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strapskinkstories · 2 years ago

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Ren & Strappy get eternally imprisoned within Eric's filthy hiviz inflatable lifevest

Collaborative roleplay fiction between @StrapsKinks (Twitter) @RedWolfFur1 (Twitter) (IF YOU WANT TO WRITE WITH ME JUST DM ME AND WE CAN SET UP A STORY WRITING SESSION!)

Ren texted Strappy many months ago, they talked about mud, dirty aprons and workgear, cow shit and all sorts of twisted fantasies. Strappy told Ren that he knew a man who worked as a road worker, who could get them buried alive in nasty stinking hiviz roadworker gear and mud, or even concrete and tar. Strappy asks Ren "So, you wanna meet Eric? Dude said he can fucking destroy us with stinky workwear mud tar and concrete!"

Picking up the cell phone, Ren replied "Yes! What will he choose for us?, And how will he do it?" Already anxious to know how things would be, and also, that possibly the dream of both would come true soon, a dream of a long time

Strappy responded with a photo "I have no idea, this is the picture Eric sent me and he said it's really stinky of salty sweat concrete mud tar grease and even some cow shit, he works at a gear handling warehouse on his days he's not on the road. Today is one of his days at the warehouse. He said that we are to show up at the warehouse and he will then chose how he destroys us."

Ren replied to the message shortly afterwards " my god! This pile looks really disgusting and dirty, so glad he's free today, let's meet then? I want to see him as soon as possible, I'm really going to do this, I want it ASAP, I can't wait to get dirty and get destroyed !" He was really looking forward to everything that was happening so fast

Strappy flew to Rens house a few hours away by car but an hour away by plane. He told Ren months ago that he owned a small plane. Strappy said to Ren "Go to the airport by your house and meet me at the general aviation parking"

Ren would respond with a simple "okay!" , He took his things, took his cell phone, and left to find Strappy, after a while, he arrives at the airport, looking for him "where are you ?"

Strappy grabbed Ren from behind wrapping his arm around his neck squeezing him tightly, he dragged him over to his plane as he slowly passed out, when he reawoke he was in a large duffel bag packed full of dirty aviation mechanics coveralls. Strappy yells from the front "Bags locked shut so don't even try to get out. I'll let you out when we get to Eric's place, which is five hours away, by plane!" Ren could barely hear him over the noise of the airplane, the cargo compartment was hot and humid, inside of the duffel bag it was even hotter, the coveralls were all thickly padded and covered in grease and stinky fluids mixed with sweat.

Ren caught off guard, passed out and woke up trapped inside the bag, He tried to free himself but he was very trapped, and he heard little of the conversation that Strappy said, but he tried to catch his breath so as not to pass out again, Feeling very hot and heard that he would be trapped for 5 hours like this, panting in there

Slowly 5 hours passed, Strappy landed the plane and unloaded the cargo. He dragged the bag out onto a cart and wheeled it into a large warehouse, the air in the warehouse was hot and thick, it stunk of tar sweat grease and grime. Eric unzipped the bag. Before Ren could stand up he grabbed Strappy wrapped a belt around his neck and lifted him high into the air instantly knocking him out by cutting off blood to his brain. Eric let Strappy drop on top of Ren in the bag, he zipped the bag shut and said "Bet you two would like being processed like any other piece of dirty workwear."

Still passed out, but close to waking up, I didn't know anything about what had happened, feeling only movements in my body, after being tied in the bag, waking up a few moments later and seeing that the Eric choked Strappy out, and he fell on me, I tried to say something but the bag was closed right away, and in that I heard Eric's conversation, and I moved in the bag passing out again

Eric pulled the zipper of the bag open after tossing the bag into a massive pit of workwear, the bag quickly began to sink into the massive pit of workwear. He said "Have fun squirming you two!" He pulled out a dart gun and shot both Strappy and Ren and said "That's so you can't suffocate, you can't be crushed, you two are immortal, you can't black out, all you can do is suffer a fate worse than hell together. I can't wait to see what you two think after you are processed, that is if you two can even think or speak after it!" he cackled evilly walking out of the warehouse leaving Strappy and Ren flailing in the massive pit. The workwear slimy and sticky, grabbing Strappy and Ren as they were sucked down hip deep in it almost instantly

After the bag was opened, Ren looked around, seeing the place he was, and then being hit by Eric with that arrow, which makes him and Strappy immortal, but in return, He throws us into this huge, deep, sticky, stinking pit, Which both sink quickly, and in that, I moved further in the massive pit of dirty workwear looking at Strappy, "oh my, Strappy!"

Strappy squirms and pulls at the hiviz clothing around him screaming "Quick, swim to the edge, we're gonna fucking drown in this sticky mucky gear if we don't!" The edge of the pit is easily 100 feet away, with every move they sink in further slowly

In response, Ren tried to move to the edge, seeing it far away, but confident that would be able to get out, if it weren't for the fact that with each movement, we were sinking deeper and deeper "oh fuck! we are sinking deeper!" Ren said trying to find a way to reverse this

Strappy and Ren were both now chest deep, their arms weakly squirming on the surface. Strappy said "Forget it Ren, we're fucked. We're going to end up drowning in filthy hiviz workgear, we won't even get the privilege of blacking out and dying, it's gonna be horribly tight stinky and nasty. You see what you got us into?"

At chest level, I look at Strappy as he chanted my name, and listen intently to "What did I do? But you took it all in, and you seemed excited to do it, I didn't know it would end like this" Ren spoke looking and seeing that he was even deeper, getting close to his neck

Eric walked in and said looking at Strappy and Ren squirming "You two will sink beneath over 10,000 pounds of heavy dirty workwear from all of the roadways and airports across America. You'll suffer down at the bottom in the tarry stinking sludge crushed beneath all of it for a while til we get around to processing it, probably tomorrow. That's when things will get very intense and horrible for you two pathetic losers. You asked to be destroyed, now I get to watch you two slowly sink under!" Strappy flung his arms around flinging hiviz workwear over Ren covering his face. As strappy squirmed his arms were forced straight above his head and then he was sucked under, his hands wiggled above the workwear before slowly disappearing beneath

Listening to everything Eric said I tried to somehow get out of it, but then Strappy would do it over my face, then sink down disappearing under the pit, And moving I just followed the same fate, sinking too, trying to say something but my face was covered in all this disgusting, stinking dirt he put us in, muffling my screams from Help, That would never come, while Eric just stood by, on the edge, watching it all happen

Straps gulped down sweat, tar, muck and filth. He was surprised that he was surviving. The heat and pressure of the puffy gear grew more and more intense as he slowly sank. Ren somehow came from behind touching his neck. Strappy made a gurgling scream as he felt Ren touch him. Then Eric spoke "You two can hear me right? That potion those darts had in it has a neuro chemical in it that lets me be heard in your brains!"

Ren also swallowing the mixture of tar, with other substances, he saw that he was still alive, touching the back of Strappy's neck, And then I heard Eric speak, seeing that somehow, that dart left them alive? immortals? And that Eric had control of our minds

Eric said "You two will suffer the crushing hot nasty sweaty tarry filthy gear around you getting tighter and tighter all day and night until you two are crushed flat at the bottom in the sludge of tar sweat and filth. You two will drown in it, swallow it, eat it, it is all you will know by tomorrow morning. Won't take long for your brains to completely melt from the crushing depths of that tank with 500,000 pieces of nasty workwear in it! Have fun drowning. I'll see you tomorrow evening when it's time to process the gear, or well, start processing it. You two will suffer in that tank for a long time, could be a week that you stay crushed beneath all of it. Worst thing is you two don't ever need to sleep again and will never sleep again, all you will know is crushing immobility and nasty tasting filth!"

Slowly we sank lower and lower, it became tighter, hotter, and stinkier the deeper we went, somehow we were able to breathe the hot rancid "air" trapped within the nasty clothing. At the same time we kept sucking the nasty clothing into our mouths and noses. We squirmed, only making ourselves sink deeper faster. We couldn't tell what time it was, all we knew was that we were quickly being crushed tighter, quickly being cooked in the heat of the gear, and many hours later we felt the bottom, a gluey pasty sludge of tar sweat mud and other chemicals beneath us that quickly sucked us under it.

Being pulled under, we were crushed by this hot mixture of mud, tar, and various chemicals, which, even if we could breathe, would be the only thing we were going to do forever, trapped, With no escape, what I already accepted for myself, and considered myself lost, was this, this was my new life, what I would be now forever, crushed by this gear, tighter and tighter

The next day came, it seemed like an eternity, suddenly we felt the heavy thick puffy workwear come down over us as the sludge was drained out. Eric said "All liquids will be pressed out of the gear now, which means you two will be crushed cruelly flat! Lucky for you there's some nasty gear deep beneath the sludge that won't be drained away so you two will be smashed within puffy dirty coveralls. After that the processing will continue, should take a few hours to the rest of the day to drain the sludge and compress all liquids out of the gear, while you two are laying there unable to move being crushed!"

Listening again to everything Eric was saying, I tried to move, but in vain, being completely cramped, next to Strappy, who was impossible to leave, and who in a few hours, we would be cruelly flattened, after liquids come out

A few hours passed slowly, the sludge was gone, we felt the softness of the thick puffy gear beneath us, then the gear above us turned into an almost solid yet soft wall that absolutely flattened us against the gear below getting tighter and tighter and hotter. Eric said "Now comes the second stage, the gear its self along with you will be sucked into extremely tight tubes only able to fit one person at most but the both of you and 200 pounds of gear will be forced into one, because I want to fucking destroy you two!"

Seeing where we were going to go, I thought about how we were going to be, if after that we would still be alive, waiting for this to happen, already lost, with no sense of time, or what was happening anymore, Just feeling my body being more and more flattened and crushed as we were destroyed by it

Strappy and Ren were slowly pulled down into a tube of gear, surrounded by hiviz clothing and muck. It was horrible smelling, they could both still breathe the nasty smell and taste it even though there was no air anywhere. Then suddenly they felt a horrible crushing sensation, so harsh and intense they both felt like their bodies were being crushed from above and below, being compacted together. When actually they were shrinking. Eric said "When the crushers turn off you two will be no larger than a cockroach"

Ren and Strappy's bodies were crushed little by little, so that they were decreasing in size, the feeling was strong, and horrible, they were barely breathing and not being able to do anything, they waited as everything happened, not knowing when the crushers would shut down

Strappy and Ren were no larger than a cockroach crushed within the nasty heavy puffy jackets. The crushing stopped. Eric said "Now comes the part where you two get sealed within a nasty jacket!" Suddenly Strappy and Ren dropped out of the tube onto a conveyor belt. They looked around and crawled around the many jackets trying to escape. Eric grabbed Strappy and Ren and forced them into a clear PVC pocket on one of the jackets, he glued the pocket shut and pulled the jacket on himself. He said "Must smell so bad in there, with the puffy jacket on the inside, the PVC keeping you in there airtight. The more I sweat and the more filth I get inside the jacket the more it'll stink in that little hell you are trapped inside of!" He walked outside, it was a searing hot 120 degree day in the desert, the PVC felt like it was melting against Strappy who screamed "PLEASE ERIC! GET US OUT OF HERE! IT SMELLS SO BAD AND UGH HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN IN THAT PIT OF TORTURE!" Eric said "It's been a few months worthless runts. You two are never getting free from my filthy jacket, when it gets too dirty you two go back in the pit with it, you won't be shrunk any smaller, but you'll still be subjected to the same horrific torture til you get sealed into a new jacket. I'll cut the pocket open when I go to toss the jacket away and drop you two into the pit so you can suffer the horrible sensations only as tiny cockroaches trapped in the nasty pit! THIS IS YOUR ETERNITY LOSERS!"

Eternally trapped in this endless torture, would this be hell? If it were, we would be living it, and now always, with us sealed inside this new jacket, I screamed for Eric to try to get me out of there, but to no avail "PLEASE GET US OUT OF HERE !" Just to get more tired, tired of trying to get out, tossing and turning, even though there was nowhere for me to move, so this was it, our end, which would not end but would go on forever

It grew smellier and stickier, Eric's sweat dripped through the jacket, slimy chemical muck and filth dripped through into the pocket smearing the PVC and making it slowly darken until we were in the total darkness again until we both licked it clean only to see the bright sun and the airport grounds where Eric worked. It was a horrible torture that would never end. Eric laughed watching us within the tiny pocket. His friends looked and laughed and said "Where can we get tiny runts like those? Looks like fun having something suffering inside your jacket, knowing you have total control over their lives and ultimate fate" Eric said "Oh these runts? I'll let you guys have at them one day, maybe they'll end up in your jackets, who knows, every year or so when my jacket wears out they'll end up in the pit and among the nearly million filthy hiviz workwear pieces we have in the processing warehouse." Erics friend Jason said "Come on I wanna torture the runts now!" Eric said "Bearhug me, they hate being crushed!" Jason bearhugged Eric, Strappy and Ren were pressed flat against the slimy mucky fabric inside of the pocket, Strappy and Ren's last sight was Jasons hiviz jacket closing around them. Eric said "We can sleep bearhugging each other like this. How does that sound" Strappy and Ren both cried out a muffled scream of misery knowing they had no choice. Jason's friend Ryan wrapped them in thick heavy PVC and said "I'll come unwrap you two tomorrow, you two can sleep stood up outside here in the 120 degree heat, bet those runts will really suffer being cooked between your sweaty bodies!"

In total darkness until we cleared everything and saw some light, from where Eric worked, hearing him laughing watching us inside his tiny pocket, Hearing him saying all that, in a tone of sovereignty and dominance over us, that we couldn't do anything, and we were introducing his friend Jason, That just like Eric, he also tortured us and took advantage of the situation, which after a while our last sight was Jason's jacket closing around us, We screamed sounds of misery, as we were wrapped inside the PVC, and placed in this strong heat

The foul smelling jackets puffiness accepted our bodies as we were pressed flat by Jason, wrapped in the thick PVC with him and Eric. We cannot move a muscle, we lay there for what seemed like forever. Not being able to sleep made our minds melt into mush, all we knew was filthy workwear and the surroundings of Erics airport. It was a fate far worse than hell. The next morning Eric and Jason awoke to Ryan unwrapping them. Eric said "I'm sure the runts fucking hated that, but it's gonna be worse for them cause today I have to clean out the shit tank in the sewage facility which means I'm gonna be up to my neck in shit!"

Not being able to move a muscle, standing still like a concrete statue, just feeling what was happening, and not being able to speak either, just thinking, the worst fate of all, and even more, Knowing he would be head over heels in shit, which will only add to the filth and stench there

A few hours later Ren and Strappy stared into a dimly lit warehouse as Eric began pulling on a heavy rubber suit. Eric said "Enjoy the last of seeing you two will do for the rest of the day. The suit might fill up with shit, might not, there's no telling if it will. I really don't care if it does, I've gotten used to having it on my filthy clothes, though the other guys don't really enjoy me being in shit soaked clothes." Slowly Ren and Strappys vision faded into darkness, the rubber suit was hot humid and made the smells inside the pocket even more intense as Ren and Strappy were squeezed down into the puffy nasty jacket by the heavy clear PVC under the snug rubber.

Both Ren and Strappy were sealed in darkness, after having seen the place that awaited them, and seeing that possibly the suit would be full of shit, Ren tried to argue in vain, always forgetting that there was nothing he could do but accept it all, inside that nasty Eric's Jacket, under the Rubber, to which they could hear the sounds coming from Eric starting to enter that place and start doing his job, The smell grew stronger by the moment

Bubbling sounds were heard as Eric sunk into the pit of shit, he started pulling at chains and got stuck and yelled as he was sucked under the shit as the drain pulled all of the shit down and out of the pit. He was still stuck and the suit was filled with shit. Jason came and unwrapped the chain from Erics leg and he climbed out of the pit. Jason fillled Erics rubber suit with boiling hot water and said "Gotta get that shit stink off you." Eric said "No, gotta keep it stinky, remember the two stupid losers in my jacket?" Jason said "Those two little runts will still be in a smelly hell, your sweat will be very intense after you spend the rest of the day in the suit with the hot water surrounding your body, it's not like its gonna make all the shit disappear anyway." The shit flooded out of the suit but the worst happened, a thick sticky gluey piece flowed into the jacket and slowly came through the thick fabric smearing against Ren and Strappy who screamed beneath the rubber, neither of them could be heard in the searing hot confines. Strappy cried weakly "Ren, come on, what did you do, I told you this would be extreme, I told you playing with Eric was gonna be a bad idea."

Tightly tucked inside Eric's suit, we watched the inevitable happen, that sticky, glued-on piece entering sending it hurtling toward us as we agonized, The smell, the heat was hellish, and the sensation all together just made it really extreme, Then Ren heard Strappy cried saying that and said in return " I know! But you had told me that you knew him, how did you not know that he was capable of all this ?!"

Strappy cried "I thought he was just an innocuous worker at the airport I didn't think or know any of this crazy ability to shrink people and torture them like this" he then gagged and nearly threw up as the sludgy muck started to fill the pocket they were trapped in, it was inevitable that they would drown in the shit sludge and have to drink it and eat every little bit of it to be able to see. Hours later in the searing hot suit Eric pulled the suit off. Strappy and Ren did the inevitable and drank the thick slimy sludge before licking the PVC, they saw the sun setting and Eric walking to his car, he got in pulled the seatbelt on super tight and flattened Ren and Strappy in the shitty confines blacking out their vision with the thick strapping laughing saying "Good hour drive home and I'm gonna drive with the heat turned all the way up so I soak this fuckin jacket in more stinkin sweat, because you two little runts deserve it!"

Ren would say, "so it was better to have known earlier! Look where we are now, how many more people did he do this to?? What are we going to d- glurk!" Ren starts to choke too as all the sludgy shit gets into the pocket and completely covers them, That way drowning was closer, they had to eat that to not happen, And so they did in that time, crying as they swallowed the most disgusting part of it all

Strappy could only make muffled whimpers, his body tightest trapped beneath Erics belt. The jacket growing very hot from the intensity of the heat. An hour later Eric stood up from his car and Strappy cried out "I don't know! I don't know Eric all that well, all I knew was he would be able to make our fantasies reality and he said he would keep us for a very long time enjoying our mucky fantasies!" Eric went into the bathroom, he turned on the shower and stood under the hot water for a whole hour letting it wash the shit off his jacket. He used a special soap that only removed the smell of shit, it actually made the stink of his sweat the tar and other filth in the jacket even more intense. Strappy and Ren stared out of the clear PVC as it got steamy quickly, the stench of sweat filling their nostrils and becoming very strong. After the shower Eric laid down in bed and turned off the lights, he pulled a blanket on that was extremely heavy and made of rubber, suddenly it started to heat up. Eric said "Hope you runts are able to survive crushed under my 100 pound heated blanket, I cant get burns neither can you but I will sweat like wild under it at 140 degrees. GOODNIGHT!" he yelled and then fell asleep quickly. Ren and Strappy were completely immobilized in the dark nasty smelling world of the jacket

Crying muffled As I listened to his testimony, feeling the intense heat that builds up because of everything inside Eric's jacket, Ren thought his body would melt like that, and then more hours pass since From that moment on, until he heard Eric at home turning on the shower and the hot water fall on us, And after he soaped up, he noticed that the smell was getting stronger and stronger, and it didn't stop, filling our nostrils to a point that was extremely unbearable, And then, listening to Eric say we were going to sleep in 140 degrees of heat, and then, in the last moment, crying with Strappy, both of them are completely immobilized in this disgusting, stinky and nasty smelling world from his jacket

It was horrible, Strappy and Ren could barely wiggle an inch. Strappy said "You realize we are going to be like this forever probably?" Strappy laid in the dark hot nasty confines struggling as much he could, his body slowly moved on top of Rens crushing him into the nasty puffy jacket. Strappy laughed and said "Now its your turn to be on the bottom, I was stuck under you for a while when the pocket was full of shit!"

Ren said, "I know! I can't stop thinking about it... we're doomed to this forever..." Feeling Strappy struggling over me, crushing me more in the jacket, and then saying "Hey! It's not like I had a choice"

Strappy wiggled harder, crushing Ren into the jacket saying "Shut up, suck that nasty stinking jacket, gag on it!" Then Eric awoke, he said "I hope you two runts are ready for today, I have to do some lifejacket testing for the airline which means crushingly tight inflatable lifejackets will be on me most of the day, one after another inflating super fast fucking flattening you worthless runts!"

Ren just mumbled muffled as he was pressed against the jacket, and then heard what Eric had said after waking up, seeing that we were going to have a new torture, now, getting more and more flattened

Eric rubbed his chest and ground his fingers into the pocket looking at Ren and Strappy as he crushed them beneath his finger saying "Does it hurt, does it hurt being flattened into the stinky jacket!" He rubbed Ren and Strappy harshly forcing both of them into the nasty jackets padding separating them from each other completely. He held his finger over Ren and Strappy for a whole ten minutes saying "The next 3 days, are going to be spent a lot like this. Ten minutes per lifejacket, ten minutes fucking CRUSHED FLAT IN THE FILTHY JACKET. Ten minutes of me sweating heavily from the thick PVC squeezing my body. YOU STUPID RUNTS READY!?"

We were crammed even tighter inside Eric's jacket, with him laughing at us and making fun of us, as we were separated from each other completely, I was trying to join Strappy but I couldn't, so listening to what Eric said, I increasingly regretted what I just joined, I was going to be squashed for 3 days straight

Eric pressed down harder and harder until he was putting all of his muscle upon Strappy and Ren, he said "DOES IT FEEL GOOD LITTLE FUCKERS!?" He could feel their tiny unbreakable bones beneath his fingers

Ren whimpered being totally squashed by Eric

Eric let up and said "Hope you stupid runts are ready, it's gonna be all day and night for the next 3 days. While I'm asleep another guy will be inflating the life vests around me and testing them for leaks all while you two suffer your eternal life, unable to sleep, only able to stare out of the clear pocket when they switch the vest or I'm switching vests for a few seconds before you see the thick yellow PVC cover you and then fucking crush you flat! All while I sweat more!" He walked out of his house got in the car and forced Strappy and Ren underneath the seat belt and pulled it super tight crushing them into the sticky filthy jacket, he drove the long way taking two hours to get to the airport and sat at the gate for another hour laughing saying "Does it hurt crushed under the thick nylon in my super hot jacket!?" He then stood up from his car walked into the airport and went to the warehouse, Ren and Strappy could see 5000 life jackets piled up to the roof and knew it would be a long time before they see anything other than sticky heavy hot lifejackets

We listened to it all, knowing that even at night, instead of sleeping, we would be suffering in this place, while Ren was being pressed by Strappy and crushed very hard inside the sticky and Filthy jacket, for two hours straight until arriving at the airport, where I would hear Eric laughing at us, defenseless, and then, we were presented with 5000 life jackets in a pile, of dirt and stench, "hmmff, arhg"

Eric pulled one of the life jackets on laughing. He walked outside and pulled the cords on it making it inflate tightly around his body in an instant. Eric whimpered in pain and said "God its so fucking tight, now I have to keep it on for 10 minutes, crushing you fucking runts while I walk around in the 120 degree heat. I'll then go back in and grab another one. All while I'm drenching my jacket in sweat. Bet you fucking runts can barely see anything." Strappy cried as the lifejacket crushed him and Ren into the filthy jacket, Ren and Strappy were only able to see the yellow PVC smashed against their faces through the clear PVC pocket.

Crying as we were crammed inside the filthy jacket, with all that stink, and our bodies heavily crushed, with the PVC against our faces, Ren cried more muffled by everything above them

Every 10 minutes for the next 3 days a short relief between life jackets and then the sudden intense cruel crushing inflation. But then Strappy and Ren saw Eric pull out a small box of ten lifejackets. Eric said "You two ready to be downright crushed in filth? These are encrused in shit mud tar and filth, these are the worker jackets and no, we never clean them. Perhaps I should pull you two out of the pocket and stick you on the underside of one of these vests to suffer in the crusty shit soaked PVC forever!" Strappy looked with sheer fear out of the clear PVC as Eric unpacked the box. He looked at Ren and said "Dude, look at what could happen, was this really your ultimate fantasy? Are you fucking happy!?"

I looked at the box he removed from inside that pile of clothes, and then when I heard it I knew that there were others who had the same fate, so listening to Strappy, Ren said in return " It's not like I have anything to do right now! Do you have any idea how we can get out of here? Huh!?"

Strappy whimpered, muffled by the PVC yelling at Eric "DO IT! WE WANT TO FEEL THAT SHIT SOAKED PVC!" Eric said "What did I tell you runts about talking to me!" He pressed his finger into Strappy and Ren's bodies as hard as he could til their small bodies were flattened in the padding of the jacket. He unzipped the pocket after dripping solvent over the zipper and said "You two really want to come out of that pocket, where its relatively easy for you compared to these ten vests. I'm going to crush you under each vest, I'm going to wear these vests for 24 hours, 10 days you will spend under the crusty shit soaked PVC. The only time you two worthless runts will see light is when I pull you off of one vest and fold you into another one before pulling it on and CRUSHING THE LIFE OUT OF YOU as I inflate it." He pushed his gloved hand into the pocket and grabbed Ren and Strappy, he pulled apart the shit encrusted PVC of the first lifejacket and forced Ren and Strappy into it face first, he covered Ren and Strappy with glue and let their bodies stick to the vest before folding it tightly and then stomping on it laughing saying "Gotta get it a little filthier before I pull it on!" and then pulled the lifevest on. He said "Any last words before I inflate it and you two are crushed flat against the outside of my filthy jacket and will stay that way for 24 hours, suffering, sucking shit soaked PVC against your faces, being cooked in the heat of my nasty jacket and the vest as I walk around outside!"

Ren Hearing this, he immediately said "what!?" So we were caught by Eric who pinned us face down to the encrusted PVC, we were then glued to it at this point, and then Ren said again "Was that your brilliant idea?!"

Strappy said in a muffled voice, gagging on the muck "Yeah, I was hoping he wouldn't fold the vest over its self and trample on us and we could crawl out, I wasn't expecting it to be so sticky so fast, thought the glue would let us get away before it dries." The glue had dried already, Eric yelled "ANY LAST WORDS RUNTS!?"

Ren said "Oh.. Sorry, I didn't see the main idea, I thought it was pointless.." Then I heard Eric yelling at us and Ren looked at Strappy

Strappy yelled "Please Eric, it's horrible, if you crush us under this lifejacket I'm not sure if we will survive, these things are so tight and nasty, we've been suffering for the last 3 days, it's been hell since you took us into your jacket, since you put us through that horrible pit" Eric pulled the cord on the lifevest and it inflated so fast that Strappy and Ren were crushed flat against Erics filthy mucky jacket, the air in their lungs pressed out of them in an instant. Strappy opened his mouth wide and tried to suck air into his empty lungs only getting a mouthful of shit and filth encrusted PVC

Ren also said to Eric, "Please, Eric! We can't take it anymore, we've been suffering here for too long" So, not knowing what happened I just felt the air pressing fast and we were being crushed, Ren was also trying to get air to breathe, But ended up swallowing shit in the process

Eric said "Poor flattened runts. I bet you'd fuckin hate it if I jumped into the bubbling vat of shit wearing this vest!" He jumped into the bubbling thick gluey vat full of shit and sunk in up to his neck forcing the vest under. He said "What a perfect way to test the vest!" He kept fighting to keep the vest under the shit laughing knowing that Strappy and Ren were plastered in sticky shit and the bubbling shit would only force its way up under the vest further worsening the situation for the two shrunken runts

Ren was trying to tell him not to, but then he jumped and went under and we got more smashed in all that shit, We gurgled as shit went into our mouths

Eric spnt the entire day in the bubbling hot vat of shit. That evening he climbed out of the vat and said "Must be horrific under the vest now. old crusty shit and filth mixed with fresh sticky thick sludge! Just think in an hour from now you two will not only be crushed under that vest but you'll be under my 140 degree heated blanket, and the 100 pound weight of it." Eric got into his car laughing as he pulled the seatbelt so tight that he thought the vest would burst but it didn't This was part of his way of testing the vest, it made things far worse for poor Strappy and Ren, crushing them even harder. Strappy thought it couldn't get any tighter with the vest yet it did, he wondered how his body hadn't been crushed, he wondered how he hadn't died and wished he was dead for how horrible the smell taste and pressure was around him. The nasty feeling of the crusty vest and grimy jacket made him miserable, a true hell on earth.

For the whole day, we were forced to endure all this heat and smell of shit, the heat was infernal, and then after that, we were taken in his car so our bodies were crushed harder, I didn't know how we were still alive after so many squeezes and our bodies crushed like that, wanting, like Strappy, to be dead at that moment, being for him the best thing that could happen

It took hours for Eric to drive home, he took a much longer route than usual enjoying the muffled cries coming from beneath the vest. Eric knew Strappy and Ren were truly suffering crushed in the shit soaked crusty vest mixed with slimy fresh thick shit. He hours later pulled into his driveway and pulled the belt off, relieving a slight amount of pressure for poor Ren and Strappy. It was barely a relief though and Strappy and Ren both knew what was next for them, the odd shower with the chemical that made every smell more intense. Eric used a different soap this time, one that made shit solidify and made every stench far more intense. Strappy and Ren were compressed even harder as the shit solidified around them. Eric stepped out of the shower and laid down in bed quickly pulling the hundred pound heated blanket on himself before Ren and Strappy had a chance to scream, the thick blanket now completely keeping them from making a sound audible to him, he started sleeping as Ren and Strappy squirmed weakly in the confines of solidified muck and filthy PVC and thick hiviz nylon.

We were in so much pain, crying with all that shit all over us as we were being crushed, and then, hours later, we were released from all the pressure he put on us, taking us to the shower, Which intensified the smell even more, and we thought it couldn't get any worse, and so, after the shower, a weight was imposed on us, And so, another night ended, with Eric sleeping peacefully in his bed, and us confined and solidified within PVC

It was horrible, it was truly getting to poor Strappy, the inability to speak and also the long period without sleeping that would be forever. It was disgusting. The tightness of the vest was worse than being in the pocket of the jacket. Strappy regretted making the attempt to escape Erics torture. The night passed horrendously slowly for poor Strappy and Ren, time felt like it was at a stand still as they laid in the almost burning hot shit encrusted confines.

