#i mean i will because apparently it won’t get done if i don’t do it

[sunniques]

— salacious fixation

cw/tw: hoon is mean and manipulative, yandere themes, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, mentions of previous rounds

minors do not interact.

Sunghoon will be the first to admit that he won’t ever fuck the same person more than two times. It’s an unofficial rule he has, and he’s been able to stick by it for so long because he gets bored so easily. He’s never met anyone who’s been able to hold his attention for longer than a week.

This all changes when he meets you.

The moment he saw you taking shots with Jake, he was done for. Sunghoon felt like a creep for watching you all night, but he was physically unable to look away. Everything about you fascinated him. That night, he was only able to exchange a few words with you, but at the very least he was able to learn your name.

Getting to know you isn’t as easy as Sunghoon hoped. For some reason, you kept an annoying amount of distance from him. You always remained polite and cordial—sweet, even. Yet you always pulled away before he could get too close. It drove him insane and made his fixation more intense.

Finally, Jake let it slip one day that you disregarded him so much because one of your friends had a huge crush on him. Apparently you were a girls girl, or whatever. If Sunghoon were anyone else, he might’ve respected that. But he didn’t. At all.

It’s easy to get your friend to invite him over when you just happen to be hanging out with her. Because your friend is so infatuated with him, she’s quick to let him crash what was meant to be a girl’s night. Sunghoon can tell you’re not happy about it, but as always, you play the part of a sweet angel who goes with the flow.

It makes getting you alone that much easier.

“You’re leaving?” You exclaim, feeling your face heat up when you realize how loud your voice got.

“I’m just going to get some drinks,” your friend assured you, not at all concerned that she’s leaving you alone with her very hot crush. “I know you’re shy, but I won’t take a long time.”

You wonder why Sunghoon can’t go with her, or why she won’t let you leave so you don’t have to be a third wheel. Either way, she makes you promise to stay until she comes back, and you foolishly agree. After all, the liquor store is only thirty minutes away, and she assures you that she’ll be back quickly.

It turns out, it only took ten minutes for Sunghoon to have you naked and spread out on your friend’s bed. You feel like such a nasty slut, but somehow that just turns you on more.

According to Sunghoon, everything would’ve been so much easier if you gave into him from the beginning. Of course, it’s way too late for any of that now. He’s going to have to ruin all of your pretty little holes until he gets you out of his system.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he sinks his aching cock into your needy cunt. Once Sunghoon feels how tightly you’re gripping him, he knows he won’t ever be able to get enough. He’s so nasty, and it shouldn’t get you as wet as it does. However, all of your rational thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind after your pussy got creampied.

“F-Fuck!”

Your wanton cry is loud, rivaling the lewd squelching and skin slapping filling the room. Tears of pleasure stream down your face as Sunghoon fucks his huge, girthy cock into your tight pussy. Your mixed releases are pushed out of your cunt with every rough thrust and drip onto your friend’s bed, but her hot crush is far from done with you.

“S-Sunghoon, please!” You beg through your tears. “More!”

“Who?”

He sounds so mean and ravenous, but that only turns you on more. Your pussy tightens around him as you stain his cock with more of your cream. No one has ever fucked you so roughly before, but you love every second of it.

“Daddy, please!” You mewl into the mattress, face burning at the name he insisted you call him. “Fuck me harder!”

Sunghoon smirks as his large hands grip your ass to spread you open for him. You feel so hot and tight around him that he never wants to stop fucking you. After this, he’ll keep using you over and over until you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his balls.

“God, you’re fucking needy,” his grip is bruising. “Bet you love daddy stretching out this tiny little cunt, huh?”

You nod even though it feels like he’s splitting you in half. It hurts so good, and you know that you wouldn’t stop even if your friend were to walk in on you two right at this very second.

“Can’t believe this cute little pussy is taking my cock,” Sunghoon groans as he helps you bounce back on him. “Thought I’d need to train you a little more. Guess you were just desperate for some cock.”

You moan into the sheets, too fucked out to care about anything except the cock drilling into you and the hot guy it’s attached to.

“You’re so pretty, angel,” Sunghoon coos as his heavy balls slap against your pulsing clit. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Sunghoon groans in satisfaction when you squirt all over his cock. He licks his lips as his hips start to snap. You’re a fucked out mess underneath him, trembling on his cock from absolute pleasure.

“That’s it, baby. Get your friend’s sheets all dirty. Filthy fucking girl.”

All you can do is moan like a slut as Sunghoon fuck you like you’re his personal fucktoy. Part of you wants to finish before your friend gets back, but the other part never wants him to stop. Any guilt you felt has melted away. In a way, this was all her fault for not letting you leave when you first wanted to.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum again,” Sunghoon roughly kneads your ass before he roughly slaps it. You jolt and cry out. “You want that, baby? Want me to fill this tight little cunt?”

“Yes, daddy!” You moan, as you deepen your arch. “Cum in my slutty little pussy. Want it so bad!”

With those needy words, Sunghoon shoots his hot spunk inside you. The loud moans you let out can be heard by your friend as she unlocks the door to her apartment, but Sunghoon only encourages those pretty noises as he fucks his cum deeper into your pussy.

[wallflowergirl2006]

Forced Heat [Fem Chubby Bunny Reader] {Smut + Fluff}

Image from Pinterest by: Ti✦na

CW: Breeding

Not Proofread

You're a bunny hybrid, the last of your kind and through the time in imprisonment in this laboratory you were cautious of everything that did. The food they gave you, the stares, the tests. Everything freaked you out. It took a long while for you to get used to your new living conditions. The scientist in charge made sure to give you a habitat that suited to your needs instead of putting you in a cell since you were the last of your species so they made sure to take extra special care of you. So why did they think to pair you with a predator species that was the last thing you wanted and apparently he felt the same way. “Why am I paired up with this inferior creature?” The wolf hybrid snarled at the scientist. You could only frown at his harsh words. His words stung just because you were a prey species doesn’t mean you are less important than the predators. “We are trying to see if you two are compatible Matias. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.” One of the scientists warned him. Matias huffs in annoyance as he stares at you.

He sits down on the opposite of you in the tiny cell they put both of you in. “So what’s special that they had to pair me up with a small and chubby thing like you?” Matias said as he scrutinized you harshly. “Beats me.. I don’t want to be here any more than you do so please can we get this done.” You tried extending an olive branch to him. “Fine but we somehow are compatible enough to be mates. I don't want to hear any complaints from you.” Matias said with harsh glare. “So what’s your name, little bunny?” “[Y/N], My name is [Y/N]..” You told him with an unreadable expression. “[Y/N]” He took a second to digest the information. “It seems to fit you nicely. Yeah, I like that name.” Matias said as his lips slightly twitched upwards. Your eyes raked over his body. He was fit and lean, he didn’t have too much muscle which was good but he also had a lot of scars. “I’m guessing you're a warrior? Judging from his scars.” You asked him with curiosity. His gaze seemed to harden once you spoke about his scars. Your eyes widen in slight panic from his reaction. Matias then let out a sigh. “Yes, I was one of the warriors of my clan. All my scars came from different battles.” He informed you. As he starts to ramble about his scars you choose to get closer to him. He continued to talk and talk until you made it to the other side and sat beside him.

You then grabbed his hand and when you did that seemed to grab his attention. You pressed soft kisses to his scarred hand. You could feel him tense up but he didn’t pull his hand away. A soft ding noise echoed through the room. The scientists then entered the room with clipboards in hand. “Congrats you two. You both are compatible to be mates.” One of the male scientists with a sly smirk. Matias wrapped an arm around your plush waist signaling the male scientist to watch his words. “Alright, I see you're already getting protective of her.” He said with a chuckle. “Alright, guards take them back to their rooms.” The other scientist called for the guards.As the guards escorted both you and Matias back to your room you gave him a small reassuring smile. He saw it and couldn’t help but smile back. 

As time went on the scientist found that you and Matias were the best fit for each well and mostly because once two hybrids mate they won’t be compatible with anyone else. So one day they decided to do a specific test only with you and not Matias. “It’s just some medicine [Y/N] relax.” The scientist said in a reassuring tone as she held up a syringe. Although it didn’t look like medicine, you'd rather obey than go without dinner again. So you lifted your arm and let them stick the needle inside of you. They injected  the “medicine” and it didn’t seem to take effect immediately you sighed thankfully. You were free to go back to your room but as you were escorted back to your room you couldn’t help but feel your body heat up.

Whatever they gave you it made you go into your heat faster than anticipated so you were humping anything you got your hands on.. Anything to make the aching feeling in your cunt go away but nothing seemed to be working.  You whined in pain as you humped the pillow that was drenched in your slick. “Get her mate, we have enough data and she looks like she needs him.” One of the scientists told the guards. Soon you heard the door to your habitat open and you saw your mate and he looked beyond worried. “Pumpkin, I’m so sorry.. Here let me help you.” Matias said as he unzipped his pants and freed his cock. He took the pillow away from you and flipped you onto your back. He positions you into a mating press as he aligns his cock into your dripping sex. He hissed as he pushed himself into you. You could only groan as you wrapped your legs around him to pull him in deeper. Once fully inside you he started at a slow pace but then gradually sped up. “Gonna give you some pups but first gotta take care of my baby.” He cooed as he kissed your soft plump cheek. “God my baby is so perfect..” Matias whined as he felt you clench around him. “Focus on my cock honey, focus on how it fills you nicely and perfectly.” He encouraged you as he thrusted roughly instead of you causing you to cry out in pleasure. The sound of other hybrids in contaminate cheered Matias on as he continued to help you with your forced heat cycle.

Matias feels you tighten around him, he bites back a groan and he thrusts one last time before he paints your walls white, he orgasm triggers your own and you moan out his name as you creamed around his knotted cock. You start to whine as you feel the base of his cock start to swell inside of you. ”I know.. I know sweetheart this is just to help you a little bit more.” He reassured you as he nuzzled his face into your face as he inhaled your sweet scent. Your body trembles as it slowly gets used to the stretch. After a few mins Matias’s knot swells down and he pulls out of you. You sighed in content as you felt his strong arms wrap around your chubby body. You felt him rub his hand over your chubby tummy. “Can’t wait to see your belly swell up with our pups.” He said affectionately as looked into your eyes. “I’ll protect you and our babies. I promise my love.” He said as he pressed his lips against yours. “I love you” He whispers against your lips.

Image from Pinterest by: Grafik Dizayn

[mildmayfoxe]

i busted my ass the last two days at work to get three wholesale orders going out today finished even though it’s NOT my job (& in fact to detriment of my actual job) because neither of the two people responsible started them over the weekend (like they should have) or even as far as i know realized they existed & neither of them said anything to me about it in either thanks or apology when i came in today, the first time i’ve seen them this week. lmao. ok! see if i pick up your slack again!

[sassmill]

I haven’t looked in on the unfinished side of our basement in a while and… my dad’s hoarding has actually gotten significantly worse. And we just heard from my grandfather last night that he’s pretty sure my grandmother is going to pass soon. And when that happens, my father’s hoarding is absolutely not going to get better. So. That’s a lot. I brought it up to my mom and she told ME to research psychiatrists that specialize in hoarding. It’s a very eldest daughter kind of day.

[j-esbian]

it’s all good to say everyone should have public holidays off, but what about when you want to go to the movies on that holiday because now you don’t have to work? what if it’s presidents’ day and you need groceries? what if you need medical attention but it’s flag day? what if you need childcare, for any reason, on mlk day?

essential workers are some of the most overworked among us and deserve relief as much as anyone else but it’s just not enforceable for everyone to get every holiday off

[gay-dorito-dust]

hii!! I don't know if your requests are open but I love the way you write for the Batboys so I thought I'd request something ^-^

The batboys reacting to their s/o not saying "I love you" back when they end a call. This tiktok for reference.

(In case the link doesn't work https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLW4JWj1/)

Idk if you'll see this but thank you!!

Dick

‘I’ll see you soon honey, I love you.’ Dick said on the other side of the phone.

‘See you soon, bye.’ You said cheerfully as you hung up the phone, trying your hardest not to break down with laughter. You could clearly see Dick’s face within your mind, looking down at his phone with the expression of a confused husky dog, head tilted to the side and a pout spread across his face.

For not once had you ever not said ‘I love you’ to Dick when ending a phone call, even when you were annoyed with him you still told him that you loved him, so this was completely out of the ordinary for you and you knew that Dick knew that too.

Which is why he was quick to call you back.

‘Hi! Yeah this is your BOYFRIEND speaking, you know the one you love and are devoted to loving for all of eternity, so do you not love me anymore now or?’

‘Of course I do what makes you think that sweetheart?’ You asked, trying not to laugh at Dick’s dramatics.

‘Well it doesn’t sound like it.’ You could practically hear him huffing. ‘I just want to be loved is that so much to ask for?’ He asks rhetorically.

‘Dick, you’re being dramatic.’ You tell him and he gasps on the other side. ‘Me dramatic? Never! All I ask is for my beautiful, stunning and perfect partner to say they love me before I go kick some ass, but no I’m asking too much apparently.’ Dick then huffs. ‘How mean.’ You heard him mutter under his breath.

‘Fine I love you! I love you very much so go kick all the asses for my honey! I love, love, love you!’ You practically shouted down the phone. ‘How was that for you mr dramatic?’ You add.

‘Mr dramatic loves you too very much.’ Was all he said before hanging up.

Dick never liked it when you didn’t say I love you, he gets very upset and doesn’t want to do anything else until you concede and tell him you love him as though your life depended on it. He was indeed a dramatic man.

