#might be a nice way to round off the series

[watchmakermori]

favourite things about the new genshin event

kaveh getting emotionally manipulated by stray desert foxes because he’s too nice for his own good

nahida admiting that she basically made scaramouche take part in the championship because she’s trying to domesticate him like a feral cat (it is not working)

alhaitham instinctively knowing that kaveh would save some leftovers from the restaurant for him

the second round of the championship, where faruzan says ‘yes I fell into a desert dungeon for a little while but I got out. don’t worry about it.’

kaveh never shutting the fuck up about alhaitham

as appropriate punishment for his crimes and atrocities nahida will be punishing scaramouche with a fate worse than death (making him study politics)

[ja3yun]

The Doll House | Park Sunghoon

doll!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements, anything else lmk! wc: 8.9k synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return jaeyun | masterlist | jongseong a/n: hi! this is the second installation of this series and i'm enjoying writing it so so much! there's a little bit of the lore in here and i tried to put in some little nuggets like word play and everything to give you guys some hints! i hope you enjoy and as always, likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

In the week following your encounter with Jaeyun, you've stirred something deep within him. Whenever possible, he finds his way to your side, lending himself to you as he helps you with your daily chores, holding onto your hand when you sit down for some relaxation time between cleaning and cooking, and most importantly - at least for him - he’s been fucking you like crazy.

Something about last week made him feel alive, stronger than he had ever felt before, and he wanted to have that feeling ignited within him almost every day. He coaxed you into having sex a second time around by using those beautiful round eyes to pull at your heartstrings and break your resolve and from then your embarrassment subsided and you used one another to your heart's desire.

Having sex with a doll puts you in the same bracket as those lonely middle-aged men who have no friends and find solace with their rubber girlfriends, which is quite embarrassing. But this is different, you like to think, Jaeyun is for all intent and purpose alive and might as well be a real human.

Sure, he doesn’t have internal organs, his skin is made from thermoplastic elastomer, and his doll shell is made from durable porcelain with insulated heat, but he’s as real as they come. You did ask him how he can get hard and fill you up to the brim with his faux seed, but he says it’s just the way he’s designed. 

Soonyeol is a kinky bitch and she knew exactly what she was doing when she purchased these specific dolls.

You break Soonyeol’s rules almost every day because of him though, venturing into his room to fuck him silly, both of you seeking pleasure and comfort in each other's presence, holding one another close late into the night, swapping stories and laughter; it is nice to have someone to talk to, even if it’s in hushed tones.

Your inquiries into his origins and existence yield no concrete answers; after all, he's only been "alive" for a short time and consequently doesn’t know much about himself, his only offering is to explain that Heeseung and Jongseong know the most out of the four of them. And with your promise to Jaeyun to keep his slip-up of spilling the beans to you a secret from his brothers, seeking clarification from the other dolls remains off-limits.

That doll can get you to do anything he asks if he wants to and it’s almost embarrassing to admit.

As you go about your daily routines, you maintain a facade of normalcy, interacting with the other three dolls just as you did before discovering their secret. You speak to them as if they were merely inanimate objects, not expecting any response in return.

Despite your efforts to remain composed, a sense of unease creeps in the longer you’re in the room with any of them that isn’t Jaeyun. You can't shake the feeling that their eyes are following you, tracking your every move with an unsettling intensity. What once was blissful ignorance is now hyper-awareness. 

At times, you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye, only to find objects mysteriously rearranged or misplaced when you turn to investigate. It's a subtle form of mischief, one that leaves you feeling disconcerted and off-balance, unsure of what other tricks they may have up their sleeves.

Jaeyun assures you time and time again that none of his brothers would act in malice, however, his words fail to instil any comfort, especially around Heeseung. 

From the moment you arrived at the mansion, Heeseung had captivated you with an inexplicable allure, drawing you in with an intensity that bordered on hypnotic. It was as if he possessed a power unlike any of the other dolls. He was the one that got you to say yes to staying, you know it.

But beneath that surface charm, there's a darkness that unsettles you, a sense of malevolence that lingers in the air whenever he's near. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's a palpable sense of foreboding that hangs over your interactions with him, like a shadow creeping across your consciousness. He is dangerous and the soul - or whatever it is that he has that brings his doll to life - is entrenched in a dark cloud, one that you want to steer clear of for the rest of your time.

Despite your reservations, you find yourself drawn to Heeseung, unable to resist the pull of his enigmatic presence. But with each passing day, the feeling of unease only grows stronger, leaving you to wonder what secrets lie hidden beneath his doll facade.

You’re cleaning the library and the sun is beaming through the large windows, the hot sun adding an uncomfortable heat to your body.

You continue regardless, wiping your brow and dusting down the shelves with a lime green feather duster you found hidden in the kitchen cupboard. You wanted to do a good job but the library is extensive with wall-to-wall shelves filled with books ranging from present to pre-world war one and you’ll be damned if you’re cleaning each book one at a time; the feather duster will be your new best friend.

As you make your way toward the desk positioned in the centre of the room, a surge of curiosity washes over you, compelling you to indulge in a bit of snooping. The allure of uncovering secrets about the mansion and its mysterious owner, Soonyeol, proves irresistible, fueling your determination to explore further.

With cautious steps, you approach the desk, scanning its surface for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed documents. Your fingers itch with curiosity as you reach for the drawers, your heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. If there are any clues to be found, surely they would be nestled within the confines of this desk.

It’s ridiculous how exciting you find all of this like you’re in some James Bond movie about to uncover the deep secrets of the villain. It’s not that deep but you need to find some excitement in the quiet of this home, so why not make snooping around the fun part of your day?

Beside Jaeyun, of course. 

When Jaeyun is with you, you don’t pry into the mansion, scared that he will take it the wrong way, like you’re trying to expose the brothers and their minder.

Listen to yourself, Y/N. You’re worried about a doll’s feelings, you think to yourself and cringe. It’s concerning how much you don’t want to hurt the doll but that’s just the effect he has on you.

Your fingers wrap around the drawer handles, eagerness flowing through you as you prepare to reveal whatever mysteries may be hidden inside. You gently tug on the drawers, but to your dismay, they remain firmly closed, guarding their contents from prying eyes.

Frowning in frustration, you give the handles a harder shake, trying to remove whatever mechanism is keeping them locked. Despite your attempts, the drawers refuse to move, it's secrets tantalisingly out of reach.

“Shit,” you murmur, trying one more time.

Your gaze wanders over the desk, looking for any sign of a key or secret compartment that may lead to the contents of the drawers. Your pulse rushes with excitement as you dig through the desk, brushing your fingertips around the edges in search of a secret latch or trapdoor.

However, as you scan every inch of the desk, your search provides no results, leaving you feeling irritated and dissatisfied. There must be some way to get those drawers open, there’s no way if there wasn’t something secret inside, some form of incriminating evidence about Soonyeol, that she would keep them locked up. 

As you stand before the locked drawers, your mind flows with questions regarding Soonyeol's occupation and the mystery surrounding her actual identity. The mansion's vintage furnishings and rows of ancient porcelain dolls appear to point to a career in antique collecting, but an ongoing feeling of anxiety suggests darker possibilities. If she was a mere collector, how on earth did she manage to obtain four dolls who are alive? Is she just insanely clued up on possessed dolls and where to find them on eBay?

You look around the room to see if any pictures are hung suspiciously, all those nights of binge-watching Sherlock Holmes are coming in handy because you know now that pictures almost always hold either a safe or a taped-up key behind them.

You meticulously inspect each picture frame in the library, your eyes scanning for any signs of hidden compartments or concealed keys. You check portrait after portrait, your fingers tracing along the edges of each frame, but your efforts yield no results. Disappointment threatens to overwhelm you as you realise that your search has so far been fruitless.

Why is this proving to be so difficult? Surely there has to be something you can scope out, even a bobby pin would suffice at this point so you can pick at the locks.

Just as you're about to give up hope, your eyes fall upon an unusual floor-length portrait hanging inconspicuously on the far wall. It depicts the bizarre scene of a lamb with a human body, eating its sheep counterparts. It’s an unsettling fusion of outlandish and grotesque. You can't help but grimace at the tasteless decor choice, wondering what possessed Soonyeol to hang such a peculiar painting in her library. 

“Seriously? She is one fucked up lady,” you wince to yourself, wondering why she couldn’t just have a poster of some kittens or literally anything else.

Despite your feelings of unease, curiosity overcomes you, and you move forward to inspect the painting more closely. As you reach out to touch the frame, your fingers brush over the edge, and you notice that it seems there is a gap between it and the wall, as if there is something hidden behind it.

With your heart pumping from anticipation, you carefully pull the picture from the wall, exposing a dark wooden door that is concealed behind it. Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that this may be the breakthrough you've been waiting for. With shaky hands, you reach for the rusted doorknob and give it a cautious jiggle.

But just like the locked drawers, the door remains firmly sealed shut, thwarting your attempts to uncover its secrets. You groan out loud, tossing your head back and shutting your eyes in frustration. 

"What has a girl gotta do to find out what the fuck is going on in this place?" you mutter under your breath, your voice tinged with frustration and determination. You refuse to be deterred by this setback, knowing that you're not one to give up easily.

Gathering your resolve, you kneel down to inspect the door handle, your fingers tracing the contours of the keyhole with a sense of anticipation. You can feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on you, the tension in the air palpable as you prepare to uncover whatever secrets lie beyond this enigmatic door.

As you peer inside the keyhole, your breath catches in your throat, your eyes straining to penetrate the darkness that shrouds the room. Every fibre of your being is on high alert, a sense of anticipation tingling at the back of your mind. 

But then, just as you begin to make out the faintest hint of movement within the darkness, something catches your eye - a faint glimmer of red light flickering like a flame from within the depths of the keyhole. Your heart skips a beat as a surge of apprehension courses through you, a sense of foreboding tightening its grip on your chest. 

What is that? 

Your heartbeat quickens as you realise whatever it is, it’s not good and it’s trapped behind that door for a reason. You squint your eyes further, trying to focus on the faint shapes you can see throughout the room but it’s proving difficult, the red beam being your only sense of light.

Time appears to slow to a crawl as you watch the red light pulse and flutter, its intensity increasing with each passing moment. Your palms go sweaty in anticipation, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on edge as you brace yourself to find out what is behind the door.

Then, without warning, just as you go to reach for the handle once again, the red light bursts brightly, obscuring your eyes. With a startled scream, you stagger backwards and deck onto the hardwood floor, your heart beating as adrenaline rushes through your veins. The room swirls around you as you try to regain some form of direction, your senses overwhelmed by the abrupt blast of light and the overpowering feeling of dread that persists in the air.

“Fuck!” you manage to yell out and as your senses slowly return, you find yourself gasping for breath, the remnants of the red flame still burning brightly in your vision, creating white spots behind your eyelids. With trembling hands, you reach out to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest as your blood pumps nervously through your veins.

In a daze, you glance to your right, your gaze falls upon the portrait you had removed from the wall and it's changed - it is now portraying a human head with a sheeps body, eating it's mesty carcass, blood smeared over it's mouth and wool.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you quickly rush to replace it, your hands shaking as you fumble with the frame. Your heart feels as though it's about to burst from your chest as you struggle to hang the painting back in its rightful place.

Finally, with the portrait back on the wall, you step back, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to steady your racing heart and swallow the sick that rose from the pit of your stomach out of fear. 

But as you turn around, your heart jolts to a panicked stop in your chest as a new wave of terror washes over you. Sitting there, in the corner of the room where there was nothing before, is one of the dolls - Park Sunghoon, motionless and silent.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are the last thing I need right now,” you say in frustration, pinching your eyes to extract the last few spots from your vision. It’s bad enough that you’ve just been blinded by god knows what, and now you’re being startled by Sunghoon’s sudden appearance.

Breathing out, you compose yourself and nod, “Okay, so I won’t be going near that door again,” you swallow thickly, trying to inject a laugh to lighten your heavy heart. Scouring around in Soonyeol’s drawers was one thing but you would rather be massacred by a hatchet at the hands of dear Sunghoon over there than find out whatever the fuck is behind that door.

As you regain your composure, a manic laugh escapes your lips, a mix of nervous energy and relief bubbling to the surface. Sunghoon remains motionless, his expression unchanged, as if unaffected by the chaos unfolding around him.

You approach him with a mixture of curiosity, noticing the pair of frameless glasses perched on his face. It's a strange sight as you certainly didn’t put them on him this morning because why on earth would a doll need reading glasses?

"A fashion statement?" you quip, tapping the side of the lenses lightly. The failed joke eases some of the tension that still lingers in the air, and you find yourself chuckling softly as you take a seat on the table beside him.

Leaning in close, you lift Sunghoon's chin to meet your gaze, studying his features with fascination and admiration. Despite the unsettling circumstances, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of solace that washes over you as you take in his ethereal beauty.

His hair falls in soft waves around his face, his bangs framing his eyes in the most captivating way. His features are striking, from the delicate freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks to the sharp line of his jaw. Sunghoon's beauty is almost otherworldly, captivating you in a way that you can't quite explain.

"You'll protect me from whatever is in there, right?" you joke, trying to lighten the mood but Sunghoon sits mute and unmoving. You ponder if staying still like that hurts them or is uncomfortable; does it just come naturally? There are so many questions but after that ordeal, you’ll give up on prying for now.

You pat Sunghoon's cheek softly, smiling down at him before deciding to press on with your chores, hoping that the mundane tasks will help ease some of the weight from your shoulders and restore a sense of normalcy to your day.

With careful hands, you adjust Sunghoon's head to stare forward once more, a futile attempt to spare him any unnecessary discomfort - although you can't help but wonder if he's even capable of feeling pain. Setting him back in place, you make your way to the desk and retrieve your duster, ready to resume your duties.

Focusing your attention on the far side of the room, away from the ominous door, you begin to polish the ancient globe that sits near the entranceway. 

Spinning it idly, you sigh and think about all the places you want to see before you die. You’ve been stuck in this city your whole life only going as far as hopping from city to city and you are in dire need of some vacation time. Maybe it’s the red light that almost blinded you, but you’ve never felt more of an urge to pack up and go.

Maybe it’s just this place you need to get away from. 

But you’re stuck, something is keeping you here. Any normal person who saw what was behind that door would have run for the hills and never looked back, yet, despite the fear in your body that lingers deep inside, you don’t want to leave.

You’ve said this whole time it’s for the money but you could find work somewhere else, a job that wouldn’t give you chills in your bones. 

Once you’ve settled your nerves fully, you want to keep investigating this place and find out why Jaeyun and the other dolls are alive, and unfortunately for you, you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever is behind that door might just hold your answers. 

As you continue to clean, your eye is pulled to an object perched on one of the shelves: an old camera. Intrigued, you approach it, admiring its appearance with a mix of curiosity and nostalgia. The camera's folding body, made of worn leather, emanates timeless beauty and carved nameplates on the side hint at its extensive past.

Upon closer inspection, you recognise it as a model from the 1940s or 1950s, similar to the Agifold your grandmother used to own. Memories of her beloved camera fill your thoughts, followed by a twinge of regret that you never got the opportunity to use it yourself. But now, with no one to stop you, an opportunity presents itself.

Gently, you pick it up and inspect it further, opening the back to see some film still lodged inside. You gently pick up the camera, its weight cooling in your hands. Opening the back panel, you uncover a roll of film that is still wedged inside.

Raising the camera to your eye, you adjust the focus and squint, searching for the perfect angle to capture the essence of the room. With a steady hand, you press the shutter button, the satisfying click echoing in the silence of the room.

Flash.

As you lower the camera from your eye, a satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your lips. But as your gaze sweeps across the room, a chill creeps down your spine, and the smile freezes on your face.

Something is…different.

You scour the room, your eyes darting from one corner to the next in an attempt to discern what has changed so abruptly. It feels as though the world shifted in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented and on edge. The familiar sights of the room offer little solace as you search for any sign of what could have caused the sudden disturbance.

The painting of the sheep still hangs on the wall, which means the door remains shut - good. The books on the shelves remain undisturbed, their spines aligned in neat rows. The windows are shut tight, allowing only a faint breeze to filter through the cracks in the draught. Everything appears to be as it was before, except for one glaring absence.

Sunghoon.

Your breath catches in your throat as you realise that the lifelike doll is no longer within your line of sight. He has vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an eerie emptiness in his wake.

A shiver runs down your spine as you consider the implications of his disappearance. Despite Jaeyun's assurances that his brothers are harmless, you cannot shake the feeling of unease that settles over you like a heavy fog. Even though Jaeyun is kind to you, the others may not share his benevolence. In a house filled with secrets and shadows, trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the slightest whisper of doubt. 

“You shouldn’t go around touching things that aren’t yours,” a hushed voice flows from behind you, taking advantage of your transfixed body to reach around your waist and take the camera from your trembling hands.

As he lets out a chuckle, Sunghoon moves around you with grace, returning the camera to its rightful place on the shelf. His towering presence now looms over you, casting a shadow that seems to swallow you whole.

Yet, you don’t feel threatened like you thought you would, somehow it was his lack of presence that put you on edge but now that he is standing before you, you know deep down you are in no harm. Your body relaxes a little, your spine finding its strength again as you straighten your posture.

Your movements amuse Sunghoon, his tongue running along his prominent canine as he smirks, “You don’t seem surprised?” he asks but it’s more of a statement than a question. He knows you must have already been in on their secret, “So was it Jaeyun? Did he spill like we thought he would?”

Jaeyun’s saddened face pops up into your head after your first time with him, begging you not to tell the others as they already see him as incompetent. The memory tickles your heart and you start to shake your head definitively, “No, I am shocked, look!” you say, bringing up your shaky hands to his eye level, a feeble attempt to convince Sunghoon.

“Oh really? Then why didn’t you question how I moved from my bedroom to the library without you carting me around in that fuck awful wheelchair?” Sunghoon queries, raising his eyebrow in mock suspicion. He knows you know, he’s just waiting for you to admit it.

“No, I…I just thought…I was…”

“You are a terrible liar, Y/N,” he scoffs out an endeared laugh and pushes your hand away from his face, “It was him, wasn’t it?”

Your heart pounds against your chest as Sunghoon’s stare holds you captive, those beautiful glass eyes slowly dissolving your loyalty to Jaeyun. You are trying so hard to come up with an excuse as to how you know their secret but the doll before you is so alluring in his beauty that your brain might as well be replaced with a tin of mushy peas.

He licks his bottom lip and starts to laugh as your silence becomes his confirmation. 

“Shit,” you huff out, looking down, feeling bad for betraying Jaeyun like this. One tiny secret was all you had to keep and you’ve given it up without even uttering a word. Fuck these dolls and their power over your resolve.

Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “He really can’t keep his mouth shut,” he says to himself quietly, astonished that he even had any faith in the yapping puppy to begin with.

Your back goes up, eyebrows knitting together, “Hey! Don’t blame him like that,” you say defensively.

He halts his laughter and slowly looks at you, tilting his head, “Oh?...oh…” he mutters, a wide smile of bewilderment appearing on his face as he starts to piece you and Jaeyun’s relationship together, “How on earth did he manage to pull you? Did he give you a bat of his lashes and that signature pout? Did he make his eyes do that stupid sparkle? Hmm?”

You're taken aback by Sunghoon's accurate description, a mix of surprise and embarrassment colouring your expression. How did he know exactly what Jaeyun had done to win you over? Does Jaeyun do this with every housesitter?

Sunghoon watches your reaction with amusement, his grin widening as he sees the realisation dawn on you. "Ah, I see it now," he says, his voice tinged with playful mockery, "He's quite the charmer, isn't he? You know, he isn’t as innocent as he looks, he knows what he is doing."

You shift from one foot to another, looking down at your hands. It’s embarrassing for any woman to be hit with the truck of truth, especially when it’s about succumbing to a man, but a doll? That’s even more humbling. 

Lifting your chin, he gives you a smug smile as he sees inside your mind, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed, baby girl, Soonyeol is the same. She loves it - to look after him, coddle him whenever he wants, and give him kisses in passing,”  he leans down to make direct eye contact with you, a flash of something behind his iris’ brings you to attention as he continues, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it, that you have fun?”

You feel yourself nodding because he’s right. Inside of yourself, you knew Jaeyun was luring you into bed but you wanted it just as much as him, so did you really get played? And you enjoy his company, his constant telling of stories and his high energy, you’ve grown to cherish him with each passing conversation. 

Sunghoon observes the gears turning in your mind. "Can I tell you something?" he asks, his lips whispering over your cheek. You nod, permitting him to continue, your eyes fixed on his as he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against your ear. "He's been unusually happy since you arrived," he murmurs softly, "I think you might be his new favourite person."

His admission causes a warm flush to spread across your cheeks, a mixture of surprise and delight flooding your senses. Knowing that Jaeyun feels a similar connection to you fills you with a sense of happiness and validation. You can envision Jaeyun becoming a lifelong friend, someone you cherish deeply.

While his initial intent might have been to charm you into fucking him, the time you've spent together since then feels genuine and sincere. You take comfort in knowing that Jaeyun values your companionship and enjoys your presence for more than just physical intimacy.

Sunghoon inhales sharply through his teeth, a disapproving tsk escaping him, "I don't think Soonyeol would be too pleased about that," he remarks, pulling back slightly as if considering the ramifications. "After all, Jaeyun is her favourite, and if she were to discover you've been fucking her precious little puppy..."

Your eyes widen in alarm as you grasp the implication of his words, shaking your head frantically as you instinctively raise your hands in a defensive gesture, "No, no, no, you can't tell her!" you exclaim, your voice tinged with desperation. You find yourself on the verge of pleading, almost dropping to your knees in a last-ditch effort to appeal to Sunghoon's mercy, "I need this job," you implore, your voice trembling with anxiety.

Sunghoon's lips curl into a sly smirk as he watches your panic-stricken reaction. "Well, I suppose I could keep my mouth shut..." he muses, drawing out the suspense and relishing in your apprehension.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hang on to his words, hope flickering within you at the possibility of him relenting. But just as quickly as your hope appears, it’s gone as you see the dark shimmer in his eyes behind his glasses, the way his tongue is sitting on the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

“You can’t be serious? You’re blackmailing me into having sex with you?” you retort, the revulsion evident in your tone.

"I'm not a creep, Y/N, I wouldn't do that," Sunghoon responds, a hint of offence lacing his words. As you meet his gaze, you feel a pang of regret for assuming the worst about him. But he lowers his voice, his eyes hooded as they lock onto yours. "I'd only fuck you if you wanted me to," he murmurs, the timbre of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You find yourself involuntarily rubbing your thighs together, a nervous habit forming as you bite your lip.

Sunghoon's hands find their way to your waist, drawing you closer until he’s pressed firmly against you. His nearness is intoxicating, and you can't help but tip-toe to etch closer to his face, craving more of his presence. His lips hover tantalisingly close to yours, teasing you with the promise of something more.

"Oh? Would you like that?" he asks smugly, his grip on your waist tightening as he effortlessly makes you melt under his touch, succumbing to him like putty in his hands. It's crazy how much power these dolls possess over you, their allure is irresistible and their influence undeniable.

His smug expression only adds to the internal chaos, making you feel both irritated and strangely drawn to him. You want this more than you would like to admit, perhaps it was the comfort he was bringing to you after your ordeal with the door, or maybe it’s because you’re an idiot that simply wants to fuck him.

Sometimes there is no other reason than pure lust.

Sunghoon's grin widens as he sees you surrender to him, his fingers dancing on your waist as he leans in even closer, closing the already minimal gap between your lips and before you can fully comprehend what's happening, his lips brush against yours in a teasingly soft caress. It's a fleeting touch, but it ignites a fire within you, awakening something.

You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are in this moment, how easily Sunghoon has managed to unravel your defences and ensnare you in his web of temptation. He is doing exactly what Jaeyun did to you last week, and just the same, you’re letting him because you want it.

"Tell me to stop," Sunghoon whispers, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. His hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the contours of your sides with a feather-light touch that sends tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

It's a cruel temptation, the way he places the power in your hands, knowing full well that you won't utter that simple word; not when every caress feels like fire against your shivering skin.

Instead, you close the gap, your mouth melding against his as your once shaky hands now thread through his hair, pulling him further into you. You can feel his victorious smile against your lips as he guides you to sit on the very desk you were snooping around earlier, pressing your ass against the edge.

He briskly undoes your jean buttons, his lips planting one long kiss on yours before he sinks past your tits and stomach until he is on his knees in front of your pussy. Teasingly, he pulls down your bottoms, slowly but surely exposing your dampened core to him.

“There you are,” he mutters, placing a gentle peck on your pubic bone, his lips lingering there as he savours the moment. He looks up at you behind his glasses and smirks as he sees your chest rising and falling in anticipation, “I’ll make sure you feel good, baby girl, don’t worry.”

His smirk widens as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he trails kisses along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch is deliberate, calculated to elicit a response from you, and you can't help but arch your back in anticipation, silently urging him to continue.

With a soft sigh of contentment, Sunghoon grants your unspoken desires, his tongue delicately tracing the beginning of your slit. He flattens it against your tender flesh, savouring the taste of you as he lingers there, lost in the intoxicating sensation of your essence. 

You grind your hips onto his face and before you know it, you’re riding his face, using your hips to move your clit along his rigid tongue. Your fingers desperately seek to find refuge on a surface to steady you, which they find in his hair, tugging gently at his scalp to help anchor you.

Sunghoon is loving it as much as you are, the smile on his face is a testament to this. He pries your legs further apart to sink his mouth further into your heat, the tip of his wet muscle now working in tandem with your hips to help you out.

"F-fuck," you moan breathlessly, your body arching instinctively towards him as he spreads your folds between the fingers of his right hand. Anticipation courses through your veins as he teases you with soft, long licks, each stroke of his tongue sending waves cascading through your body.

You're consumed by both pleasure and longing, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his touch. Every lingering, deliberate swipe of his tongue against your clit makes it throb with need, and you find yourself clenching around nothing, yearning for more.

You want him to go faster, to get you to the edge quickly so he can fuck you against this desk, but at the same time, you're intoxicated by the slow, deliberate pace of his movements. He’s so good at this it’s almost awe-inspiring. 

Sunghoon's long fingers stroke up and down your folds with a delicate touch, savouring the sight of you spread open before him. But he needs more, he wants to see you completely exposed and at his mercy. With a determined gaze, he shifts your legs over his shoulders, positioning you firmly on the edge of the wooden desk.

"Your pussy is the closest to heaven I'll ever get," he remarks, a smirk playing on his lips as he takes in your needy expression. Your whimper for attention to your clit only fuels his desire further, "I want to make you beg so bad, baby girl," he adds, his voice dripping with need, "but I don't want to wait to see what it feels like to have you cumming on my tongue."

The plea escapes your lips before you can stop it, your desire overriding any sense of restraint, "Please, Sunghoon," you moan, your hips instinctively thrusting towards him, begging for his touch.

He can't resist the temptation any longer. With a hunger that borders on desperation, Sunghoon spreads your folds open once again, his gaze fixated on you in this new position. He licks his lips in anticipation, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening wetness.

His tongue flicks over your hood, teasing your clit with quick, back-and-forth strokes that send electric shocks through your veins. You writhe beneath him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch as he expertly pushes you to the edge. 

Sunghoon’s glasses steam up as he switches between licking and sucking your clit, drawing out moans of pleasure from both of you. There is nothing he loves more than eating pussy, the feeling of someone’s sweetness on his tongue is the best feeling he’ll ever know, he could spend hours just worshipping each and every cunt on the planet.

But he knew from the moment you walked in, that he had to have just one taste of you.

“Sunghoon, fuck,” you moan through bated breaths, holding his head hostage between your legs - not that he minds, the desperation your exhibiting only heightens his desire to consume every part of you, to make you unravel under his touch.

Your back presses against the desk, the crumpled documents from Soonyeol's work forgotten beneath your squirming body. In this moment, nothing matters except the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you both.

Sensing that you're on the brink of orgasm, Sunghoon dips two of his fingers into your warm, inviting heat, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, Sunghoon, yes," you scream, your voice filled with desperation and hunger as his fingers join his mouth to drive you wild. You're teetering on the verge of bliss, your body twitching with anticipation as he deftly guides you to the peaks of pleasure.

"That's it, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Let go for me..."

As the waves of your orgasm wash over you, you cry out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of your release. Sunghoon watches you with a satisfied smile, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes. His fingers never let up, continuing to pump in and out of you as your climax washes over you, coating his hand and even spurting onto his face.

Standing up, Sunghoon keeps his digits buried deep inside you, still wriggling them around as he leans over your spent body on the desk. "If this is you with just my mouth and fingers," he says, pausing to give you a sweet kiss, "then just imagine you on my cock."

His words send a shiver of want down your spine, and you can't help but imagine the feeling of him buried deep inside you, filling you completely. The thought alone is enough to reignite the fire of desire within you, and you find yourself yearning for more of him, for the pleasure only he can provide.

Withdrawing his fingers from you, he brings them to his mouth, licking himself clean of your cum. The sight has you gasping, wishing his mouth was back on you, using that tongue just one more time. Sunghoon sees the need in your eyes and smiles cockily.

"You want a taste?" he asks, already offering his fingers to your parted lips. You eagerly accept, sucking and licking them clean, savouring the lingering taste of yourself on his skin. "You taste unreal, right?" he remarks, his voice husky with desire.

You nod, popping your mouth off his fingers, "How can you taste me if you've got no taste buds?" you ask, genuinely curious. There's still so much you don't know about these dolls, and each revelation only adds to your intrigue.

"Ah, we're all different makes. Some have functions others don't," Sunghoon explains as he begins to undress, leaving him in only his boxers and glasses.

"So you can taste? What can the others do?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued.

"You bored of me already, baby girl?" he teases, deflecting your question with a smirk. His hands grip the bottom of your t-shirt, and with a swift motion, he lifts it over your head, leaving you exposed and vulnerable on the desk, "The real question you should be asking is what else I can do."

