#sorry this is not the usual content of my blog i realize but i keep posting ed fics

[quicktimeeventfull]

ok hi i keep posting random things about the need for harm reduction SO let me also share my #1 eating disorder harm reduction tip. this is also applicable to anyone who struggles with eating a healthy amount, regardless of why.

hydration is really, really important. however: if you are are not eating as much as is typically recommended and/or you are purging (including via lax or exercise) you have to replenish ELECTROLYTES in addition to water. normally your body sort of naturally balances water vs. electrolytes via your food intake, but if your food intake is lower than typical there’s a decent chance you’re not getting enough. you also lose a significant amount via purging. it’s really dangerous to not get enough electrolytes — you can have seizures or heart problems — and it’ll also make you feel like absolute shit.

you can get electrolytes via certain foods (bananas are great) and most sports drinks; you can also buy them to add directly to your water (pedialyte is a well-known brand.) your life is your life — do what you need to do but please also take care of yourself as much as possible.

[bloom-into-blue]

ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕃𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣

summary: you're a single mother who verymuch wants a partner once more, and by a stroke of luck, your daughter leads you to a very special someone...

contents: fem!reader x angell, no mania au, reader had a husband before meeting angell, age gap (reader is in her early thirties, angell in her early twenties), reader is very obviously thirsty, some fluff, finge.ring, cunn.ilingus, transfem!angell

word count: 4.1k

author's note: this got so out of hand. i wanted just 1k, maybe 2k. this is my first fic in this blog and it's just showing how whipped i am for angell. good god. i am currently in my era where i wanna be a milf, so you get that this time, but maybe one day, the reader will fuck milf!garofano. maybe. also this is my first smut ever ever sooo feedback? feedback tonite queen?

things hadn't been going so well after your divorce, to say the least.

you have full custody of your daughter, yes, something you're eternally grateful for. a steady job, a nice place to call home, your beloved daughter, for all intents and purposes your life is as perfect as it gets!

but after 5 long years of marriage with an uncaring husband, one who you weren't sure you were attracted to to begin with, you find yourself feeling remarkably lonely. the touch of another, something that's been so scarce for so long, and simply knowing someone treasures you… your heart desperately longs for that. specifically, you find yourself craving a woman before a man, but as no one comes along, it's a somewhat fruitless thought.

alas, while you're a single mother, you enjoy the parenting side quite dearly.

after an uneventful shift at work and a stop by your daughter's school, you're heading back home with her holding your hand, the usual commute for the two of you for the past year or so once the divorce was finalized, though today you've taken a bit of a detour due to some construction work in your usual route. from the corner of your eye, you spot an ice cream vendor and smile to yourself; your daughter's been behaving rather well, it'd be nice to give her a treat today as a reward. “wait for me right here, alright?” you tell the little girl with a smile, then walk over to buy a popsicle for her.

barely a minute passes between leaving and coming back to your daughter, yet when you turn to face her, she's already walked away from where you left her. alarms blare in your head in less than a second, though as quickly as terror arrives, it leaves the second you spot her a few ways away, from where she calls out for you.

“mama, look! the nice lady has a kitty!”

still on edge, you approach your daughter and the woman who's crouching beside her while holding a cat. “hon, i’ve told you to not approach strangers-” you begin with a frown, though your eyes focus properly on the woman besides your daughter. her black hair with its white highlights, the leather jacket and her tank top, though it's not long enough to cover just a bit of navel that peeks out above her jeans, you can see her toned abs even as she crouches… quickly, you force your eyes to meet her golden ones, lest this stranger realize you're absolutely ogling her in broad daylight.

thankfully she doesn't notice, and if she does, she doesn't say it. instead, this stranger stands up to face you properly, making you realize just how much taller she is than you…

your daughter calling out to you curiously is what truly snaps you out of your stupor, and you nervously chuckle to yourself while handing her the popsicle you bought for her.

“s-sorry, i hope my daughter didn't inconvenience you,” you say to the unnaturally handsome woman.

she shakes her head lightly, then glances down at the cat by her feet. “don't worry, it's no trouble.”

while your daughter is delighted to be eating her ice cream, she still looks at the taller woman with a glint in her eye. “mama, can i keep playing with the lady and her kitty? pretty please?” your child begs between licks of her ice cream, and it's hard to say no to that sweet face and those puppy dog eyes. (part of you is glad she took after your side of the family entirely in the looks department)

“you can play with the kitty hon, but make sure to not bother the lady,” you warn with just a hint of firmness in your voice. with a happy cheer, your daughter goes on to pet the black cat, who doesn't seem to mind if his loud purring is any indication. the stranger before you smiles at the sight, a tiny grin at best, and you feel something in your heart throb at the sight.

…you realize you're acting like a lovesick schoolgirl as a grown woman, but you push the thought as far away as possible.

“seems he likes your kid. he's not this nice to most people,” you hear her say, which brings your attention back to the situation at hand. your gaze follows hers and you see your daughter, her popsicle partially melting in one hand while the other continues to pet the cat like he's the world's greatest treasure, and your quickly-developing crush is pushed briefly to the side, instead letting your heart focus on the adorable sight.

smiling, you nod your head. “she likes cats, though we don't have one right now.”

“hm. this one's clingy when he wants to be. usually he waits around this spot for me to come home from work.”

“oh, is that so?” mentally, you think it might be nice to take this route more often.

and that's how you first meet angell.

the more you get to know her, the more of a mess you realize she is.

the two of you chat for a few minutes at the end of each work day while your daughter plays with angell’s cat, a new addition to your peaceful routine. while you talk about your hobbies and your work sometimes, angell tells you she's a delivery worker for a well known restaurant here… but when you learn about her dietary habits, you don't know whether to pity her or be flabbergasted. it's a wonder she's a healthy and fit woman if she's always eating foods that may very well be expired by at least a month. it's quite the juxtaposition between her workplace and her actual food, which baffles you even more when you realize she's paid really well for a delivery worker.

it gets to the point where you start making lunches for all three of you, though you give angell hers at the end of each day. the first time you gave her that container with something as simple as pasta with some fried chicken on the side, yet the way she looks at you when she sees it… “for me?” she whispers with wide eyes, and you forever commit to memory the way her expression turns tender and fond and her cheeks flush. it's a herculean effort to not kiss her.

something else that's made you weak in the knees for this woman is that, much to your surprise, she starts playing with your daughter by letting her hang from her biceps and even spinning around with the child holding onto her, to your daughter's delight. it's become something that your daughter adores, and when she's laughing brightly and angell thinks you're not looking, you see the way the taller woman smiles softly at your child, only to become pink at the cheeks when she realizes you're watching her. angell is usually a rather stoic woman, so the rare sight of her being so bashful is one you realize you want to see more often.

at one point, you decide to invite her for dinner, something your daughter instantly cheers for. angell looks shocked at first, but she smiles and agrees with ease.

the three of you then walk back to your home, all while your daughter chants happily. “miss angell’s stayin’ with us! miss angell's stayin' with us!”

it's… nice. you didn't expect angell to be good with children when you first met, but this almost feels perfect.

when you arrive to your home, your daughter is quick to head back to her room to change from her school uniform, so with a fond sigh, you set your coat in the nearby rack and turn to angell with a little smile. “would you like to help me cook dinner?”

“i… i would like that,” angell replies in a low voice. this is the first time the two of you are alone together. hearing her voice like this, so smooth and deep… part of you wonders if you'll live past tonight.

angell takes off her leather jacket and puts it beside your coat, which prompts you to stare at the ground intensely in order to avoid gluing your eyes to the newly uncovered skin of her arms and shoulders, and the way her muscles move… focus, focus!

the two of you settle on making red bean soup at your suggestion, and it's a relatively easy affair with two pairs of hands working, even if angell's movements are clumsy and you gently have to guide her.

your daughter comes out of her room a few minutes later, and she's all smiles as she watches you and angell cook, though she quickly distracts herself by watching cartoons in the living room.

once more, you focus on the meal you're trying to prepare and the quiet woman you're trying not to kiss silly.

when you two are done preparing the soup, you move to grab three bowls so you all can eat while angell stirs it a bit to check its consistency. “it smells nice,” she murmurs.

“that's good to know,” you reply with a little smile, so focused on the bowls you're holding that, when you turn around, your front accidentally bumps into angell’s, and you remain close to her due to the kitchen's somewhat reduced space.

from this distance, you can see angell's golden eyes widen a fraction and her cheeks flush slightly, though your focus is more on the way her toned abs and her chest are flush against your own body, which makes your own cheeks redder than a tomato. your noses are almost brushing, and your eyes wander down to her soft lips.

“you're warm,” you hear angell muse quietly, and with a little squeak, you step back and turn away before even allowing yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her. faintly, you can almost hear her chuckling.

dinner is served a moment later, and soon, angell, your daughter and you sit together for a nice dinner, though the little glances you and angell exchange feel too charged to focus on anything but the taller woman.

midway through your dinner though, the sound of rumbling thunder crashes above your house, prompting your daughter to shriek fearfully and you to jump as well, while angell simply frowns. the sky had been clear during the trek to your home, but to think a storm was coming? just a few seconds later there's the sound of rain as well, slowly growing from a light drizzle into a heavy downpour. it's some hell of a background noise, something that puts your daughter on edge and makes you frown at her reaction.

angell, as always, surprises you though. “hey, it's okay. your mom and i will keep you safe from thunder,” she says with a totally straight face.

“r-really?” your daughter asks, clearly doubtful.

“yeah, really.” angell smiles at the girl and adds, “i'm strong enough to keep the two of you safe. that thunder won't come close to you, ever.”

your daughter's eyes widen at angell's confidence, and with that reassurance, she resumes eating her dinner happily. the sight, coupled with the gentle way angell reassured her, makes your heart feel light; you love seeing the two of them bond like this.

dinner happens uneventfully after that, though the rain remains as heavy as before, even when it's your daughter's bedtime. you reluctantly tell angell to wait for you in the living room while you tuck the little girl in for the night, worried about what the two of you should do now.

you refuse to let angell walk back home under the rain though.

“the storm doesn't seem to be letting up,” angell comments when you come back, her expression annoyed at the sight of the rain hitting the windows of your home.

it's then that an idea pops up in your mind, and before you can stop yourself, you open your mouth and say, “you could sleep here for the night.” hastily, you add, “i-if that's fine with you, of course.”

angells seems caught off guard at first, though her expression shifts into the smallest smile as if she were… shy? “i’d like that. better than walking under the rain.”

smiling to yourself in both relief and delight, you take angell's hand and guide her to your bedroom, realizing that her cheeks turn a slight pink when she notices where you're headed. the sight is beyond adorable and makes your smile wider.

in the bedroom, you rummage through your clothes trying to find something that angell can use as sleep wear, eventually finding an oversized sweater and a pair of loose shorts, though the sweater seems to fit angell's form just fine once she comes out of the bathroom wearing your clothes. she smiles when she notices you staring, though you quickly tear your gaze away from her form.

you take your own combination of a long-sleeved shirt and shorts before heading to the bathroom to change as well, then come back out to find angell sitting on your bed, as if waiting for you like an obedient pup.

“should i sleep in the living room sofa?” she asks before standing up to face you.

“oh, no no, we can just share my bed!” you say cheerfully without thinking. a mere millisecond later you realize what you just said, and your cheeks go red at your own suggestion.

angell, bless her, simply smiles. “alright. it is kinda cold tonight,” she remarks.

while you still feel bashful about your faux pas, this response is one that makes your heart skip a beat.

when the two of you get under the covers together, there's a bit of a distance that separates you from angell, though she sighs softly before inching closer and wrapping her arms around you like it's nothing, somehow. your eyes go wide and you feel your cheeks grow warm, and from this distance her golden eyes draw you in, just as they did when you first met.

“is this alright?” she asks almost nonchalantly, but you've grown used to her, you think. the underlying nervousness and shyness in her tone are not some product of misplaced illusion.

“it’s… more than alright.”

“…good.”

she holds you close, the rain still falling as little more than background noise, and the two of you simply… lay together. you allow your eyes to scan her face, even though you're both supposedly going to sleep now, and manage to catch her eyes traveling down to your lips, then flickering back up as if she didn't want to get caught.

so it's mutual, you think as a little smile rises to your face. “how about we stop this little game, why don't we.”

it's adorable how her lips form a little pout, clearly showing her puzzlement at those words, though all confusion flees when she feels your lips against hers, and instead you're rewarded with a quiet, soft grunt before her lips move in tandem with yours. your hands go down to hold her waist as she kisses you, and in return angell's hands rise to tangle her fingers through your hair.

she's inexperienced, you can tell by the way her teeth clash against yours sometimes, but that doesn't change how heavenly angell feels, how gentle she is despite clearly wanting to do even more.

at this point though? you're both equally desperate.

you pull away, just a few inches, and she's already whispering against your lips, “can we do more?”

you want to feel scandalized, almost. she's barely started kissing you and she already wants to do more, and yet… “i… so long as we're quiet,” you reply in a hushed whisper, but that's all it takes for angell to kiss you once more, though there's a hunger to her motions that goes entirely unrestrained now.

“you make my heart all… crazy,��� angell murmurs against your lips, then pulls away to start leaving open mouthed kisses across your jaw, then neck, and soon she's silently asking for permission to lift your shirt by playing with the hem of it. you nod almost too eagerly.

angell takes in the sight of your bare front as she lifts your shirt up, and while you feel self-conscious for a second as you think of your stretch marks and extra weight, she's quick to reassure your insecurities in the way her lips continue their sloppy journey down the expanse of your skin, stopping at the valley of your breasts to nip and kiss at each tit.

“you're beautiful.”

“so… stunning.”

“you taste so good.”

if her mouth weren't working wonders across your body, you'd pull angell up to kiss her silly once more.

your hand tangles itself in her hair as she keeps going, and you bite your lip to avoid gasping loudly, for her mouth has wrapped itself around your nipple and god, she's driving you crazy.

the very tip of her tongue circles your areola, the sensation too much and yet not enough at the same time, before your grip on her hair tightens the second angell starts flicking the bud of your nipple properly, then she presses her tongue flat against the sensitive skin. she's not inexperienced, you realize, simply needy, hungry, eager.

angell lets go of your nipple with a quiet pop, and it's then that you realize she's pulled your shorts and underwear down while you weren't paying attention. “a-angell?” you call, though you want this as much as she does.

she hums curiously in response, and her lips kiss down your navel, until she's right next to the place where you need her most, where she plants a soft kiss to your inner thigh and makes direct eye contact.

“n-nevermind. carry on.”

she chuckles, the little devil. “thanks, babe.”

oh, you're going to lose your mind.

angell then dives right in, delivering almost teasing licks to your lower lips like she suddenly wants to take her time with you, uncomfortably akin to a cat playing with its prey. while she teases you with barely any pressure, you throw your head back, because this is still the first time someone has touched you like this in a long time.

and yet, it's everything you need. she's everything you need.

it takes her a few minutes, but suddenly, angell's already pushing two fingers inside your aching cunt, and this time you actually have to cover your mouth to avoid letting out a loud cry. angell takes it as a sign to be even more bold, and soon she's wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking while her fingers move in and out, then press down and curl right up against that gummy spot that has your toes curling in an instant. you realize she's started to grind her hips against the bed, but by god, you cannot focus on anything that isn't her mouth and fingers.

“god, angell, please-” you whimper quietly, only to muffle another moan when she increases the pace of her fingers, pumping in and out with a squelching noise. you can feel angell smiling as she lets go of your clit, as if she were savoring each reaction she gets out of you.

“don't worry, babe. i’ve got you,” she rasps against your drenched folds, the vibrations absolutely adding to the stimulation that's already making you bite your hand just so you can remain quiet. between that and the way her fingers fill your pussy, she's making you see stars.

your back arches while angell eats you out, but the second you let out another quiet gasp, she pulls away her mouth and fingers as if she could feel you were close to cumming.

angell chuckles at the way you whine, feeling empty now that her fingers don't fill you up anymore. “sorry, i just can't hold back anymore. really feels like i’m going crazy,” she whispers as she rises up from between your thighs.

you curiously raise an eyebrow, but before you can ask about what she means, angell pulls the shorts you lent her down. her dick is hard, tip red and coated in precum, clearly showing just how riled up eating you out has left her.

your eyes widen at her size, though you quickly realize angell almost looks nervous now, and that's enough for your expression to soften instantly.

“c'mere, honey,” you prompt gently, and the second angell leans down with her torso hovering over yours, you pull the sweater she's wearing off of her, leaving her bare for you to see in all her glory.

while she seems genuinely embarrassed at first, all it takes for her to relax is you gently cupping her cheek. just like that, those golden eyes you love so much gaze at you with lust and affection once more.

her chest, soft and pliant, presses against yours while the tip of her cock brushes against your cunt in a way that leaves you both eager for more.

“i'm going in now. last chance to back out,” she whispers against your ear.

“sweetheart, please just hurry,” you beg a moment later. angell holds back a soft laugh at just how eager you sound, and she decides she's done teasing you for tonight, just because she finds you cute.

you let out a soft sigh before gasping against her neck. angell grunts at the same time, slowly and gently pushing her cock inside you and filling you up in a way that feels wonderful. she shivers above you, breathing ragged and warm against your skin, and you wrap your arms around her back.

she lets you adjust, because this woman is as sweet as she's quiet, whispering about how good it feels, how you take her so well, how warm and tight you are around her cock.

soon the feeling isn't enough, and you whisper with utter need, “please… take me, angell.”

“i'd love nothing m-more,” she replies in a breathless murmur.

she pulls her hips away until the tip of her weeping length is the only thing that remains inside, then slams herself right in like it's natural for her, dragging a startled gasp from you due to how intense it is, how intense the pleasure is. you're quick to bury your face into your pillow, biting it to avoid letting out too loud a noise while angell does her best to keep her groans and whimpers quiet.

“god, you feel s-so tight,” she says while thrusting her hips into yours again, her pace slow yet hard. it's like she wants to focus on your pleasure, yet her own hunger drives her into increasing the pace of her hips.

soon she's relentless and almost growling against the skin of your neck, her hands gripping your hips almost possessively while she thrusts her cock in and out of you. all you can think about is her, her hands on your body, her lips on your neck, angell, angell, angell.

at one point, angell grips the back of your knees and pushes them back against your chest, all while thrusting relentlessly against your body, and the pleasure is already coiling in ways you hadn't even felt before in your life.

“i'm close, ‘m close,” you gasp while trying to stay silent, yet angell makes it so damn hard as she grunts against you.

“go ahead. let go, please, cum ‘round my, please,” she begs, and it's obvious that this song and dance of yours was going to end like this from the start.

with a strangled gasp, your mouth falls open and you cum around angell like she so eagerly pleaded for, leaving a white, frothy ring around the base of her length in just a few thrusts. the sight makes angell let out a sound between a grunt and a whine, and she bites down onto your shoulder before pulling out and stroking herself to completion, cumming all over your tummy while quietly gasping against your skin. the bite only adds to your pleasure, even with the slight pain that follows.

once she's done milking her own cock, angell flops down on top of you and lets go of your shoulder, her breath coming out in tired pants that match your own uneven breathing.

you let her lay there gladly, going as far as to stroke her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead. angell hums at the sensation, then pays you right back with a kiss right on the center of her bite mark.

“be my girlfriend?” she asks, sounding satisfied yet drowsy.

with a tired little giggle, you continue to run your fingers against her scalp. nuzzled against you like this, she once again reminds you of a cat.

“you did it a bit out of order, love.”

[everyonewooeverywhere]

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!hongjoong x f!reader

synopsis ✭ studio sex‼️

content/genre ✭ smut (18+ MDNI)

word count ✭ 2.1k

warnings ✭ cockwarming, unprotected sex, a bit of dirty talk (kinda), pet names (baby.

note ✭ this is just a much longer version of this ask from @gxredxll

He knew exactly what you were after when you’d walk into his studio at nearly midnight. You were dressed casually, but the shorts you were wearing showed off the thighs he loved so so much. (The thighs he couldn’t help but imagine his face buried between).

You came in quietly, trying to seem as if you didn’t want to distract him from his work. And he wasn’t completely distracted, at least at first. He’d stayed focused on the screen in front of him while you set your bag down and reapplied your lip gloss with the camera on your phone.

But when you came up behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders showing off your red glossy nails he so generously paid for because he wanted you to treat yourself, he caught a whiff of your perfume. It was his favorite, and you knew that very well. 

He let out a heavy sigh when your thumbs started to massage his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until he felt your fingers working and giving him relief in his neck and upper back. You smiled softly when he leaned into your touch.

“Joongie you’re so tense,” you whispered, “You should take a break.”

He sighed again and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles, “I can’t, baby. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Not really,” he ran a hand over his face in minor distress, “I’m sorry, love.”

You hummed and continued to massage his shoulders, this time making more of an effort to press into the back of the chair so that his head rested just below your chest. He was trying his hardest to keep working, but he could feel his brain start to turn off when you started kissing his neck below his ear. 

“Please let me help you,” your lips brushed over his ear, and he shivered. You stepped around his chair to stand in front of his chair, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He looked up from his computer and you could immediately see the strain in his eyes. He was clearly worn out and stressed. 

He ran his hand up your bare thigh, “Baby…” You could see his resolve start to dissipate as he looked into your eyes. But he stood his ground. “I really can’t.” He let out a heavy breath of exhaustion, “This really needs to get done.”

You watched as his eyelids fluttered when you brought a hand up to his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “At least let me stay with you.”

He hesitated for only a moment but was overwhelmed by the urge to pull you into his lap. “You can stay here for a little bit, ok?” 

You smiled softly and kissed his neck, “Mhm.” 

He couldn’t help but let his hands wander as he worked. Running his fingers through your hair, playing with the waistband of your shorts, kissing your shoulder or neck. He was soft and much more on the subtle side.

You on the other hand could not hide the fact that you were incredibly pent up from several days without his touch. It was beginning to become too much to bear. 

When you inevitably began rolling your hips, you noticed his movements stop. You smirked against his neck when you felt his hard on press into you through both of your shorts.

You knew the moment you walked into his studio that he would give in to you. It took a bit more convincing than usual, but he was practically putty in your hands. From your soft thighs that held him to his chair to the intoxicating perfume you wore. He just couldn’t resist you.

And you knew you’d broken him when he asked you for a favor. “Baby?”

“Yes?” you pulled away from his neck and looked deep in his eyes. Your lips puckered in a faux pout.

He grabbed one of your hands and brought it to his waistband, “Can you warm me up?” You bit your lip at the suggestion, but he pulled it out from between your teeth, running his thumb over the freshly glossed skin. “No moving though, okay?”

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat when you reached further into his sweatpants feeling just how hard he really was. It always flattered you endlessly that you could make him feel this way even when you didn’t dress up for him. He got so fucked up over just you. Not the clothes you wore or the words you said. Just your presence made him insane. Especially when he’d been cooped up in the studio for days.

Pulling his cock out of his pants made him shiver, and your soft touch had him groaning softly. When you pumped it a couple times, spreading his precum down the shaft, he grabbed you wrist, “Come on, baby. Just put it in.” 

His impatience made you giggle. Mostly because you knew how sensitive he was and much more of you being handsy would send him over the edge. You obeyed him, though. Sliding your shorts and panties to the side and rubbing his tip through your folds. 

You moaned softly against his neck, slowly pushing his cock into you and sitting down on it. He let out a low grumble deep in his throat when he bottomed out inside of you.

Your head fell forward onto his shoulder, trying to get closer to him. He wrapped an arm around your middle back and pulled you in closer to him, “Good girl.” He praised, running a hand through your hair.

The whine that came from his praise was involuntary, but he knew it would have you reacting that way. He loved that his baby had a little praise kink, and he was more than happy to indulge in that fantasy. Especially if it had you whimpering and moaning his name.

If you we’re honest, though, cockwarming drove you crazy in kind of the wrong way. You fucking loved the little praises he would give you when you’d stay still for him, and let him finish his work. And you wanted so so bad for him to be proud of you, but fuck you wanted to move. You wanted to rut your hips into his pelvis. You wanted his cock you press into your g-spot over and over and over again, You wanted him to hold your ass and massage it as you rode him. Letting him control your pace to he could tell you when to come,

But you couldn’t do any of that now, not when it seemed like he was more focused on his computer than the warm pussy wrapped around his cock. (He was not. In fact, the moment you’d sat on his lap, his will to do anything other than fucking you until you could breathe was lost.)

Maybe it was involuntary or maybe it was a conscious choice out of pure need, but your resolve had broken down enough that you started lift your hips just a little bit so that you could lower them back down, giving yourself just the smallest bit of friction.

“Come on, baby. I thought you were gonna be good,” He spoke lowly, the vibrations from his throat rumbling in you ear, “What happened to my good girl?”

“Please,” your breath caught when he pushed your hips back down, bottoming out once again, “I wanna be good.”

He cooed mockingly at you, running his fingers through your hair, “I know, baby. I know you’re needy, but I have work to do.” He pulled your head back and looked into your eyes, “And good girls are patient, right?”

You nodded, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. I understand. You just need someone to take care of you, don’t you?”

He leaned forward to your neck, placing soft kisses along the skin. “You have been good, haven’t you though.” He hums at how easy you are to mold, how easy it is for you to give up control to him, “You’ve been alone for days.” His fingers brush your exposed thighs, “Without anyone to touch you.” When he slips his hand under your shirt, he watches how your eyelids flutter. He leans in and kisses you, his lips melding with your own, giving him the opportunity to bite your bottom lip.

You don’t know how much time passes as he makes out with you. Your mind is too lost in the feeling of his lips on your own, his tongue so skillfully playing with your own, his hands under you shirt touching every inch of your chest. When he finally pulls back he looks straight into your already glossy eyes. 

“Do you want me to take care of you, baby?” He wipes some saliva (a mix of his and your own) off your chin. “You’ll let me make it up to you?”

“Fu–uck, baby. You’re so tight,” his words combine with him pounding into from behind make you whimper into his hoodie that he’d so graciously take off so you could bury your face in it while he buried his cock as deep as it could go in your pussy.

Even with his hands guiding your hips, you still pushed your ass to meet him with every thrust. He held your hips gently in his hands so you’d still have control over the pace.

He removed his hands from you, watching as you fucked yourself stupid on his cock. He bit his lip to hold back a groan.

You whined at his lack of contact. He met your eyes as you looked back at him with your face still buried in his hoodie.

“What’s wrong?” he mimicked your pout, “You moved your hips so easily earlier. Even when I told you not to.” He nodded at you to keep going.

Truth be told, he fuckign loved to watch you take control of your pleasure like this. Not because it relinquished any of his control (quite the opposite really), but because it meant he could fully experience how desperate how truly were. And it gave him confidence that it was only his dick that could fully satisfy your graving. 

He ran a hand through his hair and watched intently as you moved your hips back in forth, shuddering each time his cock filled you up. 

And he loved to encourage you, too.

Good girl.

You’re doing so good for me.

Oh you’re so pretty, baby.

Keep going. Fuck yourself dumb.