Tim

‘Don’t stay up too late for me, I’ll be home soon I love you.’ He said.

‘Okay bye.’ Was all you replied with before hanging up the phone.

Tim knew damn well you weren’t doing much but hold back your laughter when you put down the phone after not saying ‘I love you’ like you normally did, and so through the process of elimination did Tim eventually come to the conclusion that this was all an elaborate prank.

‘I know this is a prank, you can cut it out now.’ Tim tells you the moment you picked up the phone.

‘Prank? Why would you think this is a prank?’ You asked.

‘You’ve not once forgot to tell me you love me in our past calls, so for you to do it now only is an indication of two things, one it’s a prank or I’ve done something wrong.’ He told you with certainty in his deduction.

You raised a brow. ‘And what makes you think that you didn’t do something wrong and I’m not mad at you?’ You were the one to ask this time as you could practically hear him think.

‘Because I didn’t.’ Was his only reply and you couldn’t help but giggle as you ask again. ‘Are you sure?’

Silence for a couple of second were what you were greeted with before being greeted with a ‘I’m a hundred percent certain.’

You sighed. ‘You’re right, it’s a prank, I’m sorry but I hope this I love you will set things right. So here it is: I love you Tim Drake.’

More silence and you were worried for a second before you heard him say ‘I love you too, don’t stay up too late for me please, we both can’t be sleep deprived that’s only reserved for me.’

Tim knew, he always does so there’s no point trying to prank him because he’ll know unless he’s caught off guard, though he won’t tell you is that he nearly shit himself when you didn’t and though he did something when he begin to think logically.

Jason

‘Okay I’ve got to head out on patrol now with Roy, I’ll see you as soon as I’m done chipmunk, I love you.’

‘See you soon jaybirdie, bye.’ You replied before quickly putting the phone done but as soon as you did, mentally counting down from three and when you got to one, your phone flashed with Jason’s contact almost immediately.

You knew he wasn’t going to let that slide once you started this little prank and he played right into your hands.

‘What was that.’ He asks.

‘What was what.’ You replied, acting as though you were confused.

‘You know what, the whole not saying I love you. it’s kind of out thing and so for you to not saying it is kinda throwing me off my grove, and Roy won’t stop saying how much of a simp I am. What even is a simp anyway?’ You couldn’t help but feel your smile grow wider at Jason’s rant and let out a small chuckle.

‘I’m sure Roy can tell you what a simp is, but I don’t see how me not saying I love you once is enough to throw you complete of your game.’ You replied as you could almost hear Roy laugh.

Jason sighs and you could imagine him rubbing his forehead. ‘Can you, can you just say it so I’m not thinking about it for the rest of the night, I don’t feel like bleeding out on our bathroom floor tonight.’ He says and you couldn’t help but feel yourself bend to his will a little before completely yielding entirely.

‘Fine, if it’ll make you feel better, I love you.’ You said and you could tell that took the weight off of his shoulders.

‘Thanks chipmunk, I love you.’ He said before hanging up, finally content to see the patrol through with a clear mind.

Needless to say Jason internally overthought himself when you didn’t say I love you once, it nearly drove the poor man insane and into doing something reckless. So it was good that you did say it when you did.

[calliesmemes]

ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED QUOTES FROM TUMBLR TEXTPOSTS, X (formerly known as twitter) POSTS, TIKTOK, MEMES, AND OTHER SOURCES AROUND THE INTERNET

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Currently considering becoming a bother and a nuisance, maybe even a menace or a rascal. ”

“   Hungry? Eat the government. ”

“   Yes, I wanna fuck after every argument. ”

“   Silence, you uneducated peanut! ”

“  They should invent a being alive that isn’t so difficult. ”

“   Women have to think I’m hot or none of this matters. ”

“   Due to personal reasons I will be named an enemy of the state. ”

“   Being overdressed is a myth made up by people who didn’t want you to have fun and be sexy. ”

“   What even are daddy issues? Just traumatize your father back. ”

“   I LOVE complaining! You can’t take that away from me! ”

“   I went to the silly goose convention and they all knew you. ”

“   I’m simultaneously ‘I’m tired of this grandpa’ and ‘that’s too damn bad!’ ”

“   The word ew coming out of a pretty girl’s mouth holds so much power … I think that it can tear apart nations. ”

“   Someone made fun of my shoes and the whole time I just thought of ways to push them out the window. ”

“   If you’re short, simply get taller. ”

“   I better think twice? Buddy I don’t even think once. ”

“   My off putting looks, awkward demeanor, and strange behavior have captivated you. ”

“   There’s something deeply, fundamentally wrong with you. Can we kiss? ”

“   You are a fool. When you walk, clown music plays. ”

“   I mean yeah he’s evil and all but what if I were his favorite? ”

“   I really do hate thinking. ”

“   In my defense, I simply do not vibe with the law. ”

“   I’ve done nothing wrong. Except all the atrocities. Besides that, I’m innocent. ”

“   Sorry I couldn’t hear you over my internal monologue. ”

“   Of course you have white hair and trauma. ”

“   So apparently the bad vibes I’ve been feeling are actually ‘severe psychological distress’. ”

“   Stop calling me a bad person just because I’m orchestrating your downfall! ”

“   The more lip gloss I collect the longer I live. ”

“   Sorry that I am obsessed with you in the unhealthiest way possible. As if it's my fault ”

“   The multiple failed assassination attempts against me have helped build both character and self esteem. ”

“   I could be your loser boyfriend. Do you ever think about that? ”

“   Accidentally went and got myself killed yesterday, but god wont let me die so I’m back ”

“   What do you mean napping isn't a good coping mechanism? What do you mean my problems are still here? ”

“   Academic validation is required for my sanity. ”

“   RIP to everyone killed by the gods for hubris but I’m different and better. Maybe even better than the gods. ”

“   Researching the stages of grief to see if I can get them finished in ten minutes tops. ”

“   My parents were like I’m gonna make a child that is so beyond help. ”

“   It’s not easy to admit when you’re wrong, and that’s why I won’t do it. ”

“   Why can’t this family ever have a funky good time? ”

“   How do I show people that I’m more than my unethical career choice? ”

“   I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out. ”

“   You look so biteable today. ”

“   Why am I suffering? I have so many correct opinions and takes. ”

“   I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST THAT I CANNOT GO BACK TO! anyways ”

“   Challenging authority, angering gods. The family business. ”

“   Third base is me telling you about my father. ”

“   Hey girl. Plagued by terrifying visions? ”

“   Got caught giving a fuck. Embarrassing. ”

“   I didn’t ‘miss’ the red flags; I saw them and thought that they looked sexy. ”

“   Do my dark circles and deteriorating health make me look hot? ”

“   I get my news from the only reliable source, cryptic symbolism in my dreams. ”

“   Another day of being a bisexual disaster. ”

“   I’m going to let myself be a little unhinged today, as a treat. ”

“   Some of you act like murder is such a big deal. ”

“   You wanna hunt me for sport so bad that it makes you look stupid. ”

“   You’re not a girlboss unless you’ve killed someone. ”

“   It’s so weird how no one ever has correct opinions about things except for me. ”

“   Hello, my love — I mean, my rival ”

“   No one is calling me baby and it’s outrageous I can’t believe it. ”

“   No talking stage. Mutual obsession and you see god in my eyes or nothing. ”

“   I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOOKUP CULTURE DIE IN MY ARMS ”

“   Yes baby your emotional walls are high and impenetrable can we kiss now? ”

“   Affection is disgusting. Drown me in it. ”

“   I am gatekeeping my respect from you. ”

“   Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. ”

“   I am equal parts fuck around and find out and please don’t yell at me I’ll cry. ”

“   Short legs, big butt. I’m a corgi. ”

“   Fuck being the bigger person; I’m going to start biting people. ”

“   Well that wasn’t very slay of you! ”

“   May I please get a crumb of affection? ”

“   I crave power! Please don’t yell, though; I’m sensitive. ”

“   You call it a near death experience; I call it a vibe check from God. ”

“   Here are some scissors. Now cut it out. ”

“   Might commit a little tomfoolery, maybe even some shenanigans. ”

“   All these flavors, and you choose to be salty. ”

“   How can I live, laugh, love in these conditions? ”

“   What if I said ‘to be honest’ but then lied? ”

“   I'm financially at a stage where I understand why people do fraud. ”

“   Yes I may be evil and morally corrupt, but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly. ”

“   Debates are stupid. Why would I want to sit down and argue with someone blatantly dumber than me? ”

“   I forget but I do NOT forgive.. I'm just walking around hating bitches can't remember why ”

“   Ding dong your opinion is wrong! ”

“   I’m coming for your kneecaps. ”

“   You dropped your nose you fucking clown. ”

“   Are you a fire alarm? ‘Cause you are really fucking loud and annoying. ”

“   Call me an escalator, because I let people down. ”

“   I love me a good lesbian scandal! ”

“   If you can’t run away from your problems, you’re not running fast enough. ”

“   Everything I want to do is illegal. ”

“   Don’t make me hit your ankle with my Barbie scooter! ”

“   I tell gay jokes because I am a gay joke. ”

“   Fuck! I dropped my mental stability! ”

[catboyieejeno]

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・★

cw: soft dom! mingyu x slight pillow princess! reader, fem! reader, pwp, oral (fem and male receiving), slight overstimulation, praise, mentions of cum, npr

18+ minors do not interact !

boyfriend! mingyu who is completely obsessed with burying his face in your sopping cunt until your fingers are weaved between his locks and you’re coming multiple times in a row. he won’t let up, not because he’s being mean or punishing you with overstimulation—although occasionally, that is the case—but because you, his sweet, pretty girl, deserves nothing less than his tongue lapping restlessly at your folds. It’s embarrassingly easy for him to get pussy-drunk, grinding himself into the bed as he goes down on you for well over an hour. By the time you plead out desperately for his cock, he’s already left a thick puddle of his cum on the spot in the bed he was fucking his length into. 

kim mingyu is a simple man of simple pleasures, some of which include your cries and sputters, your trembling thighs and heavy pants, and the infrequent, though appreciated, indiscernible blabbers of praise you manage to let out through drooling lips. when you can actually manage to form words, that is. 

you are his pillow princess, whether you bestowed that title upon yourself or not. The chances of you going down on him? slim. giving him head is a rare occurrence; in fact, you’d have to beg him to let you try, plead with him to stuff his considerably large length down your throat. you’d have to convince him you need him there so bad, that you want him to feel just as good as he makes you feel, but even then, his responses are rehearsed. 

“but baby, i don’t need all that, let me treat you instead,” 

“‘wanna do all the work for you, honey. you deserve it.” 

“you really want me to fill your mouth up baby? first you have to come twice on my tongue,” 

“I’d rather come in you, sweet girl.” 

“s’too big for your pretty little mouth, don’ wanna hurt you,”

at first, you thought he didn’t want you to give him head at all, or that he assumed you would be bad at it. But, when you finally begged enough, your pretty boy caved and it became apparent very quickly why he was holding off for so long. from the moment he lays back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other pressing his thumb onto your swirling tongue, he knows he’s done for. watching you crawl over him, leaving kisses and licking stripes as you make your way down his torso, makes his pre-cum leak freely from his flushed tip. 

mingyu has his lip caught between his teeth, eyes glossed over in a haze. the very moment your velvety lips wrap around his head, he’s groaning out, arms and legs dropping limply onto the mattress. you have absolute power over him in that moment, and both of you are very, very aware of that. all of your insecurities dissipate as you realize he’s falling apart, melting like putty in your hands. his chest that previously rose and fell calmly is now puffing up with air he pushes out through his nostrils and the noises he’s letting out? other-fucking-wordly.

he eventually regains feeling in his hands and they rotate between holding your throat, your cheek, and simply sliding along the ridges of his abdomen. all the meanwhile, it’s him who chokes up on his words, slurring his speech. 

“please, please, please…” 

“your mouth feels s’good on me, fuck,” 

“doin’ so good, so fucking good, all for me…” 

“if you do that again, i’m not gonna last—shit.” 

“just like that, yes, baby… oh, god, you’re gonna make me—“ 

when your tongue swipes deliciously over his tip, he drags out a strangled moan, shooting his hot load into your mouth and down your throat. knees locked, toes curled, and hips bucking up into you, he throws his head back to ride out his orgasm. 

a few seconds later, his hands fly to your hair to lift you off, but in a small act of defiance for all the times you were overstimulated by him, you grab his wrists and pin them at his sides. he lets you do this because it’s so, so fucking hot to watch you have a sliver of control for once—both of you are well aware he could overpower you if he wanted to. instead, though, he laces his fingers with yours and takes what you give him like the good boy he is. it takes less than ten minutes for him to come each and every time you give him head going forward but thankfully, his stamina doesn’t betray him. he recovers while he returns the favor, devouring you and drinking up your juices as his cock that never fully softened, swells up all over again. 

⋆ ★

[bluebeary-jay]

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

[hoshifighting]

Can you pleaseeee also write staff mingyu x idol reader🥹🥹

staff!mingyu

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive. may be triggering because of; extreme diets, blackout, getting scolded by the choreographer, fingering, a bit of possessive talk, hair pulling, cock riding, devoted mingyu too.

staff!mingyu who you're in one of those tiny-ass dressing rooms with, the ones where you can barely move without smacking into a light fixture or tripping over cables, andhe's , towering over you, big frame almost making the room look even smaller. he’s your stylist-slash-PA-slash-damage-control-for-whatever-stupid-thing-you-say-in-interviews guy, which means he’s there to check every last detail on you, no matter how close he’s gotta get.

it’s day four of this overseas tour—barely halfway in, and you’re already feeling like you’re running on fumes. you’re dodging local food left and right, not ’cause it doesn’t look good, but ‘cause it’s either not on this wild diet they’ve shoved you on or it just doesn’t sit right with your stomach. for real, you didn’t think there’d be a point in your career where you'd be skipping meals, just ‘cause the food doesn’t fit some "ideal look" they cooked up for you.

and staff!mingyu... always there, at the exact moment when your stomach’s about to start an opera of complaints, hands full of grocery bags and this half-smile on his face, like he’s in on some inside joke only the two of you share.

