that thought into the back of his mind. he tells himself to push you away. “dance with me, just this once. please?” 

rin just doesn’t know how to say no to you, and he folds. so he lets you spin the two of you around the wet asphalt, feeling the rain fully soak through your clothes, ignoring the chill that settles deep under your skin and into your bones. it’s cold, but all he feels is the warmth of your skin on his and the blooming warmth that spreads through his body. it’s cold, but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel so cold around you. 

though, this is the most awkward dance imaginable; you’re constantly stepping on his toes, and his hands feel robotic as they cling weirdly onto your waist, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. neither do you, so he supposes you don’t mind. there’s no fluidity in his movements, and he’s sure dancing with him is the equivalent of dancing with a mannequin, but oddly enough, you seem to enjoy this.

you cling to him in a way that’s closer than necessary, and you’re smiling at him, looking deep into his eyes with an emotion he’s never really seen before. it makes him wonder: how is he looking at you right now? 

deep down, he enjoys this too, and it shows in the way he doesn’t push you away. instead, holding onto you tightly, fingers digging into your waist. it’s his first chance at seeing the real you— 

rin’s gazing deeply at you right now, face flushed and hot as he takes in the sight of you. there’s a carefree and truly happy smile on your face, and your laugh repeats like some melody in his head, and you look beautiful. even with your matted hair and clothes sticking weirdly to your skin, his opinion of you never changes.

he’s thankful for the small distance between you, scared of his own thoughts and how he just can’t seem to think clearly around you. he’s thankful for the distance, until he isn’t.

there’s space between you one second, and then it shrinks; you’re pulling him by the neck, even closer to you as you try to whisper something into his ear. it’s inaudible, he doesn’t hear a word you’re saying. not when all he can focus on is the proximity, or lack thereof, between the two of you. you stay like this, until he hears you vaguely call out his name, and then silence. his breath picks up, the same with yours when you both realize just how close you’ve gotten.

you make an effort to pull away. but he acts before he thinks. rin holds you in place, and just as quickly as the thought comes, he kisses you— awkward, clumsy, and urgent.

it’s not slow, but pouring with an unexpected passion. your teeths clash and you both fumble around as you try to find harmony, until your lips finally move in sync with his. it’s sweeter than expected, and he likes it more than he would ever admit. he can feel your lips subtly smile into his own, and he’s sure he is too, but he ignores it as he chases this unnamed feeling. the feeling that makes him feel weird, fuzzy, happy?

your hands find their way to the hairs at the nape of his neck, burying your fingers in the strands as you pull him in, and his arms wrap themselves around you. it's overwhelming, and your minds feel like they've gone into overdrive. you’re both trembling— from the cold or from the rush of it all, you’re not really sure. 

the rush doesn’t stop the alarms in his head from going off. 

do you like him too? is this real for you too? because, as far as he’s aware, you don’t do this in a fake relationship. at no point should it ever include kissing like you meant it. at no point should the thought, “i could stay like this,” pop into his mind.

but it did, and this kiss was very much real, and he meant it. 

as you pull away for air, your breaths mingle, and you stay frozen in each other's arms as you wrap your head around what just happened. he looks horrified, eyes widening, like he’s just realized what he’s done.

you’re out of breath, and your face is mirroring his. like the reality of the situation had just sunk in. and for a second, he panics. he’s about to pull away from you, unravel himself from your hold and mumble out an apology, and maybe pretend this never happened—

“i think i’m in love with you.” instead, the words come tumbling out of your lips. rushed, raw, full of emotion and feeling. as if they've spilled from your heart. “like, for real.”

rin’s heart stutters, and he breathes hard. it’s a pattern with him, because once again, he acts before he thinks. the words, "i think i'm in love with you, too,” falls from his lips. “like, for real, too.”

© rindreamery, 2024

[unknownati]

xi. christmas!

a/n: guys part of this was supposed to be the PROLOGUE to a 12 part sfw and nsfw winter/christmas themed drabbles (mini fics?) but i got too busy 💀 literally had 4 days left to write but then the 12th went by and i was like... damn

its ok tho i might upload the finished days just as separate fics

while we're here why does nle choppa have a christmas song

warnings/tags: none rlly, just fluff, SO corny, SO sappy, no use of y/n, no description of reader's features, gn!reader, decorating w/ ekko 🎉, reader is a THIEF, pre-arcane plotline (choosing happiness)

_______________________________________________

christmas in zaun was nothing close to ideal. it was never if people celebrated, but more if they could afford it, which most of the time was a no. unless people had kids, they weren't going out of their way to make it a whole thing. not only that, but people didn't really care for it, anyway. they had other things to do. sure, maybe you'd see some extra lights around, or maybe a few lopsided wreaths hanging on a weathered door, but it was always the bare minimum.

but ever since you snuck into piltover as a kid right at the tail end of december, your world was absolutely rocked by the blinding lights and stars and bows and garlands and wreaths and the huge tree sitting smack dab in the middle of the city, illuminating the night sky.

after that, you were obsessed with the idea of christmas. you never had the funds, nor the time, nor the energy, nor enough friends or family to make anything happen all by yourself. but the dream stuck to you.

and then came ekko, and with him, a chance. a huge tree? with an abundance of people living there? it gave you the best idea.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

cool november air was giving way to the first hints of winter, the sharp bite of cold nipping at the cheeks of zaunites. warm colored leaves were shriveling into themselves and trembling down onto the concrete, scattering through the town. settled in uneven piles, nestled in corners, where the wind could push them no further. christmas has long began to be advertised in piltover, and your excitement was uncontrollable.

quiet as a mouse, you slipped into ekko's work room. he's sat on his stool, elbows rested on the table with his figure shadowing over his work. your fingers glide across his biceps, chin resting against his right shoulder.

"hey handsome," you chirped, working your digits over the curves of his muscles. your lips curled into a grin you were incapable of withholding. "y'got a minute?"

"for you, always." he turned, hands hoisting the weight of his upper body on his knees. his eyes softened upon looking at you. "what's up?"

you slid on his lap, feet swinging back and forth, pendulum like. "soooo," you begin, leaning back on his shoulder. "i'm sure you know what christmas is."

"yeah, why? want me to get you something?" his fingers twisted at the hem of your sweater. you shake your head—not the goal right now.

"no. well, yes, but not what i'm asking you for right now," ekko's head tilts in response. your voice dropped into a playful yet unsure murmur. "iiiiii wanted to know if you'd maaaybe be willing to decorate the base and celebrate it this year?"

his thoughts stutter, and then he laughed. "baby, you know i'd love to, but i can't. don't have the time or the money."

a pout formed on your face, lips jutting out. "we don't have to spend money, we can use what we have lying around! and i have some extra money on the side. we're not flat broke."

"doesn't solve the whole time thing."

"oookay, make time. we'll have the kids help, too! you won't even have to do much, like—seriously, think about it. we don't even need to get a tree because the firelight tree, duh. we can use big cardboard boxes to look like fake presents, we can steal lights 'n' other stuff from the pilties—"

you rambled on, every idea you've ever had since childhood resurfacing and bubbling out of you in an unstoppable torrent. each thought, each plan, all of it spilled out, an overflowing pot.

"hey, hey—" he interrupted, thumb stroking your thigh. "listen, those ideas are great. but we can't. and you have got to stop stealing from topside."

your smile faltered. "but why!? think about the kids, think about me!" ekko hesitates to speak, eyes darting around the room as your face transitions into a pleading pout. "please? pretty please? i'll do the dishes for a month?"

"fuck," your eyes filled with stars. ekko groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "fine! fine, jeez."

the squeal that exited you entered directly into his ears, lips pressing kisses into his face in rapid succession.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou!!! oh my god, it'll be great, we can have the kids make little snowflakes, we could have a little fucking wish box to get gifts for some of the kids—" you gasped loudly upon a realization, planting your hands onto his shoulders. "—you can be santa!!!"

he scoffs, brushing a loc of white hair out of his face. "don't push your luck."

you sigh in mock defeat. "fine, hiemerdinger's got that. i'll take what i can get."

"isn't he kinda short for santa?"

you shake your head. "don't height shame."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

ekko rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, a small groan rumbling in his throat as he reached over on the bed to find you.

empty.

his head flipped. you've left a now cool dent in the bed in your wake, blanket left in a wild mess.

he frowned, sitting up and looking around. you're nowhere to be found.

maybe you got up to use the bathroom, he thinks, standing up to search the place for you.

the second his feet hit the floor, his brows furrow.

'...glitter?'

his gaze lifts, and his eyes widen as they follow the specks of glitter scattered across the floor, which caught the faint morning light that bled through the curtains.

he followed the trail, small drops of glitter turning into discarded cardboard scraps, which turned into unfinished rolls of ribbon, which lead him to his workroom, where the door was slightly ajar.

he slowly pushed the door open, finding you hunched over a box that you were decorating to look like presents. you tilt your head up to look at him, a smile spreading ear to ear.

"w'ssup?"

he glanced at the small clock on his desk. "it's...five in the morning, why are you up so early?"

you gestured towards the pile of finished boxes in the corner. "working!" the sound of tape ripping off of the roll fills the air as you took a strip, taping the box shut. "i already collected a bunch of paper for the kids to make snowflakes, borrowed some lights 'nd garlands from topside, aaand i'm almost done making all these boxes."

a lot done considering you had had that conversation just the night before.

ekko crouched down to your level, eyes meeting yours. "but...you're gonna clean all this up, right?"

silence.

"right?" he repeated.

your eyes narrowed. "yes?"

"why is that a question?"

you scoff, pressing an empty roll of wrapping paper into his chest. "why are you asking me so many of 'em? get to work. and i need you to use your hover board to fly around and get those lights up," you nod towards a pile of lights on his desk without looking away from your box. he opened his mouth to reply, but you cut him off. "thank you!"

he rolled his eyes and stood, tossing the wrapping paper roll into the recycling bin.

at a more appropriate time in the day, you stood at the top of the firelight tree after capturing everyone's attention. public speaking wasn't exactly your thing, but ekko insisted you do it since everything was your idea.

you cleared your throat as the crowd settled into silence, all eyes on you. you shifted your weight onto your other leg.

"um—wow, okay, hi guys. so, i'm sure you've all...heard of christmas. and i know it's usually kinda lame, but truuust me, this year i'm gonna make sure it's—" you gather your fingers, kissing the tips of them and flaring your hand out. "—chef's kiss."

eyes leave you to glance at other's reactions, the silence lifted by an excited murmur.

"yeah, but i'm gonna need help. i have a bunch of paper that i need to be made into snowflakes, so that by the end of the day this place can look better than it already does."

you shifted their focus to scar, who carried a large bin of scissors, string, and paper of various colors. (earlier, scar questioned how you got all these supplies. you just smiled at him.)

after a quick tutorial, children started racing to gather around him, picking their colors and scissors. within a few minutes, the kids were gathered in groups on the floor, cutting out their best attempts at snowflakes.

pride swelled in your chest and you looked up into the bulk of the tree's leaves, ekko's form flying around in circles with lights being strung along behind him. with fists on your hips, you beam. "i'm amazing," you praise, making your way back inside.

everything came together surprisingly quick. ekko had never seen you that focused—hanging up lights, making paper bows to place at the points where lights held, and placing those big fake presents around the tree. of course, other people helped too, which made the work lighter.

you mostly left the mural alone, only placing a few extra candles and waving to the colorful portraits.

by the time night fell, the project was close to finished. it wasn't perfect, but to you, it was. the entire base was illuminated in warm, white lights, paper snowflakes dangling from the branches and twisting in the wind. the beat in your chest stuttered. it all felt...magical.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

over the next few weeks, you kept adding and adding to the scene. and it was all finished just in time for today, christmas eve.

by now, you'd forced ekko into so many christmas activities, some more enjoyable than the others. he thoroughly enjoyed making matching pajamas with you and drinking cocoa that was overflowing with marshmallows—being constantly tricked into mistletoe kisses, not so much. at least, he acted like he hated it. he secretly adored accidentally walking right into your trap of a hidden mistletoe and being attacked by an onslaught of messy kisses.

ekko finds you at the balcony again, glancing out into the scene below. "hm. not bad." he leans against the railing, hips bumping into yours.

"yeah, cuz it's awesome. i did that, thank you."

warm lips meet your cold cheek. "mhm. you did." he paused, tongue running over his molars. "i-um...got you something."

you perked up at his words, head whipping around to face him. "ooh, you just reminded me that i have to finish making your gift, i—"

as you're speaking, he pulls a little box from his coat pocket, black with a messy red bow.

"it's not perfect, but...y'know," his voice trails off. he pops the box open and offers it to you.

inside rested a delicate necklace, light reflecting off of the silver metal and glimmering into your eyes. the chain was thin, the links very neatly melded together, and a little circular locket hanging off the center.

you take the box and reach in, mouth agape in awe, gently pushing the locket open. inside was a tiny picture of the two of you, laying in bed, with you sound asleep on his shoulder. ekko's eyes were shut as he was in the middle of pressing a kiss to your forehead.

you smile down at the picture, warmth flooding your chest. for a long moment, you're just staring at it, ekko awaiting your reaction. your lips press together, your vision starts to blur, and a tear rolls down your face and into the velvet lining of the box. then they just kept streaming down.

ekko's face drops, immediately reaching to wipe your tears. "hey, it's okay, if you don't like it i can get you something else."

you hiccup, shaking your head. "shut up, i love it so much, this is just everything i've ever wanted for my whole life, and it's so stupid but you've literally made this the best christmas i've ever had a-and this necklace is really cute and this was so worth doing the dishes—"

you could've kept going but your joyful sobs cut you off. it was all too much, all the decorations and all the traditions you once wished for finally coming into fruition. ekko's arms wrap around you and you return the gesture, fingers twisting into his coat.

"i'd do it again in a heartbeat." he whispers, moving to peck your wet cheek. once, twice, three times.

"boo," a voice calls below you. "get a room."

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,494.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all that you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 3

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Finally landing in LA, your boots hit the ground and you’re off in a whirlwind of getting prepared. During rehearsal, your agent shows up causing a ruckus. After you take a break, you wake up to the sound of desperate pounding on your door.

Word Count: 6,676k

AO3 Link | Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: WHEW. Sorry for my absence yall. My brain got hands. And I didn't mean to scare folks away! You can absolutely ask about my fics! Asking for an update just doesn't help. But sharing your love for it motivates me a lot faster! And you can thank @onherereading for gently bullying me to post sumn! LOL, love you. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Male dancers lifted you into the air and you continued singing the hook to your most popular song, “Eat It”. It stayed on the charts, week after week, remaining strong and steady. And it was the song that most got you in trouble for the explicit lyrics. 

You sang, testing the sound as well as the choreography on stage. Coming to LA had been a non-stop shit show of rehearsals and talk shows and radio interviews. God, you were tired. And you wanted to lay down and pig out in front of the TV. But nooooo.

Plus…well….you weren’t feeling particularly sexy at the moment. Terry rejecting you the other night shook you up more than you cared to admit. Why would he reject you? You were beautiful, smart, and funny on a great day. And yet, nothing.

There were just lingering glances and moments where it looked like he wanted to say something but never did. You didn’t like the cold front you suddenly found yourself in so you kept yourself busy, distracted, and left no room for you to be left alone with him for longer than a minute or two. 

But the hit to your confidence bruised. You didn’t feel normal. Like none of this was real. It was a cruel illusion that could be snatched away from one viral tweet, one public meltdown, or one scandal to torpedo your career. The stalker ate away at your life until you couldn’t even get a guy to fuck you stupid. 

It was embarrassing. It was stupid. He was stupid. 

“Stop! Stop! What the fuck is that?” A booming, obnoxious voice echoed in the empty stadium. 

“Down boys,” you said. The male dancers moved safely, bringing you back down to stand on your own two feet. One of their hands lingered a fraction too long, but you didn’t know if you were being paranoid or not. 

Jake, your stupid agent, came huffing down the front area aisle, a skinny tie swinging behind him. “What the fuck is that? What are you doing?” Jake demanded. He stomped onto the stage and approached you.

