#nothing like the first weekend in november

[sandymybeloved]

guys please, stop with the fireworks, november the 5th isn't till tomorrow

[lukolabrainrot]

Toronto and Ireland (Part 1)

I observed a shift in L/N's behavior and non-verbal cues by the time they got to Toronto. Their non-verbal cues signaled to me that there was a since of ease and confidence with them BTS. However, I think that looked very different in both locations. Refer to my timeline theories here on my thoughts on what was going on between L/N before Toronto. Below are my thoughts.

Toronto

Let's first address the fact that there was a break between Brazil and Toronto. It was ~2 weeks from what I remember. During the break the following happened:

L went back and liked all of A's posts back to July 2023. Previously, he had only liked her posts up to October/November 2023.

A chopped her hair off

I believe the DM likes from A's mom occurred around this point as well (or during Brazil)

There were some SoHo Farmhouse pics posted by A (I believe?), but no one could confirm if those were current or old photos (as A has a history of posting old photos to insinuate she is with L in real time when she isn't)

There was nothing else though to publicly link L/A during this break (from my understanding, correct me if I am wrong?)

This break is also when the rumored Spain trip between L/N occurred (but there is no evidence this actually occurred)

N was publicly seen at the Mighty Hoopla music festival with her friends the weekend before Toronto

N and L appear to fly into Toronto on separate flights

Alright I am going to throw out something that is purely a theory, regarding A, at that point in time, and now. I've kind of avoided directly talking about my theories on A because I just don't have enough information to confidently analyze what is going on. But with everything that has come out recently, and especially this week, I feel more and more confident on this theory (but again, it's just a theory):

As I mentioned, I firmly believe L/N physically acted on their feelings at points on the tour, and by Brazil, A was FLIPPING OUT because I think she sensed L pulling away. A had been around for a while, and I don't believe there were any firm boundaries/labels set on their relationship, but A had her sights set on riding his coattails and trying to get fame/attention from being in his orbit. She is also DEEPLY insecure and envious of N. Lastly, she is a WILD CARD and had been publicly known about in the fandom for a while. I think there was some overlap between N and A, and L did not want A leaking that s**t. Whyy... because he LOVES N. This is also his bed he made, and he needed to lie in it and clean up his mess. The optics of all of this do not look good for L & N if all of this information got released to the public. I also think that's why the DM comments got scrubbed on the site (which doesn't just happen out of thin air). He needed to start cleaning s**t up if he and N ever want to go public someday.

Therefore, he went back during the break to make up with A and reassure A he wasn't just going to drop her from his orbit (hence things like liking more of her posts so people took notice, and it made it seem they were more serious than previously thought). Tbh, I don't think it was very hard for him to keep her appeased because I honestly don't think this relationship goes any deeper than casual and transactional.

Then L/N became even more obvious about their feelings during Toronto and Ireland imo, and then all hell broke loose at the premiere (because a certain 🐜 was PISSED and getting revenge).

My whole point with all this is this. L was NEVER going to be able to unravel from A during the PR tour because it had already become public that she was connected to L (even if he was already checked out at this point). He was always going to have to officially acknowledge A to the public, let people get use to them as a "unit", and then slowly unravel over a couple of months in a way that satisfied A and didn't encourage her to go rogue (because I think we are getting more and more proof that she DOES go rogue). This included what we have seen between them since the premiere. I firmly believe that A has some information that would eff up L&N being able to confidently go public at some point if they want to without this really messy public narrative (because if L/N ARE indeed working on their relationship, it is probably going to be a little messy no matter what when/if they go public). L is letting A therefore get the attention she wants rn, and trying to stay as publicly unconnected to N as possible. I think he severely underestimated the impact this was all going to have on his career though (at least in the short-term). Do I think this also probably put somewhat of a strain on his relationship with N? Most likely, yes. However, they have known each other for many years, and have gone through a lot together. I don't think N sees A as a threat to her and L in any way, and I think L/N are figuring things out in private. And do I think just because A is still in L's orbit that that means they are super happy and madly in love? Absolutely not. The optics of everything we have seen around L/A since the premiere speak VOLUMES, and that is all I will say on that.

I was fired up about all of this because of the events this week, so I needed to get this off my chest 😅 I think though that everything we have seen between L/A since after Brazil is just another indicator that L/N are serious about each other (if that makes sense). THIS IS JUST A THEORY THOUGH.

And does this all seem messy? Yes. Because the short answer is that it is. Human beings though are messy, and I think unfortunately a lot of this played out on a very public stage, so everyone is trying to figure out what to do now.

Alright, back to Toronto. A lot of people thought the vibes seemed off between L/N, but I disagree. This was the part of the tour where I started coming to the conclusion that there was something BIG going on between L/N BTS (in a good way), that went deeper than just wild sexual chemistry/attraction. Here are my thoughts:

I personally think L/N took time during the break to have some big conversations in private about their future together, in a "normal" setting outside of the tour. I think they came to a conclusion that their feelings were larger than just the show and tour, and that this was going to be one of those BIG relationships for both of them. I think they also had conversations about how A was going to tie into the public narrative after the tour (but I think A hijacked that narrative). But I think L/N were very much on the same page going into Toronto.

I also get this sense that by this point in Toronto, it was getting harder for them to hide what was going on because things were getting more serious, and they were ALL LOVEY DOVEY AND HAPPY BTS. Although I am going to be honest, I don't think they ever hid their feelings for each other very well on the tour (especially L). And this was all kind of new as well. Therefore, I think that's where some of the "awkward" vibes were coming from, but their nonverbal cues didn't read as disconnect to me (like the beginning of Italy did).

I also have a feeling they were EXHAUSTED by this point, and probably so tired of answering the same questions (I swear, I bet they never want to talk about the carriage scene again 😂). I also heard that they might have been sick in Toronto, so all of this might have also played into the shift in energy.

However, a lot of key things happened in Toronto that signaled to me there had been a positive emotional shift between them. I really started to notice the "couple" eyes between them, and N's walls really dropped and the heart eyes were in full force. Toronto had my favorite interview of them during the tour, which I posted here. We got the the thigh rub from N, the beginning of the Ryan Gosling jealousy from L (I believe), L beginning to get more comfortable and silly on interviews (he seemed VERY happy, and a lot more confident by this point, which I found very interesting 🤔), a few instances where L/N would get lost in a moment with each other and forget they were on an interview, N reassuring L that he was her "favorite", and photos and video of L meeting some of N's extended family (and he looked very happy in the video). Also N didn't end up posting a "bf" pic of L (even though she did for Italy, Brazil, and Ireland). Now it could mean nothing (and it's probably just a coincidence), but I just find it interesting (in a good way 🤔). Yes, a lot of this could be chalked up to PR, and some of it probably was. However, most of this just DID NOT read as professional PR to me. It just wasn't.

Lastly, we got THIS pic of them below in Toronto 👀:

I am going to post an article below about body language between couples in photos. I don't agree with all of the article, but it does have some interesting facts/comments. I would highly recommend looking over the article a little, and looking back at the video that had the compilation of them posing at the different tour stops. I know that this was 100% cutesy PR (and I am not trying to imply they were necessarily an "official couple"), but I found it very telling about HOW they chose to pose at each stop. I feel like it spoke VOLUMES about what was going on between them at each stop. I do want to say that we can't 100% know what was going on for them emotionally BTS at each stop, but I do think it gives us a glimpse. Which is why I found this picture PARTICULARLY interesting. It just screams comfort and security (even with the weird lighting lol).

My point with all this is that I think we caught L/N at a big turning point in their relationship at Toronto, which led to some of the awkward energy at times, but not because they were beefing. I think BTS they were really happy, but they knew they had to not let the WHOLE cat out of the bag, so they were trying to kind of put up a little distance. However, they slipped up constantly, and then everything came to a peak, and that's why we got the magic that was the Ireland stops. I'll talk about my thoughts on Ireland in my Part 2 post, because there is a LOT to talk about. 😅

[cranberrymoons]

here you are, standing there

prompt: bakery au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) rated: t word count: 880 tags: flirting, meet cute at the farmer's market, baker steve, writer eddie

There’s a farmer’s market in the park at the end of Eddie’s block which turns into a Christmas market as the weather gets cold.

He likes to bring his coffee there on Saturday mornings and find a seat on his favorite bench, just out of the way enough to be perfect for people watching but still close enough that he feels like part of the action. He brings a notebook with him when he does this, to scribble little thoughts to himself or sketch out an idea if he’s working on a new book, but mostly he just takes in the crowd and the air and the way people talk to each other as they shuffle past.

Like the bakery stall right across from his bench, with the stupid hot booth guy. 

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s the owner or a baker or just some college kid they hired to swipe people’s cards on his little iPad thing, but holy shit. Half the sketches in his book are of this guy's eyes or his hands or the special changing way the sun hits his face in the earlier parts of the morning, when it’s just coming up over the tops of the trees in the park.

It’s not creepy; he’s doing character research. He’s… observing the world around him. He’s a writer. Shut up.

He’s doing exactly this one Saturday morning in mid-November about a week before Thanksgiving when a shadow falls over his book. He glances up slowly, eyes trailing up from Hot Booth Guy’s hands to the sunny pattern of flowers embroidered on his apron and all the way up to his face where he’s standing two paces out of reach and staring down at Eddie with an amused little smile on his face.

And – fuck, he’s even hotter up close; Eddie had sort of hoped, for his own sanity if nothing else, that he’d be one of those people who looked weird on closer inspection, but nope. Here he is in all his square-jawed, golden-tanned Hot Booth Guy glory.

He raises his eyebrows and Eddie clears his throat. 

“Um,” he says intelligently. “Hi.”

Hot Booth Guy’s smile widens, and he lets out a little laugh. 

“Hi.” He holds out a crinkly paper bag, and Eddie blinks down at it. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side. “But I didn’t buy anything?”

Hot Booth Guy nods. “That’s correct.”

He holds the bag out again and wiggles it at him until Eddie accepts it, narrowing his eyes as he peeks inside at the perfect crackly flaky croissant nestled inside. He rips off a piece of it and pops it in his mouth, and Hot Booth Guy smiles as he watches him eat.

“Thank you,” Eddie says. He takes a breath. “This is… really good. Just – why?”

Hot Booth Guy shrugs a little, shoving his hands in his apron pockets. 

“You’re here every weekend and you never stop by,” he says. “Thought I might lure you in with one of my croissants since nothing else was working.”

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh as he takes another bite of croissant. It really is a fucking great croissant. He squints into the sun as he looks up. 

“Lure me in?” 

“Yeah, gotta –” Hot Booth Guy mimes a lasso, throwing it in Eddie’s direction and using it to pull himself a step closer. “One of us has to make the first move. You obviously weren’t going to, so.”

And Eddie feels his cheeks heat in spite of the slight chill in the air. He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize there were moves to be made.”

Hot Booth Guy just smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie,” Eddie says. “Not – I mean, I am, and… you are, just –” He takes a breath. “I’m a writer. I just like to people watch sometimes? It helps me get dialogue down in my head. The rhythm of the way people talk? Things like that.”

Hot Booth Guy smiles. “So you’re not interested in getting lunch after one of the Saturday markets?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “You haven’t even told me your name yet.”

Hot Booth Guy taps his apron, just above the flowers, where Steve is embroidered in sloping pink cursive. 

“Oh,” Eddie says.

“Oh,” Steve repeats. “I’m just saying, if you’d bought a muffin or a cookie or even a bagel at any point this summer, you would have –”

“Okay,” Eddie says, smiling in spite of himself even as he flushes. “I get it.”

“You would’ve gotten my name weeks ago. Probably even my number.”

“Oh, was that embroidered on your hat?”

Steve laughs, and he’s so, so lovely when he laughs, big smile and crinkled eyes, and Eddie feels something fizzy and sweet curl in his chest. He finishes the croissant as Steve’s laugh quiets down, and Eddie smiles up at him as he wads the bag into a ball and tosses it into the trash next to them.

“So?” Steve asks. “Lunch? Preferably today so I can start the wooing process before the Christmas rush really kicks in.”

Eddie nods a little, folding his notebook shut against his knees. “I’d like that,” he says. “The wooing, and also the number.”

[also on ao3]

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was miserable without you, and the pain just wasn't lessening even though you left him weeks ago. He needed to find a way to move on, because you didn't want him, and you weren't coming back. But he should have known there was no substitute for the best thing he'd ever had.

Warnings: Swears, broken heart, angst, consensual sex, sex with a condom while intoxicated (18+)

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Weeks later...

As you flew to Vancouver from Detroit, you thought about that six hour flight to Boston where you hadn't stopped crying for a single minute. You thought about leaving San Diego and how it broke your heart to move on to the next city and the next assignment. At least this time you had a window seat instead of the middle seat in the last row. And this time you weren't continually wiping your tears on Bradley's Padres jersey. 

You had his jersey on again today, but this time you felt calm as you reached into your bag to take out your computer and read over the research you'd outlined about the Vancouver Canucks. Your eyes caught on the blue golf ball, and after a second of hesitation, you reached for that instead. 

You'd taken it everywhere with you. It joined you in every hotel room, on every flight and in every rental car. You had it with you in your tote bag when you were in Boston about a month ago working on the exclusive with the Bruins' coaching staff. You were carrying it when you bumped into Abigail Archer for the first time in person. 

With your article completely forgotten now, you dug your phone out of your pocket. It was in airplane mode, but you took a deep breath and unlocked it. You had to scroll a bit to get to the text thread with Bradley, and then you tapped his name and you almost let the tears rise to the surface. You held them back as you read the series of sporadic messages he'd sent you since early November.

I miss you. 

Did you make it to Boston safely?

Ace, please call me back. I miss you so much. 

I have this whole weekend off, and I can't help but think it would be easy for me to fly to wherever you are. If you would want that. 

I still miss you.

I hope you're doing well.

You hadn't responded to a single one of them. And you never called him back either. But sometimes, when you were in a hotel room in a city that you couldn't even identify without looking at your calendar app, you'd get lonely enough to listen to his voicemail message. See ya, Ace.

It took until you met Bradley Bradshaw for you to really understand just how lonely you were. Going back to your apartment in New York City didn't feel like going home. There was nothing there that made you smile. There were no baseball cards or too small Angels tee shirts. There was no Bradley making sure you were taking a break when you needed one. 

And he was part of the reason why you let yourself start to be convinced that you could have more out of your career. Maybe he was right. Somebody else might have something better to offer than Greg or the New York Times. When you talked to Abigail and started to test the waters, it wasn't as terrifying as you thought it would be. Making some calls to see what else was out there ended up validating one fact for you: Bradley was right, your writing was in high demand.

But you had to complete your contract with Greg before you could do much else. And that included Detroit and Vancouver. But you hoped after this, your work-life balance might improve. If you decided to take this information back to Bradley, you hoped he would listen to you. Maybe he would even see what you wrote about your career change in your Detroit Red Wings article. If he was even still reading your articles. There was a chance he might still miss you now, and maybe he'd understand that you needed to see the bigger picture for yourself first. 

Before you left him alone in his bed, he told you that you knew where to find him. He made you feel like it was still okay to go there.

--------------------------

Bradley walked past his coffee table dressed in his flight suit with his travel mug of coffee in his hand. He paused at the front door and looked back at the mess he still couldn't bring himself to clean up. You left him weeks ago, damn near a month ago, but he just couldn't bring himself to clean up all of the fucking baseball cards. 

He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He was being ridiculous. He was never ridiculous before he met you, so you must have made him this way. Every time he tried to clean them up and put them back out in his garage, his hands faltered and he left the cards out on the table. It was like some sort of sick reminder that you'd really been here with him. It was a way to convince himself he didn't imagine up the perfect woman in his mind and then have to live through the aftermath of watching her leave. 

He tightened his fingers around his mug and rubbed the heel of his other hand against his eyes. Then he took his phone out. He knew he shouldn't do it since you never answered his other messages before, but he texted you anyway. 

I hope you're doing well.

When he re-read what he'd sent, he started to panic. It sort of sounded like he meant it with an air of finality. The last thing he wanted was for you to think that he didn't want to hear from you, because it was quite the opposite. There were times when he felt so lonely, he'd have done anything for you to write to him or call him back. 

He swore he could still smell you in his house, and right now it felt a little too much like you were there. He wrenched his front door open and slammed it closed behind him, breathing in the crisp December morning air. He had to start making some changes, and he needed to do it this week. You weren't going to respond to him. After four weeks he should accept that as a fact and stop bugging you. 

He'd been skipping Hard Deck nights and leaving the locker room after work without really talking to anyone. Nat knew why he was miserable, but even she seemed surprised it had gone on for this long. 

A few days ago, she said, "You've never behaved like this over a woman before. This has all just been very surprising, and I don't know how to help you."

Bradley had shrugged and laughed sarcastically. "Well, I fell in love with her. First time for everything, right? I'll know better for next time."

And that was the truly fucked up part. He had fallen in love with you over the course of ten days. As he drove to work, he thought about your face and your voice. He knew exactly how many miles he put on his Bronco driving back and forth to see you at the games in Anaheim. He knew exactly how much money he spent on all the tickets. He knew how badly it hurt right now to be without you. And he knew he'd repeat everything all over again if he could see you for five minutes. 

Just like every other day, he had to collect himself before he could head inside to the locker room. There was no getting his time with you back. There was no second chance. There was no communication. He needed to stop. He took off his aviators that you'd liked so much and set them in his cup holder. When he checked the time on his phone, he had a notification that a new article from you had been posted eight minutes ago. It was like this every day. He'd wait to see each morning if you'd written anything, and then after it was posted, he'd read it at least three times. 

Your final World Series article was the worst one. It was released two days after you left. He must have read it a hundred times. He'd even take a screenshot of the short passage he was certain was about him.

This World Series was exciting and dynamic for so many reasons. We witnessed some of the best major league pitching in the last decade, and there were more stolen bases than the past three finals combined. Professionally, I may never witness anything like this again. And I can even tell you that on a personal level, I was profoundly changed for the better by everything I allowed myself to experience and enjoy between San Diego and Anaheim over the course of the series.

Bradley looked at his phone screen now. It had to stop. He desperately wanted to read your article on the Detroit Red Wings, but he needed to make this feeling stop. It was like he was constantly in pain every time he thought about you or even simply read your name on his phone. Your written words were never going to help him move on, so he needed to do something about it right now while he felt like he could. 

He deleted the New York Times app. He thought about deleting your number as well, but he needed to save some of his strength to get through his workday. So he just tucked his phone in his pocket and climbed out of the Bronco.

---------------------------

When Bradley walked into the Hard Deck on Friday night after work, he felt defeated and exhausted. He managed to delete the app you wrote for, but he still couldn't bring himself to delete your phone number. Moving on was a necessity right now. He didn't even know why he bothered to come to the bar, but staying home and looking at baseball cards on his coffee table didn't seem to be helping him. 

"You're here!" Nat called out as soon as he walked inside. The bar was decorated for Christmas. Was it that close to the holidays? He'd completely lost track of the weeks, but at the same time, he knew exactly how many days it had been since he'd seen you. His mind was too aware of that number, and it tacked a new one on each day. 

"Hey," Bradley managed to grunt when his friend came over to him and wrapped him up in a hug. The Christmas tree and the strings of lights blurred, and he had to close his eyes. He was missing the feel of your arms around him and the way you smelled. None of this was Nat's fault or anyone's fault really. Bradley didn't even blame you. He couldn't. You and he were nothing. 

"Let me get you a drink," Nat whispered, and she took him by the hand. He recognized the upbeat Christmas song, and he saw the guys waving from the pool table. But when he turned to face the bar, Shannon was right there with her usual smile and a pint glass in her hand. He didn't know why he wasn't expecting her. The last time he saw her was when he brought you here, and he'd give anything to go back to that night. 

Bradley just shook his head. "Something stronger. Please." Shannon raised one eyebrow at him and set the pint glass down in favor of a whiskey tumbler and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Yeah."