You lie naked before him, anticipation palpable in your expression as you look him up and down, suddenly intrigued by the possibilities. "What can you do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, eager to discover the depths of pleasure he can offer.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

He pushes his boxers down, revealing his throbbing arousal. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, his length throbbing in his hands. Each time he pumps, the pulsing of the fake veins quickens. He presses his cock against your folds and you feel the pulse.

"Do you feel it?" Sunghoon asks, already knowing the answer as he watches you involuntarily move your hips, seeking more of the delicious friction his cock provides.

You nod eagerly, your desire mounting with each passing moment. The anticipation of what's to come sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you can't help but yearn for more of him.

You understand Soonyeol a lot more now.

Slowly, Sunghoon guides himself to your entrance to let you feel the throbbing more intensely as he begins to push inside you. The sensation is electrifying, sending your body into a flush as he fills you completely with his length.

Imagine if every man possessed this kind of touch; maybe, just maybe, there'd be less reason to complain. It's like slipping into a dream, feeling his hands explore every inch of you as he eases into a gentle rhythm of thrusting.

You find yourself lost in the sensation, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. His movements synchronise with the rhythm of your heartbeat, building a crescendo of desire.

You can't help but draw comparisons to Jaeyun, though you don't mean to. Their approaches to pleasing you are starkly different. Jaeyun is fervent and eager, consumed by his own need for you. His passion is raw and primal, leaving you breathless and craving more, even as you revel in the intensity of his desire.

In contrast, Sunghoon's touch is confident and measured. Each thrust is a masterpiece of skill and intention, as if his sole purpose is to ensure you experience the pinnacle of pleasure. There's a depth to his movements, leaving you utterly captivated by the artistry of his fucking. He was born to do this.

Once he senses your body yielding to him, growing accustomed to the girth of his cock, he presses his hand firmly against your lower stomach, anchoring you to the desk as he intensifies his rhythm. His muscles tense with each powerful thrust, driving deeper into you with a primal urgency.

"God, you're tight," he remarks, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, his tousled hair falling into his eyes, "Are you sure Jaeyun's been fucking you?" he teases, his voice laced with playful arrogance as he revels in the control he holds over your pleasure.

As Sunghoon's words cut through the haze of pleasure, a pang of guilt tugs at your conscience. Despite the lust coursing through you, his casual dismissal of Jaeyun stirs conflicting emotions within you. Jaeyun may not be perfect, but he holds a place in your heart that you can't deny.

"I... I don't like when you talk about him like that," you manage to say between breaths, your voice wavering slightly. 

But that only makes him pound into you deeper as you cry out. Your hands reach for his arm as you grip it tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded as he fucks you with an intensity like never before.

Sunghoon's response is a low growl, his grip on you tightening as he drives into you with an almost punishing force, "You don't want me talking about your little puppy?" he taunts, his words laced with a mixture of lust and disdain. The sound of the drawers rattling beneath you only adds to the chaotic symphony of pleasure and pain enveloping you.

Your head swims with conflicting desires, torn between the familiar comfort of Jaeyun's touch and the intoxicating thrill of Sunghoon's dominance. And as his thumb finds its way to your clit, sending bolts of ecstasy shooting through your body, you can't help but succumb to the overwhelming pleasure, surrendering yourself completely to the man who's determined to claim you as his own.

"I hit a nerve, huh?" Sunghoon's laughter rings out, a mixture of amusement and triumph lacing his words as he continues to tease your sensitive clit, each flick sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You try to form a coherent response, but all that escapes your lips are desperate moans and gasps as Sunghoon's relentless assault pushes you closer to the edge. Sensations overwhelm your senses, leaving you trembling and breathless in his grasp.

"What's the matter, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice drips with mock concern, his tone betraying his underlying satisfaction, "Did I touch a sore spot because you know I’m right? That pup could never fuck you this good, just admit it." His thumb circles your clit once more, sending a bolt of lightning up your body.

You bite back a whimper, your mind clouded with a mixture of arousal and frustration. The realisation dawns on you that you're caught in the middle of a rivalry, a competition between two men, each determined to outdo the other.

But amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions, one thing becomes clear - in this moment, there is only Sunghoon, his touch, his dominance, consuming you completely.

As Sunghoon redoubles his efforts, fucking into you so good you think you might struggle to walk for a week, you find yourself surrendering to him; but as long as you’re getting fucked like this, who cares?

"Sunghoon," you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice pleading yet smothered with arousal, "Please..."

He pauses, his movements slowing as he looks down at you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Please what, Y/N?" he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement, "Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head frantically, unable to form a coherent response, "No," you whimper, your fingers clutching at the edge of the desk for support, "Fuck...don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon's face as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear, "That's what I thought, baby girl.” He kisses you messily, his fingers circling your sensitive bud as he continues his pace.

Sunghoon's eyes latch on yours, a knowing grin on his lips as he awaits your release. The air crackles with eagerness, "You're almost there, aren't you, Y/N?" Sunghoon's voice is deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine as his words stoke the fire inside you, "Just a little more..."

His words propel you over the brink, sending you spinning into oblivion as waves of ecstasy rush over you. You yell out his name, your body quivering with the intensity of your release as you surrender totally to the euphoria surging through you.

Sunghoon stares at you with dark, hungry eyes, his own release near as he continues to push into you with unwavering passion. He turns his thrusts from rapid to sharp, the vibration excruciating with each punch of the tip of his cock to your linings. He is so smug as you knock the lamp off the table by accident, too busy trying to escape the overstimulation you’re pussy is experiencing, but he holds you still.

"Give me just one more minute, baby girl, you can handle it, right?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire, eliciting a groan from you. He's moving with the intensity of an animal, overwhelming yet fucking satisfying.

His glasses teeter on the edge of his nose, moving by the force of his thrusts. With a swift motion, you snatch them from his face, placing them on your own and viewing him through a new lens. He's breathtakingly beautiful, with or without the glasses, but especially in this moment.

"Please, Hoonie, cum inside me," you plead, pushing the glasses to the tip of your nose. As Sunghoon takes in the sight of you, combined with your newfound nickname for him, he loses all semblance of control.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his release coating your insides as some spills onto the desk below. The vibrations from his cock cease, and he remains still inside you, his face buried in your neck as he trembles with the intensity of his climax.

Sunghoon's trembling subsides as he lifts his head from your neck, his eyes locking with yours in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, "You're incredible, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and reverence, “I can’t let him have you to himself,” he admits, a smirk playing on his face.

You return his smile, your chest still heaving and your body buzzing with the aftermath of your shared passion. "He did mention that Soonyeol shares you all," you point out, a playful glint in your eyes.

Sunghoon nods, his expression turning serious as he brushes a strand of damp hair away from your face. "True, but she doesn't exactly fuck us every day," he confesses, his voice low and husky with desire, mischief evident in his expression.

"We don't have to..." you begin, but Sunghoon cuts you off with a determined look.

"You're fucking mad if you think for a second I'm going to let any opportunity to have you slip away," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument, "I'll take you whenever and wherever I can, Y/N. That's a promise."

“Am I going to have to sort out a rota?” you joke, giggling as you begin to sit up, his cock slipping out of you with a soft pop.

Taking a tissue from the box laid on the desk, he wipes you down, something Jaeyun doesn’t do at all. But Jaeyun does cuddle which is something you can’t imagine Sunghoon doing. 

As he tosses the tissue into the waste basket and begins to get dressed, you watch him with a mixture of affection and anticipation. "Put me on the first shift tomorrow, yeah?" he requests, his voice tinged with eagerness.

You nod with a smile, already looking forward to the next time you'll be together. "Consider it done," you agree, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect of what tomorrow might bring.

You hop off the desk and begin to put your clothes back on, satisfaction courses through your body, yet your mind remains unsettled. There’s one lingering question you hope Sunghoon can answer before he retreats back to his room.

“Hey, Hoonie?” you shout before he reaches the door to exit. He turns around and looks at you expectantly, “What’s behind that door?” It’s a loaded question but one you need answers. No amount of fucking can make you forget that spine-curling red light.

Sunghoon sighs, his steps retracing back to where you stand, his hands reaching for your face. You wonder what he's up to until you feel him peel off his glasses, giving them a quick clean before settling them back on his nose.

“Do me a favour?” he asks, his tone carrying a weight you can't ignore. You nod, hoping he'll grant your request for insight into the mystery beyond that door.

“I won’t tell Soonyeol about you fucking us if you agree to stop sticking your nose into matters that don't concern you, understood?” his words sting, his stare unwavering as he awaits your response. Whatever lies behind that door is a sensitive topic, only fueling your curiosity further.

There’s no denying you need this job though, so with a reluctant sigh, you nod in agreement, accepting the terms of his proposal, "Okay, Hoonie," you concede, the weight of your decision settling heavily on your shoulders, "You have a deal."

Sunghoon's lips curve into a small smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his eyes. "Good," he replies, his voice softening with approval. "Now, let's keep this between us, shall we? Jaeyun doesn’t even know and if Heeseung catches a whiff that you know about that thing, he will kill you before you can even attempt to find a key.”

His warning sits like vomit in your throat at the mention of Heeseung, the most mysterious one of them all. You don’t know enough about the cherry-haired doll to debunk whether Sunghoon is joking or not.

You offer him a solemn nod, a silent promise to uphold your end of the bargain. But what he doesn’t know is that as he leaves, you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

[nerdy-novelist017]

i'm so in love with your little bunny series and i'm so glad you're writing for benny! i was wondering if you could write something about reader being a yapper, always talking a lot about things with so much excite and benny finds this the most cutest thing ever, but one day someone says that she's annoying for that, which makes her feel very self conscious and she starts to think that benny might feel the same since he's a very much quiter person, and benny assures her that is not the case? just fluffy and comfort to warm my heart <3 thank you already!

Anon, this is literally the cutest request ever omg!!! Thank you for the request, I had so much fun writing this! I paired this as another one shot for my Benny x Bunny series, hope you enjoy!

Word Count- 2k+

Summary- See request above.

Sweet Talking (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

You pressed a kiss to Benny’s cheek, whispering to him that you’d be right back as you stood and made your way around the bonfire. You pulled Benny’s jacket tighter around you to fend off the chilly evening air on your trek back to the house. The night was still young, the sun having just set an hour ago and these bikers would be up until the sunrise, all having caught their second wind from the race held earlier in the fields. The loudness of the bikes and the sheer excitement from the crowds was something you were still trying to get used to, but you found that you actually liked talking to these people. Once they included you in their conversations and picked topics that you could relate to as well, you found yourself talking a lot more than you ever have in your life. They laughed at your jokes, they called out to you when they saw you approaching, they really seemed to just adopt you into their club. You supposed, in the beginning, a majority of that was from Benny probably intimidating some members into being nice to you, but regardless of that, they still seemed to enjoy your company and your silly stories and random facts – especially the women of this club. 

Stepping through the back door, you were immediately greeted by the scent of cigarette smoke and booze, things you were also still trying to get used to. Several members were lounging on the couch, smoking and talking as you passed them on your way to the kitchen. You went to the fridge, opening it and lowering yourself to search for a cold pop for yourself. Voices filtered into your vicinity from the adjacent dining room. Just as you grab another beer for Benny, your ears perked up when you heard your name being said in passing and you froze behind the refrigerator door. 

“–She does have a sweet piece of ass on her though,” a male voice, sounding muffled most likely by a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this, but curiosity rooted you to your spot as you tried peeking over the door to catch a look at who was speaking. 

“Jesus Christ, you can’t get her to shut up anymore.” another voice replied, much deeper and raspier than the first. “I miss when she would just stand there shaking like a leaf, all nervous and quiet.”

“Would it even be worth it to hit that? C’mon man, she’d gab your fucking ear off during it, totally kill the mood for me.”

Your smile slowly at their words, heart sinking. You should get up and leave, you told yourself. But you couldn’t force your legs to move.

“I’d put that mouth of hers to work on something else,” the first man said, chuckling darkly. You squeezed your eyes shut at the insinuation. 

“Don’t know how Benny–boy puts up with it. I’d have to gag her just to hear myself think–”

You stand abruptly, unable to listen to anymore of their hurtful words. Using a bit more force than you intended, you slammed the fridge door shut, the glass bottles rattling harshly inside from the force. Tears stung your eyes as you rushed back through the living room to the backdoor. You paused once you rounded the side of the house, sniffing in order to keep the tears at bay. They were just drunk assholes, you tried to tell yourself. Who cares what they think of you? 

But a few traitor tears escaped your lashes at the thought of Benny finding you annoying too. Benny– that quiet, easy-spoken man who you loved with everything in you. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like how you squealed with excitement when you saw someone you knew from across the room. That quiet man who maybe didn’t like when you giggled loudly at jokes told around the bonfire. That quiet man who was your exact opposite.

******

Benny could tell there was something wrong the second you came into view again, your figure illuminated by the orange flames of the bonfire as you moved to sit back down by him. Your hands were shoved in the pockets of his jacket, head tucked low. And beside him? It was rare that you didn’t sit on his lap anymore. 

You handed him a beer and he tried to catch your eyes because was that tears he saw coating your lashes? But you avoided his gaze, instead curling into his side and that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, quiet as a mouse, until you eventually tugged on his sleeve and asked if you could go home. The ride home was also weird. You didn’t tap his shoulder and point to things that interested you like you normally did on the back of his bike. You stayed glued to his back, silent. 

Benny watched, brow furrowed, as you went about your nighttime routine in silence, the house you shared no longer filled with your usual chatter. He sat on the edge of the bed, wracking his brain with the possibilities of you being upset with him. (The silent treatment was often a go-to method of torture you used when Benny pissed you off) but he was at a loss. Something had to have happened when you left the bonfire. Anxiety spiked through him at the thought that maybe someone had done something to you, but no, you would have told him. He made you promise to always talk to him if someone at the club was bothering you. 

You changed into your nightgown and Benny’s heart squeezed at the sight of you avoiding his gaze once again as you turned and began brushing out your pin curls in the mirror. 

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, unable to bare another second of your silence. 

“Mh-hm.” Came your short reply.

Benny swallowed. You were definitely upset. “You seem . . . quiet.”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say because you’re shoulders stiffened for a moment and he thought you might turn around and throw your brush at him. But instead, you responded in a small voice, “Just tired.”

He frowned. He’d seen you when you were tired, this was something else. He tried a different tactic. “Tell me about your day, Bunny.” 

You shrugged. “Not much happened.”

“Well, tell me about it. I wanna hear it.” He tried to catch your eyes as you put the brush down and stepped away from the vanity.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna talk about it? I just want to go to bed, Benny.” you tried to move past him to go to your side of the bed but Benny reached out gently tugged on the hem of your nightgown, stopping you.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you. 

You nodded, but still refused to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “Did someone do something to you tonight?”

You shook your head quickly and relief swept through him. “No, no. Nothing like that.”

His hands slid up to your hips and he pulled you closer to him. “Talk to me, Bunny. Please. I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

You swallowed, chin wobbling slightly. “Nothing happened . . . I just–I overheard some guys talkin’ is all.”

He remained silent and you continued hesitantly. “When I went to get a drink . . . they didn’t know I was there. And–and I should have left as soon as I heard them talking but . . .”

“What were they saying?”

You clenched your jaw and gave him a distressed look. 

He squeezed your hips encouragingly. “What were they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me,” he was quick to say. 

“They . . . they were talkin’ about how I talk . . . a lot. They said it was annoying. They were saying crude things about using my mouth for . . . other things.” you said slowly, voice wavering and you looked down in embarrassment.

Benny nodded and breathed out of his nose, counting to ten in his head to cool his suddenly white hot anger which bloomed in his chest. He had worked so hard to get you to feel comfortable around the club, to get you to come out of your shell and now someone had something to say about his girl—his sweet shy girl—talking? “Who was it?”

“Oh, Benny–” You pulled back from him. “Don’t go saying anything to them!”

“Why not?” He planned to do much more than talk to them.

“Because!” you cried, your voice going an octave higher. “That would make it worse! Besides, they’re–they’re right anyway.”

“Right about what?” he asked, bewildered at how they could possibly know you like he did.

“Well, I do talk a lot. A–and I know it can be annoying for someone who’s a lot more quiet.” 

“Annoying?” He laughed at the inaccuracy of that statement and you must have thought he was laughing at you because you took a big step back from him, out of his reach.

“I just don’t want to embarrass you,” you murmured, looking down at the carpet below you. 

Benny’s stomach fluttered apprehensively. There had been only a few times in his life where he wished he was better at talking, at communicating his feelings. He wanted to console you, to reassure you, that you could never be annoying or embarrassing to him. He wanted to tell you just how much you gave him purpose and helped him in his life. How you were his life. This was one of those times. 

He rose from the bed and approached you passively, trying to gather his thoughts. “I like when you talk. When we spend the day apart, I look forward to hearing about your day and what you did and what you saw while I was gone. And when we’re riding and you point to the little things like the flowers on the sidewalk or the sunsets, I like that. I really like that. And when you tell stories, you get so immersed and you start talking with your hands, I like that too. You’re so friendly to everyone, no matter what they look like or how well you know them and that’s one of my favorite things about you. You talkin’ could never embarrass me, Bunny, because it’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Tears welled up in your doe-eyes and he swallowed nervously. “Why are you crying?”

Suddenly, you were pressed so tightly to his chest, face burying into his shirt, hands holding onto him with such grip that Benny stumbled. He recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around your small frame.

“Oh, Benny,” you choked up. “You’re so sweet!” 

He wasn’t so sure about that, maybe only when it came to you. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be so sweet to those guys that spoke about you like that. He’d take a trip tomorrow to visit them personally, but for tonight, he belonged to you. He’d discovered that about himself from your relationship, from you. Even though he wanted to do things right when he wanted to, he couldn’t always. That’s what love was, putting others’ needs before your own. And tonight, you needed him, so he would be here.

His hands found your jaw and he tilted your head back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Will you come lay with me and tell me about your day?”

You nod, sniffing and Benny nearly melted at the smile you gave him. That was the smile he’d come to recognize as the one you had reserved for only him. Soft, sweet and totally perfect in every way. He pulled you gently back to bed and relished as you curled up against him. His heart was filled with warmth as he listened to you chatter on about your day and your friends and your thoughts, anything that came to mind. He’d ask questions every once in a while to keep you going, but he mostly stayed quiet, because to him, you were so captivating and cute. You both talked throughout the night, you slowly getting lower and lower into his side until finally falling asleep, your conversation temporarily paused until the morning.

-Tag List-

@imusicaddict  @elizabeth916  @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @dudii4love @ironmooncat  @beebeechaos  @astrogrande  @pearlparty  @themorriganisamonster  @sillylittlethrowaway  @ughdontbeboring  @penwieldingdreamer  @charmingballoon  @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans  @groovyangelkisses  @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit  @pomtherine  @tranquilty  @m00npjm  @twisteduniverse5  @justsomewritingblog  @nhlfs  @thepassionatereader  @rebecca-hvnstn  @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations  @buckysteveloki-me  @simsiddy  @zablife  @sansaorgana  @autumnleaves1991-blog  @charmingballoon  @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @jaiuneamesolitaiire  @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey  @cynic-spirit @pomtherine  @ilovehyperfixating  @xcallmetaniax  @lovenewfandoms  

[torukmaktoskxawng]

Sleeping Beauty - Lo'ak & Neteyam

Part of the Sleeping Beauty Series (all stand-alone)

inspo

Pairing: Lo'ak/Fem!Avatar Reader, Neteyam/Fem!Avatar Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors dni, aged-up characters, somnophilia, mate bites, spitting, cussing, unprotected p in v (wrap it, skxawngs), orgasm denial, jacking off, praise, dirty talk, nipple play, squirting, edging, surprise threesome (but they're only into you, not each other), mentions of creampie, cumming on external places, after care, creative use of Na'vi words to avoid saying Y/n, etc.

A/n: Adult Lo'ak & Neteyam done by the one and only @ cinetrix 💕

It was a long day for the both of you, with Lo'ak coming back from a tedious hunt while you were out-- essentially running a bunch of errands for Max with a grocery list of plant samples he wanted you to go find. You hadn't had any time to stop and see Lo'ak as it was running late and Max needed help labeling and taking stock of said samples. Unable to properly fit in the lab in your avatar, you decide to lay her down for the night in your marui and break the connection, opening your eyes to find yourself in your human form, lying on your back in a soft-glowing link bay.  

You eagerly got to work on the samples alongside Max, hoping to get it all done before the day got too late. Day quickly turned to night and you heard the Omatikaya going about their evening outside the lab, preparing and then partaking in their communal feast. It disheartened you to know that you already missed dinner with Lo'ak, knowing that by the time you were finally done with your work, he'd likely be so tired and cuddling your unconscious avatar form. Normally, you don't sleep in your avatar, no matter how much Lo'ak begs you. It's easier to refuse him when he's away from the clan and you have the marui to yourself, but other times, well, he's very persuasive. But Max and even Norm have warned you time and time again that you shouldn't make that a habit and it's required of you to return to your human body at night, or else it'll eventually be just a husk-- a shell of your former self. So far, you've been pretty stern with Lo'ak about this and only gave into him a few very rare times, which usually start with him wanting to take you somewhere private at night so the two of you could be alone. Usually, that then leads to several rounds of orgasms that make you too tired, and oh no, suddenly you can't break your link and you're forced to sleep soundly on Lo'ak's chest. What a shame.

Sleeping beside him, especially in your avatar, is like a reward of its own, and it's so comforting. Sleeping beside him as a human is nice, sure, but with your avatar, you don't have glass obstructing your view or any kisses Lo'ak might want to sneak you. Tonight, after not seeing him all day, was something you really needed.

As much as you knew that linking for long periods of time could be harmful to your human body, you really wanted to be able to sleep alongside your mate tonight. So, with quick feet, you return to your link bay and lie down, barely letting the lid close over you before closing your eyes and forcing your mind to relax. The link connected successfully, and you were whisked away to your avatar, led by a light at the end of that familiar tunnel. 

Waking up was slow, your avatar's eyes too heavy to open just yet, but a different sensation you were unfamiliar with waking up was happening between your legs. A brutal force that was slowly going faster, shoving its way into your gummy, and surprisingly wet pussy, feeling your thighs sticky with clear liquid. Your ears finally hear through the thick fog of your mind, catching the sounds of grunts, in sync with the loud sound of skin slapping together. One brutal push had your body moving up the mat an inch, and it felt as though it pierced the roof of your cervix, causing a quiet whimper to leave your lips. Now you are finally aware of a hot, growing coil, tightening at the bottom of your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. There was no build-up or foreplay involved for you, just immediately waking to your orgasm ready to flood your entire system.

You gasp as the coil snaps and you leak around the thick cock shoving its way inside of you, some of your juices even splashing on both yours and the abdomen nestled between your legs every time they thrust in and out, prolonging your climax and making your thighs shake around what you assumed was hips. Still bullying their way into your body even as your orgasm finally cools down, you're more aware of how hard and twitchy the cock inside you felt, hitting your sweet spot each time and punching a gasp from your lungs with each thrust.

Finally opening your eyes, you look around and find your mate sitting off to the side, leaning against the foundation of your shared marui while his fist slowly runs up and down his hard, leaking dick, the tip tinged a dull purple color, indicating oversensitivity. Your lips are dry as you try to form words, "Lo... Lo'ak?"

"Hey, mamas," he grins wolfishly, his hand's pace on his cock remaining the same speed as he casually spoke to you, "I hope you don't mind, but I thought Neteyam could spend the night."

Between your orgasm and your sleepy mind, everything was still foggy, and it took a moment before you finally processed his words. Something clicked inside your head when you finally registered that Lo'ak wasn't the one who made you cum, sitting much too far away. Lo'ak wasn't the one currently shoving his way inside your body like he wanted to permanently blend your bodies together into one being. When you turn your head to look up at whoever is currently above you, rearranging your guts, you're met with none other than your mate's older brother. And despite the sweat and crease on his brow, Neteyam has a brash smile etched on his lips when your eyes meet.

"Kaltxì," he huffs out, the word rushed and followed by a rough grunt that escapes his mouth when his hips press flush against yours, your wet walls still occasionally pulsing around his cock in a welcoming embrace, making him dizzy with euphoria.

Your head was spiraling with so many questions, unable to voice them as Neteyam fucks you dumb, too cock drunk to form the words. Over the past year, you would periodically wake in your avatar form, sore and leaking with whatever mess Lo'ak left in between your legs, and when you eventually confront him about it, you both came to the agreement that he's more than welcome to use your avatar for whatever pleasure he has while you're not linked to it... just as long as he makes it up to you later on. You want a little bit of fun of your own, after all.

Lo'ak shuffles closer to you, his cock forgotten for the moment as he reaches you and plants quick and warm kisses all over your face before moving to whisper in your ear, "I wanted to show him all the... advantages of having a dreamwalker as my mate."

Even with Lo'ak's words currently distracting you, you couldn't ignore the way your body slowly began to grow warm and tight again, Neteyam angling his hips and hitting your sweet spot each time so that you were ready for another climax. You gasp at the sensation, reaching up to hang onto something, which ends up being the back of Lo'ak's neck.

Your mate grins before kissing your ear, "I'm so proud of you, mamas. You managed to take my cock before taking Neteyam's and waking up."

That explains why your body felt so sore and sticky, feeling more full than you would imagine with just Neteyam inside you. It felt as though you had run a marathon, but there were no physical signs of Lo'ak on your body until your free hand reached up and grazed his bite scar on your neck. There's a fresh bruise forming over the mate mark, confirming Lo'ak's lewd words.

Neteyam groaned and plunged deep and frantic into you when he watched the dawning realization cross your features. You make an identical sound, the thought of the older Sully brother currently fucking both his cock and Lo'ak's seed further into your womb sending you into a frenzy of soft moans, throwing your head back and arching up into Neteyam's thrusts.

"Great Mother," Neteyam hissed, "She just gripped me tighter."

"Aw, do you like that, baby?" Lo'ak purs into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it, making it twitch, "Do you like it when I use your holes while you're unconscious? Or do you like it when I invite someone over to use your body without your knowledge?"

You groan loudly as your answer, and the sound spurs Neteyam to reach down and lightly pinch your already abused clit to the same rhythm of his thrusts. Lo'ak moves one of his hands to fondle one of your exposed breasts, and you faintly note that you are completely naked, remembering you had fallen asleep wearing a worn-out RDA shirt meant for avatars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that same shirt torn to pieces on the floor a few feet from your head.

Lo'ak pinches your nipple, watching it harden before moving to the other one to do the same thing. It leaves you moaning and writhing, practically impaling yourself on Neteyam's cock, your hips rising to meet his own thrusts, much to his delight. His tail unconsciously curls around your thigh, coiling tighter and tighter with each sound you make. Meanwhile, Lo'ak's tail had found your ankle and used it to keep you spread for his brother while he took one of your nipples in his mouth and the other in his hand, switching once or twice to lather both of your hardened buds in his saliva.

"Lo'ak, please..." you whine, feeling your body begin to tighten with anticipation. Neteyam felt light-headed with how hard you were gripping his length. He can barely even pull out you were so tight, holding his cock captive in your dark, wet cavern.

"What is it, mamas?" Lo'ak asks innocently, though one look at his grinning smile, and you know it was just a facade.

"N-Need to cum," you stammer.

"Hm," his yellow eyes twinkle with mischief, leaning down to mutter his reply into your lips, "That's not up to me, baby. Neteyam is taking your pleasure right now. Only he gets to decide if you cum again or not."

He takes advantage of your mouth opening in shock, spitting on your tongue, forcing you to inhale a soft gasp of surprise. His eyes dart back up to meet yours and you can't help the moan that escapes you at the heat you see in his gaze. Lo'ak leans down to kiss your lips in a dirty, sensual display of affection, exploring your mouth with his tongue while purring into your lips, your body proven affected by his actions as you unexpectedly slam your hips against Neteyam's.

The older brother's hand quickly grabs a hold of your waist to stop your movements, spewing out a song of Na'vi curses as he suddenly stops thrusting. He huffs and wheezes, any more movement from you would've led to him cumming too fast, let alone inside your pussy, which wasn't on his agenda, no matter how tempting it was. As pussy drunk as he was in this moment, he still had some sliver of respect for his brother and his wishes. Neteyam could fuck you as much as he wanted tonight, but he wasn't allowed to finish inside you.

"Stay still, yawne," Neteyam whispers breathlessly, trying to think of unpleasant things to keep himself from cumming. A small burst of confidence takes over as a smirk begins to play on his lips as his fingers slow down over your clit, "Or you won't get to cum at all."

He looks down at you, though it was hard to see your eyes with Lo'ak in the way, making out with you as your lips make vulgar sounds as they slide together, strings of saliva connecting you to your mate every time the need for air takes over. Neteyam forces himself to look away, the sight of your kiss-bitten lips, so swollen and wet, made his cock twitch inside of you.

Lo'ak gasps quietly for air before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whisper in your ear, "Go on, baby. I want you to. You can beg for my brother, it's okay... We used to share a lot of things growing up. This is hardly any different. So go ahead. Beg for Neteyam to let you cum. I don't mind."

You whimper as you feel Lo'ak's hot breath fan over the side of your neck, squeezing your eyes shut as your thighs clench around Neteyam's waist. With your mate's permission, you don't waste time opening your mouth and shamelessly begging, "Please, Neteyam. Please make me cum! Oh, fuck--"

The whine that escapes you will haunt you later with a less foggy head, but it's the only thing you could do in protest when you feel Neteyam completely slide out of your pussy, tip and all. He waits until you finally open your pretty eyes to look up at him, then he smiles.

"There you are. Keep your eyes on me, yawne, and I'll let you cum."

You nod obediently, parting your lips to moan as Neteyam gently smacks his tip over your clit and then easily slips between your wet folds. It's so hard to keep your eyes open when his cock slowly and painstakingly slides into you, shoving the tip deep inside until he's sure he's pressing against your sweet spot, then pulls out and repeats the same motion, as slowly as before.