He noticed your pace change slightly, becoming more erratic, and you kept tightening around him. He grabbed your hips and leaned over your back, he whispered to you with his breath hot on your neck, “You’re close aren’t you?” 

You nodded frantically, “Mhmm. ‘M really–fuck–so close Joongie.”

“Ok, baby,” he grunted, feeling his own orgasm coming, “Hold on for me, alright?”

He kept thrusting into you, his pace faster than anything you could ever do on your own. You could barely think, and no words came out of your mouth. Just incoherent babblings. 

“Shit, come on, baby. Come for me,” he groaned in your ear, “Come for me.”

When your pussy clenched around him, he lost it. You came at the same time, your legs shaking viciously as he came inside you. You tried to pull yourself forward, off his dick, but he grabbed you hips, “Can you keep it inside you?” You looked back over your shoulder at him, “Here. Hold on.”

He readjusted the two of you so that he was on his back with you on top of him with his softening cock still very much inside you. 

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow. His hands played with your hair, watching your face intently as you came down from you high. 

You looked up at him, still in a bit of a daze, “Do you wanna get dinner?”

He smiled down at you, “Sure, but let’s stay like this for a bit.

“Mkay,” you nodded against his chest. Letting him massage your shoulders and play with your hair, just as you had done for him.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 12: Please Call Me Only If You Are Coming Home]

A/N: Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥳 Be sure to vote in our final poll, which will be pinned at the top of my blog per usual 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Homecoming” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What the hell do you need that for?” Cregan says to Helaena in the next aisle over, sounding alarmed. You are raiding a Kwik Stop just outside Colusa, California, following Route 20 west towards the Pacific Ocean. But when Helaena replies, her voice is perfectly soothing, lyrical, too serene for the way the world is now.

“It’s not for me. It’s just in case anyone ever finds themselves in need of one.” And this makes sense, even though you can’t see what it is she’s taken off the disorderly, ransacked shelves; Helaena is always picking up trinkets to keep stowed away in her burlap messenger bag until their utility becomes essential.

Cregan is relieved. “Oh, okay, gotcha. Whew, you almost gave me a heart attack there, Miss LaeLae…”

Ice is stretched out and dozing on the cool tile floor. Luke and Rhaena are keeping watch by the front of the store. Aegon is standing by the decommissioned Icee machine and showing Daeron which route he’s marked on his map and why.

“Why do I need to know this?” Daeron is asking.

Aegon snorts. “In case I get killed, dumbass…”

Fluttering pieces of paper hang taped to the glass doors of the empty refrigerators: Don’t go towards Sacramento; People in Santa Rosa killed my brother for his car; Andrew Lounsbury, if you see this we are headed to Aunt Sarah’s house, meet us there! Meanwhile, in your own aisle, Aemond is watching you as your fingers flit through packages of Starbursts and Jolly Ranchers and Life Savers Gummies, separating the trash from the ones that haven’t been opened yet. His expression is wary, uncertain. “What?” you ask him.

“Are you…okay?” Aemond says, low enough that no one else will hear.

Of course you aren’t; you keep walking into rooms and looking for Rio, and he’s not there. But you know what Aemond means. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you? Are you…” He steps closer, the blue of his eye gleaming with attentive, penitent concern, sins he is certain he must have committed. “Are you sore, are you bleeding at all?”

You smile, just the ghost of a curve at the edge of your lips. “No, really, I feel fine.” And in your body, this is true. There is a tension that has vanished from your muscles, a softness in your bones, not shards of glass shifting beneath skin but living things like the branches of trees, flexible, green, damp life awash within.

“I was trying to…you know…take it slow and be super gentle, but then…by the end…”

“Aemond, you did everything right.”

And he exhales all the iron-heavy dread he’s been carrying around since he woke up this morning to find you already gone—showing Aegon how to flip Bisquick pancakes as Cregan browned them in a skillet in the woodstove downstairs—and you realize how much you’ve scared him. “I’m really sorry about…” He touches his chin restlessly. “I should have asked you if you wanted me to pull out, I just got, uh…kind of…distracted.”

Your smile grows; now you can feel it in your eyes, warm and luminous. “It’s alright. I did too.”

He is hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have told you to stop. And anyway, I think we’re safe.” But of course you’ve lost track of the days, and in your dark trance of grief and Tramadol you were entirely unaware of the rhythms of your body, pangs of desire or clear ample wetness, biological cues, primal timekeeping.

“Cool,” Aemond says, now trying to sound casual. “And next time…are you thinking that I should try to…maybe…just to be sure…?”

You shrug, then tell him the first thing that comes into your mind, that flashes in your skull like lightning bugs at dusk. “I’m thinking that life is too short and too rare to put effort into preventing it.”

Aemond’s eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t seem disappointed. “So we’ll see what happens.”

“If you’re onboard.”

“I’m totally onboard. I just want to take care of you. I…” He glances down at his palms—open, clean—and then looks back up at you. “I’ve never had anything that felt right before. Not my family, not myself, nothing. But this feels right. And it’s where I want to be forever.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” And this is what everyone thought: Jace, Baela, Rio. But you make the oath anyway, a hollow promise that echoes like a windchime.

“Me either,” Aemond vows.

You turn to leave the aisle and your backpack hits the shelf, knocking something off the top and onto the tile floor, where it lands with a thump. You gasp, and people come running; but it’s only a box of Honey Buns that was stashed somewhere too high for you to see. “It’s nothing,” you assure them. “We’re all okay, no need to get excited.”

“Death by Little Debbie,” Aegon says, chuckling nervously, his heart still racing.

You pick up the box and think of Rio with abrupt, violent clarity: he’s playing with French-speaking kids on the beach outside Djibouti City, he’s drinking cans of Guinness with you under a full moon on Diego Garcia, he’s reaching out from the pier to pet finless porpoises in Chinhae, he’s bleeding to death on a floor in Winnemucca, Nevada. Your vision is blurring with tears; your throat is knotted and scalding.

“I want him back,” Aegon says softly.

“I know. I do too.” You open the box of Honey Buns and pass one to Aegon first, then distribute the rest. There are only six total. Helaena tries to give hers to Cregan, but he rips it in half so they can share; Aemond insists you take the last one. You eat it wordlessly, sugar melting into your bloodstream.

“I think I saw a minivan down the side street,” Luke says as he chews his Honey Bun, waving his binoculars with his free hand. “It’s probably out of gas like all the others, but…”

“We’ll check it out,” Aemond replies, and everyone follows him as he departs from the Kwik Stop.

It’s a green Kia Carnival with a zombie trapped inside: once a young man in a Nirvana t-shirt, now a ghoul that paws at the glass with its oozing hands and licks the windows, long animal drags of a decomposing tongue. But the fuel cap is still closed, and while the van is turned off you can see the keys dangling from the ignition.

“Think there’s any gas left in the tank?” Daeron says brightly. The Targaryen beach house, following the indirect route you must take to avoid the cities, is about 250 miles from where you are now in Colusa. That’s two weeks on foot, or as few as five hours by car.

Rhaena goes for the driver’s side door. “Let’s find out.” She yanks on the handle to discover it’s locked. Cregan uses his axe to shatter the window, and the zombie tumbles gracelessly out onto the pavement, rancid skin and necrotic muscle ripping from its bones. As it crawls towards the siren call of fresh meat, Ice barks viciously and Cregan swings his axe. The blade slices easily through the monster’s skull, and its flailing, murderous limbs go still.

Rhaena reaches through the broken window to unlock the doors, climbs into the driver’s seat, and turns the key in the ignition. There is a blessed sound: the thunder of a living engine. “Half a tank!” Rhaena cheers.

Aegon gags as he opens the passenger’s side door. “Oh, it reeks so bad…”

“We’ll roll down all the windows,” Aemond says curtly.

“There are organs on the floor! What the fuck is that, a liver?!”

Aemond gives it a cursory glance. “Looks like a spleen.”

“I don’t want to sit near a spleen! I don’t even know what a spleen does!”

“Then throw it outside somewhere!” Aemond snaps. “You’re thirty years old, you can’t clean a minivan?!”

Aegon grumbles as he uses sheets of Burger King coupons from the glovebox to toss zombie guts into the grass. Aemond wipes down the hard surfaces with antiseptic. Luke keeps watch and Daeron shoots down several zombies as they lurch out of nearby houses and towards the Kia Carnival. You ask Helaena for the box of 9mm bullets in her messenger bag and she gives it to you. You load your Beretta M9, stow the remaining bullets in your backpack, and take aim at the approaching zombies to make sure you still know how to get into the rhythm, that you can still be a killer when the circumstances require it. You are out of practice, but you’re beginning to feel more like yourself again. Aemond brought you back. They all did.

When the minivan is as clean as possible, everyone hurries inside and Rhaena drives west on Route 20 under the afternoon sun. At the intersection with Route 53, Aegon directs Rhaena to follow it south around Clear Lake, then to take Route 29 west through rolling hills that were once filled with vineyards, wineries, music, weddings, horse farms. Now the land is hushed, and wild, and dotted with silhouettes that sway drunkenly and swipe at vultures when they try to gobble tattered strips of putrid flesh that unravel from bones like the bandages of a mummy.

The Kia Carnival rides Route 175 west and then Route 101 south, where the earth turns dry and rocky and barren, reminding you of northern Nevada and piling stones of heartache in your belly. In a place called Pieta—an old 1800s railroad depot, according to a plaque mounted just off the road—Rhaena slows down to get a better look at something that doesn’t make any sense. There is a souvenir shop of rocks and gems, now long out of business, and in a shed beside the main building hangs a gruesome specimen that you can see through the open doors. It has two arms and two legs, but it’s not a zombie. Its flayed flesh is a vibrant, healthy red; parts of the thighs and chest have been carefully carved away like cuts of meat are sliced from beef cattle. It is suspended on meat hooks. It is being butchered.

Cregan notes uneasily: “That ain’t an opossum or a bison.”

“I think it’s human,” Aemond says, horrified.

“Guess we’re not stopping for the night anytime soon,” Rhaena quips, then floors the gas pedal.

One of Aegon’s mixtapes spins in the CD player. From the speakers flows Somebody To You by The Vamps.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you see anyone now?” Aemond asks.

Luke speaks without looking away from his binoculars. “And for the fourth time, my answer remains no.”

After a night’s rest in a cabin at Camp Liahona Redwoods in Sonoma County, you followed California State Route 1 down the coast of the Pacific Ocean until the Kia Carnival finally ran out of gas just south of Olema, a small town founded in the 1850s. A ten-mile hike has brought you to the cliff where the fabled Targaryen beach house is perched with a few hours left before sunset. The ailing daylight is golden, the wave crests glittering, gulls cawing as they swoop through the salt-lashed air. From the road that twists like a snake through the slopes of Bolinas—thick with redwoods, Douglas firs, oaks, cypresses, tall grass that whips in the wind and tufts of eucalyptus���Luke is searching the property. It is less a house than a mansion, a museum, a monument, a work of art: sharp rectangular lines and glass walls, balconies, fountains, a pool, a garden.

Cregan whistles. “A place like that has to cost a million dollars.”

“Try fifteen million,” Aemond says distractedly, and Cregan gawks at him.

“Well, from what I can see it looks safe,” Luke declares, lowering his binoculars. “No zombies.”

“You really think they’re in there?” Daeron asks eagerly. “Mom and Criston?”

“Yeah, kid,” Aegon says, squeezing Daeron’s shoulder; but his voice is morose, like he knows he has surrendered to something, a path of least resistance, a hostile planet’s gravity. “Of course they are. Let’s go say hi.”

At the end of the driveway, the five-car garage is open. There is an Alfa Romeo, a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Ducati motorcycle, and a white Chevy Tahoe, which Aemond says belongs to Criston. And there are other items of interest mounted on the walls.

“Yes!” Daeron says as he runs to a quiver full of arrows for his compound bow. Aegon lifts a golf club out of its bag and makes an imaginary putt, getting reacquainted with the feeling of his hands on the grip.

“This is an iron,” Aegon says when he catches you watching him. In the shade of the garage, he pushes his neon green plastic sunglasses up into his windswept hair. “It’s metal all the way through and gives you good control over the shot. Drivers are for long-distance, and wedges and putters don’t have enough power. But an iron is just right.”

“Are you going to teach me how to golf?”

Aegon grins, his first real smile all day. “You think you can handle it, SunChips?”

“I don’t,” you answer honestly, and he laughs.

“If you teach me how to shoot, I’ll teach you how to golf.”

“An unfair trade! My skill is useful.”

Aemond knocks on the door that connects the garage to the main house. “Mom? Criston?” There is no response; all of you wait for one, listening intently through the crashes of waves and reverberating gull shrieks. Ice begins to pace agitatedly and nudges Cregan’s hands. He looks at Aemond, half-fear and half-sympathy.

“No,” Aemond says. “No, she’s wrong.”

“She might be,” Cregan replies, steady and ever-agreeable. Helaena is wringing her small, gentle hands. Everyone is watching Aemond to see what they should do next.

He pounds on the door again, this time with a closed fist. “Mom, we’re home! Mom? Criston? It’s me! It’s Aemond!”

Still, there is no answer. Aemond tries the doorknob, and it turns unimpeded. It is unlocked. He opens the door, peeks inside, and then crosses through the threshold. The rest of you trail him like he has eight shadows, the last in the shape of a wolf.

You step into the living room: wide open windows, the ocean breeze breathing through the house. The air tastes like sand and saltwater, sun and blue skies. There are three-story glass walls that overlook the water, a staircase leading up to the next floor, pristine white couches, black end tables topped with vases full of dead flowers, grey marble floors, bejeweled golden crosses that glint cruelly in the bloody late-afternoon light, family photographs on the mantle of the fireplace. There are many pictures of Aemond, and some of Helaena and Daeron as well. You don’t see a single photo of Aegon. He notices you scanning the snapshots in the frames and looks away, ashamed.

“Mom?” Aemond calls, his voice ricocheting through the vast, open space, clinical like a hospital or a morgue. “Criston?”

“Grandpa?” Helaena says meekly. Cregan is clutching his axe and peering around vigilantly. Ice whines and paces, her strange yellow eyes glowing like flecks of gold in a stream. Rhaena tries to soothe her with ear scratches; Ice begins to howl, low long mournful sounds.

You catch Aegon’s attention when he glances at you again. “This isn’t right,” you whisper. “If they were here, they would have heard us by now.”

Aegon turns to his brother. “Hey, Aemond…”

And then there are footsteps from upstairs, slow and shambling. Everyone looks, and it appears at the top of the steps like a mirage or a night terror, like a wrathful god glaring down from Mount Olympus. Long, filthy strands of white hair hang from what is left of its scalp. Its gore-stained teeth are bared. Its eyes are cloudy like the poisoned atmosphere of another planet, one gasp enough to singe your lungs and infect your bloodstream. The snarls pour out ragged and rasping from its disintegrating vocal chords. The man was wearing a suit when he died, and the pale blue shirt is now splattered with crimson and bits of rotting flesh. The black leather shoes on its feet clop as the zombie descends the staircase with staggering, unnatural steps, its decaying arms grasping for the mortals who wait below.

Daeron says numbly: “Dad?”

Aemond’s eye is wide and dazed. Ice is growling. Helaena is screaming and fleeing towards the wall; Cregan embraces her and she clings to him. “Aemond? Buddy?” Cregan shouts. “How do you want to handle this?” And what he means is: Do you want to kill it, or should someone else? Do you need time to process what’s happened? How can we help you?

“Aemond?” you say. You touch his arm; he doesn’t react. Rhaena draws her Ruger but doesn’t shoot yet. She is looking to Aemond for permission. Luke is standing in front of Rhaena and forcing her backwards as the zombie nears the bottom of the staircase. Now you can smell it: dark wet rot, spoiled meat, blood and oily fat and organs putrefying in a threadbare patchwork of flesh.

“Dad!” Daeron wails, and he’s covering his face with his hands because he knows what this must mean for the rest of his family too.

“Aemond?!” Rhaena yells. “Aemond, what do you want us to do?!”

You reach for your M9 as the zombie’s leather shoes settle on the marble floor. This seems to shake Aemond from his paralysis.

“No,” he says. “I’ll do it.” He grabs his Glock and aims, but his finger hesitates on the trigger. And you can see the ghosts of the people who have died by his hands lurking in the crystalline blue of his remaining eye: Alys, Jace, Baela and her baby…and now Viserys Targaryen too.

In the lull, in the indecision, Aegon roars and swings his golf club. The metal head collides with the zombie’s skull. Weak corroded bone collapses; blood and brains the color of black mold leak out onto the polished marble.

“It wasn’t enough, huh?!” Aegon screams, then hits the zombie again. The corpse crumples to the floor, but Aegon isn’t done yet. “You couldn’t just fuck everything up when you were alive, you had to keep torturing us from beyond the grave, you sick bastard, you selfish prick, what is wrong with you?!” He whacks the carcass with his golf club again and again. “I hate you! I hate you! You deserved so much worse than this! We crossed an entire goddamn country, and Jace died, and Baela died, and Rio died, all so we could get back here, and now it’s all for nothing because you’ve destroyed everyone you’ve ever touched! I fucking hate you!”

Aegon strikes the zombie one last time—the skull is a pulverized soup of gore and bone fragments—and before anyone can reach for him, he has bolted up the steps to search the rest of the house. You find them in their final resting places: bones in the hallway interspersed with gold rings and a medallion of Saint Irene of Thessaloniki, bones in the shower pierced with stainless steel surgical screws from hip and knee replacements, bones in the master bedroom entangled with shreds of a bloodstained silk nightgown and long locks of auburn hair. Daeron is sobbing, and Cregan takes Helaena outside to the garden to calm down, and Aemond wanders through the rooms in shock. You don’t know what to say to him; you remember how nothing anyone said made a difference when Rio died. But Aegon is furious. He tears away from everyone and goes to his bedroom: racks full of CDs, neon green blankets, an acoustic guitar propped in one corner. Then he ravages his hiding places—inside drawers, under his mattress, on tiny shelves he carved into the walls behind golf and Green Day posters—and collects mint tins. Then he pours out the white powder inside onto his desk and arranges it into lines like contrails behind airplanes, like wagon trails across the earth.

You try to stop him. “Aegon, wait, please don’t—”

“Get the fuck out,” he hisses, and for the first time you see the cold reptilian sheen of something like hate in his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me. I can be alone. I’m used to it.”

“Aegon, I’m not—”

“They’re gone. You can leave too.” Then he slams the door and locks it.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Aegon is upstairs getting high and Helaena is downstairs inventorying supplies in the massive walk-in pantry, the rest of you use shovels from the garage to bury what is left of the bodies in the backyard, unceremonious shallow graves, the soil too rocky for anything more elaborate. Rhaena uses her jagged sliver of slate to mark stones with their names and a few kind words about each of them; but Viserys’ stone is left blank. Then Rhaena returns inside to help Helaena prepare for dinner, while Daeron inspects the perimeter of the house with Cregan and Ice. Luke uses a telescope near the pool not to gaze up at the rising stars but to study the neighboring properties.

Aemond murmurs as he stands in front of the four graves: “I should have gotten here sooner. Maybe I could have saved them.”

“You still have a family,” you say, begging him to believe that there are things worth living for. “You have Aegon and Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan. And you have me.”

Aemond stares out over the Pacific Ocean. The sky above is red and lavender, fire and dreams. “How do we get to Diego Garcia?” He is only half-joking.

“Well you just find a boat and row about 10,000 miles that way.”

He sighs and drags his trembling fingers through his hair. It has always been his job to know what happens next, and now he doesn’t. Gulls squawk and wheel in the air. His right cheek glistens with tears.

“I never saw the ocean until I joined the Navy,” you say, and Aemond looks over at you, curious but not wanting to react in the wrong way and scare you into going quiet again. He’s always mining for details of your past, and you’re endlessly evading him. But perhaps you have been too secretive. He wants to know these things because he wants to know you, and you have no idea how long you’ll be here to shed your mysteries. If a story dies with you, it dies forever.

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mother…Mama, I always called her Mama…she went to Virginia Beach a few times while I was growing up, and that was her favorite place in the world. But she never took me with her. She’d go with my aunt or my oldest brothers. So when I got to basic training on the shore of Lake Michigan, that was the closest thing to an ocean I’d ever seen, and it absolutely amazed me.”

“Lake Michigan,” Aemond repeats, trying not to sound like he’s mocking you.

You smile. “And then of course I ended up in some more impressive places. But compared to Soft Shell, Lake Michigan was a whole different planet.”

“Soft Shell?”

“Like softshell turtles. They’re one of those animals that are so ugly they’re almost cute. We have a lot of them in Kentucky. Well, we used to. Maybe people ate them all when the food ran out.”

“Soft Shell, Kentucky,” Aemond says. “What was it like? I mean…I know you left, and I know you had good reasons…but I’ve never been to Kentucky. I’ve never really been to Appalachia period.”

“It’s beautiful. You get all four seasons, and you’re out in nature all the time, and it feels old, like hardly anything has changed there in thousands of years. You feel connected to the earth. I loved the forests and the mountains. I don’t think I realized how much I loved certain things about where I’m from until I’d been gone for years. I didn’t leave because I had to get away from Kentucky. I left because I had to get away from who I was when I was there, you know? Someone lonely and helpless. But how my family was isn’t Kentucky’s fault.”

“No,” Aemond muses. “I suppose not.” You begin walking together back towards the house.

“Ready for more bad news?” Luke asks, and gestures for you and Aemond to peer through the telescope. Aemond lets you go first, and immediately you see what Luke means. There are zombies in the surrounding hills, and not just a few. There are hundreds, stumbling around aimlessly and posing no current threat; but you are not safe here.

“We don’t have enough people to defend ourselves,” Aemond says once he’s taken a look, tapping his chin in that way that he does when he’s fearful but trying to hide it.

“No, we don’t,” Luke agrees.

“And there aren’t many natural resources here to subsist on. Even the fishing prospects aren’t great without a boat or a pier.”

“Right,” Luke says.

You wonder if Aemond is thinking the same thing you are. He might not know what has to happen next, but you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dining room table—large enough to seat twenty—is illuminated with candles, meticulously arranged with china and silverware, and cluttered with canned soups from brands you’ve never seen before: Amy’s, Pacific Foods, Health Valley. There are cases of Perrier and San Pellegrino to drink, and bottles of Chateau Lafite Rothschild red wine. Everyone else is here except Aegon. You are just about to go find him when he comes rushing down the staircase and into the dining room. He is wearing clothes from his closet here: a salmon pink polo that emphasizes his sunburn, khaki shorts, a white puka shell necklace, Sperry Bahama sneakers. The left shoe just barely fits over the bandages still protecting his healing left leg. There are fingerprints of white powder on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, look!” he announces. “Isn’t this precious? A family dinner?”

“Aegon, please sit down,” Aemond says briskly.

“Come on, it’ll be just like old times. We have all four of us kids, and then…Rhaena, you can be my dear departed Grandpa Otto, you just have to scowl at everyone…and Luke can be Criston.”

Luke is confused. “What—?”

“No no no! Don’t worry. It’s a very easy part. All you have to do is gaze worshipfully at Aemond and talk about how brilliant he is. There’s really not much to it, and honestly you do a lot of that already. And then…” Aegon floats by you, skimming his palm down the length of your hair. Something about the weight of his hand gives you goosebumps: careless, careful, fleeting, intimate. He sighs: “My beautiful, tortured mother.”

“Aegon, sit down,” Aemond orders.

“Father!” Aegon cries out suddenly, spotting Cregan at the head of the table. Cregan looks around the dining room, baffled. “You’ve joined us! How unusual! Did your Titanic replicas spontaneously combust? Did the world end? Well, actually, it sort of did…”

“Buddy, I have no earthly clue what you’re trying to—”

“Now this is a tough part,” Aegon says forcefully. “Patriarch of the Targaryen dynasty, big shoes to fill! But don’t worry, I’m here to help. I’ll give you your lines. All you have to do is repeat after me, okay?”

Cregan studies him and does not assent.

Aegon slams both palms down onto the table. “You’re so fucking stupid, Aegon. You’re a humiliation, Aegon. Why can’t you be smart like Aemond, or sweet like Helaena, or obedient like Daeron? Why did my firstborn child turn out to be such a fucking waste?”

“I’m not going to say that,” Cregan replies quietly.

“Say it,” Aegon seethes.

Now Daeron is weeping between spoonfuls of Amy’s tortilla soup straight from the can. “I want to go home.”

“We are home,” Aemond says.

“This isn’t home anymore, Aemond,” Daeron sniffles.

Aegon is still trying to feed Cregan lines. “Have you found a wife yet, Aegon? No, of course you haven’t. You’ve got hands like a rat and a disposition to match. You’re an overgrown vermin, you’re a plague to every house you enter. Who would fuck you out of anything but greed or pity?”

“Aegon, please stop,” Aemond pleads, wincing and rubbing his forehead.

Helaena folds her arms atop the table and rests her head on them, hiding her face. Luke and Rhaena keep their eyes downcast. Daeron reaches for a bottle of red wine, but Aegon swats his hand away.

“Nope. Illegal. You’re not 21.”

“Aegon, seriously, I’m so over that joke—”

“Shut up. You can’t even get a tattoo without parental consent.”

“Our parents are dead!” Daeron shouts. “They died terrible deaths and they’re never coming back and you’re making everything worse!”

“Then get rid of me! Put me out on the street and I won’t be anyone’s problem anymore! I’ll get murdered or eaten and it’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you!”

Helaena breaks down sobbing, and before Aegon can register what’s happening Cregan scoops him up off the floor and throws him over one broad shoulder. Then Cregan lugs him upstairs as Aegon struggles and yowls and punches at Cregan’s back, all in vain. You can hear a lot of commotion and then finally Cregan reappears, sweat beading on his brow but otherwise composed.

“I tied him to his bedframe with an extension cord,” Cregan says. “I don’t think he’ll be making any more trouble this evening.”

“Thank you,” Aemond replies, defeated.

“If he’s going to be up there all night, he’ll need water and food,” you say. “And enough blankets to make sure he’s warm.” It gets chilly when the sun goes down here, as low as the 50s. You grab two bottles of Perrier off the table and stand to bring them upstairs to Aegon, but Cregan gently takes them out of your hands.

“I’ll make sure he’s well supplied, Miss Chips,” Cregan insists, and you are convinced he thinks he’s doing you a favor. He doesn’t want Aegon to have the opportunity to upset anybody further. And yet a part of you is undeniably disappointed.

