#i feel like i need to run barefoot as fast as i can for as long as i can manage

[marsuni]

vent

my grandmas sick and in the hospital, my friend is asking me to come visit several states away bc of tragic circumstances, im not confident in my own health and hoping for a sponsored internship program that'll also help me get some certifications, and I'm also working on disability bc even if this internship thing starts i have to padd three stages of shit to get it and i only Might be qualified to be paid for it, and even than, god knows how much longer ill stay healthy and jesus Everything Happens So Much

[teaboot]

I hope it's okay that I took a screenshot, cause I felt that this deserved it's own post.

It's a good question, and as someone with a needle phobia myself it's one I have some experience with and feel I can speak on.

It's going to sound stupid, but it's this:

First, keep facing your fear. I personally elected to start donating blood, which sucked ass, but helped me get used to the feeling of having a needle in in safe environment, and celebrating the small victory every time I finished was a good motivator to keep going back.

What I did then was focus on what my body was doing. Was I breathing fast? Tensing up? Sweating? Going cold? Was I shaking? Where? Was it better to fidget, or hold still? Did closing my eyes help? Plugging my ears? I got familiar with my own physical reactions so I could start to separate them from my mental reactions.

Now when I experience a panic response, I'm not just objectively aware that my body is doing it's own thing- I genuinely feel that my body is acting on it's own. I'm stressed, but not SCARED, because my brain doesn't just know that it's safe- it FEELS safe. I'm emotionally strung out and on edge, but I'm not totally losing myself anymore. I can have a conversation while it's happening.

Now, sometimes I can see someone use a syringe for small procedures without flinching and closing off. Not often, but it's miles ahead of where I used to be. I can hold an epipen. I can use safety gear to dispose of abandoned needles outside my work. I don't think I could give myself an injection if I needed to, because I know I still lock up, but the idea of someone else doing one on me isn't viscerally repellant.

So... not cured here yet, but better.

TLDR: Baby steps, keep trying, pay attention to your body, celebrate successes.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Taking steps to confront a phobia has to be a choice. Forcing someone else to confront their phobia when they ARE NOT READY, WILLING, OR PREPARED is incredibly distressing and can make things way worse. And with how completely fucking miserable and exhausting a panic response feels, choosing not to "just confront it" is a totally valid and understandable choice. Like choosing not to run a 100 mile marathon barefoot. If you find yourself tempted to trick or pressure someone into amateur exposure therapy, don't. I'll fucking find you

Again, this is just what's been working for me, but if you wanna try it, I wish you luck! ♡

[silverzoomies]

Oooh, some good ol' Peter Maximoff with number 1? That'd be either godly or comedic gold, I feel...

Peter Maximoff/Reader drabble: ⚡"So, how do you want me to fuck you?"⚡ warnings: light hints of cunnilingus and smut. peter being peter. sorry !!

Peter is…blunt. Majorly blunt. Quick to the point, but somehow always wasting time.

You were both going at it like insatiable animals. Peter’s skilled lips and buzzing tongue brought you to nirvana. Gifting you not one, not two, but three wickedly intense orgasms.

In post-nut bliss, you’re buck ass naked on his basement sofa. Your limbs droop loosely. Sweaty in summertime heat. Cool air wafts within the basement, but it does nothing to nullify steamy warmth on your skin.

Wordlessly, he comes up to kiss you. Conquering hungry smooches with his swollen lips, Peter brings the taste of your own arousal on his tongue. His torturous fingers toy with your sore pussy a little more. Peter plunges his digits in your soaking wet slit. He explores your plush channel, testing the tight space for a future visit.

“Tell me how you want it, babe.” He breathes into your ear, nuzzling your cheek, moving to murmur into your lips, “You want it fast? Or...nah? You want me to hold back? Take it slow? Cuz, fuck. You feel so good, I dunno if I can…”

You answer with an unintelligible squeal that makes him chuckle. As you moan and writhe under Peter, you help him peel off everything he wears. Peter kicks off his worn sneakers.

“Don’t need these where I’m goin’.” He quips humorously, moving in for another messy kiss.

His Buffalo Springfield shirt comes next. And just as you run your trembling hands down the athletic shape of his torso, Peter parts from your urgent kisses. His muscles are hard as steel under your fingertips. But you don’t get a moment to appreciate them before they’re gone. Peter sits up all the way, his black jeans and belt undone. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stalls for a beat.

“Uhm...what's up? Are you o-” You start to ask.

Peter interrupts, “I'm great. But can you hold on just a sec? Thanks.”

The silver haired speedster disappears in a flash, leaving your poor pussy abandoned and aching. Your brows curl inward as you sit up on the sofa. You relax your tense shoulders. Completely nude, so spent, and longing for more all at the same time; you await his return. Sex-ridden pulsations of scorching heat stir in your core. It’s such a strong sensation, it physically pains you.

Your body needs to feel the pressure and warmth of his hands again. Peter must’ve imbued you with his own heightened impatience. Because you’ve never wanted dick this badly in all your life. He takes such a long time getting back. You almost tear up at the agonizing loss of his presence.

He reappears in a blurry, silver gust of wind. Standing idly in the basement - barefoot, shirtless, with his pants undone and his belt hanging loose - Peter shovels pink frosted sprinkled donuts in his mouth. One by one. It’s a nauseating sight, watching him shamelessly devour the sugary delights.

Your lustful frustration boils to a breaking point, and you scoff. Any other time, you might've laughed 'til you passed out.

“You cannot be serious right now.”

“Whuhhuhhh?” Peter mumbles with his mouth stuffed full. Pushing the last donut past his stained, pinkish lips, he swallows in less than a second. He speaks in a clearer, albeit wise-ass tone, “Sorry not sorry. What? You never got, like, a wild craving outta nowhere?”

He moves to the sofa faster than your brain can process. Digging a single knee into the cushions, Peter guzzles an entire soda in one swig. You don’t remember him grabbing one. And while you don't care to think about it, it's gone in an instant.

"C'mere, you." He sluggishly smirks.

Another half-second, and he smashes his sickly sweet lips into yours. Sporting a proud hard-on in his open jeans, Peter ruts his clothed bulge into your bare heat. Even in spite of how maddening his tendencies are, he makes you melt under him so easily.

The two of you find your rhythm again. Reviving the erotic mood simmering between you both, you speak your own hushed, coquettish words.

"Peter, please? Give it to me fast? So fast. I want you to keep going, and never stop. Can you do that, baby?" You breathe a bashful whisper into his lips.

There's another pause. Peter halts for a tormentous moment. He narrows his eyes in pensive thought, shaking his head.

“Wait. So, how do you want me to fuck you? I totally spaced out.”

[jpnriikicore]

Paul Aron as your best friend core

paring paul aron x reader, word count 994, genre fluff, warning roughy translated estonian, authors note sorry, for not releasing this faster i was writing other works for charles and lando <3 ( masterlist )

beach days.

you spend a lot of time on the beach in your free hours lounging around. go off swimming in the ocean. the sun is like a warm blanket wrapped around your body that came fresh out of the dryer. filming him on a cam-recorder when he backflips from a cliff. he somehow tricks you onto the cliff with him occasionally.

late night on the beaches or watching the sunset is the best part. your sides bumping into one another as you walk barefoot along the shoreline feeling the warm sand between your toes and chill seawater slash up onto your ankles. he swings your sandals back and forth from the straps of your sandals since he offered to carry them for you knowing that you hated carrying them yourself. admiring the sunset ahead of you or the moon above you.

boat days.

the sun shone on them basking in it's warmth. a good way to celebrate a podium win for paul. you hit the sea together for a weekend to be still and peaceful in just nothingness. away from his fast life to just have a moment of tranquility together. it’s makes moments like this more special. your legs spread laying onto top of his as your back leans against the comfortable plush white cushions of the boat. his hands soothing rubbing up and down your legs. his pink swimming trunks clad against his thighs after taking a dip into the water. his initials on a chain around your neck.

supporting him during races. through thick and thin and high and lows.

you're always spotted in a secluded corner on the floor of the prema truck. you’re seated together his jacket draped over to you keeping the chill off of you. if qualifying doesn’t go well that day you would sit in comfortable silence whilst reassuring his negative thoughts and feelings through physical touch. your head resting against his shoulder, your slight grazes over his hand, the feeling of you fiddling with his fingers, or the traces on the lines of his palms. just a reminder that everything will be okay. a feathery kiss on the top of his head with a whisper of praise makes him believe that he can do better tomorrow and make all his nerves disappear into thin air.

quality time ( exercise ver. )

you wake up tangled limbs in the sheets of your shared king-sized hotel room bed. the waves crashing on shore was heard from the cracked open balcony doors. seagulls flying around in the early morning blue sky. you vaguely remember him mentioning earlier that morning that he was going for a run before pressing a gentle kiss on your temple before leaving.

some mornings or evenings you would attend runs with him and karl. even staying with him when he works out in the gym maybe getting a mile or two in on the treadmill. he enjoys quality time with you. so, even if you're just sitting crisscrossed on a yoga mat watching him he enjoys it.

he’d convince you that he needs a spotter. even if the weights are a bit too heavy for you and you could help him only very little if you needed too. he still enjoys having your company and letting you feel included. he lightens the load of his weights when you finally do agree on spotting him.

"nii lõbus ei tohiks trennis olla. ( exercise shouldn't be this fun )."

traveling to tallinn and races with him when you can.

traveling around northern italy on a vespa, him driving you around as your arms are wrapped around his torso. towards the end of the night you ride towards a fancy friendship dinner date.

you settled in flimsy chairs on the balcony of your shared hotel room trying out different pastas and slices of pizza from restaurants attempting to find the best one in the country that you’re visiting.

while visiting his home in tallinn he would ensure to bundle you up in thick coats for the cold estonian weather. crunched snow underneath your boots a trail of footsteps in the white left behind you as you take a walk in the snowy weather around midnight.

his siblings.

during, your friendship with paul you’ve become close with his siblings, anna and ralf. anna is like a sister to you. ralf gives you lots of advice and shows embarrassing childhood pictures of paul. which for the record you find oh-so adorable and he finds incredibly embarrassing. you’ve grown expectably close to them due to tagging along on family vacations occasionally since him and his family seem typically fond of your presence. him and his extended family tend to have dinners when his finally back home leading to you practically being apart of his family since you sit in with so many of his family dinners and get to know his close and distant relatives.

"meil peres juba uus ralliäss kasvamas ( we already have a new rally ace growing up in our family )."

teaching you phrases in estonian.

after expressing that you wanted to learn how to speak his native language to speak to his family in the most comfortable way for them and show gratitude towards his parents for raising him the way that they did. he taught you simple phrases, to begin with just enough to get you around his home country without being completely lost.

dino and ollie.

after getting introduced to dino and ollie during the first race you attended with paul you’ve become quick friends with them since it was so easy to speak with them. your often spotted joking around with dino and ollie. just chilling on the floor of the prema truck goofing off with them even walking around the track with them. especially, dancing around with dino to whatever song that plays from his playlist on rainy qualifying days. you was there with the prema team supporting ollie’s debut in formula one.

© JPNRIIKICORE, 2024

[jeonggukookies]

crown's kingdom || three

summary: jungkook doesn't know what to do or how to feel when you try breaking up the alliance.

– genre: royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au, prince!jungkook, queen!reader, arranged marriage - fluff/angst

– word count : 4,999

index || one || two

The following day, Jungkook ran. 

When the Queen of Aurum told her son that the Queen of Calestia broke off their engagement and was arranging a marriage with Prince Dasher, he ran. 

Before his mother could even elaborate further details, Jungkook sprinted out of bed and headed towards his father's study in his oversized white silk pajamas. He was like a bolt of lightning, moving at fast intensity and taking giant strides. Somehow, without his shoes on, Jungkook was outrunning all the guards. 

"Is it true?" Jungkook asked when he bursted through the conference doors. He was panting, out of breath. His breathing became small gasps, filling up the room. "Tell me, is it true, Father?"

"Well, good morning to you too," the King quipped, looking up from his desk. He laughed when he saw Jungkook barefoot. "You must've been so excited that you had to run all the way here to hear the news yourself."

"Is it truly so?" Jungkook asked again, ignoring his father's remarks. He was panting and taking big breaths after each word. "Doth it be true?"

As the King scoffed at Jungkook's question, the guards finally caught up and entered the room along with Jungkook's mother. She immediately ran up to her son, patting his back in comfort. "Guards! Bring me water!" 

"Is it true?" Jungkook asked again. 

"You really couldn't have waited a minute longer. You did not need to rush over here without putting clothes on!" Jungkook's mother scolded him. "Are you hurt?"

"Aren't you happy, my dearest son? You got what you wanted," Jungkook's father said. 

The Prince stayed silent, trying to catch his breath. His father is right; he got what he wanted. Jungkook was free from you. 

"I did," Jungkook said. "You're right."

An unfamiliar feeling was growing in Jungkook's gut, twisting and turning all his insides. It had been the same feeling he had when greeting Prince Dasher with you. Jungkook didn't know whether he was hungry or if he sensed there was something wrong. But he knew mentioning his concern would ruin his freedom away from you. He should be happy, but oddly enough, he felt some disappointment.

"Drink this." The guards handed Jungkook a glass of water. 

In one gulp, he drank the water and finished it quickly. Still struggling to take air in, Jungkook took some deep breaths in and out from the cup as if it were a paper bag, trying to regulate his breathing back to normal. Jungkook noticed his hands violently shake as he held the glass. "Thank you."

After a moment of silence, the King continued. "They requested the wedding to be hosted in Cometes—" 

"Cometes?!" Jungkook interrupted the King mid-sentence, something he had never done before. Though Jungkook may be defiant and go against his father's wishes, he was taught from an early age not to interrupt his father, as listening was a sign of respect. "Are you allowing the wedding to be there?"

The King stood up and walked in the direction of where Jungkook and his mother were. His father raised his eyebrows at Jungkook and then at the Queen. They had stared at each other for a quick moment, exchanging no words. But one look can truly say a thousand words; Jungkook could read his parents' confusion by his sudden reaction and interest in your politics. "Is there a problem with that?"

“No, Sir,” Jungkook said. He stood straight up, his whole body going rigid. "There is no problem." 

"Well, the newly-crowned Prince requested the wedding be there, but that would be a stupid idea. We've protected this girl for almost all her life. Before you came rushing in, Y/N and I came to an agreement. The last condition I asked for is to have her royal wedding here in three days' time, where she will be safe and comfortable," the King explained. 

"In the end, Aurum will still benefit with all these royal and noble guests coming in," the Queen added. "Perhaps we can find a new engagement and alliance for our country during this wedding." 

"I don't care about that," Jungkook snapped. "What about her borders? Her troops? Are they going to help her?"

"With the announcement of the wedding and their alliance to Cometes, Luxuria has kindly pulled their troops away from the Caelestia border…for now." 

"That quickly?" Jungkook asked, trying to understand how it was possible. "Isn't that suspicious?"

"Let it be their problem whether they rule," the King dismissed, waving his hand away in the air. "Either way, the girl is safe." 

Jungkook said slowly, "Therefore, Queen Y/N will have protection and will not be harmed if she were to travel back to her royal court or Cometes." 

"Yes, that is correct," both his parents answered. 

"She will not be harmed," Jungkook repeated, enunciating each syllable. "She will be safe."

Annoyed, his father sighed as he returned to his desk and sat down, resuming the work. "Yes, Jungkook, she will be safe." 

Her country and her people will be safe too, Jungkook thought to himself. And that's what mattered. 

But when midnight came, Jungkook couldn't sleep. 

Jungkook was twisting and turning in his royal blue bed sheets, replaying his last moments with you in his head. He's never had a problem with sleeping until now. When he was younger, he would always be the first one to be heard snoring during nap time while the rest of the kids barely closed their eyes. 

All his thoughts kept back to you. He just kept seeing the look of pain on your face from the night before. It somehow became a memory he could not erase from his mind; he couldn't even hit pause either, hoping this feeling would be forgotten after a deep slumber. 

"Why did you summon me at like 2 in the morning?" His best friend, Amicus, asked as he entered Jungkook's room to find him on the couch, angrily staring at the brick wall in front of him. Amicus sat on the couch adjacent to Jungkook's with a look of worry mixed with confusion. "You good?"  

"I fucking hate Y/N," Jungkook spatted. "I hope her bed ends up in the river tomorrow morning."

"Nothing new." His best friend was unphased. "Is that it? This is what is keeping you up at night? You demanded your guards to drag me here so that you can talk about hating Y/N?" 

"But this time, it is different!" Jungkook insisted, finally facing Amicus. Amicus's curly blond hair was out of place, parts sticking out as if he had bathed and forgotten to dry his hair before sleeping. Jungkook figured that Amicus must have rushed out of his room as there was a small drool stain on the left corner of his mouth and some on his red nightwear. 

"Ever since she came to Aurum Court, I have never once felt bad or thought twice about what I do and say to her. But some things happened, and I feel wrong if I were to sleep." 

"She's probably not even thinking about it," Amicus tried to reassure the crowned Prince. "Besides, I bet whatever happened is just the normal banter between you. It is just how you guys are. I think she knows the both of you are assholes." 

"Okay, I like to think I'm not a total asshole." Amicus raised his eyebrows at Jungkook, looking at him with a look of disbelief on his face. "Are you fucking serious?"

"You're my best friend and everything," Amicus paused, trying to choose the right words carefully. "But personally, if someone tried to ship me back to my country in a crate with no breathing holes, I would probably say they are an asshole for the rest of my life." 

"We were eight!" Jungkook tried defending himself. "Why must everyone still make such a great deal about it?

"How many years has it been? I believe she's still waiting for an apology."

"Well, she'll wait a while for that one, as what I did the night prior is worse than what I've done before."

"Jungkook, get to the point." Despite being a calm person, Amicus lost his patience with his best friend. Usually, Amicus was by Jungkook's side, listening to the same old drama without a single complaint. Still, with Prince Dasher at Aurum Court, he had spent the whole day with Dasher's noblemen and knights, entertaining the other royal guests. Unlike the Prince, Amicus was not born to talk to others and be the center of attention. From a young age, Amicus was brought up to the castle and grew up by Jungkook's side, and he liked it that way. He swore to himself that he would love to listen to all his best friend's curses for the rest of his life as long as this night could end.

"I might have been nice to her," Jungkook mumbled incoherently, not wanting to admit what happened entirely.

Anicus raised his eyebrows. "You what? I don't know what you said." 

Jungkook released a forced chuckle, nervously scratching the back of his neck. He then looked at the ground, breaking eye contact with Amicus. "We both accidentally became…friends? And while we were in our new level…of a relationship, I might have accidentally said I will never want her and that she should leave this country." 

Even without looking, Jungkook knew Amicus had a dirty look. "How do you accidentally do that? What the hell does that even mean?! How is that even possible? Did you just stop hating her randomly for fun?" 

"Of course not!" The Crowned Prince explained all the events and all his feelings to Amicus, finally processing everything said and done between the two of you. 

Although there was no verbal confirmation of a truce, Jungkook felt like he had stabbed you in the back with his words. The two of you might have cut each other in the past, but it was never a wound that could be this deep. He was afraid of the wound, and it ached him as if he were the one stabbed. 

"Why do you hate her if you were the one to say those things?" Amicus asked, surprised by all the information. "Why did you even say that to her?"

"I don't know." Jungkook buried his face in the palm of his hand, elbow leaning on the armchair. "I mean, I guess we both want out of this arranged marriage. This was an easy out that she wasn't taking, and maybe I just thought hurting her would get that help. She shouldn't have to wait and hope for Aurum to help her when we don't give her anything. I helped her, but she hates me, and I hate her for it." 

"I'm sure she knows you did this for both of you guys."

Jungkook ignored his comment, not finding any comfort in it. "What am I supposed to do?" 

Amicus was silent for a while before speaking. "So what? Why are you overthinking this? She probably didn't take it personally, and it'll all return to normal in the meantime." 

Jungkook sighed in defeat. "I suppose you're right." 

Little did Jungkook know, you took it by heart.

Although your schedules lined up with each other, you have tried to avoid him at all costs by changing your schedule and having your ladies-in-waiting accompany you to every single event, never leaving your side. Since your conversation with Jungkook, you didn't want to be alone with him, wanting your friends to protect you away from him. With them there, you knew Jungkook would not try to approach you. 

"Are you seriously considering this offer?"  Lady Adoree asked. "We can figure out a way. You don't have to do it."

Before you could answer, your other two ladies-in-waiting, Lady Dal and Lady Haenim, arrived at the round lunch table, sitting next to you and Lady Adoree. 

"Do what?" Lady Dal and Haenim asked at the same time. 

Despite being identical twins, they couldn't be more different. 

Lady Dal was free-spirited and confident, often complimented for her charming aura. Often, she would ignore her duties at royal court and sneak off to buy the most expensive and luxurious gowns, specifically white and pink ones; however, she would only wear these dresses once, not wanting to repeat the outfit twice. Dal was impulsive and unpredictable, not caring about authority or the consequences of her actions. Though her actions may come off as vain, undaunting, and irresponsible, you knew Lady Dal would protect you and her loved ones with her life. 

Unlike her twin, Lady Haenim always hid in the shadows and stuck her nose in a book, often enjoying religious texts. Lady Haenim was always praying, thanking the divine spirit for allowing her to be born into a noble family and that her status was able to offer her an education. Although she was more reserved than your other ladies-in-waiting, she always spoke out for her beliefs and moral convictions. 

Their parents were blessed with daughters and were proud to have an accomplished, humble daughter like Haemin and a beautiful, charismatic daughter like Dal.

"My options are limited, Adoree." You sighed.  "We all know I have to accept his proposal for Caelestia." 

"What about Prince Jungkook?" Haemin asked.

"What about him?" You gave a warning glare to your ladies as you knew Jungkook was at a table behind you, possibly trying to listen to the conversation in front of him. The twins gave you a confused look while Adoree looked down at her plate, trying to act normal. 

"Lower your voice," you warned in a low voice. "There are people nearby who can be listening." 

Haemin looked at her sister and mouthed Jungkook's name. Dal took a quick look at his table, made awkward eye contact with Amicus, and tilted her head slightly down to apologize. "But have you really not talked to him since? Would you not care for the reason for his behavior?" Haemin asked. 

"Even if she is curious, this is Jungkook we are talking about," Dal said with a bitter tone. "He may see no wrong in his actions." 

"Perhaps he does not, but there is a possibility he does see some wrong if he treated Y/N with kindness earlier that day." 

"Please, that boy has been a menace his whole life. He probably was acting nice because of forced proximity. Once he found an out, he then reverted back to his old ways. A tiger doesn't change its stripes." 

Haemin rolled her eyes at her sister. She picked up the little fork and placed it into the salad bowl. "But would you really marry a total stranger than someone you know?" 

"It isn't what I desire, but what choice do I have?" You exclaimed. "I have already arranged to move to Cometes in the next two days." 

"Then we must be ready as well," Adoree decreed.