Lo'ak moves out of your space and sits back on his feet, taking his aching cock back in hand and jerking off to the same motions Neteyam makes when entering your pussy, the younger Sully biting his lip when the motion only relieved a small bit of the torture he put himself through by trying to cum again after already doing so inside you. Lo'ak watches your face as you're brought back over the edge of ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushing, and swollen mouth open agape. You keep your eyes on Neteyam, but you can see Lo'ak just in the corner of your peripheral and you know what he's doing. Without warning, you reach a hand out to wrap around Lo'ak's cock and his hips jolt as if he'd been shocked.

"Shit-!" Lo'ak gasped as you continued to pump his dick, up and down at the same pace as Neteyam's thrusts. Your mate moans loudly, thrusting into your hand to try and urge you to go faster, "That's it, baby... don't stop."

You obey, even going a little faster and smiling between moans when Lo'ak starts to whimper, just the way you like him, knowing he was close. His whimpers are quickly forgotten, even if only for a moment, when Neteyam starts to thrust harder, forcing your eyes to roll back as you feel your body burning up from the inside out, the coil unbearably tight as your toes curl.

Neteyam's hips stop, flush against yours as he growls, "Eyes."

Your gaze immediately snaps back to him, and he chuckles under his breath, "Good girl."

His fingers move side to side against your clit, then in circles. He repeats this pattern when he noticed the way your pussy clenches around his cock, a deep growl vibrating from the back of his throat at the sensation. He can't keep edging himself like this or else he'll really lose control and then he won't pull out, no matter how much he knows he has to. So, he decides not to torture you for long as he finally nods.

"Now, yawne. You can cum."

Lo'ak whines at the feel of your hand squeezing him a little tighter, his precum leaking down your knuckles, "That's it, baby, you heard him. Cum for us, mamas, that's it. Cum on Neteyam's cock. Show him what you can do."

A long series of moans and soft screams tumble from your mouth as you throw your head back and chase after your high. Slamming your hips down on Neteyam's cock and using him, you make sure he hits your sweet spot every time before your coil snaps and your liquid spews everywhere, your whole body twitching as your juices leak out from around Neteyam's cock and splashes over his abs and bioluminescent freckles, slowly dripping down his delicious blue skin.

You're still cumming when Lo'ak follows suit, gently batting your hand away so he could take his cock in hand and finish over your tits, moaning and whimpering unapologetically as his cum splatters over your chest, pearly white droplets sliding over your nipples and down the curves of your breasts. Lo'ak gasps and groans at the sight, so whiny and desperate, continuously fisting his cock and painfully holding the tip so he squeezes out every last drop onto your tits.

Neteyam's less vocal than his brother, but you still manage to catch his climax as well, feeling not one but two different spurts of cum on your body, mixed with Lo'ak's loud whines and a soft growl you were less familiar with. As you're coming down from your high, you peer down between your legs to see Neteyam gripping tightly onto his cock, slowly softening beneath his fingertips as long strings of his seed dance and paint over your stomach, collecting in your belly button. Looking up, Neteyam's face is an absolute wreck, flushed in a darker shade of color, the color of his eyes now reverting to small, tiny rings, shrouded with lust. He's clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet, much to your disappointment, but you don't complain since he has yet to stop circling your clit, drawing out the last of your orgasm until it becomes too sensitive. Once you whine in discomfort, he immediately stops his movements. 

The marui is filled with huffing and panting, all three of you clawing for air as your bodies cool down, turning into jello and unable to properly form words yet. You have to lick your lips as they've dried, but Lo'ak takes it a step further and kisses you, slowly, passionately, and less desperate. While kissing Lo'ak you feel Neteyam's hands in the crook of your knees, untangling them from around his waist and setting them on the floor while his body heat vanishes from your skin. You're about to whine into Lo'ak's mouth in protest when a warm, wet cloth meets your raw and fluttering pussy, gently cleaning you of any fluids before moving onto your stomach and breasts. You don't miss the way Neteyam kisses both of your knees as he works at cleaning you up, making your tail bat gently against the ground. Lo'ak softly groans into your lips before pulling away, his smile lopsided and boyish before he kisses your nose.

"You did so good for us, mamas. You've never woken up when I'm in the middle of fucking you before. Neteyam must feel awfully lucky."

Both you and Neteyam hum in response, but otherwise say nothing as your lust gives way to exhaustion. Lo'ak lays down beside you and wraps you in his arms, pressing your back against his front and kissing the base of your kuru, smiling to himself when your tail gently slaps his hip. Neteyam sighs and lays down on the other side of you, the two of you facing each other but at a more respectable distance, even though you both wish for him to move closer. You settle by holding his hand in yours while relaxing into Lo'ak's embrace, smiling to yourself over what just happened as you close your eyes to sleep.

While it's true that you've never connected to your avatar when Lo'ak was in the middle of using you, after tonight, you definitely need to be able to time this better for next time. 

Taglist: @pandoraslxna @inolaphoenix @neteyamsoare @mooniequeen @avatar-lover @taronyuhunter @neteyamsyawntu @neteyamsl0ver @ikeyniofthetayrangi @neteyamssyulang

[svt-luna]

Hi sweetie 🍓🌹🌹 I hope you have a nice day/night 💕 Can you add this to Luna's YouTube series? 🍓. It would be fun to read. (When Mingyu gets jealous of Jeonghan because of Luna and vice versa) 🌿 And thanks in advance I really appreciate your efforts ♥️

ᡴꪫ ⋆ JEALOUSY NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD: INSIDE THE JEONGHAN-LUNA-MINGYU TRIANGLE ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: A glimpse inside the most famous love triangle in k-pop history, most specifically the jealousy between Jeonghan and Mingyu over Luna who couldn't care less.

thank you for such kind words!! i apologize if this took so long and thank you for being patient. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🤍 (also, these fan made youtube videos might be my favorite ones to write… so request more!!)

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ youtube compilations

[added captions are in brackets] ᡣ𐭩

bold dialogues are spoken in english ᡣ𐭩

indented italics are additional voice overs ᡣ𐭩

Here we go!

Buckle up, cause this is going to be a crazy ride.

Welcome back to another installment of “I want to be Bae Jiyeon 101” where we embark on a journey of self discovery of how blessed this woman is.

This videos is gonna focus on THE love triangle. Most specifically Mingyu and Jeonghan's jealous moments and Luna being clueless the entire time.

Enough chit chat… let’s begin… in the beginning… the video that started it all…

GOING SEVENTEEN EP 8: INSOMNIA ZERO #1

The camera panned over the dimly lit room, capturing the cozy, playful atmosphere of ‘Going Seventeen's Insomnia Zero’ set. The members sat on the mat, huddled together, all eyes fixed on the mattress where Luna lay.

[look how pretty she is]

[Sleeping Beauty fr fr]

It was round one, and the challenge was simple: keep your heart rate steady while the rest of the members tried their best to break it. With S.Coups absent due to his hiatus, the group had a mix of playful competitiveness and chaos, eager to see who could withstand the pressure and be able to go home early.

Luna, being ninth in their official order, was up next. She settled onto the mattress, her expression calm as she closed her eyes. The heart monitor pulsed softly, a subtle rhythm that would betray her slightest change in composure. The room’s lights dimmed further, casting a soft glow that highlighted the anticipation in the air.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Jun, Hoshi, Wonwoo, Woozi, and Minghao had already taken their turns, some more successful than others. Now, it was Luna’s moment to shine— or falter. The members crowded together on her right side, their eyes gleaming with mischief.

[I’m not gonna lie… lowkey scared to be their friend]

[like the dirt they must have on each other… chile]

They had one job: to get her heart rate to spike, and they were going to give it their all. The silence stretched for a beat before Jeonghan, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a grin. “Remember when Luna almost tripped on stage during our debut showcase? She blamed it on the stage lights.”

[A FUCKING MENACE]

[leave my baby alone 🥺]

Joshua chuckled, adding, “Yeah, and the way she tried to play it off like nothing happened? Amazing.” Luna’s lips twitched slightly, but she remained composed, her breathing steady.

Hoshi, not one to be outdone, chimed in. “Or that time during our trainee days when she tried to sneak extra snacks into the dorms? She thought no one noticed, but we all saw her stash in the fridge.”

[she’s adorable pls]

“She tried to bribe us with those snacks so we wouldn’t tell on her?” Seungkwan added, his voice tinged with laughter.

Woozi, with a rare smirk, joined in, “And the way she panicked when the trainers started asking why we were all so energetic during practice?”

“She’s shameless!” Seungkwan pointed at Luna. “Till this day, nobody knew she was sneaking food.”

[MY CLIENT IS NOT GUILTY, YOUR HONOR!]

The members burst into quiet laughter, the sound filling the room as they continued their playful banter. Luna, despite the barrage of teases and memories, remained still, her heart rate holding steady.

Dokyeom leaned in closer, his voice soft but clear, “Do you remember that one time when we were practicing late, and noona fell asleep on the practice room floor? We all left her there because we didn’t want to wake her up.”

[What is wrong with them honestly?]

[THEY LEGIT LEFT HER]

[I would have never spoke to them for a month]

Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, “She was so embarrassed the next morning, that she couldn’t look any of us in the eye for days.”

Luna’s calm facade wavered ever so slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was fighting back a smile.

[SHE’S SO FUCKING CUTE HELP]

The members exchanged glances, sensing they were close to breaking her. Hoshi leaned over, his voice a mock whisper, “Do you think she’s actually asleep right now? Or is she just pretending just like the time she didn’t want to practice?”

[BAHAHAHAHHAAHA]

[Thats the dance leader in him]

There was a pause, a collective breath held, as they waited for any sign that they had finally cracked her resolve. But Luna, ever composed, maintained her steady breathing, refusing to let them win so easily.

[Luna really said: 😴]

Jeonghan, seeing the challenge in her unwavering calm, leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “I broke your Wall-E Lego.”

[He wants to die I’m afraid]

The members laughed at his confession, knowing how precious Luna’s Legos are to her.

“I dropped it,” Jeonghan added before continuing, “His eye popped off.”

“There has to be missing pieces for sure.” Wonwoo added, smirking.

[I’D GO FERAL]

[they love to tease her it’s actually insane]

The room fell silent, the members watching with bated breath as they waited for her reaction. But Luna remained still, her heart rate steady, her expression serene.

[She’s iconic]

[I actually thought she was sleeping at first when I watched this]

The room was filled with a mix of disappointment and playful frustration as the members realized they are failing to faze Luna.

Seungkwan, ever the expressive one, was the first to voice their collective thoughts. “Seriously, how is she so thick-skinned?” he groaned, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “It’s like nothing gets to her!”

[IT’S A SKILL]

[she’s just THAT bitch]

Joshua nodded in agreement, his arms crossed as he leaned back. “It’s going to be impossible to beat her. She doesn’t even flinch.”

“It goes in ear and out the other.”

“Maybe she’s actually sleeping.”

“No, she smiled earlier.”

[THE FACT THAT THEY WERE MOSTLY COMPLAINING IS HILARIOUS TO ME]

“Ya, Jiyeon-ah,” Jeonghan said, using her real name with a teasing lilt. “Are you even human? Cause yo–”

[istg he had a pick-up line after that!]

[YOU COULD VISIBLY SEE HIM STOP THE WORDS FROM SPILLING OUT HIS GODDAMN MOUTH]

[don’t be a lady part Jeonghan fucking say it!]

[that would have gotten her heart rate going 😪]

The playful banter continued, the members tossing ideas back and forth on how to get through Luna’s seemingly impenetrable exterior. It was all in good fun, a testament to how well they knew each other after years of working and living together.

Then, amid the lively chatter, Mingyu, who had been quietly observing, suddenly spoke up. His tone was light, but there was a hint of something more serious beneath it as he called out, “Noona, do you know I have a crush on you?”

[WHEN I TELL YOU I FELL OF MY DAMN BED WHEN I FIRST WATCHED THIS… I FELL FACE FIRST]

[Haters would say he was joking, his own members would say he was joking, Luna herself might say he was joking but I know damn well…]

[KIM MINGYU WAS SERIOUS]

[LOOK AT HIS FACEEEEE]

[LOOK. AT. IT.]

[HE WAS DEAD SERIOUS I’M BEING FOR REAL RIGHT NOW?!!]

[I AM THE BIGGEST JEONGNA SHIPPER BUT MINGNA IS A CLOSE SECONNNNNDDD]

The words hung in the air for a moment, the room falling into an abrupt silence.

[LOOK]

[LOOK]

[LOOK AT HOW SHOCKED THEY ALL FUCKING LOOKED]

[AINT NO MOTHERFUCKING WAY]

Luna’s heart rate monitor pulsed noticeably faster, betraying the calm demeanor she had maintained so well. Her fists clenched slightly, and though she quickly composed herself, the spike in her heart rate had already given her away.

The other members immediately reacted, their voices rising in a chorus of playful “ooohs” and shrieks. They leaned back, clapping and laughing as if they were in on a well-played joke, but there was an underlying current of knowing in their eyes.

[LOOK AT HOW THEY WERE ALL EXCHANGING LOOKS]

[AM I INSANE?!? TELL ME I CAN’T BE THE ONLY ONE SEEING THIS!?]

They knew Mingyu for years, they all grew up and trained together. This wasn’t just a joke, but a carefully veiled truth that they all understood, yet chose to play off lightly.

“Ya, Mingyu-ya!” Seungkwan shouted, pointing at him with a wide grin. “You really went there, huh?”

“That’s one way to get her heart rate up!” Hoshi added, his laughter contagious as he nudged Minghao.

[They all acting sus as fuck]

Luna, despite the playful atmosphere, could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She knew Mingyu well enough to sense the sincerity behind his words, but this wasn’t the time or place to delve into it. They had to keep it light, for the sake of the fans watching and to avoid any unnecessary rumors.

[JIYEON IS FIGHTING DEMONS RN]

[QUEEN SHIT THO, SHE DID NOT FLINCH AT ALL]

The other members continued to laugh and tease, creating a buffer of lightheartedness that allowed the moment to pass without it becoming too serious. But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding between them all— especially between Luna and Mingyu. They played it off well, but the truth had slipped through, even if just for a moment.

As the laughter and playful teasing from the group began to die down, a subtle shift in the atmosphere could be felt, though it went unnoticed by most.

[GUYS I’M BEING SO FR RIGHT NOW. THERE WAS SOMETHING THERE!]

[the awkward tension!!! It was very much there!!]

[Now let us visit exhibit A: Jealous Yoon Jeonghan]

Amid the chaos of Mingyu’s sudden “confession” and Luna’s reaction, Jeonghan sat quietly in his place, his usual playful demeanor subdued. His eyes were trained on Mingyu, a gaze that held a depth of thought that contrasted with the lightheartedness of the moment.

[ZOOM IN ON FUCKING JEONGHAN RN]

[I– AM UNWELL]

[bro– istg this is not normal behavior]

[the fact that some people just dismiss this as Jeonghan’s normal tired self… he’s pissed bro]

Jeonghan wasn’t one to miss details, and he had seen the way Mingyu’s expression had flickered with something more than just playful banter when he had uttered those words to Luna. The easy-going grin, the way his eyes had softened just a fraction—Jeonghan knew Mingyu well enough to recognize when there was truth hidden beneath a joke.

The others were still caught up in the aftermath of the confession, their voices a mix of lingering laughter and exaggerated exclamations. Seungkwan was playfully pretending to faint in the background, clutching his chest dramatically, while Hoshi was nudging and whispering to Dino as if the two were plotting the next way to get Luna’s heart rate to spike even further.

But Jeonghan was silent, his mind replaying the moment in his head. Mingyu’s words had caught everyone off guard, but none more so than him.

[bro is pouting hard rn]

[JEONGHAN GET TF UP]

Jeonghan’s gaze shifted, landing on Luna, who was still trying to shake off the surprise of the moment. She still had her eyes closed accompanied by a subtle smile, playing along with the rest, but there was a subtle tension in the way her shoulders were held, a slight stiffness that hinted at the unexpectedness of Mingyu’s words.

[GOOD GOD. LOOK AT HIM STARING AT HER LIKE THAT]

[Jiyeon I love you girl but move it’s my turn]

Luna, meanwhile, had finally managed to get her heart rate back under control, though the earlier spike had been significant enough to cause some lingering amusement among the members.

The lights brightened slightly, signaling the end of her three minutes. The members groaned in mock defeat, their attempts to fluster her unsuccessful. Luna opened her eyes, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips as she sat up, meeting their disappointed gazes with a knowing look.

[look how disappointed they are]

[SHE IS THAT BITCH]

“Ya!, Kim Mingyu,” Luna finally said, her voice steady but with a playful edge. “Stop lying! People will get the wrong idea.”

[gurl you know damn well…]

[what ever makes you sleep at night i guess]

She cast a quick glance at Jeonghan, catching his eye for a split second before she looked away. Jeonghan met her gaze, his expression unreadable.

[GOOD LORD HOW AWKWARD]

[Mingyu looking at Luna, Luna looking at Jeonghan, Jeonghan looking at Luna]

[and that ladies and gentlemen is how the triangle was formed]

190927 FANSIGN

The fan sign event was in full swing, the room alive with the buzzing excitement of fans and the playful banter of SEVENTEEN. The line of fans snaked around the venue, each one eagerly waiting their turn to interact with the members.

After fixing her hair, Luna grabbed the mic in front of her, ready to greet the fans and ask them some questions.

[Sidenote: LOOK HOW HOT SHE LOOKS 😫]

[she’s unreal, no wonder she’s in a love triangle]

Luna spoke into her microphone, but no sound came out. Frowning slightly, she tried again, but the mic stubbornly remained silent. The fans closest to the stage noticed the mishap and giggled, anticipating what would happen next.

Before Luna could react, Jeonghan and Mingyu, seated on either side of her, simultaneously lifted their mics towards her. The movement was so synchronized it was almost as if they had rehearsed it. The fans erupted into screams, the sound filling the room and making the air vibrate with excitement.

[*Googles “how to be Bae Jiyeon”*]

[IT’S HOW FAST THEY REACTED TOO]

Luna looked to her left, where Jeonghan held his mic out with a calm, knowing smile on his face. She then glanced to her right, where Mingyu, with his warm, boyish grin, was holding out his mic just as eagerly. It was clear neither of them was backing down, both were determined to be the one to help her out.

[They were like: choose, miss thing]

A smile tugged at the corners of Luna's lips as she realized the predicament she was in. Choosing one mic over the other would only fuel the playful rivalry between Jeonghan and Mingyu, and she had no desire to fan those flames, especially not in front of a room full of screaming fans who were already speculating.

[She has all the power]

[do you see that smirk?! she is enjoying this way too damn much]

[I mean— I guess I would too if I were her]

With a playful shrug, Luna decided to use both mics. She leaned forward slightly and spoke into Jeonghan's mic first. "Hello, everyone!" Her voice echoed through the venue, amplified by both mics. The fans went wild, their screams of excitement growing louder.

Luna then shifted slightly to speak into Mingyu's mic, "How are you all doing today?" The sound of her voice blended perfectly as if she had been given a microphone on each side just for this moment.

Jeonghan and Mingyu didn't drop their mics, both holding them steady as Luna continued. She adjusted her position, addressing the fans directly, her voice clear and bright, carried effortlessly by both microphones.

[They both don’t mind being mic stands either]

[OH LAWD… IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK?!]

"Did you guys eat before coming here? What did you guys have for lunch today?" Luna asked casually, her gaze scanning the crowd.

The fans responded in a chorus of different answers, their excitement palpable as they tried to shout over one another to be heard.

"Bibimbap!"

"Ramen!"

"Chicken!"

Luna laughed, a sound that made the fans cheer even louder. "Oh, that sounds delicious! Did you save some for us?" She teased, earning another wave of enthusiastic responses.

[She’s such a flirt. I love her.]

"Yes!"

"No!"

"We'll buy you some!"

Luna's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned a little closer to Jeonghan's mic, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "So, which one of you brought me snacks?"

[SHE IS FLIRTING FOR SNACKS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!]

The fans erupted into laughter, with some frantically waving bags of snacks in the air, trying to catch her attention.

Luna chuckled and then turned slightly to speak into Mingyu's mic, her expression still playful as she cooed. "You guys are the best! Seriously, how did I get so lucky to have fans like you?"

[GURL– WE ARE LUCKY]

The fans collectively swooned, their cheers a mixture of adoration and admiration.

As Luna wrapped up her conversation with the fans, she finally let out a small laugh. "Thank you, Hannie oppa, Gyu-gyu," she said, turning to each of them with a grateful smile. "I think I’m all done now."

Only then did Jeonghan and Mingyu lower their mics, both of them mirroring each other’s actions with a blend of reluctance and amusement.

[WALK EM LIKE A DOG, BITCH! WALK EM LIKE A DOG]

[Jeonghan and Mingyu: “Say less.”]

The fans, ever attentive, noticed the slightly playful competitive looks they gave each other in their eyes as they watched Luna, but she seemed blissfully unaware, too busy enjoying the moment with her fans.

[She’s either clueless or she knows and is enjoying it]

[I am betting for the latter 🤭]

The event continued, but that moment became one of the highlights of the day, a small but telling interaction that fans would replay over and over, analyzing every glance, every smile, and every word exchanged between the three.

'BE THE SUN' WORLD TOUR IN SEOUL DAY 2: 220626

The energy in the ‘Gocheok Sky Dome’ was electric, the air thick with the joyous screams of thousands of CARATs who had gathered to witness SEVENTEEN's 'Be The Sun' world tour, Day 2 in Seoul. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions, with the group delivering powerful performances, heartwarming speeches, and a connection with their fans that was almost tangible.

[Guys, ‘Be The Sun’ has a special place in my heart]

[My first ever concert 🥹]

Now, during their never-ending ‘VERY NICE’, the members were running around the stage, singing, jumping, and interacting with the fans in a carefree, playful manner. The music was lively and blaring, fueling the excitement in the stadium.

[I swear this song gives them ptsd]

Luna, her energy as radiant as ever, was at the edge of the stage, her bright smile never fading as she waved to the fans in the pit.

[This was one of my favorite encore outfits of hers]

She leaned over slightly, reaching out to touch the hands of those who were closest, unaware of the commotion that was starting behind her. The fans in the pit, their eyes widening, began to signal her frantically, pointing and mouthing words she couldn’t quite catch over the deafening noise.

[Not them warning her 🤣]

[Jiyeon is confused as fuck]

Behind her, Mingyu was creeping up with a mischievous grin, one finger pressed to his lips to silence the fans who were trying to warn Luna. In his other hand, he held an open water bottle, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as he tiptoed closer.

[HE IS SO HOT]

[AND SO ANNOYING]

The fans who noticed his approach were caught between excitement and anxiety, torn between letting Luna in on the prank or watching the chaos unfold.

Finally, Mingyu was right behind her. In one swift move, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. Luna let out a surprised shriek, instinctively knowing what was about to happen. She tried to twist away, but Mingyu held her firmly, his grin widening as he lifted the water bottle above their heads.

[HAND PLACEMENT! HAND PLACEMENT!]

[Gyu’s large arms around Jiyeon’s tiny waist 🥵]

“Ya!” Luna exclaimed, her voice tinged with laughter as she realized there was no escape With no other option, she turned towards Mingyu, burying her face in his chest to avoid the inevitable drenching.

[She just accepted defeat]

[I mean… she has her face shoved in Mingyu’s chest… she won]

Mingyu, laughing, let the water cascade down over them, soaking them both.

[HOT. HOT. HOT.]

The fans erupted into cheers and laughter, loving every moment of the playful interaction between the two. When the water finally stopped, Luna was drenched, her hair sticking to her face, and her stage outfit clinging to her form.

[SHE IS SO HOT… have I said that already?]

She pulled away from Mingyu just enough to playfully punch him in the chest, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re the worst,” she teased, though her tone was light, full of affection.

Mingyu laughed, his deep voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. “You’re just mad because I got you first.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. She grabbed the nearly empty water bottle from his hand and emptied the remaining content in Mingyu's face before she took off running, still dripping, in the opposite direction, her laughter trailing behind her.

[MISS MAAM DIPPED]

Mingyu watched her go, shaking his head in mock defeat, but the playful pout on his face revealed his amusement.

Unbeknownst to them, Jeonghan had been watching the entire scene unfold. He was standing a few meters away, his right arm in a red decorated cast due to his recent elbow injury. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes followed Luna as she ran, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

[Jeonghan acting like he wasn’t watching]

[Pls, sir you got caught in different angles]

As Luna slowed down, she noticed Jeonghan standing nearby, and her smile softened when she saw him. He motioned for her to come over with a single nod, and she obliged, still catching her breath from the impromptu water fight.

[THAT NOD 🥵]

[he… is so fine. like, the aura, the charm, the confidence]

[How can a single nod be so fucking attractive?!]

Jeonghan met her halfway, his gaze briefly flickering towards Mingyu, who was still lingering nearby, before settling on Luna. Despite his injury, he gently lifted the sleeve of his good arm and began wiping the water from her face. The soft fabric of his sleeve carefully absorbed the droplets, his touch as delicate as ever.

[I AM UNWELL RN]

[I am just speechless]

“You’re a mess,” Jeonghan said, his tone a mix of fondness and exasperation. He continued to wipe her face, his movements slow and deliberate.

Luna chuckled softly, her gaze meeting his. “Blame that overgrown child over there,” she said, nodding towards Mingyu, who was now watching them with a mock pout, clearly feeling left out.

Jeonghan shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. He used his fingers to gently push the wet strands of hair away from her face, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

[They are actually insane]

[In front of the entire stadium bitch]

“You should have seen it coming,” he teased, though there was a warmth in his eyes that softened the playful reprimand.

Luna hummed in response, her gaze flicking to Mingyu and then back to Jeonghan. “You’re probably right. I should have.”

Jeonghan chuckled, not bothering to move away until he finished his task. The fans, who had been watching the entire interaction, were going wild, capturing every moment on their phones, their cheers growing louder by the second.

[He was fixing his hair so gently and seriously 🥹]

[They are not okay for my mental health]

Finally, Jeonghan stepped back, satisfied with his work. “There. All better.”

“Thanks, Hannie oppa,” Luna said softly, giving him a grateful smile. She then turned back to Mingyu, raising a filled water bottle in her hand. “Where is he? Kim Mingyu…”

Mingyu’s eyes widened in mock horror, and before Luna could take another step toward him, he took off running, his laughter echoing across the stage as the encore continued, leaving the fans with yet another unforgettable moment

[He deserves it]

[I am actually surprise how none of them tripped with how much water they threw around]

LUNA'S LIVE 190518

The screen lit up with the familiar sight of Luna sitting cross-legged on her hotel bed, her hair slightly damp from the shower she had just taken after their concert in Japan. The room was cozy, the soft glow from a bedside lamp casting a warm light over her as she adjusted the camera for her Weverse Live. She was dressed casually in an oversized hoodie, the fabric swallowing her petite frame, and she was completely barefaced, giving her a relaxed, natural appearance.

[She is simply unreal]

[A literal angel amongst us]

"Hello, my beautiful CARATs!" Luna greeted, waving at the camera with a bright smile. The comments began to flood in almost immediately, the fans clearly excited to see her.

[HELLO, MY LOVE 🥹💕]

She read a few aloud, laughing at their enthusiasm. "'Did you enjoy the concert?' Yes I did. We had so much fun tonight Japan is always so welcoming, and your energy was amazing."

As she continued to chat with the fans, answering questions about the concert and how the members were doing, Luna suddenly sighed dramatically, resting her chin in her hand. "You know," she began, her tone playful, "it's kind of lonely doing this live alone. I miss having someone here to talk to…"

[She’s talking to fans yet she misses her members 🥺]

[baby. she is a baby]

The comments section exploded, fans urging her to invite one of the members to join her. The suggestions varied wildly, with each fan rooting for their bias to appear on the screen.

"Oh? You want me to invite one of the members?" Luna's eyes sparkled with mischief as she considered the idea. "Who should I call? Let's see… Jeonghannie-oppa might be asleep already," she mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "You know how he is with his beauty sleep."

[The beauty sleep is working for sure]

[That man is beautiful]

She laughed at the flood of comments agreeing with her. "Hao, Woozi, and Wonwoo are sleeping for sure. The rest are probably eating dinner. Who should I invite? Hmm, Mingyu?… I bet he’s either eating or just finished eating but he's awake for sure. Should we give him a call?"

[YES PLEASE]

The fans reacted immediately, spamming the chat with enthusiastic approvals. Luna grinned as she picked up her phone and dialed Mingyu's number, switching to speaker mode so everyone could hear.

After a few rings, Mingyu's deep, groggy voice came through the speaker, causing the fans to go wild. "Lulu-ya?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

[WOOF WOOF BARK BARK]

[I’m simply no more]

Luna's eyes widened in mock horror since she clearly woke him up. She then quickly cut him off before he could say anything that might embarrass them both. "You're on speaker, Gyu. I'm doing a live right now." She laughed, her tone teasing but affectionate.

[She didn’t want him saying shit]

[What does he normally say and how do they normally talk?!]

There was a brief pause on the other end as Mingyu processed what she said. "Ah, really? On live?" His voice perked up a bit, and the fans could hear the rustle of blankets as he presumably sat up. "Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"

[His voice 🫦]

Luna chuckled, the sound soft and melodic. "I’m telling you now! Come over to my room and join me, or the fans might riot."

[Accurate]

Mingyu’s reply was immediate. "I’m on my way."

[Anything for her… I am in my knees]

There was a beep as he ended the call, and Luna grinned at the camera, her excitement evident. "He’ll be here in a minute, guys," she informed the fans, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

[If Kim Mingyu is headed to me I’d be that excited too]

True to his word, it wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door, and moments later, Mingyu appeared in the frame, his hair tousled and his eyes still a bit sleepy but filled with warmth.

[GOD DAMN THIS MAN IS FINE]

"Hello, CARATs!" Mingyu greeted the fans with his signature bright fanged smile as he settled on the bed beside Luna, the two of them huddling close to fit within the camera frame.

"Sorry if I look a little sleepy… someone woke me up from my nap," he teased, nudging Luna gently.

[stfu bet you were waiting for her to call, simp]

Luna giggled, shaking her head. "When Gyu-gyu sleep it’s like he's hibernating."