Aegon has been gone for ten minutes, and you miss him already.

~~~~~~~~~~

In Aemond’s childhood bedroom, a huge, impersonal, spartan space, the very few pieces of furniture all in the same color scheme of white and navy blue, you cannot say anything to bring his family back to life, or his friends, or the possibilities of what his life might have been before the dead began to walk. But you remember what he did for you when Rio died and you were sinking in dark, numb despair, and so you take Aemond’s hands and place them on your body—skimming under your t-shirt, circling around your waist—offering yourself like a sacrifice that you both desperately need, like a shot of antivenom that will only buy you hours. He draws you into his lap, and beneath your palms and your lips and your thighs, you can feel him coming back to you, filling up with light like a horizon at dawn.

“I’m still here,” you whisper as he throws you down onto the bed, eases himself into you, carries you away like a ship coasting out into open water. I don’t ever want to be anywhere but here.

Aemond holds you after, ensnared in sweat-damp sheets and entwined fingers, and he confesses: “I knew it was possible that they might not still be alive. Logically, I knew that. But it was like I never allowed myself to feel it. And now it’s…it’s…it’s all at once and it’s too much. I can’t fathom that I’ll never see them again. But I don’t even have time to mourn. I need to figure out where we’re going next.”

“Aemond?”

His lips to your forehead, his voice a drowsy murmur: “Hm?”

“I have to tell Rio’s family what happened to him.”

He pulls back to look at you. “You want to go to Oregon?”

“What if Odessa really is safe?”

At first he is bewildered; then he begins to consider it. “Criston’s Tahoe is in the garage. If we siphon the gas left in all the vehicles, we might have enough to get us halfway there.”

“That’s a lot better than none of the way there.”

“We’ll all have to vote on it. The trip will be dangerous.”

“Everything is now.”

“Almost everything,” he teases, his hand sliding down between your legs, taking you far away again.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, you find Aegon at the cliffside smoking one of his Marlboro Golds, slow meditative drags, eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep. That’s alright. He can nap in the Tahoe. Rhaena won’t need his directions for a while; you’ll stay northbound on Route 1 for 200 miles before cutting inland as you near the Oregon border.

You sit down on the sandy, shrub-strewn ground beside Aegon and wait for him to speak. It takes a while, but you don’t mind. You’ve always had patience; you’ve always been a better listener than someone who fills silences.

At last Aegon says: “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

“Then stop.”

He smirks bitterly, glaring out into the sunrise, orange light like fire on his sunburned face. “You make reinvention sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy. But it is simple. You decide to get out, and then you do it. You don’t let anything convince you to give up or change course. The only way out is through.”

“I have a proposition.”

“I’m still not interested in fake dating you.”

He cackles. “No, it’s something else.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it.”

Now Aegon is serious. “I don’t ever want to split up again. Not in a year, not in ten years, not in twenty. Never.”

You smile as you watch the reflection of the dawn in his eyes, murky faraway blue like oceans all across the globe. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of commitment.”

“I want to take care of you until you die. I want you to take care of me until I die. And that’s as far as commitment goes with me.”

“Deal.” You offer Aegon your hand.

He shakes it. “Deal.”

Two hours later, Criston Cole’s white Chevy Tahoe is loaded high with supplies—including several of Aegon’s golf clubs and his acoustic guitar—and heading north on Route 1, a Fall Out Boy song from one of Aegon’s mixtapes blaring through the speakers:

“When Rome’s in ruins

We are the lions, free of the Colosseums

In poison places, we are antivenom

We’re the beginning of the end…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and wait for the sapphire-and-gold Bay Area to become the misty, primordial emerald green of the Pacific Northwest.

[eoieopda]

the one with mingyu and the twin bed

summary: you brought your boyfriend to your parents’ house for christmas dinner. he can’t get a grip because you can’t keep yours to yourself. pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader type: drabble (smut) | rating: 18+ | wc: 3.5k au: est. relationship, home for the holidays cw: teasing, teasing, teasing; unprotected sex; mingyu is a pouty lil simp; multiple orgasms; reader rides it like she stole it and has to keep him quiet in the process :’) a/n: nobody asked, i just have mingyu brain rot 🥲 🚨 MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS WHO INTERACT WITH MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED. MY WORK IS NOT FOR YOU.

You might kill him. And really, if that’s not your goal, it’s still the most likely result. This road you’ve chosen starts with a squeeze of his knee under the table, travels up his thigh and — well, Mingyu can imagine how it ends, but not when or where. That’s the problem.

Well, that’s the primary problem. 

The worst part about it all is that you look so unbothered by it all. You’re laughing through conversation with your parents, who sit on the opposite side of the table, like Mingyu isn’t on the brink of passing the fuck out beside you. Like his slacks aren’t squeezing the life out of him in the same torturous way your hand is. 

You’re moving so slowly that the table cloth doesn’t even flutter with your secret ministrations.

He knew you were a devil, but what fresh hell is this?

“— feeling okay?”

Mingyu has to blink himself back into reality to realize he’d been spoken to. Your father, who Mingyu had thankfully met before tonight — and made a positive, sustainable first impression on — looks concerned. His eyebrows furrow the same way yours do when you’re worried.

“Sorry,” Mingyu starts by clearing his throat. He flashes a smile that makes your mother blush, not unlike the way you usually do. “I was daydreaming about that galbi jjim from earlier. Don’t know if I’ll ever eat better.”

That’s a lie, he thinks immediately. Dessert is one seat over, fingertips whispering over his inseam, and Mingyu’s mouth is already watering at the thought. But he’s stuck. You’re untouchable as long as the pair of you are at this table, and you’re untouchable upstairs for more reasons than one. 

Your mother is flustered — so is Mingyu, but for an entirely different reason — and she glances up at your father. His smile is a flat line, but it reads like approval. She elbows him gently.

“See, yeobo?” She quips, “I told you he was charming.” 

Then, she turns to look at you with a firm nod. “You picked well.”

“To be clear, Mingyu picked me,” You laugh, waving your free hand dismissively.  “With the amount of girls queuing up for his attention, he had options — a lot of them. I just lucked out.”

At this, he short-circuits, so much so that he nearly sprays the wine he’s sipping all over the table and your unsuspecting parents. 

“Oh, no, no. Not even close,” He sputters, earning a surprised giggle from your mother. Faked offense pulls the corners of his mouth down, puckers his lips into an pout around his words. “I had to beg for your phone number, if I recall —”

“Did you really?” Your mother gasps. Her hand flies up to cover her mouth, as if she’s watching one of the daytime dramas she’s always talking about.

Your father looks smug as he reaches his arm out over the table, fingers closed over his palm. The hand you aren’t using to commit unspeakable crimes lifts to meet his fist over the acorn jelly, knuckles tapping lightly. 

Your father smirks, “That’s my girl.”

You look at Mingyu fully now, not from the corner of your eye the way you had been. It’s downright spooky how your face can look that innocent at a time like this. That is, until you bite down on your plush lower lip.

Fuck.

Is he about to faint? He really might faint.

“Okay, fine. You’re right,” You demur with a shrug.

That sweet smile of yours is unbelievably misleading, but goddamn, does it look good on you.

“I didn’t make it very easy for you, did I?” 

He tries not to clench his jaw when you flatten your palm and squeeze the highest, innermost part of his thigh. He fails miserably. After all, you’re running out of real estate; and Mingyu’s running out of resolve. 

This is it for me, he thinks. Remember me as I was: a fucking simp.

Thankfully, both of your parents stand up to carry dishes off to be washed. They cross the threshold into the kitchen and miss the way Mingyu’s head slumps back against his chair. So desperate and defeated, he ignores the way his skull aches after colliding with the oak backrest.

He squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the sweet release of death.

When their footfalls are no longer audible, Mingyu assumes they’re out of sight. You shift, but he doesn’t crack his eyes open until he feels the heat of your breath on the shell of his ear. His gaze locks on the ceiling when you whisper, “Can you blame me? It’s so cute when you beg.”

If his dick strains any harder against his pants, the zipper may break.

“You’re trying to kill me,” Mingyu gulps. He shakes his head, voice wavering. “Baby, I’m gonna drop dead in your childhood home — on Christmas, no less — and it’s gonna be all your fault.”

The tip of your nose nudges the side of his face as you place a kiss on his earlobe. The white knuckle grip he holds on the edge of the table is the only thing keeping him together, and you know it. Still, the feather-light touch of your fingertips finds what it’s after. They trace the outline of his bulge through his slacks, and before he can stop himself, Mingyu audibly sighs.

He’d tell you to stop if he could jumpstart his brain. That’s a lie, he corrects himself. He doesn’t want you to stop; he just wants you. Wants you so badly that it hurts.

“Attempted murder,” Mingyu mumbles helplessly.

God, he’s pathetic.

Head slumped to the side, he finally allows himself to look at you. Immediately, he has to wonder: is there anyone who wouldn’t beg for you? He’d be on his knees in a heartbeat if your parents weren’t loading a dishwasher, several meters away. He’d clear the table himself, too,  if sweeping his arm overtop and sending silverware to the ground counted for anything.

Unbothered by the internal crisis you’ve started in him, you stroke him slowly, like you have all the time in the world to end him; and not a care at all that you might get caught in the process. The kiss you leave on his jaw is so soft — and so laughably chaste, all things considered — that he’s not sure it even happened. To keep from pleading out loud, he grinds his teeth even more harshly together.

Are you there, God? It’s me, Mingyu.

His prayers are answered immediately, which makes him a little bit suspicious — and a lot more feral.

You hum, amusement downright musical, and he shivers. “I’m going to help them finish down here. Wait for me upstairs?”

When Mingyu shoots up to his feet, the force of his thighs against the underside of the table threatens to flip it. The remaining wine glasses wobble in place, but thankfully, you’d all killed the bottle some time ago; no drop is left to be spilled. He still cringes at the close call, though. With a grimace, he mutters rapid-fire apologies — whether to you, the glassware, or the God of Dirty Thoughts, he’s not sure. 

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from laughing, which Mingyu appreciates. His clumsiness would have been embarrassing if he wasn’t so incomprehensibly horny. All that blood flow has been redirected away from his brain, though, and his dirty mind can’t focus on how not cool he’s being about all of this. 

Just you, that little smirk on your lips, and the million ways he wants your mouth on him.

Once he steadies himself, it only takes a second for Mingyu to race towards the stairs. Any and all chill he might’ve had is left behind him in a cloud of dust.

It’s downright cartoonish, the way he scrambles up the steps — stumbling, knees colliding with the hardwood as he goes — but it’s effective. He reaches the landing in record time, then all but kicks open the door to your childhood bedroom. As soon as the doorknob collides with the wall behind it, Mingyu freezes in place.

That wall, he realizes, is the only barrier between your room and your parents’. Worse, your old bed is set longways against that very wall. And because the hits just keep on coming, it’s a twin bed. 

With a frilly purple duvet and shockingly minimal surface area, no less.

Horrified, Mingyu steps forward and places his hand flat against the small mattress. It doesn’t take much pressure to make the bed springs squeak — when has anything ever gone his way? — and that revelation nearly has him screaming obscenities at the ceiling.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

How is he supposed to fuck you under these conditions?

Frantic, he closes the door behind him, shuffles forward, and drops to his knees next to the bed. At his height, the frame barely reaches his midriff. Clearly, his life is a fucking joke.

Elbows now resting on the mattress, Mingyu clasps his hands together and leans forward to rest his forehead against his knuckles.

He’s never tried this before — not earnestly, anyway — and he doesn’t know where to start. Whatever the reason, he’s sure he can’t pray to any listening deity to let him get his dick wet. Anyone who hears his cry would smite him on the spot, he thinks, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Before he can settle on a prayer, footsteps sound off on the stairs just outside the door. The words are muffled; but there are multiple voices, which tells him that one or both of your parents have joined you on your journey upstairs. Suddenly, Mingyu is overcome with guilt. 

He’s in their home, having eaten their food — and now he’s a full-blown heretic, wanting nothing more than to devour their daughter like a man starved. But he can’t because, if he does, they’ll hear every dirty detail and —

Mingyu is many things, but he is not quiet.

You are, however, and he can barely make it out when you say, “Thank you, again, for dinner. And for letting us stay overnight.”

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Your mother peeps. Mingyu freezes, knowing in the rational part of his brain she can’t see him, but unable to stop himself. “It’s our pleasure! Really, it’s a long drive back for you two —”

Your father interjects, “— and Mingyu must be exhausted if he’s already in bed.”

For personal reasons, he thinks as he squeezes his eyes shut, I will be passing away.

There’s a moment of silence in which you must be hugging your parents goodnight, then there’s the quiet creak of the door opening. Footsteps, then more silence — you pausing for a moment, likely taking in the sight of him, then the door shutting softly behind you.

He can’t hear your approach over the hammering pulse in his ears, but he can feel the warmth of your body when you stand closely behind him. On instinct, he leans back onto his heels. A reflex of your own, you card your fingers through his hair and turn him into putty.

As embarrassing as it is to reckon with the fact, Mingyu acknowledges that the massage of your fingers might make him cum in his trousers.

“Were you praying?” You whisper, giggle evident despite the hushed tone. Your fingernails rake gently over his scalp; he swallows hard.

Mingyu is past the point of attempting nonchalance, so he confesses immediately. “Need divine intervention at a time like this. A twin bed? Parents? I’m doomed.”

“Maybe.” You lean down over his shoulder to purr into his ear. “Doomed or not, you look so perfect on your knees.”

That comment reverberates down his spine, ricochets off every vertebrae as it goes. He has to bite down on his fist to keep from groaning. It sure as shit doesn’t stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

You drop your hand from his hair to trail your fingers down the length of his neck, then across the top of his shoulder. As you do, you step out from behind him and into his line of sight. You, illuminated only by a small, butterfly-shaped lamp, confirm his suspicions:

Ariana Grande was right all along. God is a woman.

You maintain eye contact as you reach behind your back and begin unzipping your dress. The burgundy fabric pools at your bare feet, having slipped right over the silkiness of your thighs without issue. If he wasn’t already in his knees, Mingyu would’ve dropped the same way.

“How confident are you that you can be quiet?” You ask softly. “Stakes are high, and you’re normally so vocal.”

Right out of the gate, he trips.

Mingyu responds with bravado and without whispering, “I can do it.”

Then, he slaps his hand over his big fucking mouth.

Biting back a smile, you reach out for the collar of his shirt. The buttons are undone with care, like any and every decibel is too much of a risk. You hum as you continue your work, “We can make it a challenge, then. If you can stay quiet, I’ll let you cum.” 

He lets you slide his shirt off his frame as soon as you’re finished with it. It lands where your dress did, wrinkling white on top of red.

“If you can’t  —” You pause and gesture down to his belt buckle, which he’s already gripping tightly to. It’s undone before you can blink, which causes the side of your mouth to twitch upwards. “— I’ll stop.”

Mingyu nods, more determined than he’s ever been, and pushes himself to his feet. Less nimbly than you, he fumbles desperately with the button and zipper at the top of his trousers. Eventually, he frees himself and they drop, too. They land with a muffled sound before being kicked blindly aside.

Your gaze drops to his briefs, pupils dilating when you see the mess you’ve made of him. The dark grey fabric is close to black at the tip of his dick, arousal seeping into the fibers and tattling on him. That is, if the blatantly thick imprint of his length hadn’t sold him out already.

His knees threaten to buckle all over again when he sees a flash of pink swipe over your lips, wetting them as your eyes grow even darker.

No, he really might cum on the spot.

You step over your discarded clothes. Closing the distance, you flatten your palms against his bare chest, push up on your toes, and kiss him properly for the first time in hours. His only instinct is to whine like a fucking baby when his lips part and you lick into his mouth, but he refuses to break this close to the starting whistle.

No, Mingyu will keep his shit together. He has to keep his shit together — even as you suck his bottom lip into your mouth and release it swollen with a pop.

“What do you want, baby?”

He doesn’t know if it’s his chest or your hands that are burning up, but a wildfire spreads as you run your palms down from his pectorals to his abdomen. Every muscle in his body tenses as your touch lowers. His lungs seem to, too, because he struggles to keep his breaths even.

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his briefs, knuckles tickling against the sensitive skin underneath his hip bones. You continue your questioning, as if he trusts himself to answer.

“My mouth?”

Oh god.

He wants it all, always and every which way, but he knows he won’t last a goddamn second in your throat — and you know it, too, even before he furiously shakes his head. 

Eyes laser focused on you, he does his best to beg without words. The puppy-dog eyes win you over every time.

When you smile at him like that — petal soft, still so devilish — he audibly sighs. There’s no helping him, he knows it. It’s a reflex, a rubber mallet to the knee. Thankfully, you let that breathy concession slide; let his briefs slide, too, until they drop unwanted around his ankles.

Mingyu is so hard that it hurts.

He’s a throbbing, leaking mess when your hand finally — fucking finally — wraps around his cock. Experimentally, you give him a light squeeze while you work the length. Your gaze flicks upwards to gauge his reaction, wrist rolling when you reach the crown.

If he had to guess, Mingyu would bet that he’s turned purple with the effort it’s taking to keep his needy mouth shut. But your eyes twinkle up at him and you tell him that he’s beautiful; and suddenly, his chest and cheeks go a shy shade of pink.

“Lay down, pretty boy,” you whisper, nodding your head towards that shitty little bed.

As he stretches out onto his back — to the best of his ability, with his heels nearly dangling off the end — he swears on his life that his friends can never know how weak he gets when you call him that.

You place your hands on his chest to keep your balance, lifting one leg over his until you’re straddling him. Your right knee settles uncomfortably between his leg and the wall, but you don’t complain. Instead, you look him dead in the eye and pull your fatal, black thong to the side.

Even in this piss-poor lighting, Mingyu can see the way your darkened eyes glint. He’s spellbound — there’s no other word to describe it.

One hand takes hold of his cock and lines it up to your cunt. The other raises to your lips, index finger extended. You tease him without saying a word, and he hears it loud and clear.

Oh, he’s going to be so good for you.

That’s what he tells himself until your arousal makes contact with the tip of his cock. That’s what he repeats in his head, over and over, when you sink down and gush around him, slick dripping to coat the centimeters that don’t quite fit inside of you. What he says out loud, elongated and definitely above a whisper, is:

“Fuuuuck.”

You quickly lean over his chest to cover his mouth with your hand. Though your pulses are both racing, he’s less focused on his total, abject embarrassment than he is on the amusement that causes your mouth to curve.

Keeping your hand where it is — for the good of everyone, really — you nip at his earlobe. He waits for the inevitable consequence of his actions.

Goddamn it. How stupid does he have to be to forfeit a prize like you?

“You don’t listen very well, baby,” Your hushed tone drips like honey into his ear. Involuntarily, his hips jerk upwards, pushing further into your wet heat.

Any distance is too much.

“But you feel so fucking good —”

Again, he ruts against you when your teeth graze his earlobe. Under your palm, his whimpering is unintelligible, but that doesn’t stop him. You catch his groan in your hand before it can hit the air.

“— might have to bend the rules for you.”

It’s torture. 

Mingyu knows you’re moving this slowly to avoid upsetting the box springs below, but whether or not there’s method to the madness, it’s still unbearable.

You swirl your hips in a way that makes his vision go white at the edges, grind down into his lap with quiet precision. He can feel that soft, spongy spot hiding behind your front wall; and he can hear those delicate little sighs as you fuck yourself deliberately.

He can feel his mind go blank, too, moments before your cunt milks him for all he’s worth. You don’t stop once he spills himself inside of you — you won’t, he hopes.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper, almost inaudibly. “I’m so close.”

The hand not covering his mouth disappears between your legs. If the way your eyes roll back is any indication, you’ve found what you were looking for. 

The sight of you is too much for Mingyu to handle. Nipples peaking through the translucent fabric of your bralette, wrist moving in the opposite direction of your hips, eyelashes fluttering while you rub spirals into your clit. Perfect, top to bottom.

Mingyu cums again when you do, refractory period be damned.

And when you collapse down onto his chest, walls still fluttering around him, he encircles you with his arm so tightly that he can feel you trembling through the aftershocks. With your face now nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the tables turn.

“Fuck,” you mutter. The sound is mostly lost against his skin, but there’s enough volume to make you both start to snicker.

You kiss his neck, nudge him with the tip of your nose. Whispering, you ask, “Not bad for a twin bed, huh?”

Mingyu snorts. “Kinda feels like high school. You know, parents on the other side of the wall, cute little bedspread,” His voice trails off so he can press his lips against your temple. Voice low in your ear, he smirks, “Nutting within thirty seconds.”

Your muffled laughter shakes his shoulders, too. Then, you fall into a silence so easy he’s sure you’ve fallen asleep on top of him. To his surprise, you peep, “I didn’t think this through.”

He hums inquisitively in response. You crane your neck to meet his eyes. 

You inhale deeply, then sigh, “I have to waddle down the hallway of my childhood home to the bathroom — right past my parents’ door — and pretend like we didn’t just do what we did.”

Mingyu flashes you a wolfish grin that catches you off guard. Your eyebrows raise in anticipation.

“Need some divine intervention, sounds like. Maybe if you pray about it —” 

The only thing louder than the playful smack you land on his bicep is your laugh, straight from the bottom of your chest.

[koyagifs]

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓮 𝓘𝓷 𝓐 𝓑𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 「IX」

⤷ pairing : wooyoung x reader ⤷ au : non idol! | strangers to lovers | slow burn ⤷ genre : fluff | crack | angst ⤷word count: 1.820 words ⤷ summary: wooyung finally made a move on ynie ⤷ warning: kissing - making out heavily. we're near the end you guys! I hope you all enjoyed genie in a bottle.

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ➜ @chanceonceli @soso59love-blog

── .✦ Wooyoung couldn't tear his gaze away from Yn. Her focus on the book in her hands, the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly as she read, and the soft hum she let out when something interested her—it all made his heart ache in the best way. He’d tried to shake the dream, convincing himself it was nothing more than his imagination. But the way his chest tightened every time she was near said otherwise.

The dream had felt so vivid—her laugh, the way she melted into his arms, the kiss that lingered even after he’d woken up. It wasn’t just a dream, though. It was his heart showing him something he didn’t want to admit: he was in love with her.

Across the room, Yn tried her best to keep her eyes on the page, but the weight of Wooyoung’s stare made it impossible to focus. Her cheeks flushed as she stole a glance his way, catching the softness in his expression. It was the same look he always gave her—like she was the only person in the room.

She swallowed hard, her heart betraying her resolve. As much as she told herself not to cross that line, it was already far behind them. The shared bed, the stolen glances, the way he’d find excuses to be close—it all made her fall deeper. And no matter how much she tried to remind herself of her role, it was impossible to deny one truth: she was in love with him.

“Is something wrong, Woo?” she asked gently, breaking the silence, her voice trembling slightly.

Wooyoung blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Huh? Oh, no—nothing’s wrong,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. But the way his eyes softened when he looked at her said everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, his hands hovering over the keyboard as he pretended to work. His eyes, however, refused to stray from Yn. The way the light from the nearby lamp highlighted her features, the slight crease in her brow as she focused on the story, and the soft hums of contentment she made when a passage struck her—it all captivated him.

He didn’t know when he’d become so enamored with her, but the realization sat heavily in his chest. There was something comforting, yet exhilarating, about her presence. The way she fit so effortlessly into his life, turning the mundane into something extraordinary, was something he hadn’t expected but now couldn’t imagine living without.

Yn flipped another page, her lips curling into a faint smile at whatever she was reading. The sound of her content sigh filled the room again, and Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat.

“Is it a good book?” he asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Yn glanced up, her eyes meeting his. She nodded with a small smile. “It is. Peaceful, in a way. Makes me forget everything else for a while.”

Wooyoung chuckled, resting his chin on his hand. “I think I’d rather watch you read than get lost in a book myself.”

Yn’s cheeks flushed as she ducked her head back into the pages, her voice coming out in a soft murmur. “You’re going to make me lose my place if you keep distracting me like that.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened. “Sorry, can’t help it. You’re kind of my favorite distraction.”

Wooyoung crouched down in front of the couch, a playful grin dancing across his lips as he gently tugged the book away from Yn’s face. “Why are you hiding, huh?” he teased, tilting his head to catch her gaze.

Yn’s cheeks burned even brighter, and she pursed her lips in an attempt to suppress a smile. “I’m not hiding,” she murmured, her voice betraying her flustered state.

Wooyoung leaned in closer, his face now mere inches from hers. “You’re blushing,” he pointed out, his voice soft yet teasing. “Did I say something to make you shy, Ynnie?”

She playfully swatted at his shoulder, her laugh light and airy. “You’re so annoying, Wooyoung.”

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious, as he leaned back on his heels. “And yet you’re still stuck with me,” he said, his grin never fading. His hand lingered on the book, but instead of pulling it away completely, he placed it gently on the coffee table.

His gaze softened as he looked at her, his teasing demeanor giving way to something more tender. “You know,” he started, his voice quieter now, “you make it way too easy to want to be around you.”

Yn’s breath hitched, her blush deepening as she met his eyes. There was no playfulness there now, just an earnestness that made her heart race. “Wooyoung…” she began, but the words trailed off, caught somewhere between her surprise and the warmth blooming in her chest.

He smiled softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Just saying what’s true,” he murmured.

Wooyoung leaned forward as yn felt heart quicken. Their eyes on each other lips before Wooyoung lifted her chin to met his eyes. " can I kiss you?"

Yn’s breath hitched at his words, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. The room felt still, the world narrowing to just the two of them. Wooyoung’s gaze was soft yet intense, his hand gently cupping her chin as he waited for her answer.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

A warm smile spread across his face, relief and anticipation shining in his eyes. Slowly, he closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate, as if savoring the moment. His lips met hers softly, tender and cautious at first, testing the waters.

Yn’s eyes fluttered shut as she melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching up to rest against his chest. The kiss deepened slightly, their mutual emotions pouring out in that singular, stolen moment.

The kiss deepened, their surroundings fading into the background as if nothing else existed in the world but them. Yn’s hands slid up to cup Wooyoung’s face, her fingers brushing against his jawline, while his arms wrapped securely around her waist, pulling her closer. The warmth of their closeness was intoxicating, and for the first time, they allowed themselves to fully embrace the emotions they’d been holding back.

Wooyoung finally pulled away his lips now red and swollen as they both tried to catch their breath. Wooyoung’s breath was warm against Yn’s skin as he pressed gentle, lingering kisses along the curve of her neck, each one earning a soft giggle from her. The sound was music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile against her skin, his lips brushing over her collarbone as her laughter turned into small gasps.

“Wooyoung,” she whispered, her voice a mixture of breathlessness and amusement, as her hands clutched at his shoulders. “You’re insatiable.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can you blame me?” he teased, his voice low and filled with affection. “You’re irresistible.”

Yn swatted his arm playfully, though her cheeks were flushed, and her smile betrayed how much she was enjoying the moment. Wooyoung’s grin widened as he leaned in again, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the tip of her nose before nuzzling back against her neck.