“Lower your fucking tone, I’m not a child,” you said. You sneered at him and then crossed the stage, taking the three steps down to the backstage area. You refused to be chewed out in front of your team.

Jake stomped angrily behind you. Terry leaned against the wall near the exit but when he saw you approach, he straightened up. You looked away from him quickly, not wanting him to see what must be written all over your face whenever you looked at him. 

“Who do you think you are?” You asked, pulling on that bitchy persona. 

“The man making sure that fat ass stays rolling in money. You are selling a fantasy up there. Every guy needs to feel like he’s fucking you and every woman needs to feel like they want to be you,” he said.

“Really, tell me more about the job I’ve been doing for years,” you said.

“Thanks to me, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget that,” Jake spat, pointing his finger in your face. Ugh. You smacked his finger away and crossed your arms. Jake was back on that shit. His neck and face was flushed cherry red, his eyes were glossy, and he sniffed every two seconds like he smelled something bad. 

“You can’t stay sober for two fucking seconds, Jake. Is that what happened at the club?” That would explain the bullshit he pulled.

“Hey. You’re fucking welcome. That free publicity gained you a million more followers and featured on Spotify. Who takes care of you?” Jake asked, spreading his arms wide. 

You were so disgusted, you didn’t know what to do with him. Ugh. You breathed through your nostrils, centering yourself on the feeling of it rather than wanting to wring Jake’s neck. 

You leveled him with a glare and leaned in. “I take care of you, you piece of shit. And if you pull something like that again, I’ll fire you. Stay off the drugs, Jake,” you said. The last thing you needed was to end up on TMZ, because your agent was out on another embarrassing bender. 

Jake pressed his lips together and threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look at me. I ain’t on no shit, okay. I heard you the last time. Clean my act up and I can stay, right? I got a suit on and everything,” he said. He spread his arms out and smiled but you weren’t in a smiling mood.

Jake pouted and wrapped his hands around your waist. A waft of cigarette smoke burned your nose and made your eyes tear up. Terry pushed away from the wall but you held up a hand to him. “Remove your hands before I break your fingers,” you said, as calmly as you could muster. 

You didn’t have time for this fucking clown. And where the fuck was Joya or Mirage? They knew better than to let Jake near you while you were in work mode. 

Jake squeezed your hips once before he removed his hands and held them up like he was so innocent. He grinned and looked down his hooked nose at you. “Just remember what’s standing between you and popping your pussy for any producer that wants to sniff after you. Clean this shit up, we have money to make,” he said lowly for your benefit. 

You didn’t know how much Terry could hear but it stung either way. Jake loved throwing that shit in your face. Loved making you think that you were some gutter rat that no one wanted. Grammy Bean wanted you. You were somebody. And no agent was going to make you feel less than. 

“Make them think they’re fucking you while you’re up there. Jesus Christ,” Jake said, needing to have the final word. He took off, disappeared to go yell at somebody about something. 

You rubbed your head, fighting back tears. Got dammit. Once you let the dam fall, the whole thing came crashing down. You didn’t have time to cry right now. Now when everyone was expecting you to lead them. 

“You okay?” Terry asked. 

You tilted your head back and swiped at your eyelids, catching the tears before they had a chance to fall. The one blessing about rehearsals was that there was no make up or restrictive clothing. You sniffled once and then straightened your shoulders, rolling your neck to get the kinks out. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Terry, thank you,” you said.

“So we’re back to Mr. Terry?” He asked softly. 

You risked a glance at him. He squinted at you, his face tilted down. You held each other’s gazes for a second longer than what was polite. You went to open your mouth when Mirage tumbled down the stairs and stopped short of where you were standing.

“Jake’s ready to see it again,” she said quietly. 

You turned away from Terry’s intense eyes, and nodded. “Let’s give him a show then,” you said.

You went back on stage and talked to your dancers, letting them know that you were going full out. You signed to the sound engineer to start from the top. 

The choreography began with the dancers standing in front of you. Once the opening lyrics started, you moved around the stage singing and rapping about men catering to women’s needs for once. That if they can’t eat it right then there was no reason to let them hit. 

The male dancers lifted you during the hook, supporting your weight while you sang and rubbed your hand along your body. You were a master at pretending. At working off the energy in the room. 

You fed off of the song and the lyrics. Embodied what you were saying. Pulled on your inner sex goddess to coo to the invisible audience. Even though you wore your favorite blue joggers and a tank top, you felt like you were scantily clad in your performance outfit. You were selling a fantasy. A fantasy that everyone wanted a ride but no one met the height requirements.

The dancers put you down and then held your hand up while you dropped it low on one of them. From this angle, you faced the side of the stage where Terry stared at you. Stared as you rapped and sang about getting ate out and having a super soaker to make him drown.

He may have turned you down the other night, but the heat of his gaze made your belly flip. Made you move harder, rap faster, and sing better like you were a siren luring men to do your bidding. 

Your eyes almost never left his as you pretended to sing to him and make him think about what he turned down. Let him think on it. Because he couldn’t have you now. You were off the menu. 

He was too far away and you were moving too fast to get a good read on his expression. He stood stiffly, feet shoulder width apart, and his hands clasped in front of him. As the song drew to a close, you winked at him before tilting your head back and belting out the final notes.

When the song ended, you tore your eyes away from the intense static of his stormy eyes to the sound of clapping from somewhere.

“Yes! Yes! That’s what they’re coming to see. Do that! Exactly that!” Jake yelled out to you. 

“Take a thirty everyone,” you said, panting from going full out for rehearsal. You stood on stage with your hands behind your head, panting, trying to catch your breath and cool the desire low in your belly.

Fuck. Singing to Terry like that affected you way more than you realized. It maybe wasn’t the smartest move in hindsight. You just needed a good twenty minutes to get yourself off.

Joya climbed onto the stage to hand you a bottle of water and some orange slices. “I put some more fruit in your dressing room in case you wanted it,” she said. 

“I love you, seriously,” you told her with a smile. 

She clutched her calendar to her chest and beamed at you. “I love you too, miss lady. Though you’re probably going to hate me now. They need you back for another fitting. Francois changed his mind,” Joya said.

You emptied the bottle of water she handed you in one fell swoop and wiped your mouth. “This is bullshit. We made a whole schedule to make sure everyone, including me, was happy about this tour,” you said.

You hated to sound like a whiny brat but fuck. It seemed like more and more things were getting added onto your schedule, things you didn’t approve of. You weren’t a machine. Did they expect you to keep working until you collapsed on stage? 

Joya smiled and rubbed your shoulder. “I’m gonna check with Mirage and see what we can do about sneaking you some off time. We have a week before the LA leg starts. Surely we can move something,” she promised.

You sighed. “I don’t want you to do all that extra work. I need to yell at Jake some more. He can’t keep adding in stuff last minute. I’m so fucking tired, bro,” you told her.

“It’s our job to make sure you’re good. Let us,” she said. She took your empty water bottle and scurried off to tend to her duties. 

The dancers were all standing around talking and laughing. Stage hands moved around the stage, talking into their microphones, and moved prop elements as they did so. As much as you wanted to join the dancers or speak to the choreographer, you also wanted two minutes of peace. 

But that meant…stepping past Terry. You rolled your shoulders. You were a big girl. You could handle rejection. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

You turned and headed off stage, taking three steps down to the main floor. There were boxes and studio equipment spread out back here, each tagged with different colored tape. Terry eyed you as you approached.

“I’m just heading to the dressing room for a few,” you told him. 

He nodded and fell in step behind you as you walked through a set of double doors, then into a plain hallway backstage. Stage hands moved around but they all moved with focus and purpose. Your sneakers squeaked on the shiny floor. Terry was so quiet behind you, you were tempted to look back to make sure he was still there. But you also got the funny sense that if you did, he’d disappear.

When you approached your dressing room, you hesitated one step from it. Logically, you knew that there was nothing in there. Terry had his team triple the security around you and you hadn’t heard from your stalker since that incident.

It’d be so much easier if you knew what they were after. Did they want to be with you? An obsessed fan you could deal with. You just ignored those wackadoodles until they made themselves known somehow. 

Did they want to kill you? Clearly he had a way to get in and out unseen. Was he someone on your team? You didn’t want to turn into a paranoid loon, looking at everyone with suspicion and further isolate yourself. But fuck.

“Would you like me to check?” Terry asked.

You stared at your navy blue door and bit your lip. Yes….no….you wanted to be brave. Wanted to handle this yourself. But you didn’t know if there would be some other disgusting rendition of your dead face staring right back at you. 

You took a deep breath and prepared to tell him no. Terry stepped forward. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You deflated with a sigh. “Can you check please?” You asked.

Terry moved around you and then unsheathed his weapon. He held it down and away from him and then opened your door. He went in first, moving around the space, holding the gun up. You stayed outside of the door, watching him flit through the crack of the door jam. 

The air turned colder now that he wasn’t beside you. The hallway seemed to close in on you, getting smaller and smaller. Your breathing turned choppy, looking down one way and then the other. 

When you simply couldn’t take another second, Terry emerged from your dressing room and holstered his gun. “All clear,” he said.

You nodded and refused to look at him. “Thank you. I just need some alone time,” you said.

You shuffled past him and he held onto your wrist to stop you. You didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want to face him. 

“You don’t have to be formal around me. If I crossed the line the other day, I can transfer…”

“No!” You practically screeched and turned to him finally. You licked your lips and smiled. “I mean, no, no. If anything, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made it uncomfortable –”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable.”

“I’m the boss, you’re in my employ. Please, don’t think nothing else about it. Okay?” You asked.

Terry’s jaw flexed but he nodded. You snatched your wrist away and entered your dressing room, rubbing the spot where his fingers had been. It was as if he seared you with his light grip and the burn lingered.

You damn near slammed the door in his face, locking it behind you. You just needed a second. A moment to breathe and not have to be “on” for people. 

You crossed the small room to the black leather couch and sat down. The coolness of the leather did precious little to calm you down. You weren’t in danger. You weren’t immediately in danger. 

Terry checked the room, he came highly recommended by the firm, and so far, he had been nothing but the consummate professional, taking your safety seriously. 

As you sat there, however, it just drudged up all the horrible shit from your past. Breaking away from your user family. On your knees begging producers to give you a chance, only for them to use their position and power to solicit sex. One talk with Jake shook you up so bad that it reminded you that every day you breathed was a gift, thanks to what you had to do to survive. 

But it had been a long, long time since you had to be this on edge. This hyper aware of your safety and mortality. Someone out there wanted to cause you harm. They wanted you mentally, emotionally, and physically cowering.

Even as you knew that, even as the logic of it settled in your bones, the only thing you could think was that someone wanted you dead. Someone deemed your life less than theirs. Someone felt angry enough about your existence to make your life a living hell and ultimately, remove you from this plane of existence. 

It chilled you to the bone. To your absolute core. One wrong move and then this would have all been for nothing. All of the struggles, all of the navigating, all of the ways you had to scrimp and scrape to be somebody. 

In the end, you were the same, lonely teenager who didn’t want to be invisible anymore. 

The sweet scent of fruit reminded you of Joya’s thoughtfulness but you were too sick to eat anymore. Maybe you just needed to lay down. You scooted along the couch until you could recline. 

You shoved a throw pillow behind your head and closed your eyes. You just needed to breathe. Just needed to focus on that and nothing else. Nothing else. Just that.

You breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth. You felt your body sink further into the couch and before long, you were out like a light.

Loud banging disturbed you from your sleep. You woke up in a pool of cold sweat running down your neck and into your tank top. You groaned and blinked into the harsh overhead lighting. 

Your eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep and eye crusties, as your eyes swept through the room. There was a director’s chair in front of the vanity, lit up by giant light bulbs all around the mirror. The countertop was littered with makeup, tissues, and hair products. 

Dressing room. “Fuck,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. 

The banging continued, sounding louder than normal. “I’m up, I’m up, I’m sorry!” You groaned. Fuck, you felt like you had been drugged.

Your rapid heart beats only sped up as you thought about what you had earlier in the day. Had you been drugged? Was it Joya?

The banging increased and the door shook with the force. It disrupted your thoughts enough to know that Joya would never, ever do something like that to you. Besides, she’s had years to take you out. 

You still made a mental note to give her a pay bump. Mirage too. You keep them happy and they’d keep you happy. 

Three succinct booms hit the door and you jumped up. “Okay, I said I was sorry! Damn! It couldn't have been more than…” You stood up and crossed the room, unlocking the door to discover no one on the other side. “Ten minutes.” 

You stepped out of the room and looked both ways down the empty hallway. Terry was nowhere to be found. 

“Terry?” You stepped further into the hallway but it was as quiet as a tomb. The space felt empty and that freaked you out more than anything else. 

How long had you been sleep? Why did no one wake you? Where was everyone? 

A tremor made your hands shake and your fingers turned numb. Did…no one care? If they couldn’t find you, did they all just pack up and leave? 

“This isn’t funny,” you called out but there was no answer. Not even an echo. Your throat turned dry as you made your way back to the stage. Maybe everyone was having a team meeting. Maybe Joya and Mirage found a way to give you some breathing room.

You pushed open the door to the stage and walked up onto it, only to discover no one in sight. The main stage lights were off, leaving the stage bathed in a swirl of blues, purples, and reds. 

You shielded your eyes. “Hello? What the hell!” You yelled. This was beyond fucking uncool. And your phone was either in your room or with Joya, so you had no clue what time it was.

Panic clawed its way from your belly to your chest, scratching your insides with thick, angry nails. Did everyone just…forget about you? 

You brought your hand to your chest as if that would do anything. All it did was call attention to your thumping heart, beating incessantly. Everyone forgot you. No one needed you. 

“Okay, okay, okay, that’s okay,” you murmured to yourself as you paced around the stage. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. 

If everyone left, that was okay. You were paying them to care, but it didn’t mean that their lives ended just to serve your overinflated ego. You would just…go find your purse in your room. You would grab your phone. Order a car to take you home. Easy. Simple. You had this. 

You told yourself that as you left the empty stage, back down the stairs, and away from backstage. You headed down the hallway, rubbing your sweaty hands on your joggers. You were just stressed, that was it.

You approached your dressing room, it had been left open from when you left it. There didn’t seem to be anyone in there. But…still.

You approached cautiously, wondering what the fuck was going on. How did everyone just leave like that? No matter their personal lives, this was unprofessional as fuck. If they called it early, they should have had the decency to let you know. And why would Terry abandon his post? It was quite literally his job to guard your body.

Highly recommended, yeah right. 

You made it to your dressing room and peered inside, stepping inward to check behind the door. Good. No one there. You stepped further into the room before it dawned on you that if no one was there, if no one was around…who the fuck banged on the door? 

You turned slowly just as a bat came swinging towards your head. You leapt out of the way with a scream, throwing yourself against the vanity. 

A figure dressed head to toe in black lifted the baseball bat to his shoulders. The figure was on the small side, but broad. Had to be a man. 

“What do you want from me?” You yelled. You moved the director’s chair in front of you, to deter the figure. He only kept advancing, holding the bat like you were the game winning ball and he needed a home run. 

You lifted the chair and threw it at him, running from the room. Facing three possible directions, you forgot where the exit was. You also forgot how to read, because there were signs but it didn’t make any sense at the moment.

The figure groaned and it spurned you to run, to flee, to find the exit however you were able to. Thundering footsteps boomed behind you as you ran away. Your lungs felt like they were going to go flying out of your mouth. They burned and ached as you ran and ran.

All of the exercise and training you kept up with did fuck all when faced with an actual attacker. Your brain was mush, operating on some basic instinct to survive. You were supposed to be smarter than this, right? 

You risked a glance behind you just in time to see the bat swinging for your head. You fell to the floor to miss it, landing hard on your thigh, and then scrambled across the floor to avoid another swing for your head.

You pulled nearby crates towards you, dollies, and anything else you could pull. One of the crates managed to trip up your attacker. You rushed to your feet, running through the nearest door.