[GYU-GYU 🥺]

[I always love the pout on her lips when she calls him that]

The fans loved the banter, and the comments were flooded with hearts and playful teasing. As they continued the live, answering questions from the fans, many began to notice the way Mingyu’s gaze kept lingering on Luna. His eyes followed her every movement, his expression soft and almost protective.

[SOMEBODY SEDATE ME]

[I don’t know who I want to be 😩]

[I know… MOVE, JIYEON IT IS MY TURN]

[she is living the dream. To be stared at by Mingyu like that]

The fans, ever observant, quickly filled the chat with comments about Mingyu’s intense stare. "Luna-unnie, Mingyu-oppa is looking at you like he’s in love!" one comment read, followed by a string of heart emojis.

[THANK YOU TO WHOEVER COMMENTED THAT]

Luna, catching sight of the comment, laughed nervously. "Aigoo, don’t say that! You’ll make Gyu embarrassed." She glanced at Mingyu, who just smiled, not denying anything but not confirming it either, which only made the fans go crazier.

[He doesn’t even bother say anything let alone defend himself]

Just as Luna was about to address another question, her phone started ringing, cutting through the conversation. She glanced at the screen and saw Jeonghan's name flashing. "Oh, hold on, guys," she said, answering the call but not putting it on speaker. "Oppa?"

[I am not kidding when I say I knew it was Jeonghan from just that alone]

Jeonghan's voice was a little muffled, but the fans could still hear the deep, groggy tone as he spoke. "Jiyeonie, what are you doing?"

Luna smiled softly, a hint of affection in her eyes. "I’m doing a live right now. Do you want to say hi to the fans?"

There was a brief pause before Jeonghan responded. "Sure, put me on speaker."

Luna switched to speaker mode, holding the phone up for the camera. "Jeonghannie oppa wants to say hi, everyone!"

[she’s so excited]

"CARATs, hello," Jeonghan greeted, his voice still thick with sleep, but the fans could hear the smile in his tone. His deep, raspy voice sent a wave of excitement through the chat, the comments section lighting up with greetings and heart emojis.

[LUNA IS INE LUCKY MOTHERFUCKER TO HEAR THEIR MORNING VOICES LIKE THAT]

As they exchanged a few pleasantries, Mingyu, who was still sitting beside Luna, answered a fan's question about the concert. "Yeah, the energy tonight was incredible," he said, his voice warm and genuine.

[Jealous Jeonghan in 3…2…1…]

Jeonghan, still on the phone, caught the sound of Mingyu’s voice. "Who’s that?"

[AHHHHHHHHHJENUEGEHNEYEBUDBSJ]

Luna blinked, glancing between the phone and Mingyu. "Oh, it’s Mingyu. I invited him to join me."

[I BET YOU ALL THAT I HAVE THAT JEONGHAN WAS POUTING]

There was a brief pause on Jeonghan's end before he hummed softly, the sound low and contemplative. "Why didn’t you invite me?"

[SIR–]

[look at her face… she knows]

Luna bit her lip, sensing a bit of teasing in his tone, but knowing Jeonghan, there was probably a hint of something more that the fans seemed to pick up.

“I didn’t want to wake you up, Hannie." She said.

"And it was okay for you to wake me?" Mingyu joked.

[you came running anyways babes]

"You can always leave." Luna sassed back calling out his bluff.

[Called him out 🤣]

Jeonghan hummed again, this time with a slight chuckle. "I’m awake now… I’ll come over too."

[He really said: “Luna alone with Mingyu?”🏃‍♂️💨]

The announcement caused another flurry of excited comments from the fans, many of them thrilled at the prospect of having both Jeonghan and Mingyu in the same live with Luna.

Luna laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alright, oppa, come over. We’re just chatting with CARATs."

As they waited for Jeonghan to arrive, the live continued with Luna and Mingyu answering more fan questions, their banter easy and comfortable. Despite the playful atmosphere, the fans couldn’t help but notice the underlying tension, especially with the way Mingyu’s gaze would occasionally drift towards Luna, his expression softening as he watched her interact with the fans.

[MINGYU BABE… SNAP OUT OF IT]

[he is drooling💀]

[he isn’t even trying to hide it anymore]

[Kim Mingyu.exe has stopped working]

When Jeonghan finally arrived, dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, his hair slightly tousled from sleep, the dynamic in the room shifted. He slid onto the bed beside Luna, his presence immediately felt. The three of them squeezed together to fit into the frame, and the fans went wild at the sight of the trio together.

[How can he be hot and cute at the same fucking time?]

"Hi," Jeonghan greeted the fans again, his voice now fully awake and filled with his usual charm.

[BABYYYYY HIIIIII]

The fans were quick to comment on the contrast between his earlier groggy tone and his current bright energy. As the live continued, the interaction between the three of them was light and playful, but the fans couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more simmering beneath the surface.

Whether it was the way Mingyu and Jeonghan seemed to subtly compete for Luna’s attention or the occasional shared glance between Luna and Jeonghan, the tension was palpable, leaving the fans on the edge of their seats, eager to see what would happen next.

[this live was just them trying to fight for her attention]

AIRPORT JEALOUSY

[And now I present to you this iconic airport clip]

[I would like to name this piece of art ‘The Jealous and the Protective’]

[Enjoy]

The airport was a flurry of activity as SEVENTEEN made their way through the bustling terminal. The members moved together as one, a unit that had been through countless travels, but this time there was an extra level of intensity.

Fans had gotten wind of their departure for the U.S., and now the airport was swarming with people eager to catch a glimpse of their idols. A barrier of bodyguards and security flanked them on all sides, creating a protective bubble as they navigated through the sea of fans.

[On a real note y’all really need to stop swarming them]

Cameras flashed incessantly, capturing every moment, every smile, every wave. The members, ever the professionals, bowed politely and waved to their fans, their faces calm and composed despite the chaos surrounding them.

The air buzzed with energy, screams of fans echoing off the walls, their voices blending into a high-pitched cacophony that only seemed to grow louder with each step the group took.

In the middle of it all was Luna, walking close to Mingyu, who was at her side like a protective shadow.

[shadow, my shadow, my shadow~]

They were in the midst of a conversation, their heads tilted slightly towards each other to hear over the noise. Luna's expression was relaxed, a small smile playing on her lips as she listened to whatever Mingyu was saying.

[IN FRONT OF EVERYONE]

Suddenly, the crowd surged forward, and Luna was caught off guard. The push was unintentional, a result of fans pressing forward for a better look, but it was enough to make her stumble. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she felt herself losing balance.

Before she could react, Mingyu’s hand shot out, his grip firm and reassuring as he caught her by the arm, pulling her closer to him. "Whoa, careful," he murmured, his voice low but clear over the din. His other hand instinctively went to her back, steadying her as they continued to walk.

[HAND PLACEMENT!!!]

The concern in his eyes was evident, his protective nature coming to the forefront. From his position ahead of them, Jeonghan witnessed the entire exchange. His pace faltered for a brief moment as he glanced back, his sharp eyes taking in the scene.

[ISTG BRO JEALOUS JEONGHAN IS JUST SO HOT]

The sight of Mingyu holding Luna so closely stirred something within him, a flash of emotion that flickered across his usually serene features. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but for those who knew him well, it was unmistakable— a mixture of jealousy and protectiveness simmering beneath the surface.

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed slightly as they locked onto Mingyu’s hand on Luna’s arm. His gaze softened when it shifted to Luna, who was now securely in Mingyu's grasp, her expression still calm despite the near fall.

[🫠🫠🫠]

Without breaking stride, Jeonghan did something that only someone as effortlessly cool as him could pull off— he lifted his hand slightly and, without even glancing back, made a subtle 'come here' gesture with his fingers, a silent command meant only for Luna.

[HE IS SO HOT FOR THIS I SIMPLY CANNOT]

Luna didn’t hesitate for a second. It was as if she had been waiting for that very signal. Her eyes immediately caught the motion, and she reached out, her fingers slipping into Jeonghan’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

[no hesitation whatsoever which tells me this happens regularly]

Their fingers intertwined effortlessly, and with that, Jeonghan began guiding her forward, ensuring she was safe at the front of the group.

Mingyu, now trailing slightly behind, watched as Luna’s attention shifted to Jeonghan, their hands linked with an unspoken understanding. A pang of something unidentifiable passed through him, but he quickly masked it with a smile, maintaining his protective stance behind Luna, his hand still resting lightly on her back as if to say he was there if she needed him.

[She really has these men vying for her]

[Queen shit right there]

To the fans watching from the sidelines, the entire exchange was both mesmerizing and revealing. The sight of Jeonghan holding out his hand for Luna, the way she instinctively reached for him, and Mingyu’s immediate reaction to steady her— it all played out in a matter of seconds, but it spoke volumes.

Some fans squealed in delight, others exchanged knowing glances, and a few hurriedly typed out what they had just witnessed, already anticipating how the scene would blow up on social media. The protective dynamic between the three was undeniable, and the tension that simmered just below the surface was the kind that left everyone speechless.

GDA 2020

The ‘2020 Golden Disk Awards’ was one of the most anticipated events of the year, a night when the biggest names in K-pop gathered to celebrate their achievements and put on spectacular performances. The air buzzed with excitement as artists mingled backstage, rehearsed for their performances, and prepared to sit in the audience to watch the show unfold.

[THIS CLIP WAS LEGIT. ISTG MINGYU WAS GENUINELY PISSED]

[usually it is playful jealousy from the both of them but this time I think he was genuinely angry 👀]

SEVENTEEN, known for their stellar performances and impeccable teamwork, were seated together in the artist section, their eyes glued to the massive screens that hung above the stage. The cameras frequently panned across the audience, capturing the reactions of various groups and solo artists as they enjoyed the show.

Luna sat comfortably between Jeonghan and Mingyu. She was dressed in a sleek black dress that contrasted beautifully with the light makeup she wore. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she carried herself with the same quiet confidence that had earned her a special place in the hearts of Carats and K-pop fans alike.

[one of her best looks hands down]

The night had been filled with breathtaking performances and emotional speeches. The members were all in high spirits, applauding for their peers and exchanging whispered comments with each other. The group’s energy was infectious, and Luna, who was usually more reserved during such events, couldn’t help but feel the joy radiating from her bandmates.

[I’m sorry she just radiate bad bitch energy]

[untouchable fr]

As the night continued, the camera operator seemed to have a knack for finding the most candid moments. The large screens displayed close-ups of idols laughing, clapping, and reacting to the performances on stage. Suddenly, during a brief lull in the program, the camera zeroed in on Luna. Her face, initially unaware of the camera, was caught in a moment of serene focus as she watched the stage, her lips slightly parted in awe of the ongoing performance.

[LOOK AT HER!]

[SHE LOOKS CGI IN THERE]

The fans in the audience and those watching the live broadcast at home were quick to notice the shift. A collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by an explosion of cheers as Luna’s face filled the screen. The noise caught her attention, and she turned to look at the big screen, only to realize that it was her own face staring back at her.

Her eyes widened in surprise before a radiant smile spread across her face. It was a smile that was both shy and charming, the kind that made hearts skip a beat. Luna’s reaction was pure and unfiltered, and the audience couldn’t get enough of it. The sound of fans screaming filled the venue, and the energy in the room surged as more fans joined in, their voices merging into a singular, resounding cheer.

[god took his time with her]

[I know her parents high five when they see her face]

[I just know she was made with love and not just a quick nut]

[I’ll stop.]

The members of SEVENTEEN noticed the shift as well. Seungkwan, always the expressive one, clapped enthusiastically, nudging Joshua and pointing at Luna on the screen. Hoshi joined in with a playful smirk, mouthing something to the camera as if to say, “Isn’t she great?” The rest of the members followed suit, their faces lighting up with pride and affection for their female member.

[I need friends that supportive]

[they are her biggest fans 🥹]

Jeonghan, who had been quietly watching the screen, leaned in closer to Luna. His expression was soft, his gaze lingering on her as if the rest of the world had faded away. The camera captured the moment just as Jeonghan mouthed a single word, his lips barely moving, but clear enough for any lip-reader to understand: “Beautiful.”

[HE SAID IT GUYS. IT IS PRETTY OBVIOUS]

Luna didn’t seem to notice Jeonghan’s words at first, her attention still partly on the screen, but Mingyu did. Seated on her other side, Mingyu’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments as he watched Jeonghan lean in close to Luna, whispering words that were meant only for her. The flicker of jealousy in Mingyu’s eyes was subtle, but for the eagle-eyed fans who knew him well, it was unmistakable.

[till this day, I want to know the tea behind this]

Mingyu shifted slightly in his seat, his hand tightening around the armrest as he fought to keep his expression neutral. The camera had moved on to another group, but the tension in their little corner of the artist section had not dissipated. Mingyu glanced at Jeonghan, who had now settled back into his seat, his gaze still fixed on Luna with that same adoring look.

The fans who were paying close attention to SEVENTEEN noticed the way Mingyu’s gaze darted between Luna and Jeonghan. It was as if he was trying to decipher what had just happened, his mind racing with thoughts that he couldn’t quite voice out loud. The competition between the two men for Luna’s attention had always been there, but tonight it seemed more palpable than ever.

As the next performer took the stage, Luna leaned back in her chair, her smile still lingering on her lips. She turned slightly to Jeonghan, who gave her a small, knowing smile in return. They exchanged a few words, their conversation hidden from the cameras, but their body language spoke volumes. Jeonghan’s posture was relaxed, and confident, as if he knew he had said the right thing at the right time.

[Guys I need the lore behind this. I am so serious]

Mingyu, on the other hand, was far from relaxed. He glanced at Luna, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to join the conversation, but it was clear that something was bothering him. The fans who were watching the broadcast from home picked up on it immediately, and social media began to buzz with speculation. Tweets and posts started flooding in, with fans dissecting every little interaction between the trio.

[TWITTER THIS DAY WAS JUST INSANE]

[you just had to be there]

As the show continued, the tension between Jeonghan and Mingyu didn’t go unnoticed by the other members of SEVENTEEN either. DK, ever the peacemaker, tried to engage Mingyu in conversation, distracting him with lighthearted jokes and comments. But even as Mingyu laughed along with DK, his eyes kept drifting back to Luna and Jeonghan.

[I am being serious when I say this, something happened backstage for sure]

At one point, Luna, feeling the weight of the attention on her, turned to Mingyu with a bright smile, asking him a question about the next performer. Mingyu’s expression softened instantly, his eyes lighting up as he responded, eager to be the focus of her attention once again. But the moment was fleeting, as the show’s host announced the next award category, drawing everyone’s attention back to the stage.

Jeonghan, ever the observant one, noticed the shift in Mingyu’s demeanor and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. He knew Mingyu well enough to understand what was going on, but instead of backing down, Jeonghan seemed more determined than ever to keep Luna’s attention on him. It was a subtle, unspoken battle, one that played out in smiles, glances, and whispered words that only the three of them could hear.

[Jeonghan and Mingyu: “Pick me. Choose me. Love me.” Or however the fuck that goes]

As the night drew to a close and the final awards were handed out, SEVENTEEN stood to applaud the winners, their voices blending with the rest of the audience in a chorus of cheers.

But even as they clapped and cheered, the tension remained. The fans, ever watchful, continued to document every little moment, every glance and smile that passed between Luna, Jeonghan, and Mingyu. The love triangle that had been simmering beneath the surface was now more visible than ever, and the fans couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

As the show finally ended and SEVENTEEN prepared to leave the venue, Jeonghan and Mingyu both moved to walk beside Luna. But this time, it was Luna who took control of the situation, linking her arms with both of them and pulling them close as they made their way out. The fans erupted in cheers as they watched the trio leave, their voices echoing through the venue.

[SHE HAS TWO ON A LEESH]

For Luna, the night had been a whirlwind of emotions, but she was blissfully unaware of the silent battle being waged for her attention. For Jeonghan and Mingyu, however, the competition was far from over. As they left the award show and stepped into the night, the tension between them lingered, a reminder that when it came to Luna, neither was willing to back down.

And for the fans, the story of SEVENTEEN’s love triangle had just added another chapter, one that they would be talking about for a long time to come.

And there we have it, a brief glimpse of the jealous moments between Jeonghan and Mingyu.

Comment down below what video I should do next! I can do anything SEVENTEEN related, from chaotic moments to videos of our favorite throupl– I mean triangle.

That’s all for now. Toodleloo~

comments…

@/lunababybae • 3 months ago ╰ that insomnia zero episode was just something else entirely.

@/saythename • 3 months ago ╰ MINGYU CONFESSING TO LUNA IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE!!

@/lalalunanova • 3 months ago ╰ istg look at 7:09 Jeonghan staring into Jiyeon’s soul.

@/jeonwoowonwoo • 3 months ago ╰ WATCH THE MEMBERS FACES WHEN MINGYU CONFESSED. THEY WERE ALL CAUGHT OFF GUARD.

@/mimilyemily • 3 months ago ╰ I am convinced the reason Luna stayed another round in the Insomnia Zero episode was because of what Mingyu said.

@/user624729262863 • 3 months ago ╰ Jeonghan breaking Jiyeon’s Wall-E Lego would have been my final straw tbh

@/kpopaddict555• 3 months ago ╰ you can’t convince me that the members weren’t trying to play Mingyu’s confession as a joke. YOU CANNOT!!

@/svtstan17• 3 months ago ╰ 8:00 they were all exchanging looks! Like I’m shocked they even kept this in the final cut.

@/sssssydnyyy • 3 months ago ╰ I am convinced these three are together 👀 don’t kill me. The evidence is right here.

@/mrsbaebae • 3 months ago ╰ 10:05 - 10:20 the fact that Mingyu and Jeonghan didn’t even bother dropping their mics and just kept holding it up for Luna till she finished talking is insane to me

@/jeongnanana • 2 months ago ╰ I AM IN PAIN RN. I LOVE JEONGNA WITH MY LIFE BUT FOR SOME REASON MINGNA IS TEMPTING ME AS WELL. SEND HELP FR.

@/shuashua17_ • 2 months ago ╰ jeonghan wiping the water off of Luna’s face and fixing her hair whilst having a injured arm is too much for me 🥹

@/gyusshadow • 1 month ago ╰ MINGYU’S HUGE ASS BICEPS WRAPPED AROUND JIYEON’S TINY WAIST MAKES ME WANT TO BE MANHANDLED BY HIM SO MUCH IT PHYSICALLY PAINS ME 🥵

@/oozoozwoozi6 • 1 month ago ╰ Gyu and Jeonghan’s morning voice in Luna’s live was simply life changing

@/donquixote • 1 month ago ╰ that Luna live should be renamed as “Watch as Tweedledee and Tweedledum fight for my attention.”

@/cutiesexylovely • 2 weeks ago ╰ JEONGHAN, LUNA, AND MINGYU IN GDA 2020 IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE. CAUSE WTF WAS GOING ON THAT NIGHT FR!??

@/moonlight_1997 • 1 week ago ╰ Jeonghan leading Luna in the airport and Mingyu protecting her from the back screams throuple… I am sorry but it’s the truth 🤭

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse

[pure-smut]

say red.

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, rough s*x, degradation, dirty talk, creampie

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 2k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

You’d never paid attention to Iwaizumi Hajime. Just another face in the lecture hall, another voice answering questions, another serious guy with a serious face taking things so seriously.

It’s only when you’re paired together to work on a semester-long project that you pay attention to him for the first time. And wow – he’s fucking annoying.

“We need to meet up more than once every two weeks,” Iwaizumi tells you, frowning at your suggestion. “We won’t get enough done before the deadline.”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” you sigh. “The project barely contributes to our grade. All we need to do is pass.”

Iwaizumi narrows his olive eyes at you, entirely displeased.

“How are you,” he bites out. “… top of the class?”

You give him a sweet smile, throwing up a peace sign.

“Because I’m great, obviously.”

You had somewhat noticed that Iwaizumi’s name was always second below yours whenever test scores were published. It’s clear that’s a sticking point for him because he clenches his teeth so hard, you can see a muscle bouncing in his jaw.

“We’re meeting up twice a week,” Iwaizumi says, standing. When you open your mouth to protest, he gives you a hard look. “That’s final.”

You roll your eyes and shrug.

“Fine, fine.” A grin crawls across your face. “Iwa.”

He shoots you a disgusted look.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, Iwa? It’s cute.”

Iwaizumi pokes his tongue into his cheek and rolls his eyes skyward.

“Whatever.”

With that, he gathers his bag and stomps out of the lecture hall. Your gaze follows the back of him as he disappears, the smile only slipping off your face when he leaves.

“So annoying,” you mutter to yourself, packing up your own things.

But it’s only until the end the semester. You can grin and bear it that long. Plus, it’s like you said before – the project barely impacts your grades. Iwaizumi might want to force you into way too many boring meetings but you have absolutely no intention of cooperating.

*

Iwaizumi messages you his address and a time to come round to work on the project.

Gotta buy a girl dinner first before you invite her to your bedroom, you message him back. He ignores you.

Like most other students, he lives on campus with a few other roommates. You half-expect to see them when you arrive at Iwaizumi’s but he tells you he’s chosen a day when everyone else is out.

“I need some peace and quiet if I’m dealing with you,” Iwaizumi says.

“Flattered,” you reply.

His room is neat and tidy, a smattering of volleyball trophies on the shelves. You vaguely remember that he’s on the college volleyball team but you didn’t know he’s good enough to have trophies. You smooth your features into something neutral so he doesn’t know you’re impressed.

You both sit at his desk, where Iwaizumi’s already set up notepads, pens and sticky notes.

“You’re prepared,” you remark, eliciting a heavy sigh from Iwaizumi.

“I’m sure it seems that way to someone who doesn’t even bring a pencil to class.”

You swing side to side on his wheely chair as Iwaizumi launches into his plan for the project, talking you through the list of bullet points. You make noncommittal noises, your eyes drifting off.

He has kind of a nice face, you think, your gaze dropping from his short dark hair to his sharp jaw. Iwaizumi’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. Damn, he’s pretty built, too.

Iwaizumi continues talking as your mind wanders. You wonder if he’s a good kisser. Hmm, probably too serious for that. Only chaste tongueless kisses and missionary in the dark.

You grin at your own thoughts and Iwaizumi stops talking mid-sentence.

“What are you laughing at?” His brow furrows. “You’re not even fucking listening.”

“Uh, no, not really,” you admit, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“Jesus christ…” Iwaizumi puts his elbows on the desk, digging his palms into his eyes.

He wants to launch himself out of the window. How is it possible that you of all people beat him in class? He freezes when he feels your finger trail over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi looks up.

“You’re so tense,” you say. You’re not lying – Iwaizumi’s muscles are like boulders. You give his bicep a poke and realise there’s almost no give. “Maybe that’s why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“You’re just taking this too lightly,” he says, frowning.

You’re looking at him weirdly, your eyes locked onto his, and the way you’re touching his arm is making his cheeks feel warm. What the fuck is going on?

Iwaizumi’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and you smile, knowing you’ve got him. You stand up to move over and put yourself in Iwaizumi’s lap instead. His thighs are as hard as the rest of him and it feels like sitting in an actual chair. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re kind of cute, y’know,” you say, cocking your head.

“Kind of,” he echoes, giving you a flat look. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi’s hand rests on your thigh despite his unimpressed tone. You give him a sweet smile and trail a finger along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

“Maybe you need some stress relief, hm?” you suggest, dragging your finger down to his hard chest.

“And you’re offering?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” You cock an eyebrow. “Obviously, yes.”

Iwaizumi regards you, eyes sharp, and your breath hitches. Your smile nearly falters but you save it in time. It feels like he’s looking through you, into you. It’s a struggle to hold his gaze but you’ve never been one to back down. So you look right back at him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes soften and you see him smile for the first time. No, he smirks.

“Say red,” he tells you. “And I’ll stop.”

“O-okay.” You’re annoyed at yourself for stammering but something’s changed with Iwaizumi and it’s thrown you off.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“If I say red, you’ll stop,” you tell him and he gives a short nod, satisfied.

“Good.”

Iwaizumi stands abruptly, picking you up with him and throwing you on the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, bouncing softly against the mattress.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to ask what the fuck is happening before Iwaizumi’s on you. He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly. He pushes his body between your legs, forcing them apart to accommodate his thick frame.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands grabs your hip as the other snakes around your throat, holding you with enough force for you to feel it but not so hard you’re gasping. His soft lips are in contrast to the sharp stubble scratching your skin, his tongue sliding over yours.

Okay, I might have been wrong, you think. There’s nothing chaste about this.

Iwaizumi grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy, now exposed to him as he tugs up your dress. The friction through two layers of fabric is teasing, making your hips buck, desperate for more. You moan into his mouth and he squeezes your throat.

“Needy little slut,” he says roughly.

Iwaizumi’s degrading words only serve to turn you on even more. His voice has completely changed, now deep and throaty and utterly commanding. Iwaizumi keeps one hand around your neck as his other reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

“Is this what you want so badly?” he says as he pulls his cock free.

You gasp as it slaps against your mound, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You try to nod but Iwaizumi has your throat in too tight a grip.

“Use your fucking words,” he spits. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes, I want it. Please, I want it.”

Iwaizumi reaches down and you hear a violent rip. You’re not able to look down, your head fixed in place, but there’s a cool breeze across your exposed pussy. Your mouth drops open as you realise he’s ripped your panties clean off.

Iwaizumi smirks at your reaction.

“You act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

The Iwaizumi you knew before, so serious and studious, is long gone. You look up at him, his eyes feral, and realise you’ve severely underestimated who you’re up against. He lines up the fat head of his cock with your dripping hole.

“Look how fucking wet you are already.” Iwaizumi pushes himself inside you and you give a choked moan at the feel of him stretching you. “You don’t even need me to get you started, do you? You’ll spread your legs for fucking anyone.”

Iwaizumi’s flurry of degradation is making your pussy drool for him, only spurring you both on. But a nugget of defiance forms in your chest, even as tears stick to your lashes.

“This what your needy little pussy wants?” he demands, pushing in deeper to bottom out.

His cock feels so fucking good, dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you to make your whole body feel like it’s on fire, but your determination not to let him take over fully kicks in.

“Y-yes, Iwa,” you breathe out.

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenches.

“I told you not to fucking call me that,” he grits out.

As if to punctuate, he starts to pound at you hard. Every slam pushes you closer to the edge, sending a jolt through your body to the tips of your toes. His large hand around your neck is delicious, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you raw. You sink your nails into his forearm, lustful whimpers falling from your lips.

“S-sorry…” you gasp. “… Iwa.”

Iwaizumi growls, moving faster and setting a brutal pace.

“Fucking brat.”

You don’t have the strength to talk back anymore. Iwaizumi’s cock is pulling you to the edge, making your eyes roll back in your skull as he rips an orgasm from you. Your pussy clenches down like a vice grip around his cock and a moan escapes Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Fuck… fuck…” he groans.

Iwaizumi fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to watch you bounce under him. Your walls are so slick, so hot, so fucking tight. You’re tearing down all his restraint, moaning so sweetly even as his fist is wrapped around your throat. He knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m… gonna cum…” Iwaizumi says, voice hoarse.

“Inside me,” you plead. “Cum inside me, Iwa.”

Your words tip him over the edge.

His grip tightens on your neck, almost making you dizzy, as he thrusts once, burying himself fully. The moan he makes as he comes undone inside you is intoxicating, satisfying in a way you can’t explain. Iwaizumi’s chest heaves as he half-collapses on top of you, his arms shaking as he holds himself up.

Neither of you say anything, breathless and sweat-slicked.

“Well.” You break the silence with a grin. “I dunno about you but I definitely feel better.”

Iwaizumi’s serious face returns as he rolls his eyes, pulling away from you. He tugs a few tissues free from a box on his nightstand, handing them to you first before himself.

“What a gentleman,” you coo, cleaning yourself up.

“It’s polite. I’m not a savage.”

“The way you fuck says different.”

Even though you’ve still got his cum spilling out of you, Iwaizumi’s ears go pink at your comment. He ignores you and buttons his jeans back up. Cute, you think with a smile.

You point at your destroyed underwear.

“And you ruined my panties. That was rude.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks tint as he blushes harder.

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Finished cleaning yourself up, you hop off his bed and straighten your dress. “I’ll just make sure I’m not wearing any next time.”

Iwaizumi stills.

“Next time?”

“Duh.” You put a hand on your hip. “That was great, right? And my head feels totally clear. I think I’m actually ready to listen to your project plan or whatever.”

You take a seat at his desk, hands clasped demurely on your lap and smiling sweetly.

“Twice a week you said?”

[ghostlychief]

mirror, mirror

ghost x fem!reader

warnings: NSFW; smut; MINORS DNI (i am watching u); reverse cowgirl

a/n: part four of my positions series. i promise the next thing i post will be fluff but if you're here, ENJOY

*going to post this then run and hide*

---

you could probably count on your fingers the number of times you were this fucked out. although, you were quickly running out of fingers.

you have your boyfriend to thank for that.

currently, you find yourself straddled on Ghost’s large thighs on the corner of the bed. your back is to him, but you can still see him clear as day thanks to the mirror propped up on your wall.

well, clear in a relative way; the bottom half of his face was covered in one of his signature skull balaclavas. a request made by you, of course.

ghost usually was against wearing those black masks in the bedroom, but you asked him so nicely earlier, with your eyes wide and lashes batting annoyingly. How could he say no to you?

so here you are a couple hours later, and you both are still going.

it must be the mask, you think (the mirror might be an added bonus as well).

seeing Ghost’s rock hard abs flex every time you slide down on him definitely did things to you. but you really did try your best to keep yourself composed, which didn’t sit well with Ghost.

he liked to see you squirm, and enjoyed every little bit of you losing composure because of him. so he tried his best to completely ruin you. and he was doing a pretty good job so far, seeing that this was your fourth round at it.

your legs feel like jelly but you soldier on, continuing to raise and lower yourself on Ghost’s thick cock, the imagine that reflects back to you spurring you on even more.

“fuck.” Ghost’s voice is deep, and there’s a trace of a whine as he drags out the word. he could be helping you, but he’s decided to let you take the reins. It only makes sense with what position you’re in.

