#there's only 4 hours left to the event

[lord-squiggletits]

God the loneliness has been hitting real bad since yesterday

[dazais-guardian-angel]

went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠

[deus-ex-mona]

my day in two pictures:

[eversncenewyork]

& more!

[plumso]

pure heart (theo x reader)

pairing: theodore nott x reader warning: obsessiveness, possessiveness summary: y/n found theo’s journal. now, she doesn’t know how to act around him. masterlist song recommendation: sweet by cigarettes after sex I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

The days have been bleak for Y/N — nothing exciting, nothing new. 

Obsessively self-conscious, she has limited herself. She rarely attends social events and avoids any interaction with men. She fidgets in her clothes, she avoids cameras, she overthinks everything she says - it has become too exhausting. She had given up. Now, she finds everything tedious and dull.

Until she found his journal.

Sept. 4 XXXX She looks so beautiful today. I wonder if that’s her perfume, or maybe that’s her natural scent. I wonder if her skin is usually warm or cold. I want to touch her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 7 XXXX She laughed with some guy. I hate her. She’s too oblivious around men. But she’s too cute. I could never hate her. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 8 XXXX She looks so peaceful when she reads. Haha! She accidentally fell asleep for a bit. I love her so much. Y/N Nott.

Sept. 11 XXXX That guy came up to her again. Fuck him. She looks annoyed. Oh, she ignored him. Good girl. Y/N Nott.

Y/N gasped and shut the journal. Goosebumps were all over her arms, her breath was shaky. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest, and there was this tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach. It’s as if lightning shot through her, awakening every nerve in her body. After months of feeling down and exhausted, she felt truly alive.

But Y/N tried to shake off her conflicting feelings. Despite it seeming like the sweet ramblings of a boy with a crush, some were greatly disturbing. Who could have written this?

She had found the black leather journal left on a windowsill in a hall rarely passed. She looked around, thinking the owner was nearby, but no one was in sight.

Y/N then flipped through the journal. Pages and pages were all about her with each ending off with “Y/N Nott.”

‘Nott?’ Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering why it sounded so familiar. ‘Theodore Nott?’ 

Y/N shook her head. She refused to believe that this journal was from Theo, one of the most notorious Slytherin boys of her year. He’s always so quiet and emotionless. The only interaction she had with him was from a few years ago, but it was so insignificant that it could barely be considered a real interaction.

‘There’s no way that he could have written this,’ she thought. 'But I can’t leave this here. If anybody else sees this, they would think I wrote this about myself.’

After much deliberation, Y/N stuffed the journal in her school bag and headed for her dorm where she spent the rest of the night reading each entry.

***

The next day, Y/N woke up in a daze. With three hours of sleep, Y/N got through only half of the journal. There were many, many entries with the earliest dating back to two years ago, each entry became increasingly obsessive.

Throughout the day, Y/N felt foggy and her face was a bit flushed. She would only snap out of her daze when she became aware of Theo’s presence.

Theo was in all of her classes and he sat only a few seats away from her. Y/N never thought of it much before, but now, she found it strange considering she only has one or two classes with her friends.

During class, she would keep her head down and slightly tilt her head so she could take a peek at Theo. He looked the same as always - emotionless and cold. Could someone like him write such strange and emotional entries?

Y/N considered talking to Theo to see if the journal was his. Maybe test him by asking if he lost something recently. But she was unsure if she wanted to confirm it. She didn’t know if she could face the owner’s strong, overwhelming feelings. And she was somewhat scared of what could happen next.

A few days had passed, and Y/N was becoming worried that the owner YYwill soon approach her. But she couldn’t let go of the journal yet. She was a madman obsessed. In many of the entries, the owner of the journal would describe what Y/N wore. What she ate for breakfast. Who she talked to. Some entries seemed like sweet love poems while some showed stalker tendencies.

Y/N was conflicted. She knows how deranged and disillusioned the owner was. She was scared, yes, but she also felt excited. As she continued to read, all his strange ramblings were starting to sound sweet. She didn’t know if she should be creeped out or flattered. 

But Y/N knew that her time with the journal needed to end. She knew the owner was looking for their journal. She would sometimes feel goosebumps on her back as if someone was staring at her. When this happened, she would hurriedly leave the room. She thought of placing it back where she found it, but she needed to finish reading the journal first.

So, one night, Y/N went to the back of the library and made sure no one was around. She sat on the oak chair and took the journal from her bag. She then flipped to the first page. The ink was a bit smudged and the paper was a bit worn, but it had the same neat handwriting that she became familiar with.

Dec. 3 XXXX Went to Hogsmeade today, but I left the boys.  I didn’t feel like socializing today. Headed to Hog’s Head to read for a bit. I assumed no one would be there, but I was wrong. That quiet girl Y/N was there. She was reading, too. Whatever, I’m sitting far anyways.

Dec. 4 XXXX How come I’ve never talked to her before? She is so beautiful. So sweet. What book was she reading? I’ll have to find it in the library when she’s done with it. Does she know who I am? I should talk to her. No, I don’t want her to be creeped out. I’ll find a better way to talk to her. I think I’m falling for her. Y/N L/N Nott.

Y/N was incredibly confused. What happened that could have caused such a big change? She doesn’t even remember going to Hog’s Head, much less what she did that day.

Y/N furrowed her brows as she thought hard about her trips to Hogsmeade in the last two years. ‘I have been to the Hog’s Head before… but I don’t remember anything spe-

“So, you had it.”

A dark, low voice spoke behind her. Y/N jumped in her seat, goosebumps all over her skin. Just by their voice, Y/N felt shivers run through her back and that tingling sensation in her stomach.

But Y/N couldn’t move. She was frozen, too anxious to turn around and confront him. But she knew who it was. His voice was one she knows all too well.

Suddenly, Y/N felt his warm body lightly pressed on her back. He was now standing behind her. He then slightly bent over her as he flipped through the pages of his journal.

“Here,” he said as he stopped to a certain page. “Read this.”

Confused, Y/N slowly looked up, only to be met with a smiling Theo.

“Come on. Read it for me. Please.”

Y/N reluctantly nodded. “February 14 XXXX. Some boys left candy on her table. Bunch of idiots. I threw it all away. I wanted her to only have mine. It’s mint chocolate, her favorite. I know everything that she likes. I-I’m the only one who can treat her right…” Y/N trailed off, unsure if she should say the next part.

“Continue.”

“S-she’s mine. I love her so much. She’ll see that one day. Y/N Nott.” Y/N’s breath was shaky and her mind was becoming a bit foggy. She knew this situation wasn’t normal. He’s too calm. Too scary. But for some reason, she was filled with anticipation. 

“You were the one who gave me the mint chocolate?” Y/N asked, looking back up at Theo.

He nodded.

“And… you wrote this journal?”

He smiled. 

“I was searching everywhere for the journal. My name isn’t on it, so I wasn’t worried about getting caught. But… I didn’t want any more attention on you,” Theo said as took the seat next to her. “But then you started acting strange. You would get nervous around me. It was so cute.” He chuckled and the tingling sensation in Y/N’s stomach grew more prominent.

“I’m glad you found it,” Theo said as he gently took Y/N’s hand. “Now you know how much I love you. How much I think about you.”

Y/N’s mind was going haywire. She didn’t know what to think or what to say. Goosebumps were still all over her skin, but she could only focus on his sweet words and warm hands. 

“Y/N…” he trailed as he leaned closer to her. He placed her palm on his chest, purposely trying to make her feel his heartbeat. It was racing fast. “I couldn’t ask you on Valentines, but… will you be mine?”

When Y/N read through his journal, she knew he was dangerous. His feelings were too strong, too overwhelming. He was obsessive and possessive. She was anxious about what would happen if she reciprocated.

But as she looked at Theo’s handsome face with her palm on his broad chest, she felt seen and alive. His love, his sincerity - it’s hard to believe it’s all real. And it’s too intoxicating to deny.

“Y-yes. I want to be yours."

*** bonus: hog’s head interaction ***

December 3, XXXX

“Welcome!” The shopkeeper of Hog’s Head yelled as he filled up a cup of juice from behind the counter.

Theo scrapped the snow off his shoes before entering, unwrapping the scarf around his neck. “Black coffee, please,” Theo said before walking to the table farthest from the other customer.

Theo then rummages through his bag, taking out a book and his new leather journal. He received it from a teacher who recommended writing entries of gratitude or special moments. After putting it off for months, he finally set a goal for himself to write the first entry today.

As Theo wrote his first entry, the shopkeeper placed the black coffee on the table. He then went back to refill the other customer’s cup. Theo took a sip and observed the small figure of the other customer. She looked familiar. 

The other customer looked up from her book to thank the shopkeeper. She set her book down and slightly stretched her back before taking a sip of her juice. She looks around the building before spotting Theo. She jumped a little, startled to see someone else there. She was too caught up in her book to notice her surroundings. She quickly composed herself before giving him a warm smile. She then turned back around and continued with her book.

In that short moment, Theo was hooked. When she smiled, something within him suddenly clicked. As if he was now complete. Something within him changed, his desires growing and morphing. 

‘Y/N… what was her last name again? Ah, L/N. Y/N L/N. No… Y/N Nott.’

***

a/n: i do not condone stalking or extreme possessiveness. this is entirely unrealistic and fiction. however, it is nice to imagine that a handsome man is so in love with you that he's obsessed lol. i also named this "pure heart" for irony because he views his feelings as pure, but is it really?? also, for those into smut, you can definitely imagine this leading to an s x m dynamic, so it makes the title even more funny lol. anywho, hope you enjoyed it!

here is part two for more <3

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 4: Needy Sex

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

•

Hyunjin’s hand remains on your lower back, his fingers sprawled out over the open cut at the back of your skin tight dress, as the other grasps the glass stem of his red wine.

Job titles, income levels, friends, lovers, travel stories- he’s pretty sure he’s engaged in just about every form of adult conversation amongst the partygoers here. And at half past midnight, he’s begun to get restless, wanting nothing more than to take you home and indulge himself in a good fuck.

“You have any plans for the holidays?” One guest whose name he’s already forgotten, asks the two of you “Seungmin’s taking some time off so we can travel out of the city for a weekend or two,” she continues. “I know it’s cold, but we love winter camping.”

Hyunjin smiles in an attempt to be polite, shrugging, as he meets your gaze. “Not really,” he says plainly. “We like staying in for the holidays.”

You nod in his direction, taking note of the way his eyes seem to flicker curiously, as though he’s signaling something to you.

“Yeah,” you chime in, downing the last of your red wine. “There’s nothing like Christmas inside by the fireplace.”

“Speaking of Christmas,” the guest says, turning to face a group of other guests, too. “We were thinking of doing a gift exchange this year-”

As she speaks excitedly of her plans, Hyunjin taps your lower back, leaning in to graze his lips over your ear.

“Wanna come get more wine?” He asks in a low voice, gesturing to your empty glass.

You’re really not so keen on having any more, yet you’re also well aware that this is typically Hyunjin’s way of signaling he needs a moment away from the crowd.

“Sure,” you reply, turning to follow him away from the crowd of people.

“We’ll be back!” You call out to the guest, who hardly acknowledges you as she continues to speak.

Hyunjin takes long strides into the kitchen, one hand shoved into the pocket of his black suit, as he leads the way. He shoves past the swinging door with the push of his shoulder, holding it for you as you follow him inside, and then he closes it with the heel of his glossy black dress shoe, glancing over his shoulder to ensure nobody’s followed either of you into the kitchen.

“They’re out of the red wine you like,” you begin, sorting through the array of beverages on the counter. “But they have white, or soda if you’re-”

“Let’s just leave,” Hyunjin interrupts, coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. His hands rest on the counter on either side of your figure, as his lips graze the shell of your ear in a swift motion.

“Already?” You question, a chuckle escaping your lips. “We only got here two hours ago.”

“Please,” Hyunjin urges, his lips nibbling on the lobe of your ear. “I want you so bad. I can’t be here anymore.”

He sounds completely serious by the way his breathing grows heavy, and then he presses against your lower back, making it more clear to you. He’s hard under his black slacks, his erect cock prodding into your dress as though he’s asking for permission to do it right here.

You don’t realize the soft gasp that emits from the back of your throat until Hyunjin lets out a wicked chuckle in response, his lips trailing along your shoulder, as his hands snake up your sides.

“Don’t you want to?” He inquires. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Doesn’t having you bent over our own counter sound like a better evening than whatever all of this is?”

Your eyes scan the assortment of drinks on the counter in front of you, the untouched bottles of Chardonnay and Sprite only implying there’s still hours of this event left. His hard-on throbs against you, his hands tracing the cinched fabric of your waist. And he’s right- to let him pull your dress up and do it right here, would be precedence over the ordeals of adult small talk any day.

“Okay,” you say to him, turning around and reaching for your clutch purse on the counter. “You call a cab, I’ll go let them know we have to leave.”

Hyunjin chuckles again, a sense of satisfaction clear in his tone, as he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips and reaches for his phone.

“Be quick,” is all that he says, as he watches you disappear past the swinging doors again.

*

The taxi ride home is a painfully long ride, as Hyunjin keeps his large hand sprawled upon your upper thigh, squeezing it periodically to remind you of the evening ahead which awaits you both.

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat behind the driver, hoping the man can’t somehow read his thoughts and know that he’s letting his mind run rampant with filthy thoughts about you. He’d give anything to have the driver pull over and exit his own car, just so that Hyunjin could take you right here in the backseat.

And yet he’s patient, not a word spoken between the two of you in the duration of the car ride, until you’re finally back at your shared apartment.

Hyunjin tips the man a generous amount, shooting him a sheepish grin as he intertwines your hand with his and practically drags you in the direction of the front door. And just like the rest of the whole seems to move slower at the times he wants you most, the keys to your front door are uncooperative, your hands grasping them firmly as you fidget with the lock.

Hyunjin’s lips trail along your neck, his breathing growing heavy as he waits for you to grant entry, and you chuckle nervously when the lock remains stubborn, mumbling an apology to a now very needy Hyunjin.

“Let me,” Hyunjin says, his hands hovering over yours now to work the key. He makes purposeful motions to toy with the lock, shoving the door open with complete ease, his hand finding your waist when you stumble forward a little. Hyunjin guides you inside, lips reattaching to your neck, as he scrambles to shut the door behind you two, not even bothering to lock it again.

Your bag is tossed aside by Hyunjin, who now snakes the straps of your dress down to grant access to your chest, his face burying in the crook of your neck to press sloppy kisses along your exposed flesh.

“Let’s just do it here,” Hyunjin remarks, guiding you forward to the wooden stair banister.

His hands bunch up the fabric of your dress, already finding the waistband of your underwear, as he tugs it down and exposes more of you to him.

There’s a moment of silence as he unfastens his belt now, the gentle clink of his buckle making itself known as it comes undone, and then he positions himself behind you, his now-bare cock prodding against your upper thigh.

“God, you look so fucking sexy,” Hyunjin remarks, pulling the flesh of your shoulder between his teeth and leaving a generous trail of love bites. “This dress gets me so hard.”

His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he readies himself, but without any verbal form of warning, he’s already slipping inside of you with complete ease, gripping your waist with one hand, as the other positions your face to meet his gaze.

He indulges you in a sloppy kiss as he begins to move inside of you, and the friction of his cock caressing your walls is almost dizzying, little grunts escaping his lips back into your mouth.

“Does that feel good?” Hyunjin queries, knowing your answer is a resounding yes.

“Yes,” you attempt to reply in between your heavy panting, your hands holding onto the wooden stair banister to steady yourself.

“Talk to me,” Hyunjin commands, moving a little faster now. “Want to hear how it feels.”