“alright, sit down,” he says, like you’re gonna argue, and starts unloading enough ingredients to feed a small village. he moves around the hotel kitchenette—pots, pans, seasonings, a whole rotation of stuff he’s pulled outta his endless stash. he even managed to drag around a few of those little plastic spice bottles from home, ‘cause apparently, foreign supermarkets don’t stock paprika exactly how he wants it.

“didn’t know your resume included chef duties,” you joke, propping your chin on your hand as you watch him chop veggies with the same focus you’ve seen when he’s backstage, touching up your makeup or fixing your outfits.

he laughs easy. “oh, it doesn’t,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “but you looked like you were about to faint this morning, so i figured i’d make an exception.”

“what, you gonna make a whole buffet?” you tease, but the moment he sets that first plate down, you’re quiet. it’s nothing fancy, but it smells like heaven—garlic, spices, veggies mixed with something hearty, real food for the first time in days.

“look, you eat this, or i swear i’m shoving it down your throat myself,” he says, crossing his arms, and even though he’s joking, there’s this serious fringe in his eyes. like, he won’t let you get away with just picking at the food.

“alright, alright.” you dig in, taking that first bite, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed—warm, filling, like someone wrapped you in a blanket from the inside out. you’re not even halfway done, and he’s already cleaning up, telling you about how he once had to do this for himself, back when he was training and could barely afford takeout, let alone proper meals.

“so, yeah, i’ve been cooking for years,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and it hits you then, this guy, who’s supposed to be here to make sure your eyeliner doesn’t smudge, is actually going out of his way to make sure you’re not just a shell of yourself on stage.

“you know, if this whole career thing falls through, you’d make a damn good chef,” you say, and he just shakes his head, laughing.

“nah,” he says, “i think i like this job better. get to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t faint halfway through a song.”

staff!mingyu who notices everything, who noticed how you walked into the practice room that day looking like... hell, honestly. there were bags under your eyes so dark they could’ve been bruises, and your skin was that shade of pale that came from days of no sleep, maybe a crazy diet, who knows what else. mingyu was hanging out with a bunch of the other staff in the corner, narrowly paying attention at first, but then he caught sight of you—really looked at you—and yeah, it wasn’t just fatigue. he knew what he was seeing; it was that same look he’d seen too many times in trainees and idols back in the day. the look that meant you’d been pushing way too far for way too long.

by the time you got through the first set of counts, your choreographer was already on your case, his tone sharp as knives. “again,” he snapped, crossing his arms, and you could practically hear his frustration from across the room. “you’re not even hitting the moves properly. what is this?” he scoffed, giving you that disappointed stare that always made you feel about two inches tall. “do you even want to be here right now?”

mingyu’s fists clenched a little. he’d seen you pull off that choreography a hundred times before, and he knew damn well it wasn’t that you didn’t care. it was that you literally didn’t have anything left in the tank, and this guy was still going in on you like you were some slacker.

but you didn’t argue back, didn’t defend yourself, nothing. just bowed your head, muttering, “i’m sorry,” in this tiny, defeated voice. mingyu could see the exhaustion written all over you, the way your shoulders slumped, how you couldn’t even lift your head all the way back up after bowing. you just stayed there, bent over in that apologetic pose, like maybe that was the last bit of strength you could pull together.

but then, as he watched, you didn’t straighten up at all. in fact, you didn’t move for a solid couple of seconds. and then, like you were a puppet whose strings had just been cut, you dropped. one second, you were still standing, and the next, your knees buckled, and you collapsed right there on the damn floor.

for a split second, no one reacted; it was like the room had frozen.

but then mingyu snapped out of it, his heart racing as he lunged forward. the rest of the staff started moving too, voices rising in panic, but mingyu was already at your side, leaning down and calling your name, voice barely hiding the worry.

“hey! hey, can you hear me?” he said, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. you were breathing, but it was shallow, and your face had gone even paler than before, if that was possible. mingyu felt this pang in his chest seeing you like that. you’d been pushing so hard that your own body just gave up on you.

someone behind him was calling for water, another person was getting the choreographer to back the hell off.

jobs in general weren’t easy, he knew that. but for mingyu, there was nothing worse than watching idols, the people he was supposed to support and protect, get wrecked like this—shoving themselves into diets, swallowing the criticism like it was part of the gig, sacrificing sleep and health just to fit into a pair of jeans or to mold into some industry standard that kept shifting.

he’d been in this job for years, and he’d seen it all before. too many nights spent watching trainees lose more weight than was healthy, idols pushing themselves until they’d practically faded away. sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it’d be worth leaving, finding a path where he didn’t have to witness it all so up close. he’d think about it on those long nights when he was running on four hours of sleep and too much coffee, wondering what the hell he was doing here when he could be somewhere else, not dealing with the cycle of pushing and breaking and then pushing even harder.

but then there was you. you, with your stubborn smile and that relentless drive he couldn’t help but admire. maybe it was that same drive that had you here, running yourself down like you’d forgotten how to stop. but mingyu had felt that pang deep in his chest at the thought of not being around you—of not being there to see you through the highs and lows, to make sure you had someone who cared about more than just your stage presence.

it was that thought, that tiny, persistent ache, that kept him rooted here every damn day. even if he had to watch you crash sometimes, even if it drained him dry just trying to keep up, he’d stay. he’d be right there, whether you knew it or not, making sure that someone in your corner would be looking out for you, whether you wanted it or needed it, or not.

staff!mingyu who’d quietly made it his side mission to keep you fed, like he’d added it to his job description without anyone even asking. it started small, maybe just a little sandwich he’d stash in his bag for you after seeing you collapse that one time. but then it became routine, almost sacred, the way he’d show up like clockwork with that lunch pack in hand, looking half like your bodyguard in his all-black staff gear, half like your own personal chef with a menu that he swore changed every time he showed up.

“mingyu, what’d you make me today?” you’d ask, bouncing into the dressing room after each performance, all amped up and practically beaming because, let’s face it, you’d come to love his little surprise meals more than you’d admit.

and mingyu, with that smug but bashful little smile, would act all nonchalant. “oh, nothing much… just a little chicken and veggie stir-fry,” he’d say, but it was always something next level—some five-star recipe he’d learned just for you. and the best part? he’d make it seem like it was nothing, just a side gig he’d taken up on the fly, when really he’d been researching recipes, planning, and even practicing to make sure it came out perfect.

he’d hand you the lunch pack like he was passing off something top secret, keeping a close eye as you took that first bite, watching for any sign you didn’t like it. but, of course, you always loved it. because mingyu wasn’t just making food—he was making damn art. you’d take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation, and he’d try to hold back that grin but always failed, shoulders relaxing like he’d just won something.

“you don’t get it, mingyu,” you’d say, mouth full but smiling like a kid on christmas. “i think you’re the reason my performance’s getting better. you’re, like, my actual secret weapon.”

and he’d laugh, pretending to brush it off, but inside? he was proud. because knowing you were hitting the stage with a full belly, with energy to burn and that spark back in your eyes—that meant everything. it was his way of giving back to you, even if you never asked for it, even if you didn’t realize how much he cared.

staff!mingyu who somehow became the world’s best photographer without ever meaning to, taking these casual, almost-too-good photos of you that drove your fans insane. you’d be walking through some cobblestone street in italy or leaning out of a coffee shop in tokyo, and he’d be there, catching that perfect shot with his phone. no fancy equipment, no staged poses—just mingyu, with his natural eye for what made you shine, snapping photos that were somehow intimate and made you look like everyone’s dream. fans called them “girlfriend pics,” and if only they knew the man behind the lens.

you had to admit it—he was stealing your heart a little more with every click. at first, you brushed it off as some harmless crush, a side effect of him being so damn good at his job. but then he’d do something small, like bring you soup when you were sick, or drape his coat over your shoulders when you got cold during a late-night rehearsal, and it’d hit you all over again. mingyu, with that goofy smile, the biggest heart, and hands that somehow felt gentle and grounding as he adjusted your hair or let you lean on him during those endless backstage waiting times.

it was easy to fall for him. too easy, really. and the way he cared? the way he was there for you, always? how could you not? he had this way of making you feel seen, like no matter how chaotic things got, he was your solid ground, always steady, always there to keep you safe and keep you going.

but, of course, staff!mingyu was a catch to more than just you. you’d see the way the other staff members watched him, the way some of them giggled and whispered, eyes lingering a little too long. and mingyu, ever the nice guy, didn’t even seem to notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t really care. he’d give his number when they asked, smile back when they flirted, just being his usual, friendly self. you’d tell yourself it didn’t bother you, but the truth was, it was like a little ache in your chest every time.

after a show one night, you and the whole team went out to celebrate, and mingyu was right there, laughing, clinking glasses with everyone, in his element. when it got late, exhaustion finally started to settle in, and you decided to call it a night. you told everyone you were heading back to the hotel, hoping he’d maybe do the same.

but mingyu didn’t. he stayed behind, still chatting and laughing with a few of the girls from the staff, and you could feel it—that twinge of jealousy, the frustration, knowing they’d probably spend the rest of the night with him, hanging on his every word, maybe more.

as you looked back one last time, watching him, it hit you like a punch in the gut. maybe to him, all this was just work—a job. you were part of that, someone he cared about, but just someone in his care. and the pang of that realization stung. maybe you weren’t so special after all.

what you were about to do wasn’t right. hell, it felt downright selfish. you sat in the bathtub, hot water swirling around you, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that told you to just let it go, that this was a bad idea. but you couldn’t shake it off—every thought twisted into a knot in your stomach. you felt almost sick, like you had this strange, heavy weight pressing down on your chest, something that felt more like heartbreak than anything else.

“god, what am i doing?” you muttered to yourself, scrubbing at your skin like it might wash away the confusion. you knew mingyu was just doing his job, that he was sweet and caring and everything you admired. but watching him flirt with those girls, knowing they’d likely take him away for the night, made you feel like you were going to hurl.

“ugh, this is so dumb,” you groaned, splashing water around, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “why can’t i just be normal about this? it’s not like i’m his girlfriend or anything.”

but then the truth hit you again, a sharp stab of clarity amidst the chaos. you wanted to be.

after a few more minutes of spiraling, you said “fuck it,” feeling a rush of determination surge through you. you fished your phone out of your towel, thumb hovering over his name. your heart raced as you typed out the message.

“hey, mingyu. i know you’re probably busy, but i just wanted to say... i’m not feeling great. kind of sick, actually. do you think you could come by?”

you hit send, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter as you leaned back against the tub. was this too much? but then again, maybe it was time to stop hiding how you felt, to admit you needed him without a million excuses holding you back. it was either that or let him slip away for good, and you weren’t ready for that.

mingyu came in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for your text the entire time. you barely had time to wrap yourself in a towel before he was at your door, knocking frantically. “y/n! are you okay? open up!”

you opened the door, and the sight of him—hair a little messy, eyes wide with worry—made your heart race. “yeah, um, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered slightly. you didn’t want to come off as dramatic or needy.

he touched your forehead and you leaned into his touch without even realizing it, closing your eyes for a brief second “you don’t have a fever at all,” he said, confsed.

you pulled back abruptly, the warmth fading as reality crashed back in. clutching your towel tight around your body, you walked over to the window, pretending to be fascinated by the view outside. the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“y/n?” mingyu called, confusion clear in his voice. “what’s going on?”

you couldn’t believe you took one of his rare moments of lounge because of being selfish. mingyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in confusion. “y/n, you were perfectly fine just a few hours ago. what’s really going on?” he asked, the suspicion creeping into his voice.

“i told you, it’s just a little... off,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. the guilt gnawed at your insides, knowing you were lying, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to come clean.

“off?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that’s the best you can come up with? you don’t just go from fine to ‘i need my staff member to check on me’ for no reason.” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’re not actually sick, are you? what’s up?”

you shifted uncomfortably, the towel clinging to you. “seriously, mingyu, it’s nothing. maybe just a little headache or something,” you said, hoping the casual tone would brush off his concern.

he let out a huff of disbelief. “a headache? so bad that you needed me to rush in here? that doesn’t add up.” he studied you, like he was piecing together a puzzle. “just tell me the truth. are you really feeling sick, or is there something else bothering you?”

“i just thought maybe you could... keep me um... company, you know? just for a bit.”

“keep you company?” he repeated, tone incredulous. “so you fake being sick just to get me in here? you could’ve just asked! you know i’m always down to hang out.”

“mingyu—” you started.

but he cut you off, his voice firm, the playful light fading from his eyes.

“why would you do that? this isn’t some joke, y/n. my job isn’t a game. it’s serious.”

you pressed your lips together at his louder tone, the shock of it stinging more than you expected. you hadn’t meant for things to escalate this badly, and as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, it hit you like a ton of bricks: you never thought mingyu would raise his voice at you. it felt so out of place, so foreign, and your heart sank.

“hey, hey, i’m sorry,” he said, the anger melting away as he noticed your expression. he stepped closer, the care flooding back into his eyes.

you quickly wiped your eyes before the tears could fall, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “you know what? i hate it,! you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. “i hate when they’re all over you, mingyu! it makes me sick to my stomach!”

his brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. “wait, what? you hate it when who’s all over me?”