"I cannot ask you guys to come with me when you've been here most of your life. You will not accompany me and will be free of your servitude."

"It's an honor to be in your servitude. We want to be there for you, our best friend," Haemin insisted. 

"Besides, we cannot pass up an opportunity to travel and find new interesting suitors," Dal giggled. 

"Have you no more guests to entertain? Did you finally go through all the gentlemen of Aurum?" Jungkook asked as he was now beside your table with Amicus.

"Seems like you are out of company as well if you're over here," Adoree sneered. "Disappointing that you would consider us your last option." 

"My apologies, but I ask for you to listen to me very carefully. If men in this palace had to be with ladies like you in order to stop you from becoming a pumpkin at midnight, we'd rather be alone."  

Before Adoree could respond, you cleared your throat and gave her a death glare, signaling her to back down. At first, a scowl was on her face, but when Jungkook and Amicus took their leave, Adoree clenched her fist on the table. "How can anyone stand him?"

"Why would he come here and say nonsense like that?"  Dal asked. 

Jungkook and Amicus exited the lunch banquet room at a steady pace, walking through the castle's hallways. They usually never exited through the north side, as they hated the dark, narrow hallway, but it was a shortcut to Jungkook's chambers.

"Why did you need to talk to her again?" Amicus asked as they walked.

Jungkook shrugged. "In a few day's time, she will be out of our lives forever. I suppose giving an apology wouldn't hurt." 

"Better late than ever." 

"What did he say, Edward?"

Jungkook immediately halted as he heard Prince Dasher's voice. Before Amicus could ask what the hell he was doing, Jungkook took some steps to his right, standing close enough to listen to the conversation behind closed doors. He beckoned Amicus to come by his side to do the same.

"The King of Cometes wouldn't take no for an answer." 

"This is where the Cometes people are," Amicus mouths, "Edward is his page." 

"Are you an imbecile?!" Prince Dasher raised his voice. "Do I perhaps need to slap more sense into you?"

"My Prince, I've tried," Edward pleaded. "Your father is very reluctant to have the wedding in Caelestia due to our alliance with Luxuria. They would see it as a threat rather than a peaceful alliance." 

"That's the whole plot." At this point, Dasher was screaming at Edward. Jungkook thought Dasher must have taken a breath to calm down as he returned to his normal voice volume. "I asked the Queen to frighten them and take their troops back once I was able to secure an engagement to Y/N. Then, once we are wed, she will be assassinated by our Luxuria allies, and we will rule Caelestia with Luxuria."

"You're talking about murder, Sir," Edward cautioned, reminding him of the severity of his future actions. "Of a monarch!" 

Amicus looked at Jungkook; eyes widened at the information they had just heard. "They're going to kill her?"

"How many slaps does it take for you to learn?"

When Jungkook heard Prince Dasher threaten to slap some sense into his squire, he didn't literally think Prince Dasher would PHYSICALLY slap him; Dasher had to. It sounded like a whip, but Jungkook was still listening through closed doors and didn't know what was happening. 

When he was engaged to Princess Comet of Cometes, she talked about how her half-brother Dasher was manipulative and had anger issues. But this whole time in Aurum, Jungkook hadn't seen or heard of it until this moment and thought maybe she was exaggerating. Dasher had been calm and diplomatic, almost as if he were a prince his whole life. But Jungkook realized Dasher had to have a facade in order to get what he wanted. "So this is his true colors." 

"Persuade my father to change his mind, but do not tell him about the marriage statement or the hidden clause. I will make Cometes and Caelestia rightfully mine." 

Amicus quickly glanced over to Jungkook and read him like an open book, knowing his next move just by the expression on his face. He put his hand on the Prince's shoulder to keep him still. "Don't." 

"Let me go," Jungkook angrily gritted through his teeth, trying to escape Amicus's firm grip. "To Hell if they think they could get away with assassination." 

"Jungkook, stop before you do something you regret," his best friend urged. "Going in there is just going to make things worse."

"I cannot be responsible for her death!"

Amicus pulled Jungkook away from Dasher's room, taking him into the stairwell. He let go and looked around to see if anyone else was there with them. "Didn't you want her dead last night?"

"She's still an ally to Aurum," Jungkook exclaimed. "I just didn't want to marry her, not want her buried six feet underground!"  

"What are you going to do, Kook? Will you march in there and ask them politely not to do it? And you think they will just change their mind and listen to you?" 

Jungkook groaned as he considered his two options. If he did nothing, he could marry literally anyone else, someone who didn't make his blood boil. He could find love with someone else, but he wasn't sure if he could live in peace, knowing the feeling of guilt would be with him for the rest of his life. However, a whole world war between the countries was likely to occur. To prevent that, he would have to be married to the person he didn't want: you. 

"You know what you need to do." 

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not like I have a choice, really." 

"There's always a choice." 

"Whatever decision I make won't make me happy." The two started walking down the stairs, approaching the outside stables. "I'm just doing what is best for Aurum." 

"Right," Amicus said sarcastically. "For Aurum."

__________

"Please be in a good mood," Jungkook whispered to himself as he entered the stables, crossing two fingers behind his back. 

Around this time every day, Jungkook's father would be found in the stables, either brushing one of his favorite horses's hair after a successful hunting session or he would be complaining to the guards, threatening to cook up their horse if the next day they couldn't find any food. The last few days, the King had been doing the latter. 

Jungkook sighed in relief once he saw the King smiling beside the white horse. "Did you catch anything today?"

"Plenty of food to last us for the next month." 

"It's been a while since you've allowed me to hunt with you," Jungkook pointed out.  "Perhaps you can take me again one day, but with Queen Y/N."

The King's smile quickly disappeared. "Excuse me?"

"We need to reinstate the alliance with Caelestia." 

"What's the sudden change of heart?" 

"This Caelestia alliance is not worth losing." 

"My boy, you do realize this alliance did not end; it changed. You shall already know that alliances shift easily. Now, this is the end of the discussion." 

As the King started to walk away, Jungkook clenched his fists and bit his lower lip, trying to hold any curses in. 

"Cometes has plotted the assassination of Queen Y/N. Their new Prince has decided to turn their back on all of us. They plan to rule Caelestia with Luxuria, and Aurum can and will easily be the next target." 

Upon hearing the information coming from his next successor, the King stopped in his tracks, still his back facing towards his son. "Did you find the proof?"

"I schemed a plan to find the marriage contact to find the hidden clause. It won't be that hard to find the assassins as well." 

"You have no evidence?" His father scoffed. "We cannot do anything."

"I know about the firstborn," Jungkook blurted. "I know that the Queen doesn't know what really happened."

Even without looking directly at his face, Jungkook knew terror was written over his father's face, especially since the King stiffened at the word "firstborn." 

"Are you threatening your own father?" The King questioned. "Do you really want to risk casualties over a stupid, pretty queen and a country you've never been to?"

"You and I know that keeping her alive is much better than fighting three countries and their armies," Jungkook said. "How will you handle a war and the wrath of the Queen of Aurum?" 

The King sighed. "Queen Y/N will get our support, and we will negotiate the alliance."

"And she will be included in this conversation," Jungkook added. 

"A lot of work for someone you claim to not care about," the King paused to look back at his son. "Do not forget you cannot lead with your heart. Or must you trust your heart, you will lose your country…But finally, my son is acting like a king." 

_________

The transition to Aurum was a lot harder than you'd thought it would be. During your first week at Aurum Court, you refused to leave your bedroom chambers, pulling the blankets over her head, acting as if the blanket could turn you invisible. Already at seven years old, you wanted to disappear away from your royal responsibilities, overwhelmed by all the events that happened earlier that week: Your Royal Taster died, you were practically exiled from your own country, and another country wanted you dead. The only person that was allowed in your room was the Queen. She never tried to talk to you, but whenever she came to bring food, she held your hand or rubbed your back when you cried, showing comfort through physical touch. 

By the second week, you were still glued to your bed. However, the Queen finally allowed servants and guards to enter the room to serve you. But when the servants came to bring changing clothes and some food, they noticed how oddly silent you were, as if nothing was wrong.  

But that week, in the middle of the night, in the period when they were changing the guards, you would sneak out into the courtyard garden by your room and sit by the pumpkin vines. You had promised yourself that you would stop crying in your room and cry secretly at a specific time and different place so no one could see you. 

A day before it had been exactly three weeks since you had moved to Aurum, and you did your usual routine. But as soon as you got up and turned around, a boy in silk pajamas stood before you, holding a stuffed bunny with a crown. 

There was no need for introductions. 

The boy knew he was staring at the Queen of Caelestia, and you knew you were staring back at the Prince of Aurum. 

And he had embarrassingly watched the whole thing.   

"Royals never cry," Jungkook said. "Let me walk you to your room." 

No other words were exchanged, and no other words were needed. 

Perhaps he was being an annoying seven-year-old,  scolding you that royals shouldn't be emotional. 

But you interpreted his words differently. 

His words reminded you about the fact that not everyone has the fortune of being born into royalty, but one must be prepared for difficult times. This reminder gave you comfort and inspired you since.

Earlier, when Dal didn't understand why Jungkook had come to your table, you said nothing because you knew exactly why Jungkook had said those things. It was a message to you and just you: Place. Pumpkins. Midnight. Alone. 

It was something only the two of you knew about. 

"Hello?" You called out, setting your lantern onto the ground as you sat on the stone bench, waiting for your rendezvous. "Are you there?" 

From the shadows, a tall figure wearing a black cloak stepped into the light. He held a lantern in his right hand while the handle of scrolls was in his left. Pulling down the hood, Jungkook revealed himself. "Hey." 

Jungkook sat down next to you and sat his lantern down on the ground as well. He handed the scrolls to you, but you arched your eyebrows at him instead, not taking them from his hand. "What is this?" 

"I have the original marriage contract, which was agreed upon and written before you. But this one is Dasher's copy, which differs from yours and the original." 

"Where did you get this?" 

"That's not important right now," Jungkook uttered. "He wants to sign and officiate his copy because a hidden clause allows him to rule Caelestia if you were to die without an heir." 

Quickly, you grabbed the papers from his hand, but you still needed to unroll them to read it. "How do you know?"

"His page willingly gave up these papers in exchange for his life. Though Prince Dasher must have realized what happened when the papers were missing, he has been on the run since. The guardsmen are finding him and the assassins as we speak. They couldn't have gotten far." 

Everything started to feel unreal at that moment. The person who hated you most was actively trying to save your life, and for that, you believed him. You didn't need to read the contracts, trusting every word Jungkook said. 

"If this is true, why not let me die? Why did you choose to do this? If this falls apart, the King will force our engagement once again."

"Okay, I'm not that shitty of a person." Jungkook groaned. "Why does everyone think that?"

"How do I know if this was the truth?" You asked once again, wanting to understand his reasoning and actions." Do you plan on embarrassing me by being engaged again and then breaking it yourself this time? Do you want me to lose my country and my people?" 

"Absolutely not!" Jungkook shouted. "That's why I'm telling you this." 

"But you hate me." 

"I do not hate you. I will admit there were times when I prayed to the Gods and asked them to take you out of my life, but I never asked them to take it from you. I couldn't live with myself if that were to happen, and you especially do not deserve that." 

Not knowing how to respond, the two of you sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the crickets and wind. While you stared at Jungkook, his eyes sparkled as he looked up at the full moon, appreciating how it illuminated the dark sky. He noticed that you were staring at him, but he held himself back, forcing himself to look elsewhere. 

"Is that all?" There was a little voice in your head, whispering to you that there's more to it, that maybe he cares. "Nothing else?"

"I don't hate you," Jungkook said once again. Sighing, he then picked up his lantern and headed back towards the palace. "Far from it." 

___

a/n: hello! this isn't my best work…i am so sorry, but i wanted to publish this before i start law school! --am also sorry for the jungkook point of view, but i think it's a good way to see his motivations and how he struggles to know what he wants. as always, thank you for reading. stay safe and healthy wherever you are. 

[conchcronch]

Primal Hunger

Astarion x You

You and your party are currently taking a rare moment of respite at the Last Light Inn. Everyone is fast asleep in preparation for what you can only assume is going to be a lengthy battle with whatever waits for you at Moonrise, everyone except a certain pale elf who has been acting even more prickly then normal. Of course you have to go find him, it’s really the only option.

NSFW Below the Cut

You rolled over, sitting up and glancing around the room we had all piled into the moment we had gotten to Last Light, wanting to take every chance we had to rest up before storming Moonlight tomorrow.

You mentally took a head count out of habit, Shadowheart, Karlach, Wyll, and Gale, who had fallen asleep with a tome on his face, but there was one missing. The one who had been acting more irritable and standoff-ish than usual. You pulled yourself out of the bed, a shiver running down your spine as your bare feet touched the cold wooden floors. You reach over and grabbed the blanket that was folded at the bottom of the bed, wrapping it around yourself. You open the door just enough to squeeze out and shut it behind you. The inn was as silent as it could get, the crackle of the fire in the makeshift kitchen was the only sound, you could hear gentle chanting from Isabel’s room as you tiptoe by.

The night air is frigid and stagnant, no breeze could be felt despite being surrounded by water. The torches and the radiant glow surrounded the whole area, making it easy enough to glance outside the inn to see the man is no where in sight. Begrudgingly, you step outside, still barefooted, the dirt under your feet feels oddly familiar after spending so many nights at camp. As you walk behind the inn towards the water and small dock you can hear a quiet curse as you round the corner.

There he is, almost completely obscured. If you hadn’t been looking for him you would have walked right by. It was hard to make him out as he crouched in the shadow of the balcony of the inn. “There you are,” You take a step towards him only to see his form step backwards.

“Go away.” His tone is curt and sharp, a broken breath that you can barely hear.

“You’ve been off all day, I’ve been worried,” Another step closer from you to which he steps back, like a dance of avoidance has been enacted between the two of you.

“I’ll be fine, I just…I just need you to leave.” You’ve never heard this tone from him, you’ve heard him be smug, rude, sincere (you think) and even mean, but this is different. There is a hint of desperation underlining each word.

“I’m not going to leave.” You say gently, reaching a hand out to him, almost as though you’re showing him you aren’t hiding a dagger behind your back.

“You need to go.” He steps back again, but as he does this he leaves the shadows that has been shrouding him. The moon seems brighter tonight, maybe Isabel is preying harder than normal or maybe it’s just how the light reflects off his near translucent skin. The lines in his face are deeper, his features more sunken in than they seemed even a few hours ago. His eyes appear more black than red and his lips are dry and so cracked they would have probably bled if he had any blood of his own.

“Gods,” You whisper before you can stop yourself. You can see him cringe at the word, he looks away and you swear you saw a slight quiver of his chin. You can tell he’s about to bolt so you clear the distance between the two of you before he has time to react, clearly his reflexes are dulled in his current state. You grab his wrist tightly. He tugs weakly once, twice, then gives in. “Tell me what’s wrong.” You cup his cheek and pull his face towards you, seeing his eyes up close, you know something is wrong.

“I haven’t eaten.”

“For how long?” He used his free hand to rub his face, sighing heavily.

“Not since we left the Underdark.”

“That was four days ago, Astarion!” You scold.

“Obviously that wasn’t my goal,” He replies, nose scrunching as he speaks.

“Why don’t we go and find you something to eat? I can hold the lantern so the shadows st-“

“Absolutely not, for so many reasons.” He tears his arm from your grasp, but doesn’t leave.

“Why not?”

“Hm, let me see, for starters, you will never see me hunt, ever.” He looks at you and you can tell he’s serious. “Second, I can’t eat anything from out there,” He dramatically points in the direction of the cursed lands.

“What about the Ox?” You ask, pointing to that creature that has been giving you looks since the Grove. You couldn’t put your finger on it but something seemed really off about it, and maybe having Astarion drain it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“I can last a few more days,” He says, clearly trying to convince himself as well as you.

“You don’t look like you can.” The hand that’s still on his cheek trails down to his shoulder, you want to move it lower, to feel his chest inhale and exhale the unnecessary breaths he takes.

“All we have to do is return those ridiculous orbs and find whatever this relic is, then we’ll be rid of this place. Then I can eat.” You know deep in your heart that there’s way more to tomorrow than finding the Nightsong and getting out of here. But you don’t want to debate that with him.

“I need you at your best tomorrow. We don’t know what’s down there and I can’t risk you acting impulsive.” You hold his face with both hands now, forcing him to look at you and only you.

“Rude.” Is all he can manage.

“Astarion, you need to eat.”

“Oh do I? See I thought if I just wait around eventually I’ll start to feel better.” You’re not in the mood for his tood, and he can tell that by your unimpressed expression. “I’m open to ideas, but all of your’s have been rather shit thus far.” You wrap your arms around his waist, ear against his chest where a heart beat once was, but hasn’t been for 2 centuries.

“My sweet, I can’t be this close to you right now…” His voice is clearly showing his restraint but you tighten your arms around his waist before he has a chance to pull away.

“Just ask.”

“No.” His voice was tight and he pulls his head away as though you smell foul.

“What if I offer?” You leaned forward, standing up on your toes so you can press your lips to his scar.

“I won’t be able to stop.” His voice shakes.

“You’ve stopped before.”

“Not when I’m this hungry.” You let go of him, opting to cup his cheeks in both hands, guiding him to look at you. His eyes are glassy and you can tell for the first time since you had met him that his mask was cracking and you were seeing the real Astarion.

“I know you,” Slowly your words began to sink in and you saw him begin to relax into your grasp. Moving carefully, as though he was trying to avoid spooking an animal, he leaned into you, resting his head on your shoulder and you nuzzling into the crook of his neck. You could feel him breathe in your scent, a broken whine barely slipping from his chapped lips. “I trust you, my love.”

“I’m just so hungry.” He all but sobbed into you as you rubbed his back in an attempt to sooth him.

“I know my sweet, I’m right here. Take what you need.” He whines again as his nose brushes against your neck.

”If I don’t stop y-“

“You will.” You cut him off.

”If I don’t,” He tears himself away from your neck looking at you with a clenched jaw. “You do whatever you have to to get me away from me.” You nod but know it’s not enough for him “I need to hear you agree.” His hands are on your waist, you can feel the pads of his fingers press into your shirt.

“I promise.” You barely get the words out before he’s at your neck. First is the feeling of his tongue, immediately finding your pulse point before the familiar sting of his fangs piercing the skin takes over.

You try to focus on anything other than the pain. A practice you had adopted early into the relationship. You hone in on the way his fingers grip at your sleep shirt, balling the fabric in his fists. The way he pulls you against him to a point where it almost hurts. He’s moaning into your neck as his tongue laps against your skin, trying to take all he can. He lets go of your shirt but only long enough to slip under your clothes, desperate for the warmth your body is offering him. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel your knees start to weaken, having no intention of stopping him if this is what he needs, you’re not going to stop him.

You’re barely aware of his fangs pulling from your neck or the long lick of his tongue cleaning your skin before he steps back. He’s panting, your blood smeared all over his lips. “Gods,” You know you’re paler than before, you can feel your head swim for a moment before he grabs you, guiding you to sit on the grass beneath your feet. “I think that was better than the first time.”

You reach out, dragging your thumb over his lips to collect as much of your blood from him as you can before bringing it to his lips. His tongue immediately darts out before he encircles your small wrist and guides your thumb into his mouth, lips wrapping around the digit and sucking hard. He can’t help the moan, his eyes fluttering closed to savor the way it felt to finally find sustenance. His eyes eventually open and his grip on your wrist loosens to allow your thumb to fall from his lips. He looks at you for the first time since you had sat down, he takes in your paler skin and the ways your eyelids seem heavier than they had in days. ”I didn’t even ask,” He brings a hand to you, pushing some of your hair behind your pointed ears. “Are you alright?” His voice was softer than it had been since you had left the Underdark and as you nod slowly. He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I feel alright, how do you feel?”

He moves from kneeling to sitting beside you, pushing his hand through his curled hair, “I haven’t felt this good in decades.” He laughs lightly, “And once again, I’m indebted to you for saving my life.” You sigh out a laugh before leaning your head on his shoulder.

”I’m just glad to see you’re back to your usual fickle but cocky self.” He laughs, the sound is music to your ears.

“Was I that bad?” You internally debate how honest you should be, one side of you wanting to be honest for the sake of your party but the other side wanting to cut him some slack since he wasn’t himself.

“You were-“ You chose your words carefully, taking time to select the most accurate descriptor you could, “more difficult than normal, especially to Gale.” He laughed, the tips of his fangs catching the moonlight in a spectacular way.

“Well, as long as it was only Gale.” A comfortable silence falls between you, he turns his head to press a kiss to your hair before shifting onto his hip so he’s facing you. With a single finger he pulls your chin up, his lips pressing to yours in what felt like the first time in forever. “My poor pup,” His lips move over yours, his breath smelling like nothing, a trait that had caught you off guard weeks ago but you now found oddly comforting. “I’ve been neglecting you” He gently tsks as he tilts your head to the side, exposing the fresh puncture marks he had left. “Would you allow me to make it up to you?” He breathes between kisses to your neck that are very slowly moving further down.

“A-all the rooms are full.” The sound of your own stutter surprises you, your body reacting much quicker then it had, even more so then the first time he had propositioned you after the goblin camp. His hand slipped under your camp shirt, your stomach tightening at his chilled touch as it slowly slid from your navel to just under your breast.

“We’ve done it outside before, what’s another time?” He notices the way your eyes scan the makeshift safe haven, the way you whip your head around at the sound of a guard doing a patrol along the balcony, knowing they would get quite a show. He pushes himself up, extending a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up before leading you underneath the balcony where you had first found him shrouded by shadow. “Is this more to your liking?” You nod, feeling better pressed against the cool wood of the tavern.

He kisses you again, this time slowly. His tongue sliding along the roof of your mouth before pulling back just long enough for you to whine until he leaned back in again. His hands both slipped under your shirt, no longer playing coy and running the pads of his thumbs over your pebbled nipples simultaneously, earning a heavy sigh into the kiss. “My sweet, I want to show you how grateful I am to you for taking such a risk just to feed a pitiful vampire.” You run a hand through his curled tresses, enjoying the way he leaned into your touch.

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re pretty handsome too.” You smile, he returns it.

“A pitiful, but handsome vampire then.” Without another word he drops to his knees. One hand opting to grab your hip, pushing you against the wall as though you were going to slip away if he let you go. The other he used to guide your leg over his shoulder then pushing your long skirt up your thigh until you took the signal and held it in place so he could use his now free hand to pull aside your panties. A heavy sigh leaving your lips as soon as you felt his breath on your neglected core. “It truly has been a long time, hasn’t it?” His hand touches you before his mouth, his fingers pulling you open before his nose nudges against your clit, his eyes watching you the same way you’re sure he watches his prey.

“It-it hasn’t been that long…” You lie, a whine coming from your throat as his tongue licked a long strip and you could feel him smile against you.

