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ch0llies · 1 day ago

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REVIVAL | CHRIS STURNIOLO

A story in which a messy breakup lands you in your best friend’s Boston apartment a year after high school, and you find yourself face-to-face again with Christopher Sturniolo—your first love. As your paths cross again, the bitterness of how you left him still lingers, fueling every hated glance. But with your best friend dating his brother, you know is there’s no escaping Chris—or the tension that refuses to die. Is this revival destined to reignite, or will it crumble under the weight of your unresolved past?

story warning: filthy smut, angst, swearing, underage drinking, underage drug use, abusive behavior, morally skewed choices, toxic relationships, and overall mature themes. if any of this upsets you... don't read!

word count: 8.9k

CHAPTER ONE:

You had been eyeing him all night. The longer the party went on, the stronger the ache between your legs became.

You could blame it on the alcohol that was coursing through your body, or the fact that you hadn’t fucked in nearly a month since you dumped your piece of shit ex-boyfriend.

But you knew the real reason. It had been a year since you’d seen him, and it was undeniable that Christopher Owen Sturniolo had grown into a man.

He was no longer the lanky little boy you shared your first kiss with in seventh grade or the awkward acne-ridden teenager who took your virginity sophomore year, and he most certainly wasn’t the wavy-haired senior who was irrevocably heartbroken when you got into a relationship and ghosted him.

No, this Chris was different.

His features had grown since you last saw him. He had sharp cheekbones, a strong and prominent jawline, and light stubble that made you crazy.

The freckles you used to tease him about but truly loved more than anything in the world were still there, scattered across his nose, but now they added to his charm rather than taking away from it.

His thick brown hair, which he used to grow out and flaunt endlessly, was now cut shorter and only added to the maturity he seemed to be radiating. It framed his face perfectly. The brown strands were darker now and looked almost unreal next to his light blue eyes.

He’d filled out too. The smaller frame you remembered was gone, replaced by wide shoulders and slightly toned arms.

He looked good. Too good.

He stood across the room, laughing at something you assumed his friend had said.

You tried not to stare, you really did, but your eyes betrayed you. Every movement he made, every time he laughed, or ran his fingers through his hair, you felt your stomach tighten.

And it wasn’t just lust– it was the past of everything unresolved coming back from the deep dark corners of your mind where you had hidden them.

Chris hadn’t acknowledged you yet— not really. Sure, you’d exchanged nonchalant hellos when you first arrived, but the conversation ended there.

So technically he knew you were there. He was just refusing to recognize you and every feeling and emotion you would bring with you.

So, you were just another face in a crowd, and he was the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

Maybe this was your karma.

Part of you was mourning the Chris you once knew. That Chris would have been glued to your side the second you walked in, his eyes lighting up like you were the only person in the room. This Chris didn’t even flinch when he saw you. His face was so incredibly straight that it made you feel like a goddamn stranger.

You were only here because of Ava. She’d practically dragged you out of the apartment you shared that her dad bought for you two with promises that “It’ll be fun, I swear,” and “You have to be there—Matt’s expecting you.” Matt, of course, being her boyfriend, and Chris’s triplet brother. It was almost laughable. You had no desire to see Chris, no desire to stir up all the feelings you’d spent the past year pushing down. Yet, here you were.

He was standing near the kitchen now, leaning casually against the counter with a beer in his hand, talking to a girl you didn’t recognize. She was laughing at something he said, touching his arm lightly, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. A wave of something—anger, jealousy, regret—surged through you, and you tried to ignore it, trying to focus on anything else.

Ava leaned in closer, her hand lightly touching your elbow. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” you lied, plastering on a smile that probably looked as thin as it felt. You glanced over at her, noting the way her cheeks still flushed whenever she talked about Matt, the way she glowed with that new relationship energy.

Your gaze flickered back to Chris—like it had a will of its own—and you caught his profile just as he threw his head back in laughter. The sight of his throat working, the slight scruff along his jaw, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners… It was too much. You swore you could feel your stomach flip in response.

Ava followed your line of sight, sighing softly when she realized what had your attention. “You can still talk to him, you know,” she whispered, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “He’s still—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. You were grateful for the pounding bass that swallowed the tension in your tone. “We said hi, and that’s all that’s needed.”

She gave you a look—equal parts sympathy and frustration—but didn’t push. You both knew there was more to this story, a history you hadn’t even begun to unpack.

You let out a breath, forcing your gaze anywhere but him. “Listen,” you said, nudging Ava gently, “go find Matt before he starts complaining you’re ignoring him.”

Ava hesitated for a second, like she wanted to say something else, but then she nodded. “I’ll be back ,” she promised, and with a smile, she slipped away into the crowd.

With her gone, you were left in the crowd of half-drunken strangers, music pulsing around you. You tried to dance a little, tried to lose yourself in the haze of alcohol and conversation, but it was nearly impossible.

He still hadn’t looked your way again—at least not that you’d noticed. But it felt like you could sense him, the same way you used to be able to tell he was approaching before you ever heard his footsteps.

You hated how your body seemed attuned to him even now, how the ache between your legs grew every time you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. He was close enough that you could see the tension in his jaw as he spoke, see the way his fingers curled and uncurled around his beer bottle.

The girl who had been talking to him drifted off, pulling someone else onto the dance floor. Chris stayed where he was, sipping his drink and scanning the crowd, a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t read from this distance.

Ava reappeared in your peripheral vision, weaving her way through the crowd with practiced ease. You watched as she sidled up to Chris, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you couldn’t make out. A flash of surprise flickered across his features, followed by something you could only describe as annoyance. Then, as if he could feel your stare all the way from across the room, his gaze snapped to yours.

Your stomach dropped.

He didn’t break eye contact—not even when Ava squeezed his shoulder in parting and drifted away into the crowd. Instead, he kept those intense blue eyes fixed on you as he lifted his beer bottle to his lips, took a slow sip, and set it down on the counter behind him.

You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air by the time he started moving toward you. Your heart thudded in your chest with each step he took, every cell in your body screaming for you to look away, to find someplace else to be. But your feet remained rooted to the spot, as though glued there by all the unresolved tension between you.

Finally, he stopped in front of you. Close enough that you caught the faint hint of cologne and the warmth radiating from him. Close enough that all the old memories you’d tried to bury threatened to resurface in an instant.

“Hey.” His tone was clipped, casual on the surface but laced with something sharper—like he was testing you, waiting to see if you’d crack first.

You swallowed hard. “Hey.”

An uncomfortable beat of silence passed. You couldn’t read the look in his eyes—there was anger there, maybe some hurt, and definitely that lingering spark of attraction that neither of you had ever truly extinguished.

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Didn’t think I’d see you here, of all places.”

“Yeah, well,” you forced a shrug, fighting to keep your voice steady, “Ava’s my best friend. Matt’s her boyfriend. I got dragged along.”

He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. “Still letting other people call the shots for you, huh?”

The jab was subtle, but you felt the sting immediately. You square your shoulders, ignoring the faint tremor in your knees. “Acting as if I didn’t walk you like a dog all throughout high school”

He nodded slowly, as though taking in your words. “This isn’t high school anymore, clearly.” He said, looking you up and down disgustingly.

The tension between you felt almost suffocating, thick with memories of late-night phone calls, stolen kisses, and the bittersweet aftermath of what happened senior year. The way you ended things—ghosting him right when he thought your relationship might finally become something more.

“You don’t have to act like this,” you said quietly, your voice trembling despite your best effort to keep it level.

He arched an eyebrow. “Act like what?”

You hesitated. “Like I’m some kind of inconvenience.”

He scoffed. “If that’s how you’re feeling, I wonder why.” He glanced away, jaw tightening.

Your heart clenched, and you pressed your lips together, trying not to let your emotions spill out for everyone to see. “We don’t have to do this,” you repeated softly.

He shrugged, and the movement was painfully casual. “You’re right. We don’t have to do anything.” He flicked his gaze past you, scanning the crowd like you might bore him any second. “So why are we?”

You swallowed, a soft ache in your chest. Because despite all the time and distance, you both knew there was still something here—something electric, something that made it impossible for you to pass each other by like strangers.

“Chris—”

“Look,” he cut you off, his voice lowering enough that you had to lean in to hear him over the music. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m happy to see you. And I’m not gonna pretend everything’s fine. Because it’s not.”

Your pulse hammered in your ears at his bluntness. “Okay,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “But we’re here,” he finally said, a slight tremor lacing his words. “And I can’t just—” He paused, jaw working as though wrestling with something unspoken. “I can’t ignore you,” he finished in a harsh exhale.

You felt your chest tighten. He was right; he’d tried ignoring you all night, and you’d tried to ignore him, and still you’d both ended up here, facing each other, every unspoken thing hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his eyes flickered to yours. “So what now?”

You swallowed, heart pounding so hard you wondered if he could hear it over the pulsing music. His question—“What now?”—hung in the air, thick with a tension that set your nerves on fire.

You wanted to say something—anything—but words felt woefully inadequate. Instead, you met his gaze, letting him see the swirl of emotions that had taken up permanent residence in your chest: guilt, anger, desire. Especially desire.

For a beat, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was so charged you could practically feel it crackle. Your body felt hypersensitive to every shift in the air, every faint brush of his scent. All you could think about was how easy it would be to close the distance, to press your body against his and say the things you’d been holding back.

But instead, you let the moment slip by.

Chris exhaled sharply and dragged a hand through his hair, clearly wrestling with a torrent of his own. “You know,” he said at last, his voice low, “this isn’t exactly how I pictured seeing you again.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Yeah, me neither.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but instead he just shook his head and turned away, jaw clenched. “I’m gonna get another drink,” he muttered, barely meeting your eyes before he disappeared into the crowd.

A breath you didn’t realize you were holding hissed from your lungs. You stood there, your entire body humming with the tension that still vibrated in the wake of his departure. It was as if every nerve ending had been lit on fire—burning with all the words left unspoken.

Hours later, the party was winding down, though the music still thumped in the background. You’d spent most of the time dancing with other friends, forcibly ignoring the steady undercurrent of longing that tugged you toward Chris like some gravitational pull. If he noticed you looking, he never showed it, except for a few fleeting moments where your eyes met across the room, sparks flying before you both turned away again.

Eventually, Ava found you. She looked disheveled, eyes glassy and a lazy grin on her face. Matt clung to her side, equally worse for wear—his hair mussed, his speech slurred. They were hanging off each other, giggling like teenagers.

“Hey,” Ava said, her words blending together, “I—uh—we need to go home.” She hiccuped, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Like, now.”

You glanced at the two of them, realizing just how hammered they were. Rolling your eyes affectionately, you hooked an arm around Ava’s waist to keep her steady. “Okay, okay. Let’s get you guys out of here.”

Getting Matt to focus was a chore, but between you and Ava’s coaxing, he finally managed to shuffle toward the exit. You kept an arm around your best friend, her head lolled onto your shoulder as she slurred something about how much she loved you.

Matt grinned drunkenly. “Y/N… you’re… you’re the best,” he mumbled, stumbling.

You snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get you home in one piece.”

Ava’s apartment—yours and hers, really—was close enough to walk, but considering how unsteady they both were, you worried it might be a disaster. Halfway to the door, you felt a presence behind you, a telltale warmth that made your skin prickle.

“Mind explaining where you’re taking my brother?”

Chris.

You turned, finding him standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, eyes flicking between you and Matt, who was practically leaning his entire weight on your shoulder. Chris’s face was a complicated mask—some concern, a lot of annoyance, and just a hint of that ever-present tension.

Your chin lifted. “Home. With his girlfriend?” you said simply. “They’re both wrecked, so I’m taking them back to our place.”

A shadow of doubt passed over his expression. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

You arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward Matt. “I can’t leave my brother with you—” he gestured to Ava clinging to your arm, “—and that drunk fool. No offense, Ava.”

You bristled, even as a very small part of you was relieved that he cared enough to intervene. “Ava’s not that drunk. She just needs some water and a good night’s sleep, and Matt clearly needs the same.”

Chris’s gaze hardened. “Look, we can argue all night if you want, but at the end of the day, I’m not letting you carry his drunk ass home alone.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Matt swayed dangerously, cutting you off. Chris moved closer in an instant, grabbing his brother by the shoulders and steadying him. Matt mumbled something incoherent, then blinked as if just recognizing Chris was there.

“Hey, kid,” Matt slurred, lips curling into a lazy grin. “Missed you… or something.”

Chris rolled his eyes, but you didn’t miss the fleeting look of concern. “You see?” he said flatly. “He needs someone who can actually hold him upright.”

You blew out a breath, too exhausted and too buzzed to keep up the argument. Fine. Let him play the hero. “Alright,” you relented. “Let’s just get them home.”

With that, the four of you spilled out into the cool night air, Matt and Ava clutching onto each other and you, while Chris hovered on the other side. The walk was short but felt endless with your two drunken companions swaying and stumbling. Chris moved in to help whenever Matt nearly toppled over.

Every time his arm brushed yours, every time your shoulders bumped, the tension between you flared to life again—like an ember bursting into flame. It was maddening how your body seemed to respond to him, no matter how much you tried to tamp it down.

Finally, you reached your apartment building. You fumbled with the keys, grateful when the door clicked open. Inside, you guided Ava to her bedroom, where she promptly collapsed onto the bed. Matt, half-lidded and swaying on his feet, followed suit, flopping down next to her without a second thought.

You stood there, watching them, heart still pounding with adrenaline—or maybe something else. You could feel Chris behind you, close enough that warmth radiated off his body. The quiet of the apartment only amplified your awareness of him, every breath and shift in his stance sending your nerves sparking.

You turned, finding yourself nearly chest to chest with him, the small hallway leaving little room to maneuver. His eyes pinned you in place, a swirl of emotions dancing across those blue irises—conflict, frustration, and under it all, that magnetic pull you knew too well.

“So,” you murmured, voice low, “I guess you’re not leaving yet, are you?”

Chris swallowed, and for a moment, you saw the mask slip. “No,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

“So,” you murmured, voice low, “I guess you’re not leaving yet, are you?”

Chris swallowed, and for a moment, you saw the mask slip. “No,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

The tension hovering in the narrow space was almost suffocating, so thick it felt like you could reach out and touch it. But before either of you could say another word, a sudden commotion broke the moment.

A door creaked behind you. Ava, looking pale and disoriented, stumbled out of the bedroom. She blinked blearily in the dim light. You recognized that look immediately: she was about to be sick.

“Ava,” you said in alarm, stepping forward. “Oh no—”

But it was too late. Her face contorted, and she heaved forward. Chris, seeing what was about to happen, darted sideways to avoid the inevitable spray—only to crash directly into you.

“Shit!” you yelped as he slammed your shoulder. You lost your balance, stumbling back until the sharp corner of the wall made harsh contact with your head. Pain exploded at your temple, and you winced, hissing through your teeth.

Meanwhile, poor Chris was still caught in the line of fire, a portion of Ava’s vomit hitting his arm and splattering onto his shirt. He recoiled, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

Ava wiped her mouth, tears in her eyes, and mumbled something close to an apology. “I—I’m sorry… ‘m so sorry—”

You pressed a hand to your head, anger flaring as throbbing pain pulsed behind your skull. “What the hell, Chris?” you snapped, forcing yourself to straighten. “You didn’t have to knock me over!”

He turned on you, face drawn tight with frustration and disgust from the mess on his sleeve. “You were in the way,” he ground out. “I’m not exactly going to stand there and get covered in puke—though apparently, that happened anyway.”

Your brows shot up, temper sparking. “Oh, so that makes it okay to push me? You’re a real gentleman.”

Chris’s jaw flexed. “Don’t start with me. I’m not the one who can’t hold down a drink.”

“Hey!” Ava croaked from behind him, her voice wuavering. She slumped against the wall, looking miserable. “I didn’t mean—”

“Ava,” Matt’s voice interrupted from the doorway. He appeared with bleary eyes, hair sticking up in every direction. He took in the scene—Ava hunched over, you rubbing your head, Chris spattered in vomit—and promptly turned on his brother. “Chris, why the hell are you yelling at her?”

Chris took a breath, trying to calm himself, but the frustration was evident in every line of his posture. “I’m not yelling at her,” he said through gritted teeth, yanking at the soiled fabric of his sleeve. “But maybe try not to puke on people next time!”

Matt’s face darkened, protective anger flaring up. “Dude, she’s drunk and sick. Back off.”

A tense beat of silence followed, the four of you standing in that cramped hallway, hearts pounding, heads throbbing—some from booze, others from bruises, and Chris from equal parts disgust and fury.