“those girls! the staff!” you said, your voice rising with every word. “the way they throw themselves at you like you’re some kind of trophy. and you smile back at them, like it’s all just a joke or something. it drives me insane!”

mingyu looked stunned, blinking at you as if he were trying to process what you were saying. “y/n, are you—are you... jealous?”

“i — well— hell yeah, i’m jealous!” you shot back, frustration spilling over. “you’re so kind and caring, and they see that. they want you, and it feels like they think they can just waltz in and take you away from me. it’s infuriating!”

“but it’s just… it’s just me being friendly,” he stammered, “i’m not trying to lead anyone on. you know that, right?”

“i know, but it doesn’t change how it makes me feel,” you replied. “it’s like you’re this perfect guy, and they all want a piece of you. and here i am, just trying to keep my head above water, feeling like i have to compete for your attention.”

mingyu shook his head, a soft smile creeping onto his face despite the tension. “you don’t have to compete for anything. you’re… you’re the one who has my heart. all those girls? they’re just… coworkers.”

you pause, processing his words, and mingyu scoffs lightly, a teasing grin on his face.

“oh please, it’s true. you think i’m not bothered when i see those idols shoving their numbers on your sandwiches?”

you blink at him, completely taken aback. “wait, sandwiches? what are you talking about? i only eat the ones that you make for me.”

he interrupts you with that signature smile of his, one that always makes your heart race a little faster. “yeah, exactly. that’s ‘cause i always give those sandwiches to someone else.”

“mingyu, what the hell?”

“y/n, what the hell?” mingyu mocks, raising an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “you seriously thought you could pull this off? lying about being sick? that’s low, even for you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance. “i wasn’t lying, i just—”

“sure, sure,” he cuts you off. “and is wearing just a towel part of your grand scheme too? because if it is, you’re gonna need to step it up a bit.”

“and what if i just want you to come over… in a towel?”

“then i’ll take that as a personal invite,” he grins, his gaze flickering to your towel before meeting your eyes again. “just know, if you’re gonna pull this kind of stunt, you better be prepared for me to take advantage of the situation.”

staff!mingyu who wastes no time, pressing forward until you’re caught between his solid frame and the cold glass, as his body pins you in place.

“you really went all out for this hm?” his fingers trailing down to the knot of your towel.

staff!mingyu who tugs the fabric free, letting it drop to the floor, leaving you fully naked. his hands spreading wide over your back, fingers firm as he turns you around to face the glass. your chest presses against the cool surface making you gasp as mingyu’s hand trails up your spine, steadying you.

staff!mingyu who grips your hips, pressing you forward, and then trails his hands up over your sides, his fingers brushing along your curves until he reaches your shoulders, leaving no part of you untouched, as though he’s marking every inch of your skin as his.

staff!mingyu who leans down, one hand sneaking around to splay across your stomach, pulling you closer to him, making you feel his hard erection on you.

staff!mingyu who lets his hand slip lower, teasing over the sensitive skin of your thigh before slipping higher, his fingers skillfully finding your pussy as he watches you through the reflection, face contorting in pleasure, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“don’t look away.” he instructs, his tone a command softened by that grin of his.

staff!mingyu who keeps one hand firm on your hip, controlling your every move as he slips his fingers inside you, “all this just because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else, huh?” he curls the fingers, trying to pull a response form you. “admit it,” he coaxes as he presses you harder against the glass, his fingers never relenting. “tell me you wanted this—wanted me.”

staff!mingyu who doesn’t stop until he feels you melt against him, a soft, teasing chuckle escaping as he takes in your breathless state. “next time,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “just say the word. i’ll come running.”

staff!mingyu who yanks your hair, tipping your head back to meet his lips as you twist in his grip. it’s a little clumsy, the angle throwing you off, but he holds you steady, his mouth hot and insistent on yours. you’re all melting into him, trusting the way his hands keep you secure, letting him take control as his grip on you tightens.

staff!mingyu who, somehow, maneuvers you both towards the bedd, he scoops you up with ease, laying you back as he hovers over you, he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you in as he dips down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down to your shoulder, and back up to your jaw.

staff!mingyu who takes his time, exploring every part of you with slow touches, like he’s determined to map out every reaction, to memorize every place that makes you moan.

staff!mingyu who, even in bed, is all about making sure you’re comfortable, arranging the pillows just so, adjusting the blankets if they’re too rough, whispering “is this okay?” and “tell me what you need” like he’s got all the time in the world. his hands are warm, grounding you, and he never rushes, taking the time to check in, to make sure you’re exactly where you want to be, that he’s giving you what you want, down to the smallest detail.

staff!mingyu who lets you wrap yourself around him however you want, all limbs and tangled sheets, whispering soft reassurances in your ear as his hands trace your back, making sure you feel safe. he’s patient, careful, coaxing you with soft, murmured words, taking his time until you’re both lost in it, every sensation heightened.

staff!mingyu who surprises you by pulling back, catching his breath, and suddenly flipping the roles—guiding your hands to explore him, encouraging you to take control. “i’m yours too, you know,” he murmurs, watching you with that familiar smile, the one that’s equal parts playful and sincere, as he lets you explore, giving you the chance to take the lead.

staff!mingyu who’s all breathless and desperate under you from the moment you take the lead FORREAL and ride him, his hands gripping your hips, trying to guide you even when he’s struggling to keep up. soft, wet sounds filling the room as you roll your hips in slow circles, making him whine. his head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, but you bring a hand to his cheek, making him look up at you.

“tell me,” you murmur, lips brushing just against his ear, “tell me you’re mine, mingyu. that none of these hoes matter.” he looks up, his eyes hazy but still so focused on you, like he’s trying to pour everything into that gaze.

“i’m yours—yours, only yours,” he chokes out, his voice rough and pleading, like he needs you to believe it. he’s babbling now, his grip tightening on you, thumbs pressing into your skin, anchoring himself as you move, each drag pulling another whimper from his lips. “none of them—none of them mean anything,” he gasps, desperate, brows knitted together. “just you. only want you.”

staff!mingyu who’s practically begging at this point, his hands sliding up to your waist, trying to pull you down, closer, as if he could somehow get more of you. “please.” he whispers, his eyes filled with so much want it makes your heart pound.

“you’re mine, mingyu. no one else. got it?” and the way he shudders, that choked, relieved sound he lets out, is everything. he nods frantically, hands gripping you tighter as he starts to lose control, bucking up into you.

staff!mingyu who’s wholly ruined beneath you, lost in every kiss, every whispered word, clutching onto you as if he’s scared you might sneak off, even when you’re right there, telling him over and over again—“all mine.”

[emma-needs-attention]

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Bucket List || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: Life changes in the blink of an eye with a diagnosis and you are forced to face your mortality with the help of Charles Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, grief, implied character death.

WC: 5.8k

Story || Death Scene || Two Years Later || Bucket Moments || Five Years Later

The winter break was meant to be a time for Charles to relax but one simple act had put an end to those plans. It had been a little joke between lovers while you were getting dressed. Charles had seen an opportunity and taken it, cradling the swell of your breast in his palm and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Honk, honk!”

You gasped at the sudden pain that flared and rubbed at the aching area. Charles was immediately sorry, apologising profusely as he brushed your hand aside and massaged it gently for you.

“It’s ok, Cha, this one’s been a bit tender lately.”

“What do you mean?” His concern was palpable and his hand flattened so the palm was pressing into your flesh. You couldn’t hide the wince at the spot he touched and he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

“What?!” You stepped away and grabbed your breast, almost immediately feeling what he felt as your heart began to hammer hard in your chest. “It’s probably nothing, boobs are lumpy all the time.”

“Yeah…” he murmured distractedly. “We should probably check just to be sure. Right?”

You tried to nod casually but it was too hurried. “I mean, just to be sure.”

Everything moved quickly after that. The exhaustion was no longer jet lag. The low red blood count was no longer anaemia. The lump was no longer just fatty tissue.

“What happens now?”

You looked at your boyfriend, but his eyes were fixed on the doctor who had been explaining the test results. Charles had done all of the talking while you sat in a state of shock. You didn’t even feel like you were inside your own body but floating somewhere in the room and watching from outside.

“We could take a biopsy to be certain but the tests so far are quite conclusive and I wouldn’t recommend waiting. We could fit you in to remove the tumour in the next couple of days and have you home for Christmas.”

You knew this already. He had spoken about removing the lump. You couldn’t bring yourself to call it a tumour because, benign or malignant, it made it too real. Removing the lump was the extreme simplification of what he really meant. Mastectomy. Double to be precise. The risk was too great to leave the other breast untreated, apparently.

“We’ll take the surgery as soon as possible.”

You blinked at Charles, waiting to see if he would even look in your direction before making such a decision but his chin was resting on the tip of his steepled fingers. He leaned forwards, digging his elbows into his knees as he always did when he was deep in thought.

“No,” you rasped. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” Charles replied without even looking at you. He had hardly looked your way since the first appointment a week ago.

“I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Doctor Hall said softly as he rose from his chair and left the room, the click of the door closing too loud in the heavy silence.

“It’s my body, Charles,” you whispered, your throat too hoarse to manage anything louder.

“I know that, but this is your life we are talking about.”

“We don’t even know for certain that it’s…that it’s…”

“It’s cancer,” he said with a sigh, “not saying it doesn’t change the test results.”

Your eyes burned, your tear ducts working overtime all week. The harsh lines on Charles’ face softened as he saw them well on your waterline before spilling over. Pulling you into his lap, he cradled your head to his chest as you ruined yet another one of his shirts with your makeup and tears.

“Mon amour, we will get through this but we have to trust the doctors.”

“I won’t have boobs,” you whispered as your voice broke.

Charles curled his finger under your chin and tipped it back as he searched your eyes for the answer. He found what he was looking for and dropped his forehead to yours with a shake of his head. “You will still be the most beautiful woman in the world. And I need you in the world, mon amour, do you understand that? I need you to fight this.”

A few days turned out to be just one after the oncology department received a large, anonymous donation. The private room in the hospital was filled with bouquets from friends and family, their floral scents were almost able to erase the tart smell of bleach. You still felt numb to the entire experience and Charles watched on with concern as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Your reflection was the same, yet it wasn’t. Permanent marker pen lined the skin that would soon be permanently marred. The outlines accentuated what would be taken from you and you turned to your side profile, trying to imagine waking up without the pieces of your body Charles had loved.

“The surgeon said there are options, if it’s really that important to you,” Charles said as he pushed off the doorway he had leaned against and walked into the room. “But you don’t have to think about that now.”

You let him drape the surgical gown over your arms and they fell limp at your side while he tied the bows to keep your modesty. “Come and lay down with me,” he murmured as he took your hand and led you to the bed. You hadn’t been sleeping well, neither of you had.

It was narrow but Charles made space for you to lay in his arms with his chest pressed to your back. Monaco was alive outside the window you faced but the sounds didn’t reach you. Instead of watching the cars on their journeys you turned your eyes up to the cloudless sky and spotted the gulls that danced in the salt air.

“I lo-.”

Charles’ chest shuddered with the breath he took before he kissed your temple and whispered, “Don’t.”

“I need to tell you.”

“We promised, not until you wake up.”

“But what if I-”

“Don’t,” Charles begged, a wet drop falling into your hair. “Please.”

A knock sounded at the door but you kept your eyes firmly only the white feathers of the bird that landed on your windowsill outside. Charles pressed his lips to your temple once more before releasing you from his hold and climbing off the bed.

“I’ll be right there when you wake up, mon amour.”

“I…I’ll see you soon.”

He smiled sadly as you caught yourself from saying what you wanted to say, that sad smile remaining while your bed was wheeled away. You craned your neck as you were taken further down the hall, wanting to memorise the way he looked in case it was the last time you had the chance.

As promised, you woke up bleary eyed and groggy to those gold and green eyes, his hands holding yours tenderly as he sat beside your bed.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted as his smile brightened your day. It was a true smile, one you hadn’t seen for over a week, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed the dimples in his cheeks. “I love you.”

You felt drunk as the anaesthesia still circulated your body and you were sure you slurred the words you had been banned from telling him before. “I love you.”

You dozed in and out of consciousness until the pain relief began to wear off and breathing itself hurt. The bandages across your chest irritated your skin and the stitches pulled with every little movement. Charles noticed it all.

“I’ll see if they can give you anything for the pain.”

You caught his hand before he could leave and winced as the IV line in your hand tugged uncomfortably. “I’m hungry.”

Charles chuckled, knowing you would be after eating nothing before the surgery, and cradled your cheek gently. “Maman’s on her way with your favourites. I’ll be right back, baby.”

Charles arrived back with a large bag of hot dishes from your favourite restaurants around the city and the promise that the nurse would bring some medicine around soon. 

“We’ll have someone come and move you up to the ward shortly,” the kind nurse said after she had given you another dose of pain relief. “You’ll be able to see your visitors there.”

You thanked her since you knew your parents would have been waiting with Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo too. Charles had been keeping them updated since you woke up and his phone was constantly going off with notifications from your friends. 

“How are you feeling?”

You placed your fork down into the empty bowl and Charles whisked it off your lap and tidied up the rubbish with the need to keep himself busy. “I don’t know,” you admitted as your head began to clear from the anaesthesia. “Two weeks ago we were partying in Baku and now we’re here. I still don’t know how this even happened. What if they made a mistake? This was all done so quickly.”