Ren also shared the same feelings, the horror of not being able to move, not to mention, sealed forever in such a hot, disgusting hell inside this jacket pocket, How many more days would he last before he completely lost his mind? It was hard to tell, but it wouldn't be long,The smell, the heat, all of it, was simply too cruel for them, that one more night they would stay like this

Eric awoke the next day, he pulled the blanket off and walked out the door saying "How are you runts feeling down there, knowing that it'll be 9 more days like this. Knowing that you'll see light for literally but a few minutes before I plunge you into another shit encrusted filthy vest, who knows if the next vest or all of the vests will get stronger in succession or weaker or maybe it wont inflate at all, but if that happens I have to fix it and when I fix vests I make sure they inflate so hard they crush bugs like you to death, but you two, you can't die, so you'll just feel the horror of being CRUSHED FLAT in shit encrusted PVC!" He got in his car and pulled his belt on even tighter than the night before just to torture Ren and Strappy.

Ren, unable to sleep, listening to Eric say all that, whimpering as he noticed that there were still 9 more days ahead of him, of pain and suffering, And I was much more scared, knowing that I would not die in the process of being crushed, that I would feel it all and suffer endlessly, and without doing anything, just waiting for it to happen, we were then more crushed as he tightened the belt.

An hour later Eric arrived at the warehouse, he got out of his car. Strappy breathed deeply in relief even though there was barely any air trapped under the vest. The vest began to wrinkle as Eric bent over and started unfolding another vest. Strappy said weakly "It's about to happen, we get another chance at escaping, but I doubt we will be able to. My muscles, my bones, my body, it all feels weak. I can barely move from being crushed so much." Suddenly the vest deflated and Eric pulled it off over his head he folded it up with Strappy and Ren trapped within it, he folded it super tight and sat on top of it and said chuckling "Hmm, where did the runts go.." He knew that Strappy and Ren were now crushed beneath his weight and enjoyed knowing that they were now folded up within the nasty vest. As Eric folded the vest he watched Strappy and Ren's tiny bodies and made sure to fold it in such a way he would actually contort their tiny bodies into the crusty nasty sticky PVC and fold their bodies themselves. It got worse when he sat on the vest. Strappy wondered how long he would sit there, his body covered in a dull ache, his ability to feel pain far diminished since being crushed flat in the pool of nasty workwear luckily.

After all this time until we arrived, I would breathe in Relief too, then look at Strappy and listen to him talk, and then I would talk too "Please let it work, I can't take this anymore" After having the pressure released, we tried to find a way to get out of there, if not, we would really be trapped forever in this filthy mess if Eric, and it got even worse, when he sat down and all That smell came over our nostrils again

Strappy cried softly, even though he could barely feel pain his body folded up in such a cruel way was uncomfortable. Hours later Eric stood up unfolded the vest and peeled Strappy and Ren off of it before walking across the room and throwing Strappy and Ren into the next vest with great force letting their tiny bodies painfully smack into the mucky crusty gritty PVC. Eric walked over and laughed as Strappy and Ren began crawling trying to escape, he quickly folded the vest closed around them again making sure to fold their tiny bodies painfully and said "Try to escape? I'll fucking stomp on you two for the next hour before I fucking inflate this vest over my jacket dripping in sweat" He stood on the vest and then Strappy and Ren heard loud music in the warehouse, Eric had began dancing on top of the vest stomping on top of poor Strappy and Ren crushing them in the gritty crusty muck of shit and mud. It was horrifyingly tight and cruel, the pressure was light sometimes then sudden pounding force on top of them. Strappy cried weakly "Sorry Ren, I can't, we're stuck forever, we may as well not try to escape, maybe when he's done with the vests he will give us an opportunity to escape, but we're stuck for the next 9 days at least."

Crying while it all happened, I could only accept how uncomfortable it all was. After that we were thrown by Eric, who we fell to and were more crushed by him, at that I cried too, and I heard Strappy talk again, and then I answered "It's okay Strappy, I know.. it's going to be a long 9 days, but we'll find a way out of here, we'll make it" I tried to speak confidently, looking at Strappy with my body all crumpled, still horrified at how cruel Eric could be, how many people had he done this to? How many more have had this fate? Did they manage to get rid of it? As ? That's all I thought about, my mind was more broken than ever

An hour later Eric got off of the vest, he unfolded the vest and laughed as Strappy and Ren tried to wiggle free of the clingy gritty mud and shit mixture. He pulled the vest on over his jacket and said "Ready or not, here it comes!" He pulled the strings and the vest inflated with far more force than the first vest. Strappy and Ren were next to each other they gripped each others hands as the nasty vest flattened them in the yellow brown nasty PVC All they saw for the last 24 hours, and all they will see for the next 9 days. It was hotter and tighter beneath this vest and it got even hotter as Eric walked outside and said "Now begins a whole day of testing the vest, I think I'll do heat testing on this one!" He went into a steam room and sat there, sweating, dripping through the jacket, letting his sweat mix with the shit and mud as Strappy and Ren suffered. Strappy made gurgling sounds as all he could do was lay there swallowing the nasty filthy gluey shit and mud sucking the nasty PVC begging it for a wrinkle begging for air, even some nasty stinking air.

Seeing that we hadn't had time to do something, listening to Eric again, I was already scared and so before anything else, the vest was inflated, we were pressed against each other and After that, the heat rose in the place, we couldn't go out, and the nasty yellow brown PVC vest would be what we would see in the next 9 days. It was endlessly hot, I kept thinking how could it be so hot, but it would get worse because the hot shit mix, with all kinds of products made us suffer more and more, Swallowing all that shit again, needing air.

Hours passed, it felt like an eternity, then the vest began to cool slightly. Eric said "What a nice day hanging around in the steam room while two fucking worthless runts suffer in their hell of the day. I can't wait til tomorrow when I get to pull you out from this vest and put you under a newer type, thats weighted, it's both inflatable and weighted for deep shit tank work, allows the person wearing it to control their float level, but it'll just crush you two even harder! I love knowing that you two are fucking shattered minds, flattened bodies, nothing but little objects that will suffer for eternity. After the 9 days are up I have no idea what I'll do with you two, but I can guarantee you it'll be worse than the vests!" Strappy spoke weakly to Ren "Worse than the vests, how could anything be worse than the vests" He gagged and then puked, letting the slime flow down the vest. It was helpful though it smelled horrible, now a worse stench, the smell of shit puke and dirt filled their nostrils as the vest wrinkled from the pressure of Strappys puke. Eric laughed and said "I feel the puke of a pair of tinies dripping, Enjoy the stinky air in that wrinkle, in fact have some fresh shit stink!" he shoved a tiny tube into the bottom of the vest and farted loudly laughing as he watched the toxic gas fill the tube, he could literally see the brownness of his shit in the tube, he knew it was a wet fart. Now Ren and Strappy had to worry if Eric pushed out more farts and let his shit flow up around them which it inevitably did in the evening as he was driving home with them crushed beneath the belt.

After the hours passed which seemed like an eternity, Ren heard what Eric said and then Strappy who spoke weakly, and shortly after replied "c-calm, keep calm.. damn.. you threw up, it's dirtier now, this way I'm going to throw up too,.." was shaken and weak, as was Strappy, seeing that, Eric mocked us and that he stuck a tiny tube in the bottom of his vest and farted on us laughing out loud as he watched the tube turning brown.It was definitely hell, and it would go on and on as we got more and more crushed.

Strappy cried as Eric pulled off the belt, farting again, shit flowed into the small pocket they were laying in under the vest against his jacket, the jacket soaked up the shit and puffed up, squeezing them even harder against the stiff unforgiving PVC inflatable! It was horrifying, worse than the vest the last day, and sure enough Eric got into the special shower and showered with the chemical that made everything stink worse! To make it even worse he used a different soap that made the vest hotter, it used a chemical reaction to generate intense almost burning heat! He then laid down pulled on the cruel heavy blanket and slept knowing that we were truly suffering, worse yet in the middle of the night he farted and shat more, filling the jacket and the pocket we were trapped in with even more foul thick nasty gluey shit!

Ren crying too, while Eric pulled the belt, shit covering us all the way, and then, bogging us down leaving the PVC all inflated with us inside it, that was definitely cruel, and it felt like That each day would be more disgusting and worse than the last. Eric taking a shower with his shower full of chemicals made the smell even worse, with different and altered soaps that created More heat on us

The next 8 days passed gruelingly slowly, Eric waking up, grinding us beneath the vest, driving to work in the heat, folding the vest up with us trapped inside of it. Crushing the vest beneath himself, then pulling us out, making us think we have a chance at escaping before plunging us into an even dirtier stickier nastier smelling vest folding us within it, crushing our tiny bodies, then pulling the vest on and crushing us cruelly against his jacket, walking around outside cooking us beneath the vest before driving home with us crushed under the tight belt and vest before showering in the heat intensifying soap and cruelly crushing us under his heated 100 pound blanket. The last day of vest testing came after what seemed like an eternity. Eric said "You two ready to find out where you'll spend the rest of eternity the hard way?" as he woke up and stood up walking out the door into the hot sunlight, the nasty sticky vest growing hot over us quickly

Time passing very slowly only prolonged our sentence further, both of us slowly suffering more and more, until Eric wakes up and takes us to work, in that immense heat. And when he drove there we were crushed further beneath him until he pulled us out, giving us hope of escape, only for him to crush our small bodies cruelly again Inside the jacket. To which, after that, he washes us with his shower and soap that make the situation even worse, It seemed to have no end, the repetitious routine of being flattened under nasty stinking PVC. Until Eric said mocking us that we didn't have a chance, we would spend eternity like this, walking up to the door where the heat increased heavily as soon as he opened it walking out to his car on the 8th day.

Eric said as he pulled out the last and final vest grabbing our tiny bodies and holding us in his hands like a brutish giant with only our heads above his fingers “What will it be. Shall I stick you two back in my jacket in the clear PVC pocket or would you two like to suffer inside of that vest you see in front of you two for eternity.” The vest was different from all the others in the fact it was far heavier looking and was orange rather than yellow. On it said “Oilfield rescue vest” it stunk of oil and mud. Eric said “Take your pick losers. Because I’m never unshrinking you two. Unless you want to be buried alive in nasty stinking vests as I let them all inflate around you two crushing you as I cover the pit in cement. Regardless what fate you two choose, you’re about to be sealed away forever in a stinky hell that you will never sleep in. All you will do is suffer. Choose carefully as if you pick my jacket or the vest you might get a chance at seeing the world around you but if you choose to be unshrunk and buried alive, surely you will be sealed in a dark crushing sticky grip of PVC with no way to freedom, for eternity!”

After Eric took the last vest and held us in his hand, he saw that this one was different from the others, which after he said what it was, he felt how heavy It was. Eric then Saying that we would never go back to normal size again, and that we must choose our sentence, I shuddered looking at Strappy, not knowing what to say or choose, to be sealed in cement, or to be In that vest, I didn't know which was worse

Eric threw Ren and Strappy under the heavy orange vest and said walking away "I'll give you two one hour to escape from under that 100 pound vest. I bet you two won't be able to even wiggle beneath it, and even if you can you'll get stuck in all the sticky mud!" Strappy cried as he felt the pressure of the vest pressing him flat against it as Eric folded the vest in half and walked away leaving Ren and Strappy trapped inside the oily sticky vest.

Heard what Eric said, got a little hopeful, and so looking at Strappy trying to tell him to try some way out, crying while talking feeling the pressure against us "C-come on Strappy, don't give up, we gotta find a way out of here"

Strappy could barely wiggle, the wrinkles giving us nothing but oily muddy hot smelly air. Time passes slowly. Strappy grabs Ren and says "Listen, we either take this vest or his jacket, getting buried alive after being crushed in 100 inflatable vests might be worse, at least this vest and his jacket have a clear pocket, we'll be able to see the world around us as we deal with our mucky stinky fate, and in the vest at least its all solid PVC so we probably wont deal with the worsening stench like the jacket but I could be wrong" Strappy fought against the material as much he could but it held him down, he could only move a few inches. Suddenly Ren and Strappy heard Erics heavy footsteps and then it happened, Eric stood on top of the vest cruelly flattening Strappy and Ren in the sticky muddy oily vest!

Watching time pass slowly, I saw that Strappy wanted to say something, so I listened to him and responded in sequence "I see, so you really think it's better that way?" I thought of every aspect and fought alongside Strappy until I shuddered hearing Eric's footsteps getting closer until we were flattened by Eric's foot and body weight on top of us

Strappy could barely make a sound, he wheezed "It's the jacket or the vest Ren, you have to tell him" he weakly wiggled and ended up with his face and body disappearing into one of the many folds of the vest as it squeezed down against Strappy and Ren. Eric unfolded the vest and grabbed Ren first before feeling around finding strappy he said "So little runts, what is it gonna be? How am I going to be making your forever a living hell!"

Ren would reply, "I-i? Wait, Strappy" Seeing you disappeared among the various folds of vest As Eric unfolded and caught me bringing me up close to his face I responded "t-the vest and jacket! Please, We want this one, we don't want to be buried in cement"

Eric said laughing "You realize the clear PVC pocket of this vest is like the jacket, tiny holes to let oil sweat and mud drip in. You sure you want that filth drowning you constantly? Cause our guys end up frequently having to go neck deep in the mud to get at the oil pipes. SUIT YOURSELF RUNTS!" He grabbed Ren and Strappy and unzipped a clear pocket on the inside of the vest laughing "Thought you two would be able to see the world? The only time you'll see anything is when someone takes the vest off and tosses it in the dirty vest bin, all you will ever see for the rest of your life is filthy vests! You losers should have chosen my jacket, might have stunk more and been worse feeling but at least you'd actually see things, and be crushed under vests, but too late now!" He dropped Strappy and Ren into the clear inner pocket and glued it shut before heat sealing it closed. He laughed maniacally and pulled the vest on pulling the cords inflating it against himself, the vest was the strongest of all the vests, it crushed poor Strappy and Ren harder than all of the other 5000 vests that were tested on them. Strappy cried out "Ren why didn't you go for the jacket!" with his last breath as his face was smashed into the clear PVC. Luckily wrinkles let some light and air in. Strappy and Ren were able to see Erics filthy jacket and that is all they will see until the vest is taken off by Eric after the work day and tossed in with the other dirty vests. Tiny holes in the pocket let the stench of Eric's jacket permeate into the vest, combining the smells of the vest and his nasty jacket. It was double the nastiness, not only did they have to breathe the vest they had to breathe Eric's jacket and deal with the constant cruel pressure of the PVC vest and the near pitch black darkness, all they could see was the orange jacket and the shiny hiviz stripes. They knew that it would be a very long day as Eric walked out of the warehouse into the searing hot daytime heat.

Hearing Eric again mocking us and unzipping, throwing us inside him and closing, sealing us inside. Being crushed each other with all that weight, and listening to Strappy's cry, trying to say something, but for being so lost my last breath was smashed into the clear PVC while i try to Tell something. After that We were able to see Eric jacket small holes, which were very difficult to breathe because of the pressure, in this dark place, Knowing it was going to be a long day, as Eric walked out of the werehoise with us, into this endless hell

Eric said “When I take this vest off in a decade from now I’m gonna be tossing it along with my jacket into a special kind of landfill. Not too different from how you two got shrunk down but instead of you two getting out, you’ll stay suffering for eternity trapped beneath the glass flooring of a special exhibit called “Dirty workwear and the environment” at the airport. You two will look up and see people walking on top of the vest and jacket all while you two suffer inhaling the stench of millions of pieces of workwear and vests around you. You two will have nothing else to do for the rest of eternity and slowly you two will sink. The vest will slowly slip under the other filthy workwear and you two will try to struggle making it inflate and then you’ll be crushed even tighter as you go deeper and deeper and it inflates more.

The day went by slowly. It felt like forever. Then the decades went by. Then when we thought it was our time to get dumped into the pit he instead said “This is it losers. You’re gonna be worn by me for eternity. I’m never going to die. I’m always gonna be getting messy. This is your eternal life. Staring into the wrinkles of my nasty jacket being squeezed by that vest!”

Strappy cried “We might have had a chance of escaping but surely we won’t now. In the pit of vests we could have tried to break out of the pocket with the vest deflated on the surface. Though I’m sure we would have sunk into the massive pit like quicksand. We’re now nothing but part of this indestructible gross vest and will be nothing more than that”

Strappy and Ren relegated themselves to knowing they’d endure nasty mud and shit filling the vest along with sweat. When it wasn’t being filled with nasty muck it would be full of sweat and a steaming body cooking body crushing hell that they will never escape from.

Reduced from a pair of men to nothing more than part of a grimy inflatable life vest this is the life Strappy and Ren will live for eternity all because they thought Eric would make their ultimate fantasy a reality when it was actually their ultimate fate and a horrifying reality of filth!

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harunovella · 1 year ago

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language; s.g.

synopsis: when gojo satoru first fell in love with you content: teen gojo era, fem!reader, gojo is head over heels (love at first sight), hopeless!romantic gojo, 1k+ words of gojo just being an absolute fool in love, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: I've been wanting to create a sort of anthology series for some of my favs so here's a test run! I rlly wanna do lil drabbles/oneshots that can both be standalone but also can be read as something continuous revolving around Gojo's story with his soulmate... pls lmk if you'd like to see more of gojo and his mochi (aka you!)

Gojo Satoru didn't entirely know what love was; what with being raised by other people who weren't his actual mother and father, how could he? All he ever knew was a life of being the Honored One, since the day he was born. Nothing but a weapon. Living as the strongest and treated like a god... he never knew what real love felt like. He never knew what it was like to give or receive it. At least, not this way.

Geto Suguru and Ieiri Shoko were his best friends, the closest thing to real family. It wasn't like he didn't have any, at least not while growing up, but were they really family when all they ever did was train him and treat him like the eighth wonder of the world? Unlike everyone else, at least Suguru and Shoko treated him like a human. They loved him for who he was, but didn't hesitate to snap him into place when his ego was too inflated. They were there for him, even when expressing whatever demons that he held within him was hard to manage. If it wasn't for them, he wasn't sure exactly how he'd go about his life. Sure, he'd act like everything was fine and dandy, money could buy him happiness as he had plenty of it... and he was pretty much unstoppable, but the idea of living a life without either of them didn't sit well in his stomach.

So, sure, Satoru did now a bit about love, at least the love he felt for his best friends, but nothing like what he felt in this moment. The moment his eyes first fell on you.

He hadn't a clue as to who you were, only seeing you stroll along the grounds of Jujutsu High with your little uniform. The typical jacket, a skirt beneath, knee high socks, loafers... and your hair in a low ponytail that was held together by an overly large ribbon. Cute was the first thing that came to mind, along with the terrifying sound of his racing heart. Who were you? How come he had never seen you before? Maybe it was because he didn't pay attention to any one else besides a handful of people. He'd be lying if he said he was sure the technical college held more than five students.

In the midst of sipping away at his little box of strawberry milk, walking alongside Suguru and Shoko, Satoru's eyes had aimlessly wandered along his environment as his two best friends had been discussing evening plans. It wasn't like him to care about what was going on around him, so it was quite the miracle that his eyes were looking anywhere but ahead of him... but, maybe this was destiny.

It felt like the world was suddenly moving slowly around him, rather dramatically like a movie. His lips parted as the tiny straw fell out of it, hidden gaze behind his circular frames becoming exposed as the glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. You looked so graceful, the afternoon sun beaming down on you, your smile as bright as his eyes... he had to have been in love. This had to have been love. What else could it have been? Why else was his heart fluttering so quickly? Why else was he caught in a daze by your beauty? No one else, not a single soul, ever caught his attention this way so you must've been his soulmate.

There was something about you, from your gorgeous hair, to the cute bow, down to the uniform and the way it suited your form to the way you... wait, were you laughing with... Nanami Kento? Gojo's heart stopped as his grip on the milk grew tight, causing the contents to squeeze right out and squirt all over his face.

The sound of laughter caught his attention as he quickly looked at his two best friends, embarrassment filling his face as he looked back at you to see you now looking in his direction. Quickly wiping his face and turning away to scold his best friends, Gojo tossed the now empty carton at Geto. "Shut up!"

"What the hell did you do?" Suguru shook his head, wiping his tears as his shoulders shook with every laugh that rumbled throughout his torso. "Losing your cool over a girl, huh?"

"I said shut up!" Satoru snapped, cheeks burning with heat, embarrassed that he was that obvious.

"Must've struck something in him for him to spill milk all over his face like the doofus he is," Shoko snickered as Suguru went for a high five.

Swatting their hands and glaring at the two, Gojo hissed, "nothing happened, I squeezed too hard."

"Right," the two said in sync before eyeing one another, smirking and stifling a laugh.

Shoving past them as he kept walking ahead, grumbling to himself, Gojo couldn't help but peak over in your direction. You had already turned your attention back to the two on either side of you—Nanami along with Yu Haibara. Since when did they have a friend that was a girl? And when did you appear? He should've known seeing as both were his junior and both trained quite close to Suguru and himself. So you must've been new... He supposed he'd find more out about you, knowing he'd find a way to get under Nanami's skin and get anything out of him. He must've known a lot about you...

Gojo smirked to himself. He'd get his way.

"No," Nanami spoke as he crossed his arms. The confidence in Gojo's face instantly fading away. He didn't even hesitate, cancelling his plans with his best friends to bribe Kento into giving him some information. He swore taking his junior to his favorite bakery would help him out, but, no! Kento, being the wise boy he was, took advantage of Satoru paying for food in a false exchange for information. "I'm not going to be your middle man."

"Why not?!" Gojo whined, throwing himself back in his seat dramatically. "Just one thing! Something! Anything! She's the love of my life!"

Narrowing his eyes as he sipped away at his water, Nanami settled the glass down before crossing his arms once again. "Love of your life? You don't even know her name—"

"Because you won't tell me!" Gojo cried, throwing his head back and stomping his foot as if he was about to throw a tantrum. "Please, please! I beg of you, tell me something about her! Besides her name, what's her favorite color? Maybe her favorite food? Or... or what's her favorite date spot!"

"Satoru, I am not about to ask her what her favorite date spot is," Nanami deadpanned. "I'll give you her name and that's all. Everything else is on you. I'm not going to play matchmaker, let alone, set you up with someone so far out of your league."

Gasping in offense, Gojo clutched his chest. "Out of my league? Sure, she's a pure angel, a real heavenly being, but I like to think I am, too!"

"Egotistical..." Kento mumbled as Gojo frowned. "I'm only telling you one thing to get you off my back. You can't ask me anything ever again in order to get close to her. That's on you."

Pressing his hands together and interlocking his fingers, Gojo gave his best puppy eyes as he jutted out his bottom lip. "Please, I promise to leave you be after!"

"You better," the blond man grumbled before giving his senior your name. "She likes to sit under the cherry blossoms on the eastern side of the campus. If you want to find her and talk to her, she's usually there on her down time." At that, Nanami stood up and tucked his seat back into the table. Just as he was about to leave, he stopped in his tracks, turning to face the white haired young man. "All I ask of you is to be... gentle. She's a nice girl. I don't need you breaking her heart."

Sitting up with confidence as a wide grin took over his face, Satoru nodded with his thumbs up. "Believe me, I wont! I know this is love!" Seeing Nanami roll his eyes before leaving, Gojo happily sighed before looking out the window. Leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, he eyed the cherry blossom that had petals delicately swaying in the wind. "She's my soulmate, I know we are destined to be."

#haruno writes;#satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #reader insert #fem reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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itsnesss · 13 days ago

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | during a nighttime walk, playful banter with minho turns into heartfelt confessions and a romantic kiss under the stars

warnings | fluff, romance, kissing

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

▫️minho masterlist

The KISS campus is quiet tonight. The lights of the main building flicker softly, and a cool breeze rustles through the trees. After weeks of studying and school activities, Min-ho—the most arrogant yet intriguing guy on campus—had suggested taking a nighttime walk. You’re still not sure if it was because of your blatant insistence that he wasn’t as perfect as he thought he was or if he just wanted to prove you wrong.

"So, what makes you think I’m not perfect?" he asks, a mischievous grin on his face.

Min-ho walks beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black leather jacket. He’s so comfortable in his own skin it’s almost intimidating. You can’t help but notice how the streetlights accentuate the perfection of his features, but you’re not about to tell him that. That would only inflate his ego even more.

"For starters, your ego already takes up all the space on this sidewalk," you reply, turning to look at him with a defiant smile.

"Oh, come on. Is that the best you’ve got?" he teases, pretending to be offended as he stops in front of you. His gaze is intense, but the playful glint in his eyes softens the moment.

You cross your arms, feigning disinterest.

"Besides, you always act like the world revolves around you."

"Doesn’t it?" he quips quickly, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. Min-ho has this infuriating ability to annoy you and make you laugh at the same time. It’s frustrating yet addictive.

As you continue walking, he shifts the conversation. He starts talking about his family, about how he misses certain things from home despite his seemingly perfect life in Seoul. It’s a side of him you rarely see, and you’re surprised at how honest he’s being.

"I didn’t know you had a vulnerable side," you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

"I don’t show it to just anyone," he admits, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

Your heart skips a small beat. You know that behind all that popular-guy bravado, there’s so much more to him than he lets on.

"Why me?" you ask without thinking, stopping under a tree where the lights barely reach.

Min-ho also stops, turning to face you. His expression shifts, becoming more serious.

"I don’t know. Maybe because you don’t try to impress me. You’re just yourself, and that’s… refreshing."

For a moment, you’re speechless. You feel warmth rising to your cheeks but manage to keep your composure.

"That sounds pretty cliché, don’t you think?" you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but it’s true," he says with a soft smile.

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s as if both of you are processing what just happened, though neither of you says it out loud.

"Do you want to go to the lookout point?" Min-ho suggests suddenly, nodding toward a path that disappears into the trees.

You nod, following him without a second thought.

The lookout point is empty when you arrive. From there, you can see the lights of Seoul sparkling in the distance. It’s a peaceful place, perfect for thinking and talking without interruptions.

"It’s beautiful," you murmur, leaning on the railing as you take in the view.

"It is," Min-ho replies, but when you turn your head, you realize he’s not looking at the lights; he’s looking at you.

Your heart races, but you don’t look away.

"You should stop doing that," you say, trying to sound confident.

"Doing what?" he asks, leaning in slightly closer.

"Looking at me like…" you trail off, unable to find the right words.

"Like what?" he presses, his voice lower, softer.

You feel the distance between you shrinking. It’s as if the world around you has paused.

"Like you want to kiss me," you confess in a whisper.

Min-ho smiles—that smile that always annoyed you but now feels different, more genuine.

"And what if I do?" he asks, his face only inches from yours.

Your breath catches for a moment. You know you could step back, break the moment, but you don’t.

"Then stop talking and do it," you reply before you can stop yourself.

Min-ho doesn’t need to be told twice. He closes the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost as if he’s testing the waters. But when he realizes you’re not pulling away, that you’re kissing him back, the kiss deepens, filled with emotion.

It’s as if all the walls that had existed between you disappear in that instant. The arrogant guy and the girl who always challenged him finally find themselves on the same page.

When you pull apart, both of you are breathless. Min-ho looks at you, his smile wider than ever.

"Does that answer your question?" he asks, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Maybe," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, though the blush on your cheeks gives you away.

"You’re impossible," he says, laughing as he leans in to kiss you again.

And for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly as it should.

#minho #minho x kitty #minho x reader #minho x you #xo kitty #xo kitty x reader

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bestkyaksguide · 2 years ago

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sagesskies · 8 months ago

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ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜʟʟʏ

✒ ᴀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ

☏ - ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɢᴜʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ʙᴜʟʟʏ??? ʟᴍᴀᴏ… ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱꜱʜᴏʟᴇ……. ɪ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴꜱᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢᴀʙᴇ ɢᴜʏꜱ ꜰʀꜰʀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɴᴏɴᴄᴏɴ, ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ (ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ), ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ, ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴜʀꜱ, ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴍᴇᴏ, ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟɪᴅᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱᴋʙᴏx ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ

Yandere Best Friend who was the king of the school, ruling over his subjects with an iron fist. They kissed his feet, and in turn he'd shove them into lockers when he felt grouchy and have them fetch his cigarettes so the teachers wouldn't know they were his.

Yandere Best Friend who was once your best friend. Your ride or die who would have your back even when he acted like a complete ass sometimes. Sure he was wicked and cruel, but never to you.

Yandere Best Friend who always kept you close, closer than Harry, closer than Hannah. He would pick you up from your house, he would eat at your table and welcome you to eat at his own. You would spend nights in his room, never on his bed, of course. But he'd take the initiative and set out an inflatable mattress for you, which was more than he'd ever do for the other guys who he'd leave to sleep on the cold hard floor.

Yandere Best Friend who you absolutely despised. Seriously, just the sight of him was enough to ruin your day. This wasn't petty envy– okay, well maybe it was. Just a bit. You hated how your parents blindly adored and praised him (“Why can't you just be more like Richard?”), you hated how you were known first and foremost as his best friend, Richard's cheerful little lapdog. You hated how you spent so much of your life at his beck and call, because what else were you supposed to do? Ignore him? Fuck. Even as kids, that would be social suicide.

Yandere Best Friend who liked you more than you thought you did. He was always weirdly drawn to you, in the same way a starving dog would be to a rare bone thrown it's way. Hungry, possessive, and greedy. You reasoned it as something like imprinting, you were his first real friend. Not a mindless follower in awe of his assertive charisma. But somebody who he initially perceived as an equal. You say initially, because at this point he sees you less as an equal and more of an extension of himself, like a nice watch he can't bear to take off.

You only truly discovered how deep this went when he learned you and Harry were sleeping together.

Really it was Harry's fault.

You were supposed to go have dinner with Richard's family at their place, a monthly tradition both your parents established when you two were young and have since kept up without fail. But then he yelled for you outside your window, and, well… he was still wet from his shower and you could never resist him when he was wearing his letterman jacket.

That was when it started, you think. The first little clue in Richard's very own Nancy Drew mystery that has led him to slamming your bedroom door open on a Friday night while your parents are out of town.

“Jesus, ever learned how to knock?” You place a hand to your chest and act shocked, like swinging the door open like a battering ram wasn't a regular occurence.

Usually Richard would respond with teasing, jokingly apoligzing for startling your poor, weak heart or for attacking your sensitive ears with such a loud noise. You never liked it, but you heard it so much at this point that it stopped bothering you a long time ago.

“What the fuck is up with you and Harry?”

‘You and Harry’. Three words you used to be afraid hearing in one go. You still are. Whenever somebody would say, “I saw you and Harry,” you would force a smile on your face and respond with, “Really?”