Wooyoung mumbled against her skin, unable to understand but she felt her magic surge. Confusion struck her face as she moved away, a whine escaping Wooyoung lip as he looked at her.

Yn stared at Wooyoung, her brows furrowing as the tingling sensation of magic hummed through her veins. It was faint but unmistakable. She tilted her head, her confusion growing as she searched his eyes for answers.

“Wooyoung…” she began, her voice soft but laced with unease. “Did you… say something?”

Wooyoung pouted, clearly unhappy with the sudden distance. “Just that I wish this moment could last forever,” he muttered, his voice still husky from their kiss.

Yn’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart raced as the realization hit her. A wish.

She pulled away slightly more, her hand pressing against her chest as the magic surged again, responding to his words. “Wooyoung, do you realize what you just did?” she asked, her voice trembling.

His confusion deepened. “What are you talking about?” He sat up straighter, his hands still resting gently on her hips.

“You made a wish,” she said, the weight of her words sinking heavily between them.

Wooyoung blinked, still confused, " yeah, I know I made a wish ?"

yn heart thumped against her chest, " you want me...?"

Wooyoung eyes soften as he looks at yn in awe. " of course I do. and I'm ready for another wish as well, but actually make this one happen."

Yn’s breath caught in her throat as her wide eyes met Wooyoung’s. The air around them felt charged, her magic humming quietly in response to his declaration.

“You’re… ready?” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “For a real wish this time?”

Wooyoung nodded, his gaze never wavering. He took her hands in his, his touch warm and grounding. “Yeah, I’m ready. But this isn’t just for me. It’s for us.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, her cheeks heating as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “What do you want to wish for, Wooyoung?” she asked softly, though her voice carried a mix of hope and apprehension.

He smiled, that charming yet earnest look she had come to adore. “I wish…” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle between them before continuing, “…for you to be free. Free from the bottle, from the magic that keeps you bound, and free to just… be. To stay if you want, or go if that’s what you need.”

Yn’s eyes widened, her breath hitching. “You’d… you’d wish that for me?”

Wooyoung chuckled lightly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve given me so much, Yn. It’s time someone gave you the chance to live your own life, your own way.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at him, overwhelmed by the selflessness of his wish. Her magic surged again, brighter and stronger this time, as if it were waiting for her answer.

“Wooyoung,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “If you make this wish, everything could change. You know that, right?”

He nodded, his expression unwavering. “I know. And I’m okay with that. I just want you to be happy, Yn.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the weight of his wish hung in the air, waiting for her to say the words that would set it in motion.

“As you wish,” Yn whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within her. With a snap of her fingers, the room seemed to shudder, the very air humming with power as her magic surged forth.

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (9)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: Nine

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: The Christmas party is finally here, and you get to meet the family. The good and the bad.

WC: 8k (I'm so sorry 😭)

CW: Fluff, party antics, all of the Ateez members are here, mentions of eating a lot of food, alcohol consumption (not done by the reader), angst, arguing, screaming, crying, comfort, hugs, kisses

AN: I knew this would be long but not THIS long, I'm so sorry about that, and I'm sorry this took so long, but it's finally here. 🥰

Disclaimer: The bio mom in this story is NOT based on anyone irl. Her character is made up and her name was chosen at random.

With that said, this might be a triggering chapter for some of you who have dealt with abusive parents, but that content is towards the end of the chapter. Please keep that in mind as you read.

With that being said, most of the chapter is still fun and fluffy, and as always, I hope you enjoy. 💜

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans @malldreamprincess @unlikelysublimekryptonite @becauseilovedyou @kittkat44 @babyxhoiz @asleepylilcat @mxnsxngie @rxnexxi @mommahwa1117 @acciocriativity @anxiousskylar @h3arteyes4mingi @jus2passtime @asjkdk @soso59love-blog @i-love-ateez @cb97s-laptop

Wooyoung came to your side at the decorative table that Seonghwa had by the Christmas tree, carrying a plastic bag of assorted candies. Some of them were the usual Christmas themed ones, like Christmas Hershey kisses and M&Ms. But there were a few you didn’t recognize. 

You pulled out a box that had a small tray of what looked like Neapolitan ice cream on it. Next to it was a kid with a green hat eating some of it. The word “Duvalin” was written in big yellow letters above the candy and the kid.

“What’s this?” You asked, looking over the box again. Wooyoung looked up from where he was laying out the other candy in fancy glass plates and bowls. 

“Oh, Duvalin. It’s kinda like pudding, but thicker.” He took the box from you and opened it, offering one to you. “Here, try it.” 

You took the small tray from him and peeled off the plastic. Like the box, it had the three flavors of “pudding” laid next to each other. You were about to dive in when Wooyoung offered you a small stick. 

“If Eomma sees you eat it like that, he’ll have a heart attack.” 

You looked over Wooyoung’s shoulder, seeing Seonghwa in the kitchen working on setting the food up in the kitchen. He paid no mind to either of you, he was busy making sure everything was set up for when people would be arriving. 

(Even though they wouldn’t be here for another hour)

You still took the spoon from Wooyoung and scooped up a generous portion of the three flavors before you took a bite. And it tasted like Neopalitan ice cream, as you expected. But it was sweeter, and the chocolate tasted more like Nutella. 

Wooyoung went back to his chore when he saw you nod and continue to happily eat the candy. “My friend introduced me to that, and a few others.” 

“Do I know this friend?” You asked, going back for another scoop. 

“No, she’s from high school. She went to another college, so you’ve never met her.” 

“Is she coming to the party?” 

“I asked her.” Wooyoung poured the Christmas M&Ms into an intricate glass bowl before he put the lid on top. “But apparently she’s with her own family right now, and she said that they probably would let her leave.” 

You were befuddled at the idea of an adult visiting their family would suddenly have their rights revoked like that. But then you realized that your parents probably would’ve done the same to them if you still talked to them. 

“I’ll introduce you someday.” Wooyoung looked up at you and smiled. “You’d like her.” 

“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa called from the kitchen. “Please come here, I can’t hold all these things at once!” 

Wooyoung quickly ran off to help Seonghwa, and you were left there by the front door with your cup of Duvalin. You were surprised when you felt a little hurt that you weren’t asked to help. 

As you stood there slightly stunned, there was a knock at the door. 

You stared at the door like a deer in headlights for a few moments before you finally shook yourself. Just answer the door, you thought, but you couldn’t. You were stopped by questions you didn’t have answers to. Questions that needed to be answered. 

How did you introduce yourself? You and Seonghwa hadn’t discussed if you were going to tell his family that you were “together.” 

But if you didn’t tell them now, and just introduced yourself as Wooyoung’s friend, when would Seonghwa tell the others? How would they take it after knowing they’d been sold a lie? 

How would they accept the relationship at all? Would they? Would any of them approve of a relationship between someone much older and younger? 

What if- 

“Why are you frozen?” Wooyoung asked, walking past you to the door. You shook yourself out of your thoughts as he went to open the door. You did your best to swallow back the anxiety and put on your best fake smile. 

Then you remembered your cup of Duvalin, and you quickly put it aside on the candy table. 

Wooyoung pulled open the door, and his eyes lit up with stars. “Hongjoong!” He threw his arms around the man standing there, who returned the hug with one arm, a warm smile on his lips. 

“Hi Young-ah,” he said, and his voice was higher than you expected, but he sounded safe. Even just from that, you knew this man was safe. 

Wooyoung pulled back and led Hongjoong into the house, where he stopped and smiled at you. Now you got a better look at the older man, who wasn’t much taller than Wooyoung. 

He wore a flowy white shirt and black dress pants underneath a brown fur coat. The top of his shirt left open to show off a little bit of his chest. His blond hair was combed back away from his face, but there were a few strands left out to frame his face. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t blush a little. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” Hongjoong said as he slipped his shoes off, looking at you as he spoke. Anxiety pumped inside you as you tried to figure out the correct words to introduce yourself. 

“Oh, I’m Wooyoung’s friend,” you said simply, adding your name afterwards, flashing the best smile you could. Hongjoong nodded as he slid the coat off his shoulders, a warm smile still on his face. His comfort and ease made you relax a little. 

“I’m Hongjoong.”He bowed to you, which left you a little confused before you remembered to return the gesture. Hongjoong came back up and smiled at you. “We’ll talk more in a moment, I just need to talk to Seonghwa first.” He turned to Wooyoung the next second. “Is he in the kitchen?” 

“Yeah, he’s dealing with the food.” Wooyoung was holding onto Hongjoong’s coat, looking for the moment he could yank it away. You bit your lip to keep the laughter in. 

Hongjoong caught it too and smiled, pulling away the coat. “Thank you, I’ll go talk to him.” Wooyoung pouted as he watched Hongjoong hang his coat up in the closet before he went to the kitchen. 

“I wanted to do that,” he whined, and you finally laughed. 

“It’s a jacket, Woo.” 

“And I wanna steal it.” 

“Good luck with that!” Hongjoong called from the kitchen. Both you and Wooyoung burst into laughter at that. 

Not long later, you and Wooyoung were setting out appetizers on the dining table when there was another knock on the door. Wooyoung ran over to open the door again, and there were two men instead of one this time. 

The blond one was only slightly taller than the brown haired one. They were dressed similarly to Hongjoong, but they wore knitted sweaters instead. The blond’s was cream colored, and the brown haired one’s was black. 

They both looked up at you and smiled. “Wooyoung, who’s this?” The blond one asked, motioning to you. Wooyoung looked over his shoulder and waved you over, to which you smiled back as you walked over. Wooyoung put his hand on your shoulder as you stood next to him. 

“This is my friend, they came with me this year.” 

“You’re not spending Christmas with your family?” The brown haired one asked, sliding his coat off. The blond haired one took it and started putting both their coats away, but not without a disapproving look. Wooyoung’s hand tightened on your shoulder. 

You panicked for a moment, because you expected this question, but you weren’t sure how to answer it. You didn’t need to tell all Seonghwa’s friends all the reasons why you didn’t talk with your parents, but you knew some people would still press for answers. 

But what came out was simple and to the point: 

“No, I’ve been with Wooyoung and Seonghwa since Winter Break started.” 

The brown haired one looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but the blond grabbed his hand and squeezed, giving you a sweet smile. “Well, we’re glad to have you.” You smiled back and nodded in thanks. “I’m Yunho, this is Mingi.” 

Mingi smiled now and nodded too. “Or you can just call us “uncle”, since that’s what Wooyoung calls us.” 

Looking at the two men, they looked nothing like Seonghwa, and Wooyoung looked nothing like them. You deduced that they were uncles in the “friends with your parents” way. You just nodded, knowing you very well might forget their names. 

Your eyes drifted down and you noticed a band of gold on Mingi’s left hand. Your eyes flicked back to the men’s joined hands and saw a matching one on Yunho’s finger. 

To be honest, you could sense it from the moment you saw them. 

“Eomma’s in the kitchen,” Wooyoung blurted, breaking the short silence. 

“Alright, we’ll go see him,” Yunho said as he smiled at Wooyoung, ruffling his dark hair. He added a short sentence in Korean as he and Mingi made their way to the kitchen, which made Wooyoung shoot something back as he laughed. 

“What was that?” You asked as Wooyoung turned back to you. 

“He told me to behave and not drive Eomma crazy.” 

“And you said?” 

“I said no promises.” 

“I don’t expect any less from you.” 

You both burst into laughter all over again. The four men in the kitchen couldn’t help but smile at the lovely sound. 

“Wooyoung’s never brought a friend home for this long,” Mingi said as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “Are you sure they’re “just a friend”, or are they more?” 

Seonghwa bit the inside of his cheek, knowing the obvious answer, but he wasn’t ready to tell his friends he was involved with someone about half his age. Even though Wooyoung was okay with it, the relationship itself was still looked down on. 

His friends hadn’t judged his relationships, his lifestyle, the way he dressed, or his job. His friends had been incredibly supportive of him, and Wooyoung too. 

But he wasn’t ready to tell people yet. 

“No, those two aren’t together,” Seonghwa said, leaning on the kitchen island on his arms. 

“How are you so sure?” 

“Because Wooyoung wouldn’t be able to keep it hidden.” 

The four men laughed to themselves. But with that revelation, anxiety prickled across Seonghwa’s skin. Hopefully Wooyoung wouldn’t accidentally let anything slip about you and him. 

“He can’t keep secrets to save his life,” Hongjoong added, leaning back on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Once when we were still dating, I told Wooyoung I had a surprise for Seonghwa, and we hardly made it five minutes before Wooyoung said something.”  

“Did he outright say it?” Yunho asked, leaning against the counter next to the sink. Mingi was next to him, his arm around the other’s waist. 

“No, he didn’t directly tell him, but it was obvious enough that Seonghwa figured it out.” 

Seonghwa smiled as he thought about it. Hongjoong had surprised him with a date night, where they’d go to a restaurant and then the newest Star Wars movie at the time. 

Wooyoung, who was coming with, couldn’t stop talking about the movie for the rest of the time between when he got home with Hongjoong and the time Seonghwa got his surprise. 

Hongjoong stopped telling Wooyoung his plans for surprises after that. 

“I still enjoyed it,” Seonghwa smiled at Hongjoong, to which Hongjoong returned it. 

Sometimes, Seonghwa considered trying again. Opening the door back up and seeing if they could make it work one more time. 

But Hongjoong had found a girlfriend a year prior. And now Seonghwa had you. 

The four looked towards the living room when they heard Wooyoung’s voice again, along with a few new ones. Seonghwa stood up and excused himself to go see Wooyoung’s friends, two of whom he knew already. 

But as Seonghwa reached the front door, he met the one he was unfamiliar with. He was taller than Wooyoung by a few inches, with broad shoulders and massive arms. He stretched out the material of his dress shirt thin when he put his arms around Wooyoung to hug him. 

He had dark, slicked back hair, with sharp facial features, and eyes that could kill. 

Honestly, he was incredibly intimidating. 

But then he watched you and Wooyoung take turns hugging him, and all the intimidation melted away. He spoke brightly, with his dark eyes turning to little slits when he smiled, and little dimples on his cheeks. 

“Wooyoung, who’s this?” Seonghwa asked as he walked up to his son. 

You looked up and ducked out to talk to Yeosang and Jongho as they were putting away their coats, but all of you were watching the three of them out of the corner of your eye. 

“Do you think he knows?” Jongho whispered, in reference to Seonghwa knowing about Wooyoung and San. 

“How could he not?” Yeosang whispered back, side eyeing the two boys. “It’s not like they’re very good at keeping the ‘secret’.” 

You and Yeosang tried to stifle the giggle that threatened to come out by covering your mouths, but Wooyoung heard it, and shot you both a dirty glare before he turned back to Seonghwa with a smile.

“Eomma, this is San. San, this is my mom, Seonghwa.” San smiled brightly at Seonghwa, his eyes turning to slits again before he gave a small bow. Seonghwa returned it, as he began to see his son’s taste more and more. 

And he was approving of the man he chose. 

“Thank you for letting us come to the party,” San said as he came back up. 

“Of course, you’re always welcome here.” Seonghwa put his hand on San’s shoulder, and that was the moment that San realized that Seonghwa knew. 

As if Seonghwa couldn’t tell from how San’s arm was still around Wooyoung’s waist, or how Wooyoung had his arm on San’s shoulder. The way Wooyoung looked at San with stars in his eyes and the sweetest smile. 

“I trust you with my son,” he said softly before he pulled back. 

Wooyoung’s eyes went wide before his face turned tomato red. San’s cheeks began to turn red and he looked away, his arm tightening around Wooyoung. Seonghwa still just smiled as you were giggling with Yeosang and Jongho by the door. 

The tension in the air disappeared. It was warm instead, as it should be on Christmas. 

And then Wooyoung interrupted. 

“How did you know?!” 

All of you burst into laughter. The three men in the kitchen were laughing too. 

With all the joy and laughter, with the happy arrival of your friends, with meeting the uncles, you managed to relax. In the comfort of your friends, everything seemed bright and happy. 

So much so that you almost forgot that the night was far from over. 

Seonghwa had excused himself to change into something more fitting for the party. And when he came back, you nearly fell to your knees. 

He wore a strapless, floor length, red velvet dress. The bodice was similar to a corset, with jewels over where the boning would be, and all over the waist line and top of the dress. The skirt was form fitting, hugging his body just right and showing off everything. 

He’d done his hair and makeup too, letting the dramatic looks out for once. He’d curled his hair, but put half of it into a ponytail, letting the rest fall free.

He’d worn red sparkly eyeshadow with large eyeliner wings, with glossy red lips to match and a little bit of pink on his cheeks. 

He looked at you with his eyes half closed and smiled softly before he went to greet some of the guests that had arrived when he was gone. 

You could’ve shattered the glass of the drink you were holding. 

You wanted nothing more than to grab him and hold him so tight, to kiss his stupid shiny lips and tear the gorgeous dress off his body. Wooyoung was giggling beside you as you loosened your death drip on your glass. 

“What are you laughing at?” you spat, looking at him instead. 

“You, idiot. You look like you’re about to explode.” 

You smacked his shoulder, which only made him giggle more. “Maybe I am,” you mumbled before you took a sip of your drink, 

Wooyoung had changed too, but he just wore a big blue and white striped sweater with nice pants. You were wearing something similar, valuing comfort over fashion tonight. Seeing Seonghwa’s outfit now, it felt like you both were underdressed. 

The party had been amazing otherwise. Wooyoung had introduced you to the other aunts, uncles, and cousins that had come to the party. Thankfully, most of them didn’t ask why you weren’t with your own family. 

Wooyoung dragged you along to talk to Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi as well, which you were hoping to do anyway. 

You hung onto Hongjoong’s every word as he talked about the many artists he’d worked with, the songs he produced, and he even let you and Wooyoung hear sneak peeks of some unreleased projects. 

Yunho and Mingi were both lawyers at the same firm, but they both insisted that they’d rather talk about anything else than their job on Christmas. So you talked about a great deal of things, and even eventually asked how they met each other. 

The two gave each other a smile before they looked back at you. “We were on opposite sides of one case,” Yunho began, with a storyteller type tone, far off and dreamy. “We ended up meeting each other after it was settled, and the rest is history.” 

“Who won the case?” Wooyoung asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear the answer again anyway. 

Yunho sighed as Mingi smiled proudly. “Mingi did.” 

Mingi reached over and squeezed his hand. “It wasn’t an easy win.” 

“Of course not, I worked my ass off for that case!” 

You and Wooyoung couldn’t help but devolve into giggles like little kids. 

But for most of the time, you stayed with San, Yeosang, and Jongho. You all naturally gravitated back towards each other when you were pulled away, so you all ended up sticking together. Laughing, yelling, messing with all of Wooyoung’s family, stealing the food. 

Then Seonghwa came back and nearly turned you into a puddle in front of everyone. 

You were trying to clear the redness from your face, Wooyoung still giggling beside you, when you heard a knock at the door. 

The part you’d forgotten about. The catch to everything. The rain for the parade. 

You almost didn’t hear it over the chatter of the party, but Wooyoung definitely heard it. His face instantly fell and body went rigid. 

You put your drink down and grabbed Wooyoung’s hand. He shook himself out of his frozen state to look at you, and you saw that scared little boy again. The same one from those weeks ago when he opened up to you about the villain who was on the other side of the door. 

You’d promised him many weeks ago that he wouldn’t be alone. You’d be by his side, you wouldn’t let him go through it alone. Especially not now. 

“I’ll go with you,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. Wooyoung squeezed your hand back. 

“Okay,” he mumbled, staring at the floor, his shoulders drooping, his hands growing slick. 

You knew this feeling all too well. This internal battle. This anxiety that threatened to consume you completely. You began to feel your heart pounding against your ribs. You were hoping you’d have more time before you had to confront something like this again. 

But you’d do it for Wooyoung. You’d shove your fear aside to support Wooyoung. 

You walked with him to the front door. You kept your fingers laced with his as he hesitated to open the door. You squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed back. 

You could hear your heartbeat in your head now. Breathing was growing more difficult. 

You both took a deep, long breath. And then the door was open. 

At first glance, she didn’t look like much. She was shorter then Wooyoung, about your height, with long dark hair done in a braid down her shoulder, with a dark green knee length dress. 

But everyone knows this song and dance: Looks can be deceiving. 

“Wooyoung!” The woman squealed, throwing her arms out to hug him tightly. Wooyoung used his free arm to hug her back, still keeping his hand locked with yours. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much! It’s been months!” 

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Wooyoung said flatly, patting her back. 

The woman hugged him a few seconds too long before she finally pulled back and came inside the house. “Oh, who’s this?” She asked, her tone teasing, clearly hinting at more as she saw your joined hands. Instinctively, you wanted to pull your hand back and tell her it’s not what she thought. 

But you shoved that aside as you just smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m his friend. I wanted to spend Christmas with him this year.” 

“Not with your own family?” She cocked an eyebrow as she looked at Wooyoung, as if he’d somehow have the answer. He just looked at you. 

You could’ve said a lot. You were already thinking of venomous retorts you could throw at her. Her, who you knew despite her pretty face and sweet voice, was exactly like the people you’d escaped years before. 

But all you said was: “Nope.” 

Wooyoung’s mother blinked in confusion, expecting more, but when she realized you weren’t going to say anything else, she forced a smile. “Alright, well, I hope you’ve had a good time with him.” 

“I have,” you said simply, giving her the same fake smile she gave you. 

You were already growing exhausted of this facade. Your heart was pounding so hard, you could hear it in your head. Your hands were slowly growing slick. 

She simply nodded before she bowed only her head. You returned the gesture. “My name is Hajoon. Yours?” 

You gave her your name. Begrudgingly. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Hajoon said dismissively before she turned back to Wooyoung. But you stayed beside Wooyoung, holding his hand that was tightly gripping yours. 

“Woo, honey,” she cooed, reaching up to hold Wooyoung’s cheek. It took everything in him to not flinch and not move away from her hand. “You haven’t answered me in months. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he said. He shifted his weight around and swallowed, his throat bobbing. “I’ve just been busy this semester.” 

“Aww, my poor baby.” Hajoon pouted. “You can always ask me if you need help, you know.” 

“I know, but I have help already.” Wooyoung raised his hand which was joined with yours. “If I didn’t have their help, I would’ve been kicked out a long time ago.” 

Hajoon looked at you as you looked away, a blush creeping into your cheeks. He was giving you a little too much credit, but it wasn’t a complete lie. He did need your help sometimes, and you were willing to help. 

“Isn’t that sweet?” Hajoon gushed with a big smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m glad you have help, baby, but I’ll still be here if you need it.” 

Wooyoung nodded once. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Hajoon stayed silent for a moment, but when she realized Wooyoung had nothing else to say, she just nodded too. 

She hugged him again, and like before, Wooyoung just patted her back with one hand. She pulled back and pressed a kiss to his cheek before she let go. “I’ll go say hi to everyone else, and then we’ll talk more, okay?” 

Wooyoung mumbled an “okay” as she walked away. As soon as she was far enough away, he rubbed his cheek with the sleeve of his sweater. 

You let out a huge sigh of relief as you finally let go of Wooyoung’s hand. You both wiped your hands off on your clothes before you turned to each other. 

“That was exhausting,” you said as you watched Hajoon make her way through the people with that goddamn fake smile. 

“Exactly.” Wooyoung took a deep breath before he hung his head. “I just hope she doesn’t start anything.” 

“I’ll be here.” You rubbed his shoulder. “You’re not alone.” He still didn’t look up at you, but he nodded. 

She took everything out of him. It was only a little over a minute, but Hajoon just being here exhausted Wooyoung. You felt it too. The exhaustion from just being stressed that this person might do something, from keeping up the mask that you tolerate this person. 

Your heart ached when you saw it. But it was a different ache. It was painful. It hurt so badly. 

You pulled Wooyoung into a hug and held him tight. He hugged you back instantly, leaning his head on your shoulder. 

“You’re not alone,” you said softly, rubbing his back. Wooyoung nodded again. You couldn’t see it, but he was fighting tears. 

You’d say it until you couldn’t anymore. You’d be there for him. You’d be at his side tonight. 

He wasn’t alone. And he never would be. 

Seonghwa saw the two of you locked in the hug and went over, putting his hand on Wooyoung’s back. Wooyoung pulled back and looked up, wiping his eyes. 

“If she says anything to you, I’ll take care of her,” Seonghwa said softly. Wooyoung nodded, blinking back the rest of the tears. You reached up and rubbed his arm, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

Seonghwa leaned in and pressed a kiss to Wooyoung’s forehead. Wooyoung returned the kiss with one on his cheek before Seonghwa pulled back. “You know, Hongjoong was telling me he had some artists you’d probably like to meet before you go back to college.” 

Wooyoung’s face lit up and his smile melted away any of the tension that was there. “Really? Where is he?” 

“He’s on the couch, I told him I’d go get you.”

Wooyoung took off running for the couch, leaving you and Seonghwa alone by the door. He looked at you, and you looked at him. 

As badly as you wanted to hug him and kiss his Christmas red lips, you’d have to restrain yourself until the party was over. 

“Are you enjoying the party otherwise, dear?” Seonghwa asked, his mother voice coming in thickly. You gave him a small smile as you nodded. 

“Yeah, I’ve been having fun.” 

Seonghwa smiled back. “Good. I hope it stays that way,” he added, trailing off. You could only nod in answer, hoping for the same. 

If only you knew. 

It’d been only an hour after Hajoon arrived, and everyone already wanted her gone. 

Not because she was fighting with anyone, but because everyone knew her “rot your teeth sweetness” was a bald-faced lie. 

She stayed close to Wooyoung most of the time, being touchy and huggy, talking about herself more than talking with him about anything else. 

You were with Wooyoung through it all, and you were both bored to tears hearing about her jobs, her friends, her latest ex boyfriend. It’s like she was gossiping like a teenager, but she was in her forties. 

It didn’t help that Hajoon was the biggest drinker there. She was already halfway to hammered by the time the first hour was over. 

Her conversation topics started becoming more nonsensical and inappropriate. Most of the time, neither you nor Wooyoung had any clue what she was trying to say. 

It was mostly tame until Seonghwa came up behind you two. You were sitting on the couch, and Hajoon was sitting in one of the chairs. She scowled as he put his hands on Wooyoung’s shoulders, but he ignored the look, focusing on you two. 

“You can eat dinner now if you’re hungry,” Seonghwa said, looking between the two of you. “Some people have already gotten theirs, so it’s not as crowded.” 

“Thanks Eomma-” Wooyoung started, then instantly shut his mouth before he spoke again. “Dad.” 

But Hajoon heard it. 

Wooyoung tried to cover it up and flash a sweet little smile, but his death grip on your hand told you otherwise. 

“He’s not your eomma,” Hajoon slurred, her words barely discernible from each other. “You never call me eomma, Wooyoung.” She was trying to be serious, but the slurred speech just made her sound ridiculous. 

“Hajoon, go eat something, you’re drunk,” Seonghwa spat, more forcefully than you or Wooyoung expected. 

And that was the moment you both realized that it was time. The event you were both mentally preparing for, this was it. 

You both braced for Hajoon to spit back at him, but she just stared. But if looked could kill, Seonghwa would’ve been dead and buried. 

She kept up that stare for a few seconds before she got up and stormed into the kitchen. 

You and Wooyoung looked at each other in bewilderment. Even Seonghwa was stunned. 

“Take it and don’t say anything,” you whispered. Wooyoung and Seonghwa both nodded in agreement. Don’t push her, don’t say anything else that might piss her off. 

She was already a bomb with the fuse lit. But the length of said fuse wasn’t anything the three of you knew. 

“Why don’t you two wait a minute, then go get food, okay?” Seonghwa offered. You and Wooyoung nodded, to which Seonghwa nodded back before he walked away. 