“I’ve left my sweet pet neglected, but I’ll be sure to make it up to you.” His breath is burning hot against you, and it takes everything you have not to grab his head and force his face into you. And as though he was using that pesky tadpole to read your thoughts, he wastes no more time and flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit as he slips a single finger into you. You can feel him hum as he pulls the finger from you, pulls his head back so he’s sure you can see how he licks the digit, sucking your slick clean off. “Every part of you tastes,” He pauses to exhale heavily, “exquisite” you couldn’t help but moan at his words, your head lolling back when he finally slipped the finger back inside of you.

As he adds a second finger inside of you, his lips encircling your clit and sucking not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to provide stimulation as his fingers stretched you open. Your fingers find their rightful place tangled in his curls, feeling how he hums into you when you tug gently. “Please, my sweet,” he moans against your core, his breath coming out in hot puffs against you. “I need you to cum on my tongue.” His tone has morphed into a whine, his lips releasing your clit in favor of licking long stripes from your hole, slipping past the muscle to momentarily join his fingers before moving up to your bundle of nerves for a second, repeating this over and over. He adds a third finger but you barely notice, your fingers locking his hair in a tight fist while your other hand is held over your mouth to keep from drawing any attention. Your hips begin to move with him, your mound chasing after his tongue if it leaves you for even a second. He can feel that you're close, your walls tremble with each thrust of your hips and your thighs are covered in your own juices. His lips return to your clit once more, his hand that wasn’t inside of you moving up to have a tight grip on your hip as he flicks his gaze up to you. He clocks the way your knees tremble when you stare down at him, meeting his gaze. He wishes you would remove your hand from your mouth so he could hear all your beautiful noises, all the breathy moans, all the shakey pleas. But those would have to wait until you had a proper room, or at the very least, his tent.

He pulls his lips away from your clit just long enough to speak, his fingers producing an absolutely filthy squelch every time they were thrusted inside fully, “My pet, I need you to cum for me,” You nod with eyebrows knit together, your hair falling in front of your face but you can’t tear your eyes away from his. “Can you do that for me?” You watch as he teasingly flicks the tip of his tongue against your nub before pressing his mouth against you again. You can feel him moan into you, feel the way he lets his fangs graze over your most sensitive tissue, but what truly sends you cascading over the edge was the way he had caught your ankle between his thighs and was at the point of rutting against you, his tented trousers feeling cool against your bare leg. The wave of orgasm washed over you like a welcomed tsunami, you were thankful for the hand you had over your mouth because there was no way in heavens or hells you were able to stop the way your mouth hung open, your moans turning into whimpers as your bucking against his face sputtered before slowing as you rode it out. His fingers remained inside of you, very slowly moving in and out of your soaked hole until your hips came to a complete stop.

When your eyes finally opened, you were greeted with the sight of Astarion who had shifted to sitting between your legs, his erection very apparent as he greedily licked and sucked as his fingers, his eyes trained on yours. “And here I thought your blood was the most delicious thing about you.” His voice was smug but the smile that spread across his glossy lips was sincere.

You couldn’t resist him much longer. Your apprehension of there being people around was forgotten the moment you saw the way he was sucking at his fingers, his fingers that mere seconds ago had been deep inside you, lolling you to your crashing orgasm. And now you wanted to return the favor, you wanted to be the reason people were closing their windows in the tavern, the reason your party were holding pillows over their heads in an attempt to block out the moans you unsuccessfully tried to muffle.

You were quick to drop to the ground, and even quicker to close the distance between him and you. Your hand was the first part of you to touch him, loving the way he let out a heavy sign before leaning forward in search of a kiss. His lips tasted like you, both your blood and your arousal, two tastes you had quickly become accustomed to when it came to having him as a partner. The way his fangs grazed over your lips as you kissed sent a tingle all the way down to your soaked core that was already ready to go again. You press a hand to his chest with just a little bit of force behind it, pushing him back to the ground. Before he can question you, likely to complain that you dared to end the kiss before he was ready, you reached between your legs to pull your panties off completely, balling them up and shoving them into one of his pant pockets. His furrowed brow immediately relaxed when you straddled his hips, knowing you instantly made the front of his trousers wet but not caring in the slightest. You ground against his covered crotch a few times, watching as his brows knitted together again, his eyes squeezing shut as a growl came from deep in the back of his throat. He didn’t have to say anything, you knew he was frustratingly swollen, and truthfully as much as you love teasing him whenever given the chance, but it had been much too long and you found yourself nothing short of feral.

You made quick work of the laces holding his pants closed, wrenching them open the moment they were loose enough. You pushed his blue underwear down and couldn’t help the moan when you finally held his member in your hand. His hips subconsciously bucked urging you to run your thumb over the bead of precum at the tip, smearing it over his head. You loved the moments where he became putty in your hand. The times when he would be whiny, begging you to do anything to him, rutting against you while nearly sobbing into your mouth as though he had never been touched before. You sat yourself on the tops of his thighs, your hand slowly working his girthy cock, leaning down to press your lips to his neck. The smell of bergamot and rosemary filled your nostrils, a whine could be heard at the back of his throat when you sucked at the scars on his neck. You could see the tips of his fangs as he chewed at his bottom lip trying to keep himself quiet as you worked your hand up and down his shaft, working your wrist in a circular rhythm. “You’re so needy” you breathe against his neck, his hips canting at your words.

“You’re one to talk.” A sentence that would normally be dripping in snark is instead said like a plea.

“Is that anyway to speak to your savior?” You couldn’t hold back the smile that danced across your lips at the thought of you being his savior. The ache between your legs was becoming more than you wished to bear. You let go of his member, a soft ah fell from his open lips as you brought yourself up on your knees just enough to be able to guide him to your entrance. You rubbed his head along your lips a few times, using your hand to hold up the front of your skirt so he can see the way his cock nudged against your clit before you push it back towards your dripping hole. Before you can push him inside, his cool hands run up your thighs until they can grab your hips applying just enough downward force to get the message across. You lower yourself down, feeling every inch of him slide into you, the slight burn of his girth stretching you out more than his fingers could have. Your skirt falls from your hand as you brace yourself on his still cloth covered chest, your fingers clawing at the fabric.

“Gods” He breathes as he bottoms out, a hand pulling out from under your skirt to pull at the lances holding your shirt closed, his pace getting more and more desperate the longer it takes before he just starts pulling at them until it’s loose enough he can wrench the fabric below your breasts. You begin riding him, pulling off him slowly before inching back, loving the way you stretched wider then any partner has before. With his free hand he grabs the fabric that’s bunched under your chest, yanking you down to him, catching you completely off guard, almost causing you to lose your balance before he catches you with his lips to yours. His hand that had been on your chest somehow snaked to your hip, balling your skirt in his fist and trying to set the pace of your bounces. ”Go faster, gods dammit”

“A-Astarion” You moaned into him, trying to pull back from him to speak again but his lips chanced your’s anytime you tried to flee. You began moving your hips in a circle, wanting to lean back so you could force his cock to hit against your spongy g spot but his grip on your shirt held you firmly in place. When you manage to open your eyes you’re greeted with his crimson gaze, his lips parted enough that you can see his tongue sliding between his parted teeth watching your every move. You can’t help but wantonly moaning at the attention, his girth filling you in a way nothing else did. Your eyes flutter closed once more, the sound of your slick against his leather pants seems deafening, only being dwarfed by any moan that slips past your lips.

“You’re doing so good for me.” His voice sounds as though it’s dripping in honey, the tone alone making you whine. He thrusted his hips up, his tip hitting you as deep as it could. “I wish I could have you splayed out to toy with all night.” You drop your head, your long hair falling in front of your face as though it were a makeshift veil that he has to slip the hand through just to pull your face up to look at him again. “Don’t you dare hide from me, little minx.” His tone is almost mocking, but it only serves to make you even wetter, something you were confident wasn’t even possible. ”I have a task for you.” His thumb glides from your chin to your lips, his thumb guiding your mouth open enough that he could slip it through your teeth, toying with your tongue. He allows you to nod, almost helping you move your head up and down. “I want you to cum on my cock,” His eyes follow the way you sway, the burning iron in your gut searing white hot and your thighs beginning to feel like the jelly Gale spreads on his toast every morning with his cup of tea. “Can you do that for me?” His thumb slips from your mouth, opting to caress your neck with feather light touches, lingering over your fresh puncture marks. You nod but he smiles, shaking his head “No no my pet, I need to hear you say it.” You can tell he’s enjoying this game, a game you didn’t agree to play but were happily participating in all the same.

“Yes.” Your voice is raw like metal over a grinding wheel, clearly you had been moaning louder then you realized.

“What a good girl.” His light touches turned to a grasp, his fingers wrapping around your neck not with the intention of restricting air flow, but as a means of control. He pushed you back, your back arching beautifully, your chest for all to see if someone happened to be around. You’re quick to catch yourself, your hands on his thighs as you begin to chase the feeling you’ve been dancing around since you got on top of him. With his free hand he grabs the fabric of your skirt, pinning it to your side where he holds you so he’s able to watch you take him with ease. He watches every time his pale cock slides out from your soaked hole, his shaft glistening in your slick. He wants to speak, wants to tell you how good you look taking him with such ease, how he’s trained you so well, but instead he turns his focus to chasing his own climax, hips thrusting up as much as the position would allow. His grip on your neck slips, opting to toy with your pebbled nipple, your mouth falling open as a whine comes out, his eyes switching from your cunt to your cock drunk expression. Your mouth is hanging open and your eyes closed, focused on throwing yourself over the edge.

Orgasm crashes into like force damage, knocking the wind from your lungs. His grip is back on your neck as you lose any real control over your body, riding him through your climax. You barely register how he pulls you down, his head resting on his shoulder, your lips grazing his neck as you feel him begin to thrust into you at an erratic pace. “I’m going to-“ He grunts his arms wrapping around your body, holding you tight against him as he rushes towards his peak “I’m going to make you mine” He growls in your ear before sinking his teeth into you again, barely a breath before you feel his warmth flood you. His hips sputtering, fucking his seed into you as his nails bit into the clothes you’re somehow still clad in. He pulls his fangs from your neck, his tongue greedily lapping at the blood that flows from the wounds. His thrusts become weaker until they finally slow to a stop, he’s holding onto you but you’re no longer in a vice grip. With one final suck on your neck he pulls away, his body going limp, finally satiated. You follow him, laying down on his chest, his softening cock slipped from you and the feeling of his seed cooling between your thighs would normally force you to your feet with the intention of cleaning up but not tonight. Tonight you laid on top of him trying to catch your breath that had long since raced away from you. His arms encircling your waist as though you were going to get up and leave at any second. Astarion found great comfort in your breathing, feeling your heartbeat against his long stilled chest felt strangely calming, as though you shared that steady rhythmic beat.

[harveysweakness]

Hii ! I’ve been absolutely loving your fics and I’m so glad there’s another writer writing Harvey x Reader !!

I was wondering if you could write a fic that involved the reader being a lawyer in another firm dealing with a tough case that’s been on their mind 24/7, then during the night one day, Harvey wakes up in the middle of the night and the reader isn’t in bed but is in the kitchen or something because they can’t sleep. Maybe Harvey consoles the reader and tries to convince them to go back to bed or pulls a “if you’re staying up, i am too.” even though he’s sleepy.

Just a overall idea/prompt :) do what you’d like! have fun with it, cause i love your writing 🙌🏼

A/N: I went so so soft writing this and Harvey did too aoifjaeofijaofeij

"Good morning," you greeted, picking up the call from Harvey.

"Will you come over tonight?" Harvey asked. Your heart broke a bit, knowing you'd told him no the past three nights. Work had been stressing you out and you hadn't really even been sleeping except for a couple hours each night. Last night you hadn't even gone home from the office. Maybe you did need a break, and you certainly wanted to see the handsome man you'd been dating for the past month.

"Yes."

"Good."

You couldn't help but smile and give a little laugh. "I'll see you tonight, Harvey."

"Have a good day, Y/N."

-------

You sighed, staring up at Harvey's bedroom ceiling, unable to sleep. You had had a wonderful evening with the man lying asleep next to you, but your thoughts were still swirling.

You weren't quite sure how you were going to win this one. A certain confidentiality agreement your client had stupidly decided to sign was proving to be the biggest annoyance and a roadblock to your obvious win.

Sighing once more, you carefully slid out from under the covers and padded barefoot to the kitchen where your work bag sat. Pulling your laptop out, you tucked your feet up under you on the couch and went to work.

"Sweetheart?"

A smile fell on your lips hearing Harvey's voice, full of sleep, slightly husky. You looked up at him, setting your laptop to the side.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't sleep."

"How are you going to win a case if you've run yourself ragged?"

"Okay, you have a point," you sighed, eyeing your laptop before shutting it.

"That's what I like to see."

You almost stood and let him lead you back to bed, but your anxiety hit.

"I can't," you murmured, an apologetic expression forming.

"What- you just told me," he tried to fight.

"I'm sorry, I have to work."

"So I can't get you back to bed?" he huffed. You stood, making your way over to him, goosebumps erupting at the feeling of his hand lightly running up and down your arm.

"You can get me back to bed once I finish this case," you whispered before wrapping your arms around him and giving him a light kiss. He took a deep breath in and out before giving you a pointed look.

"Then I'm staying up with you."

"No, you most certainly are not," you retorted, removing yourself from his embrace and crossing your arms.

"Can't stop me," he said, moving to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, yawning.

"You're ti-" you stopped, knowing he would just same the same back to you.

"That's what I thought," he smirked, plopping down on the couch. You sat down next to him, pulling your laptop onto your lap.

"Will it bother you if I put on TV?"

You shook your head, appreciating the ask and the way his hand briefly squeezed your knee.

For the next hour, the two of you continued to fight sleep, you having to shake your head a few times in an attempt to refocus your eyes, and Harvey's eyes drooping several times, head falling slightly before picking himself back up. You were beginning to feel beyond guilty about causing him to lose sleep, but a weight against your shoulder had you smiling.

You looked down to see Harvey fast asleep, eyes closed, soft snores starting to come from him. Though it might have made you more tired, you felt more awake, trying not to wake him.

And when he shook you awake an hour later, dragging you both back to bed, you knew he was the perfect man for you.

[rowaelinsdaughter]

can i pla request rowaelin x reader where reader doesn’t know they’re mates and feel guilty for being attracted to both of them meanwhile rowaelin are internally begging for her to notice the bond

GUILTY

a/n;;; i got a little carried away but i loved writing this :")

WARNINGS;; guilty feelings, long chapter

she shouldn’t be feeling this. she should have done something earlier. but there was no coming back… she was in love with the queen and king of terrasen, and she felt guilty.

everything started with aelin. she entered one day to her bookstore looking for some books for her to read and to send some of them to her friend, dorian havilliard, the king of adarlan. she was going to bow when aelin told her not to, she had enough of it in the castle, she said. 

she asked her what books she was looking for. romance with some spice scenes she said. and while she entered the storehouse, aelin was cleaning the sweat in her hands. she gave her the books and told her to come back if she wanted anything more. of course. 

and she came back twice a week, sometimes she ordered some books, sometimes she didn’t buy anything… but she had the feeling that the queen of terrasen was in her bookstore for another reason. and one day she came with the king of terrasen. he was beautiful, they both were. you had been feeling something for aelin. her attention towards her, how she would always come to her bookstore when she knew for sure there were better bookstores in orynth. 

6 months passed, and she loved them. both of them. in the past few months, they had taken her out on dates, she had read with aelin in her castle room, rowan had helped her with the store… they had done things they shouldn’t have done, but they did, and now she was in love with the queen and king.

she was reading with aelin in her room, like so many days. they had decided to read the same book together and then comment on it. as they finished the last page, aelin said. “i don’t have words to describe it”

“me neither” she looked to aelin and found her eyes on her mouth. she pressed them together but aelin was still looking at them, she was going to say something when aelin kissed her. her tongue entered her mouth, she tasted like lemon verbena and kissing her was like being in heaven. but she was married to rowan, she was a married female, she had a mate. she pulled apart.

they were breathing fast, but she managed to speak “i can’t, i can’t” and she left, running to her home, leaving aelin in the room with tears rolling down her face. 

a month passed and she didn’t hear of them or saw them, as if they had already forgotten about her. but it was easier this way. it’s better this way.

it’s better this way. 

it’s better this way. 

it’s better this way. 

but she wasn’t better.

she missed them.

she missed spending the afternoon reading with aelin.

she missed going to walk with rowan.

she missed laughing with aelin and how rowan’s eyes would light up. 

she missed them like she hasn’t missed anyone. 

she had felt it the day aelin kissed her, had felt it when rowan would take her hand, a tug in her heart and a voice in her head. go. it would say. go, where?. go, just go. and it was her mother’s voice, who had told her to go every time she was with them. and know she knew what she meant. go with them. go where you feel safe. go where you are loved. go with your mates. 

mates.

she was their mate. 

and she felt guilty for it. for loving them, for being their mate. and she cried. cried for a love that was impossible. 

she had fallen asleep, her eyes red, and her mouth dry. but an incessant knocking on her door, had awakened her. she looked at the wall-clock. 2 am. barefoot, she made her way to the front door, and when she opened it… aelin was there. 

her blue and golden eyes were red from crying, bags under them, and her usually shiny hair was dull, without life. she knew rowan was near, keeping an eye on the street. 

“i need to talk to you” aelin whispered.

should she let her enter? do it. 

so she did. 

she led aelin to the couch, as she sat down, she watched as aelin started to pace. “i know that you may not want to see me or rowan, and i know i should have come the day you left, but… i didn’t know what to say or how to explain what we have, that you are our mate, and” a breathy laugh “gods, this month apart have been like being in hell, because that is what our lives feel without you. hell. we’ve been trying to tell you for months, but we were scared you would run away the moment you knew it.” she walked to her and she watched as aelin kneeled before her, taking her hands. and the tears she thought were dry, started to flow again like a waterfall. 

“but i want you to know that i love you. rowan loves you. we love you. because you are the light in our nights. you are the piece we were missing. so please, let us be yours.”

she kneeled before aelin. moving her hands away from her, she took her face with her hands, cleaning the tears with her thumbs. “i love you aelin, and i love rowan. i love both of you” aelin pressed her forehead with her’s, and a cold wind opened the window, and they watch as a hawk entered the room, and then turned into rowan. he walked to them and kneeling, he embraced both of them. he had heard everything. 

she felt the bond sing with happiness as she melted into her mates.

well done, darling… i love you. i will always love you.

EPILOGUE

she heard a little voice talk to her. but she was dreaming and that voice… she knew that voice. 

“hi there baby” 

evalyn. 

she wasn’t dreaming then. 

she blinked a few times, getting used to the sunlight that entered the bedroom. she watched down and she saw her. her silver hair was knotted, but her green eyes were bright as she talked to her belly. 

“good morning darling” she said to the little girl.

“good morning mommy” she called her mommy, while she called aelin mama. she looked again at her belly. “you think she can hear me?”

she let a low laugh. “of course she can” she said, stroking her hair. evalin climbed higher until her head was resting on her breast, and she hugged the little girl. 

aelin and rowan watched her two girls. 

we did it rowan. 

we did it, fireheart.

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

tagging;; @throneofsapphics @danikamariewrites @hellwantfuckme @shadowdaddies

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (10)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, first date, fluff, rusty flirting skills

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (9)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Bucky is a gentleman. He’s just perfect, and you are swooning.

Gentleman he is, Bucky held the door for you, pulled your chair, and let you choose your food first.

He barely ate his food, busy watching you feast on your dinner. “Do you like your job?” Bucky asks as you take a large sip of your water.

“It’s…” you try not to make a face. “Well, it’s a job, you know. I make money and can pay for rent, food, and knick-knacks. Oh, and plants. I like plants.” You giggle. “Sorry if I talk too much.”

“Plants,” he hums. “What plants do you like.” Bucky already knows that you love orchids, but you’ve got other plants too and he wants to buy you all the plants and flowers you love.

“I like orchids, but all plants are pretty,” you smile dreamily. “I live in the city, without trees, and green grass. I try to have as many plants as possible because I want  my apartment to become a green oasis.”

“Why don’t you live outside of town if you don’t like it here?” He softly asks, making your heart flutter.

“I wish I had the money to buy a farmhouse. I’d have flower fields and harvest tomatoes and lots of strawberries. I’d run barefoot to feel the grass under my feet,” you giggle. “It’s a stupid dream, I know.”

You drop your gaze and shake your head. Hopefully, you didn’t scare Bucky off with your stupid daydreams.

“A farmhouse,” he hums and licks his lips. Bucky can’t believe you want to move out of town, just like he planned. “That’s a nice dream, doll. I always wanted a peaceful life, away from the city too.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks hearing the sweet pet's name roll off his tongue. Bucky smiles softly, making your heart flutter even harder.

“Do you like your job?” It’s your turn to ask questions. You’ve never been good at conversing with men and only hope you won’t ruin your chance with Bucky. “I mean…” You stumble over your words. “Did you ever dream of just dropping everything and running?”

His eyes darken for a second. It happened so fast you’re not sure you saw it right.

“We all do, don’t we,” he casually says, but his voice is a little deeper and rougher. A shudder runs through your body, and you press your legs together. “We dream of a better life and a nicer place to live.”

You touch your cheeks because they feel too hot. Bucky understands you so well. No man before him understood you, and your silly dreams.

“Do you want chickens too? Oh, maybe a dog,” you shake your head. “No, you’ve already got Alpine.”

“I like dogs too, but Alpine is…” He smiles fondly while thinking of his cat. “I couldn’t bring another pet into our family yet.”

You smile because Alpine means family to Bucky. “Aw, that’s so nice of you,” you swoon a little too hard. “Alpine must mean a lot to you.”

“Yeah. Even when I was at my lowest, Alpine was there to keep me going,” he murmurs. “Sorry, I didn’t want to ruin our date.”

“No, no!” You hastily say and grab his hand to squeeze it. “I know what you mean, Bucky. Sometimes we need someone or something to distract us from the things going on in our life.”

“You too?” He shifts in his seat. Your hand is still holding his, and it makes his heart flutter.

“I got an annoying colleague, my boss wasn’t always nice, and I got bad luck when it comes to love,” you feel safe around Bucky and are not ashamed to admit that things aren’t always easy for you. “Life is hard sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Especially with a past—” Bucky bites his tongue. You didn’t mention his past yet. Maybe you’re too kind. He doesn’t want to keep his hopes high believing you don’t know about his past and the things he did.

Bucky decides to enjoy the rest of your date and to lay a foundation for the future.

You eat together and talk about your life. Bucky makes you laugh, and your heart flutters more than once.

After dinner, he holds your hand while walking you home. He’s nervous, and unsure if you want him to kiss you goodnight. Bucky decides to kiss your cheek, lips lingering for a moment.

He wants to take things slow and win your heart over. Bucky crosses many lines while following you, but he wants to do this right.

“Alpine, look what she got you,” Bucky laughs when his cat immediately pounces on the toy you got for the white feline. “I see you like the toy mouse.”

Alpine toys with the mouse. The feline flings it across the room only to catch it and carry it toward Bucky to place it next to his foot.