The door banged open against the wall, echoing in the larger chamber. You made it back to the stage and those same lights blinded you as you ran across the stage. Your body felt stiff, achy, as it wanted nothing more than to stop and evaluate.

Stopping meant death. Stopping meant that your attacker had another chance to get you. 

Stopping meant – you were pushed forward and you fell, sliding across the stage. Your chin bounced against the hard floor and you groaned as your teeth clacked painfully. Pain shot through your jaw and you groaned.

A strong hand gripped you by your ponytail and yanked. You screamed as your head was pulled backwards. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be what took you out. This couldn’t, this couldn’t–

You kicked and flailed until your shoe connected with something. There was a harsh, low growl as the grip around your hair lessened enough for you to break free. 

You got to your feet, thigh screaming in pain as you limped back to your dressing room. If nothing else, you could lock the door and call for help. It was your final hope. You weren’t going out like this. You didn’t need anyone.

You limped past the door to the hallway, stopping long enough to bar it momentarily with a cart. It wouldn’t hold the attacker for long, but it’d buy you some time. Fuck. Everything fucking hurt. 

Liquid dripped down your chin. You swiped at it and it came away red. You groaned as you stared at your own blood. Literally at your life leaking from your body. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you huffed as you limped to your dressing room. 

Metal double doors slammed up against the crate you pushed against the door. You looked back to see an arm flailing through trying to push the crate. Fuck, fuck. Your vision turned blurry as you limped.

It seemed like every step you took only made the dressing room seem further and further back. It looked so far away, like you were never going to find salvation. 

“Someone! Please,” you called out.

You tripped over your shoes and went tumbling forward, landing awkwardly on the same thigh that already cried out with pain. You sniffled as tears ran down your face. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to fucking do.

The crate crashed against the wall as it finally rolled free. “No!” You yelled out, finding enough strength to get back to your feet. So close, so close, so close, so close –

Your name echoed down the hallway as a thunder of boots ran closer to you. You turned around, expecting to see your attacker and that damn bat, but there was no one behind you. Nothing.

You shook violently and swayed to your right, nearly colliding with the wall. You held out your hand to stop your entire body from crashing against it and then used the wall to hold yourself up. 

The storm of boots turned the corner. Terry lead the charge and checked your room first and then swiveled. He called your name. Fuck, you’d never been more happy to see someone. 

“Terry!” You yelled. 

His head snapped in your direction and he crossed the hallway in long, determined strides. You swiped at your tears and leaned on your good leg, trying to make yourself look less pathetic.

Terry slowed as he approached you, holding up his hands. He stopped short when he got a good look at you. 

“Who the fuck did this?” He asked, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” you said, your voice pitching higher and higher. You began to slide down the wall, all fight leaving you completely. He was here. He was here. He didn’t forget about you.

Terry caught you around your middle, shouldering most of your weight. He reached out and gently cupped your face, moving it from one side to the next. His jaw flexed as his eyes scanned over you, taking in all of your injuries. 

He was joined a second later by members of his team and the studio security. Questions were lobbed at you in rapid succession but your brain had turned cloudy. 

“You’re in shock. She’s in shock, back up!” Terry yelled. The mass of bodies dispersed as Terry half-carried, half-walked with you to your dressing room. 

“I woke up and there was no one–”

“Shh, shh, not yet,” he said. 

Just this once…this one brief moment, you let yourself lean on someone else. Terry handled everyone with all the command of a general, parting the sea of looky-loo’s, likely taking photos of you at your most vulnerable. 

Fuck, this was going to end up on TMZ. You groaned at the thought. Terry helped you into your dressing room and then sat you down on the couch. He produced a jacket from somewhere and draped it across your shoulders.

You shook so badly. You were freezing, sore, and achy. You wanted to crawl up like a little baby and never see the light of day again. 

What was the reason? What was the fucking reason? Who the fuck went through the trouble of all of this? What the living fuck? 

All you ever wanted to do was sing and now…you didn’t even have that. The last thing you wanted to do was quit. The very last thing. Singing was your passion, your very being. It was the reason you woke up day in and day out. Because for three hours or so on stage, for hours in the studio, for every interview and fan interaction, you never felt more alive than when you were singing. 

And someone hated you enough to take it away from you. Your mind spun with crazy scenarios. This had to be a deranged fan. This had to be one of those crazy moms who blamed you for corrupting their youth. This had to be someone.  

Someone tangible. This was the work of one person. A smart, deranged person, but just a person. Someone who bled. Someone you managed to fight off. 

Distantly, Terry’s deep timbre barked orders but you weren’t paying attention. You wanted to sleep. 

“Let them through!” Terry’s voice boomed. You jumped from the sudden explosion, before Mirage and Joya squeezed past Terry.

He stood as a stop gap to the onslaught of activity outside the dressing room. No one was getting through him if he had anything to say about it. But then why did he abandon you earlier? 

Mirage and Joya hugged you gently, careful of your injuries. They treated you with kid gloves and that pissed you off more than anything else. You weren’t a fragile flower. You fucking survived. 

Joya cried, swiping at her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We were told to leave and then we couldn’t find you and then I remembered that I had your phone and we couldn’t even call you–”

You hummed. Even if you made it to your dressing room, there was no phone in here to help you. If Terry hadn’t come when he did, would you be dead right now? 

You hated that you had to rely on others for your safety. You hated that you were a second away from being permanently removed from this earth and it was only by a stroke of dumb luck that the idiot was scared off. 

Joya and Mirage filled you in on their side of things. They were waiting for you to return when one of the guards told everyone to clear out. There was a bomb threat that had been called in and they needed to sweep the building to get everyone out. 

But why didn’t Terry take you with him? 

Your eyes kept glancing over to him as he coordinated with the police and with his team to secure everything back down. His menacing scowl intimidated those around him as he barked orders and commanded everyone. 

Terry glanced at you from time to time. He would give one nod of his head and you returned it. But his whereabouts were more concerning to you. Over the past year, he had been your constant shadow. Nothing fazed him. Nothing tore him up. So where the fuck did he go? 

Terry re-entered the room and stopped short of you. He dropped down into a squat so that he could look you in the eye. “Feel up to talking?” 

You took a deep breath. “Not really. But I know I need to,” you said. The question you most wanted to ask stuck in your throat. You were to afraid of the answer. 

“You don’t have to. We can tell them to meet you somewhere else,” he said. 

You shook your head. “I’m a big girl. I want to get it over with,” you said.

His chin dipped once as his eyes roamed over you. You must look absolutely horrendous. To his credit, he didn’t say anything as he stood and went to the door. He waved to someone and then two men followed behind Terry into your dressing room.

The room grew stuffier, filled with too many bodies. Crowding your space. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands to ground yourself. You were safe. You survived. 

One of the men introduced himself as Henry Bell, a detective with LAPD who was coordinating with the detective in charge of your stalker case. Because you were hopping through multiple cities, it was hard for any one detective to handle it. 

The other man was Patrick Rollins, head of security for the venue. The men asked you to run through what you remembered and what happened. 

You pulled the coat around your shoulders and Mirage and Joya scooted closer to you but you still felt alone. Abandoned. Cold. Like the heat of their bodies couldn’t penetrate the dense fog around you.

You pushed that from your mind as you told them what happened, starting from when you woke up to when Terry found you. You glanced at him as you spoke, wanting to see his reaction yet still afraid of what his excuse was.

He didn’t owe you a damn thing. But you still needed to know why you weren’t important enough to take with. 

They asked more questions, pushed to see if you recognized anything about your attacker. You kept telling them no, getting more agitated the more they asked. How many other ways could you say that you didn’t recognize the loser? 

“Alright, you should have enough,” Terry said. 

“We still have questions–” Rollins started.

“You have enough for now,” Terry reiterated. Rollins sized up Terry but Terry didn’t blink. Didn’t move. He merely kept his open stance and faced the detective and head of security. 

Rollins pushed boyish blond hair out of his face and then nodded. Detective Bill rocked back on his heels and then shoved his notebook into his coat and clicked a pen. “If you think of anything else, let us know, please,” he said. “And I’m sorry this happened to you.” 

You nodded to them and mumbled your thanks. They left with lingering, heated glances with Terry. He saw them out and then he half closed the door. 

“There’s a few things I need to handle and then we can get out of here.” 

You nodded, staring towards your shoes. Everything fucking hurt. You just wanted to turn into a giant baby. But people like you didn’t get to be coddled. You didn’t get to be human. It shattered the illusion and the fantasy.

You picked at the dry blood on your chin. Angie was going to kill you for messing up your face. You sighed and leaned forward.

“Do you have a headache, babe?” Mirage asked. 

You nodded. “I’ll check with a paramedic. They should be here by now.” Mirage stood up and grabbed Joya by the elbow. She protested for half a minute but you didn’t see what Mirage did to make Joya grow quiet. They left the room, leaving you and Terry alone. The last time you had been left alone together didn’t exactly go as planned. 

“Hey,” Terry said. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and then reluctantly looked at him. “How are you really doing?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you said. 

He crossed the room and then dropped into a squat. “There’s no reward for being a martyr,” he said.

You rolled your eyes but you smirked, refusing to smile at his words. “Everything hurts. But I’ll be okay,” you said. 

He nodded. You held each other’s gazes for a moment, just taking him in. His eyes scanned over you, jaw flexing. You didn’t know what he saw. Probably a terrified mess.

“I should apologize–” he started.

“Where were–” you said at the same time. 

He shook his head. “The bomb threat smelled like bullshit so I left a guard to watch you while I checked it out. I was locked in a closet and by the time I burst free, everyone was gone. I went looking, but the guard left his post. Fresh out the military, the bomb was triggering,” he said. His jaw flexed after he said that. 

“You couldn’t know it was triggering,” you said. Well, that explained that. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. An undying apology while he was on his knees? For him to acknowledge that he never would’ve left you voluntarily? He didn’t owe you anything. No one did. 

“He left his post. He’s fired,” Terry said with venom behind his words. 

You smiled ruefully. “That’s a bit harsh,” you said.

Terry blinked at you and you decided to drop it. Apparently, it was important to him and you didn’t know enough about the nuances about this stuff to comment. 

“We’re going to find this motherfucker,” Terry promised.

“Thank you. For coming when you did,” you said quietly. 

“I’m not leaving your side again,” he said. 

Your teeth clicked shut, drawing attention to your bruised chin. You didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t supposed to leave your side earlier. But he did. You settled on a nod. 

Terry lifted from his squat and then returned to his duties, ordering people around, coordinating with others. 

Everything else moved along in a blur. First, you were checked out by a paramedic while Terry watched him like a hawk. You were treated for the scrape on your chin and your thigh was merely bruised. No sprains, no injuries. The paramedic called you lucky. Yeah, right. 

Terry managed to escort you to a truck that had been brought round back and off to the hotel room. The city nightlife went on without you. Though you did pass by a restaurant in downtown LA that played your latest song with Lord A.K. That sort of made you smile. 

You didn’t remember much about the ride to your hotel room besides one minute you were at the venue and the next you stood inside your hotel doorway while Terry checked around. 

“We’ll switch hotels tomorrow. For now, you can rest.” 

You nodded and went to your room without a word. Though you did stop just outside your bedroom. 

“Terry?” You asked.

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You huffed with a smirk and then turned to him. “I want to learn how to defend myself. Will you teach me?” You asked. 

It wasn’t enough to survive anymore. It no longer suited you to just wait around for this lunatic to kill you. Clearly, your security wasn’t up to snuff. Clearly, this person could get to you at any point and at any time. The only person who could save you was you.

“If that’s what you want,” Terry said.

“That’s what I want.” 

Thank you, my loves. The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1 | Part 2

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[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 9: pre-christmas dinner | k.mg

a/n: hi!! welcome to day 9 <333 be prepared to see some chef!mingyu haha :P i also must thank kyii and sousy for brainstorming with me for this fic, and a few others as well. love u guys <3

p.s. it definitely takes much more time to pull off an entire roast chicken, but for the sake of the fic, the process is relatively faster and mingyu is like, the masterchef or something. also im writing this the evening before a major exam and im just as cooked as the first chicken lol.

word count: 1.2k contents: mingyu x gn!reader , established relationship , ceo!mingyu , cooking , theyre gonna roast a chicken for funsies , good chef!mingyu , clumsy helper!reader , fluff , christmas fun , one (1) chicken was ..... cooked too well in this fic , im sorry chicken (or not...) , read to find out why <3

"baby! i'm home!" mingyu calls out, and that's all it takes for you to come out to the living room, only to be met by the sight of your giant of a boyfriend dragging in huge bags.

"you said you were going to buy some ice-cream," you raise an eyebrow at mingyu. "so, either you bought an entire year's worth of cookies 'n cream, or you bought stuff that we didn't need."

"you know how i get at grocery stores, especially the large, gourmet ones," mingyu pouts. "everything looks so good."

"this is exactly why you need to let me buy groceries," you sigh, grabbing one of the bags and starting to empty the contents. "your bank account won't thrive for long."

"please, we both know i have more than enough money to live comfortably," mingyu sasses. you turn away from the pantry, where you were putting away the organic pasta mingyu had bought, to face your boyfriend.

he looks absolutely adorable like this; beanie nearly slipping over his eyes, large figure bundled up in a sweater and crouching in front of the fridge, stuffing two boxes of something in the freezer.

in moments like these, it's almost impossible to imagine mingyu as the CEO of a high-tech company. trying to visualize him in the crisp suits he wears to work feels like a distant dream, especially when at home, he's just the embodiment of a golden retriever, always so soft and loving.

"yeah, i know mr. ceo," you snicker when he plops down on the floor, complaining of a backache because of crouching at a weird angle. "you don't have to flex your money."

"i'm not flexing," mingyu defends himself with wide eyes. "just saying; we could totally quit our jobs and travel the world, and we'd still have enough money to buy your dream house in the countryside of france."

"we'll see about that," you laugh. just as you finish putting all the groceries away, your stomach starts rumbling. "what's for dinner?"

"roast chicken," mingyu hums, and you notice him flitting around the kitchen, gathering spices, sauces, herbs, and lots of other things.

"you're kidding," you deadpan. "you're gonna roast a chicken?"

"yes!" mingyu grins at you, patting a box placed on the counter. "mr. chicken is here. i'm just going to let him marinade for a while before we roast."

"you're insane," you gape at how professional he looks, washing an entire chicken, patting it dry, mixing together a quick marinade, covering the chicken in it and setting it aside in a matter of thirty minutes.

"again, why aren't you a full-time chef?" you ask him. you're both munching on some snacks while he waits for the oven to finish pre-heating and the chicken to rest in the marinade.

"because i only want my baby to eat my cooking," mingyu answers, stealing some of your chips.

"you've literally cooked for all our friends."

"okay, my baby and our friends."

"and what about our future children? won't you cook for them?" you tease, and as usual, mingyu whines.

"y/n, you know what i meant," he sulks. "i didn't want to turn something i love doing into a profession that i may end up hating."

"well, i'm lucky to have experienced your amazing cooking skills," you remark, and mingyu rolls his eyes affectionately. "if you're trying to sweet talk me into giving you the last slice of cheesecake in the fridge, it's not gonna work."

"aw man," you frown, and mingyu presses a kiss to your cheek as compensation. as if on cue, the oven's timer dings, and mingyu springs into action. he takes the chicken out of the fridge, and you watch in awe as he preps a baking tray, places the chicken in it, and puts it in the oven.

he finally finishes fiddling with the settings of the oven and comes over to you, expression serious.

"babe, i have an online meeting right now. the chicken's gonna be in for an hour. can you keep an eye out for when the oven timer rings? i should be done by then, but if i'm not, just carefully take it out of the oven and set it on the counter, okay?"

"got it, chef," you mock salute, and he smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "stay alert okay? you do remember what happened last time with the cake, right?" mingyu teases.

"i got distracted by the show! it could happen to anyone," you cross your arms.

"i know, but i don't want a repeat of that," mingyu chuckles. "cleaning burnt cake wasn't exactly fun."