The two of you sat in silence the minute you waited to go get food, your hands still interlocked. Why hadn’t Hajoon said anything? It was the perfect excuse for her to go off, but she didn’t. Why? Did she think it wasn’t worth it? 

Wooyoung knew her far better than you did (obviously), and he knew that in all Seonghwa and Hajoon’s years of being broken up, she’d always take a chance to start a fight or say something to him that she didn’t need to. 

She wasn’t always the instigator though. Sometimes, Seonghwa would start it. If Wooyoung happened to overhear or be present, he’d apologize for it. But the point of the matter is that the two had countless spats over the years. 

So why Hajoon stayed silent was a mystery to him and Seonghwa, and you by extension. 

You didn’t need to know their history to know that an abusive narcissist loved to fight, especially if they thought they were correct. Especially when she was drunk, no less. 

Whatever the reason, it made you both tense for whenever she would actually start something. 

You both tried not to think about it as you went to grab food. By that point, you were the last two besides Seonghwa who had to eat. Thankfully, because of Seonghwa’s wonderful planning, there was still plenty of food for you to grab. 

You loaded your plates up with as much food as you could, as you both hadn’t eaten for hours. Wooyoung especially was stacking food on top of itself. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna eat all that?” You teased. Wooyoung just gave you a sly smirk and said nothing. 

You were both ready to make your way back to the couch, but as you were ready to leave the kitchen, San, Yeosang, and Jongho were already at the dining table, calling you both over. 

Wooyoung happily went to sit with them, and you were about to follow, but Seonghwa gently grabbed onto your arm. You didn’t even realize he’d come into the kitchen. 

You looked up as he pulled you back a little, smiling warmly at you with half closed eyes. “Stay back with me for a second, please? I need some help with something.” 

You knew by the look in his eyes that he didn’t actually need anything. 

Except for you. 

You set your plate on the kitchen counter and let him lead you to the back of the kitchen, to a walk-in pantry, of which Seonghwa pulled you into and closed the door behind him. 

“We’re not going to-” You started, but Seonghwa was already shaking his head as he pulled you into his arms. 

“No, not now,” he murmured against your hair, holding you tight against his chest. “I just wanted to hold you.” You gladly melted into his arms and hugged him back. 

You’d been waiting for a moment where you could sneak off with Seonghwa and be with him for just a few minutes. To be in his arms, to just be you two again away from everyone else. Being around other people and pretending he wasn’t anything to you was torture. 

But now you two were alone, and now you were wrapped up in his arms, just like you always wanted to be. 

“You look gorgeous,” you said softly. Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile as heat rushed to his cheeks. 

“Thank you, jagiya. You look adorable.” You smiled bigger and nuzzled into his chest. His velvet dress felt wonderful against your skin, so soft, just as you imagined it would feel. 

You both needed this. Just a couple minutes alone, relaxing in each other's warmth. 

You knew you were going to be back in Seonghwa’s bed by the end of the night, but you couldn’t wait that long to hug him again. 

You wished you could’ve been by Seonghwa’s side all night. His arm around you while you were pressed against him, leaning on his shoulder. Your gorgeous boyfriend, keeping you with him, showing you off as his cute little partner. 

Maybe someday, you’d get there. 

You pulled back and looked up at Seonghwa, giving him your own half closed, loving gaze, similar to the one he always gave you. He held you even tighter as he came up to hold the back of your neck to pull you into a soft kiss. 

His gloss tasted like cherries. 

It was meant to be a soft and quick kiss, but one kiss turned to two, three, four needy ones before you knew it. 

Four turned into who knows how many, with you both gripping onto each other desperately, Seonghwa’s tongue pushing it’s way past your lips to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to his soft moans and heavy breaths, the way they were swallowed up by your kisses. You ran your hand down his body to keep them going- 

“What the fuck?!” 

You both jumped away from each other at the screech, You whipped your head to the door and your heart sunk to your feet. 

It was Hajoon. 

Seonghwa quickly stepped in front of you and held his arm out to keep you back. “Hajoon, this is none of your-”

But she cut him off, screeching like a wild animal. “You’re disgusting! Forcing yourself on someone your son’s age!” 

“He wasn’t forcing-” You tried to interject, but Seonghwa pushed you back a little more as Hajoon continued. 

“You couldn’t find anyone else our age to tolerate you, so you’re going after our son’s friends?! Were you just gonna go down the line and take your pick?!” 

You reached out and held onto Seonghwa’s hand. It was hard to get air in, like your lungs had shrunk. Your heart felt like it was about to explode. Your clothes were clinging to your body with sweat. 

“Hajoon, enough.” Seonghwa’s voice had dropped lower and his head was tilted down, staring at her through his brows. “You don’t know everything-” 

“I don’t need to know anything, I can see it all right here!” 

“Hajoon-” 

“Pretending to be a woman wasn’t enough for you, now you’re a predator?!” 

Just like that, the fear disappeared, and white hot anger washed over you. 

But as you opened your mouth to tear her to shreds, another voice popped up. 

“You do NOT get to call him that.” 

Wooyoung stormed up to Hajoon and stood in front of her, staring her down, his eyes dark and devoid of anything else but pure rage. 

But she just stared at him with the same anger she had for Seonghwa. 

“Oh, so you’re defending this?” She spat, motioning to you and Seonghwa as the this. “You’re okay with your father forcing himself on your friend?!” 

Wooyoung’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, shaking a little. His jaw was clenched tight like a vice. 

You’d never seen him more infuriated. 

“He’s not forcing himself on anyone,” Wooyoung all but growled out. “You don’t know anything about this, Mom.” 

“Why would I need to?! This is wrong! What if I started dating one of your friends, would it still be okay then?” Despite being shorter than Wooyoung, Hajoon still seemed like she was larger. Like an unstoppable force, an immovable object. 

Wooyoung stared at her for a few moments, turning the words over in his head before he finally spit them back out at her. 

“No, because I wouldn’t want my friends to date someone as bitchy and abusive as you.” 

There it was, the spark that finally set off the bomb. 

“How dare you?!” Hajoon screamed, then began to sob. Your hands shook with anger as memories came up again. “It’s not true, but you keep saying it! What did I do that was so cruel to you, what made me so abusive?!” 

But despite her crying, her begging, her drunken, wild craze, Wooyoung didn’t flinch. There was no sympathy in his eyes. There was nothing. 

“Do you really want a list?” He asked flatly. Hajoon wailed again. 

“You’re such a liar!” She cried, wiping away some of the crocodile tears off her cheeks. “What made you like this?” She started to reach out to hold his face again. “What happened to my sweet Wooyou-” 

He stepped away before she could touch him. Hajoon doubled over as if she’d been punched in the stomach, and she let out a painful sob with it. 

You and Seonghwa finally stepped out of the pantry now that you had space to. Everyone was standing in or just outside the kitchen, thanks to Hajoon. Shame washed over you and Seonghwa, but everyone was more focused on Wooyoung and Hajoon. 

“You did,” Wooyoung ground out. “YOU happened to me, Mom.” His voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears. “You taught me that screaming at people was a good way to get them to listen, you taught me that apologies don’t matter, you taught me EVERYTHING YOU NEVER want to admit to!”

The tears spilled down his cheeks the more he spoke, until all his words were just sobs and gasps. The scared little Wooyoung was back. 

The scared little boy who just wanted to be loved. 

But Hajoon didn’t see it. “Wooyoung, I have never-” 

“Hajoon,” Seonghwa interrupted, his own voice now shaky. “Leave my house.” 

She looked up at him in bewilderment, hoping he wasn’t serious. But he was giving her a similar cold look to the one Wooyoung gave her. But Seonghwa’s was more desperate. More tired. 

“Seonghwa-” 

“Don’t ever come back.” 

You squeezed Seonghwa’s hand. He finally squeezed back. 

With one final cry, Hajoon stormed out of the house, pushing past everyone else to grab her things and slam the front door behind her. 

No one said a word. The house was filled with a tension so thick, it was suffocating, like it was invading your lungs and forcing out the air. 

There was a lot that needed to be said. Looking at everyone’s confused and worried faces, there was an imminent and long conversation that needed to be started, but you didn’t know what to say. 

But you looked over at Wooyoung, who’d pulled himself back against the wall with his face covered, trying to stop crying, and you couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over yourself. 

You pulled away from Seonghwa and nearly ran to Wooyoung, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug. He hugged you back instantly, and you both cried in each other’s arms. 

“You did good,” you whispered, not being able to speak any louder. 

Wooyoung tightened his arms around you. “I’m a mess.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” Your throat closed up and another sob shot from your lips. “You did good, Wooyoung.” 

You didn’t know it at the time, but your words meant more to him than you knew. Wooyoung’s heart swelled hearing the words, and thankfully, he believed you. Even if he did look like a mess, he believed you when you said he did good. 

Because he did. From the way they spoke, it sounded like Wooyoung had tried to confront Hajoon, or make her see how she hurt him. 

But he properly stood up to her this time. Even if she didn’t take a single word of his and think about it, he got it off his chest. 

Wooyoung did it for himself. 

Hongjoong stepped through the crowd of people and walked over to Seonghwa, and his hands began to tremble. 

Seonghwa fully expected criticism from everyone. From not being told up front to how disgusting his current relationship was. Countless lectures and people talking down to him, telling him how wrong he was to pursue someone his son’s age. 

But Hongjoong’s eyes were sympathetic, and his body was relaxed. Seonghwa looked behind him, and Yunho and Mingi were at the front of the small crowd, with the same sympathetic look. 

San, Yeosang, and Jongho were right behind them. San was looking at Wooyoung, his face contorted into pain like he was being stabbed. 

“Do you want to tell us the truth, and not what Hajoon said?” Hongjoong asked, his voice soft. Seonghwa took a shaky breath before he nodded. 

“Yes, I’m in a…relationship of sorts with them,” he started, his eyes falling to the floor. “It’s been going on for a few weeks. I didn’t force them into this, everything, I made sure they consented.” Seonghwa’s vision grew blurry as his throat closed up, cutting off his words. 

Even as he spoke, he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t stop hearing Hajoon’s voice. Predator. 

It’d been his fear since the beginning. Isn’t that what he was? An older man pursuing someone much younger? A predator? 

“I believe you,” Hongjoong said softly, putting his hand on Seonghwa’s arm, sliding down to hold his hand. “Did you initiate this because they’re younger?” 

“No,” Seonghwa instantly spit out. “No, never.” His eyes drifted over to you. “At first, it’s because I found them attractive. But they’re sweet, and funny, helpful, respectful, patient, understanding...” He trailed off and looked back at the ground. “And they didn’t want me as just a perverted sex doll.” 

A whimper left his lips as he finished his sentence, his hand coming up to try to keep the rest of the tears inside. Hongjoong’s eyes grew heavier as he held Seonghwa’s hand tighter. 

“Then you’re not a predator, Seonghwa. I know you’re not. Please believe me when I say you’re not.” 

Seonghwa didn’t want to think he was. He didn’t want to believe he was. 

But hearing himself talk about you, and never bring up your age once made him realize it. 

He didn’t want you because you were younger. He wanted you for you. 

You pulled away from Wooyoung as your crying tapered off. You both wiped your faces off with the sleeves of your sweaters as you turned to Seonghwa. 

Neither you nor Wooyoung hesitated to hug him. The tears turned into full blown sobs as he hugged you two back. It was his turn now. 

And just like you’d known the night before, you three were together. You were still together. 

The ache in your heart was back, all over you, in every part of you. It made you squeeze Seonghwa tighter as you pressed your face back into his velvet gown. 

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was feeling it too. But so was Wooyoung. 

That moment solidified to you that you really had found a family. A family who cared. A family who would protect you. 

A family who loved you. 

Seonghwa closed the door as he said good night to Hongjoong, then turned back to you. 

Thankfully, everyone else was mostly accepting of the revelation that you and Seonghwa were in a relationship, but it killed the mood of the party, so everyone instead finished their food, exchanged their gifts, and agreed to call it a night. 

A lot of them agreed to help clean up, those being Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi, mostly helping clean up the kitchen. You and Wooyoung worked with San, Yeosang, and Jongho to freshen up the living room and dining room. 

“You two are really dating?” Yeosang had asked. You just nodded. He looked at Jongho, who looked back at him, and then at you. 

“How do you even start that?” Jongho added. 

Wooyoung piped up then when he grabbed your shoulder. “When you can’t stop drooling over the other.” 

The boys started laughing as you tried to smack Wooyoung, your face burning up remembering your first night. You were grateful that they were accepting too, but now that meant you’d get teased about it endlessly. 

But you’d rather take that over no friends at all. 

Because it was late by that point, the boys decided to stay the night (and definitely wasn’t because Wooyoung convinced San to stay first), so after clean up was done, Wooyoung took them upstairs to show them to their rooms. 

So here you were, alone again with Seonghwa. 

“I should’ve been more careful,” Seonghwa said softly. “It wasn’t a very good spot to hide.” 

“Don't beat yourself up.” You walked over to him and slipped your arms around his waist to hug him. He hugged you back, holding you tight. “You didn’t know she was going to follow us.” 

“I still regret it.” 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise, so you didn’t try. You just squeezed him instead before you looked up at him. 

“Let’s go to bed,” you offered. Seonghwa nodded, and held your hand as he led you back down the familiar route to his bedroom. 

You quickly changed into an oversized t-shirt and shorts, like you usually did, and were going to wait in bed for Seonghwa to be done. 

But you still wanted to be with him. So you went to the bathroom, where he’d already changed out of his gown and into a small pink robe, and was preparing to wash his makeup off. 

“I wanna help,” you said softly as you grabbed onto his arm. Seonghwa looked at you and couldn’t help but smile. That might’ve been the most adorable thing you’d done since you’d gotten here. 

He sat down on the toilet, and guided you through how to take off his makeup and wash his face before bed. You were gentle in everything you did, going over his face like he was made of glass. 

He gratefully leaned against your hand when you held his cheek, smiling in a tired little daze as he thought about how lucky he was to have you. 

You, who was so gentle and sweet to him, who wanted to spend so much time with him, who helped him unasked because you wanted to. You wanted to help him. 

It’d taken so many years for him to find someone again who actually wanted more from him than sex. And he found it in the most unexpected way. 

Once you were done, you both went back to bed and curled up under the covers, holding each other like you had every night before. 

You didn’t know how you were going to sleep without his steady heartbeat anymore. Without his arms holding you tight. 

You didn't want to think about it, especially as your eyes were falling closed from exhaustion. You were spent, and you were finally willing to listen and give in to the tiredness. 

Seonghwa pressed a kiss to your head as he slowly rubbed your back. “Good night, jagiya,” he whispered, closing his eyes. 

“Good night, Mommy,” you whispered back, finally succumbing to sleep in Seonghwa’s arms.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[whumpsday]

Caught

Whump & Giant/tiny Oneshot - Writing masterlist

find my G/t blog here: @smallsday

content: whump, g/t, tiny whump, trapped under rubble, crushed limbs, begging, fear, broken bones

Whumpmas in July Day 12: Caught GT July Day 13: Betwixt Whumperless Whump Day 12: Trapped under rubble / I can't move my legs

combining three different creation events for this one!! since i'm posting this to both my accounts, for non-g/t people who don't know, borrowers are a species of tiny people who secretly live in humans' houses and survive by stealing bits of food and supplies.

-

It had to be someone, eventually.

Cotton just barely kept himself from crying out as the pile of books he’d been climbing toppled over. He tried to grab at his grappling hook, but it was slack. The lack of resistance sent blood rushing through his ears as he fell.

He hit the ground first, and it wasn’t a good thing. The impact was bad enough from a few feet up, but borrowers were sturdy, and he had enough reserves to make it until his family’s next visit. But he certainly wasn’t sturdy enough for what came next.

The tower fell the same way he did, burying him in literature. A hardcover landed harshly on his legs, pinning him to the floor with a crunch he could no longer keep quiet through. Cotton wailed, but more books kept falling, burying him in a dark tomb he was helpless to escape from.

When the only sound that remained was his own crying, Cotton realized that he was still alive.

He tried to wiggle out, but he was utterly caught between the books and the floor, and he couldn’t move his legs. Every time he even tried to drag himself out by the arms, it sent a new wave of agony through him so bad that he had to stop.

Cotton laid there under the rubble and wept, until the worst of the pain subsided and he couldn’t feel his legs at all.

He tried again now that he could bear to, but it was useless. He wasn’t strong enough. A single book was twice his height, and he was buried under countless.

Which meant the human would find him.

The human would get home, see their books strewn about, and find him as they cleaned up. Whether they realized he was aiming to steal away food from their desk or not, they would find him. And he’d be powerless to stop… whatever they decided to do with him. Even more powerless than usual.

He couldn’t be seen. He couldn’t. Mom and Dad and his little siblings lived in the apartment right next door, and it wouldn’t take a human long to start to question where he came from. Every borrower would be in danger if he was found. But Mom and Dad weren’t visiting until next week, and the human would be home today.

It was hours before he heard footsteps, the telltale click of the front door’s lock. Cotton’s heart hammered in his chest.

“Shit,” the human–Özdal, that was their name–muttered, increasingly-loud steps booming over. “I really need to get another bookshelf.”

This was it. He could either make himself known, or wait to be found.

“H-help.”

Özdal froze. “Who said that?”

Cotton shuddered. “Please help. Under the–the books.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he heard shuffling up top, books being lifted. “Yeah! Yeah. Holy shit.”

More and more were lifted, the suffocating darkness giving way to the warm light of the apartment and removing the weight on his legs. An enormous figure loomed above him: he’d never been this close to a human before. He wasn’t supposed to ever be this close to a human.

“Oh my god.” Özdal staggered back, a hand over their mouth.

Cotton whimpered. He tried dragging himself away, slow and agonized against the floor.

“No! Don’t, oh my god, don’t move.” Özdal quickly knelt down before him, blocking his path with a massive hand that just barely missed touching him.

“Sorry!” Cotton cried, squeezing his eyes shut.

Özdal seemed to realize they were scaring him, and the hand was gone when Cotton dared to open his eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry! Your legs! What happened? What are you? What were you doing here? Are you o–I mean, obviously you’re not okay.” The human had tears in their eyes.

“I was climbing, please don’t hurt me, I’m sorry.” Cotton kept his voice quiet, hoping maybe Özdal wouldn’t hear.

“I won’t hurt you!” Özdal’s hands went up again. Cotton would have flinched if he could really move at all. “You need… a doctor. Like an emergency room. I’m not, uh, I can’t help with this.”

No no no no no. This was all going so wrong. More humans, more eyes on him. He was going to be the one to expose borrowers, an entire existence of safe secrecy down the drain. Who knew how many lives would be uprooted, captured, ended, all because of him?

“No! It’s fine! I’ve been injured before, I can handle it, don’t take me to anyone!” Cotton insisted.

Özdal said nothing for a moment. They pulled a ‘phone’, a device a little taller than him out of their pocket, pointed it at him, then turned it around.

Cotton was there on the screen, like a mirror stalled in time. His top half was mostly normal, if not for some bruising, but everything after that was… wrong. His legs were hardly recognizable, smears of blood and bone that he could hardly believe were attached to him.

“I gotta take you to a doctor,” Özdal said softly.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’ll… handle it somehow.” Even if he died, he couldn’t go. It would mean the end of life as they know it for every borrower. “Remove that image. Please.”

“Okay.” They still used that gentle, soft voice, like they were talking to some kind of scared, infant animal. Cotton didn’t like it. Özdal showed him as they tapped a little icon shaped like a trash bin, and the image disappeared. “But I still have to take you to the doctor.”

“No. You don’t understand,” Cotton pleaded.

Özdal looked down at him in all-too-obvious pity, then left the room. Cotton tried to drag himself, but he could barely make it a couple inches before Özdal returned. They carried a rubber spatula in one hand, and a woven basket emblazoned with HAPPY EASTER! and lined with a washcloth in the other.

“Listen. I dunno what you are or why you’re here, but I’m not gonna just sit here and watch you die because I was too lazy to clean my room, okay? I’m sorry. I, uh, really hope this doesn’t hurt.”

“No!” Cotton protested, but he could do nothing as Özdal carefully slid the spatula under him. He screamed as it jostled the only part of his legs he could feel, his upper thighs, eliciting a frantic sorry, sorry! from Özdal.

And then he was lifted.

Cotton clung to the spatula for dear life, gasping as the floor fell out from under him and he plunged up into the open air. Just as fast, he was deposited into the basket.

“Here.” Özdal reached in and folded the washcloth over him, enveloping him in softness. “Just try and, um, rest, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

“No,” Cotton repeated, but it was hollow. He knew it was hopeless at this point. Nothing he said made any difference, and there was nothing he could do to make the human just listen to him. Not without telling them about borrowers, about his family, and that would only put everyone else in even more danger.

Özdal carried him out to their car. Cotton had only seen them from a distance before, terrifying, monstrous things. He never thought he’d end up inside one. It stank of oil and shook like thunder, but Özdal wasn’t deterred.

When the shaking finally stopped, they picked up the basket again. Cotton pulled the washcloth over his head as soon as he saw: humans were everywhere. They would all see him.

He felt the basket being placed down on something.

“Hi, I’m here with an emergency!” Özdal shouted.

They lifted the folded portion of the washcloth.

Cotton stared up, wide-eyed, at the bright-white room. There were more humans than he’d ever seen, and before he could even try to hide, several were already staring right back.

A couple of them pointed their phones at him, just like Özdal had.

Dread solidified in his gut.

“Oh no,” he whispered, finally passing out.

oneshots taglist

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

-

@what-if-i-just-did

everything taglist

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps​

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@sowhumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

-

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@alextries

-

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

g/t taglist

@whumpinthepot

@cupcakes-and-pain

@reborrowing

events

@whumpmasinjuly

@gianttol

@whumperless-whump-event

[lemonmelonboy]

Lonely for the First Time Ever

Jack x Reader

TW: Ian /j, Cheating, Loneliness

Content: GN!Reader

Word Count: 3317

Summary: My own fun take on Day 1 (?) of Somethings Wrong with Sunny Day Jack.

18+ Readers ONLY - Minors Do NOT Interact! Minors/Ageless Blogs will be Blocked!!!

I Do NOT give any permission for my work to be Reposted, Translated, or used with AI in ANY Capacity!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had just dragged yourself out of your apartment after being called in to cover your flakey co-worker for possibly the millionth time that year. You surely missed your days off at this point, wishing to have just one every week rather than every other week. You sighed heavily walking down the sidewalk, as Jack trailed alongside you. It was cold and stormy, the rain was pelting the sidewalk and cars were passing by in a slum. It was such a peaceful walk.

You walked silently with Jack politely carrying your umbrella; you had protested but he very much insisted he take it for you. The rain soothed your racing mind, but that only made it so you thought slower about the things on your mind. You ran over what had just happened before you were rudely interrupted by your boss’s phone call. How Jack had held you so close, how you imagined kissing him for a brief moment, and how you wish you had. You mulled it over and over, unable to shake the image of the cuddly Jack. How Jack had looked at you with those love sick eyes. How bad you wanted to stay. Thoughts raced about why, which brought up feelings from the past few months. But as you slipped into your thoughts Jack gently bumped your arm, a playful event that he’d tend to do on your walks. It made you smile, he always knew how to make you smile, especially with little things like that. You look around trying to keep yourself in the present, but the pittering of the rain on the umbrella and sidewalk luls you back into thoughts of Jack and your loneliness.

“Sunshine?” Jack's voice cooed kindly. You looked up to him, suddenly pulled back.

“Hm?” you looked around as you realized you almost walked straight by your work. A soft embarrassed blush works its way across your cheeks.

You slip into the door, walking to the back to set your things down, ignoring Barry’s comments on how thankful he is you could come in and how absolutely sorry he is for having to do it. When you come back from the back of the store you find he had already left. You sigh as you find yourself alone in the shop, going through your list of menial tasks for the day. You work quietly as Jack hangs around, quietly helping when he can. It's weird to have him be so comfortable with how quiet you’re being. Usually he does anything to try to fill the silence, like whistling a small tune. However the man who stood before you now would only give you an encouraging smile whenever you looked at him and never said a word, not until you spoke up.

“Jack..” You sighed his name as you relaxed against the counter having finished all the tasks you needed to. You didn’t even have anything to tell, least not in a way you knew how. He perked up like a puppy being offered a treat.

“Yes, sunshine?” he asks sweetly. You looked at him and could feel your body warm as you saw his happy face and his kind eyes looking at you almost needingly. You mull over a single thought in your head and he can see you are resisting saying what you were thinking. “Is everything alright?” his happy look slowly fades to concern. Then he looks away with a soft blush on his cheeks. “It's okay to want that.. to want to be wanted..” he said breathily and quietly, almost like he was embarrassed by his own words.

“Wh-what are you saying?'' How did he know? You were sure you were only thinking to yourself, and you weren’t a vocal thinker.

“I just… sometimes people are like that for you, and it's okay to have a person you want to be with all the time… to want them to want you… and wanting them..?” He ended it like a question, almost like he wanted you to just admit it all to him right then and there.

“Wha- I- '' You didn’t know what you should say to him. You were so embarrassed at the implication that he was who you wanted- or the implication you wanted someone else.

“Do you… want me?” he asked, quieter than ever. He was still pretty blunt with it- looking at you with a pair of hopeful puppy eyes that made your body scream for you to just say “yes” and let him hold you. “I know it's hard to say- but I can help you learn what words to use to express these feelings.” He gently urges, moving closer to you reaching out almost as if he was ready to hug you, and hold you and possibly never let go.

“But- I- it's just that’s- you can’t just ask something like that- I-“ He moves closer, his hands resting on the counter behind you, he makes a point of not touching you yet, but wanting to get closer to you. A warmth spreads over your face into a sweet blush as you figure out how to answer. You felt in that moment that you wanted him to hold you, to grab you the best he could.

“I want to be there for you- whether you want me like that or not.. I’ll be there for you however you need me- I just want what’s best for you- What will make you happy-'' suddenly your phone starts ringing, interrupting Jack and causing him to step away. A soft frustrated look comes over his face as he looks away. You take up the cell phone, glad to have been interrupted right then, afraid if he continued your heart would have given out.

“Oh- Uh- I'll be- back!”

Jack nods slightly, “It might be important- so- don’t worry alright? I’ll still be here when you get back!” He said encouragingly as he let you walk past him.

You really shouldn’t be taking calls at work, but you didn’t care. You also didn't care if the call was spam and you picked it up without checking the name plastered on the screen. You quickly ducked to the kitchen camera blind spot.

“Hello?” You spoke with that pitch in your voice encouraging the person calling to speak. You were hopeful it was something that would take your mind off everything.

“You picked up-“ an all too familiar voice came through, in awe, and dripping with desperation. You froze, the last person you ever wanted to hear, especially with how your day was going. Ian. “Hey..” He spoke again, trying to fill in your quiet response. You hadn’t forgotten about him, but you hadn’t expected he’d call you while you were at work. “Are you alright?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“Ye-yeah, I’m fine..” You could hear him sigh softly in relief as you responded.

“I-I’ve missed you… and your voice..” he almost whimpered into the phone.

“What- what do you need Ian. I’m- at work, you can’t be calling me like this” You asked quietly, surprise still filling your tone more than any anger or demandingness.