“God, you fuck me so good,” you remark as he quickens his pace, one hand coming around to rub your clit in circular motions now. “Feels so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

Hyunjin chuckles- he’d never think of stopping when you’re begging him like this, his cock throbbing inside of you and hitting your cervix with every passionate thrust.

His thrusts are sloppy now, no real method to the way he pushes himself in and out of you, loud squelching sounds filling the sounds of your entryway as he fucks you. The desperation isn’t lost on you- the door is still unlocked behind you, not a single set of curtains drawn to shield the lewd act unfolding right here. Your heels are still on, planted firmly into the wooden floor where you know they’ll leave little dents like they have before. But it’s a miracle Hyunjin even made it to the entryway like this- if not here, he’s certain it’d have been the bathroom at the party, one hand sprawled over your mouth so the guests wouldn’t hear you screaming his name.

“Hyunjin,” you call out, gripping the banister a little harder now. “I’m gonna finish- fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He takes your warning as a sign to quicken his movements even more now, the squelching sounds filling the space around you, as loud groans escape between his parted lips.

When he attempts to kiss you again, it’s a futile task, nothing but drool exchanged from his lips onto yours as your eyes roll back in blissful pleasure.

“Cum for me,” Hyunjin commands, and although he sounds desperate, he’s polite about it, one hand intertwining his fingers over yours on the stair banister. “Make a fucking mess for me, baby. This is all I’ve wanted tonight.”

Your moans serve as an attempt to respond, and then he squeezes his eyes shut as he staves off his own orgasm to wait for yours, first.

It doesn’t take more than a few thrusts before you’re obeying his commands, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his girth, as you dribble fluids around his flesh, gasping blissfully as you call out his name. Your walls caress his cock encouraging his own orgasm, which follows suit shortly after, as he shoots thick, white ropes of his cum inside of you, fucking it back into you before slowing his pace.

Hyunjin catches his breath without a word as he pulls out, observing the way his now-softening cock is completely coated in remnants of you, your juices even finding purchase on the wooden flooring beneath you.

He smooths your dress down again, contented to see his release hasn’t ruined the fabric even a little. Yet when he tucks his cock back into his own slacks, he chuckles at the sight of the stains that paint his expensive suit- for possibly the third time this month.

When you turn around to face him again, Hyunjin towers over you, hands shoved in his pockets once more, as he leans in to kiss you properly now.

“I love you,” he says sweetly, cocking his head toward the stairs. “Go put on something more comfortable.”

You meet his gaze with a smile, head still spinning at the events that unfolded this evening. And you don’t take his gaze off him as you watch him approach the door again, finally locking it for the evening.

*

[drdemonprince]

It’s true that America has one of the lowest voter turnout rates in the industrialized world, with only 62% of eligible adults turning up to the polls on a good year, and about 50% on a typical one. But if we really dive into the social science data, we can see that non-voters aren’t a bunch of nihilistic commie layabouts who’d prefer to die in a bridge collapse or of an untreated listeria infection than vote for someone who isn’t Vladimir Lenin. No, if we really study it carefully, we can see that the American electoral system has a series of unique features that easily account for why we find voting more cumbersome, confusing, and unrewarding than almost any other voters in the world.

Let’s take a look at the many reasons why Americans don’t vote:

1. We Have the Most Frequent Elections of Any Country

Most other democratic countries only hold major elections once every four or five years, with the occasional local election in between. This is in sharp contrast with the U.S., where we have some smattering of primaries, regional elections, state elections, ballot measures, midterm elections, and national elections basically every single year, often multiple times per year. We have elections more frequently than any other nation in the world — but just as swallowing mountains of vitamin C tablets doesn’t guarantee better health, voting more and harder hasn’t given us more democracy.

2. We Don’t Make Election Day a Holiday

The United States also does far less than most other democracies to facilitate its voters getting to the polls. In 22 countries, voting is legally mandated, and turnout is consequently very high; most countries instead make election day a national holiday, or hold elections on weekends. The United States, in contrast, typically holds elections on weekdays, during work hours, with minimal legal protections for employees whose only option to vote is on the clock.

3. We Make Registration as Hard as Possible

From Denmark, to Sweden, to Iceland, Belgium, and Iraq, all eligible voters in most democracies are automatically registered to vote upon reaching legal adulthood. Voting is typically regarded as a rite of passage one takes part in alongside their classmates and neighbors, made part of the natural flow of the country’s bureaucratic processes.

In the United States, in contrast, voter registration is a process that the individual must seek out — or more recently, be goaded into by their doctor. Here voting is not a communal event, it’s a personal choice, and failing to make the correct choice at the correct time can be penalized. In most other countries, there are no restrictions on when a voter can register, but in much of the United States, registering too early can mean you get stricken from the voter rolls by the time the election rolls around, and registering too late means you’re barred from voting at all.

4. We Make Voters Re-Register Far Too Often

In countries like Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands, voter registration updates automatically when a person moves. In the United State, any time a person changes addresses they must go out of their way to register to vote all over again. This policy disadvantages poorer and younger voters, who move frequently because of job and schooling changes, or landlords who have decided to farm black mold colonies in their kitchens.

Even if a voter does not change their address, in the United States it’s quite common for their registrations to be removed anyway— due to name changes, marriages, data breaches, or simply because the voter rolls from the previous election year have been purged to “prevent fraud” (read: eliminate Black, brown, poor, and left-leaning members from the electorate).

5. We Limit Access to Polling Places & Mail-in Ballots

In many countries, voters can show up to any number of polling places on election day, and showing identification is not always necessary. Here in the United States, the ability to vote is typically restricted to a single polling place. Voter ID laws have been used since before the Jim Crow era to make political participation more difficult for Black, brown, and impoverished voters, as well as for those for whom English is not their first language. Early and absentee voting options are also pretty firmly restricted. About a quarter of democracies worldwide rely on mail-in ballots to make voting more accessible for everyone; here, a mail-in ballot must be requested in advance.

All of these structural barriers help explain why just over 50% of non-voters in the United States are people of color, and a majority of non-voters have been repeatedly found to be impoverished and otherwise marginalized. But these populations don’t only feel excluded from the political process on a practical level: they also report feeling completely unrepresented by the available political options.

6. We Have the Longest, Most Expensive Campaign Seasons

Americans have some of the longest campaign seasons in the world, with Presidential elections lasting about 565 days on average. For reference, the UK’s campaign season is 139 days, Mexico’s is 147, and Canada’s is just 50. We also do not have publicly funded campaigns: our politicians rely upon donors almost entirely.

Because our elections are so frequent and our campaigns are so long and expensive, many American elected officials are in a nearly constant state of fundraising and campaigning. When you take into account the time devoted to organizing rallies, meeting with donors, courting lobbyists, knocking on doors, recording advertisements, and traveling the campaign trail, most federally elected politicians spend more time trying to win their seat than actually doing their jobs.

Imagine how much work you’d get done if you had to interview for your job every day. And now imagine that the person actually paying your wage didn’t want you to do that job at all:

7. Our Elected Officials Do Very Little

Elected officials who spend the majority of their hours campaigning and courting donors don’t have much time to get work done. Nor do they have much incentive to — in practice, their role is to represent the large corporations, weapons manufacturers, Silicon Valley start-ups, and investors who pay their bills, and serve as a stopgap when the public’s demands run afoul of those groups’ interests.

Perhaps that is why, as campaign seasons have gotten longer and more expensive and income inequality has grown more stark, our elected officials have become lean-out quiet quitters of historic proportions. The 118th Congress has so far been the least productive session on record, with only 82 laws having been passed in last two years out of the over 11,000 brought to the floor.

The Biden Administration has moved at a similarly glacial pace; aside from leaping for the phone when Israel calls requesting checking account transfers every two or three weeks, the executive-in-chief has done little but fumble at student loan relief and abortion protections, and bandied about banning TikTok.

The average age of American elected officials has been on a steady rise for some time now, with the obvious senility of figures like Biden, Mitch McConnell, and the late Diane Feinstein serving as the most obvious markers of the government’s stagnancy. Carting around a confused, ailing elderly person’s body around the halls of power like a decommissioned animatronic requires a depth of indifference to human suffering that few of us outside Washington can fathom. But more than that, it reflects a desperation for both parties to cling to what sources of influence and wealth they have. These aged figures are/were reliable simps for Blackstone, General Dynamics, Disney, and AIPAC, and their loyalty is worth far more than their cognitive capacity, or legislative productivity. Their job, in a very real sense, is to not do their job, and a beating-heart cadaver can do that just fine.

You can read the rest of the list for free (or have it narrated to you on the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com!

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem reader, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general cm content

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. inspired on season 4 spence

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Longs days at work were usually your favorite— unless they induced an unhealthy amount of stress on you.

Unfortunately, today had been one of those days. To start off, Hotch called you in earlier, around six in the morning, due to an emergency statement issue he needed you to put together regarding your recent Unsub. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile for the specific serial killer the BAU was hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. Talking about woman getting raped and murdered and left in the middle of the streets wasn’t the most soul-fueling aspect of your job.

Your body begged for a nap— So did your brain.

The Unsub was attacking woman throughout the city of New York, so the BAU team opted on staying situated at some random hotel for the remaining of the week in order to get advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch once again asked you to stay behind and help Prentiss and Morgan with a few files. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

As another crack in your neck echoed throughout your head, you began questioning if your job was actually paying you enough.

Those extra two hours felt even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan, whom to you resembled very close the figure of a brother. Irrevocably, excruciatingly annoying, but someone you cared for deeply.

Except for right now.

It was now ten. It was dark outside as you practically dragged yourself into the hotel lobby with Morgan and Prentiss tagging along much more actively, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. The heels of your feet were pulsating and you desperately needed to close your eyes. Your back felt terribly cramped due to being hunched over for so long at your desk so it came to no one’s surprise when you grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Back problems?” Morgan dared, voice coming dangerously close to a tease. “At your age?"

You glared back at him, sending warning signs through your piercing gaze that he should be very careful with where he stepped.

"No,” Your voice was clenched. “These stupid hotel mattresses are utter crap and I was in some weird position last night."

“What kind of positions?” Emily eyed you from the side. You looked over at her, thinking you may of heard some suggestiveness laced in her tone. You caught a familiar evil glint in her eyes and realization dawned upon you, realizing what she had meant.

Your cheeks buzzed with heat as you jumped to your own defense. “Sleeping positions!”

You cringed internally, feeling mortified and annoyed and— tired. The two of them clearly had enough hours of sleep the night before to be in a cheery enough mood to tease you.

“I’m too tired to deal with the two of you,”

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" Derek remarked while patting your head. You scowled, swatted his hand away urgently.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep and not hear you guys make fun of me,” Emily checked her watch and elbowed Derek’s side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, finally putting you out of your misery. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction of the lobby, which was where her and Morgan’s rooms were.

There had been some sort of room distribution problem upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right.

"You need me to walk you to your room?" Morgan asked without any teasing in sight, like he was genuinely concerned.

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shrugged. "But thanks tough guy. Reid’s probably still up waiting for me."

Emily made a face before they nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their respective rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator, body heavy with sleep. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall behind you with a thud. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fear trickling throughout your spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room.

You hastily made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and slipped it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room with a bit of urgency.

"It’s me Spence," You reassured, walking into the hallway and leaning against the wall that led towards the room.

You took in the sight in front of you and smiled happily. Satisfaction tan deep within you, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. So casually relaxed

His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose and a book he had decided to read in his hand. Your smile was tired when he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"Hey," He started, smiling amiably. There was a familiar glow in his gaze that usually lit up when he looked at you. You sucked in a breath through your nose.

“Hi,”

“It’s late,” He said, almost as if coming to the realization of how late you had actually come back.

"Me, Prentiss and Morgan were at those files longer than expected— I'm exhausted." He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned grabbing your shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually slept in on the way to the bathroom. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. But long pants made you fidgety and caged. You hated how it felt to turn around in bed a few times and already feel the fabric getting twisted and stuck around your legs.

Besides, Spencers body temperature radiated enough heat to keep you warm, which was another beneficial reason of wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You promptly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you.

You reached up, pulling at the hair tie and freeing your hair from its low bun. Wordlessly, you made it to Spencers side of the bed and he innately threw the duvet cover backwards, allowing you enough space to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, resting your head against his chest.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment. The comfortable surface of his solid chest was cozier than any mattress— even though you always unconsciously hoped you weren’t squishing him.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested your chin above them, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his familiar infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He answered back, smile growing wider. "You look pretty,"

"Don't even," You groaned, not believing a single word that came from him. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't call you in after hours— or before.”

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry with me,” There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, facetiously regarding your angry look.

“I’m not angry, i’m jealous.” You explain, pouting your lips at him. “You have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

Although joking around, you didn’t fail to notice the traces of empathy lingering beneath his gaze. There wasn’t anything Spencer hated more than knowing you were exhausted. He let his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You let out a laugh. "How many of your muscles are cramped after last night?”

“Because of sleep or…?” He trailed, pursing his lips in thought. You groaned, placing your palm across his face to either smother him or prevent him from seeing how flustered you got. You were usually the one making vilgar jokes. It sat differently when Spencer did it, it made you more nervous.

“You’re so stupid,” He laughed underneath your palm and muttered out.

“Actually—“

“Don’t ‘actually’ me,”

Spencer’s teasing, even in your state of utter exhaustion, didn’t leave you cranky or annoyed. It never did, It always did the opposite. You became all mushy and soft when it came to Spencer and every gesture was laced in nothing more than absolute adoration.

He grew quiet as he let his thumb linger across your cheek, realizing the joke had died down. He gazed your face so lovingly, it almost hurt. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Your proximity in age had been the initial reason for a friendship, but then it started shifting into something beyond that and before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends… The majority of your time was spent beside him.

You still recalled with humor how it took a while for him to make a move. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, not at all. But the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he forgot any notion of how to operate like a normal human being. You had found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him— you still did.

Slowly falling in love with each other was probably one of the most cathartic events of one another’s lives because it distinguished such a firm before and after.

Working in the FBI had always felt so loud and caotic, but ever since Spencer, the world became a little more quiet and a little less stressful.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, realizing how all your muscles began melting into his touch.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures.

"I missed you." He hummed, placing a small peck to your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back.

You crooned lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns onto your back with his fingertips. Your body erupted in a string of goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. The jolts of electricity seeped through your spine. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch, so that being said, all these small gestures from him were all the more special.

You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. His insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. Like he could physically see the knots of stress unfold. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up.

There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d typically tease him endlessly.

Nevertheless, he’d still always bend over your slouched position at your desk chair in the morning and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed. Seeing just how close to collapsing you had been when you got to the room, he desperately wanted to draw circles onto your back until you fell asleep.

And god, were his back scratches just what you needed.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically hear yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching the hem and peeking his hand underneath it in order to feel the smoothness of your skin— that and knowing you loved it even more.

When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself. You mumbled quietly, sighing contently. “Hmm,”

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a sleep induced smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words down at you.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He expounded as you watched him with nothing more than complete awe.

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was your favorite thing about him,— other than his smile.

Unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled.

"That and because I love you,"

"I love you— And when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. One of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel sleepy,”

He kissed the crown of your head as you rested . "Wasn’t planning on it.”

[danadaria]

Steddie Olympic AU where Eddie gets on his first Olympics for BMX freestyle, and it's so weird because he has been in competitions for many years but nothing like this, something so big and with so many rules.

His background was being a hyperkinetic kid who didn't really care about his life, and somehow being fearless and doing acrobatics became his career. Still, even then it wasn't so serious.

His thing were the X-games and open exhibitions, with fire, hard rock & metal, tattoos, and having RedBull as a sponsor.

Behind the adrenaline he and his friends are a bunch of clowns who just wanted to fly and have the bones of a child forever.