"i promise, gyu, i'll be extra attentive this time," you assure him, and he heads into the study for his online meeting.

to no one's surprise, you completely miss the timer.

your best friend had called you fifteen minutes after the chicken had started cooking, and what was supposed to be a five minute call regarding what dress your friend should wear to her boyfriend's office party, turned into more than an hour of gossiping about your respective office colleagues.

you only notice something is wrong when you smell something burning, and it hits you then.

the chicken.

apparently, mingyu too had smelled the burning, because he's already grabbing the tray out of the oven and placing it on the counter.

the chicken is burnt, and there's no way of salvaging it.

"min, i'm sorry-" you gasp, mortified by your mistake. "i swear i was trying to-"

"it's okay," mingyu shakes his head, setting the tray down in the sink, leaving the disaster of a roast chicken to cool before he attempts to scrape it off the tray. "i kinda thought this may happen, so i got reinforcements."

you watch with furrowed eyebrows as mingyu walks over to the fridge and pulls out another box, revealing yet another whole chicken.

the entire situation seems absurd, and all you can say is, "were they twins??"

mingyu bursts into laughter, and so do you. it's hilarious seeing his six foot-something figure double over as he nearly falls to the ground because of how hard he's laughing.

"babe, you're so silly," he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. "i just got a backup chicken, in case something went wrong with the first one."

"and you didn't bother to check if they were from the same family?" you gasp in mock offense.

"my bad," he raises his arms in surrender. "in my defense, the burnt one kinda looked like this one's cheating ex, which is why it has to go in the trash."

"hm, i'll allow it then," you nod, face serious, as if you both weren't making up ridiculous stories about chickens of all things.

"anyways, now, all you have to do is sit back, while i cook this one," mingyu instructs you.

"it was a mistake," you pout, crossing your arms and leaning against the kitchen counter. mingyu crosses over to you and pecks your lips. "i know it was baby, and it's okay. you can help me with the marinade this time, okay?"

(the way your eyes lit up in joy makes mingyu feel like he'd be okay with any food burning, as long as it gets you this happy to help him redo it.

god, he'd buy you all the chickens in the world, just to see you like this.)

- fin.

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@t-102 @gyuguys @grapejuicelh @aaa-sia @cixrosie

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head to the series masterlist - here <3

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[tinybojeregifts]

Best laid plans

notes: this prompt, a bojere kiss under the mistletoe, was originally sent to @frikatilhi who set it free and tipped me off. tilhi's idea of where to go with the prompt was so delicious i kind of stole that too, so all hail tilhi for the original idea! this got quite long so under the cut it goes.

As soon as Bojan saunters off into the backroom of their rehearsal studio with Jere, Jure jumps into action. Jere has been in Slovenia for nearly a week now, Bojan has made zero progress in confessing his love for the man, and Jure is getting tired of the situation. Something needs to change and he has the power to kick start that change.

"Psst! Guys, guys. Look what I got", he whispers dramatically and whips out the secret treasure.

Jan, Kris and Nace gather around, looking at him and his offering curiously.

They stare at it in silence for a good while.

"A.. twig of some sort?" Nace declares.

Jan sighs and shakes his head.

"Jure you really can't resent us for calling you a cat if you keep dragging random twigs and leaves in from your nature adventures and expect us to find them exciting", he tuts, Kris nodding along.

Jure feels like slapping them but he controls himself.

"No, you absolute waffles, it's a mistletoe", he snaps, waving the precious find in front of his bandmates.

"Ohhhh, right."

"Right, a mistletoe."

"Of course."

"But.. why?" Kris dares to ask, Jan and Nace gesturing wildly to indicate they had the same question.

Jure cannot believe how slow and, frankly, idiotic people he has chosen to spend all his time with.

"The Christmas thing? Kissing under a mistletoe?" he says, holding the twig in question above his head and makes a kissy face.

"Right, like in the movies", Nace knows.

Now they're getting it, Jure is sure.

"Exactly", Jure confirms.

"And..?" Jan asks.

So, they are not getting it.

"Isn't it obvious? We get Jere and Bojan under it and BAM they have to face their feelings for each other", Jure whisper shouts, only just managing to keep his excitement from bubbling over.

As if on cue, Bojan and Jere burst into a giggle fit in the other room.

Realisation lights three faces in front of Jure.

"Now you're talking! I like this idea", Nace whoops.

"Could work! And they need the help", Kris agrees.

"Bojan is unbearable", Jan shakes his head.

"And having Jere here, around the holidays.. it's been extra unbearable," Kris continues, clearly haunted by the past week. Bojan and Jere have been practically glued together since Jere landed, and they never stop laughing. Neither one of them is that funny, of that they can all be sure, but the boys in the band have long realised that the constant giggle fits are just an excuse for the two to touch each other - how they figured that platonic friendly laughter comes with caressing each others faces and bodies is beyond any other Joker Out member, but they've had to accept the fact that Bojan and Jere are two members of the same species that have found each other against all odds and this is simply part of their mating rituals.

Mating rituals that are starting to turn into a never ending nightmare for everyone else that needs to stop. Now, if it's up to Jure. And it is, he decides.

"Is the mistletoe a thing in Finland?" Nace asks.

Jure stops.

"I don't know? But surely they'll get it, right?"

They must get it. Everyone knows the mistletoe, right? Except Kris, Jan and Nace who did not recognise it, but that's because they are stupid idiots, unlike Jure. And hopefully Bojan and Jere. Which might be a lot to ask.

"Bojan has definitely seen enough romantic movies to get it", Kris says, with the voice of a man who has been in the trenches. Jan pats him on the back as the band holds a moment of silence for the sacrifices Kris has made as the roommate of a man desperately in love with his best friend.

"So we're doing this?" Jure asks after an appropriate time of respecting Kris' struggle.

"We're doing this."

🩵

Snow dances in the air as Bojan and Jere make their way towards the Joker Out studio only a couple of nights before Christmas.

"You guys have so many Christmas parties", Jere chuckles, looking at Bojan with his big bright eyes that make him want to drop down on one knee (or two) right there and then.

Bojan has to look away. The whole week with Jere has been simultaneously the best and the worst week of his life. Having Jere near him makes it easier to breathe. Jere makes colours brighter, sounds clearer and flavours tastier.

Jere also makes Bojan incredibly horny, and nights lying next to Jere (who is as shirtless asleep as he is awake) trying to hide his rock hard boner count towards the list of things that have made the week almost unbearable.

"Yeah I didn't know about this one either!" Bojan laughs, and it's true. They guys had very mysteriously invited him and Jere for "A Special Celebration" only the night before.

"Seems like the guys wanted to throw you a special Christmas party and decided to leave me out of the loop, too."

Jere giggles, which to Bojan sounds like a choir of angels and the gates of heaven opening.

"They know you. They know if Bojan know, Jere find out", Jere says, and quickly brushes his hand against Bojan's arm.

Bojan pretends to be offended by the words and unaffected by the touch that actually sends his mind into overdrive. He clutches his chest dramatically, which sells the offense and calms his racing heart.

"Heey, that's not- nah, who am I kidding, it's true", he laughs, as Jere practically keels over in laughter. Bojan knows he's nowhere near as funny as Jere likes to act, but he cannot help but fall just a little bit deeper for the man every time he laughs at whatever it is Bojan has said. Jere is sweet like that, always hyping up his friends.

The laughter fades but the bright smile stays, as once again Jere turns those sparkly eyes to Bojan.

"But Bojan, I have to say. I'm so happy. Best decision coming to Slovenia this Christmas. Joker boys and you are so nice to me."

Jere stops and grabs Bojan's hand. For a fleeting moment they both just look at their joint hands, until Jere makes a show of hugging Bojan's arm to his chest like a cuddly toy, giggling happily as he does. Bojan wonders if Jere can feel his racing pulse.

"Jere, we've loved having you here. I- I've really loved having you here", he whispers, out of breath for reasons he cannot understand, but might have to do with his heart trying to leave his body.

Jere drops Bojan's arm but does not let go of his hand. The giggle has once again died down and been replaced with the softest, most sincere smile Bojan has ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

"I love being here. With you", Jere says quietly and looks at Bojan, almost expectantly.

Bojan's mouth feels dry. Sweet innocent Jere doesn't realise what his eyes can do to a man.

Bojan has no idea what Jere expects him to say, but has to say something.

"You, uh. You have snow on your eyelashes", he manages to breathe out.

"I look pretty?" Jere asks, batting his eyes at Bojan with yet another soft giggle that makes Bojan's knees buckle. He needs to get a grip.

"Hah, uh. Yeah! So pretty, pretty like a princess," he laughs, desperately.

Jere smiles, once again so damn sincere.

"Thank you Bojan. We go inside and see if princess find prince at party?" Jere tugs at Bojan's hand.

Bojan chuckles.

"I'm afraid this party is all toads, Jere. Five toads and a princess."

🩵

"Bojan?" Jere whispers as they are throwing their coats on the pile of four other coats in the corner. The studio has been quite haphazardly decorated with Christmas ornaments, and there is faint jazzy Christmas music playing to set the mood.

"Yes? Why are we whispering?" Bojan replies but takes the whispering as an excellent excuse to lean closer, until he can feel Jere's breath on his neck. It gives him goosebumps.

"I have.. sensitive question. I don't want sound rude", Jere says, looking worried.

"O-okay?" Bojan whispers, confused, and grabs Jere's hand. To ease his worries, of course.

Jere lowers his voice even more.

"Why is there some twig taped to door to back room?"

Bojan is one thousand percent sure he did not hear that right.

"Huh?" is all he gets out.

"There, look. Up, on top of door", Jere whispers, nervously, as he points above the backroom door.

And sure enough, there is something green taped to the wall near the ceiling.

It takes Bojan, a connoisseur of romantic comedies, approximately 0.76 seconds to realise that, number one, it's a mistletoe, and number two, the boys are up to something. Probably something to do with him and Jere. He knows they know. He knows he's obvious. He cannot help it.

"Oh. Oh. That's - that's the guys being.. them again, don't worry about it", he stammers, his only relief being that Jere is clearly not as well versed in American romantic customs as he is.

Jere lets out a breath, looking relieved, squeezing Bojan's hand.

"Okei. I think maybe its Slovenia thing and I'm rude if I don't know", he laughs.

Bojan shakes his head.

"It's definitely not a Slovenian thing. This is a Jure, Jan, Kris and Nace thing", he reassures.

"Okei, good", Jere giggles, pulling Bojan with him to yet another fit of hysterics over nothing at all.

There's a clang in the backroom and three voices shushing.

"Bojan, Jere? Is that you guys?" Jan's voice calls.

"We can hear you!" Kris adds.

"Why don't you guys.. Why don't you come in?" Jure says in a voice that Bojan immediately recognises as trouble.

"Yeah, Bojan why don't you show Jere in, show him our back room," Nace adds, failing miserably at sounding casual, not least because Jere has been in the back room multiple times by now.

Bojan is not going to let them ambush Jere into an embarrassing moment, no. He will protect Jere from the antics of his horrible bandmates and their childish sense of humour.

And also maybe protect his own heart in the process, because he's not sure he could survive a kiss that leads nowhere. Getting a taste of his dream, only to go back to being brrraders? He is sure he could actually die and become the talk of the medical world. "Man dies of brozoning", now there's a headline.

But mostly, of course, it's about protecting Jere from his awful, terrible, horrible bandmates.

"Jere, go on in. I need the bathroom, I'll be right there," he pats Jere on the back and heads in the opposite direction.

"Okei!"

Jere steps into the room only to be met with four excited grins that fall as soon as he stops.

"Hi guys!" Jere greets, trying to ignore the suddenly confused faces.

"Where's Bojan?" Jure asks, alarmed.

"Toilet", Jere explains.

All four guys deflate, disappointed.

"Damn", Jan sighs.

Jere is starting to feel a bit offended.

"Why..?" he starts, knowing he sounds a bit hurt.

The guys seem to realise this too, as they hurry to school their faces back into friendly expressions.

"No reason! What would you like to drink?" Jure asks as he pulls Jere in by the shoulders.

Jere starts to relax.

"I think you maybe don't have glögi", he laughs.

The guys look at each other, clearly pleased with themselves.

"Funny you should mention!" Jure can't hide the grin that takes over his face.

"We knew it's your favourite -" Nace starts.

"Because Bojan keeps telling us", Kris interrupts, rolling his eyes.

"So we looked it up -" Jan continues.

"And thought we could probably make something like that!" Nace concludes.

"Sooooo, come taste the brand new Joker Out Glu- glonki?" Jure declares, holding bottles of red liquid in both hands.

"Glönki," Nace tries.

"Glöggi," Jan corrects.

"It's glögi. And thank you guys, you are.. really, my brothers", Jere says, hand over his heart, getting a choir of awws in return.

"Anything for you, Jere. Come taste!" Jure beckons and they all gather around the table covered in glasses and bottles.

"A generous pour for the man of the hour, there we go", Jan declares as he pours Jere a big glass of their red concoction.

Jere accepts it happily.

"Thank you! This look good, look like real glögi! I taste now, okei."

Jere takes a big gulp of the drink and regrets it immediately, as what must be pure alcohol threatens to burn his throat from the inside.

"Soo, what do you think?" Jure asks, as the guys look at him expectantly.

Jere tries his best not to cough and forces a smile on his face.

"It's - ugh, sori - it's very strong, whoo. What you put in here?" he laughs.

The guys look mischievous.

"Some juice, some spice -" Nace starts.

"Some vodka, you know, the basics of glöggi", Kris concludes.

"Glögi", Jere corrects.

"Glöngi", Jure tries.

"Glögi", Jere demonstrates.

"Glöögi", Jan offers, just as Bojan finally walks in.

"Hey Jerč, trying to teach the guys Finnish?" he says.

Jere spins around, delighted. It's not that he doesn't like the other boys, no. They are his brothers, of course. It's just that, well, he is in love with Bojan, and while he is still trying to figure out if confessing that would lead to happy ever after or losing touch completely, he'll take any moment he gets with Bojan in the meantime.

"Bojan! Joker boys make own glögi for me", he says, showing Bojan his glass.

"Oh did they. How nice of them", Bojan smiles and comes to stand next to Jere, immediately throwing his arm over Jere's shoulders.

Jere is once again hit with the realisation that Bojan is quite possibly the most beautiful human on the planet. It's a realisation that hits him seventeen times a day, on average. Bojan has such a beautiful smile - the way his eyes turn into small crescents makes Jere lightheaded. It's like his eyes are celestial bodies and Bojan himself the universe, and Jere just a small and tiny space traveler, trying to discover the wonders of this universe of his.

"Isn't it, Bojan", Jan's voice shakes Jere out of his thoughts and back into present.

"You're not the only one around here who cares about Jere", Kris says, snarkily. Jere knows they all care about him but there is no reason to be mean to Bojan about it. Bojan is, after all, probably only responding to the attention he gets from Jere. It's Jere who should be more equal. Not that he will.

"We wanted to make him feel at home", Jure explains and that does make Jere feel very grateful.

"So thoughtful! How's the glögi, Jerč?" Bojan asks, pronouncing the word with ease that makes Jere giggle delightedly.

"Bojan language genius, you say glögi perfect! It's.. good. Strong," he says, carefully, taking a tiny sip of his drink.

Bojan's eye roll is epic.

"Right. Of course it is. These toads have a generous pour," he jabs and Jere bursts into hysterics.

"What did you just call us?" Kris asks, appalled.

Bojan waves his hand dismissively.

"An inside joke, you wouldn't get it."

The guys all sigh in unison.

"Oh great, another Bojan and Jere exclusive," Kris says drily.

"Can't wait to hear this one repeated over and over again!" Jan mumbles.

"Well, maybe you deserve it," Bojan smiles and lets go of Jere, much to Jere's dismay.

"Rude," Nace notes, as Bojan saunters past them on to the tiny sofa at the back of the room.

He pats the space next to him and looks at Jere.

"Come Jerč, come sit over here. Let's get cozy."

Jere practically runs to the sofa, parks himself next to Bojan and glues their sides together. Bojan throws his arm around Jere and pulls him close.