“I-I know,, I didn't expect you to pick up! I-I’m sorry…” Ian said, he sounded so sad, and you do feel a little bad. He was your life long friend, and what felt like even longer lover. But he hurt you, and objectively you know you shouldn’t feel sorry for him, or how you treat him.

“You’ve said.. And I don’t forgive you Ian.. You know I am still mad at you.” There’s silence from him. You bite your quivering lip, pushing back a sob, thinking he must be feeling the same. “I-” You huff out, collecting yourself before you continue. “I’m trying to move on.” You say, a little sad hearing yourself say it.

“You’re- You’re what...” you can hear his heart break more in his voice, and you might’ve felt it just a bit yourself. “You’re not,, with someone right? Because… I am trying. I am going to fix this… And-” You cut him off

“Ian... Its not your problem whether I am with someone or not… We aren’t… We are not us anymore. So- what I do isn’t any concern for you...” You speak in a soft frustrated tone, you try to give him patience especially since you’ve trapped yourself into this conversation.

“But... can't it? Be, my problem? I-I need to make this up to you… You’re… All I’ve had since we were little- and… We’ve been through so much I- and I know this is my fault- and I need to fix this. Please. Let me fix this… Fix us…” he begged, and somewhere in you, you could feel the need to let him, to just give him the time to “fix” what he did, just so you could have him back. So you could feel less lonely. But no, you wouldn’t be able to handle it if he cheated on you again.

Breaking up with Ian was just as big of a loss for you as it was for him. You both lost someone you never thought you would. And God you had loved him. And who knows, maybe you still did, just a little. He took your silence as an urge for him to continue making his case. “I know I can make it up to you... I promise... I miss you so much- I-I want you so badly. And- I’ll be there soon to show you that what I’m saying is true '' he ends his statement with a happy hum, almost proud. You couldn’t take it anymore, you could hear customers in the front of the clowny yogurt shop come in, chatting modestly among themselves

“Goodbye... Ian.” you say, colder than you would’ve thought you could. You hung up before he could beg you to stay and talk to him more. You take a few slow calming breaths and turn to leave, noticing Jack standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Jack…” you mutter to yourself, afraid he might’ve overheard the call. He looks to you with a concerned kindness, one that he tends to give you whenever you notice Ian called you and left another message. You look away from Jack and walk quickly past him into the store, slapping on your customer service face and attitude.

Greeting the group of boys mulling in the front of the store. They seem preoccupied going through the yogurt flavors, which unfortunately gives you the time to think through things again. Your mind drifts, thinking of memories of Ian, clearer now than they had been that morning. One memory in particular, it was how he had looked when you kicked him out after finding out he had cheated on you. After running that memory in your mind a few times the memory of meeting Jack slowly started playing too. It hadn’t been long after Ian had left either, and you still weren’t completely sure where he came from. If he was a hallucination, could it have been your loneliness that made you imagine this pretty clown man to befriend you? Maybe that was why he was so attached to you? But, Jack certainly felt real, everytime he touched you, it felt real and so very safe. Maybe you did want him? Your thoughts were broken by a shy dark haired boy who stood in front of you. He couldn’t have been much younger than you, and he sported a gray and black shirt with a large black coat.

“We’re ready- to uh- pay- whenever you are?” he seemed nervous, a light blush spreading over his cheeks as he looked away from you, shifting nervously on his feet. One of the guys in the group set down the last of the three yogurt cups onto the scale, and you finish up their transaction. As two of the three guys start to leave the guy in the dark clothing lingers, glancing slyly at you, trying not to stare but also seeming to also want to admire you. “So- uh- you- work here often?” His blush deepens and he looks away again, clearly embarrassed. You can't help but be confused, annoyed and a little humored by his awkwardness.

“Yeah- unfortunately” you reply, attempting to give a light hearted air to your words.

“C-cool- Cool.” he pushes out, almost relieved you didn't call him an idiot. He seems at a loss for words now too, wanting to continue the conversation but feeling too awkward. He makes small noises before he takes his frozen yogurt and walks out. Once he’s gone you give a sigh and a light smile lingers on your face as you think about how silly that interaction was.

The rain continues to pound outside and your day drones on uneventfully and lacking any customers. Soon enough it was time to close and you did so quickly and happily. By the time you were finished with your last sweep you almost skipped out of the store. Jack smiled softly to you as you locked the door, him holding your umbrella once again. Once you were ready you turned around and the pair of you quietly walked home. He nudges you again about half way through the walk, his familiar gentle motion to let you know he was still around.

Once home you quickly kick off your shoes and flop onto your couch with a heavy sigh. You relax with your eyes closed and a gentle sigh. God you needed this seat.

“Hey.. sunshine?” Jack's soft cooing voice sang as you felt his weight and warmth settle in next to you. “Can I ask- who’s Ian..?” he asked softly. You rolled your head up to look at Jack.

“He’s..” Your gaze falls away from the kind caring clown. “An ex..” You gently hug yourself as you feel yourself become warm from all your emotions washing through you. You wanted to talk about him with Jack. You wanted to get it out. You haven’t really told anyone about what happened. Jack wraps a comforting arm around you after seeing you close in on yourself. His other hand rests on your arms, encouraging you to open up. You swallow your emotion like its pill stuck in your throat, then you continue. “He was all I had since we were kids.. Best friends forever- least we were supposed to be..” You felt your lips gently quiver before shaking your head to try to push it away. “and,, as we had gotten older we became something.. More. I don't think we ever officially labeled it- but we both had the mutual understanding that- we were who the other wanted for,, forever..” You huff softly as you feel the sadness hit you harder than before and Jack pulls you into him. He hugs you just to let you know he’s listening and understanding, to let you know you’re safe.

“So why does it seem like you’re so upset with him.. if you,,” he lingers before continuing “if you.. love him” that question hung in the air for a while. After you don’t respond for a while Jack gently leads your head to look up to him. “I’m sorry if that was too much, sunspot. If you can’t-” You shake your head softly, almost nuzzling into his hand.

“No- no it’s okay Jack,,” you mumble while looking up to him with sad eyes. “Ian.. cheated on me..” You mutter before turning away, almost ashamed to admit it. He pulls you back, running his thumb over your cheek to soothe you.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispers sweetly to you. He was making you feel so cared for and safe and you craved every touch he gave.

“And…” you felt your eyes slowly start to water. “He was all I had for so long... that when I made him leave I… became so very lonely.” You almost whimper to Jack, trying your best not to cry as you spoke. “I miss him so much Jack...” you whisper as you hide your watery eyes against his hand. “Then you came and you were so safe and I'm afraid I don’t feel genuine enough- like I should for you… or if I just feel these things for you because I can’t for Ian.” Tears pour from your eyes as you bite your lip, your voice and body shaking as you fight back sobs. Jack kindly rubs your back and swipes away the tears running down your cheeks.

“And because of that- I'm- afraid I make myself more lonely by pushing you away because I- don't wanna hurt you…but I still probably do hurt you..” You shake your head looking away and leaning against Jack's chest. He softly shushes you and hugs you tightly as you gently sob into him. “And you're so open, and honest, and kind and I don’t know if I’m completely able to feel all of this emotion as much as I want to- just… feel you hold me like this” you whimper as you cling against Jack, gripping his shirt tightly in your hands.

“It’s okay... I’ll be here for you however you need me… always” he promises you, resting his cheek against the top of your head and gently nuzzling. “You don’t have to tell me what you don’t feel you can,, you don’t have to do anything- feel anything you don’t want to feel.” He gives you a firm squeeze as you slowly calm down “You’re perfect…you didn’t deserve what they did to you- but it's okay to feel bad… or even miss them...” His words are like honey, slowly creeping into all your painful thoughts and soothing them, lessening their raw, burning pain. Being heard, letting it out, had helped tremendously. Especially with how Jack was holding you, close and warm.

“I’m sorry...” You murmur, feeling Jack’s hand on your back slowing. “I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you,, or disappointed you or burdened you or- '' Jack sits up and grabs your face gently. Holding you on either side with his hands, making you look him in the eye.

“None of that sunspot.” He said firmly, his eyes full of nothing but determined care. “You. Are. Perfect.” he says again “You are so amazing- Please never say any of that again” he demanded, his thumb running over your cheek. You look at him with adoration and understanding. You were so close. You nod softly and nuzzle into his hands, soaking up his sweet comforting warmth.

“Jack...” you whisper before looking up to him again with your eyes lingering on his lips. Before you know it, your body draws itself into Jack’s more and your lips find their way to pressing up against his. You feel him push back against your kiss, his hands holding you firm against him. You reach up and gently take one of his hands to lace your fingers together. You felt so overwhelmed with love at that moment. You didn’t want to pull away, but you felt Jack’s lips slowly retreat. You open your eyes and spot Jack’s deep red cheeks and fond eyes looking at you.

“I'm so glad you’re feeling better sunshine.” He says sweetly, and you instinctively nuzzle into the hand against your cheek, turning your head and gently giving it a kiss. That only seems to fluster Jack more. He pulls you against him again, similar to how the pair of you were seated earlier that morning, but this time you didn’t hesitate to kiss Jack as soon as you were situated. The pair of you layed there, trading soft and passionate pecks. Jack occasionally whispers loving praises to you, and soon, you fall asleep in exhaustion against his chest.

[writers-potion]

hello! im so sorry if this sounds weird, but you're literally the only person who gives actually useful writing advice, so idk who else to ask.

but basically im writing a side romance arc in my novel where the girl is taller than the guy. usually we see the vice versa happening, but im really fixated upon writing them, and i wonder if you could give me any good tips on how to make this dynamic work.

once again, sorry if this sounds weird. keep up the good work!

Writing Tall Girl x Shorter Guy Dynamics

Hey thanks for the question!

How Others See Them

Writing a tall girl x shorter guy couple would work best if the two of them could joke about it regardless of how others see them!

Give them jokes that only they can make -

When others ask uncomfortable questions, show them defending and taking care of each other fiercly.

Tom x Zendeya?? I mean they're sooooo cute

On the other hand, you can try writing conflict that circles around the fact that the girl is taller:

Other girls (guys) gossiping about how they'd never date someone shorter (taller) than them.

Mindless comments about how they would be "cuter" if the girl was shorter, etc.

It's hard to imagine this happening outright (it happens subtly more or less) in the modern sense (unless you have a mean character), but can work in slightly older period settings when steroetypes were stronger than they are now.

Personally, I think it would be funny to have scenes where the two of them don't care at all while another character tries to comment on their height, only to leave slightly embarrassed.

How They See Themselves

Given that the average guy is taller than the average girl, it's likely that (1) your female character is taller than average and/or (2) your male character is shorter than average.

In such cases, they might be insecure about their height and therefore feel unsure about the relationship for the reason, especially in the beginning. You can choose to show this especially if:

The two characters are teenagers, when people are sensitive about their looks/peer pressure

They have a job/hobby where they constantly encounter the traditional "ideal man/woman" (e.g. the girl works at a drama studio where all the shippable couples in it have petite girls/ the guy's hobby is basketball and his buddies would tease him, etc.)

This allows you to then write healing relationship arcs like:

The girl making the guy realize that his his heighten doesn't undermine his masculinity.

The guy making the girl feel "protected and safe" - I feel like this is the top quoted reason for girls preferring taller guys - despite the height difference.

The girl/guy initially believing that they need to find someone who is taller/shorter than them but realizing that height isn't important when you've met the right one.

Since romance is about how two people come to know more about themselves and grow together into more mature. stable people, try playing with how having a height that stands out affects the characters' psyche and how this relationship makes them care less and be more comfortable in their own skin.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

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[romanarose]

Why Did You Stop?

Steven Grant x Gn!reader

Romana's 1000 follower celebration

Join my tag list to be tagged in more content!

requested by @soonknight

"hi romana, congrats on 1000! you deserve it and I love your writing! I wanted to send you a request but I'm on a side blog and hate doing anons... I'd love to see a drabble with steven and "why'd you stop?" I'm just in the mood for some fluff tonight, idk. thanks!"

Summary: While locked out of your apartment, your neighbor, Steven, kindly let's you stay over at his flat that night.

************

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

You wake up to a pretty sight; Steven Grant, your neighbor, waking you.

And the blinding hall lights. Those were annoying.

"Oh, hey Steven." You smile at him sitting up.

"Everything okay? I'm sorry to wake you, love, but I was just worried."

"Y-yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just locked myself out of my apartment is all. Sleeping out here for tonight."

The look of horror on his face make you giggle. "Oh god, no! Why didn't you knock on my door? I'm glad I ordered some late dinner" He held up his take out. "C'mon, up you go" Steven began to hoist you off the couch, even picking up your coat that you were using as a blanket. "Can't believe you didn't come see me. Absolutely ridicules, as if I don't have a perfectly good apartment just across the hall for you to sleep in."

Steven continued to murmur about how you were always welcome over as he set you up on the couch you were all to familiar with after arguing with him over who was going on the bed. You simply refused, you would not disrupt the poor man's sleep. He needed it! Plus, he had a whole ruetine.

You'd been around Steven and his apartment enough that he felt he no longer had to hide the sand and chain and duck tape from you, all the times you came over to watch movie's this last month you saw his place just as it was, mess and quirks in all. You liked that he trusted you with it.

Soon enough, you found yourself bundled up on the couch with the neighbor you'd been sporting a crush on since forever, and as usual, your bodies were pressed up close with Steven laying on your lap. It wasn't long until he fell asleep on you, just as you suspected he would. Steven almost always did, needing his rest so badly, so you'd taken to lulling him to sleep yourself by gently scratching his scalp, massing your fingers through his beautiful thick curls. If he didn't wake by the end of the movie, you would try to make a quiet exit and leave him on the couch with a blanket. Tonight, you were hoping he'd wake eventually so you could send him to bed, but for now you took the time to simple admire him. He real was handsome, so, so handsome it was nearly painful, your heart aching for him, to touch him, to be with him... but if you told Steven that, would you lose moments like this? moments when you felt so comfortable, so safe, so at peace... you'd miss it all so much.

"Why'd you stop?" Steven's voice was soft and small below you, and it's then you realize his eyes open, watching you watching him...

"Oh! Oh sorry, Steven" You go back to scratching him, but he keeps looking up at you, his brown eyes large and gentle.

"You looked sad, darling. Anything wrong?"

"No, Steven, nothings wrong"

He didn't believe you. Steven sat up, his face close to yours. "No, somethings on your mind. What is it?"

Still, you hesitate. You could tell him... but you could also ruin it all. "Well... I was just thinking... and... and you can say no and I don't want this to ruin our friendship but... maybe I could take you on a date sometime?" You held your breath.

Steven's face was unreadable besides surprise. "You... you want to go on a date? With me?"

You couldn't help wringing your hands together. "Yes? I mean, if you want to. If you want to remain just friends then that's-" You were interrupted by the most unlikely of events. Steven Grant kissed you.

His lips on yours, you relax into him, opening your mouth slightly for the kiss to deepen just a bit. Nothing salacious, nothing raunchy, simply you and Steven feeling your passion for one another.

"Darling, I'd love to go on a date with you. But I'm taking you."

You smile at your sweet Steven, so beautiful and so kind. He was finally yours.

************

This is inspired by the time during winter break i got locked out of my dorm bc I lost my keys at work and a kind coworker drove me home and i was able to get into the building bc my student ID by not my dorm room. The RA n duty never answered my damn call. I was mad. lol. anyway i didn't let it get me down, i made due and slept on a couch and was greatful i had a warm place to sleep in the -30 temps but Fen actually gave me this idea for Stevenw hen I told them about it XD

thanks for everyone being patient on these, my anxiety ha been like. severe. i dont want to be dramatic but it's been bad bad bad all summer and im honestly struggling. I appriciate the patience and the understanding that i gotta do it when inspiration strikes and im feeling it.

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @runa-falls @lokisv7ikrie @mikaelak

[freshbakedbreadstick]

No. 1 Party Anthem - Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader - Chapter Three

Past!Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

Carmy Berzatto x F!Platonic!Reader

Richie Herimovich x F!Platonic!Reader

Summary: The promise of taking your return “one step at a time” seems appealing until you realize that it comes with being vulnerable. And being vulnerable makes you run. 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of the content. Heavy spoilers. Mentions of death, toxic relationships, grief, angst, strained relationships, minor injuries, arguments/yelling matches, details of anxiety/panic attacks, bad coping mechanisms, mental health issues.

Word Count: 4.1k 

A/N: Hi besties ! ! ! Im so sorry this took so so so long for me to update, unfortunately life had other plans for me lol ironic how i'm writing about anxiety attacks while i myself was dealing with having one basically everyday . Don’t worry about me though , worry more about the heavy angst your gonna read lolllll anyways this one was fr a doozy to write and edit so take breaks when you need it but i promise things will get better in the next chappy ! ! Also, i made it extra long to compensate for my late post lolllll I still hope you all enjoy ! <3

Taglist: @marysucks-blog @shinebright2000 (your both sweeties ! ! ty for being on my taglist, extra love 4 u n for everyone who gets on the taglist <3)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Masterlist

The sky outside your window was a deep shade of blue with black bleeding into its edges. Not a peep of the morning sun had made it into the sky, keeping it a lighter shade of the usual night sky. 

Your hands gripped the edges of the sink as you looked into the mirror, the cold ceramic making goosebumps appear on your skin making you shiver in your pajamas. Your eyes traced your mirrored face, moving from the creases on your skin to the deep, dark bags underneath your eyes. 

You got no sleep last night as you were on the cusp of making a decision you weren’t exactly sure was a good one, but was a decision you wanted to make regardless: you were returning to The Beef and taking it one day at a time, just like how Richie said. 

You didn't even know why you were returning anymore, you just sort of felt a calling when you stepped foot in the kitchen you vowed to never return to.

Your shoulder twitched as you thought about the kitchen of The Beef. You could feel the ghost of Carmy's hand searing into the spot on your shoulder where he rested his hand for a brief second as he passed behind you.

With a shaky breath, you looked down and turned the sink on to splash some lukewarm water on your face. It was time to get ready. 

After quietly moving about mindlessly in your room, you were ready. From one of the many boxes shoved in the back of your closet labeled "The Beef", you pulled out ivory wide leg linen pants, covered in colorful pigments, a cropped sleeveless black top, and an oversized sweatshirt that had a graphic of The Beef on the back. You sighed, looking at your old 'chef' clothes. 

Suddenly, you were pulled into a memory. 

You walked into The Beef, grinning widely as you made eye contact with Richie who was behind the counter. There, he was preoccupied with counting cash from the register but instantly perked up upon seeing you walk through the front door.

You were wearing your ivory linen pants and cropped top as well as the oversized sweatshirt. It was a staple outfit you often wore when helping out at The Beef. 

Richie clapped his hands as you held up and lightly shook the white paper bag in your hand. 

"Hallelujah, my prayers have finally been answered!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into a prayer formation. 

You snickered and placed the bag on the counter before gently opening it up. Richie then shoved his hand in the bag, making you laugh and scold him. 

As you two playfully bickered, a hulking frame walked over from the kitchen and over to the entryway that led to the front of the restaurant.

"What'd ya get me, baby?" 

You turned to the doorway of the kitchen where Mikey leaned against the frame, his toned body taking up the entire space. One hand rested on his hip while the other stretched up, gripping the top of the door frame. 

Noticing that you were busy ogling at your boyfriend, Richie took the opportunity to quickly grab his dessert from the bag and start eating it feverishly. 

You beamed at him, cheeks rosy, "I got us all our favorite cream puffs from the bakery down the street. The last ones too!!" 

Richie took another bite of his cream puff and groaned, mouth covered in sugar and muffled as we went on and on about how this was exactly what he needed after a long day. Meanwhile, Mikey let go of the frame and slowly made his way to you, eyes locked with yours. 

As he approached you, his gaze never left your own, making you flush. Fuck, his eyes were always so intense. 

You held up his own cream puff, making him lick his lips as he stopped in front of you. 

The world seemingly disappeared around you as he murmured quietly, only loud enough for you to hear, "Feed it to me, baby?" 

The front door slammed behind you, making you jump and grimace. 

"Shit…" you whispered to yourself, not meaning to make so much noise as to avoid waking up your parents.  

After locking it much more quietly, you grabbed your tote bag full of supplies and rushed down the steps to your car. The sky was still dark, but was lighter than before making you anxious about getting to The Beef on time. 

The streets were dead and silent as you passed the green lights. Occasionally, another car would pass by, making your heart race as you feared you would accidentally have your plans exposed early. After all, nobody knew you ended up making this decision to fully return. 

After parking a little down the street to keep your car hidden, you sat in your car, mind replaying the memory of Mikey. You can see the pink flush on his tan skin, making him look so... alive. You can see the way his chest rises as he breathes in, pink lips parting as he breathes out. His hair was well kept despite a long day at The Beef. Before you, he looked well. 

He looked alive. 

But he was dead. 

Your grip on the steering wheel weakened as your arms felt numb. Your hands had even begun to get sweaty, slipping down the steering wheel. 

Your Mikey was dead. 

It has been over half a year now that Mikey died. 

As you continued to sit there, the windows started getting foggy and the interior got stuffier and stuffier, making you feel like you were suffocating.

It's been over half a year since Mikey had died. 

Your right hand had begun to slide its way from where they fell onto your lap and to your tote bag, shaking. Your breathing got faster and faster, your heart racing right until… 

Your fingertips hit cold metal.

Your heaving chest froze, your shaking hands froze, it even felt like your rapid heartbeat froze. 

Slowly, your fingers curled around the keys and pulled them out. They jangled as you pulled them up to view. 

The keychains, all unique and worn down from years of being stuffed into pockets, bags, etc, glistened under the streetlamp. The small square keychain that contained a photo of you and Mikey, squished together but grinning during a trip to Coney Island years ago, seemed to glare at you as it turned in the air to face you.

You threw the car door open and shoved yourself out and onto the street, stumbling as you tried not to fall onto the cold asphalt. Hot tears streamed down cheeks, feeling out of place and unexpected despite your emotions in that moment. You hiccupped to yourself, trying your best to bite down on the sleeves of the sweatshirt to muffle your crying. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine,” you repeat to yourself, trying desperately to stop the tears from continuing.

You dragged your bag from out of the car, yanking it, body flailing forward as the heaviness of what was inside set in. You hurriedly locked your car and crossed the street, steps heavy as you rushed towards the back door of The Beef.

With a pause, you quickly wiped your face with your limp hands and took a shaky breath. The metal back door was slightly rusted around the metal edges, making it look old in a way that made you shiver as you thought of the night you came here and saw it for the first time in months. With your eyes squeezed shut, you twisted the knob of the door, hoping to find it locked.

Lucky for you, it still was.

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in and brought your keys up to unlock it. By now, the sky had barely started to get specks of yellow and orange; you knew that any moment now Carmy would probably arrive. After all, you reminded yourself, he would be the kind to aim to arrive before anyone else and start prepping for that day’s meal service.

You quickly shoved the keys into the lock and it clicked open. After accidentally dropping the keys as if it was hot metal, you got back up and swung the door open, pushing forward over the threshold to turn on the lights. 

You blinked as the lights slowly illuminated the steel appliances of the kitchen and the white walls. It was completely silent, aside from the subtle buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you. It was oddly calming too, standing there in a place of chaos where there wasn’t any. It made the knot that had formed in the pit of your stomach slowly unwind. You were terrified that being in here, alone, would cause you to scream, cry, throw things, or just do something, but you were relieved to feel that you just… you felt… fine. 

Your feet shuffled across the kitchen and to the lockers. Instinctually, you went and stood in front of the locker you used to use and reached up to open it before pausing. 

With a quick step back, you hummed to yourself. You haven’t been there in so long and because Carmy has since taken over, there is a good chance that the locker you left abandoned was repurposed for someone else, but something inside you pushed you to unlock it anyway.

The locker clicked and creaked as you opened it, your eyes widening to find it empty. You eyed each corner before looking down to see a clean and neatly folded apron resting there. The sharpie writing underneath the logo of The Beef was smudged after years of washes and rewrites, but you could still make out your name in Mikey’s writing. 

You reached forward, the canvas fabric of the apron feeling soft under your fingertips as you gently traced the curves and corners of your name. 

Your throat tightened, making you pull your hand back fast, as if burned by the touch of the fabric. 

Exhausted at your own reactions, you rolled your eyes, “Fuck, this is so stupid.” 

You grabbed the apron and shoved your tote bag inside. After changing your shoes to some non-slip ones more appropriate for working in the kitchen, you threw the apron on.

The clean scent of fresh laundry invaded your nostrils, making you sniff as you realized that this was very recently laundered. Your eyes closed and your shoulders sagged, it must have been Sugar that found this somewhere in the mess of the office and cleaned it for you.

You wiped down the front counters and restocked the cups, knowing exactly where it was that all these things were kept in the kitchen. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you noticed the paper sign you laminated and stuck to the wall where the cups, utensils, and plates were kept was still there after years. The paper itself was wrinkled and the writing was blown out, having suffered a water related accident courtesy of Richie before you decided to laminate it and stick it back on. Your writing said ‘Please place all disposables here! Thank you (:’ and underneath it was Richie’s messy, blown out writing saying ‘Don’t tell me what to do!’.

By the time you had finished doing the small tasks you used to do in the front, the backdoor swung open with a loud, "Hello?"

You stood up and whipped your head to the doorway of the kitchen. Carmy's voice echoed out again. 

"Richie? Are you here?" 

You quickly ran around the counter and to the doorway, pausing awkwardly once in view of Carmy, "Uh, hey. It's actually me."

Carmy's eyes widened briefly, surprised to see you, "Oh… hi." 

You shifted your weight from one foot to another. 

His blue eyes looked at you up and down, "You uh, found the… the apron, huh?"

You looked down at your apron and nodded to yourself, "Yea yea I found it in my… in a locker." 

Carmy nodded and moved forward, moving to set his things to his own locker and prepare himself to work, "Richie was the one who, uhm, told me where your locker was and I found your apron in the office so… I cleaned it up for you."

His voice got smaller and smaller at the very end of his sentence, making your chest tighten at the mention of where your apron was found. 

You fiddled with your fingers, "Oh you did?"

Carmy hummed in affirmation, gesturing you to follow him as he moved around the kitchen. He led you to the fridge, showing you to some of the empty labeled bins. 

"Help me with restocking these?" 