But now he's here: in the middle of a giant line in an ocean of other athletes, wearing a fucking blazer from Ralph Lauren and with the lamest jeans he had to wear in his entire life.

And everything is kinda awful, because he lost sight of friends (Gareth and Max, both skaters, but they train in the same place), and he just heard there's no McDonald's at the Olympics this year.

He doesn't even like McDonald's so much, but god, he grow up hearing about athletes eating hundreds of burgers and mcnuggets for free, and sue him, but his inner child was super excited about it.

"Are you ok, man?"

Eddie opens his mouth to give a snarky remark when he sees the most beautiful man in existence – GORGEOUS v-shape, honey eyes, pink pouty lips, and kissable moles– looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is okey-dokey" He says lamely.

The most beautiful man in existence snorts at him.

"Okey-dokey? What are you? Five?"

"Probably. I was sad because I found out today there's no free McDonald's this year. Now that I know I'm not sure if it is worth being here"

Eddie's future husband looks surprised for a second and laughs at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. I read some people ate so many nuggets they left the Olympics cackling like a chicken: I wanted to be one of them!"

"Oh, yeah. I ate lots of them post-competition"

"See?!"

"Ok, I give you that. But this year there's going to be international cuisine and all that jazz"

"Knowing me, I'm going to get too overwhelmed with the options and I'll end with the saddest oatmeal every day."

"You have lots of food opinions for someone that's on a sports event"

"Well, is either that or thinking that my biggest rivals are a bunch of 15-year-olds from Brazil and Japan."

"Oh? What's your sport?"

"BMX freestyle"

"That's the race in the mountains?"

"That's literally BMX racing."

"Right." He looked ashamed.

Eddie needed to fix that look, now.

"And you? What's your poison?"

"Poison? You mean my sport?" Eddie nods at him encouragingly. "Gymnastics."

"I can see it." Eddie looks at him approvingly, "You have the arms of a gymnast, big boy."

The face of Eddie's future husband turns a beautiful shade of red. And Eddie is just a second away to ask for his name, and his number to change the course of his life, when he feels a hand on the jacket's collar.

"Here you are, loser. We need to go this way!"

And before Eddie can say anything, Max Mayfield (his new arch-nemesis) takes him away from the love of his life.

He says bye with a hand before being cruelly separated, disappearing into a sea of people.

"Do you want to be murdered before or after the opening ceremony, Red?"

"Oh, shut up loser."

____________________________________________________________

Steve is going back with his best friend to their apartment, feeling super frustrated. Somehow, 24 hours ago, he thought it would be a good idea to give his phone to his best friend for the inauguration night to avoid getting too excited and watching videos of the event until 4 am.

And now he was regretting ALL his life choices.

"You don't understand Robin, I met a super cute guy, but I couldn't get his name! I'm only going to search that and nothing else"

"Steve, you made me swear I wouldn't pass your phone on inauguration day, no matter the reason. You need to sleep"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't meet someone when you didn't have your phone!"

"I would understand better than anyone! I met the cutest girl competing at air riffle, aaaand I didn't have my phone either!"

"You gave her your presentation card, didn't you"

"Yes, sorry."

"See? Why didn't you make me buy some for me, too?"

They arrive at their floor. Steve knows they're a little obnoxious, but it was the first night and it's still early.

"Good night, neighbors! Isn't it too early in the event to be fighting?"

Steve looks up so fast, he probably hurt his neck a little bit. At the end of the hallway, sitting on the floor next to a very closed door, was Steve's meet-cute: All smiley, charming, and inviting.

"It's you!"

"Oh! Hi Mr. Gymnastics, and hi unknown lady."

"It's Robin Buckley," She says and goes straight to her apartment, "we probably going to see each other again, so good night".

And she closes the door firmly behind her.

"I didn't have. I mean. I don't have my phone to search for you."

The other boy looks at him, almost evaluating him, before giving Steve a big smile and offering his hand to stretch.

"Eddie Munson."

"Steve Harrington."

"So, would you-"

"There's a McDonald's near where I compete tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"

Eddie stands up and walks until he's in front of Steve. He smiles.

"Would love it. After all, it was my childhood dream."

Steve smiles too.

[hoe4sports]

How this ends

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A note from the author: This is an older draft that i have yet to share. The song is inspired by Lewis Capaldi’s «How this ends». I see every comment you write and I see every repost with a note added to it. I’m forever grateful for the love you give my writing. Thank you so so much. I’m endlessly grateful.

Warnings: angst.

Summary: Alexia decides that after 13 years, she’s done.

-

Alexia knew it was all for the best. A part of her wishes that she had never met you, that she has never let herself fall in love with you, that she never allowed herself to feel all those wonderful feelings you brought into her life. It was a selfish decision, and Alexia knew that. But in her mind, the only solution was calling it off.

She could see you slowly slipping away from her grip. Like you were slowly fading from a painting that she had once painted. Like someone was erasing you from the story she was writing. A part of her wishes that you had never gotten to this point. And she hates that you understand and that you still love her. She wanted you to hate her. To tell her that she was the most awful person in the world. To tell her that she didn’t deserve anything good to happen to her. Instead, you accepted her decision with grace. You slowly packed your bags over the next few weeks, bringing more and more stuff over to your friend, Frido’s house. With each item that disappeared, it felt like a piece of you slipped away.

Alexia was also somewhat embarrassed. Her sister, Alba, had convinced her that you were using her for her money. That you wanted her to quit football. That you eventually were planning to run away from her with her money and her house. She didn’t know how she had allowed herself to believe her sister. But, they had been best friends growing up. She trusted her. She trusted her judgment of you. But she forgot to consider that the pair of you had spent years together. You had gotten together when you were 13. Now, 13 years later. It had all come to an end.

You left out a quiet sight as you walked around in the cold, empty apartment. You traced your fingers along the beautiful carvings on the walls feeling that familiar gloss finish you had agreed upon years prior. The feeling is seeing this home turn into just an apartment was haunting. It hurt in a way that only could be described as crushing. Your footsteps led you around the apartment to the door of what once was your shared walk in closet. You reached for the door and opened it. It was half empty. More than half empty actually, if you were to take the things you had purchased, then Alexia would be left with basically nothing to her name except a few boxers, some socks and a set of sweats. Your gaze shifted to your side of the closet. The memory of standing there for hours trying to pick the perfect outfit for Alexia’s social events was woken back to life. It made you smile sadly. God, you thought to yourself, you loved getting ready for her. The chandelier was hanging in the middle of the room, and you offered it a gaze while your hand rested on the light switch. The chandelier sparkled in reflection of the light, reminding you of why you had purchased it. Speaking of the chandelier, it was also something that you had purchased for your own money. You sighted as you turned off the lights and closed the door shut.

You passed your guest room on your way to the bedroom. It made you smile. The memories of a drunken Mapi that had lost her keys and Ingrid’s keys while going out for a drink. She had camped in your guest room, unannounced. Ingrid had been so confused when she called Alexia to ask if she had seen Mapi. You smiled as you took a last gaze over the room. Seeing all the things you had purchased alone because Alexia didn’t have the time to go shopping. She’d told you that you could take her credit card, and you did. But she didn’t know that you never used it.

You continued to the main bedroom. To your bedroom. Where you had spent hours listening to Alexia’s dreams and hopes. Where you had watches dumb arguments unfold over stress and pressure from work. It was strange, how her dreams had changed over the decade. From wishing to play for a living to dreaming of the ballon d’or. It was always strange, how none of her dreams were about the pair of you. It was always her dreams, her wishes and her hopes. It wasn’t always like that. Once, she was your Alexia. That would bring home flowers. That would dream about weddings, kids and growing old together. Football took that part of her away, and maybe you could’ve been more consistent. Asked more. Understood more. Waited more. Then maybe Alexia could’ve still been your Alexia. Your eyes closed in hopes of stopping the burning feeling you felt in you eyes. It didn’t help, really. You flipped the lights off and shut the door.

Then you moved on to the next room.There was the bathroom. You favourite room. The place that had seen all the things that you didn’t tell people about, not even Alexia or Frido. The place where you cried, laughed, screamed, had occasional sex and spent most of your sick days. Where you had found yourself sat after the losses of all your pregnancies. This room was your sanctuary. It was where you could allow yourself to feel whatever you needed to feel. Where you’d allow the tears to quietly hit the drain while you felt neglected and abandoned. But, yet, you stayed. You stayed, again and again and again. Hoping that your girlfriend would return to her normal self. To get her fame out of her ass. But the turning point you had been hoping and praying for, never came. You looked over at the vanity. Just Alexia’s toothbrush left. No toothpaste. She never bought her own. She never really bought anything for the apartment because she didn’t have the time. You spent hours decorating, shopping, furnishing and trying to bring some life into the empty shell Alexia once had purchased. The floor behind you made a squeak, and you knew Alexia were behind you. You caught your breath, turned off the lights and closed the door.

Your feet then walked towards the living room. The core of the apartment. It had some of the most gorgeous views that you had ever encountered. Anything from gloomy stunning sunrises to slow beautiful sunsets. You were particularly pleased with the look of the room. It was warm and welcoming, but also bright and modern. The white walls matched the white soft couch. You sat down in the couch and let your fingertips run across it. It still made you feel cozy. Like you wanted to wake up from this nightmare and wrap yourself up in a warm blanket. This dumb couch that you had paid a ridiculous amount of money for. Where you and Frido had found yourself at the most ungodly hour gossiping about the players and the people at your job. The spot where you and Alexia once had spent hours giggling, watching sad movies, doing face masks and watching games of football. The thought of your lighthearted memories made during your earlier days brought a well wanted smile to your face.

Your eyes caught the door of the balcony. You loved that balcony endlessly. Your hand searched for the handle as you opened up the door taking in the fresh Barcelonian air. The views from the balcony was undoubtedly the most stunning views of Barcelona. You could see the beach, hear the waves and smell the salty air. The combination of sensations was enough to make anyone want to buy the place. You remembered when you and Alexia had the time to sit outside. Drinking glasses of Wine in the off season, eating watermelon that you had picked up at the local market after games. The mix of your favourite fruit and your favourite person brought tears to your eyes. Things were different now. So different that you couldn’t even have imagined in your wildest dreams that you would’ve been here. Everything was complicated. Painful. You shut the door to the balcony and locked it for the last time.

Your last stop was the kitchen. The intention of stopping by it hadn’t been on your mind, but you passed it as you were heading towards the entrance. You remember all the nights you spent making pasta with Alexia wrapped around your waist. Her standing behind you, embracing you pretending that she wanted to learn when all she really wanted was to be close to you. To hold you tight. All the morning coffees you had shared, Alexia always insisted on drinking her coffee pitch black while you preferred to ice yours. You’d try different types of syrups and flavors to perfect your coffee. Down the lane, she was convinced that maybe iced coffee wasn’t too bad. But only when the coffee was made by you. Your gaze shifted to the countertops. The spot where you would make sure always had Alexia’s favourite red apples. Only the crispy kind though. Before you moved, you closed your eyes. You didn’t understand why your efforts were never enough. Why your patience was never enough for Alexia. You accepted anything she threw at you. Cancelled dates, missed anniversaries and forgotten birthdays. Always understanding that work was her focus. That football was her number one. Yet, you loved her. You still do. But you are so confused. And so hurt.

It was stange and painful. But you couldn’t stay there anymore. It was not right, and it was not how you wanted things to be like at this point in your life. Things had changed so fast. Faster than anyone could’ve expected. Some changes for the good, and some for the worse. You held a tight grip on my phone as you stood there with my eyes closed not wanting to leave the comfort of what once had been your home. The thought of someone’s living eventually moving in with Alexia, having new memories and living in all the furniture that you once had purchased pained you. A sob escaped your lips while tears were silently rolling down your cheeks. Alexia stood next to the entrance staring at the ground.

“Well” you said letting out a laugh. “I guess this is it”

Alexia looked at you with sorrow in her eyes, not saying anything. It felt like room was on fire. Like everything was shutting down. Like the world was brutally coming to an ends

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be enough for you, Alexia. I really tried to be what you needed for 10 years. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that. Maybe in the next lifetime? “

She didn’t say a word. Just looked at you with an empty look in her eyes.

You walked towards the door. And put your hand on the handle before turning to Alexia. Your hand reached for your pocket. It was the promise ring she gave you at 20. When she promised that you would get engaged one day. You held the ring tight in your hand looking down at your hand. Then you looked at Alexia who just stood there. You took a deep breath before you kissed her cheek and opened her hand. You placed the ring in her hand before looking at her with a sad grin. Her eyes looked at the ring before her gaze turned towards you. She looked like someone had stolen her puppy.

“Que? Why are you giving me your ring?”

“It’s not mine to wear anymore, Ale”

“Ai, no! I gave it to you, si?”

“Yes?”

“Vale, that means it’s yours”

You looked at her with a sad look in your eyes before giving her a sad smile and shaking your head.

“Goodbye, Alexia”

Then you turned your back and walked away. The few items you had left in the apartment, had now been placed in a reusable ikea bag that you borrowed from Frido. You couldn’t help but let a few tears fall to the ground as you walked away. Every cell in your body wanted you to turn around. To run back into Alexia’s arms. To beg her to take you back. It took all the strength in your body to walk down to the spot where Frido was gonna pick you up. If you had turned around, you wouldn’t have been able to leave. The only reason you were able to keep walking was because you loved Alexia more than yourself. If she was happy and she got whatever she needed, then you were gonna be okay. Eventually, at least.

*Alexia pov*

A few days after you left for good, she came home from another horrible day at work. She locked the door and spirited to your her bedroom. She laid down on your side of the bed in complete darkness. Her face was staring into the pitch black ceiling. A lump formed in her throat and the tears were pressing on her eyelids. She hadn’t eaten much since you broke up. She hadn’t even slept much. Her workouts had been shitty. And she didn’t know how to function. She thought that she had gotten too attached. That you controlled her life to much. She had been so sure that what Alba said was true that she forgot to think for herself.

However, as she was laying down in complete darkness on your side of the bed. She realised her terrible mistake. Her eyes widened as soon as she realised. She had let other people’s thoughts become her own. She remembered all the times you had missed things for her. All the times she was a shitty girlfriend. She made you miss your nieces first birthday , your parents 30th wedding anniversary and the funeral of your grandmother. What had she sacrificed? What had she given to make the relationship work? She bought the apartment. But you bought the furniture. You made the house a home. You had wanted kids and marriage , and she wanted that too. But then there was football. And you said you’d wait, and alexia had promised you that she would make it happen. You had given everything you wanted away while Alexia got it all. No compromises, just you always accepting all the shit she threw at you.

She didn’t know where it all went wrong. By now, her tears were streaming down her face. Her hands clutching your pillow like it was the last source of water left at this planet. Her lungs desperately breathing in your scent, terrified to forget what you smelled liked One day she was being scolded by her mami for not purposing to you. The next day, Alba insisted that you were using her. But you made her life easier, better, enjoyable. You showered her with the purest kind of love that she didn’t even deserve. Alexia felt confused. Embarrassed. Scared. Angry. You were always so good to here even though she was a horrible girlfriend. She had let the love of her live walk out of the doors, forever. She had made the biggest mistake of her life. She couldn’t accept that this is how it ends. She needed to fix this.