"Haven't seen you around in a few weeks," she said, watching the amber liquid slosh neatly up the side of the glass as she poured. "Kinda missed you." She met his eyes as she pushed the glass across the bar. "You look so sad."

He held eye contact with her, trying his best to push the intrusive thoughts away. "Maybe I'll be around more now," he muttered, downing the whole drink in one go and setting the glass down again. 

Shannon was familiar to him. Comfortable. He'd been messing around with women for damn near two decades without any deep feelings. You were really his first foray into something... more. But you were gone. You didn't want to talk to him. You weren't coming back.

She refilled his glass and said, "Take this one a little slower, Bradley." He nodded before downing it just like the first one, and she kind of smirked and shook her head. "You'll pay for this in the morning."

He laughed sardonically. "That's the idea." He left the empty glass on the bar with a little nod indicating that he would be back. He desperately needed to clear his head, but he'd been trying everything for weeks. Taking a walk outside, having a cold shower, going for a drive. Nothing fucking helped. 

He needed to forget the feel of your body and the sound of your voice. So he drank an extravagant amount of Johnnie Walker on Nat's tab, and he started to feel looser. He laughed at her when she asked how many he had so far. 

"Don't worry. I'll pay you back," he rasped with a smile that he knew could charm every woman except for his best friend. 

She just rubbed her hand up and down his arm and said, "I hope you know what you're doing. Let me know when you want me to get you home."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm fine, Nat. Just fine." He finished his tumbler and tried to remember if that was his fifth or his sixth, but it didn't matter. He was warm now, and his lips were a little numb. This was exactly what he needed tonight. After he shot a round of pool and lost, he flipped through the jukebox, but it was all bullshit Christmas music. He wasn't in the mood. He thought about playing the piano, but there was an empty stool at the bar now, so he headed in that direction.

"One more?" Bradley asked Shannon as he sat, and she reached out to touch his cheek.

"You sure you really need one?"

"Yep," he said, swallowing against the lump in his throat as she swam out of focus for a split second. "Just one more. It'll make it easier." 

She turned away from him to get one more clean glass. Then she filled it for him. "Thanks, Shannon," he muttered when she set it down in front of him. He was leaning on his propped up hand, and he knew she was kind of pretty. But he knew you were prettier and funnier and smarter. 

"You can't have what you want," he mumbled to himself after Shannon walked away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it and just looked at the screen. Delete it. He had to. He opened his contacts, and there you were right at the fucking top. 

Ace

You'd always be at the top, wouldn't you? 

Instead of deleting your number, he sent you a text before he could reconsider. 

Ace, I fell in love with you.

Fuck. Fuck! You didn't want him. And there was no way to take that message back now. He closed his eyes and shook his head, because he couldn't tell if he was about to cry or laugh. He was fucking miserable. Truly, he'd never experienced this before, and it hurt like hell. His thumb hovered over your name once again, but he couldn't delete it. He drank the whiskey and tried again. But still nothing. 

He watched Shannon move around behind the bar. She wasn't you. She wasn't what he wanted, but when she announced that it was last call, she made her way over to him. 

"But no more for you," she teased, reaching to take his glass away. But he had her wrist in his hand before he registered what he was doing. She looked a little surprised. The tears were in his eyes again, but maybe it wasn't so obvious to her. He couldn't say the words. He needed her to be the one. When he licked his lips, she leaned a little closer. "I'm done in fifteen. Are you interested? Or are you too drunk?"

He took a deep breath as his eyes closed. He needed to try to move on. The pain needed to stop, or else he didn't know what he would do. Right now he was numb enough. It was now or never. "I'm interested."

Bradley was very aware of what he was doing, it just vaguely seemed like someone else was doing it. He gave his keys to Shannon once they were outside. "Remember where I live?" he asked, walking toward the Bronco. 

"Of course I do," she whispered. 

He found himself with his back against the passenger side door with Shannon's lips on his. It felt fine. Would probably feel better the more he got used to it again. He could do this. He kissed her back and told her to drive, because he knew he shouldn't. 

She drove and parked and took him by the hand, leading him inside his house. As soon as he saw the baseball cards, he wanted to upend his coffee table. He wanted to do this and get it over with and go to sleep for a week. And if he didn't feel better after that, then he didn't know what he was going to do. 

When Shannon tried to turn on his bedroom light, he took her hand in his and guided it away from the switch. "Too bright," he mumbled, and she started to get undressed. He stumbled across the hallway to the bathroom and closed the door. When he looked in the mirror, he'd never seen anything quite so pitiful. He splashed a little water on his face, but it just made his flushed cheeks stand out more. He dug around under the sink for some condoms he thought he still had. When his hand closed around the box, he sat back against the wall and cried. 

He had no idea how long he was in the bathroom. He took his shirt off and used it to wipe his face. You didn't want him. He went back to his bedroom where Shannon was naked on his bed, her skin glowing in the light filtering in from the bathroom where he forgot to flip the switch off.

"Fuck," he grunted, running his fingers through his hair. But she must have taken that as a sign that he was ready to go. He wasn't, but he told himself he was. She touched him, and he let her. She kissed him some more, and he let her do that, too. He reciprocated. He knew to do that much. But it didn't feel like anything. He fucked her, but it just wasn't right. And then he fell asleep with a throbbing head and an aching heart and the wrong woman next to him. 

-----------------------

It had been years since Bradley had a hangover. When he opened his eyes, his left arm was hanging off of his bed, and his face was halfway smashed in his pillow. His mouth was completely dry, and he tried to press his lips together and swallow. He had no idea how he got home or what time it was. 

"Oh, shit," he groaned. He texted you last night. When he was sitting at the bar. He was pretty sure he told you he fell in love with you. He knew you wouldn't write back. You must have blocked his number by now. He was probably texting nobody by this point, but it still hurt like hell that you didn't want him the way he wanted you.

Then he remembered what he did after he texted you, and the bile rose in his throat so quickly. Shannon was right there next to him when he turned his head. He let her sleep over. He never let her sleep over before this. She was in your spot. He needed her gone immediately. 

"Hey," he grunted, his throat like sandpaper. "Shannon. You need to leave." 

She rolled over and glared at him. "Still tired," she whispered, completely naked in his bed. 

"Please," he begged. He was so fucking stupid, it was incredible. Now he was miserable and hungover and angry with himself. "I need you to."

She sighed and stretched, and Bradley made a beeline for the bathroom, stepping on a condom wrapper on the way. At least there was that. Then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He sat back against the wall for a few minutes, afraid there might be more he had to throw up. He knew his head was throbbing due more to the fact that he regretted everything he did last night with Shannon than him drinking most of a bottle of whiskey. 

There was tapping on the door. "If you want me to leave, I need to use the bathroom."

"Give me a minute," he groaned, standing up and looking at himself in the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. When he brushed his teeth, he felt the tears burning behind his eyes once again. Was this ever going to stop? It had been more than a month. 

Bradley rinsed his mouth and opened the door, barely looking at Shannon as she walked past him, still naked. He went back into his bedroom for a pair of clean underwear and some gym shorts and fought the urge to put all of his bedding in the washing machine. He couldn't even be in here right now, so he left for the kitchen. And he passed the fucking baseball cards again. He would have to throw them away or ask someone to come get them, because he needed them gone as much as he needed Shannon to leave. 

As he turned on his coffee maker, he heard someone knocking on his front door. He already wanted this fucking day to end. He tried not to look at the baseball cards as he passed the table and wrenched his front door open, and then his jaw dropped in surprise.

"Bradley. Hi."

He braced his hand against the door frame as he looked at you standing there on his tiny porch. You were wearing his Padres jersey. He had to be hallucinating. This had to be a dream. You were here.

"Ace."

He watched your face light up at the nickname, and you laughed softly as you examined him like you'd been dying to see him. He gripped the doorframe a little harder as he reached his other hand out to cup your chin and feel your silky skin.

"Holy shit, Baby. What are you doing here?" His heart was pounding, but he felt somehow normal again. Just like he had five weeks ago before you left him in a state of panic. 

"I came to see you." He stroked his thumb along your lip, but you didn't back away. In fact you took a tiny step closer as you added, "I have to be up in Anaheim tomorrow afternoon for some Ducks interviews, but I wanted to see you first. I thought we could talk."

Your eyes were open and earnest, and Bradley felt weak as he looked at his jersey on you. He let his hand drop away from your face, because he had no idea what to say to you right now. He had convinced himself he'd never see you again. "Did you get my texts? Or did you block my number?"

You pressed your lips together and then whispered, "I got your texts. And I've listened to your voicemail a lot. I've missed you." Bradley watched you smile tentatively and give him a little shrug. 

"You missed me," he said in disbelief. "And you got my messages. And you missed me. And you're wearing my jersey."

You looked down at yourself and laughed. "I've been wearing pretty frequently, actually. Turns out I don't have a dress code at my new office, which ironically is in Houston now, but I hardly ever have to be there in person."

When you met his eyes again, he asked. "New office?" He was so confused as he reached out and stroked your cheek with his fingers again just to try to make sure you were still real. 

"Yeah," you said softly, taking another step closer to him. "I have you to thank for that. I have you to thank for a lot of things." You bit your lip before you said, "I left the New York Times. I just finished my last assignment for Greg yesterday. I'm working on a brand new piece now. I actually begged my new employer to let me come back to California for the Anaheim Ducks article even though it's a bit of a fluff piece, because it meant I could come here and tell you that I'm happier now."

"You are?" he asked, unsure what you meant by that. He was having a hard time listening to your voice and looking at your face at the same time, and he wondered how he'd managed ten days in your presence for the World Series. You were just so overwhelmingly perfect. 

"Yes, Bradley. You made me think about my career, and I kind of took the time to change some of my priorities. Because if there's a man as incredible as you who is willing to take a chance on me, then I can take the same kind of chance on myself."

"Ace."

You smiled up at what he was sure was a look of longing on his face. "I'm working for Velocity Report now, and I'm going to have a lot more time off between assignments. Which is important, because you reminded me that I need to take breaks and eat and take care of myself. Even when you're not around."

"I loved doing that for you," he gasped, suddenly dying to kiss you. 

"Yeah, well, you were really good at it," you said as your smile faded a little bit. "But that's why I'm here. To tell you all of this in person. You deserve to hear it in person instead of over the phone, especially since I never responded to you. I wanted to, but I just wasn't ready until now. And I don't know if you read what I said about you in my Detroit Red Wings article... but, I still miss you. And I love you."

His heart was pounding so hard, he thought he was going to pass out. "You love me?" he asked, absolutely needing you to say it again for him as your eyes drifted to where the box of baseball cards was still out on the coffee table. 

Your smile grew as you reached out for his hand and tugged him closer like you were going to kiss him. "Yes, I do. I love-"

Bradley heard a noise behind him, and his heart sank as his eyes went wide. You were looking off to the side, and he heard Shannon's voice. "Oh, sorry." He turned to see her with a puzzled look on her face. He had completely forgotten she was even here. After a few minutes in your presence, you were the only thing that mattered.

"Oh my god," you gasped, wrenching yourself away from Bradley. "Oh, fuck." You looked at him with your hands on your forehead and tears in your eyes. "You know what? Forget I was even here. I'm sorry," you gasped, turning on your heel and walking full speed across his yard to the black car that was parked at his curb. 

It took him a second, but then he was right behind you. "Ace! No, Baby, you don't understand." But it didn't look like you were listening as you dug the keys to your rental car out of your pocket. "Ace! Please!" He ran barefoot out onto the street to try to beat you to the car door, but you were too fast. When he reached for your hand and spun you around to face him, you had tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He was frozen, clinging to your hand as you whispered, "She's the bartender. I should have never come here."

"No," he begged, stepping into your personal space, but you kept dodging him. "It's nothing. I want you here. I need you here."

But you pulled your hand free and reached for the door handle as you sobbed, and it broke Bradley's heart. "I need to go."

He was ready to drop to his knees. "She doesn't mean anything, Ace! Please! I missed you too, Baby! I've been miserable without you, okay? You have no idea." 

You wouldn't even look at him now as you pushed him out of the way so you could climb in the car. He felt all of his dreams slipping through his fingers twice now as you slammed the door closed, started the engine and drove.

"Ace!" he shouted running alongside your door until you hit the accelerator and left him standing in the middle of his street without shoes on. "Ace. I love you," he whispered as you turned left at the end of his block, and then you were out of sight. 

Bradley sank down until he was squatting with his face buried in his palms. "Fuck!" he screamed, the sound only slightly muffled as he jumped up to his feet and made his way back to his house where Shannon was standing on his porch. She looked disgusted as another car pulled up in front of his house. 

"Why are we sleeping together if you're clearly in love with her?" she asked, barely looking at him as she headed toward her Uber. "You should go take care of that."

As Bradley watched her away, he tried to pinpoint exactly how he'd fucked all of this up. He wondered if there was any way to fix it. Once again, he couldn't breathe correctly as that crushing feeling returned to his lungs. This feeling has vanished for those few minutes he was with you again.

"Maybe you don't even deserve her," he told himself as he walked back inside alone, thinking about how for a minute there, you'd loved him back.

------------------------------

Oh, Bradley. Oh, you sweet thing. Should I add one more part? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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[dabisbratz]

DADDY’S HOME — gojo satoru x male reader

w.c: 4.3k

warning: light angst, daddy kink, bottom male reader, finger sucking, fingering, apology sex, dubcon (gojo’s a lil pushy but everything is consensual), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, biting, reader’s kinda bratty, possessiveness, established relationship, secret relationship, reader’s a regular civilian, anal sex, spit, mating press, sexualizing gojo’s thermographic xray vision, amab body terminology

a/n: the title to this is actually ‘kiss it better’ but i can’t give up ‘daddy’s home’….. s’too funny to changejsgshsgs

Tomorrow, like most days as of late, doesn’t come easy.

You don’t know exactly where Satoru is. Your last memory of him is rushed— it’s foggy and barely there, but you try to recollect how it went anyway. Over and over, you try to recall the curve of Satoru’s lips, his distinct scent, his words. It’s all a blur now, but you’re certain it wasn’t a goodbye. Not like how it feels now.

You’re tired, of that you’re certain, with your eyelids weighing more than the grief on your shoulders and your scleras burning a dark shade of red. Your bathroom mirror mocks you with your very own reflection, and as the bristles of your toothbrush are pushed to and fro, you catch yourself frowning at the dull depiction of, well, you. The distorted image of yourself stares back, tired eyes sunken in and rimmed in deep, dark circles. You try to put on a smile, eyes flickering up to meet your own heavy, mourning gaze.

But you know you’re being dramatic. It hasn’t even been a month yet (you still had eleven more days), just nineteen days of radio silence. Excruciating, lonely, isolating radio silence. The cordolium is almost too much to handle, heavy pangs in your chest as your heart twists and turns and squeezes itself. Like a washcloth wrung out to dry, you dampen and deflate as you make your way out the bathroom— but not before putting your things away and flickering the light off.

When you think about it, really think about it, you wonder if it’s all worth it. The waiting, the secrets, the silence, the mental gymnastics. The gangly limbs and unruly hair, pale and silky. The blotchy shade of pink that clashes with the rest of his face when you refer to him with a pet-name. Is Gojo worth it? If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, would he be the first person you’d wish to see one last time? Satoru? No, it’s indubitable— he’s worth everything and more.

And to say you miss him would be an understatement.

Tomorrow, like most days as of late, doesn’t really come at all for Satoru.

In a way it does, of that he’s certain, but it doesn’t exactly feel like it. There’s no concept of time here, something a regular human wouldn’t be able to comprehend. If he were that— a regular human, that is— he’s sure his brain would’ve shut down the second he was sealed in the damned prison realm. Physically, he feels just fine. Almost akin to the moment he was originally sealed, as if the amount of time he’s actually spent here was a mere sliver of sixty seconds. Maybe like going to sleep, only with the visuals of the dream being dark skeletons and an inky black skyline, had it counted for one.

But it doesn’t last long— not for him at least— as he eventually finds himself fishing out unused, silver keys and standing in front of your apartment door. Should he. . . just walk in? As if nothing happened? It’s November ninth now, he was sealed in October— realistically, he’s been gone for nineteen days. But not for you, as he only had so often to find the time to actually be with you, he was lucky to see you throughout the entirety of the weekends.

Fuck. He misses you.

Your laugh, your smile, the boyish glint in your eyes. . . The way you frown when he makes an impossibly childish joke, as if you want to laugh but don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your hands, so warm and gentle as they card through his opalescent strands of hair. Your throat, bruised and painted with fresh bites so everyone knows you belong to him.

That’s enough to get the door open.

Your apartment is dark, not dark enough that he can’t see, but it’s obvious you’re fast asleep. Gojo shuts the door behind him, turning the lock to warn a soft click in return, and immediately makes his way to your bedroom. He’ll be sentimental and sappy about the state of your house later— he just wants to see you.

And- ah, there you are. Facing away from him (or, the doorway) as you lay on your side. You look peaceful— the slow rise and fall of your bare chest as you hold onto your pillow like a lifeline. He’s missed those arms, warm and welcoming as they’re wrapped around his strong form. With your back turned to him, he watches your back expand and deflate, your face enveloped in the cool, soft fabric of your pillow. Your handsome face, something he’s missed more than you’ll ever know, completely covered. Gojo frowns, despite the light building in his chest as he makes his way to the bed.

You’re warm despite only sleeping in your boxers and— is that his t-shirt? He can feel the soothing heat of your body bouncing off your shoulders (your skin is entirely too bare for his liking, no longer littered in hickeys or indents of his teeth). It makes him want to curl up beside you, holding you until he’s stuck with his arms around your frame. Together.

“I’m home,” Satoru whispers, tracing the hill of your shoulder with delicate fingertips as he looks down at the side of your face. Peaceful, you’re unmoving, eyelashes resting against your cheek and pretty, soft lips relaxed. Your breaths come out in stifled, hushed chords, and Gojo finds himself enamored all over again. “Did y’miss me?”

You mumble something soft, not entirely there yet, as his big hands slowly part you from your pillow. He’s jealous of it, he’ll admit, seeing as it gets to press against your body every single night. A constant in your life, he supposes.

“C’mon,” His voice is a gentle purr, sweet in your ears as he coaxes you awake, “Wake up,” like a silent prayer drifting into the night, as he gently shakes you. He’s never been one for rude awakenings, after all. He’s missed your pretty eyes.

Almost on cue, your eyes slowly flutter awake with a groggy groan. Gojo watches the curve of your lips, the furrow of your brows, the way your fists clench around his shirt. Just as handsome as the day he left you, confusion fills your face until your jaw goes slack. The words die on your tongue, your brain slowly working to connect the dots as Gojo fondly watches questions mold your lips.

Nothing of Satoru has changed. His eyes are still so blue; and sparkling with shades that remain unrecognizable to this day. His hair’s still the cleanest twinge of white you’ve ever seen, brighter than the sun during early evening, quilting the rooftops and pavement. His glossy, rosy, lips curl into a small, genuine smile, chirping a quiet ‘good morning!’ and at this angle, shadows meet to frame him perfectly. The curve of his face, the slope of his adam’s apple, his silhouette blanketed by the yellow hue emitting from streetlights that peek through your desolate curtains.

His shoulders have never looked more broad, the expanse of his body large and big as he leans forward. He smells remnant of soap, and there’s something in his scent that makes you sleepier, gets your brain foggy as he looks at you.

With your lover hovering directly above you, an incredulous tremor racks your body. Your hands reach out to touch him, as if he’s not real, and once you’re met with the solid, silky skin of his collarbone you can’t help but gasp.

You watch dimples paint his cheeks as he leans in with his head, staring at your lips with darkening eyes.

“Satoru,” Cold shivers run down his spine, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth at the sound of his name leaving your lips. Like a broken record, you repeat yourself, completely at a loss for words. The love in your voice is audible, desperate, “Satoru.”

Curling your fingers into a fist, you bunch up the fabric of his— Jesus Christ, did he come here in a compression shirt?—shirt and pull him forward, shutting your eyes as your lips crash into his.