“Our date was nice. So nice.” He sighs dreamily. “I knew she’s nice, and kind, and just perfect. Imagine Y/N dreams of having a farmhouse, chickens, and a peaceful life.”

“Perfect!” You do a little dance with the plushie your secret admirer gifted to you first. Pressing it to your heart you sigh. “Bucky is so sweet, and a true gentleman. Even though, I wish he kissed me goodnight.”

Bucky inhales sharply. He missed the chance to kiss you, but this can’t be helped now. He already asked you on another date and will kiss you next time he walks you home…

Part 11

Tags in reblog.

[xenizaation]

permanent

pairing: fem! reader x choi san (ft kim hongjoong)

genre: angst, friends to lovers, smut

general warnings: depictions of a depressive state, mourning of partner, self-blame and slight ptsd

sexual warnings: dirty talk, pet names, manual stimulation, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie,

word count: 12.6k

summary: they say moving on is hard. you find that it's even harder when in the process of it, you have to accept your feelings for your friend as well.

less important a/n: ok so this was supposed to be like 5k long 🙃🙃...chile, anyways. uhm, this came from me bottling my emotions up for the last 5 months and I just wanted to let some of my suffering out in some kind of way. even if it is far from what I feel (I feel the need to specify that the events related below aren't inspired from my life, happily so). read at your own discretion, for I have tried my best to make you feel horny and miserable at the same time 🥰🥰🥰 stay safe xoxo

a/n from long later: hi i wrote this about a year ago and i found it in my drafts and hey why wouldn't i post it after not posting something in ages? haha. enjoy! altough it's probably rlly bad and full of mistakes hihi, i ain't reading this again to correct it. i love you muah

______________________________________________________

The cold air felt like needles poking at your bare skin. You ran as fast as you could, barefoot in the woods, feeling every little scratch that was tearing open the skin of your soles and staining it with fresh blood. Your lungs were holding hostage a fire as you were inhaling the cold night air, and the sweat you felt dribbling down your face and back was only of help to make you feel even colder. You looked behind, once, twice, and then a third time too, slowly reducing your pace until it came to a halt.

"What am I running away from?" you ask yourself looking around. There was nothing, no one after you. So why were you running for your life? Your heart starts to beat faster as you hear screams coming from deep within the trees. But you don't run. You can't run anymore. You just fall to the ground, embracing your knees to your chest.

"Me!"

You don't turn around. That voice is way too familiar to make you turn around. Your mouth hangs open as you try to scream but no sound comes out as your muffled moans remain drowned in the deepest point if your throat.

You gasp for air as you wake up shaking your head relentlessly, in order to try to snap yourself back to the reality you're in- so your heart would stop beating so damn fast. You groan as you look over at the watch on your nightstand and see it spell 3:37 AM. You grab your phone from next to it and shut your eyes closed at the sudden brightness the screen displays. You manage to decrease it and open your contacts.

"Still awake?" you ask, and you know you shouldn't. He always offers you more than you can give back, more than you deserve. But you can't help yourself. You cannot deny yourself the little peace you still have in your life.

"Yeah, wassup?"

"Can you call?" you hit send and it's a matter of seconds between him receiving the message, him reading the message and then his name popping up on your screen. You answer.

"Again?" San questions from the other end of the phone. You only hum in affirmation. He sighs softly as you lay down on your side, phone trapped between your ear and the pillow. You hear the clicking of the keyboard and mouse clearly, he must be working late again. And yet he always answers. More than many people you've met did for you.

"Tell me a story." you ask once again. For the...well you've lost count.

"You know, one day I'm going to be out of stories," he answers and lets out a chuckle. Bathing in your silence, he takes his time to think about what he could tell you. As he begins, you close your eyes and imagine whatever he is helping you picture inside your head. Be it the times when he was a little kid and used to walk with his grandparents down the side of a river, or the times he was a teen and was always struggling to get out of trouble, San always gave you a vast amount of details that made you worship his each and every story. And they always made you dream something pretty when you dozed out of consciousness with him still talking on the other end. This night was no exception, so when you wake up, you send him a text that expresses your gratitude as always.

"Listen, if you still want a contract renewal you need to publish something within next year," you look at your boss and feel every word he lays out weighing your body down like you're going to fall through the floor. "I get writer's block, I really do. And we gave you time. You took your time. But it's been almost two years now..." his words stop reaching your ears as you're reminded. One year, ten months and twelve days. And still counting. The count will never stop, you realize, as the event it started from cannot be reversed. You will always be stuck in a period of time since it happened.

"You're one of the biggest names here in our publishing house, Y/N. We don't want to lose you but at the same time we can't keep focusing on you if it will be to no avail." he is right. He is always right, your boss. Always had a strategic mindset, and that always helped both of you. Except now. Now he was asking for something you couldn't offer.

"I'm sorry," you manage to blurt out. "I'm trying my best and I know it's not enough." if you had to be honest, hearing yourself say those words out loud made your heart break even more that it already was. Partly because it was true, and the rest? Because it sounded like you were asking for compassion, which you thought was pathetic. You never liked people looking at you the way you caught yourself looking at homeless individuals.

"I'm gonna get something out, ok? I promise you, just please have a little more faith in me. I need you to trust me to be able to do this."

You look up and make eye contact with him. Park Seonghwa was never one who showed compassion. But as his gaze traced over your fingers picking at your cuticles, the dryness of your lips and the shadows of your hollowed eyes, you felt something you grew too accustomed with in the last almost two years of your life.

Pity.

"Come on, let me take you out on Thursday." San pleaded as he was following in your steps down the hallway of the company you worked in. You didn't expect your little trip to talk to your boss would end with this. "You literally have nothing to lose." He completed and you stopped, facing him. You met his familiar and comforting eyes, which always reminded you of a cute fox, and his dimpled smile as he watched you keenly. It has been almost four years since he started working at the same company you did, but since the beginning, you two were more than just work colleagues. It was the type of connection where you would understand each other from simple looks into the other's eyes or where you could easily finish each other's sentences. You liked to consider him your platonic soulmate but you knew that if you hadn't had a relationship at the time you two met, you would've have surely gone out together and maybe made a good couple.

Well...now you didn't have a relationship anymore but you weren't exactly in the right headspace for one.

By now, you and all the rest of your workmates knew how big of a crush he had on you, but you never let it get out of control. You were feeling kind of guilty, to be honest. Knowing that in a way, you were using it to your advantage for your sleepless nights or the ones in which sleep was ruined by nightmares. But you were sure he was getting his benefits from it as well.

"Look, I want to but I really don't wanna be a bitch to you if I suddenly feel like shit." you reply, and in all honestly, it was true. Your mood hasn't been so stable lately, understandably so.

"Well, how about this: if you wake up in a good mood on Thursday and decide it's okay to hang out, you text me, and we do whatever you feel comfortable with. And if we do go out and do something together and you end up feeling like shit then you'll tell me and I'll get you home in the fastest way possible for a human being. How does it sound?"

Not bad. He is giving you every little piece of comfort that you knew you needed but you never asked for. So you agree. It wouldn't be the first time you hang out with San, sure, you never called them dates, because to you they were not. But you knew that for any outsider it looked exactly like that. And who is to blame? You two always worked hand in hand just so well. These no-pressure type of meet-ups you two had always made you feel comfortable so that was why you were considering it this time as well.

Days pass and you spend them stuck in your home, drowning in your bitter memories and your regrets. The taste of guilt never becomes sweet, you think. Not like how alcohol does when you drink more and more of the same kind. No. Guilt only grows in bitterness and in how it burns down your throat, feeling like it swirls all of your insides once it reaches your stomach. In a way, guilt feels like the long estranged sister of love. Both let their essence hover in your mind for however long they like.

As you rise from your bed to make some hot coffee you think of what day it is. Between the mix of reliving the moments long gone in the same apartment you still stand, and the countless intents to come up with something that you could present to your boss, you didn't know which one made you lose track of time more. You checked your phone for a bit of clarity. No new messages or notifications. At this point, everyone knew better than to bother you with their worries.

Thursday.

Well, seems like you had to cancel out on someone, you thought as you tried grabbing the coffee pot on the stove, but lost in your thoughts, you pay no attention to the handle and drop the pot on the kitchen tiled floor as soon as you feel the skin on your palm burn. You swore and quickly took a few steps back so the burning coffee on the ground wouldn't get to your bare feet. You shook your hand trying to get a cold breeze to the inflamed skin but it only made it feel worse. As you stopped to look at the damage you realized it wasn't all that bad, but it sure stung like a motherfucker. You ran your hand under the cold water of the sink and looked to your right. The brown liquid on the ground was expanding, getting in every little crevice in between the tiles.

****

Coffee was getting everywhere. It splashed on the kitchen counters, it was slowly getting under them too. You froze for a few seconds after your mug made contact with the floor, shattering to dozens of pieces.

"Well, that can't be a good sign." your lover said from behind you finishing with a low chuckle. You smiled, turning on your heels and taking in his form. You woke him up, well, the mug woke him up actually. Approaching you slowly, with a slight limp in his walk and his shoulders dropped all the way down, his hair was fluffed up and his skin a nice shade of pale with a few lines from the pillow on his left cheek. He always looked so angelic, you never could put it into words, how it made you feel, seeing him first thing in the morning. It was something that made your insides crazily stir up but made gave you a sense of tranquility, at the same time. That was how loving him usually was. Two opposite sides walking hand in hand. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him, softly pressing his lips against the crown of your head. You joined your hands behind his torso and inhaled deeply. Your heart skipped a beat as your lungs felt intoxicated with his smell.

"Today is the big day, huh?" his voice was still hoarse as he spoke, every word of his drumming in your ears. You nodded.

"I'm really nervous." you answered and let your forehead drop against his shoulder. He hugged you tighter with the hand around your waist and gently pat your head with the other.

"I know, angel. But it's gonna be alright, ok? Your friends will be there, your parents will be there and I will be there. You can lean on me." he said kissing your cheek. "You know that, don't you?" his face right in front of yours, you responded with nothing more than a slow kiss. A kiss that was rehearsed so many times before that your lips and tongues already knew what they had to do, how they had to move around each other. Sometimes it felt like a dream, how everything came so easy with Hongjoong. How you didn't have to think twice about what you wanted from him and with him. And for all you knew, and all he had shown you across the time spent together, he didn't do that either. Every morning next to him felt like the luckiest one, and every night with him ended just the same. And you knew that if you were to live a hundred more years alongside him, you still wouldn't get enough of his embraces, or kisses or just simply him. There was nothing in the world that could cure the insatiable love you felt for the man in front of you.

As he pulled away from the kiss he gestured with his head behind you. "Now how about I clean the mess you made, and you make coffee for both of us? We have a book launch to attend, after all." you laughed and kissed him again.

*****

As your breath got heavier and your eyes started to burn up you unconsciously took your phone from the kitchen counter.

"a picnic would be perfect" you text your friend. The desire to get out of the prison your house has become, growing bigger by the second.

"Tell me if this isn't an appropriate question," you heard the man next to you say, derailing your train of thought as you directed your attention towards him. The weather is hot today, it really was a good call, suggesting a picnic. You haven't been on one in a long while and you missed feeling of how the calm of the nature overwhelmed most of your senses. Also, you couldn't handle a complicated social situation on this day. So it was perfect right now, laying on a blanket, stranded in a flower freckled field with none other than San. You turn your head towards him. " What made you want to go out today?" he completed, not looking at you. He was laying on his back, with one arm under his head and his eyes closed, as if he feared the reaction you were going to have to his words. You didn't blame him for asking. In a similar situation where the roles would be reversed, you knew for sure you would ask too. After all, you and San were made of many of the same things. " Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you agreed, but it didn't seem like you would." he adds.

"Some days my house feels like a torture chamber." you say turning on your side and facing him, supporting your head on your angled arm. He was so still, you could barely even notice the way he slowly breathed in and out. It was as if the sun was painting his portrait and he was afraid to move, to not mess it up. Every ray that was falling on his exposed skin seemed to caress him the way a lover does.

"And some days it does its job." you completed after returning on your position on your back, mimicking his. "Today just didn't felt like one of the days I'd like to be tortured." you finished and felt his gaze on you right before you closed your eyes. If you thought he seemed worried, you made sure not to address it.

"One time when I was little, I was playing with a friend of mine," you smiled, realizing this is just the beginning of one of his captivating stories. "I don't remember how we got to that point, but he left me in a room and said he was gonna lock me there, and so he got out and he did." a bit darker than what he usually tells you, but still intriguing.

"At first I thought it was fun, that we would take turns locking each other in the room but he wasn't coming back. The room had only one window but it was locked when I tried to open it and get out. So I just waited. I think hours passed, it was getting dark and I was getting worried and hungry, thought I'll be stuck there forever, until it crossed my mind. I never even tried to open the door. Turns out it didn't even have a keyhole."

"San, if you're trying to put me to sleep with this one, just know it doesn't really work." you say smirking, still holding your eyes closed as you let the sun bathe your face.

"I'm not, Y/N. I'm trying to tell you that most of the times, the doors aren't locked. We just think that they are." he responds and you open your eyes to look into his. His look is full of compassion, and a bit of sadness that you choose to overlook. You finally understand what he means to tell you and you realize he is right. But even if a door isn't locked, you shouldn't open it unless you're ready to do so. You gently touch the back of his hand, and he is quick to caress your fingers with his thumb, changing his focus to where your hands are joined.

"Thank you," your words came out more like a whisper than you would've liked. "I know I don't do much for you...but I'm hoping I'm not that much of a nuisance, like I feel I am." he turns his hand, joining his fingers with yours and making eye contact with you. The simple gesture of affection made your head dizzy in a way you haven't felt in a long time. Your heart creaks up a little.

"You couldn't be one even if you tried," he said, his gaze lazily tracing the outlines of your face. You were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, even now. Even after all the hardships you've been through, and that you're still going through. The adoration his heart held for you never stopped burning, no matter how much he wished for it to do so. For San, loving you was as easy as it sounded and as hard as it could get. Setting his eyes on the bags under your eyes he recalled a memory that stood like a scar on his brain. Your eyes were so dark that day, your eye bags a shade of purple he hadn't seen on any painting quite yet. Your lips were pale and chapped and your skin looked like it lost all its pigment.

Black didn't suit you so well, he thought. Not when it was worn the way you were wearing it then.

But the worst came when it was time to say goodbye. He still remembered your cries and wails and it made the skin on his spine tremble in its place. Could he ever forget how, on that day, you looked like the angel of death?

Now you looked better...like life was coming, little by little, back into your body, and the pure sunlight was definitely helping it. He should let the sun see you more often, he thought.

You pulled your hand from his when you felt like his eyes were analyzing your features for a bit too long. Rising in a standing position, you started examine the insides of the basket he prepared.

"Oh my God! You brought me watermelon!" you shouted loudly as you took the container holding the red pieces of fruit in it. The only thing San could do at your reaction was laugh, throwing his head back to look at the puffed up white clouds.

Four days since you brushed your teeth, three since you showered, two since you changed your clothes, one since you ate, and one year, eleven months and fourteen days since you've last held the love of your life in your arms. But, hey, who's keeping count anyways?

Time loses all its meaning when you confine yourself like you are some dangerous animal meant to be locked up in a cage. Between the moments you try to stay awake and the ones you try to sleep, you have little to remember. The only thing that gives a little light to the fog in your brain is San. His stories in the middle of the night, conversations you happen to have during the day and occasional meetings that you're always the one to initiate. He always makes you feel good, always picks the right words to say and you don't know how he has the patience for such things. You love and hate him for it. You love him for being such a considerate and kind person, and you hate him for making you forget. It's strange when you get home and reality dumps on you at the front door. The reality you actually live in and not one you indulged yourself to have with San for a few hours. It's just...with him everything is colorful and melodic but when you get home the only thing you hear are your sighs echoing off the walls back into your ears. You wished you could be stuck in the feeling you have around him forever, but at the same time, every time you have that feeling you feel guilty for it. Like it's impossible to allow yourself any sort of break.

The last days have been impossible to get through. All you did was look around at the mess that was around you. A mountain of clothes, waiting to be washed for weeks now, a sink full of dishes and mugs, lots of crumpled sheets on the ground ( proof of all your tries to put something together). Everything was a disaster, inside and out. You had no willpower to do anything about it but you knew that the more you would stay in a shitty space, the more you would feel like shit. So for the first time in months, you opened the window.

*****

He placed the two mugs on the windowsill as he opened the window, allowing the cold breeze of the morning to brush over the exposed skin. He watched you closely as you made sure to turn off the stove and place the coffee pot in the sink. Your eyes met his as you felt the cold air run down your back, giving you shivers. He smiled contentedly at the sight of your body slowly shuddering. The "window" habit was a thing Hongjoong let into the relationship since the beginning of it. It was crazy for you how sometimes you caught him doing it first thing after waking up. You loved to watch him open the window and inhale the morning air with his elbows pressed against the wooden frame. Those moments wouldn't last long, but you treasured them more than he maybe thought about it. There was a thing about this domestic life, and seeing him do his own rituals that had you turn into quite the observer.

"You love to make me cold, don't you?" you smile brightly getting closer and closer, until you reach the space right in front of him.

"Angel, you're so hot in the morning that I'm afraid you might overheat. I need to cool you down a little, don't I?" he says on his usual cheeky tone, the one you grew to love in such little time. As he places his hand on your hip, you take a sip of your coffee. Like your actions served as a reminder of the hot liquid resting in his mug, he does the same.

"I can think of some other ways you could cool me down..." you say as you hook your finger on the front waistband of his pajama pants, sliding it from left to right. He chuckles in his mug and pulls you closer. Your chests rise in unison as you look each other in the eye, you don't say anything but this moment feels like a promise neither of you wants to break.

He looks to his left, at the city and at the people. Taking advantage of the opportunity, you place a few slow kisses on his jaw.

"I want us to find a new place," he says scooping you up as you squeal in surprise. You hook your legs behind his waist instantly while he walks towards the bedroom. "I want a balcony." He completes before kissing you and you laugh into the kiss, thinking of the many ways you two could make use of said balcony. He sure was thinking the same thing you did, giving how he started laughing as well.

His laugh was the only thing you ever wanted to hear again.

*****

You look down at the windowsill and see the brown marks in the body of two circles imprinted on the wooden surface. You always told him to use the damn coasters. Now the wood was stained. Permanently stained. Permanently ruined. Just like you were.

As you get on with cleaning you try to keep your brain busy with thoughts like what you should do after you finish a task, and what you should do after that one is finished as well. You thank yourself for choosing to clean, as you get out of the shower and throw yourself into the bed. Not only does it now smell like flowers, but you're also tired enough for sleep to steal you the minute you close your eyes.

"Ha! Check mate!" San exclaimed from the other side of the table you both were sat at. This was an odd activity that you had never done before. Playing chess, in a park, fully exposed to the summer sun. And you weren't even middle aged. Crazy to see how far the desperation to get out of the house will make someone go. But if it was with San, you were sure that there weren't many place where you wouldn't go.

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere," he said, angling his head innocently like the little puppies do when you tell them not to lick the outlet. His black hair was swooped out of his face, making his cheekbones pop out in a way you didn't think it was more humanly possible.

"Oh, you know damn well I suck at chess, San." you said kicking his queen with your finger. It became clear to him that you were an unfit partner for this game after like, the half of the first match. As the piece made contact with the chessboard, San tittered, making his eyes turn into crescents and his dimples scar his cheeks again.

"You just don't want to learn," he said as he started picking the pawns. You gave him a hand, collecting all the pieces on your side.

"You play the pawns when you still have the queen..." he offered a dramatic sigh as he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. True, it was more comfortable to lose with the pawns than with the queen.

"How's the book going?" placing the game of chess in his backpack, he made eye contact with you as he pressed his elbows against the surface in between. You sigh.

"It's not," you admit thinking about all the documents you've erased the last month or every manuscript you tossed in the trash. Nothing was coming together and you hated every word after writing it. Not only was this process driving you mad but it also made you doubt all your abilities as a writer. People would expect more from someone who had a bestseller out there, you thought. But it wasn't your job to rise to anyone's expectation.

"Maybe I was just a one hit wonder." you say smiling sadly. It really did pain you to think that you weren't able to do the sole thing you ever thought yourself good at. But maybe, after you lived in a thousand realities in the past two years (as of today, maybe the reason why you wanted to get out of your home so bad), this was your new one. A reality in which you weren't able to write anymore. Fear was not even close to describe how you felt about the future.

"Don't kid yourself, I know you'll make it eventually." San offers, grabbing your hand in his. "You know, you should be the last person who is hard on yourself." he rubs your hand with his thumb. You wish you could pull away from his touch, or to at least want to pull away. But you don't. His touch is comforting and not a lot of things in your life are that way right now. As you look at him there is a sudden desire to punch yourself in the face, for the only thing that comes through your mind is to thank him again. As you did countless of times before. He did say he grew tired of it.

"You know what I'm in the mood for?" you avoid the subject successfully as he rises his eyebrows, showering you in all his undivided attention. "Drinking my sorrows at a shitty bar." you finish off, painting a big smile on your face. He mirrors it as he sighs through his teeth, letting go of your hand. He notices your intention to avoid talking about anything serious. Anything that might actually help you. You always do it, that is exactly why you talk to him only about nonsense and why, when you call him in the middle of the night (and when he always, always answers) you make him tell you a story. Leaving him to be the only one to talk as you doze off. Never leaving room for him to ask you what is wrong or what you dreamed of. Is how you got on until then, and maybe that is why it went so slowly, the whole "moving on" thing everyone was telling you about. But it was the thing that worked best for you, you figured. Not talking about the elephant in the room got you this far, you can go a little more like that.

"Well, I happen to know the perfect place for that," rising from his seat, he extends his hand towards you. "Shall we?"

You didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bar lights or simply just him. Honestly, you couldn't tell the difference between many things anymore, but as you looked at San talking, you felt more attracted to him than ever. The mole near his eyelid seemed more prominent now, and so did his muscular arms under the fitted shirt he wore, and oh, the freckles painting constellations on his neck. His eyes were sparkling brightly and his teeth were showing from time to time. You looked closely as he licked his lips after taking a sip of his beer. The way he was doing it seemed almost erotic. That one part of your brain that would feel bad for having these thoughts has died when you drank your fourth shot, but you were glad it did. You felt more comfortable now, and with San here, there was not a lot more that you would wish for. Not realistic wishes anyway.

"I need to know which side you stand on," he says angling his body towards yours. "Socks on or off during sleep?" San asks with a serious face, as if he asked if you enjoyed kicking puppies in the face or eating toddlers for dinner. You burst out laughing at the mix of the question and his expression.

"Off, I'm not a psychopath." you answer through your stilled laugh. He frowns.

"Oh no, you're definitely a psycho. Do your feet not get cold?" a bit of frustration could be heard in his voice.

"How would I know? I'm asleep the whole time." you sip from your drink. "Don't tell me you like pineapple on pizza as well..." you plead looking at him.