You rubbed the spot on your head again, wincing at the dull ache that pulsed beneath your fingers. Ava slid down the wall to sit, eyes closed, still mumbling apologies. Matt hovered beside her, steadying her as best he could.

You pressed a hand gingerly to your head, wincing at the dull throb that had settled behind your temple. Meanwhile, Ava slumped on the floor, still half-groggy and covered in the remnants of her unfortunate mishap. Matt hovered next to her, one hand on her shoulder to keep her steady.

“Let’s get you two cleaned up,” you sighed, ignoring the furious pulse of pain at your temple.

Ava groaned but let you help her to her feet. Chris stayed by the wall, still looking half-annoyed, half-disgusted, but when Matt stumbled, he automatically reached out to steady him. Despite the tension in the air, the four of you worked together to guide your drunken friends toward the bathroom.

Once inside, you managed to get Ava to rinse her mouth while Matt hovered behind her, swaying dangerously. Chris stood awkwardly in the doorway, arms folded over his chest, that exasperated expression never leaving his face.

“Brush her teeth,” he said gruffly, nodding to the unopened toothbrush sitting on the counter.

“I know how to take care of my best friend, thanks,” you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual bite. Your head hurt too much to spar properly.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I’ll handle Matt.”

You and Chris maneuvered around each other in the cramped space, exchanging occasional glares whenever you nearly bumped hips. Eventually, you got Ava’s teeth brushed—despite her half-hearted protests—and Chris convinced Matt to rinse his face with cold water, muttering warnings all the while about “not throwing up on me, too.”

By the time Ava and Matt were more or less presentable, both of them looked ready to pass out on the spot. You guided Ava back to her bedroom while Chris helped Matt stumble in behind her. They collapsed onto the bed, Matt’s arm draped protectively over Ava’s waist, and within seconds, both were out like lights.

You stood there for a moment, catching your breath, still nursing the throbbing pain in your skull. Chris lingered behind you, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“You alright?” he asked finally, voice lower now that Matt and Ava were asleep.

Your head still pounded, but there was no ignoring the fact that Chris’s shirt was splattered with sink water and vomit stains. “I’ll live,” you muttered, pressing your fingers gingerly to your temple.

He huffed, his tone edging into that familiar snark. “You sure? Looked like you smacked your head pretty hard.”

“I wouldn’t have smacked it if you hadn’t used me as a human shield,” you shot back, though there was more weariness than heat in your voice.

Chris dragged a hand across his jaw, clearly wrestling with another sarcastic comeback. But instead of firing off a retort, he let out a frustrated groan. “This shirt is disgusting,” he grumbled, glancing down at the dark splotches. With a brusque motion, he yanked it over his head.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him bare-chested—this close, the hallway lighting throwing every muscle into relief. You tried to be discreet, but your gaze couldn’t help but linger on the defined planes of his chest, the way his shoulders had broadened since high school. You forced yourself to snap out of it, shifting your eyes quickly back to his face, hoping he hadn’t noticed the heat creeping up your cheeks.

He shot you a quick look that might have been amusement or annoyance, you couldn’t tell. “What?” he asked, almost daring you to say something.

You cleared your throat, ignoring the traitorous flutter in your stomach. “Nothing. Let’s just… get you cleaned up.”

Without another word, you led the way to the kitchen, pressing a hand against your throbbing head as you walked. Chris followed with the soiled shirt balled in one hand.

“Sit,” he ordered once you reached the small table, his voice unusually gentle.

Too tired to bicker, you sank into a chair. Chris rummaged in the freezer and emerged with a bag of frozen peas, wrapping them in a kitchen towel. He offered it without meeting your gaze.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, pressing the makeshift ice pack to your temple. The cold relief was almost instantaneous, dulling the worst of the ache.

Chris turned toward the sink to rinse out the vomit-stained shirt, muscles in his back flexing as he scrubbed the fabric. You found yourself staring again, and you silently cursed the unwelcome rush of heat that flooded you from head to toe.

Trying to distract yourself, you forced your gaze elsewhere. “Let me… let me grab some dish soap,” you said, pushing yourself up. A bolt of pain in your head nearly made you stumble.

He cut you a sideways glance. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. But the sudden movement left your head throbbing again, so you settled for just handing him the soap from the counter.

He muttered his thanks, squeezing a little onto the shirt and scrubbing at the stain. The quiet felt thick, loaded with tension that had nothing to do with the earlier chaos.

You tried to focus on the peas pressed to your temple, but your eyes kept wandering. Finally, you gave a short laugh, more at yourself than at him. “You know,” you said, “for a guy who’s half-naked in my kitchen, you’re pretty grouchy.”

He snorted softly, still working on the shirt. “Guess you bring out the best in me.”

A spark of irritation lanced through you, though it was tempered by the undeniable awareness of just how good he looked—tanned skin, toned arms, the faint spattering of freckles you remembered from years before. “You’re not exactly a delight either,” you shot back, pressing the ice pack firmly against your head.

He finished rinsing and wringing out his shirt, then turned off the faucet. Water dripped across his arms, sliding down the lines of his muscles. You forced yourself to keep your eyes level with his, ignoring the tilt in your stomach.

After a moment, Chris set the damp shirt aside and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He eyed you for a second, then jerked his chin at the peas you clutched. “How’s the head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints,” you smirked and his eyes widened at your innuendo.

You laughed at his reaction but actually answered the question this time. “It’s a little bit better, though.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, obviously uncertain where to go from here. “Look,” he said, voice quieter now, “about earlier. I wasn’t trying to push you. I just—”

“Didn’t want to get puked on,” you finished for him. “Yeah, I got that memo.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “I’m sorry if I knocked you over.”

You held his gaze, a wry smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “You’re forgiven. Now, are we done acting like idiots, or do we want to keep this up all night?”

A muscle flickered in his jaw, and for a second you thought he’d snap back with another sarcastic remark. But he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nah,” he said softly. “I’m good.”

An awkward beat passed, the both of you taking stock of what remained. Matt and Ava were unconscious in the next room, you had a knot forming on your head, and Chris was half-naked in your kitchen, still dripping water.

“Well,” you said, pushing your chair back, “I guess we should try to sleep. Unless you want to stay up and make sure no one else hurls on you.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “I’ll take my chances on the couch.”

He grabbed a spare towel off the counter and scrubbed at the stray droplets on his arms. You couldn’t help a quick glance at the way the movement flexed his shoulders, and you hoped your expression didn’t betray how flustered you felt.

“Night, then,” you managed, your voice a little tight.

Chris nodded, stepping around you to head for the living room. “Night.”

You stood there for a moment, the makeshift ice pack pressed to your head, watching him go. As he disappeared around the corner—shirt still in hand—you exhaled slowly, muscles taut from all the pent-up tension of the night.

The morning light drifted through the blinds, prickling against your eyelids as you stirred awake. The dull ache in your temple reminded you exactly why you’d gone to bed last night with a bag of frozen peas pressed to your head. You blinked, slowly registering the muffled sounds coming from the living room.

You pushed the blankets aside and slipped out of bed, wincing at the minor throb that still pulsed behind your temple. Padding into the hallway, you paused at the sight of Chris sprawled on your couch, arms folded over his chest. He looked about as comfortable as one could be when sleeping on a lumpy couch in someone else’s apartment.

He stirred at the sound of your footsteps. His eyes cracked open—still heavy with sleep but alert enough to narrow in on you as you stepped closer.

“Morning,” he grumbled.

Your first instinct was to snap at him—some half-baked comment about overstaying his welcome. But before you could open your mouth, he cut you off, lifting a hand as if to ward off your tirade.

“Before you bitch me out,” he said, “I’m waiting for Matt to wake up so I can take him home.”

A quick wave of annoyance flared in your chest, but you only sighed. He had a point—Matt was definitely in no state to hop on an Uber last night, and Chris wasn’t the type to leave his brother behind. Instead of biting back, you nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” you muttered. “At least you didn’t run off in the middle of the night.”

He shot you a look, somewhere between exasperated and amused, but said nothing. A fragile ceasefire, at best.

Just then, you heard a low groan from the hallway. Ava appeared, bleary-eyed and leaning heavily against the wall as if the sheer act of walking was a Herculean effort. Her hair was a mess, and she looked about as hungover as a person could be.

“Ow, my head,” she mumbled. “Did anyone catch the license plate of the truck that ran me the fuck over?”

You grimaced sympathetically. “Welcome to the consequences of your own actions.”

Ava rubbed her temples, squinting as she glanced around the living room. Her eyes fell on Chris, who was watching her with a mild, unreadable expression. She blinked once, twice, then turned to you, face twisted in confusion.

“Um… why is Chris here? Did you guys… fuck?”

Your jaw dropped. Chris actually closed his eyes like he was silently wishing himself elsewhere. After a beat of stunned silence, he cleared his throat. “Where is Matt?”

Ava shot him a mischievous smile despite her pallor. “Oh, you know,” she drawled, her tone teasing, “he’s probably hiding in my room because you two were up all night going at it.”

You and Chris both spluttered in protest. “Ava!” you snapped, cheeks heating. “We did not—”

She raised an eyebrow, wiggling it suggestively, but then cringed as her headache reeled her back in. “Ow. Okay, sorry. Too loud.”

“And too wrong,” Chris added flatly. “The only ‘going at it’ last night was you puking all over me.”

Ava’s eyes went wide, suddenly looking mortified. “Wait, what?”

You let out a half-amused snort, remembering the chaos. “You really don’t remember? You staggered into the hallway and threw up on Chris, then he tried to dodge and slammed me against the wall.”

Chris nodded, eyes flicking pointedly to your temple. “Which gave her that nice bump on her head.”

Ava cringed again, glancing at you with genuine guilt. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I… I blacked out.” She turned to Chris, noticing the faint dried stain still on his forearm. “Oh my God,” she repeated, horror-struck. “Did I really—?”

He shrugged, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey, a shower and about twenty gallons of soap later, I’m mostly fine.”

Ava buried her face in her hands. “This is humiliating.” But then, despite her headache, she cracked a small laugh. “I guess that explains why you’re in the living room, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, too, as the absurdity of the whole situation sank in. Chris let out a resigned chuckle, shaking his head.

“Believe me, I’d have been long gone if I didn’t have to cart Matt’s drunk ass out of here in a bit,” Chris said.

“I can’t believe I slept through all that,” Ava muttered. “Did I at least apologize?”

“Yes,” you said dryly, “though I’m not sure how coherent it was.”

“Enough to rub vomit in my hair again,” Chris grumbled good-naturedly.

Ava groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Ugh. I’m never drinking like that again.”

Chris smirked. “I’m holding you to that.”

A wry grin tugged at your own lips. After all the tension and drama last night, there was a strange relief in being able to stand here and laugh about it—like all of you were finally exhaling.

“How about I make some coffee?” you offered, tossing a glance at Ava’s pale face. “I think we could all use a little caffeine.”

“Oh, God, yes,” she mumbled, rubbing her forehead.

Chris nodded in agreement. “Sure. Then I can drag Matt home to sleep this off somewhere that’s not your couch.”

The faintest hint of warmth stirred in your chest at the idea of him staying just a little bit longer—even if it was just for coffee. But you pushed that down, focusing on the task at hand.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, leading the way to the kitchen. Behind you, Chris and Ava followed, still chuckling under their breath at the mess they’d all endured last night.

As you flicked on the coffee maker, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once Matt woke up, once Chris left, once this bizarre morning after turned into actual daylight. But for now, at least, you had peace—and, surprisingly enough, even a laugh or two to share.

You settle around the small kitchen table with Chris and Ava, nursing your cup of coffee. The early sunlight streaming through the window does little to mask the awkwardness lingering from the night before. Ava, sporting a messy bun and still looking a bit drained, leans an elbow on the table and eyes Chris over the rim of her mug.

“So,” she drawls, voice scratchy with sleep but brimming with sass, “get comfortable, Chris. I’m gonna go wake Matt up, and it’s gonna be a while.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “You and Y/N can, I don’t know, get cozy and touch tips while Matt takes me to pound town again.”

You nearly choke on your coffee. Chris’s face goes through about three different shades of horror before settling on exasperated. “First off,” he mutters, setting down his mug a little too hard, “I really don’t need to know the specifics of my brother’s sex life.”

Ava just laughs, utterly unapologetic. “Suit yourself,” she shrugs, sliding off the chair. “But don’t blame me if you two get bored. Find something to do, or each other to do—whatever.”

“Ava, seriously,” you groan, pressing your palms to your eyes. “At least use protection, okay?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Yes, Mom,” she shoots back sarcastically. “You’re so thoughtful.” Then she winks at Chris for good measure. “Think of me fondly while I’m gone.”

With that, she downed the rest of her coffee, set her mug in the sink, and strutted upstairs to Matt’s room, shutting the door with a pointed click behind her.

An awkward hush settles over the kitchen. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, fiddling with the handle of your mug. Chris avoids your gaze at first, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.

“So,” you say finally, deadpan, “that was subtle of her.”

He huffs a half-laugh, glancing up at the ceiling like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Yeah, subtle as a car crash.”

You both fall silent. Then, from above, a soft thud—followed by the unmistakable sounds of Ava and Matt… reacquainting themselves with each other.

“Oh, God,” you mutter under your breath, cheeks heating. You rub your temples, trying to will the noise away, but it only grows louder.

Chris grimaces, then tries to play it off with a roll of his eyes. “Guess they didn’t waste any time.”

You make a face, sipping your coffee in hopes the caffeine will distract you. “They’re in for round two, apparently.”

A moment passes, filled with an increasingly steady rhythm of moans that filter down the stairs. You and Chris exchange a glance—equal parts discomfort and wry amusement at the sheer absurdity of it.

He breaks the tension by arching an eyebrow. “Reminds me of some of our high school experiences.” There’s a dryness to his tone—like he’s testing how far he can push you.

You sputter, nearly spilling your coffee. “Wow. That’s a throwback.”

A half-smile ghosts across his lips. “Well, she’s not moaning as loud as you did back then.”

Heat flares in your cheeks—part anger, part embarrassment, and, annoyingly, part amusement. “Excuse you?”

He shrugs, crossing his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Just saying, I’ve got a good memory.”

Your eyes narrow as you set your mug aside. “No one asked you to remember. And I’m pretty sure I was never that loud.”

Chris smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You can keep telling yourself that.”

“Ugh.” You glare at him, ignoring the slight flutter in your stomach that you really wish wasn’t there. “And here I thought we’d have a civil morning.”

“I’m plenty civil.” He lifts his coffee cup, giving a mock toast. “You’re the one who let your best friend invite me to loiter in your living room.”

“As if you had no choice in the matter?” you counter, eyebrows shooting up. “You could’ve left at any time—”

“Except for the part where my brother was drunk off his ass and still is, apparently.” He nods toward the ceiling, where Matt and Ava’s very enthusiastic “recovery” session continues.

You roll your eyes, even as a small twinge of guilt twists in your gut. “Fine. You win that one.”

He sets his cup down, a flicker of genuine concern crossing his features. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Better,” you admit grudgingly, resisting the urge to rub the lingering bump. “Still a little sore. You’re lucky I don’t sue you for damages.”

He lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah, good luck explaining that to a judge: ‘Your honor, he dodged puke, and I paid the price.’”

The corners of your mouth quirk up despite yourself. “I’ll have to come up with something a little more dramatic.”

His gaze lingers on you, a hint of that familiar tension creeping into the air between you. For a second, neither of you speak. The echo of moans from upstairs fills the silence, but you try to tune it out, focusing on Chris’s expression. It’s a mix of exasperation and something you can’t quite pin down.

Eventually, he clears his throat, looking away. “Anyway. As soon as they’re done, I’m taking Matt home.”

“Fair enough,” you say, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from his lingering stare. “I’m just glad he’s not making an even bigger mess down here.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

You share a moment of uneasy quiet, sipping at your drinks and trying to pretend the floor isn’t practically vibrating with Ava and Matt’s activities. Each moan or thump from upstairs seems to underscore the unresolved tension between you and Chris—like the universe is mocking you both.

You collapse onto the couch, remote in hand, while Chris drops heavily onto the opposite end. Neither of you seems particularly eager to be in the kitchen, where the sound of Ava and Matt’s increasingly enthusiastic activities upstairs is even more obvious. Even here, though, you can still catch the muffled rhythms and gasps emanating through the ceiling.

“Want to put something on?” you offer, brandishing the remote as a distraction.

Chris shrugs. “Sure. Maybe it’ll drown them out.”

You flip through streaming services, settling on some mindless show you’ve both seen before—something you can half-watch, half-ignore. Anything to keep the awkward silence at bay.