You can feel his teeth grazing your mouth, pearly fresh as he smiles. But you swallow it down, using your other hand to snake up the nape of his neck, bristles of his faded undercut prickling your fingertips. He tastes just like how you remember, sweet and soft, with his tongue as wet as it is sharp. He’s home, and he feels like it, too.

Gojo follows suit, snaking a large hand up your chest until it’s resting at the base of your neck, wrapping around the warm flesh. He can feel your heartbeat in your throat, rapid and sharp as he delivers a small squeeze. Frustration bubbles in your stomach, fast and sudden as you pull away, eyebrows knitting together the more you think about it.

“You left me,” It’s not a question, laced with anger as you keep him close with your fist in his shirt. He left you, and has the audacity to turn up in the middle of the night for what— to fuck? You try to ignore the slight fall of his lips, the flash of guilt that sparkles in his irises. “For two weeks. Now you just wanna fuck?”

No— that’s not it. Satoru has half the mind to paint his face with a smile, to block out the question like some kind of declaration against him. But it’s you, you’re saying it because you’re scared, because you care. Because you missed him just as much as he missed you, if not more. You’re not picking a fight, you’re worried. So Gojo lets himself visibly deflate, the smile on his face flickering as he squeezes your neck once more. Yeah, he wants to fuck you, but that’s not all.

“You know that’s not it,” And yeah, maybe he’s right, because you have yet to let go of him or push away his hand. You know he’s right, because you’re subconsciously leaning into the strong hand around your throat, the edges of your brain fogging up the longer he looks at you, “But you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” Gojo's gaze is dark, intense. He cocks his head to the side and smirks, showing off his sharp, shiny canines. Fuck. You’ve fallen right into his trap, letting him snake his hand up your jaw to make you nod, slow and steady, “You know I can’t help myself.”

Heat pools in your stomach, intense as he laughs at whatever pathetic face you must be making in response to his casual manhandling. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, again and again, he takes initiative to gather your wrists in his warm palms, pressing your hands against his chest to feel his heart beat. The steady thump, thump, thump-ing is nothing compared to the vibration of your own, showing no signs of slowing as he lets go to lift your (well, his) shirt off your body.

“Feel that?” He breathes, immediately burying his face in your neck. He inhaled your scent, groaning low in his throat as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin. His eyelashes tickle your jaw, long as he closes his eyes and sucks along the skin. With short, stinging bursts, your neck is blemished with indents of his teeth and deep, blooming bruises.

“Mhm, yeah…” You whine, baring your neck as he reaches down to rub circles into your inner thighs. He's heavy lidded, following the curve of your cupid's bow and drinking in the way you bite down on your bottom lip between gasps- the plump flesh covered in a thin sheen of saliva that has his mind racing.

Pulling away, Satoru pushes you down on your back, spreading your thighs apart with two long, big hands. Sparks fly in your groin, legs instinctively coming to close around the pale hands holding you open until Gojo’s grunting, tightening his grip at your thighs to keep you still. “Don’t go runnin’ on me now.”

Sounds of protest bubble up before he can berate you, your body squirming under his strength as he moves a hand to tug at the fabric of your boxers.

He's watching your lips, pretending to listen to what you're saying: even playing the role well enough to add a low hum of response when it's required of him. You’ll never admit how hard it makes you, how your hole flutters around nothing in response to the intentional neglect— but he seems to get it anyway.

Satoru hums, offering a spare, stern glance as he frees your cock from the confines of your underwear. Springing to life, you feel yourself throbbing and achy as he lets out an involuntary moan. Hiking your knees up to your chest, Satoru doesn’t have to tell you to hold them there. You do it yourself, tilting your head to keep watch of his movements.

His biceps ripple and bulge against his shirt as he rids himself of his slim-fitting, matching black pants. He watches you the entire time, pausing to squeeze the base of his cock through his pants as if he’s impatient. There’s a wet patch adorning his underwear, ghosting over the head of his cock that you can make out through its long, thick indent. Saliva gathers in your mouth, threatening to spill as you watch him lift his shirt overhead.

“Gojo,” You hear yourself whine, holding your legs with one hand as the other claws at the sheets, pulling them forward. “Hurry up.”

“Tellin’ me what to do now?” His hair falls over his face, wisps of white disheveled enough to have him carding a hand through it. It falls back into place seamlessly. You’ll be damned if it doesn’t make your brain a little slow, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it because he’s grabbing you, pulling you down so your ass is flush against his bulge.

A small gasp leaves your lips, wet and watery as he ruts his hips against the swell of your ass, your thighs, your balls.

“Two weeks, Go’,” You’re rambling, wiggling your hips against his big, throbbing dick. Damned boxers, the most you get from him is the wetness of his pre-cum grinding against you. “Two weeks, nothing. Thought you left me. Could’ve fucked someone e—”

He cuts you off before you can finish, shoving his long fingers in your mouth to shut you up. His face is scarily calm, like the comment didn’t phase him at all. But you regret it before it even left your lips, your eyes widening as you gag on his fingers. Like he’s fucking your throat with them, wet squelches and drool slides down tithe seams of your lips. Then it’s there, a possessive fire in his eyes as he watches your pretty mouth wrap around his knuckles.

“Wanna try that again?” Narrowing his eyes, he presses his fingertips into your tongue. The weight of his fingers makes you short circuit, your brain blank as you blink up at him with glassy eyes. The cocky asshole has the audacity to look at you like you’ve grown another head. “What? Daddy's fingers fuckin’ your throat remind you who it belongs to? Make you stupid enough to drop the attitude?"

Oh.

He slowly slides out his fingers, giving you a chance to explain yourself. Glimmering and shiny with spit, Satoru inspects them before sucking the drool off with an expectant raise of his eyebrows.

“Be. . .” Quiet. He can sense the end of that sentence from a mile away, tutting as he shoves his fingers back in your mouth with a disappointed shake of his head.

“Where’d my good, sweet boy go?” With his ring and middle fingers fucking your mouth, he uses his thumb to smear your saliva along your lips. Fighting back the urge to spread your legs and whine, suckling on his fingers with a long, drawn out whine, it’s your turn to shake your head.

His good boy. . .

You gurgle around his fingers, sputtering something he can’t understand, as his free hand spreads the globes of your ass apart. He spits down, landing right along your perineum and slowly sliding down onto your cute, winking hole.

“Sorry! You’ll have to speak up!” He chirps, finally removing his fingers for good. But now you don’t have much to say, pursing your lips in defiance as his wet fingers trail down your shaft, balls, and crack. He finds your hole in an instant, rubbing the pads of his fingers in slow, tantalizing circles. “What was that? You know where he went? You sure?”

So deep, he pushes in one knuckle at a time, his fingertips sliding along your gummy, creamy hole, cursing out, “He does that too, grinds his pretty hole on my fingers.”

“Hate you,” Him and his stupidly skilled fingers. Him and his stupidly pretty dick. Him and his stupid, stupid mouth. You sniffle, vision blurry as you sit up on your elbows to watch Satoru’s long, skinny fingers push past the first band of muscle, slick and slow, “You….left me.”

“I know, I’m the worst,” He pouts, pink lips curving downward as he closely watches your velvety walls suck his fingers in deeper. So pretty, your rim stretching and fluttering along the digits as their own special greeting. He’s missed this. “Gonna let Daddy apologize?”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re shaking your head, pouty lips persistent as ever. It’s what he loves about you, though. Satoru can’t help but coo, high in his throat. You’re just so teary-eyed, he can’t take you seriously. But you nod, small and sweet as you avert your gaze. He’s sure you can see him from the corner of your pretty eyes, so he makes sure to keep his pride apparent.

“There he is,” He smiles, watching you clamp down on his fingers from the praise. His fingers hit your prostate, the special bundle of nerves sending electricity up your body until you’re wailing, back arched with tears spilling down your cheeks. “There’s my good boy.”

His cock grinds against your bedsheets, hard and throbbing. As torturous as it is for you— the slow drag of his fingers as he continuously spits into your hole— it’s tenfold for him. He’s nearly losing his head, eyes scanning over your body, then to your sobbing face.

You hiccup, wet and loud and pitiful, rocking your hips like some kind of slut, desperate to feel full again. Full of Satoru. But then you’re empty again, clenching around nothing but air and spit as he pulls away. He mumbles a few profanities, kicking off his boxers in a display that has your bed creaking and shaking— you along with it.

There’s a slick sound of his thick dick taptaptap-ing against your rim, wet and sticky as he grabs handfuls of your ass. Briefly admiring the skin that spills between his fingers, Satoru’s gaze lifts to meet yours. Your survey is lazy now, eyelids heavy as your drool-covered face contorts into a wobbly smile. He wants to fuck that stupid look off your face. He wants to make up for lost time.

“Ohh,” You sigh, melting into the mattress as he lifts your ankles over his shoulders and readjusts so he’s hovering over you in a squat, the head of his cock sliding along your sensitive hole and neglected cock. He’ll take care of you, he promises. “Daddy…”

He nearly shoots all over you.

What a pretty picture that would make, too. Your fucked out face blanketed in thick ropes of cum, your chest shiny with a thin layer of sweat and drool. But there’s somewhere else he’d rather shoot, somewhere deep and warm and mushy around his cock. Inside.

“Fuck,” It’s a sloppy, pathetic sound. The squelch of Satoru’s long, curved cock slipping past that tight band and into your messy hole. You’re not much help either, with your babbling and incoherencies and constant whining of ‘Daddy!’ and ‘please!’ Your hole is plush and tight, gripping his cock like a vice and refusing to let go. And with every drag of his dick comes more sounds, more sticky, clear precum (how cute, your cock is leaking down to your hole) that turns creamy and thick the more he pushes in and out. “Fuuck, don’t move. Sit there and take it.”

“Oh my—” You sob, thighs tightening and trembling at the stretch of his fat dick in your little hole. An intrusion really, because you’re struggling to take it— too big, too much, too good. If Satoru’s talking you don’t hear it, not over your own squeals and wailing, anyway. “. . .Please..!

“You even know what you’re begging for, baby?” Satoru keens, your tears spurring him up until he can’t do anything but mindlessly thrust, kissing away the fat, crystal tears rolling down your handsome face.

“Uh… Uh-huh,” You nod, fast and rushed as you lock your legs together. Your head luls to the side, as you’re much too weak to keep it upright as Satoru watches you. You just can’t help it, your lips parting as his cock bullies your prostate, poking and prodding and pounding. You’re sure you look stupid- utterly and completely fucked out on his dick, your tongue slipping from your mouth and panting like some sort of bitch in heat.

“Yeah? What is it, then?”

“Da—ddy,” You sob, blinking away tears as Gojo’s hips grind in slow circles, deeper and deeper and deeper. “S’so big, I can’t— How s’it even fit?”

Oh, fuck.

“I don’t know, baby,” It’s the genuine surprise that does it for him. Looking down, Satoru rests his forehead on yours as he watches his cock disappear inside you. In and out, in and out, sloppy and messy and— oh. He can see the warmth of your hole, the warmth of his dick, watches it leave and enter, fills you up and leaves you empty again over and over. The way your rim stretches special for his dick, then back to its tiny, winking state just to be split apart all over again. Fuck. “You’re just special like that. Perfect for my—fucking—cock.”

“Missed,” You hiccup, jolting up and down as Satoru pounds into you, relentless and desperate like he’s trying to get you there— trying to get himself there. He is, seeing as your cock feels just about ready to burst and your hole is sensitive it almost hurts. “Missed you, Daddy. . . N’… Missed your cock.”

“T’aww,” His cooing is genuine, not nearly as mocking as early, and heat prickles your body, even if you already felt on fire. “Really? Know something, I missed you too. And my cock— yeah, missed this pretty little hole too. All mine, isn’t it?”

That does it.

Your cock spurts against your stomach, your chest, with the help of a few short, shallow strokes on Satoru’s part. But it felt better, the twisting of his wrist that doesn’t stop even as you start to convulse, eyes rolling back until your vision goes white and cum ropes out your dick in quick, short, sensitive bursts.

You’re clamping down so hard, nearly spitting and pushing out Gojo’s cock the harder he pounds into you, murmuring into your neck until you feel warmth in your tummy. In thick, longer spurts that feel sticky and cling to your gummy walls. You’re full, whining and whimpering as Satoru slowly calms his feverish thrusts, fucking his cum in deeper and deeper, as if it’ll do anything.

“Daddy… too much…” You’re cut off by your own hiccups, feeling some of his cum seep out your sloppy hole and down your crack, globs pooling beneath your ass and sticking to Gojo’s heavy, spent balls. Despite your own protests, you make no movement to unlock your legs, your cock twitching pitifully as your lover’s thick cock nestles against that special spot deep inside you.

“I know,” Satoru doesn’t pull out, instead nuzzling his face into your neck and coaxing you into releasing your legs with small, languid circles to the back of your thighs. “I’m here. Daddy’s right here.”

You know what he’s trying to say, even in the cockdrunk state you’re currently stuck in. With foggy eyes and an equally foggy brain, you pepper tiny kisses along Gojo’s temple, smiling wide when he laughs into your sweaty neck. “Mhmm. . . Know you won’t leave me, ‘Toru.”

Never on purpose, anyway.

“Maaan, you’re always so honest after we fuck! I’m like some sort of elite sex therapist,” You don’t have the energy to grunt or roll your eyes, let alone push him. He continues anyway, teeth nipping at your sensitive neck. “I knew you didn’t mean it. You looooove me!”

Biting back the urge to take it back, you nuzzle your cheek against the silky, soft bundles of Gojo’s white hair, whispering a quiet declaration of love straight into his ear. You hope to stay like this for the rest of the night, limbs entangled as Satoru breathes you in, strong arms holding you in place— his cock inside you, slowly softening until you’re both asleep. Cleanup can wait— after you’ve talked about everything, after you’ve finally gotten a full night of uninterrupted sleep. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow comes easy. Of that, you’re certain.

[jojojoy1]

Are you doing Lando Norris story requests. If so can you do one where he is a dad and his child and girlfriend/wife come to watch him race for the first time and he wins with 01 💙😊

Daddy, you won! - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x reader

You and Lando have been dating since you were fifteen years old. You two have been together through thick and thin. So when you found out you were pregnant at only twenty you both knew you could handle it together.

You gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in the November of 2020. Your pride and joy, you and Lando could not be happier.

You didn't want to have your son exposed to the race track too soon. Babies are delicate and as his mother, you are over protective. Lando always said, every weekend since Rowan had been born, that he should be at the races. And you always said no.

One week before the Australian Grand Prix and you were having the same conversation you and Lando have before every race.

"I think you and Rowan should come to Australia." Lando said as you both got into bed.

"I don't know, Lando." You sigh, "He's still so young."

"But it'd be nice. And it's not like he's ever gonna be alone. You can be protective mama bear."

"It's loud, we don't want to deafen him-"

Lando cut you off with a solution, "He can wear ear defenders."

"And fans. I don't want him to be scared or overwhelmed by the amount of people."

"You can take him straight to hospitality. Please y/n. You haven't been to a race in two years. It would mean so much to me." Lando interlocked your fingers as he spoke. You stared into his pleading eyes. Those eyes you always struggled to say no to.

"Fine," Lando smiled more then you knew possible, "We'll come to Australia." Lando cheered, wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

...

"Where's the sunscreen?" You panicked as you frantically emptied one of your suitcases.

"It's right here, babe." Lando said as he pulled a bottle out of the baby bag you had packed for the day. "Are you okay?" He asked, applying the sunscreen to Rowan's skin.

"I'm just nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about."

"What does nervous mean?" Rowan said.

"It means worried, baby." You answered.

"Why are you worried?"

"Because there's going to be lots of people today."

"Bluey will make you not worried." Rowan handed you his blue whale teddy, causing you and Lando to chuckle at the cuteness.

"You hold on to bluey, lovie." You handed Rowan back his whale.

...

The shock on everyone's faces when you walked into the paddock was priceless. You had told noone about you and Rowan attending the Grand Prix.

Even though Rowan could walk, you decided to carry him to ensure you didn't lose him.

"Y/n! Rowan!" A familiar Spanish accent yelled as the three of you walked to hospitality.

"Uncle Carlos!" Rowan screamed as Carlos approached.

"Hey buddy." Carlos put his hand out to fistbump the toddler. "What are you doing here?" He turned to you.

"Lando finally convinced me that it'd be safe." You smiled.

"Will we see you in the paddock more often, then?"

"If today goes okay. Maybe."

"Well, I'll see you all later." Carlos said as he patted Lando's shoulder.

"Yeah, bye mate." Lando said as Carlos walked away and you continued to McLaren.

...

You were sat in Lando's drivers room before the race.

"You should watch in the garage with everyone else. Then you can be the first ones I see when I get out the car."

"I don-" Before you could protest Lando interrupted, already knowing what you were gonna say.

"He's got ear defenders."

"Okay, we'll sit in the garage."

...

Rowan was so excited watching the race. Squealing anytime he saw an orange car on the screen.

You'd never seen Lando drive so well. He started the race in P13 and had managed to work his way up to P2.

Lando was right on Max's tail. A close fight for the win. The atmosphere in the McLaren garage was incredible. Noone expected the car to be capable of this. And with a possible win on the table? Everyone was so nervous.

For the last few laps, Lando had been making so many moves to overtake Max. Getting so close, but not close enough.

They were fighting right to the chequered flag. Just as Max was about to cross the line with another win under his belt, Lando came storming past. By mere inches Lando took home his first ever win.

The garage erupted into cheers. Everyone ran out to meet Lando at the podium. Holding on to Rowan, you made your way to the front of the barriers.

Lando parked his car in the first place spot, removed his helmet and immediately ran over to you and Rowan. Embracing you both. Kissing you on the lips.

"You did it." You said through the tears of joy, "You're a Grand Prix winner."

"Daddy, you won!" Rowan screamed over the cheers.

"Yeah, I did, baby." Lando said as he took Rowan from your arms for a hug.

...

You'd never felt so proud, seeing Lando on the highest step of the podium.

This win was something Lando has been working for his whole life and being able to celebrate it with the two most important people in his life made it even more special.

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 8

Title: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You're just there to help JK with his final project, so why are you being doused in water, facepaint and smoke? Art. Art is why.

Warnings: T, language, fluff, angst, honestly this one's kinda wholesome and fun, some photogrpahy jargin in there, but nothing a quick google search can't fix if you really need to <3, it's mostly surface level jargin. Also the smoke machine works cuz JK has great ventilation due to the massive windows being open, so don't worry bout that XD, some light and fun name calling, some world building. Ask if you need clarification on anything. That's all I think!

Word Count: 11,684

Release Date: September 1, 2024. 4:30PM

A/N 1: Surprise! Happy JK Day.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

PJK [7:36pm]: Saturday afternoon. my place. 11am.  PJK [7:36pm]: bring an extra set of clothes, something warm. Sweats if you have them. PJK [7:37pm]: also, Im gunna need your shirt size

The first three weeks of November have flown by and dragged on at the same time.

The weather’s getting colder. You need a thick jacket if you want to be anywhere outside, and all leaves have fallen from the trees, leaving pines the only ones left with their winter coats on. Hot chocolate from greenhouse cafe has become part of your life’s blood so you don’t freeze, and gloves with pocket warmers inside them are once again a part of your everyday. 

But November skies have returned. And you frequently set up camp on the drying grass beside the greenhouse, dressing your canvas with oil paint to their likeness as it’s the only paint that doesn’t dry the second it’s out of the tube in the cold, static air.

Jungkook told you earlier in the week the shoot would most likely be this weekend, and that he just had a few final strings to pull together before being able to confirm. So with that in mind, you intentionally tried to finish all your work before this weekend, knowing the shoot will take a while to complete.

He mentioned it may leak over into Sunday depending on how much you get done on the first day, which is fine with you considering you usually spend Sunday evenings at his place anyway. You’d consider it an extended edition of your regularly scheduled broadcast.