"And what if I do? It's a good combination! It's like mint chocolate, de-li-cious." San smiles proudly at his outrageous statements. Maybe he is not the person you thought he was. God, he told you so much and yet you still knew so little. That was one of the most intriguing things about him. That you felt like a lifetime wouldn't ever be enough for you to get to know him completely. Like everyday he would pick another thing to like, or something utterly new to do so he doesn't get bored. He always told you how he gets bored of things and people so fast. And yet there he was, still by your side. Maybe you were the mystery he didn't get to solve yet.

"Dude, not toothpaste too.." you cry out as you push his arm, but instead of pushing him, you push yourself. You almost lose your balance off the bar stool, but San's quick reflexes kick in and grab you by the arm, pulling you back in sitting position. He cackles as you try to maintain your balance.

"Maybe we should get you home." he says laying some bills on the bar. You hum in approval and get to your feet as you follow him out of the bar, which was indeed shitty. San is a man of his word.

The walk home was short and calm as you focused more on seeming sober than to what was happening around you. It already got dark as you two strolled past the abandoned streets laughing about things you unwillingly forgot as soon as you finished laughing. This moment, you thought to yourself, is the one that you would remember when a certain song plays. One that will give you the same sensations you feel in this moment. And far away from right now, when you know you will be better, when you listen to that certain song, you'll think wow, so much has changed. That moment could happen 10 days from now, or ten years. You don't know yet. But something about this uncertainty makes you relax somehow, knowing that you still have hope. And most of it is thanks to San. He may not be aware of all the things that he is helping you with, but you are. It's like a mental list that you never stop writing on. Could you ever repay him for any of it?

"Here we are," he says as he places his hand on your shoulder and you take a hold of his arm as he rattles on about not drinking anymore and going to sleep and whatever else he decided to nag you about. Your focus is only on his lips, and then his eyes, and his lips again, and his hand on your arm, and then feeling his arm flexing underneath your touch, and the feeling of being taken care of by someone. You realize you don't want this night to end quite yet.

"Do you wanna come in?" you interrupt, and observe his quick reaction of rapidly shutting his mouth and widening his eyes.

"I could use a live storytelling session right now." you add.

What where you asking for exactly? As you looked at him hesitate for a bit, you weren't sure that you knew either. But after a few seconds of looking around, he hums in approval as he nods and follows you inside your home. It's not as clean as you would wish but not as messy as to apologize for anything. You both take off your shoes and walk into the open space living room. Feeling San's presence close behind you, you turn and signal for him to sit down on the couch as you go to a little counter.

"I have vodka, whiskey and some cherry liquor," you turn your head back towards him. He was sitting on your couch now. But not how someone who entered their friend's apartment for the first time would be expected to sit, no. Because he didn't have that posture of "oh, I don't want to make myself comfortable because my presence here is out of place". No. He looked like he fucking owned the place. Like he payed the bills. Like he chose every single piece of decoration there was inside your home. And you weren't mad about it, if you were being honest. The everlasting confidence that was emanating out his every pore always looked good on him. His legs were spread apart, and you didn't forbid yourself to spend more than a few seconds scanning his thighs, thinking of numerous ways you could make use of them. Prominent Adam's apple marked his throat as his head was thrown back over the backrest. It seemed that he moved in slow motion, lazily pulling his head up and in your direction.

"Glass of whiskey would be nice." he answered through a half pout as his hands splayed even more on the higher edge of the couch. Obeying his orders, you unconsciously let his choice be the one you make as well, so you pour the liquid in two glasses. The strong scent hits you immediately, and you know you won't be able to drink it, the alcohol in your system will reject this on the spot if you dared adventure too far. But you decided back when you invited your friend into your house, tonight was the night you were going to test your limits.

You sit yourself on the couch, next to the man you hide your desire for not so well, closer than you usually would. And he seems to observe regarding the fact that he appears to be leaning a bit into you. Maybe it's in your head. He sips from the glass you hand him, licking his lips again, the gesture he did at the bar seems to be hitting you in a certain, already wet, spot in between your legs as it did a little time ago. He hums right after swallowing the drink, you follow with interest the way his Adam's apple moves up and down. Why is he being so unworldly attractive tonight? Is it really the alcohol or has the sexual tension finally built up enough for you to not be able to take it anymore. You feel an unexpected, but not unwelcomed, ache in your heart and stomach and definitely in your pussy. He places the glass down, with careful fingers, on the table before you and resumes his previous stance, except now one of his hands chooses to rest on the thigh closer to you. You admire it from respectable distance, one which you weren't sure you'd be able to maintain for too long. His hands were clean, nails kept short on his slender long fingers, and the rings adorning them only completed the way his veins were traveling down the back of his palm. Will there ever be a time where you could look at Choi San and not like what you see? Highly doubtful.

"That's some good shit," finally his face catches your attention, and happily so. He looks at you through his lashes, smirking with one corner of his beautiful mouth. You wondered how his lips might feel. On yours, on your neck, your chest, everywhere. "never took you for a whiskey person."

"I'm not," you say through a bittersweet smile and you realize that maybe you really, desperately need the alcohol right now, so you chug some of it down. "it's been laying around." you finish the sentence and then the glass of whiskey and you place it down the table, next to his. The contrast of the glasses, one empty and one half full, makes you amused in some kind of way. It let's you reminiscence of the many times that you heard from a certain someone, how you were always rushed in the most unfit situations. It was true.

As you look back to San, you feel like you are left with no choice than laying on your back and placing your head on his lap. So you do, maybe slower than you feel you move in your drunk-dazed mind. As you nuzzle the back of your head into his thighs, you close your eyes, for your vision was getting blurry and the room slowly spun around.

"You can begin anytime." you sigh out and feel him shifting a bit underneath you. He chuckles lowly and it takes him a few moments to adjust to the situation presented before him, it would be strange to you too. These were exactly the kind of things that you hesitated to do with San, because you partly knew his feelings for you, so you didn't want to give too much water to the well. Exactly the kind of intimacy that would leave room to hope for more, want more.

And not only from his side.

"I met this girl a while ago," he starts and softly places his hand on top of your head, massaging your scalp and slowly pulling at strands of your hair. "she's the whole package. Smart, funny, kind and so fucking hot." , safe to say you don't expect his last words to hit you like they do. A tad bit of jealousy makes its presence felt in the bottom of your heart, thinking that there might be a possibility that he doesn't refer to you. But the slow strokes his fingers offer your head make you feel too good to give it any importance.

"She's got this thing about her, I don't know how to even say it. It's like every time we talk, we knew each other since birth and like the first time we ever met, all at once. It's incredible, really." the way he talked was how you only heard people talk in movies. Hopeless romantic to the very end.

"Sounds like she's got you head over heels." you huff out slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, you'd be shocked," silence following his words, words that had a heartbroken nuance to them. He continues to massage your head and his touch feels so good, so comforting, so familiar. Like he did it every time he saw you, like he at least imagined doing it every time. "she really loves my stories." he adds after what seems to be like forever, and his hand stops, pulling itself out of your proximity. Your eyes shoot open and you find his gaze upon you. At the same time he looks sad, his eyes are also filled with anticipation, of what is to come, of how you would react to the fact that he just confirmed it was you he talked about. You sit up, trying not to let the slight dizziness in your head get the best of you and turn to him. Faces close to each other, studying him one last time before things change between you two. He wants it. And you clearly want it. Both of you so bad that it's not even a surprise how you meet halfway into a kiss. You thank the universe in your head, for it being this way. For you to not beat yourself up too much later that you initiated anything. So you let yourself sink into the feeling of him, his smell intoxicating. You know that it will be hard to not feel it in your lungs for a long time after this, and you were happy for it to be that way. Your lips are shy at first, not used to kissing anymore, not used to someone who hasn't kissed you before. But the feeling is more than pleasant. He takes his time, slowly nipping away at your bottom lip, swiftly pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your teeth clash and you both smile, licking into each other's mouths a bit more. His lips are soft and so warm, this feeling has long been forgotten by your mind. He pulls away and you gasp for air, he reaches to brush the hair out of your face and cups your face gently, looking into your eyes with a glimmer you were sure you haven't seen on him before. But you knew exactly what it meant.

"I don't want it if you don't." he says, assuring you once again that his actions will only be made for your comfort.

"I can't even tell you how bad I want it." your voice soft as it answers, and after receiving your words with wonder on his face, San downs the whiskey left in his glass, only to rush kissing you right after he gulps it down. If the first kiss was both of you navigating uncharted waters, now you were both desiring more. Hungrily devouring each other, whiskey tasted so much better on his tongue. You climbed into his lap as he pulled you closer to his chest. Serving as a reminder, you needed to get that shirt off of him. And as you helped him get rid of it, you weren't even surprised of how he looked even better than what you kept picturing all night. He returned the favor of undressing you of your shirt, and briefly cupped your breasts through your bra as he pulled you into another kiss. His hands quickly running to your waist, pulling you deeper into his lap, feeling him get hard underneath you, moment by moment. One of his palms traveled down to massage your butt cheek through your jeans, and the other quickly moved up to unhook your bra deftly with steady fingers.

"You must be popular with the ladies." you whisper close to his mouth and he chuckles.

"Not with the ones I want." he replies and you jokingly slap his bicep in response. He pulls the bra off throwing it somewhere nearby and admires your chest for a second too long before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You throw your head back and whimper at the feeling of his tongue swirling around the sensitive part of your breasts. You tangle your fingers in his hair as you try to slowly ride his thigh, feeling the need to get rid of the tension in some kind of way. He let's your nipple out of his mouth with a lewd pop and laughs as he glues his hand to the back of your head, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Darling if you want something you just need to ask," he brings his mouth over to your chest, planting sprinkled kisses along your collarbones. "my thigh? my fingers? my cock?" he asks in between suctions on the soft, sensitive skin of your neck. You were so sexually frustrated that you thought you were going to cry, and his words definitely didn't help. If something, they only made the tightness in your belly feel even tighter. "Which one will it be?" he asks finally as his eyes find yours again. You barely manage a pathetic whimper as he let's go of your head to unbutton your jeans. His hand slides slowly until it meets the band of your panties, but it doesn't go further, his eyes stopping on your face.

"Fuck, San, I want everything." you finally verbalize for him, your words laced with desperation for him to take things further. He closes his eyes and smiles in satisfaction when hearing your words, resuming the attack on your neck, biting down some marks here and there. His fingers finally get a hold of your clit and you shudder at the sensation. The circular motions he starts only make you moan his name quietly, through whimpers. It's been so long since you touched yourself like that, let alone somebody else. Masturbation was a thing you couldn't get back into since everything happened. Every time you tried, your mind only pictured Hongjoong, and it always ended with you crying without releasing in any kind of way. That was how you spent the last two years of your life, no wonder you were sexually frustrated. But now, the only thing on your mind was San, and how you could get him to make you cum faster. The position wasn't really a favorable one, he didn't have much access and so, his movements were limited and slow. San sinks his hand further down, teasing your hole with his middle finger, coating it in your arousal.

"You're so wet baby," he slowly pushes his finger into you, wandering into your inside, and your tightness. It did definitely feel like rain after a long drought. He pumped his finger inside you a few times, adding an extra one after a few seconds, stretching you in a way that has become unfamiliar but satisfying all the same. He fastened his pace and you unconsciously started to ride his fingers, chasing after your long awaited release. It wouldn't last too much, taking in consideration that you haven't orgasmed in so long. Your left hand was on San's nape, anchoring you to some sort of reality that he was indeed there, and the other one was on his chest. It wasn't much longer until your body conjured the estranged feeling in your tummy, you were close. San seemed to read your thoughts once again as his movements came to a halt, you offered a frustrated whimper in return. He lifted you up of his lap and placed you on your back next to him. He helped you get rid of your jeans and then your panties.

"I know you want to cum, but I want you to do it in my mouth." his face in between your thighs, breath fanning over your aching core. This time he didn't wait for a verbal response anymore, and you were glad he didn't. His warm tongue licked a long swipe starting from your hole to your clit, his mouth latched to it with sensual movements, sucking and licking at it, taking all the time in the world.

"Ho...ly fu-fuck," you gasped as you threw your head back into the cushion of the couch, arching your back under his ministrations.

His tongue was skilled, and so were his fingers when they slid inside you for the second time tonight. He curled them up, hitting your g-spot every time he pumped them in. Your body shuddered hardly at the sensation.

"Feel good?" he asked looking up at you, for the first time since he positioned you like this, you looked down at him. And what a sight for sore eyes, so lewd that if you looked at it for long enough you would cum without him needing to do anything to you anymore.

"So good," you reply and place one of your hands into his raven hair when he continues abusing your sensitive bud in the best way you could think of, he continues his movements with his tongue and his fingers, and it's only a matter of seconds until it builds up. You pull at his hair as he deepens his head in between the thighs that are now clenched around his head and it finally all becomes too much for you.

"Fuck....San....ahh," you cry out whilst shutting your eyes tightly, thing that makes you see stars in the back of your head.

You feel proud for satisfying his wish. San seems too feel so as well. You come undone on his fingers, and he pulls them out quickly to attend your releasing wetness with his inpatient tongue, you feel as if you could pass out from the soft stimulation. Such a long time since you've had an orgasm and this might have been the best way to have one.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he says as he slowly rises and takes his place above you, letting you have a taste yourself as he kisses you, swirling his wet muscle in every corner of your mouth, making sure none of it is getting left untouched by him. You sure do taste better on his tongue. Feeling his hard dick press on the inside of your thigh, in all its dizziness, your brain only wants more.

"Can we go to the bedroom?" you ask nicely, only to be met once more with San's surprised face. Like the thought that you still might want more never crossed his mind. He helps you up by the waist and lets you guide the way to the room. As you enter the it you quickly run to the bed, throwing yourself on it as you giggle like you're high, and you might as well be. High hormones had the same effect as weed for you. San only shakes his head with a smile on his face, while looking down and getting his belt off. Shit, this is really happening. Really finally happening. He slowly approaches the bed, ridding himself of his pants as he reaches the edge of it. Your friend pulls down his boxers as well, and you watch closely as his erect member is finally out of its entrapment, it springs up vividly, slapping against his torso. You're left in surprise at the sight of his girthy, definitely above average long, cock. You bite your lip involuntarily and he laughs to your reaction.

"You don't need to," you quickly blurt out as soon as you see him pulling a condom from his wallet. "I mean...I'm clean, if so are you then..." well it's safe to say you've became quite a desperate little thing during your two, deprived of sex, years. "then, we don't need to worry." you finish your sentence.

"You sure?" he asks for confirmation once again.

"Yeah, 'm sure." you respond and beckon him with your index finger. He muffles out a swear word you don't quite register as he drops the condom from his hold, quickly climbing on the bed. He crafts a better position above you, kissing you gently as he lines up his tip with your entrance. You whine in anticipation, lips still attached to his own, softer ones. He slowly pushes himself inside, taking lots of time to make sure your tightness grows comfortable around him. It hurts. Not only it is the first time with San, it felt like the first time altogether. At first, it seemed like your damn hymen grew back. Ironic, considering the amount of sex you used to have. You frowned as you whimpered softly into his mouth. He quickly broke the kiss, watching you with a slightly panicked look on his face.

"Hey, you all right?" he brushed the hair out of your face with his right hand, holding his weight on his left arm. You slowly started to get used to him, your whole body relaxing noticeably when seeing his face.

"Yeah, you can move." you stated with a voice glazed with desire. He did as asked, moving his hips in slow strokes, every time trying to deepen himself more inside you. He groaned each time his dick reached a new part of you.

"Fucking hell, how are you so fucking tight?" he lets out in a tone that almost seems annoyed with the state of your pussy.

"You...are the first...since then." you speak in between craving moans. He shudders at your words, stopping for a second, as he buries his forehead in the crook of your neck.

"Well, damn, princess. Should've let me stretch you out sooner." he whispers into your ear. And that is by far the most obscene thing that has left his lips tonight. He started moving again, this time picking a pace that had you crying out for his name. You couldn't think of much else when San was fucking you, his cock kindly brushing over a certain sweet spot every time it reached its depth. His dick and your pleasure occupied most of the place inside you and your mind, respectively. But at one point, you did try to recall how exactly you ended up right there. Somewhere along the way of finding the answer, you realized it didn't matter how, it mattered that it did. And the strokes that San was driving into you only made you thank the universe that it happened. Following after his release, he increased his speed. His voice was starting to get raspy after groaning and moaning, as did yours, both of your throats dry now.

"I...I think I'm gonna cum..." he whispered in your ear, and you immediately understood the question hiding behind his words. Your mind was in a state of debate for a few too many seconds. In or out? The only person that ever came in was him. In or out? But you wanted San to cum inside you so badly. In or out? That wouldn't be fair. In or out? But why wouldn't it be?

"Inside." you determinately say. His movements begin to grow messy, losing rhythm. He immerses into you deep, almost knocking you out with the way his cock is so richly stuffed inside you, and he let's out an angelic cry as he fills you up with white ropes of his hot seed. With his forehead glued to your shoulder, San pauses to catch his breath for a few seconds, before pulling his body up to get better vision of you. He cups your cheek and kisses you softly once again, pulling himself apart from you quicker than expected.

"You're so beautiful," he brushes his thumb over your lips. "I could look at you for all eternity." your heart thumps heavily when hearing his words. It made no sense for you how someone who looked like him, could tell you that you're beautiful. It seemed so far away from your reality, but still, you were thankful. At a loss for words, and only giving a shy smile in return, San mirrors it as he ascends and then throws himself in the empty space next to you. The only thing that is heard the next few minutes is both of your breaths as your chests heave. You nuzzle up into San's side, he embraces you with his arm as you grab him by the waist, laying your head on his chest. He kisses you on the crown of your head as he starts humming a melody that you don't think you've heard yet. Nonetheless, sleep gets a hold of your tired body and mind quickly, and you don't know if it's the alcohol that creates an illusion, or if it's just San's presence, but throughout your dreams you feel as if you are guarded by an angel.

Easily the best sleep you've had in a while. You are reminded of how easy it is to fall asleep on someone else's shoulder, just as you wake up.

*****

Before you met him you always thought you were better at spending time alone than you were at spending time with others. Now your thoughts had changed about the matter. It was like you were made only for being in Hongjoong's company, and when you were, you felt at peace. Like nothing could affect you ever again. The moments after sex were the ones you loved most, it almost felt like after your bodies were joint, your souls were getting combined as well, while laying on one another. He had his warm hand draped against your waist, playfully tracing circles on your soft skin, humming whatever song came to his mind. Your hand was on his bare chest and your head in the crook of his armpit. If you would be stuck in a time loop made only of this moment, you would never get sick of it.

The heat his body was emanating seemed to strangely warm you up from inside out, and the smell that was around the two of you was making your mind dizzy and your lungs crave for more. Feeling his chest rise as he inhaled and exhaled made you realize that your breaths were in sync, and hearing his heartbeat, you were sure they were too, in sync with yours. For you, loving Hongjoong was such a natural thing to do, like you two were extensions of each other and worked at full capacity only when together. His fingers slowly took a hold of your hand which he brought to his lips, he kissed it and then squeezed it tightly. You looked up into his eyes. His beautiful eyes sprinkled with love and adoration as he watched you.

"I think that every day I spend with you, I find a new meaning to love." he brushes your cheek gently and you stay silent, your mind in a stage of awe at how greatly he sums up the things you feel, without even talking to each other. You smile as you kiss him again and again and again.

"Then let's find a new meaning to love together for the rest of our lives," still standing close to his face, you see him smile and you do as well. You knew that even in the darkest of days, his smile would always lighten up your whole world. He pecks your lips again and suddenly tries to get up from the bed, the coldness you feel not only in your body, but your heart as well, wraps around your mind and you quickly grab his hand. He stops and kneels on the bed, looking at your uncovered body still on display for the flame that takes ahold in his enchanting eyes.

"We'll be late..." he says as he gets closer to you. That wouldn't be a problem, you think. The author should be allowed to be late to their own book release, right?

"Ten more minutes," you plead as you pull him towards you. He smirks and let's you take control of both his mind and body, as he lays on top of you, filling you up with the heat emanating from his body once again. After all, ten minutes wasn't that much, right?

*****

There it was. The selfishness that has made you lose him. The selfishness that brought you here with San. Everything was your fault. You lost so much of yourself the day you lost Hongjoong, but you were sure your last bit of humanity was completely lost the day you let Choi San believe that you could love him the same way he did. How could you be so reckless? You couldn't even blame the alcohol anymore, only your fucking stupidity. You used the only friend left that you cared about, as a rebound. And he doesn't even know. You looked up at the man who was holding you tight against his chest, as if not to lose you. He was still asleep. His natural unflawed beauty made your heart exclaim in agony as you traced his features with your gaze. As thoughts were overwhelming your mind, you placed your head in its initial position. Your eyes were starting to sting when tears started to form up.

You were the worst there was, weren't you? You killed your boyfriend and you deceived your friend into being your distraction, from all the pain and guilt, in more than one way. You didn't recognize yourself anymore, not after so much time of ignoring all your thoughts and suppressing all your feelings thinking it would get better. It didn't get better, the opposite actually, seeing where you stand right now. It was all because of you, and your selfishness, and it could've all be avoided if you didn't wish for fucking ten more minutes.

You started quivering and sobbing.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" San confusedly asks. This should be a sight to see as soon as you open your eyes. The girl you were balls deep in the night before, crying in front of you the morning after. Comforting you came natural to him, like he has been doing it for all his life. And you realized he did do it, not for all his life, sure, but since it happened. He has done his best to comfort you in every way he could. And he always succeeded. And this is how you repaid him. How could you be such a fucking asshole?

"San you need to...you have to leave...I'm sorry." you say through sniffles as it gets harder and harder for you to control the tears pouring down your face. You cannot look him in the eyes but you do get a peek at his grave look, how he looks down, unsure of what to do.

"Did I do something?" he quietly asks with a certain thread of fear in his voice, as if he was terrified of what his question might cause. You wish you could tell him that at the same time he didn't do anything, he also did too much. His kindness and love were too overwhelming for you in the state you were in.t. No matter how much he tried, his love couldn't repair you. You were the only one who could do that, but for what felt like the longest time, you didn't want to do it. Maybe it was time to try now.