Except the background noise doesn’t stop. Ava’s voice floats downstairs in a series of moans, clearly not worried about volume control. You feel your face heat, trying hard not to picture what’s happening up there, but it’s impossible to completely shut it out.

Chris catches the faint color in your cheeks and smirks. “You okay?”

You shoot him a glare. “Fine.”

He snorts, eyes flicking toward the ceiling with a knowing tilt of his head. “I guess some people really enjoy their mornings.”

“Can we not analyze it, please?” you mutter, turning up the volume on the TV.

For a few minutes, the two of you watch the show in a tense silence, interrupted only by the occasionally awkward clearing of throats. On the screen, the characters are bantering, their dialogue a hollow cover for the more intimate soundscape filtering down from upstairs.

Eventually, Chris shifts, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as though suppressing a grin. “Kinda like old times, huh?”

You glance at him warily. “Old times… meaning what exactly?” even though you knew exactly what he was reffering to.

He lifts a shoulder. “High school. All that sneaking around we did.” He nods at the ceiling again with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Not that we ever woke the whole house up—but you sure knew how to make noise back then.”

A spike of heat floods your cheeks. “Oh, shut up. I told you I wasn’t that loud.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I distinctly remember having to clamp a hand over your mouth one time, so your parents wouldn’t figure out I was in your bedroom.”

Your crotch thrums at the memory, even as you roll your eyes. “You’re making that up.”

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nope. That was, like… sophomore year?”

“Junior,” you correct quietly, the mental images flashing unbidden behind your eyes—late-night kisses, stolen touches, the muffled giggles when the floor creaked.

Chris spreads his hands, as though he’s proved his point. “See, you do remember.”

You hate the surge of warmth pooling in your stomach, especially with the unmistakable moans from upstairs fueling the tension. Your gaze flicks to him, noticing the way he’s tugging at the collar of his still-bare torso as if he’s feeling the heat, too.

Desperate to reclaim some composure, you turn back to the TV and raise the volume a couple more notches. The show’s bright laughter and goofy dialogue bounce off the living room walls. It helps—just a little—until there’s a particularly loud thud from above, followed by Ava’s not-so-subtle cry of Matt’s name.

You cringe, flicking Chris a sideways glance. His eyebrows are raised, and the corner of his mouth twitches with restrained amusement. “They’re really going for it, huh?”

“Stop it,” you hiss, trying to ignore the thudding of your own heart.

He chuckles, low and mocking. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re blushing. Maybe it’s bringing back memories for you, too?”

You grit your teeth. “Yes, because the best soundtrack for nostalgia is my best friend hooking up with your brother.”

His gaze slides over you, lingering on the curve of your hips, the lines of your legs tucked up on the couch. “Pretty sure I’m remembering a different soundtrack…”

A fresh wave of tension courses through you, courtesy of those teasing words and the faint recollection of your younger selves entwined in the dark. You can’t help the jittery sensation in your stomach—part annoyance, part undeniable attraction.

“That was forever ago,” you say, voice a little tight.

“Was it, though?” he counters, his voice dropping just enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You scowl, holding his gaze even though your pulse hammers. “Yes, Chris. It was.”

From upstairs, Ava’s delighted shriek rattles through the ceiling. You stifle a groan, covering your face with one hand. “Oh my God, I am never letting her live this down.”

Chris laughs, and it’s surprisingly genuine. “She’ll do the same to you if the roles were reversed.”

“Probably,” you admit.

You try to refocus on the TV show, but all you can hear is Matt and Ava’s muffled moans, and all you can feel is Chris’s eyes tracking you from the other side of the couch. The air feels charged, like a static storm on the verge of sparking, and you can’t decide if you hate it or crave it.

Finally, you shoot him a sharp look, hoping to douse the tension. “Got something to say?”

He smirks. “No, not really. Just reminded that you and I used to have this effect on each other… and it was never quiet.”

Your cheeks burn, and you set your jaw, refusing to let him rile you up any further. “Keep it up, and I’ll crank the TV so loud the neighbors call the cops.”

“And here I was, thinking we could just talk about the old days,” he drawls, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his bare skin shifting with the motion. “But hey, if the thought of me dicking you down is too much for you to control yourself right now, then I get it.

You open your mouth to retort—except your heart is pounding and your mind can’t help flipping through flashes of those stolen nights in high school. The way his hands felt on you, the desperate hushes whenever there was a risk of being caught, the rush of young desire you never quite forgot.

Upstairs, Ava lets out another moan that makes you cringe and press the remote’s volume button a few more times. “God, they better wrap this up soon.”

Chris arches an eyebrow, smirk widening. “Jealous?”

Your eyes snap to his. “Of them?”

He lifts a shoulder, carefully casual. ‘You tell me.”

A beat passes, and you can’t help flicking a glance at his bare torso—at the taut muscles that were far less defined back in high school, the confident air that certainly wasn’t there as a lanky teenager. You snap your eyes back to the TV, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

He chuckles, and it’s a low, lazy sound that does nothing to steady your heart rate. You pretend you’re enthralled by the sitcom characters on the screen, hoping the next few minutes pass quickly—or that Ava and Matt finally decide they’ve had enough.

But as you stare at the screen, you find your mind wandering, remembering the feel of his lips on yours, that electric rush you once craved. And judging by the heavy silence from Chris’s side of the couch, he’s remembering, too.

You and Chris remain on opposite ends of the couch, the TV blaring in a desperate attempt to drown out Ava and Matt’s enthusiastic finale. Finally, the unmistakable moans and muffled thuds from upstairs taper off. A few minutes later, you hear shuffling footsteps on the stairs.

Ava appears in the living room doorway, hair even more disheveled than before, cheeks flushed. She looks from you to Chris, who’s still shirtless, arms crossed as he lounges in an almost-too-casual pose. Something in her gaze flickers—mischief, curiosity—and you realize she’s not missing a single detail.

“All right,” she says, stretching her arms over her head like she’s been in a yoga class instead of a bedroom romp. “We’re done. For now.” Then she eyes you and Chris. “So, did you two fuck while we were busy, or…?”

Your face heats instantly. “No!” you blurt out, a little too fast. “Of course not.”

Chris just huffs a low laugh, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. “No,” he echoes, nonchalantly. But he doesn’t deny the tension that’s been crackling between you both all morning.

Ava narrows her eyes, scanning the room. “Mmm-hmm, sure,” she says with a knowing drawl. She lets her gaze settle on Chris for a moment, then glances back to you. Though she doesn’t say anything outright, it’s like she’s clocked something beneath the waistband of his sweats—and is doing her best not to cackle.

Before you can overthink her silent observation, Matt stumbles down the stairs behind her, hair sticking up in every possible direction. He looks like he barely has the energy to walk straight.

Chris pushes up from the couch—maybe a little too abruptly, as if trying to hide any…obvious issues. “C’mon, man,” he mutters, grabbing Matt by the arm with more force than necessary. “Time to get you home.”

Matt, still half-asleep, doesn’t protest. He just mumbles something incoherent, kisses Ava goodbye, and lets Chris steer him toward the door. Ava steps aside, watching them go, biting back a grin.

“Uh, thanks for the hospitality, I guess,” Chris calls over his shoulder, still wearing that faint smirk. He glances at you once, eyes lingering a beat longer than normal before he hauls Matt outside.

The door clicks shut. Silence falls—blessedly free of moaning and snark. You exhale, slumping back against the couch cushion. All the tension of the morning seems to settle in your shoulders, and you rub the knot at the back of your neck.

Then Ava whips around, hands on her hips, eyes dancing with amusement. “Holy shit, girl,” she hisses, scurrying over to flop down beside you. “Did you see the giant hard-on Chris had?”

You choke on air, cheeks flaming. “Ava!”

She throws her head back, laughing despite her obvious hangover. “I’m serious! Dude was packing some serious heat under those sweatpants. And you’re telling me you two didn’t get busy?”

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “We did not—no! Absolutely not,” you insist, shaking your head. “And can we not talk about…that?”

Ava props an elbow on the back of the couch, eyeing you like she sees right through your protest. “So you’re telling me he was just sitting here, sporting a massive boner, and nothing happened?” She snorts. “He’s still into you, obviously.”

You swallow hard, memories of the heated banter and near-constant tension flashing through your mind. “It’s not like that,” you try again, but the argument sounds weak even to your own ears. “He’s just waiting for Matt—well, was waiting—to get home safe.”

“Right,” she says, drawing the word out. Then she pats your leg in mock sympathy, still clearly amused. “You know you’re free to live your life, right? Even if it includes hooking up with your old…whatever the fuck he was.”

You set your jaw, refusing to meet her gleeful gaze. “He’s annoying. We bicker. That’s it.”

Ava shrugs, standing up to stretch again. “Annoying plus bickering can sometimes equal good, angry sex. Just saying.”

You toss a couch pillow at her, sending her into another wave of laughter. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

She catches the pillow and smirks. “And you’re in denial, babe.” Then she lifts her hands in surrender. “But hey, my job here is done. I’m all freshened up, physically satisfied, and apparently, I missed quite a show down here, too.”

Rolling your eyes dramatically, you bury your face in your hands. “I cannot deal with this conversation before lunch.”

Ava laughs again, patting your shoulder and leaning in conspiratorially. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you think about Chris’s, um, situation in peace.”

With that, she saunters off to the kitchen, presumably for more coffee—or to nurse her hangover with some Advil. You remain on the couch, heart still beating a tad too fast, unable to stop yourself from recalling the way Chris smirked when Ava asked if you’d hooked up.

Because maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as you claimed to be. And if Ava’s not wrong about the whole “obvious interest” thing, then the next time you see him, it might be a whole new kind of mess.

tags: @mattsobvimyfav

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bradshawed · 3 days ago

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how the grinch stole christmas with bradley pls!!! xx

warnings — fem!reader, mild swearing, fluff, jake slightly self-depreciating, fluff mastermind seresin, kissing

note — missed writing for tg:m so fucking much! apologies that it's not very christmassy, i only just remembered as i got to the end 😬 it's also doesn't flow the best so please excuse that. hope you like it x

drew's christmas celly x && main masterlist!

...

Bradley's been pining after you for years, not saying a word, or as Jake would put it "You're snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment... that never comes." Maybe he was waiting for the right moment, or maybe he just simply wasn't interested and it was all in your head. Whatever it was, you were sick of waiting around to find out.

Who were you kidding, have you seen that man?!

You were used to the Dagger Squad leaving for months on end, having grown up around the Navy, so when they left, it didn't feel any different than usual. But the moment they got back, you knew something was off. And it was driving you insane trying to figure it out and decipher the looks they gave to each other.

Jake was going to punch Bradley. He was sick of Rooster longingly staring at you across the bar. If he heard the brunette give one more excuse as to why he hadn't asked you out yet, he was going to do it himself.

You would think a near death experience and reuniting with your reckless godfather would knock some sense into you but nooooo.

"Alright, that's it." Jake slammed the empty beer bottle on the table, the bar stool screeching on the hardwood floor as he stood up. Bradley's eyes narrowed tracking Jake's movements as the blonde sauntered to where you worked behind the bar.

"Hey Jake, what can I get y-"

"I won't say this twice so listen carefully. Bradshaw's in love with you but hasn't got the balls to admit it. He's scared of you putting you through what Carole went through or some bullshit because he's a good guy but he's depriving himself of a chance to fall in love with you and start a real family. Between us, he's got a better shot at it than me and I don't want him ending up like Mav so listen up.."

Your shift ended as per usual to the sweet croon of Bradley's rendition of Elvis' Can't Help Falling In Love for your ears only as you locked up.

"You and Jake were talking for a while tonight."

"Mmhm, I could talk about you for hours." You smiled cheekily at the blush creeping on his cheeks, "Walk with me?"

"Always."

You both walked in silence to the sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

"A little birdy told me you were in love with me."

Bradley's heart stopped, and his feet followed. His mind racing as his back turned rigid, Hangman was about to become a very literal call sign.

"Good thing I'm in love with you too."

Bradley's mind was still reeling from your first comment that he had barely processed the second. You'd said it so casually and matter-of-factly that- And god, you were smiling up at him so sweetly, waiting patiently as he processed that he was afraid his heart was about to burst.

Your heart was about to explode. He could probably hear it thumping under your his hoodie. Fuck. This is the last time you follow Jake's advice.

You turned to look at the moonlight reflecting on the calm water. Beautif-

Bradley's lips were on yours. Now you were the one in shock.

Fuck. He can't believe he'd missed out on this all because he was afraid. Maybe Jake was right, not that he'll ever admit it.

You both pulled away, catching your breath, your mind becoming increasingly aware of his hands on your waist.

"I- I don't know why I waited so long to tell you-"

"You still technically haven't." Bradley raised his eyebrows as if daring you to say more, his hand travelling up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, effectively silencing you.

"I love you," he replied, kissing you sweetly again, "and I know we need to talk about this and that I've got a lot of lost time to make up for, but you're it for me. I've known that for a long time."

"You're it for me too B..."

"And Jake says Merry Christmas."

#drew’s catty corner #drew's christmas celly x #drew's tg:m talks!#tg:m #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader

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currentlyreadingawesomefanfics · 4 months ago

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Silly drawing of Heaven Time traveling!

( Fits right into what one of the next memory chapters is gonna be…)

Alternative title: Heaven meets her grand uncle that no one speaks about only to find that he’s a literal murderer! Maybe don’t turn the ball pit into a Time Machine…

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misswynters · 2 months ago

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Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

#arcane fluff #arcane fanfic #arcane jinx #jinx arcane #jinx x fem!reader #arcane masterlist #arcane fic #arcane x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x reader #jinx x you #jinx imagine #jinx league of legends #arcane fandom #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane x female reader

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consifs · 3 months ago

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why are d2 screenshots always so blurry for me

I don't post about my boy much but this is Consi and his ghost Nyx! He tends to do a lot of scouting work in between missions with my Young Wolf's fireteam. With his fireteam (the Darksiders), they tend to clean up behind YW and their team to make sure the problem stays gone and even joining them during missions like raiding the Throne World, Rhulk's pyramid, etc. His fireteam also will take on missions that don't exactly warrent YW's strength but also are too tough for your run of the mill Guardian fireteams.

Also always had the idea with @ahungeringknife 's headcannons for D2 that he unofficially works for the Scouting Legion (Hunter only group that scouts ahead on strikes for other fireteams to clear out, working with the Hidden on certain tasks, etc) and Hidden.

By the end of TFS, Consi and his team take on the mantle of Godslayers so YW and their team can finally ya know, take a fucking vacation for once.

I also have too many outfits I want him to be in but I recently tried to make a Halloween outfit (right) w/Episode Revenant thing being spoopy. It kinda works. He's mainly in the outfit to the left after Lightfall since his team went to tackle Warlord's Ruin. I like to imagine right now Consi and his team are on a lot of the rescue missions during this current arc. They're just trying to take it a bit easier too since there's always a lot to get done, things to map out and explore, etc. And yes, i love lucky pants and malf so he's a lucky pants + malfeasance user.

Show me your hunters!

I'm very biased towards our more adventurous guardians and I'm currently stuck at work... So show me your becloaked guardians and tell me a little bit about them if you're willing.

#xazz and i always chat a lot about their guardians and it's always a great inspiration source #they let me play with some of their world building ideas for D2 and it is AMAZING fun #also shout out to xazz and entropy #please check out their stories. they are amazing binge reads #also yes its the female model #i like their outfits better and Consi is a lot curvier since he's technically from ffxiv #I love doing crossovers and seeing how i'd think one character would react to being in a vastly different world then calling it home #He's also a MAJOR darkness user just uses it in a different way. Not your conventional strand/stasis due to it working differently #but that's for another time. i can't use correct grammar to explain anything this week apparently #consiplaysd2

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awrkive · 3 months ago

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Idk I must have some problems I need to talk about with my therapist, but I NEED the #3 lmao

summary: jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.

w/c: 3.5k

note: aurkayyyy general consensus says write # 3 and that post got 40 likes idk so here it is ig.. unedited cos its 3am but also i tried my very best awrkive nation 😞💔 under the cut cos its long asf for a drabble crying

People always gravitate to you. You have this sort of unbreakable and contagious energy around you that just pulls people right into your orb – your classmates in middle school through college, your cousins, even the cashiers at the cafes you like visiting downtown every here and there.

And it is why Jeon Jungkook from your Environmental Science class baffles you. Because while everybody in the lecture hall – even prof Nam – likes to give you a smile or even just a nod of acknowledgement when you walk in, he does the total opposite and will just do about anything to avoid you.

It had been during the first week of the term when you realized this fact. When Jungkook seemed to have abhorred the idea of sitting next to you because somebody had “stolen” his seat.