For reasons Jere can't quite comprehend, the rest of the guys look extremely put out. They wanted him to feel at home and well, he might not have said it out loud but home is where the heart is, and his heart is with Bojan.

"Janči, pour us a round of that glööni," Kris says, and Jere suspects he said it wrong on purpose.

"You know, it's actually surprisingly tasty," Jure comments sipping the drink with a straw.

🩵

"Guys, emergency meeting!" Jure hisses at the other three guys, pulling them all into a corner of the back room.

"Really Jure, emergency?" Kris asks unimpressed.

Jure gestures at Bojan and Jere, still sitting on the sofa pressed close together, chattering away using voices so low only they can hear, and words only they can understand.

"They've parked their butts on the sofa and haven't moved in damn near an hour. If we want to get them under the mistletoe, we have to do something. Also Janči, do we have more gölni?" Jure whispers.

Jan nods and lifts up a new bottle.

"Yes, give me your glasses. You know, in hindsight placing the mistletoe over the door that leads to the main hangout space really wasn't that smart. What reason would they have to be going in and out?" Jan questions as he fills their glasses.

"I don't know, to get to the bathroom?" Jure shrugs. He doesn't appriciate his methods being questioned.

"Together?" Kris asks.

"I would not be surprised at this point to be honest, if they wanted to hold hands while one of them pees", Nace mumbles.

"You have a point", Kris admits.

"So what do we do?" Jan asks, as they sip away at the glögi.

"We could ask them to go get something? From outside?" Jure suggests, forever the one who has to keep things going.

"Like what?" Kris questions, because that's all he can do, apparently, and Jure is not happy about it.

"Ummm... pinecones?" Jure says.

"Jure. What. Pinecones?" Kris, the question asker asks.

"I don't know, I'm riffing here guys!" Jure whisper shouts frustrated, nearly spilling his precious glögi all over the floor.

Nace sighs and puts his glass down on the table behind him.

"Guys, there is no need to go all the way outside. Let's just get them to the actual studio space. We'll play Christmas songs or something. You know, live music for the party. We are a band, after all," he points out.

The other three stare at Nace. Jure has to hand to him, for once one of the others has a good idea.

"Oh, right. We have instruments", Jan says.

"Yeah, that's.. actually a really good idea, Nace", Kris pats Nace on the back.

Jure takes charge, as he must.

"Right! So now all we have to do is make sure they walk through the doorway together. And preferrably slowly enough to point out the mistletoe", he says, rubbing his hands together.

"That shouldn't be too difficult! Let's go."

🩵

Bojan wonders how long he can keep his hand in Jere's hair before it becomes weird. Jere doesn't seem to mind. Those bright eyes haven't eased up for a minute, and Bojan feels hot. He wonders if Jere can feel it, if his fingers are heating up Jere's scalp.

He still doesn't want to move his hand.

But he needs a distraction.

"So you've enjoyed your time here?" he asks.

"Yes, so much! Slovenia is very beautiful place", Jere smiles.

If Bojan wasn't already completely gone on the man, this moment would surely seal the deal. Something about the way Jere speaks about his home country makes Bojan melt.

"Isn't it? I'm so glad you got to see it", he says quietly.

"Very fitting", Jere muses, still smiling. Bojan is confused.

"What is?"

"Beautiful country, beautiful Bojan. Make sense", Jere says, and turns to look Bojan straight in the eyes.

Bojan's heart skips a beat, or two. Or three. He might be having a heart attack. He takes a sip of his wine. Or maybe a gulp, just to calm himself down.

Sometimes he does have to wonder, if maybe there is a chance Jere likes him back. It's moments like these, when Jere calls him beautiful, or things like my love, my man, fire and water, and other such things Bojan has not heard much in a platonic context before, that make him think that perhaps he has hope.

But then that could just be Jere being Jere. The man who charmed Europe. He is a charmer, after all. So Bojan tells him as much.

"Oh you, you're such a charmer", he says and chuckles, waiting to see how Jere reacts.

Jere giggles, as usual.

"So.. Princess Charming? Princess Charming and five toads?" he laughs, almost spilling his glögi all over the two of them.

"Now that's a movie!" Bojan joins the laughter, relieved for the chance to close his eyes and stop drowning in the blue ocean of Jere's eyes for a second.

"But they are not really toads", Jere sobers up, and puts his hand on Bojan's chest.

Bojan's brain short circuits. As he forces it to reboot and update its firewalls, he manages to respond to Jere in a completely and totally normal, not at all breathy voice.

"No?" he says.

Jere starts patting his chest, timed to his words.

"Not how story go! They are five pretty guys. Maybe one is even prince.." he finishes and drags his hand down Bojan's chest.

Bojan is about to spontaneously combust.

"Oh- " he opens his mouth, but does not get a word out before Jure claps his hand together resulting in a clap that should not be humanly possible.

"OKAY THEN, listen up you couch potatoes!! Next up at the Joker Out Christmas Party... Christmas jamming!" Jure announces excitedly.

"So why don't you make your way through to the studio space -" Nace gestures at the door, as all four guys smile widely at the two men on the sofa.

Bojan knows exactly what's going on. There is no way they are going to trick him and Jere into walking under the mistletoe, no sir! Bojan will protect Jere from these fiends if it's the last thing he does.

"Find a comfy place on the sofa.." Jan is joining Nace in gesturing at the door.

"And enjoy some tunes!" Kris concludes and looks at Bojan, expecting him to get up.

Bojan puts on his best unimpressed face.

"What, we don't get to play?" he asks.

The guys clearly hadn't thought of that.

"Well, Bojan- " Nace starts, but Bojan won't let him finish.

"I wanna see Jere play the drums. Will you play, Jerč?" he turns to Jere, who nods excitedly.

"Sound like fun! Yeah let's play!"

Bojan very smoothly and not at all clumsily starts to detach himself from Jere.

"Great! Jure actually got gifted some pretty cool sticks recently, I'll go find them", he says as he gets up, and quickly makes his way to the door before Jere is even standing up.

Kris tries to step in his way as Nace jumps in to grab his arm.

"No, Bojan, you stay there- no, don't go in there! Ahh, fuck."

Bojan stops right after passing through the doorway and looks at Nace with his best confused face. He is a great actor, after all.

"Huh? What's wrong with you? I'm just gonna go find the sticks, I saw them just the other day, I know where they are", he says and disappears into the studio.

"Right. Of course you do. Well, come on Jere. Let's get to jamming", Kris says as he pulls Jere with him.

🩵

Jure drags his bandmates by their hands back into the backroom.

"Guys!! Emergency meeting two!!!" he hisses and this time slams the door to the studio shut.

"We know, Jure," Kris somehow manages to make his eyeroll audible.

"Good plan, shit execution! All we got was Bojan in Jere's lap on the damn drum kit and 45 minutes of them whispering and giggling, but still no lips on lips action! I have to suggest we go back to pinecones," Jure says sternly, as the guys are clearly not grasping the seriousness of the situation.

"Pinecones was never a plan!! And Jan, drinks," Kris hisses, snapping his fingers at Jan. He misses Jan's murderous glare at the finger snapping.

Jan pours Kris a lot less than everyone else.

"But we have to do something. Look at them. Bojan is mere moments away from officially changing his place of residence to Jere's lap, but all they seem to be able to do is stare at each other, whisper and blush," Jure complains, annoyed at his band mates inability to be as clever and proactive as him.

"What if.. what if we just.. let them be? Get there on their own? I mean you said it yourself, they're practically glued to each other. Maybe tonight is the night they get their shit together," Nace suggests.

Jure doesn't like that and is disappointed in Nace deciding to become lazy. No, Bojan's feelings are too big and too important to the very existence of the band, for Jure to let Bojan be in charge of them.

"Maybe it is, but more importantly, maybe it isn't. And then what?! We let them imprint on each other like ducklings in love when neither of them has the guts to do anything about it, and then Jere fucks off back to the Arctic fucking circle and we're left here with a wounded duckling whose whole world just left on a plane?" Jure rants, disappointed that he has to explain such obvious things to these fools.

"That's actually a surprisingly accurate metaphor-" Jan starts.

"Though I do have to point out that I don't think Vantaa is quite within the Arctic circle," Kris quips.

Jure doesn't have time for either of them.

"Not the point! It's fucking far away! And we can't let him leave without Bojan getting that life saving kiss first," he explains.

"So what do we do?" Nace asks.

Jure has just the plan.

"Well first of all, Jan, pour some more drinks. Second of all.. I think it's time to move that mistletoe."

🩵

Bojan has to say something. He is practically in Jere's lap, their legs entwined, he cannot just keep staring at the mans mouth. Jere must have noticed, and it's probably getting weird now.

"Jere, you, uhh.. you've got some chocolate on your face", Bojan says, gesturing towards Jere's mouth.

Jere raises his fingers to his lips, which definitely does something to Bojan's heart. And dick.

"Where? Always so clumsy",Jere mumbles as he feels around his mouth.

Bojan would very much like to close the gap between them and lick the chocolate away. And then keep going from there. Maybe lick the inside of Jere's mouth.. his neck.. his chest.. down his stomach.. towards -

No! Not the time, not the place. He will pick up from here in the shower tonight, but for now, he needs to get a grip.

"Right, uh, there." Bojan reaches as close to Jere's face as he dares.

Jere's eyes snap up to look at him.

"Can you get it?" he asks, softly.

Bojan makes a mental note of getting his heart checked out because it's starting to feel out of control. He also sternly tells his dick to stand down.

"I don't really have anything to get it with.." he whispers.

Jere holds up one finger and Bojan fights the urge to lick that too.

"Can you take my finger there?" Jere smiles questioningly.

"Yeah, sure, it's uhh.." Bojan grabs Jere's finger and starts guiding it to the elusive smear of chocolate.

"Here", he breathes and places Jere's finger on the spot.

Jere wipes at it and looks at Bojan.

"I get it?"

Bojan shakes his head amused.

"Not quite, you kind of smudged it-" he starts but Jere interrupts.

"Help me?"

Bojan didn't know it was possible to actually do the pleading eyes emoji in real life. He realises that he would do anything Jere asked him to. Anything.

"Yeah, let me just-" Bojan starts, when a loud yelp and a soft thud startle him enough to jump.

Jere is equally startled and looking around.

Their eyes land on the scene at the same time.

Nace, on the floor on all fours, Kris half on top of him, half on the floor like a ragdoll, with Jure and Jan standing on each side of Nace, frozen with their hands still up in the air, as if they were supporting an invisible weight up.

"Watafak."

"Kris?! Guys what the hell?!!" Bojan jumps up.

Nace is the first one to snap out of it.

"Kris get off me and help me up."

Kris starts to move, whining as he does.

"Guys what is going on?" Bojan demands.

Jure hurries to help Kris up and turns to Bojan.

"Nothing Bojan, nothing is going on, you- you keep Jere company we just have to.. yeah, don't worry about it", he says as he starts ushering the guys into the backroom.

"Why was Kris standing on your back, Nace?" Bojan calls after them, but Jure waves at him dismissively.

"No reason, and he's fine, he didn't fall too badly."

"My ankle..." Kris whines as he limps to sit down.

"You're fine, Krisko. Anyway! Nothing to see here, we'll be right back", Jure says as he disappears in the back and pulls the door closed.

Kris is not happy.

"And whose fucking bright idea was it to try and stick the mistletoe to the ceiling?! And Jan, drinks!" he snaps, and Jan must take pity on his ordeal as he only sticks his tongue out at Kris behind his back.

"It could have worked, I know it. Mistletoe on the ceiling, get them to dance, and BAM..it was going to work", Jure defends his plan.

"Well it didn't", Nace says dryly and Jure thinks that maybe Nace should be coming up with the plans then, since he is such an expert on what will work.

"And I twisted my ankle, guys", Kris notes.

Jure is getting tired of this no-can-do attitude.

"Krisko, your ankle is the least of our worries", he snaps and downs half his drink.

"What if I can't walk?" Kris hisses, but Jure places his hand over Kris' mouth.

"Shhh, not important!" he hisses back.

"What do we do now?" Jan asks, also not a forward thinking problem solver Jure needs on his team.

"Where is the mistletoe now?" Jure demands to know.

"Right here. Didn't stick to the ceiling but I grabbed it off the floor", Kris throws the slightly damaged mistletoe to the table.

Jure grabs it and tries to straighten it.

"Good. We're going to have to freestyle this."

"As opposed to... the preplanned stylings thus far, huh?" Jan comments, but Jure doesn't have time for him and his commentary either.

"Shut up, I'm thinking. This gölgi is honestly surprisingly great, guys, I have to say."

🩵

Bojan is deep in thought planning the most platonic and brotherly way to react to Jere practically pulling him in his lap when they sat back down, when Jere starts to speak.

"What was best part of this year for you Bojan?"

Jere swipes strands of hair away from Bojan's face, and Bojan decides (after having a small stroke) that since Jere seems to have no problem redefining platonic, he also doesn't need to worry about it, so he grabs the drawstrings of Jere's hoodie and starts fiddling with them.

"Is it lame if I say this, right now? You coming to Slovenia? Like, of course we've had an incredible year as a band, amazing shows and just unbelievable experiences, but this.. this is something super special. You're special", he says, pulling at the strings.

Jere grabs his hand and squeezes it.

"Wow, that's.. thank you. You are special too, Bojan. So special", Jere whispers quietly, and again Bojan has to wonder if maybe... but maybe not. Brothers, right?

"What about you? Highlight of your year?" he whispers in an equally quiet tone, so as to not burst the bubble they're in.

Jere smiles that heart melting smile of his.

"I have to say same.. Work is great and I am so grateful and happy. But this is new experience, with special person."

Bojan feels dizzy, and he has made sure to stay away from the homemade glögi. He has only had two glasses of wine. It was two, right..?

"Yeah?" he breathes out.

"Yes," Jere whispers directly into his ear, and that must be just because Jere has actually been sipping away at that paint thinner the boys call glögi, not because of Bojan.

Bojan shivers none the less.

"Are you going to be making any new years resolutions?" he asks, instead of asking Jere for his hand in marriage.

Jere nods. He takes a moment looking away, and then at the ceiling.

"I think maybe.. next year I try be more brave", he says, decisive with a nod.

Bojan's eyebrows shoot up.

"I think you're already super brave", he says, surprised.

Jere shakes his head and still doesn't look at Bojan.

"I want.. not be scared to say what I want say", he says, determined.

"Yeah? What do you want to say?" Bojan is intrigued.

Jere suddenly looks a bit sheepish. In fact, Bojan could swear he sees a faint blush creeping up Jere's face.

"I want.. confess something to someone", Jere whispers very quietly.

Well now Bojan has to know. Because.. A man can dream, right? And if it's not him... he still wants to know.

"Who?" he asks, barely audible.

Jere looks at him, slowly.

"... You, Bojan", Jere breathes out.

Bojan's heart is actively trying to vacate the premises through his trachea. A shiver runs through his entire body and he's sure Jere notices. Right now, he doesn't care.

Because right now, he feels, more than ever, like yes, there is a chance after all. A chance that his wildest dreams could indeed become reality.

There is a spark of hope, suddenly. The air feels electric. Maybe after all this time Jere actually really isn't the most physically affectionate Finnish man who ever lived, who chooses to channel his affections towards one platonic brother over everyone else. Maybe after all this time it is possible, that the pull Bojan feels towards Jere works both ways.

Maybe after all this time, he will hear the words he has only heard in his dreams.

Or maybe his heart is about to shatter into a million little pieces he can never ever put back together.

Either way.. he has to know.

"Me? Confess what to me?" he squeals, very attractively.

"I - " Jere hesitates and looks away.

Bojan can't take it. It's now or never.

"Yes? What do you want to confess, Jerč?" he pleads.

Jere looks at him again, emoji eyes making a comeback.

"I think... I think I like you Bojan. I think maybe.. I know I... I love you", Jere whispers.

Inside, Bojan's soul exits his body, turns into a million fireworks, puts itself back together again and returns to his body now charged with some sort of energy he has never felt before.