Charles carefully tucked the sheet back around your body after helping you to lie back down. “Mon amour, this is one of the best hospitals, they wouldn’t have done this unless it was the right decision for your health.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know how to feel anything right now, except confusion.” You took his hand as he sat back into the chair beside your bed and kissed his knuckles. “How do you feel?”

“Me?” His brows pinched together as if he hadn’t been thinking for himself, and he really hadn’t. All of his thoughts and feelings had been focused on you. “I’m relieved, I suppose. You are here, I get to kiss you and hold your hand. That is good.”

You smiled at the hope in his voice. “I don’t remember a kiss.”

“Ah,” he hummed with a nod as he leaned closer until his lips were so close you could feel the heat of them as he whispered, “This one.”

You were warned that day two would be the hardest. The hard drugs had worn off and what you were supplied with took away the dull throbbing ache when you were stationary but did nothing to prevent the sharp pain of moving. 

Charles had just lifted you back into bed after helping you go to the bathroom when the surgeon arrived with a forlorn look on his face. Immediately you felt the air leave the room.

Doctor Hall started with the good news, that the surgery went as planned with minimal bleeding from the tissue removal, but then there was a pause. Your fingers tightened around Charles hand as the doctor flipped the piece of paper on his clipboard over and clicked the end of his pen. 

“When we began the removal of the tumour we found that the shape wasn’t exactly as we expected from the ultrasound.” He drew an oval shape on the paper before adding webs spindling off in all directions and pointing to them. “We removed as many of the tentacles as we could find but they are invasive and so we would like to start chemotherapy as soon as you have recovered from the operation.”

Charles' knee shook the bed as it bounced nervously. “Chemo?”

“Does this mean it is definitely c-cancer?” you stumbled over the word as you said it aloud for the first time.

The doctor nodded. “We were quite sure before but pathology confirmed it with the sample we sent.” 

“What about Christmas?” you asked. “Can I still go home for Christmas?”

The doctor nodded again and you exhaled in relief. Christmas had been organised to be held at your house for months and it would give you a chance to do something normal after your life had been thrown off the rails. You needed this Christmas. 

“We will schedule you in for after New Years, but you wouldn’t want to delay it much further than that.”

“Thank you,” Charles choked out for the both of you as you fell silent and he left. “What are you thinking so hard about, beautiful?”

“The menu. It needs to be special. And I want to invite everyone.”

“What, slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Christmas, Cha, I need to start planning now.”

Charles knew you were deflecting, pouring yourself into a future task so you didn’t have to think about the present. You had already gone through enough, so he bit his tongue and took a second to clear the thoughts he wanted to voice. Instead, he asked, “who, exactly, is everyone?”

“Slow down, you’re meant to be relaxing,” Charles warned as you rushed around the house for a last minute tidy up. “Don’t hurt yourself, baby, let me help.”

“I love you, but please leave this to me. I know where everything is.”

“I do too,” he exclaimed, falling silent when you picked up a remote that had stopped working. You had asked him to get the batteries for it the night before, but he hadn’t been able to find them. 

“Second drawer in the kitchen,” you said as you tossed it to him and folded the blanket you snuggled under with him every night. “But you knew that right.”

He sent you a charming smile as he backed out of the room. “Of course, honey.”

You chuckled at his retreating figure. “Thought so.”

You had just finished lighting the scented candles around the house when the front door opened and Arthur breezed into the living room. 

“Merry Christmas, ma chére. Shouldn’t you have your feet up?” he tutted as he kissed your cheeks, careful not to hug you since your chest still hurt. 

“Merry Christmas, Tuthur.” His smile lifted at the old nickname and it only grew as you said, “You know how well your brother cooks. Be glad I don’t have my feet up.”

Everyone arrived steadily after Arthur and as the night grew colder every seat in the living room was taken by your guests. You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas as you sat on Charles lap and listened to Joris recount how he had spent the winter break so far.

You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas, but it wasn’t.

You were self-conscious in a way you never were before. The dresses you had loved so much were now something you couldn’t bear to wear as it accentuated the changes in your body. You had taken one shopping trip with Pascale so you could buy some presents but by the time you had got home there was a photo circulating the F1 WAG pages. The comments had nearly made you sick as they compared your flat chest to that of a young boy, or joked that the championship wasn’t the only thing that was lost at the end of the season. 

You knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out but you doubted they would feel any remorse, anyone who could say such things through a keyboard didn’t have the emotional capacity to feel guilt. 

When midnight came and went, so too did the guests. Tipsy and jolly, they said their goodbyes and well wishes until the house fell quiet except for the music playing softly from the speakers. Charles pulled you into his arms and gently rocked you side to side as you laid your head on his chest. “Merry Christmas, mon amour. I didn’t know what to get you this year, so I was absolutely selfish and got this.”

Charles stepped out of your embrace as he dropped to one knee and held a ring out. Similarly designed to his mother’s, the ring was timeless and elegant with a large princess cut diamond. “Will you make me the happiest man and marry me?”

You had waited years for the question but the answer that fell from your lips went against every fibre of your being. Your hands covered your mouth but there was no silencing the words as they hung in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Confusion slapped Charles’ pink cheeks and he swallowed twice before his voice could work again. “Why not?”

“You know why,” you whispered. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Because I’m sick, and I don’t want to make plans if I’m not going to be there to…I just don’t think now is the right time.” You took the ring from his fingers and sighed with longing. “It’s beautiful, Char.”

“Hold on to it for me,” he said as he stood up and closed your hand around it. “When you beat this, I’ll be waiting, mon amour, however long it takes. I’ll wait for you.”

You held the ring tight as you closed the distance and put all the words and emotion you couldn’t articulate into a kiss, deepening it until you were breathless and needy. “Come to bed,” you breathed against his lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked pained by the very idea, or maybe it was the weeks of celibacy after your surgery.

Lacing your fingers together, you took a step towards the stairs and gently tugged him to follow. “You could never hurt me.”

The moment had been weeks in the making as the chemotherapy took its toll on you. For days after the treatment you had been ill and Charles had been at your side with a bowl ready for when you emptied the contents of your stomach. Then your muscles ached and you could barely hold your own weight up to walk. Just when you thought the worst had come to pass you felt the first strands come loose.

“Hello, my dear,” Pascale answered your call, only to be met with a hiccup. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“M-my hair,” you stammered as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Charles had been out shopping but you saw his face appear behind you as you turned to show him what filled your gripped fist. “It’s my hair.”

“I’ll be over shortly, just let me lock up the shop,” Pascale soothed before ending the call.

“I just brushed it,” you hiccuped as you touched your hair again, more of it floating to the tile floor. “It won’t stop.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured as he took your hand and brushed the hair from your palm. “Maman will know what to do. We’ll get through this like we have everything else, together.”

Pascale promised she could have a wig made for you if you wanted one but it was already late in the evening and you knew she was exhausted from working all day. You did however accept her offer to shave the rest of your head so at least the patches of missing hair didn’t stand out as much. Charles had sat with you in the bathroom and held your hand the entire time before asking his mother to shave his next.

“No, I love your hair,” you argued as he pulled his shirt over his head to save it from getting covered in the short dark strands.

“I told you we are doing this together,” he replied as he kissed your knuckles and nodded to his mum to proceed.

It took a while to get used to the smooth feel of skin on your head but you came to prefer it to the wig that Pascale crafted, somehow finding hair that was almost the exact same shade and texture to your natural hair. The moment you got home from any outing you would pull the wig off with a grateful moan just as you used to do with your bra.

“Are you going to be alright? Maman said she can come and stay with you.” Charles sat on his suitcase so he could zip it closed before looking up to where you sat in bed with a book on your lap. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “It’s only for two nights.”

His team had let him get away with having one extra night at home before going to Bahrain for the 2024 pre-season testing, but it was still too long away from you in his eyes. You would have been with him but you were due some follow up tests.

“You’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to miss me,” you teased, spurring him to climb onto the bed and cage you beneath him.

“I miss you every second we are apart.”

You recognised the number calling your cell phone because you still had nightmares from the last time they rang. A pit of dread was already opening in your gut as you hovered your finger over the green button. You debated not answering the call but if you didn’t answer it then he would try Charles’ number next - and he needed to focus on driving.

You wished you never answered the call.

You had been quiet the entire drive from the airport to the hotel Charles was staying at. He wasn’t one to push you to talk before you were ready but he was certainly worried when he reached across the gearbox and placed his hand on your lap. He spared a glance to you as he gently squeezed your thigh but still you didn’t react, or take his hand, or even blink.

You didn’t remember the walk from the car to the hotel room. You were busy thinking about how you were going to break Charles’ heart, something you had never imagined you would have a hand in. You never wanted to hurt him, you loved him more than life itself, a life that was going to be shorter than you had once thought.

Charles stood quietly in the doorway to the bedroom, your suitcase still in his hand. He watched as you pulled your wig off for the first time since leaving Monaco and listened as you sighed heavily. His feet only carried him closer when you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and held it out silently.

“What’s this?” Charles asked as he unfolded the note you had written on the plane. You had almost 10 hours to think of everything you wanted to do while you could and his eyes scanned over the list. “Baby, what is this?”

“It’s my bucket list.”

“A bucket list?”

“It’s a list of what I want to do before I die.”

“I know what a bucket list is!” He took a breath and ran his hand over the fuzz that had grown back on his scalp before lowering his voice as he shook the paper. “Why am I holding yours?”

His green eyes blurred with tears as you bit your lip and looked at your feet. He was already shaking his head in denial, wet droplets soaking into the list.

“My results came back…”

“Non, non, baby, non…”

“I’m sorry, Charles,” you choked as he fell to his knees and let the paper fall to the floor. His arms encircled your hips and you cradled the back of his head to your stomach as he cried against you. You finally let your own tears fall, the tears you had held back since you received the news. “I’m so sorry.”

Charles missed testing the next morning as he held you in his arms. The tears had long run out but the sadness still remained. He had laid with you all night as close as your bodies would allow and together you had seen the sunrise over the desert. He had listened to you quietly recount the doctor’s words but most of it made no sense to him. 

Metastasized. Stage four. Terminal. The information ruined him.

“How long?” he finally asked. He looked at the paper that was still on the bedroom floor before clearing his throat and trying again. “How long do we have?”

You didn’t know if answering him would help or not but he was waiting for an answer as you rolled over to face him. The last three months had taken a toll on him and dark circles rimmed his eyes and they no longer held the same brightness. They were only going to dim more at the news. “Six months, maybe a year.”

He was silent, but you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Emotions warred behind his eyes before he climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

You hated the silence but the screaming was worse. The painful wail echoed around the room and you felt it shatter something deep in your chest, before something shattered in the bathroom.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you held yourself together while Charles fell apart.

You weren’t sure how long he screamed at the universe, how many times he asked it why, what he had done to deserve to lose someone else he loved. You weren’t sure how long it took him to clean the blood from his fist and wash his face of the tears before he unlocked the door and slipped back into the bed.

“Whatever you want, mon amour,” he promised as he unclenched your hands and curled his body around yours. “Anything you want to do, we’ll do it. We’ll do it all together.”

You stood at the edge of the lookout and smiled at Charles as he took the photo, another one for the memory box you were making together. Charles kept his promise, taking you everywhere around the world with him to tick off the items on your bucket list.

You had watched him win his home race for the first time and gone to a couples cooking class.

You visited all the Disneyland Theme Parks you hadn’t been to before: the Tokyo one when he raced in Suzuka, the Chinese one when he raced in Shanghai and the Floridian one when he raced in Miami. 

Charles had taken you to Iceland to camp under the northern lights and to Pamukkale in Turkey where the blue waters were meant to work miracles. It hadn’t cured the illness that ravaged your body but each activity you crossed off cured some of the sadness in your soul.

“It’s bigger than I imagined,” Charles commented as he looked up at Christ the Redeemer. “What size shoes do you think he wears?”

“Well you know what they say about big feet.”

Charles’ head fell back with a laugh. “You cannot say that about Jesus.”

You fluttered your eyelashes innocently as he stepped closer to take a photo of you together. “I was going to say he wears big socks, get your head out of the gutter.”

“Of course you were, mon amour.” Charles’ lips curled up in amusement and you relished the way his eyes crinkled before you rose onto your toes so you could kiss him before the smile faded. 

The flash of his camera captured the moment and you reluctantly pulled away as the sun began to set on another day spent living. The days were getting tiresome, your energy flagging as the medication changed from treating the illness to managing the pain. You had read enough to know that time was running out.

“We should get going, don’t want to miss our flight to Vegas.”

“About that…” he trailed off as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it in your hand. “I made a list of my own.”

Marry the woman of my dreams.

“I can only do it with you by my side.”

—

Pascale had created a beautiful headpiece for your wedding but when it came time to leave you hadn’t been able to place it on your head. A year ago you had only dreamt of the day you married Charles and in all those imagined scenes you had your hair styled up like she had crafted on the wig with pearl pins and a delicate tiara. But a lot had changed in a year, you had changed. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you look beautiful,” she said as she wiped her eyes. Your own mother was speechless as she pulled you into her arms and held you tight.

“I’m going to ruin my makeup if you two don’t stop crying.”

“Honey, let her go,” your dad said softly as he placed a hand on your mother’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

Your throat felt as if it were closing and for a second you held on tighter before you both opened your arms. “I love you,” you said to them all as you looked at the proud but sad smiles on their faces. “Thank you for making this possible, for both of us.”

Your father grabbed the wheelchair you had been using, the exhaustion sometimes too much for you to handle, but you shook your head. “I’m going to marry him on my own two feet.”