And speaking of regularly scheduled, you haven’t missed a single movie night since Nel left. Granted, it’s only been three weeks, but even missing the two you did because of Nel had made an impact. 

You’d gotten so used to them, having that time to destress and unwind before the week starts. A nice little routine that helps reset you both mentally and physically.

Suddenly not having that was…a weird feeling you try not to remember. 

And you are more than happy to never miss another one ever again.

You aren’t sure what Jungkook tells Adaline he’s doing during movie night, but she’s never interrupted you, not even once. And it’s something you are increasingly grateful for, because she is one of the things you destress from as your unspoken rivalry always amps up the closer to exam season you get.

It’s Thursday evening, and you’re in your room finishing up a Microeconomics 3 assignment while piano music plays on a speaker in the corner. You use it to help you focus, and it’s working its magic as you’re finishing your work in record time. 

Music has always helped you work better, and you credit it largely with how you’ve been able to keep up with everything in your schooling.

Yuri’s in her room, doing homework as well you assume. Or maybe texting Tai—the dreamy, big dicked Ilcalos island Count—you swear she’s only put her phone down for sleep and showering, as she’s constantly checking to see if he’s messaged her. And you hope it turns out well for them, Yuri deserves someone who treats her well. Especially after the whole Jungkook debacle—which you’re not allowed to bring up—and then the poor rebound you aren’t allowed to talk about either. You’re just happy she’s finally found someone worth her time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot Jungkook a text back.

You [7:40pm]: okay! saturday at 11 sounds good. I’ll bring sweats and warm socks

You message him your shirt size too, curious as to what he’ll use it for, but you’re sure you’ll find out in due time. You always do.

Subject to many of his homework assignments, you’ve been posed and lit and adjusted every which way. 

Jungkook is incredibly professional when you’re with him as a model. Light touches to correct posing, always with a ‘may I’ before he does, and he fills the room with kind words, good vibes, and fun music so you never feel awkward. 

At first you were really iffy on the whole idea when he first asked in September, because it would be the prince of your nation photographing little ol’ you. You weren’t anything special—yet—and you’re still never one for being in the spotlight, or for being on camera. At all. But if it was just for homework, and you were helping out a friend…you figured why not? 

It helped that all of your worries immediately faded when you saw the results of that first shoot.

An email from a very non-princely email address found its way into your inbox. The subject was the date of the shoot, and the only message inside being:

 thanks. Hope you like them. 

Let’s do it again sometime.

-J

When you opened the attachments you made a quick dive to catch the phone that fell from your hands in shock. 

You looked…beautiful. Like you never had in pictures before. Not in school, or at graduation, not even in the ones you took of yourself. 

You didn’t know you were capable of looking like that. 

Like how he saw you. Captured you. 

And you’ll never admit you’ve held your chin a little higher with every shoot since.

They make you feel powerful, attractive. More confident, and sure of yourself, as if you were always meant to be in front of a camera. Like you’d been in front of one since before you could walk.

They do that for you.

He…does that for you—with his pictures, of course.

Jungkook is very talented. Very skilled with his camera, and you find yourself looking forward to the concepts he comes up with every time. Trusting him and whatever his vision is wholeheartedly. 

Though a small, immature piece of you is also pleased he still wants you to model, and not Adaline. That he finds you easier to work with over her.

Your competitive streak never fails to come out, even with the smallest, secretive things.

Take that Adaline.

You gladly help him out with his homework, and he does the same for you. 

If you ever need a male reference or a profile study. Anatomy practice, features practice, likeness practice. Anything and almost everything, all you have to do is ask, and he sits still or places whatever you need in front of you while you sketch.

Hands, however, have always been a personal favourite of yours.

They’re one of those things that can be drawn a hundred different ways and never look the same. Always a new position you can put them in. Consistently able to shake things up. And one set is never like the others—like eyes. There’s little differences in all of them and that’s where their magic lies.

You do these studies at the greenhouse, it has the best light to shadow ratio. When you ask him for one, he’ll switch to working with one hand, while the other does whatever you tell it. Normally either placed on your table or if there isn’t enough room, which nine times out of ten there isn’t because of all your supplies, you stick your foot on the lower metal frame of his table and he rests his arm, wrist or palm on your up bent knee. 

Due to this, you’ve unintentionally come to find out that his hands are very strong, very calloused, and very, very warm…

Also! Aside from hand studies, you love loose figure studies because they’re great warm up sketches. And what Jungkook doesn't know is that you have dozens of warm up sketches of him. Doesn’t know you sneak pictures here and there when you can, hiding them in a hidden album on your phone entitled ‘hmwk screenshots.’ And he definitely doesn’t know that when he’s sitting at the cafe, nose deep in assignments, you doodle his features or his outfit in real time.

A nose here, a jacket there. A muscular forearm covered in tattoos also tends to find its way onto your page every so often.

He’s got a good physique. And the ridges make for excellent anatomy practice. So does the intricate line work of tattoos, and fabric rippling. Especially in drastic lighting. Consistency is key in maintaining and improving your work and it’s not like any of these sketches will ever see the light of day anyways. 

They’re just, well…practice. 

A sigh escapes you, and you refocus on finishing your microecon work. You still have two more assignments to get done before Saturday at eleven.

“And why are you working with some random girl when I’m available, again?” Adaline asks. She’s currently sitting on Jungkook's couch in your spot. He’s setting up tomorrow's materials against the big white wall by the floor length windows that showcase his balcony.

It’s why he chose to live here instead of in the dorms or on campus. His place isn’t enormous, like most people would think, it has enough room for everything a regular student needs: bedroom, kitchen, workspace, living room, bathroom, even a guest room. But the one thing he keeps different is the big white wall where a dining room would normally be. 

Jungkook’s place has high ceilings, 10 feet tall, which is higher than the average but not excessive. And the wall that connects his kitchen to the balcony is a perfect mock studio. He can even keep all his equipment there; lights, gels, backgrounds, tubs full of props, camera cases, lenses, and more all stored in neat shelving against another wall. 

“Because students volunteered for extra credit, and she’s who was assigned to me,” a small lie, one he was sure that Adaline wouldn’t dig into too deeply. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I could volunteer?”

“Because you didn’t need the extra credit?”

She pouts, and goes back to her phone.

Adaline also doesn’t know it’s you he’s photographing and that is one hundred percent intentionally planned by him. 

He could sense something between you two after you made that one comment after fall break. He notices now how you stiffen slightly every time he mentions Adaline, and the one time he mentioned you in passing to test the waters, Adaline changed the conversion topic almost immediately. A look of annoyance, or maybe even insecurity in her eyes.

So he’s been lucky that Adaline has never wanted to see any of his schoolwork prior to or after the singular shoot he did with her. 

Lucky she hasn’t seen your face fill up his screen constantly. 

And extremely lucky that she doesn’t know about the hidden folder buried deep in his desktop labeled ‘eqpmt rcpts’ filled with dozens of candid shots of you.

To be fair, you don’t know about them either. They’re random, shots taken every now and then where he thought you looked happy, focused, or just existing. True candids of the most candid person he knew.

It started that day with his first assignment from Professor Hirmer. He’d taken those quick pictures of you painting, and then simply never stopped. 

He has pictures of you in the courtyard, walking and talking to Yuri, you smiling. He has some he took on his phone when you’re over for movie night, invested in the film or talking to him. And a bunch of you painting at the greenhouse. It’s hard to take secret candids when he’s right beside you, but he manages seeing as you haven't caught him yet.

He even has a few of you and Nel, love clearly written on your face in every single one of them.

Whenever he spots you before you spot him, and he has his camera on him, he takes a couple. 

They’ve amassed into a healthy sum, but he thinks of it as a harmless habit as no one will ever know. And it’s not like he’s following you around to take them or using them for anything nefarious. 

He just likes taking your picture. Capturing your spirit, your candor. 

Your realness. 

You are wholly yourself, always, no holding back, all of the time. 

And to him, it feels like coming up for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey!” you say as you let yourself into Jungkook’s apartment. You’d knocked but no one answered and it was currently 10:56am on Saturday, so you knew he was here. Plus, his door was unlocked.

“Jungkook?” you call. 

No answer.

You take your shoes off after closing the door and locking it. He should really keep his door locked. 

Very quickly become best friends with the couch, you toss your backpack of warm clothes on the floor while you wait for him to make an appearance. 

There’s shoot equipment everywhere; lights in the corner, some with soft boxes on them, gels laid out on the coffee table, and what you’ve come to learn is a lens case sits on the couch beside you in Jungkook's usual spot. 

Jungkook has also somehow managed to find some small trees in blue ceramic pots and what you’re pretty sure is a smoke machine. 

But the most peculiar thing is what looks to be a kiddie pool up against the wall with a folded tarp at its base. 

Well that's…interesting…

You hear a door open somewhere in the apartment and running water. 

“Jungkook? That you?”

“Hey! Yep. Just give me a sec, I’m almost done.”

The water sounds cease and Jungkook makes his grand entrance as he turns the corner holding a large watering can. Your eyebrow raises.

“For the trees?” you ask.

“What?” 

You point to the watering can currently making his veins pop. 

He laughs, “Oh! No. This is for later. You’ll see,” and walks to the other side of the room by the pool. 

“Aren’t we mysterious today,” you say, following him with your eyes. He’s in ripped black jeans that accentuate the muscle definition of his thighs, and a matching baggy shirt. When his back is turned you snap a quick picture. The fabric folds on his baggy shirts are some of your favourite mindless things to cool down sketch.

“Nah, just focused. We have a lot to get through today.”  He sets down the watering can and you can see the moment the switch flips from friend to photographer. “The guest room is ready for you. There’s a clothing rack inside with each look labeled. There’s also makeup and face paint, if you could bring out the make up after you're done changing, that would be great. We’re gonna start with ‘Bright and Bold’, okay?” 

You usually use the spare room as a change room when you have to switch clothes for a shoot. But they were always from your own closet. He’d tell you the concept he was going for and you’d bring a few options to choose from.

Makeup you were used to, though. Jungkook loves abusing your artistic abilities for his shoots in the way you decorate your face or body, saying they make his works a level up from the rest of his classmates. 

They also usually make for some of the coolest pictures you have of yourself.

This is the first time he’s ever bought clothing, though.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, this being his final assignment for an important class, and him being as serious as he is about his work and the final product. But you can't help it, you’re excited to see everything he’s chosen for the shoot. 

For you.

For the shoot.

“Yep, sounds good. Be out in a few,” you reply. He nods in acknowledgement before moving to set something up and you don’t stick around to find out, grabbing your bag and heading towards the door lined hall. 

The guest room is modest and clean. White sheets and gray comforter with, surprisingly, two throw pillows to spruce it up. The walls are white too, but you’re pretty sure that’s because Jungkook’s not allowed to paint the apartment per his landlord's wishes—a thought that still makes you laugh.

He could buy any place he wanted, but chose to rent. ‘To get the real university experience,’ he explained when you asked him the first time you went over.

Black furniture accents the room. A comfortable looking leather chair sits in the corner by a glass door that leads to the balcony. It has a small table beside it. There’s a dresser with a mirror in the other corner and of course, in the center of the room, is the bed. It’s a nice room. However, the newest edition is what’s keeping your eye.

Four shirts hang from the rack at the foot of the bed. The first is vibrant and colourful, the second a light neutral short sleeved V neck, third is strapless and skin coloured, and the last is made from thin black fabric you assume will be skin tight by the looks of it. 

As promised, they’re all labeled with a sticker. 

You throw your bag on the bed and grab the colourful one first. Its sticker says ‘bright and bold,’ and you put it on after removing the shirt you came in, then zip it up. The material feels heavy, durable and expensive. You check the tag on the inside seam and see it’s from Ilkaya, one of the biggest and most expensive fashion designers on this side of the realm. 

Your eyes bug out of your head, and you try not to breathe too hard for fear of ruining it. Your routine of thrifting all your clothes makes you pretty damn sure you can’t even imagine how much this cost. 

It feels good though, comfortable, not itchy. Really freaking expensive.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you have to admit you look amazing. It fits perfectly in all the right places, compliments your skin tone, and even brings out your eyes. Begrudgingly, you admit to yourself that maybe there’s some sense in what the price tag could be. But it would still be a ridiculous sum for a jacket.

With one last look in the mirror, you grab the palettes, brushes and other tools off the dresser, and leave your designated dressing room for the day in favour of returning to the living room. 

Jungkook’s got music going from your shared playlist. Insisting on making one after your second shoot together, when he decided you both agreed to the arrangement becoming a regular thing. It’s a good mix of both of your musical tastes, even though you guys figured out quickly that you liked pretty similar stuff anyway. 

“What do you think? Does it work?” You ask as you turn the corner. 

Jungkook fiddles with this camera before looking and pausing for a moment to take you in. You hope you look okay, but the weird look he has on his face makes you backtrack a bit. 

“Is this not the one you wanted? It had the label on it. But I can go back and double che- ”

“You look amazing,” is all he says, and your worry slides off you instantly. He smiles wide, the one you’ve come to recognize as genuine. 

“Thanks. But the colour’s doing most of the work for me,” you say, smiling back shyly.

He has a white background set up, and two differently coloured gel’d lights sit on opposite one another, a third, smaller floor light faces the background. A backlight, he’d call it. 

Bright and Bold indeed, though there is the matter of-

“What do you want me to do for my make up?”

“Actually,” he sets down his camera gently on a table, “Is it okay if I do it? I want it to be a little more on the amateur side and I don’t think your years of refined talent would let you get the exact look I want.” 

That’s new. But you're here to stand and look however he wants you too, so you allow him with a nod. 

“Sure, where do you want me to sit?”

“Here’s fine,” he says as he pulls a stool that was off to one side close to one of the windows. “As long as you don’t mind holding the make up. I don’t have a table to set them down on.  Should’ve thought of that, sorry.” 

You can tell he’s mentally scolding himself for forgetting something.

“No no, it’s fine,” you say, taking your seat, “I don’t mind, really.” 

Placing the balls of your feet on the bar that holds the chair legs together, you make your lap even enough to set the palettes out, and use a hand to hold all the brushes. 

Jungkook laughs, noticing your feet as you sit, “Cute socks.”

They’re light blue with a fox face on them, and little ears stick up from the elastic around the ankle. 

“Thanks,” you laugh too, they’re your favourite pair. “I call them my fox socks. They’re lucky.”

“Let’s hope so. Wish me luck fox socks,” he calls to your toes, and you wiggle them in response.

He picks a brush and chooses a colour. “Close your eyes and let me know if I’m pressing too hard. If it isn’t obvious, I’ve never done this before.”

You close your eyes and whisper, “Will do.”

It's a uniquely intimate experience having your makeup done. Willingly letting someone get up close and personal with you, allowing them to see every potential scar, blemish and pore in the name of beauty and for the sake of creativity. 

In this case, it’s also a little questionable considering where you feel the brush putting down colour: cheeks, lids, temple, nose. However, you’re simply a pawn in a well thought out plan, so you sit and wait for him to finish.

“Annnd done,” he says, making a final swipe with the brush on your cheek. “You look great! I didn’t hurt you, right?” he asks, showing you the makeup in a palettes mirror. Your face looks like it’s been attacked by a rainbow in the best way. You smile, taking the mirror from him and looking at all the little details. 

For a first timer, Jungkook did a really good job. 

“Nope, I’m good. How do you want me?”

Jungkook leads you to the backdrop, placing you in front. 

“One second,” he says, grabbing a remote and clicking a button to lower the black out curtains on the windows, and then another that turns off the apartment lights. He also clicks on all the lights he’s set up and you’re quickly illuminated by a bright red and purple as well as the back light.

“I’m good to pose?” he asks. 

“Yep.” 

You love that he always asks first. It makes you feel safe and considered, consenting to every touch prior to its occurrence. 

Jungkook instructs the first pose to have your hands on the sides of your face, making slight adjustments so that you don’t cover any of the makeup. And for the first time, his touches leave little sparks where they land. 

You’re sure it’s just because of the lights or that the shirt is thick and makes you warm. 

Or maybe you’re just nervous and need to get the first photo jitters out of your system.

Soon enough, the camera’s pointing at you and you smile the brightest you can. He’s given you the prompt of ‘you’re so excited and happy you can’t hold it in,’ and you work with it the best you can, taking the first few with the pose he gave before being given full reign. 

It’s a decent way into the first shoot when Jungkook says, “Hmm…we’re not quite there yet, I need a bit more,” and follows up with, “How about ‘you’ve just been commissioned by the Modern Art Museum to have the leading showcase for next year’.” 

You smile the biggest you think you ever have at the thought. Because that’s the dream, that is the biggest goal you could achieve. An entire gallery of your work as the primary exhibition in the Western Shores Modern Art Museum? You couldn’t go any higher. It’s every artist's dream.

“There you go! That’s it!” The camera’s capturing quickly as you imagine what it would be like to have your own showcase at the WS-MAM. Incredible is the first word that comes to mind, your work in the biggest museum on the continent? You can’t even imagine, but you want to. 

One day, you promise yourself. You’ll do it one day.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, breaking your daydream, “Let me switch out the gels for new colours and go again. These are great so far though, you're doing amazing.” 

You hold your hand out for a high five and he smacks it. “Go team!” you say, and he laughs.

An hour and a half, a makeup fix and three lighting changes later, the first shoot finishes. You collapse on the couch and rub the muscles on your thighs. 

Jungkook plops down beside you, nose deep in the pictures he’s just taken, double checking everythings good.

“This is a fantastic start, I hope we can keep it up all day and finish before tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you say, and you mean it. Shoots with him are always fun, but inevitably tiring. “I’m gonna to grab a water, want one?” 

“Yes please,” he replies without looking up.

In the kitchen, you open the fridge to grab the two bottles and notice a box, stamped with a coffee mug that has a greenhouse inside of it, on top. The greenhouse cafe’s logo. 

“Can I ask what’s inside the cafe box?” you ask as you sit back on the couch and pass him a bottle.

“Ah, caught red handed,” he says, setting his camera on the table and taking a swig. “I may have asked Vivan earlier this week to make sure there was an overstock of tarts so I could grab them for you as a thank you for today.”

...Oh

That’s so sweet. He’s never gotten you a thank you gift before, especially not in the form of the most delicious pastry to ever exist. Maybe you should get him something for all the times he’s helped you with homework? A solstice gift maybe?

There’s heat forming in your chest and you really hope it’s not the beginning stages of heartburn. Maybe Jungkook has antacids. 

“You didn’t have to do that, I’m happy to help.”

“So you don’t want them then?” his shit eating grin making a glorious comeback because he knows what your answer’s going to be.

“No! I want them. I most definitely want them.”

He chuckles and puts his water down.

“Okay Donatello, glad you accept. Let's move on to the next set up. There’s makeup remover and cotton pads in the room, and some moisturizer too if you need it.”

The next shoot is called ‘Regality,’ and it has you in the strapless shirt. You find out it’s quite a low cut when you put it on. There’s enough to cover you, but there’s definitely a lot of your chest showing. However, under the shirt on the hanger is a scarf to cover yourself with, which you think is very considerate.

“Makeup?” you ask as you come out again, scarf covering you.

“Neutral, but strong. Kind of like how my mother does,” the background is still white, but you have a hunch that it will remain white in this picture, unlike the last one. “This one is going to be black and white, so try to emphasize your natural beauty.”

You ignore that he essentially just said you're beautiful, surely he’s just being kind and professional. Making sure his model feels good about herself. 

Right?

Right.

You put on a coat of mascara and go light on the shadow so it won't be too dramatic on film. You also use a shade of lipstick that adds just a tint to your lips and a blush that makes your eyes pop.

Jungkook has you sit on the stool from earlier and faces your body three quarters of the way towards the camera, but keeps your head turned in profile. 

“Oh! Almost forgot, one second,” Jungkook jogs to his room, coming back with a palm sized velvet box. “I had my mother send these over for this shoot. She has better taste than me, so I let her pick them out.”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when he opens the box. 

Inside are two dangling diamond earrings, and quite possibly the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

And now you’re terrified. 