"God, no..." you barely manage to blurt out. Speaking seems like the most tiring thing to do right now. "I just have to be alone right now." trying to stop your tears briefly, you look him in the eyes as he retracts his hands off of you. And you can't help but feeling it again, even if you know that it's not the case. Abandoned. Once again, and like the first time, it was all because of you. He got up from the bed, quickly dressing himself in the heavy silence that was surrounding both of you. You slowly hugged your knees to your chest, slightly burying your head in the space that you created. Maybe it wasn't for the best to be left alone but you were afraid of what might happen if you weren't. You saw San walk to your front door, put on his shoes and look at you for a last time. You looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Y/N, I..." love you. He didn't need to enunciate it, you could already see it on his face, how much it hurt him to leave you in this mess, all alone. Whatever you felt for him was so hard to decipher in the amalgam of things that were dwelling inside of you. And it was even harder to accept that you did have certain feelings for him, stronger that you would've liked. He sighed and slowly shook his head, looking down. You saw him leave and then you didn't see much anymore. As bitter tears that flooded your eyes slowly slid into your mouth. Painful screams were tumbling out of your chest giving you no chance to control them. As you get up off the bed you start grabbing whatever comes first and throwing it around. Cradled papers, books off of shelves, tiny decorations on your desk. You reach a framed photo of you and Hongjoong and stop for a second to look at it. Back at the beginning of your relationship when you went to a museum. It started snowing so much that his black coat turned white. You still remembered the cold weather of that period but the warmth of his smile was burning still, even through the damn picture. A few of your tears stained the glass of the photo and after you whimpered in the discomfort you felt around your heart, like someone was squeezing it in their fist, you threw it on the wall across from you. Did you really have to destroy everything nice in your life? As soon as it shattered to pieces you rushed towards it, as if you were not expecting the completely obvious to happen.

"No, no, no..." you whisper to yourself in disbelief. You slowly pick the broken glass in your shaking hands as your crying only gets louder, rivers of tears flowing down your face when your eyes can't seem to look anywhere else but at the old photo.

"I miss you so fucking much..." you whimper in pain, like a dog being beaten.

It's pure torture, you realize, what you're doing to yourself. It takes a lot for your now bloody palms to make contact with your face and wipe your tears, only leaving more of a mess behind. The flesh, now torn from picking up the thin pieces of broken glass, stings when your salty tears slide over the bloody trails and as you rise up with wobbly legs to throw it in the trash, you find yourself looking out the same window you stood with your lover on his last day beside you. Your tears suddenly came to a halt as you looked at the city lights near and far away; your breathing steadied and you remembered.

I want a balcony.

How were you supposed to move on, when you haven't even moved out?

You never felt so nervous for anything in your life before. The microphone was waiting for you on the warmly illuminated stage. You took shy steps towards it as the people started to applaud loudly, you were sure you heard someone whistle from the crowd. As you got in front of the microphone stand you placed one hand on it, dragging it closer. You were not sure how to do this. It should've been your second time, but due to the incidents back then, it was the first time in your life you had to speak at your own book release. Or even attend it. You inhaled deeply and looked through the crowd once more. Your eyes met Seonghwa's as he slightly raised the glass of champagne towards you. The pity he laid upon you with the help of his gaze a while back had turned into pride. You couldn't help but remember the surprise on his face when you went not to his office, but his house, at two in the morning, when you finally finished writing.

You spent the night together, he began reading and you fell in and out of sleep on his couch. When you woke up, he made breakfast for you and he told you how great it was, with the little eternal side notes from his side. He was proud.

"I have no idea what I should say," you offer a strong beginning, everyone starting to chuckle at your awkward comment. "I've been through hell and back writing this book. Two years and a half ago I lost the love of my life in a car accident, and for a long time I thought I lost everything." the room became suddenly tense as you spoke the words.

"But this should be a reminder that some doors aren't closed. We just think that they are." you finish off raising your glass and looking at a familiar pair of eyes. Everyone cheers as you get off the stage, and after receiving compliments from your boss, your team and other people as well, you follow the suited silhouette that you've been secretly chasing with your stare all night, outside.

"Hey," you greet as you find San on a bench right next to the venue. His eyes meet yours and for a brief second it's like all the nerves you had on stage came back, but they were doubled this time. It was hard going through everything without San. He tried to contact you, of course, but you weren't giving him much and the only times you saw him were when you ran into each other at work. When you looked at yourself in the mirror you couldn't recognize yourself anymore, but he? He was just the same. Dressed for the occasion, his black hair swiped back neatly and his face...as gorgeous as ever, and the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Hey," he greets back as he drags his body on one side of the bench, signaling for you to join him. You sit beside him and look forward, feeling his eyes on your figure. "how have you been?" he asks, his voice glazed in worry. You made him suffer for the last time, you tell yourself. The whole ghosting thing and all the times you avoided him, those summed up the last time you were going to ever hurt him. For now you were working towards slowly healing the wound that has scarred you, which gave you more clarity about a lot of things.

"Better." you answer, looking in his direction. "I finally got it out!" you add smiling, a bittersweet smile that you held inside for a long time, it was for him only.

"I told you." San mimics your smile and looks into the distance.

"You did," moments of silence accompany as you think of the best way to embody your thoughts into words. "I never got to apologize." you start and his head shoots right at you. "I'm sorry. For using you to try and fuck my pain away." finally saying it aloud to him and getting it off your chest make your lungs finally not burn up when you try to inhale.

"I should apologize too," he begins and it's your turn to look at him with confusion.

"A part of me was aware that you were trying to do that and yet I wasn't able to stop myself." he adds. And it's like some part of you already knew, and already forgave him for it and that was because you knew you had way more blame than him, but you learned to come to terms with it, like you did with many things in your life. Learning to forgive yourself wasn't an easy process, but with the help of a good therapist, you slowly learned how to do it. You were at peace with a few of the things that kept you awake during the night. Slowly getting better.

"I'm sorry." he says and you're sure that more honest words had never left his mouth.

You take his hand into yours and place it on your lap. For the first time since you know him, his hands are cold. You use your other palm as a blanket and cover his hand from the cold winter breeze outside. He nurtured for you enough, it was finally time that you were ready to return the favor.

"I read the book," he says, looking at your hands holding each other.

"Lots of them are inspired from your stories," you refer to the poems, thinking of how many more were written with your mind only thinking about him that didn't even make the cut into the book. "and lots of them are inspired from you." You look into his eyes as he squeezes your hand gently. Maybe you didn't yet know what you wanted. But you knew what you didn't want. And you didn't want to lose San. Not again. Not ever.

"Can I take you out on Thursday?" he asks as his gaze stills down on your warm face. If he asked you this on a bad day, you still weren't sure what your answer would be, but today was a good day. You never got to say goodbye to Hongjoong, but that didn't mean you couldn't say hello to anyone ever again. "You know, in case you need more inspiration for your next masterpiece." he adds and you laugh shortly while nodding quickly. You spend a few more minutes in silence, enduring the cold air, silently revealing to each other the most vulnerable parts of you. You look down at your joined hands and then into his eyes. You smile, partly because you do feel happy, and the rest because you know he'll do the same, and hell, you fucking missed that dimpled smile of his.

The man doesn't say anything when you lean your head on his shoulder, but you are almost sure you can hear his heart beating faster. "I missed you so much." you finally say, letting your feelings pour out in front of San for the first time, leaving you vulnerable in a way no one has seen you since then.

And for the first time, while looking at the bright clear sky above you, you think for yourself that...He would be so proud.

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 10)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: sexual content, language, angst, etc. Poppins has come to an end my lovelies, but I’ve an epilogue in store for you, so don’t despair. Also, I’m so sorry for the wait, your patience and understanding means so much to me and I appreciate and adore you all xoxo❤️

“Just ignore him,” Josh breathes unsteadily, lapping against your neck like he can’t stand to exist another second without the essence of you blazing a languid path over his tongue. “He’ll go away.”

A louder, more insistent knock sounds out, as if in argument. As if to say, ‘that’s what you think! I’m not going anywhere!’.

“Oh my god,” you squirm beneath him, but not in the way he would like, not the way you were just moments ago. “It’s like you two have some sort of bat signal for interruption.”

A sharp laugh sounds out of him, open and honest. Beautiful, and so very Josh. “I can assure you, sweetheart, the last thing in the world I want right now, is my fucking brother at the door. Lemme get rid of him.”

He rises reluctantly and walks backwards, fingers fumbling to fasten his pants and adjust himself, eyes on you while you slide up into a more presentable position and attempt to smooth your hair.

“It’s no use, love…” he flashes that blinding grin of his, pairing it with a wicked wink, “he’s going to know you’re wet and up to no good. You look gorgeously desperate.”

You feel your cheeks color further as you contemplate running off to hide in the kitchen. He’s obscene, and the effect that it has on you is concerning. Your entire body is wired up tight and thrumming. You’d crawl to him, should he hook a finger in your direction.

Your traitorous brain conjures that image - you, on your hands and knees, making your way closer to him, to his cock. You want him in your mouth. You want him to press into your throat, to make you gag, to shape you into something filthy for him. Something pretty on her knees ready to give without thought, should he ask.

The knock sounds out again, snapping you out of your salacious daydream. You’re reluctant to leave it, but bid farewell anyway.

“Shut up!” Josh shouts, slipping effortlessly into sibling mode as he twists the locks and cracks open the door.

He’s gearing up to tell his twin to fuck off, it’s evident in his stance and by the way he wedges his foot against the wood, like Jake might decide to push his way in - but in a breath, he swings the door open wide.

“Hey, baby,” the affectionate greeting tells you all you need to know - Jacob isn’t alone. “What are you doing up so late?”

Jake saunters in, winding around Josh, with a wide awake Lily on his hip - who is barefoot, dressed in a frilly, purple princess nightgown, and clinging to her beloved uncle. She shrugs and drops her head to his shoulder.

“Mom told me not to let her fall asleep on me,” Jake runs a soothing palm up and down her tiny back. “Said she’d wake up as soon as I tried to put her in bed. I’m tired of that woman constantly being right about everything.”

“Wanted to come home.” Lil hushes in her soft little girl voice, “I didn’t want you to be all by yourself.”

“Ah,” Josh waves off her concern and leans in to sweep a kiss onto the crown of her head, “you don’t have to worry about daddy, Lily-bit. I’m tough as nails.”

Jake’s eyes are locked in on you over their exchange, flashing with gleeful accusations. Josh is as right as his mother always seems to be - Jake knows exactly what he’s walked in on, and he is delighted to have stopped it in its tracks.

“And just look, lil…” he grins, clearly enjoying himself, as well as your furious blushing, a great deal. “Daddy’s not all by himself, Poppins is here to keep him company!”

She swivels her head around lightening fast, eyes thrilled and round with surprise.

“Hi!” Her greeting comes as a squealing chirp as she scrambles down out of Jake’s grasp in order to hustle into yours.

“Hi, Lil,” you gather her up into your lap and finger comb her tangles, while she settles in, smelling of no tear shampoo and sleep. “What are you doing out on the town at this hour, you little party animal?”

“Jakey drove me,” suddenly her face is close to yours, nose to nose, as she confides, “he turned the radio up loud like I like ‘cause I promised not to tell Daddy.”

You’ve yet to meet a child who possesses the ability to properly whisper, and Lily is no different.

“Jake,” comes Josh’s stern admonishment.

His brother cuts him off at the pass, “The Shining, man, you let my angelic, perfectly innocent niece watch the Shining.”

“I didn’t let her, I—“ he interrupts himself with a huff of irritation. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

At the faint hint of a goodbye, Lily is clambering off your lap as quickly as she arrived. “No, uncle Jakey, stay stay stay!”

When her tiny hand tucks itself away within his own, every heart in the room knows the battle has been lost.

“Alright, girly,” he crouches down and cups her chipmunk cheek. “I’ll stay, but you have to promise to go to bed. You need your sleep so you can rest that big, bright brain and wake up ready to learn brand new things tomorrow.”

He could have so easily reminded her of ‘beauty sleep’, but he chose to emphasize her insatiable thirst for knowledge instead, and you love him for it.

“I’ll try,” she shakes her head solemnly, “but I dunno, I’m pretty awake. Feels like morning.”

Your eyes have wandered to Josh, watching him as he watches them. There is that completely laid bare devotion that you’ve always seen, but also, something new…or at least, something you’ve never noticed before.

Wistful indebtedness is the only way to describe it, though even that seems to fall short. He is beholden to them both - unflinchingly, and for very different reasons.

Likely, it isn’t new at all…maybe you’ve just never looked hard enough.

He has told you as much before, but now you are seeing it unmasked for the very first time; he would lay down his life for his brother, without thought. He looks at Jake as though he blazed the sun to life with his own calloused hands - and when you think about it, that is exactly what he did for Josh all those nights ago, when they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring through the nursery window. Jake had given Lily to Josh, and lit up his whole world, bright as the sun.

Tears are clutching at your throat, but you shake them off and extend a hand out to Lily to make her an offer she can’t refuse “How about a princess bath, Lily-bit?”

Jake is forgotten in an instant at the promise of a princess bath, and she scurries over to grab your hand with the ardor only a child flying high on their second wind seems to be capable of. “Can I have bubbles and flower water?”

“Of course,” you promise, as though it should have been a given, silently praying that the little amber bottle that lives in the medicine cabinet is full of the lavender drops that will turn ordinary tap water into flower water.

A princess bath is reserved for very special occasions, and certainly, being awake so late into the night after an unexpected drive through the sleeping streets of town with the radio cranked up way too loud, ranks a special occasion.

“C’mon, daddy,” she grabs his hand as well, trudging through the room, on a mission to be pampered…and you catch sight of Jake settling down onto the couch to wait, over your shoulder.

It feels like abandonment somehow, leaving him like this. Alone.

But Lily is chattering on, and your attention is quickly refocused as you work alongside Josh to make her happy. More importantly, to relax her enough to wrangle her into bed and lull her to sleep with a story.

~

It takes less effort than you had originally feared it might, and soon you’re creeping from her wildly chaotic bedroom while he quietly reads her a story - complete with changing character voices and much enthusiasm - stepping carefully over dinosaurs that rest, reptilian feet and winding tails stretching toward the ceiling, next to half dressed baby dolls and toppled towers of blocks.

Josh is adamant about instilling responsibility, and while she is given regular tasks and age appropriate chores, he insists her space is her own, and has never once, in your presence, ordered her to pick up her toys from her own floor. The living room floor? Daily. But he never dictates her space.

The way he sees her as a person is one of your most beloved ways to watch him parent. So many forget that children are people with thoughts and feelings, who are lacking the skill set to navigate the world properly…that they need guidance, not policing. Josh never forgets that. Josh sees Lily.

There is a soft smile ghosting over your lips listening to him read to her when you step into the hall to find Jake leaned against the wall like some long-haired James Dean minus the popped collar and casual cigarette.

He cocks his chin in the direction of the backyard and then pushes off with the heel of his boot to swagger down the hallway “Come have a look at the stars with me, babe.”

You follow behind him, feeling a little like a lost puppy, but damned if you know how to do anything but follow these two men - so beautifully alike, yet so achingly different.

“What were you smiling about back there, pretty girl?” He asks, rasping words into the night the second the two of you settle onto the framed porch swing that graces the deck.

“He’s so good with her,” you’re smiling again, remembering. “I don’t know, it makes me smile. I want her to be happy and loved. Strong and fierce. He’s going to make sure that happens. It just…” you offer a little shrug as his hand finds yours in the dark, “it makes me smile, that’s all.”

His head lulls to the side in your peripheral vision, watching you “You love her.”

“I do.” You confirm with a slight nod, not trusting yourself to look at him. “Very much.”

“I love her, too.” He whispers, and finally, you turn to catch his eye.

“I know, Jake.

“You love him.” He’s no longer whispering, his words come fainter .

Your response squeezes painfully out of your tightened throat, “I love you, too.”

His reply mirrors yours that came before, “I know, poppins.”

It is silent for a long stretch before he breaks it, “Did he tell you? How all this came to be?” A soft chuckle precedes the joke he makes to lighten the heavy, “the tale of the Kiszka Twins and the fucked up ways we fuck up?”

You ignore his joke, and address it for what it was: something serious masked as frivolity “Do you think you fucked up, Jake? What you did? Do you regret it?”

Again, there is a pause, and you allow him all the time he needs.

“Sometimes.” He takes a deep breath. “I love her so much it feels like something separate from myself. Some sort of being in and of itself. Like there’s me over here, and then my love for that little girl over there. Because it’s just so great that there isn’t room inside my body for it all, you know? Does that make sense?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, “Yeah, sometimes I get selfish and regret it a little. Sometimes she looks at me with such adoration, such fucking complete devotion and all of a sudden, I want her all to myself. I want to grab her up and run away with her in my arms. But it always goes away just as fast as it comes, that selfishness…he’ll walk in the room and her eyes will light up. Or they’ll share some silly inside joke that I don’t get. Or she’ll ask a question and he’ll see it as a moment to teach her, where I would’ve just answered it…he’s her father and that’s the way it should be. He was always meant to be her dad.”

You’re cradling his hand in both of yours now, soothing your thumbs across his knuckles “You think? Like an everything happens for a reason kind of thing?”

“You look at those two together and tell me what happened didn’t happen for a reason.”

You raise his hand and press a kiss to the back of it, before sweeping your cheek against the knob of his wrist, “I don’t know how to handle all of this. Or what to do with you two. It’s like I can’t separate you in my head. I don’t want to choose. I won’t.”

“Now who’s selfish?” He laughs lightly, wiggling his fingers that are still laced and wound around yours.

“I’m sorry.” A gentle sob shakes your shoulders, and for a moment you wonder how you ended up here. How strange.

“Don’t be sorry, Mary Poppins,” his foot kicks out, swinging you both back and forth in the moonlight, “I’m not sorry, and I won’t make you choose. Can I tell you a secret?”

Lifting your head away from his hand, there is reluctance - his skin feels right pressed against your own, and you hate to part from it “I don’t know that I can handle any more Kiszka secrets.”

A laugh, much too loud for the hour, bubbles out of him “Sure you can, babe. I’ve already decided for you. I won’t leave tonight, because I promised girly I’d stay, but I’m gone in the morning, and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“What?” Is it that you really don’t understand his meaning, or that you don’t want to understand it?

He hums a little tune and rests his head on your shoulder, hushing soft lyrics into the air as he swings gently, “Bye bye, baby, it’s been a sweet love…”

“Jake—“

“Isn’t that what you called me? Free bird?” His beautiful face tilts up and then there is his nose, nuzzling your cheek tenderly, his touch far more innocent than you’ve ever known it to be before. “It’s time for me to go, and it’s time for you to stay.”

You’re prepared to fight, but for what, you’re unsure, “I know what you’re doing. You’re choosing for him just like you did with that goddamned band you guys had.”

Now it’s his turn for confusion. He sits up in order to get a good look at your face and prods you along with raised eyebrows.

“Your mom told me. What you did for Josh because you knew music wasn’t what he wanted. How you gave it up to make him happy.” You’re spinning out of control just a little, but you can’t be sure why. Isn’t this what you wanted? An easy solution?

It just suddenly so seems tragic. He’s given so much to Josh, and here he sits, giving still.

“Fuckin’ Karen,” his laughter is quieter still, and blurred sadly around the edges. “She’s got a big mouth, that one. She’s right though, I did give it up for him. You, on the other hand, are wrong.”

You so badly want to reach out and stroke your fingers through his hair, he feels like mist, like a ghost who is already gone. A memory who sits before you. But you think it’s best to let him speak, and so you do.

“I’m not leaving for him. I’m leaving for her.” As if he can read your thoughts, his fingers card through your hair. “You love me and you love him and both of us love you back and it’s this convoluted fucking disaster, but none of that matters. She matters. And honestly, babe, it’s not even that hard to walk away because it’s for her. She deserves someone who thinks of shit like princess baths, and someone to fix her hair pretty for her first day of school. Someone who’s going to know what to say to her when she doesn’t feel good enough, or smart enough. Someone who won’t get flustered and weird when she starts her period, or needs her first bra,” he shudders a little at that and it makes you smile. “Someone who will know how to make her heart hurt a little less the first time some idiot boy makes her cry. Someone who will know what to do in a million other moments that I can’t even name because I’ll never be that person for her, and neither will he. She needs a mom. She needs you.”

“Don’t you think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Jacob?” You ask, though you don’t feel the conviction you’re desperately trying to color your words with.

“No, I don’t.” He’s never sounded so sure of himself, and that is a feat, as Jake is almost always sure of himself. “Not at all. You belong here. With her. With him. And I belong god knows where, playing for pretty girls who will never be you.”

“I love you, Jake.” You’ve said it already tonight, out here amongst the crickets and the dewy grass that could use a trim, but this devotional feels like the last.

His arm stretches out to pull you in “But you love him, too, don’t you, babe?”

“Yes,” And that is the truth…

He presses a kiss against your temple “And you love her?”

“More than both of you combined. More than myself.” And that is the truth, too.

“Well, then, Mary Poppins,” he sighs as you sway in the swing, the muted creak of its chains keeping time. “It seems we’re on the same page.”

“Will it really be so easy for you to walk away?” You can’t help but hope there will be at least a hint of melancholy in his tone…but there is nothing but content in his reply.

“For Lily? Yes. The easiest thing in the world.”

~

When you wake, it is with Josh curled up warm and snug around you. He soothes your soul like a security blanket. And even given the events just hours before, you feel serene…like you’re floating through calm, perfumed waters with tranquil skies overhead.

You hear him, of course you do, his voice will always perk your ears, you suspect - and maybe that’s okay.

Yes, you hear him. Speaking to her gently, giggling with her, singing to her, telling fanciful stories of what he’ll get up to on the road.

You listen to him remind her of how smart she is, how grand her heart is. He makes her promise to call him all the time, and to give uncle Sammy grief every chance she gets.

He says, “Listen to your daddy, girly, and make Poppins laugh at least once a day, just for me.”

…and then, with a click of the front door, he is gone.

Tears threaten in your eyes, but then there she is, climbing up onto the bed with Josh’s mangled maroon shirt clutched dutifully at her side.

“Can you make me pancakes?” She asks, crawling through the sea of blankets…and you smile, because you can make her pancakes. Of course you can.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @gvfpal @gretavangroupie @starcatcher-jake @demolitionndann @hugorobinson @jaketlove

[explosionkatsu]

I got this idea from the Barefoot movie. But I’ll make a few changes.

Bakugou x Reader

Emergency Call

It was late in the afternoon. The sun is blazing and the air is burning. Although, this doesn't stop Katsuki Bakugou from his plan.

At the moment, he's in his car driving all the way to the other city, with you, seating in the front passenger’s seat while you were busy watching all the building passed by.

“Where are you going, Katsuki?” You asked still watching everything passes by.

“To the airport. I received a call saying they needed my help.” He lied focusing on the road.

“Well, it must be urgent since you're not wearing your hero suit.” You said chuckling to yourself.

How could he do this? You were so innocent, so fragile, so faithful. You cook for him, take care of him, clean both your apartment, and yet here he was, making a cowardly decision.

‘I’m not a coward. I just wanted to protect them.’

He thought to himself as he tries to shake away that thought.

As soon as he reached their destination, he opened the car door for you and proceed to fetch your luggage at the back while you were busy looking around the area.

“Let’s go,” Bakugou said while holding your luggage for you.

You didn't even notice he doesn't have his luggage with him since you were too happy to think that both you and he are going to another country and he was taking you with him.

Once you both entered the building, he lead you to the waiting area where a lot of the passengers are waiting for their plane to arrive. He stood there as he directed you to one of the empty seats.