Outside, he stares at Jere like he is all seven wonders of the world rolled into one and turned into a man.

"Jere-" he manages to choke out.

"Is that.. okei?"

The vulnerable insecurity in Jere's voice snaps Bojan out of his transcendental out of body experiences and he rushes to grab Jere's face between his hands.

He looks deep into those mesmerising eyes and speaks from the heart.

"Yeah, yes. Yes, yes, yes, it's more than okay."

A smile that could blind Bojan spreads across Jere's face.

"Yes?" Jere asks, shy.

Bojan wants to explode.

"Yes, because I-" he starts but has to stop to close his eyes and breathe.

"Bojan?" Jere pats his hand with his own.

Bojan opens his eyes.

"I love you too", he says, determined to make Jere feel just how much he means it.

Jere's breath hitches.

"You do?" he asks, searching Bojan's eyes.

"Yes. A thousand times yes", Bojan says with confidence that can only be achieved by having your soul turn into a million fireworks because the man of your dreams said he loves you.

A tear rolls down Jere's face and Bojan hurries to wipe it away.

"Oh. Look like I find prince at this party after all", Jere whispers with a soft giggle.

Bojan's newfound confidence has indeed turned him into a storybook prince and he plays the part.

"Can I.. can I kiss you?" he asks.

Jere nods eagerly.

"Yes, please."

Bojan closes the distance between them.

On the other side of the wall, Jure is finishing his session of coaching the guys into real and true mistletoe freestylers. He's not sure they get it, but this is the team he has and this is the team he will lead.

"So, we're gonna have to be smooooth with it guys, real smooth - any more gölni left? So like.. always have eyes on the other guys and be ready to attack, okay?" Jure explains and wonders if the other guys are possibly a little bit drunk. Not him, but them.

"Yeah, be ready to take the mistletoe, be ready to pass the mistletoe, just - be ready", Kris agrees, nodding. Nace and Jan nod along.

"Okay, now. Those two have been on their own in the studio for a good half an hour now, probably whispering half flirtatious things to each other and trying to merge their souls into one or whatever it is they do. It is high time we break that tension with some mistletoe magic", Jure rallies his troops, getting whoops and cheers in return. Maybe they do get it now.

"So, we trap them, from both sides. Where ever they are, we are too, ready to hold the mistletoe over their heads," Nace concludes, and Jure has to clap. Finally, they demonstrate fighting spirit.

"They can't get away. Let's do this. Let's get our singer some tongue down his throat!" Jan shouts, joining in.

"Yes, come onn!" Jure yells.

They all jump up and immediately grab on to the table for support.

"Whoop, ha, I think I might be a bit tipsy", Jan laughs.

"Heh, yeah getting up is - oops, a bit wobbly", Kris giggles.

"We can't let that stand in our way, guys. Game faces on!" Jure declares as they keep going.

Nace is the first at the door.

"Ah, guys...?" he calls.

The others hurry behind him to look through to the studio.

"What? Oh", Jure stops.

"Huh!" Jan quips.

"What - what am I looking at here? Am I seeing this correctly or did we make gölgi strong enough to make me hallucinate?" Kris squints at the sight before them.

"They're.. making out", Nace says.

"They actually are", Jan nods.

"Wow", Kris whispers.

"Who would have guessed", Jan continues.

"Whoooho, nice!!" Jure yelps because he can't help himself.

Bojan and Jere both jump and snap their heads towards the door.

"Shhh, you interrupted them!" Nace complains.

"Oh hello guys", Bojan says with a satisfied smile, and rather than getting up from where he is sitting on Jere's lap, thighs splayed on either side of him, Bojan wraps his arms around Jere's neck and hugs him closer. He stares at his bandmates.

His bandmates stare at him.

"Don't mind us, we can just -" Nace starts to turn.

"Yeah, we don't need to be here", Jan accompanies him.

"Congrats on the.. kissing", Kris shows them both thumbs up.

"Yeah, well done!" Jure congratulates, even if he is a bit disappointed that the fight is over.

Bojan giggles and pets Jere's hair.

"Thanks! Yeah, I guess we.. got our shit together, as you put it," he smiles.

The four other guys stop dead in their tracks.

"You.. knew?" Jure asks slowly.

Bojan shoots them one of his best unimpressed looks.

"Are you asking me if I saw the mistletoe taped to the doorway and immediately knew what you were up to? Or are you asking me if I could hear the four of you getting increasingly louder with your "emergency meetings" as you drank more and more of your incredibly strong fake glögi, which I can only assume you made to get us tipsy? You know, he might not understand Slovene, but I do. And you were loud", he explains.

Four pairs of eyes stare at him, blankly.

"I'm taking that as yes he knew, guys", Jure whispers.

"We just wanted to help, Boki", Kris whines.

"Both you and us", Jan helps.

"Help us and..yourselves..?" Bojan asks, confused.

"You are annoying, Boki. So annoying", Kris explains helpfully.

"Yeah, and gross", Jan adds, as Nace, Jure and Kris nod along.

Jere starts to giggle hysterically.

"Bojan, I think Joker boys are drunk", he manages between giggles.

Bojan laughs too, shaking his head.

"They are, but they do actually mean it too. Well, lucky for you guys, we did get our shit together, and confessed our feelings for each other, so really I should be congratulating you!" he says happily.

The blank stares return.

"Th- thank you..?" Jure tries.

Bojan nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah, you got what you wanted! First row seats to us openly and happily in love. Right, Jerč?" he says and turns to Jere, who immediately knows to play along.

"We are so in love! We have to kiss all the time", Jere explains and looks at Bojan lovingly.

Bojan starts petting his hair.

"Aaaalll the time, like right now, mmh kiss me Jere, kiss me like you mean it", he sighs, and Jere surges to devour his mouth, as Bojan moans loudly.

"Okay, we get it!" Kris yells and covers his eyes.

"You can stop now", Jan pleads, but doesn't actually look away.

Bojan breaks the kiss and looks at his bandmates apologetically and very convincingly, as good actors do.

"Oh but we can't!" he pouts.

Jere shakes his head too.

"No, we maybe die!" he all but shouts.

"Or I might turn into a toad if Princess Charming here doesn't kiss me regularly and rigorously!" Bojan worries, hugging Jere's whole head to his chest.

Jere looks up pleadingly.

"Kiss me, prince! I don't want kiss a toad!" he stage whispers.

Bojan dives right in.

"Ha, ha, ha, we get it!" Jure says, unimpressed.

"There's no point guys, we're done here", Nace says and starts herding the guys in the backroom.

"Yeah, leave them to it", Jan agrees but takes one last look.

"Can we order pizza? I don't feel too good..." Kris asks.

"It's that damn glönni", Jure curses.

"GLÖGI!" comes the immediate stereo response from the couch.

"Shut up, lovebirds."

[0omillo0]

hi hi, i’ve been watching older skz yt videos and had the thought of being jisung’s girlfriend but also being apart of the skz film crew so being there for every single mv shoot, skzcode, etc. and jisung being so excited and waving cutely towards you while you’re behind the camera!

(i thought the idea was cute and i wanted to share but i literally have no one to share my skz thoughts with outside of socials and you’re the only page i’ve shared my ideas with so far although i’m anon, i’ve requested a couple of the angst han jisung stuff that you’ve written and your writing makes my day, i hope you’re doing well and taking care of yourself riri 🥹🤍)

Behind the Camera, In His Heart

Han Jisung x Reader ; fluff

As a part of Stray Kids’ film crew, your job was to capture the group in their element. Whether it was filming chaotic SKZ-Code episodes or sleek music videos, you were always behind the camera, steadying shots, barking instructions, or adjusting lighting. But there was one particular member who made it increasingly hard to stay professional.

Han Jisung.

Your boyfriend.

The love of your life… and also the biggest distraction on set.

“Y/N!”

Speak of the devil. You glanced up from your camera settings to see Jisung waving at you wildly from across the set. Dressed in his MV outfit and absolutely killing it, he grinned ear-to-ear and waved both hands in a frenzy like he hadn’t just seen you fifteen minutes ago.

“Focus, Han!” Minho barked, smacking Jisung on the arm. “We’re not filming Y/N-Code. Stick to the choreography.”

Jisung pouted dramatically, tossing a betrayed look at Minho before giving you one last enthusiastic wave.

“Hi, jagi!”

From behind you, Seungmin snorted. “He’s like a golden retriever who saw their owner.”

“I think golden retrievers have more chill,” Hyunjin quipped as he adjusted his hair in the monitor reflection.

“You guys are just jealous!” Jisung shot back, folding his arms but still sneaking little glances in your direction.

“Yeah,” Chan added, rubbing his temples. “Jealous of how much Y/N has to endure that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Being around Stray Kids day in and day out meant you were no stranger to their relentless teasing, but Jisung always made sure it was worth it.

“Jisung,” you called, leaning just slightly around the camera. “Focus! You’re holding everyone up.”

“I am focused,” he insisted, running his hands through his hair to look extra dashing. “I’m focusing on you!”

“Boo!” came the collective groan from the members.

Chan clapped his hands. “Alright, Jisung’s flirting session is over. Let’s run it again before I lose my mind.”

Jisung gave you a sheepish shrug before getting into formation with the others. But, as the music started and they dove into their choreography, he still managed to sneak little glances at you every chance he got.

Later, during a quick break, you were crouched behind the camera reviewing the footage when Jisung plopped down beside you, completely ignoring his makeup artist’s protests to touch up his hair.

“So, how did I do?” he asked, voice low and teasing as he nudged your shoulder.

“Pretty good,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the screen. “But you kept looking at the camera.”

He smirked. “I wasn’t looking at the camera.”

“Yah!” You shoved his arm, and he burst out laughing, the sound so infectious that even the other members glanced over with amused looks.

“You guys are disgusting,” Changbin groaned, tossing his water bottle at Jisung, who caught it with ease.

“Don’t be mad just because I’m in love!” Jisung shot back, leaning closer to you and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That’s it,” Minho said, deadpan. “Y/N, I’m banning you from set.”

“Hey!” Jisung protested immediately, clutching onto your arm like a lifeline. “You can’t do that! Y/N is my muse!”

Jeongin’s head peeked out from behind the snack table. “You’re only saying that because she edits out your embarrassing moments.”

You grinned at that, tilting your head toward Jisung. “Is that true?”

Jisung straightened up and shook his head frantically. “No! I mean—yes—but no! I mean—”

The rest of the crew burst out laughing, and Jisung flushed as red as his stage outfit, burying his face in his hands.

Despite the teasing and chaos, being on set with him was your favorite thing in the world. Because behind every take, every chaotic SKZ-Code challenge, and every beautifully shot music video, Jisung always made sure you knew how much you meant to him—whether it was through over-the-top waves, secret smiles, or soft words whispered when no one else was watching.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

taglist: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[engie-ivy]

949 words

Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch, so what has suddenly gotten into him?

You Make It Feel Like Christmas

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Gwen Stefani

“You're delusional.”

“I'm not!”

“You must be.”

“No, I swear,” Benjy hisses.

“Well, maybe you misheard,” Hestia offers.

Benjy huffs. “You think I would not recognize ‘Jingle Bells’?”

Emmeline shakes her head. “Anything is more likely than Mr Black humming that song.”

“He was in front of me at the coffee machine,” Benjy says. “And I swear I heard him do it!”

You see, the reason why the mere idea of Sirius Black walking around the office humming ‘Jingle Bells’ is so preposterous, is because Sirius Black is known as the office Grinch.

The man dislikes everything that's even remotely related to Christmas.

When Mary and Dorcas were hanging the Christmas lights, Mr Black commented on energy savings for the office and the necessity of cutting down on the electricity bill. In his opinion, Christmas was a huge waste of energy in its entirety. No one actually knew if he was still talking about electricity.

When the first Christmas song was played on the radio, Mr Black pointedly put on his noise canceling headphones. Plus, he actually has no idea who Mariah Carey is, which is shocking in its own right.

When Edgar came to work wearing his Christmas jumper, Mr Black reported him for inappropriate work attire (though luckily Lily from HR simply told him to get over it).

Moreover, Mr Black constantly complains that Christmas Day is an obligatory day off, instead of him being able to save his vacation hours for, in his words, ‘when he actually needs them’.

He has also called Christmas markets a trick to sell junk no one needs, he's known to think that a gift certificate makes for the best Christmas gift, and that black coffee tastes better than any hot chocolate ever could.

“Okay, I'm actually getting really worried,” Caradoc whispers as they convene at the coffee machine.

“Me too,” Edgar replies in a concerned voice. “Maybe he's come down with some sort of illness?”

“Did you guys hear what he said when he saw the little Christmas tree on my desk?” Mary hisses. “He said it looked ‘nice’. Nice! No eye roll, no sarcastic undertone. Just nice.”

“I almost had a heart attack when I saw his tie this morning,” Emmeline says faintly. “I mean, tiny snowmen?”

Dorcas bites her lip. “Could it be some sort of brain disease?”

“Or maybe he hit his head and he has a concussion?” Benjy offers.

“Should we like… take him to the hospital or something?” Fabian asks.

“Gosh,” Hestia says. “Why are you all so negative? Maybe he just finally caught the Christmas spirit!”

“Excuse me?”

Everyone pauses their work to look at the man who appeared in the doorway to their office. He's got floppy, honey-coloured hair, is wearing a rather tattered coat and is carrying a box with a bow tied around it.

“I'm looking for-”

“Remus!” Mr Black jumps to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

A light colouring appears on the man's cheeks as he looks at Mr Black and he smiles a little sheepishly. “I hope I'm not disturbing you?”

Mr Black closes his laptop without giving it a second look. “Not at all! I can always make time,” says the man who once almost made Gideon cry because he dared ask him a question while he was in the middle of an Excel sheet.

“Great,” the box-carrying man, Remus, grins, and despite the scars on his face, it makes him look strangely endearing. “My mum and I baked Christmas cookies, and we, of course, made way too much for just us, so I thought I'd drop by your office to bring some?”

“That's so sweet of you!” Mr Black happily takes over the box. “I absolutely love Christmas cookies,” says Mr Black, who has never even touched any of the cookies Caradoc baked for the office.

“I see you're wearing the tie I gave you,” Remus says.

“Of course,” Mr Black replies. “It's my favourite.”

“That's good,” Remus smiles softly.

They both just look at each other for a moment, while the rest of the office exchanges looks.

Then Remus averts his eyes and looks down at his shoes. “You know, I was wondering…” He begins. “Would you like to go and look at the Christmas lights together tonight? It may sound cheesy, but they're actually really pretty and it's one of my favourite Christmas activities to-”

“I would love to!” Mr Black replies a little breathless. “I've been really wanting to go and see the lights.”

Mary makes an indignant sound, but both men hardly seem to notice there's anyone else in the room.

“Great!” Remus looks up and beams at Mr Black. “And I was thinking that maybe we could visit the Christmas market and drink some hot chocolate together?”

“I love the Christmas market,” Sirius replies without skipping a beat. “And I'd love to drink hot chocolate with you.”

“Good. Great. Perfect,” Remus says. “So, it's… it's a date?” The colouring on his cheeks increases.

"It's a date,” Mr Black agrees.

Both men stare at each other for a long moment, having completely forgotten there's a room full of people looking at them, people who start shifting uncomfortably in their chairs.

Remus is first to snap out of it. “I… I

I should let you get back to work.”

“Work,” Mr Black repeats, like he's trying to remember what the word means. “Right. Work.”

“See you tonight?” Remus asks.

“Can't wait,” Mr Black replies.

As Remus leaves and Mr Black turns back to the room, everyone immediately turns to their computer, pretending to be working.

Hestia exchanges a look with Emmeline.

Sirius Black definitely caught something alright, but it ain't Christmas spirit.

[helluvagirlboss]

I have another idea for this. Keep in mind I wrote this on my phone and on the spot lol:

“Have you ever though about having a kid of your own, Blitz?” asked Millie.

Blitz looks her way kinda thoughtful, before shrugging. “Not really. I mean I entertained the fantasy when I was younger but I never thought it’d happen. Then I met Loony and nothing else mattered after that. She’s all I want.”