Of course he knew the fact that you technically could not “steal” a seat in college – there are no such things as assigned seats in college, after all – so you had kindly offered the empty chair beside you, then, but he just looked at you with his knitted brows, like he couldn’t believe you had asked him that in the first place.

In the end, he chose the free seat at the back of the hall – even though as far as you know him, he’s the type to like sitting in the front rows to engage with the class better.

However, that did not deter you from trying to befriend him. In fact, it just made you want to get closer to him more.

You like Jeon Jungkook. Not romantically, of course! You just like the fact that he is extremely smart and listen, he seems nice. The girls always have something good to say about him, and he’s friends with one of your closest friends, Namjoon – whose judgment you trust most of all. He’s acquainted with most of the people you know and you’ve seen him interact with others – he’s charming and doesn’t exactly look broody and uninterested when he’s with them.

So when Prof Nam partnered you both in a presentation for your final requirement for the term, you were over the moon to have been given the opportunity.

“__,” Jungkook calls, but you’re way too busy admiring the strands of his hair that had now been dyed to gold – a contrast to his previously dark brown locks. It’s mostly hidden from the beanie he’s wearing. Something you’ve noticed he’s been wearing a lot these days even though it’s not that cold.

You think it’s because he’s not too keen on getting attention for his newly dyed hair.

Jungkook calls your name one more time, and this time it snaps you out of your trance.

“Hm?” You look up, blinking at him – only to be met with his knitted brows again. At that all too familiar look by now, you frown slightly, knowing the tell-tale signs of his annoyance.

“I’ve been asking you about biofuels for the past two minutes.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen for a bit, quickly looking at your iPad. “Uhm… it’s here…” you slide your device over to his direction and he’s quick to read over your work. With him seated beside you, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and you don’t even think it’s cologne in the first place. It just seems like his natural smell – like fresh laundry. Downy or something.

Ever since you started working on the project, you’ve been going to cafes and the library to work on it – for at least an hour – and you’re starting to get accustomed to everything Jeon Jungkook. He’s smart – and that’s a given – but he also smells really good; that’s what you noted specifically.

But most importantly, he’s dyed his mid-length hair blonde. And he looks different but somehow… really handsome. With his prescription glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, you just can’t help but to look.

“Where is your citation for this?” He says, pointing to a certain part of your work.

At that, you grow anxious. Jungkook’s really serious about his academics. And even though he looks distracting with his blonde hair right now, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous.

You’re not dumb or something! You’ve survived three years of college just fine – you’re just not the likes of him, or Namjoon, for that matter. But you do well for yourself.

But Jungkook, reading over your work with furrowed brows, you can’t help but second-guess yourself.

Especially when the next thing you can say is just, “Oh, uhm… I thought citations would only be after every four sentences?”

“Did you not read the instructions?” Jungkook says. It’s not harsh but there’s a certain lilt to it. A bit pointed that you visibly recoil. As if noticing you do that, Jungkook clears his throat and looks right back to your iPad. With a tone that considerably sounds gentler to you this time, he says, “You should put a citation every three sentences.”

“Okay…” You say. You look at Jungkook and you give him a tight-lipped smile when he meets your gaze. “I’m sorry.”

His gaze lasts longer than necessary – he almost always doesn’t really look at you but this time he does, and just when you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, he peels his eyes away from you and turns to his computer, not saying anything.

You sulk in your seat, revising your paper while Jungkook acts like a stranger beside you again.

“Kook…” you say after awhile. You watch as Jungkook visibly stills at the nickname. Nonetheless, he hums, but he doesn’t stray his eyes from his laptop. “I really like your hair.”

Nothing.

“Kookie…” This time, you poke at the material of his purple hoodie. “I said I like your hair.”

He doesn’t budge.

When you make a move to poke him again, he finally says, “I heard that.”

You turn back to your google doc with a pout.

You don’t know what you’re expecting from him. A thank you, maybe? But that would be unlikely for him to say to you. He’s just always so quiet around you. Annoyed, irritated—

“Thank you.”

At first you don’t quite catch it, but you kind of got the gist. Unbelieving, you turn to him with a confused look. “What?”

“Isaidthankyou.”

But it was spoken so fast that you just grew more puzzled.

“What…?”

“Nevermind.” He says, hacking away on his laptop again.

You pout the whole time writing your paper.

———

You’re just about to approach Jungkook to talk about your recent development for your project when somebody beats you to it first.

It’s Han Hyorin from the same class. You made friends with her from another minor you’ve had in the previous semester and she was a really nice woman – sort of similar to you. A big ball of sunshine, all smiles and cheerful and full of energy. It’s why you clicked instantly a few months ago.

But that’s also why it surprises you when you see her talking animatedly with Jungkook and him listening to her attentively – smiling and laughing.

Certainly not his vibe when you’re the one in conversation with him.

Listen, you’ve been so accustomed to his behavior to you all this time that you just don’t mind it now. But for the record, you just thought that maybe – he just can’t quite level up to your energy. You’re too bubbly and he’s too… calm. And you get that! You certainly don’t hold it against him.

But as he catches a glimpse of you his mood turns completely different, no longer smiling ear to ear. It makes Hyorin stop speaking, turning her body to look at your direction as well.

“Oh, hi __!” She greets, grinning. “I was just talking to Jungkook here.”

“Hi, Hyorin.” You wave at her, mirroring her smile. You walk towards them, hugging your iPad tight to your chest. “Hi, Jungkook.”

He just sends you a timid smile.

Weirdly enough, it makes your heart twinge.

“Anyway, are you two gonna work on your project? Sorry for keeping him up, if that’s the case. I’ll be off then.” Hyorin says as she picks up her bag. She looks at Jungkook once again, saying, “I’ll send the link to you later, Jungkook.”

Jungkook only nods before Hyorin walks out of the lecture hall.

You watch her disappearing back before you turn to Jungkook. “I didn’t know you guys were friends.”

He shrugs. “We talk sometimes.”

“Ah.” You nod.

“Anyway, you got my text, right? Hoseok said it’s too crowded at 556 right now. And my laptop’s dead so I can’t use it either. Left my charger at my place,” he says, starting to put his stuff in his backpack.

“Yeah, I got it,” you say, stepping out a bit to let him out of his row. You follow beside him when he begins to walk. “Well, where should we do the project?”

You see Jungkook wince. “I have no choice but do you mind if I just suggest my place? I have a roommate but he’s not around this time. Or we can just call it off for today and resched.”

You blink at him. “Your place?”

He arches a brow. “Yeah. Is it okay? Do you have something else in mind?”

Shaking your head, you look straight ahead. “It’s fine.”

“It’s just a three minute walk from the campus. Do you mind?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, then.”

———

Jungkook thinks you’re strange today.

You’re usually so full of stories. Never ran out of things to say. His silence never deterred you from sharing something and even though Jungkook would deny it to you and to all his friends – he actually secretly enjoys your blabbering. Finds most of them funny.

But right now, you’re all quiet on your iPad and notes, focused on doing your work. The last thing he’s heard you say something was when you commented earlier, “This is a nice place,” when you stepped inside the threshold of his and Taehyung’s apartment.

No comment about his hair. Or his hoodie. Or the stupid occasional, “You look handsome today.” that makes his heart perform backflips against his ribcage and makes him all nervous that he can’t really look straight into your eyes for the rest of your interaction.

He finds it strange that he finds you strange today. He should be… happy about this right? He always tells his friends that you’re too… loud when they ask why he doesn’t seem to like you. For the record, he does not not like you. Jungkook just thinks you’re too much.

Or that you make him feel too much it drives him insane.

“Are you alright?” He breaks the ice after a few minutes. He couldn’t help it. This isn’t like you at all. At this point, you should have already told him twenty different stories that includes your breakfast and the bird that keeps knocking on your window every 5am. By this time, you should have already asked him if he likes your outfit or some stupid shit like if he likes your nails.

For the record, he likes all of them. Your blush pink nails and your pink skirt that stops above your thigh, exposing your smooth thighs that Jungkook always berates himself not to look at. You always wear skirts. He hates them.

He hates that he doesn't really hate them. At all.

“Huh?” You turn to look at him, blinking. Meek and pouty and puzzled. You look so cute it confuses the hell out of him.

“I asked if you’re okay.” Jungkook says, leveling his voice. Lest he gives himself away. What would he give away, though? That he’s weirdly worried about your silence? That he’s starting to think maybe you’re getting fed up with his constant avoidance of you and you’re starting to realize he’s a shit person and he doesn’t deserve any of your time?

That he’s putting way too much meaning into this?

And what for?

“Oh,” you utter. A bit taken aback. You nibble on your bottom lip and Jungkook tries hard not to focus too much on the way your gloss makes them look so plump. You had pretty lips. Jungkook’s not that prideful to admit that. Just to himself, though. “Yeah. I am fine. Why do you ask?”

He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

You look at him with furrowed brows but don’t really say anything further. “Okay.”

When you go back to working in silence simultaneously again, Jungkook finds himself not being able to focus on the words of the journal article he’s reading. There’s a sentence to it he’s been going right over and over again. Everytime he reads it, it’s like the point just crosses right over his head and his efficacy in the language degrades every single time he repeats it internally.

All the while, you’re still quiet.

And Jungkook’s had enough.

Why weren't you saying anything?

“__.”

“Hm?” When you tilt your head to look at him, Jungkook nearly falls over his bed. You’re across the room on his computer desk while he’s on the mattress.

God, you are so unbelievably beautiful without trying it makes his head ache.

“Are you –uh. What’s with you today?” He finally asks. He watches as your face contorts into an expression of confusion once again, which he can’t really blame you for feeling the way.

“What’s with me today?”

“You’re just…” he tries to find the right words. “Quiet.”

You don’t say anything for a while that Jungkook was about to take his words back.

“Oh… I’m just not feeling well today, I think.”

His brows furrowed. You looked perfectly fine today. You were your usual sunshine shelf when you stepped in class – all big grins and pretty laugh Seo Jihyun as usual was trying too hard to get your attention beside you all day.

“Really?” He asks. “Do you need something?”

It takes you by surprise. But you recover fast. “No, it’s fine.”

“We don’t have to do this today if you’re feeling under the weather.”

You laugh. And Jungkook thinks that’s a win. He thought he wasn’t getting any of that for today.

“It’s fine, thank you, Jeon.”

Jeon?! Jeon, like his surname?

He chooses to ignore that. But then a few minutes passed and he spoke again. God, he couldn’t stand any of this.

“How’s the bird?”

“The bird?” You parrot back.

“The bird at your window.”

“Oh!” A flash of recognition goes through your face. “That. Well – as usual it knocked on my window again.” you giggle and it’s the first time Jungkook feels a little light ever since you entered his place.

Good. This is good.

“I didn’t know you’d remember that.” You say, giving him a small smile.

Jungkook feels his cheeks burning so he had to look away. “You tell me about it everyday.”

There’s a pout he can feel you’re sporting when you say, “But I thought you don’t care.”

Jungkook frowns at that.

But he realizes… he gets it. He doesn’t exactly show the opposite.

When he looks at you, your eyes are solemn and your downturned lips look so sad that it makes him feel like shit.

See. This is why he’s always confused when he’s with you. You make him feel so much all at once and he can’t quite put it.

“You tell me a lot of stuff everyday.” Is what he settles with.

“Fair.” You say after awhile. “But uhm…”

“Yes?” Jungkook immediately says, intrigued. You’re about to speak when his phone rings. You both look at the small device lying on his bed. When Jungkook picks it up, the caller ID says Han Hyorin. “Sorry, I’ll just pick this up.”

Pressing on the green icon, he hears Hyorin’s voice at the end of the line.

“Hey, Kook,”

“Hi, Hyorin. What is it?”

“What was your student email again? I can’t really find it on the roster.”

Jungkook recites it and then that’s the end of the conversation. He finds it strange because she could’ve just texted him but anyway, he turns to you again after the call ends.

“Who was that?” You ask curiously.

“Hyorin.”

You still in your seat. Then nod.

You don’t say anything again.

And that stretches into another few minutes that Jungkook is once again confused. When he looks right over to you, you’re all up in your device.

He stands up from the bed, leaves his laptop on the mattress, and then walks right over to your direction to stand behind the chair you’re seated on. Ducking down a bit, he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re doing.

“You’re almost done?”

When you turn back, your faces are so close to each other that his swivel chair creaks a little when you get taken aback. Jungkook steps back.

“Yeah. I think so. You?” You say, looking up at him.

Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, inserting his hand on his pockets as he looks straight ahead on your screen.

“I’ll finish up later.”

You nod then turn back to your iPad.

Jungkook’s eyebrows meet once again and he sighs.

“__,”

“Yeah?”

“Are you mad at me?”

You turn to him so quickly. “What?”

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asks because he can’t take any of this anymore. You’re so… distant. And it makes him feel like he’s on edge. “You’ve been so quiet since we got here. I want to apologize if I did something wrong. But even if I didn’t, then I’m still sorry.”

Jungkook watches as your lips part, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Jungkook’s not the one to shy away from apologies – if he’s done something wrong, then he makes sure to take accountability.

It’s different when it’s with you, though. He knows he isn’t exactly his nicest and his best to you… but it’s his complicated feelings that get in the way. He doesn’t know how to handle them. He doesn’t know how to handle you.

“N-no!” You say. “You didn’t do anything.”

He sends an arched brow your way.

You shake your head vigorously. “It’s just… uhm… I thought…”

“You thought…?”

You look away, and it’s the first time Jungkook sees you seemingly shy.

“I thought you’d like my company more if I didn’t talk much.”

Now Jungkook’s just perplexed.

You. ibble on your bottom lip before you say your next words. “I know you don’t exactly like me that much – that you’re just putting up with me because of this project and all that, but I really like you. Uhm. As a friend. I’d like to be your friend but I’m realizing now that I’m probably just annoying you with all of my blabbering and it’s unfair to you that I just keep on imposing myself on you even though you make it very clear that you’re not keen on befriend—”

“__?”

“— hm?”

“Stop that.” Jungkook says because he can’t bear to hear you say things that aren’t the least bit true at all. “It’s not true.”

“Which part?” you pout.

Jungkook would like to wipe that off your face with something. Like his lips. And that thought sends him into overdrive. He needs to get a grip of himself, seriously.

“Everything.”

What he doesn’t expect is for you to just frown.

“You’re a liar.”

“What?”

You burst. “Well, for one– you always avoid me! You don’t even greet me in the hallways. And even in the same class you don’t smile at me or anything and the only time you ever acknowledge me is when we do this stupid project and okay I get it, you only like bubbly girls when they’re Han Hyorin, but why not me?”

Jungkook, puzzled, asks, “How’d Hyorin get into this?”

Your shoulders deflate. “I don’t know.”

“Can you—” Jungkook inhales a sharp breath. He closes his eyes before opening them back again. “Can you listen to me?”

You plop back down on the chair with an indignant huff. Jungkook lets out a low chuckles but you only glare at him.

So goddarn cute, he thinks to himself.

“You’re just… you’re just too much okay?” He sees the way your face falls and he nearly punches himself for how he worded it. “Wait no– that’s not right. I meant, you’re just – you make me feel a lot of things, __.”

“Things?”

“Yeah. You confuse me.”

“Why?” You look so confused it melts Jungkook.

“I don’t know how to explain it either. Just that… you need to know I don’t not like you. I like your little blabbering. I look forward to your breakfast stories. I like your nails. I like your skirt. And I like your new apple pencil case.”

Jungkook watches as your face turns soft. And suddenly, you have that million dollar grin again on your face.

“Really?”

“Hm.”

You squeal and the next thing he knows you’re onto him, arms wrapped around his neck, locking him into a hug.

“We’re friends now?”

Jungkook takes the opportunity to encircle your waist around his arms, noting the size difference. And how easy it was for him to snuggle his nose subtly into your hair to smell your sweet shampoo and perfume in that position.

You always smell so good.

“Friends.”

Jungkook doesn’t really think he can take both of you as just being friends, though.

#p; drabbles #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader

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olderthannetfic · 26 days ago

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I hear this so often, including from people doing seriously high-level crochet, so there's clearly something going on here.

A youtuber commented recently that she thinks she's cracked it: crochet gets ever more complicated, so crocheters find the first learning curve of knitting hard and assume it's going to be a nightmare from there on out... except knitting isn't like that. It's a little difficult to figure out which hand goes where while you're learning the basic knit and purl stitches, but after that, it's all the same stuff forever. There's another little hump if you're learning stranded colorwork or cables or brioche or whatever, but lots of patterns don't use those, and each is still just that initial little learning curve and then downhill thereafter.