[tacticoal]

「V.I.P. for me ?!」: ̗̀➛ part 2 to biker!racer!simon

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sfw, gn reader, unedited, suggestive content if you squint, mdni !!

wanted to throw in a big big thank you for all the recent support loves, you have no idea how welcomed you've all made me feel. please enjoy.

you. are. beaming.

ecstatic, delighted, overjoyed, hysterical, your mind lists all the words that could only ever possibly describe how you're feeling as you grasp your phone with nearly enough force to crack the screen.

simon riley, the #1 motorcycle racer in britain, upholding a 5-year champion streak, the man you've known and adored for years, is doing a meet-and-greet in your town.

and you're staring down at the VIP ticket on your phone.

your friends messaged you in the group chat, explaining that they all chipped in for your special invitation, buying the standard, cheaper tickets for themselves to come with you. the VIP admission gives you access to a shorter line that simon gets to first, as well as a photo with him and his bike. oh, that work of beauty, you think, already smelling the gasoline it burns off.

you spammed them with several thank you's and holy shit's, before calling a nearby restaurant to reserve a table (the poor lady on the other end could barely make out your warbled and giddy speech). just imagining next week makes you squeal and giggle into your pillow all night.

next week. the event is next week. exactly 6 days, 10 hours, 54 minutes and 4 seconds from now. 6 days to go out, get a fresh set of clothes, hair trimmed, and figure out any other essentials. surely that's more than enough time, right?

well, with no more than an hour left until you have to be out the door, you're pacing around your bed, 5 different outfits splayed over it. your friends -- who knew you'd be in this situation and arrived about an hour earlier already dressed up -- sit around your room, either watching you or on their phones listening as you ramble about how this outfit would catch his eye, but this one looks more comfy--

they knew not to interrupt you, providing the most company they can while you grumble, beginning to get impatient with yourself. eventually, you settle on something loose and airy, but revealing enough to gather the right kind of attention.

"what if he thinks i'm ugly.." you mutter, brushing down a stray hair in front of the mirror with a shaky hand.

"then y'know he's knocked his head into the concrete one too many times," your closest friend giggles.

huffing out a laugh, you nod and go to arrange a tote bag, throwing everything you want simon to sign. an official t-shirt promoting his name, two framed photographs of him, and a notepad. obviously the bag is getting signed too -- you'd throw in your arm and forehead in there if they weren't attached to your body. sigh, modern day problems.

finally, finally the time comes where you're waiting in line. holy shit, this is really happening. you can see a glimpse of his tracksuit from here, your body trembling with nerves. you've separated from your friends a bit ago, jaw dropped as you passed by the crowds of people lined up for this event. music blasts through your earbuds, in an attempt to tune out the bass blasting throughout the streets and boisterous screams 'n chatter. keeping your friends updated on where you are, you stay hunched over your phone as you slowly inch up the line.

"'nd what's your name?-"

simon's gaze tilts up from the checkerboard table to you, his breath immediately caught in his throat. you were still looking down, thumbs tapping on the screen in your hands. your glance flickered up for a split second, before your head completely snapped up to him, eyes widening as they get caught in the riptide of his deep, darker ones. with your mouth agape, you both stare at each other in silence. a beat or two passes before you rip your earbuds away, shoving them into your bag, alongside your phone.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry, i wasn't paying attention to the line, i was texting my friends and got distracted with them-"

it's you, he thinks. the one from the pub those few weeks back. he clears his throat and nods, watching you hastily pull out the things for him to sign, his heart clenching the same way it did when he first laid eyes on you. you giddily point at where you want his signature, and he's quick to oblige, the permanent marker squeaking against glass.

"i'm a really big fan," you admit bashfully, unable to hide the excited grin that stretches across your face, "since freshman year of college, 'm pretty sure."

now, simon's heard that from basically every fan he's encountered, but he's never truly believed them until now. he looks up to you, sliding the framed pictures to the side to make room for your notepad. your eyes glitter with a childlike glee as you stare back at him, and he wonders what your pretty head's thinking.

"that so, love?" he muses, tilting his head.

"yeah," you beam at the nickname, "i don't know how you do it -- everything you do is so cool."

he breathes out a laugh, ignoring how he's holding up the line behind you.

"i'd be glad to show y'round it sometime."

"really?"

you watch him with gleaming eyes, jaw dropped, as he writes a string of numbers below his name.

"text me anytime, love," he teases, handing it back to you before flicking his hand, "now shoo off, before security gets on ya."

"what about the photo?" you pout at him in disappointment, and he can't help but grin wolfishly in return.

"i promise you much more than a photo if you keep in touch."

@ tacticoal do not repost !!

[hyewka]

choi yeonjun. | c.yj

PAIRING ▸ bsf!yeonjun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, smut, a bit of angst

SYNOPSIS ▸ in which getting your male friend prettied up for a party goes weirdly left.

WARNINGS ▸ sub!jjun, femdom, grinding, protected, dacryphilia 

NOTES ▸ parenthesis around an event refers to the past!! anyway its been like, a hundred years since ive gone ghost but i promised to come back with a fic and here i am!! its a silly best friends fic lol nothing more to it but i always enjoy any semblance of feedback, it'll motivate me greatly <3 enjoy this meal hehe.

tags: @soobhns (hope you enjoy it babes ^^)

"THE HELL'S YEONJUN DOING?"

You swirl your cup, tilting your head as you watch the new topic of your conversation touch up his hair a little too much, running a hand through his unruly strands as his legs barely work to have him stand up straight when a girl approaches him.

Mark looks concerned as he adds in, “And who the fuck got him in those bunny ears? Is it easter or something, geez”

You snort, your drink sputtering out of your mouth, spraying some of it on Taehyun. “Oh my god, Y/N, gross!” he groans loudly, jumping back as if he’s been hit by a water balloon.

“Sorry,” you giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes still glued to Yeonjun. He’s fumbling awkwardly, trying to maintain a conversation with a girl who’s very clearly interested if the finger trail down his bicep was anything to go by. The rooftop air is especially chilly today, and you wonder if Yeonjun’s goosebumps are any visible to her. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, completely out of his element.

“It’s probably some stupid hazing shit, he never backs down from those.” Hyejoon mutters, scrolling away on her phone.

“But bunny ears? For hazing that seems weak as shit.” Mark responds, seemingly as interested on the train wreck thats about to ensue as you are. Then suddenly, he turns to you, eyes still trained on Yeonjun and the pretty girl. “Dude you’re practically his twin sister—why’s he acting like that?”

You cringe internally at that, smacking Mark’s arm. “Ow! The fuck?” he hisses, rubbing his arm. Twin sister? Oh god, you do not like that one bit.

Not at all. “Shut up Mark.” He only grumbles as he backs away.

You would rather shower in spoiled milk than be referred to as Yeonjun’s sister in any capacity—and it has absolutely nothing to do with what happened a few hours ago.

...It does add on to the grossness of it all though.

—4 hours ago …[5:21 PM]

The moment you step into his flat, you dash down the narrow hallway and into his room, launching yourself onto the bed with a triumphant yell. The plush mattress bounces slightly under your weight giving you a fleeting second of bliss before Yeonjun bursts in, diving towards you. "Not with your outside clothes!" he whines, trying to wrestle you off. "You're contaminating my sacred space!" he adds with mock seriousness, his efforts both frantic and hilarious.

You stick out your tongue childishly, and it serves the job to tick him off. “Man, you’re such a pain,” he groans.

“What should I do anyway? Change into PJ’s I haven’t brought along? Besides!” you retort, struggling to pull your makeup bag out from your tote while Yeonjun’s weight presses down on you. With a triumphant grin, you finally free it and wave it in front of his face. “Where are we supposed to do this then?”

He snorts. “The couch, duh.”

The mere thought of that dark green monstrosity, old and beat-up, sends a shiver down your spine. The last time you sat on it, its worn fabric had felt like sandpaper against your skin, and the patches of stuffing poking through made it seem like you were sitting on a nest of lumpy scars. You couldn't even sit through twenty minutes of the movie with Yeonjun before you had decided to move to the floor.

Your upper lip curls in distaste. “No chance. You need to switch that thing out ASAP.”

Yeonjun shrugs nonchalantly, clearly not as repulsed as you are. “What’s wrong with it? I mean, yeah, it’s seen better days, but it has character.”

“Character? More like a biohazard waiting to happen,” you say, grimacing. “I’m not risking sitting on that thing again. Also, get off, you're killing me.”

Yeonjun lets out a long, resigned sigh, knowing that arguing any further would be a losing battle. "Fine," he mutters, shifting his weight off you. "But at least take your shoes off. You're genuinely a psychopath," he adds.

You relent, rolling off the bed and kicking off your shoes with exaggerated care, just to appease him. Yeonjun narrows his eyes, silently watching you with a playful glint in his gaze, his arms crossed over his chest. You can almost see the gears turning in his head as he observes your antics. "What?" you finally ask, catching him off guard.

He blinks, momentarily flustered, then quickly averts his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just counting down how many more years I have to deal with this," he says, gesturing vaguely at your exaggerated movements.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "You know you love me."

"Keep telling yourself that," he replies, but his tone is light, the grumble fading away. You click your tongue, making sure to stick out a solid finger behind his back when he stands up to head to the bathroom. Prick.

But you can't keep up the act much longer when you look down at your outfit. It's not overly complicated but you still haven’t thanked him for helping you feel a lot more confident in it than you would've if he wasn't by your side ranting about silhouettes and all his other (not-so) stupid fashion advice.

With a sigh, you allow yourself to flop back onto his bed, your fingers sinking into the soft duvet. As you lay there, you take in the new decorations he's put up on his wall. He only recently moved here, and it's already looking a lot more like him than the last time you paid him a visit. The posters of his favorite bands, the quirky art pieces, and the sleek record player that sits atop a vintage-looking stand, surrounded by stacks of vinyl records—everything screams Yeonjun. Even the smell your brain finally registers as his signature scent subtly creeps up your nostrils; sandalwood, fresh linen and hints of citrus. It calms your nerves—like your body's trained to associate anything about Yeonjun with feeling safe.

You reach out for a familiar-looking photo strip on his desk, your finger stretching as far as it can until you manage to snatch it.

It's a sequence of three pictures of you and Yeonjun back in... high school? Freshman year considering you're sporting a terrible bowl cut that looks like it was done with a soup bowl and a pair of dull scissors. Yeonjun, on the other hand, smiles big with his braces, the metal gleaming under the photo booth's flash.

And just like that, you're suddenly reminded one thing; Yeonjun's always been there with you, for you.

("She's a total bitch anyway."

You gasp, hitting his arm. "What?!" he exclaims, affronted. "I'm starting to think you really enjoy abusing me."

"You just- you can't say that about women!" You try to sniff back the snot running down your nose, but it's futile.

He rolls his eyes. "She slept with Heeseung behind your back. Shes’ earned the title."

You shut your mouth and turn from him, not believing you're seriously trying to defend the ex-friend that had taken enough of a liking of your crush to sleep with him. It isn't the worst offense in the world but considering she's done it behind your back instead of telling you upfront...it leaves a bitter enough taste in your mouth to end the friendship altogether.

"I...really liked her, and I really liked him," you mutter, the admission feeling heavier than you'd expected. "Do you think I'm being childish? It's not like I was dating him or anything."

Yeonjun wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in as he taps his hand rhythmically against your arm.

The summer heat lingers in the air, the warmth from the sun-baked concrete seeping through your clothes. You can feel the rough texture of the sidewalk under your palms, gritty and familiar. "Nope. Feelings are valid."

A silence overtakes you both as you watch the fifth car drive by you. Distant chirping of crickets mingle with the occasional rustle of leaves in the slight breeze. The neighborhood is alive with the soft, ambient sounds of summer nights: a dog barking in the distance, the faint laughter of kids playing a few houses down, the low murmur of a television through an open window.

Suddenly, he tightens his arm around you, providing a comforting squeeze. You lean into him, finding comfort in his presence.

"You know I'd never do that to you, right?" he says softly, breaking the silence.

You look up at him, narrowing your eyes playfully, "Sleep with my male crush? I've always questioned, I don't know."

He gives you a betrayed look and you burst out laughing.)

It's weird how often you reminisce about the past...especially these past few months; sappy and overly sentimental shit that you try not to dwell on every time you hang out. Is this how old people feel?

There's always a time and place, it's just not when he farts into a pillow and practically Dutch ovens you with it. Now, that memory you'd rather attempt to forget as you close your eyes, throwing the photo strip back on his desk exhaustingly.

You don't notice that he's out until you feel water dripping onto your skin. Your eyes shoot open in horror, seeing his face inches from yours, freshly washed and hair slightly damp. He's leaning over you with a look of resignation mixed with amusement, a towel slung over his shoulder. "Enjoy your nap?" he asks, a mischievous grin spreading across his face before he shakes his head vigorously, sending a shower of water droplets from his hair onto your face.

You yelp and scramble up, swatting at the water droplets. "Yeonjun, seriously?" you sputter, wiping your face. "You're such a child!"

"That's ironic because you're even more of a child!" he rebuts with a pout, mimicking a petulant toddler. Talk about ironic. You narrow your eyes at him before exhaling sharply out of your nose, sitting up to make room for him on the bed.

He plops down beside you and it takes you a second to take your eyes off his face—freshly scrubbed and still slightly damp—before remembering why you're here in the first place. Makeup.

Right, makeup.

—3 hours and 12 minutes ago …[6:09 PM]

It was over seven months ago when you and Choi Yeonjun, slightly drunk off soju and beer, were giggling uncontrollably over the dumbest jokes in the dead of night with Beomgyu, his (now ex-) roommate, passed out on the floor. Turns out, shaky hands proved to be absolute dog shit when it came to drawing a straight line. You had silently panicked as you attempted to clean up the eyeliner that you've horrendously drawn on. You had really, really wanted him to like it.

Originally, it started off as a way to tease him, begging to apply eyeliner and some eyeshadow on his lids because you think he’d look gorgeous with them, to which his lips quirked up to, whining about how no man wants to be called ‘gorgeous’ and oh how emasculating it was. Plus, Yeonjun had an inkling your intentions were far less innocent than you let on.

When he finally surrendered around... the sixth time you bring the whole thing up, you admit that your idea of making him look like a clown and getting a good laugh out of his reaction moves itself out of your thoughts the moment he ushers you to scoot next to him and work your magic... whatever that meant.

But hey, it all worked itself out. Oddly enough, from that day on, you think putting makeup on Yeonjun quickly became one of your favorite pastimes beating your recent liking to duck herding (yes, it's a real thing you've spent way too much of your time investing in).

You like to think he enjoys it to some extent too, given the number of times he's let you practice on him, even if he would never admit it outright. But regardless of how relaxing you think it might be for him, he seems to go out of his way to make it as tedious as possible for you.

Every time you start working on his makeup, he fidgets and squirms like a restless child. He'll make funny faces just as you're about to apply eyeliner, or he'll suddenly sneeze, causing a puff of powder to explode into the air. Thankfully it doesn't last long, he either tires himself out or feels too bad to continue torturing your patience. Either way, you appreciate doing this for him a lot more when he's half asleep and relatively still.

Like now for example.

You're like, 99% sure he's dozed off. Considering he's spent the week cooped up in his apartment studying his ass off for two exams, it's not very surprising the all-nighters are catching up to him. Which is exactly why you're wondering the reason hes' chosen to go out to this party anyway.

His breathing is slow and steady, and his head lolls slightly to the side.

Just as you start to apply a touch of blush, his voice breaks the silence. "Don't make it look too obvious."

You’re caught off guard that he's in fact not asleep. "I won't."

"And no crazy blue tint."

You groan, pulling away from his face. Not this again. "C'mon, I only did that once and you've been holding it over my head for three months dude."

He cracks open one eye, peering at you with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "You made me look like a smurf."

"It was artistic!" you splutter, not believing you're back to arguing about this again. "And you looked good!"

Suddenly, his mouth closes and he cocks his brow. Then his lips twitch into a suppressed smile.

He closes his eyes fully, trying to hide his amusement. "There's absolutely no way you just let that get into your head." you whisper, truly astonished at who you've chosen to be acquainted with for more than half of your life.

"Blah, blah, blah," he mutters, waving a hand dismissively before settling back into the pillow, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know I'm handsome, thank you for the reminder."