“Well. Where are we going?” You smiled up at him.

The smile you give him made him feel terrible for what he was about to do.

“Just wait here. I need to make an emergency call.” Bakugou said and leaving your luggage at your side. “Here.” He fished out his wallet and give you a few amounts of cash.

You stare at it confused before looking up at him. “I don't need cash, baby,” you said.

“Just take it.” He insisted before grabbing your hand and placing the money in your palm.

“You won't take long, right?” You said looking up at him for assurance.

Bakugou wasn't looking at you when he responded, “I won't.”

“I love you.”

Bakugou just stares at you and grabs his phone before dialing it making it look like he's calling someone and walking away.

You can only watch his figure disappearing into the crowd while he's talking to someone.

Bakugou was cursing himself internally.

You are a coward.

Says the voice in his head.

He ignored it and left the building. He got into his car and started the engine before driving away. It took him 6 hours to drive to get to that airport and it doesn't mind him, not even a little to drive away on his way back.

It was now 5 pm and you were still waiting for him to come back. Some of the staff of the airport approached you and ask if you were waiting for your flight or if there was something wrong. You merely told them you were waiting for someone because he had to make an emergency call and that he'll be back. Saying that made the staff leave you.

Not until it was 7 pm and it was already dark outside. You were looking at the glass window above to see if there was still daylight but you saw none. A lone tear escaped from your eyes as you patiently waited for him to finish the call.

Bakugou was already halfway there. He was breathing heavily and can't stop thinking about you. That's when he saw your necklace on the seat next to him. He was glancing at it over and over while trying to focus on the road at the same time.

No wonder Deku’s the no. 1 hero. You couldn't even protect the person you love.

Look at you running away as if you're not a hero. Haha! A coward.

And you call yourself a hero?

The voices in his head won't stop until he started tearing up. They were right. What kind of a hero he is when he's being a coward protecting the person he loves? So without hesitancy, he made a U-turn and drove as fast as he could back to the airport.

8 pm it says from the clock. You were now crying, trying to conceal your sob as you waited patiently for him. You stood up and approached one of the staff and asked them if they could make a phone call for you. But as you were about to give them his number, you were startled by a voice calling out your name.

“Y/N!” He shouted, making you look behind you.

There he is, sweaty and trying to catch his breath. Your lips trembled as you watched him stare back at you in pure guilt.

“N-no more emergency calls?” You stuttered and kept staring at him, not taking a step.

He stares at you for a moment before responding, “No more..”

[multiplefandomwritings]

Yellow

pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader

warnings: none really

summary: yellow is the color of sunflowers, sunshine, lemons, joy and happiness and of all the things Mick associates with you.

notes: the schumacher accident never happened in this one. feel free to leave comments and/or feedback. likes and reblogs are always appreciated! also, feel free to send in requests! this one shot is part of the "love in different colors" series. also, the poem in the beginning was written by me.

disclaimer: english is not my first language, so please excuse any mistakes 😊

word count: 4.8k

Wildflowers

Need 

Sun

Wildflowers 

Need

Water

You 

Are

My

Sun

Shining

On

The 

Wildflowers

Your

Love 

Is 

Their

Water

They 

Are 

Blooming

Rapidly

Growing

Fast

And 

Beautiful

2007

He runs as fast as his little legs can carry him. It is summertime, and he is barefoot. He doesn’t need shoes where he is going, you live down the street from his home. He believes he hears his mother’s voice scolding him, but he does not care. He knows that she isn’t serious. He laughs and he hears his mother laughing before he runs through the little garden door and onto the sidewalk.

Only a couple more houses. He greets the neighbors, who only see his fair colored hair running by. They know exactly where he is off too. He comes to a halt in front of your house, which is a lot smaller than his. He looks at the beautiful yellow sunflowers growing in front of the property. He has to put his head back to admire the flower heads because the stems excel his little body. He catches his breath and skips onto the walk that leads to your front door. Jumping up the stairs, he is about to ring the bell when the door is ripped open, and you hurl your body at Mick.

Few minutes later you sit on the swings of the playground close by. “And we went to the beach almost every day, Mick! The sand was almost white, not yellow at all, like I always imagined. Mama bought me a yellow dress and it is so pretty, I must show you next time, I will wear it on the first day of school!” You always talk that much, and even more when you are excited like you are right now. Mick doesn’t mind. He can spend all day listen to you, every day.

Two weeks later, when school starts again, Mick picks you up to walk together. You walk out of the door; the sunflowers are still blooming, and you wear the yellow dress. And somehow this day changes everything for him, he just doesn’t know it yet. It is in this moment that Mick thinks for the first time that he might loves you. It is innocent, it is playful and still so very, very real. After school, when you are still wearing the yellow dress and he waits for you outside the school so that the two of you can walk together, he decides to be brave. When you skip down the stairs of the school building, he smiles at you, you smile back. One of your milk teeth is missing, but it makes your smile just more adorable.

Micks heart beats fast in his chest when your little hand grabs his. On the way home you stop by one of the many fields surrounding your hometown and he picks a yellow dandelion for you. “You know, one day I am going to marry you!”, he says, and you take the flower from his hand and put it behind your ear. “You better!”, you answer him and stand on your tippy toes to blow just the hint of a kiss on his cheek. Then you laugh loud and free and start to run towards home. Mick laughs and he follows you.

2013

Six years later, Mick is still your best friends. You don’t see each other than much anymore because he goes karting a lot now. He is on track almost every day. Sometimes you tag alone, sitting on the bleachers, doing your homework, and watching him racing by. Today is one of these days. It is late spring, the sunshine starts to warm up with every day passing, and you look forward to the summer, because Mick usually has more time then. It is too warm to go carting, and you would have his undivided attention once again. You wear a yellow sweatshirt, and you wave at Mick when he steps out of his cart.

He smiles, waves back and comes over to you. “Hey”, you greet him with a wide smile. “Hey back”, he says and sits down next to you. He pulls you in a short side hug. “You really missed something today at school”, you tell him, “Lukas asked Susanne to be his girlfriend!” “No way!”, Mick exclaims, more excited by your excitement. He doesn’t really care about what happens at school.  Life is very different for the two of you nowadays, while you go to school, meet your friends after and on the weekends, he is always busy. Some days he doesn’t show up at school at all. You don’t like these days. School is better with your best friend.

You are just teenagers now, but it doesn’t feel like that. You still play with barbies, and Mick is too busy to go around in circles in a little car and adolescence hasn’t quite reached the two of you yet. Some of your friends start to date, if you can really call it that, but that is still a bit weird to you and Mick. For other people it is not, and they start to ask if you are a couple, and both of you always say no. Sometimes Mick wishes that you would say yes but that would mean that he would have to kiss you and he thinks that is gross.

“Mick? You are not listening!”, you accuse him. He utters a quite apology. “What were you thinking about?”, you ask, and he becomes bright red. He doesn’t know what to answer you, and he is grateful when his father waves the two of you over. You get up first, the conversation quickly forgotten when Michael tells the two of you that you would go and get ice cream.

You cheer, your arms wrapping around the neck of his father. Mick wishes that was him in that moment. You climb into the car and Mick gets in as well, and you are already talking again, this time telling Michael about your day at school. At the ice cream place, you get lemon ice cream in a cone, like always. It is your favorite; you always tell Mick that. Like he would ever forget. You happily hold your cone in your hand, your tongue licking up the yellow delicacy. Mick watches you closely and for a moment a thought comes to his mind. Maybe kissing wouldn’t be as gross if it was you and if you just ate lemon ice cream, because you would taste like lemons and his ears turn red just a tiny bit.

2016

You are as kind as summer, that much Mick knows. The sunshine that hits his face right now reminds him of the glow of your soul. He is really happy with his life right now, but he is even happier when he gets to spend time with you. He is excited for next year because he would finally start in Formula Three and it is a new chapter. The both of you are older now, proper teenagers now, awkward and shy and there is a little shift in your friendship. It is in lingering touches and testing the waters yet none of you makes the first step, because this friendship you have is worth more than anything else. Also, Mick is older now and he doesn’t think kissing is gross anymore. But he finds out that most of the time when he kisses a girl – which is rare, you know, since he is usually surrounded by boys – he thinks about lemon ice cream and how you would taste.

You still talk a lot, like you always used to do, and it is reassuring to Mick, because even though is life is fast and exciting, it shows him at some things stay the same. It is the comforting notion of consistency that he associates with you. Generally, you haven’t changed that much, Mick thinks as he observes you while you are talking. You are more grown now, obviously, but while his face breaks out with pimples every once in a while, yours seems to be graced by the absence of puberty acne. Or maybe he just never looked closely enough, so he decides to do that now. You shave your legs now; he realizes and for a moment he asks himself whether that is because of a boy. But, he tells himself, you would tell him if you have a crush on someone.

Then, on the other hand, he isn’t really there anymore. He makes an effort to see you though, he likes to tell himself. But mostly the two of you hang out these days when your parents meet up and you tag along. Just like today, when your father had cooked saffron risotto and you had lemon ice cream for dessert. The two of you sit on the old swings of a long-abandoned playground and sway back and forth just a bit. You look more beautiful now, Mick realizes as he continues to watch you, more grown-up. “You never really listen anymore!”, you complain, and he is ripped from his thought. “Even when you are here, you are never really here!”, you accuse before you get up and stomp through the grass and the dandelions towards the house. Micks wants to tell you that he wasn’t thinking about racing but that he was thinking about you, but he doesn’t know how to, so he rather doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks back to the house as well and pays the tall sunflowers next to garden gate no attention.

2017

He hasn’t seen you for a while. He is just so busy with racing, that he rarely comes over anymore. It makes him sad. You still text, but it became rather occasionally. You have your friends in your hometown, you are settled in school. He doesn’t want to take that away from you by pushing his non-existing presence on you. Truth is, he misses you. He misses your friendship. You are still friends, obviously, and he knows that he can call you and you will pick up and listen to him no matter what. But you don’t call him for this kind of stuff anymore. You are not best friends anymore, friends more for the fact that you had grown up together rather than anything else.

But today he wants to change that. He wants to reconnect with you, breath life back into the relationship that is slowly fading away. He is back home for two or three weeks, so he decides to just go over to your house like he used to. Suddenly he feels like he is 6 or 8 or 12 again. He opens the familiar garden door and slips though. The sunflowers stand as tall as ever, but he doesn’t need to look up anymore. Your parents’ car is not there, so he assumes that you are home alone. He rings the doorbell, but nothing happens. No one comes, and he is about to leave, when he hears you calling from upstairs. “I will be right there!” He hears you run down the steps. And then you rip open the door. You wear a yellow summer dress, and your cheeks are flustered. “Mick!”, you exclaim, “What are you doing here?”

You seem happy to see him, but it is not like it used to be. You don’t move in for a hug, you don’t grin widely. A small smile graces your face. “Hey”, Mick scratches the back of his head, “I was back in town, so I wanted to check in and see how you are doing.” You are about to answer when you get interrupted by another person emerging from behind. “Oh hey, babe. Mick was just coming by to say hi”, you smile up to the guy standing behind you. An arm snakes around your waste. “Hey Mick, I am Felix. Y/n has told me a lot about you!”, he extends his hand and Mick takes it to shake it. “Do you want to come in? We have some freshly made lemonade”, you ask him, but he shakes his head.

He forces a wry grin on his face. “No, thank you. I just remember that I need to help my mum with something. But you two have a good day!” Felix waves him goodbye and disappears into the house. Mick turns around and when he is almost through the garden door, he hears you calling after him. “It was nice seeing you again, Mick.” He smiles at you, and this time it is sincere. “You, too.” He leaves your property and returns home.

He doesn’t know exactly why it pained him to see you with another guy. It was not like what you had was exclusive. If he was honest with himself, there was nothing between you at all. All he can think about is that you must taste like lemon when Felix kisses you because you made lemonade, and he finds that this isn’t really fair.

2019

It is a warm summer day, the sun shining. You cover your eyes with your hands, looking up into the sky. You smile. It is a beautiful day. You laugh when a finger pokes in your side. “Mick, stop!”, you laugh and stick your tongue out at the boy next to you. Both of you have found your way home for the summer break, and despite not having seen each other for a while, it feels just like 2008, 2012, 2015, all over again.

You didn’t really talk to each other for a few years when Mick was always away and busy and your lives were really different. You were teenagers, and it felt impossible to bring your different lives in harmony, so you separated paths for a while, both you doing your own thing. You outgrew your teenager years at some point, however. Mick still remembers the day you reached out to him again, a delicate try to revive a friendship that had been lost between the passing years. He was so happy when you called him that evening when he laid under the yellow light of just another hotel somewhere. The pillows were bright yellow, so bright they almost hurt his eyes. You call and he almost tells you. “I thought of you when I entered the room because the pillows are yellow and so are you to me”, but he doesn’t. He is just happy to hear your voice and he listens to you talking, and he spends hours on the phone with you.

Now, you are laying on the grass by the local lake. Dandelions sprouts, poking out in between the green patches of the meadow, and you want to stay here forever. You lay on your towel; you feel like you are surrounded by a yellow ocean of flowers. The skin of your arms tingles – you forgot to use sunscreen. Possibly you would have a little sunburn later, but you couldn’t care less. Micks’ blonde hair is almost golden in the sun, you are blinded when you look at it. You feel hot. You don’t know whether it is the sun or something else. You decide not to think about it for now.

The blonde boy next to you wears a yellow cap. “Yellow is not your color!”, you tease, and he mocks offense. Then he laughs and puts the cap on your head. You smile and stick your tongue out. “Yellow is very much your color, though!”, he says so casually the compliment almost escapes your grasp. Then you realize and a little blush forms on your cheeks. You turn away from him, embarrassed by the effect he has on you.

“Let’s go for a swim”, you say to change the topic and get up. You are wearing a white bathing suit that has sunflowers all over it. You take of the cap and throw it on your towel, where it almost disappears because your towel is yellow as well. For a moment you think about that, the fact that yellow seemed to have seeped into the relationship Mick and you have had for all these years.

Mick agrees, and you both make your way to the water. The coolness of the lake water is a welcome relief from the heat of the sun. You splash around, laughing and joking with each other, like nothing has changed since you were little kids. The years of barely talking are long forgotten. As you swim, you can't help but steal glances at Mick. He has always been handsome, but something about him has changed since the last time you saw him. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, or maybe it's just that you're seeing him in a new light now that you're older. After a while, you both swim back to shore and lay back down on your towels. You feel the warmth of the sun drying your skin and the coolness of the grass beneath you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, enjoying the peaceful moment.

You must have fallen asleep, and you are awakened by something tickling you on your back. Slowly, you open your eyes. You spot Micks body next to you, and the close proximity makes your breath hitch in your throat for a moment. “Don’t move”, Mick whispers and you do as he says. When he is done with whatever he was doing, he grabs your yellow polaroid camera from besides you and stands up. You can hear the shutter click two times and then Mick sits down next to you. He wipes something off your back. His gentle touches give you goosebumps on your arms and leave you feeling warm inside your chest.

“All done”, he says a few seconds later and you sit up. Around you, you can spot the yellow dandelions laying on your towel. “What did you do?”, you ask with suspicion in your voice. “I created art!”, he says and holds on of the polaroid pictures in your peripheral vision. You can only steal a quick glance before he tugs it away under the cap, shielding from the sun and giving it time to develop. “Whatever you say!”, you say, and he looks at you intensely for a moment. It freaks you out a bit, so you stick out your tongue at him and he laughs. He turns away and looks over at the other side of the lake where a handful of people surround the little hut that sold ice cream and fries and everything you needed for a day by the lake. “Ice cream?”, he asks you and you nod. “Lemon?”, you nod again and want to get up, but he gently pushes you down on the towel. “My treat”, he says and before you can argue he gets up and disappears.

When Mick returns, he is already fighting for his dear life. The ice cream is melting and dripping everywhere, and you cannot help but chuckle a little bit. Mick throws you a playful glance and you lose it when his eyes cream falls, just beside his towel. “Shit!”, mutters Mick and sits down. He hands you the ice cream, looking a bit like a puppy. “We can share”, you offer and hold the cone out to him. He takes a big lick and both of you have to laugh.

2020

You arrive in Sakhir on a Wednesday and Mick personally picks you up at the airport. He is nervous, he doesn’t really know why, but he maybe because this race could be the one that decides about his championship. Or maybe he is nervous because he is picking you up and he again hasn’t seen you for a few months and he missed you so much.

You step out of the airport in sweatpants and a pale yellow shirt and Mick thinks you might be the most gorgeous person he has ever seen. You look confused, a bit lost, until you see him. Your face lights up and Micks heart drops when he realizes that you are so excited that you are running towards him. Before you reach him, you drop your suitcase and jump into his arms. He catches you; he holds you close, and he takes in your scent – you smell like lemons and sunflowers and happiness. You smell like yellow, and Mick cannot remember that he has ever smelled something more delicious before.

He lets go of you eventually and takes your suitcase and your backpack from you, whatever he can to help you out. He brings you to his rental car, which weirdly enough is an ugly yellow and he holds the door open for you. He drives you to the hotel while you excitedly tell him about your flight and what movies you watched and what your favorite song is at the moment. You also tell him stories he already heard because you call almost every day, but he doesn’t mind.

Sometimes, when he makes a comment or throws in a joke, you laugh and place a hand on his bicep he swears he melts like the lemon ice he shared with you last summer by the lake. You arrive by the hotel, and he again carries your stuff up to your shared room. It is big, bigger than any hotel room you had ever stayed in and the first thing you do is to step out onto the balcony into the warm sun and close your eyes. Mick joins you soon after, and as the sun is starting to go under, a golden husk is painting your face in a shining yellow. You look like the sun, Mick thinks, and you feel like he it too, he thinks when you look at him and smile.

A bit later, you meet with the Schumacher’s for dinner in a place close by. It is the perfect mix of a restaurant and a bar, looking almost like some American diner. You order burger and fries, and lemonade and Mick steals a sip. You complain, playfully and take a sip of his beer as retaliation. Life is good right now, it is happy and joyful and yellow, Mick thinks. His family knows you, and while you talk Mick cannot help himself but watch. The two of you sit so close, squeezed into the booth. Your hand lays next to your thighs, and Mick can almost touch it. He forgets about that fact for a moment when you talk to him, and he is pulled into a conversation about your childhood memories. He takes a sip from his beer and lets his hand fall on the bench. It touches yours for a second, and he doesn’t know what to do. Does he pull away? But then you link your pinky with his like some kind of promise and Mick leaves his hand there, tied to you by your pinkies and the longing in his heart.

You walk away with Gina next to you, over to the little stage to find the perfect karaoke song and Mick cannot help but watch after you. He is enchanted by you, and he wonders how you haven’t realized yet. When he finally tears his eyes away from you and that yellow summer dress, his parents grin at him. “So, what is going on between you and her?”, his father asks her, and Mick shakes his head. “She is still my best friend, dad. That’s never changed.” “Yes”, his mother says, “The only thing that changed are your feelings for her, am I right?” Mick doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t know what to say. He knows that his mother is right, but he doesn’t know what to say to his dad. He doesn’t know what, if there is anything between the two of you, but he hopes there is. He looks up and your eyes are on him, and you smile and for a moment he is almost sure that there is something and he breaks out in a silly smile. His parents exchange a look and intertwine their fingers with one another.

Mick wins Formula Two on a bright, sunny Sunday in Sakhir. But you outshine the sun on this day, he thinks. Your smile is so bright Mick is sure your cheeks will hurt by the hand of the day. His right ear hurts a bit because you yelled into it, but he doesn’t mind. Winning Formula Two feels even better than winning Formula Three, especially because you are there this time. The occasion calls for celebration, everyone knows that. The team somehow manages to find a location where all of you fit. They buy drinks and snacks, and it is not something professional, but Mick think it is perfect the way it is. It is perfect because you are here, and you are laughing, and dancing and Mick could just spend the entire night watching you.

He is the star of the show, of today, but he feels like that should be you. He has won because you have inspired him to do better every single day since 2019, if he is honest maybe since the day, he met you for the first time. He talks to his dad and his mum and some other people when he sees that you are leaving for the balcony of the venue, so he excuses himself. His mother and his father are exchanging a knowing glance but spare him with a comment. He makes his way through the crowd, needing longer than he anticipates because people stop him to congratulate him. Eventually, he is able to join you on the otherwise empty balcony.

He just watches your back for a moment, and how the yellow dress you are wearing once again is gently swaying in the wind. He wants to go and talk to you, but the view is too pretty to pass up on. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me like a creep, or are you going to come here and give me a hug?” He laughs, slight embarrassment peeking through in the sound. When he walks over to you, he doesn’t need to see your face to know the wide grin you are currently wearing on your lips. He steps closer you and wraps his arms around your hips from behind. It is different than the other hugs you have shared all your life, it is more intimate, more real somehow. His heart is beating fast in his chest, and he is almost sure that you can feel it.

You place your hand on his arms, relaxing against his chest, snuggling impossible closer. “Are you enjoying your party, my champion?”, you say, and your words give him goosebumps – the good kind. My champion. He never wants you to call him anything else again if he is being honest. “Hm”, he hums in agreement, chin resting on your shoulder, “Even more because you are here.” The words he speaks are not above a whisper, because he is a bit afraid to say them out loud. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Mick. Since I first met you, I knew that you were destined for great things.”

Mick cannot help but laugh, and you turn around in his embrace. His arms are still around your waist, your arms are now behind his neck. He is close to you, has he ever been this close to you before? His laughter dies down, but he still grins from ear to ear. “I think the first time we met, we were like two years old, and you hit me on the head with a shovel.” You scoff, but Mick knows it is all playful. “I don’t remember that, but I am sure you deserved that”, you grin up at him, “Anyway, that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Because it is”, Mick says and rubs gentle circles on the fabric above your hipbones, “But most of my best memories are with you. Like that summer last year? I don’t think I have ever felt better than during that time with you.” You smile up at him, and Mick feels like you are impossibly closer now. “Do you remember? When we were eight?”, you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper, “You gave me a dandelion and you said that you will marry me one day, and to be honest… I always hoped that you wouldn’t break that promise.” Mick smiles, and it is soft. He looks down into your eyes and you take his breath away. “One day, I will keep true to that promise”, he says.

He kisses you now, and as he does, he realizes something. Firstly, you really do taste like lemons. And like sunshine and happiness and much, much more. Secondly, he realizes that in a world of billions of people, a life full of thousands who he almost definitely hadn’t met yet, you were his one person, and he was going to make sure that counted for something.

[cuubism]

Derivation

followup to Complex Mathematics

----

“Dream,” calls Death, coming through the front door of their flat, “it’s two in the afternoon, if you’re still asleep I swear to God—”

She skids to a stop in the kitchen, grocery bags swinging in her hands.

“Oh, hey Death,” greets Hob, casually, from where he’s standing at the stove… cooking? He’s barefoot, hair unkempt, t-shirt and jeans loose and rumpled.