But this is a different question. “What is up with you and Harry?”

Your mind can only come up with one answer as to why Richard asked this question and that alone is to send you into panic mode.

But you simply raise your brow, “Uh, nothing? Is this about the brownies? Sorry if I gave him extra but you didn't finish your share so if it's anybody's fault it's yours–”

“This isn't about your shit brownies [Name]—”

You gasp, once again pressing a hand to your chest, making sure to exaggerate your expression, but not too much, just enough to look convincing, “How dare you! You said you loved them—”

“Well I lied, idiot,” Richard's gaze hardened, he crossed his arms as he stood over you while you sat cross legged on your bed, “And don't change the subject!”

You raise your hands in faux-surrender and try to look like your feelings have been hurt, “I wasn't! You shit talked my brownies– which I'm not gonna forgive by the way— and I just defended them like any normal person would.”

“So yeah, Richard, we are staying on subject! The subject is simply about my amazing brownies and your crappy taste buds.”

Richard’s nostrils flare in exasperation. He curses under his breath while he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a polaroid picture which he then shoves at your chest. You look at the picture, and you can't restrain yourself from releasing the ensuing gasp.

It was you and Harry, in Harry's car at night parked near the lake on the outskirts of town, making out under the cover of darkness.

“Woah, holy shit– Harry's gay?!”

“You're making out with him in the picture–”

“Nahhh, that's not me bro! I was out… fishing with my… great uncle.”

“Your great uncle died two years ago.”

“Well, I have another great uncle, and he's in tip top shape. Asshole.”

“You have the same baseball hat you're wearing in that picture.”

“...No I don't.”

Richard stares at you, then silently points to an identical hat on your bedside table.

“That's not mine. I borrowed it from Steve.”

“Fucker, I gave you that for your fifteenth birthday.”

—

Richard always knew something wasn't right with you.

Listen, he didn't believe in whatever bullshit Father Callahan spewed from his mouth. Gay guys were freaks of nature, sure, but they weren't sent by the devil.

But you were an exception. Shit, with the way you made him feel maybe you were a little succubus made to take him off the righteous path or whatever.

Ever since you guys were kids he's always felt this uncontrollable desire to have absolute and complete control over your entire being. Richard doesn't know to describe it as anything other than an almost instinctual impulse, the universe telling him that you were meant to be his when he was still too young to understand.

Still. He thought that you would have standards. Richard could see the common sense in wanting to bone, whenever he got to get it on with Hannah he was in bliss even if she wasn't you, but for you to choose Harry. The spoiled little wuss Harold Kelly, instead of him?

He treated you better than the rest, but he had limits. Limits you overstepped. It's only fair that you're going to get punished.

“Ahaha… uh, are you sure that's me and Harry in that picture…?”

Richard clicks his tongue. When would you understand that there was no use denying it?

“That is literally Harry's exact plate number on that car.”

Your shoulders slump, and Richard feels a mix of dread and satisfaction at the resigned expression on your face. Satisfaction because he won. Dread because his worst fears have been confirmed.

“Who took the picture?”

Richard snatches the photo away from you, “Made that little freak Greg Werner stalk you two,” He sneers and takes a step closer, “Bet he got a lot of fap material from that. Scrawny little guy like him, there's no question he's a fag. You would know, wouldn't you? You're just like him after all–”

“Okay, fine! So what if I am?” You jab your index finger into his chest, his green eyes widening as they focus on it, “What I do in my private time is my business and none of yours. My life is barely even my own, and it's all. Because. Of. You! So don't you fucking dare take what little personal pleasure I have away from me.”

With each word you speak, Richard's heart aches. It's a sharp, cold pain like a knife is being stabbed into his does. There's a silence when you finish, taut with your resentment and Richard's hesitant regret. He wants to say something, but what could he say? That it wasn't his fault? That he was sorry? That he didn't want you to leave him? He felt like he was watching a beautiful bird he had nursed back to health and kept safe from the dangers of the world start flapping its wings and fly, far, far away from him.

“Get out, Richard,” You turn away from him, “If you want me to leave your group and fuck off then I'll do so gladly.”

“No.” Richard grabs your arm.

“Wha- what do you mean no? Richard let go of me.”

Richard weighs what is important to him on a scale in his mind. You, or his status.

You were his best friend. Even if you were starting to slip away, to college, to Harry, out of his sight and out of his life, you were the only person he wanted to keep in his life. The only friend he could see himself going out for drinks with when he was older.

You were his first love. His only love. The first subject of his shameful adolescent dreams that left him awake at night, sweaty and spent on his bed. Once he had contemplated running away with you, changing names, and living a life free from the close minded small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere the two of you grew up in.

But he had a reputation to maintain. A father who he had to satisfy with the standard accomplishments a father would expect of his son. He had a girlfriend whose father was the town's mayor. A town whose watchful eyes praised him as a good, upstanding young man who was destined for greatness. A star athlete who was going to play in the big leagues and finally place the town on the map.

In the grand scheme of things, you were just another teenager in his shadow.

You were destined to be remembered in history as merely another name in his autobiography. Richard Shepherd's childhood best friend.

However Richard's stomach curled at the thought of that. You and him, separated. No longer within the same circle, but in different worlds entirely.

The scales tip in your favour.

—

What happens next is a blur. You're shoved into the mattress of your bed and pinned down. You try to escape and Richard cows you into submission with a punch to the gut that nearly has you hurling from the force.

Your clothes are ripped from your skin, your protests go unheard, your body is a tool. Richard too has stripped himself, he spreads your legs. He grabs you by the chin when you close you try to look away, “Unless you want this to hurt more you're going to look at me when I do this.”

So you look, and you cry, and you weep as you feel his cock invade you. It's not a dry insertion, but God it still hurts. Richard gasps when he sheathes himself fully inside, his eyes are blown wide and his mouth hangs open like he's seeing stars. His fingers dig into your waist, and he bites his lip, his face tells it all and even in this position you can't help but smirk. Feels better than Hannah's, doesn't it Richard?

That's the last thought you remember having before Richard goes wild.

You do it on your bed, against your desk, pressed against the cool surface of your window. Richard cums multiple times inside you, he even cries at one point, screaming words you can barely remember in your fucked out state as tears streamed down his cheeks.

Richard makes you scream his name as he moans out yours. He asks if Harry kissed you before and when you're too tired to respond he slams his lips into yours and practically eats away at your mouth.

Eventually he finishes, pulling out of your worn out hole, with a wet plap. Your body shudders as you release a long, shaky breath.

“You’ve ruined me,” Richard pants, his blonde hair is sticking up, he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and his green eyes are blown wide open as he tries to compose himself, “I… I can’t- Hannah could never…”

He stares at you as you lie below him, equally sweaty, your neck and shoulders are littered with hickeys and bite marks, and you’re on the verge of passing out. The rims of your eyes are red, and your face is moist with tears. Your lip is swollen from Richard’s teeth digging into them, nearly tearing them off in his fervour.

You look like you’re about to die.

He looks more alive than he ever has before.

Richard looks like he wants to do it again.

Yet his eyes are filled with fear, and you want to laugh, but your throat is crying out in pain.

“You’ve ruined me.”

Yandere Best friend Bully who keeps you on a shorter leash now. He doesn't do anything in public. Okay, that's a lie. But he makes sure he doesn't get caught. And despite being the classic stereotype of a small town jock, complete with his hot cheerleader girlfriend and powerful inner circle, he's not an idiot. He doesn't do anything to out you, or even leave any hints to your sexuality. He doesn't even tell Harry he knows. No, this is his little secret. Your little secret. Just like the old days when the two of you had a secret fort deep in the woods behind his father's farm.

Yandere Bully who knows he can't keep you around his group, even to be the new punching bag. The guys would be too grossed and the girls.. well he didn't really care what they thought actually. Same went for the guys, to be honest. What mattered was the words they would say that would be whispered and spread like wildfire around the school.

Richard likes keeping the school homo around

Really?

Really!

You think he fucks the fag?

Why else? I don't see any bruises on the fucker’s face

Yandere Bully who can't bring himself to hurt you. Is he disappointed? Yes. Is he furious? Yes. Does he want to beat somebody’s head in till the anger goes away? Oh, no doubt. But if he were to ever hit your handsome face then he'd hit himself over the head with a brick a hundred times over.

Yandere Bully who resorts to being rough. He uses you like you're a lowly hooker, here to give him happiness and send him flying high to heaven with pleasure. He pins your wrists above your head. He smacks your ass. Digs his nails into your solid muscle till you bleed. He litters your skin with harsh, red bitemarks.

You would cover it all up the next day by saying you spent the night with a girl. You never say, you never do, so nobody questions who. He used to be jealous, resentful of whatever bitch was able to lay her needy hands on you, but now he only smirks at the sight of the miserable pout on Harry's face.

Yandere Bully who doesn't spare Harry either. Bumping into him in the hallways. Stomping on his foot during football practice. Flirting with his girlfriend by the lockers, a smirk on his face while his eyes are on Harry, quietly fuming while his girlfriend giggles and twirls her hair bashfully. His humiliation of Harry is what makes the other guys join in. They jeer at him, mock him by asking if he liked getting cucked, and start slowly respecting him less. That is, till you step in of course.

Yandere Bully who ignores the bitter complaints of the other guys, angered by the humiliation they suffer at your hands, and watches as resentment stews inside him as you scold Harry, hands brushing a stray chestnut lock away from his eyes while he smiles sheepishly, his ears burning red after being graced with your touch after so long of being deprived of it. The two of you looked natural, you looked happy, really happy. Real happy, with a real smile to boot.

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders, during nights when he has you in his arms, your back facing him as you avoid his intense gaze by placing yourself in front of the wall, what exactly your feelings for Harry entail. Did you just want to fuck or did you like Harry the same way Hannah liked Richard?

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders what he feels for you. He likes you, more than Harry, and certainly more than Hannah. But sometimes he wonders what's the difference between liking somebody and desiring them.

One day he looks at you the morning after a raunchy night in your bed and the sun pours in from your window, your brows furrow and a frown forms on your face. You bury your head in your pillow, and Richard decides that whatever he felt for you was completely beyond his comprehension.

Yandere Bully who should have known that Harry would start poking his nose eventually. He couldn't understand what you wanted from Harry, but he knew that he and Harry wanted the same thing from you: You in your unsullied entirety.

Yandere Bully who one day finds you alone in a room with Harry. He looks through a small gap in the doorway, and Harry is on his knees, drying your leg with a towel. The group was staying at Harry’s lakeside cabin during the summer, and you had all come back from swimming in the lake. Harry looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes, a seemingly innocent smile on his face while you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk curling at your lips.

Richard does a sharp intake of breath at your laugh, floating through the air like a gentle, silvery breeze. Your head rests on your hand while the other plays with Harry's damp hair, “Jesus christ, it was freezing though,” You shudder at the memory of it, “I felt like I was gonna turn into a popsicle.”

Harry giggles, fucker actually giggled, “Bet you'd be a hot popsicle though.”

“What the hell— A hot popsicle? You mean sexy?” At Harry's shy nod, you throw your head back and laugh, “So what, you're gonna drag your tongue over me and lick every inch of my body?”

Harry's ears start to burn red, “Well… I wouldn't… I wouldn't mind doing it even if… you aren't a popsicle…”

Before you can even respond, Richard swings the door wide open and the two of you snap to attention, Harry jolts and quickly scrambles to his feet and you practically leap off of the bed.

“Richard! Buddy! Pal! Amigo!” Harry exclaims, “What're you doing there at the door? Come in, come in! We were just talking about… uh—”

“The temperature,” You supply seamlessly with a firm nod, “I think my balls froze off in the lake man, they're numb as hell.”

Harry gapes at you for a moment before shaking his head with fervour and then nodding with the same amount of intensity, “Yep! How about we go on a walk after lunch? Absorb some good ol’ vitamin D, whaddya say Richard?”

Richard narrows his gaze at the two of you, his eyes flickering to Harry who beams like an idiot dog, then to you who sports a similar ‘ignorant’ smile.

“Bring it up with the others,” Richard mutters in gruff tone, “[Name] go tell them to start making lunch, Harry stay behind would you? I have to talk to you about something.”

“About what?”

“Football.”

“Ah, okie doke!” Harry smiles, not a single thought behind his blue eyes, “Seeya later [Name]!”

You hesitate for a moment, chewing your lip in thought, but a sharp glare from Richard is enough to have you roll your eyes and head out, “Don't take too long unless you wanna be eating our leftovers.”

“So is it about the upcoming game? The Bears have got nothing on us man, don't you sweat–”

“Harry, you buffoon, that was obviously just a guise,” Richard closes the door shut, “I want you to stay away from [Name].”

“Huh? Why?” Harry cocks his head to the side, “Is something wrong? Did [Name] do something?”

“It doesn't matter,” Richard waves his hand like he's swatting flies away, “I don't want you anywhere near him. Not even within an inch.”

“You can't just do that Richard,” Harry protests, but Richard is already turning away from him.

“I can,” Richard narrows his eyes at him, green against blue, “And I will.”

Before his fingers can even brush the metal of the doorknob, Harry grabs Richard's shoulder and spins him around, “No, Richard, you can't.”

There's an unusually serious expression on Harry's face that Richard never thought he'd see till Harry would reach his thirties, that is, if they were to even remain in touch.

Harry was a coward, plain and simple. He cried like a bitch when he watched scary movies, he was deathly afraid of the dark, once on a previous trip to the Cabin there was a spider in the bedroom and he simply stood on the couch pointing and screaming at the insect as his own girlfriend was the one who took it outside using a glass cup and a piece of paper.

When they first met, it took only three minutes for Richard to cement himself in Harry's mind as a person to listen to, to respect, and obey. And it was something that wouldn't change, till just now that is.

“I know you've been doing something to [Name],” Harry stares him down, for the first time in his life it truly registers in Richard just how tall Harry is as he stands nearly half a head above him, “And whatever it is, I want you to stop.”

Richard sneers, “Look at you. Harold Kelly. The town pushover finally grew some balls, huh?” He shoves Harry away, “But if you think I'm going to listen to you just because of that then you really are as big of an idiot as everybody says you are.”

Harry shakes his head, “You're hurting him, you know?” He meets Richard's piercing gaze without flinching, “You keep pushing him like this and he's going to snap eventually.”

“Why do you care? What is he, your little girlfriend? That why you didn't bother stepping up when your girlfriend had her mitts all over me?”

“He's my friend Richard, and friends care for each other,” Harry frowns, a disappointed look in his eyes that makes Richard want to sock him across the face (Who is he to look at him like that?), “You'd know that if you weren't so selfish.”

“What are you trying to say to me Harry?” Richard takes another step forward, smirking when Harry instinctively backs away, “If you're saying I don't care about [Name] then you're dead wrong, because nobody will ever care for him in his life as I will, not even you Harry. You wanna know why? Because you don't understand him, nobody does. Nobody except me, and that's why even if you two are flirting and going at each other like the little fairies you two are, the only person who will stay in his life forever is me.”

“You know?” Harry's voice is quiet, whatever bravery he mustered up is gone and he's back to the wuss Richard pushes around in his free time.

“Of course I do, nobody knows him better than I do after all, this is no exception.”

Harry's mouth hangs open slightly, and Richard snickers at the expression, smirking at his undeniable triumph over the other, “I won't say it again Harry, leave [Name] alone. If you don't, I'll tell the school you've been raping him.”

The threat makes Harry flinch, “No… you wouldn't.”

“You know better than to think that Harry.”

“E-even if you did, nobody would believe you!”

“Harry people have seen [Name] with your hickeys and bite marks, it wouldn't be so hard to convince them you're gay and Lucy is just your beard. Besides,” Richard drawls in a sing-song tone, “I have pictures~”

Harry's visage is consumed by an expression of defeat and hopelessness, “This is wrong Richard, you're ruining his life.”

“Please, if anything the only reason he has this life is because of me,” Richard scoffs, ignoring the twinge in his chest at Harry's words, “Now, if you'll excuse me.”

Without waiting for a response, Richard enters the dining room, and takes a seat beside Hannah and across you.

“What took you so long?” Hannah looks up from her plate, a bored look in her eyes.

Richard peck's her on the forehead, lips stiff, “Harry and I were talking about football.”

“Geez,” Hannah rolls her eyes, “All boys talk about is sports and cars, tsk.”

“Don't forget the girls,” Peter jokes.

Hannah wrinkles her nose, “Eugh.”

You send him a narrowed glance, a silent question hung in the air between the two of you. What happened?

Richard merely smirks, it widens at Harry's arrival. You look at Harry hopefully, only to visibly deflate when he sits beside Lucy at the other end of the table.

You turn to Richard again, eyes hardened, “What did you say?” You mouth.

Richard shrugs. You curse under your breath.

Yandere Bully who you can't stand anymore. At this point, could your life really be called your own? Richard always had his eye on you, day and night. He would spend his entire day with you. Even staying behind after practice to shower with you. He would eat at your table during dinner and stay over the night, you would be caged in your own bed, struggling to sleep while his hot breath fanned against your neck.

Fuck. Even Tommy would send you pitying glances when you would visit his house. Tommy! The kid you would pin down while Richard tore up his drawings in front of him.

The last straw is Harry. Lovable, cowardly, foolish Harry. Harry who avoids your gaze and practically flees when you enter his vicinity. Harry who tells you that he can’t see you anymore. That he shouldn't. That what the two of you are doing is wrong, it always has been.

You can't take this anymore. You have to get away. From the school. From the town. From Richard fucking Shepherd. You could tolerate it, barely but you could tolerate it. But then Harry broke your heart and suddenly you don't have a reason to tolerate what Richard is doing to you anymore.

Yandere Bully who expects to be offered full-ride scholarships to ivy-league colleges, but when scouts arrive they ignore him in favour of team players like Harry. You know this because the same night after Harry proudly announces he got a scholarship to the University of Michigan, he fucks you in the backseat of his car without a single shred of mercy, cursing under his breath the entire time. Talk about envy.

Yandere Bully whose expression can only be described as devastated when you break the news over dinner that a college in the city has accepted you, over his parents congratulating you and your parents tearful smiles, he looks like he's about to cry and scream at you all at once.

Yandere Bully who that night, in the barn on top the stacks of hay, when he thinks you've passed out he hugs you, actually hugs you, as sobs rack through his frame. He begs you not to leave him, and you feel almost guilty for not opening your eyes and assuring him that you won't. But you don't, because even you're not so cruel as to give him such an empty promise.

Yandere Bully who never sees you again after graduation. He tries to get you to stay, he even threatens releasing the pictures, but your only response is a shrug.

“Will you miss me?”

You scoff, “Will I miss you? Richard, there's nothing to miss. If anything, I should be asking you that question.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what it means.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“You love me.”

“You're delusional.”

“Wow, look at the pot calling the kettle black,” You chuckle.

“I'm not gay [Name].”

“Then why were you so mad about Harry then?’

“Because he was a fag.”

"Well, I'm a fag too, but you certainly treat me better than you ever treated Harry.”

“That's because you're different.”

“I'm special.”

“Whatever you wanna call it.”

“I'm special… because you love me.”

“I don't love you.”

“But will you miss me?”

“You're going to come back.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“Because I said so.”

You smile, “Don't count on it, Richard.”

Yandere Bully who breaks up with Hannah eventually, after she catches him cheating on her with a relative of yours who was staying in town. What can he say? She had your eyes.

Yandere Bully who only has the old baseball hat he gave you for your birthday to remember you by. It's either you forgot to pack it or you left it behind on purpose. Even if it hurts, he prefers the latter. At least it meant he mattered to you in some way, even if it's in a negative light. He always wears the hat, even if Raph teases him for it, all he has to do is knock the little shit in the head and he shuts his mouth about Richard's fashion choices.

Yandere Bully who writes letters he never sends, words written in a rough scrawl confessing truths he was too afraid to admit, that he's still afraid to admit to this day.

[Name]

Sunflower gave birth today, a colt with a coat the colour of chocolate. We named it London. I think dad has been thinking of going there, but I don't think he ever will.

Have you gone to London? I hope you haven't. We wanted to go there together, didn't we? You wanted to meet Harry Potter and I wanted to… well I didn't want to do anything there. I think I didn't mind where I was, I just wanted to be with you.

I wish you came back. I wish you never left. I wish you stayed with me in this shitty town and worked with me in my family's shitty farm. I know it's cruel, and I know you don't deserve it, but neither do I okay? I deserved a life with you and it's unfair that you got to leave and I'm still trapped here

Sunflower misses you, I think she got more sad when you left and hasn't changed since. She keeps whinnying like she's calling out for you and it bothers all the other horses because they can't sleep, and when they can't sleep then I can't sleep, and you know I fucking hate it when I can't sleep so could you just come back and spare me further trouble?

I got rid of the pictures. You don't have to worry about anything. I just need you back here. So I can sleep.

Richard

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

#yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #male yandere #male reader #x reader #yandere #yandere male x reader #Richard Shepherd #tbh i was rooting for Harry the entire time #in my heart he and [name] got their happy ending #but as a writer i believe he has an unfulfilling marriage with his girlfriend #and my own idea for [name]'s ending is that he bounces from different boyfriends every few months because he has attachment issues

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soulofapatrick · 2 months ago

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Fighting for Control - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys finds you training and you challenge his insufferable ass

Words: 3.9K

Notes: I am alive, sorry for being MIA for so long - I've been down with the flu for a week or so 😭

Y/N's POV

The late afternoon sun bathes the training arena in a golden glow, the heat sinking into my skin and mixing with the satisfying burn of exertion. Each punch I throw lands with a solid thud against the padded dummy, and I imagine it’s an Illyrian male with one too many smug comments. The mental image fuels my strikes, sharper, harder, faster—until I finally step back, breathing heavily, and shake out my arms.

I shift my weight, readying myself for another go, when the faintest prickling sensation tickles the back of my neck. Someone’s watching me.

I turn, slowly, scanning the empty terraces above the arena. Empty—except for the male leaning lazily against a stone pillar, silhouetted in the sunlight like some arrogant statue come to life.

Rhysand.

His midnight hair stirs in the soft breeze, and even from here, I can see the smirk tugging at his mouth. He looks unfairly perfect, his tailored shirt rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms I stubbornly refuse to admire. His violet eyes lock on mine, and there’s a distinct, infuriating glimmer of amusement in them.

“Enjoying the view, High Lord?” I call, resting my hands on my hips.

“Immensely,” he replies, his voice carrying effortlessly over the distance—low, smooth, and laced with wicked humor. He pushes off the pillar, sauntering toward me with all the grace of a panther on the hunt. “Though I’ll admit, it’s much more entertaining when you’re scowling. You have this adorable little furrow in your brow when you’re frustrated.”

My scowl deepens on cue, and his laugh rings out, warm and rich and utterly maddening. “See? There it is.”

“I could arrange for you to see it up close, Rhys,” I say sweetly, though my tone drips with challenge. “Say, by smashing your face into the dirt.”

“Such violence.” He presses a hand to his chest as if I’ve wounded him, but that grin of his only widens. He’s close now, close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the mischief practically oozing from every pore. “But if you wanted my attention, darling, all you had to do was ask.”

I snort, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair out of my face. “Please. You couldn’t keep up with me if you tried.”

“Bold words for someone who just spent five minutes attacking a dummy,” he counters, his voice teasing, though there’s something sharper lurking beneath it.

That spark of competitive fire ignites in my chest. “And here I thought the great Rhysand didn’t need to inflate his ego any further. Tell me, High Lord, do you actually have the skill to back it up? Or do you just rely on your magic to make up for the lack?”

His grin sharpens, wolfish. “Are you challenging me, sweetheart?”

“Depends.” I step closer, tilting my head as I eye him. “Are you scared?”

“Scared?” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head like he’s indulging a reckless child. But there’s a gleam in his eyes now—bright, electric, and entirely too dangerous. “You’re either incredibly brave or terribly foolish.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” I shrug, deliberately casual, though my heart is already pounding. “No magic. No wings. Just you, me, and good old-fashioned hand-to-hand.”

Rhys takes another step, and suddenly he’s looming over me, all dark power and infuriating smugness. His voice drops, low and velvety. “You really think you can take me on?”

I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down even as his scent—night-chilled air and cedar—threatens to fog my mind. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

He studies me for a moment, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow, wicked smile. Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the stone floor. “Alright, darling. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

I don’t give Rhys time to settle. The moment he’s rolled up his sleeves, I’m already moving, throwing a sharp jab aimed directly at his perfect, insufferable face. He sidesteps with a grace that borders on casual, like he’s stepping out of the way of a falling leaf rather than dodging a strike meant to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That’s cute,” he drawls, his voice rich with amusement.

I grit my teeth and pivot sharply, aiming a kick toward his ribs, but his hand shoots out faster than I can track. His fingers curl around my ankle with maddening ease, holding me in place like I’m a kitten trying to swipe at a lion.

“Careful, darling,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, as if to study my form. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. I’m rather fond of your legs, you know.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, though whether it’s from anger or the way his thumb brushes lightly against my ankle, I can’t say. I twist my leg free with a growl, spinning back to put distance between us.

“You’re insufferable,” I snap, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension coiling there.

His grin widens, the sunlight catching on his teeth. “And you’re predictable. Shall we try again?”

I don’t answer. I lunge forward again, trying to be faster, sharper, unpredictable. I throw a series of punches, each one aimed to force him back, to make him work for his victories. For a moment, it seems like I have him; his weight shifts, his footing adjusts—but then his hand snakes out, seizing my wrist mid-swing.

“Not bad,” he murmurs, pulling me off balance. Before I can recover, he’s behind me, twisting my arm gently but firmly behind my back. His chest presses against my shoulders, solid and unyielding, and his breath ghosts against my ear.

“But not good enough.”

The low rasp of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I don’t even bother to suppress the snarl that escapes me. I stomp down hard on his foot, grinning in satisfaction when he hisses through his teeth. His grip slackens just enough for me to wrench free, spinning to face him once more.

“That’s more like it,” he says, shaking out his foot with an exaggerated wince. His eyes sparkle with mischief, a flicker of heat simmering just beneath the surface.

He’s toying with me. I know it, and he knows it. But I can’t help myself; the challenge in his gaze stirs something reckless in me, something that refuses to let him win.

We fall into a rhythm then, strikes and blocks, feints and counters, the sounds of our movements filling the space around us. His laughter rings out every time he dodges or counters me, a low, infuriating melody that fans the flames of my frustration.

“You’re quick,” he says, effortlessly deflecting a punch. “But you telegraph your moves. Like that little shift in your shoulder just now.” He ducks beneath my next strike, adding with a wink, “You’re giving me too much time to admire the view.”

My cheeks burn, my temper flaring hotter. I push harder, striking with all the strength and precision I can muster. But no matter how fast or clever I think I’m being, he’s always a step ahead, always one movement away from sweeping my legs out from under me.

And sweep them he does. Again.

I land flat on my back with a grunt, dirt clinging to my skin and hair. Before I can move, his boot hovers just above my chest—not pressing, not pinning, just a reminder that he’s still in control.

“Need a break, darling?” he asks, his voice laced with mock concern. “Or shall we keep going? I’m happy to wait if you need a moment to—”

I slap his boot away and scramble to my feet, my breathing ragged, my pride thoroughly bruised. “I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face, Rhysand.”

His grin deepens, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sends my pulse skittering. “I’d like to see you try.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. This time, I focus, letting my frustration fuel me without clouding my mind. I circle him slowly, watching every subtle shift in his stance, every twitch of his muscles. When I strike, it’s deliberate—a feint to the left, a sharp kick to the right, a series of rapid punches meant to disorient him.

And for a moment, it works.

He moves to grab my wrist, but I twist out of his grip, using his momentum against him. My hands find his shoulders, and with a surge of strength I didn’t know I had, I shove him backward. He stumbles, his balance faltering just enough for me to tackle him.

The world tilts, and the next thing I know, we’re both on the ground. Dust rises around us, the faint scent of earth and sweat filling my senses. My thighs bracket his hips, my hands pinning his wrists to the dirt above his head.

For a moment, everything goes still.

His chest rises and falls beneath me, his dark hair spilling messily across the ground. Those violet eyes, usually so full of amusement, are wide with something else now—something sharper, hotter.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his voice rougher than before, “this is new.”

I lean down, close enough that my hair brushes against his cheek. “What’s the matter, High Lord?” I murmur, my breath ghosting over his lips. “Not so smug now, are we?”

His gaze flickers to my mouth, his eyes darkening with a heat that makes my stomach tighten. His wrists shift beneath my hands, testing my grip, but I press down harder, refusing to let him regain the upper hand.

His lips curve into a slow, wicked smile. “Careful, darling,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “You might start something you can’t finish.”

The tension between us crackles like lightning, the air thick with the heat of the fight and something far more dangerous.

And gods help me, I don’t think I want to stop.

I stay there for a beat longer than I need to, straddling his waist, my hands firm on his wrists, holding him down. His chest rises and falls, brushing against mine with every labored breath. The moment hangs heavy between us, the fight draining away and leaving something far more dangerous in its wake.

I lean closer, so close that our noses nearly brush. His eyes are dark now, the violet swallowed by endless, stormy depths. His lips part slightly, as though he’s already anticipating what I’ll do next.

I let my gaze drop to his mouth, deliberately slow, watching as his tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. My own lips curve into a wicked smile as I lean even closer, until our breaths mingle, the heat of him sinking into my skin.

“You’re all talk, Rhysand,” I whisper, my voice low and taunting. My lips ghost against his, so faintly it could be an accident—or a promise. “For all your big words, I don’t think you can handle me.”

His breath catches, the smallest sound slipping from him—a soft, needy noise that makes satisfaction curl deep in my belly.

His hands tense beneath mine, his body taut like a bowstring, and for a moment, I think I’ve won. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world, his focus razor-sharp, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

But then I pull back, dragging my lips away before they can touch his.

I start to shift, moving to stand, intending to let him stew in his frustration. “Better luck next time, High Lord,” I toss over my shoulder, my voice dripping with mockery.

But I’ve barely lifted myself off him when everything shifts.

A startled gasp escapes me as his hands break free from my hold, his movements faster than I can react to. The world tilts, and suddenly, it’s my back hitting the ground, the air knocked from my lungs.

And now it’s him above me.

He looms over me, his body pressing me into the earth, his weight deliciously warm and solid. His hands pin mine on either side of my head, his fingers wrapping around my wrists with a firmness that sends a shiver racing down my spine.