You open your mouth to retort, then close it…open it again…and close it once more, dumbfounded. Yeonjun's insufferable when it comes to anything that has to do with his face. His ego is practically impossible to pop.

But if you had to be completely honest with yourself, you don't blame him. You especially don't now as you try to ignore the fact that he's staring you down while you apply tint to his infuriatingly perfect shaped lips. You would never admit that one out loud.

Or the fact that you've thought about kissing Yeonjun a dozen times in the past. You seem to have some weird fixation on them. You would even go as far as to replace thought with imagine. Hell, you’ve been friends for ten years, it would’ve been odd if you hadn’t at least once...right?

It's normal.

("You're weird."

You snap your head around to him, frankly offended, "What?" Is there even a chance of enjoying a party with this nuisance by your side?

"Don't act dumb, you've been staring at my lips the entire night." Yeonjun tilts his head, puckering his lips, "Trying to kiss?"

You're horrified as you blink rapidly, your cheeks burning red, completely caught off guard. "N-no? How drunk are you?"

"That was a no with a question mark. We can try it out if you want." He shrugged, leaning in closer to you, of course with his lips annoyingly puckered and his eyes closed.

You're standing in the cramped kitchen of a typical frat house, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and cheap cologne. The counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and discarded food wrappers.

Without thinking, you had grabbed the nearest drink and thrown it at him. The cold liquid had splashed across his chest, soaking his second favorite shirt. You know it's his second favorite because he's managed to pester you about it two years after this incident.)

You don’t necessarily like Yeonjun; hell no, you just absolutely appreciatively despise how well he's grown. He’s always looked cute—you distinctly remember the countless girls who handed you notes for him in elementary school or some who've befriended you in high school to try and get his number. You just never reckoned you’d be one of the girls checking him out.

As you finish applying the clear gloss to his lips, you can’t help but let your gaze linger. His eyes are closed and his lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks, and those lips— god damn it are they stupidly inviting.

You gulp down the irrational thoughts bubbling up, trying to focus on anything but the quickening of the beating in your chest. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who didn’t fall for his charms like everyone else. Is this a side effect of being under a dry spell for longer than a month? Being stuck in the unfavorable position of lusting over your long time best friend?

That must be it because when he flutters his eyes open, the world seems to pause. Just for a second, all that fills your thoughts is just how absolutely gorgeous he looks. It hurts.

“Done,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. "Went with the au naturelle look, per request."

“Thanks,” he replies softly, his smile warm and genuine. But then you're sitting there longer than you intend to and the silence stretches out longer than appropriate, and he snorts lightly. "What?"

You blink out of your daze, shaking your head, laughing airily. “Nothing." You clear your throat, awkward. "You just look... pretty.”

But then his reaction to that pulls you right back in your trance. For the first time, a cheeky reply doesn’t leave his lips. Instead, he’s silent and he looks…shy. That's new.

“Gorgeous,” you correct yourself, nodding. “You look pretty gorgeous.” Can you say that? You don't have a clue.

“Aren’t you just complimenting your makeup skills?” He teases, though it doesn’t nearly have the same effect as it usually does when his eyes are so doe-like, giving him a weirdly innocent look. 

You would never describe Yeonjun as a puppy, but if you had to before this, he'd be more like an annoying chihuahua. Right now, he's anything but. He looks innocent. Innocent and beautiful, like a hybrid mix of an angelic, golden retriever. "Besides, maybe not the ideal impression I want to make tonight. Does that whole pretty boy thing work with women? We're probably not that advanced into the world yet. Hey! You're a woman so you should know; do you think it's going to be a little threatening or—"

His rambling fades out by like, the first word— you think you might as well just be under a spell. Because once again, you find your gaze's zeroing in on his plump, pink lips.

Fuck... should you just go for it?

Your heart races, pounding in your ears, and every rational thought slowly slips away to go knows where, leaving behind only the burning desire to close the distance between you.

Just as you lean in, a phone dings, shattering the moment. Yeonjun’s eyes flicker towards the sound, subtly breaking the spell.

He pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen with a slight frown. “Taehyun said in the group chat that he’d pick us up.” He whispers. “Meaning I don’t have to drive or anything, yay.”

You smile in response, or try to as you try to gather your scattered thoughts.

“When’s he coming?”

“Uh, hold on. Let me ask.” You should move away, just a little further—you really, really should. Take your chance now and go to the bathroom to calm yourself down. It's the combination of Yeonjun being unfairly attractive, the fact that you haven't had sex in ages, and the proximity. If you eliminate one of those factors, you won't make the huge mistake you're so, so close to making.

But…you don’t want to. You don't want to ignore the burning desire of jumping his bones right this moment...for lack of better words.

“He hasn't even showered yet, Jesus christ.” Yeonjun snickers, looking down at his phone then back up at you. His squeaky laugh dies down pretty quickly when he notices you aren't sharing the humor, silently putting his phone face down on the bedside table. “What?” he says again. The shy expression’s back, his eyebrows tilt up and he looks like a damn kicked puppy…exactly your type.

Your eyes twitch and narrow with hesitation as you bite the inside of your cheeks; this feels wrong. You could stop it from going any further, keep your juvenile attraction from altering anything between you and Yeonjun. But when his tongue flicks out to wet his pink lips, you curse the gods for making the forbidden apple irresistibly tempting.

"Your teeth are pretty."

He furrows his brows, clearly taken aback. "That's an odd thing to—"

"I like it when you smile," you blurt out, your voice barely above a whisper.

"...Th...ank you?" He stammers, confusion mixed with curiosity in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, then out. "Yeonjun. Can I fuck you?"

He blinks. It’s silent as his eyes dart around like this is some elaborate prank, expecting a group of people to pop out with a camera in his face. You can see the visible gulp in his throat, his fingers hesitantly toying with the hem of your shorts, showing that he absolutely knew jack shit what to do with his hands. “Can you what?” He laughs nervously.

You've always imagined how it'd be like to kiss Choi Yeonjun.

And now that you’re experiencing it, all thoughts about this being a silly little thing you’ve entertained ever so rarely, hits the fan.

He feels against you like everything you imagined and more; the pillowy softness of his plump lips that feels so comfortable as they open slightly more each time it could lull you to sleep. His breathing that comes out in short gasps the harder you press yourself against him, having you dig your nails further into his face. His pitched whines drowned out by your feverish lips as you kiss him over and over again, feeling yourself get hooked by the minute.

You should stop. You should.

That’s what you plan to do when you finally pull away from the kiss, wipe your lips of any remnants of him, get off the bed and sprint the hell out of his house, then preferably find a way to blame it on female hormones or whatever. College guys never question that, do they?

But for the second time tonight, your mind draws blank and your eyes are stuck to his face, the slight smudge of the tint you applied and his heavy lidded eyes, his rising chest, the print of your nails showing up red on his cheeks…God, you’ve got absolutely no self control. “Um, do... that?” You breathe out.

You haven't entertained the idea that he might reject your advances, until now that is. And then what you've just done would probably be counted as assault. And it'd be too awkward to speak ever again and oh god, what the fuck have you done—

Your reverie's broken when Yeonjun suddenly leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer before he finally moves you to straddle his lap, the initial hesitation gone. The intensity of his response takes you by surprise, but you quickly melt into it, your body responding to him with an urgency that matches his own. The makeup kit gets knocked off the bed in your fervor, and neither of you care.

“Yeonjun. We—we won’t do this again right?” You ask, breathless, as you start to roll your hips slightly into him in an attempt of reliving that incessant need at your core.

“Yeah…yeah.” he sighs out, seemingly a goner when you increase even just a bit of friction.

“This is like, totally a one time thing that we’d just randomly bring up in a game of truth or dare as a fun anecdote and—and we’d be like those cool best friends with a cool little platonic relationship that’ve hooked up once. Totally normal.” you ramble, your resolve breaking as you grind against his rapidly growing boner. “Right?”

“Mm, totally.” he whines, his eyes heavy with lust. He looks completely consumed by the sensation he’s feeling and it fuels your desire for him tenfold. You kiss him again, your noses bumping against each other as you take his pretty lips in yours over and over again. You pull away slightly enough to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips, glistening in the dim light. Your faces are only inches apart, so close you can hear the gulp he takes, his breath warm and ragged against your skin.

"Whatever you say." he murmurs, his voice husky.

Oh. Oh.

This is totally unfair.

You brush your thumb gently across his bottom lip, savoring the way he shivers under your touch. "Whatever I say, huh?”

He nods slightly, “Yeah.”

You bite your lip before deciding to trail kisses down his jawline, your breath hot against his skin. You can feel his pulse quickening beneath your touch, the small gasp escaping his lips as you press a lingering kiss just below his ear is something you can only describe as maddening to your state. “You’re sensitive,” you note lightly before continuing your journey down his neck. 

You gulp when he decides on finally gripping your ass, taking a bit of control on your pace. He rolls his head back slightly, chuckling, “Fuck, gonna make me nut in my pants if you keep goin’ like that.”

You need to hear more of the whining, more of his cute noises and more of his pathetic display. You want to hear him beg.

“Hands off.”

Clarity washes over his eyes a little more as he falters, his hands lessening its grip, blinking perplexed. The innocent looks back almost immediately and it drives you insane. “Keep them above your head, you don’t get to touch me unless I tell you to.”

You don’t wait for a reply before immediately sinking down to nip at his neck again, soothing the spot with your tongue, and he gasps. Yeonjun whines like earlier and it’s so …primal. Actually you don’t even think he would’ve protested in the first place because he seems entirely fine like this, completely at your disposal as his moans start to pick up intensity way quicker than you anticipated. 

"Holy shit," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper. "You’re driving me crazy."

You smile against his skin, leaving one last kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes, which he visibly pouts at. You cup his cheeks. "I know. But don’t get too excited just yet.”

He lightly scoffs, “Way to stroke your ego.”

“Learned from the best.” you retort, your hands moving quickly to unbuckle his jeans.

His breath hitches as he watches you. “Are we really going... all the way?”

You pause, raising a brow, searching his eyes for any hesitation. “...Do you not want to?”

“Condoms in second drawer.”

—2 hours and 1 minute ago …[7:20 PM]

“P-please...please. Please. Move. Just a little." he hiccups the last plea, his tear stained face buried in your neck. "You're s-so fucking cruel," he says, his voice muffled.

"Sorry, I kinda like it when you're crying."

His breath shudders against your skin; you can feel his desperation, his need, and it sends a thrilling rush through you. You gently pull back, just enough to see his face, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his lips parted in a silent plea.

Slowly, deliberately, you let your hands trace the lines of his body, feeling the tension and desire coiled tightly beneath his skin. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, savoring the soft gasp that escapes him. "My jjunie's such a good boy," you drawl.

He trembles under your touch, his hands gripping you tighter, silently begging for more. You move your hips up slightly, just enough to elicit a strangled moan from him, the sound raw and needy.

"Do you like it when I make you cry?" you murmur against his ear, your voice a sultry whisper.

He nods frantically, unable to form words, his breath hot and ragged. The sight of him so vulnerable, so utterly at your mercy, ignites a fierce desire within you. You bite your lip, relishing the power you hold over him, the way his body responds to your every touch, every whisper.

"Are you usually like this?" you suddenly muster to ask, finding too much enjoyment playing with this poor boy.

He only whines as a response and you laugh, increasing your pace on his cock as you go up and down. "Y'know...so pliable."

Yeonjun bites back a sob of pain, feeling like he's going to die from the power he’s exerting to hold back. He grips onto the sheets, his fingers turning white from the strain. "Aw, look at you, poor baby. Am I going too slow?"

He nods again, more vigorously this time, drool seeping out the edge of his lips as his mouth hangs open, thinking you're going to spare him just a bit.

If you're going to do this once with him, you'd rather do anything but.

His face falls when you suddenly stop, his eyes blown wide, hair a disheveled mess; he looks absolutely debauched. This time more closely resembling a fallen angel. "Fuck me on your own if I'm so bad at this."

"I didn't- you're not bad at-" even when he tries to respond, he doesn't hesitate to try and switch positions, but you immediately put a stop to it, pressing him back down firmly. "No. I'll still be on top."

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, eyes wide. "Then... how?"

You shrug, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "Figure it out."

You gasp when he starts massaging your breasts, not expecting the sudden touch. "You're the worst," he moans against your tit once he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, suckling rather roughly while simultaneously raising his hips off the bed, struggling to slam his cock in a fitting pace.

His bangs fall over his eyes, and his lips are swollenly red from how hard he's bitten them. You would label his determination adorable if it wasn't for the fact that you currently had him stretching your pussy out.

"Yeah— but probably the best fuck you've had in a while." you manage to grit out.

"You humor yourself."

You can't take him too seriously when his words are so slurred and barely coherent with how eager he is to bury himself between your tits and lather them with his spit.

"You're such a dog," you purr, "C'mon, don't give up on me doggy. I can tell you're just desperate to let it all out."

He groans, sucking harder as he starts up again, frantically fucking up into you. You can tell hes already a goner when his eyes start to roll to the back of his head, the moans of your name short and incessant.

"Don't get dumb on me already."

He whispers sorry's over and over again, nodding his head.

"Fuck--f-fuck, why're you doing this to me?” his breath hitches, whining like a baby. What you're completely unaware of as you get lost in your pleasure— the last thing Choi Yeonjun wants is to get out of this looking like a desperate bitch. Especially to you.

But he simply can't help it.

Hes' never been under these circumstance. Hes never sounded like this for any girl, hes never let himself get this vulnerable. And for it to be during sex? It's the closest thing to a nightmare.

But he can't dwell on those thoughts when you lean over to his ear, showering him with praises on how pretty he looks and oh how well he's doing. That he's just getting you so fucking close.

When you pull away again, the only thing that's on his mind is just how...pretty you look.

“B-bet you tell other guys that all the time,” his smirk twitches at that, getting himself worked up.

You tilt your head. “Calling them pretty?” you implore, rolling his nipples between your fingers just to elicit that perfect reaction from him; he gives you just as much, half gasping half moaning against his better will, “A few, yeah” you tease.

That doesn't seem to be the right thing to say because his face immediately falls and your intention of having light banter goes to the back burner as you slightly panic, feeling bad and kissing him in attempt of making it up to him non verbally. But that doesn't do the job because the moment you pull away, he's still frowning.

You sigh, rubbing your thumb on his cheek affectionately, "But you're the one I'm most honest about."

He doesn't hesitate to lean into the familiar touch, and you can't help but coo at how cute he's acting. "You mean that?"

You press your forehead to his, your breath mingling with his, and nod. "Mhm, the prettiest."

That does it.

Slowly, he starts to thrust upward, trying to match the rhythm he had previously set. You can feel his desperation, his need to please you, and it sends a thrill through your body.

"That's it," you purr, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "Show me how badly you want it baby."

He groans, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside you with each thrust. His hands find their way to your hips, guiding you to move with him. You can feel the tension in his body, every muscle working to bring you both closer to the edge. You purposefully clench around his swollen cock and he buries his head against you again. You let him as you thread through his hair.

"You feel so good, you smell so good, you—" he breathes, his voice trembling with the effort. "Please, let me—fuck, cum please—c-can't hold it any longer."

You press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly as you murmur, "Not yet, baby. I want to feel you beg for it."

His thrusts become more frantic under you, the sound of skin slapping against skin being proof, his breath coming out hot and ragged against your skin. "Please," he begs sweetly, his voice a desperate whisper. "I need it so bad. Please, let me cum. I'll do anything."

Your own desire reaches a fever pitch as you watch him unravel beneath you. "Anything?" you tease.

"Anything," he repeats, his eyes locking onto yours, filled with a mixture of desperation and adoration.

With a wicked smile, you finally relent, moving your hips in sync with his thrusts, the friction building to an unbearable intensity. "Cum for me," you command, your voice low and sultry. "Now."