Everyone else came in that morning, surprised to see you but trying their best to cover up their curious stares and questioning glances to one another. But you, once again, found yourself standing in the kitchen with a knife and cutting board, chopping the vegetables needed for the day. It wasn’t a menial task, prep was extremely important, but the lack of movement made you feel a bit useless. 

After all, you once helped run this damn place.

But you continued, not saying a word to keep the flow going. The key word was that you ‘once’ helped run the place and you didn’t anymore. 

When Richie came in, he yelled out upon seeing you, "Cousin!!"

You put your knife down turned around just in time for him to hobble towards you and wrap his arms around you. 

"Cousin, what are you doing here?" He said, excited. 

You chuckled softly, "I'm here to help but I'm taking it one step at a time." 

He smiled at your words, reminded of your conversation from yesterday. Then, he stepped back, put his hands on your forearms to get a good look at you, and, in a low voice, said, "Are you okay here?"

Your shoulders sagged as you sighed, "Yea yea, I'm fine… but are you?" 

Richie chuckled and nodded his head, “Ah some stupid little stab isn’t gonna kill me. You would need a boa constructor or something like that to do the job… or whatever the hell Eva mentioned she saw on her field trip to the zoo…”

He muttered the last part under his breath, making you smile and giggle to yourself, forgetting all your worries for a split second, before Sugar’s voice brought you back.

“Oh my gosh you’re here?!” 

At the tone of her voice, you jerked back and away from Richie’s grip. Your smile dropped before you quickly plastered it on again, nodding in her direction. But this action wasn’t kept unnoticed, like how you hoped; Richie’s own smile slowly fell into a frown, eyebrows creasing as he looked across your face, trying to read what was going on and why you stopped smiling when you saw Sugar. 

Sugar raced over, smiling but eyes looking concerned, as she wrapped her cardigan around her body, “Hi sweetie! How are you? It’s been a while and I was going to reach out to you.” 

Her normally comforting and kind demeanor made your eyes narrow. The way she spoke to you… it felt… not good. 

But you shook this feeling away, unsure why exactly you were feeling this way over Natalie, one of your previously closest friends. She cared about you, always checked in with you, and for pete’s sake she was your dead boyfriend’s sister! You were as thick as thieves at one point in life. 

“At one point in life…” you mumbled to yourself.

“What’s that?” Natalie asked, reaching out to gently place a hand on your forearm in concern. 

You jumped slightly, having been lost in thought for a second, “I’m fine, sorry, just lost in thought.”

You looked around the kitchen and felt yourself shrink as you realized that everyone there was stealing glances in your direction, eyes quickly turning away when you glanced at them.

“Can i just…” you began, feeling yourself grow more and more agitated.

Natalie nodded, trying to encourage you to say whatever it was that you wanted to say. Richie continued to scan you, head tilting to one side as he tried to piece together what was going on.

All of a sudden, the clanking of pans and the warmth of the flames being turned on started to get louder and hotter. It was like they were right up against your ear, despite being over 5 feet away. Your breath began to irregulate, some deep and heavy and others shallow and fast.

Noticing this, Natalie’s eyes widened, “Oh no, hey uhm, how about we go outside real quick?”

Richie quickly grabbed your shoulders and gently steered you forward and through the kitchen, to the backdoor. 

Carmy, who was in the front at the time of you three talking, came out when he saw you all rushing to the backdoor, “What’s going on?”

“She’s having a panic attack, we are going to get some air!” Natalie said, loud enough for it to echo across the kitchen and over to where Carmy was standing, in order for him to hear over the noise of the prepping.

This seemed to get you out of your stupor. 

You didn’t realize that you were frozen and being led out of the kitchen until in that moment when Natalie seemingly announced to everyone there that you were having a panic attack. In the restaurant that you used to help run. Like it was nothing.

You could feel eyes hitting your back. Although you couldn’t hear it, you just knew that there were whispers either happening or going to happen the second you walked out the door. 

And that made you lose it. 

Whispers that ‘oh, that’s his girlfriend’ and ‘she doesn’t seem to be taking his death well despite trying to move on with someone else’ and even ‘i heard she ran away from his funeral’. Whispers labeling you as so many awful things that you knew you weren’t, but they would never understand why you did it; why you left. No one would understand. No one right now understands.

That made you lose it.

You jerked your shoulders to shake off Richie and Sugar’s hands before pushing forward. You shoved the door, making it swing all the way open with a bang and stomped out. 

Natalie and Richie raced after you, alarmed at your sudden aggression. 

You crossed your arms, a grimace on your face, as you turned to look at them as they stood in front of you.

“What’s going on??” Natalie asked, voice quivering with worry. Her arms winded around her body, hands clammy.

“Cousin, what was that?” 

It made you sick the way Richie’s hardened eyes pleaded for you to tell him what was wrong. But it was Sugar’s careful tone that just made it worse. 

You grit your teeth, rolling your eyes which took Natalie aback.

“Are you… upset?” she said.

You scoffed and threw your arms down to your side, “Are you serious? Actually serious, Natalie?”

Natalie jerked back, making Richie shake his head and speak up, in a calm but agitated tone, “Cousin, what are you going on about-”

But before he could finish, you interrupted him and yelled, “Oh my gosh just… stop!!!”

Your voice echoed in the quiet morning street. The sky was light blue and the sun was still orange as it slowly made its way up the sky. The birds chirped in a harmonious tune that practically said ‘today is a lovely day!’ to those who made their way around town that morning for whatever they had on their to do list. 

But here you were, outside of The Beef again, and this time angry.

“I’m fine!! I don’t know how many times I have to tell you and remind you but I. Am. Fine!” 

The two reeled back for a second, hurt written all over their faces as you yelled at them. 

Richie then straightened up and crossed his arms, his own voice getting louder by the minute “What the hell is wrong with you? Natalie is just trying to help.”

“Oh yea, ‘help’! By treating me like a fragile piece of glass that will break at any second, you're ‘helping me’, right?” with your hands, you quoted each word for help, voice getting louder and louder to combat Richie’s own booming voice.  

“Sweetie, I didn't mean to treat you like that…” Natalie whispered, tears forming in her eyes. 

You groan and turn away, “You talk to me like I'm a child and I'm sick of it!”

“What’s going on?” Carmy said, interrupting you as he walked out the backdoor to join you three, “I can hear you yelling from inside.”

But you ignored him and continued, “Why are you avoiding talking about what happened as if saying the word or his name is going to make me explode? Why?!”

Carmy blinked, “What do you mean why?”

“Stop pretending like everything is fine and normal and that you have to watch me around knives and give me baby tasks to keep me busy as if being around The Beef is going to kill me!” you growled, tears of frustration starting to run down your cheeks. 

Stupid tears. Such traitors. 

Carmy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Nobody is treating you like a child and I'm not giving you ‘baby tasks’, you know this.”

“Really Carmy? You're one to talk, seeing as you don’t even want to acknowledge or talk to me!” 

Carmy cleared his throat, voice low in an effort to control his own growing anger, “I’m not the one who is avoiding you or anything, okay? None of us are.”

Sugar covered her mouth and turned away from you, trying not to let the tears stream down her cheeks. Carmy turned, just in time to see her watery eyes. His jaw clenched as you seethed in front of him. 

“Listen, we all know you're grieving, okay? It fucking sucks that your boyfriend is dead but guess fucking what, my brother is dead and so is Sugar’s brother. Richie’s best friend is dead and everyone in here’s boss and friend is dead too. Your not the only one who is dealing with this so stop fucking acting like everyone here is out to get you for dealing with Mikey’s death!” Carmy blurted out, neck veins bulging as he leaned forward with every sentence. 

Sugar gasped and whipped around, “Carmy!”

“What? It’s fucking true! Everything has gone to shit, yea, but that doesn’t mean you're dealing with it alone! Mikey left a shit ton of people like you, me, and everyone else to pick up the pieces of his fuck ups, so stop acting like a baby and get to work, break is over.”

With that, Carmy turns around and goes back into The Beef, leaving you staring angrily at the ground with tears running down your cheeks and your fists clenched at your side. Richie softened at seeing you cry, but did nothing to prevent Carmy from going on his rant. 

Natalie sniffled quietly, wiping away at her tears as a few rolled down and hit the pavement underneath her. She then turned to you and smiled a watery smile, giving you one last glance of reassurance before turning to go back inside. 

As the door closed behind her, you broke into a sob, your once stiff body crumbling to the floor with a crouch. Your body shook, throwing all the adrenaline you had into each sob that wracked your body. 

With blurry vision, you didn’t see the way Richie sighed before he moved forward, arms wrapping around you with a clenched jaw. His own eyes were beginning to rim with tears as he held you, listening to your cries in agony get muffled into your hands and his chest.

Once your sobs turned into small cries and staggering breaths, Richie helped you get up and lean against the wall. He gently wiped your tears, fingers running the same path that he used to do when he found you upset after a particularly difficult argument with Mikey. 

Then, he left you there. 

He kissed your temple and turned to go back inside, leaving you alone outside with the chirping birds and the warm sun to contemplate what happened. 

“I really fucked up…” you whispered to yourself, sniffling.

And like the way you left from Mikey’s funeral and your exes out west when things got hard, you ran. You took your things silently and without saying a word to anyone about what you were doing and where you were going, you ran. 

[lcvernat]

Smile for Me | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Request: hello! it’s my first time requesting on your blog.. is it okay if I ask for nat with reader who hides their smile because their insecure of how it looks.

feel free to take your time writing this, I don’t mind waiting :)))

thank you, have a great day!! <3

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warnings: fluff, talks of being insecure, like two swear words, probably bad writing cause i am a bit rusty

A/N: thank you for requesting anon! i am so, so sorry this took so long but i hope you like it <3 this might not be my best work because i am very rusty and haven't wrote anything in a bit but i hope you enjoy it either way

Smiling was natural, everyone done it, and usually no one really thought about it whilst they were doing it. You just lived in the moment, smiling at something that had brought you joy. It was whimsical, in a way. But it wasn't like that to you, though. No, it was actually the one thing you tried to avoid the most. Even in situations when you were at your most happiest, ranging from getting top grades in your exams to the day Natasha had asked you out on a date, a smile was rarely exchanged in those moments, or it was hidden behind your hand.

It was hard when something so simple was the root of your insecurities. Every time you caught yourself smiling, you covered your smile with your hand. It was an instinct at this point. Either that, or you would just avoid smiling altogether. It wasn’t as if you were trying to keep up some mysterious persona - you just really, really hated your smile. A lot.

Tiny remarks in middle school had started it. Words said by children that shouldn’t be that serious because you were all kids instead stuck with you for your entire life. Sticks and stones do break your bones, but words will still hurt. They still cause bleeding wounds, but because you can’t see them, society deems them unimportant. Which is why you’ve not told anyone about your insecurity, you just let them poke fun, because the logical part of you knows that it’s a stupid thing to be insecure about, but you can’t help it.

Natasha, of course, had noticed. But she’s never pried, thankfully. She understands having secrets that you keep under lock and key. She has them too. It’s a bit hard not to notice when someone hardly smiles, but somehow she notices that there’s something more to it. Having a spy as a girlfriend, one who is the best spy in the world no doubt, means that any of your secrets aren’t really secrets. You simultaneously love and hate it.

“Why do you never smile?”

“Why do you always pry into people’s business? And I do smile.”

Tony shrugs halfheartedly at your jab, a tiny smirk on his face as he takes a sip of his drink. You were thrown off guard by his unprompted question, not expecting it to happen when you were just sat eating dinner with the rest of the team. The rest of the team who had, unfortunately, went silent after the words left Tony’s mouth.

You took an awkward bite of your food, trying to focus on the taste instead of the eyes boring into your soul.

“Leave them alone,” Natasha snaps, but there’s no actual bite behind it yet.

“Hey now,” Tony raises a hand placatingly, “I’m not trying to be nosey, not at all. Well, actually, I kind of am, but for good reason. They rarely smile! Have you not noticed? And if they do, I always catch them covering their mouth! Have they ever fully smiled around you, Romanoff?” - The only response he gets is a glare - “No? Christ, they’re dating you! Don’t you think it’s a bit odd? I-”

You cut him off, “Just finish your food, Stark.”

Tony, seemingly unable to realize when you’re seriously not in the mood continues on undeterred, “Listen, I get if you’re trying to be all tough and that. But you can still smile! You’re still pretty intimidating anyway. To the newbies, obviously. Not me.”

“I just don’t smile that often, Stark. Got a problem with that?” You get out through gritted teeth, setting your knife and fork down on your half-eaten plate. You aren’t very hungry anymore. The ravaging appetite you felt before dinner had quickly dissipated, and it wasn’t because you were full.

Natasha sends you a concerned glance but you ignore it. You ignore everyone’s glances. For superheroes, they were horrifically bad at pretending they weren't staring at you.

“Oh, come on,” Tony leans back in his chair, clearly exasperated, “unless you look incredibly hideous, your teeth are falling out or you have a shit ton of cavities, which I doubt, I don’t get why you hardly smile! Just smile for us this once, and don't cover it!" He urged you on, and it was your final straw.

You abruptly stood up from the table, your chair making a harsh sound across the floor as it was pushed back. Once again ignoring Natasha's glance, you walk as fast as you can out of the room and making a beeline towards your shared room with Nat. You know she'll probably follow you soon after, but you'd take a minute alone if you could.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you ran your hands across your face and let out a groan. You were being so stupid. Tony was right. It's not a big deal at all, you're the one making it a big deal. All over a couple comments a few kids carelessly threw your way years ago in middle school. Insecurities were so stupid, why couldn't you just stop being insecure? You were an Avenger, for Christ's sake, and the one thing that defeats you is your own goddamn smile.

After a couple of minutes had passed, there was a knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, Nat's voice filtered through, "Y/N? Can I come in?" Somehow, she managed to hear your barely coherent mumble of a response, and the door gently opened seconds later.

"Don't listen to Tony," the redhead spoke softly, "he doesn't know when to stop."

You let out a mirthless chuckle, "Yeah, I know."

Natasha didn't reply, instead slowly walking over to you and kneeling in front of you. You catch her eye before quickly glancing away.

"Look at me,"

You do, and she reaches out to take ahold of your hands that were previously lying limp in your lap, "Why do you always cover your beautiful smile?" It was a gentle question, the redhead treading lightly on what she knows is a sensitive topic for you.

"Because it's not beautiful," your voice is small. It's the first time you've ever actually spoken about your insecurity out loud.

"I bet it is. What makes you think it isn't?"

"People were saying shit 'bout it in middle school. Words hurt, you know." It sounded pathetic, you knew it did. You half expected Natasha to laugh at you, and anyone else probably would, because you were a grown adult, but of course Natasha didn't laugh. She never would.

"Well," she lets go of one of your hands to reach out and cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip, "those people can go fuck themselves."

A surprised giggle leaves you at the bluntness of her tone. She smirks before continuing, "My angel is gorgeous, and I know their smile is just as beautiful. Come on, you wanna let me see it? Smile for me."

Despite her words, a small part of you still didn't want to smile in front of her. Years of covering it and hiding it was obviously engrained into you, no matter how hard you wanted to try and stop it. So, you shake your head.

"Well," Natasha sighs, "I guess I'll just have to subject you to a month of Steve's cooking. Hopefully you won't die, but if you do, I'll make sure to make your funeral the best funeral ever."

That made you laugh then, and a smile made its way onto your face. The hand that Natasha wasn't holding instinctively raised to cover it, but the spy grabbed ahold of it before you could.

"See?" Natasha smiles then too, "beautiful."

That makes you smile more, and you don't move to cover it this time. You fight the insecurities that worm its way into your thoughts, you were done being insecure about your smile. You were fed up of hiding it. Natasha plants a soft kiss on your cheek then, before whispering into your ear, "If you gave me the names of those people..."

You let out a shocked laugh, hitting her arm playfully. "No. Murder is bad."

"I never said I would murder them!" She gasps, "Just a nice little talk. That's all."

Shaking your head in amusement, you pull Natasha into a hug, "I love you."

"I love you too."

God, what you would do for this woman. You would always smile for her from this day forward. No more hiding it, especially not from Natasha.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz @dj-bynum3718 @lovelyy-moonlight

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

[keresnotceres]

ker’s masterlist:

A list of my works for your convenience. Anything listed that is not underlined is unposted but is in the works! This is a working post, so it will update. As a result, more fandoms may be added.

This account is a side blog! If you get a reblog/like/follow from miloticaquarium i promise it’s me!! just like,, a less cool version of me lol

I also take requests :) Rules + Information under my works!

CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE II (2022)

headcanons:

TF 141: General HCs [sfw]

TF 141: NSFW HCs [nsfw]

TF 141: Civilian Lover [sfw]

TF 141: Realizing They Love You [sfw]

TF 141: “I Love You” [sfw]

MW2 Characters: as Lovers [sfw]

MW2 Characters: as Lovers (Angst) [sfw]

Valeria & Alejandro: 3some HCs [nsfw] (afab reader)

Ghost, Soap, & Gaz: Tattoo Artist Lover [sfw]

MW2 Characters: High School AU [sfw]

tbc…

oneshots:

ANGST:

You, With the Watercolor Eyes (Ghost x GN!Reader)

While on deployment, Ghost has nightmares in which you, his lover, fall out of love with him. The emotional turmoil from this causes him to fall into old, self-destructive habits. [sfw]

tbc…

FLUFF:

tbc…

SMUT:

Good, Good, Great (Ghost x Fem!Reader)

The two of you are roommates. You’re a bottle girl for the local strip club Myth, Ghost had been coerced into discussing information at the strip club. You’re miraculously on shift, and you’re flirting your way into a damn good tip. Just so happens that Ghost doesn’t like to share (even if you aren’t really his). [nsfw]

Say You're Mine (Ghost x Fem! Reader Good, Good, Great pt 2)

A few months later, Ghost takes his leave without telling you. He shows up to Myth unexpectedly on a busy Friday night while you have a plethora of tables to attend. Ghost doesn't seem to enjoy how you're serving a bachelor party, and he chooses to do something about it when the two of you get back to your shared flat. [nsfw]

tbc…

STAR WARS (THE MANDOLORIAN)

headcanons:

tbc…

FAIRY TAIL

headcanons:

Team Natsu: General HCs [sfw]

Sabertooth: General HCs [sfw]

tbc…

I usually stick to headcanons, but I sometimes stray to a one shot occasionally, requests are open for both! Please read the information below carefully before you request :)

I WILL WRITE: (I will gladly take requests for these)!

FEM and GN readers: As a cis girl, I am not particularly comfortable writing a male reader. Keep this in mind when requesting, please. If you don’t want a feminine reader, please let me know to write with a GN reader in mind and I’ll happily do so!

Fem and Masc characters: I will write for both! I like both so why wouldn’t I write for both?

Angst: My FAVORITE thing to write!! Please send me sad things to write about and I will literally speed right through it like a child mowing through a bag of apple slices.

Fluff: Sometimes consuming copious amounts tooth-rotting fluff to cope with the depressing content you just consumed is just what you need!

Smut: I can and will do it because I am nothing more than a simp; but you better look at the thin ice and will not write sections before you even think of asking me. Generic kinks and light BDSM are okay, see other categories for constraints.

Mental Health Struggles: Reader or character! Can include mental illnesses, coping mechanisms, and things like self harm or eating disorders. Not technically mental health related, but insecurities and family issues are also welcome.

THIN ICE: (I could write it, but it icks me).

Pregnancy and/or Breeding Kink, Somnophilia, CNC, and Cheating.

Throwing up/Vomit: I am extremely emetophobic. The only way I'll accept anything with something like this is: a) it's previous to what I am writing and/or b) it relates to an ED.

Slowburn: Not really my thing. Like, I could try, but it won’t really end up being a slow burn. Maybe like a going-the-speed-limit burn.

I WILL NOT WRITE: (If you ask me for any of these, you’re getting blocked!).

MALE reader: I’m sorry but as a person who is not and will not ever be a man I just don’t feel comfortable writing in the perspective of one.

Certain kink/fetishes (DDLG, ageplay, scat, uro, & other such bodily functions, feet), Incest, Pedophilia/Underage, Rape, Sexual assault, and Yandere/Stalker behavior.

KER is the singular form of KERES, a female spirit of death from Ancient Greek mythos. CERES is a dwarf planet named after the Roman goddess of agriculture, fertility, and motherly relationships.

[luvcherry]

Let Me In [6] ✾

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. Word Count: 6.6k.

Part Five || Fin. ✾ Complete Chatroom Masterlist  

Summary: Y/n's last day is marked by a realization.

Content: slight angst, slight fluff, bittersweet feeling all around.

A/N: It has been a long, long time since I've posted and I'm sorry about that. This is the last chapter for let me and subsequently my last post on this blog. I had a lot of anxiety when writing up this chapter because I didn't want it to be disappointing. I never intended for Chatroom to become a series nor did I intend to do a sequel, but everyone's support on those fics and wanting to read more kept me going. A lot of the themes of this fic were drawn from my own life, and the ending makes sense for where I stand on old relationships. Happy new year everyone.

Natasha has been thinking about Y/n all night and all day.

She thinks about what happened during and after their outing together, how Y/n will be gone soon, and how she might be feeling. Natasha did not expect Y/n to occupy such a large part of her brain after what felt like a satisfying conclusion to their open-ended relationship. She had to ask her, and answer truthfully, did she really want things to end?

There is no alternative universe where the two end up back together, she believes. It wouldn't be the healthiest thing for either of them. Yet, she finds herself saddened that they may not have any type of relationship, period. Natasha will never be awarded the prize of greatest friend on Earth, but something nags at her to just be a friend for Y/n.

Against what might be her better judgment, she picks up her phone to call Y/n. Her finger hovers over her name before colliding with the screen. She is uncharacteristically nervous; a woman hasn't made her sweat like this in years. Each ring was agonizing as it continued for what felt like forever. What if Y/n blocked her number? What if last night was it for them?

When she closed the door on Y/n last night she felt content until the sun began to set. She wished she had walked Y/n back to the university to keep her company and to spend more time with her. What they did wasn't just a hook-up for Natasha, and she doubts it was for Y/n. There was something special about the way they touched each other -- something special about how Y/n was desperate to be touched. Every moment was euphoric, but in between her existential thoughts, Natasha could not stop thinking about the particular moment where Y/n grabbed her wrist and guided it between her legs to feel how wet she was. It made Natasha gasp even though she wasn't the one with a hand brushing against her clit.

"Hello?"

"Y/n it's me."

There was a few seconds of silence between the two of them. Y/n was wondering why she was calling and Natasha was starting to wonder the same thing.

"Hi, Nat. How are you?"

"I'm good...are you not at the university?"

"No. I went in this morning and walked into a surprise going away party and then they let me take the rest of the day off. It was nice."

"It seems like they liked you. You must have charmed them well."

"Ha! Doing their dirty work? Yes. Charming them? Hell no," Y/n jokes. "But I do think I made a good impression on them. They offered for me to company and with, quote, 'better accommodations'. I think they're trying to entice me to stay."

Y/n spoke to her with ease, taking Natasha by complete surprise. There was no shakiness in her voice or any awkwardness from her. Usually it was Natasha speaking with confidence and leading their conversation. However, this change is nice (even if it's mostly caused by Natasha thinking about how she heard that voice moaning her name about 24 hours ago).

"I'm sorry...I'm rambling," she says sheepishly as she comes back to reality.

"No, it's okay. I was just calling to see...to see if you wanted to do something today?"

Natasha didn't mean for her words to come out so shaky like she was a scared child, but it feels like a lot of pressure is on her. For one she feels like she owes it to Y/n, but she's afraid that Y/n will say no. She's well within her right to say no, but that doesn't mean it would make it easier for Natasha.

"Okay, sure. What did you have in mind?"

Natasha felt a mini panic set in. She was preparing to hear a disappointing 'no' come from the other side of the phone, but here Y/n was saying yes. She indeed wanted to spend her last day in the city with Natasha. She wracked her brain for things the three of them could do together. There is no way she would be able to take a five year old to one of her favorite restaurants. As long as she has been friends with Wanda and been around her kids, she doesn't really know where kids like to go to have fun. The park seems a little bit too boring for a last day treat. 

"How about the zoo?" She rushes out.

 Does Natasha like the zoo? No. She hates the smell and how it's always crowded. It's a gorgeous Saturday morning that it almost feels like Summer is here, so of course she doesn't want to be at the zoo. However, she's not immune to doing something she doesn't like for someone she does like. Plus she remembers how Kennedy has that stuffed giraffe; maybe she would enjoy seeing one in the flesh.

"The Zoo? Kennedy's never been," Y/n sounds like she's contemplating whether it's a good idea or not. By all means, if she wanted to say then Y/n would be more than welcome to. Natasha could just take them to the much calmer river-side of the city. "Hold on, let me ask her."

Y/n steps away from the phone leaving Natasha to simmer in the silence. Her mind fills with doom scenarios in those moments alone. What if Y/n has a change of heart and doesn't want to see her on her very last day? Natasha would be devastated. It hasn't sunk in that she may not see Y/n again for months, years, or even ever again. They haven't exchanged any form of social media yet. All she has is her phone number that Natasha will be too cowardly to call.

"She wants to go! What time do you want to meet up?"

The sense of relief that washes over her almost disgusts Natasha. She's excited to go to the zoo for the first time in her life.

"Great...want me to pick you up?"

"Isn't the zoo going west? You would just be going backwards so we can meet you there."

"Okay. So 11?"

"11 sounds like a plan."

---

Kennedy was ready to drag Y/n through the entrance of the zoo. Y/n had to keep reminding her that they had to wait for Natasha to arrive.

Y/n wondered what made Nat want to do this. She's been extremely kind on this trip, but going to the zoo doesn't seem like her thing. Compromise is maybe a component of the current Natasha. Y/n tries to play it cool when she spots Natasha walking her way. The last time she saw her was when she was between her legs...

"Did I keep you waiting?"

"You kept this one waiting," Y/n gestures to Kennedy, "but five year olds aren't known for patience."

Natasha feels like a stranger with them. Yesterday really threw her for a loop for some reason. She feels unlike herself and hopes Y/n doesn't notice.

"We should go inside now, shouldn't we? Before she throws a fit."

The zoo was just as expected: loud and crowded. It was full of families pushing strollers and fathers holding tiny kids on their shoulders. Kennedy grasps onto Y/n's hand so she doesn't get lost and in-turn Y/n holds onto Natasha's hand to keep her close. She doesn't want to think about it, but Natasha can't stop looking at their hands currently melded together.

"Where should we start?"

Y/n turns to Natasha for her guidance. This was her idea, so she must be familiar with this place, right? It was so much bigger than anywhere Kennedy has ever been before and Y/n doesn't want to overwhelm her. Natasha could see it all written all over Y/n's face; a hidden concern that resides within most parents.

"We could try to find the giraffes," she suggested. An idea that is popular with the child with them.

Y/n was really relying on Natasha, self-proclaimed zoo hater, to guide them through this thing. If there was one thing that was consistent about Y/n through all these years, it's that she finds crowds unnerving. It felt like an instinct to cling to Natasha, the older one who has always been bold no matter what. Their hands are still locked together. Natasha takes advantage of that and leads them onto the zoo's path without saying a word.

Away from the main entrance, the crowd gradually thinned out. Y/n feels like she can breathe again. Natasha herself feels a sense of relief at seeing Y/n relax. The sunlight cast on the trees above caused soft shadows to fall over them. The path of trees brought over a sense of tranquility. Natasha glances over at the two and can't help but think about how beautiful Y/n looks. It made her forget about how much she really dislike this place.