“that's it baby, just like that.”

he brings one of his hands to snake around you, his hand now splayed across your tummy. he presses down gently, and the added pressure on your lower stomach has you letting out a moan.

you bring your hand up to cover his, although it really doesn’t cover much, since his hands are so much larger than yours. you slightly grasp his hand as you continue to move, but you need to go back to balancing yourself, so it falls down to his thigh where it previously was, your fingernails leaving faint crescent indents in his skin.

your room is in a state of disarray, your sheets are sloppily thrown around your bed, and your comforter rests at the bottom, on the floor. typically, you would care about the state of your room, but you can't find it in you to worry about that right now.

his hand travels down further until two of his fingers toy with your center. they quickly become slick, which allows him to touch you just right.

your legs tremble as he coaxes you over the edge, and you fall back against his chest. his fingers are still moving in circles around your sensitive bud, but before you can protest at the over sensitivity, you feel him come inside you.

you look back at your reflections in the mirror and see the mess between your legs, now exacerbated by Ghost's come that's seeping out of you.

he brings his other hand to lightly grasp your waist, steadying you, even though you're still leaning back on him.

he places a kiss on your shoulder through his mask, and before you know it, he lifts you off of him and swiftly places you down on your back, his face in between your legs.

you know what's coming next; it's his favorite way to clean you up, after all.

---

[artyandink]

amoralism | one

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

A/N - I said I’d post on Friday but surprise! Also, as a note, I have no intention of completely relating to realism (even though I’m pretty sure that’s a title of a chapter). This will be almost like an action/romance movie, and the format is sort of like that too.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Shameless - Camila Cabello

narcissism

Fifty-Shots Bar had never had this many patrons before.

Clinking of glasses, the bellow of random toasts, tapping of the bar for another round, the whole trifecta played on loop until all those glasses came down on the counter and all the beefy men downing those drinks like water would slap the back of the tallest in the lot, forcing that dude with the unreasonably gorgeous hair to bend to their height from the pressure.

“What’s the occasion, boys?” The lady on shift, Jenna, chuckled. She was intrigued as to why the festivities were so… robust, but then one of the guys shoved the tall one forward, clapping his shoulder in a way that knocked the latter’s breath out.

“Ah, nothing.” The taller one tried playing it off, but the shorter wouldn’t hear of it. His green eyes shone mischievously as he ruffled the tall guy’s hair. Jenna’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down the patron’s, well, everything. Short blonde hair, five o’clock shadow on the sharpest jawline she’d ever seen. Lips always in a pout, daring her to kiss it away until they bruised. Casual denim shirt nothing short of tempting, as tight as a damn straitjacket over that broad, no doubt kissable chest. Arms framed in his sleeves, probably bore enough strength to throw her around like a ragdoll and he wouldn’t break a sweat.

She bit her lip. Oh Lord, this man was either from heaven or hell and she wouldn’t complain either way.

“It’s not nothing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My brother Sam here took down a big-time multi level marketing scheme. So damn modest.” Another clap of Sam’s shoulder. However, he seemed to have clocked Jenna and her obvious admiration of his entire being, a quirk of the corner of his mouth having her knees like jelly. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled, her finger twirling her hair around her finger as if she was a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Jenna. What’s yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckle and letting his lips linger, smouldering eye contact sending shivers down her spine. “Agent Dean Winchester. Say, Jenna, what time do you get off?”

“When you do.” She breathed, and the low chuckle from Dean had her snapping back into her senses but also getting a very noticeable ache between her thighs. “Um, in an hour.”

Sam had already left. He wasn’t in the mood for watching very visible eye-banging.

Champagne. Chauvinists. The classic fancy, downtown party hosted by a family that owned half of Chicago. Flashing lights, a pair of eyes on you at all times… it was rather an overwhelming feeling, one that you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t know whether to feel confident or hunted in the red dress that you wore, satin and navy and with an open back- all things nice and very attractive to men. Your makeup and blonde (for today) hair done like a movie star and getting the attention of every man in the room, regardless of age.

“And who might you be, sweets?” A very Southern accent drawled from behind you, and you turned around, making a show of playing the innocent yet extremely attractive and mysterious lady at the most extravagant birthday party you had ever seen.

You were playing a stereotype. You hated stereotypes.

“Anna Raleigh.” You responded smoothly, and he seemed to buy it, taking your hand and kissing the knuckle, the creepy eye contact urging you to snatch your hand back and scrub it with an antiseptic wipe.

“Miss Raleigh, you are a work of art. Name’s Matthias Aldrich.” He practically purred, and that sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You put on a polite, smitten smile, though you were inwardly rolling your eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Matthias tucked a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been fond of women who are the golden type of blonde. Hope this is natural.”

You took a crouton from a passing tray, popping it in your mouth and chewing on it, answering once you’d swallowed the bite. You’d done it quick because you could see this dude’s eyes on your lips as you chewed. “I say, these croutons are quite dry, no?”

The door to Jenna’s apartment burst open, her and Dean stumbled in, lips locked, door closing with a well-timed click and moans echoing amid breathy sighs. Dean’s jacket fell just as Jenna’s fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to jolt and let out a growl, groaning as he bent to kiss her neck. “Just like that.” He murmured, nipping and assaulting the tanned skin. Only detaching to pull her skimpy tank over her head, revealing a hot pink, lace bra.

She’s freaky. He liked that.

“You like?” She breathed, ample chest heaving as her teeth worried her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes. Putting on a show for him.

“Mmh.” He hummed, nodding before he reached for the clasp, effortlessly undoing it. It fell to the floor, and he clicked his tongue with a grin. “Better.”

“Much.” She purred, kissing him hotly and leading them to the bedroom.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Grinding.

Jenna’s legs wrapping around his waist, courtesy of Dean putting them there. Moans. Groans. Whimpers. Cries and low mutters of each other’s name. The room heating up and pulsing with enough pressure to forge a diamond.

The bed creaking. Headboard banging. High pitched moans that belong in a porno. Groans of ‘just like that’ and whines of ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’.

Not even after a minute after your comment about the dry croutons, the building was stormed. Armed personnel burst through every exit, holding up automatics and yelling for everyone to get their hands up, while you were taken by the arm by one of the people yelling ‘FBI! Hands where we can see them!’ and dragged in a way which appeared rough.

You were led kicking and screaming into a side van, and the moment the door slid shut, you snapped out of it, pulling the wig off. “About time, eh, boys?”

“At least we got your signal.” One protested, while another snorted.

“Dry croutons? Really?” He rolled his eyes, spinning on the chair, raising a pointed eyebrow at you. “With all due respect, it could be something less outlandish.”

“Then it would be too easy to miss, Velasquez.” You retorted, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to practically scrub it all off. Also taking an antiseptic wipe and a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid your hand of Matthias Aldrich’s lips. “And since when do I work like I’m a basic, sweater wearing, background blending Gertrude?”

“She has a point, Velasquez.” One agent quipped as he went by. You pointed after him with a smirk.

“Willis gets it.” You grinned, shrugging. “Why can’t you? Have a heart, Velasquez.”

“Yeah, have a heart.”

“Shut up!” Velasquez yelled after him, and got the middle finger from Willis in response.

“You ready to report to the CO, Agent?” Willis asked you, passing you a mug of coffee, which you gratefully sipped.

“When am I not?” You chuckled, letting the warm liquid wash over your throat. “Now, I don’t care what you two clowns do, I need these guys behind bars for two lifers at least. I’ve been hunting down these sons of bad mothers for months. I’m not having any slip ups, no buy ins nor outs. Every. Exit. Sealed.” You looked between the two with an intense glare, no nonsense and all business. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morning afters were always hard for Dean. He had a rule that he followed to the T.

Mind blowing sex? Doesn’t matter, leave before he gets attached and she gets hurt.

“Sorry, Jen, I’d stay, but I’m late for work.” He hurriedly buttoned his denim shirt, trying not to get distracted by the sight of the girl in the sheets, naked body only a thin layer of cotton away.

All he had to do was peel it.

“Aw, handsome, I thought you’d stay for round six.” Jenna giggled, looking him up and down. Inside, Dean was rolling his eyes in frustration. They always got clingy after the best night of their life. Then again, that was purely his fault.

“I would, trust me, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, walking into the living room and finding his jacket and keys, along with his belt. That was important.

Jenna stepped in as well, clad in a silk robe that made her look no short of delectable. But he had to resist. Stick to the damn code. “Y’know, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

She was trying a hit. God, she was trying hard. Dean had to physically resist going back for another hit. She was clingy, sure, but there was a huge double standard there.

“Are you, now?” He smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Careful, sweetheart, or I might sextuple dip.”

“Maybe I want you to.” She winked, and it had him chuckling, looking down and then back at her.

“Tempting. Very tempting.”

You stepped into the office, your heels making small taps on the floor as you went, signing in and showing your ID at the register before making your way inside. You’d been told to take a rest for a few days before you returned to your post in the HQ at DC, but who were you to listen?

And everyone knew it too, because the very moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with a show of applause and cheers from your colleagues. “Tenth drug ring of your career.” Agent Lafitte clapped your shoulder, chuckling. “You’re on a roll, sister.”

“Cool it with the flattery, Benny, I’m on a time crunch.” You snorted, shaking your head and holding a hand out for a case file, which was dropped into your hand as you continued walking.

“Hi.” There was a blonde girl beside you, hair pulled up into a ponytail, presumably the one who handed the fine to you. “Agent Jo Harvelle. I used to work narcotics, but they’re giving me a trial in Major Crimes. I was told by the CO to shadow you, so I can get a good sense of the ropes.”

While looking through the files, you glanced up at Agent Harvelle, seeing the eager look on her face. Rather like you when you started, and the eager ones made good agents. With a little tough love. “Yeah, a’ight. CO’s called me for a briefing, so it’ll be up to him whether you stay or step out.”

“About that drug ring you busted?” She grinned. “I was told. By practically everyone. How are you that skilled?”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, hon.” You smirked as you reached the boss’ office, rapping twice on the door with your knuckles and earning a polite ‘come in’.

That you did, finding your superior officer, Senior Agent Robert Singer, standing behind his desk, nose deep in a file while his ear was being talked off by… oh, boy.

Agent Winchester.

“So I quickly take my gun, aim it between his eyes,” He held up finger guns and aimed them to prove his point, completely disregarding your arrival, hideously typical, “and I said ‘hands up or I’ll reenact Rambo’. Genius, am I right?”

You cleared your throat sharply.

That got Agent Winchester’s attention, his green eyes zeroing in on you and giving you memories back that you tried to dispose of in the first place. A smirk twitched at those lips that were once too close to be professional before they stretched into a grin, pearly whites flashing. “Mornin’, Agent. Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.” You pressed your lips together (and your thighs, but you’d never admit that), turning to Agent Singer instead. “Should I leave Harvelle outside, sir?”

“That’s ideal.” Singer nodded, so you signalled to Harvelle to stay outside as you closed and locked the soundproof door. You passed the file on the Brierson drug ring to him, which he checked over. “Impressive work, as always. This’ll land them behind bars for sure.”

“Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Winchester quipped, arms folded across his chest with a smug smirk. Your brow twitched; you knew exactly why he was highlighting that word in bold, italics, whatever he was intending to do. You’d just rather not think about it.

You scanned him over, adding all the facts in your head. His shirt wasn’t ironed. Belt was wonky. Hair looked like it had a comb desperately run through it but failed to tame it. Faint hint of something red you recognised as a lipstick smear on his jugular and a sliver of a purple bruise that disappeared under his collar. Which was hastily pulled up. His tie done in the simplest knot ever and still looked tragic.

He got here in quite the rush.

“Nice night?” You shot back, a full smirk tugging at your lips and making his drop. He gave you a look which blatantly said smartass, while you proudly notched that win on your belt.

Singer looked between the two of you before tapping his desk. “Entertaining, but not why you’re both here. We’ve found ourselves in a fix. Franz Brierson wasn’t at that party.”

Your blood ran cold. That guy was the big boss, the guy who started it all, got everyone on his payroll. If he was loose… but he couldn’t be loose. Unless you didn’t check?

“I’ve been looking into it for the past five hours. That’s right, I got here early.” Singer huffed out a breath. “There’s a chance that our big boss was notified beforehand. A mole that told him we were coming.”

“A mole. In the FBI.” Dean muttered, now serious as he rubbed a hand into his mouth. “We’ve been clean for years.”

“It’s the only explanation.” You piped up, shaking your head as you began to pace. Heels tapping, Dean’s eyes fixating on the sway of your hips and your ass in that getup at the wrong goddamn moment. “That operation was airtight. No room for error. Only someone on the inside could have leaked that info.”

“You two are the best Major Crimes has. Most arrests, most drug and crime busts I’ve seen on a record in all my years of being here.” Singer folded his arms, looking between the two of you. “I don’t know the whats, whens, whos, hows, whys of what happened when you two were last assigned on a case together, but I need this operation to stay in this circle right here.” He faced you. “When you’re working this case, Agent Harvelle can’t be there. It’s gonna be hard to shake, but you can handle it. As for you,” Singer shot an exasperated look at Winchester, “look presentable!”

“I look hot.” Dean pouted, now holding his jacket over his shoulder with it hooked on his index.

“Hot isn’t FBI. Go sort yourself out, or I’ll get your brother to do it. I need to oversee operations.” Singer left the room and the tense air between you and Dean, which you faced head on.

“So,” You started in a lilting voice, which he recognised instantly as your teasing tone and prompting an eye roll before the words left your lips, “was she good?”

“Shut up.” He groaned, shaking his head as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “None of your damn business. It’s an intimate exploration, not exhibitionism.” He lowered his voice so you couldn’t hear. “Though she’d probably be into that.”

“Are we calling sex an intimate exploration now?” You scoffed lightly, laughing afterwards. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Asshole.” He shot back. Two can play, Winchester.

“Dumbass.”

“Smartass.”

“Jackass.”

“We gotta stop using ‘ass’ in every sentence.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and picking up the file to busy himself. But the file was picked out of his hands, left carelessly on the desk, your lips claiming his something sinful.

Something that had him moaning, gripping your hips and his mouth soft, pliable, agreeable to your every want and need. He was all yours, and that was all it took to silence him.

Well, not really silence him, but details weren’t necessary. Not when your plush lips were pressing against his neck like that. Hot, open mouthed. Insistent. Rousing. Dizzying. Intoxicating.

He’d be damned if he ever got enough.

His shirt was soon hanging open, tie discarded as the marks of that sexy lipstick shade littered his torso, and he wasn’t complaining. He definitely wasn’t complaining when you sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt as your tongue traced his abs. Didn’t dare when his slacks pooled to the floor, boxers dropping next, his hand tangling in your hair as-

“Hey.” Your fingers snapped in front of him, taking him out of his delightful daydream, however ill-timed. He swallowed, giving himself a once over. No tie discarded, no shirt undone, no lipstick marks and definitely no you looking so sexy on your knees for him. Having him whine for you.

That was a thought worth biting his lip to.

“You with me?” You continued, and upon his shaky nod, you gave him a weird look before continuing on with your briefing. He inwardly wiped sweat off his brow, thankful to whatever god was watching for the lucky save.

You were sipping a late-night decaf coffee as you contemplated the case again, dressed in your worst-looking pyjamas with an old tea stain on the front and fuzzy socks. Had you scoped the party properly, you could’ve clocked if big man Brierson was actually there. But he’d known, he’d known, and now everyone in Major Crimes was under investigation.

By you.

Well, and Agent Winchester, but you’d rather not think of him. You’re actually not quite sure what happened between you two, all that you broke your own rules for your heart to be broken too. You focused on your job, he had fun. Your cycle went that way.

You’d find a new case, he’d find a new girl. Both to busy yourselves so you wouldn’t have to think about each other, which worked until now.

You got a phone call, and you mindlessly picked it up, irritated as you were pulled from your contemplative thoughts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

‘Dean, so nice to hear from you.’ You heard, his voice mimicking yours before switching back to his. ‘Wow, Agent, colour me surprised; it’s nice to hear from you too. How are you, Dean? I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart, how are you? You’re so polite.’

“Do I sound like someone to engage in small talk right now?” You deadpanned among chuckles at his own joke, putting your dinner - leftovers - in the microwave. God, you weren’t in the mood for this.

Eventually his snickers subsided, and he cleared his throat as you set the mug down. ‘Duly noted. You’re boring. Anyway, about the mole case. I think we should meet up in the office tomorrow to draw up a list of potential suspects.’

You took your warmed dinner, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you stabbed the spaghetti with a fork, chewing as you spoke. “And I think you’re insane. That’s the place we’re casing. Why in the hell would we start drafting up names there?”

You heard Dean clear his throat at the end of the line. ‘Right. Got it. My place?’ Truth is, Dean had been hoping you’d say anything but ‘let’s not draft at the office’. He was scared he’d lift you up on the nearest surface and do what he hadn’t the previous time, mark you, claim you and then let you claim him, mark him, wreck him. He didn’t know what you two were, or what you’d become.

Maybe strangers with very intense, deep seated sexual tension.

“What time?” You asked through yet another bite of spaghetti. You weren’t about to forgo dinner for this dude, cordiality be damned.

‘Tomorrow, straight after hours, just head to my place. Does that work for you?’

“Mm, yeah.” You nodded, setting down your plate to quickly note it in your schedule. “See you then, Agent Winchester.”

‘Call me Dean.’

“Agent Winchester.” It was the least you could do after how things got last time. Again, you’d rather not talk about it.

You walked into the DC office after registering, briefing with Agent Singer before heading to the break room, where you found Trainee Agent Harvelle, Trainee Agent Kevin Tran, Agent Benjamin Lafitte, Agent Garth Fitzgerald and Agent Sam Winchester.

You knew Sam. He was a damn sight more respectful and less… Dean-esque than his older brother. Smarter, yet less effective on brute force raids. For that, you needed Dean Winchester. Anything research, or hacking into databases, Sam was your guy.

“Agents.” You smiled awkwardly, not knowing how else to greet them as you went straight for the coffee pot. Thank the Lord for the petition to make the standard of coffee in that jug better that got the vote from every damn person in the department.

HR and Maintenance can suck it.

“Agent.” The rest of them replied, identically sipping cups of Joe.

“Agents.” Singer walked in, holding a file. “Briefing room. Now.” He walked out, and you all followed suit, taking your coffees with you because you needed the caffeine to sustain your brains. Once you all stepped into the briefing room, where Agent Winchester and Agent Nick Garrison were waiting.

Singer grunted, pulling up a slideshow on the board. “Let’s get this over with.” He showed bodies, robbed banks, hostage situations. “Six occurrences of organised crime over the past four weeks. All hitting major municipalities. Now it’s our jurisdiction.”

“What have we got from the crime scenes?” Agent S. Winchester asked, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nothing but this snake logo, spray painted at every scene.” Up comes a logo of a rearing cobra.

You shrugged, quickly figuring something out. “Well, that solves half of the mystery. They want our attention.”

“It is possible.”

“I think it’s a temper tantrum.” You snorted, pointing to the board. “Look at where they’re hitting. Large cities, maximum damage, it’s a cry out for our beady eyes. Leaving a logo at the scene? Someone either wants to get caught or lead us on.”

“Sounds kinda like girls at a bar.” Agent D. Winchester snickered, but earned a weird look from everyone in the room. “What? I make my own style of analogies, don’t come at me for it.”

“Who’s on the team, sir?” Lafitte asked, the man all slow drawl, suave talk and suspenders.

You pointed to Agent D. Winchester, smirking. “Leave him out, his main interests are girls and booze.”

“Blow me.” He scoffed in retaliation, glaring at you. That was a mistake on Dean’s part, cause he started to imagine it. Oh, that memory’s vivid as hell.

“Beg for it.” You shot back, and despite the steady inflation of awkwardness, he really had half a mind to beg for it, honour be damned to hell.

Pin drop silence. Shared smirks. Uncomfortable eye contact between you and Dean, your minds going to places they really shouldn’t.

Agent Singer cleared his throat, then continued talking. “I want you,” he pointed to you, “and the two Agent Winchesters and Agent Lafitte on it, and the two trainees Agent Tran and Harvelle to shadow. You’re dismissed, except for you two.”

Didn’t take a genius to know who ‘you two’ were.

So everyone but you and Agent D. Winchester filtered out, and the moment the door closed, you were both less bickering, head chopping and heart ripping. More on business.

“This is a good chance for you two to scout for our mole.” Singer looked between the two of you pointedly. “As much unknown history as you two have, you idjits need to set that aside. For the sake of our damn Major Crimes unit. Narcotics will give me hell if I don’t sort this out. And the board of directors will be less pleased that we’ve been compromised.”

“We understand, sir.” You nodded, understanding how goddamn serious this was. Lives were on the line. Your jobs, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s maintained integrity. “We can put aside our differences, can’t we, daddy’s boy?” You smirked at Dean, then pretended to realise that you’d made a mistake. “Oh, my bad. Agent Winchester.”

Dean resisted a clapback with all his might. He didn’t care if their CO was right there, he’d bend you over this desk and show you who’s really in control here.

That would wipe the smirk off those pretty lips. Replace it with his claim over you.

“So, Dean, I wanna know.” Sam smirked, cracking open a beer and passing it to his older brother. “What’s with you and her?”

Dean scoffed, sipping the beer and shaking his head. “I’m asked this fifty times a day. There’s nothing going on here. We’re work colleagues. She’s incredibly annoying, and grating, and infuriating, and I’m extremely handsome.”

That got a wider smirk from Sam, a knowing one. “You knew who I was talking about.”

That caught Dean out, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Say what?”

“You have so many girls in your life that half of your contacts are women.” Sam raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “But you knew who I was referencing first try.”

“Humour me, Sammy.” Dean grimaced, folding his arms. “How do you label intense sexual tension that was almost acted on yet it almost broke our personal set of rules? Hm? Thought so.”

“So, she’s kind of like an old flame.”

“That flame ain’t lit.”

Sam nodded slowly, giving a breathless chuckle and an inclination of his head. “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the room to head upstairs, which alerted Dean of the implication. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey! Sammy!”

NEXT UP:

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@deanbrainrotwritings

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

To be added to any character’s taglist of mine, find my form on my master list.

[macfrog]

hits different cowboy like me chapter twelve

oh, my, love is a lie! are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 10.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your – “You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.” The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.

A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.

And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.

And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.

It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.

And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.

Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?

Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?

Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.

All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.

And you fucking hate her.

That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.

Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.

What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.

And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.

Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.

Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…

Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.

You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.

You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.

Definitely – none – from –

him.

----------

Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.

Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!

Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.

On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.

Any two shifts……

Ok three????

Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol

By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.

She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.

“All black? Again?”

“I look good in black.”

“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”

“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”

“Why do I gotta be hot?”

“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”

You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.

Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.

You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.

Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.

He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.

“Ready, girls?”

Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.

And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.

Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.

You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.

Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.

“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.

“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”

“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”

“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”

Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.

Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”

“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”

Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.

Your dad does that anyway, though.

“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your –

“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”

The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.

He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.

You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.

What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?

But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.

Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.

You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.

Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.

You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.

Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”

“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.

Get me –

fucking –

hammered.

----------

You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.

And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.

All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.

You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…”

You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.

“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.

“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.

Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.

“Nothin’. I’m fine.”

Until you answer him truthfully, that is.

“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”

“Well, howdy, clumsy!”

The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.

“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.

“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”

“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”

A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.

“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”

He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.

“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”

Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”

“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.

“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.

This isn’t the night for second thoughts.

The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.

His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.

And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.

Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.

V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.

“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.

V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”

“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.

He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.

You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.

A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.

“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.

“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”

Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.

You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.

“So, you’re here often, then?”

Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”

“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”

The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.

“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”

He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.

It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.

Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.

“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”

You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.

Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.

“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”

Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.

You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.

“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.

“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”

Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.

He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.

When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.

It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.

Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.

But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.

You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.

Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.

Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.

That might just be the drinks.

Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.

When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.

“Hey, what the f–?”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.

“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”

“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”

“Does it matter?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”

“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.

Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.

She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.

“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.

She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.

Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”

“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.

“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –

Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.

“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.

His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.

Only he doesn’t move.

“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.

“I don’t f-fucking think so.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”

“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”

Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.

Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.

Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –

Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.

“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.

“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”

You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.

Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.

You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.

But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.

Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”

“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.

When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.

The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.

“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”

“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.

Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.

The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.

“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”

Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.

And then he swings.

Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.

“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.

His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.

Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.

“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”

Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.

“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”

Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.

Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”

“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.

He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.

When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What you sorry for?”

You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”

He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.

“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.

“Work. Site inspection, remember?”

You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.

His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Did Sam c-call him?”

“No. Why?”

You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.

“Asked ‘im not to.”

“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”

Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.

“’s never seen me drunk.”

“Or high?”

You snort. “I’m not…”

When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.

“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”

“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”

Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”

Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”

So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.

“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.

Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.

You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.

You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.

He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.

But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.

So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?

Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.

The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.

The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?

Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.

“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.

You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.

The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.

“I said I’m good.”

“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.

“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.

“Look it.”

You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.

“Water,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”

He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.

You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.

Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.

“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.

You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.

He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.

You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.

“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”

You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.

Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.

“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.

He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.

“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.

“I know they’re bleedin’.”

“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”

He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.

Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.

It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.

“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”

You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.

Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.

“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”

You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.

“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”

Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”

“We kissed.”

“I know that, too.”

“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”

The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.

“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”

His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.

“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”

And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.

“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”

And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.

Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”

He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”

He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.

“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.

“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”

You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.

“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.

You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.

“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.

Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”

Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.

“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”

“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”

“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.

“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”

You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”

“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”

“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.

“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”

“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.

“Kid–”

“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”

“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”

Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.

He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”

“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”

Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.

You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”

“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”

“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.

Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”

You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.

Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.

“Just - take me to bed.”

He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.

You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.

Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.

He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.

You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.

Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.

He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.

His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.

Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.

“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”

He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.

Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.

“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”

He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.

And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.

He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.

His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.

And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.

----------

The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.

He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.

You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.

He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.

“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.

The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.

Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.

He’s been in here.

“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.

You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.

You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.

You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.

“H-hi, Dad.”

You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.

“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m gonn–”

“Where’s Joel?”

Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.

“Huh?”

“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”

“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.

“He text you?”

He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”

Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.

“See ya in a few hours.”

When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.

He has one unread text from Joel.

You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.

Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.

You scroll further back.

Joel: She okay?

Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?

Further back still.

Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠

Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.

You scroll until your eyes hurt.

Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.

Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV

Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself

You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.

Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.

You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

She’s a sweetheart.

Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.

You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –

Then, you break.

It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.

There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.

Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.

And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.

Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You are – fucked.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged

@blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @alejaa-a @dindjarinsbeskarbunny @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @dissentientss @hopplessilse @vickywallace @lelifesaver @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @caitispunk @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 5

Read Ding here | ~5.2k words

Warnings: a bit of a filler episode here: smut 18+ (oral m and f, fingering, just some good old regular sex and maybe something that's semi-public if you look at it the right way) (finally right?), fluff, angst, etc. typical stuff. Also, this MIGHT have one of those 1d1195 classic cliffhangers 🤷‍♀️ who's to say (still not the bad cliffhanger for this series, imo).

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are a real couple now. Well... physically. Jury is out if she's invested emotionally.

“Why’s he so mad? He won?” She asked.

Niall shrugged. “I’ve never seen him look mad like that after a win.”

In waiting for his big fight, Harry refused to let his skills get weaker. She didn’t voice her opinion at the time, but she was happy to hear Niall say he simply thought it was impossible. Louis and Harry decided against him (and her).

But Harry wanted to add to his record. There would be at least one more fight before the biggest one of his life. The current one was hard fought. Harry’s eyebrow was split open once more, sticky with Vaseline and his lower lip was swollen. She couldn’t wait to kiss it.

His body glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. He didn’t have more than a hand towel sized rag draped around his neck and he mopped his face with the end of the fabric. It went eleven rounds. She imagined his exhaustion was setting in, she had an order ready to place as soon as he was ready to leave for something to eat. His favorite late-night tacos. But before they could leave he needed to clean himself up and get away from the crowd that continued to congratulate him.

That was where she and Niall saw him. He looked so irritated. People who shook his hand, people who asked for his autograph, and even the small-time, local media were looking for an angle. But Harry paid no mind to the attention. He was looking everywhere but the person talking to him. She stood by Niall away from the crowd—they were along the back wall, near the exit.

Harry muttered something to Louis who could hardly keep up with Harry, nearly running through the crowd. Louis looked just as agitated with Harry’s attitude and started to scan as well. She held both of their phones, so she had no way to contact him. She thought about texting Louis but thought the sound would get lost in the crowd. Maybe calling him would help.

Right as she scrolled for his contact, she received a request on Instagram from a stranger that distracted her momentarily. In doing so, she missed how Louis pointed.

But Niall saw. Realization came over him and he chuckled. “Oh, Cupcake, he’s looking for you,” Niall smirked as the grumpy look on his face changed and Harry rushed over, ignoring the pats on the back and the press trying to get to him. The look on his face was determined—maybe more than when he was in the ring.

Before she fully understood what Niall said and processed what that meant, she was wrapped in Harry’s arms. Her feet were swept off the ground. His face was buried in her hair at the side of her neck. Her body was warm and compared to Harry’s sweaty torso. His gloves inhibited him from grabbing at her the way he really wanted to. “Hi, Cupcake,” he murmured into her hair. She could have cried how it felt to be held against him. It was so good to be held, to be wanted like this.

“Nice job, baby,” she answered. Harry thought he was too sweaty and maybe a little smelly, but if he did or was it was apparent she didn’t care. Harry was vaguely aware of people staring at him, but it wasn't something he cared about at the moment. He waddled slightly hanging onto her and guiding her back toward the locker room.  

“Want you t’stay by the ring at the next one, Cupcake. So when I win, I can find you,” his voice is muffled by the people around him and the way his face won’t leave the crook of his neck. She couldn’t stop smiling even if someone made her.

This was nice. This was everything she wanted.

The guilt was crippling.