You knew Charles had a lot of help organising the wedding because there was no way he could have done it on his own. The entire paddock had come to a standstill at the end of Media Day and you found yourself walking down a makeshift aisle on the grid to the starting lights. 

Hundreds of friends joined your families on the track and you had no doubt that Charles had flown them all there at his own expense. 

“When you said married in Vegas, I thought you meant the White Chapel,” you whispered with a giggle.

Charles' smile grew at the sound and he took your hands in his. “That’s something tacky Pierre would do.”

“Hey,” the groomsman objected beside Charles. “Elvis isn’t tacky. Focus on your own wedding, mate.”

You laughed at the exchange before Lorenzo cleared his throat and your eyes widened as you realised he was the celebrant. “Is this legal?”

“The online certificate I got says so,” he said with a wink. “But if you’ve changed your mind I can skip the legal bits.”

Your eyes lit up with amusement. “No way, I’m not going to miss having you as a brother-in-law.”

“And I thought we were here because you wanted to marry me,” Charles joked. He had waited so long to marry you but now that the moment was here he was in no rush for it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, where you were lighthearted and smiling. Where you weren’t lost in thought but present in the moment, with him. 

“I do,” you said with a grin before peeking back at his older brother. “Does that count, can I kiss him now?”

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not quite, shall we get started?”

Charles could hardly keep still with his excitement. “Ready, baby?”

You reached into a hidden pocket in the dress and pulled out the engagement ring he proposed at Christmas with. Slipping it into your finger, you gave him a serious nod. “Now I am.”

—

“Good morning, Mrs Leclerc.”

You smiled as Charles kissed your shoulder blade and rolled you over to face him. He had already showered and dressed for the day before climbing back into bed with you and you peeked at the clock to see he would almost be late. 

“You should be at the track already,” you hummed between the sweet kisses he peppered across your skin. 

“Wasn’t going to miss watching you wake up as my beautiful wife for the first time.” His smile wavered as he kissed your forehead before pressing the back of his hand to it. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but last night was worth the lack of sleep.”

He smirked and traced your lips longingly with his eyes. “Definitely worth it. But you don’t feel hot or cold?”

“Focus on FP1, Cha,” you said with a little push for him to get out of bed. “You’re going to be late.”

He playfully nipped your collarbone before getting off the bed and blowing you a kiss. “Rest up, mon amour, I’ll come back between the practices.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, more than the moon and the stars.”

“Hopeless romantic.”

“Love of my life. Fire in my loins. The apple of my-“

“Go away!” You tossed a pillow at him before falling back into the warm blankets with a laugh that turned to a yawn. “Profess your love to someone else and let me sleep.”

“Never,” he chuckled quietly as he watched your chest rise and fall into a steady rhythm. “It will only be you.”

Your health deteriorated rapidly after Vegas and your doctor urged you to return to Monaco, but you weren’t ready to leave just yet. There was only one thing left on your bucket list and it was within your grasp. Charles and Max were neck and neck in the championship but you had faith your husband would triumph in the end. So instead of heading home you remained by his side in Qatar and Abu Dhabi, letting him hire a medical team as a trade off for ignoring your doctor's advice.

It wasn’t just the season coming to an end and you could both feel it as Charles prepared for the final race. You didn’t have the strength to go to the track and see him start from pole, the prime position for the championship deciding race. You barely had the strength to stay awake for the whole race but you fought against the heaviness in your body and scanned the screens that had been brought into your room.

Pride made you heart light as you watched the world through Charles’ eyes. The onboard camera was clear ahead, all his competitors in his rear view, and as the laps passed by his lead grew wider. Charles was flying and he was taking you with him.

Charles took a seat on the centre podium as confetti rained down and fireworks exploded overhead. He wiped the sweat and champagne from his face before reaching into his race suit and grabbing the pen and paper he had tucked away.

Putting a strike through the last line he held it up triumphantly to the camera. “We did it, mon amour, we did it.”

You smiled as if he would see it and closed your eyes as you lost the battle. “I’m ready to go home now.”

The Bucket List:

Sleep under the northern lights 

Swim with sharks

Skinny dip (not with sharks)

See Christ the Redeemer

Bowl a strike

Go to every Disneyland once

Ride an elephant

Go to India for the colour festival 

Win an escape room

Learn to whistle 

Have a mud bath

Teach Charles to cook

Watch the Grand National horse race

Get a tattoo

Learn to use chopsticks

Throw beads at Mardi Gras 

Have my palm read

Try absinthe 

Ride a luge

Go to a rage room

Join the mile high club 

Catch a fish

Make a will

Bathe in healing waters 

Charles Leclerc - World Champion

Click here for the requested last day alive.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 1

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: non-sexual nudity, swearing, some sexual-ish thoughts

series masterlist │my masterlist

you had been baking a pie, rolling out the homemade dough for the crust, humming along with the soft music playing through the house, when through the open window you’d seen him. a large man, as naked as the day he was born, running towards your farm. you could only watch in numb shock as he went into your barn, now hidden from view.

what the fuck.

you haven’t been inside that barn in over a year. the farm belonged to your grandparents, and you’d inherited the property after they died. while you love the peace and quiet that came from living in the middle of nowhere, you aren’t a farm girl, so the barn went largely unused.

you think about just leaving the man alone, hoping that he’ll leave eventually.

you keep rolling out the dough, soothing repetitive motions, while you stare at the barn, expecting something else to happen. but nothing does. you almost think you made the man up in a moment of insanity.

it’s this that gets you to finally exit the house, anxiously heading towards the old barn with its creaking wood and chipped paint. you take a deep breath to prepare yourself before stepping inside, every nerve in your body screaming at you that this is a very bad idea. 

you’re both relieved and not when you see the man curled up in a corner. relieved, because you weren’t going insane, and not because, well, now you’re going to have to deal with this strange situation.

you take a step closer when he doesn’t lunge at you to attack, then immediately jump back at the gleaming metal claws that appear from between his knuckles. one second he seems mostly harmless - or at least as harmless as a buff, six foot tall man could be - and the next he’s growling at you, face twisted into a snarl, body tense and ready to pounce at the slightest wrong move.

“hi,” you say, softly, the way you were taught to speak to distressed animals. the man cocks his head to the side but doesn’t lunge at you, which you take as a good sign. “i won’t hurt you, promise. but i am curious to know what led you here.”

by here, you mean both the physical location of your house in the middle of nowhere but also whatever reason he has for running through said middle of nowhere naked. there’s some kind of story there, likely not a good one judging by the way he watches you distrustfully. you have a feeling he hasn’t had a good or easy life.

the man doesn’t answer, not that you really expected him to, but slowly his claws retreat back into his skin. he’s marginally less threatening like this, though you know the smallest thing could bring the sharp blades back out.

despite this, you don’t believe he’s a danger to you. he just seems scared and confused.

“are you hungry?” you ask him. again, he doesn’t answer, and you wonder if he’s able to speak. “okay, how about this, i’ll bring you food and you don’t have to eat it but you can. i’ll be right back.”

you don’t turn your back on the barn, on him, as you jog back into your house. it’s much warmer inside than it is in the barn - you were so distracted that you hadn’t been feeling the full effect of the early winter cold. you think of the man, he must be freezing, but you hadn’t seen any sign of it, no shivering, not even goosebumps raising on his skin.

one thing at a time, you tell yourself.

your half-finished pie is sitting discarded on the kitchen counter and you look at it mournfully. you’ll finish it later, and maybe you’ll actually have someone to enjoy it with you.

(it gets lonely sometimes, so far from any cities or towns. usually, you don’t mind it, but apparently there’s some small part of you that still desperately craves human contact and interaction, since you’re jumping at the chance to take care of a random stranger.)

you have leftovers in the fridge that you suppose will have to do, since making him a fresh, home-cooked meal would take time, and you’d promised to return hastily. you heat it up quickly, the warmth emanating from the food another reminder of the frigid temperature outside as you bring the plate into the barn. 

he looks up when you enter, sniffing the air like a dog. it’s cute, and you smile as you put the plate down, careful not to get too close to him, letting him make the first move.

whether he trusts you or he’s just starving you don’t know, but he rushes to your side and starts eating like he hasn’t had food in a month. with him distracted and closer to you, you can get a better look at him. 

he doesn’t look malnourished. he’s buff, muscular and hairy, and you have to stop your eyes from going lower as you stare at his chest.

you look away despite the man being too distracted to notice your shameless ogling. he might be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life - or you’ve just been away from men for too long and have become pathetic.

he eats quickly, and looks up expectantly at you when he finishes, like a dog at their owner. you giggle at the comparison you’ve made in your head - it’s quite accurate, you find, with the way he immediately seems to trust you now that you’ve fed him.

“do you wanna go inside? it’s pretty cold out here, and inside i have more food.” you say, and when you go to stand up so does he. you explicitly do not look down.

he follows you into your house, and you’re so glad you live alone so there’s no one to question whatever is happening.

it’s easy to find extra clothes in the guest room, less easy to find any that you think will fit him. eventually, you give up, hoping the sweatpants you found will do for now, and grab one of your own shirts, thankful for your habit of buying oversized men’s t-shirts. it goes down to your thighs, surely it’ll fit him.

you turn to head back into the living room where you left him, and your soul nearly leaves your body when you spot him standing at the door. you yelp, your hand flying to your chest and the clothes falling to the ground.

he startles at the noise, tensing and looking around like he expects danger. 

“shit,” you swear, “how are you so quiet?”

he frowns, and you could swear that he seems apologetic, though you aren’t sure how accurate your interpretations of his facial expressions are given that you’ve only known him for about an hour. it makes you feel a little guilty, though really you shouldn’t be since he snuck up on you.

you’re about to offer him the clothes when you pause, gaze locked on his chest. “you should shower.”

he follows you when you lead him to the bathroom, which you take as agreement on his part. he’s dirty, covered everywhere by a thin layer of dirt. a shower will feel good. it would also give you time to process this without him watching you. his eyes are quite intense, and he keeps them directed at you. you need the privacy to freak out.

it’s only after you place the clothes down on the countertop and show him how the knobs in your shower work that you realise he’s not making any moves to enter the shower. you start to leave the bathroom and he takes a step to follow you.

you stop, thinking about how he doesn’t seem to know how to speak, how he looked so scared and confused when you’d found him, and you sigh when you realise it’s likely he doesn’t know how to use a shower either.

what is your story? you think to yourself.

“do you want help?” is what you ask instead.

he nods slowly, which is the closest you’ve gotten to a response from him so far. you look up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply and bracing yourself when you realise this means you’re going to have to touch the hot, naked man.

you turn on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before you motion for the man to get in. you are absolutely not willing to get naked in the shower with a stranger whose name you don’t even know, so you step in fully clothed, already regretting it when you feel the fabric growing wet and sticking to your skin.

it’s as you’re helping rinse the dirt off him that you spot the writing on his dog tags. you’d noticed them previously but hadn’t been able to get a good look. 

you take the metal chain in your hand, turning it to read the name stamped into the metal.

“logan,” you read, and the man in front of you purrs, a low rumble in his throat. you smile. “i’m going to guess that’s your name. logan.”

this seems to relax the last dredges of tension that he holds. he practically melts into you, and the feeling of being trusted so fully by someone who seems so broken warms your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in years.

you finish washing him up in silence, only interrupted by occasional soft purrs and hums from logan. he quite enjoys it when you wash his hair, hands reaching up to scrub shampoo into the strands, nails scratching at his scalp. you switch your earlier comparison from a dog to a cat, the purring reminding you of the kitten you had growing up.

he shakes his head when he gets out of the shower, water flying everywhere, and you laugh as you hand him a towel. you once again have to help him when he just stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

he gets dressed on his own, thankfully, since you already feel like you might implode from being in such close quarters with an extremely attractive, wet, nude man for so long. 

you leave him for a minute to dry yourself off and change into dry clothes. it’s nice to have a moment of reprieve, where you can simply breathe and process and question what the fuck you just got yourself into. you finally allow yourself to freak out a tiny bit, muttering to yourself in the mirror, tugging at your hair.

you just manage to pull a shirt over your head when you hear quiet whimpering at the door and the sound of loud banging against it.

your heart breaks at the sound, reminded of the wounded animals your grandparents would nurse back to health, and you rush to pull some pants on so you can open the door. logan looks at you with the most devastated eyes and then falls into you, face nudging into your neck, inhaling deeply. you stumble back, thankful for the wall that catches you. he’s heavier than he looks, which is saying something, given his size.

you’re shocked for a moment, frozen, but quickly come back to yourself and place your hands on his firm back.

“i’m sorry,” you say, “i didn’t mean to scare you. i wasn’t going to leave you, i just needed privacy for a moment.”

you don’t know if he understands anything you’re saying but it makes you feel better to explain yourself. you’re shocked that this is the same man who was snarling at you, claws out and ready to rip your throat out not so long ago, shocked at how quickly he’s grown attached to you.

shocked at how quickly you’ve grown attached to him, too. then again, you’ve always been this way. you like to help people, and logan seems like a man who needs a lot of help.

“i was baking a pie, when i saw you,” you tell him, “how about we go finish that? you don’t have to leave my side. you can watch me and i’ll teach you all my secrets.”

and as you expected, he follows you into the kitchen, trailing after you like a lost puppy. normally, you hate having anyone else in the kitchen with you, getting in your way when you’re in the zone, but his presence is nice. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t distract you or get in your way, just stands and watches you intently.

you’re already used to having him here with you, comfortable enough to turn your back to him. it’s crazy, and a (big) part of you knows that this isn’t exactly a smart thing to do, but you’re already planning on letting him stay for as long as he needs, maybe even forever.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams

[hiiikiko]

𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤.. 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕤 : [6]

“Good, cause I don’t wanna stop.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

ellie williams x fem!reader | friends with benefits

casual m.list | tlou m.list

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning when you arrived at work, Ellie had a shit eating grin plastered on her face. Your ears burned bright red as you avoided eye contact, you could already imagine what she was going to say. You didn’t know Ellie that well but you had grown accustomed to her sly and teasing remarks.