TBH, I don't crochet enough to know if it just gets harder and harder, but that's what this person thought, and it's an interesting theory.

Another issue is that knitting notation varies pattern-to-pattern. There should be a key in the beginning of a decent pattern, and youtube has a lot of tutorials explaining different stitches and techniques.

If you want to learn to knit, pull up any youtube tutorial on the basic stitches, then go make this:

youtube

Yeah, it's a chunky weight sweater, which I'm not a huge fan of, but seriously, just go make a sweater. It will probably take you a month max if you spend a lot of time on it.

If you want to make that dragon cloak everyone's been reblogging from me lately, I haven't given it a try yet, but I remember looking at the description, and the designer says it's technically a lace pattern, but without visible holes. Lace isn't easy, but it isn't all that hard either.

Go knit one of these:

Or one of these:

#Youtube

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ladymercysletters · 4 months ago

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Aegon the Soft

Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count : 1474

Warnings: fluff

A/N: I haven't written in years so please bear with this. I just have some very soft feelings for the Targ siblings. All they need is a hug I SWEAR! anyways, hope you like it

When Aegon first married, he tried to be around you as little as possible. It was best that way, everyone else who should technically love him in his life never has; why would you be any different. The bedding ceremony had been performed; he had done his duty. He must only put a few heirs in you and that would be that. He finished that thought with the downing of his drink. Slamming the cup down on the table his men cheered around him, filling his cup as the merriment continued.

The hour was late, or early – who knew, when Aegon and his men finally dragged themselves back to the Red Keep. Sober knights greeted them and took the prince back to his rooms, depositing him on his bed.

“My Wife! Bring my wife to me!” he shouted, lolling about on his sheets and he struggled to stand.

“My prince, the hour is late an…”

“I know the hour. I said now!”

__________________________________________________________

Was he on a ship. He must be on a ship. His stomach rolled and churned so much it must be the waves on the ocean. Blinking blearily into the sunlight he vaguely felt fingers running through his hair. Aegon finally managed to focus his eyes on his bedside table, and the jug of water placed on it. The soft touch continued to caress his forehead and brush through the silver strands falling in front of his eyes.

“Good morning husband. How are you feeling this morning?” Aegon blinked and his mind cleared slightly. His wife was in his bed. You were stroking his hair from his face and asking if he was well? Thoughts flew through his head and as he jolted from the knowledge you were right behind him, his stomach reminded him of his current state and he rolled ungracefully from the bed. He landed sprawled on the floor causing a sharp gasp to leave your mouth as you watched your severely hungover husband groan and roll around tangled in sheets before moving like a slug to the open doors of his balcony and slamming them close behind him.

You couldn’t see him like this. He hadn’t even managed to face you, but he knew he must look terrible and there was something in him, ridiculous as it may be, that wanted to keep you under the illusion that he wasn’t a complete failure. Once he’d finished evacuating the contents of his stomach off his balcony, and damningly close to his brother who was just making his way onto the training grounds for his morning spar with Cole, he inhaled deeply before steeling himself to walk back inside.

Opening the doors to his rooms, he saw you sitting prettily on the end of his bed. Hair fallen perfectly to frame your face, wearing only in a linen shift you had presumably slept in by his side all night – surely his wife had been carved by angels. Bustling in the room brought him back and he drew the sheets tighter around his waist. Maids flitted in and out, making up the bath and serving breakfast on a table set up at the end of the bed.

“Better?” you said shyly smiling at him. “I thought you might need something to line your stomach – and possibly a bath.” You trailed off. You’re right. He smelled revolting.

He doesn’t quite understand how or why you could be so nice to him, he thinks as he sinks into the steaming perfumed water. Especially as a vague memory of the previous night comes back to him, he’d stumbled back into the keep, pissed as a newt, and demanded you come to him to fulfil your wifely duties. Closing his eyes, Aegon felt his muscles relax in the warmth. Even his head lessened from the soothing lavender scent.

This time he felt your presence behind him before your touch. Softly, again, you carded your fingers through his hair, moving him gently forward so you could wash him. Your gentle touch was so foreign to him. Even when he was washed by the servants, they were never this gentle with him. The warm water cascaded down his back, your fingers working a floral scented soap into his hair and pressing firmly against his scalp. The sensation was heavenly. The warmth of your body surrounded him as you leant him back again to rinse the soap from his hair.

Once he was cleaned you set a small pillow at the back of the tub for him to rest his head on. Though he was a prince he was sure he had never been as pampered as this. He stared up into your face as he leant his head back, taking in the soft fluttering of your eyelashes and the curve of your cheeks and lips.

Though you had been married for over two moons now Aegon didn’t think he had ever really looked at you before now. Surely he would have lingered around you more if he had seen what a beauty he had married. Your mere presence brought him peace, and whilst he could not understand why you were being so kind to him, his heart overstepped his mind and let him live in this fantasy for just a moment longer; practically jumping from his chest when he felt you lay soft kisses along his hairline. Your warm smell invaded his nostrils and his eyes fluttered open to discover your neck and cleavage so close to his face. Your skin looked so smooth, and his lips ached for him to lean closer and place a reverent kiss to your collar.

You took a towel and held it out for him, helping him dry as he stepped out of the tub. His eyes rolled over your body as he dressed, tucking his loose shirt into linen britches as he watched you arrange the chairs around the breakfast table.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” his voice wavered ever so slightly at the question falling from his mouth.

“Aegon?” you replied. Softly breathing his name as you turned to face him. He was sure the sweet sound of your voice confirmed you had been sent from the gods. “I am here to care for you. I am your wife…” His face fell slightly at that, which you saw. Of course you were there for your duty. The thought brought back his words from the previous evening. Wifely duties. You were fulfilling your side of the bargain. “… and I like you.” You finished.

You studied his face as he looked at you. His delicate features held together by perfect milky skin. The rounded cupids bow of his lips forming a soft pout that was hard to resist. Though you’d seen his anger and drunkenness many times since your wedding and heard worse from the ladies of court before your arrival, you’d also seen the small sad look on his face whenever he’d leave a council meeting, or even just at dinner with his family. Although his mother had been nothing but kind and gentle with you, you could see this favour wasn’t extended to her own son, and his grandfather was even worse – openly mocking him with his father, the king when surely, they should have been teaching him.

Thoughts brought you back to reality as you stepped closer to him. Looking into his eyes, the pale violet seeming deeper towards his iris and wider as they searched yours for an answer. You softly took his wrist into your hands, sliding your fingers down to intertwine with his own you placed a small kiss between the crease in his brow.

“I am your wife. I know you did not choose me for love, or choose me at all, but I hope that you will know how much I care for you, and one day maybe you may care for me.” Aegon’s throat almost closed up, and his eyes betrayed him as they began to water. His thumbs barely moved to brush the backs of your hand bringing them up to place a kiss on your knuckles – gently leading you to sit next to him at the end of his bed.

The words struggled to form in his throat; a combination of a hangover and sudden emotion rendering him surprisingly catatonic. Your hand moved to stroke to side of his face, bringing his eyes back to your own.

“I will do my best” he whispered, leaning into the warmth of your palm. “I will do my best for you, and for our line.”

“I know you will. You will prove anyone who doubts you wrong.” You spoke, touching your forehead to his own. His eyes slipped closed once more, happy to bask in the bliss of your presence for as long as the gods would allow him.

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon imagine #aegon fluff #soft!aegon #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #hotd imagine

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halfmoonaria · 1 year ago

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stalker

pairing: jenna ortega & reader

summary: jenna can't help but watch you when you can't see.

words: 1.2k

warnings: stalking & sexual content.

Jenna didn't mean to watch you, honestly.

But your window was right in front of hers, and your curtains were always open; doing the opposite job and didn't cover your room at all.

The first time she noticed you was when she finally had a free day, which was unexpectedly super boring for her. She had nothing to do.

That's when you caught her attention.

You were walking around in your bedroom with barely any clothes on, technically half naked if you will. You were talking to someone on the phone, smirking and twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

You walked all around the room, not noticing the burning stare Jenna held on you for the whole time you were on the call.

At first Jenna had stood behind her curtain, only her eyes peeking out for her to see you. But when she noticed you didn't plan on catching her soon, she got braver; standing so her whole figure was visible. So she could see you better.

She only had one window to see you through, so unfortunately she couldn't see you when you were in the other rooms of your apartment. But that wasn't something she worried about, since you were in the bedroom almost every single time she began watching.

She knew it wasn't right, and she tried telling herself to stop. But ever since she saw you that first time, on the phone, barely any clothes on, she couldn't help herself. She was captivated by you, infatuated.

So she began to watch you almost every night. No matter what you were doing. She couldn't get herself to stop.

She had been lucky enough to watch you change almost every night. When you changed in the morning, when you changed at night or when you stripped to use the shower.

The thing that was taking her through the rough days of stunts and acting, was the fact that she would be able to watch you when she got home.

Eventually she had watched you so many times that she had learned your shower schedule and what time you used to go to bed at night.

There were a few nights where she would notice you going out in fancy clothes, she assumed that you were either going out on dates, or that you were going out to party and drink at some club.

She hadn't had the guts to follow you anywhere yet. She knew that paparazzi of some kind would find her, exposing herself if you noticed the flashing cameras.

But when you would arrive home again, late at night after those 'events', Jenna would watch you again. She had been so lucky that she would see you bring home all kinds of women and men as one night stands.

She would watch everything. From beginning to end. From the moment your clothes started dropping to when you were panting on the bed.

She enjoyed watching you with women the most, because she could think that it was her, that she was the one that was above you, pleasuring, preaching and worshipping you, that she was the one that undressed you, or that she was the one to kiss every inch of your body.

She would be different than all the other people you brought home with you.

Jenna had never heard your voice, your laugh, your personality or your moans. But she still felt like she knew everything about you. She knew your bedtime and morning routine, your favorite movie that she had seen you watch on repeat, and what lingerie you wore most of the times when you got laid.

Embarrassing as it was, Jenna had actually gotten off to watching you more than once. There were some days you didn't have to do much at all, and some days she did it when she caught you having sex with some random woman.

She couldn't help it. One second she was just sparing glances into your window, and the next her hand had slipped into her underwear without her noticing.

It's not like you were going to notice right? You were clearly busy with other things.

She had seen you masturbate twice. And it had been heaven. She could see everything so clearly, every moan, what you said and the movements you made.

Jenna had imagined that she was the one you were thinking about. She thought about it so much that it began to feel real.

She felt so dirty. She knew it was wrong. But she just couldn't get herself to stop. She had tried to distract herself so she wouldn't watch you, but it never worked, she always ended up looking anyway.

She had tried to go to sleep earlier; so that she wouldn't catch you and your one night stand pleasuring each other. But the thought of you doing something without her watching made it hard for her to sleep, so she always ended up standing at her window nonetheless.

Since you guys didn't live in the same building, she hadn't seen you 'in person' yet, which she was very happy about. Not that she didn't want to meet you, just that she wouldn't have a single clue what she was going to say or do, what she would act like.

How could she ever meet you knowing she had been watching you for months? She obviously wouldn't tell you, so that wasn't the problem. But knowing that she had been doing that without you knowing almost made her feel the need to throw up.

She knew it was wrong. Every single day she told herself the wrongs of it. But it was like an obsession, like a moth into flame, she knew how bad it was, but she couldn't stop. She just couldn't.

When she watched you she didn't feel like herself. She didn't care about the industry, the stunts and the long hours of working, she didn't care for any of it. All she could feel herself caring about was you, and the things that she could see you doing.

No matter how wrong she felt and knew it was, it felt too good to stop.

It pained for her to know that she would never be able to have you, let alone meet you.

She didn't know you. But watching you she could assume and tell that you had a rather simple life.

You didn't get work calls all the time that you had to be on for hours, you didn't have to record interviews with uninteresting questions and people, you didn't have to wake up at six am to go to set and film stunts that would leave you exhausted.

Your life seemed fun and exciting. You went out to clubs and out on dates, something Jenna couldn't even remember she had done in the last five years.

Your life was so much different than Jenna's, and that's why she knew that your paths would never cross, not even if she tried.

She wanted to stop so badly, the guilt was eating her alive. The fact that she watched you every single day, knowing how you were as a person, while you probably had no idea who she was or that she even lived near you.

She knew almost everything about you, and you knew nothing about her.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega smut #tara carpenter #mabel x reader #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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flamingpudding · 1 year ago

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Ghost Twins: Lost in Gotham

A/N: I finally got my copy of AGIT and it sparked this prompt idea, I might continue on...

"Of all the times why were we thrown into a different dimension…"

"I am not happy about this either, twerp."

Danny gave his body double a scorching glare. Dan only shrugged as he leaned back into the park bench, hiding a chuckle. Even if the situation was dire, it was kind of funny too. Good things had changed so much since he got a human body. Danny had become more of a brother to him than his nemesis or time original, especially since Danny had gotten the crown and was trying to smooth things over for ghosts and humans. Plus he finally understood why Jazz like to tease them so much as her younger siblings. He got to tease his time original / cousin / 'younger' brother now too, well he did see himself as the older one when they could technically pass as twins.

"We are stuck looking like this! Our powers don't work and I can't open a portal, Dan!"

"And what do you want me to do about it? Clockwork is not responding to either of us."

Dan studied Danny who was still pacing in knee-high snow, then looked down at his hand which was smaller than he remembered. He tried reaching out to his ghost powers but nothing responded. From the corner of his eyes, he noticed Danny stopping his pacing and looking back at Dan, his voice soft from resignation.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"It's... nothing." I don't remember what I did last. Why do you ask?"

"It's the same for me. We are stranded for some unknown reason in an entirely different Dimension in six-year-old bodies, with no clue or solution to get home and our ghost powers being all wonky as shit! And clockwork won't react to us yelling his name into the snowstorm we are currently in! At least we are cold-resistant!"

Danny resumed pacing in the snow, kicking random little snow hills he was making with his pacing as he ranted. Dan was watching him from the park bench with a scowl of his own. Both had found themself waking up to each other in a pile of snow in a park that was located in a city they had no idea about, the only thing they had was a green sticky note with the words 'Code Bat: Different Dimension'.

That led to Danny yelling for clockwork into the starting snowstorm. They knew their powers weren't completely gone. Wherever they were they were in a place with a lot of ambient ectoplasm.

"We should look for a way out of the snow twerp. Even with cold resistance, we should stay out here." Dan huffed as he tried to make out the buildings around them outside of the park, Danny instantly stopped pacing tilting his head.

"Where should-"

Both boys yelled in absolute horror as they suddenly got picked up and were carried like a sack of potatoes under the arms of strange guys. Instincts kicked in and the two instantly fought back but the guys carrying them didn't appear to be bothered.

The wind whisked past their ears making hearing anything difficult until they finally got put down next to each other. Instantly Dan took half a step before Danny, glaring at the ones that abducted them from a park. "Who the fuck are you, guys?!"

"Language kid. And I should be asking what the fuck you little kids were doing out in the middle of the worst Snowstorm Gotham had in a long time?" The guy in a red helmet said towering over them with crossed arms. "I know you street rats are smarter than staying out in the open like this. Don't you kids have a shelter?"

Street Rats? Okay, so what if their clothes looked a little ratty? Hold a second. Danny and Dan looked at each other briefly as if for the first time noticing how worn the clothes they had looked compared to what they were used to wearing. Great so not only were they in twin six-year-old bodies but also wearing such worn-out clothes that people saw them as street rats.

"None of your fucking business." Dan retorted, the fun of the situation now gone and anger and frustration settling in as he glared at their abductors. Danny on the other hand tilted his head miming the confused child as he stared up at them.

"We got lost."

"You got lost?" The other guy in blue with a mask asked them unbelieving and Danny only nodded.

"Yup, we got lost."

Dan watched how the two adults playing dress up exchanged glances. He peaked back at Danny and then back at them. Before making a probably short-sighted decision.

"Fuck this!" He said out loud and grabbed his twin's hand. Once more he reached for his ghost core and powers, internally yelling at it to get a response. And it worked, sort of.

He felt intangibility wash over them so he attempted to escape by phasing him and Danny through the ground only… to get halfway stuck as the old on his ghostly powers got lost. Dan's eye twitched as he realized he was stuck in the ground up to his tights.

"Dan what the fuck?!" Danny who was now stuck knee-deep into the floor yelled.

"I was at least attempting to escape!"

"We are stuck now! This is even worse! You could have just let me talk our way out of this!"

"Oh hell no. I remember the others saying often enough that you should not do the talking!"

"Phasing us through the floor is not better at all! Our powers are wonky or did you forget that?!"

While the twin boy's where fighting Nightwing and Red Hood exchanged worried glances.