*

“You’re so perfect,” he cooed to her as he hovered above her. They were practicing again. Something they did frequently. Especially now that the classes had ended. Harry encouraged her to do so. Even though half the time it turned into the pair of them giggling like children wrestling. Her area rug was a nice cushion for them to lay on the floor without her back hurting.

She rolled her eyes at him as he ducked to peck her lips. “I didn’t get out of this hold.”

“T’be fair, I don’t want y’out of this hold,” he murmured and tucked his face into her neck, gently kissing her skin.

She snorted. It had been three weeks since their first date and they were still waiting for the right moment for her to try and take his pants off again. For the first week, it felt too raw or fresh. Harry was insistent they be slow. The second week they were simply busy. She had two huge birthday orders to fill and deliver. Harry had two new individuals who wanted his training—two young boys who regarded him so highly they insisted to their parents they sign up for personal instruction.

But now, they weren’t so busy. With Harry’s leg slotted between hers, his thigh causing the slightest pressure at the apex of hers... she was aching for him. “Harry,” she whispered.

“Yes, Cupcake?” She looked at him nervously. It clicked for him in an instant and he wondered what her nerves were about. “Do y’think m’gonna say no, sweetheart?” He asked brushing the back of his index finger along her cheek. She shrugged. He chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s start with you,” he suggested.

“Me?” She repeated. It was adorable. The way she repeated him.

He nodded, kissed her nose, then her lips. “Mhmm,” he hummed and slunk down further, pressing a line of kisses over her neck, her collarbone, over her shirt, across her stomach, and paused at the button of her jeans. “Been dying t’taste you, Cupcake. Sure, you’re just as sweet as the cupcakes y’make. May I?” he asked. Her heart skipped a beat and she nodded. He shook his head. “Verbally, kitten.”

She swallowed. “Please,” she whispered breathlessly. Harry popped the button and pulled the zipper down the moment the word came off her lips. Gently, he tugged her pants down and off her legs. He revealed her underwear, they were navy colored, a little pink cupcake printed in the center.

“S’adorable,” he murmured and pressed a kiss over the cupcake. Her heart skipped a beat. “Y’okay, kitten?” His voice was so gentle. She nodded in response. “I would feel a lot better if y’exhaled, Cupcake,” he smirked peering up at her. She wasn’t looking at him, could only sense his eyes watching her and feel his fingers hooking around the outside of her underwear ready to pull it out of the way—that way there would be just a bit of fabric still around her. He thought it might help keep her calmer if she was really that nervous. Harry watched as her stomach and chest deflated with her exhale. “Good,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her thigh. “We don’t have t’do this,” he reminded her. “If y’not ready.”

“M'very ready,” she mumbled almost to herself. Harry shook silently with a laugh and nodded.

“Okay,” he coaxed the fabric out of the way. Her breath hitched again, and Harry slowly dipped his head between her legs, licking a stripe up and down the center of her while her breath released, shakily at the feeling. He closed his eyes memorizing the feeling and moment of tasting her for the first time. He pulled harder on the fabric of her underwear to keep it out of the way while he worked. His tongue maneuvered slowly over her folds making her whine quietly with his mouth on her. Harry groaned softly against her and made his way back up to settle on her clit where he spent time sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh wow,” she gasped quietly. Harry instantly felt cocky and greedy. He dipped his tongue lower again, admiring the wetness that accumulated as he worked his tongue into her. Her hand reached for his hair, and she once more realized how soft it was. He reveled in the feeling of her fingers trying to get a grip to pull him closer and he somehow managed to sink his face further into her core. She moaned softly trying to keep her voice low. It felt so good. The tension began rolling off her the longer he stayed down there. All her muscles started to relax, and she really wanted to quit her job and have Harry quit his, so he could live between her thighs. It was downright heavenly. It was like his mouth and tongue knew every spot on her that would make her twitch and whine. Her other hand reached for one of his, the one that held her hip in place, the other moved from holding her underwear in place to her thigh, keeping her spread open just for him.

She tasted so good. As good as she tasted, Harry still imagined licking frosting off her in the way he was sucking and licking at her then. The idea made him harder, and he groaned again against her. The vibration flowing through her clit making her moan in response. The hand that wasn’t held by hers started to follow the path of his tongue. His finger gently coaxing between her wet folds and hovering at her very achy center with the need for some part of Harry to be inside her.

“May I?” his voice was husky. His breath was cool in comparison to how warm and wet she felt.

“Yes. Please, yes,” she nearly begged, and Harry wasted not a moment longer to give her what she wanted. He moaned again, sucking at her clit. She felt so warm around his finger, he thought about getting his dick inside her and almost finished right then.

Her whimpering was so hot, Harry was so in love with the sounds she made. He felt so happy to be between her legs and making her feel good. “S’that good, Cupcake?” He asked before devouring her clit again.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop, please,” she almost sounded incoherent, breathy, and her fingers pulled a little harder on his hair. “Please,” she whimpered.

Harry wanted her to cum so badly he thought it would die if she didn’t. So he pumped his finger in and out of her, toying with the idea of adding another to make her fuller as he was certain that would push her over the edge and he wanted nothing more than to feel her squeeze around his fingers. It would be a delicious preview to how it would feel around his dick—whenever that time came.

“Oh my God,” she sighed arching slightly pressing her body further into Harry’s fingers and mouth. “Harry,” she whispered. “I’m—” she couldn’t even finish the sentence. Like it was a surprise that she was finishing without even meaning to. She groaned softly, her body twitching and her muscles clamped around his digit inside her. He continued licking, tasting how aroused and good she felt as the orgasm coursed through her.

She never wanted it to stop. It was the most relaxed she felt in years. She reveled in it, the feeling exploding in waves through every inch of her body. The expression ‘toe-curling’ didn’t do her justice. Every muscle was weakened by the pure, unadulterated euphoria that washed over her. “Holy,” she whispered to herself as she started to come down. Harry was still sucking at her clit like she was water in a desert. His finger slowly stopped pumping and he slid it out so gently—like he was trying to make the least unobtrusive exit he could muster. He pulled his mouth from her, kissing the inside of her thigh and centering her underwear where it belonged once more.

He moved over her again, the hardness beneath his pants pressed against her lower stomach as he held himself up around her on his forearms. He pressed a kiss to her nose as her breathing continued to come in short little exhales. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled, thoroughly embarrassed. “Thank you... I believe it’s your turn,” she reached between them for the button of his pants.

“It doesn’t have t’be a one-for-one, Cupcake. M’more than happy,” he admitted. It was the truth. Harry felt lightheaded from her taste, her sounds, and the feel of her. It was enough to keep him sated regardless of how hard his dick felt.

“Okay, well, I would like to do it, if that’s alright with you.” Harry felt dizzy and nodded mutely. Unable to explain that he wanted it too, but only if she did. He lifted himself up and away from her, standing while she got to her knees in front of him. “Think it needs to be a verbal consent, baby,” she giggled flirtatiously.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, practically blushing. “Yes, Cupcake. Please.”

She quickly pulled his pants down to his knees and admired the bulge that stayed tucked in the light pink Calvin Klein’s around him. It was nearly mouth watering and she pressed her lips to said bulge. She mouthed at his dick, getting the fabric of his underwear wet with her lips and he moaned, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes. “I like that they’re pink,” she murmured, playing with the elastic on his hips. “But I’m going to like them better on the floor.”

Harry was incoherent.

She was more determined than last time physically and mentally. It felt nice to have her mouth a fraction of a centimeter away, just the width of the layer between her lips and his most sensitive skin. He lightly caught some of her hair in his hand and pressed against her mouth to create more friction. He was going to cum in a matter of seconds once his boxers were out of the way.

Fortunately, that didn’t take long either. She pulled his boxers down to meet his pants at his knees. She didn’t waste a second getting his dick in her mouth, moaning at the feel of him on her tongue. He groaned at the sound pressing toward her ever so slightly, not wanting to push her further than she wanted. But her lips looked like the color of fresh strawberries in the middle of summer as they wrapped around him. He tilted his head back up because he wanted the feeling to last longer than twenty seconds that he was rapidly heading for with her mouth wrapped around him. If he looked for too long it was going to be five seconds at most. “That’s good,” he breathed his grip tightening around the handful of hair he had taken. Her other hand reached below and cupped—

God he was going to explode.

She bobbed up and down, her tongue licking the underside of him with each downward stroke. It was heaven; her mouth opening around him for him to press deeper was blissful. He couldn’t remember anyone being enthusiastic about going down on him ever. She had one hand on his hip and the other reached for his hand and she gently guided him to press her further over him. “Oh fuck, Cupcake,” he moaned and gently thrusted further into her mouth.

He was covered in her spit within ten more seconds. It was so fucking hot, physically and emotionally he thought he was going to pass out. But the idea of not watching her suck him off seemed worse than passing out itself. The feeling of an impending release was forming in the pit of his stomach; it was the sound of her slurping at him like he was a popsicle on a hot summer evening that was making it form so quickly. He groaned, putting his other hand on the other side of her head. “M’gonna cum,” he warned. For some reason, that seemed to make her work faster. She moaned against him sending vibrations through him as she bobbed faster up and down his length touching so much further down the length of him than he ever expected her to do. “Sweetheart, I’m—”

He swore he lost his vision. Like this was the first blowjob he had ever received (it wasn’t) but by comparison it should have been. He held her head in place as he released into her mouth, his breath shallow as she sucked on the tip of him fervently getting every last drop of him before she swallowed.

If Harry didn’t need a recovery period, he would have finished again at the sight.

Daintily, she wiped her thumb across the corner of her mouth, and she stood briefly, stretching her legs, her knees red from the carpet. She sat on the sofa and Harry was staring at her as he gathered his mind that had exploded across her living room. She looked up at him through her lashes, lips red as strawberries. “Do you think we could do that again?” She asked quietly.

Harry groaned, apparently not needing a recovery period after all, nodded. He dropped to his knees, pushed her legs apart, and pressed his lips against the cupcake printed on her underwear again.

*

It was embarrassing how difficult it was to work any day following Harry’s mouth on her body. Which was most of the days over the last week. Fortunately, she didn’t burn anything—as that would have tipped Maeve off immediately. Though she didn’t mind telling her best friend about the sex, she thought it was private between Harry and her. So, she didn’t want to become a mind-numbed idiot just because Harry felt so good inside her... and licking her... and touching her...

Which is how she kept forgetting which of her checks were going into which envelope, so she had to keep redoing them. Louis is going to kill me, Cupcake. Her phone read.

Tell him I will be REALLY sad 😔

He won’t care, sweetheart. I am losing it because I can’t stop thinking about you 😍

How is that different than before the sex? 😘

...

Good point.

Hehehehe

I gotta get back to work, Cupcake. Let me know when you’re home, have a good rest of your day 😘

You too 😘

By the way...

I’ve had to redo my bills three times now.

Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Well at least it’s mutual 😉

*

After her late shift at the bakery, she headed to Driven. Harry mentioned he was staying late, and it had been a drought of four days since they’d seen each other. Honestly, it was probably for the best given they’d been unable to get most things done when they were around one another.

Unless you counted orgasms as things to do.

In which case they were getting a lot of things done.

Can you let me in? Harry’s phone vibrated with the message.

His heart nearly jumped at the sight of it and he all but sprinted to the front door where he saw her waiting patiently in the lamplight. “Cupcake, y’should’ve told me. S’dark,” he pouted as he ushered her inside, locked the door again.

She shrugged, turning into his chest for a hug. His lips found the crown of her head, making her insides turn to mush. “Yeah, but I learned how to fight someone off," she told his shirt.

He rolled his eyes. “Doesn't mean y'need t'go looking for trouble,” he mumbled.

She ignored his worry. “Are you still working?” She asked.

He nodded, exhaustion plain on his face. “Do you want to stay a bit or are you headed home?”

They were wandering back toward his office. The only other car in the lot was Harry’s so she knew no one else was there, but the darkness and stillness of a gym gave her the slightest creeps. “Can we turn on a light? It’s so dark.”

“I didn’t even notice,” he chuckled and flicked the light switch. Immediately, the banners, the posters, everything was illuminated, making it the place she was beginning to love as much as Harry loved it. “Been working for so long...since before we closed. Holed up here,” he yawned then rubbed the back of his head. His eyes drooped a bit. “Didn’t notice the sun went down.”

“C’mere,” she said and tugged him toward his practicing ring.

“Are you going t’beat me up?”

“Yes, exactly,” she rolled her eyes. “I think you would knock me out in one punch.”

He shook his head. “You’re supposed t’block that, Cupcake. Also, I would never,” he snorted.

She smiled. “Just want you to relax a second. Surprisingly, you always look relaxed up here,” she told him. Harry was told his whole life there was no such thing as perfect. But he had met her. So obviously, there was. Just, not everyone knew her. Harry held the ropes open for her and she climbed through, then made her way to center ring. She got to the floor and laid in the middle of the ring like it was a field of snow and she was going to make a snow angel. He smiled as he looked down at her. “See, relaxed already.”

He couldn’t tell her it had nothing to do with being in the ring and everything to do with her because she seemed so proud. Even though it was innocuous, he didn’t want to disappoint her. Instead, he chuckled and nodded. He laid down beside her. They stared at the ceiling. “Think m’gonna fall asleep,” he yawned again. She giggled. “Missed you,” he told her. “How’s your dad?” He asked.

She nodded. “Good,” it was always the same perfunctory response.

Harry wanted to meet him. It was obvious that when they watched movies that her revere for the man was tremendous. While she was getting to know more and more about Harry’s family, she kept her guard up about her own. The only person he knew—beyond the mere existence of her employees—was mainly, just barely, Maeve.

He wanted to inquire more, but he was a simple man and sensing his hesitation over her lack of a response, she rolled over, straddling his hips. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Guess it is relaxing up here,” he slid his hand up the front of her shirt, pulling the cup of her bra down so he could brush his index finger over her nipple. Something he happily learned in the last week was very exciting for her. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes to fully enjoy the feeling of it.

Within seconds, Harry was wedged between her thighs, her shirt and bra tugged apart, exposing both nipples to the cold air. Harry sucked and flicked them with his tongue. She moaned loudly; it echoed through the gym. “Thought you were tired,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Never too tired for this, Cupcake,” he assured her sliding his hand down the front of her pants and checking to see how wet she was and enjoying the notion that she was already soaking her underwear. “God help me, I’ll never be tired for this,” he promised.

*

Harry fell asleep just like the first night they met on the table in the kitchen after another fight. His phone was blowing up with congratulatory texts, pictures of the baby from Gemma—one she saw was the little miss in a Driven onesie that made her swoon. Harry would be even more in love when he saw it, she was sure. Louis, hardly allowing Harry to rest, messaged him the workout schedule for the coming week. But Louis didn’t know that he wasn't responding because she was letting him sleep while she kept his phone on the counter away from him.

She only made a half dozen of his favorite cupcakes this time; mostly because she didn’t want Louis to hate her any more than he already did due to Harry's lack of focus. She kissed the top of his hair as she walked by him and went to run her closing report while prepping the dough for the cronuts she wanted to try the following morning.

Her phone buzzed with another message from a stranger.

Is it true? :( It read.

She sighed. It was probably the seventh or so message she got in the last month and a half—essentially since she told the girl from her self-defense class about Jack. It seemed that he was still trying to date girls in the area. She was under the assumption that her name was thrown about because of the bakery. Oh, the sprinkles-girl went on a date with him. She said he tried to force her back to his place.

The confirmation from her end happened at least twice a week it seemed.

Yes.

She prayed they didn’t respond because she didn’t want to relive it again. In fact, things with the sleepy boy were so good, she nearly forgot about it entirely—until someone brought it up again in her DMs.

“Harry, baby,” she cooed gently in his ear. How different it was to wake him this way than it was the first night. “S’time to go,” she hummed softly.

He groaned tiredly, probably sorely, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him in the shower (for more than one reason) but so she could massage his aching muscles on the forefront of her mind. “Did y’make cupcakes again?”

“Only a half dozen this time,” she whispered so as not to bother him in his sleepy, waking state. He sighed, stretched, revealing the V of his hips and the lower part of his stomach.

Well...maybe the massage was the second thing in the forefront of her mind.

“Lou will be mad.”

“So don’t eat them all,” she giggled.

He pulled her into his lap, his face nuzzling into her neck and he shook his head. “S’not up t’me,” he told her.

“No? You don’t control how many cupcakes you eat?”

He shook his head. “Make’em taste bad, m’gonna eat too many,” he told her.

“It’s against my religion to make a bad cupcake.”

“Then m’stuck,” he mumbled into the side of her neck.

Her lips twitched to say she loved him, but that seemed a little ridiculous...so soon after sleeping with him. Not to mention, there was still a lot she was keeping from him.

*

After a particularly rough training session, she was holding ice against Harry’s knuckles, and kissing him as many times as he wanted. He showed her more pictures of his sweet niece. More importantly, she was very right that Harry was more in love with the little one due to the Driven onesie.

“Do you think I should be jealous of the other women in your life?” She teased, kissing the side of his face as he showed her. He chuckled, shook his head, nosing at her cheek.

“'Course not, Cupcake. Do y’want t’meet her?” He asked.

For someone who looked at Harry a menacing figure in a dark parking lot, successfully got away from a man that tried to harm her, and took self-defense classes, she looked downright terrified at the thought of meeting Harry’s family. “I don’t... I don’t know Harry. Are you... sure?”

“Am I sure?”

“Don’t be cute repeating me.”

“M’not,” he chuckled. “S’jus’ a bit ridiculous t’ask, sweetheart. Course I do.”

“What if...” she mumbled something that Harry couldn’t catch but he was almost hoping he hadn’t heard any semblance of the sentence he thought she uttered.

“What if what, Cupcake?”

“What if your sister doesn’t like me...or your mom or...what if this doesn’t—”

“Oh, for God’s...” he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Gem likes chocolate. Mum likes butterscotch. What can you bake with that in mind?” His smile was so adorable it made her stomach flutter.

The way she began to bubble and smile about the treats she could make his family made her so excited it was infectious. Harry was grinning, kissing her forehead as she continued speaking as if he hadn’t even moved to kiss her at all. He set his phone aside and then the ice pack on the coffee table. “Y’don’t have any siblings, Cupcake?”

Her bubbliness ceased at once. Harry swore he saw the bricks of a wall begin building in her eyes. She stood, grabbing his ice pack, and made her way to the freezer. “No, just me.”

“The world would have gotten a cavity if there were two people as sweet as you,” he tried to joke. She didn’t bite. “Where did y’live before here?” He asked.

This question was safer as she answered readily. But she stayed in the kitchen, rinsing some dishes from their dinner an hour earlier. “A few states away,” she shrugged. “But my dad took me here on vacations when I was younger. I always loved it. I’m not meant for a land-locked state,” she smirked.

Harry was grateful her living situation didn’t make her guarded. “Where does your dad live?” He asked.

As quick as it came down, the wall went right back up. If Harry wasn’t there to witness it, he never would have believed she could look cold. “A few towns over.”

“Yeah? Did he move out here with you or did you follow him after school?” He wondered.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. Like she was trying to escape. Harry had seen that expression before. Quiet calculation, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed. It happened in her self-defense classes. Then again in the middle of her apartment while she tried to figure another angle out of Harry’s holds while practicing her skills. It killed him she was trying to find a way out now. “He moved out here with me.”

Harry wasn’t sure how much of his luck he was willing to press so he opted for a gentler question. “Do you know we’ve been seeing each other for almost a month now?” He asked.

She blinked, confused by the change in subject. “Yes.”

“I call you m’girlfriend when you’re not around,” he smiled.

She blushed; it melted Harry’s heart. “Really?”

“Of course, Cupcake.”

She came back to him on the sofa. “So you do like me,” she smiled.

He snorted, cupped her face between his hands, then brushed his nose against hers. “What gave it away?” He kissed her gently, no promise of anything more. Just a kiss, a reminder that he adored her and yes. He did like her. Honestly, he was surely in love with her. But he thought that should wait until he met her dad... or knew anything deeper about her family or why she came here other than good real estate for A Pinch of Sprinkles. “I want you t’meet m’family, Cupcake. S’what you do when you’re in a serious relationship,” he kissed her forehead and held her against his chest. Her ear was pressed to his heartbeat. Steady and sure. Perfect. But she knew what he was saying. Just like when he encouraged her to tell him about what happened to her, he was trying once more to get her to open up to him. He didn't press further. Just like last time. But the silence ate at her. She was sure it ate at him too.

Part of her knew she would have to tell him. She just really didn’t want to relive that part of her life either.

taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleetiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @somethingabout1d19

ding: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[saturnsorbits]

Android AU where you purchase a discounted and broken Bakugo model.

He’s got limited movement in his right arm, a faulty ocular system and a series of burns that cover one side of his face and have made the middle of his chest all melted and tacky - the synthetic skin warped like scarred flesh, but he works well enough.

It’s nice, having him around. You cook together. Watch movies. Go on picnics. Hike. Dine out. Visit aquariums and museums. It doesn’t take long for people to start assuming…

Husband. Boyfriend. Fiancé. It’s all thrown round. An endearing misunderstanding that never garners more than a blush, or at least it was, until the feelings started.

It’s a growing debate, if the androids can feel like humans can, but you find yourself at his mercy anyway. You fall for him slowly, but definitely, lost to him in all of the ways you’d never thought possible.

You bottle it, lock it in your chest even when it becomes too much taking you in a choke hold and then one day, you just… Burst.

Ducking under the rail of the park, you cross the wood-chips and toss yourself to the curved rubber seat of the swing. Beyond the small park is the ocean - a small slither of wide open blue that crashes against the walls of the sea barrier before you.

This was your place, just your place and now, now you’re sharing it with him.

He sits on your left, pushing himself with the balls of his feet. In the shadow of the street light with his synthetic blonde spikes spilling over his forehead, he almost feels like a lover - like something more than he can be. ‘I like it here.’

‘I know.’ Bakugo turns, smirks. The social module downloaded into his brain makes it look perfect, tells him the exact angle his lips should stretch to for the chosen effect.

‘There’s something about the sea being so close, it’s…’

‘Calming.’

‘Yeah.’ You sigh, glancing over to Bakugo careful not to look too long. ‘It’s calming.’

‘You wanna know why?’

‘Sure.’

‘My search says it’s due to the broad nature of the sound, as it hits your ear...' He taps your tragus. 'It creates a deep tonal noise, which due to its processing ease in the brain creates a soothing effect.'

'Huh.' It’s strange, hearing him talk like this. Usually, he’s so informal, so blunt and matter of fact it’s strange when all of that wiring in his head kicks back in and has him talking like… Well like a robot.

‘Did it again, didn’t I?’

You chuckle. ‘Sometimes you just talk like we’re worlds apart.’

‘Sorry. I -.’

‘No, no…’ You smile, softly, before reaching over and resting your palm on his thigh.

Bakugo blinks, looking down at the hand wrapping his leg. Gingerly, he accepts it. Entwining his fingers with yours, he squeezes. ‘I…’ His voice is a whisper. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘Katsuki.’

Squeezing softly, Bakugo doesn’t lift his gaze when he talks. 'I don't love you.'

You laugh, the cold air stinging your teeth. ‘I don’t love you.’ It’s a half-truth, the emotion caught in your chest might not yet be love, but it’s too close to it for comfort. ‘You don’t have to love me.’

Bakugo breathes deep despite not needing to. ‘I - I don’t feel -.’

You cut him off, eyes wide, a softeness already burrowing into your expression. You can’t imagine what’s it’s like, to be filled with a thing you were born never to have - to be coming alive for the first time. ‘Katsuki… You do. I know that you’re more than just a robot… More than -‘

‘No.’ Bakugo tightens his grip on your hand, flicking his eyes up to meet yours. ‘I can - I do feel…’ He corrects. ‘I just don’t feel for you what you feel for me.’

[pix-writes]

I just watched Pride&Prejudice and I cannot stop thinking about love confessions, how would the Grunkles confess their feelings? I imagine Mabel wanting so bad to do a sort of kiss the girl situation with a boat and romantic music lmao

I find it difficult to say exactly how they would both confess their feelings, just because I think it really depends on the relationship and certain circumstances to be honest?

But, yeah! I definitely think Mabel would want to intervene (and therefore rope Dipper into helping her), using her adorable powers for good intentions, but ultimately perhaps is a little more niave than she realises when it comes to trying to set adults up with each other lol ^_^' I love Mabel, her heart is in exactly the right place (so I forgive her immediately), but she is a 13-ish year old girl! Setting people up in such cliche/obvious scenarios could very likely go wrong, and by wrong I mean her efforts may not have the outcomes she expects! (btw I'm not saying it would backfire terribly, but it might deter some suitors if just from sheer awkwardness)

To be honest and fair to her, she is right these grumpy grunkles DO need pushing in the right direction✨towards you, beautiful reader! ✨especially in the initial stages, she will definitely be encouraging them to talk to you, get them to try to open up and talk with you about what interests you might have and maybe share, so they (she) can know if they're the right match for them. She's their biggest cheerleader and supporter and she'll have bragging rights at your eventual wedding because of course she knew you were right for each other! Mabel simply loves love! (more under cut)

Realistically though, I think after the events surrounding the Love God and the Stans' lives after the series ends, I think Mabel will be just a tad less chaotic/intense with her matchmaker tendencies and in turn the grunkles may brush her off (gently) from any big, romatic set-ups. They certianly don't need their grand-niece to orchestrate getting somebody's number or asking someone on a date! Anyways, romance is complicated and the grunkles have too much baggage to want to launch into something so suddenly.

Though they will cave in under some of her advice/encouragements to spend time with you, however that may be (like I said, they both have a track record of being a bit hopeless lol). And she is a good source of some creative date ideas, too.

I think Stan would most likely want to make more of his confession, make it on a date night where you go to some nice restaurant by the sea or something, but either he backs out of it for some reason or another and feels like he's floundering, he just needs to tell you, what's scary about that? (ah, the fear of rejection, we all know it!) Instead, it ends up slipping out of his mouth in a more mundane setting. Like maybe you're both on the porch, you come back with a drink, not just for yourself but for him too, or you've come round to help him because both of the kids got the flu and he needs someone to go to the store, or he's helping you unpack your groceries, or you're just talking shit and joking with each other one evening on the stan o war II - and he comes out with it causally, hardly thinking, "I love you, you know?" or "Thanks, sweetheart. Love ya." and then once he realises what he's said it's like the moment has been shattered. He hasn't moved but he's panicking internally and trying to get his brain to catch up to his goddamn mouth to say something else - and then! You accept it. You say you love him too and he'll feel the relief of it once he's gone through another few minutes or so of disbelief that you love him back! haha ;w;

That doesn't mean he couldn't do the big confession, in fact, I think he'd give it his best shot, he can be romantic and he has watched a lot of period dramas and they seem silly to him in reality but shouldn't he try to do that for you? But it's in a very Stan way 😅 It's very sweet of him to make a lovey speech on your anniversary, even if he messed it up near the end and gave up on what he was trying to say. The fact that he loses some of his smooth composure in front of you just shows you how important you are to him, so its still effective. Oh, and he takes you out dancing too! Actions can be just a effective as words in this case ;) Stanley is here to sweep you off your feet one way or another and he damn well knows how to give you a fun night out (Now shush and make out with me in the stanmobile, handsome!)

Ford would likely be a little the same, just different in approach. I think he'd like to make his confession privately, even if you're on a date, he wants it to feel like its between you both. He feels those three words in his throat like its stuck there all the time, it crops up in those little moments, he's watching you tidy up the lab or putting a blanket over stan and the kids who have fallen asleep on the boat, or in the morning when you're both in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to be done and he's marvelling at the wonder and beauty that is you in the early sunrise and how you seemed to love him, something he never expected to happen - but he feels like he can't say it, he wants so badly to say it, but he doesn't know how to just 'bring it up' and then the moment passes. Until the next one. Then he starts getting frustrated with himself, why can't he simply get the words out? What if you don't really like him as he has begun to believe and you reject him? Why must he hold himself in this limbo? He needs to move forwards!

But he doesn't know how to bring it up, he's created speeches in his head or written his confession down, he scoffs at himself for acting like some lovesick teenager when he discards draft number 11 and goes to put it into the shredder (so no one can come across it accidentally and read it). I feel like it could go a lot of ways, perhaps you indicate, not too overtly or too subtly, some hint towards your love for him on a date and it gives him the push he needs to finally say it. In this instance, he tries his best to do a small speech about his love for you, stuttering a little as he confesses, because he sees how you're looking at him and it's making his heart beat faster because, oh wow, you love him too! Maybe he doesn't finish because you can't take it any longer and give him a smooch. yay! ^-^

Or in one of those small everyday moments he bites the bullet and confesses. Or maybe you're going out on one of your shared adventures and he stops you for a moment to blurt it out, unable to contain it because he wants you to know why he's so protective over you before you go any further.

"I love you, (name). I think I've loved you for some time now, and I hope you do too? I just... didn't know how to say it, before."

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 4 - Thin Ice | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: Moving on to Casterly Rock for the next round of the tour, Aemond has some explaining to do | Word Count: 7.4k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: Aemond being a general raging dickhead, classism, sexual tension 😘, swearing, heavy petting

A/N: I feel like apologising for long chapters is beyond me at this point. But ohohoho we getting into itttt~

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

It turned out that alone, never really meant alone.

Alone in the sense that Aemond and yourself would be carted around by the various staff at Hightower Management, put into various hotels and expected to keep up with training, without the keen eyes of Otto nor Alicent watching over either of you.

Part of you was excited about the notion of a tour. But the more dominant part was immensely nervous. Without Helaena or Aegon to take the edge of Aemond’s personality, it might be silent torture or it might be entirely indifferent, as you and Aemond had been throughout the match and after-party well over a week ago and, as well as the time in between.

It was sort of routine now, the way you both trained. Only speaking to one another if you had to.

Even then, he did seem a little chattier. But it was a miniscule difference.

He’d not said a thing about his ex-dinosaur-girlfriend (as Helaena so carefully put it) being at the after-party. Not like he would say anything to you anyway, but still, what was that all about?