You made your way to the back room so you could get ready for your shift and of course, Ellie followed you in. You hoped this wasn’t going to be a regular thing..

“Don’t,” you said sternly as you shoved your heavy duffel into the tiny locker.

“What?” Ellie raised and eyebrow and her smirk grew wider as she caught a glimpse of your annoyed scowl, “I didn’t say nothin’, doll.”

You rolled your eyes as your tied your hair up, leaving your bangs out, “Just don’t Ellie, not today.”

Ellie watched as you struggled with the elastic, “Here.. let me.”

You sighed, defeated, “Fine, but don’t be getting any ideas.”

“I won’t, promise,” she smiled and took the elastic from you, putting it in between her lips as her calloused fingers brushed through your hair.

This was weird, you thought, the two of you aren’t dating but you sure as hell aren’t friends. The two of you should be rivals but here she is, gently putting your hair up in a ponytail..

“All done, doll.”

“Thanks,” you muttered as you inspected the ponytail in the mirror.

“Now, I scratched your back so you gotta scratch mine,” you groaned loudly, of course, like everything else with Ellie, there was a catch.

“No, no way.”

“Oh, come on! It isn’t a big favour..” she grabbed your hand as you tried to walk away, pulling you in between her legs, “Please?”

God damn it, how could you say no to her when she’s looking at you like that.. her pretty green eyes looking up at you through long, naturally curled lashes.

You look away, “Fine.. what is it?”

“Why’d you like my post?” her pink lips curled into that sly grin again.

She knew damn well what you were doing, why else would you be stalking her profile..but you would never admit to that so you decided to play dumb, “What post?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You know what I’m talkin’ about.. dont play stupid.”

“N-No I don’t.. I must’ve fallen asleep on my phone..”

Ellie knew that there was no way to get you to admit to it, “Fine, fine.. whatever you say, Y/n.”

You nodded and went back to trying to jam your duffel into the locker when you felt her strong hands on your waist and her breath on your neck, “Just know, you coulda had the real thing,” your face turned pink as you watched her exit the locker room.

Damn it.

The rest of your shift was pretty uneventful. The only thing worth while was when Manny came in to get a new guitar, he chatted to you about how the bartender at this bar across town is mad at him because apparently, he is infatuated with her sister, a waitress.

“That your band mate,” Ellie leaned against the counter as you wiped it.

“Yeah, that’s Manny, thought you knew him.. I mean they all seem to know you,” your giggle was ended abruptly as you met Ellie’s fierce gaze, “Uh, sorry..”

She smirked, “It’s fine, believe what you want.”

Ellie pushed herself off the counter and made her way back to her office and didn’t emerge until it was time to close shop.

The street lamps flickered in the background, Slowdive played over the speakers as the two of you moved around each other, straightening things up and counting out your drawer.

“Night,” you waved at Ellie, who’s back was turned from you, as you ventured into the cold, damp night.

“Hey, Jess, think you can pick me up? I don’t see any taxis.. pretty sure it’s too late for the buses too..oh.. uh, yeah.. yeah, sh-she’s here.. what?? No, Jesse sto—!”

Before you could tell Jesse not to ask Ellie if she could give you a ride, he hung up and then in the corner of your eye through the shop’s glass windows you saw her pick up her phone and nod.

A minute later, she locked up and had her worn out Carthartt jacket wrapped around her shoulders, “Come on, let’s get ya home.”

“Y-you don’t have to, uh, I could just call Abby or Man—.”

Ellie let out an exasperated sigh, “Just get in.”

You nod and hopped into her van, “Thanks.”

“Whatever, I owed Jesse one anyway.”

What the fuck was her deal? Earlier she was all sweet on you, tying your hair up and teasing you, now, she’s acting like you just beat her dad to death with a golf club or something…

The ride was silent, only the generic pop music bumping on the radio filled it. After a good half hour, she pulled over.

“Y-you wanna come up? Uh, Jesse and Dina aren’t here, they’re at a concert but um.. you don’t have to if you dont wanna..” you shyly said, you didn’t have any ill intention behind it, you just felt bad about her having to go out of her way to drop you off.

“Nah, don’t wanna piss your band mates off,” she let out a dry chuckle.

“Just.. come on, I’ll make you something to eat.”

In the blink of an eye, Ellie was by your side, “Well, can’t pass up free food.”

You laughed a little, the mention of food seemed to perk her up a bit.

The apartment was nice and warm, Dina must’ve turned on the heater as Jesse was too much of a cheapskate.

“What do you wanna eat? We have…. um… instant ramen..”

Ellie laughed a little, “That’s it?”

“Shut up.. now do you want chicken or pork..”

“Chicken.”

Having dinner with Ellie wasn’t so bad, the two of you watched an anime and it turns out, Ellie is a complete nerd. You could tell she was trying to hid it but you could hear her murmuring the lyrics of the intro as she slurped up her ramen. It was kinda cute. If things kept going like this, you could see a potential friendship blooming.

“Thanks for… dinner,” she said as she pulled her coat back on.

You nodded and leaned against the wall, “Yeah… it’s the least I could do..”

“Well, I could think fo something else, “she smirked.

“Keep dreaming, WIlliams,” you giggled.

Just as you were about to kick her out, a flash flood warning popped up on the screen, the newscaster repeated that the roads in downtown Seattle were unfit for driving… oh, fuck.

Ellie’s smirk only widened as she read that, “Guess that means I gotta stay the night, doll.”

“No way, we aren’t even in down town Seattle,” you rolled your eyes as you tried to push her out.

“What..? You’re kicking me out? I could.. I could die, Y/n! Do you want me to die?!”

You sighed, “No, but—!”

“Guess that means I’m stayin,” she smiled, kicked off her boots again and headed straight to your room.

“No, no, no, Ellie! Out! Get out!” you tugged at her sleeve.

“Hey, is my shirt still here?” She rummaged around, “Ah, cool..”

Before you could protest once again, Ellie was pulling her shirt off and all words left your mind.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” god, she was so corny.

You scoffed, “Get out, Williams.”

“No way, it’s cold out ther—,” then as if right on cue, the power went out, “And there’s no heat, I don’t wanna freeze to death.. we gotta use body heat to stay alive, Y/n. This is a matter of life and.. well, death..” she said daramatically.

She really was god’s favourite, wasn’t she?

‘Fine but, keep your clothes on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two of you crawled into your bed, the warm soft sheets enveloping your bodies and just as you were about to drift off you felt something cold and clammy touch your calf, you jumped up.

“Woah, woah, what’s wrong?” Ellie sat up, her hair already messy as she looked at you through foggy eyes.

You pulled up the blankets to see her feet, “Ellie, why the fuck are your feet so god damn cold, you almost gave me a heart attack.. thought you were that thing from that anime..”

Ellie let out a snort as she rubbed her eyes, “You’re funny.”

You grumbled and pushed her feet off you, only for it to come back.

That night, you spent fighting her cold feet.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“Y/nnnnn, wake upppppppp,” you felt hands around your waist and hot breath against your neck.

“Get off of me, Ellie,” you grumbled.

“Nah, don’t wanna…” you felt her soft lips press kisses against your neck, one of her hands drifted under your shirt.

You whimpered a bit then her raspy voice whispered, “Still wan’t me to stop, doll?”

“No..”

You could feel her smile against your neck, “Mm, good, cause I don’t wanna..”

There was no way in hell the two of you could be just friends.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

taglist: @elliessweetheart @bready101 @elliecoochieeater @sevyscoven @boobdrug @rosepetalsonthestep @a-little-bit-of-everybody

not my best work but i PROMISE the next chapter will be better, this was just kind of a bridge for the next one which will involve contracts, more band beef, and ellie being softer perhaps??

[waitimcomingtoo]

just the way you are

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta finds you crying when you’re feeling insecure and comforts you

Masterlist

“Hey. Effie wants us in the dining room to go over some of the…“ Peeta trailed off when he opened your bedroom door to find you crying as you read something on a piece of paper. You folded the paper and quickly faked a smile to appease him as you wiped the tears from your face.

“Oh. Hi, Peeta. Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Were you just crying?” Peeta asked as his big brown eyes filled with concern for you.

“No. I wasn’t.” You lied and wiped the rest of your face on the back of your hand.

“Yes you were. What’s wrong?” Peeta asked and sat beside you on your bed.

“Nothing. I wasn’t crying.” You insisted. “What did Effie say?”

“Forget about Effie. You’re not okay. How can I help?” Peeta asked and placed a hand on your knee. You stared at his hand and felt comforted by his presence but you didn’t want to admit what was weighing on you.

“I’m fine. Really.”

“You don’t have to lie. Not to me.” Peeta said in a soft voice and gave your knee and squeeze. The kindness in his voice was enough to move you back to tears so you looked up at the ceiling to keep them from falling.

“You wouldn’t get it.” You said quietly and shook your head.

“Maybe not.” He agreed. “But it might make you feel better to talk about it.”

You looked over at him to see if he genuinely cared or was just being nice. But the look in Peeta’s eyes told you he was fully present and ready to receive anything you had to say. You sucked in a sharp breath and smiled sadly.

“Cinna said that Snow asked if they could fix my body before the press tour for the Quarter Quell starts. And by asked, I think he means demands.”

“Fix your body?” Peeta frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. Make it better. Trim a little here. Add a little here. I could show you the list he gave to Cinna of what he wants me to have done. I haven’t even heard of most of these procedures.” You said as you handed over the paper list of procedures Snow requested of you. Peeta’s eyes widened as he took the list from your hands and read them one by one.

“Snow wants to do all of this?” He asked. “To you?”

“Mm hm. And he said he could “not understate the urgency” in getting them done. Apparently the doctors in the Capitol can do it all in one day. On the bright side, Snow said I’d be so high on pain meds during the press tour that I won’t have to feel nervous about the Quarter Quell. So. I guess that’ll be nice.” You nodded and wiped your face again. Peeta looked up at you and quickly pulled his sleeves over his thumbs to dry your tears.

“I don’t get it. Why would Snow want you to do all of this before going into the games?”

“Because, Peter. He said I wasn’t desirable. And that makeup isn’t enough.” You repeated his words and felt the same dagger in your heart as the first time you heard them. Peeta let out an abrupt laugh and looked at you to see if you were serious. When he saw the lost look in your eyes, he felt an anger grow inside him over someone making you believe that you weren’t pretty.

“Well who cares what you look like before going into a death match?” He asked and tried to keep a calm tone.

“Sponsors do.” You insisted. “Sponsors will root for the most desirable tributes and send them things to help them in the arena. Snow said that no one wants an ugly girl to win. And that if I want people to feel bad for me, they also have to want to sleep with me. He said these procedures would help.”

“You don’t actually believe all of that, do you?” Peeta asked when he realized you agreed with Snow’s words.

“I don’t know, Peeta.” You sighed in exasperation. “I’m from District 12. Everyone knows that’s most unsought district. We have nothing to show for ourselves, myself included. The girls from the other districts literally glow from the inside out. You saw them on the television the other day. With their perfect shiny hair and perfect shiny teeth. And they all had these incredible bodies and dazzling faces and bubbly laughs. And then there was me. Who everyone could tell had never been in a dress that nice or worn heels higher than my hunting boots. Snow was right when he said they can put all the makeup in the world in my face but I still look the same. So maybe…maybe he’s right. I don’t know. Maybe I could benefit from a few of these procedures.”

Peeta was quiet for a long time after you spoke. You started to feel embarrassed thinking that he agreed with everything you had said but didn’t know how to break that to you gently. You finally heard him suck in a a breath as he was about to speak.

“For a smart girl, you just gave the most idiotic speech I have ever heard.”

“I knew you wouldn’t get it.” You rolled your eyes to the ceiling as you shook your head.

“No, what I don’t get is how such an intelligent girl can believe any of that utter bullshit for even a second.” Peeta said, sounding angry with you. Your eyes welled up with tears again at the sound of him raising his voice.

“You don’t understand.” You whimpered. “I just want to be a pretty girl.”

“Pretty? Thats ridiculous. I would never do you the disservice of calling you pretty. The sunset is pretty. The flowers that grow by the fence are pretty. But you, you are fucking bewitching. You really don’t know that by now?”

You blinked in surprised as you turned to look at Peeta. You’d never heard him swear before in his life with this conversation being the only exception.

“Why are you yelling at me?” You asked him. Peeta abruptly got off the bed with the list in his hand.

“Because I’m angry. How dare he make you feel like you need to change anything about yourself? Fuck this list. You’re not doing any of this.” Peeta shouted and tore the list in half before crumpling it up and throwing it all the wall.

“Peeta.” You said surprise. He calmed down at the sound of your voice and panted a few times. He rubbed his face in his hands before taking a seat beside you again. You sat in silence for a moment as neither of you knew where to take the conversation next.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. That just really upset me.” Peeta said quietly after a minute.

“I can see that.” You laughed softly. “Why do you care so much? Or, at all?”

“Because I hate hearing you compare yourself to those other girls. Or put yourself down. I meant what I said. I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Your beauty stops me in my tracks when I see you. So it upsets me that someone so striking has been made to feel like she needs to fix herself.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You told with a timid smile over all his compliments.