“Jungkook, I can't wear those. They look like they’re worth more than my house, my car and my tuition combined.”

He takes one out and places it in your hand for you to put in, it’s the length of your index finger. And all you can think about is the potential houses you’re holding as you look at it. 

It’s a semi-rectangular earring, encrusted with four columns of diamonds that cascade down, each column longer than the previous. Like a sparkling waterfall you can attach to your ear.

“Don’t worry about it, mum said she never wears them anyway because they’re part of a set that the necklace was lost to years ago. Please,” his face is nothing but reassurance and small smiles, “You’re giving them a chance to live again.”

You couldn't say no to those eyes even if you wanted to.

So you reply, almost breathless and still against your better judgment, “Okay.”

Placing them in one after the other, they have a significant, understandable weight to them. You take a couple deep breaths so you don't freak out, and then you return to your previously designated pose, profile set, body facing the camera.

“Can I adjust?” Jungkook asks, after taking a step back and getting a wider view. 

You nod gently, still terrified of the earrings.

He makes sure the earring is visible and untangled first, before a finger gently comes beneath your chin, and lifts it a bit higher. 

The feeling they leave behind is all you can think about as you stare at your place on the wall, Jungkook snapping away. Not even the soft light illuminating your profile is enough to make you blink.

This shoot goes by quickly, and you’re relieved to get the earrings back safely inside their box.

“It’s like 2:45, wanna break for a late lunch?” Jungkook asks. 

“Please, I’m starved,” you say, returning from the guest room after tossing on the sweater you brought. “What's on the menu?”

“Well, we have two options,” he says, looking very faux serious, “1. We order out from wherever you want and awkwardly wait for it to arrive because the next shoot is not one we can’t prep for, then eat, then shoot.  Or 2. I make use of the ingredients I bought to make Bulgogi Kimchi Fried Rice and you get lunch and a show.”

You're shocked. 

Jungkook…cooks? Oh this you absolutely must see.

“Hmm….” you say, pretending to really mull it over in the same ‘serious’ tone, “I’m thinking I’ll have to go with option two, Chef. But I’ll lend a hand where I can, no use in standing around doing nothing.”

“Every chef needs a sous.”

With both of you on task, lunch is getting made quickly. Jungkook has all the ingredients to make ‘my buddy’s famous family recipe,’ a man who you assume is a chef back at the palace. The island countertop is currently covered in them; onion, kimchi, marinated bulgogi, gochujang, cooked rice, eggs and more. 

You’re surprised at how skilled Jungkook is in the kitchen. He’s cutting the ingredients like he’s been doing it his whole life and working the pan over the stove like the proper technique has been drilled into him since birth. 

Thirty minutes pass, and after both of you shed a tear at the cut onions and evenly split the remaining tasks, you’re sitting on the couch about to take your first bite. It smells delicious. Your mouth is watering and you can’t wait to dig in, stomach painfully empty by this point.

Finally taking that first bite, you nearly die of euphoria.

“Ouhmahgaud,” you say, mouth half full. Jungkooks on the other side of the couch, trying not to cough out his own food from laughing at your reaction. His eyes are nearly shut with how wide he’s smiling.

“Good?” he asks after swallowing his food first, like a civilized person.

You’re vigorously nodding as you swallow your own helping in hopes you’re understood.

“You’re giving me this recipe. I need it. I don’t think I will survive if this is the only time I ever get to eat it.” Your bowl is almost half gone already. Thank god there’s leftovers, you will be having more.

Plus, you want to make it for your mom when you go home, she’ll love it. 

“I’ll text it to you later, don’t worry.”

You’re very sure the look on your face conveys the gratitude you feel and the rest of the meal passes in a very comfortable and satisfied silence. 

Twenty-ish minutes later, after letting your seconds settle for a couple minutes, Jungkook gets back to business. 

“Next look is the most adventurous, it uses the facepaint. Are you okay with contacts?”

“I think so, never tried them before though. Just give me a few before we start so I don’t explode when I stand up.”

“All good,” he says, before quirking a lip and adding, “I really don’t feel like explaining why there’s kimchi and bits of you all over my walls to either of our parents, so take all the time you need.”

You laugh, firstly at the visual, then at the idea of Jungkook meeting your mother. That would be something you needed on record, paper and film.

After a minute, you get up, the guest room making your acquaintance once more. 

“This one is called Enigmatic,” Jungkook calls.

“Got it!”

You take longer than normal to change, maybe eating before putting on the skin tight shirt wasn’t a great idea. But at least it was stretchy. 

It has long sleeves, a high neck, and is a very dark midnight black. There’s a matching black scarf for this one too, and a safety pin attached to the corner.

“Okay, what's the plan for this one? I hear facepaint is involved,” you say, back for round three, scarf in hand.

The background of the set is black now, a close match to your shirt. Jungkook is by the smoke machine, currently set up on the stool and plugged into a nearby outlet. 

You hold up the scarf, questioningly.

“That’s to go over your head after the paint, but let’s see if you can do contacts first, they’re in the washroom. Need help?”

“No, I'm good.”

You don’t succeed at first, but after a couple attempts you look in the mirror and see purple eyes staring back at you. You love them.

“I look like a badass,” you say, returning. The smoke machine’s been turned on and it’s created a completely different atmosphere. At your reemergence, Jungkook shuts it off and comes close to give you a look. You freeze a little at the eye contact, his browns meeting your currently violets for a prolonged moment.

“They look better than I’d hoped, this is going to be great.” 

He reaches under the gels on the table for a piece of paper. It’s a makeup model face with the look he wants drawn on. “Are you able to do something like this?”

The diagram shows the cheeks, bottom half of the nose and down all the way to the neck as black, and the eyes and up as white, bleeding down into the black like smoke. You’re going to need eyeshadow for that part. If you did that with the face paint it would just become a gray mess.

“Yep, but it’s going to take some time to get it right.”

“That’s okay, I’ll use it to get the smoke machine properly set up.”

You use one of the palette mirrors and start with the white, covering the top of your face and making a good base layer for the eyeshadow. Then fill the bottom of your face and neck with the black. Carefully, so as to not make gray, you use a large brush to cover both sides with their respective eyeshadow shades, before blending them together like the reference. Your skin starts to feel like it’s on fire by the time you're satisfied and you check your phone for the time when you finally finish. 

4:37pm. 

Not bad. You put the scarf over your head and cover your ears with it, using the safety pin to hold it in place. 

“Done.”

Jungkook takes one look at you and lights up. 

“Have I ever mentioned how talented you are, and that you make my schoolwork so much more fun? Because I feel like I should again even if I already have.” Your cheeks heat, glad he’s excited you’re able to help. “How did you manage to make it look even better?”

“I do vaguely remember mentioning something about a deal with a semi-suspicious genie,” you joke. And both of you break out in giggle fits after a second, recalling the conversation from forever ago. 

Running through the same steps of lighting, posing, and adjustments, Jungkook then flips on the smoke machine and lets it fill the room heavily before starting to take pictures. 

You’re sitting on a small box this time, so that you’re slightly lower than the camera. Jungkook tells you to keep your hands at your sides and look up, just above the rim of the camera lens. It creates a very interesting look, and you're excited to see the results. 

He has you do a couple more poses before allowing you to do your own thing once more, trying to think of what would look mysterious and enigmatic.

You try to let the music inspire you. This is a look you’ve never done before, so you’re finding it a bit difficult to get into it despite Jungkook's helpful prompts and suggestions. But you flow a bit better with it as time goes on and you become more comfortable.

An idea pops up out of nowhere and you have him do a close up from the middle of your chin to the middle of your forehead. You stare straight into the lens to really showcase the purple contacts and makeup.

“This’s the one for sure,” he says, taking a few more. “Great idea, why didn’t I think of a close up in the first place?” You know he's talking to himself at this point. 

It’s close to 6:15pm when Jungkook decides he has enough pictures for this look. You don’t mind the longer shoot seeing as you set aside the day for this, and you can’t wait to see how these ones turn out in particular.  

You’re halfway through getting the face paint off, a mountain of gray stained cotton pads beside you, when Jungkook turns the music down.

“Let’s do a light, early dinner and then shoot the last one?” he asks. “I kept this one at the end because it’s going to create the most mess and it’ll be nice to have dinner out of the way for when I have to clean up.”

“More mess than this?” you point to the cotton pad mountain.

“Much more.”

“Light, early dinner it is,” you confirm, not wanting to have to wait till late to eat. “But can we order out so I have time to get the rest of this off?”

“Sure, what’ll it be?”

Clean faced, moisturized and ramyeon filled, you and Jungkook are preparing for the last shoot. Or well, lightly arguing.

“Water?”

“Mhm.”

“On me?”

“Yep.”

“From that thing,” you point to the contraption he calls a c-stand that will be holding the very full, very large watering can over your head for an extended amount of time, “And into there?” you point again to the kitty pool on top of the tarp that’s underneath the watering can c-stand. 

“That is the plan,” he looks amused at your slight distress.

“Are you nuts? What if it falls on me? How do I know it won’t unhinge and I’ll have a nicely cracked open skull to explain to my mother on Solstice break?”

“It won’t fall and you know it won't because you trust me and trust I wouldn’t put you in unnecessary danger. But if it does, tell your mom I say hi and sorry.”

You scoff at him, unbelievable. “So you admit there’s a bit of danger!”

Jungkook sighs, and looks to the ceiling. “Yes, YN. There is a touch of danger. But that’s only if, somehow, the c-stand I have triple safety checked, duct taped twice, and quadruple secured with four fifteen pound sandbags, decides that you deserve a watering can to the head.”

You side eye his tone. This wasn’t an unrealistic worry. But you do trust him. And trust he would never intentionally put you in any danger.

The trees are set up near the backdrop that looks like a row of brick houses. The shot is supposed to be ‘The Calm after Before the Storm,’ where you look relieved and happy in an ‘outside’ setting while ‘rain’ falls over you, also in black and white.

“Fine, but if I hear one peep from that thing,” c-stand staring down the tip of your finger once more, “I’m tuck and rolling and taking you out while I do it.”

“Very fair!” he says relieved, and goes to set up the stand with the watering can. 

You’d changed into the neutral V neck after dinner, and he’s asked for no makeup. So all you have to do now is stand and pose while trying not to die from foreign objects falling from the sky while you get wet.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

It is incredibly difficult, and you’re glad he made this one last because you’re at best; slightly miserable. Only the promise of a hot shower, hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows and your pick of whatever you watch afterward is keeping you going.

You started this one just shy of 8pm after waiting 45 minutes for the food. And it’s nearing 9:30 now. Jungkook has had to refill the watering can four times, dump the kiddie pool twice,  and you swear if you don’t finish within the next twenty minutes, you’re going to collapse from shivering.

To be fair, he does fill the watering can with warm water, but it only stays warm for so long before freezing water is pouring on you for the millionth time tonight. 

“I have one last idea, and by the way, I’m never doing this concept again so don’t worry about that, but also… don’t shut down the idea immediately okay?” Jungkook says. 

The watering can is almost empty again and you’re relieved that your time is almost up. That in itself should make for a good picture. He snaps it.

But his tone makes you a little wary, “Okay… what is it?”

“Pretend I’m Nel and you’re seeing me for the first time in six months, like you do at the end of April.”

Well, you didn’t have that down on your photo shoot prompt bingo card. 

Are you okay with the idea? You aren’t sure, but aren’t not sure either.

“I mean, I’ll try. Maybe you could give vocal cues to try and help? But don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t, promise,” Jungkook pauses for a second before adding, “Does he call you baby?”

You nod, and you distantly hear and ‘okay’ as you slowly allow yourself to get into that headspace.

You start, and the camera starts going.

You’re in the airport, waiting for Nel, ‘smoosh’ paper in hand. The gate opens, and through all the other passengers you see him, see that he’s in one piece, see that he’s safe. 

Your face illuminates with relief at that so much so that you don’t even notice the water that starts running down your face. 

You hear a ‘hi baby’ and in your head, it’s coming from Nel’s mouth as he nears you. You smile impossibly wider at the thought of seeing him, feeling him. Having him here with you. 

You look happy to see me, ‘Nel’ says.

“I am,” you reply. 

There’s repetitive clicking in the distance, but you ignore it. It’s probably just a flight attendant's heels on the floor.

“I missed you.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Nel speaks again.

I missed you too, baby.

You’re shivering hard now, lost in thought, unaware of reality. 

YN, Nel calls.

“Yes, love?”

“YN.”

“Babe, what is it?”

“YN, hey,” you're being shaken gently.

“Hmm? What?” you slowly arrive back to the present. Strong hands grip your shoulders. They feel nice. Solid. Deliciously warm. 

A very concerned looking Jungkook comes into focus, camera dangling around his neck and reaching for you.

Oh.

He’s the one holding your shoulders, trying to get you to come back to reality.

“There she is, welcome back,” he lets go and grabs a blanket from somewhere and wraps it around you. “We got the shot, go take a shower and warm up okay?”

“Okay,” you say, still a little dazed, but present enough to function.

You step out of the pool, holding on to the hand Jungkook offers to balance—Warm. Solid. Strong—and head straight for the bathroom, making a pit stop in the guest room to grab your bag with fresh clothes. 

The hot water cements your place back in reality, letting it warm you up and cleanse you of the day. 

You have no idea what just happened with that whole Nel thing, but it was a new feeling and a new headspace and you really aren’t in the mood to analyze or acknowledge, so it’s shoved onto a top shelf in the back of your mind for a later date.  

Once you're able to return to the directory of your mind, you don’t know how long you’ve been in the shower. But you know you’re clean, no longer cold, and in the mood for hot chocolate, so you step out and dry yourself with the towels Jungkook laid out for you on the toilet seat.

They’re soft. So soft in fact you consider only for a second shoving one in your now less full bag to take home with you. However, you do rather enjoy your friendship with the prince, so you think better of it upon second thought. 

Dressing in your sweats, you exit, tossing the towels in the hamper and your bag of the clothes you arrived in back into the spare room.

“Better?” Jungkook asks as you sit down in your spot on the couch for the last time tonight, wrapping up in the blanket he left for you. He’s in the kitchen but heard you coming.

“Much, thanks,” you sniff, “Is that hot chocolate I smell?”

Jungkook returns from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. “With extra whip cream and marshmallows, as ordered.”

You carefully take it from him, giving your thanks and happily slurping away the second it’s in your grasp. 

“Alright Caravaggio, what are we watching?” he asks, sitting down on his side, sipping away on his own. 

Sometime between you leaving for the shower and coming back out Jungkook changed into his own comfy attire, and tidied up the studio space as the pool and tarp are nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve thought really hard about this, all of however long I was in the shower,” Jungkook mutters something about 35 minutes; you ignore him, “And have settled on ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

He whines just a little when he says, “But it’s November.”

“So?”

“So, Solstice isn’t until the third week of December,” he’s saying this like his point is the most obvious thing in the world. 

It’s not.

“Your point?”

“That it’s November, and you want to watch a Solstice movie.”

You’re mockingly outraged.

“Who made you town grinch? I didn’t realize we had a holiday hater in our midst.” 

You loved the holidays, all the big ones, and the small ones, but Solstice was special. 

“I’m not a grinch, I’m just not there yet, mentally.”

“Then get ready to dive in head first, because you said I could pick the movie for risking my life for you and I pick ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

Jungkook doesn’t argue further, but he does roll his eyes as he puts on your movie with a small smile hidden behind his drink.

It’s sometime during the first act, you’re lying back against your corner of the couch, feet up and under the blanket when you ask, “What are your solstice break plans?” 

Jungkook takes a moment to part from the TV, very invested for someone who was so against it half an hour ago. “I have a lot of ‘princely duties’ to do for Solstice, like standing and looking thoughtful while my dad gives his annual Solstice speech,” you snort. “Then there’s the palace dinner, the parade through the capital, and the live televised event,” he says in a tv announcer's voice, “Where my family and I light the Solstice Star. And then there’s the new year and that in itself has another long list of things I have to do. Besides things like that though? Not much, and then it’s back here.”

Right.

You often forget who he is. 

That behind those kind eyes, and small smiles, behind the greenhouse study dates, and movie nights, and photoshoots, Jungkook has an enormous responsibility constantly looming over his head, counting down the days until he finishes his schooling. One that’s just waiting to drop onto his shoulders forever. 

You often forget that Jungkook is the Prince, first in line to the biggest throne in the realm. That you spend your time with not only Jeon Jungkook, friend and photography student, but also, His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook, Heir Apparent and Future King of The Western Shores.

He just makes it so damn easy to forget.

You only asked because you thought maybe he had plans with friends or family, completely forgetting about all of the things the royal family does during the holiday season to celebrate with the nation, their people, and now you feel like an ass for even bringing it up.

But there’s something in his answer, or lack thereof, that snags your attention. 

“What about celebrating with your family and friends in private?”

“No time,” Jungkook’s stare goes distant as he brings his knees up and puts his arms around them, resting his chin. “Friends are always busy with palace preparations and dad’s not really the sentimental type. We celebrated when I was younger; big family breakfast, presents, tree decorating, whole thing. But after I turned about 13 or so, it started dwindling pretty quickly. Now it’s just me and my mom exchanging a gift with each other at midnight under the palace tree.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so heartbreaking yet beautiful in your life. 

“Your mum sounds wonderful, I’m really happy you two get that time together.” 

He looks at you, and you can tell by the look in his eyes he loves that time with her more than anything else. 

Solstice is supposed to be the time you spend with your family, blood or chosen. The time where you all gather to cook and bake, and exchange thoughtful gifts with the ones you love. The time where you truly cherish one another and count yourself lucky for all that you have. 

Solstice is your favourite time of the year.

To not spend it like that just seems…wrong. Horribly, painfully, awfully wrong.

“What about you?” he asks.

You don’t want to make him feel bad, so you tone down your answer, taking away the meat and giving the bones.

“My mum and I cut down our own tree and decorate it with the ornaments we’ve collected over the years,” you have them from every place you’ve ever visited, and your mum kept all the ones you ever made as a kid. You even get a new one every solstice to take a picture for and label with the year.  

“Then we bake solstice cookies until our hands cramp and survive off only them until solstice dinner; a turkey, honey glazed carrots, mashed potatoes with gravy, essentially if it waters your mouth, it’s there,” he chuckles at that. “We do gifts for each other too, opening them on solstice morning before making hot drinks and reading in the breakfast nook until the sun sets or till we get hungry, whichever comes first.”

Jungkook's eyes glow, radiating warmth, a lazy smile on his face as he listens to you. 

“That sounds really nice, YN.”

“It is,” you reply, looking him in those radiant eyes as you do. He looks… happy. Happy for you, that you get to have something like this that’s so special. It breaks your heart a little…maybe you can help.

“You wanna make some solstice cookies with me before break?”

His look of happy shifts to one of slight panic.

“What?” you question, and comically ask, “Have you never made solstice cookies before?”

He hesitates before answering a very quiet, “Uh…N-no.”

Your shock must be incredibly evident in the way he almost flinches at your reaction.

So you try your best to keep your voice level when you ask, “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. I’ve never made solstice cookies.”

That’s it. You can’t hold back any more, you’ve never heard anything so blasphemous in all your life.

“You’ve never what?  How is that even possible?”

He shrinks into himself a little more.

“The palace pastry chef always makes them because that’s kind of his job,” you stare at him in disbelief. “Is this really that big a deal?”

You swear there’s cog’s and smoke flying out of your ears. Solstice cookies are a religion in your household. You know dozens of recipes by heart, always finding a new one each year to try and up your game. You cannot imagine a solstice without making them. Wait no, actually you can, but it would be because you’re dead.

You held back in your answer earlier, for his sake, but you and your mom’s hands cramp up because you make enough cookies to give a box to everyone in the neighborhood. It’s one of your favourite traditions, and your neighbours even look forward to it every year, going so far as sending you both recipes to try out.

“Big dea—you’ve never fucking mad—not even when you were little? No one brought you to the kitchen and let you help? Aren't all your friends back home the pastry chefs' kids or something?” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but your tone is a little more passionate than you were intending. 