“Was that supposed to rile me up?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a raw edge to it, a crack in the smooth facade that tells me exactly how much I’ve gotten under his skin.

His nose brushes against mine as he leans closer, so close that his hair falls around us like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world. His scent surrounds me—crisp night air, cedar, and something uniquely him, intoxicating and overwhelming.

“You think you can tease me, taunt me, and just walk away?” His lips hover just above mine, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Not a chance, darling.”

I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling against his, every inch of me hyper-aware of the way his body fits against mine, the heat rolling off him in waves. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and intense, like he’s daring me to look away.

But I don’t.

Instead, I smirk up at him, letting the smallest hint of challenge curl my lips. “What’s the matter, Rhysand? Losing your composure?”

A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest, his grip on my wrists tightening just enough to send a thrill racing through me. “You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet threat, his lips grazing my ear as he speaks.

“Maybe I like the heat,” I shoot back, my voice breathless but steady, even as my pulse races like a wild thing beneath his touch.

His head dips lower, his mouth brushing the corner of my lips in a touch so fleeting it makes me ache. “Careful,” he murmurs again, his tone dark and laced with promise. “You might just get burned.”

The tension between us is electric, a live wire that hums and sparks, pulling us closer and closer until it feels like I might shatter beneath the weight of it.

I could stop this. I could break the spell, laugh it off, pretend this is still just a game.

The charged silence between us cracks like a dam breaking. I’m not sure who moves first—whether it’s his lips crashing against mine, or mine claiming his—but suddenly we’re kissing, and it’s anything but gentle.

It’s fierce, raw, and hungry. The kind of kiss that steals the air from your lungs and sets fire to every nerve in your body. His mouth moves against mine with an urgency that borders on desperation, like he’s been starving for this—starving for me—and finally has permission to feast.

I arch into him, my body instinctively responding to the weight of his pressing me into the dirt. His hands still pin my wrists above my head, but I’m not about to make this easy for him. I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, and then bite lightly at his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural growl that vibrates through his chest.

And just like that, the balance shifts.

I buck my hips up, trying to twist out of his grip. He’s strong—unbelievably so—but I’m nothing if not determined. I manage to wrench one hand free, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as I yank him closer, kissing him deeper. My nails graze his scalp, and he groans into my mouth, his control faltering for just a fraction of a second.

I take my chance, twisting us sideways. The momentum carries us over, and suddenly I’m the one on top, straddling him once more. His dark eyes flash with something between frustration and amusement as I grin down at him, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Not so easy now, is it, High Lord?” I tease, my voice breathless yet triumphant.

His answer is a feral smile, and before I can fully savor my victory, he surges upward. His hands find my waist, and with a smooth, almost predatory movement, he flips us again.

The ground is rough beneath my back, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is him—his weight pressing into me, his hands sliding down to grip my hips as his lips claim mine once more. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, but no less consuming.

I refuse to surrender.

My hands roam over his back, my nails dragging lightly against the taut muscles beneath his shirt. He shudders above me, and I take that as my opening, wrapping one leg around his waist and using the leverage to push him off balance.

We roll again, the world spinning around us as we grapple for control. Dirt and grass cling to our skin, and the cool evening air brushes against the heat of our flushed faces. I end up on top once more, my knees pinning his hips, my hands braced against his chest.

“Yield,” I demand, my voice rough with exertion, though my lips twitch into a smirk.

His gaze locks onto mine, dark and blazing. “Never,” he growls, and then his hands are on me again, one gripping the back of my neck, the other sliding down to press against the small of my back. He pulls me down, and our mouths collide once more.

This kiss is different. It’s not just hunger or passion—it’s a battle. A clash of wills as much as it is a meeting of lips. He kisses me like he’s trying to conquer me, and I kiss him back like I’m determined to prove I can’t be tamed.

Our breaths come hard and fast, mingling in the space between kisses. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a touch that’s almost tender—almost, but not quite, because his lips are relentless, drawing me deeper and deeper into him.

I break away first, gasping for air, but before I can say anything—before I can even catch my breath—he flips us one last time.

Now it’s me beneath him, pinned and breathless, my wrists captured once more in his iron grip. His face hovers inches from mine, his lips curved into a smug, infuriatingly gorgeous smile.

“Do you yield now?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, his thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

I meet his gaze, defiance burning in my chest even as my heart races wildly. “Not a chance,” I whisper, my lips brushing his as I speak.

His answering laugh is dark and full of promise, and as he leans down to kiss me again, I know this battle is far from over.

Rhys’ mouth descends on mine again, stealing what little breath I have left. His lips are softer this time, his movements slower, more deliberate. He’s not trying to conquer me now—he’s savoring me. His tongue brushes against mine, coaxing a sigh from my throat, and his grip on my wrists tightens just enough to remind me who has the upper hand.

But I’m not about to admit defeat, not even with the ground cool beneath my back and his weight pressing me into the dirt. My leg hooks around his, trying to gain some kind of leverage, but all it does is bring him closer—too close. His chest is flush against mine now, his body an unyielding wall of heat and strength.

I bite his bottom lip lightly, pulling back just enough to catch my breath. “You’re insufferable,” I manage to whisper, my voice shaky but laced with playful defiance.

“And you’re irresistible,” Rhys counters smoothly, his eyes dark and glittering as his lips trail from my mouth to my jawline. He takes his time, teasing a path down the column of my throat. My skin burns under his touch, every nerve alight, and I let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

I arch against him, and he groans, the sound low and rough like it’s been dragged from the very depths of him. His lips hover just above my collarbone, his breath warm and tantalizing, when a familiar voice slices through the air.

“Training fields,” Azriel says dryly, his tone flat and unimpressed, “are for training. Not… whatever this is.”

My entire body stiffens, and I freeze beneath Rhys, mortified. I manage to tilt my head just enough to catch a glimpse of Azriel standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his face impassive—though I swear there’s the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Rhys doesn’t move immediately. Of course, he doesn’t. If anything, he looks even more infuriatingly relaxed, propping himself up on his elbows as he turns to glance over his shoulder.

“Whatever this is?” Rhys repeats with a smirk, his voice utterly unbothered. “I think it’s quite obvious, Az. Would you like a demonstration?”

I groan, my cheeks burning so hot I’m certain I could melt the dirt beneath me. Without thinking, I grab the front of Rhys’ shirt and tug him down, burying my face in the fabric to shield myself from Azriel’s gaze.

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss into Rhys’ chest, though it comes out muffled.

Rhys chuckles, the sound rich and deep and maddeningly pleased. “What?” he says innocently, though his hand slides to my back, holding me securely against him as though he has no intention of letting me hide anywhere else. “Azriel clearly interrupted something very important. He should be properly educated on the consequences of such rudeness.”

“You’re impossible,” I grumble, my voice still muffled.

“And yet, you can’t seem to resist me.” His voice dips lower, teasing, and I know without looking that he’s grinning like the cocky bastard he is.

“Rhys,” Azriel says again, this time with a sharper edge to his voice, being the only one who can talk to him like this. “Get up. Now.”

“Fine, fine,” Rhys sighs, finally releasing my wrists and sitting back on his heels. He doesn’t move away, though—no, of course not. Instead, he leans down, brushing a kiss against my temple before murmuring, “We’ll finish this later, darling.”

I swat at his chest, still too embarrassed to meet Azriel’s gaze, but the traitorous part of me—the one still reeling from the heat of Rhys’ kiss—wonders if he means it.

Rhys stands, offering me a hand, and though I’m tempted to refuse, I know there’s no escaping this without his help. As he pulls me to my feet, I finally dare a glance at Azriel. His face is a mask of calm indifference, but the faint quirk of his lips betrays his amusement.

“If you’re done rolling around in the dirt,” Azriel says, his wings flaring slightly as he turns away, “some of us actually came here to train.”

I groan again, burying my face in my hands. Rhys’ laughter follows me as I stalk toward the nearest bench, determined to regain some semblance of dignity—even if my heart is still racing and my lips are still tingling from his kiss.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222 @illyriassweetheart @rainswriting-blog

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chimcess · 1 month ago

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Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other Tags: Football Player!Hoseok, Teacher!Reader, Firefighter!Namjoon, Older Brother!Namjoon, Architect!Taehyung, Older Brother!Taehyung, Property Developer!Jungkook Genre: Christmas AU, Strangers to Lovers AU, Crack (low-key), Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Smut Word Count: 27.1k+ Summary: It's Christmas, but the HOA is being a real Grinch. Hoseok is determined to save the holiday for his niece and nephew, but he'll need some help to pull it off. With a little teamwork from the trio living across the street, he might just be able to outsmart the HOA and make this a Christmas to remember. Warnings: HOA being the devil (wow, what a surprise...), Jealous!Taehyung, Namjoon is so over his shit, Reader too, Tae and Joon are both overprotective, Hoseok is a really great uncle, Halmark Christmas movie ass storyline, strong language, sexual tension, slight public exposure (completely on accident), kissing, tongue kissing, making out, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, protected sex (wrap it up), lowkey soft dom Hoseok, handjob, multiple orgasms, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Happy holidays!

The cold had settled in early this year, and Hoseok felt it in every corner of Colorado. December wasn't even over, but winter had already made itself comfortable, like an uninvited guest who planned to overstay. This wasn't the sharp, biting cold he knew from Illinois—the kind that slapped you in the face and stole your breath. No, Colorado's chill was cunning. It lingered just out of sight, waiting to slip into your bones when you least expected it.

Heated seats in his Land Rover weren't just a fancy perk; they were a necessity. Survival gear, really. His friends teased him about his top three reasons for loving his car. Number one was always the sound system—naturally. But if Namjoon was asking, he'd wax poetic about the impeccable safety ratings.

He hadn't meant to drive four hours from Denver to Salida on a whim. But when his sister Ji-woo called yesterday, her voice frayed at the edges, everything else took a backseat. She'd offered him a home-cooked meal, which was suspicious in itself. Ji-woo didn't cook unless there was a crisis. An invitation for a "warm, homemade dinner" was basically code red.

Without a second thought, he'd tossed an overnight bag into the backseat and hit the road. As he navigated through her labyrinth of a neighborhood—every house a carbon copy of the last—he understood why she always complained about getting lost. It was like driving through a real-life game of Spot the Difference, except there were no differences.

But it wasn't the monotony that made him pause when he pulled up to her house. It was the darkness. No Christmas lights twinkling in the frost, no inflatable reindeer wobbling on the lawn. Nothing. Ji-woo, who usually turned her home into a festive explosion the day after Thanksgiving, had left it bare. Hoseok pulled his jacket tighter as he stepped out, boots crunching on the icy driveway. He knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the eerily quiet street. His breath formed little clouds as he waited, a gnawing worry settling in his stomach.

Across the street, Taehyung squinted through his living room window, eyes fixed on Hoseok. "Someone's at Ji-woo's place," he mumbled, not budging an inch.

In the kitchen, Y/N shook her head with a smile. "She's allowed to have visitors, you know," she called out, balancing a tray of hot cocoa and freshly baked cookies.

"He looks... suspicious," Taehyung grumbled, still glued to the glass.

"Or maybe he's just cold," Y/N teased, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "Come on, leave the poor guy alone. We've got Elf queued up and everything."

Taehyung finally tore himself away from the window, his gaze drifting to the marshmallows melting into the cocoa. "Did you make the cookies with peanut butter chips?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Like I'd forget," Y/N replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "No Kim family recipe skips the peanut butter chips."

He took a bite, his features softening as the familiar taste hit. "Dad would've approved," he said quietly.

"Yeah," she agreed, the moment hanging between them like a delicate ornament.

Back outside, Hoseok knocked again, shivering as a gust of wind snuck past his collar. He was about to fish out his phone when the door creaked open. Ji-woo stood there, her hair piled messily atop her head, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. But when she saw him, a flicker of relief crossed her face.

"You're here," she breathed, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Of course I'm here," he murmured into her hair. "You promised me a dubious home-cooked meal, remember?"

She laughed softly, the sound muffled against his coat. "Come in before you freeze."

Inside, the house felt... empty. Not physically—the furniture was all there—but the usual warmth was missing. No garlands draped over the fireplace, no stockings hung with care. Even the Christmas tree in the corner looked half-hearted, as if it knew it wasn't living up to expectations.

Ji-woo sank onto the couch with a weary sigh. "I think I made a mistake moving here."

Hoseok settled into the armchair across from her. "What's going on? Did the Grinch steal your decorations?"

"Worse," she groaned. "The HOA did."

He raised an eyebrow. "They're anti-Christmas now?"

"More like anti-fun. They have all these rules—no colored lights, no inflatable anything, no decorations that could be considered 'tacky' or 'disruptive.' Everything has to be white lights, tastefully arranged. It's like living in a Christmas museum."

"You're kidding," he said, but one look at her face told him she wasn't.

"The kids are miserable," she continued. "Arabella keeps asking why our house doesn't look 'happy' anymore. Maxwell made a protest sign that says 'We Miss Santa' and wants to picket in front of the HOA president's house."

Hoseok couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, he's got your flair for the dramatic."

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "I tried to explain, but how do you tell a seven-year-old that some people think joy is gaudy?"

He leaned forward. "Have you talked to the HOA? Maybe there's a loophole or something."

Ji-woo rolled her eyes. "Oh, I've talked to them. Rachel McDonald and her sidekick Tiffany Wallace run the place like it's their personal kingdom. They're like the Plastics from Mean Girls, but with power suits and a vendetta against colored LEDs."

"Oh, fantastic," Hoseok mumbled. "Mean girls with a homeowners' association to rule. Just what you needed."

Ji-woo laughed without much humor. "It gets better. Rachel's husband, Jeff? He spends his days flirting with the younger moms at the playground, always going on about how he could've gone pro if not for his 'career-ending car accident.' He was the high school football star, and he never lets anyone forget it."

"Let me guess," Hoseok said, already seeing the picture. "He's one of those guys who peaked in high school?"

"Exactly," Ji-woo confirmed. "And he's a total mess. He almost hit one of the Kim siblings—Y/N, the youngest—after a football game. Drives around drunk like he owns the place."

"Wow," Hoseok muttered, a knot forming in his stomach. "And nobody does anything about it?"

"Small towns," Ji-woo sighed, shrugging. "People overlook a lot, especially when it comes to the so-called golden boy. It's infuriating."

Before Hoseok could respond, a high-pitched voice sliced through the air.

"Uncle Hobi!"

A whirlwind of pink pajamas and tangled black hair hurtled across the room, colliding with his legs like a tiny freight train. Hoseok barely had time to steady himself before Maxwell wrapped his arms around him, nearly toppling them both.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Hoseok laughed, ruffling the boy's hair as he crouched down to hug him properly. Maxwell's face beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with pure joy. "How've you been?"

"Good!" Maxwell chirped, bouncing on his toes. "You're staying, right? You can stay forever now!"

Before he could answer, another figure appeared in the doorway—Arabella, her dark eyes casting a skeptical glance toward the window, as if the lackluster holiday lights were a personal affront. She was more reserved than her brother, but when she saw Hoseok, a small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Arabella," Hoseok said gently. "Think I can get a hug from you too?"

She walked over slowly, her steps measured, but when she hugged him, it was warm and sincere. The weight of their little arms around him filled the room with a lightness that hadn't been there moments before.

Just like that, the house felt a little less cold.

They say a watched pot never boils. Turns out, a watched coffee maker isn't in any rush either. Y/N hovered over the machine, silently pleading for it to hurry up—as if her very survival depended on that first cup. And honestly, it did. Without coffee, she was more like a friendly ghost drifting through her own kitchen.

The toaster snapped up with a clatter, launching her bagel into the air. She caught it instinctively, barely registering the motion, and spread a generous layer of garden veggie cream cheese on top. Her eyes kept drifting back to the coffee maker, as if it held all the answers. Finally, it gurgled to a finish, and she poured herself a mug with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred ceremonies.

The first sip was bliss—a warm embrace that chased away the lingering fog in her mind. For a moment, everything was peaceful. No second graders vying for attention, no stacks of ungraded papers looming over her. Just her and the coffee, wrapped in a quiet truce with the morning.

But peace was fleeting.

"That car's still there," Taehyung's voice broke the silence, rough and low like gravel underfoot. He shuffled into the kitchen, more bear than man, still tangled in the remnants of sleep. Before his own caffeine fix, Taehyung was best approached with caution.

Y/N took another sip, unfazed. "They pulled in late last night," she replied evenly, not rising to his grumpy bait.

He grunted, grabbed a mug, tore open a packet of Pop-Tarts, and retreated back to his room, a nocturnal creature avoiding the daylight. Y/N smiled to herself, already looking forward to her morning walk—the one slice of the day that was entirely hers. She laced up her sneakers, threw on a jacket, and stepped outside into the gentle hush of their new neighborhood.

Salida was still strange to her, each house a mirror image of the next, every lawn meticulously maintained. It was pleasant enough but felt more like a pit stop than a destination. Taehyung had found them a good deal here, courtesy of his job, and it served its purpose—a temporary escape while they figured out their next move.

She set off on her usual route, the cold air refreshing against her skin. The fog hung low, turning the streets into a watercolor painting of muted grays and soft edges. She let her mind wander, savoring the solitude.

Then she noticed it—a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. At first, she thought it was a trick of the fog, but there it was again—a figure moving with effortless grace, just enough to catch her eye. Tall and solid, with an athletic stride. One detail snagged her attention more than she'd like to admit: a very, very nice backside.

Y/N felt warmth rise in her cheeks and shook her head, half-amused at herself. Who was that? She didn't recognize him, but then again, she and Taehyung weren't exactly mingling at neighborhood block parties. Taehyung was more invested in keeping tabs on the comings and goings around them—especially since Ji-woo had moved in across the street.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she continued her walk, her heartbeat just a touch quicker than before. The cold nipped at her face, but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere, caught up in that brief, intriguing glimpse.

Would she see him again?

It was a silly thought, and she laughed softly to herself. Still, there was a flutter in her chest—a tiny spark that felt new and welcome. By the time she looped back to the house, her cheeks were flushed, and not just from the cold.

Inside, Taehyung was hunched over his coffee at the kitchen table, looking marginally more awake but no less grumpy.

"What took you so long?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. "And why are you grinning like that?"

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. "Just enjoying the morning."

He gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further, muttering something unintelligible as he turned back to his mug.

Y/N just smiled to herself, knowing full well that her morning walks had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Hoseok pushed open the front door, a gust of cold air following him inside. His lungs burned pleasantly from his morning run, and despite the sweat cooling on his skin, he felt invigorated. December had painted the world outside in shades of white and silver, but inside, the house was warm and smelled like coffee.

"Uncle Hobi, quiet," a small voice scolded.

He looked down to see Arabella standing there, hands on her tiny hips, clad in bright pink pajamas that were a size too big. Her serious expression was almost comical on such a small face.

"Sorry, Ari," he whispered, grinning. He crouched down to her level, arms open for a hug.

She hesitated. "You're sweaty."

He laughed. "Can't argue with that." But before he could retract his offer, she stepped forward and gave him a quick squeeze, then immediately wrinkled her nose.

"Yuck. You need a shower," she declared, pulling back.

"Noted," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

She toddled off toward the living room, probably to her favorite spot by the Christmas tree—the one that looked a bit forlorn without its usual explosion of lights.

Hoseok headed into the kitchen, where Ji-woo leaned against the counter, a mug cradled in her hands. She raised an eyebrow as he entered.

"You're up early," she remarked.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, grabbing a glass of water. "Too many thoughts buzzing around."

"Ah," she said, taking a sip. "The infamous Hoseok brainstorm."

He grinned. "I've got an idea."

She eyed him warily. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably," he admitted. "But hear me out."

She gestured for him to continue but then scrunched up her nose. "Actually, maybe tell me after you've showered."

He feigned offense. "You and Arabella both. Is my post-run glow that unbearable?"

"It's less 'glow' and more 'glisten,'" she teased. "And yes."

He chuckled, backing out of the kitchen. "Fine, I'll cleanse myself of this so-called glisten."

"Thank you," she called after him.

As he climbed the stairs, his mind returned to his plan. The HOA's ban on colorful Christmas lights was the last straw. Arabella's disappointment each time she looked outside was palpable, and it tugged at him more than he'd like to admit.

Maybe if he could convince Ji-woo to take the kids to their parents' house for the holidays, they'd get the festive experience they deserved. And while they were gone, perhaps he could find a way to negotiate with—or outsmart—the HOA.

After a hot shower, he felt more human. The steam had cleared his head, and he dressed quickly, eager to share his thoughts. Back in the kitchen, Ji-woo was scrolling through her phone, a frown creasing her forehead.

"More HOA drama?" he asked, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

She sighed, setting the phone aside. "They're sending reminders about the 'holiday decor guidelines.' It's like they have a vendetta against joy."

He poured himself a cup of coffee. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

She looked up, curious. "Oh?"

He took a sip before speaking. "What if you took the kids to Mom and Dad's for Christmas? Let them have the full festive experience without the Grinch HOA ruining it."

She considered this. "I don't know... They were excited to spend Christmas here."

He nodded. "I get that. But here feels... stifled. They can't decorate the way they want. At least at Mom and Dad's, they can go all out."

She traced the rim of her mug with a finger. "I suppose Arabella would love baking with Mom."

"And Maxwell can help Dad set up the train set," Hoseok added.

A small smile played on her lips. "They would enjoy that."

"Plus," he continued, "I can stay here and see if there's any way to reason with the HOA. Maybe find a loophole or two."

She raised an eyebrow. "You and your loopholes."

He shrugged, grinning. "It's a gift."

She laughed softly. "Alright. I'll talk to the kids."

Relief washed over him. "Great. I think it'll be good for all of you."

As she stood to rinse her mug, she glanced at him. "What about you? Spending Christmas alone?"

He waved off her concern. "I'll be fine. Someone's got to hold down the fort."

She gave him a knowing look. "If you say so."

He leaned against the counter, thoughts drifting to the woman he'd seen on his run that morning. There was something about the way she'd moved, the determination in her stride. He found himself hoping their paths might cross again.

Y/N stepped into the house, shaking off the chill from outside. Taehyung's car was parked at an awkward angle in the driveway—a telltale sign of his mood. Inside, she found Namjoon sitting on the edge of the couch, his posture tense but composed. Taehyung paced the length of the living room, agitation rolling off him in waves.

"Hey," she greeted cautiously.

Namjoon looked over, relief flickering in his eyes. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

She set her bag down. "What's going on?"

Taehyung stopped mid-pace. "There's a stranger at Ji-woo's house."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You mean her brother?"

He crossed his arms. "We don't know that."

Namjoon sighed. "Tae, we've been over this. Not every new person is a threat."

"But we have to be vigilant," Taehyung insisted. "Especially after everything."

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. "I get it," she said gently. "But maybe we should give people the benefit of the doubt."

He shook his head. "You didn't see the way he was sneaking around."

Namjoon stood up. "How about this—I’ll go over and introduce myself. Invite them to the community Christmas party. If there's anything off, I'll pick up on it."

Taehyung considered this. "Fine. But be careful."

"I always am," Namjoon assured him. He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. "Y/N, keep an eye on him."

She nodded. "Will do."

After Namjoon left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Taehyung resumed his pacing, though slower this time.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "Just don't want anything to happen. Not again."

She understood. The past had left its marks on all of them. "I know."

He glanced at her. "You think I'm overreacting."

"I think you're protective," she said. "But sometimes that can come across as... intense."

He managed a small smile. "Understatement of the year."

She returned the smile. "Just try to relax a bit. Maybe focus on something else."

He sat down beside her. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then decided to take a chance. "I've been thinking about volunteering at the youth center's holiday event. Could use an extra pair of hands."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "Is it working?"

He chuckled. "A little."

They sat in comfortable quiet for a moment. Y/N's thoughts drifted to the man she'd seen that morning—the one with the easy smile and kind eyes. She wondered what his story was.

"Earth to Y/N," Taehyung said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked. "Sorry. Zoned out."

"Thinking about your students?"

"Something like that," she replied, not ready to share her musings.

He studied her for a moment. "You seem... different lately."

"Different how?"

He shrugged. "Happier."

She considered this. "Maybe."

"That's good," he said sincerely.

"Thanks." She bumped his shoulder lightly. "See? Not everything is doom and gloom."

He smiled. "I'll try to remember that."

The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. Y/N felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite inside her chest. Maybe—just maybe—this Christmas would bring something new, something good.

She glanced over at Taehyung, who was slouched on the couch, half-watching a mindless reality show. He was still brooding, eyebrows knit together in that way that made him look both serious and a little ridiculous.

"So," she said, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head, "do you think Namjoon's going to make it back alive, or should we start assembling a search party?"

Taehyung grunted, eyes never leaving the screen. "Laugh all you want, but when Namjoon returns with the truth, you'll see. Mark my words, Y/N. I'm onto something big."

She hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh, I have no doubt you're onto something."

Life with her brothers was never dull—a constant whirlwind of conspiracies and overreactions. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Ji-woo stared at Hoseok like he'd suggested they celebrate Christmas on the moon.

"Absolutely not," she declared, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm not letting those Stepford wives think they've won."

Hoseok could practically see the steam rising from her. That familiar storm brewing in her eyes—a mix of stubbornness and simmering rage. The HOA drama had pushed her right to the edge, and suggesting they spend the holidays at their parents' place was apparently the final straw.

"Ji, it's just a suggestion," he said gently. "The kids might enjoy—"

"The kids don't want to leave their home for Christmas," she interrupted, her voice firm. "And I am not giving Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald the satisfaction."

He sighed, bracing himself as she launched into a tirade. She recounted every passive-aggressive comment, every forced smile, every time they'd conveniently "forgotten" to inform her about some new HOA rule.

"And can you believe Tiffany had the nerve to ask if I was a lesbian?" Ji-woo fumed, her cheeks flushing. "As if it's any of her business! Probably just so she'd have something juicy to share at her next book club meeting."

Hoseok nodded along, his mind starting to wander. It wasn't that he didn't care—he did—but he'd heard variations of this rant many times before.

"And Rachel," Ji-woo continued, her eyes narrowing. "She looks down her nose at everyone, like she's the queen of this suburban prison."

He was just about to suggest they take a deep breath when a knock sounded at the door. Saved by the bell.

Ji-woo paused, exchanging a curious glance with Hoseok before heading to the door. He followed her, curious.

When she opened it, Namjoon Kim stood on the porch, his usual calm smile in place. He looked every bit the part of the friendly neighborhood fire chief, his uniform crisp and his posture relaxed.

"Captain Kim," Ji-woo greeted, her tone shifting to something warmer. "What brings you by?"

"Evening, Ms. Lee," he replied politely. Hoseok noticed the slight wince his sister gave at the use of her married name, but she recovered quickly.

"I was just over at the Kims'—the other Kims," Namjoon added with a chuckle. "Wanted to make sure you knew about the town Christmas party tonight. It's a big deal around here. Santa, caroling, more cookies than anyone should probably eat."

He handed her a colorful flyer, and Ji-woo's face softened as she took it. "That sounds wonderful. The kids would love it."

Hoseok stepped forward, offering a friendly smile. "Mind if I tag along?"

Namjoon turned to him, eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute—you’re Hoseok Jung."

Hoseok gave a modest shrug. "Guilty as charged."

Namjoon broke into a grin. "My siblings are huge fans. Heck, I’m a huge fan."

Before Hoseok could respond, a small whirlwind barreled into his legs.

"Uncle Hobi!" Arabella squealed, her Elsa pajamas a blur of blue and sparkles as she hugged him tightly.

He scooped her up, her giggles filling the entryway. "Hey there, princess. Shouldn't you be napping?"

She shook her head vigorously. "Can't sleep. No lights."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "No lights?"

Ji-woo sighed. "HOA restrictions. We're not allowed to put up colored lights or inflatables."

"Seriously?" Namjoon's friendly demeanor shifted, a frown creasing his forehead. "That's... unusual."

"That's Tiffany and Rachel," Ji-woo muttered. "They've made it their mission to suck the joy out of the neighborhood."

Hoseok nodded. "Ari loves the colored lights. White ones just aren't the same."

Namjoon looked thoughtful. "Well, that doesn't seem fair. Maybe there's something we can do about that."

Hoseok watched him with interest. There was a quiet determination in Namjoon's eyes, the kind that suggested he wasn't one to let things slide.

"Anyway," Namjoon said, his smile returning as he looked back at Ji-woo. "Hope to see you all at the party tonight. And Hoseok, if you don't mind signing an autograph or two..."

Hoseok laughed. "Not at all. Happy to."

As Namjoon headed back across the street, Hoseok turned to his sister, still holding Arabella in his arms.

"Looks like this town has a few surprises," he remarked.

Ji-woo chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, Namjoon? He's just the beginning. Stick around—you'll see."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She patted his shoulder as she headed back toward the kitchen. "Trust me. You might even start liking it here."

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this detour wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Namjoon slammed the front door open, the sound echoing through the quiet house like a sudden clap of thunder. Y/N looked up from her book, startled. It wasn't like Namjoon to make a scene—he was the steady one, the calm one. But today, his face was clouded, eyes sharp and determined.

"Taehyung!" he called, his voice carrying up the stairs with an urgency that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

There was a muffled crash from upstairs, followed by a groan. Moments later, Taehyung appeared at the top of the staircase, hair tousled and eyes bleary. He rubbed at his face, clearly pulled from a deep sleep.

"What's going on, Joon?" he mumbled, starting down the steps. He didn't seem to notice the tension radiating from his older brother.

Namjoon didn't waste a second. "Do you have any idea what kind of company you work for?" he demanded, pointing out the front window toward Mrs. Lee's house across the street. His voice was tight, controlled—but Y/N could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Taehyung blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Mrs. Lee just told me that Tiffany and Rachel are preventing her from putting up the Christmas decorations her kids love," Namjoon said, each word clipped. "Apparently, the HOA has banned colorful lights and inflatable decorations. Little Ari is heartbroken."

Taehyung frowned, glancing between Namjoon and Y/N. "I don't handle HOA rules," he said slowly. "I'm an architect, not a policy maker."

"But you work for the development company that runs this neighborhood," Namjoon pressed. "Surely you know someone who can do something about this."

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I mean, I can call Jungkook. He's more involved with that side of things."

"Good," Namjoon said firmly. "Because it's ridiculous that kids can't have Christmas lights because of some overzealous HOA board."

Y/N stood up, hoping to ease the tension. "Maybe it's just a misunderstanding," she offered gently. "HOAs can be tricky with their rules."