"Hood…"

"Yea… Probably Meta Twins on the run."

"I will contact the others."

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therandompagesblog · 1 month ago

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SKZ Pack Chapter 21

Trigger Warnings: smut, cunnilingus, sex tape, kink positive, threesome, salirophilia.

"These are amazing. I'm sorry I can't remember these." "Don't apologise. Some of them you were not aware of. I did these secretly. I loved to draw or paint you. You are my everything. You are my soul. Everything. I had to keep a physical copy of you. My thoughts were not enough." "Oh. Jinnie." Y/N breathed out as he flicked through his paintings. "Can you tell me why you never told me?" "Because you can't tell someone who doesn't remember you that they loved you and were obsessed with you. I'm grateful this version of you has given me another chance to love you." Hyunjin's voice was soft. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He was truly in love with her. "Tell me the story of each painting. I wanna live through your memories." Y/N asked.

"This painting was the first time I met you, her. She was shy. Unsure of the men in front of her. She knew she was ours but the level of trust wasn't there yet. The only people she trusted were Jongho and Yeosang because they were like her. Both omega's. Jongho was like Jisung. Always willing to get into trouble but Jongho was smarter. He could outsmart Hongjoong. Yeosang on the other hand was always gentle and submissive. Your stereotypical omega. He tried to teach Y/N everything she knew. So, I drew this. A picture of the three of them. It was a later drawing but I put it in with the firsts as I hoped to give it to her on her birthday but I never got a chance to. I felt embarrassed.

Back then sex was disgusting to me. I practised a lot of absenteeism. I came from a wealthy werewolf family who took pride in werewolf lores. They were millionaires. They were almost werewolf royalty, but I was the bastard. I was out-casted and looked after by my elders. My mother was an artist she always painted whenever she was sad. She painted pictures of my father and how he loved her. She taught me how to paint, but she made me promise only to pain things that made me happy or loved, so I kept that promise. I had a half brother you know. Chan's best friend. He was mean to me, only because his mother taught him to be. He learned later in life that they were wrong and it was never my fault. He tried to save me from Ateez. Hongjoong manipulated me into his pack, but that doesn't matter because I'm with Chan now who is a forgiving alpha.

Anyway, this next picture was what Y/N called the 'werewolf school for obnoxious omegas.' Her and Jongho were always sent to me because they didn't know how to be omegas so I became their teacher. I re-trained them, but it was more of a punishment. On one of the days we were alone, I asked her to clean the library out and she did, but she purposely swapped all the books out and put them into coloured order. What I mean by coloured order was, in the brown section there would be random red ones in there to annoy you. She knew how I felt about my library and she reordered it.

One day she swapped my photographs out. I took pictures of images at an art gallery that I wanted to paint. She swapped them with images of her in such a coital position. It held power, desire, femininity, omeganess." Hyunjin showed her the photographs of her in different positions. She was mesmerised but confused. She didn't recognise them or herself. They were positions of pure utter confidence. Arousal. Desire. Need. Sexuality. Want. They were all of the erotic semantics. "Oh. My." Y/N touched them slowly. They felt too intimate and personal as if she were looking at another woman. Technically she was. This was her in another past life. She understood then why Hyunjin spoke about her in the third person. It was like the old Y/N was a lucid dream. "Do you wish she still existed?" Y/N asked curiously as she looked at Hyunjin who bit his lip nervously. "Yes and no. I still own you and you are always going to be mine." Hyunjin warned as he watched her lick her bottom lip. Her arousal was still there from the day before. "Jinnie I'm always going to be yours. We've been through so much-" "And Seungmin's not your favourite beta?" Hyunjin growled as he wrapped his large hand around her throat tightly, watching the way she threw her head back. Y/N was prepared to bring back his old memories. She wanted to arouse him. Relive his deepest and darkest fantasies. "You want to fulfil my fantasies, huh? Go and bring Seungmin in here. Off you go." Hyunjin ordered. He could feel her nerves and confusion but acted on the order and left to get Seungmin. "What have you done? Why does he need me?" Hyunjin could hear Seungmin flapping about being called to Hyunjin's art office. It made Hyunjin laugh at how stressed he was.

Hyunjin watched the two enter his room nervously. They were unsure of what he wanted them to do. Hyunjin showed Seungmin his old photos of her. He gasped as he saw the erotic photos at the height of femininity. Seungmin had not expected to see something so divine. "I don't understand, Hyunjin." Seungmin breathed out. "I want you to fuck and play with our mate while I take some photos," Hyunjin said, freely waving his arms around. "Are you sure?" Seungmin looked between the two in confusion. Y/N was willing to do anything to her alpha, so she walked over to his sofa and slowly started to strip when Hyunjin stopped her. He wanted Seungmin to do it. Seungmin slowly walked over to her and kissed her deeply, ignoring Hyunjin's snaps with the camera. Seungmin admitted he was getting stage fright but pursued. His mate's arousal gave him confidence.

Seungmin took his time stripping both of their clothes off. Carefully placing their discarded clothes on the other chair. "Sit in front of her and lick her sweet cunt while she plays with her breasts," Hyunjin demanded. Seungmin did as he was told and crouched down, spreading her legs open so he could take a lick. Y/N squeezed her breasts, subtly looking at Hyunjin as he snapped from different angles. The sight turned her on more and more. Y/N let go of her left breast to push Seungmins head forward. She stroked his head as he sucked with gratitude until she came. Seungmin lifted his head giving her a deep kiss as one hand tangled in her head and the other grabbed her throat. Seungmin broke the kiss and squeezed tightly causing her to smirk. Her head went backwards along with her eyes. She was more feral than the last images. These portrayed a dark desire. Something sinful and dangerous.

Seungmin then relaxed and moved to position himself into her tight pussy so he could fuck her while Hyunjin snapped away but Y/N stopped him. She wanted Hyunjin to play with her. She wanted Seungmin to take the photographs. She wanted the devil's touch. And the devil obliged. He pulled her roughly up by the hair, her back arched into his chest as he forced her to look up at him. Hyunjin spat on her face. The spit glided down her face. Down her breasts to the floor. Hyunjin then groped her harshly before his hand went to her wet pussy playing with her. Hyunjin then pushed her down so he could fuck her from behind. His thrusts were relentless. The position was tight. Dreadful. Harsh, but amazing. Seungmin put the camera down and rushed over wanting to place his cock in her mouth but Hyunjin made him get the camera, so he awkwardly ran back to grab it. Snapping away as she sucked his cock. The two fucked her until they came and knotted. It was the most phenomenal sex she had had in a long time and she loved it.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

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junicult · 23 days ago

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contains ; tooth-rotting fluff. farmer referred to as “wife,” otherwise gender ambiguous. maybe a bit self-indulgent. old married couple activities. calling harvey “sexy” cus i have eyes. offhanded mentions of a daughter.

note ; it’s still fall (where i live) but in my mind december 14 is winter 14. sooo technically it’s harvey’s birthday & i thought this was pretty on the nose for my handsome man <3

this is always harvey’s favorite time of night.

it’s past eleven o’clock, you’re both tired which is why you’re sitting quietly with the television playing your current favorite series on low volume. you’ve put your daughter down to bed a couple hours ago, now it’s the time to peacefully bask in each others company.

you both have a wordless routine by now; one sits on the floor while the other pampers them for thirty minutes until you swap positions. whenever that timer goes up, it’s off to bed.

your time ended a few minutes ago, so now your husband sits happily on the cushiony pillow you left, while you sit on the couch behind him and rub his shoulders.

the requests always differ, it depends on the night. usually it’s a massage, sometimes you want him to play with your hair. he always loves a shoulder rub.

so you sit there, semi-lazily squeezing and kneading his neck and shoulders while the tv plays in front of you.

your fingers mindlessly comb through his hair every so often—you can’t help it, it’s always so soft.

“how much is left in this episode?” you murmur, scraping up the underside of his scalp, scratching the crown of his head and gently pulling the short strands until they disappear between your fingers, just to repeat it again. you know how much he likes that.

he reaches for the remote, tapping a button to get the popup. “about fifteen minutes.” he answers lowly, voice tired and scruffy.

you don’t answer, instead watching how your hands move through his hair instead of focusing on the show. you’ve seen this episode already, the new one doesn’t come out for a couple days.

you’ve always loved the smell of his shampoo and conditioner. kind-of piney, it’s the same soap he’s used since you first met. sometimes he smells like citrus, and that’s when you know he used your hair products.

he hasn’t cut his hair in a while, either. he used to go to the city for that until you once told him you weren’t too bad at cutting hair yourself. before you officially started dating years ago, you offered to cut his hair—at that point, it was the most intimate thing you’ve done together—and since then you’ve continued to cut it. however, with the baby and all, you’ve both lost the time to get those minor tasks done. you’ve actually grown a liking to it. not only has the hair on his head gotten longer, he’s packing a slightly thicker-than-normal scruff along his jaw that you’ve complimented one too many times for him to get around to shaving.

you’re just about to look back at the tv until one thing catches your eye, and suddenly you’re leaning in to get a closer look.

you use your fingers to part the thick tufts of hair, eventually using both hands to create a ring and separate the strands.

“hey,” you smile, “you’ve got a grey hair.”

“i do?” harvey’s hand immediately lifts to touch his head, and you lightly knock it away.

“yeah, right at the top of your head.”

he attempts to look up but your grip keeps him momentarily still while you run your thumb over the single strand. you’re staring so close you can practically see all the tones of the hair; light grey at the base, fading into a darker grey, and the tip remains his natural light brown.

flattening your palm over the spot to ruffle the hair back up again, you tease with a giggle, “you’re getting old.”

“where is it?” he asks, his voice a bit duller as his hand pats around the top of his head.

“don’t get rid of it!”

he turns to look up at you, small furrow of his eyebrows. “why not?”

“‘cus it’s sexy,” you shrug, as if it’s obvious, starting over your prior movements of soothing your fingers through his scalp. he turns back to the tv for you to repeat your ministrations.

“my single grey hair is sexy?” he asks, tone mild in disbelief.

“emphasis on yours.” you nod, searching for the strand once again with your eyes. “it just means you’re gonna have gorgeous salt and pepper hair. i can’t wait.”

he sits with a frown, fighting hard not to reach up and mess with his hair. he’s spent years of his life thinking about this inevitable moment, to think his wife was the one to find it first.

“then it’s gonna spread to your facial hair,” you continue, quietly sighing, “and you’re gonna be the most handsomest silver fox i’ve ever seen.”

your choice of words almost sound taunting, but your mind is only playing the images of your fantasy while you carry a big smile. he knows that for a certain.

truthfully, if he were to find a single grey hair while he was standing in his apartment all alone, he might’ve felt defeat. the constant reminder of the ticking time he has left looming over his head, and a grey hair is no diversion from that. there’s that clock counting down while he spent days upon days wondering when that melancholy feeling would go away, if it ever would.

however, it’s different now. because he’s not standing alone in his apartment, looking ahead at an unclear view of his life with sullen eyes.

you notice his silence immediately, pressing your hands to his shoulders and using them as leverage to lean over his side, your hair dangling like a curtain.

“are you alright?” you say softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

he holds your gaze, smile wrinkling his eyes, “yeah. it’s just a reminder i’m getting older.”

you press a kiss to his cheek. “we’re getting older. i’m not going anywhere.”

#✎ drabbles !#GOD i love this man #old (35) grey haired harvey save me…#…save me decrepit (barely 40) and ancient harvey #sdv harvey #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #stardew valley hcs #stardew valley drabbles #stardew valley #stardew valley blurb

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year ago

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Jungkook

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞♡𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 🔞

Who said every omega needs an alpha?

Tags/Warnings: Omega!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Omega!Jimin, Mentioned Alpha!Yoongi, Stereotypes, Friends to lovers, Major Fluff, Romance, Slight angst, injury, brief hospital visit, smut, oral (f. Receiving), smut, Dom!Jungkook, protected sex, knotting, biting

Length: ~5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Boo.

-> Masterlist

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

Jeon Jungkook.

He's a good looking guy, above average in almost everything he does, and easy to like. Conversations flow easily around him and friendships blossom left and right- almost everyone knows and likes him. It's hard not to, really; as an Omega, he's naturally passionate and caring, a gentle guy that enjoys making others happy.

You met him at a friend's birthday party, the young wf having noticed you standing mostly all by yourself without really conversing with anyone. He'd been kind enough to introduce himself, stay with you, and keep you there for much longer than you usually stay at gatherings like these.

And right now, he's standing in front of you, smile still on his lips and hands tucked away in his jacket pockets while he sways front and back on his heels after having told you he's interested in you.

Romantically.

"There's a.. You said you collect those stuffed animals, squishmallows, right? There's a new store that sells the really huge ones. We could stop by that store tomorrow, if you'd like." he offers, curious eyes watching you with a glimmer that's just.. Jungkook.

Jungkook is new. Different. He's nothing you'd expect, always doing something you'd never be able to guess- and ut makes spending time with him hoth exciting and a little stressful at times.

His eyes always seem to sparkle when he smiles. It's honestly unfair, how they always put you under their spell with their boba-pearl charm. How can you say no?

How can anyone ever tell him no?

"I.. Okay wait. You.. And me?" you wonder, and he nods, smile turning into a grin that makes his lower eyelids raise. "But I'm not, uh… Are you sure?" you wonder, and he becomes surprised at that it seems.

"I am. I wouldn't have asked you out like this if I wasn't." he says, still swaying a little.

He's always been like this. Never staying still. Always up to something. Constantly moving. Like his body is constantly generating excess energy he can't seem to burn. Like the energizer bunny.

"what makes you think I'm joking?" he asks, and you look down, rather watching the tips of his shoes than his gaze any longer.

You can't stand his gaze. You're gonna melt into a puddle if you look at him any longer.

"I'm just.. Me. And you're you. Shouldn't you want someone more.. Opposite of you, rather than the same?" you ask carefully and it seems that it clicks for him in that moment.

It's technically common sense- alphas get with omegas, omegas with alphas. That's how it goes- or so one might think.

But Jungkook isn't any wolf. He's not ordinary in anything he does- so it's unsurprising that his sub-gender also isn't what one might expect.

"Ah~." he hums mostly to himself, before shaking his hair out of his eyes after the wind had blown it over his face, fingers pulling the strands from his piercings decorating his bottom lip. "Stereotypes. You're talking about me being an omega and all that, right?" he wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." you instinctively say. The regret of your words already starting to make you uneasy. Did you insult him now?

Male omegas tend to be very sensitive when it comes to this. Or maybe that's Stereotypes too?

"No problem, lots of people think that way." he shakes it off, taking a step towards you. "But, rather than explaining to you what is and isn't true about the stuff people say-" he starts, feigning innocence before he grins at you, holding your hands in his now, playfully, just by the tips of your fingers. "-how about I show you?" he asks, and you look back at him.

"huh?" you can only answer, and he sways again, tilting his head to the side a little, swinging your hands a bit.

"Go out with me." he bluntly suggests, grinning brightly. "And I'll show you."

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

Wolf's sub-genders have been the topic of Novels and movies for a long time now.

The most popular trope being the alpha that falls in love with their omega, to live happily ever after. Some of your own favourite media actually includes this stereotype as well- and for a long time, in your head and in many others, this was the most ideal couple amongst wolves.

However, reality is more complex than that, and you're roughly reminded of that with the way Jungkook behaves.

While he does offer a lot of the general traits associated with being an omega, such as his big round eyes and constant need for physical contact, he also doesn't fit others at all. He's muscly, masculine body dressed comfortably in clothes made of soft materials, and his behavior, while gentle and soft in the way he acts, feels oddly confident and almost dominant to you.

He's sure in his walk. He knows his worth.

There's a hand on your back leading you without any force through the store, like a remote control, no need for actual strength.

There's that glimmer in his eyes every time you struggle and ask him for help with something, as if he's amused by the fact that he makes you nervous.

There's that look of victory in his face whenever you seem flustered by any of his words, Luke it's a game he keeps winning.

He's making your head spin.

You're both sitting on a blanket in a calm park- when he lays down, patting the spot next to you in an inviting manner. "Come here." he smiles, and you do so- easily cuddling up to him, surprising yourself even, considering you're not one that's this easy with physical contact like that. But Jungkook? He runs the inside of his wrist over your neck, bashful smile on his lips as he watches you, caring nature of his sub-gender showing in his actions.

"What're you doing?" you wonder, and he grins sheepishly, caught red handed.

"Scenting you." he says. "I- we technically do it differently as wolves but, I don't wanna seem pushy." he admits, and you nod. You know how it usually goes.