But Jungkook knows you, knows you occasionally get that passionate about things, and takes your outburst in stride. 

“Yeah, one of them is, but we don't sit around the oven and make cookies all break long. And his dad is always too busy to teach us even if we wanted to.”

You decide something. Right then and there.

“This year you are.”

“What?”

“Mark your last Saturday off because I'm going to show up here, ingredients-a-plenty and teach you how to make solstice cookies. I have a million recipes up here,” you tap your head with a finger, “But I'll choose the easiest ones. And I’ll come over early so we can spend the day making all of them. I can’t in good conscience leave for the break knowing you’ve never made them.”

He sighs. “Do I have any say in the matter?”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook stares at you and you can’t figure out what he’s thinking. You’re worried he’s going to say no anyway. To say you’re crazy and that they’re just cookies and that he has more important things he has to do on his Saturday before leaving for home.

But he doesn’t. And you should’ve known he wouldn’t, not after all the time you’ve spent together. 

You know better. Know him better.

“Alright Picasso. Sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to it,” he decides, and goes back to watching the movie. 

It’s the first time he’s ever repeated a nickname.

“Wait! The wind guy wants to replace who?!” Jungkook shouts. 

You laugh at his confusion, and rewind the movie.

Jungkook wakes up sore.

His back is killing him, which makes sense since he’s half lying on the couch, half on the ground. 

The TV’s silently playing some slideshow of movie recommendations based on recent watches. 

He checks his phone, reaching for it on the coffee tale. 

14% battery. 

4:07am. 

Shit, he fell asleep. 

After the solstice movie he wanted to watch its predecessor. You had no qualms and so on it went, but he doesn’t remember much after the brothers started fighting.

Hearing soft, even breathing next to him he turns to see you, hunched over in your spot asleep, no doubt in the process of ruining your own back.

He should go to bed.

You should go to bed. 

But you’ve never stayed the night.

What should he do? Should he wake you? 

But you look so peaceful. And it’s nearing exams. You barely sleep when it’s exams season. 

Instead, Jungkook goes to check the guest room, but it’s a mess with yesterday's comings and goings. Make-up and clothes and hangers strewn everywhere.

Quietly, making a decision he hopes you won’t kill him for in the morning, he pads back to your sleeping form. 

It’s for your back, he tells himself. No other reason.

Deja vu sets in as he scoops you up from the couch, blanket and all. Just like last time, you gain enough consciousness to know to wrap your arms around his neck, but not enough to wake up. Your head rests on his shoulder and he selfishly savours the feeling as he walks down the short hallway to his room.  

Jungkook sets you down gently on one side of the bed, and your arms release, slumber undisturbed as he tucks you in.

He goes back to the living room to retrieve your phones. Yours is still at 56%, and he places it on the table beside you when he returns.

Climbing into his side of the bed, he’s careful not to touch you.

Though he wants to. 

Desperately. 

His sleep deprived brain is too slow to block out the thoughts that start to race. Thoughts of how he wants to turn around and pull you into his chest, slide an arm around your waist, and kiss you goodnight. How he wants to wake up in the same position, you still in his arms. 

But he’s also awake enough to know that will never happen. That you’re with Nel, and happy with him. That he’s drawn that nice, big line.

He’s awake enough to know you being in his bed is a fluke, unintentional.

A one time thing.

Plugging his phone into its charger, he sets it down on his own bedside table and pulls the covers up, falling back asleep.

His back facing you. 

An exhale wakes you.

Warm and cozy, you take a deep breath and roll to your left side, stretching on the way over. The scents of clean linen and something familiar find you. It’s comforting, that smell, but you can’t place it.

Another exhale, but this time you feel it as well as hear it.

You open your eyes to see a sleeping Jungkook face not a foot from your own and you jolt in shock, falling off the bed in the process. 

You look up from your new seat on the floor, ignoring the pain in your side from landing, and peer over the covers to check on Jungkook, who, miraculously, hasn’t woken up from your tumble. 

Relieved, your mind focuses on more pressing questions like ‘how did you get here?’ And ‘why were you in his bed?’ 

The last thing you remember was being halfway through the prequel to A Miser Brothers Solstice on the couch, watching Jungkook more than the movie because of how invested he’d become in the story. 

But you aren’t on the couch now. You were in his bed. 

The bed of the Prince of the Western Shores. 

The Prince who has a girlfriend, and you, who has a very long term, very serious boyfriend.

You hear a vibration, and following the sound, you find your phone on the bedside table. 

You quickly grab it quickly and go to the living room as quietly as you can manage. 

There’s a large number of unread texts. 

SlurryYuri [11:08pm]: hey, just checking in. You didn’t get home when you said you’d try for SlurryYuri [11:31pm]: Helloooooooo? YN? You there? SlurryYuri [12:14am]: it’s getting late YN, when are you coming home? Are you on your way?

Missed Calls: (3)

SlurryYuri [2:43am]: it’s been hours, so you better be dead or have crashed in the school somewhere. Either way I’m kicking your ass when you get home

Missed Calls: (2)

(Recent)

SlurryYuri [9:36am]: you’re still not home?? YN seriously, where are you SlurryYuri [10:23am]: If you don’t message me back in an hour I’m calling the police and filing a missing persons

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You crashed hard, the shoot must have taken more out of you than you thought, so you never texted Yuri you were going to crash in a sleep pod at school like you’d planned too. 

You make quick work of messaging her back, glad she unintentionally gave you just the excuse you needed. 

YN [10:25am]: ohmygod I’m soooooo sorry, it was the school one. I fell asleep in the school. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll be home soon, promise. I’m just going to grab breakfast first. Again im sorry

SlurryYuri [10:27am]: thank the gods youre okay!! Don’t ever do that to me again YN! I don’t wanna be the one who has to break news to your mom!! She’s too nice.  SlurryYuri [10:27am]: and take your time getting back if your rushing for me, I’m not at the dorm SlurryYuri [10:27am]: Tai showed up yesterday out of the blue and took me dancing. We’re out getting brunch right now, and he has plans for the rest of the day SlurryYuri [10:28am]: Im just glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere

YN [10:29am]: me too, and okay I will. Thanks for checking up on me and making sure im safe, youre my favourite

SlurryYuri [10:30am]: damn right I am, see you tn <3

YN [10:30am]: see you <3

You exhale deeply, that was fucking close. 

Your stomach rumbles and it reminds you that you actually need to get breakfast. 

What could you have? You could order in again, but that means a wait time and you are hungry now. You could raid Jungkook's pantry, or see if he has any fruit, but then you think that’s a gross invasion of privacy when it’s not movie night and you haven’t asked if it’s okay. 

Wait.

The egg tarts!

You dash to the fridge, the marvellous sight of a greenhouse inside a coffee mug comes into view. Stuffing one down before you even get the box from the fridge, you exit the kitchen, sit down on the couch, setting the box on the coffee table. Once opened in front of you, you realize there is a healthy amount of tarts inside. 

How many did Jungkook ask for?

Speaking of, a bed-headed, yawning Jungkook makes his morning debut, still in last night's clothes.

“Hey,” he says groggily, walking over and stealing a tart.

“Hey!” you say back, not nearly as friendly. 

“Overnight tax, Picasso. Room isn’t free.” He chuckles at your faux outrage, popping half the tart in his mouth as he walks to the kitchen and grabs something from the fridge. Returning, you see it’s a morning protein shake. 

Gross. 

“So is that name the one you’re sticking to now?” you ask, picking up another tart. At this rate they won’t last until lunch.

“Yeah, that okay with you? It’s your name in my phone after all.”

“It is?” You didn’t know that.

“Yeah, has been since the start.” 

You’re quickly learning that sleepy morning Jungkook is very different from morning post work-out Jungkook, friend Jungkook and photographer Jungkook. His voice is deeper, he’s a lot more relaxed, and maybe even harmlessly borderline flirty, like he’s not all there yet. Softer. 

“Picasso’s just fine. A compliment really.”

“Oh? And what am I in your’s then? Hopefully something just as nice?”

You tell him like it is.

“PJK.”

“PJK?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah? It’s obscure enough to not be recognizable if someone were to see it, but enough for me to know who it is.”

“Nah, you need something better, PJK is boring.”

“It’s your initials.”

“And boring,” he’s really not letting up on this. 

“Well...what would you save yourself as?”

He mulls it over for a minute before deflating. “Okay, fair point, but I seriously want a new one. Something that can rival Picasso.”

“Do you have any nicknames? Something not completely obvious?”

For a morning person, Jungkook sure is taking his time. Maybe he was only a morning person before 8am, and then if he got up anytime after that he became a normal person who despised mornings like everyone else.

“Uhh…Vivian calls me JK, but that’s essentially the same thing as PJK. My buddies back home sometimes call me Kook, but I don’t think that works either. My mum has one for me that I will not disclose to anyone so long as I am breathing. So I guess not.”

A lightbulb dings over your head. “What about your security? Don’t they have special code names for you when they detail you? Like bear or eagle?” 

“Yeah, but it’s not nearly as badass as either of those.”

“Fess up,” you say. Now you have to know.

“Hare.”

“Hare?” Now it’s your turn to be incredulous. “Like a rabbit?”

“Yep.”

An idea pops into your head and an evil grin spreads across your face, one you know is already setting worry into Jungkook’s still awakening brain as you change his name.

“I don’t like that look,” he confirms. “What’d you change it to?”

You flip your phone around and hold it up to him.

“Bunny?” he says incredulously once again.

“Yes.”

“I give you Picasso, one of the greatest painters of all time, and you think giving me bunny is anywhere near on par with that?”

Teasing him is far too fun, especially when he makes it this easy for you.

“Oh absolutely. In fact, I think it’s the best name I could possibly set it as.”

Jungkook disagrees, vehemently. “No, change it back. PJK is fine.”

“Too late. You dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Jungkook brings a hand to his face, pinching the crease between his brows and takes a very long, deep breath, exhaling just as dramatically. 

You take that as your victory. But you’re sorely mistaken.

He launches at you, reaching for your phone and you scream, reaching your arm to keep it away from him. You have a fox socked foot on his chest to try and keep him back. His right arm is holding him up near your hip on the couches edge and he’s reaching with his left as far as he can without breaking his sternum on your heel. 

“Give it!”

“Never!”

You try to bring up your other foot to push him away, but Jungkook is strong, and forces both it and the one on his chest down with the arm that was supporting him, temporarily keeping himself up with his left hand on the back of the couch. 

With your legs out of the way he can almost reach his phone. But in his distracted state, misses the couch when he goes to put his supporting arm down again, and flips onto the ground, taking you with him. You scream, but his arms wrap around you as he makes sure to take the brunt of the impact, landing on his back, you safely secured to his chest. 

There’s a moment of pure stunned silence, you resting your forhead on his chest while you process, him not letting go of your waist as he gets a breath into his winded self, before you’re both laughing as you take in what happened.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, you?”

He takes a second to respond. “I’m great.” 

You push to sit up, and he releases you from his hold, but that was a mistake. Because now you’re sitting on his lap. 

It takes an entire three seconds of you staring at him and him staring right back before you jump and scramble off him as fast as you can. 

“Sorry.” you say in unison, you standing and him from the ground. It’s a painfully awkward 8 seconds before you break, cackling at the whole situation, and he joins in with you again. 

Jungkook brushes off his pants as he gets up too. “Got any plans before tonight,” he asks, business as usual.

“Nope, cleared my schedule in case this went long, I’ve got the whole day.”

You swear his smile grows two sizes.

“Well in that case,” he looks to the TV, then back to you, “Wanna start movie night early?”

An entire day to relax and chill out before the hell that is exams season takes your every free second? 

Yes please.

“Solstice movie marathon?” you propose slyly, near devious.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” he confirms, already halfway to the kitchen.

You spend the day like that, on the couch watching movie after movie, both pretending the little incident never even happened. 

But you make sure to go home after movie night this time. 

Chapter Nine: TBR

A/N 2: This chapter kicked my ass but it's here and I couldn't be more thrilled. I really like how it's ended so I hope you guys do too.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

There’s something different about Potter.

Draco heard the other boy had spent the summer before seventh year at some sort of student duelling program in Russia. Maybe he was hit with a lingering giddiness spell. Or he hit his head and is even more of an idiot than before.

Stupid Potter, with his stupid smiles.

The other boy is often writing letters or in the owlery, and the amount of owlpost he receives is far greater than in previous years. Weasley and Granger keep giving him looks when he gets a letter or a package, too. Maybe Potter made a new friend and the golden trio’s about to fall apart.

(Draco keeps his fingers crossed for that option.)

The first morning that’s chilly enough to necessitate a muffler, it all becomes clear. 

Draco spots Potter, Granger, and the Weasel in the courtyard during a free period. “Oi, Potter – what’s with the scarf? Gryffindor doesn’t want you any more?”

Instead of the expected red and gold, the muffler wrapped around Potter’s stupid head is navy with black trim.

Weasley, predictably, turns a startling shade of red; Potter and Granger roll their eyes at him.

“Wow, Malfoy, top-notch insult. Slytherin’s best never ceases to impress,” Potter deadpans.

“That’s one way to say you know nothing about the colours of other magical schools,” Granger snipes. “How expectedly Anglocentric of you.”

“Harry’s boyfriend is–”

What. “Boyfriend?”

“Ron…” Potter sighs, and oh, he is blushing.

Draco sneers. “Oh, a boyfriend at Koldovstoretz, eh? I’ve heard that one before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Weasley growls.

“How pathetic, making up a fake boyfriend.”

“Why would I make up a boyfriend?” Potter says incredulously. “I don’t care whether other people know about Vee or not.”

“Just ignore him, boys,” Granger says, and the three do just that, to Draco’s indignation.

Pshah, like anyone would be interested in dating Potter.

…And what kind of a name is ‘Vee,’ anyway?

—

But, as becomes obvious in early November, someone actually is interested in dating Potter. Or the scruffy git is so desperate to prove his boyfriend is real that he has someone pretend to send him a Howler love letter. Either way, it’s downright embarrassing to hear across the Great Hall - almost enough to put him off his breakfast.

Potter opens the red parchment cautiously, but relaxes as soon as he hears the voice it contains.

“Hello, darling,” the Howler says in a smooth, cultured voice, with the barest hint of an accent. Draco swears it sounds a little familiar. “I wanted to wish you good luck for your first quidditch game of the season. I know you’ll do phenomenally. One day, I’ll be in the stands, but for now know I am there in spirit, zolotse.”

Several other students swoon and start tittering to each other over the romantic cheesy message. Really, how sweet crass to send that schlock as a Howler, forcing everyone to hear it.

Stupid Potter and his stupid Russian boyfriend.

He was planning to cheer for Ravenclaw in today’s match anyway, but now he really hopes they crush Potter and his merry band of Gryffindorks.

(They do not. Draco is irritated for the rest of the weekend.)

—

The Hogwarts Express is nearly empty of students excited to be home for Yule, and Draco is doing a final check of the carriages when he sees it. He rushes outside to make sure it wasn’t an illusion some brat placed on the window, but no. That’s Tom Riddle, five-time IMC schools' duelling champion and Koldovstoretz’s wunderkind. And he’s embracing Potter.

Draco must make some sound, because Potter is suddenly facing him with his wand out.

“Malfoy, what the hell?”

“That’s– You–” he gapes. “Tom Riddle is your boyfriend?? He’s not Russian at all!”

“Who is this?” Riddle says, frowning at Draco, before turning the frown on Potter. “You haven’t told your friends we’re dating?”

Potter wrinkles his nose. “That’s not my friend, that’s Draco Malfoy.”

Rude.

Understanding dawns in Riddle’s eyes and the frown dissipates.

Doubly rude.

“And everyone knows we’re dating. You sent a Howler to me at breakfast - the whole school heard it." Riddle looks so damn smug about that. "And people keep telling me to stop talking about it because of how ‘disgustingly soppy I am over you’ – their words.”

Riddle gives him a warm look. “Zaichik…”

“Your boyfriend’s name is ‘Vee!’” Draco insists. “How would anyone know that meant Tom freaking Riddle??”

“Because that’s what I call him? That’s what he likes to be called?” Potter says slowly, staring at Draco like he's grown an extra head. “I wasn’t aware all of Hogwarts needed to know his full name.”

He throws his arms up. “Unbelievable. How do you function on a day-to-day basis,” he mutters as he walks over to his mother, whose presence helps settle his vexed nerves. 

His only consolation is that he won’t have to see or hear about Potter for the next few weeks.

—

The first morning back from winter holidays, Potter receives another Howler. 

“Good morning, solnyshko. I’ve just gotten back to St. Petersburg and thought I’d drop you a line to wish you a good start to the term. I’m already counting the days until I see you again. 

“Yours, Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“What?” someone squawks. 

Several different voices shout, “Tom Riddle?!” 

The sound of Potter’s embarrassed groan carries over the din. “Vee…”

Draco sits back and enjoys the chaos. At least one of those two love-struck idiots understands how these things work.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

No Nut November - Duff

A/n: These were meant to be all put into one but then I made Duff's really long, then I made Axl's even longer, now I'm working on Steven's but the other's will also be posted separately, either way I hope you enjoy :3

Also if anyone wants to request more for Duff... ;)

Warnings: Smut, no nut November, fingering (f receiving), I completely forget everything that happened since I wrote it so if I missed anything please let me know :3

Intro

Duff walked out of the studio once they were done for the day. He had completely forgotten about the bet until Axl yelled out to him from across the parking lot. “Don’t let Popcorn win, ya hear?!” Whether he was joking or not Duff couldn’t tell, he didn’t care all too much either.

Honestly, the bet didn’t mean much to him in the first place, he just thought it would be fun to watch everyone else deal with it. He never put too much thought into whether or not he’d win or not, frankly he didn’t care. All he wanted was to get home to his partner.

It was October 31st, his plan was to come home and celebrate Halloween with his love, explain what was happening and see where that went.

He walks through the door and is met with you, his girlfriend, wearing what could potentially be the most revealing costume he’s ever seen in his life.

You did a little spin as you frolicked over to him. “You like it?” You asked with a big grin.

“Like what, the two inches of fabric covering your whole body?” He asked, a smile on his face as he admired you, his hands quickly finding their way to your hips.

“What, you no like?” You asked, looking down at yourself. “I got it for the party tonight.” Duff paused, suddenly this hot costume was no longer fun and games.

“You plan on going out in that?” You looked back up to him. “Babe, that’s a fucking thong and some cat ears.” You smiled and turned around.

“There’s a tail, too.” Indeed there was. Duff pulled on the fluffy black thing dangling out of you. A buttplug. You got a buttplug for a costume.

Duff shook his head and pushed your further into your shared apartment. “No way in hell are you leaving in that.” You laughed and flopped over onto the couch. Duff came right over to lay over top of you. “You are staying here with me for one last perfect night.” His lips crashed against yours, you happily went along with it until what he said finally caught up with you.

You pushed him away from you and nearly fell off the couch. “Last night? What do you mean ‘last night’?” You asked, tone full of worry.

Duff thought about what he said for a moment. “Oh, God, no, that’s not- that’s not at all what I meant.” He blurted, pulling you close to him. He sat you in his lap and you shifted uncomfortably due to the toy stuffed inside you. “It’s just, the guys and I made this bet to see who could last the longest through November without cumming.” He explained, toying with your hair. You let out that breath you were holding in and curled into him.

“Jesus, you fucking scared me, Duffy.” You mumbled. The bassist chuckled softly and kissed your forehead. You kissed his jaw, he kissed your nose, then you both met in the middle and your lips collided, ending in a heated makeout session.

You had your night and that was supposed to be that for the month.

A week passed and Duff was seemed fine. He hadn’t had any wet dreams, no real neediness. He did ask you to cover up a little more, though he swears it was because it was chilly. You didn’t necessarily plan on following through on this whole ordeal with him, still you hadn’t made any attempt at anything with or without him.