His body tenses, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finally lets go, the release hitting him with shuddering force. The sight of him coming undone beneath you pushes you over the edge, your own climax ripping through you, leaving you both breathless and trembling.

"Holy shit."

You chuckle, collapsing to his side, both of you now staring at the ceiling. But slowly, the realization starts to set in.

You just...had sex with Choi Yeonjun. Whatever bliss you were stuck in, dissipates as nut clarity takes over. You just fucked your best friend. And even worse, you dirty talked. Suddenly, you feel shame and embarrassment course through your bloodstream, making your cheeks burn and your stomach twist.

"D-did you... like, cum?"

You avoid eye contact, preferring the staring contest you're having with his stupid ceiling as you wrap your naked body with his sheets. "Yep."

An awkward silence hangs between you, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You can feel his eyes on you, searching for something, but you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, counting the imperfections in the paint.

"Splendid," he finally says, the word hanging in the air.

Splendid...splendid?

You burst out in a fit of giggles, unable to hold it back. The look of disbelief on your face is mirrored by the amusement in his eyes. "Splendid? Really?" you manage to say between giggles, your body shaking with laughter.

He blushes, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "What? I use big words when I'm nervous."

"Splendid's a big word to you?"

"Okay, low blow."

"Man, just pass me my clothes," you laugh, shifting to sit up on the bed. The blanket is draped over your chest, and you look at him expectantly as he fetches the ones that got on the floor.

He watches you, a slight smile playing on his lips, but confusion clouds your eyes. What's he expecting? "Turn around."

He looks even more puzzled as he says, "But we just had sex. Like penis in vagina sex. I saw it all."

"Yeah, and never again, Yeonjun," you retort, still giggling as you reach out for your clothes. "Just turn around."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. "Fine, fine. I’m turning around."

You quickly gather your clothes, slipping into them while keeping an eye on his back. "Damn, so that really was just a one-time thing."

"Mhm," you hum, then get off his bed fully dressed to go to his bathroom and at least make your hair look presentable. As you run a brush through your hair, you glance at your reflection, shaking your head at the state you're currently in.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun is still in bed, naked and absolutely spent, watching you as you step out of the bathroom, heading to his closet to fetch him some pants since ...there's a big wet spot on the ones he was going to wear to the party. As you rummage through the closet, something catches your eye, and you pull out a pair of familiar bunny ears.

Your bunny ears from high school.

You come out of the closet, holding the ears up with a look of surprise. "You still have this?"

Yeonjun glances over, his eyes widening in recognition before he breaks into a sheepish grin. "Oh, those. Yeah, I found them a while back and couldn't bring myself to throw them away."

You break into a grin, walking over to the bed, playfully placing the bunny ears on his head. "You look ridiculous," you laugh, pulling out your phone to take pictures of him.

He groans but doesn’t stop you, knowing it's futile. "Great, now you're going to have blackmail material for life."

You snap a few photos, giggling at how silly he looks. "Oh, absolutely. These are going to come in handy."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as the ears flop around. "Just promise you won't show them to anyone. My reputation can't handle it."

You laugh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. "Don't worry, these are just for me."

See?

You and Yeonjun are just fine. Was it a little awkward the first few seconds? Sure. But there's absolutely nothing in the world that can get in the between of you two.

—present …[9:24 PM]

Noticing how much more comfortable he seems now, everything else fades into background noise— he’s almost right back to his usual self. Something about that bothers you as you take a big gulp of your drink, feeling the burn as it slides down your throat. Suddenly, you stand up, blinking away the dizziness. “I need to sober up. Hyejoon, come with me to the bathroom.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.”

It’s a hassle to find the bathroom, but when you do, you quickly lock the door behind you and your friend. You rush to the mirror, staring at your reflection before turning on the water to wash your face.

What’s wrong with you? Is there something wrong with you? It must be the alcohol.

“You feeling alright?” she whispers, her brows furrowing in concern.

You splash your face with freezing water over and over again, trying to snap out of it. The one question that plagues your thoughts over and over again feels dooming; did you make a mistake?

“Hey,” she pulls you back to face her. “Are you okay?”

You stare at her in silence for a bit until you end up cracking a firm smile, “Yeah, just needed to get my head out of the gutter.”

[achrams]

𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐨, 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐩.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: On your trip to get familiar with the area, Ethan decides to be annoying and you show him his place.

𝐂𝐰: Jealous Ethan tries to get the two of you caught mid act.

To everyone’s surprise Ethan behaved rather well for the rest of the ride and upon making it to the campsite it was as if nothing had happened just a few hours ago. Walking out the bus that had you all crammed together in a, to you, comically small seat had you letting out a sigh and stretch of relief. Trying to get all the kinks out of your body before familiarising yourself with the place.

With the fresh air hitting your nose, came a sense of freedom. You and all your classmates would be enjoying the quietness and adventures this forest holds. While some people were busy rushing to stand by the bus, taking the various bags and suitcases from the luggage compartment, you decided to look around the area. Until most people had got their stuff, that is.

Taking note of the wooden buildings- a larger community house in the middle, a teacher’s and guide’s cabin and a bit further out the smaller cabins that were to fit this class. From the small talk you overheard from the teachers when on the way here, each cabin holds around 4 people total. So you’d likely spend the room with Ethan and 2 others. Hopefully people you actually knew better than as a ‘classmate’.

Taking your eyes off the buildings for a moment and putting your attention on the scenery instead. Tall and dark trees all around you create a calm and protected feeling in your chest. Small and rugged rocky trails going through the forest, leading to all sorts of mysteries- a lake and a sauna right by it, a nice fire pit for midnight talks and last but not least the activities you all would be kept busy with. In all honesty it sounded and looked more like a summer camp than a school trip but who were you to judge this event that had been the talk of the town or well.. class.

A blow of warm air to the back of your neck made you turn around only to be met with a grinning Ethan. He chucked your bag into your hands to which you thanked him quietly. Raising an eyebrow upon seeing his suitcase. “What’s all that for? You make it seem like you’re moving somewhere.”

Ethan followed your pointing finger and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Have to be prepared for everything. Wouldn’t you say so?”

With a snort and a simple roll of your eyes you turned around to look at the cabins once more, trying to look for one that seemed good to stay in. “Yeah right. As if we’re in an apocalypse.” The faux offended gasp made you tilt your head back to Ethan, only to see him frowning at you.

“When you have a zombie after you, I’m not gonna help you. You’ve lost that privilege, just so you know.”  Of course Ethan would play right into the banter. It’s almost heartwarming to see how well he knows you and your remarks. He seems happy about it too, given the cheeky grin now on his face.

Fighting back an actually genuine smile at your thoughts you forced out a sarcastic laugh. “Consider my boots quaking.” Ain't no way you'll let him see just how much you actually valued him as a friend.

–--

Fighting back a twitch of your eye, you stood in the middle of your cabin. ‘I thought the number seven meant luck not misfortune.’ Mentally groaning as you were forced to share a cabin with Ethan alongside Jana and her friend. Of course it would be the two other people who fit perfectly in the classmate category instead of friend. Not exactly what you had hoped for.

Now, what had you irritated in the first place? A very questionable situation you found yourself in. Jana and Ethan were proper bickering on each side of you, trying to convince each other why you should share their bunk bed with them. Ethan to your left, saying that you should share his bunk bed because the two of you were close friends and Jana to your right counter arguing that you needed a change and the best way was to share her bunk bed.

Leaning your head back with a groan you muttered out a simple ‘Stop arguing for the love of-” You really couldn’t handle the two whining any longer.

“Jana, let the guy go. You already know him and Ethan are like two peas in a pod.” Thank fuck for Jana’s friend interfering this banter and dragging Jana off you. Otherwise it would have gone on forever, you feared. Though when Jana was pulled off you, Ethan didn’t let go as expected. Instead he hugged your hands tightly close to you, practically trying to prove that ‘you were his’.

“Oi. Let go.” Ethan looked at you and smiled, dragging you to the bunk bed so you could unpack your things.

“You owe me now, just saved you from a zombie.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at Ethan’s joke, having to hide your laugh into your hand. It wasn’t exactly proper to laugh at your friend's whispered insult when the person was in the room, now was it?

“Thought you were supposed to leave me to fend for myself?” A snarky question earned a nudge to your side followed by a small ‘Changed my mind.’ from Ethan.

You could already feel how fun this whole event was going to be despite the situation a few seconds ago, it wasn’t even the evening and you felt like you had lived through 2 weeks of this campy life. Better unpack your bag and make this cabin feel like home as quickly as possible so you could go and explore the place.

---

Yeahh…not ever did you think that your curiosity to look round the place was a popular thought, so much so that it would bring together an ‘exploring group’. Not that little either, most people decided to tag along, not to mention the teacher deciding to come too. Taking off along one of the roads into the trail that was supposed to make a circle around the area. Get used to the place, you know?

You and Ethan seemed to be the two leaders of the group for now, starting the stroll while chatting about random things. Then some more people joined the conversation and then more…and more, until it seemed like you were the one tagging along. 

It’s not that you hated the other, gods no, your extroverted part just died off midway so now you opted for listening to the others. Ethan, however, didn’t seem to catch the hint and kept trying to get you more into the conversation. Which only annoyed you given the remarks he was making.

Walking a bit slower as you took your time to admire the scenery to save your mind, practically zoning out on the sight of the lake below you. This hill with some benches was a prime spot to hang out, noting the place into that good memory of yours.

“Come on bro, wouldn’t want you to get lost now..” Ethan’s hand was hanging off your shoulder as he practically pressed his cheek against yours. 

Not bothering to fight back you let the guy try to drag  you back to the others who had made it a fair bit ahead already. “You’re awfully quiet. What’s got your panties in a twist?”

You could already hear the awful grin on Ethan’s face, so out of habit you gave him a look. “Didn’t expect so many people to tag along. Little tired is all.” A hum escaped Ethan. A perfect sign he was plotting something and his next words confirmed it.

“Want me to take care of them? I’m good at combat!” Apparently Ethan was really going all in on the apocalypse roleplay for some reason and you couldn’t help but feel your face contort into a confused expression.

“You and combat? Those two do not go well together. You know that.” The offended sigh that you heard next to you stopped abruptly and then Ethan grabbed your cheeks, making you face him.

“Oor.. you want me to take care of you instead?” A simple twitch of your eye made him back off with a casual laugh. Almost made him feel the need to surrender to save himself of your wrath. It was either your mind was in the gutter or he was purposefully being suggestive.

“I mean it though,” Ethan said after a moment of silence, turning to glance at you again, “I can help you get your spark back. Have some fun between the two of us, you know the good old primal style-”

Seems he had chosen some bad words to describe his ideas because before Ethan could go on, he was very quickly pulled off the trail, pushed against the nearest tree. Your hand over his mouth to properly shut him and his stupid ideas up. There was no need to get so riled up by some ‘jokes’ your best friend made but they did have an effect. More than you’d like to admit.

Feeling him smile against your hand made you lean closer to Ethan’s face, whispering into his ear, “You better shut the fuck up right now before I make you.” And by the way his smile grew underneath your hand, it told you everything you needed to know.

“Turn around.” A simple command that Ethan eagerly followed, looking over his shoulder as he moved your hand from over his mouth to be wrapped around his lower stomach. Trying so damn hard to get you all riled up. To make you lose yourself. To finally give him your attention. Only you and him. Alone.

The perfect arch in his back as he tried to press himself against you did not go unnoticed at all. Using your free hand to trail it down his back to rest on his hip to suddenly pull your own hips flush against his ass. “You want this don’t you? Being annoying on purpose to get what you crave?” Leaning close to whisper against his neck. Giving Ethan a taste of his own medicine. “Tell me why I should be nice, hmm?”

Ethan pressed his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath of air. You could notice how he tightened his hands against the bark of the tree he was leaning on. “ Wanna be good for you..”

How sweet. So eager to make you feel good. Even if it was a blatant lie, Ethan was a perv and you could see it clearly now. This was no kind gesture on his part, he just wanted you. Needed you. Disguising it as ‘wanting to make you feel nice’. So naughty you are Ethan.

“You expect me to believe that after that stunt you pulled in the bus?” Smirking evilly against Ethan’s neck as you kept him neatly pressed against your groin while the hand that was previously wrapped around him, moved to touch his skin. Sliding up his shirt to leave teasing touches on his warm skin. So sensitive just from this? Oh.. poor guy and his shallow breaths.

Nodding desperately and pressing his forehead against the tree, “Yeah...please? I’ll behave.” Ethan’s little breaths and begging made you hum against his neck. Leaning back a bit to really take in how eager he was. Already the perfect putty for you to play with. “Where’d all your attitude go? Lost it in your throat, did you?” He could handle a little more teasing, couldn’t he? Well, he better handle it.

Pressing your chest against his back as both of your hands made it under his shirt, keeping him stuck against you. Sliding your hands up his stomach as you smirked at his surprised noises. Leaning your head to the side to glance at his reddening face. With a resolved whisper and a meaningful sharper press against him you teased, “You better have a condom with you, otherwise I’m leaving you here.” Ethan shuddered against you and slowly dug into his front pocket, pulling out a condom. An amused hum escaped you. Had he really been preparing this whole thing? So needy, especially the hopeful look he gave you. Looking innocently in your direction, waiting for you. So obviously you took the condom and held it between your teeth. Hands are busy creatures.

A quick look around confirmed that you two were indeed alone. The group had continued walking along the trail. ‘This can’t be any more perfect.’ 

Finally you got to work, moving your hands to remove Ethan from his pants. As soon as the zipper was opened you pushed his pants down to his ankles. Enjoying how Ethan shivered and kept an anticipation filled gaze on every small action on your part. Keeping one hand on his surprisingly already hard dick, palming him through his boxers with slow movements, while the other was presented before him. He looked at your fingers for a moment before opening his mouth for you.

A swift push and you could hear him slightly gag on your fingers. Lewdly sucking at them as if they were a meal to devour. Slurps and whines left his lips that were neatly around your fingers, keeping them wet as he looked at you with a proud look. Trying to milk any sort of praises from you by sliding his tongue all over your fingers to show how good he was. Only for you.

With a breathy whine from Ethan you withdrew your hand, pushing his boxers out the way, the slick and wet fingers toying with him before slowly pressing a finger into him. Savouring the gentle gasp it earned from Ethan. You had never seen him this way and honestly. You kinda liked it.

The teasing and slow moves your fingers did in order to prep the guy earned a whiny sigh from Ethan, “Can you just do it already..I can’t wait..” Halting your hand for a moment, giving him a scare of leaving completely before harshly shoving two digits into him. ‘That should shut him up,’ A sharp breath in did exactly that, leaving Ethan wordless.

Soon enough Ethan was rocking back on three of your fingers, hands balled into fists against the tree as he desperately tried to find some sort of satisfaction. Something deeper. The heavy huffs and puffs by him helped quite a bit by making you more willing to be in him already. The sounds were sweet and addicting. You really couldn’t wait anymore.

Pulling your hand away made Ethan turn his head in your direction, not that he could see much from over his shoulder anyways, which left a pout on his needy and red face. Though the sound of your zipper opening peaked his interest. Pushing your pants and boxers out the way, quickly ripping the condom open and rolling it onto your dick.

Lining it up with his needy hole left you little to no time to think before Ethan himself pressed himself back against you. Forcing you to enter him, his back arched immediately and a pleased mewl left him. “Oh… so someone’s this needy?” The chuckle didn’t even make it to Ethan’s ears, he was too busy getting himself used to you.

To help him along you pressed yourself against his back, pulling him a bit up so instead of his head resting against the tree it was his chest that touched nature. Hands holding onto his overly warm skin, massaging it with gentle touches.