Helaena had told you as much as she could really, given all she knew being on the outside. Alys was twenty years Aemond’s senior, now in her mid-forties you surmise from the timeline. Besides grossing you out mildly, Helaena had bestowed her knowledge that as soon as Alicent found out about the supposed relationship, it was immediately put to an end.

Enter. The pregnancy scandal. Alys had approached Otto in a very business-like manner, breaking the news she was pregnant and that it had been Aemond’s, despite the timing of it clearly not matching up. Alicent was absolutely beside herself, which knowing her now you’re not sure if you could picture it, and insisted that it was entirely not true and that Alys had just wanted money.

Aemond’s or not, she was paid a handsome sum to keep quiet. And in the end? It turned out she wasn’t pregnant in the first place.

“I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t seen her at the party, as it’s not really my story to tell”, Helaena had said.

It left a bad taste in your mouth when she finished explaining. If that was all true, why the hell would she turn up to the after-party with the necklace Aemond had gifted her all those years ago? Why would she even get involved with a man twenty years her junior? It reeked somewhat of grooming, etching a permanent frown into your features at the memory of Aemond at the party, his shoulders rolled forwards, looking down and shrinking in her presence.

He looked so small then.

That’s all you could think about as you both sat in the back seats of the car driven by a man called Arryk Cargyll, who would be transporting and looking after you both since Criston was attending to Helaena and Aegon on the other side of the tour. He was significantly chattier and less stone-faced than Criston, which you chalked up to him being probably younger.

But even then, he barely spoke a word the entire way to your first stop of the tour. Casterly Rock, hosted by Jason and Johanna Lannister, representing the Westerlands.

At least the hotel was nice. You and Aemond had separate rooms next to one another. And aside from the odd light switch and the hum of the shower, he didn't make himself known.

Even now, as you sat on the bed, clad in black sweatpants and a sports bra, having visited the hotel gym, you listened to the shower through the walls in the quietness of the late evening. Staring off into space. The intrusive thought of Aemond showering briefly zipping through your brain and not at all imagining-

Incoming Video Call from El 🦌

Thank the gods for that.

You swipe the screen, greeted with the smiling face of Ellyn sat on what used to be your shared sofa.

"There's my hoe" she lovingly calls, stuffing a crisp into her mouth.

You hum a laugh, "Charming El" you smile, moving to lay on your front so you can prop the phone up, "What's the occasion? Do you miss me that much?"

She rolls her eyes, "Fuck off. I always miss you" she smiles brightly, "Forgive me for wanting to check in on my amazingly successful figure skating queen"

"Amazingly successful, huh?" You joke, "High praise coming from Floris' sister. How is she by the way?"

"She's fine. Getting discharged soon they think, she messed it up pretty bad" Ellyn shrugs, "hey, you might see Maris when you're out there"

"I'll give her a big sloppy kiss for you" you smirk.

Ellyn pulls a face, "Don't do that she'll punch you in the face"

You laugh. She absolutely would as well. The Four Storms indeed.

"I saw your Instagram pictures. You look fit" she says with a mouth full of crisps, "Anyway, who you dressed up for in there?"

You look down at your outfit, furrowing your brows, "A sports bra?" You joke, "Hardly dressed up, El"

She smirks, "How are things with Aemond?"

"Oh for fucks sake…" you roll your eyes, hearing her cackle through the phone, "Well, we didn't start the greatest"

"Tough crowd?"

"He may have insinauted I wouldn't handle it because I wasn't from any notable house"

Her mouth drops open.

"Death. He deserves death"

You laugh loudly, covering your mouth, "El!"

"Did you put him in his place?"

"Tried to!"

"I bet he went real quiet after you showed him up at that match!"

You smile at her, "Oh you watched that?"

"Course I did!" She returns, "not fair you looking like a snack on the ice like that. You could tell you didn't like each other though"

Ooft. "Yeah…" you trail off, "...it's a work in progress"

"I take it you haven't smashed yet then?"

"El!"

"What!" She shouts back, making the phone crackle due to her volume, "Just cos he's a dick doesn't mean he's unfuckable"

El, you're making it really hard to deny it right now by confirming my exact thought process.

You sigh, "I'm not fucking him, El. He hates me"

"Do you hate him?"

You bite your lip, "I tolerate"

"Fucking liar" she sneers, "anyway I gotta go, I'll watch your next match. Slay all day, love you!"

You sigh, dropping your phone, listening as the hum of his shower stops, and the bedroom light switch clicks against the wall.

How did you end this conversation thinking about Aemond having a shower more?!

Stop that. Bad girl.

You could hear him plug in what you assumed was a phone charger into the wall, something akin to bed slats cracking a second later with the weight of him slipping into bed.

His bed was right next to the wall, the same as yours.

You tapped your phone anxiously, biting your lip as if something were on your mind.

But you didn't have the heart to even tell yourself what you were thinking about.

Or rather who.

The bitterness of hotel coffee never fails to make you wince as you sit in the fancy hotel foyer, dressed in your usual all black sportswear while the space around you looks indicative of a Greek palace, all cream and decorated with keen detail.

Casterly Rock is unnaturally hot right now, so all you’re able to manage is a sports bra and a thin crop top on your torso, with of course, leggings on your bottom. Your foot taps impatiently, waiting for Aemond to come out of his room so Arryk can drive you to the ice rink for morning practice, raising an eyebrow when you look at the clock on the wall and see it’s already 6am.

He’s never usually late.

Arryk walks towards you with an unnatural spring in his step to say how early in the morning it is, smiling beneath his facial hair, looking entirely put together in the suit he wears. Does he wear that everyday?

“Aemond will be a while yet, shall I get you to the rink first so you don’t lose out on practice?”

You nod, downing the rest of the coffee to give you some semblance of life, standing up to follow him, “Sure, thank you”

You follow him to the car, sliding into the passenger seat, rubbing your eyes.

“Is he alright?” you ask, as Arryk pulls his seatbelt on.

He nods, putting the car into gear and setting off, “He’ll be alright. Just a small headache. The eye sometimes gives him some bother”

You drive in silence for a bit, the roads mostly clear from how early it still is.

“Have you been with them long? Working for them I mean?” you ask, trying to fill the silence with something.

“A while. I joined after Aemond’s accident”

You swallow.

The accident.

Sensing your silence, Arryk looks over briefly, “You don’t know?”

You shrug, shaking your head, “I figured if he wanted to tell me he would”

Arryk nodded and turned away again, clearing his throat with his eyes back on the road. He didn’t say anything else until you arrived at the ice rink, obviously not wanting to let slip any sensitive information that Aemond wouldn’t have wanted to share. But it was clear he knew.

It felt like everyone around you knew some kind of secret, and you were purposefully being kept on the outside, but just within reach.

This ice rink was by no means large and you’re thankful at least that it’s empty, so that you can do the pre-practice stretches in relative peace. You just stick your airpods in and play whatever you have on shuffle, using the free time Aemond isn’t here to start on the ice.

It’s nice every once in a while since starting training with Aemond, to have everything to yourself, music in your ears, hair down, the breeze of the air conditioning through your locks. Sometimes you find yourself just gliding, eyes closed and inhaling slowly and purposefully through your nose, letting the smells around you fill your senses.

After doing countless laps and trying certain jumps you know you’d be doing with Aemond later, you look at the clock. 45 minutes have passed and still no sign of Aemond.

Feeling entirely too hot from the exertion of practising, you huff and tug the shirt you’re wearing off, leaving yourself in only the sports bra.

Modesty be damned, I’m too fucking hot for this.

Tugging it over your head, adjusting the sports bra underneath, you don’t even register the double doors opening with the airpods blasting in your ears. It’s only when the flash of white hair passes as you slide along the ice, that you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Fucking hell” you mutter quietly, pulling out your airpods quickly.

Aemond shucks his bag onto the floor, not making eye contact as he slips onto the bench with his skates in his hands. He looks more irritable than usual, dropping his skates with a sort of carelessness you wouldn’t usually associate with him.

You watch his face, tense and irritated, looking down as he ties them, his eyebrows drawn together.

Skating up to the edge, you bite your lip, wondering if you should say anything at all. Would it just make him more difficult? Would he just stay quiet?

“Are you okay?” you ask, coming out more weakly than intended.

“Yes” he answers harshly, unconvincing, “Fine, clearly”

Woah, okay.

You lean over the edge on your elbows, watching as he fails to tie his skates the first time, cursing to himself at having to do it again, irritably looping them once more.

“Arryk said you had a headache”

Sighing once he’s double tied his laces, he leans on his knees, finally looking up at you, his whole body tense and rigid. He doesn’t say a thing. He just stares, as if he’s shocked you had the audacity to even talk to him, his glass eye reflected in the sharp blue tone of the lights.

It's like all the air has been sucked out the room. And the world only has you two left in it. The way he stares makes you both uncomfortable and breathless at the same time.

And you're unsure if you think it's a good thing.

A glimpse of what he acted like when you first met is there, watching the way his grip is tight, his forearms taut and shoulders hunched.

He opens his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“I have some ibuprofen…if you want it”

His mouth closes instantly. And his brow softens somewhat, although not unwinding entirely. His gaze falls to the floor for a moment, and he nods, looking completely resigned, much like he did on the night he talked to Alys Rivers.

Like a child in pain.

Hopping off the ice, you rifle through your bag that’s seated next to him, eventually extending the pills to him. He moves his head, his good eye starting at your legs and running over the entirety of you, before looking at your eyes. It makes you go all warm, watching the way he pauses at your middle, where the slightest bit of skin shows beneath the sports bra.

“Thanks” he says quietly, taking the pills from you and popping some out the foil. His fingers graze yours only slightly, and you press your lips together, turning away from him quickly to get back on the ice.

Your chest feels all hot and tight. Must be the hotel breakfast. That bacon did taste funny.

Something inside tightens as you turn to watch him swallow some water, watching the muscles of his neck. And then his large hands palm at his hair, pulling it to the back to tie it haphazardly, with no real care as several strands fall out from his grasp.

Why is that kind of hot.

What is wrong with me.

This is Aemond we’re talking about.

Despite knowing that there is no way those pills have kicked in yet, he tugs at his shirt as he gets out on the ice. He has one hand occupied with his phone as he meets you in the middle.

“Fuck. Speaker’s not working” he murmurs, fumbling with the settings on his phone.

“Oh”

You move from right leg to left leg, anxiously. Pulling at the fabric of your leggings while you think of a solution.

“We could uh…use my airpods” you respond, pulling the case out, “one each?”

He only moves his eye to meet you, his mouth wrinkled down in disgust. For some reason it makes you laugh.

“Oh come on, they’re not dirty” you smile, handing him one, “business partners, right?” you say, sticking the left one in your own ear.

Not friends.

Business partners.

He sighs, reluctantly sticking the right one in. You put the music you’ll be performing in a few days on repeat, sticking the phone into your sports bra in lieu of pockets.

“Give it to me” Aemond says, one hand limply extended.

“What?”

He looks at you, “Your phone” he adds, “I have pockets”

You pull an awkward face, swallowing thickly.

For some reason retrieving the phone from the sports bra feels weirder than putting it there, especially when you hand it to him and he presses it against his thigh to stuff into his zip pocket. God his hands are so massive now when compared to the size of the phone.

Stop. That.

Oh gods, was I sweaty. That’s so gross if I was.

He luckily doesn’t comment on anything like that. A small mercy.

You practise one. Two. Three times. The clock ticks by quickly as you're both immersed in training. Trying various parts of the routines, as well as a particularly difficult new jump, one that at first you have some trouble with.

Aemond throws you in the air and you have to spin three times, timing it perfectly so that your front is against his in time for him to push you back for the exit, hands joined.

It’s had…questionable results so far.

Misjudging how quickly you need to spin in the air, your feet aren’t in the right position and you fall chest to chest with Aemond, his arms reaching around you to make sure you don’t slip.

“Shit!” you whisper, annoyed at yourself, “Sorry”

You hate that when he catches you, his grip on your bare arms, that you can’t help but blush, every hair standing on end. Especially when he looks down at you, hoisting you up back on your skates once you’re balanced, “You okay?”

Completely too annoyed at yourself to care right now about the proximity, you shake your head, “Can’t hack that one”

Aemond bites his cheek, “Let’s try a double spin first then”

Realising you’re still very close, you skate back, clearing your throat, “You sure?..”

He shrugs, “We can work up to the triple if we want, but as long as we do a throw, still counts”

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ears, “Sure..”

If there is something you’ve noticed since you met and began working with Aemond, it’s that his style of skating, much like Helaena’s and Aegon’s, is very technical. Calculated. Overly-thought out.

Much like ballet, figure skating is as much about performance and emotion, than technical ability. Unfortunately for Aemond.

He’s so pragmatic about his approach that there’s barely room for any real emotion in his performance. He’s always straight-faced, tight-lipped. So much so, you wonder if he actually enjoys any of it.

As much as you hate to admit it, he was right. Starting with the double was an easier approach, and it came more naturally. So when you did several attempts after the triple, tucking your arms in on yourself for the spin, the last few were landed, making your insides swell with pride. Eventually, you look at the clock and wince at the time, so both of you take a break for a much needed drink.

After having crossed the technical bridge, time for the emotional one you suppose? No harm in asking, right?

“Can I ask you something?” you ask quietly, leaning backwards against the ledge, arms rested on it.

Aemond’s eye finds you mid-sip of his water bottle, and he licks his lips, his weight on one leg, wordlessly urging you to continue.

You swallow, wondering how best to word it, “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

Isn’t it obvious?

Your eyes zip around briefly, “This? Figure skating?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Answering your question without needing words.

“I enjoy it enough”

Enough.

Aemond is so guarded. Even now, he holds his arms over his chest, protecting his heart. Silence stretches between you at his answer, as unconvincing as it was, you nod your head with eyebrows raised, not wanting to say anything more that might dampen the mood on your training for today.

Being around him is like stepping around a sleeping dragon. One brush against it, however soft it would be, it’d wake in a sort of angered panic, assuming danger.

That is how you would describe him. Whatever you said or did, it’d be interpreted as an attack.

“You don’t believe me” he responded after some time.

As much as you feel you dislike him, you can’t lie to him, so you shrug, “Not really”

He narrows his eyes, “Why”

Fucking hell. Here we go. Now I’ve done it.

You sigh, already feeling an argument brewing where you hadn’t intended, “I think it’s no secret that when you perform you look like you’d rather be anywhere else” you say, shifting about on your skates, stretching your arms anxiously, “Unless you’re just like that with me” you add, under your breath.

He rolls his eye somewhat, humming. In neither acceptance nor denial.

Was that a yes? No?

“I just think if we’re going to stand a chance in these Championships we should at least make the effort with performance. For the scores” you nod to him, “That’s all I’m saying”

Aemond scoffs, “Oh, so you think you’re giving me advice now?”

Oh there’s the sleeping dragon.

Your head retracts, shocked by the sudden sass. Maybe the ibuprofen has kicked in, “We’re skating partners, aren’t we? You don’t value my good opinion, seeing as, shockingly, I existed as a skater before I met you?”

He shakes his head, as if amused, “Just find it funny”

You bite your lip, now visibly annoyed. Your skin blooms in frustration. Not this shit again. No fucking way.

“Funny in the sense that you still think that just because I’m of no notable house, not so far up my own ass I can’t see the sun and not such a nepo-baby that-”

“I fucking told you not to call me that” he snaps, his eye now serious, his stance too as he pushes off the ledge to stand before you.

You shrug, “Is that not what you are?” you challenge, “Your brother and sister get to represent the Reach just because your mother is from Oldtown, and you make it to the Championships every time despite not being able to show a slither of emotion on your face-”

“It’s because I’m fucking good at it” he counters, “Emotions has nothing to do with it”

“Doesn’t it? You can be good at it, but you don’t fucking like it”

He goes all quiet, his fist clenched at his side, shaking.

“It’s as clear to the judges as it is to anyone, you don’t enjoy it. I don’t doubt you probably did at some point”

He swallows, as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say.

“And because you’re so perfect?”

“Didn’t say I was-”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not” he interrupts, making you go quiet and still, “Don’t you dare try to act all high and mighty to me. My family is well-established and good at it. There doesn’t need to be a deep and meaningful reason why I do it. I don’t need to dig deep to find any semblance of purpose in my life, unlike your shitty one. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all-”

Aemond stops his chaotic ramble when he finally turns to look at you, seeing the horrified and tearful expression on your face after you’d heard him say it in his fit of rage. His face drops instantly, replaying what he’d said. It didn’t seem like him at all, to go on such a rampage of horrible words.

It felt like someone was speaking through him. Like he was a puppet on a string, performing the actions of others.

But he had said it nonetheless.

You laugh weakly, feeling your insides twist painfully.

“My class, huh?...” you repeat, shoving the knife inside him deeper. The word seems to make him shudder now, despite him being the one who said it.

If you didn’t laugh you’d cry. So you did just that.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel so disgusted to have people of my class doing your sport” you respond, skating backwards away from him.

With tears covering your vision, making the ice look like one big blob of white, all you manage is, “Fuck you, Aemond”

You hear his voice, once, twice, calling your name. The last time is exasperated, carried with a sigh once he realises that you’re too angry right now to even hear him. It all happens so quick you don’t have time to think, the way you pull your skates off without untying them first, hurtling your bag over your shoulder and pushing the doors open so hard they bang against the wall, filling the empty sounding room with an echoed slam.

You don’t look back at him. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.

You don’t even text Arryk to come pick you up. You just walk, legs carrying you as quickly as you’re able, one in front of the other and counting up and down in your head in an effort to calm yourself down. The air was hot and oppressive around you, closing in, making you feel even smaller than Aemond had just a few minutes before.

No tears. Don’t cry. He doesn’t deserve them.

He doesn’t deserve them.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all.

The replay of the words breaks you and you hurl your bag at the closest wall, but it does nothing to expel the annoyance and frustration you feel inside. The skates inside the bag make it so heavy that it falls to the floor with a thud. You stand there watching, breathing heavily in the air of the early afternoon.

For a small, brief flicker of a moment, you regret throwing your bag with the skates inside. Knowing that it was Rhaenys who gifted you them, and that an argument with Aemond didn’t excuse treating such nice things in that way. All the emotions you have kept back are still there, sitting behind your eyes.

Not in public.

So with a resigned sigh, you pick the bag up and walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to the hotel, hoping and praying to every god there is that Arryk or Aemond doesn’t see you on the way back in the car.

The hotel is luckily air conditioned. You can't tell if you're hot because it genuinely is hot, or if you're just so angry you might literally be steaming.

So intent on making a beeline to your hotel room, you nearly collide fully with a familiar brunette.

"Shit! Sorry, I wasn't look-Johanna!" You sigh, red-faced, looking right into her deep brown eyes, that are crinkled up with a smile.

"Gods, you look…hot, and not in the good way" she remarks, her eyes looking over you. You can't help but look at her outfit, all a lovely golden colour that suits her in its entirety.

Instinctively, you wipe your neck, embarrassed at how you must look.

"Yeah, I uh, just came back from training"

She looks around, "Where's your partner? Aemond"

"Oh, uh, he decided to hang back" you lie with a smile, hoping it lands. But her smile indicates that she knows it's not entirely true.

Her deep brown eyes look over your expression, her lips tightening into a reassuring line that’s akin to a smile, “I get it, you know” she says, to which you cock your head, “Not being on good terms with your skating partner”

She sees the way your eyes go wide, and your mouth opens to contradict, “Save it. It’s obvious”

Fuck. Is it really that obvious?

“If it were up to Jason, he’d have stopped competing ages ago” she muses, eyes flickering to the floor every once in a while, tugging her jacket around her tighter, “It’s me who’s the competitive one”

“But you two skate so well together?” you ask, confused. They’d always been very good skaters together, only spurred on by the fact that they were married.

Johanna laughs, “I’m not stupid. I know Jason’s fucking around on me” she admits without a hint of weakness in her tone, “It’s the least I can do to get back at him, forcing him to compete with me”

Part of you feels sad for her that she knows he’s cheating, but can do nothing about it. But you can’t help the mischievous smile on your face at her so-called ‘revenge’. You’re at least grateful that the person you’ll be up against tomorrow isn’t so hell-bent on winning that she’s outright mean to you.

After a moment, she taps your shoulder, “It’ll be alright. Show him what you’re made of”

You blink, still smiling from her quip before. Even when she leaves the foyer, you stay planted on the spot, bag digging into your shoulder from its heavy contents, feeling the familiar heaviness in your stomach as well.

Show him what I’m made of?

I tried that already. And it still wasn’t enough.

If there’s anything to be grateful for, it’s that Aemond isn’t back at the hotel yet.

But it is only in the sweet relief of silence in your hotel room that you realise…

Great. He still has my phone.

It doesn’t take long for you to really wallow in self-destructive feelings. Stipped down to your baggy clothes, sat in bed, flicking through the terrible hotel channels that are just not doing it for you, and picking at several crisps and popping them into your mouth.

Knock Knock.

It almost makes you jump out of your skin, however soft the knock was.

Your jaw clenches when Aemond’s voice calls your name, staring at the door as if looking right through it.

He sighs, his voice muffled, “Come on, I know you’re in there” he says quietly. You can hear him shuffle from foot to foot. You can imagine him, standing there, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his leg shaking while he turns his thoughts over in his head.

He sighs again.

"Please"

Part of you wants to smile at the way he says it. Like it's hurting every little bit of him inside to even consider apologising. But the thought of the smile never really comes to a full one on your face, and your lips continue to turn down into a frown, watching his shadow moving side to side underneath the crack of the door.

You didn’t move an inch. You just watched as he stayed for longer than you thought he would.

The shadow moved, and your phone slid face down under the door, before his footsteps were muffled and far away down the hall. You heard his hotel room door close softly, the light switch clicked against the wall, and the bed slats once again creaked louder as he flopped down on it.

Knowing he is right there, on the opposite side of the wall, no longer gives you that fluttering feeling. It makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable that he’s so close without seeing him. Restless.

Padding over to the door to retrieve your phone. Several messages line the home screen, obscuring the view of your background, you and Ellyn at the ice rink for Christmas and her falling into your arms, not being quite as adept at the skill as her sisters. It never fails to make you smile.

Rhaenys - Manager: 3 unread messages

El 🦌 - 1 unread message

Unknown number - 5 new messages

You cock your head somewhat at the unknown number. And with 5 new texts from it too.

Swiping open your phone, you're met with the absolute essay of the text from the unknown number.

Fuck that, I'm not reading it without a drink in my hand.

So you sit on the bed, a can of gin and tonic in one hand, scrolling through the long text.

At first it doesn't really make sense.

You raise an eyebrow. Reading on.

You swallow, reading all of the words.

You hate that you laugh at that last bit. You can imagine him pacing around, seeing the unread texts he'd sent and hitting himself realising your phone had been in his pocket the whole time.

Something squeezes tight in your chest, reading all of it over one more time.

Aemond hadn't apologised. Not specifically anyway.

I didn't mean any of it.

You sigh, tipping your head back against the headboard with a light thud, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel.

It's late. The match against the Lannisters is tomorrow.

Do you forgive him?

It felt wrong to forgive him for what he'd said, especially after all the times he'd been rude to you before.

Forgiveness would imply that he'd apologised, which he hadn't. You felt like you at least deserved that. And if he couldn't give that to you…

You save his number under ⛸️. Not having the energy to write his name right now.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, your leg moving erratically. Thinking of what to say back.

Be civil. But not too nice. Otherwise he might think it's all good.

You didn't want him to think that.

So you settled for something simple. Something indifferent.

Being in the dressing room without Alicent to fuss over your skates compared to now, sitting in front of the vanity, alone, with your hands clenched tight in front of you, it makes the loneliness tug at your heart. Sitting heavily in your chest.

You should feel pretty. Your outfit is a standard leotard with mesh detailing at the collar, short sleeves, little rhinestones dotted on the skirt to catch the light. The fabric was white, similar to the one you wore at the first match, but not exactly the same, and you can imagine what it would look like when you were skating, capturing the glimmer of the lights and cutting through the air like a whisper.

You’d done your hair yourself, half up half down. With a silver ornament at the back to keep it secure. The pieces that were pulled at the front were waved to the best of your ability, hair sprayed within an inch of their life to stay that way. Your makeup was the same, a barely-there approach, as it was all you were comfortable with.

But you didn’t feel pretty.

Aemond hadn’t replied after what you’d said the night before. You watched as the three bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times, but in the end it was clear he was intent to leave you to your thoughts and give some semblance of space. Since he said himself, he knew he’d fucked up.

You weren’t sure if you were relieved or not that he didn’t reply. All you could think about right now was the match, the move you had practised the day before, and how you were going to best execute it.

“Triple spin in the air, land on the right leg…” you mumbled, tracing the steps of the routine in your head.

The door to your dressing room swung open and your eyes locked eyes with Aemond’s in the mirror. Your heart lurched into your throat seeing him, after what had happened in the last 24 hours, with your partnership potentially hanging by a thread. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, sensing that you really didn’t know what to say.

He briefly met the gaze before looking down, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His hair, as opposed to last time, was in a loose bun, straight strands framing his chiselled face.

“We’re on in 10” he said simply, his left leg twitching in barely-contained anxiety. He bit his lip harshly, something akin to irritation gnawing on his insides.

Anxiety you knew didn’t come from performing the routine itself.

He was afraid of what you would do. Or what you would say.

Swinging your legs off the chair, you pull one of your feet up to the cushion, making sure the laces are well tied and in their place, your eyes trained solely on them and not on him, who was still standing by the door, as if guarding it.

“Look, I-”

“I’m fine, Aemond” you interrupt him, lacing the other one, “Let’s just get this over with please”

Aemond looked as if he’d been slapped. Like he did that night when he’d spoken to Alys Rivers.

“I didn’t mean any of it” he continues, despite what you’d said. When you look at him now, standing up on your skates, he chews on his lip, taking his time to make himself look at you. His eye rakes over your outfit for this routine, leg still bouncing, “You look nice, by the way”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Will you stop saying that like we’re friends, Aemond” you snap, “Just business partners, right?”

Aemond sighs, “Will you stop twisting anything I say into an insult about you?”

“So, is that what that was yesterday? Me twisting your words?” you look at him incredulously, daring him to deny it.

“No-fuck-I didn’t say that” he barks back, his volume increasing, clearly struggling to string together the right words he wants, “What I meant was-”

You shake your head, having had enough, “Just leave it, Aemond. I don’t need to hear it, from you in particular. Can you move please?”

He stays stock still against the door, blocking your path, even stepping forward as a means to say he is most certainly not finished. For a brief second, panic flits through you, not quite remembering how tall and broad he is compared to you.

“What I said yesterday was wrong-”

“You’re fucking right, it was wrong!” you bark back this time, stunning him into silence. He wears a stoic look, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“Do you know how hard I worked to get where I am today, despite my class as you so nicely pointed out. If it really offends you so fucking much to be paired with me, then why agree to it in the first place if you’re just going to bitch and whine about it all the damn time!”

“I-”

“No! I deserve to fucking be here, Aemond, just as much as you. I don’t know if I will ever be good enough in your opinion, but I am slowly realising that I don’t care about that. If you don’t think I am good enough to be associated with you or your prestigious family, I am totally fine with th-”

“You are good enough” he says flatly, his eye twitching somewhat as his muscles tense up, “Better than most, in fact”

You scoff, not affected by it now. No way.

“Well, you have a funny fucking way of showing i-”

You didn’t realise it at the time, how close Aemond had really stepped towards you, so embroiled in the argument with him that it didn’t seem to matter. His stance, his attitude, didn’t make you flounder.

But what did make you stiffen up and go hot all over was when Aemond’s hand made its way around your waist to pull you close to him, and his other hand cupped the back of your neck to tug your face flush to his, silencing you with his lips on yours. 

His fingers curled over your skin in a desperate hold, the one around your waist feeling like it was burning a brand right through your outfit. Your hands braced on his chest in shock of what he’d done, fingertips barely touching the skin above his black shirt, so much so you swear you’re able to feel the thrum of his rapid heartbeat.

Just as quickly, he pulls back, his cheeks flushed near-undetectably and his mouth open to breathe, with soft pants coming from his plush pink lips. Your wide eyes flit over his own, from one to the other, to gauge a reaction, despite him being the one who had kissed you. The sapphire glistens in the somewhat low and harsh light of the dressing room and his good eye doesn’t nearly look as blue, but almost so dark from how wide his pupil is dilated, that it’s completely black.

Neither of you wait to see what the other has to say, now that a line has been crossed, it cannot be uncrossed. 

It’s unclear who moves first, but all you know is that you’re kissing again, your hands on his shoulders, his own tightening impossibly around you. You feel the weight of every movement behind his lips, tilting his head to gain better access to your hot and waiting mouth as he slips his tongue against yours, sending off each individual kiss with a wet click. It’s a mess, your teeth knock near-painfully against one another, tongues fighting an ever-losing battle.

Aemond moans low in his throat, almost inaudible as he savours the taste of your mouth, his lips anchoring yours open the entire time. With his weight falling forwards, your backside meets the harsh edge of the vanity, making you wince a gasp quietly into his mouth. It only serves to spur him on, his hands fall to your hips, squeezing the flesh beneath the outfit in his large palms, kneading it as if to commit the contours to memory. As if he thinks he may never get to do this again.

He moves like it’s instinctual, his hands falling to grasp at your buttocks, he growls, lifting them onto the vanity, his hold so tight there that it sends a gush of arousal straight to your centre, especially when Aemond leans forward once more to stand between your legs, his obvious erection slotting neatly against your clothed core. His hips move with the rhythm of your desperate kissing, chasing the friction against your flesh he so desires, and you can tell by the way his lips part against yours, a breathy moan slipping into your mouth.

"Fuck" he breathes quietly.

You moan back when he squeezes your waist tightly, his fingers digging in. Thank the gods, this isn’t a cutout dress, otherwise his fingerprints would be clearly visible in red, digit shaped marks for everyone to see. For some reason, that excites you, a dull buzz making its way up your spine as you increase your hold on his shoulders and then his neck, hanging desperately onto him as he pushes flush with you, his chest almost touching yours.