The first weekend was fine, you had it off and had your fun lying around all day. Monday killed you. Everyone was being an ass, some kid even got on your nerves when he ran into you with an icecream in his hand, getting it all over your new pants.

That night you came home seething, wanting nothing more than to have Duff fuck you into next week but you couldn’t even ask that.

You got in the apartment and slammed the door shut behind you, more than annoyed with the day. Duff poked his head out of the kitchen and, upon seeing you so distraught, he rushed over to you. He wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. “What happened? Rough day?” He asked as he walked you over to the couch. You groaned loudly. “That bad, huh?” Once he sat down you fell over, lying over the couch and his lap, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” You grumbled. Your eyes shot open and you slowly moved your hands away from your face, peering up at Duff who glared back at you.

“What was that?” He asked, knowing there wouldn’t be a good answer.

“I-I’m just tired, I didn’t-”

“No, no,” he interrupted, “say it again, I didn’t hear you the first time.” Your lips pursed in a small pout as you stayed looking up at him. “What, you had a bad day and decided to be a brat?” You shook your head. “Thought that I couldn’t do anything about it for a whole month, hm?”

“No, I just-” Duff cut you off again, this time with a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to yelp.

“Say. It. Again.” He repeated. You let out a small whimper. Duff shook his head. “Tsk, tsk... Sweetheart, it’s one thing to say something like that but it’s another to put on this act.” His voice was degrading, cold and mean. By God did it have your cunt blushing for him.

Duff knew he couldn’t fuck you, he’d lose the bet for sure. He didn’t plan on winning but he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of losing, either. To get around this he just fingered you.

He had you in his lap, naked. Your legs hooked for his to give him full access to you and he took full advantage of it, his long, thick fingers pushing deep inside of you. He went slow, making sure to drive you crazy by hitting every spot, then he’d speed up and the room would fill with lewd sounds and loud moans as you cried out for him. Right before you came he’d stop and return to an even slower pace.

You stopped warning him when you were close in hopes of cumming but he knew anyway. “Fuck, Duffy, please! Hah- ‘M so-sorry, please!” You whined, bucking your hips against him, searching for any amount of extra friction, just something to get you over the edge.

“You’re sorry, are you?” He was right by your ear, lips caressing the shell of it. “You’ll be good if I let you cum?” You nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes! Yes, yes, I-I promise, I’ll be good!” You were clenching around his experienced fingers in anticipation. Duff planted a few soft kisses along your neck as he continued his abuse on your hole, bringing you even closer to your release.

“Cum for me, baby, cum on daddy’s fingers.” He whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled back, your head fell onto his shoulder and your back arched as you came hard around his fingers.

You two never usually even made it a week without some kind of intimacy, even when he was on the road you’d call. That, paired with how much he teased you had a familiar yet different feeling building in your gut.

Instead of simply waves of pleasure rocking through you a gush of liquid shot out. It took Duff a second to realise what was happening but when he did he was quick to change tactics and pulled his fingers out of you to play with your clit, wanting to see as much of you squirting as he could.

He let you finish and gave you an extra few minutes to come back down from that. “I didn’t know you could do that.” His voice was soft and sweet in your ear, a full 180 from the tone he had earlier.

You shrugged. “One of us had to this month.” You joked, your voice airy and tired.

“You thought I could see that and not cum?” You looked up at him with a brow raised. You twisted in his lap to see the giant stain forming in his shorts. “Your ass kept rubbing against me, I gave up halfway through, that was just the cherry on top.” He explained and pulled you to him, kissing your neck again. “You know,” he started, “now that there isn’t a bet to worry about...” He trailed off.

Your brows raised and a smile came onto your face. You stood up and slowly started walking to the bedroom. When you were only a few steps away you turned back to him. “Last one in bottoms.” You teased. Duff booked it to the bedroom.

[bbrissonn]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which luke realizes he's fallen for his brother's best friend's little sister

warnings: not proofread

disclaimer: english is not my first language so excuse any mistakes. also, this is a work of fictions, this doesn't reflect how these boys act in real life :)

pairing: luke hughes x zegras!reader

wc: 2.06k

previous masterlist next

-LATE NOVEMBER ‘22-

Luke let out a soft grunt as his body hit his mattress, his energy drained from their two games on Friday and Saturday night, which they had both won. So, the seniors had decided a party was to take place on Sunday, from sun up to sun down, something the Hughes boys hated. 

He wasn’t a big partyer, sure he liked going out every once in a while, drink a little here and there, but big scene with a bunch of strangers, drunk strangers wasn’t somethign he enjoyed. He tried to find some positive to the day he just had, but he couldn’t find any. He hadn’t even drank half a beer, having to make sure his friends didn’t do anything that would get them in trouble. 

He was more than ready to call it a day and end to bed, he had successfully put all of his roommates to sleep, meaning there was nothing stopping him from falling asleep. He quickly changed into something more comfortable before hiding under his blanket, checking his phone one last time. Just as he was about to put his phone down, a notification came in. 

He groaned a bit before checking it, hoping it wasn’t one of the freshman asking him to come help them back to their dorms, or anything important really. Instead, he was meet with a text from you, a short and simple one. 

y/n/n

hey lulu, you seemed a bit stressed tonight and i didn’t want to bother you, hope duker wasn’t too much of a hassle to put to bed. just wanted to say you played amazing this weekend :) 

sleep well, you deserve it <3

The youngest Hughes couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face as his fingers moved across his phone screen, his index hovering over the send button, wondering if this was a good idea or not. 

lulu 

hi y/n/n, surprisingly duker was the easiest to put to bed, can’t say the same for eddy though… thank you, and i will especially after today. i know you have an early class tomorrow, but maybe we could get lunch after? on me

The boy didn’t understand why he felt nervous when he sent the text, the two of you get lunch together pretty much every single week, this wouldn’t be any different. So why was he feeling the way he was? 

y/n/n 

i’d love to! only if i get to pick the place though

lulu 

when have i not let you pick the place? 

y/n/n 

never because you’re a smart man :D

lulu 

exactly, night y/n/n

y/n/n 

night lulu, see you tomorrow xx

And there it was again, that weird little feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he had been feeling way too many times in past week whenever he’d talk to you. Luke truly didn’t understand what that feeling was, or why it appeared every time you were around or when you would text or call him, but he loved it. He was addicted to it. 

The same feeling came back the next morning as he saw you walking towards his car, talking with one of your friends that was in your class. A smile creeped it’s way onto his face as you bid your goodbyes to your friend before joining Luke in his car, sending him a wide smile. 

“Hey, Lu.” You said as you buckled up, the boy’s eyes never leaving your figure until your eyes met his. 

“Hi.” He whispered with a smile before snapping back to his normal self, turning the car on and driving off towards your favourite place to eat lunch in the area. It was a small little cafe, one you wouldn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for one of your friends working there. Said friend had brought back a leftover chicken wrap she had as dinner one night, and you grew obsessed with them. 

“You know me so well, Hughes.” You mumbled with a wide grin as he pulled into a parking spot, chuckling a bit at your expression. 

“It’s not like you pretty much force me to eat here every week.” The boy answered, his tone light and teasing making you roll your eyes with a smile. 

“Shut up.” You told him before getting out of the car and making your way into the place, Luke following closely behind you. 

A couple of minutes later, your food arrived, it wasn’t noon yet, meaning there was barely anyone inside, something you loved because it meant your food would arrive quicker. You then started telling Luke about what had happened in your life during the weekend, barely ever letting the boy speak, but he didn’t mind. The sound of your voice was something he loved, the way you would invest into your storytelling leaving him in awn. 

Once again, that feeling in the pit of his stomach came back as your laugh echoed in his ears, your beautiful smile staring at him as all your attention was focused on him, and him only. You were quite the talkative person, always finding a group of people at a party to talk the night away, much like your older brother, and Luke was total opposite, choosing to stay with his teammates at every party. So, whenever your full attention was on him, it made him feel so special. 

He was the only that mattered to you in this moment, your whole mind and spirit were only thinking about him. Just like you had his whole attention, you always did. Whenever the two of you were in the same room, you were all Luke could think about, always letting his eyes drift towards you, finding you easily even in a crowded room. 

“Luke? Luke, are you listening?” He heard your voice ask making him blink a couple of times. Your eyes were looking into his with such worry, he loved it. 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m listening.” He answered, his voice low as he scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat slightly. Thankfully, you didn’t ask anymore questions, instead continuing your story, Luke letting out a quick sigh when you did. He relaxed in his seat, paying full attention to what you were saying, realization settling into him. 

He was in deep shit. 

~

“What’s up with you?” Ethan asked later that night as all the sophomores were sitting in the couches in their living room, Luke quiet than he usually was. The question made the other three boys look over at the youngest one in the room, a slight red colour appearing on Luke’s cheeks. 

“Nothing.” He answered, trying his best to ignore the looks his best friends were giving him. 

“Bullshit.” Dylan called out, pausing the hockey game that was currently playing on their TV, none of them paying attention to it anymore. Luke bit his lips for a moment, debating wether he should tell them about his new found feelings for you, or stay quiet. Knowing his best friends, especially Duker, Trevor would find out in probably less than a week, so option two it was. 

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” He mumbled, Mackie rolling his eyes at his answer. 

“Boo hoo, whore. Tell us.” The boy said, making the other three chuckle slightly, but nodding their heads at the same time. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.” Luke started, his friends laughing between them, only making the youngest one angry. “I am serious! You can’t tell another soul about this, or I will murder all of you.” 

“We won’t, chill.” Mark said, the others nodding along with him. Luke took a large sip of his beer, his roommates all watching him until he spoke again. 

“I think I am in love with Y/N/N.” The boy admitted out loud for the first time, and gosh did it feel weird. He was in love with his brother’s best friend’s little sister. He knew Jack probably wouldn’t have a problem with them dating, but Trevor, yeah that would be another story. 

“You just realized?” The other New Jersey pick laughed, the others boys doing the same. A tint of red grew on Luke’s cheeks again, this one darker and more noticeable than before. 

“I think you’re the last one to realize that, buddy.” 

“You just realized?” 

“It’s like the more obvious thing, Hughesy.” They all teased, not making the boy in question feel any better than he already did. He just put himself in the worst position possible, the memory of Trevor introducing you to him, clearly stating that you were off limits to the boy and to never get any ideas. Of course back then, Luke just shrugged it off, after all he was fourteen, the last thing he was thinking about was a relationship, but now, now it was totally different. 

He wanted you, needed you, to be his. He’d do anything for you, if it meant you could be his forever, something he had never felt before. He’s had a couple of girlfriends and flings in the past, but this was a new feeling, stronger than he’s ever felt before. But he could never tell you about this, never, it would ruin your friendship, Trevor would hate him, then Jack and Trevor’s friendship would be all messed up because of it, and it’d all be because of his. He couldn’t. 

“So, when are you gonna tell her?” Dylan asked from besides him, bring the boy out of his thought. Luke furred his brow slightly before answering the Duke boy. 

“Never. It’d ruin everything.” He explained, scoffs being heard in the living room. 

“Trust me, Lukey, if you were to call her right now and ask her on a date, she’d say yes. The girl’s like head over heels for you, it’s so obvious it hurts.” Mackie said, everyone else agreeing with him. 

“Z would kill me, than Jack’s gonna get pissed at me, too risky.” 

“God, you’re the biggest idiot out there.” Dylan mumbled before pressing play on the remote, the sound of the commentators being the only noise in the room. 

Luke didn’t pay attention to the rest of the game, his whole mind being focused on you. What were you doing at this moment? Were you thinking about him like he was thinking about you? Would you go on a date with him? Did you love him the same way he loved you? Or were you in the arms of another boy? Having a girls night with your friends, him being the last thing on his mind? He needed to know. 

The Hughes boy left the living right before the third period started, his finger hovering over your contact. He shouldn’t. But he did it anyways, the sound of the phone ringing soon echoing in his ear as he bit his nails nervously. Only for him to be met with the sound of your voicemail, crushing his spirit a little. He tried his best not to let it bother him, instead deciding to watch a show, when he received a text only a minute later. 

y/n/n

hi lulu, it’s sibling night, i’ll call you when we’re done facetiming :)) 

A sigh of relief left his mouth, monday nights were always siblings night, how he could he forget that. They started back when Trevor left for the NTDP, at first it would be you, Griffin and Ava all together, and then eventually you were all in different places over the country. You had made it very clear to Luke that no plans could ever be made on Monday nights because of it. 

The boy felt a lot more at ease now, relaxing in his bed as his show played. And the moment he heard his ringtone and your contact popping up on his phone, a wide smile grew on his face. He sat up in his bed, clearing his throat slightly before answering the call. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi, you. What’s up?” You asked, the sound of your voice only making the boy smile even more. 

“I just, uh… Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asked starighforeward, bitting his lips after, scared of your answer. You stayed quiet for a while, making the boy even more nervous than he already was. 

“I’d love to, Lu.”

[sosomonimagines]

House's girl, part two — Gregory House x Daughter!Reader

Summary: House finally starts to genuinely care about someone, but they try to take that person away from him.

Warnings: talk of divorce and custody disputes (triggers for children of divorce like me, I imagine)

Author's notes: English is not my native language and I am from South America, so I don't know if my view of the court is authentic to that of the US. I did some research, but you never know!

Part one:

Three months ago, you began living with your father. Somehow, the two of you managed to establish a routine that brought a certain stability to the new arrangement. You would wake up at six-thirty in the morning on weekdays, and House, who got ready faster, always prepared a strawberry Pop-Tart for you. James would give you a ride to school at seven-thirty in the morning.

When you got home, sometimes at four, sometimes at six in the evening depending on your extracurricular activities, you would devote yourself to washing the dishes, aware that it was a task your father preferred to avoid. Your studies went on until eight at night, and often, your father would arrive around that time. He would bring food from the hospital cafeteria for you, usually a salad with meat and a bit of pasta. Over time, he noticed your love for pasta and liked to bring it for you whenever he could.

When your father arrived at that hour, you would take a break from studying to watch medical shows with him. On the occasions he came home later, which was quite common, he would go straight to bed without resorting to sleep aids. Although he used to rely on some substances to aid his sleep, he initially felt it would be inappropriate with you around, and then simply forgot the need for those medications.

On weekends, you dedicated yourself to studying, but also found time to keep your father company, whether by watching television together or quietly reading at the kitchen table. You both enjoyed watching old movies, like A Clockwork Orange and Psycho, as well as other classic Hitchcock thrillers.

While House followed a highly different and self-destructive routine on Saturdays and Sundays, he valued your presence, distancing himself, even if only temporarily, from the drugs and prostitutes that usually filled his days. He vividly recalled how challenging the first day you arrived at the house had been, but within just three days, the presence of another person had become an unexpected comfort. House couldn’t remember ever truly loving someone before; he had always associated love with pain. Yet, with you, it was strangely different. There was a genuine sense of melancholy and truth in paternal love that he had never experienced before.

He was still the same sarcastic and cynical man as before. The biting comments and natural teasing hadn’t disappeared; they remained, unshaken. Yet, something had changed. He knew that you weren’t just another person in his life — you were you.

•••

Saturday, November 5th:

You rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, noting that despite the changes since moving into your father's house, grocery shopping remained a persistent issue. Your father, who loathed going to the market, made his purchases erratically, buying only a few random items at convenience stores.

“There’s no food”, you said, glancing at your father, who was idly flipping through a newspaper.

“Have you considered learning to photosynthesize? We’d save money,” he replied with sarcasm.

“I’m hungry”

He sighed, put down the newspaper, and looked at you.

“Buy some food”

“Have you thought about going to the market yourself? Buying enough groceries for the month, preparing for a possible hurricane or any other natural disaster? Normal people do that.”

“Normal people, not incredible people like me”

“You should get treatment for that megalomania”, you said, shutting the kitchen cabinets with a bit more force than necessary.

“And you should work on your excessive use of big words to sound smarter” he retorted, pulling his wallet from his pants pocket and handing you a card. “Go shopping if that’s what you want. Call a cab to get to the market and another one to bring the groceries back”

“You’re coming with me”, you said firmly.

“Hey, I’m the parent here, I give the orders”, he retorted.

“Come with me”, you repeated. “You’re the responsible adult and need to fulfill your adult responsibilities.”

“Alright, Miss Bossy” he replied with an ironic smile. “When did you become so commanding? Has someone introduced you to my boss?”

•

When you both arrived home from the market, each carrying paper bags full of groceries, the nightmare began. The mailbox displayed a new letter, something that had probably arrived the day before and gone unnoticed by you until that moment — and, as usual, your father didn’t care enough to retrieve it.

You unloaded the groceries onto the kitchen counter and went back to retrieve the letter. It was addressed to your father and came from the New Jersey Court of Justice.

“Hey, dad,” you said, handing him the letter. “I think someone wants to arrest you.”

“You can’t even commit crimes in peace in this country”, he replied with an ironic tone.

As he opened the letter and read in silence, House's world seemed to collapse. It was one of the rare times he felt completely at a loss for words.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned. “Wait, are they really trying to arrest you!?”

“No,” he answered in a low voice. He wasn’t sure which question he was answering, but the "no" seemed to apply to both “I need to go.”

And just like that, he left, clutching the letter, without explaining where he was going or what was happening.

•

Stacy Warner didn’t expect House to show up that Sunday. Since they had decided to part ways, House’s visits had always carried an unwelcome omen. They usually indicated a relapse on his part, an attempt to possess her merely to feed his ego. And with Mark, her current husband, present, the situation became even more uncomfortable and pointless.

“House, what are you doing here?” Stacy asked as she opened the door. The mention of his name drew Mark’s attention, who quickly joined her.

“You know you’re not welcome here, House,” Mark said, with a tone of disdain.

“Shut up, Mark,” House replied, frustration evident on his face.

“House! You can’t come here and talk to my husband like that,” Stacy exclaimed, exasperated

“I need legal help. I need lawyer Stacy, not my ex-wife Stacy,” House clarified, trying to stay focused.

“Are they finally going to revoke your medical license?” Mark asked sarcastically.

“Please, shut up,” House replied, and this time Stacy didn’t interrupt him.

Stacy invited him in and led him to her private office. The space was elegant and well-maintained, with tall dark wooden shelves filled with legal books. On the walls, diplomas and certificates hung, attesting to her experience and competence.

“What happened? Are they really trying to revoke your medical license?” Stacy asked, her tone serious, reflecting the gravity of the situation.

House didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he handed her the letter. Stacy opened it and began to read. In short, warned that your mother was asking for custody back, in addition to requesting a restraining order against his father.

“Y/N is living with you?” Stacy asked, perplexed. She was House’s second wife, and when they were together, you were still a young child. Stacy knew he had always met his legal obligations, paying child support on time, but she also knew he had little desire to take on parental responsibilities.

“For three months,” House replied.

“But why?”

“Because her mother decided to date a jerk who makes my daughter uncomfortable,” House answered angrily. “It was the police’s decision to send her to my house since I’m the closest relative and she wasn’t safe with the guy. The mother wouldn’t believe her.”

“And now she wants custody back?”

“Exactly.”

“You never wanted to take on the role of father to this girl. What 's changed?”

“What’s changed is that I’ve come to enjoy being her father, okay? Now help me. If she’s dating an abusive jerk, how can she possibly revoke custody?”

“I don’t know, House. Things aren’t so simple in the legal system. She might have broken up with the guy and is asking for a review of her current situation. Since she’s always been the one caring for Y/N, there’s a chance the judge might consider that. Plus…”

“Plus what?”

“She’s asking for a restraining order against you. She wants to present you as a danger to Y/N. She might use your drug history for that, which is a convincing argument.”

“I’m clean. I’m not a danger to my daughter; she’s just doing this to me because she hates me.”

“But you haven’t been clean for long, and you’ve never been actively involved in your daughter’s life. I can’t be entirely optimistic about your chances of winning the case.”

“I need you to help me. She’s the only thing that makes sense in my life, please, help me.”

“I’ll try, House.”