“Uh,” says Death, then collects herself enough to keep walking, depositing her groceries on the counter. “Hi, Hob?”

Death doesn’t really invite people over to their flat. Dream doesn’t like it and she does try to respect at least some of his wishes. It’s because of her he doesn’t live alone in the first place, so it’s the least she can do.

(Although if he could get it together enough to manage even a semblance of a functional human life without continual supervision, neither of them would have this problem in the first place.)

So someone being here is… unexpected, to say the least.

Hob looks up at her with a smile, but there’s some tightness to it, as if he’s not sure if she’ll be upset with him being here. She isn’t, of course. It’s not like Hob is some stranger.

She is confused, though.

“Need any… help there?” she asks, sitting at the kitchen table. What is he cooking, anyway? It looks like… crepes?

He chuckles, shoulders relaxing. “Nah, almost finished. You want some coffee? Tea?”

Still feeling knocked askew, Death says, “Sure. Coffee’s great.”

Hob hands her a mug, black, because of course he knows how she takes it. He’s just… like that. How someone like that actually managed to squirm under her brother’s defenses is still a mystery, but Death is glad of it.

She’d had the fleeting thought, the first time Hob had mentioned running into Dream, before he’d even known he was Death’s brother – “met the weirdest bloke the other day, why is it always the weird ones that are the most compelling?” – that there might be… something. That his sheer determination to be fascinated with Dream, despite Dream’s continued efforts to make sure no one got close enough to become fascinated, might at least get her brother to socialize and get out of the house.

Hob and Dream were complete opposites, of course. Hob’s interests were varied and diverse – he and Death had met by bonding over obscure historical trivia that no one else knew nor cared about, after all – while Dream was myopic to the point of fault; Hob got out and socialized and engaged in activities while Dream kept to himself unless he was forced to be somewhere; Hob was cheerful and engaging and Dream was… well… Dream.

And yet.

“Sorry for just… being in your flat,” Hob says with a tiny laugh.

“I’m sure you have your reasons,” Death says sagely, and Hob flashes her a caught-out sort of look, but not without amusement in it.

Death isn’t blind. She’d sussed out Hob’s developing feelings for her brother pretty quick. He was quite possibly the only man insane enough to have feelings that got stronger over time, instead of fracturing the first time Dream sent a withering glare his way. Whether Dream would ever get with the program had been the real question.

She hadn’t thought in a million years that Hob would get him on the same page this fast. Clearly, he has Dream-whispering powers she hadn’t thought possible.

Except.

“Wait, is he—”

“He’s fine,” Hob says quickly, and Death lets out a relieved breath. It’s the only other reason Hob might be randomly in her flat in the close-to-morning hours. If something had happened. “Still sleeping, though. Creature of the night and all.”

Death laughs. “He’s not a vampire.”

“No?” Hob says with a grin. “I’ve never been totally sure.”

The door to Dream’s bedroom creaks open. Oh, Death thinks, sipping her coffee. This will be interesting.

“Hob,” Dream groans, voice still rough with sleep. Death hears him coming irritatedly down the hall before she sees him. “It is early and you are being loud.”

“It’s two p.m.,” says Death, just as he reaches the kitchen, a horrible, gleeful grin on her face.

Dream stops just at the threshold of the kitchen doorway, swaying forward with the force of it. He stares at her, and Death sees the minute thought of fuck flash behind his eyes.

It only makes her laugh. “Come on. I’m only going to make fun of you a little. What are big sisters for, if not that?”

“For leaving me alone,” Dream grumbles. Hob steps over and presses a cup of coffee into his numb hands, then wraps his arms around him, swaying him a little with it, kissing his cheek. Death thinks she hears him murmur good morning into his skin. He gets a tiny smile out of Dream for his efforts.

Death watches with wide eyes. Is this… her brother… allowing a hug without being bribed into it?

Oh, oh, this is excellent, this is delightful.

He crumples into a seat beside Death at the table as Hob returns to the stove, plating his crepes, or whatever they are. Dream’s hair is flattened on one side by his pillow, and a complete mess elsewhere. He’s wearing a sweater that definitely does not belong to him.

It’s the best thing that Death has seen in her entire life. She’s going to buy Hob dinner for weeks.

“So,” she says, with barely restrained glee, leaning on the table and propping her head in her hands. “This is a development.”

Hob shoots her a smile. Dream shoots her a murderous glare.

Hob sits down at the table, passing them both plates of crepes. Death digs into hers. They’re delicious, layered and full of strawberries and cream. Dream, meanwhile, stares at his plate like the concept of food personally offends him.

Hob pokes his arm.

Dream picks up his fork.

Death grins around her next bite of crepes.

“So…” she starts again. “Seems like you two had an interesting day yesterday.”

“Yeah, Dream solved an iconic maths problem,” Hob says, sidestepping her real query with a shit-eating grin. “How many years did that go unsolved, Dream?”

“Eighty-five,” Dream grumbles around a mouthful of crepes. He slants a look at Death. “Please, do not ask.”

A startled laugh jumps up the back of Death’s throat. “Did I just hear a please come out of your mouth? Have I stepped into an alternate universe?”

Dream just keeps staring at her, gaze hard, but with a pinch of anxiety at the corners of his eyes. Wow, this really matters to him, enough that he wants to protect it from even Death’s good-natured probing.

This thing with him and Hob, whatever it is, is new and fragile, at least in Dream’s eyes. And Death knows well the way emotions challenge and weigh on her brother.

She relents, laying her hand on Dream’s upper arm and meeting his eyes in reassurance. Come now, you know I’d never truly try to upset you. “Talk to me sometime soon, yeah?”

He nods, relaxing, and turns back to his crepes.

Hob watches them, bemused but fond, not questioning them. But he takes Dream’s hand on the tabletop, running his thumb back and forth over his knuckles.

Death takes a sip of her coffee and smiles into the mug.

------

She corners Hob in the hallway as she’s on her way back out to work. He leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, casual and easy.

“Is this where I get a shovel talk?” he asks.

Death scoffs. “If anyone needs that, it’s Dream.”

Hob laughs, sharp and surprised. “Well. I guess I’ll count myself lucky. I can imagine your kind of shovel talk, and it’s terrifying.”

It’s sort of gratifying to know she can be intimidating when needed. “In that case, we definitely don’t need to have that discussion. I’ll let the imagined me do the talking. But in all seriousness, Hob, it’s not needed. I know you.”

Hob tugs at his ear, fidgeting under the compliment. His gaze drifts automatically back towards the kitchen, where Dream is still sitting, out of earshot. Then he flashes Death a guilty little grin and whispers conspiratorially, “I’m kind of obsessed with him, you know.”

Death smiles. “I’m aware.”

Dream is categorically obsessed with him as well, Death has heard about it at length – but she’ll let him admit that to Hob himself.

------

When Hob returns to the kitchen, Dream is still sitting at the kitchen table, deliberating whether he should eat the rest of the crepes. On the one hand, Dream is not generally in the habit of eating regularly. On the other hand, it would certainly make Hob happy if he did so.

This, his feelings for Hob, this… relationship, such that it is – it is a far more complicated problem than any mathematical proof.

Dream is not… good at relationships. But it’s already becoming far too tempting to let himself pretend this one won’t end in fire like the others.

Hob wraps his arms around Dream’s shoulders, tucking his face into the crook of Dream’s neck. He’s very physically affectionate now that he feels he’s allowed to be so. Dream can’t help but soak it in like he’s been out in the cold and Hob is long sought-after warmth. He tips his head into Hob’s temple.

“Is it really so horrible for your sister to know about us?” Hob murmurs against his skin, stubble scratching Dream’s jaw.

“No,” says Dream. Death cares, he knows, and he trusts her – a rare thing. It’s just— “I merely want to… think about it. For myself, first.”

Hob is… Dream had meant it when he’d said Hob was stymying. He is hard for Dream to wrap his mind around, and his own feelings for him even more so. He’s not like Dream’s previous romantic entanglements. He makes Dream feel… settled.

“Ah, keep it in its little bubble, I see,” Hob says, and Dream nods. More teasing now, Hob adds, “Keep the problem in your head until you can solve it.”

Unlike so many others, Hob understands. But not because he feels the same. It's because he listens, and believes what Dream says about his own feelings, whether they make outward sense or not.

“Yes,” says Dream. “You know I do not care to work aloud.”

Hob steps around the chair so he’s facing him, and holds Dream’s face between his hands. He looks softer and more rumpled than Dream is used to seeing him, and an echo of the heat of Hob’s bare skin as he held Dream through the night flashes through him. Dream tips his face up to meet his gaze.

“This matters a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Hob says, thumbs stroking back and forth over his cheeks.

Dream hesitates, then nods. The admission is worth it for the way a brilliant smile spreads across Hob’s face. He has a mesmerizing smile; his eyes literally sparkle. It’s completely unreasonable.

Hob kisses him, still smiling. Dream doesn’t know how to reciprocate that kind of outward expression of feeling, so he doesn’t try. He just kisses Hob back.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Hob says, when they’ve separated. He runs a hand through Dream’s hair and it flies up in all directions.

“Am I?”

“Mmhmm. Your eyeliner’s all smudgy right now, though.”

Dream pouts, and Hob laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s cute.”

Dream studies him. The scattered swoop of his hair, still disheveled from sleep, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his broad shoulders, the grounding warmth of his hands where they still hold Dream’s face.

“Pretty is not the right word for you,” he decides.

Hob laughs so loudly, just pure shock and glee, and— ah. This is another one of those instances when Dream has said something unintentionally insulting. Hob never seems to take true offense to it, though.

“What is the right word, then?” he asks, when he’s calmed down.

“Vital,” Dream tells him. “It has two meanings, as you know. Full of life. And—”

“Important,” Hob says, smile softening.

“Necessary,” Dream corrects. “To me,” he adds, in case that clarification is needed.

Hob keeps smiling at him like that, and Dream ducks his head. Hob kisses his cheek. “You’re just a sap deep down, aren’t you?”

“I resent that,” Dream says, but doesn’t move him away.

“You resent everything,” Hob replies. “Kiss me.”

Dream lets Hob drag him to his feet and into another kiss. Hob holds him in his arms, swaying him back and forth. Which one of them is the sap, exactly?

He lets Hob do it, though. Pulling away from Hob’s touch is an effort Dream’s not capable of at the moment.

“I think we should keep working on this problem,” Hob says. “Give you some more time to figure it out.”

“Oh?”

Hob tugs him backwards, grinning. “Didn’t make enough progress last night, I don’t think.”

Dream follows him with slow steps, raising an eyebrow. “You are very mathematically inclined at the moment, Hob.”

“Oh, love, you have no idea.” Hob smiles at him, warm and teasing, eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s far more effective at getting Dream's heartbeat to tick up than any attempt at seduction would be. “You have no idea just how mathematically inclined I am right now.”

“Perhaps not,” Dream admits, voice low. He squeezes Hob’s hands. “But I would like to find out.”

[the-californicationist]

he dreams of blueberries

This is a nasty little drabble tribute to "i wonder how many days i'll bleed" by thethingsthatimake because it is the most amazing Price fic I've ever freaking read.

Swing by and check out my unhinged WIP, "Gunslinger" if you're looking for yet another Price fic to add to your reading list.

MDNI, 18+, etc. Please do not reproduce or translate this work.

You awoke to a strange sensation. You were deeply aroused, wet between your legs, slipping against something. Price was moving his body on yours, kissing down your back, and one of his thick fingers played inside of you ever so gently, dipping in and out of your stickiness like the soft nose of a horse dips into a lake to drink from it, just deep enough to break the surface tension. You moaned, confused, looking over your shoulder to face him, your morning voice low and uneven,

“John?”

“Can I come back inside?”

His morning voice, on the other hand, was threatening. The usual gravel and depth he spoke with was richer, lower, and impossibly dark. His tone alone made your body flush with heat. You felt his cock press against your ass cheek then, hard and drooling, starving for you. Coming to his rescue, you repositioned your hips so that he could slip himself in. The passionate sigh of relief you received from his open mouth was enough to send sparks directly to your core, lighting a fire he’d been busy building while you were fast asleep. 

He talked to you the entire time he moved inside of you. Unfiltered, unbridled honesty,

 “Been dreamin about ya, love.” 

The slow, even thrusts that he was making with his fat cock sounded like heavy footsteps splashing through puddles, slapping and rippling. The slick noises compounded your pleasure. 

“Dreamt about chasing you, in the woods, running after you so fast, catchin’ up quick. I could see - ah,” he thrust harder, biting your shoulder gently before releasing you from his jaws to continue his monologue, “Could see your hair flash behind the trees. Could see you, naked, barefooted, sprinting, those strong legs...”

Price was fucking himself into you with a strength you’d not yet had the opportunity to experience. As the little spoon in this position, you could feel all of the corded muscle he was using to crush himself into you, tensing and stretching, pulling and pushing, up and down in an undulating, steady pattern. You were going to come - he was going to make you come - and you didn’t even have time to warn him about it. 

He felt your orgasm hit him in waves, but he didn’t break his pacing. Price threw his body into your pleasure, keeping up with his rhythm as you squeezed the life out of his shaft. He turned his head into your hair, burying his face in its warmth, eyes wrenching shut, concentrating fully on regaining control before continuing his confessionals, speaking so very slowly,

“Caught you. Grabbed you 'round the waist, pushed you down in the grass. There were rotten blueberries all over, staining us purple. Your smile, ah fuck, so sweet. So damned sweet to me. And I filled you up in the bloody clearing, so full of my come. Messy…oh, my God,” he pushed your leg up toward your chest and discovered a deeper angle, still holding onto his desire tightly, like a rope around a bucking bull. 

“Smeared your pretty face with my come, with the blueberries in the field. With grass. Leaves. In your hair. Mud. Dirt. Covered. Purple,” he became distracted, his sentences turning into phrases, turning into words, turning into moans. 

“You wanna make a mess in me, daddy?” You gasped, trying to give him what he needed from you, joining him in celebrating his dream, imagining the glory of being covered in his delicious filth. 

He whined, grunting through clenched teeth, 

“Mm, yes, love, I do. I do.”

[eskawrites]

What about 18 “You look like hell.” “I feel like it.” Would there be anyway to tie that into the Russian Robin spy bits you’ve been doing because I love them sm

how did you know this perfectly aligns with what i was thinking for the Russian Robin au?

russian robin drabble part one | part two

-

Nancy isn't surprised that Hopper is furious with her. She's not surprised when Murray goes on a two hour rant about how reckless she is, and how they're all certainly going to die now that she's let Robin run back to her handlers. She's not surprised by the sad, torn look Joyce gives her, or the way Steve shuts himself in his house and stops talking to all of them.

She is, however, completely taken aback when Dustin shows up at the Wheeler house in the middle of the night, banging on the door and demanding to talk to her and only her.

"What's going on? What's wrong?" she asks, trying to pull him inside so he doesn't wake the neighbors as well as everyone in her house. But Dustin tugs his arm from her grasp and stays stubbornly on the front step.

"You need to come with me. This is top secret--you're the only one we can trust."

"We?"

"Just come on, Nancy!"

She barely has enough time to grab her backpack that's sitting by the front door before he's grabbing her and pulling her along. She's in pajama pants and a sweatshirt that once belonged to Robin, running barefoot against the pavement, and then the grass, and then through the woods.

Dustin leads her further and further away from the center of town, deeper into the trees. They're heading vaguely toward the Byers' old house, she realizes.

Mirkwood, she thinks, her heart sinking.

"Dustin," she says, "what's going on?"

He slows to a walk, but there's still something frantic to his movement as he pulls her along.

"Don't get mad, okay?" he says. "You're the one who helped her escape."

"What are you--"

"Finally!" says another voice from the trees--young, impatient, and unexpected enough to completely confuse Nancy. Erica steps into view with her arms crossed. "You've been gone for ages!"

"I went as fast as I could," Dustin protests. "Have you seen anything?"

"Nothing. You told me to stay put, remember?"

"Yeah, I'm surprised you listened for once."

"What's going on?" Nancy says again, cutting off Erica's protest. "What the hell are you two doing out here?"

Erica gives Dustin a look. "You didn't tell her?"

"I was working on it!" He turns toward Nancy. "We found her, okay? But we need your help."

Nancy stares. "You--what are you talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talking about? Robin!"

"She left a week ago, she can't be--"

"Look, I've been monitoring Cerebro listening for Russian transmissions, just in case I pick up something. I figure..." He shifts his weight. "If she went back to them, I thought we should know about it."

"Bullshit, Dustin," Erica says. He throws his hands up.

"Fine! I was worried about her. Just like you, Erica. And you, Nance, 'cause you're the one who let her go. So I wanted to keep an ear out just in case she needed us. And it's a good thing I did, because we overheard them talking about her earlier tonight."

Nancy closes her eyes. The world is spinning. She kind of thinks she might be sick. She shakes her head a little.

"Cut to the chase, Dustin," she says, eyes still closed. "What did you hear, and why do you need me?"

"They found her." His voice is tight. Nancy clenches her jaw. "But apparently they underestimated her, because they reported casualties and said she got away."

"And now?"

"As far as I can tell, they have no idea where she went. But based on where they saw her last--and, okay, this is fully just an educated guess, I admit, but--"

"She's close by," Erica says impatiently. "And we need to find her. We need to help her."

Nancy opens her eyes again, glancing around. "You know, the last time you picked up confidential Russian messages, it didn't end well for anyone."

"Robin is our friend," Dustin says, his voice surprisingly sharp. "She's a lot of other things, too, but that part hasn't changed. If she needs us, I'm going to be there for her. So are you going to help us or not?"

She bites back a sigh. "How long ago were they talking about Robin?"

"It's been a couple hours."

"She could be long gone by now."

"She could've been long gone days ago, but she wasn't," he argues. "So?"

"Fine." She slides her backpack off her shoulder and digs through it until she finds the revolver. She pulls it out, checks it over, and pulls the backpack back on. "But you both do as I say, when I say it. Got it?"

They both nod. Nancy moves in front of both of them and starts walking deeper into the forest.

For a long time, they don't see anything. Nancy bites her tongue to keep from pointing out that Robin is a trained soldier, and the odds of them finding her in the middle of the woods, in the dark, with no real trail to follow are low, even if she is injured. But she thinks about the fact that Robin is very likely injured--if not freezing or starving or any other manner of nearly dead--and she keeps her mouth shut and keeps walking.

She's just about to suggest Dustin and Erica head home--her nerves are getting the better of her in the dark, in the woods, with the thought of Russians and demogorgons and whatever else might be lurking in the shadows--when she sees a tree with a patch of bark scraped cleanly off.

"There," she says, nodding toward it. "She's close."

"Because of the tree?" Erica asks.

"Look at the marks. It's too clean to be an animal. She must have done it with a knife, to make kindling probably."

Robin had taught her how to make a fire last summer, pointing out which twigs and branches were dry and which were too green still, showing her how she could figure it out for herself. But if it's rained recently, Robin had said, you might need to dig a little to get dry wood. Shaving pieces from your firewood works, but you can scrape into a standing tree too if you need to.

Nancy had asked how Robin knew all this. I went camping a lot as a kid had been her answer.

She shakes her head. "She's close," she says again.

The click of a gun cocking sounds nearby. Really close, maybe. Still, Nancy raises the revolver and reaches back to push Erica and Dustin behind her. She looks through the trees, trying to spot any sign of Robin or whoever else might be out here.

She doesn't see her, but she does hear her--a faint, disbelieving voice calling out softly, "Nancy?"

"Robin!" Dustin cries, too loud. He runs ahead of Nancy before she can grab him.

"Dustin!" She follows, heart in her throat, but he doesn't go far. He skids to a halt about twenty feet ahead, staring at--

Robin, slumped against an old, rotten stump, arm wrapped tightly around her own waist, a weak, wry smile filling her face as she sees them.

She's covered in mud, clothes torn and filthy, hair messy around her face. The hand holding her gun drops suddenly, as if giving out. She winces a little as she tries to sit up.

"You're barefoot," she says, looking at Nancy.

Nancy stares back. She's sitting awkwardly against the stump, painfully. There are bloodstains on her shirt where she's holding herself. There's a split in her lip and a bruise blooming around her eye, too. She is, though, wearing shoes. Her tattered Converse she'd been wearing when Hopper came back into town with the news that she was a traitor.

"You look like hell."

Robin gives a dry laugh. "I feel like it."

Something breaks in Nancy, tension withering away in the air between them. She stumbles forward and falls to her knees beside Robin.

"I told you to stay safe," she says, reaching out carefully to peel Robin's arm away from her waist.

"If I remember right, you told me not to fail. And I didn't. Bastards'll be running home with their tails between their legs now."

Nancy manages to move her enough to get a clear look at the wound, but the only thing she can really tell is that it's bad. Robin's skin is freezing to the touch.

"What did you do, Robs?" she whispers.

"What I said I would." Robin tries to sit up again, voice and body straining. "I--I want to protect you, Nance. I need to protect you. All of you. I--"

Nancy reaches out and stills her. Robin is breathing hard, beads of sweat gathering at her hairline, but she relaxes slightly under Nancy's touch.

"We need to get her out of here," Dustin says. Robin's eyes flick toward him.

"You shouldn't be here. Either of you," she adds, looking at Erica, too.

Erica crosses her arms over her chest. "Try and stop us."

"You--"

"Dustin's right," Nancy says before an argument can break out. "You need help, Robin."

"M'fine." Her arm falls against her waist again, trying and failing to cover the blood soaking her shirt.

Nancy leans closer and lowers her voice. "You're hurt. Badly. You didn't even try to bandage it?"

"I--" Robin stares at her, eyes wide and searching. "I don't have anything--"

"Then let us help you."

"No. There's nothing you can do, anyway."

"We can make sure you don't bleed to death," Erica snaps.

"By what? Taking the Russian spy to the hospital?" Robin laughs again, weak and hollow, and Nancy feels it scrape through her own chest. "Unless one of you is a field surgeon, there's nothing to be done. You should just go before someone finds you here."

"No way," says Dustin. Beside him, Erica crosses her arms over her chest and nods in agreement.

Robin scowls at them, then turns to Nancy, her gaze suddenly pleading.

Nancy sets her jaw. "You're coming with us, Robs."

"Nancy. Don't."

"Shut up. Dustin, come help me get her on her feet."

He does as he's told, and Robin can't do much but let them take her by the arms and help her up. Nancy lets Dustin support Robin's weight for a moment while she quickly sheds her sweatshirt and wads it up. Then she takes her place back under Robin's arm and presses the sweatshirt to her waist. Robin bites her lip, but she doesn't make a sound as Nancy applies pressure.

"Is there anyone around?" Nancy asks her quietly. Robin shakes her head.

"No one followed me. We should be fine."

"Good. Now come on. Erica keep an eye out."

"Got it."

"Nance," Robin breathes.

Nancy looks up at her and sees tears in her eyes. But whatever Robin was going to say doesn't make it out. She just shakes her head and closes her eyes, letting Dustin and Nancy help her back through the trees.