Namjoon shook his head. "Whether it's a misunderstanding or not, it needs to be fixed."

Taehyung pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "I'll give Jungkook a call," he said, already heading toward the kitchen.

As he disappeared from view, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. Y/N stepped closer.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded, but his eyes were still stormy. "I just can't stand the thought of those kids missing out on Christmas because of some pointless rule."

She offered a small smile. "You're a good man, Namjoon."

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Don't spread that around."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"By the way," Namjoon said, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. "I don't think Taehyung realizes who Mrs. Lee's guest is."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The guy you saw over there this morning? That's Hoseok Jung."

Her mouth fell open. "Wait—the Hoseok Jung? As in the two-time Super Bowl champion?"

He nodded. "The very same."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, memories of her morning walk flooding back—the tall figure jogging past her, the way he'd moved with effortless grace. She'd noticed him, sure, but she hadn't realized...

"Language, Y/N," Namjoon teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. "I can't believe it. How did I not recognize him?"

"Probably because you were too busy daydreaming," he joked.

"Hardly," she shot back, nudging him playfully. "Besides, he was wearing a hat and sunglasses."

"Excuses, excuses."

Just then, Taehyung re-entered the room, looking exasperated. "Jungkook's in the shower, but his wife said he'll call me back soon."

"Great," Namjoon replied. "We need to get this sorted out."

Taehyung flopped onto the couch, rubbing his temples. "This HOA stuff is such a headache."

Y/N sat beside him. "We haven't really been paying attention to their rules, have we?"

He shrugged. "We put up a tree inside. That's about the extent of our holiday spirit."

Namjoon crossed his arms. "Well, maybe it's time we all got a bit more involved. Can't let a few grinches ruin Christmas for everyone."

Taehyung glanced at Y/N. "What's got him so fired up?"

She smiled softly. "Mrs. Lee's kids can't put up their decorations. Namjoon's on a mission to fix it."

"And Hoseok Jung is staying with her," Namjoon added, watching Taehyung's reaction.

Taehyung looked blank. "Who?"

Y/N laughed. "Only one of the most famous quarterbacks in football."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't follow sports."

Namjoon shook his head in mock disbelief. "Honestly, Tae. Sometimes I wonder how we're related."

Taehyung smirked. "Well, I got the looks."

Y/N groaned. "And the humility."

Their banter eased the remaining tension, a familiar rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy back into the room.

"I'll talk to Jungkook as soon as he calls," Taehyung promised. "We'll figure something out."

"Thanks," Namjoon said sincerely.

Y/N rested a hand on Namjoon's arm. "You're doing a good thing."

He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Just trying to make sure everyone has a good Christmas."

She nodded. "And we appreciate it."

The doorbell rang, surprising them all.

"Expecting someone?" Taehyung asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No."

Namjoon went to answer it, and moments later, he called back, "Hey, Y/N, it's Mrs. Lee!"

Y/N exchanged a curious glance with Taehyung before heading to the door.

Ji-woo stood on the porch, a tentative smile on her face. "Hi, sorry to drop by unannounced."

"Not at all," Y/N replied warmly. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "I just wanted to thank you all. Namjoon mentioned you were looking into the HOA situation."

"Of course," Y/N said. "We're happy to help."

Ji-woo hesitated. "Also, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow night. Just a small get-together. My brother's in town, and it'd be nice to get to know the neighbors."

Y/N felt that flutter in her chest again. "We'd love to."

"Great," Ji-woo said, her smile growing. "I'll see you then."

As she walked back across the street, Y/N closed the door, leaning against it for a moment.

"Well?" Taehyung prompted.

"We're invited to dinner tomorrow," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Awesome," he said, already heading back to the couch. "Free food."

Namjoon gave her a knowing look. "Sounds like an opportunity."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe."

"Just don't forget to breathe if you meet your football hero," he teased.

"I'll manage," she retorted.

And as she glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of lights starting to twinkle across the street, she allowed herself to hope.

Hoseok glanced in the rearview mirror of his SUV, catching sight of Maxwell practically vibrating in his car seat. The little guy was a live wire, eyes wide and sparkling like he'd just discovered superheroes were real—and they all wanted to be his best friend.

"Guessing those cookies were rocket fuel," Hoseok chuckled. "Pretty sure bedtime's canceled tonight."

"You're really coming with us to see Santa?" Maxwell asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and a dash of hero worship. It was as if Hoseok had just announced they were flying to the North Pole.

"Wouldn't miss it," Hoseok replied, winking. "Gotta make sure Santa knows what's on my list, too."

"Yes!" Maxwell cheered, pumping his tiny fist in the air. Next to him, Arabella hugged her stuffed penguin a little tighter, her eyes dreamy. "Santa..." she whispered, like the name itself was magic.

Beside him, Ji-woo seemed lighter than she'd been in weeks, a soft smile playing on her lips as she adjusted Arabella's hat. The tension from the HOA drama had eased, at least for tonight.

They drove through streets awash in Christmas lights, the colors reflecting off the windows like a kaleidoscope. When they reached the town square, it was as if they'd stepped into a snow globe. Strings of lights crisscrossed above, a giant tree stood proudly in the center, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and hope.

"Look at all the lights!" Maxwell exclaimed, pressing his nose against the glass. He was out of his seat the moment the car stopped, dragging Arabella toward the promise of candy canes and reindeer.

Hoseok spotted Namjoon across the way, deep in conversation with a guy who looked like he could bench-press a car. The man's gaze lingered a little too long on Ji-woo, and Hoseok felt a protective twinge.

"Glad you all made it," Namjoon called out, his smile warm enough to melt the snow. "Santa's about to arrive. You don't want to miss it."

Maxwell and Arabella needed no further encouragement—they darted off, laughter trailing behind them like footprints.

Namjoon turned to Ji-woo, his expression shifting to something more serious. "We're still waiting to hear from Jungkook about the HOA situation. Don't worry, we're on it."

The big guy next to him nodded. "We'll make sure your kids get their Christmas back," he said earnestly.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, catching the familiar glint of recognition—and maybe a hint of rivalry—in the man's eyes. He offered a polite smile, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Before any awkwardness could settle in, the jingle of bells filled the air. Santa had arrived, not in a sleigh but in a decked-out pickup truck that somehow felt perfectly fitting. The crowd buzzed with excitement, kids bouncing on their toes.

Leading the procession was an elf with a bounce in her step and... Hoseok did a double take. Was her skirt tucked into her tights? He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he recognized that particular shade of embarrassment.

That was jogger girl.

She was mortified, her face the color of holly berries as Namjoon discreetly fixed her skirt. She shot him a grateful, exasperated look. "Thanks, Joon," she mumbled.

"You're killing me, kid," he replied, shaking his head but smiling fondly.

Their eyes met for just a second—just long enough for Hoseok to catch that flicker of recognition, and maybe a bit of horror, in Y/N’s expression. He offered a small, sympathetic smile, the kind that says, It’s fine. We all have moments like this.

Pushing past whatever had unsettled her, Y/N fixed her elf hat and raised her voice, unwavering and bright, “Who’s ready to see Santa?”

A chorus of kids shouted back, “We are!” and just like that, everything felt easier. Arabella, looking serious and determined, walked straight up to Santa and climbed onto his lap without waiting for a nod or a smile. Santa seemed surprised but took it in stride.

“Well, hello there,” he said, steadying her. “What’s your name?”

“Arabella.” She paused, as if making sure he was paying attention. “I want our lights back.”

He blinked. “Your lights?”

“Our Christmas lights,” she explained. “The colorful ones that make our house happy.”

Hoseok felt a tightening in his chest. Arabella always got right to the point. No dancing around what mattered most.

Y/N stepped forward, her voice gentle, “Maybe Santa can help,” she suggested, meeting Hoseok’s eyes for a moment before turning back to Santa.

“Maybe I can,” Santa agreed, handing Arabella a small gift. She took it solemnly, thanked him, and slid off his lap. “Don’t forget,” she reminded him quietly as she walked back.

Ji-woo knelt down to Arabella’s level. “Do you want to open it now?” she asked.

Arabella shook her head firmly. “Max,” she said, making it clear she’d wait for her brother.

“Max, get over here!” Hoseok called, spotting Maxwell still chatting away with Santa, rattling off a mile-long wish list. Max finally darted over, breathless and grinning, and tore into his own present: a Lego police helicopter set. His eyes went huge, and he practically vibrated with excitement, already planning how he’d build it the second they got home.

Arabella, satisfied that her brother was taken care of, carefully unwrapped her gift. Inside was a plush Rudolph with a glowing red nose. Her serious expression softened. She held it up for them to see, then patted the ground beside her. “Read,” she insisted.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He sat right down on the cold pavement and took the little storybook that came with Rudolph. His voice was low and comforting as he read aloud. Everyone around them seemed to settle, leaning in, as if drawn by the warm circle of sound he created. Y/N found herself smiling. There he was, Hoseok—star athlete, local hero—sitting cross-legged in the town square, reading Christmas stories to a little girl who trusted him completely.

Arabella climbed into his lap without a second thought. He adjusted the book, making sure she stayed cozy. This wasn’t some perfect holiday postcard scene; it was just… real. Hoseok had a soft spot for his family. Watching him like this made Y/N’s heart ache in a sweet, unexpected way.

Namjoon, standing beside her, watched too. Pride and tenderness shone through his normally reserved gaze. He might look like the kind of guy who’d keep you at arm’s length, but around family, he melted. Y/N nudged him with her elbow, smiling. “If you keep staring, you’ll turn into a puddle.”

Namjoon chuckled quietly. “Can you blame me? That’s some top-tier uncle behavior.”

Y/N laughed. “You should be taking notes.”

“I am,” he said, straight-faced, which made her laugh again.

Meanwhile, Santa—Seth, actually—wandered off, muttering something about needing an ice pack, looking as if he’d just run a marathon instead of meeting kids all day. Y/N shook her head, amused, and headed back toward Namjoon and Ji-woo.

Namjoon kept half an eye out for Taehyung, who’d disappeared earlier. Taehyung had been trying to reach Jungkook about the HOA mess and the banned Christmas lights. Just then, Taehyung returned, looking both frustrated and determined.

“B’s livid,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s got a lawyer looking into the HOA’s charter.”

Ji-woo sighed, glancing over at Arabella curled up with Hoseok. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Taehyung leaned in, lowering his voice. “Apparently the ban on colored lights was voted in by the homeowners after the fact. But if it was voted in, it can be voted out too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Five bucks says Tiff and Rachel orchestrated the whole thing. They never let anyone just live their lives without making it about their rules.”

Namjoon’s mouth twitched, annoyed. “If those two are involved, there’s no shortage of shady behavior.”

Around them, the square glowed with holiday lights, kids played with new toys, and Hoseok’s voice continued steady and clear, reading to Arabella. It all felt unexpectedly warm and meaningful. If they had to go head-to-head with a cranky HOA to keep this feeling, so be it.

Hoseok’s voice carried over to them, calm and thoughtful. “If it was voted in, it can be voted out, right?” he asked, looking at Taehyung. Arabella’s head rested trustingly against him, her Rudolph still glowing.

Taehyung sighed. “Yeah, but it requires seventy-five percent approval. And we don’t have voting rights. We never got around to joining the HOA officially, and even if we did now, we wouldn’t be able to vote until next year.”

Y/N frowned. “Why didn’t I know about these votes? I never saw a single notice.”

Taehyung shrugged. “We bought early on. The HOA was still forming. And we don’t use their services—we handle our own lawn care—so we don’t get their updates. The other houses get lawn care and newsletters. We’re sort of on the outside.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Not everyone has the time to peek through blinds and track the neighbors’ every move, Tae.”

Namjoon cut in gently, “Play nice,” his voice carrying that quiet authority that ended squabbles before they started.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Anyway, we don’t have standing to vote right now.”

Hoseok leaned back, thinking it through, his brow furrowing. “If we’re not part of it, are we even bound by their rules?” he asked.

Taehyung hesitated. “Technically, no. But I’m in a tricky position. Jungkook’s my friend and my boss. I’m supposed to follow the spirit of the rules, set a good example.”

Y/N noticed the determined light in Hoseok’s eyes. He’d just had an idea—that look said as much. And once Hoseok had a plan, he didn’t give up easily.

He straightened up carefully, making sure not to jostle Arabella as she slept against him, and then locked eyes with Taehyung. “I get it—you want to set a good example. But just hear me out. I think I’ve got an idea.”

Taehyung stiffened, like he already knew where this was going. “Hoseok, if this is about—”

“Let him talk,” Y/N said, her voice gentle but steady. “There’s no harm in listening.”

Taehyung exchanged a quick, resigned glance with Y/N—then with Ji-woo—and finally let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll listen. No promises, though.”

Ji-woo gave Taehyung’s arm a light squeeze, an encouraging smile softening the tension. “Thanks. Sometimes his ideas are… a lot. But you never know, this one might actually be good.”

A small group of neighbors had drifted closer, curious eyes and quiet whispers surrounding them. Hoseok stood there, holding his niece like it was the most natural thing in the world, radiating a calm confidence that felt comforting, even to Y/N. He seemed so at home right here, right now, as if he’d been part of their crowd from the very start.

Hoseok glanced over at Maxwell, who was practically sleepwalking on his feet. “Maybe we should get these two home?” he suggested to Ji-woo, tilting his head toward the sleepy kids.

Ji-woo nodded right away, ushering them forward. “Yes. Let’s move this party back home.”

As they headed down the street, Hoseok shot Y/N a quick wink. It was casual, but it lit a tiny spark in the cold air. Taehyung noticed, of course, and let out a barely contained huff.

“That wink,” he grumbled, as if it might be the first domino in a chain of questionable decisions. Y/N could see that something about Hoseok got under Taehyung’s skin in a way he wouldn’t admit. She bumped his shoulder lightly.

“Relax, Tae,” she teased. “It’s just a wink.”

But Taehyung’s brow stayed knitted. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

Back in Ji-woo’s living room, the mood was tense despite the cozy lamps and the warm hum of the fireplace. Namjoon stood firmly in Hoseok’s corner, championing every idea Hoseok tossed out—like challenging the HOA or rallying the neighbors for a vote. Taehyung tried to get a word in, but every time he did, Namjoon countered with all the reasons they had to fight. He even suggested calling Jimin, their cousin who was the town sheriff, if things turned messy. It was a whole parade of big personalities with strong opinions, and Taehyung looked ready to pop.

Sitting curled up in her favorite armchair, Y/N decided it was time to mediate. “Joon, we hear you,” she said, leveling her gaze at him before looking at Taehyung. “But let’s give Taehyung some space to explain his side. And what if we ask Jungkook and Blair to weigh in too? If they back this plan, maybe Taehyung will feel better.”

Taehyung’s relief was almost tangible. “Yes—please. Call Jungkook and Blair. If we get them on board, I can at least know we’re not going rogue.”

He shot Hoseok an apologetic look. “I know you’ve got to get back to Denver soon,” he said, trying to sound casual but clearly feeling guilty. “I don’t want to mess with your playoff prep. I get that the kids should have a great Christmas. I just need you to understand my side.”

Y/N snorted, unable to resist teasing him a bit. “Tae, you’re sounding so diplomatic I’m waiting for Mr. Berty from fourth grade to show up and give you a gold star.” When Taehyung subtly flipped her the bird, she stifled a giggle.

Sighing dramatically, Taehyung relented. “Okay, fine. I’ll call Jungkook. Blair’s usually the easier sell, anyway.”

Namjoon nodded briskly, making a hurry-up motion. “Don’t just stand there. Make the call.”

Taehyung eyed the clock. “It’s after nine, bro. Isn’t this late?”

Namjoon smirked. “Jungkook doesn’t sleep before midnight, and Blair’s like a wind-up toy that never stops. They’ll pick up.”

With a low groan, Taehyung disappeared into the kitchen, phone already ringing. His muttering faded into the next room.

With him gone, Y/N decided it was time to shift gears. “The kids had such a blast tonight,” she said softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Arabella’s practically welded to that Rudolph, and Max… I mean, good luck getting him to think about anything besides that helicopter set now.”

Ji-woo’s expression warmed. “I’m just glad they had fun. Poor Santa Seth, though. He looked wiped out.”

Namjoon laughed. “Don’t worry about Seth. Beth’s probably got him on a steady regimen of ice packs and hot chocolate. That man’s taken bigger hits. Kids can be ruthless.”

Hoseok chimed in, his tone curious. “I saw there was a food drive. Is there a big need around here?”

Namjoon’s easygoing demeanor faded slightly as he explained. “It’s better now than a few years ago, but this place took a hit. The mill closed down some lines, people lost jobs. Recovery’s slow. Especially this time of year.”

Y/N nodded, voice quieter. “Lots of families are on the edge. You’d be surprised how many work full-time but still can’t get by. I’ve volunteered at the food bank. People slip through the cracks.”

Hoseok’s brow creased thoughtfully. “That’s awful. Every place I’ve played, I try to give back. My old coach used to say, ‘They show up for us, we show up for them.’ It stuck with me.”

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “Your coach sounds like a good person.”

Hoseok grinned. “One of the best. He’d ream me out after a bad game, but he never missed a chance to remind me what really mattered.”

Ji-woo laughed. “When he got drafted, I’m not sure who cried more—Coach or Dad.”

Just then, Taehyung reappeared. He looked relieved—less tense around the eyes. “Blair says they’ll be here tomorrow after five. Her dad’s visiting—first holiday without her mom—so they’re hosting him, but they’ll swing by.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Walter Reid’s a big name. When he weighs in, people listen.”

Y/N leaned over, giving Taehyung a quick side hug, feeling the unspoken weight he’d been carrying. “You’ve done everything you can.”

Namjoon nodded approvingly. “You did good, Tae.”

Ji-woo and Hoseok nodded too, their quiet solidarity reassuring him. And Taehyung, for the first time that night, allowed himself a long, steady breath and a small, hopeful smile. Maybe this Christmas would turn out all right after all.

The next evening, Jungkook and Blair Jeon showed up, each of them so strikingly different that Y/N’s head spun a little just looking at them. Jungkook was tall, solid as a cedar, with neatly combed black hair and eyes so warm and steady they felt like a campfire you could settle around for hours. He was the kind of person who didn’t waste words—he only spoke when it counted, and when he did, everyone leaned in.

Blair, meanwhile, was all sparks and fizz—blonde curls that bounced with every step, bright blue eyes that darted around the room, making sure she never missed a thing. She didn’t have to say a word to shift the energy; her presence alone brightened corners that had been dull five seconds ago. Even with their differences, it was clear they both cared fiercely, like they shared a quiet agreement: kindness first, always.

And then there was Walter Reid, Blair’s father, who seemed to take up more space than he actually occupied. He was tall and broad, his silver hair perfect, his face etched with lines that said he’d lived through more than anyone else in the room. He didn’t bother with unnecessary smiles. He didn’t need them—his eyes said he could see right through every half-truth and polite lie.

As Y/N explained the plan to bring back the Christmas lights that the HOA had so rudely snuffed out, Walter watched silently, his gaze like a judge’s final verdict waiting to be delivered. Ji-woo flipped through old photos, spreading them like evidence on a coffee table: once upon a time, this neighborhood had shimmered in December. Now, thanks to a few power-hungry board members, it looked like Christmas had decided to skip town.

Blair was practically hopping with frustration. “I’m telling you, Tiffany and Rachel are behind this,” she said, jabbing a photo as if it might give in and confess. Y/N nodded, unsurprised. Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald were the type who wanted things their way and never bothered to pretend otherwise.

Hoseok stood beside Y/N, noticing—despite his best efforts—how good she looked in that cozy sweater and jeans. He tried to refocus, to catch up on whatever Walter and Blair were discussing. But it was hard when Y/N looked so at ease here, like this room and these people and these problems were all part of some soft tapestry he’d just been invited into.

“Babygirl, let me see those charter amendments,” Walter said to Blair, voice low and gravelly. Blair handed over the papers, still scowling. Walter’s eyes skimmed the text. “Recent changes,” he murmured. “Voted in by a slim majority. That means it wouldn’t take much to push them back out.”

Jungkook leaned in, nodding. “We just need the neighbors on board. Half of them probably don’t even know the rules changed. If we show them what’s going on, we could turn this thing around.”

Blair’s mood shifted from fury to determination in a flash. “Then that’s what we do,” she said, clapping her hands. “We bring them all in. We light the match.”

Y/N smiled, relieved. “We’ll organize a meeting. Show them they have a choice. People want Christmas back—they just need to believe they can have it.”

Hoseok grinned too, leaning forward, his voice warm. “I can help. I mean, I’ve got a few fans who might show up if it means Christmas lights and a selfie or two.”

Y/N glanced his way, heart feeling unexpectedly full. He wanted to be part of this, part of her world. It was a small thing—just lights, really—but something about the way he jumped right in touched her.

Walter eyed them all, unmoved, as if still deciding if this fight was worth the trouble. “What’s this got to do with me?” he asked flatly.

“Daddy, it’s not right,” Blair repeated, for maybe the hundredth time that night, each time with the exact same fierce conviction.

Jungkook rested a calming hand on her shoulder. “Let your dad take a look, Blair. We need his advice.”

Blair huffed, but she let Walter read. He turned pages with the careful patience of a man who’d picked apart trickier contracts in his time. When he finally spoke, his words were measured: “If you go public, you might draw attention you don’t want. The media could twist this. Make the HOA look like victims. Could complicate other projects in the pipeline.”

Blair looked ready to explode. “Who would side with the HOA?” she demanded, incredulous.

Walter’s gaze shifted to Hoseok, and this time his tone was almost fatherly. “You’re not just any guy off the street, kid. You’re a Seahawk. Your team’s PR isn’t going to love seeing you in a local tug-of-war.”

Hoseok grimaced, realizing Walter had a point. “I’ll check with them,” he said, sounding reluctant.

A tense hush settled over the room until Namjoon stepped out quietly. When he returned, he had Arabella in his arms, half-asleep and clinging to Rudolph. Y/N shot him a questioning look, but Namjoon just smiled and walked over to Walter.

“This is Ari,” he said softly. “Ari, meet Mr. Reid.”

Arabella blinked, clutching her Rudolph and peering at Walter with big, curious eyes. She gave him a tiny wave, all quiet courage and bedtime drowsiness.

Namjoon set her down next to the photos. Arabella, so serious for someone so small, pointed at the pictures. “Lights,” she said firmly, “Santa. Fix. Please.”

You could almost see Walter’s armor crack. He let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh hell. Fine. Just keep it low-key, all right?”

Namjoon’s grin could have lit up a stadium. “Thank you,” he said, clapping Walter on the shoulder. Walter rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement there. “I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Namjoon teased lightly. “Marine training teaches you how to get results.”

Arabella squealed, hugging Namjoon’s leg. Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Maybe things were still complicated, and maybe they’d have to tread carefully. But at least they had a green light. At least they weren’t alone.

Hoseok’s eyes found Y/N again. He liked the way her smile looked in the soft lamplight. Liked that he was seeing her not just as some passing figure in his off-season life, but as someone he wanted to know more deeply. There was a story beginning here—one that he hoped they’d have time to tell.

Later that night, Y/N stood on her front lawn, arms folded over her coat, taking it all in. The new decorations weren’t over-the-top, but they were just enough. An eight-foot inflatable Santa beamed merrily at the snow, and multicolored lights wound around the porch and windows like cheerful ribbons. The whole place glowed. Across the street, Arabella pressed her hands and nose against the window, eyes gone huge with delight. Y/N smiled, feeling a tiny spark inside her chest—this was Christmas at its best, all bright colors and gentle wonder, nothing more complicated than a kid’s joy.

Walter had already taken off back to Denver, warning Y/N to brace for any fallout. But Y/N wasn’t worried. She knew how small towns worked: people loved their drama soft and manageable, like a soap opera they could switch off after dinner. Tiffany and Rachel would probably have plenty to say, but real consequences? She doubted it. If anything, it would all just turn into good old-fashioned grocery aisle gossip.

Inside, she could hear laughter drifting in from the living room. By the time she slipped back in, Blair had commandeered the couch—three glasses of wine deep—and was grinning at the ceiling like it had just told her the best joke in the world. Y/N had barely shut the door when Blair’s voice floated through the room, slurred and enthusiastic:

“He’s hot. You should totally tap that.”

Y/N stumbled, wide-eyed, nearly dropping her keys. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Blair rolled her head toward Y/N, eyes sparkling with a wine-soaked confidence. “Hoseok Jung!” she repeated, waving a hand dramatically. “Girl, hop on that train. Enjoy the ride.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flare with heat. Blair’s bluntness wasn’t new, but this was... a lot. “Blair,” she sputtered, trying for stern and failing. “He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s got a life in Denver, and I have classes. It’s not exactly a meet-cute that’s going to last, okay?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Blair said, swiping the air dismissively. “You can teach and have a life. And if he’s half as good in bed as he is on the field, you’re basically signing up for fireworks.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She glanced around as if the furniture might be judging her. “Blair!” she hissed, but a laugh slipped out despite her best efforts.

Blair smirked, taking another sip of her “truth juice.” “Oh, come on. After that jerk Garrett took off with Kate, don’t you think you deserve a little... holiday cheer? I’m not suggesting you run away and elope, just... sample the goods. I saw the way Hoseok looked at you.”

Y/N snatched at Blair’s wineglass, but Blair evaded with surprising agility for someone so tipsy. “I think you’ve had enough,” Y/N said, breathlessly, cheeks still warm.

Blair raised a brow, wiggling it like some kind of cartoon villain. “Don’t try to silence me. You know I’m right. You’ve been Miss Responsible for way too long. Let your hair down. Have fun. Specifically, have fun with a hot football player who’s clearly into you.”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching again for the glass. This time Blair conceded with a playful sigh, handing it over. “Fine, fine,” Blair said, leaning back like a starlet. “But remember my words when you’re old and gray: truth flows from the grapes.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, still smiling as she set the wine on the counter. But just as quickly as she dismissed Blair’s teasing, Hoseok’s face floated into her mind. She could picture him so clearly—his easy grin, the way he’d settled on the floor to read to Arabella, how natural he’d looked in this little world that wasn’t his. And, okay, yes... that spark in his eyes when he’d looked her way.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to talk herself down. He was leaving tomorrow. Their lives were galaxies apart. He was... famous, for crying out loud. And she was a teacher with a comfortable, ordinary life. It’s just a silly crush, she told herself. A harmless holiday daydream.

From the couch, Blair’s voice drifted lazily: “I saw that look! You’re into him.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, flicking off the kitchen light and grabbing a blanket. She returned to the living room and draped it over Blair’s shoulders. “Go to sleep, B,” she said softly.

Blair’s eyes fluttered half-closed, a grin still tugging at her lips. Y/N watched her friend settle into a dozy contentment. The room fell quiet, the only sounds a distant car on a snowy street and the soft hum of the heater. For a moment, it felt like the whole house was holding its breath.

Y/N sank onto the edge of the recliner, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. She tried to imagine what tomorrow would feel like. Hoseok would head back to Denver, back to his team, his life. She’d keep teaching, keep living in this small town full of neighborly squabbles and cozy holiday traditions. Was there a chance something could cross the space between them?

Probably not. But it sure was nice to think about—even if only for tonight. It made her feel warm, a little bit braver, and just maybe, a tiny bit closer to the kind of magic that made ordinary people do extraordinary things.

Hoseok couldn’t get Y/N out of his head. It was like his mind had just grabbed onto the memory of her laugh and refused to let go. The way her grin tilted when she teased her brother, that quick, light-in-her-eyes smile—it all played on a loop behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. Plus, the way she moved, so confident and at ease, made him feel like some eager understudy watching a lead he was dying to impress.

And now, there she was, standing in her front yard, facing down two furious blondes as if they were yapping dachshunds trying to nip at her ankles. He could practically see the invisible line she’d drawn—You shall not pass!—and it made him grin. She looked fierce and steady, even as Blair, three glasses of wine in, half-waltzed, half-wobbled behind her, sloshing red liquid in dangerous arcs.

Inside, Ji-woo hovered near the window, hand poised over the curtain like she wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure if she should. Hoseok got it. Ji-woo had seen enough drama in her life, and from what he understood, some scars still felt fresh. She wasn’t big on conflict, not anymore.

“I’ll go,” Hoseok said, shrugging into his jacket. He could feel Ji-woo’s relief before she even answered. He’d offered partly to help Y/N, partly because he was, let’s face it, pretty smitten, and partly because he just hated seeing Y/N out there alone, dealing with what looked suspiciously like Mean Girls: Christmas Edition.

“Are you sure?” Ji-woo asked, voice low. She bit her lip, glancing out at the scene.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said simply. “I kind of got them into this. The least I can do is back them up.”

He stepped into the chilly night and caught the tail end of the blondes’ complaints. One waved a piece of paper at Y/N, like it was a holy writ and not just a crumpled memo. Blair was still in the background, humming something off-key and offering her wine bottle to an inflatable Santa.

Y/N sighed, exasperated. “Blair, maybe it’s time to go inside.”

Before Blair could respond, she spotted Hoseok like he was the second coming of Christmas. “There he is!” she crowed, pointing. “Hoseok Jung, Y/N! You gotta tap that ass, girl!”

Hoseok nearly choked on a laugh, managing to keep a straight face with heroic effort. He plastered on his best “professional athlete” smile—confident, friendly, utterly unbothered by chaos—and stepped beside Y/N. “Evening, ladies,” he said, voice low and calm. “Is there a problem here?”

The shorter blonde’s eyes went cartoon-wide. “Oh my god, you’re Hoseok Jung!” she squealed, as if she’d just met a unicorn holding a stack of Super Bowl tickets. The other blonde—taller, more scowly—floundered for a moment, caught between annoyance and fangirl bewilderment.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets like it was no big deal. He nodded toward the decorations, the twinkling lights that had caused all this fuss. “My sister lives across the street. Y/N and her friends put these up for her kids. It’s Christmas—just trying to bring a little cheer.”

The taller blonde, Rae, tried to hold onto her scowl but ended up somewhere between a grimace and a pained smile. “They still break HOA rules,” she grumbled, but her tone had lost its teeth.

Hoseok tilted his head, the very picture of reasonable concern. “Y/N doesn’t belong to the HOA, though, right?” he said mildly. “Seems like a misunderstanding. Maybe you could schedule a meeting? I’m heading back to Denver, but Monday’s my day off. I’d be happy to join a neighborhood discussion. Clear the air.”