•

“Have you lost your mind?” you asked when your father came home. You were eating Ben & Jerry’s straight from the tub and watching old episodes of The Simpsons.

“What are you watching?” he asked, ignoring your judgment. He knew that leaving the house abruptly might have scared you, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than spending time with you.

“The Simpsons.” You paused and then asked, “Want to change the channel? Oh, wait, not being overly nice right?”

“Right,” he said with a small smile, sitting down beside you.

“Want some ice cream?”

“No,” he replied, and you both continued watching the show in silence.

Occasionally, House glanced at you, feeling a pang in his chest. It was the first time he truly cared about someone, truly loved someone, and they were trying to take that away from him. And it was the first time he felt a real need to fight for someone.

[scuderiasundays]

a promise is a promise

summary: sliding into a stranger's dm's, nostalgia for your first date, and a promise sealed with a kiss + a little insta au at the end 💙

words: 1,071

a/n: my first time writing for mr. leclerc! thank you for the req, @headinthecloudssblog 🫶🏼 tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @formulaforza, @thatsdemko, and @diorleclerc because i trust you all deeply. feedback is much appreciated as always. hugs and kisses!

Charles loved Adele and he sure wasn't shy about it. While the other racing drivers were hyping themselves up with rock, EDM, or rap, the Monegasque’s AirPods (which he often lost) were blaring “Someone Like You.” You, yourself, wondered how the powerful yet melancholy ballad could put him in the right headspace to drive at breathtaking speeds of up to 362 km/h. 

You were nothing short of euphoric when it was announced that she would be extending her exclusive residency in Las Vegas. It would be a dream come true if you could see her live during the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. However, a bitter reality crept in when you discovered the final show was scheduled for November 4, a mere two weeks before the two of you would arrive stateside. Charles would be racing at Interlagos, while you would be stuck at a clinical genetics conference in St Andrews.

“I was going to get us tickets to thank you for your service in the Great War!” You huffed as you watched Charles tie the laces of his Puma running shoes, visibly let down by the news. All of your friends thought the racing driver had used his F1 connections to get you those coveted floor seats, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Your boyfriend had spent 18 hours in a virtual queue on one of his few days off, using multiple of his sim racing monitors to secure tickets to the Eras Tour. Arthur had mocked his older brother about how “whipped” he was, joking that he was relieved someone else’s screen time was as horrific as his own.

With a light kiss on your neck, Charles wrapped his arms around you from behind, his voice filled with affection. "It’s like this, ma chérie. I'm going for a run with Andrea," he whispered. As he headed towards the door, his shoulders slumped and his AirPods in, it became clear today's run would be more of a recovery run, a moment for him to recharge physically but more so emotionally.

Determined to bring Charles closer to his idol, you swiftly grabbed your phone from the kitchen island and opened Adele's Instagram profile. Sliding into someone's DMs had never been your style, let alone that of a Grammy-winning artist, but you figured there was nothing to lose.

"Hi, this is Y/N. I know it's unlikely that you'll ever see this, but I'm taking a leap of faith for my boyfriend Charles, who is undoubtedly your biggest fan. Our first date perfectly encapsulates his essence," you began typing, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. "He took me on the most gorgeous twilight yacht ride, accompanied by a meticulously curated playlist of his favorite songs. Upbeat songs like 'A Sky Full of Stars,' 'Pepas,' and 'Feel So Close' filled the air. But then, out of nowhere, a hauntingly beautiful piano melody began to play."

Pausing for a moment, a reminiscent smile graced your face as the memory came roaring back to life. "'Is this Adele?'" you had asked, a glass of rosé in your hand. Charles looked so at peace compared to the tense expression he sometimes wore during race weekends. He had offered you his blue Ferrari sweatshirt to ward off the evening chill and confirmed that it was indeed Adele. Charles shared that he, unlike most, found comfort in what he deemed “depressive music.”

Since that fateful evening, the British songstress' music had become an integral part of your relationship. It served as the soundtrack to your road trips, where you took turns belting ‘Rolling in the Deep.’ It sparked heated debates about whether Adele’s ‘Daydreamer’ or Sade’s ‘By Your Side’ should be your first dance song. It even led to late nights, downing espresso shots just so you could listen to her latest album the second it dropped.

You reached for your phone once again. "That night ended with Charles’ hand resting on my thigh as he drove me home to 'Make You Feel My Love.’ Your music has been the soundtrack to so many of our most intimate moments, and it would mean the world if you could find some time to perform for him," you typed, pouring your heart into the message. You added, "I know this is a long shot, but I..." before eagerly hitting the "Send" button. With a growing sense of accomplishment, you decided to run to the grocery store to pick up some fresh salmon for dinner.

Unable to keep a secret to save your life, you shared what you’d been up to with Charles. "You DM'd the queen? Je t'aime, ma belle, but I highly doubt she'll reply," he playfully teased, rolling his eyes as he wiped the dish you had just handed him.

"What if she does?" you retorted, a hint of hope in your voice. "You know how I treasure you so much I don’t even trust myself to take you on a hot lap? We’ll do it in Las Vegas if and only if Adele responds." His devilish Leclerc wink accompanied the mischievous remark, leaving you to wonder how this crazy turn of events would unfold.

Weeks passed, and with each passing day, the likelihood of a reply dwindled. Charles was away in Qatar when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. A courier stood before you, holding a grand bouquet of white roses along with a message card. Assuming it was from him, your hands trembled as you read the sign-off on the ivory white card. There it was, unmistakably etched in the most elegant script. Five letters. Adele.

You snatched the card eagerly and read it over countless times, overcome with disbelief. It turned out that Adele's devoted fan base had made her very much aware of Charles' fanboying. She expressed her delight and confirmed that she would be more than happy to sing a few songs for you over dinner so long as she could score some “cool mom points” and bring her son Angelo to the race.

Your hands trembled with sheer excitement as you shared the spectacular news with Charles. He blamed his nonexistent allergies as tears welled up in his eyes, but you saw right through his lies.

"So, you'll be taking me on that hot lap, Leclerc?" you grinned, blissed out seeing him so happy. "Bah oui, une promesse est une promesse," he replied, sealing his vow with a well-earned kiss.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 61,616 others

yourusername: weekends with adele (and charles) 🎰🍸❤️

fan1: “it’s true that, after a bad day, if you listen to that, you cry. you don’t feel any better. but i like it. i like the mood of depressive music.” - chuck leclerc

charles_leclerc: i have the best girlfriend in the world! tu est simplement la meilleure ❤️

adele: she’s one of a kind! thank you for letting me bear witness to your love x

yourusername: you, sir, are the love of my life. thanks for tolerating my impulsivity!

fan2: i need a charles and adele collab and i need it NOW 😤

joris_trouche: he’ll never shut up about this

charles_leclerc: prepare to be sick of me! wait, you and @andferrari007 already are 🫣

scuderiaferrari: c² music challenge but adele songs only?

carlossainz55: why play when i don’t even stand a chance 🤨

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

D23: Frozen: What to expect | Discussion

D23 is just a week away, coming next weekend and we're expected to get a lot of Disney content! But will Frozen be a part of it? I believe so, yes. Frozen has two films coming out, Frozen 3 and 4 and also has a series coming out called Frozen: Winter Festival based on the leaked dolls so it's a must that Disney feeds us new Frozen content!

Please note that I'll just be guessing at what they could announce at the panel. Nothing's confirmed yet. These are my thoughts and opinions based on the evidence we have. What kind of Frozen content could we be expecting exactly? Let me break it down.

Frozen 3 and 4

With the announcement of Frozen 4 earlier this year with Frozen 3 already in the works, it's likely Disney will give us the full release date for Frozen 3 and 4. So far we know Frozen 3 will be released in 2026. Given the previous two films release dates, the third and fourth installment will also most likely be in November. Earlier this year (or was it last year?...) a few release date slots were leaked and one of them was 27 November 2026. Same for Frozen 4, except the date was 24 November 2027, a year after Frozen 3 like i expected given it's a two set film. So we assume Frozen 3 and 4 will have those as its release date but that has not been confirmed as of yet but it should do during the D23 expo.

Series

A few months back, we were all surprised by the leaks of brand new Frozen dolls with will be available on 15th September (A day before my birthday!). The shorts are set to release this fall. What's so special about dolls? Well it's also the information that comes with it. The info can be found in the link above but it states that the dolls, with new outfits, are part of Frozen: Winter Festival. We all thought at the time that this was a short like Frozen Fever, Olaf's Frozen Adventure and Once Upon a Snowman. But later on with another set of dolls, in the same outfit but included Olaf, the Nokk and a carriage. The description of the set reveals Frozen: Winter Festival is a short-form series. Short-form series are series with episodes under 20 - 30 minutes.

This is one of the doll packs in a box:

The box is what I want to draw attention too because it includes the recent new Elsa render/ still and a new logo design for Frozen. The title is the same but what it's in, the diamond shape with a detail pattern on the sides. The box has a blue purplish pink colour on it and the background seems to be of the woods we see in the first film. It can't be the Enchanted forest because it doesn't have a lake, and this is not the dark sea because that's part of the beach. Some of you might be like what's the big deal but for some it might feel a sense of nostalgia because this aesthetic of the box is similar to Frozen's aesthetic. Frozen 2 had the autumn leaf and a lot of things felt different. Change was the element of the movie anyways. But this short could be a mix of Frozen and Olaf's Frozen Adventure which I'm super excited for!

With this series set to make the beginning of Winter we expect a similar vibe to Olaf's Frozen Adventure with the holidays theme. Here are the descriptions for Elsa and Anna's dolls:

What we'll see in the short, based on the dolls and their description:

• The main Frozen gang will host an inaugural (mark the begging of winter) Winter Festival to celebrate Arendelle, family and friends

• Some familiar faces

• Two new looks for Elsa and Anna: A ball gown and a festival attire

• The Nokk will take part in the event

I also just realised Elsa's birthday is on the Winter Solstice, December 21st aka the beginning of Winter! So I would love to see Elsa's birthday addressed in the series! We have Anna's birthday and now we could have Elsa's birthday! And it's a double celebration because we should have Elsa's birthday and definitely the Winter Festival.

At the expo, we should have an update about this short-form series and get a full release date. A trailer and first look with a poster is possible too if it's set to come this fall, which is just around the corner. And also the cast reveal and story synopsis.

The series will be animated like the movies and shorts. Short-form series usually, as far as I know, air in TV but I'm not sure if this will air in TV or go straight onto Disney plus.

Any other new Frozen content?

Other than the movies, Frozen 3 and 4 and the short-form series, Frozen: Winter Festival, nothing else has been leaked or confirmed at this point with regards to the franchise so I can't say what else to expect. The team are good at revealing unexpected surprises with Frozen 3's announcement than Frozen 4's and then we have doll leaks revealing an upcoming short-form series (could be accidentally on purpose) so who knows what else is in store for us. (Though I know not many of you will want to expect or have high hopes which is fair)

The series is probably there to keep us fed until we have the big meal (Frozen 3 and 4) in two years. After the series is over, we'll probably have to wait til Frozen 3 and 4 for another big Frozen content. Announcements like casting could be released in 2025, next year and trailers we'll get in 2026 if it follows the same pattern as the previous two films. But then again you never know. We never expected the series so who knows, Disney could surprise us at any time.

And that's all I believe will be announced Frozen wise as far as we know. Anything else they've got planned will also be announced unless they're saving it for a later event. If you guys are expect anything else to be announced in D23, let me know!

[megumidreams]

Day 22 - Megumi Fushiguro {1:13am}

A/N: If you want to be added to the Fluffvember taglist send me an ask or a DM. The taglist will be open until November 27th, 2023.

Word Count: 0.7k

TW: nothing but fluff and one single kiss 😌

Fluffvember Masterlist

People had begun clearing out before you would have liked. The party had been dying down at a quick pace. You had been so wired from the excitement that you knew that there was absolutely no way that you were falling asleep any time soon. As Nobara grabbed her jacket and made her way toward the front door you realized that there were only two people left. Yuji and Megumi.

Yuji was already throwing on his sweatshirt as you made your way over to both of them. "I hate to have to go, but I've got an early morning tomorrow. Gojo wanted me to go on a mission with him and we're heading out first thing."

You shook your head and smiled. "No no, there's no need to feel bad. You have something planned for tomorrow. Go get some sleep, Yu."

He leaned into you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, a small grin painting his features as he closed the front door behind him. You sauntered over to the couch and fell onto it, turning a bit to face Megumi. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest as soon as you looked at him.

Megumi had always been nervous around you, nothing had been able to change that even though he had tried. He wasn't nervous for any horrible reason, he just knew that you made his heart beat a little faster and made him smile a lot more than anyone else could. He lifted his arm and scratched the back of his head apprehensively. "If you're tired I can leave and let you sleep too. It's not a big deal."

You tilted your head and bit your lip, the same little butterflies that you always got with him coming back to the surface. "You're welcome to stay for longer. I'm probably not going to get much sleep tonight. I slept in far too much this morning and I'm buzzing from everything that happened tonight."

He frowned at you, concern lacing his tone. "Are you sure? I don't want to keep you up if there's a chance that you could actually fall asleep."

The worry that you heard from him made those butterflies flutter even more. He was really concerned. Megumi Fushiguro was worried about you. You could barely believe what you were hearing.

"No need to worry. It's nothing new for me. I do this pretty often." You shrugged in an attempt to relax him but could sense his worry growing even more with the way he now looked at you.

A sigh left him as he moved toward you, your knees touching as he bit the inside of his cheek. "W-Would it help if I stayed? Because I can stay if it'll make you feel more comfortable."

Had he just offered to stay here? Had he been able to tell that the reason you didn't want him to leave was that you hated being home alone? And with your roommate being gone for the weekend you had been barely sleeping. Always watching for something to happen. Your entire being told you to say yes and your body language told him that before the words left your mouth. "I'd be perfectly fine with that Megumi. That would make me feel really safe in all honesty."

Megumi didn't answer you, but he felt that his next move would be answer enough. He leaned toward you, his hands coming up to your face as he cupped your cheeks. His lips captured yours, moving expertly against them like you had done it a thousand times before. You felt your cheeks warming, burning even, as he continued. Neither of you wanted to break it apart, reveling at the moment. Something that the two of you had wanted to do so many times before but had been much too shy to do.

Your lips seemed like they fit together so perfectly. It was like you were two pieces of a puzzle that was completed once they met. As he pulled away you couldn't find any words, and neither could he as he stared at you with love drunk eyes, much matching your own. And it was from that moment on that the two of you weren't afraid anymore. Telling each other exactly how you felt with no fear, showing the other how much you adored and cherished them. Meant exactly for the other.

Taglist: @bakubabes-tatakae

©️2023 megumidreams, please do not repost/modify without my permission, please do not use my work as ASMR without me permission

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for leaving my job in the middle of peak season and giving only an immediate resignation notice?

Apologies for the length on this one.

So, I work at a seasonal entertainment business. We're open for most of the year, but peak season is October when we're working literally everyday from the last weekend in September straight through to the second weekend in November, which is briskly followed by three events a day, essentially every day, until Christmas Eve.

I am, unfortunately and fortunately, a very strong, reliable worker, and this is used against me greatly. Someone call off last minute? They call me in because I live across the street. Something went wrong in a place I'm usually assigned? It's my fault despite the fact I wasn't there when the incident occurred. My guests are taken care of but coworkers can't be bothered to do their jobs? I'm the one they call on to do THEIR job ALONG with my own while they sit back and snap at me like I'm doing something wrong (and I can't say anything about it because they're cliqued up with the boss's daughter so nothing will be done).

It recently came to a boiling point that brought me to pose this question.

The night prior to one of our longer event days, at about 3-4 in the morning, there was an unexpected family emergency that required I rush off to the hospital. I had been staying with my significant other (who also works there) when I got the call, so I asked that he inform our supervisor given that A.) It was very early in the morning and B.) I had no way of contacting the supervisor that would be on shift. He did so, and I didn't think anything else of work as I went to the hospital, given that I received no sort of contact from their end through the day or afterward.

I was at the hospital for 12 hours, and the following two days I had my own surgical appointments to attend, so it was a very exhausting and stressful 3 days.

When I returned to work, a pair of supervisors cornered me in the office and maliciously asked why I hadn't called them. Clearly, they had been informed because they expressly mentioned me going to the hospital. I explained and apologized, but again, it was very early, I was in a hospital for 12 hours, and I had my own surgeries in the following days I was worried about. Their only reply was a very sarcastic "I'm sorry that happened" before they forced me to sign a write-up sheet for my no-show. (Which is the first and ONLY write-up they've issued to any employee in my 3 years of working here)

I realized I can no longer take the stress this job puts me through, but I can't outright leave until I have another job confirmed, which won't be until sometime in peak season. I'm the sole breadwinner in a house of 3 (myself, my disabled mother, and my younger sibling), so a lot rides on my income. I also don't want to give a two weeks notice due to the abuse they've put me though. I don't think they deserve one, and I have direct contacts to higher-ups that aren't the bosses and supervisors if I want a future reference for this job.

So, WIBTA for leaving my job in the middle of peak season and giving only an immediate resignation notice?

What are these acronyms?

[seafoamreadings]

week of november 5th, 2023

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: long distance travel leading to love or some other form of long distance relationship become probable at this time. if that's not you, you probably have at least beautiful relationship developments happening alongside some major philosophical/academic strides.

taurus: this week, especially early on, is magically venusian, and i'm not saying "magically" lightly. it's powerful old love magic. and if you're a practitioner, it's a great time to direct that energy with your own will.

gemini: if the setting has seemed like being stuck in swampy quicksand lately, the increase in air and fire energy help you to pull yourself out of it and get back to flitting around like the mischievous little pixies we all know geminis can be! have a great time. be respectful of the heavier energies that still remain though, nothing too crazy okay?

cancerians: the watery scorpio new moon is very much your wheelhouse and can herald new romance. if you're looking, set intentions around that. if you are not, focus instead on arts, pleasures, and fun. while it technically occurs at the very beginning of next week, you will feel it from the end of this week, and can start planning now!

leo: leos who've been struggling recently suddenly find their voice again, find a muse, find a spark of joy a somber world. fan the flame and nourish it. warmth like that comes and goes, but make the most of it while it's here.

virgo: this week sees venus leave your sign for libra. while it's always a little sad to see her move on from blessing your first house, maybe you can appreciate how well she'll now attract money and good resources to you. live your authentic truth, stick to your values, and reap the rewards.

libra: in spite of the fact that it actually is scorpio season (which by the way is great for you financially) there's a distinctly libran tone to this week due to the presence of both venus and the moon. stay serene, even if you have to fake it a little.

scorpio: your sign and your ruling planet are always about power. this week in particular you are at your best, your strongest. "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" is a dangerous phrase at times and often wrong but at the moment, it's most likely to be true for you. soak up those vibes and do what you need to do! pluto is strongly on your side, and mars supports, along with a lot of good watery vibes in the background.

sagittarius: in such a stolid and steady time, the ingress of mercury into your sign comes as a welcome change of pace. speak only truths. others can't help but to do so as well, even if the tells are nonverbal. be on the lookout if you have any suspicions or questions, mercury here for the next few weeks tells you what you need to know.

capricorn: we're now seeing the last of pluto in your sign for our entire lifetimes and then some. this week's aspects to venus and mercury are pleasant, for such a chthonic archetype. you speak powerfully and magnetically. your aura is enchanting. use it for good and not evil, in order to bring you a better pluto in aquarius period later on.

aquarius: two ingresses occur this week to make you feel a little more awake and alive if you've been feeling stifled, stuck, or slowed down. socializing is extremely auspicious from this week onward, especially with people and ideas that are completely brand new to you. if you've been wanting to immerse yourself in some new social culture, the time is now and especially by the weekend.

pisces: you're always a deep personality but from this week's venus into libra ingress, you will be especially so. small talk is hard to abide, trivialities of life enrage you, you become (even more of?) a ride or die. that's okay, the intimacy and loyalty are beautiful, as long as you are looking out for your physical, emotional, and spiritual safety in the process.