“I used to agree with you. I never thought I had to tell you that. I assumed you knew. But now that we’re sitting here and I’m listening to you doubt yourself, I realize I should have told you everytime I thought that. Which was just about everytime I saw you.” Peeta said and put his hand back on your knee. You looked into his big brown eyes and smiled softly before putting your hand on top of his.

“Just about?”

“Sometimes you come back from the woods looking a little rough.” He replied, making you laugh.

“I’m only playing. Even covered in mud, you are a sight to behold.” He said with a cheeky smile. You smiled sheepishly and intertwined your hand with his.

“Well according to Snow, no one wants to behold me unless I’m skinnier. But at the same time, he wants me curvier and more “womanly.” I’m pretty sure half the procedures on that list contradict each other. But that’s only the half I’ve heard of.”

“It doesn’t matter because you’re not doing any of them. Not even one. Everyone I see in the Capitol has scary little skeletal noses and giant lips that look like they might explode at any moment. And the skin on their faces is stretched so far back that they can’t even blink. And when I look at them, all I can see is that they all look the exact same. They go to the same doctors and copy and paste the same face. But you, you have the kind of face they can only dream of those surgeries giving them. They could never obtain this level of beauty.”

“Peeta. You’re just saying that.” You insisted as you toyed with his fingers.

“I’m serious. All the stars aligned when your face was made. You have a perfectly unique set of features that I have personally grown to love very much over the years. I thought you were beautiful when we were kids and I think you’re beautiful now. So please, don’t change a thing.”

“But I could be better.” You insisted. “If I just fixed a few things. My body could be better. And my face could be prettier.”

“You can’t fix something that’s already perfect.” Peeta shrugged and wasn’t having any of what you were saying.

“I’m far from perfect.” You said with a slight roll of your eyes.

“I know. But that’s why I love about you. I like that your teeth aren’t perfect and that your nose curves the way that it does. And I like your, you know, body.” He kept his eyes down as he confessed this with a rosy blush covering his face.

“You do?” You asked skeptically.

“Yes. And believe me, I could list about 100 reasons off the top of my head about what I specifically like about your body but I won’t do that. Don’t want to make things awkward.” He replied, making you laugh once again.

“I mean, you can, if you want.” You joked. “I won’t stop you.”

“Well in that case, I would be left absolutely devastated and unable to get off my knees if you were to change a thing about yourself. Especially your body. I love every part of you. Every part. I love the way your eyelashes curl and the way your limbs bend when you’re stretching. I love the way you carry yourself when you walk and when I can see in your face that just remembered to sit up straight. I love the arch of your fingers and how they feel sliding into mine. I love all the dips and rises I feel when I run my hand along your side when you’re asleep. And I especially, more than anything, love your face. Every single feature makes me weak. You still get my heart racing the way it did the first time I saw you when were kids. When I look over at you and see you’re already looking at me, I lose my breath. Because I can never believe someone who looks like you is looking at me.”

“Peeta.” You said softly with a coy smile on your face.

“That’s another thing I love. Your voice. Thank you for the reminder. It could pull me out of any sleep or stupor. Sometimes I ask you things I already know just to hear you explain them to me. I could listen to you all day. And on the rare occasions you let me catch you singing, well, I’m not sure if the English language has made words yet for how that makes me feel.”

Peeta felt relieved when a content smile crossed your face following his proclamation. You’d never been described in such a way and the list fell far from your mind. All you could think about was the way he was looking at you. Peeta reaching out and put a hand on your cheek to which you leaned in to.

“What I’m trying to say is, it would be a crime to alter anything about the way you came together. I even sometimes miss the dirt on your face or under your nails when I see you all done up. Because, well, I like you just the way you are.”

“Thank you, Peeta. I really needed to hear that.” You said and pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand. Peeta’s face heated up at the touch and he gulped.

“I wish I could show you how I see you. You’d be just as enchanted as I am. And I always have been. You’re just used to your features because you see them all the time. And I mean, I see them all the time too. I guess I just never get used to you.”

You stared at him for a moment and felt yourself being pulled towards him like a magnet. You blinked a few times before slipping a hand behind his head and pulling him into a kiss. His eyelashes tickled you as his eyes fluttered shut and he found his hands making their way to your back to rub up and down. You tangled one hand in his blonde hair and kept the other on his cheek as you kissed him until you ran out of breath. When you pulled away, you were both a little dazed and embarrassed.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I just did that.” You laughed nervously and touched your fingers to your lips. Up until that moment, you’d only ever kissed for the cameras. But he had said all the right things and looked at you in the right way so you felt the only natural conclusion to the conversation was to kiss him.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He replied with a shy smile. You let out another sheepish laugh and fixed his hair since you had messed it up.

“I, um, I like you the way you are too. You looked really handsome when we were on Caesar’s show but I like you best when you’re covered in flour with your hair all messy from giving it stressful tugs. And I like that your eyelashes are blonde but look like they’re made of gold in the sun. And I like how your hands are always chapped from how often you wash them.”

“You like that? Don’t they feel rough?” He asked and flexed his hand. You caught his hand and held it in yours as you stared into his eyes.

“That’s what I like about them. It makes me think of all the work you do to get them that rough.

“The work being frosting cakes?” He asked with a dry laugh.

“Hey. Don’t make fun.” You said warningly. “You make beautiful artwork on them. You should be proud.”

“Well, thank you.” He blushed. “I’m glad you like them. I’ll make one for you when we’re done with…all of this.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to it.” You smiled fondly as you stared into his brown eyes. Peeta smiled back before taking your hand back into his. He brought your hand to his lips and looked you in the eyes as he kissed the back of your hand.

“I really do think you’re beautiful. So I don’t want to hear any of that nonsense coming out of your mouth again, okay? You’re sensational. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“Thanks for talking me down. It made me feel better to see a glimpse of myself through your eyes. So you don’t have to worry about me changing anything. I wouldn’t do that to you.” You said teasingly.

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. And you know, you can talk to me whenever you want.” He assured you.

“I know.” You nodded. He gulped as his eyes dropped from your eyes to your lips for a moment.

“And you can kiss me anytime you want to, too.” He said in a quieter voice. A smiled tugged at your lips and you found yourself cupping his face to bring him into another slow kiss.

“I knew that too.”

Tag List 🍞

@ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings @ilykitwalker

@mayemperess @scenesofobx @imaegonstargaryenswife0

@basicb1tchboy @planetevermore @bellasfavbisexual @kochothehoe

🗣️AND WHEN YOU SMILE THE WHOLE WORLD STOPS AND STARES FOR A WHILE

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Short #1

There's something happening between you two.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues

Length: 1.6k words

A/N: I will force feed you this AU and you will like it 👿

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Despite Jungkook having agreed to help you, he still continues to work on that choreography the same way as before, ruthlessly pushing you further and further despite your very much constant complains.  

Apparently, according to him, it’s not about the whole contest anymore. But instead, to teach you ‘something’. What it is, he won’t say- but you’re sure that’s all just an excuse anyways to torture you.  

But you’re not going down so easily.  

“How many times do I need to tell you that you have your own snacks?!” Jungkook complains, showing the empty bag of crackers to you, at the sight of which you simply sit in the middle of the practice room, tail happily wagging as if you don’t even know what he’s talking about. “And I’m sure you drank my water too.” He accuses, and you just shrug.  

“Maybe.” You answer. “The crackers sucked though. Way too bland. Do you always just eat old people snacks?” You question, irritating him further. It’s clear that you’re testing your boundaries with him, and most of all his patience- because lets be real, its funny as hell to make him angry. Mostly because you know he’d never actually get too upset with you- if he was to ever do so, you’re sure he’d give you a fair warning way before that line has actually been stepped over.  

Though, clearly, you’ve not really realized yet that you two have actually become closer up until this point- and that also means that Jungkook no longer tries to stay as far away as he can from you.  

So when he returns to the practice room with new snacks of his own and a bottle of sweet electrolyte juice, you’re already up on your feet, happily looking what he’s got himself- before he suddenly takes off his hoodie, catching you entirely off guard and freezing you in place for a good second, because wow. 

He’s got an extensive collection of art beneath the skin of one of his arms up to his hand even, and his physique is definitely also not to be played around with. Years of serious dancing and working out have clearly created the man he is today-  

And suddenly, your world is dark for a good second, as he pushes his hoodie over your head.  

You’re confused, when he suddenly pulls on the sleeves your arms are not yet pulled through, as he instead ties them behind your back, successfully immobilizing you. He picks you up and sits you in one of the chairs after he's done, leaning in close once you're seated, summoning the audacity to smirk at you.  

“Timeout, you gremlin.” He tells you, before he sits down next to you to eat his food, all while you can’t do anything but watch, wide eyed and completely confused.  

And instead of arguing, you just pull in your legs after toeing off your shoes, pouting to yourself while enjoying his scent. You’d never openly admit it, but he does smell nice- both the laundry detergent he uses for his clothes, and, well, his own scent. You blame it on the fact that throughout your career until now, you’ve barely had any close interaction with another male hybrid like this- so it’s probably just the fact that you’re not used to this.  

“Take it off.” You demand, and he shakes his head.  

“Nop.” He denies, and you swing your legs on the chair as you’ve let them fall down again.  

“I need to go pee.” You tell him, and at that he sighs, before he unravels the sleeves- 

Just for you to slip your hands through them, and steal his bottle of juice as you run into the hallway, hearing his footsteps loudly right behind you, hand having slapped against the door you’d tried to swing close behind you. You don’t get very far when he suddenly grabs the back of the sweater, pulling you closer again to try and lift you. “No- No no, I really need to go pee!” You deny, standing in front of him now after having avoided his grip.  

“Alright, let’s go then.” He says, grabbing the hood of the sweater to drag you to the restrooms, taking the bottle away from you. “Go pee.” 

“I don’t have to anymore.” You say, and he narrows his eyes at you.  

“Too bad.” He denies. “Go squeeze something out, I’m not gonna take you again.” He threatens, and you reluctantly go anyways, before you re-emerge, glaring at him, until you have an idea. He watches as you stand in front of him, putting on your best puppy-dog eyes, and holding your arms out upwards to him. “What.” He asks, arms crossed.  

“Carry me?” You ask, and he thinks about it for a good second, before he agrees.  

“Alright.” He nods. 

“Wait, really?!” You ask, surprised- when suddenly, your world is upside-down, with him carrying you over his shoulder, one arm holding onto your legs so you don’t tip over and fall off his back. And he hears you laugh about it most of all, your fluffy, curled tail wagging right into his face if it wasn't for his other hand holding it down as well, his own lips turned into a smile.  

Because honestly, this is what your life is supposed to be like. Happy, fun, and most of all, normal.  

It’s clear to him that you’ve simply never really had any proper interactions before that could’ve taught you how to socialize and get used to general manners- if anything, you most likely always got what you wanted just to have you shut up and be quiet. And eventually, when you grew up into an adult that you are now, things simply had gotten stuck like this. 

The reason why he thinks this, is just how.. Helpless you seem at the simplest of interactions. From simple questions about your hobbies, to normal touches like a hug for a greeting, everything appears to be foreign to you. And you mask that insecurity and lack of understanding with attitude- because up until now, most likely, this must’ve been your best defense. Everyone would leave you alone if you got cranky, and so, these days, you must feel extremely confused and without any direction, considering that this doesn’t work with him.  

But you’ve got to learn. Not just basic manners, but also the fact that not everyone in the world is out to get you.  

Especially not him.  

Back in the practice room, you’re now on his lap, where he’s got your hands behind your back, held by your wrists in his hand, grip strong. “We gotta practice.” You whine, but he knows that’s not what you’re going to do once he lets go.  

“We do.” He agrees. “And we will, once you’ve finished your tantrum.” He tells oyu, and you scoff.  

“I’m not having a tantrum. You’re being an asshole!” You tell him. “Who cares if I eat your snacks? You can just get new one’s!” You complain, and he shakes his head at that.  

“It’s not about that. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. If I want to take something from you, I’ll ask. If you want something from me, you’ll have to ask as well.” He explains, and you kick out your legs, trying to get off- but he’s got a strong hold on you, so you’re stuck in place.  

“I’m not a child!” You bark, slipping off of his legs to instead lay on the floor now. He raises a brow.  

“You’re sure acting like one.” He says, crossing his arms. “Don’t you have boundaries that you’d like respected?” He asks, looking down at where you’re laying on the floor at his feet, and you stare at him for a second with an unsure gaze, before you slowly sit up, eyes glossy. It’s obvious that sentence must’ve hit a sore spot for you, because you’re visibly fighting another emotional outburst as you try and swallow down any tears that want to escape.  

It’s quiet. Mostly because you don’t want to break down, and he doesn’t want to say anything that might set you off. He hates seeing you like this- but he knows that one way or another, you’ll have to face these things.  

“I’ll respect any boundary you give me.” He tells you. “I promise you that. But you’ll have to do the same for me, because that’s fair, right?” He asks, and you take in a deep breath, before you lean against his leg, head resting against his thigh.  

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, and he reaches out to out a comforting hand on your head. “I’ll be more fair.” You say, and he smiles.  

“Thank you.” He offers, before you look up at him.  

“Can we practice more now?” You ask, and he shrugs.  

“If you want to.” He says, and you nod.  

“It’s.. Actually fun. If you don’t nag all the time.” You playfully argue, making him roll his eyes.  

“I’m just trying to get you to do your best.” He denies, and you smile brightly at that, tail wagging on the floor, a sight he’s come to really like.  

“Thank you.” You say, and for the first time, he has to admit- 

You can actually be really fucking cute, if you want to be.