The blondes exchanged a look that said: We just got invited to a party with a celebrity. Rae cleared her throat. “Monday at seven might work,” she conceded.

“Perfect,” Hoseok said, with a smile so genuine it could’ve warmed a glacier. The shorter blonde sighed dreamily. Rae just nodded, all her bravado melted like butter on hot toast.

Behind them, Blair muttered something triumphant—something involving “bitches” and “booyah”—then promptly leaned against Santa, trying to give him a taste of her wine.

When the blondes drifted off, possibly to brag about their Monday meeting with Hoseok Jung, he turned to Y/N. “Need a hand with Blair?” he asked, already moving to steady her.

Y/N gave him a grateful, lopsided smile. “Please. She’s on a roll tonight.”

Hoseok scooped Blair up like a rowdy toddler and carried her toward the house, Blair giggling and whispering nonsense about quarterbacks and “naughty Santa” in his ear. The whole scene felt like a snapshot from a cozy indie movie—Christmas lights glowing soft around them, warm laughter inside, and Y/N at his side, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Once inside, he deposited Blair gently on the couch. Y/N straightened a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she said softly, arms folding across her chest. “She’s great, but... a handful when she’s had too much wine.”

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve seen worse tailgate parties,” he teased. “She’s entertaining.”

Y/N watched her friend burrow into the couch cushions, still clutching the wine bottle as if it were a cherished teddy bear, then turned back to him. Her expression had changed—softened, relaxed. “I guess I owe you one,” she said.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I think we’re even. But I’ll keep the ‘tap my ass’ suggestion on the table,” he added, voice low and playful.

Y/N flushed pink and let out a scandalized laugh. “I can’t believe she said that,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hand for a second.

He shrugged, eyes never leaving hers. “She’s not entirely wrong,” he said, pretending to examine the lights on the wall. “I am pretty tappable, from what I hear.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a gentle, playful shove. “You’re trouble, Jung.”

“Good trouble,” he countered, quiet and sure, something warm slipping into his tone.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to vanish. It was just the two of them in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, Blair’s faint snores in the background, and the distant hum of small-town life wrapping around them like a cozy scarf. Maybe he’d be back in Denver soon, and maybe they lived in different spheres. But right now, Y/N was right here in front of him, and he was more than happy to be a little trouble in her world.

With Blair sound asleep and softly snoring, Y/N suddenly realized something crucial: she was alone with Hoseok. The very Hoseok who’d heard Blair, in her infinite drunken wisdom, tell her to “tap that ass.” Fantastic. Just the scenario you dream of, right?

The air felt charged, like the hush after a good joke and right before everyone breaks into laughter. Y/N tried to find her footing in what always comforted her—simple hospitality. “Want something to drink?” she blurted, her voice coming out way too eager, like she was offering a lifeboat instead of a beverage.

Hoseok smiled, and there was just a hint of mischief in it. “Beer?” he suggested, eyebrows raised like he was testing her.

“Beer. Right. Coming up,” she said, grateful for something to do besides melt on the spot. She practically darted into the kitchen. “Is Corona okay?” she called, relieved to be behind the open fridge door, where he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

“Got a lime?” he asked, voice smooth enough to make her heart skip twice.

“Yeah, from taco night,” she said, rummaging around. “Taehyung’s obsessed with the whole lime-and-Corona thing. I think it makes him feel like he’s on some tropical beach, instead of here where the big excitement is a holiday HOA debate.” She rolled her eyes at herself, then handed him the bottle and wedge of lime.

“Nothing wrong with pretending,” Hoseok said, leaning against the counter. His gaze followed her movements so closely that she almost felt like a painting he was admiring. “So… you and Taehyung—twins?”

Y/N laughed as she twisted open her own soda. “Not quite. We’re a year apart. People at school called us the ‘Kim twins’ anyway. He’s tall and broad, and I’m built like my halmeoni. Still, I grew up hearing, ‘Oh, you must be Taehyung’s sister!’ which was my personal favorite.”

Hoseok smiled, something soft and understanding there. “My family’s scattered everywhere. Mom and Dad are in England right now, visiting my uncle. I’m grateful we all stay connected, even if it’s at weird distances.”

Y/N couldn’t help a grin. “Did you pack tights for the trip?” she teased, recalling something about England and stadium traditions—though maybe that was rugby.

He snorted, eyes crinkling. “The closest I have are my uniform pants. Not quite the same look.”

Uniform pants. Y/N’s thoughts took a brief, traitorous journey to how Hoseok probably looked in those uniform pants, and she nearly choked on her soda. Perfect timing, Blair mumbled something incomprehensible from the couch, followed by a muttered “Biotch,” and Hoseok burst into laughter so warm it filled the entire kitchen.

Y/N shook her head, fond but exasperated. “This is mild for her. Last time she hit the tequila, we found her on the roof trying to talk the moon down for a midnight chat. She was, um… not clothed.”

Hoseok’s laughter turned breathless, forcing him to set down his beer. “You’re kidding.”

Y/N held up her hands. “Swear. We got her down eventually, but not before she tried to sing a love ballad to a very startled raccoon.”

They both laughed, but then the mood shifted slightly as Y/N’s smile took on a sympathetic tilt. “This year’s been tough for her. First Christmas without her mom, plus they’re trying to start a family. I think it all just hit her tonight.”

Hoseok’s expression turned gentle, the understanding deepening. “Life sneaks up on you sometimes.”

A soft hush settled between them, a moment that felt more meaningful than anything they’d said. The twinkling Christmas lights in the other room cast a friendly glow, and Y/N wondered if this was how new memories formed—quietly, unexpectedly, in small-town kitchens while someone snored on the couch.

She cleared her throat, feeling the moment tiptoe toward something more intense. “Another beer?” she offered, holding the fridge door open like a shield.

Hoseok shook his head. “One’s enough. I try not to drink too much during the season. Gotta keep my focus.”

“Right, football and all,” Y/N said, stepping back and finding him suddenly closer—so close, in fact, that the scent of him was all warm fabric and subtle cologne. She almost squeaked in surprise but managed to keep it together.

Her breath caught as their eyes met, and suddenly he was there, right there, tilting his head so their faces nearly touched. If she’d wanted to move back, she couldn’t have—she was drawn in, completely, like gravity had decided this exact moment was too perfect to resist.

Then he kissed her. A soft, searching kiss that felt like a secret spoken aloud for the first time. She melted into it, her hands curving over his chest, feeling the heat of him through his sweater. His arms found her waist, and the gentle tension between them turned into something bright and urgent. She barely registered when he lifted her onto the counter, their breaths mingling, his kisses trailing softly down her neck, sending electric sparks skittering beneath her skin.

It was quiet and magical and everything she never knew she wanted at that exact second—until the clomping sound of boots in the hallway snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, Y/N, we got any food?” Taehyung’s voice drifted in, casual and clueless, like a bowling ball striking pins of romantic tension.

They pulled apart as if someone had flipped a switch. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, and Hoseok’s eyes were still dark and a little dazed. They stared at each other, caught in the aftermath of a perfect, impossible moment.

Taehyung’s footsteps got louder, heading their way. Y/N’s heart sank and soared at the same time. She shot Hoseok a look that said, We are so busted, and tried to smooth her hair, tried to pretend she wasn’t just thoroughly kissing a very famous, very attractive quarterback on her kitchen counter.

As Taehyung popped into view, Y/N forced a bright, shaky smile. But inside, a thousand thoughts danced and collided: He’s leaving soon, we barely know each other, what just happened, what does this mean, oh god oh god oh god.

She met Hoseok’s gaze one more time, and there was that spark again, a promise unspoken. Y/N swallowed hard, knowing her heart might never be the same.

After the kiss—that one kiss that had nearly knocked the air right out of Hoseok’s lungs—it was all he could think about. The memory of Y/N’s lips on his, the way she fit so perfectly against him, how the world had narrowed down to just the two of them… It was like stepping into a lightning storm and being thrilled instead of terrified. Now he was back in Denver, and it felt unreal. Had it been a dream? The more he replayed it, the more he wondered if she was slipping from tangible reality into wistful memory.

He hadn’t seen her since. Not once. He hadn’t even gotten her number—who did that in this day and age? It wasn’t until Monday, as he was sitting behind the wheel, driving back into the heart of Salida, that he realized how much was still unsaid. He’d told himself the HOA meeting was what drew him back, but deep down he knew better. He was here because of her, because he needed to know if that kiss had spun her world off its axis the way it had spun his.

Pulling into Ji-woo’s driveway, he couldn’t help but look straight across the street at the Kims’ house. Twinkling lights decorated the front yard in a way that seemed to laugh at the stuffy HOA rules. Arabella spotted him from the porch and let out a squeal that lit up her entire face—her delight so real and honest it warmed him from the inside out. Family was why he’d returned; he reminded himself of that. But even as he swept Arabella into a bear hug, laughing as she pointed excitedly at the lights, his mind drifted to another face entirely.

Ji-woo caught his eye, smirking just a little, like she knew exactly what was going on in that head of his. “She’s been waiting for you,” she said, voice light, but her tone held a deeper note—an understanding, maybe even approval.

Arabella waved at the lights, riled up with holiday glee. “Uncle Hobi, lights!” she insisted, as if he hadn’t noticed them glowing in the twilight.

“That’s right, kiddo,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m gonna do my best to make sure they stay right where they are.” Arabella’s grin was like a stamp of approval all on its own. Still, his mind kept wandering, drifting across the street, wondering if Y/N was inside right now, maybe looking out the window, remembering their last encounter the way he did.

He tried to ground himself with small talk. “Did you catch the game yesterday?” he asked Arabella, fully aware of her likely answer.

“No ball!” she announced primly, wrinkling her nose like football was the lamest invention ever. Hoseok chuckled and set her down, just in time to see a familiar Kia pulling into the Kims’ driveway.

Y/N stepped out, looking effortlessly put together in grey slacks and a soft pink sweater, a black coat draped over her arm. She moved with a kind of quiet grace that made Hoseok’s heart skip. From the way she carried herself, to the gentle curve of her smile—he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hey, neighbors!” she called, voice ringing softly through the crisp air. “Ready for tonight?” There was that easy warmth to her tone, the slightest lift at the end like an invitation.

Hoseok tried for nonchalance, even as his pulse fluttered. “Looking forward to it,” he said, hoping he sounded as smooth as he was trying to be.

Her gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer than necessary. “If you want to come by beforehand, Tae’s making pizza, and I’ve got brownies.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her eyes flicked to him again, and the corner of her mouth curved in a secret smile that set off sparks under his skin.

Arabella squealed, clearly sold at the mere mention of brownies. Ji-woo laughed, holding her back. “I think she likes your idea,” she said, and Y/N answered with a light laugh of her own.

“Come whenever,” Y/N said, still looking at Hoseok. “Unless you have other plans?” There was a playful note in her voice, a gentle challenge. He swallowed, trying to find words, but Ji-woo jumped in first.

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Ji-woo said decisively, shooting him a look that said Don’t even think about backing out, buddy.

Y/N gave a small nod, that small smile still in place, before heading inside. Hoseok watched her go, his mind whirring with a hundred questions, a thousand hopes. He’d barely stepped foot back in town, and already they had dinner plans. He didn’t know what tonight would bring, but he was buzzing with anticipation—like he was on the field, seconds before the play that could change everything.

“Dinner with the Kims, huh?” Ji-woo teased, eyebrows raised, her voice sing-song with suggestion. Maxwell appeared out of nowhere, eyes big. “Did someone say brownies?”

Hoseok ruffled Maxwell’s hair absently. “And pizza,” he said, though he was only half-present. His thoughts were already across the street, trying to parse every smile, every lifted eyebrow Y/N had offered.

Inside the house, he could feel the warmth of family wrapping around him—but tonight, he wanted more than that. He wanted a moment alone with her. He needed to know if that night in the kitchen, their kiss full of promise and possibility, was just a beautiful blip… or the start of something bigger. Tonight, he might just find out.

Inside, Y/N felt like every one of her nerves had decided to start a chorus line on her spine. Holy hell—Hoseok was back in town, and he looked better than any memory could do justice. Her thoughts skittered around that kiss they’d shared once, the kiss that still had the power to make her heart pound whenever it popped into her head. She’d replayed it in her mind more times than she’d care to admit, always wondering if it had knocked him off-balance as much as it had rattled her. And now he was here, standing at her door again. If there was any fairness in the world, they’d get a second take on that unforgettable moment.

But first, there was her brother. Taehyung had a flair for throwing a wrench into her plans. “Tae!” she hollered up the stairs, trying not to sound frantic. “Get down here! Ji-woo, Hoseok, and the kids are on their way, and Joon’s coming, too!”

“Already in the kitchen, sis!” came his voice, and relief swam through her. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a chaos-fest after all.

She found him amid a pizza-making operation so elaborate it could’ve been a culinary art exhibit. Pizza crusts spread out like blank canvases, toppings arranged in tidy rows, Taehyung wielding an olive oil brush as if he were painting a masterpiece. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a casual shrug.

“I figured the kids could make their own pizzas,” he said, as if it were no big deal. “We can handle a few personal pies at once.”

Y/N stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You know, you can be really sweet, Tae,” she teased, going in to pinch his cheek. He dodged with a mock-flex of his bicep.

“And don’t forget good-looking,” he tossed back, striking a ridiculous pose that made her roll her eyes.

“Stop that,” Y/N said, stifling a laugh. “You’ll scare the kids.”

They laughed together, comfortable and teasing, until the doorbell rang. Y/N ran a quick hand through her hair, adjusted her bra strap, tried to look casual. For the kids, sure, but mostly for their uncle. She flicked on the Christmas tree lights and opened the door just in time to see Maxwell rocket inside, followed by Ji-woo wielding a giant salad bowl. And then, Hoseok. He entered with Arabella perched in his arms, the sight of him so effortlessly handsome that Y/N’s breath hitched. Seriously, how did he manage to look even better than the last time?

“Brought salad,” Ji-woo announced, smiling warmly.

“Perfect,” Y/N said, ushering them all in. “We’ll need something green to balance all the carbs.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Tae’s got a pizza station set up. The kids can go wild.”

Maxwell and Arabella shot off like tiny comets, squealing at the prospect of decorating their own pizzas. Arabella paused only to nod solemnly at Y/N’s Christmas tree, as if granting it royal approval, before joining her brother.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else—but then she felt a gentle tug on her hand. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Hoseok, standing much closer than expected. His eyes held a warm gleam, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice pitched for her ears only.

“Hi,” she managed, just before he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers—a light, quick kiss that somehow still rattled her bones. It was shy and bold all at once, and it made that memory of their first kiss crackle back to life, reminding her just how good they’d been together.

“You never gave me your number,” he teased, dark eyes dancing.

She feigned nonchalance. “You never asked,” she said, a playful lift in her brow.

“I’m asking now,” he grinned, extending his phone.

She typed her number carefully, trying to keep her fingers steady and her face neutral, then handed it back with a smile. “There, now you have it.”

Before Hoseok could respond, two solid knocks rattled the door. Namjoon stepped inside like a man on a mission, still in his captain’s uniform, scanning the room as if expecting to find mischief afoot.

“Kid, you’ve gotta start locking that door,” he scolded, but Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“It’s Salida, Dad. We’re fine.” She motioned everyone toward the kitchen. “Tae’s making pizza, come on.”

Namjoon’s gaze landed on Hoseok. “Good game, son,” he said, giving a respectful nod. “Pizza ready?”

“Tae’s on it,” Y/N answered, slipping away from Hoseok with a quick, secret smile. She noticed Hoseok’s eyes following her—like he was reluctant to let her out of his sight—and her heart stumbled a little.

Namjoon grunted appreciatively. “If architecture doesn’t pan out, that boy could open a pizzeria.”

Y/N snorted. “Sure, because working for one of the biggest developers in the West isn’t enough for him. He needs a pizza empire.”

As if summoned by his new entrepreneurial calling, Taehyung appeared with the kids, all wearing holiday aprons. Maxwell’s had snowmen, Arabella’s had Santas, and Taehyung’s proudly proclaimed ‘Got Mistletoe?’ Hoseok joined them, kneeling down to admire the toppings. The kitchen swelled with laughter and chatter as everyone piled their pizzas high.

Soon, Ji-woo’s salad was making rounds, and they hovered together, waiting for the pizzas to bake. The air smelled like yeast and tomato sauce and spices. Light bounced off shiny ornaments on the Christmas tree just beyond the kitchen doorway. It felt like the set of a warm holiday special, the kind you watched curled up under a blanket.

Jungkook and Blair arrived, drawn by the promise of good food and the evening’s impending drama at the HOA meeting. Blair was especially giddy, eyeing the brownies and pizza like party favors at a carnival. But Hoseok barely noticed them. He was watching Y/N, watching the way she laughed with her family, the way she moved around the kitchen so naturally, as if this place had a gravity all its own, pulling them all closer.

Namjoon snagged a brownie, chewing thoughtfully before turning to Y/N with a mock-serious glare. “I’m gonna need these at the station’s potluck,” he said, lips quirking into a grudging smile. “Yoongi will have my head if I don’t show up with something good.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Magic word?”

Namjoon made a show of pouting. “Pleease, Sissy?” He drew it out until Y/N burst into laughter. The sound rang bright and clear, filling the room with an easy, loving warmth.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, completely enchanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at home in a place that wasn’t really his home at all. The memory of their brief kiss hummed in his veins, a promise that maybe this moment, this feeling, didn’t have to be temporary. Maybe it could lead somewhere real.

As he sat there, watching Y/N tease her dad, saw Taehyung and Jungkook ganging up on Namjoon with good-humored glee, and caught Arabella’s serious nod of approval for every single topping choice… Hoseok realized something. He wasn’t just attracted to Y/N. He was drawn to the life around her, the family she was part of, the easy, genuine way she cared for the people in her orbit.

She looked back at him then, as if sensing his thoughts, and in that glance was everything: the memory of their kiss, the humor in their banter, and a hint of something else—something hopeful and warm and bright, like a candle flickering to life in the dark.

Hoseok turned as Taehyung nudged him, offering a fresh plate of brownies with a conspiratorial wink. He took one, smiling as he popped it into his mouth. Sure, there was a meeting later and a hundred unresolved questions. But right now, in this laughing, glowing kitchen, Hoseok could believe that he’d found something worth holding on to—and her name was Y/N.

At the HOA meeting that night, Tiffany and Rachel swept in like it was some Saturday night hotspot—clicking heels, sequined dresses catching the fluorescent lights in a way that felt more tragic than glamorous. Blair had to step outside to control her laughter, and when she came back, her shoulders still shook quietly. The rest of them huddled in folding chairs that squeaked when you leaned back too far, trying not to stare too openly at the spectacle.

Tiffany and Rachel took their seats at the front beside old Scott Watts Sr., who looked about eighty and seemed to be only halfway tuned in. His son, Scott Jr., hovered near him, trying not to look mortified.

“Meeting called to order,” Rachel said in a voice that aimed for regal and landed closer to nasal. She shot Y/N a look that implied the Christmas lights issue was basically a personal vendetta. She even angled a sultry glance at Hoseok, but it landed somewhere between a sneer and the face you make when you realize the milk’s gone sour.

From across the room, Y/N caught Blair’s eye, and they exchanged smirks. If nothing else, this evening would make for some hilarious after-party commentary.

“This is about the clear violation of HOA bylaws,” Rachel droned, lifting her chin, “concerning the Kims’ front yard décor.” She delivered the line like it was a grave sin worthy of excommunication.

“I’ll have the tea,” Scott Sr. mumbled, cutting across Rachel’s speech. People turned and looked at each other in confusion, while Tiffany’s eyes rolled so dramatically Y/N half-expected them to pop out.

Tiffany jumped in next, puffing herself up. “As you know,” she said, “we voted two years ago for strict decoration bylaws to preserve the tasteful image of our neighborhood.”

“Tiff?” Deiondre Park raised her hand from the front row, looking perfectly composed.

“We haven’t opened the floor to comments,” Tiffany snapped, like a principal scolding a rowdy class.

“I believe it’s a clarification, not a comment,” cut in Deiondre’s husband, Jimin, in that measured tone only a traffic judge could master. Tiffany flinched—probably recalling the time she’d tried flirting her way out of a ticket and failed spectacularly.

From the back, someone shouted, “Let her speak!” and murmurings of agreement swelled through the room. Hoseok slid his hand over Y/N’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A quiet sign: We’ve got this.

“Deiondre,” Rachel said with a huge, fake sigh, “go ahead.”

“I just don’t recall a vote,” Deiondre said, voice steady and confident. “Are there notes from that meeting? Because I’ve never seen them. Nor have I heard these rules mentioned before.”

Heads bobbed, a subtle wave of dissent rippling through the crowd.

“Told you it was shady,” Namjoon whispered to Y/N, crossing his arms. He looked like he was ready to slap metaphorical handcuffs on Tiffany and Rachel.

“I remember something about preferring white lights,” Tanya Hartley called from the back. “Rachel said it was standard for Avalanche properties.”

“Yeah,” Ford Fraserns chimed in, leaning forward with a daring gleam in his eyes. “And who put you two in charge, anyway?”

Rachel stiffened, her shoulders pulling back like a cat about to hiss. “We were voted in, along with Mr. Watts,” she said icily, as if that single sentence held all the authority in the world.

“Where’s that tea?” Scott Sr. mumbled again. This time, more people chuckled quietly. One of the old-timers, Adam Wagener, hollered, “Scotty, turn on your hearing aid!” and got a round of suppressed snorts for his trouble.

“What?” Scott shouted, fumbling with his earpiece. “Are we talking about Christmas lights now?”

“Yep,” Adam said, grinning wide. “And why you’re complaining.”

Scott Sr. threw up his hands. “I’m not! Those two—” he jerked a thumb at Tiffany and Rachel—“kept rattling on about colored lights being trashy. So I turned off my hearing aid. Figured I’d come back when they were done.” The crowd laughed outright now, and Y/N bit her lip to keep it together.

Tiffany flushed, doubling down. “We did have a vote! June 19th, 2022—about community beautification. White lights, no blow-ups.”

“And no gnomes,” Rachel chimed in, glaring at the Lawrences. “No need for entire gnome villages.”

“I’m still with Lee,” James Lawrence retorted. “Who put you two on the throne?”

“We were voted in for four-year terms,” Tiffany said with a smug little smirk. “Two years left.”

Hoseok leaned toward Y/N. “Clueless, isn’t she?” he murmured, amused.

“She lives in her own bubble,” Y/N whispered back, stifling a grin.

Before anyone could continue, Blair nudged Jungkook, and the two of them rose, moving to the front with a steady confidence that quieted the room. Hoseok glanced at Y/N, brows raised. Y/N just shook her head, excitement dancing in her eyes. She had no idea what they were about to do, but she knew it would be good.

Jungkook cleared his throat, his voice easily filling the room. “I’m Jungkook Jeon, and this is my wife Blair Reid-Jeon. Some of you remember me from when I lived in Salida.” A few heads nodded. “I’m also President and CEO of Avalanche Development.”

The entire room stilled. Tiffany and Rachel looked like they’d just realized their glittery dresses were inside out. Blair took over, her tone crisp. “When we built these communities, we wanted them family-friendly and fair. The basic HOA rules are standard. But any amendments—” she held up a binder “—are required to be provided to homeowners in writing.”

Jungkook scanned the crowd. “How many of you received notice of these amendments?” Only two hands went up—Rachel and Tiffany’s husbands. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

Jungkook continued calmly. “Since Tiffany and Rachel were elected, twenty-five amendments have been submitted here. Our other developments average six in the same period. That raised some questions.”

Blair nodded. “According to Avalanche policy, if we suspect a board is violating the original agreements, we can suspend that board pending an investigation. During suspension, all changes they enacted are null and void.”

A cheer erupted, applause rattling the folding chairs. Tiffany and Rachel looked as if their sequined dresses had turned into scratchy potato sacks. Their jaws tightened as if physically holding back protest.

Jungkook delivered the final blow, his voice carrying the ring of authority: “Until a new vote is held, Taehyung Kim will serve as the local representative for Avalanche Development.”

The crowd whooped. Taehyung waved, trying and failing to hide his pride. Rachel and Tiffany, thoroughly deflated, gathered their purses and their husbands and slunk out, heads low.

Y/N caught Hoseok’s eye, and he grinned wide. She felt light and triumphant, like something stuck in her throat had finally cleared. Tonight, they’d won back their Christmas lights, their freedom, and their dignity. And maybe, she thought, as Hoseok gave her hand another gentle, reassuring squeeze, they’d won something even sweeter than that.

Y/N leaned into Hoseok, her heart swelling with satisfaction. “I love it when justice is served.”

“Especially with a side of brownies,” Hoseok murmured, draping an arm around her and pulling her close.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Y/N turned to him with a grin. “Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” she laughed, eyes sparkling with victory. “I was hoping for a full-blown protest.”

Hoseok chuckled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s always next time.”

Jungkook joined them, his grin mischievous as always. “Blair’s dad and our legal team did some serious digging. A few calls to the homeowners confirmed our suspicions—no one knew about these ‘amendments.’ And Deiondre? She’s ready to lead the charge. Tiffany once tried to charm Jimin out of some speeding tickets, but Deiondre? She’s got a long memory and a grudge.”

“So, can we light up Ji-woo’s yard?” Hoseok asked, glancing at Jungkook with a glint of hope.

“Hell yes,” Namjoon said, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder. “We’ll surprise Ms. Ari with the lights first thing in the morning.”

“And we should get some for our yard, too,” Y/N added, nudging Taehyung with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Nothing like a little reminder that sneaky business doesn’t pay off.”

Hoseok’s grin widened as he looked at her. “Need a shopping partner?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Why, Mr. Jung, I’d be honored. Think you can handle Target?”

Hoseok winked, making her stomach flutter. “Target’s my secret addiction.”

Laughing, Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the car. “Let’s go before the others catch on!” she whispered with a grin, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. “Blair is fascinated by the fact that you can buy toilet paper and cute shoes at the same place!”

They were still laughing as they slid into his SUV. Y/N settled into the cozy warmth, inhaling the scent of him—something spicy and clean with a hint of leather. She could barely focus on anything but him.

“Music?” Hoseok asked as he started the car, giving her a curious look.

She nodded, wondering what he’d choose. When Sam Hunt’s Take Your Time started playing, she raised an eyebrow. “Country?” she teased, grinning.

Hoseok chuckled. “I like a bit of everything. Try not to judge.”

“Same,” Y/N agreed. “Taehyung always jokes that my playlists are the most chaotic thing about me.”

The drive was easy, filled with conversation—his move to Denver, her memories of growing up in Salida, Taehyung’s infamous cooking disaster. By the time they pulled into Target’s empty parking lot, it felt like only minutes had passed.

Inside, Y/N led the way to the Christmas section, fingers trailing over garlands and lights. She picked up a Frosty the Snowman blow-up, then a Grinch one, holding them up with a mischievous grin. “I’m thinking the Grinch right between Tiffany and Rachel’s houses.”

Hoseok laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart race. They wandered the aisles, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. At one point, Y/N broke into an off-key rendition of “Say You’ll Be There” by the Spice Girls, and Hoseok watched her, utterly captivated. Every little thing about her pulled him in, until he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to pull away.

“What do you think of these?” Y/N held up a box of large, multicolored retro lights, her eyes bright. “Thinking they’d look great in the windows.”

“They’re perfect,” Hoseok replied, holding up his own find—a large Rudolph blow-up. “Think Arabella will like this?”

“She’ll love it,” Y/N giggled, imagining the little girl’s delight. “She can put it right next to Santa.”

Just then, a young employee approached, wide-eyed as he recognized Hoseok. “Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung,” he whispered, starstruck.

Hoseok gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, Fraser. Could you keep it low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop.”

The phrase my girl sent a thrill through Y/N’s chest, even if she knew it was just a way to keep things quiet. Still, it felt nice. Really nice.

Fraser looked ecstatic. “No problem. My dad’s a huge fan—he’d never believe I met you.”

“FaceTime him,” Y/N suggested, smiling. She loved making people’s day; it was one of the many things Hoseok admired about her. A few minutes later, Fraser was video chatting with his dad, and Hoseok was chatting and laughing with them both like old friends. At checkout, Fraser even gave them his employee discount as a thank-you, and Y/N, ever the charmer, kissed his cheek, wishing him a happy holiday.

As they stashed their bags in the car, Hoseok reached for her hand again. The touch was electric, and she looked up at him, heart racing as his thumb brushed over her skin.

“So,” Hoseok teased, his voice soft, “should I be jealous of Fraser?”

Y/N laughed, her voice a little breathless. “Oh, please,” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile. And then, without thinking, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt—the spark between them igniting into a full, consuming blaze. His lips moved against hers with a heat that left her breathless, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. Every inch of her was alive, responding to him with a rush of want and need she couldn’t control.

Hoseok’s hands gripped her waist, pulling her onto his lap as the kiss deepened. The soft leather seats of the SUV faded away, the world outside disappearing as his mouth claimed hers. His fingers traced the curve of her back, sending delicious shivers down her spine, and Y/N couldn’t think of anything beyond the way he was making her feel.

When he finally pulled back, his breath warm against her skin, he whispered, his voice husky, “You taste so good.”

Her head spun, her heart pounding as she whispered back, “Oh God, Hoseok…”

He groaned, hands tightening on her waist, but managed to pull back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his voice thick with restraint. “We really need to go,” he muttered, his tone both regretful and amused. “Pretty sure this parking lot isn’t the best place for this.”

“There’s a Motel 6 about ten minutes away,” Y/N teased, a wicked grin on her lips as she nibbled his lower lip.

Hoseok chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes, but there was a seriousness in his voice that sent a flutter through her heart. “Baby, our first time isn’t gonna be in some motel.”

“Damn,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him one last time, slower this time, savoring the taste of him before reluctantly slipping back into her seat. He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead, and even as they sat there in the warm silence, she knew this was far from over. Her body hummed with anticipation, her mind spinning with possibilities. And as Hoseok started the engine, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. One thing was certain—neither of them wanted this night to end.

That weekend, Hoseok had an away game, so he left early Tuesday morning to head back to Denver. But even a hundred miles couldn’t dull the connection between them. The distance didn’t stop them from staying in constant contact, texting, talking, and FaceTiming every chance they got, like their conversations were the only thing holding them together. The weekend flew by in a whirlwind of Broncos’ victory, securing their playoff spot and a first-round bye.