They ease into a leisure pace as they come upon the first few animals on their path. Kennedy was insistent on being the smartest among them and correctly naming every animal before either Y/n or Natasha could. She was a smart kid, naming over half of the animals correctly, but everyone she didn't know was an "annie lope." Y/n would giggle at her silly answer and walk her closer to the dens to read the info cards. She would tell her the correct name, what class of animal they are, and their home of origin. When she was crouched down next to Kennedy like that, it was like they were the only people to exist. Natasha can't help but feel her heart squeeze from two emotions; hope and grief

If her parents had ever done something like this with her when she was young, she certainly doesn't remember. She would remember the warm, unique embrace that can only come from someone who loves you that much. Watching it happen in front of her eyes almost makes her feel like she shouldn't be here with them. She and Y/n's live completely different lives, they always have. Lives that were never meant to fit.

Y/n turns her head and looks at Natasha before gesturing for her to come over with a tilt of her head. Natasha's feet move for themselves and she joins Y/n and Kennedy to become three. Every fiber of her being is telling her to run away; she doesn't "belong."

Kennedy is too young to notice the stiffness in Natasha's body. Instead she begins to list off the facts of the red kangaroos before them as if she had discovered the information herself. The innocent fascination reminded her of everything unobtainable in her life. But, the last thing she wanted to do was ruin the mood.

It soon came time for them to move forward as Kennedy reminded them of their true mission of finding the giraffes.

Y/n let Kennedy keep a tiny bit of distance between them. She wanted to give her that sense of space and freedom she never had, but she kept her eyes directly on her. The distance did allow for Y/n and Natasha to have a moment for themselves. Y/n was too nervous to take it, but Natasha seemed eager to.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"

Y/n takes her eyes off of Kennedy for a split second to look over at Natasha.

"I did," her answer was short and to the point. The awkward dinner and tension aside, this trip wasn't so bad.

When her eyes land back on Kennedy, she finds the comfort to be more vulnerable with Natasha.

"I don't know if I'll come back though."

"Why?" Natasha asks rather quickly. She would hate to be the reason Y/n doesn't want to step foot in this city ever again. Yet, at the same time, she wouldn't blame her. "You didn't enjoy the university?"

"No, that's not it," Y/n sighs. She'll be damned if she talks about her personal life within earshot of Kennedy, so she keeps the topic on her career. "I just have a lot of conflicting feelings after these two weeks.

"Like what?"

"My current career if I'm being honest."

Despite nearly a decade apart, Natasah still understands her. She can hear in Y/n's voice that she's not truly happy, and that she’s confused. Y/n tries to let experience give her the insight she needs but always seems to come out even more confused. She's never truly asking herself the right questions.

"I don't know if I want to do this anymore, and that's so scary. The amount of time and money put into getting me here would all be wasted...it makes me feel shameful even thinking like that."

"Did you think you would love this forever?"

Her question sounds more brutal than she intended it to, but Natasha is curious. And that sincerity in wanting to understand her beyond the surface almost made Y/n give her an answer. She can't bring herself to do it though.

"I can't give you the answer that will solve everything, but one thing my boss told me-"

"The world famous Mr. Stark" Y/n jokingly mocks.

"Yea -- that one," she jokes with her before continuing. "When I was hired by Stark Industries, two other people were hired in with me. One was alright, she works in another department these days, but the other was brilliant. His resume was stacked and he was fresh out of the Ivys. To make a long story short, he didn't even last a year. It's not an easy job, but if you never wanted to be there from the start then the burnout will eat you alive -- and quickly. Tony told us that this job doesn't have to be our life's passion, but we simply have to want to be there. He would say something like 'even the brightest minds dim under an unwilling heart'," Natasha recounts.

It wasn't anything groundbreaking, but it made a lot of sense to Y/n. No one has ever reminded her about that reality. College was an escape from her parents and she picked the first thing that sounded interesting to major in. She wasn't particularly passionate about anything besides finding freedom. Now that life has caught up with her, it's settling in that she has never been living for herself even when she was out of her parent's reach.

"But there was also a time where I absolutely hated my job. It's normal! It's normal, Y/n."

It felt easy to talk to Natasha, something Y/n didn' think she would ever feel again. She remembers those years ago when she would confide into her about her life growing up. That was a time where she felt complete trust in her. That trust was broken years ago, yet she's not hung up on being vulnerable with her. It even felt right doing so.

"I guess you're right. I just worry because this job is really all I have. I could teach, but I don't really see myself teaching," she admits.

Maybe Natasha wasn't the right person to receive career advice from (or at least that's how Natasha felt) because her career is all she has too. Hearing Y/n worry about that while it's a comfort for her that reminds how they're always opposite.

"We're close!" Kennedy's voice interrupts their fading conversation. She points at the sign indicating their close arrival to the giraffe den. Y/n moves her attention back to Kennedy. All NAtasha feels like she can is watch. She watches as Y/n takes the young girl's hand and how she uses all of her might to pull Y/n faster towards the giraffes. "Faster!" She cries out as if the giraffes will disappear any second now. Y/n laughs before telling her there's no rush. It was surreal to see Y/n parent her.

The trip climaxes for little Kennedy when she catches a glimpse of her first real-life giraffe. She can see its head, but nothing else. Groups of people stand along the rail making it impossible for her to get closer. She looks up at Y/n with a desperate look in her eyes. She reaches up at Y/n and jumps up and down. She whines without a single tear falling from her eyes. The usually composed child acting as if she's a toddler again.

"I got her," Nataasha says without a second thought.

If Y/n was shocked then Natasha was absolutely dumbstruck by her own action. She checks back into reality when she has Kennedy in her arms. She was smaller than Natasha realized. She handled her like precious cargo as she lifted her high. "I'm going to sit you on my shoulders, okay?" Kennedy nods even though Natasha can't see her. She has never done this before so she was scared, so she held on tightly. Y/n stood nearby in case she got too scared. Her short legs dangle over Natasha's shoulders as she grabs onto her head. She was fucking up her hair, but Natasha didn't care.

"Can you see them?" She asks, hoping her efforts weren't in vain.

"I can! I can see a baby!"

Y/n couldn't concentrate on the animals in front of her. Her eyes were glued to the figures of Kennedy and Natasha. She was still shocked by her ex-girlfriend's actions. She was frozen in place. No matter how nervous she knows Natasha is, she looks like a natural at this. Kennedy hasn't been personally around that many adults in her life, let alone someone from Y/n's personal life. Y/n was watching her two worlds collide in front of her; the old and the new. It stings herself of years past that this unspoken moment with Natasha is what makes her feel the normalness she has seeked her entire life. Life has the most bitter ways of teaching it lessons.

---------

It was nearing 4 o'clock when they reached the end of the exhibit. Kennedy, of course, wanted some sort of souvenir to take home. There were gift shops filled with all kinds of things to buy, but she went straight to the stuffed animals. Another giraffe seemed like overkill to Y/n who tried to talk her into getting another stuffed animal which was a failure. Kennedy was unsurprisingly insistent on getting a "brother" for her beloved giraffe. Y/n lost the little battle once Natasha chimed in and sided with Kennedy, reminding them both that "everyone needs family."

No one in the city was happier than Kennedy that day. Her excitement wore her out, and it showed in the way she dragged her feet. Y/n took her into her arms for the lengthy walk back to the car. She ended up being lulled to sleep. Natasha walked them back to their car. She wanted to say something, but didn't want to wake a 5-year-old.

"This is us," Y/n announces softly before coming to a stop. "Can you hold this real quick?" Y/n gestures to her tote bag.

"I told you you should've let me carry it on our way back," she pokes before swiftly taking it off her shoulder.

Y/n puts Kennedy in her car seat, moving gently not to rouse her awake. She has alone this what feels like a million times over yet she's always anxious about it. Yet, she skillfully places her in her car seat and buckles her in without an issue. Natasha has been in awe all day by the sweetness with which Y/n cares for Kennedy. She was once a super shy, naive 19-year-old.

"Thank you," she grabs the tote from her, "for holding that and for today."

"It was nothing...just wanted to make sure your last day was fun."

"Well it was something. Kennedy surely enjoyed it, but she wore me out. We don't go out much back at home, so this was surely a treat for her."

"But did you enjoy it too?"

Natasah was growing beyond the point of caring if she sounded desperate. Today had been sentimental for her. She wanted today to have been just as good for Y/n as it was for her.

"Yea...yea it was. I realized I don't really like the zoo, but I do love seeing Kennedy have fun. So it was worth it for her."

Natasha felt a sense of relief at Y/n's admission. She hated that place too. However she agrees with Y/n, it was worth it to see Kennedy happy.

"She really enjoyed being with you," she continues. "I was shocked -- not because it's you or anything -- Kennedy isn't used to being around new people. She can get really shy, but she was comfortable with you."

"I'm happy to have the Kennedy stamp of approval."

Y/n holds an appreciative smile on her face, but she feels stuck. She doesn't want this day to end. She doesn't want to get on that flight tomorrow and head back to her quiet life. It would be painful to admit that out loud. She's enjoyed many moments with Natasha on this trip just as much as she didn't want to be around her. Her name and face are a reminder of such a good and dark time of her life. For the first time since early this morning, she imagines her between her thighs again. She felt a bliss that almost seemed to be never ending, but she'll be gone tomorrow.

"We should probably get going," she blurts out, which she instantly regrets. She's desperate to just stay in her presence for a moment longer, but her heart is beating too fast.

She regrets what she said when she sees her face fall. Natasha didn't want their day to end at what feels too early, but both are too cowardly to admit.

"Right...right. You probably have a lot to do."

She doesn't.

It feels impossible to look Natasha in the eyes. Y/n knows she'll go weak in the knees if she looks at her again. She's too oblivious to notice how close they're getting. She doesn't look up until Natasha makes her. Her thumb begins to stroke her skin.

"I hate how you're always so shy around me. I'm not scary."

Her words burn in her brain as Y/n leans in to kiss her. Her entire body feels like it's on fire as she just stands there while they kiss. She reckons she's already kissing her back, but she isn't aware of her temporary paralysis until her lips move with Natasha's. How a kiss in public feels more scandalous than Natasha's mouth on Y/n's body is beyond her.

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

Natasha was at the age where she didn't quite know how to comfort Yelena.

When her younger sister was just a baby she would stand over her crib and try to quiet her cries by shushing her. It didn't help at all, and Natasha felt like she was doomed with the inability to care for her little sister.

"What happened, Yelena?"

Her little sister looks up at her with big eyes; eyes too beautiful to be red and filled with tears.

"I-I got hurt."

Yelena wasn't supposed to be outside. Natasha was with her friends from the neighborhood when she heard Yelena's familiar cry. Yelena was too young to be outside by herself, but old enough to be able to escape the house. Nat freaked when she saw her sitting on the steps to their house and subsequently the scrape on her knee; gushing and bright red. Yes, Yelena wasn't supposed to be outside, but Natasha knows she's responsible for her sister whenever her parents aren't around. It didn't matter that she had snuck outside to find her older sister to play with it. What matters is that Yelena is hurt.

"Stay here, okay?"

Yelena is afraid to be alone again, but she nods her head, trusting Natasha wholly. Natasha feels shitty for letting this happen even if it wasn't her fault. She could've stayed in with her and seen her friends another day. Though the idea of 'another day' was scarce, it didn't matter.

She hurries to find the antiseptic and band aids in the medicine closet. She didn't want to leave Yelena alone for too long in a paranoid fear that she would somehow get hurt again.

The tears had stopped by the time Nat came back, but she still feels bad seeing Yelena's red face. She kneels in front of her and begins to tend to her wound.

"Be still, okay?"

Natasha felt like her words were warning enough to brace Yelena for the sting. However once the alcohol meets the wound, she begins wincing in pain.

"I said be still!"

"But it hurts!"

Natasha sighs in frustration, but she tries not to show it. Yelena is too young to withstand pain like she is able to. She's annoyed that Yelena won't stop wincing as she tries to clean her up. Annoyed that this only happened because of Yelena's persistence to be around her big sister. The love and admiration that fills in her little sister's eyes annoy Natasha. She wishes she could do more to take away Yelena's pain, both physically and more. She feels useless even as she places the band-aid over her skin to begin the healing process on her wound.

"All better?" Yelena asks with a shaky voice.

"All better, kid. Now go back in the house before mom and dad find you out here."

Despite being sent inside, there was a big smile on Yelena's face. That's all she wanted. Natasha found that she couldn't stay out for too much longer. Not because it was getting late, but because Yelena needed someone, and she was that only someone.

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

"If you did it the first time, you can do it one more time, okay? There is nothing to be afraid of. I promise!"

Y/n was confused as to why Kennedy decided at 6am that morning that she's afraid of airplanes.

She remembers how excited she was at the airport in Arizona to get on a plane for the first time. It was Y/n who was on the verge of a breakdown when it came time to board their plane. The switch over two weeks is what's confusing her, but she finds that it's futile to try to question the mind of a 5 year-old.

"Don't you miss Ms. Bridgette and all of your friends at school?"

"Y-Yes...I'm just scared," she says with a pout.

Y/n feels like her worries about pulling Kennedy out of her usual environment too early may have messed her up. She had gotten used to this hotel room and now she has to leave.

"It's okay to be nervous and scared, Kennedy," Y/n grabs onto her hands knowing that it brings her comfort. "I get scared too, but I think about everything that makes me happy to feel better."

If Y/n were to name everything that makes her happy, the list would not be that long. Leaving her and Kennedy's home for the first time in a very long time made her realize how quiet and mundane her life is. She takes Kennedy to kindergarten, goes to work, picks Kennedy up, and they come home. Here it feels like they have unlimited options for everything: food, fun, and opportunities. Maybe the reason for Kennedy's fit was her reaction to the vacation ending. She can't really blame her for that, she found herself feeling sad about it too.

Natasha would be here in about 30 minutes. She wants Kennedy to settle before she comes to get them. Y/n was more nervous about seeing her again than for the flight home. She feels some sort of regret for agreeing to let her take them to the airport. She wanted to use the excuse that she couldn’t drive her rental, but she simply agreed to let her do it. "It's the least I could do" she kept telling her, and that seemed to be the sentiment she has held her entire stay.

She grew anxious as the time ticked away for the two to check out of the hotel and for Natasha to pick them up. She was going to drive herself crazy by continuously checking her phone for the time or to see if she had reached out to her. Y/n’s anxiety was more palpable than she would have liked to admit. Kennedy could sense it and clung to Y/n as she checked every single corner of their hotel to make sure they had packed everything.

How would their final goodbye go?

If anything, Y/n was more scared of some big epiphany hitting her seconds before boarding the plane. A deep part of her accepted this trip to receive some closure, but what closure was becoming blurry. Would she maintain some sort of contact or even friendship with Natasha? She likes the person she has become, she thinks. She seems like she’s trying her best to not be the pompous bastard she was in her 20s. It seems like she’s trying to be more considerate but it’s funny to Y/n because it’s a little too late. All she wanted for years was an apology, and indirectly her acceptance. Yet she can’t shake the feeling that accepting ‘the least she could do’ means she’ll always be dependent on her.

Y/n’s phone starts going off which breaks the daze she was in. It was Natasha calling her.

“I’ll be down in a minute. We’re gonna check out.”

She hangs up the phone without letting her get a word in. She doesn’t mean to be so rude, but her own anxiety and Kennedy’s fit this morning has her on edge.

“You ready?”

The child was hesitant but nodded her head and grabbed onto Y/n’s hand.

It feels as if the whole hotel is checking out today as Y/n navigates her way through the lobby with Kennedy. Natasha was there waiting for them, something Y/n didn’t ask her to do, but something she felt was necessary.

“Do you need me to grab anything?”

“Yeah, can you grab my suitcase?”

She was there every step of the way to help them. Y/n didn’t calm down until her back hit the passenger seat of the rental. She stared out the window, looking at the skyscrapers in a similar fashion to Kennedy when they first arrived in the city. Every building and all the people in them make her feel so small, but in a way that comforts her.

“I hope you enjoyed your trip,” Natasha interjects into the silence. She notices how quiet Y/n is and it’s sort of bothering her. She knows she is likely the reason for the prolonged silence, but she knows things don’t have to be this way.

“I think I did. At least I hope I did too. I feel like it’s made me more confused than ever before,” she admits. Y/n is hesitant to delve into the details with Kennedy in the backseat. However when she looks back to check on her she sees that she’s dozing off. It’s going to take some time to get to the airport with the traffic, so it’s no surprise that she’s out before they even arrive. Seeing her sleeping, relaxed face feels like a weight lifted off of Y/n’s shoulder. They were getting on that plane regardless, but she wanted to do it without a major public breakdown.

“Do you think you might come back?”

Y/n turns forward again, her eyes lingering over the side of Natasha’s face in the process. She could never, ever read her. It’s the pangs of the past that make a part of her wonder if she’s being sincere or if he’s just waiting for her moment to make a power play. However, it seems like she’s the only one who understands what she has to say.

“I don’t know. It’s definitely an exciting feeling being here, but I assume it gets boring if you visit a lot or live here. I liked the university, but I’m not sure if I would fit in.”

“You don’t think you fit in anywhere though, Y/n.”

She doesn’t intend to come off as harsh, and luckily for her Y/n doesn’t take it that way.

“I know, that’s the problem. It feels like something is wrong with me even though I’m able to function in “normal” society with everyone else. Still, that’s not enough to make me feel stable or like I know myself.”

“If I can be frank with you, you’ve got to stop worrying about old shit. It’s written all over your face. I know it’s easier said than done, but I say this to try to get through to you. What keeps you up at night is not going to matter when you wake up in the morning. Not your parents, not whatever happened in college, and not me. You’re too young and too pretty to be worrying about all of that.”

Y/n feels her face growing hot from Natasha’s words. The mentions of her college years and indirectly their relationship. And the fact that she called her pretty. Since she took responsibility for Kennedy she finds that she thinks less and less about herself and her appearance. It’s a nice break from those insecurity, but much of what Natasha says rings true. She has too much time ahead of her to worry about a failed college relationship. When she thinks about the people she knew in college, she remembers fondly how they had a handful of their own failed relationships. Y/n is not alone in her lack of successful relationships no matter how isolating it feels. Natasha herself doesn’t have anyone romantic in her life and that’s probably due to her own hang-ups. Y/n, never being the one to pry, wonders what goes on in that head of hers.

“I guess I should get over it, and you, shouldn’t I?” Y/n doesn’t believe the words that’s coming out of her own mouth, but it feels like a victory. She always fantasized about giving Natasha a piece of her mind for breaking her heart like that.

Natasha swallows hard, not knowing what to say next. She wants Y/n to get over whatever is holding her back, but she doesn’t want to say it in a way that will make the situation go left. She’s surprised that they’ve even gotten this far in this particular topic without someone getting riled up.

“If there is still any part of you that likes me as Natasha your friend, can you promise me that you’ll get out of your own head?”

“If you do the same, then yes.”

There is unspeakable code between two people who share similar traumas. There is an understanding that you can either come out feeling like you appear unscathed or you feel like you’re completely marred and everyone sees it. There is struggle every step of the way. Y/n and Natasha's restricting and uncertain upbringings turned them into anxiety-ridden adults always worried about what's going to happen next; they just show it in two different ways. Natasha is not as tightly wound as Y/n is. Her anxiety is concealed by her workaholic nature; busying herself as a distraction. Natasha took advantage of that, she knows it, and she will be sorry for it for what feels like forever.

They have these conversations where they, admittedly mostly Y/n, skirt around the direct topic of their relationship, name the difference in age and maturity. She’s always felt so young and naive that it felt natural assuming that role in the relationship. She’s gonna be 30 in a few years and she doesn’t want her life to be marked by this naivety. She’s not a little girl being held hostage by her overzealous parents. She’s free to do what she wants.

“We could both treat ourselves a little better, couldn’t we? You’re trying to work your problems away and I don’t leave the house to avoid them.”

“We’re both dysfunctional.”

“We’re both dysfunctional.”

There’s a quiet lull the rest of the way to the airport. Y/n may have not gotten every little thing off of her chest, but she knows Natasha can read between the lines of their own secret language.

Y/n feels like she’s in a movie where one little trip, two weeks out of her comfort zone, has changed her. She knows it’s a change and she’s hoping it’s for the better. Natasha will always be the first person who broke her heart, but she will also be the person who made her feel as comfortable as possible here. Kennedy seemed to like her too.

Airports are consistently busy. There were just as many people dropping off cars and piling onto the shuttles to head back to the airport. Natasha was able to squeeze her way onto one with them much to Y/n’s objection.

“How are you going to get back to your car?” She had parked in the parking lot of the bank next to her hotel. There were so many steps for her to take simply just to do this that it felt like a big inconvenience for her.

“If you saw my uber history to and from the airport, you might pass out.”

Natasha’s insistence to be there every step of the way was still slightly baffling for Y/n, but she appreciates it. For a moment it feels as if they’re operating as a unit: Natasha, Y/n, and Kennedy. It felt that way yesterday at the zoo too, but she didn’t want to think about it then.

They make it to the airport and quickly to the departures’ terminal. This is where it ends for the two of them.

“Well, this is us.”

“This is you.”

Natasha is tempted to walk them inside to the point where she can't go any further with them, but she doesn’t make that suggestion.

“I’m going to miss you, okay?” She admits.

It’s a little shocking to Y/n that he’s showing this kind of emotion when she feels like they hadn’t done that much together over the course of her trip. But about 80 percent of their time together was enjoyable. Y/n enjoyed the second dinner, the trip to the couch, and yesterday’s day at the zoo. It was lovely to do something with someone she felt understood even if she wanted to hate her. She can’t hate her, especially not when she looks at her face. Her features had softened over their years and there are obvious signs of aging that Y/n finds attractive. A part of her wishes this fresh start between them could continue and Natasha could come with her, but life doesn’t work that way and she can accept that this time around.

“I’ll…I’ll miss you too Nat. Maybe I will come back to visit, who knows. Maybe Kennedy will drag me back to that little weird café. Who knows.”

Natasha would be damned if she let their goodbye be any more awkward than their first meeting in years. She grabbed Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. Y/n was stiff in her arms until she felt her relax. Y/n inhaled her scent, something she had never forgotten even years later.

The two of them feel a little arm wrap around the legs and look down to see Kennedy hugging them both. She hates to be left out and joined in on a moment she doesn’t quite understand. To those around them they probably look like something they are not; a family. How other people perceive them, and her, doesn’t seem to matter that much to Y/n anymore. She’s happy. Happier she’s been in a long time. She feels soft lips press against her cheek before one last tight squeeze. Neither want to let go, but it’s important that they do.

“Will I see you again, Y/n?”

The desperation in her voice was hard to ignore. Y/n sort of liked that.

“Maybe, Nat.”

[shiftersroom]

hi thala! 💞 so sorry if you don’t accept this kind of asks but i just feel like i need to vent and your vlog is always reassuring and comforting.

currently i’m in this situation where i just want to get out of this cr and permashift to my dr asap, but it seems like i can’t stop self sabotaging myself and i’m so so tired of it. last night i was crying my heart out because of how bad i felt about it. i’ve been practicing meditation so i can enter the void and even though it seems like i learned to keep my mind awake and body sleep i haven’t been able to get past that and it’s so frustrating. i know there’s tons of methods and also everyone says i don’t even need one but i idk why i have this idea that i need some method to detach from my cr really printed on my mind. for the self sabotaging part, i can’t help but have trust issues regarding myself and the community, sometimes it’s my intrusive thoughts making me doubt about shifting being real/posible and other’s successful experiences (saying it must have been a lucid dream or they are just making it up and i really HATE and feel guilty to discredit their experiences in that way 😭) and other times my belief in shifting is unwavering but i don’t feel capable of it. i'm not even the kind of person who has ever had any “closer attempts” or mini shifts and has been really hard for me to find what works best for me, meditation is by far what i’ve been trying the most but i’m just so impatient that sometimes i can’t help but feel that i’m going nowhere. my mind is really so stubborn when it comes to trying to change negative thoughts.

sorry for all of this, i don’t have shifting friends or someone i can share this stuff with. i don’t usually tend to feel this way but last night i just kinda collapsed, it crossed my mind that maybe i'm wasting my time and that i should just give up but i don’t want to, if this shii is real i need to experience it no matter what. i want to be with the ones i love and live the life i want. i don’t want to stay here any longer. i want to try loa along with shifting but then again, my intrusive thoughts say that i’ll be just gaslighting myself and all that.

i know no one else can fix these problems for me, but i’m so scared of failure or just being delusional for believing in all of this. sorry again for the long vent, i needed to get this off my chest. love you and your blog so much thala. if you don’t really want to accept this because honestly is like a long ass and probably demotivating ramble it’s totally okay, but thank you for taking the time if you do. hope you keep being happy and having success with everything you do. 😭🫶🏻

hello 💕 please feel free to vent, i don’t mind.

i completely understand your level of frustration, i badly want to permashift too and i have little breakdowns every few months once it catches up to me that nothing has fully worked yet.

the void can take a long time to perfect. i mean monks spend decades learning to meditate! why don’t you try something other than meditation? if you’ve given it a good go and it hasn’t worked, it’s probably not the method for you. i recommend a short break before trying a new method. rn i’m writing an affirmation 100 times a day. but honestly if that doesn’t work i’m straight up gonna lay there and visualize for 8 hours every night. i’m getting out of here no matter what.

try asking yourself what you think will work for you - sometimes we know the answer but we need to sit down and think about it. for example i keep doing affirmations, or short visualizations. but i feel what will make me shift is just laying there and telling myself to stfu and visualize until i’m there, even if it takes hours.

as for the self sabotage, i cope with that by watching my favorite creators and realizing that no one in their right mind would upload years of unpaid content that most people would ridicule us for, all for it to be a lie or joke. especially older shifters. and the other thing i like to do is remind myself that if i shifted and came back, no matter how ridiculous the experience was it’d still be real - so even if you don’t believe someone bc it sounds outlandish, it can still be real.

i’m also scared of being delusional but i simply cannot and will not remain here. there is no other option for me, so i’ll persist forever. the first time i shifted i had no idea id shift. that keeps me motivated, i could feel awful and still wake up in my dr tomorrow.

forever posting this reddit post by someone who shifted after 5 years, this was my fave comment of theirs:

and that motivates me even more - even if it’s fake i’m gonna make it real.

i also struggle with trying to change negative thoughts and my mindset, i’m in my mid 20s this stuff is harder to believe in at this age, and my mind has been tainted by years of bad experiences. but as hard as it is i’m forcing myself to get over it and try everything, bc i just need to shift once and all my bad experiences will be over.

i’m sorry if i gave you a big rant in return haha, but i hope this helps!! 💕 i’m so happy you like my blog and thanks for your sweet words 🥹