“That’s…surprisingly sweet, Blitz,” said Moxxie, lips turned upward.

“Uh excuse the fuck outta you, Mox, I’m sweeter than a chocolate fountain,” Blitz retorted. Despite the words, Millie can tell there was no heat to it if the smile on Blitz’s face and Moxxie’s is any indication.

“You sure are B. I’m…I’m still afraid of…what bringing a child into the world, into our world nonetheless, is going to mean. But having you two around makes me less afraid,” said Millie.

Moxxie and Blitz both smiled at her before Blitz burst out yelling, “Fuck it, group hug now!”

He said that as if was giving them a choice before immediately yanking both her and her husband into a tight hug and wrapping his tail around them.

“I love you guys,” said Millie, embracing both her husband and best friend.

“I love you too,” said Moxxie.

“Alright before things get too sappy, I have another list of baby names—“

“No, Blitz! I’ve seen the list, it’s not happening,” Moxxie insisted, cutting him off.

“Oh come on I’ve got some great ones—“

“One of the names is Stapler. Absolutely not.”

“Pfft. You’re no fun.“

“Dad! The water!” Loona’s voice called from inside the apartment.

“Ah fuck, I’m needed inside. But nevertheless, we’re all excited for the third edition of your little unit. Though with Moxxie as a dad that kid better like music or they’re gonna wanna end it all.”

“HEY!”

“I’m just saying, if you’re gonna bring a third into M&M’s melody, they better know how to harmonize.”

And with that last little quip, Blitz walked back inside to prepare dinner.

But Millie wasn’t thinking about that. She locked eyes with Moxxie…and it seemed like she and him had the same thought.

“M&M’s…melody huh?” said Moxxie sheepishly.

“Melody…Melody…” said Millie, wistfully.

“Well…maybe Blitz does get to get our kid after all,” said Moxxie, wrapping his arms around his wife.

Millie, Moxxie, and Melody…she likes the sound of that.

The fact that Millie is pregnant is making me feral because it means we are potentially going to get SO MANY THINGS:

Secretary Stolas as a result of Loona having to go on more missions while Millie can't

(Millie staying in the office and bonding with Stolas????)

Stolas giving Millie and Moxxie parenting advice but it's all completely useless because baby imps and baby owls are nothing alike—cue all sorts of shenanigans

MORE STOLAS AND VIA ANGST

Moxxie freaking out about being like his father + more Moxxie backstory maybe!

UNCLE BLITZ!!!!!!!!!! UNCLE BLITZ!!!!!!

More imp anatomy!!!!! Baby imp behaviours!!!

So many adorable M&M moments 😭

More Sallie May!!! There's no way auntie Sallie May is gonna miss out on this ride!!!! She might be a lot more present in the new season, and I'm so here for it!

Anecdotes from Millie, Moxxie and Blitz's early childhood possibly??

The crew putting an end to soooooo many strands of generational trauma, and fighting even harder to make Hell safer for imps so the little one can grow up in a better world

Stolas realising how different his childhood was to imps' childhoods (both with regards to his privilege, and to his loneliness)

Also Stolas realising just how much Blitz wants a family, and falling in love over and over again with Blitz's soft and caring and protective side 😍

Even higher stakes when enemies from previous seasons attack again! (Crimson finding out he has a grandkid he can manipulate? Hello?!)

A BABY. JUST. A TINY ADORABLE LITTLE BABY.

THIS IS JUST PERFECT AND EVERYTHING I COULD'VE HOPED FOR 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[ghostlycod]

Saw your post about asks, and I feel in the same boat, so I thought if it's okay, I'd send you an ask. I've just flattered through your page, and I love your style.

1) Finding the perfect gift for any of the 141 members for Christmas.

2) Secretly placing mistletoe somewhere on base for Ghost to find.

Your writes are amazing, glad I found you! X

[[Thank you, babes!!!! Ah! Hi!

this is so relevant for me rn because I’m currently struggling to find my boyfriend the perfect Christmas gift lol]]

ghost - your first thought is to get him more masks, but everyone always gets him more masks. no, it should be something special. something personal. you don’t realize that for him, you’ve already given him the best gift: a Christmas that he doesn’t have to spend alone. a Christmas that he gets to spend with someone who really loves him. a Christmas that quiet and peaceful, with no yelling voices or thrown objects. a Christmas that’s warm and loving, with sneaky mistletoe kisses in the randomest of places and cozy socks. you’ve already given him exactly what he wanted and needed, anything else you get him is just a bonus.

price - seeing you enjoy the gifts he got you just to spoil you is enough for him. he doesn’t want anything else- no really, love. just wanna see you happy. but a nice case for his favorite vintage gun in his collection wouldn’t be too bad, or his favorite very nice cologne that always makes you want to bury your nose in his shirts and burn the scent on the inside your nostrils, or an expensive watch since that’s always his go-to accessory when dressing up

gaz - whatever he gets you is always so nice, always exactly what you needed, that it puts so much pressure on what to get him. he has to absolutely love it, just like you love whatever he gets you. box tickets to his favorite sporting event is up there for one of the best gifts he could be given, but I personally am a “gaz loves self care” truther. I think his guilty pleasure is skin care, a face mask every now and again (and a facial on you every now and again), and he likes very nice, soft lounge clothes to relax in when he’s at home. any of that kind of stuff would be great, but if you got him a couple’s spa day/massage gift certificate he would be over the moon.

soap - loves a joke gift. you could get him the sweetest, most personalized thing that you put so much time and energy and love into, and he would love it!! but he also would quickly forget about it and become obsessed with the pet treat launcher that you got as a joke gift. watching your very food-motivated dog/cat skid across the floor of your shared flat as they chase treats launched at high speed from the device in his hands is, frankly, hilarious. he will be doing that all day. best gift ever.

and I’ll just say it: any and every one of these guys would not complain about opening a box of lingerie from you on Christmas morning. especially if they get to see you model it for them, like, right now.

[[and thank you so much again for this request!!!]]

[quirekey]

Hi can I request for Orion Pax with femme s/o who acts like fluttershy from mlp

Hey, you're the B127 requester, welcome back! I love your silly concepts so i’m honoured to write for you again :3

[ ORION PAX ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ orion pax x cybertronian!femme!shy!reader ]

HEADCANONS

- The way you both met was when Orion was running away from trouble. You were just minding your business, resting against your stasis pod. Suddenly, Orion pushed you aside and hid behind you and your stasis pod. A high-guard confronted you and you were not made for this. The high-guard knew Orion was hiding behind you and Orion just ran off again with the High guard chasing from behind.

- Orion came up to you a while after the ‘incident’ happened, curious about you. He thought you looked way cleaner than the average miner, and he has never seen you before. Orion knew every-bot and every-bot knew him, but you. Orion liked this, it’s another chance to make a friend that won’t hate him for his troubles.

- At first, you were extremely quiet and timid. Orion was a ray of optimism and sunshine and his activity was a bit much for you. Orion caught onto your uncomfortable state pretty quickly and toned down his antics. Orion was way more patient and caring than others make it seem to be.

- Fast forward to you guys being together, you two were a pretty cute couple. Orion was a ray of sunshine who shined over the clouds while you were a bright star with potential who hid away from the others.

- Orion never would bring you into his troubles. He knew you didn’t do good when it came to authority and pressure. He only used you as a small excuse or a shield when it’s really needed. You do try to stop him from getting into so much trouble because it’s unnecessary, but it’s Orion so he doesn’t stop.

- You definitely call him pax just like D16. You saw D16’s habit with Orion, how he only called him Pax. You thought it was adorable so you slowly soaked into the nickname too.

- When Orion introduced you to D16, you both were really shy. D16 was an introverted fella and you were a shy one. You guys were actually pretty similar to a simple level. After some pushing and shoving by Orion, you both got along and actually had a proper conversation without Orion needing to fill in the silence.

- PDA ( publicly displayed affection ) is something you definitely and absolutely hate. You hated the thought of others seeing you and Orion show love to one another. You prefered to use love privately, like it’s a secret. When you two are far from other miners, Orion gives you a little nudge and you give him a nuzzle. Nobody but D16 knows about your little secret relationship, Orion enjoys the thrill of keeping such a big thing a secret.

- The dynamic with you both is a lot like an Extrovert x Introvert type of relation. Orion was always outgoing, loud and optimistic about his troubles, never taking anything seriously. You were afraid, considerate and preferred a quiet and mild environment. Though both of your flaws and traits were extremely opposing, you both stuck with magnets and it was very adorable!

I had many ideas but i am currently in a rush, if you wanna know the rest feel free to ask!

[doeidawn]

doeidawn's kinkmas day ten ❆ ugly sweaters

KINKMAS 2024 | PREVIOUS DAY | NEXT DAY

 you and ghost bet on who can wear their ugly holiday sweater the longest. it's only a matter of time before one of you gets too desperate to keep it on. 2.7k

❆ pairing: ghost x fem!reader

❆ tags: MDNI/18+; slight possessive ghost; impatient ghost; oral sex [f receiving]; fingering; piv sex; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it); creampie

For such an intimidating and serious man, Simon was an absolute sucker for the cheesiness that came with the holidays. From the terrible movies to the cliché romantic gestures, he was more excited than one would think when it came to holiday celebrations. But, this year, he seemed interested in a particularly terrible aspect of the holiday season: ugly sweaters.

And the ones he got for the two of you certainly were ugly. Bright, obnoxious patterns that clashed, tinsel sewn in along the front, and small bulbs that actually lit up at the press of a button. They were, decidedly, terrible. And that’s exactly why he got them.

Although, he had intended for it to be something cute between the two of you. Wearing them around in the comfort of your home just to bask in the cheesiness together. What he hadn’t intended was your insistence on wearing the sweaters to a friend’s party. You thought it was the perfect opportunity to show up donning something atrocious, especially with such a big, intimidating guy like Simon. But he was hesitant, and you could tell. The man had somewhat of a reputation to uphold, after all. 

It took some convincing, but he came around to the idea. It might’ve got him some attention, which he wasn’t always a fan of, but it would be fun—and what were the holidays without a little cheer? But, to make things a little more fun, you decide to make it a bet—10 quid to whoever could stomach sitting in a sweater longer. That got him (and his competitive spirit) interested.

And, thankfully, the party was going well. Your friends were huge fans of the absurdly ugly sweaters the two of you wore. Even the people you didn’t know made a point to comment on the tinsel or lights that adorned the fabric. You loved the attention, loved seeing everyone laugh or brighten up when you showed off the terrible sweater. 

Simon was less enthusiastic. He liked the comedy of it all, particularly with your friends. But he wasn’t fond of the attention you seemed to garner from some friends-of-friends—a few guys you weren’t familiar with—who made it known how attractive they thought you were…even with the sweater. You didn’t think much of it when they complimented you, but nothing got past your boyfriend’s eagle eye. 

He sought you out like a dog, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close against his chest. It surprised you at first, especially when he held you like a vice. Slunk in the corner of the room like he didn’t want anyone else to see the two of you. 

Tension radiated off of him in thick waves, plainly evident by the way stood. “You alright?” You ask him, a hand on his chest in an attempt to ease whatever had him worked up.

There’s a beat of silence and a sigh before he responds. “Yeah,” is all he says, tight-lipped and sharp. You didn’t believe it for a second. “Jus’ want you close.”

He emphasizes the point by pulling you closer, if it were even possible. You were pressed up against his chest, his firm grip around your body keeping you in place. And when you squirm to try and get comfortable, that’s when you feel a familiar firmness pressing against your hip. 

“Are…are you hard?” You whisper the words softly for both his sake and yours. 

“You’re surprised?” He grumbles back. No wonder he was so tense.

“Seriously? This disgusting sweater,” you gesture to the tinsel-lined fabric on your torso, “and I still got you hard?”

“Well, those other guys really seemed to like it.”

Oh, so that’s what it was about. A few guys that were probably tipsy laughing about your absurd choice of dress. Granted, they were a little…personal about their compliments, but it didn’t take much for Simon to get possessive over you. The wrong guy could look at you and he’d feel the need to shove his tongue down your throat just to make a point. 

You roll your eyes at him, at the audacity to get worked up over something so minor. “Simon—”

“Where’s the bathroom in this place?”

Definitely not what you expected to come out of his mouth. But maybe he wanted the privacy. And you wouldn’t argue that he needed a few minutes to himself to calm down. 

“Past the kitchen, down the hall, I think,” you shrug, pointing in said direction.

“Show me.”

Christ. You roll your eyes again, taking his heavy hand in yours and dragging him behind you. Slinking past people and trying not to draw any attention to yourselves, you sidle down the hall until you reach the bathroom. You give Simon a look, something that said ‘hurry up and do what you have to do’, but then his hand is gripping yours tighter and he’s pulling you into the bathroom with him.

You could barely get a breath in before your back hit the wall. Simon’s body cages you in place, pressing his weight against you as his mouth finds yours in a sloppy kiss. The way his hands run over you is hurried and desperate, grabbing whatever parts of you he can to pull you closer. The bulge of his cock presses into your hip each time he tugs, grinding against you with each roll of his hips.

“Christ, Simon,” you manage to slide your mouth away long enough to catch your breath. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“‘Cause you’re hot,” his mouth trails down to your jaw, “and you’re mine,” a sharp nip of his teeth on your neck, “and I can’t wait til we get home to fuck you.”

One of his hands slides under the hem of your sweater, fingers splaying over your stomach before sliding upwards. Rough fingertips trace the line of your waist, dipping into your bra to grope your chest. His impatience extends to your clothing, trying to tug the sweater up and off your body, until you press a hand to his chest.

“Nuh-uh…” You pull your sweater back down and playfully swat his hands. “The bet. Remember?”

Simon audibly grumbles at that. He pulls his hands away from your torso, moving to grab your hips. “That’s fine,” he sighs. “Don’t gotta take it off yet.”

Then he’s dropping to his knees and tugging your pants down your body. His mouth trails kisses over the front of your panties before licking a fat stripe over your clit through the fabric. Impatience gets the better of him again, nearly tearing through the flimsy garment as he pulls it down your legs and exposes you to his hungry gaze. 

And ‘hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him. When he got between your legs, he moved like he was starving for you. Burying his face in your cunt, lapping and sucking like your slick was the only thing he lived off of, holding your hips in place so you can’t buck away from his mouth. It was intense right from the start. 

“Si…Jesus, baby…” Your head falls back against the wall, hips arching into his mouth just to chase the wet friction of his tongue. “We’re really doing this here?”

You feel him hum a ‘mm-hmm’ into your cunt that vibrates through you. His fingers dig into your hips keeping you pinned to the wall, nearly aching in their intensity. His tongue runs flat over your clit, circling in perfect strokes, before running down to prod at your hole. His face is buried in between your legs like he doesn’t want to let himself breathe; he’s more concerned with letting you grind against his nose than keeping himself conscious.

You almost wanted to damn him for being so good with his mouth. It was a struggle to keep yourself quiet enough to not get caught, covering your mouth with your hand just to stifle the moans that slipped past your lips. He wasn’t doing a great job at keeping quiet either—he was groaning into your cunt with every other wet suck and lap of his tongue. Looking down to see him knelt between your legs was always a sight you loved to see, even now with that horrendous sweater on his body, and it rocked you to your core seeing those brown eyes staring up at you. He could devour you with his eyes just as well as his mouth.

In fact, you’re so distracted by his eyes boring into you that you don’t notice his hand slipping between your legs until you feel his fingers prodding at your entrance. It was already hard to keep quiet, but when two thick digits slide into your cunt, it was near impossible to stop yourself from crying out. A shaky gasp and you’re whimpering out for him, reaching down to thread your fingers through Simon’s hair. The sharp tug only makes him groan as he focuses his mouth on your clit. 

He barely gets in a few thrusts of his fingers before you start to tremble. The dual sensation sends sparks through you, pumping thick in your veins. “Fuck, Si, ‘m not…you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Good,” he mutters against your cunt. “Want you to soak my fuckin’ face.”