Aemond’s hand drops to your thigh, squeezing the skin in his fingers, his thumb making its way up until it grazes over your clothed heat. It’s like he knows exactly what to do to you, and his fingers tease your clit through your leotard, pressing softly and drawing a desperate breathy moan from your lips. Your hips move towards him, chasing the brief, softened contact he applies, core clenching around nothing-

“On the ice in 2!” someone says from behind the door.

 

Aemond immediately withdraws, cheeks now genuinely flushed against his pale skin. His wide eye continues to hold your gaze, searching your expression for a reaction to what the two of you just did. 

His throat bobs as he swallows and steps back, peeling his hands off you and adjusting his trousers to hide the tent that has formed, the size of it shamefully impressing you for a second. Your hands pull back slowly, slipping off the vanity on wobbly legs and smoothing the skirt back over yourself, briefly noticing the imprint of his hand marks on your bare thigh.

His hair somewhat dishevelled, he uses his hand to smooth it back down. He wets his lips, missing the door handle once before finally catching it, “See you out there..” he says shakily in a weak voice, before he disappears, leaving the door open.

Leaving you to comprehend this sensation that tugs in your stomach. Leaving you to remember the way he’d just kissed you, just touched you, like nobody had ever done before. Even the mere thought of it makes your chest erupt in pink and flutters settle in your core.

Aemond had just kissed you.

And you liked it.

Shit.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

General Taglist: @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics 

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep ​ | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514 | @dahlias-and-marigolds | @fan-goddess | @gaeela-6

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros tresdros

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

part one: taedros taedros ☆ part two: taedros twodros wc: 2.2k reader: afab reader (pretty sure no specific gender mentioned but putting this disclaimer just in case!) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some fluff :) summary: uh-oh... you fell for your best friend taerae. but was it all in vain after he's ghosted you the past two weeks? *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ITS DONEEE! you will notice i've went with "taedros tresdros" for the title. decided to keep all three parts with taedros as the first word lol. this is the finale for this little series and i really hope you like this ending i've made lol. i am so happy you've all enjoyed taedros taedros -- stay tuned for more works soon (hopefully) xx

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, fingering and oral (reader receiving), cumming in pants, eavesdropping/voyeurism by reader but it's only out of shock/anger, swearing, lots of innuendo in this one lmao... i think that's it!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“so, the ring finger goes here?” you hear a feminine voice ask; ear pressed gently to taerae’s door to hear better. just a few moments ago, you’d been taking deep, steadying breaths as you walked through the entrance to your best friend’s dorm building on your way to finally confront him.

something that was so familiar now made your heart race with anxiety. 

but when you’d rounded the corner to taerae’s room, you were surprised to find the door shut almost all the way. usually taerae left his door wide open, even when he was playing the guitar or getting changed or sleeping. in fact, his dorm-mates told you one night when you were leaving that the only time taerae made an effort to close it was when you were over... you couldn’t hear any noise coming from his room, which made you all the more curious as to what was going on in there. 

walking up to his door, you’d seen it was propped open just a bit by one of taerae’s shoes. you couldn’t see through the gap in the door, but you’d heard quiet murmurings from inside and gently placed your ear to the door to listen closer. the sound of a girl’s voice had completely shocked you. especially considering what you’d come here to talk about with taerae.

“yeah, it might take a bit to find the sweet spot,” taerae answers with a chuckle; his answer causing your jaw to drop. fingers? sweet spots? what the fuck is going on in there!?

“mmm, thank you again for teaching me, taerae,” the voice responds. upon closer listening, you realize you know this voice. it belongs to your world history classmate, jinah-- the girl who sits behind you and doodles the entire period. she’s very nice-- pretty and athletic, too, but...

you didn’t really think taerae was her type.

you hadn’t spoken to taerae much in the last couple weeks. ever since you’d actually slept together... things had changed. it felt like your best friend was avoiding you. when you’d texted to ask about movie night the past two fridays, taerae had said he was busy with homework both times. normally taerae would meet you for lunch in the student union every other day in between his music theory class, but he hadn’t come by since then. he’d barely said two words to you at choir practice last night.

was this why? he’d decided he liked jinah instead? he couldn’t face you after... using you? 

taerae would never do that. not to you. probably not to anyone.

then again, you’d never talked about whether what was going on between you was exclusive or not. and what it meant to you; what he meant to you. had you completely misinterpreted this whole situation?

“and the middle finger...” jinah trails off and the mental picture you have unfortunately painted in your head of the scene taking place is enough to make you gag.

“that one’s gonna reach as far up as possible,” taerae explains. if you had known your best friend was offering masturbation classes out of his dorm room, you probably would’ve been more careful about where you were sitting on his bed.

“i don’t think i can reach that far,” jinah huffs with a frustrated sigh. “it kind of hurts.”

“relax,” taerae soothes. “it’ll feel better if you relax.”

your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound of the audible gasp that escapes you, but your elbow hitting the door blows your cover. you stand up quickly as taerae’s door swings open-- revealing you in the doorway to taerae and jinah.

... and revealing jinah sitting on taerae’s bed and holding a guitar (quite clumsily, if you may be so brazen) in her hands; taerae sitting next to her and seemingly offering some sort of instruction.

“you--...” you stutter, surprised and also incredibly relieved to find that the lessons taerae was giving were much more wholesome than you’d been forced to imagine for the past few minutes. “oh thank fuck holy shit.”

as the uncontrollable string of grateful curse words leaves your mouth, jinah clears her throat awkwardly and stands up; removing the guitar strap from around her neck and handing the instrument to its owner.

“sorry for interrupting,” you mumble, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth as taerae glares at you. 

“no, it’s okay! i have to finish an essay for tomorrow anyway,” jinah replies, picking up her bag and walking towards the door. you step to the side for her to get by, awkwardly smiling as she calls behind her, “thank you, taerae! see you next week!”

jinah retreats down the hallway, leaving just you and taerae alone in a tense silence.

“what are you doing here?” taerae asks, rather unceremoniously. “it’s a thursday night. you have tutoring on thursday nights. that's why we have movie night on fridays.”

you nod, still leaning against the doorframe. “my last appointment cancelled so i--... i wanted to come talk to you.”

“oh,” taerae replies with a nod. “okay.”

you frown. “okay?”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his guitar in his hands; starting to strum it lightly. “okay.”

your eyebrows raise in shock as your best friend seemingly shrugs you off. you walk over to him and snatch the guitar from his hands by its neck.

“HEY!” he protests as you bring the instrument over to its stand and place it there annoyedly (but carefully; you’re not an asshole). “i was playing that.”

“what the fuck is the matter with you!?” you snap, turning back around to face him. “you’ve been avoiding me for two weeks!”

taerae visibly gulps; eyes falling to the floor. 

“and this is how you’re gonna act?” you scold, folding your arms across your chest. “after we...”

for some reason you’re unable to say it. taerae is silent-- seemingly holding his breath as he waits for you to continue. coward.

“i came here to talk to you about everything and--... and then i heard you through the door giving jinah a fucking guitar lesson,” you explain while rolling your eyes. “better than the lesson i thought you were giving her, but...”

taerae looks up at you now; brow furrowed as his head tilts to the side confusedly. “w--... what kind of a lesson did you think i was giving her?”

you blink back at him; unsure of whether to tell the truth or not. but taerae catches on before you can commit to a lie.

his jaw drops in shock. “you thought--... did you think--”

you look down at your feet: embarrassed, anxious, and just plain sad after the events of the last couple weeks. this mixture of emotions forms a lump in your throat that you are now hopelessly trying to suppress. “i’m really sorry for interrupting. and for listening a bit. i just don't know what happened. i thought we were--... i thought you felt the same way that i did, but... you just must be really upset with me and i don’t know what i did but i’m so sorry and i really miss you so i wanted to talk to you and i just was... i dunno, i thought--”

taerae cuts off your rambling by standing up and wrapping his arms around you tightly. against your neck, he soothes, “ssh, baby. it’s okay-- it’s all okay. i promise.”

“i like you,” you confess into taerae’s sweatshirt. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know this would happen. but i really like you, tae.”

"fuck-- i like you, too. of course i like you, too,” he says, pulling back to look at you. “and this is all my fault.”

you sniffle as you ask, “what did you do this time?”

“something really, really stupid,” he replies with a sad smile.

mirroring his expression, you quip, “what else is new?” 

“yeah, yeah,” he accepts with a laugh. cupping your cheek in his hand, he runs his thumb across the skin sweetly. “i thought i was the one who fucked up... by falling for you.”

“... oh,” is all you can manage to say.

“oh is right,” he says, leaning in and kissing your lips gently. “i honestly wasn’t sure what to do about it. i didn’t want to hurt you and i thought maybe just... avoiding you for a bit would make it easier for me to stop having feelings for you. but it didn’t. it just hurt you and me more-- and it was really immature. i’m so sorry.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, having forgiven your idiot of a best friend before he even apologized. “i missed you so much.”

“i missed you more,” taerae says, peppering your cheeks with kisses. you giggle; taerae grinning before attaching his lips to yours again.

“but, um,” you say quickly, pulling back to meet his gaze. “i’d love to put in a request for no more guitar lessons with the door closed, if the suggestion box is still open.”

“it is,” taerae says with a laugh. “suggestion accepted, approved and implemented.”

“and, uh, maybe they don’t have to take place on your bed,” you say, biting your bottom lip and hiding your face in his chest.

“i will have you know my conduct is strictly professional at all times,” taerae replies and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “but you’re completely right. not to mention, it was probably rude of me to let her sit on my bed... without telling her what it’s covered in.”

“TAERAE-YA!” you shout, hitting his chest as he pulls you toward his bed-- pushing you down gently onto the mattress and climbing between your legs with ease. “you do wash your sheets, don’t you?”

he just laughs.

“tae, that’s gross,” you reply, shaking your head as he cups your center over your jeans. your protesting starts to waiver as he applies more pressure to where you need him most. “you--... you really should--”

“enough, enough, baby-- of course i wash them,” he replies, hooking his fingers around the belt loops of your jeans and shimmying them along with your underwear down your legs before discarding them on the floor. then he smirks at you, adding, “but sometimes i do wonder what the point is when you’re just gonna get them dirty again.”

“fuck,” you whine as taerae admires you. he’s licking his lips like he hasn’t eaten in days-- and he hasn’t. you wonder how he’s survived this long without you.

“so,” he says, starting to circle your clit with two fingers. his rhythm isn’t steady though; it’s intoxicatingly teasing. “what did you think i was teaching in these ‘lessons’?”

you feel your face heat up again at the mention of your faux pas. “don’t make fun of me.”

“never, baby,” he says; a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “i’m just curious what you think i’m enough of an expert in to be qualified to teach.”

“i--... oh my god,” you say, shaking your head with embarrassment. “i thought you were teaching her how to finger herself!"

“hmm, i guess i can understand the confusion,” taerae runs his fingers through your folds, gathering some of your slick and painting it across your stomach. “since playing guitar requires so much skill with your fingers.”

“shut up,” you reply, pouting at him.

“no, really,” he insists with a nod. as he pushes his middle finger into you gently, you gasp at the sensation. “like, to play a chord; each of your fingers needs to hold down the correct string and in the correct spot. like, to play a d chord for example.”

taerae strokes up into your walls with his middle finger, causing you to whimper. “see this middle finger needs to be on that ‘high e’ string. and then the ring finger...”

plunging another finger into you, your hand reaches to grab onto taerae to steady yourself. he smiles at you, pressing both fingers firmly against your walls now. “will sit nicely on that ‘b’ string right here.”

as he works his fingers against your walls lazily, you whine-- desperate for more friction and soon. your prayers are answered when taerae inserts a third finger, stretching you carefully until he’s able to push it all the way in.

“and finally, the index finger is going to go...” he laughs lightly before pushing his index finger into the spongy, firm spot in your walls that only he has ever been able to find. as you cry out in pleasure, taerae presses kisses to your thighs. “you might’ve guessed, but that one’s on the ‘g’ string. and listen to that beautiful sound it's making.”

“did you--... did you plan that g-spot joke?” you ask breathlessly in between pleading moans as taerae picks up the pace of his fingers. “you’re the--*hic!*... worst person i know.”

the little hiccup from pleasure that separates your insult sends taerae reeling. “fucking perfect, huh? every inch of you.”

“baby, please,” you beg, self-control low after two weeks without taerae. “wanna cum. please, wanna cum for you.”

taerae moans and, from the way he’s looking at you, you know he’s just as desperate as you are. he falls to his stomach now between your legs as he says, “was gonna try to... keep my mouth off of you. show you i really like you. you-- not just your pussy but...”

“fuck it,” you both say at the same time.

lips attaching to your clit, taerae wastes no time in pushing you closer to the edge as he laps, sucks, eats at you-- one leg of yours hooked over his back as he continues to work you with his left hand. 

“tae,” you whimper, hands in his hair as you grind your hips into his touch. “g’nna cum... please, gonna cum.”

taerae whines and, with the state you’re in, you don’t even notice how feverishly he’s grinding into the bed. he switches to sucking, lips tugging perfectly on your clit and it’s all over for you.

“fuck, i--... i--... m’cumming,” you moan, taerae’s name falling from your lips a few dozen times as you come down from your high. “oh my god.”

taerae is noticeably quiet; removing his fingers from inside of you, he laps at the juices that drip out of you with his eyes closed. you know he really likes you... but it’s very possible he likes your pussy just as much. you’re not complaining.

“tae,” you call sweetly, sitting up on your elbows. “baby? come here-- want you to fuck me.”

he opens his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sits up a bit. “um... so, about that.”

his gaze trails down to the crotch of his jeans and you follow it to find a nice, big wet spot soaking through the denim. 

“are you serious!?” you whine in frustration; sighing as taerae smiles at you sheepishly.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes with a cute little pout. “will you forgive me if i say it’s because you’re just too hot?”

you roll your eyes-- grinning at him. “i’ll consider it.”

“thank god, because i think i can probably make it up to you...” he says, sitting up and grabbing your jeans from the floor. “after some dinner.”

you laugh. “are you asking me out?”

“i totally am,” he answers with a smile.

“you’re sure you’re not too... full?” you joke, grabbing his hand in yours. “you did just eat.”

taerae shakes his head, smirking at you:

“trust me-- i’m never full when i’m with you.”

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.7

Here we are! Finally into the series itself. Cowboy Up will be a combination of me inserting the reader into scenes from the show and putting together some scenes myself that I imagine happen around what is seen on screen.

Disclaimer that I am not a horse trainer or qualified in any way but I've spent a good part of my life around them so my experience is the basis for anything in the fic about horses.

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1121

Previous part - Next part

---

John Dutton stopped his truck in front of the round pen where Kayce was working a horse and got out to watch his son work.  He was confused to see that his youngest daughter’s truck was parked in front of the house.  He knew that she had the day off from the ranch but John wasn’t aware that she had been visiting her brother all those years.

From inside the house, y/n was on the sofa keeping an eye out the window where her twin and father were having a tense conversation that she assumed was about the cattle that had ended up on the reservation.  Monica was next to her watching her son play on the floor in front of them.

“I know he’s my father and all but I worry about what might happen if Tate ever goes to the ranch,” y/n admitted, “it’s the most beautiful place in the world if you ask me but god does it come with conditions.

Her sister-in-law nodded, “John Dutton isn’t exactly synonymous with good news.”

They lapsed into a quiet conversation about how life had been for them both over the last few months since she’d been able to get out to the reservation, Monica smiling widely when y/n confirmed Ryan had finally made his move the other month.

Once John had driven off, the women exited the house behind Tate who ran excitedly towards the rifle John had left propped against the round pen.  Y/n leant against the fence next to Monica watching the horse come to a stop.

“I don’t trust him trying to be in Tate’s life,” she admitted to her brother, “you’ve spent all these years out of his grip.  I’d hate for dad to use him as a way back in after not being around.”

Kayce sighed, “we can only see.”

-/-/-

The next morning, y/n was in the barn mucking out the stalls whilst the other hands worked around her and in the corral.  Cleaning the stalls was normally considered the job of low man, but she found some sort of enjoyment in the mundanity of the task. 

As she finished the last stall, y/n wheeled the barrow out the front of the barn and was surprised to see her sister’s black Mercedes rolling down the drive.  She dropped the handles and watched as the car went past, Beth looking at the window to make eye contact with her younger sister before continuing on to the main house.  After emptying the wheelbarrow, she re-entered the barn with her mood notably dampened by the return of Beth.  Y/n headed down the aisle to the last stall where a blue dun colt was pacing the space.  She took him out to the round pen to assess the problem’s Rip had complained about the horse having.

The colt danced at the end of the rope whilst she closed the gate and when she undid the halter, he shot off around the pen as if afraid to be anywhere near a person.  Y/n sat on the fence, patiently watching the horse work his anxiety out with a cigarette smoking between her lips.  Ryan led his horse across from the corral and leant on the fence next to her.

“He’s got a hell of an opinion in him,” he commented.

Y/n shook her head, “not an opinion Ry.  Nerves.  Poor boy is a ball of anxiety, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or trust.”

“How you gonna sort that out then?  Can’t wear it out of him,” Ryan asked.

She watched the colt slow to a trot, “gotta show him that he can trust us and to trust in his own decisions.  Shouldn’t take too long.”

“It’s a nice shirt you’re wearing sweetheart,” Ryan smirked, referring to the blue check shirt of his she had on.

Y/n laughed, “well my boyfriend left it lying around and I was cold so figured he wouldn’t mind.”

“He doesn’t mind at all, not one bit.  In fact I think he quite likes seeing his girlfriend wear his clothes,” he mused, running his finger up her arm, “you not going to the house to see your sister?”

She sighed, “me and Beth aren’t exactly what you would call close.  She does what dad says without question, never said shit when he did what he did to Kayce and it ain’t like she was begging me to stay.  To top it off she treats Rip like shit and the bastard just lets her walk all over him because he’s been in love with her since he was 16.”

“Being in love with someone for a long time sounds familiar,” he teased 

Y/n leant back against his arm, “difference is we were both pining.  She fucks around with his feelings every chance she gets and he’ll never go against her.”

-/-/-

Sat on Comanche, y/n watched as her brothers reunited for the first time in years and laughed as they teased each other as if they’d never been apart.  She smiled at how comfortable Tate looked on his grandfather’s horse and, as much as the sisters fought, she was reassured that Beth had her twin’s back like her.  

“Kayce let’s go,” she called across to him, “grab a horse.”

Part of her soul felt like it was healing watching how her father was with Tate and being back on the plains with all of her brothers.  Beth hadn’t been on a horse since their mother’s death but y/n had spent days of her childhood riding with the cattle alongside her brothers, racing each other despite the annoyance of John.  As Lee and Kayce raced around the herd of buffalo, y/n rode up to where Jamie was talking to their father.

“Kayce might be the only man who can outride him,” her brother observed.

She smiled, “only man but sure as hell not the only person.”

With a click to Comanche, y/n took off galloping after her brothers.  The three of them took turns pulling ahead of the others but ultimately it would have been too close to decide a winner.  Although we all know that in a straight line race y/n had the advantage, what with being a barrel racer and all.

“You joining us to fish?” Lee asked when they finally came to a halt.

Y/n shook her head, “I’m not the one who has years to regain with him Lee.  I’ll let you have your boys day out.  I’m gonna head back with the rest and do some more work with that colt."

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

20. Kabe-down

Note: this is so dumb lmao

Masterlist here

It had been a whirlwind month leading up to the release of “Supernova,” aespa’s next major comeback. Every day had been packed with rehearsals, recordings, interviews, and meetings. Y/n had barely had time to breathe, let alone recover fully from the tension of the previous weeks.

Though things between him and the group had patched up after their argument, the stress was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

The comeback was only a few days away, and the pressure of everything coming together had everyone on edge. Y/n had late nights going over scheduling details, answering last-minute requests from staff, and reviewing their choreography for any final adjustments. Though exhausted, he couldn’t help but feel proud of how far they had come.

But today was different. Today was a rare, precious day off. No rehearsals, no interviews, no meetings. Just a day to unwind before the final sprint toward the comeback. The atmosphere at the dorm was strangely quiet for a group that usually thrived on chaos, and Y/n thought they might actually take the time to relax.

At least, that’s what he thought.

“Jung Y/n!” Ningning’s voice pierced the quiet of the dorm, shattering his brief moment of peace.

Y/n didn’t even bother looking up from the screen, his voice dripping with resignation. “Yea Ning?”

Before he could get a proper answer, Winter popped her head into the room, grinning mischievously. “You’ve been on that game all morning. Time to earn your keep, idiot.”

Y/n groaned, but still paused the game, fully aware that ignoring Winter and Ningning was a fool’s errand. “Can’t a guy get some downtime before things go crazy again?”

Winter smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Downtime? You’ve been checking your emails and gaming every five minutes. This isn’t downtime.”

Caught red-handed, Y/n let out a defeated sigh. “Alright, what’s the next disaster this time?”

Ningning stepped into the room with a flourish, dragging a whiteboard behind her, already filled with scrawled text. “We figured it’s time for some fun! Behold, the Day Off Challenge Series!”

“…seriously?”

“Cmon! Just hang out with us please?” Ningning pleaded. “Just a fun way to amend after that whole thing.”

“But thi-.. Ah whatever. Does sound funny now that I think about it.”

Y/n stood up reluctantly, walking into the living room where the rest of the girls were gathered. Karina and Giselle were lounging on the couch, watching with amused anticipation as Ningning set up the board.

“We’ve got a list of challenges,” Karina explained, gesturing to the board with a sly grin. “And you, Y/n, are not getting out of it.”

“Since when I can..”

Giselle, stretching her arms lazily, laughed. “Besides, we need to lighten the mood before the big comeback. You’ve been way too serious lately, Y/n.”

“…we could’ve just played Uno.”

“Eh. Too boring. Pass.” Giselle waved off.

Y/n eyed the whiteboard and spotted one challenge in particular that made him cringe: Kabedon Challenge. Scribbled in Ningning’s unmistakably messy handwriting, it was clear they had something up their sleeves.

“Ning, one, fix your handwriting. Two, really? Kabedon?” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at them. “How is that supposed to be relaxing?”

Winter smirked, stepping closer. “It’s trending, and it’s fun! Besides, it’s harmless.”

“It’s not even trending…”

“Tsk. Whatever, Aeri-unnie just wanna see some spicy stuff apparently.”

“Nice of you to throw me under the bus, Minjeong.” Giselle glared.

Y/n let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his hands up. “Harmless for you guys, maybe…”

Karina stood up and walked over to him, her expression unreadable. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Y/n. Come on, first round—me.”

Y/n stared at her for a second, almost reconsidering the whole situation. “Is this an undercover to get Rina and me to make up from that fight again? I told you we're cool now”

Ningning beamed, already recording on her phone. “Yes! And also it's just funny so do it!”

Y/n sighed. “Please don’t rocket punch me, Rina-ya.”

“No promise, mister.”

Resigned to his fate, Y/n stepped forward. He placed one hand on the wall beside Karina’s head, leaned in slightly, and did his best attempt at a dramatic kabedon. His face was inches from hers, their eyes locked.

But Karina didn’t even blink. Her expression remained neutral, even bored. “That’s all you’ve got?”

Y/n pulled back, blinking in confusion. “Tsk. Your face card is too strong that I can barely do anything!”

“Make no sense but whatever”. Karina shrugged, crossing her arms. “Try harder next time, Y/n. You’re going to need more than that to impress me.”

Giselle burst into laughter from the couch. “She’s right, Y/n. You’ll need to crank up the intensity to crack the ice queen.”

Y/n shook his head, stepping away from Karina. “Alright, I give up. You win this round.”

Before he could retreat to the safety of the couch, Winter stepped forward, blocking his path with a mischievous grin on her face. “Wait a minute. My turn!”

“You?” Y/n stared at her, blinking in disbelief. “You want me to do the kabedon thing on you too?”

Winter leaned casually against the wall, tilting her head with a playful glint in her eyes. “Come on, idiot. Let’s see if you can handle me.”

“Uh…” Y/n glanced at the others for some kind of lifeline, but they were all watching with anticipation. He couldn’t back out now. “Alright, fine.”

He stepped toward Winter, but something about this felt… different. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, or maybe it was because the atmosphere had shifted since the Karina challenge. Either way, as he approached, he felt the tension rise.

Y/n placed his hand on the wall beside Winter’s head and leaned in, close enough to feel her breath on his skin. The playful grin on her face faltered, replaced with something more serious.

Winter blinked, her gaze shifting between Y/n’s face and his hand. Her cheeks flushed just the slightest bit. “Okay… you’re not going easy on me, huh?”

Y/n smirked, his voice lower than usual. “You told me not to.”

Maybe because he ignored everything around them, but his sense was extremely heightened. Her cheeks were beat red. It seemed like she used the perfume he got for her after the recent tension. Her breathing went in tandem with his racing heartbeat.

For a second, neither of them said anything. The room, usually filled with the girls’ teasing remarks and laughter, was now eerily quiet. Even Karina, the so-called ice queen, watched with wide eyes, sensing the sudden shift in energy.

“Uh… guys?” Ningning whispered, her eyes darting between Winter and Y/n. “This is getting kinda… spicy.”

Y/n was about to pull away, feeling the weight of the moment, but Winter reached up, lightly grabbing the collar of his jacket. Her voice was softer than before.

“Ya… don’t back out now.”

If this was in the hospital, his monitor would be a straight line after that bombshell.

Before Y/n could respond, Ningning’s loud, teasing whistle broke the tension. “Woo! Y/n, you’ve got game!”

Winter quickly let go of his sleeve, her face turning a shade redder than before. She cleared her throat, trying to play it off. “Okay, okay, maybe you win this one.”

Y/n took a step back, laughing awkwardly to diffuse the situation. “Alright, enough of this. Can I please go back to the couch?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s enough!” Ningning shouted, breaking the moment with a loud laugh. “Winter’s getting flustered!”

Winter quickly straightened up, clearing her throat. “I’m not flustered! It’s just a game.”

But her flushed cheeks betrayed her words, and even Karina couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you’re not as tough as you thought, Winter.”

Winter shot her a glare, but before she could respond, Ningning raised her hand. “My turn!”

Y/n rubbed the back of his neck, giving a half-hearted laugh. “Are you guys really all going to do this?”

Ningning didn’t answer; she just marched up to the wall, positioning herself with an exaggerated pose, ready for her turn. “Come on, Y/n. You’ve got to do this one right.”

“But my co-“

“Shush, Jung Y/n, and let me have my fun!”

He stepped forward, feeling like this was the weirdest day off he’d ever had. He placed his hand against the wall, trying to keep things light. But Ningning, true to her chaotic nature, had other ideas. As soon as he leaned in, she let out a dramatic gasp and clutched her chest, making it seem like she was in some cheesy drama.

“Oh no, Y/n, what are you doing to me?” Ningning wailed, throwing in some fake tears for effect.

Y/n couldn’t help but burst into laughter, stepping back with a grin. “Ning, you fcking Kdrama addict.”

Giselle, barely holding in her laughter, waved her hand from the couch. “That was more dramatic than actual dramas, Ningning.”

Ningning stood up straight, dusting off her shirt. “I live for the drama, thank you very much.”

Finally, all eyes turned to Giselle. She grinned, shaking her head. “I’ll pass. No way I’m getting roped into this.”

But Ningning wasn’t having it. “No way! If I had to do it, you have to too. Come on, Aeri-unnie, take one for the team.”

With a sigh of resignation, Giselle stood up, making her way to the wall. “Fine, but I’m not making it easy.”

Y/n, by now feeling like an (self-claimed) expert in kabedon, stepped up once again. He braced himself against the wall, leaning in toward Giselle. Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down, refusing to let him fluster her.

“Is this supposed to be intimidating?” Giselle asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because it’s not working.”

Y/n chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’m not cut out for this.”

Before he could pull back, though, Giselle leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them just enough to make Y/n freeze. “This is how you do one, boy.”

Before he could react, Giselle’s boldness had gone just a little too far for one person in the room. “I-I…”

Without missing a beat, Winter, sitting nearby, narrowed her eyes at the sight. The playful atmosphere turned slightly competitive in her head. Her gaze flicked to Giselle, then back to Y/n, and without a word, Winter stood up and stealthily made her way toward them.

Just as Giselle seemed ready to continue her teasing, Winter stepped in and, with no hesitation, pinched Giselle’s arm.

Hard.

“Ow! What the—” Giselle jumped, pulling back from Y/n as she rubbed her arm. “What was that for?”

Winter didn’t bother with an explanation. Instead, she crossed her arms and shot Giselle a look. “You were getting too close, unnie.”

Giselle raised an eyebrow, surprised by Winter’s sudden interference. "Jealous much?"

Winter, though slightly flushed, kept her cool, or at least tried to. "No….Just keeping things in check. I’m the only one allowed to make him flustered."

Ningning cackled at the scene, pointing between Winter and Giselle. "Oho, look at this! Jealous Winter is out here protecting Y/n like a guard dog."

Y/n blinked, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. “Wait, what? Why does it feel like I’m caught in some sort of territorial dispute?”

Karina, leaning against the arm of the couch with a smirk, chimed in, “Looks like someone’s a little possessive today, huh, Winter?”

Winter shrugged, her cheeks a little pinker than usual. “Tsk. Just making sure things don’t get out of hand. That’s all.”

Giselle, still rubbing her arm, shook her head with a laugh. “Fine, fine. I’ll back off. But you didn’t have to pinch me so hard.”

Y/n let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I feel like I should be worried about you all at this point."

Winter flashed him a satisfied smile, happy to have ended the kabedon challenge before it escalated further with Giselle. “You should be more worried about yourself, idiot . You’re not as smooth as you think.”

The room erupted in laughter again, with Ningning still poking fun at the situation, but Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that this playful banter between Winter and Giselle might not be over anytime soon.

For now, though, it was just another ridiculous day in the dorm—a break from the intensity of their upcoming comeback, but with a bit of chaos to keep things interesting.

“Alright.” Karina clapped. “While Minjeong is still being jelly, time for Y/n to get kabedoned back.”

“Wait, what-“