You remember your last alpha doing it, licking your neck instead, or biting. It made you anxious. Every bite could've been made to last, after all.

"…Thank you." you tell him due to that, the way he makes sure he's never too forceful making you feel at ease- and slightly guilty. "And sorry." You apologize because of this.

"for what?" Jungkook wonders. "I had a nice day, even better than I could've imagined. I'm feeling really happy right now." the young man explains, and it makes you a little jealous how easy it seems for him to voice out his emotions.

You're not that good at it. Maybe he can teach you?

"For judging." you explain, but he just scrunches up his nose before softly flicking a finger under your chin, teasing you.

"Don't worry. It's normal." he shrugs, before rolling onto his back, your head on his tattooed arm as you watch the clouds as well next to him. "Do you think.. We could try?" he wonders, and after a moment of thinking, you nod.

You know what he means by that. And you want to try as well.

And he swears, if he had a tail, it would be wagging like an excited puppy.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

Your first kiss happens rather Spontaneously.

It's unprepared, a little clumsy, happening in the kitchen after you'd placed a small bandaid over the cut Jungkook had accidentally given himself while helping you cook. Seeing you tend to such a minor wound so carefully just set something off inside him- and he couldn't help himself.

And after the initial shock of it all, kisses seem to be a constant around Jungkook.

As soon as you meet up, there's a quick peck as a greeting, lips barely properly touching, but enough to make the gesture of affection count.

Small kisses on your cheek whenever he's close enough, just to see you turn red, shyness of you just too precious to look away from.

And most importantly? The way he scents you changed.

While pretty tame at first, the entire act of scenting you has become somewhat heated these days- just like now, as he runs his lips over the crook of your neck, back and forth, hands almost sensually running over your body, clothes suddenly feeling itchy.

He never crosses boundaries, never bites where you don't want to, never pushes himself past your limits just because it's easy to do. He's gentle, caring, offers you just what you need in the right amount, easing you into the waters that's his love.

And it makes you brave. It makes you want more.

Your own limbs seem to want him closer as well, your mind slowly becoming more and more trusting towards him, as he builds up the affection every time you spend time with one another.

It started just with cuddling on the couch while watching a movie. Then, the kisses got added to the mix- shy at first, his confidence with you slowly building up towards the point of where you are today; Heated, bodies warm and needy as his hand travels underneath your soft fleece shirt, fingertips carefully meeting the underline of your chest. "Still okay?" He asks, lowly so as if worried he might pop the little bubble you're both in and wake you up from the trance of emotions, but you simply nod, smiling, happy.

And as an omega, he feeds off of your emotions; he thrives in the fact that you're giving yourself into his arms so freely and comfortable, no worries in your scent whatsoever in his presence.

He shamelessly purrs at the way you kiss his collarbone, lips pressing over a tiny little beauty mark he has in that area, making him shiver in pleasure. You've not talked about going all the way yet- and right now, he's not trying to get into your pants at all. You're so attentive to him, offering such kind affection, that its enough for now. He can't deny however that your scent is driving him crazy- making him hungry for even more intimacy than he's receiving already.

He's needy. Craving.

"Can I eat you out?" He asks breathlessly so, and your eyes widen before your cheeks grow a bit red. "You don't have to say yes." He adds at the sight of your shyness, but you just shrug in response.

"I don't know what it feels like.." You start, before you look up at him, and he feels himself feeling upset. How come you've never experienced that? You're so sweet, you should've been able to explore your most carnal desires with someone you trust. "..but I trust you." You say, and his body erupts into happiness.

You trust him.

It washes over him like the hot stream of water in the shower after a long day, making him nod eagerly as he kisses you first and foremost. Jungkook is pretty orally focused, you've noticed; playfully nipping your skin here and there, kissing you randomly, or just running his sensitive lips over the soft skin of the back of your hand, feeling your skin with his mouth and hot breath. So it's not a surprise when he doesn't mind kissing you a bit more chaotically, open mouthed and tongue exploring your mouth with confidence.

He loves you, after all- and he can see, feel, that you're falling for him too.

He makes it all feel so natural that you can't help but giggle at the feeling of his kisses down your bare stomach; dress pushed up by his hands, a grin showing when he notices your reaction to his antics. He feels as if he's high- never having had the opportunity to be in a situation as easy and simple as this; both of you just existing, no words needing to be shared, no roles defined, no goal in mind other than making the other just as happy as yourself.

It's an odd feeling at first, but simply the sight of him so immersed in the act makes it feel ten times more erotic to you than you thought it might. Your breathing is deep, occasional sighs escaping you, soft voice chanting out his name like a mantra to keep you sane; and he starts to feel drunk off of it, teasing licks turning into more determined motions, tongue flat on your most sensitive area, the feeling odd but not unpleasant. All that fills your head is simply your approaching high, not in the slightest feeling like anything you could've done to yourself.

How will it be when you're both in heat?

You've known each other for months now, after all. Your cycle has synced up by now, you've noticed last time he'd taken time away to himself.

Your back arches as you roll your hips closer to him, lost in the ecstasy while his hands hold a firm grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, before he let's go of you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up to lay down next to you with an impish smile on his red lips. "Hey." He jokingly greets you after you've opened your eyes again, noticing how he's moved your dress back down again as to not have you get cold.

Jungkook lays there with a smile, and you feel funny in his presence like this. You've never had anybody talk to you or treat you like he does ever before- you're used to either being told exactly what to do, or to be scolded for what you're doing or have done- so him talking to you like you're something special makes you a little confused on how to act.

And it makes you scared, because up until now, you've ruined everything good.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

"So have you, you know? Repaid the favor?" Jimin asks, eating his sandwich in front of you while you suddenly turn pale. "Oh." He just humms, while you let your face fall into your hands.

"Oh god, I'm such a nasty bitch, really.." You groan, eyes stinging already at the thought of Jungkook having expected you to get him off as well, just to get nothing in return but a stupid cuddle. The shame washes over you like waves on a stormy day, clashing against your bones with anger that swells up in your chest. You're upset at yourself now, appetite having vanished, and now you're even madder at yourself because Jimin had literally paid for that little piece of cake you'd chosen to eat here, and now you can't even enjoy it anymore.

Hormones are a gorrible thing, especially for omegas. And the stress you have these days just really fucked you over, causing you to drop into a new mental low.

"Hey, no-" Jimin says, wiping his mouth with a napkin before a hand reaches out to touch your arm. "-I'm sure he would've said something if he'd expected anything." He says, making you look at him with glossy eyes.

"Great, so you're saying he doesn't want me like that, thanks." You say roughly, and Jimin sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Oh god I'm sorry, now I'm all moody and-"

"Everything alright?" Jungkook's voice rings out next to you, as he stands close to your chair now, having spotted you in the small cafe with Jimin while passing by on his way home from work. "Hey, what happened?" He coos worriedly, bending down a little to get a better look at you who's hiding your face in your hands, humiliated about crying in a public setting like this, while Jungkook tries to assess the problem- your scent making him anxious too, but in a different way.

You're his partner. And his instincts tell him to offer you comfort, make you feel better.

You've always been overly emotional like this, but its worse now than ever. Jimin said that it's probably from being raised so roughly by your more than strict parents- after all, he remembers the times he had to make up stories just so you would be allowed to stay over at his family home, or for you to attend school trips. He's put himself into the line of fire constantly just to hang out as a friend with you- your mother hating him growing up for being a 'bad influence', and your father even threatening him with violence after Jimin had cut your hair for you, having grown tired of you being unable to express yourself even in the slightest at the age of 15. You remember how Jimin had grinned to you the next day, after everyone at school genuinely complimented you for your new appearance.

However, years after and now both of you working adults, you still have the habit of breaking down crying at the sight of the slightest thing going south in your life. But Jimin simply smiles watching Jungkook squatting next to your seat, carefully wiping your cheeks and eyes concentrated as he listens in on your hiccups interrupting your words to him, none of it very coherent.

But he manages to understand.

"Baby, it's totally fine, I don't hate you." He chuckles, pulling a chair from an empty table close by to sit next to you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you both, by the way." Jungkook laughs, reaching out to shake Jimin's hand. "Jungkook, nice to meet you."

"Jimin. She's been talking non-stop about you." He teases, making you pout while drying your eyes with a napkin, earning a snort from Jungkook who just can't help but find your glare cute.

At the end of the day, you're happy to see your best friend and boyfriend get along so well- both making sure you know you didn't do anything wrong- and that it's totally fine to cry.

Jimin making sure to underline that no one even noticed at all.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone with her at all." Jungkook says, and it's all a face-off you never hoped you'd have to witness.

Your father had arrived unannounced to apparently bring something over your mother had sent- but you know he just does it to tell you how 'messy' your apartment is, and how you don't have your life under control. You don't know why exactly he does it- any parent would be happy to see their child earn a living from a job they genuinely enjoy; your art selling for high prices, well known celebrities decorating their homes with your works. Jimin had always said that your father is simply jealous- but you can't help but feel small under your parent's strong gaze and harsh words, Alpha father too intimidating to resist bowing to.

And now? Right now your father had told Jungkook to leave, and to yours (and probably your father's too) surprise, Jungkook had declined.

An omega, refusing an alpha's command.

"I'm sorry too, dog, but It's not up to you to decide that." Your father responds, and you worriedly look between the two men, when Jungkook speaks up yet again.

"You're right, it's up to her." Jungkook says. "It's her apartment after all." He says, turning a bit to look at you. You quietly nod, giving him the sign that yes, you want this man out, but you can't bring yourself to say it. It makes Jungkook feel protective of you in this situation, no mate able to stay calm at the prospect of their partner feeling in danger of anything in their presence. "Please leave, or I will call police." Jungkook says, and your father scoffs.

"I'll give you a nice black eye before they get here then, how about it?" He threatens, and while you step in front of Jungkook in a moment of thoughtlessness and reckless protection, you end up receiving the punch right into the side of your head, knocking you to the ground.

"No!" Jungkook barks out, rushing down to your level to check up on you- before spotting your father looking down at the scene with horror.

"I didn't mean to-" He almost whispers, before he takes a shuddering breath, leaving the apartment and you two alone.

You feel dizzy, headache already starting while your hearing sounds like cotton wool had been stuffed into it. It's distant, almost non-existent, and you can only hear Jungkook with your unaffected side. "What's wrong, baby, talk to me.!" he urges, and you sit up a bit straighter, noticing an odd feeling in your ear that makes you run your finger over the opening of your ear canal. When you move it away to reveal red spots of blood, the omega wolf immediately rushes to get his car keys, rushing to the emergency room with you next to him.

An overnight stay, and thorough examination later, you're free to go again, Jungkook making sure to cover all the formalities for your release, while you wait in your room.

"I can't believe he fucking punched you. Oh my baby peanut.." Jimin jokes dramatically, though you know there's genuine anger directed at your father in his words. He's currently keeping you company, his job as a nurse coming in quite handy in times like this, before the door opens to reveal a smiling Jungkook.

"Alright, I've been given your antibiotics and papers, so we're good to go now." He informs you, making you nod, albeit a bit hesitant after being told not to move your head too violently.

"You're lucky there wasn't anything more serious." Jimin sighs.

"Her hearing will be back soon right?" Jungkook asks, and Jimin nods.

"A month or two, typically. The bruising will be down even quicker I imagine."

And Jungkook nods, keeping in mind to never let you get hurt again.

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

True to his words, a few months later, there's no trace of your past injury any longer.

Now on a spontaneous camping trip Jungkook had surprised you with to help you get over your artists-block and give you some inspiration, you're both entangled inside the van he had rented out, the rain pattering harshly onto the roof of it. You're both unconcerned with the little thunderstorm outside however, rather occupied with each other as he finally uncovers all of your body for himself.

You'd thought it would all feel much weirder than it actually does, but it's Jungkook- every move he makes feels natural at his point, even if the territory you're both walking on right now is absolutely new to you.

The condom over his length makes it a bit easier for him to push himself inside you, your warmth welcoming him eagerly and making him struggle to compose himself. You're just so pretty in the dim orange light that shines inside the van from the front that he can't help himself, his instincts to breed you full of his cum pushing itself into the front of his mind. You'd look so good covered in his release- and you'd smell even better, he knows it already.

Maybe next time. Or next round? How long can you take it?

Right now he's gasping for air, your little whimpers making him feel more sensitive than he's ever felt before. Not even his own heat compares to this burning need he feels growing inside him, your hips rolling up into him, and he's a goner. A growl leaves his throat before he bites around your neck, movements becoming more frantic now in the heat of the moment, needing to claim you as his. "I love you." He hums into your neck, and you respond with your own confession, before his hand angles your leg a little better, his thrusts a lot more desperate at this point. The van is probably visibly shaking from the outside, force of his hips hard enough to fill the small interior of the sleeping area with the wet sound of skin against skin, and your sensual breaths.

You're whining for more, but for what exactly you're not sure of. But again, as if he can read your mind, he knows- hand reaching between you both to press and roll your clit between his fingers, making your core clench and thighs shake with your sudden orgasm, his hips never ceasing to move as you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kiss him feverishly.

It gives him the final push to cum as well- though he's a bit disappointed it has to be inside the condom, and not you.

But, Again; maybe next time.

You're overly sensitive, noticing something odd happening, but he reassures you with licks and kisses to the bruised spot he'd bitten over and over on your neck while his arms hold you close. "Did you forget yet baby?" He chuckles amused, making you a bit shy considering the position you're now in.

Completely connected, his knot keeping him inside you at all costs.

"Kook?" You wonder when you notice the muscles in his thighs still trembling occasionally, hips pushing as close as he can get, breaths studdering, gasping. He's moaning quietly every time you involuntarily clench around his length still inside or move too much, and it's in that moment that you realize he's probably still in the midst of his orgasm.

Talk about drawn out.

It doesn't take long for him however to notice your rather impish acts, the way you seem to be very aware and in control of your actions- and much to your surprise, the moment he's able to slip out and discard the filled condom, he's back between your legs, thrown over his shoulders with a grin on his lips that spells trouble in bold.

"You didn't think I was done yet, did you?"

•━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━•

"I'm a little worried though." Jimin says, sighing next to you while you reach into the bag of chips he's holding, TV show playing on the screen while you both spend a day together alone. "Yoongi is an alpha- what if I get on his nerves or something? Alphas are said to be quite moody.." He mumbles.

You giggle, adjusting the strap of your tank top that rests right over the permanent scar of Jungkook's forever bite.

"Don't worry Jiminie." You simply reassure him.

"That's all just stereotypes."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #werewolf jungkook

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hongcherry · 1 year ago

Text

stuck with you || c.sc (m)

Your road trip takes a turn for the worst and leaves you stranded during a winter storm. It's not long until the car gets chilly, but luckily for you, your boyfriend has an idea to keep you both warm.

❄️ Pairing: boyfriend!Seungcheol x Reader (afab)

❄️ Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Smut, fluff; Established relationship

❄️ Warnings: Pet names (baby, baby girl, princess, angel), unprotective sex (dont be like them), fingering, breast play, creampie, dirty talk, car sex so technically exhibitionism, reader is slightly inexperienced/shy (not a virgin tho)

❄️ Word Count: 3.7k

❄️ Project: @k-vanity's event. Prompt is "snow day/snowed in".

❄️ Author's Note: Honestly, I'm not sure about this one aha. This was meant to be posted last holidays, but I never got it finished in time. Now, I rushed it to meet this deadline sdfk;bjfdlsk. So... Please be kind 🥲

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Your idea of a mini road trip was going well. You were sharing memories with your sweet boyfriend, who you had dragged with you, filled with laughs and a few forced smiles. Sure, Seungcheol was grumbling fifty percent of the time, but the other fifty percent was genuine happiness… Well, he slept for fifteen percent so that other fifty wasn’t accurate. Nevertheless, you weren’t going to let his party-pooping butt rain on your parade.

However, what did ruin your parade known as a road trip was when your car started to break down in the middle of a snowy night. Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol let a few expletives slip from his pout. His hand was wavering in different directions as he lectured the car for being “a complete waste of a fucking car.” You would have found it amusing if it weren’t for the fact you were about to be stranded in a deserted area.

“Hurry and call for a pickup before either of our phones dies,” Seungcheol instructs as the car begins to slow to a stop.

You oblige quickly, looking up a local towing company and giving them a call. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a couple of hours to arrive due to the bad weather. Seungcheol curses once more before locking the already-locked doors, yanking out the keys, and tossing them onto the dashboard.

“We should have stayed at the hotel one more night like I said,” he huffs with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring out into nothing. Both of you are sitting in the dark as you let the situation sink in. Guilt is forming in your chest.