On Monday night, Hoseok’s voice filled her phone with a warmth that made her heart flutter. “Come to Denver for the weekend,” he suggested during their FaceTime call, his tone casual but carrying an unmistakable spark of anticipation. He turned his camera around to show off his sleek, modern condo with city lights twinkling behind the windows. “Stay with me. I’ll even cook my famous tacos.”

“Famous tacos?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her couch with a half-smile, trying to play it cool despite the excitement bubbling in her chest.

“Yep,” Hoseok grinned, amused by her skepticism. “You know the drill: open the yellow box, brown the meat, stir in the seasoning packet, chop some toppings—boom, gourmet masterpiece.” He delivered his ‘recipe’ with mock seriousness, his playful eyes crinkling at the corners.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t you think we should go on an actual date before I spend a weekend at your place, eating your so-called ‘famous tacos’?”

Hoseok’s grin widened. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he said, drawing out her name like it was a melody, teasing her as he leaned closer to the camera, “We’ve already been on plenty of dates. Let’s recap, shall we? First, there was the Christmas party where you dressed as an elf for me. By the way, if you still have that costume, feel free to bring it.” He gave a sly wink that made her cheeks flush.

Y/N covered her face, laughing. “That doesn’t count as a date!”

“Oh, it absolutely counts,” he insisted, barely holding back his own laughter. “Then there was that very classy ‘date’ in your kitchen, where your legs were wrapped around my waist, and your tongue was down my throat—top second date ever.”

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, though her heart raced at the memory, her face heating up.

“We had a double date with your brother and my sister. Sure, Namjoon and the kids were there, but it totally counts,” he said, grinning. “And we went to a show together—the HOA meeting, which was nothing short of a Broadway production.”

Y/N could barely hold it together, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “So, those were all ‘dates,’ huh?”

“Absolutely,” Hoseok replied, his expression still playful. “And, in some cultures, with how often your tongue’s been in my mouth, we’re practically engaged.”

“Wait, we jumped from dates to being engaged?” she teased, rolling her eyes, though her heart skipped at the word engaged.

“In some cultures,” he replied smoothly, his grin softening. “Which clearly means it’s not too soon for you to come spend the weekend with me—your potential future husband.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a flicker of nerves and excitement. Potential future husband. The words echoed in her mind, both ridiculous and somehow incredibly sweet. Her heart fluttered, and before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, “Oh hell, Hoseok, who am I to argue with that?”

They ended the call with playful promises, but as she set her phone down, she realized she was pacing her living room, mind whirling with the decision she’d just made. She was going to spend the weekend with Hoseok. At his place.

Was he serious about the ‘practically engaged’ part? She had no idea, but all she could think about was the “naked fun times” he’d hinted at. Her pulse quickened, her skin heating at the memory of their kiss—the way he had touched her, the way she had wanted him.

“Why are you pacing?” Taehyung’s voice broke through her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Just… exercising. Gotta get my steps in,” she lied quickly, definitely not ready to admit the truth—especially not about the “naked fun times.”

Taehyung squinted, clearly unconvinced, but let it go. “Any plans tonight? I thought we could watch Christmas Vacation or something.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She’d have to tell him eventually, and maybe sooner was better. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the news as casually as she could. “Actually… I’ll be in Denver this weekend. Hoseok invited me to stay at his place.”

Taehyung’s face lit up with a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling. “Well, well, looks like things are getting serious. Sure you don’t want to stay at my place instead? Save on hotel costs?”

"You mean Jungkook and Blair’s pool house?” Y/N shot back, smirking because she knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s the Tae Cave, don’t you forget it.” Taehyung laughed, and before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing, carrying her toward the front door.

“Put me down, you idiot!” she shrieked, smacking his back while he stumbled onto the lawn.

Taehyung only grinned, unbothered by her protests. “Ji-woo! Y/N agreed to watch the kids tonight!”

From across the lawn, Ji-woo glanced over, giving them both a knowing smile as she tossed a ball to her kids. “Do boys ever grow up?” she asked, her voice full of teasing.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “Nope. They’re all Peter Pans at heart.”

Fifteen minutes later, Y/N was back inside, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement as she texted Blair.

Y/N: I’m spending the weekend at Hoseok’s place.

Blair: Girl, you better tap that ass!

Y/N: Well… I think I will.

Blair’s response came back instantly, her enthusiasm practically leaping off the screen.

Blair: YES, finally! Go get it, girl! He’s so into you—I can feel it from here!

Y/N set her phone down, her lips curling into a grin that reached her eyes. The weekend stretched out before her like an open road, brimming with possibilities she hadn’t even dared to dream about. But even as she tried to play it cool, there was a nagging question in the back of her mind: What did this mean for them? Was this just a fun weekend fling, or was the connection between her and Hoseok something deeper?

Meanwhile, Hoseok felt like everything was clicking into place. His coach was over the moon about their playoff win, and on the field, he was playing with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. He could already picture that Super Bowl ring on his finger and the pride shining in Namjoon’s eyes. But there was one hurdle he hadn’t quite cleared—dating Namjoon’s little sister without landing on the wrong side of her brother’s protective instincts. If he could navigate that, the Super Bowl would feel like a stroll in the park.

As for the weekend ahead? Hoseok had a different kind of goal in mind—a personal mission that had nothing to do with football.

The doorman buzzed, signaling his guest’s arrival. Hoseok did a quick sweep of the apartment, making sure everything was in order. Steaks rested on the counter, sweet potatoes were warming in the oven, and a bottle of wine sat ready in case Y/N needed a break from her usual whiskey. A bouquet of red and white flowers added a touch of cozy, holiday cheer—perfect for the night they’d come together to reclaim their Christmas spirit.

Just as the elevator dinged, Hoseok rushed to the door and caught sight of Y/N stepping out. She looked a bit stunned but as beautiful as ever, cheeks flushed from the cold and bundled up in her winter coat.

“You made it,” he grinned, stepping forward to pull her into a hug. Her familiar warmth enveloped him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Blair dropped me off,” she murmured into his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck. “She had to pick up some paperwork. Apparently, they found proof that Rachel was skimming HOA funds—billing for stuff and pocketing the money. They’re pressing charges. Tiffany was just following her lead, but there’s no evidence she took any of it.” She sighed, pulling back to look him in the eye. “And we stopped by Joon’s place so I could grab my suitcase. But he used it last for that cruise, so I had to get it from him. The cruiser was there, but no one answered the door, and I got worried. He’s not exactly young anymore, and his cholesterol isn’t great…”

Hoseok felt a pang of concern tighten his chest. Gently, he guided her inside, leading her to the living room as he closed the door behind them.

“Is Namjoon okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice flat as she replied, “My brother was having sex with Teagan Carter.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. “Former Broncos cheerleader Teagan Carter. Blair and I walked in on him… in full doggy style… on the kitchen table where I ate breakfast every day growing up.” Her tone was so deadpan, so matter-of-fact, that Hoseok had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

He’d seen his parents through enough awkward moments to know the trauma, but the image of rule-following Namjoon caught in such an act almost broke his composure. Still, Y/N looked genuinely shaken, so he swallowed his amusement. He wasn’t about to let anything ruin their night.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, pulling her close and guiding her to the big, squishy sectional in his living room. “Sounds like you could use a strong whiskey.”

He sat her down, brushing a stray hair from her face before heading to the bar. Pouring her a couple of fingers, he handed her the glass, watching as she downed it in one gulp before holding it out for more. He poured a second, and this time, she sipped more slowly.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she said, her voice steadier as she glanced over at the festive bouquet. “And the whiskey.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, feeling a warmth spread through him as he watched her start to relax. “How about we eat in here tonight? I’ve got steaks, sweet potatoes, and creamed southwestern-style corn. We can just sit on the couch, watch something, take it easy. No table, no formality.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, looking around the room with a small smile, her shoulders finally losing some tension.

“Wait… no Christmas tree?” she teased, glancing back at him with a playful pout.

Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had one, but I forgot to water it, and it pretty much died. Total fire hazard, so I got rid of it.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “What would Arabella say?”

“Oh, she’d fire me on the spot,” he replied with mock horror. “But don’t worry—we’ll go to a Christmas store tomorrow and get a replacement. We’ll decorate it together before my niece disowns me for holiday negligence.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and he felt the last bit of tension melt away from her body. They ate quickly, the food delicious but secondary to the easy flow of conversation between them. White Christmas played softly in the background, and as Y/N fed him small bites of steak, the air grew charged. Their playful touches lingered, her hand resting on his thigh a little longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against her shoulder as they exchanged knowing glances.

By the time dinner was over, Hoseok felt the pull between them, the simmering desire they both seemed to be tiptoeing around. He’d been trying to take things slow, but it was getting harder to ignore how her body leaned into his, how her eyes traced his mouth like a path she wanted to follow.

“I’m just gonna use the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing up with a soft smile before disappearing down the hall.

Hoseok took the chance to brush his teeth, trying to steady himself, but it all felt oddly… domestic. Sharing a meal, cleaning up, brushing their teeth in the same space like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time, it hit him just how right it felt to have her here, in his home. He didn’t know where this was going, but he was sure of one thing: he didn’t want to lose whatever this was.

“Hoseok?” Her voice floated softly down the hall, pulling him from his thoughts. He stepped out of the bathroom to find her standing there, looking at him with a warmth in her eyes that made his chest tighten.

“Sorry, I needed to brush mine too,” he said with a small smile, gesturing behind him toward the bathroom. His heart skipped as she stepped further into his room, her eyes widening as they took in the sight of his massive California king bed.

“That bed is huge!” she exclaimed, her surprise turning into a smile, a playful curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“I’m a big guy. I like lots of room,” he teased, winking in that effortless way that always made her pulse race.

She giggled, but before she could respond, he moved toward her, scooping her up into his arms. She shrieked in laughter, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling herself close as her body curled against his.

“Hoseok!” she giggled, her laughter filling the room like music. “What are you doing?”

“Testing out how much room we have,” he quipped, grinning as he carried her toward the bed. He carefully set her down on the soft mattress, her head sinking into the pillow as she giggled, squirming under his playful attack. The sheets were crisp and cool beneath her, and she looked up at him with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“Oh, so this is your big plan? Throw me onto your bed and… what? Have a pillow fight?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Not quite,” Hoseok replied, his grin softening as he settled beside her, keeping a little space between them. Propping his head on his arm, he looked at her, his playful expression turning more tender, more serious. “I thought maybe we could just… talk for a bit.”

Her expression shifted, the laughter in her eyes melting into something warmer. “Talk, huh?” she murmured, her voice softening as she turned to face him, the space between them feeling both wide and intimate all at once.

He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. “Yeah… I want to get to know you more,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Like… what makes you happy. What you dream about. Stuff like that.”

Her heart melted at his words, and she shifted closer, turning onto her side so that they were face to face, sharing the same pillow. Her fingers traced small circles on the sheet between them, her mind racing with thoughts of how rare it was for someone to want to know her in this way.

“Well,” she began, her voice a little shy but honest, “I’m happiest when I’m with the people I care about—my family, my friends. I love little moments, like baking cookies with Tae or playing board games with my students.” She paused, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. “And… I’ve always dreamed of traveling. I want to see places I’ve only read about. Paris, Rome… maybe even Tokyo.”

“Tokyo, huh?” His eyes lit up as he listened, his hand moving to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ve been there a few times for games. You’d love it. The city is electric, so full of life. It’s one of those places where you feel like anything’s possible.”

She smiled at the thought, her heart swelling with how easy it was to imagine herself in a place like that—especially with Hoseok by her side.

“What about you?” she asked, curiosity sparking as she looked at him. “What makes you happy?”

His gaze softened, something tender flashing in his eyes. “Honestly?” he began, his voice quiet. “Moments like this. Where everything feels… simple. No pressure, no expectations. Just… being with someone who gets me.” His thumb brushed along her cheek, and he hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. “And you make me happy. Just being around you.”

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the way his words wrapped around her, filling the quiet space between them. His hand lingered on her cheek, his touch warm, and she leaned into it, savoring the moment, the connection.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them wrapped up in the quiet intimacy. She could feel her heart pounding, the tension between them building with each passing second.

Then, without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, pulling him closer until the space between them disappeared. Their bodies pressed together, the warmth of him surrounding her like a soft blanket.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her gaze lingered on his lips, her own just inches from his. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Hoseok’s eyes darkened, his breath escaping in a soft exhale as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between.

The kiss that followed was slow at first, deliberate. They savored every second, every gentle brush of their lips, as if the world had paused to let them catch their breath. The tenderness lingered—a kiss that drew them deeper, as though nothing else existed beyond that connection. But tenderness has a way of unraveling, and soon desire took over.

Hoseok’s hand slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as if he could meld them together. Y/N’s hands pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. It wasn’t just his heart racing—hers was too. Something raw and wild had ignited between them, like an engine roaring to life, and it was growing.

He shifted, flipping them effortlessly until she was straddling him, their bodies pressing together like they had always belonged this way, like there was never supposed to be any space between them. His hands roamed up her back, fingers sliding beneath her shirt, and Y/N arched into his touch, every nerve in her body coming alive.

She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this—no, needed this. All the tension, the constant teasing, the slow build—it all came rushing to the surface now, and she couldn’t get enough of him. His lips met hers again, but there was nothing soft about it this time. It was desperate, all-consuming. A firestorm. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and Y/N matched his intensity, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling every inch of him beneath his shirt.

Hoseok moved again, laying her back against the bed, positioning himself beside her, his arm holding him up as he gazed down at her. Their legs tangled, and she could feel the warmth of him, the electricity that sparked between them. His hand traced a slow line up her arm, and she instinctively moved closer, pressing her face against his chest, feeling the cool fabric of his shirt against her cheek.

Hoseok’s breath was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something intense beneath the surface. He looked down at her, his eyes soft, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing it tenderly before leaning in to kiss her again. But this time, there was no hesitation. His lips claimed hers with a kind of certainty that sent a jolt through her entire being. This was Hoseok—her Hoseok. The realization wrapped around her heart, pulling her in even deeper.

Her fingers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss growing more passionate with each passing second. Every time their lips parted, they found each other again, more intense, more insistent. Y/N’s breath quickened, her pulse racing, her entire world narrowing down to the feel of him—his scent, his warmth, the way his hands moved over her, like he was never going to let her go.

This is Hoseok, her mind whispered, Hoseok holding me, kissing me... Heat pooled low in her belly, her body responding with an urgency that took her breath away. She was hot and aching, and all she could think about was how much she wanted him—how much she needed him.

But then, something shifted inside her. She found herself pulling back, her mind slipping out of the moment. Her lips stilled, and she buried her face against his chest, her breath catching as she tried to steady herself. Hoseok didn’t let go. He kept his arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, his chin resting gently on the top of her head. For a while, they just lay there, breathing together as the soft patter of rain against the window filled the quiet room.

Hoseok pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a moment. Y/N tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes held a question, one he didn’t need to voice. Do you trust me?

“Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping her before she even realized it. She leaned up, kissing him again, slowly at first, before rolling with him until he was fully over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. The kiss deepened, turning passionate, their lips moving together in a heated rhythm that made her breath hitch.

Hoseok’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck, soft at first, then more demanding as he reached the curve of her throat. His mouth opened, teeth grazing her skin before biting down gently, and Y/N gasped, her body arching beneath him. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands tangling in his hair.

His hands moved with purpose, tracing the curves of her waist, sliding up to cup her breast through her shirt. Y/N’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her body responding to every kiss, every touch. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a delicious thrill through her, and she moaned, her fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Hoseok,” she breathed, her voice thick with longing.

He didn’t stop, his lips moving lower, kissing along her collarbone, down to her stomach as he pushed her shirt up, revealing more of her skin with each kiss. Y/N’s heart pounded, her mind spinning as his touch ignited every inch of her. The air between them buzzed, electric, and all she could think was how much she needed him—how much she wanted him.

And when his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, finding her warm and wet, Y/N’s mind went blank. Her world narrowed down to the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure as his fingers moved over her, teasing, exploring, drawing her higher and higher.

Her breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her hands fisting the sheets as she lost herself to the storm of desire he’d stirred in her. She couldn’t think—only feel, as Hoseok took her further, his mouth and hands working in perfect sync to unravel her completely.

Hoseok’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her, on the way she responded to his touch. His mouth found her neck, lips warm and insistent, kissing and nipping in a way that bordered on torturous. Each kiss was like a spark, igniting something deep inside her, making her legs tremble.

She felt herself teetering on the edge, her body trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. Hoseok’s mouth moved with purpose, and then, with a final flick of his tongue, Y/N’s world shattered. Her body convulsed, pleasure rippling through her in waves, and she cried out, her mind blank, her entire being consumed by the sensation.

“Hoseok!” she screamed, her voice raw, as she came apart beneath him.

The aftershocks left her body trembling, her breath uneven, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally opened her eyes, Hoseok was still there, his lips leaving gentle kisses as if savoring every last bit of her. She reached down, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

“Hoseok…” she whispered, her voice weak, and he looked up, his eyes meeting hers, dark and filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

He moved up, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss, his hand still on her, his fingers stroking her gently. She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath him, the warmth of him filling her.

“No rest?” she murmured against his lips, her voice thick with exhaustion and desire.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes softening. “We’re slowing down,” he promised, his voice a husky whisper. There was something in the way he said it—an intimacy, a reassurance—that made her heart swell. It was a promise, but it was also a temptation, one she wasn’t sure she could resist.

She kissed him again, her lips seeking his in a slow, sensual dance. Hoseok’s fingers continued their gentle exploration, his touch grounding her, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. She didn’t know where this was going, what would happen next, but right now—right here in his arms—it felt like everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

Her hands moved down, brushing against the undone buckle of his belt, her fingers slipping inside and finding him hard, throbbing with anticipation. Wrapping her hand around him, she began to stroke, her movements deliberate, matching the slow, sensual rhythm of his fingers as he moved against her. She could feel him growing even harder beneath her touch, the heat between them building with every second.

Hoseok stilled, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. Together, they moved in a slow, building rhythm, heat flooding through her all over again, setting every inch of her on fire.

And then his pace slowed, the movement growing almost imperceptibly gradual. Y/N opened her eyes, questioning, as Hoseok shifted beneath her. His arm slid under her back with a fluid grace, holding her close as he gave one last deliberate thrust. Then, without a word, he carefully rolled them both until she was on top, straddling him, her legs trembling as she adjusted to the new position.

Y/N hovered above him, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as she lay against his chest. She could feel the tip of him brushing against her, an aching reminder of how full he had made her feel just moments before. Lifting her gaze, her eyes met Hoseok's, and for a moment, they were simply lost in each other. There was an unspoken understanding, a silent agreement forged from shared intensity and want.

It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only this—the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, the rhythmic pulse of their bodies.

Y/N took a deep breath, pushing herself upright, her hands bracing against his chest. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, achingly slow, until she could feel every inch of him stretching her, filling her completely. A groan escaped her lips, her eyelids fluttering shut as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. She stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of him inside her, the way their bodies seemed to mold together perfectly, the way her skin burned from the intimate contact.

Hoseok's hands rested on her hips, his fingers tracing the soft skin there in slow, gentle strokes, guiding without forcing. "Y/N, move with me," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet kind of intensity.

She nodded, her lips parting as she exhaled shakily. She lifted herself just a little before sliding back down, the friction sending a wave of warmth through her, radiating from where they were joined and traveling through her entire body.

"A little more," Hoseok instructed, his voice a low hum, his hands on her hips gently guiding her. She complied, shifting her position until she felt the angle change, the pressure heightening. "Now tilt forward," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She did, and when she lifted herself again, the movement sent shockwaves through her, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. She gasped, her thighs shaking as she sank back down, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Again, Y/N," Hoseok urged, his voice rough with need now, his hands steady on her hips, encouraging but never controlling.

She lifted herself again, her pace picking up, her breath catching in her throat as the friction intensified. Each time she came down onto him, it hit just right, the pressure building inside her like a storm about to break.

"Hoseok," she moaned, her voice raw, her movements becoming more desperate. "I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hands tightening just enough to guide her, to keep her steady. "I'm here. You can."

His words were like fuel to the fire burning inside her, and Y/N couldn't stop now. She couldn't hold back, couldn't control the way her body moved, the rhythm growing faster, more frantic. Hoseok's hips met hers with every movement, the sensation driving her closer to the edge.

"Hoseok," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure grew overwhelming. "I don't know—"

"You can," he repeated, his voice filled with heat but also with a steadiness that anchored her. "I'm right here with you. Take me."

And she did. Y/N let herself go, the rhythm spiraling faster, the friction building to an unbearable peak. She focused on the way it felt—the way his body moved beneath hers, filling her again and again, the way their connection sparked like a live wire. Her cries grew louder, mingling with Hoseok's deep, guttural moans, his name falling from her lips like a desperate prayer as she gave herself over completely to the raw, consuming pleasure.

The pressure inside her finally burst, sending her over the edge, her body convulsing with each wave of release. She collapsed onto Hoseok, her face pressing into the crook of his neck, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.

Hoseok held her close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back, his lips pressing soft kisses to her hair as her body trembled against him. Slowly, gently, he shifted them, rolling onto their sides so she was cradled against him, her legs still tangled with his.

Y/N felt exhaustion wash over her, her eyes heavy, her mind hazy with the aftershocks of what had just happened. She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat—something tender, something achingly real.

Hoseok leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, "You're beautiful, Y/N."

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite put into words. And as sleep began to pull her under, the last thing she felt was Hoseok's heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and comforting, lulling her into the quiet darkness.

Hoseok and Y/N found themselves wandering the brightly lit aisles of a 24-hour Christmas shop at two in the morning, after indulging in a couple more rounds of "naked fun time" and catching a nap. Now, they were doing something a little more wholesome—shopping for a Christmas tree. The soft glow of twinkling lights and the faint hum of Christmas music set the mood, but the intimacy between them lingered, electric and unmistakable.

"What did I tell you about shoving that tongue of yours in my mouth, baby?" Hoseok teased, his hand wrapped warmly around hers as they strolled side by side. His voice was playful, but the undercurrent of attraction that simmered between them hadn’t dissipated from earlier.

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, feigning innocence as she inspected an eight-foot artificial tree in front of her. It was lush, full, and pre-lit—perfect for his apartment. But the price tag gave her pause. "Hoseok, we’re in public. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile," she replied, her lips quirking into a smirk. "I’m not going to shove my tongue down your throat, no matter how hot you look right now."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart skip a beat. "It’s two in the morning," he countered, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. "The only people here are two cashiers who aren’t paying attention, and that guy over there who looks like he’s about to have a mental breakdown over the stocking selection."

Y/N slapped his hand playfully as it ventured toward her butt, but couldn’t help laughing herself. Hoseok always had a way of making everything fun. "Behave," she teased, trying to regain some control. "Let’s just get the tree and grab something to eat. If you’re a good boy," she added, her voice dropping suggestively, "maybe I’ll reward you when we get back to your place. But right now, my kitty is a little sore."

Immediately, the playful grin on Hoseok’s face softened into concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes darting down to her lower half as if he could somehow diagnose her pain through her clothes.

Y/N giggled, touched by his genuine worry. "I’m fine," she assured him, brushing a hand over his chest. "I just need a little break before that big boy of yours comes back to play."

Relief washed over his features, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. "Then let’s get this tree," he said, his voice back to its playful cadence as he grabbed the massive $400 pre-lit tree without hesitation and dropped it into their cart. Y/N’s eyes widened at the ease with which he tossed the tree around like it weighed nothing. She reminded herself that Hoseok’s salary as a professional quarterback meant this was pocket change to him.

They continued through the store, picking out ornaments, stockings, and other holiday decorations to transform Hoseok’s apartment into a Christmas wonderland. As they turned down another aisle, Hoseok spotted a giant blow-up Rudolph tucked away in a corner, probably set aside by another shopper. But Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the blow-up with a triumphant grin.

"Think Arabella will like this?" he asked, holding it up for Y/N’s inspection.

"She’s going to love it!" Y/N squealed, doing a little happy dance in the aisle. "It’ll look perfect next to her Santa."

They made their way toward the checkout, their cart brimming with holiday cheer. Just as they approached the register, a young employee walked up to them, his eyes wide with disbelief as he recognized Hoseok.

"Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung," the kid—Fraser—breathed, looking like he was about to faint from excitement.

Hoseok smiled warmly, always gracious with fans. "Hey, Fraser," he greeted. "Can we keep this low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop without causing a scene."

Fraser nodded eagerly, his awe palpable. "No problem, man. But my dad is a huge fan—he’s never going to believe I met you."

Without missing a beat, Y/N stepped in with a solution. "Why don’t you FaceTime him? Hoseok can say hi. Consider it an early Christmas present."

Fraser’s face lit up, and a moment later, he was dialing his dad on video. Hoseok chatted with the man for a few minutes, making his night, while Y/N watched with a smile, admiring how effortlessly charming he was with everyone. By the time they left the store, Fraser had applied his employee discount, and they left with their cartful of holiday magic.

Back at Hoseok’s sleek, modern apartment, they set up the tree and decorated it with the ornaments they had bought. The space soon took on a warm, festive glow as they adorned every inch with twinkling lights and garland. Y/N was sore, her body reminding her of their earlier escapades, so she popped a couple of Advil and leaned into the cozy domesticity of the moment. They scrambled eggs and made toast in the kitchen afterward, sharing quiet, comfortable laughter while Hoseok, in nothing but sweatpants, danced around the room like a man without a care in the world.

After their impromptu breakfast, they decided to take a long soak in Hoseok’s luxurious jetted tub. The hot water soothed Y/N’s aching muscles, and she leaned back, watching the steam rise as she sipped a glass of wine. Hoseok was beside her, his arm resting casually along the edge of the tub, and they talked quietly, the sound of the water bubbling around them.

"This bathroom is a whole spa," Y/N sighed contentedly. "I could live here."

"Good," Hoseok teased, "because you’re not allowed to leave."

They shared a soft laugh before falling into a companionable silence, the kind that comes when two people are perfectly in sync. Y/N closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the water and the presence of the man beside her. She hadn’t realized how deeply she was falling for him, but it was moments like these—simple, quiet, intimate—that made her heart swell.

Later, feeling completely relaxed and refreshed, Y/N found herself back in Hoseok’s bedroom. She playfully pushed him onto the bed, his towel falling away as she crawled over him. The night had been a blur of laughter, shared glances, and stolen kisses, but now there was a different energy between them—one that simmered with anticipation. She kissed him deeply, her hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

Hoseok’s hands found their way to her hips, gripping her gently as she straddled him, her body moving in perfect sync with his. They had started the night in celebration, but as their lips met again and again, it became clear that they weren’t quite finished celebrating. Their connection deepened, and before long, Y/N had lost count of the number of times Hoseok had brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

As they lay tangled in the sheets afterward, Y/N rested her head on Hoseok’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this content, this safe, this utterly fulfilled. She glanced up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at her with a smile that was equal parts satisfaction and affection.

"Do you think Arabella will notice if we sleep all day tomorrow?" Y/N whispered with a playful grin.

Hoseok laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. "I think she’ll notice, but maybe I can bribe her with that giant Rudolph."

Y/N giggled, snuggling closer to him. "Best bribe ever."

They drifted off to sleep, the glow of the Christmas tree casting a soft light over the room, the warmth of their shared moments wrapping around them like a blanket.

Christmas morning dawned with a soft blanket of snow covering the streets, casting everything in a serene, white glow. Y/N pulled on her favorite holiday pajamas—flannel with tiny reindeer printed all over them—and headed downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Hoseok was already up, standing by the stove, looking impossibly handsome even in the early morning light. He wore a red sweater with a goofy snowman on it, his hair still a bit tousled from sleep.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he greeted her, his voice warm and affectionate as he turned away from the stove to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Merry Christmas," Y/N murmured, leaning into him for a moment before glancing at the counter, where several plates of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs were laid out. "You made all this?"

"I figured I’d spoil you a little this morning," Hoseok said with a grin, flipping a pancake effortlessly in the air. "But don’t get used to it—this is a special occasion."

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as he cooked. She loved moments like this, where everything felt simple and perfect. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

After breakfast, they exchanged their first Christmas presents together. Y/N, trying not to look too giddy, handed Hoseok a neatly wrapped box. He eyed it curiously before tearing off the paper to reveal a chunky knit sweater, soft and charcoal gray.

"I noticed you didn’t have any sweaters that weren’t Christmas-themed," Y/N teased, watching his expression as he held the sweater up for inspection. "Figured you needed one for, you know, normal winter days."

Hoseok grinned, running his fingers over the fabric. "I love it," he said, immediately pulling it over his head, the sweater fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculously good, as usual," Y/N said, laughing as he struck a pose, exaggerating his movements like a runway model. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied, leaning in to kiss her softly. Then, with a mischievous smile, he handed her a wrapped box of his own. "Your turn."

Y/N unwrapped it carefully, the paper revealing a set of beautifully arranged classroom supplies—new whiteboards, markers, and a sleek, high-quality planner. She looked up at Hoseok, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gift. "You… you remembered I needed these?"

"Of course I did," Hoseok said, his smile softening. "You mentioned it once, a few weeks ago, about how some of your supplies were old or worn out. I figured your students deserve the best, and so do you."

Y/N felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. It was such a small thing, but the fact that he’d remembered and gone out of his way to get her something so practical, something that would make her job easier, made her feel incredibly loved. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Hey, I just want to make sure you’re ready to shape young minds," Hoseok teased, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

By mid-morning, they were bundled up and heading over to Ji-woo’s house for the family Christmas party. Hoseok carried a bag full of presents for his niece and nephew while Y/N held a tray of cookies she’d baked the night before.

Ji-woo’s house was buzzing with life when they arrived. The sound of children laughing, holiday music playing, and the smell of roasting turkey greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. Arabella came running up to Hoseok, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Uncle Hobi!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his waist. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Arabella," Hoseok said, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled. "I’ve got a surprise for you!"

Arabella’s eyes widened with excitement as Hoseok set her down and pulled out the giant inflatable Rudolph from the bag. Her squeals of delight filled the room as she hugged the blow-up reindeer tightly.

"I knew it! I knew you’d bring Rudolph!" she beamed, her joy infectious.

In the living room, Ji-woo was busy setting up the table, her smile bright and welcoming. "Merry Christmas, you two!" she called out, walking over to hug them both. "You’re just in time. Maxwell’s been asking when Uncle Hobi’s going to get here so he can open his gifts."