The thought was filthy—the possibility of him smelling like you around all those people—but, God, did it make you shiver. Your slick walls fluttered around his fingers, clit throbbing against his tongue, and with one last focused curl of his fingers, you were struggling to keep yourself upright as your orgasm pulsed through you. Your knees felt weak as you rocked your hips into his mouth, grinding his digits deep inside you. The thought of someone hearing your panting moans was the last thing on your mind as Simon focused on drawing out every last drop of your slick cum.

You were still quivering when he pulled back, licking his lips of your cum as he stood tall in front of you. His heavy hands find your hips, pulling you flush against his body. The taste of your cunt floods your tongue when he seeks you out for more sloppy, hungry kisses. Your hand moves to run over the thick outline of his cock, squeezing him through his jeans, feeling his responding groan against your lips.

He wastes no time freeing himself, so desperate and hurried he seems like he could rip the leather of his belt in half if he were any more needy. He’s guiding his cock to your hand almost as soon as he fishes it out, rolling his hips to grind into your palm. You grant him a few steady strokes just to hear him moan into your mouth. It doesn’t last longe before his impatience gets the better of him once again.

A strong arm hoists one of your legs in the air with a force that nearly makes you topple over. Then his cock is running through the slick coating your cunt, the head spreading you open before sliding deep inside. The stretch nearly takes your breath away, the angle of his cock hitting something soft in your core. Trying to muffle each other’s sounds by kissing and nipping at each other’s lips incessantly, swallowing his grunts while he forces breathy pants from your lungs. 

Your back hits the wall on each deep and hard thrust, pinned against the hard surface by Simon’s weight pressing into you. His cock fills you completely, the head kissing your deepest parts on each downstroke, your slick walls hugging him tight as you quiver. Your hands dig into the rough fabric of the sweater over his shoulders as you try to ground yourself amidst the sensations. 

“Fuck, m’sorry, baby, I just couldn’t fuckin’ wait,” he pants against your mouth, voice strained with the need to be quiet. 

“I know, Si. S’okay.” You reassure him between the moans forced out of your mouth. Your hands cup his cheeks as you rest your forehead against his. “You like the sweater, then?”

He smiles at that. “I like you.” A sharp thrust makes you tighten around him, drawing a gruff sound from his throat. “Want everyone here to know that. That you’re mine.”

His movements turn rough and snappy, hard and quick thrusts that turn your moans staccato. You have to bite your lip for any hope of keeping yourself quiet. He holds you tight, rough fingertips pressing bruisingly into your skin, while he ravages you with need. 

Sweat beads on his brow over his red, flushed skin. He’s panting into your mouth, straining with the effort of holding back. The heat and friction is almost suffocatingly intense as it completely floods your senses. 

“Christ, it’s hot…” he grumbles, his hips starting to slow. He leans back slightly, hands falling off of you to move to the hem of his sweater. He pulls it off in one swift movement, throwing it to the floor without a care in the world, before latching his hands back onto your body. 

You seek out his chest with your own hands, feeling the hot flush of his skin. The sinewy muscles in his body flex with each movement as he fucks you. Fingertips trace the scars that litter his skin in gentle strokes, almost reverent in the way you touch him. All it did was remind you why you loved seeing him bare—the implications of trust behind it. 

Though now it was all shrouded in a layer of lust and arousal that made your head spin. You couldn’t think straight as he bullied his cock into you with deep strokes. All that mattered was the way he felt, the way he held you tighter when he couldn’t last any longer. 

“Give it to me, Si,” you pant encouragingly between his forceful movements. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, hot breath splaying over your skin. “Always.” He practically growls the word. 

Simon doesn’t hold himself back, slamming into you with another set of those sharp and rough thrusts that take your breath away. Grunts and moans and whimpers and every sound in between falls freely without any care for who might hear it. He pushes you against the wall with all his weight, burying himself to the hilt as his cock begins to twitch. You can feel him throbbing with each pump of cum that spills inside you.

His hips rock in shallow thrusts while he rides out the last of the sensation. His bruising grip loosens on your body, and he gently sets your leg down as the two of you catch your breath. You swallow thickly, hands coming up to rest on his cheeks as you guide his head away from your neck. He looks fucked out—pupils blown under heavy eyelids, sweaty and flushed, panting for air. You can’t help but smile at the sight.

“You lose.”

Still catching his breath, Simon gives you a confused look. “What?”

“The bet,” you remind him. You tap a finger against his bare chest for emphasis, “you took your sweater off. You lose.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel like a loss.”

No, it didn’t. The only loss he felt was when he slid out of you, pulling back so the two of you could get dressed. You were suddenly thankful that he dragged you to the bathroom; the mirror could help you at least attempt to look like you hadn’t just been fucked against the wall. You only hope your friends won’t question where you and your boyfriend disappeared to, or you might not get invited back next year.

Watching Simon shrug his sweater back on, you could tell he’d grown to dislike it. The uncomfortable fabric and obnoxious tinsel and lights didn’t make it a fun thing to wear—especially when he was still sweaty. You could tell he’d probably lose his mind if he had to wear it for another hour.

“You owe me ten quid,” you remind him. You hadn’t actually expected any payment since neither of you took the bet very seriously, but it was fun to remind him that you won.

“I give you a lot more than ten quid when we’re back home.”

To that, you had no doubt. And the impatience still buzzing off of him made it apparent that going home was going to happen sooner rather than later. You weren’t complaining. The party was fun, but you’re sure your friends would understand. 

Who knew ugly sweaters could be so damn hot?

[melancholicstation]

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST: OPEN DOOR! - a jack schlossberg one-shot. 𓊇ྀི

summary: your open door architectural digest interview with your husband jack schlossberg takes an unexpected, and downright sensual turn in your shared kitchen over the most innocuous citrus fruit. note: this is part of the husband!jack schlossberg universe, here are other works with wife!reader and husband!jack: like an american, husband!jack hc's, and comfort husband!jack hc's

warnings: orgasm denial (male), cunnilingus, smut, 18+

words: 1,830

"Hi AD, We're Jack and Y/n, welcome to our house"

Filming for Architectural Digest, as glamorous as it might look from the illustrious glow of a MacBook screen, was not all it cracked up to be. AD had been relentless in their pursuit, contacting both you and jack's agents on more than one occasion proposing the opportunity for you guys as a couple to be featured on their open door celebrity series.

Initially as a couple you had turned the opportunity down, with Jack working tirelessly on the campaign and you being busy with negotiations on your new book deal: it just wouldn't have worked. But after your wedding, which was featured in Vogue, the title "The Bride Wore Vintage John Galliano And The Groom Wore JW Anderson. Inside Their Cape Cod Ceremony" The open door offer came around once again and it came at just the perfect time.

A few weeks back you and Jack had been getting back into the grove of normal life after returning from an illustrious three week honeymoon in the Greek Cyclades: a honeymoon spent in mostly nothing—bar itty-bitty specs of linen as makeshift bikini's, and gucci by tom ford beachwear.

Getting back to AD, you'd woken up before Jack: which was funny because when you first entered the relationship Jack was always the one who got up early, maybe you've been a bit of a bad influence in that department. Nevertheless you spend about five to ten minutes neglecting to wake Jack up: instead opting to trace the sepia hairs littering the top of his neck while quietly leering at his chest hair—looking like an absolute creep, but I mean, he was your husband after all so—that's gotta minus at least 15% of the pervy factor, right?

When he did wake up—and subsequently clocked your staring contest with his chest, he proceeded to lean over like a total and utter drama queen to piously cover himself with the sheets like a 30s model getting a tasteful nude portrait of herself to give to a lover.

You neglected to do any makeup only choosing to smear some P50 lotion on you and Jack's face—you swore he was like a toddler sometimes always wanting to mirror whatever weird shit you put on your face. Once the hair, makeup, and stylist team for AD got there you and Jack were effectively separated for the next few hours, which you did not hear the end of via jack's incessant complaints about the distance between him and you over iMessage and many, many unhinged gif selections sent to your iPhone.

But alas, you two were reunited for the open door interview and it started off generally normal...

First, you two were situated on the front steps of your townhouse and asked when and why you chose the house,

Jack started for you, "We moved here about five years ago, and it was the second house we both had looked at ever in our whole lives, and it so happens that it was the first house we ever bought as a couple"

"Seems clandestine to me", the interviewer cheerily replies to which you both glance at each other playfully while he speaks.

Taking the hint to speak up, you share what drew you to the home adding, "I love the city, but I also love wood and I love light and I love antiques, so I just fell in deep love with the place. For us it struck the perfect balance of being in the city while not feeling like the city was breathing down your back all the time, it can be hard to find a place like that here."

Making your way into the apartment, you and Jack were told to take a short break for about 2 minutes while the videographer got a good layout of the place, and scoped out the best lighting angles to capture it.

Your home occupies the first floor of a Meatpacking District block, and is a few blocks away from the Hudson River—which more than encourages your Husband's borderline addiction to paddle boarding. But, hey you routinely get to see your man walking home in an ultra-tight swimsuit sopping wet, so who were you really to complain about such things?

Despite loving the city, you found yourself devoted to the charm of those old French farmhouse interior's that you'd looked at in your mom's old magazines. And it felt particularly poignant to you guys as a couple—being that your first couple of dates were in the south of France.

You and Jack didn't want the space to come off as just another midcentury modern sterile, ultra-functional flat. So, you opted for sheetrock to be removed from the walls and ordered a large pair of antique door double doors for the living space off 1stdibs.

Just as abruptly as the break had started, it subsequently finished and the cameras began rolling once again. The interview dragged on until you two had finally gotten to the kitchen which was the last room and the last portion of interview.

You started the space off absolutely waxing poetic about the olive-coloured room,

"This is our little kitchen, we painted it horribly together. And then needed to implore a professional painter to fix our many, many painting faux pas." you take a breath to giggle slightly with Jack at your shared delusional confidence that you could paint a whole room successfully.

It was then Jack's time to pitch in, while the camera man did a slow zoom across the decor littering the marbled countertops—causing you and Jack to both notice a certain stone bowl containing a citrus fruit that you know for certain neither of you put there before AD came. Weird you thought, you weren't notified that set-dressing came with the interview.

Leaning on the counter Jack laments, "I love baking, I cook a lot too. I love limes"—to which he dramatically takes a lime into his hands, spinning it between his large fingers, "They're great and I love them so much, and I like to present them like this in my house."

You try not to let the emotion of total bafflement present on camera at Jack straight up lying for the hell of it about the limes being an integral part of your shared household decor—he neglects to mention that they're set dressing and that he's moderately allergic to them.

Closing of the interview you fake lead the interviewer out of the house to close out the interview, only to let them back in seconds later. The interviewer, Mark, who seems to be a genuinely sweet guy thanks you and Jack for your time, informing you that the crew should be packed up in 10 minutes, and the camera guy only needs another 5 minutes to get b-roll footage.

Once all the pleasantries have been fulfilled you lead, or rather playfully drag Jack by his crisp collared Prada button-up into your kitchen.

"Jack, I mean seriously what the hell was that, truly? I know you know you're allergic."

"M'sorry it was just too good not to pass up! I mean what kind of weirdos just but a bowl of lemons out and nothing else? it's barbaric just from a feng-shui standpoint alone!"

"Godd you're such a weirdo. Come kiss me and make it quick so I can forgot that very fact, please" you beckon him to you, placing your chin on his chest with your hands on his chin. Which, by the way is blemish-less—god, you absolutely hated men sometimes.

"Oh come on! you only kiss me cause I'm a weirdo, let's be real." Jack chuckles yet fulfils your request. He kisses you like a man starved which was quite concerning since you had only parted from him today for two hours—absolute max.

The intimacy got more and more heated until well... maybe you currently had your loafer clad feet either side of jack's head while he ate his idea of a mid-afternoon desert.

The very motion of Jack placing the flat side of his tongue against your clit sent you into an absolute. fucking. meltdown. To the point where the moans you made no longer represented someone who was cognisant that they're were about fifteen people working for AD rooms away. You try to compose yourself, which provides a stark contrast to his relentless endeavour on your clit that seem to be ever increasing.

As if to praise your restraint of volume his thumb gently strokes the inside of your thigh—up and down... and up and down. Sensing your impending climax Jack speeds his motions and adds a digit that outright seems to antagonise you—almost trying to tease a mind-numbing orgasm from you. And because you're weak in the face of his machinations, you of course do.

On your come-down you notice a glaring visitor—a quite large bulge in his pants and decide to take pity on it and by looking at the saccharine, loopy look on his face, him as well.

But you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't make him work for it at least a bit.

Continuing your motions on his bulge: feeling it's twitches and reflexes as intimately as you feel him breath while sleeping on your chest at night—

That was until the door to the kitchen was knocked upon,

"Sorry to be a bother but could you guys get that bowl of limes?—the crew is absolutely swamped trying to pack up for the road."

It was at this point in your movements on his bulge that Jack was starting to get loud, a bit too loud for your current situation, so you did the one thing that could shut him up—bar actually suspending the current movements on his mound: but that wouldn't be half as much fun would it?

Quick thinking led you to quite forcefully shoving a medium sized un-cut lime into his mouth to drown out his moans: it sure as shit worked but his puppy dog-like eyes made you feel bad for your prior roughness—you settled on a quick caress of his hair as a pseudo apology.

"Oh of course it's no trouble at all, we'll go grab it now!"

Hearing the footsteps move further and further from the kitchen you glance at Jack: a pitiful, overstimulated sight really. But a sight you deeply enjoy no less.

Picking up the bowl of lemons you grab his hands, afixing each hand to a parallel side of the stone bowl,

"Why don't you go give them back that bowl of limes you love so much and then maybe we can get back to what we were doing?"

Overcome from the intense stimulation Jack nods, willing to do anything that brings him present relief,

"Good boy" you coy, swiping off your own juices from his mouth and chin, then finally taking the un-cut lime out of his mouth.

tags: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123 @absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel

[arandomao3user]

!TW: Fanon Batfam Content, Be Warned!

(Based off "Love Me For Who I Was" on Ao3, by Chara_Jame)

---

Stephanie: How do you get Jason to give you whatever you want?

Tim, post JJ, rescued by Red Hood: What do you mean?

Stephanie: I mean, he lets you have flamethrowers and grenade launchers.

Tim: So?

Stephanie: SO, he seems a tad bit to protective for all that.

Tim: Oh, OH, yeah I can pretty much get anything I want.

Stephanie: Yeah, I got that, but HOW?

Tim: Oh, I ask him where babies come from before asking for what I want.

Stephanie: . . . What?

Tim: I went into Arkham at thirteen, he didn't break me out till I was fifteen. He thinks I'm clueless.

Stephanie: Okay. Wait. Explain.

---

Jason: Whatchu want for dinner, baby bird?

Tim: Where do babies come from?

Jason:

Jason: I...

Tim: Can we have pizza again? Same place as yesterday?

Jason, exhaling a sigh of absolute, pure relief: Yeah, let's go.

---

Jason, in the middle of stealing money from Wayne Enterprise:

Tim: JAAAAAAY!

Tim: Jay.

Tim: Jay-so-on!

Tim: Jasoon.

Jason: YES, Timothy?

Tim: Where do babies come from?

Jason: . . .

Jason:

Jason: Uh . . .

Tim: Also can I keep this blowtorch I found?

Tim, holding up a blowtorch he's definitely had for a while now:

Jason: yES! Now shoo, I'm busy.

---

Tim, holding a bedazzled Red Hood helmet behind his back: Hey, Jay..? Y'know how you said to stop-- as you call it-- vandalizing your helmets?

Jason, slowly turning away from the dinner he's cooking, suspicious now: Yes..?

Tim: Okay, well, before we get to that, where do babies come from?

Jason: . . . Hell--

Tim, shoving the helmet into Jason's arms: Also here you go!

Tim, runs away at top speed:

---

Stephanie, you're either the smartest or stupidest guy I've ever met, Tim Todd.

Tim: I like to think I'm a mix of both mixed in Joker venom.

---