“I just wanted to get to the next city by the morning so we could see the festival,” you mumble. Seungcheol knows this already, but you feel it necessary to explain again. You didn’t anticipate or wish for this to happen.

Hearing your dejected voice, Seungcheol’s body relaxes as he turns to look at you. “I know, baby,” he sighs.

“Let’s move to the back so that we can be more comfortable,” he suggests. You’re about to open the door when he stops you suddenly. “Climb in from here. We don’t want the cold air in.”

“Oh, right,” you say sheepishly. It’s warm now since the heater was on before the car shut off.

Carefully, you squeeze through the seats to sit in the back. Once you’re seated, Seungcheol follows suit. He reaches back into the trunk and digs out the blanket you had packed.

He pulls you into his lap, wrapping the blanket around you. You tuck the ends of it behind Seungcheol so he can hold it in place with his back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel bad,” he speaks softly with a deep exhale.

You shake your head. “You didn’t—”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he chuckles and rubs his hands up and down your clothed thighs. “I’m just tired and grumpy.”

“Hm,” you hum and give him a small smile. “You are tired and grumpy.”

“Tired and grumpy Seungcheol is sorry,” he says, lips pursing in a tiny pout and voice slightly higher.

Giggling, you hit his chest playfully. “You’re forgiven.”

“Good. I hate when my baby’s mad at me.”

“I wasn’t,” you reply. “Now, go to sleep, Cheollie,” you smile.

Seungcheol nods, bringing you down for a quick kiss before he wraps his arms around your body. You lean forward to lay against him. With the warm air, blanket, and his heated body, you’re feeling hot; however, you know the temperature is going to drop soon.

As expected, the car grows chilly within thirty minutes.

You wake from your slumber with a shiver. Seungcheol’s head is leaned against the headrest, breathing evenly as he sleeps. You reach up and softly graze his cheek. It’s cold under your touch. Frowning, you cup his face to heat his skin. He stirs for a second and then flutters his eyes open.

“Are they here?” he questions, referring to the towing people.

Shaking your head you say, “No, you were just cold.”

“I’m okay,” he replies even though his body shivers as soon as the words come out. “You’re cold?”

“A little,” you confess. You let your hands leave his cheeks and land on his shoulders gently.

Seungcheol’s eyes roam your face, taking in the occasional shakes of your body from the low temperature.

“I have an idea,” he replies belatedly.

“For?”

“To make you less cold.”

“Oh?”

You stare at him in confusion. You figure he’s going to grab the second blanket in the trunk, but instead, he grips your hips and slides your body against his crotch.

“Oh,” you gasp, face warming at the implication. “But we’re in public.”

Seungcheol shrugs. “In the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm. I doubt anyone is going to come this way.”

You hold his shoulders firmly when he rolls his hips under you. The action has him rubbing your clit briefly. You tighten your grip on him.

“The towing people,” you explain, trying not to focus on Seungcheol’s movements.

“You said they’d be here in a few hours. I don’t need a few hours to get you to cu—”

“Cheol!” you scold his language. Seungcheol just smiles. “I thought you wanted to get warm. Not… that.”

He clears his throat and stops grinding against you.

You bite your lip to suppress the whine that wants to come out. His actions had felt good, and you admit silently you were feeling warmer as your body became aroused.

“Right. I mean, I don’t need a few hours to get you warmed up,” he corrects innocently.

“I’m not sure,” you answer hesitantly. “Cuddling works too.”

You’re not too experienced—Seungcheol having been your first a few months ago—so having sex in such an exposed space feels like you’re skipping some imaginary steps.

He gives you a reassuring smile. “Then cuddles it is. Let me get the other blanket.”

Seungcheol moves to reach backwards. With his back no longer holding the blanket, it pools around the both of you. The cold air hits your body, causing you to shiver again. Even with the second blanket, you will only be warm for a little bit before the coldness consumes you again. You could say the same about what Seungcheol proposed, but at least you would have more fun.

You stare at him as he gathers both blankets and wraps them around you again.

“What?” he asks when he sees the flint in your eyes.

“M-maybe I’ve changed my mind,” you say a little nervously.

“Oh?” he wonders. “You don’t have to. I’m really okay with just cuddling.”

Your hands on his shoulders slowly slide down until they rest flat on his chest. You can feel his heart pumping quicker as the seconds tick by.

“I-I just don’t want to go to jail,” you say.

Seungcheol grins, rubbing up and down your arms to warm them. “Like I said, I don’t think anyone is going to catch us, and the snow will slow down the towing people. Plus, I’m sure Soonyoung and Seokmin will come bail us out.”

You huff at his last sentence. “Why them?”

“Because if they can’t do it the normal way, at least they can cause a big enough distraction so we can escape.”

“Babe,” you whine. You don’t like the thought of being a fugitive.

“Relax, angel,” Seungcheol chuckles. “It’ll be fine, but you don’t hav—Hmph!”

Not wanting to repeat the conversation, you lean forward as he’s talking and press your lips on his.

Seungcheol grips your arms in shock but soon eases his hold once he gets his bearings. His hands move to your waist and pull you closer until your arms fold against his chest from the close proximity.

With a surge of boldness, you wiggle your arms away and readjust to grab onto the seat behind him for leverage. He moans into the kiss when you start circling your hips against his.

“Just shut up and get me warm,” you mumble into the kiss.

Seungcheol smiles against your lips as he nods. His cold hands slip under your shirt to push your bra up. He doesn’t want to get you completely naked since it’s cold, so this will do.

You sigh softly when he gropes your breasts, massaging them gently. The contact heats your body blissfully.

He pulls away from the kiss to look at you. “Feeling better already?”

“A little,” you reply meekly.

Seungcheol gives one last squeeze to your breasts before pushing your shirt up. A gasp leaves your mouth when the cold air hits your bare torso. You try to pull the material down, but he keeps a firm grip on it.

“Kinda wanna press you against the window like this,” he murmurs.

“C-Cheol!” you scold.

“What?” he asks, suppressing his wicked grin.

“People will for sure see us then! Plus,” you begin to pout more, “it’ll be cold.”

“You’ll warm up when I start fucking that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your face heats at his vulgar words. You’re not used to people speaking in such a way, but you can’t deny the way your walls tighten in anticipation.

“Think about it,” he suggests, then leans down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples.

Your lips part at the sudden difference in temperature on your chest. Seungcheol’s warm mouth feels so good.

Your hands move to play with his hair, fingers tugging on the strands occasionally.

Seungcheol pulls you closer to him as his eyes flutter close. He’s licking and sucking your nipple like it’s his favorite way to pass time. The sight itself makes you moan.

You can feel Seungcheol’s bulge press against your core, which makes your arousal pool in your underwear more. Hesitantly, you start grinding your hips against him. Though when Seungcheol hums against your chest and pulls away with a soft pop, you stop moving. Your hands fall away from his hair to land on his shoulders.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Make yourself feel good,” he reassures, giving your lips a quick kiss for encouragement.

“I-Is this right?” you question, moving your hips again albeit a bit slower.

He grins. “Whatever makes you feel good is right. Do you feel good right now?”

“I—kinda.”

“Kinda? Is there something else you want?” he asks, carefully pulling your shirt down and cupping your face.

Your eyes dart away from his brown ones. It seems you used all your bold moves earlier.

Seungcheol begins to glide his thumb across your cheeks lovingly.

“Show me what you want,” he instructs gently and offers one of his hands.

You glance at it. Seungcheol has used this tactic several times in the past. It’s a way for you to take charge in your own way. It isn’t that he makes you uncomfortable, but it takes time to get used to things you’ve never experienced before.

You’re grateful Seungcheol is so understanding. Some of your exes became exes for being the opposite.

Taking his hand, you push it down until it rests against his crotch.

Seungcheol smiles. “My good girl just wants to get to the main course, hm?”

His light attitude lessens your nervousness.

“Need to feel you,” you murmur.

“I need to feel you too, baby girl,” he agrees and leans up to capture your lips.

You lax at the feeling of his plush lips, hands sliding down his arms to play with his shirt. Seungcheol eases your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside as he grabs your wrists. He guides your hands under his shirt slowly. You feel his abs tense momentarily at the cool touch of your skin.

Once your hands are settled against his chest, he releases you. You take the opportunity to rub your hands along his torso, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles beneath your palms.

After a while, you finally pull away with a gasp.

“You give the best kisses,” Seungcheol compliments.

You grin. “I’ve gotten better?”

“You were never bad to begin with,” he chuckles. “But yes, you have improved.”

Your smile grows at his words.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he huffs as if it’s too much for him to bear.

“Now, we better hurry before help arrives,” he says and gently lays you back on the car seats.

The blankets get tangled, but Seungcheol pulls them away and leaves them on the floorboard. You supposed you don’t need them at the moment anyway.

Seungcheol nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck and starts kissing your skin. His hands grab ahold of your sweatpants and pull them down. Before you can complain about the coldness, one of his hands slither between your legs to circle your clit.

“Gotta’ prep you a bit, okay? Then I’ll give you want, angel.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Seungcheol continues to pepper kisses against your neck, but you can tell his attention is elsewhere.

His fingers glide down and slip between your folds.

“I could slide in so easily right now with how wet you are,” he moans.

“T-then do it,” you say,

He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Carefully, he slides one finger inside your dripping hole.

You bite your lip and remind yourself to relax.

Seungcheol stops kissing and simply rests his head against your shoulder. His eyes are closed as he pumps the single digit a few times before adding a second. You moan softly, legs spreading a little wider despite the small space.

“Doing okay?” he asks after a while.

“Yes,” you reply. “More, please.”

Seungcheol nods and slips in a third finger. However, not long after, he adds a fourth. He moves them slowly, not seeing the need to speed up when he’s saving that for later.

A gasp escapes at the stretch. It feels good, but each pump of his fingers makes you eager for his cock.

“Cheol,” you beg.

“Okay,” he says and removes his fingers. He brings them to his mouth and licks up your arousal. The lewd sight makes you want to look away, but you’re also mesmerized by how satisfied Seungcheol looks.

“When we get to the hotel, I’m going to eat you out for hours. You taste so fucking good,” he groans, then pushes his sweatpants down.

You turn your head and bite your lip. Seungcheol laughs and leans over you, arms caging you in.

“That a yes, princess?”

You peep at him and nod. “Yes.”

“That a girl,” he praises and pecks your lips.

“Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” he asks while aligning his tip to your entrance.

You nod, used to him saying that, but you know he means it.

Seungcheol waits for a second before easing inside. He slides in smoothly from how soaked you are. A small mewl comes from you. Although he prepped you, he’s still big and stretches you more than his fingers did.

As usual, the first few seconds are… indescribable. It doesn’t hurt as much, but you still need to get used to his size. The stretch is a mix of pleasure and pain—though the pleasure is more prominent.

“Oh, fuck,” Seungcheol curses while pushing more of his length inside.

“Feels good, Cheol,” you moan when he presses himself fully against you.

Seungcheol eyes flicker from where you’re connected to your eyes.

“Tell me when,” he instructs and rests his forehead on yours.

A minute ticks by until you tell him he can move. Seungcheol doesn’t waste another second and starts slowly gliding in and out of you. The sensation causes you to fill the car with your whimpers.

The coldness in the car seems to fade away with each thrust. The windows are fogging up and it’s getting a little stuffy; however, your focus is solely on Seungcheol’s cock rubbing against your walls heavenly.

His pace eventually increases as you relax more. He continues for some time until a certain sharp snap of his hips has you crying out.

“Shit, I—” Seungcheol begins to apologize.

“Again, Cheol. Please. Again.”

“A-are you sure? Did I hurt you?” he questions.

“No,” you beg with a cry. “Need that again.”

“Fuck, okay, baby,” he rasps.

Seungcheol pulls out most of the way then slams his hips forward. You gasp his name and clench around him. It’s a sight he wants to capture in his mind forever.

The heat in the car has increased and sweat beads are forming on both of your bodies.

You tug off your shirt and bra to get some air.

Seungcheol moans at the sight of your exposed breasts and moves a hand to grip one. He massages it in his hand and continues to snap his hips. He feels like he’s losing his mind slowly at how good you feel wrapped around him, but he wants to try something different.

“Come here, angel,” he huffs and pulls out.

Your lips dip down as you whine at the emptiness. Seungcheol coos at you, adjusting positions so he’s sat with you above him. He discarded both of your sweatpants fully in the process. He then guides his hard cock between your legs and slowly eases you down.

You moan loudly as your pussy gets filled once more. Your hands clutch his shoulders for stability and try not to get nervous at the new position. It’s not often you’re on top.

Sensing your worry, Seungcheol gives you a reassuring massage on your hips.

“I’ll guide you, okay?”

You nod.

Seungcheol smiles, lifting you until his tip remains then pushing you back down carefully.

Your eyes drift from his face to where you both connect. Seeing how his cock disappears makes you clench around him. The sight is arousing, and a sense of pride fills your chest seeing how much easier you can take him now.

Without realizing it, your hips begin to move. You start with the pace Seungcheol has set but gradually move faster. You become addicted to the feel of his cock against your walls and need to feel it more.

It’s not until your thighs start to burn that you slow in realization.

“Don’t slow down,” Seungcheol groans, eyes hooded as he rests his head back on the seat. “Fucking me so good, baby. I knew you could do it.”

“A-are you close?” you question, a little shy.

He hums while nodding.

“Keep moving,” he says, guiding your hips up and down. Seeing how fucked out he is spurs your movements to quicken. Eventually, Seungcheol’s hands relax on your body while he watches you bounce on his cock.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, eyes taking in your body above his. Your tits look so good and your pussy feels so tight.

Unable to stop himself, he grips your hips firmly and starts thrusting upwards.

You gasp, mouth hanging open as he chases his high. The sound of skin slapping skin feels loud in your ears, but part of you loves it. You love hearing and feeling how fast he’s sliding his cock in you. You love knowing you’re making him feel so good.

Seungcheol slams into your once more, a guttural groan escaping his mouth as his cum fills your insides. He gives you a few more shallow thrusts before he stills completely. His breathing is labored, and his eyes are shut as he floats back down.

You try not to move, but your orgasm is near, and you need a release.

Seungcheol’s eyes peel open after a few more seconds.

“You need help, angel?” he asks when he sees you trying not to squirm.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth and nod.

Seungcheol plants a kiss on your forehead, then adjusts your bodies. He leans against one of the doors while sitting you between his legs, back to his chest. He hooks one of your legs over his to spread you open. You’re so focused on Seungcheol that it doesn’t cross your mind how exposing the position is from the opposing window’s view.

Seungcheol runs his hands down your body, briefly squeezing your breasts before he slides them between your legs. He circles your clit with one hand and uses the other to slide into your dripping hole. He pumps his fingers a few times before pulling out to look at his hand.

His digits are covered with a mix of your arousal and his cum. The sight makes you squeeze your legs and for Seungcheol to moan deeply behind you.

“So messy just for me,” he murmurs, then plunges his fingers back into your cunt.

He moves both his hands quickly, bringing forth your impending orgasm.

“Play with your tits, baby,” Seungcheol rasps. “Don’t forget to make yourself feel good.”

You adhere to his request and bring your hands to squeeze your breasts. Your head falls back against his chest, moans spilling out of you nonstop as you pinch and fondle yourself while Seungcheol continues to circle and pump his fingers.

Seungcheol’s name falls from your mouth incoherently as you climax, your body slightly jerking in his hold as pleasure washes over your body.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he praises in your ear. His fingers still move quickly until he feels you start to relax.

Seungcheol angles your face so he can kiss you. He holds you close, one hand pressing against your tummy while the other keeps your head in place. The kiss is sloppy, but neither of you care.

“You still cold?” he teases after he pulls away.

“No,” you mumble, hiding your face from him.

He laughs and leans down to grab your clothes. “If you are, we can go another round.”

“M-maybe we should wait. The towing people should be here soon,” you say.

Seungcheol nudges you and mumbles, “Arms.”

You comply, lifting your arms slightly so he can put on your clothes. He kisses your shoulder blade after he’s done. You both slide on your sweatpants again, then cuddle once more.

About fifteen minutes pass when bright lights shine nearby.

The worker eyes you both—taking in the fogged windows and disheveled clothing. It doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Nevertheless, they say nothing and get started with trying to fix the vehicle.

Maybe the road trip didn’t go as planned, and maybe you’ll miss the festival, but at least you had some fun nonetheless.

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

taglist (tbh i forgot abt this but i will start doing it now! sorry!): @cheolcherries, @oncloudvii23, @mystikhal-blog, @lithelust, @doom-fics

#scoups smut #svt smut #kvanity #kchristmas #kdiarynet #seungcheol smut #svt fanfic #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader

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