"And I brought something extra this year," Y/N said with a grin, handing over the tray of cookies. "Hope the kids like them."

"I’m sure they will," Ji-woo laughed, taking the cookies and placing them on the table beside an array of other desserts.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of laughter, food, and family. Taehyung and Jungkook arrived soon after, arms full of more gifts and treats. Namjoon showed up in his full police uniform, fresh from his morning shift, with his usual calm smile and a bag of baked goods he claimed were homemade (but Y/N knew they were store-bought).

After opening presents, everyone settled around the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate while Maxwell and Arabella played with their new toys. Y/N sat beside Hoseok on the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder, feeling completely content. The warmth of the fire, the sound of everyone laughing and talking, the smell of pine from the Christmas tree—it was everything she could’ve asked for.

Hoseok wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "This is nice," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N murmured, closing her eyes and letting the moment wash over her.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the simplicity of the holiday, surrounded by the people they cared about most. And as the snow continued to fall softly outside, Y/N couldn’t help but think that this was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like—full of love, laughter, and the quiet moments that made everything else seem perfect.

As the day wound down, and the fire began to flicker low, Hoseok leaned over and kissed Y/N’s temple, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being here with me."

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest like a warm blanket. "I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

114 notes · View notes

weirdworldofwinnie · 19 days ago

Text

All Tied Up

The Wizard/Oscar Diggs x female reader (NSFW 18+ only oneshot)

Summary: You've been The Wizard's pet 'plaything' more or less for a while now after ending up in the land of Oz by accident. One night he decides to try a new trick in the bedroom.

Warnings: unprotected sex, age gap (much older man/younger woman), power imbalance dynamic, slight daddy kink, nonconsensual mildish bondage, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment, drinking, drugging

Word Count: ~6,471

A/N: Ever since watching Wicked when it debuted in theaters, I cannot get over Jeff Goldblum as the absolute sexiest Wizard of Oz and so this was born out of a little self-indulgence that I'm happy to share with others who are also down horrendously bad for this man. Takes place before the main climatic events of part one of the movie and obviously not entirely accurate to canon. Reader is AFAB for this (I might write another fic that is more gender neutral) and no use of Y/N in dialogue. Also, this is my first Oz fanfic, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty!

Oscar Diggs.

That isn't his full name of course; all he ever told you was that it was embarrassingly long and unnecessary. Here in the Emerald City though, he is just known as a godlike figurehead deemed The Wizard. The Great and Powerful Oz. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Oz the Great and Terrible. His Supreme Ozness. All that jazz.

You know now he is a farce, a carny drifted the wrong way west, a two-bit con man that you have no business screwing with. But you do not know the extent of his wickedness and besides, he is just too damn good at wooing and making your heart stutter triple its normal rate for you to dig deeper beyond your feelings. He has an inflated ego, sure, but he's fairly quite kind, at least to you.

You first remembered him when you were a small child visiting the traveling carnival at the state fair in Kansas. His warm olive complexion was complimented with a clean-shaven face and a head full of dark hair and he was so, so tall. He still is, but you have a different perspective now. Back then at your low vantage point, he was so up towards the sky that he might as well have been wearing stilts.

He'd crouched down to your level and displayed out a standard deck of playing cards, and exclaimed: "Pick a card, any card!"

You randomly (or thought so) plucked out the Jack of Hearts and he took it back and shuffled the deck with a flurry of motion, then fanned them back out. You didn't see your Jack among them, and you puckered, lower lip jutted out. His eyes went wide at that, and he feigned concern.

"Ohhh, no, where is it? Is it in here?" He dug frantically into the flap of his jacket to no avail, then the bottoms of his tap shoes.

"Hmm, I don't suppose it could've..." He yanked off his top hat to reveal the same card hidden under there.

You'd gasped, equal parts confused and delighted, and he looked relieved at the successful reaction.

"Here, keep it. I have a dozen of these decks. It's something to remember me by and show all your friends." He pressed the colorful illustrated card into your palm with a grin and your eyes had sparkled with wonder and enchantment.

Thinking back on it, you knew he'd probably done that trick with twenty other kids that day, it was just a ploy to make you feel special, like sure he'd picked you out of the crowd to gift that Jack of Hearts to. But that didn't stop you from hanging onto it as a prized keepsake and keeping that card tucked safely in your jewelry box.

Years passed and you grew up, temporarily forgetting about the nice funny carnival man and shoving it to the back of your mind to solely focus on your simple and hardworking life helping your folks manage the acres of farmland and homestead. One late spring day you were out feeding the flock of chickens when you noticed that off in the distance to the west, dark clouds had gathered into an angry mob, a swirling mass of foreboding. You squinted, dropping the sack of feed. That sure didn't look nothing like an ordinary twister...

A vicious wind blew up and you struggled to walk towards the house, your skirt whipping around like a flag in the pummeling gusts. Ma and Pa were in town with the farmhand picking up supplies, so you were all alone and having never been caught out in the middle of a storm that seemed out of the ordinary, you were terrified.

The tornado spun across the fields, churning up the pastures and few buildings and wooden fences in its wicked wake, until it was no more than a football field's length away. There was no time get to the safety of the cellar, there no time to save anything, and with a scream, you bolted into the barn because it was nearest and covered your head as you flattened to the floor. It occurred to you too late that you should've tied or hitched yourself to a post or something...

Within ten frantic beats of your heart, the monster twister was directly overhead, the roaring and gnashing of its raw power nightmarish. Before you knew it, the barn walls around you started to rip and shudder and then the twister had violently sucked you and what was left of the barn straight up into the air and you promptly blacked out, certain this was it.

********

To your immense surprise, when you regained consciousness some time later, you crawled out of the remaining rubble of the barn to have ended up in a strange colorful place where there were joyously curious multitudes of strangers - people that called themselves citizens of Munchkinland. You were certain you had hit your head on the way down and went bonkers, but somehow it was all very real.

After you had recovered from shock and explained your situation, they advised you to head to the imperial capital, named Emerald City, to plead your case to the ruler who resided there, referred to as The Wizard. A kindly older Munchkin couple lent you their horse and a basket of bread with a canteen of water for the journey. For miles you rode through the farmland and north through mountainous regions to what the Munchkins said was Gillikin Country, home to the Great Gillikin Railway. The train station was gleaming and shiny, and the judgmental and disgusted looks from boarding passengers and workers made you feel like a filthy stray dog. You tried your best to ignore them and strode straight up to the conductor taking tickets.

"Excuse me, sir? I need to get to the Emerald City."

He wrinkled his nose and held out a white gloved palm expectantly.

"Oh, but I haven't any money for a ticket; I lost everything from the freak storm that brought me here."

His thick bushy brows had furried together and he sniffed once.

"A storm, you say?"

"Yes, I ain't got a cent. I was told by the Munchkins to go see The Wizard for my troubles."

His eyebrows shot straight up into his high forehead, and he scoffed loudly. You started to turn away, dejected.

"Well, why didn't you say so? It's your lucky day, miss! Come aboard!" the conductor suddenly exclaimed joyfully, ushering you on.

"Only this once though. You'll go straight to Emerald City where our wonderful Wizard can sort you out."

You boarded and found a private seat by the window, instantly falling asleep as soon as the train sped off. You missed out on the wonderous views of rugged thick moody forests and bright fields of crimson poppies and only awoke when the train jolted to a halt. Once let off at the station, you took to exploring the overwhelming oasis that was the Emerald City. You'd never seen a big city before and certainly not one like this...

It wasn't hard to figure out signs of this mysterious Wizard and the most obvious was a huge statue planted in the center of the town square. With a loud gasp, you recognized the figure as the very carnival man you had met as a little girl all those years ago.

After getting directions to the palace from a couple of citizens on the street, you went hurriedly to the entrance, only to run up against the stationed uniformed guards.

"I need to see the Wizard, please," you begged of them.

They'd been extremely skeptical, but after much desperate explaining and exasperation, you were begrudgingly allowed in and warned that if you were told to leave by him, you must obey and that nothing could be done about it.

The stretched-out hallway that was the walk down to where you were supposed to meet this Wizard was ominous and your boots had clacked loudly across the shiny tiled flooring, each step echoing tenfold.

The room itself was enormous and intimidating with bursts of fire and noise almost as bad as the tornado. Somehow, you'd mustered up some gumption to tell off the ghoulish moving mechanical head mouthpiece that you weren't scared off by its overdramatic display and that you weren't going to leave until you saw the voice behind it.

"I know who you are, Mr. Deck of Trick Cards!" you yelled at it and with a great whirring of the machine shutting off, it then clunked silent.

He'd come out from behind the hanging ropey curtain of thick twisted fibers, purely flabbergasted more than angry, and declared in humbled bemusement that no one had ever told him that before. Seeing him in the vivid flesh instead of a dim memory had made you falter. He had aged, yes, but he was actually rather handsome and so well dressed, radiating off quirky charm and charisma. You properly introduced yourself and recounted how you'd recognized him from your memory of that distant festival day.

"I see, but I'm afraid I don't remember you, sorry?" He coughed into his fist while his right shoe tapped restlessly.

Your heart sunk even though it was perfectly logical, and you didn't even know why you expected any remembrance when he never even knew your name, for Pete's sake! You had been just another cute face in the crowd, a country bumpkin kid to play card tricks with at the fair for a minute of his day. He had no reason to selectively recall you at all.

"I figured as much, it's my fault. I guess I'll get going though I haven't a clue on how to get home. But darn it, you know I didn't ask to be swept up by a tornado and plopped into this freakish land! I didn't mean to travel all this way through hot fields and cold mountains and the long railway just to get turned away by a silly man who runs a giant talking head!" You hadn't meant to sound rude and whiny, but you were so tired, hungry (the bread you were given depleted hours ago), dirty, and utterly exhausted. And the hope you had pinned on this one man was extinguished.

The Wizard crossed his arms tight to his chest and his eyes casually roamed up and down your body, perhaps surveying the pathetic condition you were in. If he was offended by your statements, he didn't show it.

"You know, it's funny, I had something somewhat similar happen to me back in Omaha and that's how I ended up here... I made the most of it, though. You came from the great state of Kansas, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

He had smiled at that, perhaps enjoying the way that respectful reply just automatically slipped out from your lips, and then he had waved a hand uselessly behind him.

"I don't know how to send you home. Well, I have a hot air balloon for travel, but it's more strictly emergency purposes and I don't think it would be wise to cause a ruckus and panic the people, so... You know what? How about you, uh, stay the night? You must be so worn out and clearly need a bath."

You winced, knowing you were caked in the unappealing smell of dust, muck, and sweat, but nodded eagerly.

"There's no sense traveling now anyhow, it'll be too dark soon. How about you stay with me for a while, and we'll figure things out, alright?"

You were near tears, yet very grateful, and accepted.

You almost wished you hadn't.

Guards, which were a mix of both normal humans and (bizarrely) blue faced monkeys with wings had come in and dragged you off to a secluded room of the palace where you were scrubbed down and dressed in green pajamas by a small team of maids before being put in a bedroom.

You were stopped at every turn you attempted to leave your room to find an exit and finally they deadbolted it. You spent two nights in confinement with delivered meals before The Wizard had entered and gently explained it was too dangerous to let you leave, that you were safer with him and better off staying with him. At first, you were upset because surely your folks were worried about how you had presumably fallen off the face of an earthly existence, but then you remembered you were definitely an old enough adult to live on your own now and maybe there was nothing left of the homestead anyway if that nasty storm had its way. You didn't miss your work on the farm, nor the pressure your family had been applying to find a young man to marry. You never admitted it out loud, but you had bigger sights than being a simple country girl who let some drunken boyish hick boss you around.

This palace was just so grand compared to anything you'd ever seen in your life, and it was complete with a man you were increasingly infatuated with. It took several weeks of being locked up to come to terms with the realization that you had a raging crush on the man who was playing captor, and you wanted him very badly, but his interactions were limited, and you wondered why the heck he kept you around and alive if all he cared about was hiding his identity.

One night though, he broke down the invisible barrier: as you were knelt down in your room removing your slippers for bed, he grabbed your chin to tip upward and within a matter of two seconds, he kissed you right on the lips before you could make a peep. After a second, you kissed back hungrily without restraint, letting desire overrule fear.

"I'm sorry," you and him both said at the same time when he pulled away.

After that, you shyly admitted your blooming feelings for him and by a stroke of splendid luck, The Wizard reciprocated. He invited you to his private room and you slept with him for the first time. Afterward, he told you a bit about himself, how he really started out just a simple man named Oscar who had become a magician and one day the man in charge because people happened to be so gullible. He was intelligent, inventive, and intoxicating with a dash of cunning.

Of course, you weren't sure if the "love" that he extended was out of pure benevolent generosity or you were merely just a glorified whore, but either way you were happy because you loved him, albeit stupidly. He must genuinely love you back though; what else could all the flowers left on the nightstand and weekly gifts of expensive jewels tucked into tiny ornate boxes with trailing lime green silk ribbons mean? He even gifted you an entire handpicked wardrobe of fine clothing from pressed skirts and beautiful dresses to day-to-day blouses to pajamas and revealing lounge wear, many of which match the colors of Emerald City.

The only downside to this whole odd arrangement was that due to the fact that you already knew too much about him, he'd grounded you to the palace indefinitely. From day one you were not allowed to step even a toe outside the palace walls, you weren't let out to leave the premises even accompanied by guards, and you had to keep to yourself in the designated permitted rooms, of which he had many for a single man. When you asked why he needed the excess of rooms, he chuckled.

"They're for my inventions and all the things I collect. I'm rather sentimental, you see."

"Am I now one of your 'things'?" you asked, to which he had smiled almost impishly.

"You could be, if you want."

********

So it is without resistance that now, many months later, at eight o'clock in the evening (he insists on an earlier bedtime, strictly nine o'clock at the latest) in his grand bedroom, you splay fully naked on your back across the rich emerald green satin sheets like a starfish waiting to be swept away by the power of the tidal force he thinks he is (maybe sometimes he's more of a lukewarm swell but no matter).

The Wizard, or Oscar as he prefers only in private, is a surprisingly fit man for his age with a decent sex drive in bed when he's in the mood, which is at least once a week, but there are dry spells when he's too busy or unhappy. While you spend time reading in the library, he spends hours off somewhere building things and tinkering with models which you've never touched. You sleep in separate bedrooms, but on such nights he's ready for passion however, you're expected to be there and stay the night with him. Enjoying his company isn't hard to do - you've fallen head over heels for the man.

Presently, he's removed his long coat to hang up and is in the process of undressing further, the bits and bobs and chains clinking softly from his vest, when he pauses significantly, humming to himself in the depths of the spacious walk-in closet off to the side.

"What is it?" you ask, perplexed and a smidge annoyed at his distraction. He'd promised - no, ordered - an intimate evening after a long while of leaving too much alone. He's been swamped with work and meetings with other influential folk and plotting and planning that he always keeps quiet and stuffed away from you.

"Do you want a drink, my beauty?" he asks abruptly, turning around and holding a tiny green bottle of his famed elixir that he procured from somewhere.

"What kind of game are you playing at, sir?" you wonder suspiciously, watching candlelight glint playfully off the glass.

"It'll loosen you up, just a sip or two."

"It's just alcohol, isn't it?" You can hear the uncertainty reverberate through your tone and the guilty twitch of his eyebrows doesn't deny anything.

"My very own special blend. Take some," he insists, coming over and pressing the cool bottle into your tender hands.

"Why?"

"It's, uh, for a surprise. I promise it's not poison, by golly."

"Not funny." You narrow your eyes but pop the cork and bring it to your lips to take a quick swig. It goes down smooth like syrup, just not as sweet.

"That's my girl," he praises, and you shiver in delight as he climbs up on the bed, holding his hand out expectantly for the elixir, but you aren't done with it. You drink more, feeling the inexplicable urge to quench your thirst. You finally press the nearly empty bottle back to his hands, swallowing before lying back with a flump onto the plush pillows.

Within two minutes, you feel entirely airy and floaty, like your mind has taken an extension cord out of your body to stick somewhere up on the ceiling.

"This'll 'ad better be gooood..." you slur out.

"I guarantee it will, at least for me." He watches in satisfaction as you doze off to dreamland in a daze, a heavy weight of comfortable numb blackness settling over your bones. The room is bathed in a cozy glow from the candles, and it smells deliciously heady.

********

Not too long later, you stir awake from your short-lived nap and when you roll over to your side, you find you can't. Your back is flush against the satin sheets, arms raised up above your head and pinned to the headboard.

"W-Why am I... all tied up?" you ask groggily, looking down at your spread apart legs and ankles, which are stuck in place to the bedposts by a sturdy soft green rope snaked expertly and securely.

"I thought, uh, we'd try something new here..." Oscar says, seeming hesitant now, as if he's two inches away from regretting playing out this fantasy. Or maybe he's not guilty at all and only perceiving the act of being so (you could never tell with a sleazy con man after all).

You tug uselessly at the bindings, which aren't that uncomfortable; the mossy green rope coils around your wrists and ankles snugly, leaving a bit of room for circulation. The only part that truly bothers you is the restricted mobility and lack of control.

Oscar approaches slowly, as if gauging your reaction and his self-preservation if you should decide to fight back... How exactly, you don't know. Yell at him, cuss him out? Bite him like a lowly animal? Scream until a guard comes in to see if you are being murdered?

You writhe slowly, testing the limitations as he settles down at the foot of the bed, a patient parental expression painting his face, coloring with concern yet intrigue. In the time while you were asleep, he's removed his button down and trousers, leaving just a white undershirt and green boxers that pronounce his male package quite well.

He runs a slow hand up along the length of your left thigh and then alternates to the right, his fingers tracing lines of pleasure into your veins. You automatically whimper and he rigs a sly smile up to one side of his cheek.

"Do you like this?"

"I don't know..." you murmur truthfully. It's not exactly unpleasant, but the loss of control is unsettling.

"Well, I happen to like it. You know, the sight of you like this." He gestures a wide sweeping path across the whole of your body, and you grin sheepishly, chest rising and falling with anticipated breaths.

"You can't squirm from me as much."

"I don't squirm," you protest, raising eyebrows.

"Oh yes, you do. I know you don't mean to."

Before you can react to that, he lunges forward and his hands go to your sides, stroking up around to your breasts, fondling them like priceless treasures. You moan, arousal heating your core even more than before, and he rubs a thumb over the hard buds of your nipples while speaking lowly.

"I thank my lucky stars that you were blown in from that storm, it sure was a lonely handful of years before you stumbled into this place. And to have someone so obedient to all my whims..." he trails off, a hungry glint in his eyes.

He bends down to lick and smooch along your throat, inching upward until he nuzzles the nape of your neck with his nose. His close cropped and trimmed mustache/goatee tickles and scratches at your skin as he leans so close, cupping the opposite side of your face with a firm hand. You whimper as he latches onto your mouth possessively, his tongue hot and heavy in your mouth. He tastes faintly like Oz's finest toothpaste and his aftershave should be sold as a candle. Maybe you can suggest to him to market his own line of merchandise; the people of Emerald City will buy anything with their great ruler's handsome face on it even if the product is utter shit.

You feel your hips trying to buck up, needing more contact than of the oral kind, but he's teasing tonight.

"Just keep making those pretty noises, darling..." he whispers, sucking numerous hickeys.

"Please, Oz..."

He moves his head, hot breath on your earlobe as he mutters the words.

"What is it that you desire?"

You struggle to speak, all senses haywire, and he waits patiently as you breathe erratically.

"You-I, please, I need... Oscar, please! Touch."

"Oh, you want me to touch you there? Now we're getting somewhere, darling."

He backs off to run a hand down the length of your body and two of his solid warm fingers slip down into your entrance and out, a give and take motion he does for a bit just to get you hot and bothered. His fingers toy expertly with your moist clit like one does with levers to machines, pressing up and down, rubbing a swiping warm thumb over the knob... When he curls them internally, you cry out cataclysmically, stomach undulating in peaking waves of pleasure as you squirt on his fingers. He chuckles, keeping his grip on your hips, and without the ropes keeping your limbs in place, you'd be thrashing. It's torture, but in the very best way.

When you calm down enough to gaze at him heavy lidded with blown pupils, he focuses on removing his undergarments, taking the white undershirt off first and throwing it to the floor for a maid to pick up later. Then he gets to the main event, the showstopper. You don't focus long on his erect cock because his fingers get in between your legs again. He dips one in, two, then three to stretch you out and your warm slick folds welcome him back in with relief. He holds his free hand down on your stomach and you orgasm once more, yanking in frustration at the bindings that dig into your skin.

"Easy, easy," he says as if trying to tame a wild mare.

"I want... to touch you!" You've fondled his balls and cock before, but even just throwing your arms around his neck would be better than this look-but-don't-touch load of hooey.

"I know, I know. Hey, I'm doing the work here alright? Just enjoy the ride and you'll thank me later."

He looms over before settling down over you and it's strange not being able to grab him in return, to claw at his back, to wind your legs around his waist and claim him as your own for the evening. This power play dynamic is right up his alley, to make you feel utterly vulnerable and pliable underneath him, and it's only fitting for a man who loves to pull the strings of everything and everyone around him. He prefers being on top in bed, but you're definitely known to ride him cowgirl style a time or two (this is your favorite position).

The head of his cock pushes in at a tasteful pace to bottom out and burrow inside that it feels like up in your stomach - and it's taken practice to get to this point; the first time (and a few times after that) hurt and he couldn't get too far mostly because he was just so big. You wonder dimly if taking elixir and being in a relaxed state of mind affects your ability to take his girth. Either way, he never gets angry on nights he can't go all the way; he finds his climax just as well outside. Tonight, though, he's persistent and when he glances at your face which is not screwed up and wincing, he gradually nods in approval to continue.

Oscar moves slowly in rocking rhythm, gentle and deliberate at first, then faster and rougher, nearly growling in pursuit of his own pleasure. His silver hair falls out of its careful coifed style to hang over his forehead, and he keeps his melted milk chocolate-colored eyes dead set on yours as he fucks, a predator to his prey. He has you right where he wants, you can't move away, and you moan as your walls clench tight around his cock. He holds his stare steady, but his frame is shuddering and it's clear he's close to his pinnacle, the one he's been aiming for since you entered this bedroom.

He has made it no secret he has cravings to be a father, even though you're sure he'd be a somewhat inept, possibly even lousy one due to his measurable amount of selfishness. Not to mention the detail that he's old enough to be your own daddy and you oddly don't have a problem with that... But he knows he mustn't intentionally knock you up (a scandal that would cause if word got out) and it was you who had to sadly school him on this fact of life, having been around enough farm animals all your life to know how babies are easily made and knowing friends who had become mothers at the ripe age of 18 back in high school, and you do not want to be that careless. It's lucky there hasn't been any "mistakes" so far in your bedding with Oscar, but you know he almost can't resist spilling inside.

Instead, he pulls out with difficulty at the very last minute, and hot ropes of gooey cum splatter your stomach and splash against your chest. He groans in ecstasy before heaving, out of breath.

"You okay?" you whisper as his lightly sweating chest rises and falls with exertion. He cracks a lopsided smile, steadying himself by using his arms to brace against the headboard above you.

"Are... Are you kidding? I've never been better. Just - just give a man a minute, will you?" He retracts an arm back and holds up a single finger with a dangerous glance.

"And don't you dare make a joke about my age. I'm as fit as a fiddle, just like when I was thirty."

You nod absently, thinking of him as a younger man. The portraits and statues scattered around are decent, but could never do him justice. He's aged like the finest high-quality wine and the silver hair and sprinkling of wrinkles only enhances his austerity.

"You're incredible, your Ozness."

"Flattery always works best, my dear." He ducks his head down and sloppily kisses you softly on the cheek.

"And you deserve to be untied, don't you?" His hands wind around behind your head and with one quick motion, both your wrists are untied. He does your ankles next in a flash and flimsily bundles the short ropes up to toss onto the bedside table.

He climbs off and helps you up ease up to a seated position. You feel suddenly dizzy and droop forward, your brain rushing with slush, and blood flushes into your cheeks.

"Woah, it's okay." He sucks in a breath, catching you against his chest.

"Spinning," you gasp out and he keeps his arms securely around you for a minute before you wiggle, antsy, and he props you up.

"Still on the Tilt-A-Whirl?" he asks, lines deeply creasing his face.

"I... It's gettin' better." You shake your head as though that will dispel the imbalance that you have a strong hunch is a side or after effect from his mystery elixir, not just the sex.

"Thank goodness. You scared me for a minute there, if this is too much..."

"No! I love you," you blurt out and he comfortingly pets your head, raking fingers through and tousling your hair.

"Alright, sweetheart. And to think in addition I was going to experiment with a blindfold and gag- uh, never mind. Maybe that's too advanced; we'll hold off on that one for the foreseeable future."

You gape at him as he gets off the bed with no further word but a grunt and reaches over for a towel on the bedside table to give to you. You take it to wipe up some of the mess while he leaves momentarily off to the nearby bathing chambers to freshen up.

He comes back five minutes later dressed only in a fresh pair of tight fitting boxers predictably of his favorite color that you have to tear your gaze away from lest you foolishly admit to wanting another go around. He clears his throat at your staring, rubbing his jaw and jerking his chin towards the door.

"You can go clean up now," he says a bit gruffly, pointing.

All of Emerald City is extravagant and even the humble washroom is no exception. The first night he'd fucked you, Oscar had given a tour of it.

"See what money and power can buy? It'd do you good to remember that," he'd said as he ran a hand across the shiny marble tiles and gilded gold faucets.

"I came from humble beginnings just like you and now look at me!" He spread his arms out wide in exaggeration and you giggled, utterly enamored.

"Just don't let it go to your head." He chuckled deeply at the ironic fitting joke.

You shuffle off now to wash and wipe down your body in there, using an dark green washcloth that has his moniker of "OZ" stitched on it, and you feel aching soreness all over your body - but it's a good kind, like a full day's work of physical labor accomplishing what you really needed to do.

********

Once you are done in the washroom, you tug on a plush robe the color of jade and return to the bedroom to go to lay back down on the king size bed next to him. He pulls you in with the crook of his arm, the other holding a different bottle than the elixir. This one smells very much like whiskey.

"I should tell you..." he begins with a pause, clearly not in any hurry as he takes a breath and then a couple sips. You can tell by his slightly unfocused gaze and relaxed body that he is getting a tad drunk.

"We're gonna have a special visitor soon from Shiz University, you know Madame Morrible?"

"Yes." You've seen her come and go around the palace, but aren't advised to get within ten feet of the powerful older woman, let alone speak to her. All you know is that she can do impressive magic (unlike him) and is a very close loyal confidant who provides important insider information.

"Well, she invited a very special student with promising magical abilities here for something I'm working on, and I'll need you get out and to stay out of our hair for a while," he explains causally, playing with the neck of the bottle in his fingers.

"You're casting me out?" you ask, disappointment surging up like a muddy river during a flood. This set-up is only too good to last, isn't it? You're so in love that you've almost forgotten all about home, not that you'd really loved your old life there much anyway. But if you truly can't get home ever again, you'll have to start looking for some kind of work in the city to make meager money and hopefully figure out how to cobble a life together if that's even possible. You'll never find another man to depend on like Oscar, that's obvious. Funny that mere months ago, you had been somewhat distraught at the notion of being held against your will in this unfamiliar palace and world. Now you just feel stupid for letting him lead you into a false sense of security and preying on when you were most desperate.

"No, no, of course not," he replies in a scandalized tone, slicing sharply through your spiraling thoughts.

"I greatly value your, uh, commitment to me and keeping my secrets. You're a very delightful girl who doesn't go snooping for trouble and you try to keep out of my business."

You don't mention that you are technically locked indefinitely in this palace, forbidden to go outside off the grounds, and hadn't really had a choice in the first place. But he appears so sad and frustrated, so you nestle and snuggle further into his side, your hand tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"Perhaps only though for your safety, if the upcoming meeting and arrangement doesn't go well, you might have to leave permanently. But, uh, in that case I'll make sure you get you set up with decent accommodations outside the city. Perhaps Munchkinland, Governor Thropp there owes me a favor..."

"Okay," you murmur quietly even though this prospect partially frightens and worries you, and you feel relief oozing from his bones.

"Thank you for always understanding my dear. You know I have such a responsibility and I need everything to go right when this special young lady comes - Morrible is counting on it and you damn know it you don't want to get on her bad side."

"This student of hers must be something else," you mutter more to yourself than him. How much does she know, anyway?

"She sure fucking is from what I've been told. She'll change everything and put me in a greater position than before if I can get her to work with me. Morrible seems cautiously confident and cheered as well by the prospect, which is a sign to be taken seriously. She can often have a stiff stick up her tight ass, huh?" He laughs, deep and throaty, and you know his guard is down when he swears openly in conversation.

"Right." You're silent for a little while, just letting him hold you and trying not to dwell on the implications of whatever this mystery meeting could hold. You could ask for more information, seeing as to how he could be looser lipped from the effects of the alcohol, but you frankly don't care. The post orgasmic state you're basking in is too all-consuming to break out of (plus you are fatigued), and so you let the less business side mood of tonight seep back into the conversation.

"Hey, I liked this tonight, what we did. I really thought the ropes were, um, creative and even though I was nervous at first, it was actually... pretty hot? Maybe we could do that again sometime, sir?"

He smiles tentatively, the gears of his diabolical mind whirring on another track, and your words clumsily snatch him back to the present.

"That's just what I like to hear, sweetheart. That's what I love best-"

"-making people happy," you finish for him, having that line down pat after overhearing him parrot it as part of his political approach.

"Atta girl," he replies with a smarmy smirk and then a contented sigh, ducking his head and resting his chin on top of your head as you lay on his bare chest, listening to the even drumming of his heartbeats.

The palace is delightfully quiet this time of night, the guards in immediate range having been dismissed for the evening so there would be no eavesdroppers. Light from the waxing moon outside the large glass windows curtained with heavy drapes parted a couple inches beams through weakly down, leaving a six inch pale strip to highlight the heavily polished floor.

Kansas and its cornfields feel like worlds away. This is almost like a dream in of itself, but I know it isn't because every day I wake up and I'm still here, you muse sleepily.

Maybe you're staying with the wrong man, and it will end badly between you two. But honestly at this moment, you are too smitten by this lavish lifestyle you stumbled into, his seemingly sincere ongoing affections, and the raw primal love you extract from his flesh on passionate nights like this to give too much of a hoot about it.

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