“Move.” Aand there was the signal you needed to hear. The first pull back, leaving only your tip buried into Ethan along the need-filled buck, completely sheathing yourself into the warm and gushy walls earned a low groan from the both of you. Ethan felt so damn good around you, it felt as though he knew exactly what to do and when. Perfectly keeping you snug inside him.

Leaning your forehead onto his shoulder you began bucking yourself in and out of him at a decent pace, not enough to be considered ‘teasing’ but not fast enough to properly stimulate the whiny Ethan beneath you. This was supposed to be a bit of a punishment to Ethan for being annoying after all.

Never did you think that Ethan would be vocal…well this vocal. It almost felt like he was living through this ten times in one go. From fear of people hearing you took a hold of his head, pressing your palm over his mouth. Gently pulling his head back a bit as his body rocked along with every thrust you did. Feeling how the warm air from his nostrils bushed your knuckles while he tried to keep sounds to a minimum. Spoiler: it wasn't really working. 

Ethan seemed to grow more and more needy as time went on and his moans and mewls only increased your inner need to fuck him completely dumb right here and right now. So as any guy would, you picked up your pace.

Each nasty slap of your pelvis meeting his ass earned a breath from you and a pleased yet muffled moan from Ethan. Feeling how sensitive he was, all because of you, made you proud. You didn’t even know why. Ethan was your best friend for fuck sake….this was no activity between friends. You knew that but didn’t acknowledge it.

Suddenly Ethan shuddered in your grasp, tightening around you. Even from underneath your hand he managed to whine out ‘Keep going- that…fuck..’ Ah so you found his prostate. A smirk made its way to your face. A new purpose made itself visible. With unfaltering thrusts you drove yourself into himself in just the right angle to brush against his prostate. Toying with his sensitivity to see him crumble and wither in pleasure.

The filthy slaps of skin to skin contact came to an abrupt stop. Making Ethan grumble and look over to the side to give you a glare. Seeing the focused look on you made him follow your line of sight. ‘Oh.’ Someone was there. From the faint sounds that grew louder you could figure out who it was. Jana.

She was calling out for someone…wait you? Why the hell was she looking for you? Didn’t the rest of the people keep going? So why was she walking back after you?  Unbeknownst to you Ethan squinted his eyes in displeasure. Not only because Jana had stopped you from moving but because she was getting on Ethan’s nerves. How did she not get that you were his? He decided to prove it to her once and for all.

With sly actions he began moving against you to keep the momentum going. Who cares if someone is walking past, right? Ethan just needed to keep his lips shut. With a shocked look you put both of your hands on his hips, trying to keep Ethan still, to which he just looked at you and whispered, “I’ll keep quiet…’s need to feel you..”

With a silent sigh you gave in and let Ethan move against you, though you kept your attention on making sure the coast would be clear. ‘Omfg Jana walk faster.’ Mentally cursing at the snail speed Jana seemed to be using to pass by. Ethan, who noticed your focused manner, smirked at the information and picked up his pace, perfect for catching you off guard. Really bucking himself back to feel you.

With a sick idea, he opened his mouth to let out probably the most lewd moan ever. Loud too. Just when Jana was done passing by yet not completely out of the picture. Ethan was purposefully whining and moaning your name to make Jana jealous. So this was a jealousy thing between Ethan and Jana, huh? In Ethan’s mind this whole scene confirmed you were properly his and if Jana knew better she’d back off.

With a quick and harsh manner your hand was over Ethan’s mouth again. “The fuck are you doing!? Shut up Ethan.” He just pressed himself against you and mumbled ‘She’s gone..’ against your hand to urge you to fuck him again. He was correct that Jana was gone now and the others would make it to the cabins from the other side. Oh...Ethan was so going to get it, now that it was certain no interruptions would happen. 

Freeing Ethan’s mouth, instead gripping his hips to drill yourself into him. You were pissed at his jealous stunt but with his moans hitting your ears you couldn’t stay mad at him for long. Surprisingly enough his sensitivity hadn’t gone down at all given he let out every sound imaginable when he felt you target his prostate. Feeling him twitch and shudder, how he tightened around you, how his legs threatened to give out because you just felt sooo good in him. So perfect.

With a whiny mewl Ethan let his head fall forward against the tree feeling how his body rocked along with your harsh thrusts. Eyes pressed shut as shaky breaths left his parted lips. He came. And hard. The sticky substance painting the tree, dripping down in small droplets. Hmmm, at least it's some nutrients for the tree? No clue.

The tight squeeze of his ass only heightened your own need to find your relief. Hands gripping Ethan’s hips to the point of leaving bruises as you pushed yourself as deep as possible. Breaths heavy and rugged. ‘So close.. So damn close.’ Only a bit more, Ethan could handle it, yeah?

That warm knot in you tightened even more and with a low groan you sheathed your dick into him as hard as you could in your hazed state that was looking for the tipping point. Pulling Ethan tight against you as you came. Just keeping him close as you came down from your high, warm breaths against his neck.

Ethan could feel how warm his insides were, though he didn’t show his disappointment of not properly being able to  feel it. Lifting his hand up to hold your head, messing with your hair as you were nuzzled into his neck. “Feel better now?” Oh for fucks sake..of course he was going to be unserious and continue his previous banter.

“Yeah. Refreshed and dealt with.” He shivered a bit from the chuckle, and reference to the earlier conversation, against his neck. Smiling to himself as he felt you lean back and slowly pull out of him. Slowly making sure he was mentally good enough to go back to the cabins. Wouldn’t want to miss this too much. To not miss your dick too much. Yeah, a hard task for Ethan.

While you were busy with tying up the condom, Ethan slowly turned around to lean his back against the tree. His tired and satisfied eyes looking at you, admiring you with every inch of your being. It was clear that he was head over heels in love with you, yet you seemed to be so oblivious. Calling him a friend psshh as if. You couldn’t ignore him and his feelings now, right?

“What do I do with this?” Chucking the used rubber on the ground for a moment, just long enough to get yourself clothed up again. Ethan followed suit and picked the briefly discarded item up.

“I’ll throw it away, don’t worry.” He ensured and hid it in his hand for the time being, until a trash bin was visible. A small hum came as a reply for Ethan.

Taking the course back to the cabins. You two would probably need to walk slow for Ethan’s sake but also so the flushed and messed up appearances would fade. The smell of sex was most likely still around you two but at least you wouldn’t look like dogs in heat.

A quick glance to your right and Ethan’s proud smile was on full display. “Someone seems content.”

Ethan shrugged and clicked his tongue, “Very much so. 0-2.” You gave him a simple nudge to his side and gave a playful roll of your eyes.

“Help me think of an excuse why we were gone instead of keeping score. I doubt ‘I got lost with my friend’ is viable here. We look fucked.” Oh… Seems you still don’t see him as a partner, just means Ethan needs to try a little harder and he is known to be stubborn. He won’t give up until he gets what he wants, isn’t that right?

At least he can fondly look back on being fucked by the beautiful scenery of a lake behind you. Don’t get hard again Ethan.

[lightseoul]

im surprised no one asked for this yet but please do no. 17 for the 2k milestone 💌 your works are amazing!!!! 🥰🫂

hello, elle! this ask gets a fast pass because SAME i was just waiting for someone to request this number, so thank you!!! and i just want to quickly thank you as well for all the love you've shown my works, i see and appreciate you sm <3

(this is lightseoul's 2k milestone event ft. bakugou katsuki! to play, view the numbered list of prompts here, then simply send an ask with your chosen number and i'll whip something up!)

17. "DID YOU BUY ME FLOWERS?" (1.3k)

ping.

you startle ever so minutely at the chime that just reverberated across your car, briefly interrupting that one song that’s been on repeat for the last few days. as your speakers resume playing the familiar melody, you glance at the phone held in place by your handy mount, and you can’t help the smile that creeps up your face when you see the notification.

(6:54 PM) katsuki🧡 : Will be down in a sec.

you kissed him goodbye and called out a ‘take care’ just this morning before he left for work, but it feels like it’s been more than 24 hours since you last saw each other.

maybe you can chalk it up to your own workday being brutal and full of mishaps, but you’re lucky enough to have been able to leave on the dot instead of working overtime like the man who just texted you.

you were set to go on a dinner date, what with today being a friday and there being a new sought-after ramen shop that just opened earlier this week downtown. the plan was to meet back at your shared apartment so that he could drive you both to the restaurant, but a message from him at 4 in the afternoon saying he had to patrol overtime required you to do a little bit of adjusting.

which explains why you’re now parked right in front of the ground riot agency, essentially picking up your boyfriend.

tapping your fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, you peer through the window to your right, eyeing the entrance to the building. true to his word, #4 pro-hero dynamight emerges from the glass doors, now wrapped in casual clothes instead of the hero gear he left home in this morning.

you barely make out him scanning the parking lot with that signature scowl on his face, but the angry expression instantly morphs into a look of recognition when he spots your car.

the man starts jogging toward you, and as he gets closer and closer to where you’re stationed, that’s when you notice he’s carrying what suspiciously looks like a bouquet of flowers.

but you don’t even get to react because, in a matter of seconds, he’s already opening the door to the passenger’s seat.

as he slides into the spot beside you, you’re instantly hit with the comforting smell of burnt caramel and that signature perfume of his that never fails to make you just a tad bit light-headed and, quite frankly, dumb.

“hey, babe,” bakugou greets you, before leaning over the console and placing a firm hand on the crook of your neck, bringing you in for a kiss.

despite yourself and the sheer number of times you’ve done this, you still flush when you feel his tongue brush over your lower lip just ever so slightly, which you’ve long identified as his way of asking for permission.

you’ve never been the type to deny him, and so you relent.

you barely stop yourself from groaning when the wet muscle enters your mouth, and for a moment you just sit there—brain empty—as he kisses you fervently, his grip on you unrelenting as ever.

bakugou katsuki doesn’t half-ass things, and that includes kissing you.

eventually, when you think he’s satisfied enough and aptly satiated, he pulls away, and it takes you a moment to ground yourself back to reality. he must’ve noticed, because the cocky son of a bitch only smirks to himself before moving again.

dazed, you watch your boyfriend as he stirs in his seat and grabs the bouquet you completely forgot about from under his feet, thrusting it toward you.

“here.”

your eyes dart back and forth between the bunch of pink tulips and the man, “are you being serious, right now?”

his eyebrows instantly furrow. “what? ‘course i am. picked them up during patrol. knew you’d like ‘em.”

at his mention of the item, your gaze drifts to the thing that’s been sitting in wait in your backseat.

bakugou studies you for a beat, probably wondering what the fuck is going on, before following your line of vision.

you brace yourself for his confusion or maybe even stunned silence in reaction to it.

but neither of those comes.

what does come, is something close to indignation.

“…who the fuck gave you that?”

you feel your face contort in confusion. “what?”

at that, bakugou turns even more toward the backseat, staring down the poor bouquet of orange lilies that absolutely hasn’t done anything wrong to be met with such disdain.

“which dipshit gave you those, hah?” he spews, evidently miffed. “was it that stupid coworker of yours who’s calling himself your fucking work husband?”

“what? no!” you exclaim, because why the hell would he think you’d even accept in the first place?

even with your denial, though, bakugou isn’t looking too pleased, now closely resembling a petulant child.

a cute, jealous, petulant child—

—holding a collection of tulips.

you try to tamp down the grin that’s fighting to take over your features, knowing better than to make him feel embarrassed for getting riled up over the idea of other guys being around you. reaching to the backseat, you take the assortment and quickly fix the areas that inadvertently got folded during the drive over, ultimately handing it to the man.

only the said man looks at you like you just grew horns.

it takes him a second to reply, voice gruff and low when he asks, disbelieving: “did you buy me flowers?”

you really don’t know how else to respond, so you nod. “got them on the way here. they were on display and they reminded me of you.”

at that, bakugou doesn’t say anything, eyes unwaveringly fixed on the bursts of orange.

but he doesn’t move to take them off your hands or something.

you feel your smile faltering just a little. “you don’t like them?”

he looks up at you, like your voice just brought him back from where he was deep in thought. “yeah—no, they’re nice.”

before you get to dwell on what nice means and if he really meant that or was just being courteous, bakugou wordlessly coaxes the flowers from your grip and sets them alongside the ones he got you.

once they’re secure in the tiny space beside him, he then leans over the console again, before planting a lingering kiss on your lips.

one that tells you all the things he can’t bring himself to say—at least at this exact moment.

one that’s definitely saying thank you and i love you.

and maybe, if you read into it close enough, an i love it—give me more in the future.

you eagerly return it before he can pull away.

you don’t think bakugou noticed, but on the silent drive to the restaurant (after you spent ten more minutes in the lot making out), you stole a glance just in time to catch him sniffing the flowers (the ones you got him) and seemingly fighting the upturn of the corners of his lips.

he also brought the bouquets with him to the restaurant, which he absolutely didn’t have to. when you playfully called him out on it, he told you off by saying you can’t just leave flowers in a car for various reasons. you listened to him as he went on and on about why that’s so, but the redness of his ears sort of gave him away.

and when you got home, the first thing he did when he thought you weren’t looking was grab two vases and get to work arranging the tulips and lilies together, placing them side by side at the center of your dining table.

it wouldn’t be until two weeks later, however, that you accidentally bump into his bedside table, causing the book he’s about halfway done reading to fall on the floor.

and when you stoop down to pick it up, you see that he’s on page 280, to be exact.

and marking that halfway point is a dried lily.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 4

You and I are meant to be.

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You're set on leaving, but things never go like you'd wish them to.

WORD COUNT:  2.6k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tension and angst

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 This one is emotional, and if the last one was stressful, well...

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

It was unusual that you were caught by surprise, but you would never be caught without a plan.

As such, even though yesterday you had been left bitter with shame, idiocy, and betrayal, the next morning, you were back on your feet.

You had allowed yourself to process the events during a shower in the early hours of the morning. Naturally, people didn’t flaunt their relationships, so there was no way you could have guessed. Jungk— CEO Jeon should have informed you himself, if not because of the way you interacted with each other, then at least the moment your skins touched while alcohol was in both your systems. It was not your fault for not knowing, but it was his for not honoring a prior commitment. The way he turned to you instead of diffusing Sunhwa’s screams did raise questions, but it was not up to you to wonder what it all meant. He said they had a contract, that was it. You refused to believe he wasn’t completely aware of being in the wrong, the same way you refused to continue whatever that was. You wanted to leave anyway.

So, instead of leaving with Mr Seung that day, you grabbed your luggage and walked out the front door with the sun finally starting to clear the night sky. A taxi was waiting for you to take you to the office, where you started a very early day with a game plan — you needed to wrap things up.

If CEO Jeon was correct, you’d have a reply from the American company today, and no other deal would need to be handled in person in Seoul. It did facilitate things, but it meant nothing else needed to be a priority. You organized your tasks and timings — with extra time and effort, you could be leaving on a flight to Busan tonight.

You were certain of your success during the morning, at least until CEO Jeon tried to attend one of your meetings. Dealing with his presence was harder than you thought — not just because he reminded you of how stupid you had been the night before, but because he tried talking to you.

But on that end, some things helped. Sunhwa was like a hound, constantly on him, even during the meetings you were present, making sure to drag him away by politely — and loudly — reminding him he had other places to be. To make your timetable work, you had delegated a few tasks, including going to CEO Jeon to iron down details and clarify any lingering doubts. You used a totally different office, having asked a colleague from a different department to use his instead. This meant no lunchtime, no opportunities to bump into CEO Jeon, and absolutely no distractions.

The stars seemed to align shortly after your midday sandwich — the American representative had a positive response, with only a few things left to handle. Details, which made you ecstatic. A few hours of work were all that stood between you and freedom.

The only catch was that the people you had delegated to couldn’t bring the final agreement to the CEO. You contemplated just sending an email, but knew that would be distasteful. There were also notes and considerations that were better off discussed verbally without a digital trail, and if it wasn’t for the previous night’s debacle, that wouldn’t have been an issue.

Your stubborn nature didn’t allow you to let something that embarrassed you affect you professionally, so you gritted your teeth through a workaround. You printed the fifty some pages of the agreement and commented on everything that required his attention, highlighting and adding sticky notes with considerations to each relevant paragraph and page. It was exhausting, but you felt like it was the right compromise.

Hours later, you had your flight booked, the agreement fully annotated, and your luggage as you neared CEO Jeon’s office. You braced yourself for what would surely be an unpleasant experience, but as you knocked, no one answered.

You dared to enter after checking your wristwatch; you couldn’t be late. His spacious office was empty, nothing but silence present inside those walls. There was a large desk at the center in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and that was where you decided to go after putting the luggage to the side for a moment. 

Every step disturbed you even more; his heady scent made your senses surge and your gut twist. You gripped the folder in your hand firmly; you didn’t want to enjoy his scent or any thought of him. You just needed to push through this to leave.

The door suddenly barging open startled you, but as quickly as it opened, it closed, leaving you nailed to the floor. Jungkook stood there with wide eyes, looking at you in a mix of bafflement and intention. Then, you dared to blink, and he stormed across the room to get to you.

“Thank fuck,” he let out as he neared you. “I need to talk to you; I thought you were avoiding me—”

“I’m just here to drop this off,” you interrupted sternly, waving the file in your hand. “Congratulations, you were right — we have a positive answer and a verbal commitment. All that’s left is for you to go over a few details and give me your instructions, and we can have this contract signed by the end of the month.”

His wide eyes only revealed disbelief until he snapped out of it, “What are you— I don’t care about that!”

You extended the file between you, “Please take it and revise it accordingly.”

He glanced at the offending folder and looked at you again, knitted eyebrows spelling confusion and hurt. “I can’t handle that right now!”

Still, you insisted, “Whatever happens in private, stays in private. Work ethic dictates—”

He snatched the file from your hand and dropped it on his desk, “Fine! Fine, I’ll handle it. Won’t you please talk to me now?”

You ignored the way he looked at you and spun to grab the file again, extending it in the same way, “Please don’t overlook months of work of dozens of professionals—”

“I don’t!” He couldn’t hold it any longer; he grabbed your shoulders. “I won’t! But please listen to me: she means nothing to me.”

It sounded crude to you, almost cruel, so you remained impassive, “She surely means something. You’re just confused.”

His fingers pressed through your coat, “I’m not confused!”

“You are. You have a commitment—”

“A piece of paper! A deal I don’t care about made before I met you, before I knew about you!”

You straightened your back, “My designation shouldn’t—”

“Fuck your designation!” You would have trembled if he wasn’t holding you. He raised a hand to your cheek, “You’re not an omega to me; you’re my mate. Can’t you feel it? The way our hearts align?” His eyes were wide, searching in yours, and you could barely breathe. “The way our souls sing whenever our eyes meet? You have to feel it too, please don’t deny it.”

You only realized your lips had parted in shock when you clenched your jaw, “It doesn’t matter. You have a commitment.”

“The only commitment I have is to spend the rest of my life with you,” his voice shook as he cupped your other cheek. “I’ve started the process to annul it, and I’m certain it will be approved because no one can come in between us. Fate…” he whispered, fluttering his eyelashes over watering eyes. “You and I are meant to be.”

Your heart was shaking with your emotions chaotically running rampant through you, but you were headstrong. You couldn’t think properly with his nose almost grazing yours, so you put a palm over his chest and pushed.

He let go of you, unable to hide the way it hurt him, but you weren’t looking. You couldn’t face him. You disliked running away, but you were overwhelmed and unsure that you could trust him. That you could trust your own heart.

“Let’s at least talk tonight,” he tried with a sobered tone. 

You raised your eyes to him, and your heart wept — he was trying. He was coming to you, talking, explaining, giving worth to the fact that you gave priority to work, but it didn’t change anything. Because you couldn’t trust him.

“I can’t,” you breathed.

“Why not?” His tone was grazing on a whimper, “For work? I swear—”

“No, I’m leaving,” you breathed it out before it got stuck. Your eyes landed on the luggage you left near the entrance, and he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “I booked a flight, I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”

He shook his head violently, and in a second, his strong hands were around your head, aiming to keep you still so that his lips could crash to yours. 

It was sudden and brave, and you said, “Don’t.”

He instantly groaned. His control might have flown out the window, but there was no way he would go against your wishes. No matter how much he believed that kissing you could make you see that he spoke the truth, could make you feel what he was talking about, he still couldn’t do more than ghost your lips, your taste less than an inch away. You, his soulmate, his fate, so close, yet so far.

“We both want this,” he reasoned in a desperate attempt to get to you. 

You held the power; you were judge, jury, and executioner.

When you remained silent, just looking at him with a line between your eyebrows, he had to insist. “Let me show you,” he whispered, ghosting your lips, the tension stretching so thinly he could swear it was about to snap. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

The desperation put a nearly sick glint in his eyes, and it touched you in ways you couldn’t explain. All you could do was nuzzle him and stay silent, fighting your heart with your logic with all your might.

You couldn’t open your mouth, or you’d do something you’d regret at the expense of your weakness, knowing you’d hate yourself for it. There was still the chance that it was all just to deceive you, to collect an omega like in the stories your mother used to tell you. The ones where evil alphas took pleasure in hoarding omegas and taking them from their mates and families.

Yet, it was true that you had never felt anything like it; a desire so strong burning through your veins, you could combust. If it wasn’t enough, his scent was addictive; his desire smelled exotic and spicy, awakening places you preferred to stay in slumber right now. You knew that if you let him, the want would consume you. You wouldn’t stop until he was inside you, keeping his promise and fulfilling your lust, your need to have his touch, his kiss, his everything as part of you.

And that was precisely why you couldn’t do it.

“I can make you mine,” he rasped, something akin to agony glistening in his eyes. “I can give you everything you ever wanted.”

The corners of your mouth twitched; could he read your mind? How else would he know that everything you wanted was him?

“Just let me show you.”

You finally took a deep breath, “No, I’m leaving.”

“No,” his expression morphed into anguish. 

“You have to let me go.”

“No no no no, I can’t, don’t ask me to, please. Please, just listen to what I have to say. Go with Mr Seung and let’s talk. Really talk, I’ll tell you everything. Everything, my whole heart, please.”

Your eyes observed every detail of his expression — his knitted eyebrows, glistening eyes, and pressed lips. You didn’t like to see him suffer; it was almost a compulsion just to acquiesce so he could feel well again.

“If you still want to leave after that, you can,” his voice gained a sturdiness, as did his expression, and it allowed you to breathe. “I promise, you’ll take my private jet and go immediately, and I’ll never— I won't—” Whatever he was trying to say didn’t seem to come out, so he shook his head. “So please say you will talk to me.”

Your mouth opened, but a loud knock on the door stole your words. You almost smiled as Sunhwa’s voice cut the silence, introducing someone important to see CEO Jeon right before coming to a stop.

You knew that she and whoever accompanied her were just standing by the entrance, witnessing something very odd: CEO Jeon standing stiffly next to his desk with his hands raised in front of him, unbeknownst to them, holding your head in them. You looked into his eyes, your eyebrow twitching, but his head only moved an inch to the side.

His eyes still begged, “Please.”

But your hand came to his arm to pull it, and he let go. You stepped back and said something polite as you dropped the file on his desk, then bowed deeply, bowing to the newcomers as well, before grabbing your luggage and going on your way. 

Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to function if he hadn’t received a message from Mr Seung about ten minutes after you left saying that he had you and was going to take you home, at your request. It filled his heart with such hope that he could barely contain the tears in his eyes. Still, he needed to during that meeting and the ones that inevitably followed. He counted the minutes, the seconds. If you left, he was certain that Mr Seung would inform him, but you wouldn’t. Because you agreed to talk, and that was all Jungkook needed.

He refused to take any more tasks, reports, requests, or last-minute meetings, and left the office exceptionally early before sunset. He entered his car and grabbed his phone; Mr Seung was not driving Jungkook this time, but he wanted to call and hear about you. He wasn’t ready to face you, but—

“Sir!” Mr Seung’s distraught voice instantly stiffened Jungkook’s neck. “I came to a few minutes ago, finally I have my phone so I can warn you!”

Jungkook’s grip on the phone tightened as he heard what had happened, and by the end he didn’t know if he was livid or enraged; he might have been possessed.

Things like getting hijacked at a red light didn’t just happen in the middle of Seoul in broad daylight to a car of the Family. Much less with Mr Seung in the hospital, having passed out from a drug, while you were taken. Fucking taken.

His first instinct was to call Sunhwa, “What the fuck did you do?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I swear that if you lay a finger on her—”

“On who? What are you talking about? What happened? I was with you the whole day. What could I have done?”

His stomach fell; she was right. He hung up the phone and groaned into his hands. He didn’t know who else could have tried to harm you. Even though you were a precious, rare omega, no one would go as far as to take you like that.

No one that he knew would, and in fact—

He pressed the speed dial on his phone, and as soon as the other side picked up, his heartache spilled out, “Hyung.”

[hellodropbear]

homesick.

ingrid engen x mapi leon x child

isabel's first international camp.

this is a long one but i hope you enjoy and i hope it's up to scratch!

pls give me more requests i love them and i am slowly getting through them i promise

heaps of uni at the moment though so might take a while for me to get them out :)

~~~~~~

Isabel had been on a plane before. 

She had sat by the window many times, staring out the window as the buildings below got smaller and smaller, until all she could see was the bright lights in the distance. 

Ingrid and Mapi are professional football players, on a plane nearly every week. They also loved to travel, around Spain, to other countries in Europe. 

Up to Norway to visit Ingrid's home, her family. Everything she knew as she grew up. 

But usually, Mapi was on the plane too, right beside her with her bag full of toys and snacks. 

But today, Mapi was one of those people getting smaller and smaller in the distance and instead it was Ingrid beside her, Ingrid with the snacks and toys that would be more than enough to keep the child occupied for two days, let alone the two hours that they'd spend on the plane before touching down in the Scandinavian country. 

It was weird for the child, flying away from her Mami. It was 10 days away from her and the last time she had spent a night away she had cried so much that Mapi had to come stay at Alexia's as well. 

But that was back when she had only just turned 3. 

She was 4 now and both Mapi and Ingrid were confident that the child would be perfectly happy with the Norwegian, the centre back often complaining that Ingrid was the favourite even though Mapi was the one who gave birth to her, the one who raised her alone for 14 months. 

"You should have come here earlier," Mapi would say "You left me alone with a baby!"

Ingrid would blush profusely, overwhelmed with love and adoration for the two, as well as a huge amount of gratitude that they chose her - that they let her become part of their tiny family. 

In saying that, sending Isabel to Norway with Ingrid was an almost impossible decision for Mapi and she had spent weeks debating the idea in her head, with Ingrid, Alexia, her family. 

Everyone had said the same thing. 

Ingrid loved Isabel and Isabel loved Ingrid. Their family of two was becoming a family of three and all three of them loved each other an exponential amount. 

It wasn't sending Isabel to Norway, it was letting her go on a trip with Ingrid, something she had been begging for since she was old enough to understand why the Norwegian left every couple of months. 

The whole problem was her cousin's wedding, a child free event that Mapi's entire family would be at. 

She never got to see her whole family together, especially now she was dating Ingrid and they shared their already limited time between both Ingrid and Mapi's families. 

But this wedding coincidentally fell on an international break, the perfect opportunity to see everyone for a few days of uninterrupted celebration. 

It was just a shame that no children were invited. 

Mapi understood the reasons why, but it left her with the problem of where her daughter could go. 

She told Ingrid she'd miss the wedding, but the Norwegian had rolled her eyes, immediately telling her girlfriend to stop being stupid, that she'd take Isabel to Norway with her. 

Initially, the Spaniard was completely against the idea.

But eventually she agreed, which is how Ingrid found herself with an overexcited toddler bouncing in her seat as the plane touched down in Norway, gripping onto Ingrid's wrist with an overwhelmingly large grin on her face. 

"Excited, Is?"

Ingrid smiled amusedly at the brunette, placing her hand on her curly hair to try and calm her down. 

It was an impossible task though, because Isabel just nodded enthusiastically, her head almost falling off at the speed at which she moved her head up and down. 

She was still excited as the plane emptied out, as she bounced down the aisle, her hand tight in Ingrid's as they exited the plane and walked on the tarmac, shivering with a smile at the cool autumn air. 

She knew that Norwegian summers were a lot colder than the summer back home, but the autumn was event colder and Isabel didn't realise how much the climate would drop in the four months since they last visited. 

She bounded alongside the tall Norwegian, only slowing down to a walk when Ingrid's hand moved from her hand to her shoulder, physically slowing her down.

"It's an airport, Is, you have to stay with me so you don't get lost, alright?"

She nodded, grinning up at Ingrid who just smiled at her, unable to wipe away her grin when the giddy child was accompanying her to Norway. 

She stared out the window throughout the whole drive from the airport to the hotel, clutching onto Ingrid's hand as they entered the building, full of other people in Norway clothes that matched Ingrid.

"Ingrid." 

She tugged on her shirt, coming to a stop just inside of the doors. 

"What's wrong, Is?"

Her smile had been replaced with an anxious frown that Ingrid had immediately caught onto, waiting for the child to say something. 

"What if... what if I forget my Norwegian?"

Ingrid crouched down, moving a stray hair out of Isabel's forehead. Her hand stayed on her head as she smiled shaking her head. 

"It will be ok. I can translate for you, yeah?"

She waited as Isabel nodded hesitantly before continuing. 

"Besides, your Norwegian is so good I don't think you'd be able to forget it! You're so smart, Is!"

Isabel nodded, biting her lip and Ingrid realised that she was actually quite nervous. Deciding to take a different approach, she stood up and pulled Isabel into a room off the side, sitting down in front of her and motioning for her to sit down as well. 

"What are you doing, Ingrid?"

"We're going to go through some Norwegian."

And that's what they did for the next half hour, they went through Norwegian words and phrases that Isabel already knew, Ingrid tickling her every time she got something right. 

She was successful in cheering the four year old up, her peals of laughter audible from all over the first floor of the hotel. 

With a newfound confidence and a refreshed excitement, Isabel gripped onto Ingrid's hand as they wandered out of the little side room and towards the Norwegian media team who were ready and waiting with their cameras.

Ingrid's hand over her face did little to stop the child from using some of her Norwegian words though, pushing the protective hand away and grinning up at the people behind the cameras.

"Hei! Jeg er Isabel og dette er min Ingrid!"

~~~~~~

She successfully charmed all of the Norwegian staff upon their first meeting, following Ingrid all the way up to their room with a smile on her face. She was happy to see a little bed beside Ingrid's big one, dumping her bag on it before bounding over to the other side of the room and throwing herself on the big bed.

Ingrid smiled, shaking her head with a sigh and pulling the child back, away from the bed and towards the bathroom. 

"It's bath time, Is!"

The child sighed disappointedly, following the Norwegian and sitting on the chair in the bathroom as Ingrid filled up the bathtub with water and soap. 

"Soo..." The child swung her legs beneath the chair, catching Ingrid's attention before continuing. "What do you normally do when I'm not here?"

Ingrid shrugged, smiling. 

"Usually I'll get into bed and miss you and your Mami! It's why I am always calling in the nights when I'm away, because I'm not busy and I'm by myself which makes me miss you more."

Isabel jumped down from the chair, standing beside where Ingrid was sitting on the ledge of the bath. 

"Can we call Mami after bath time?"

Ingrid nodded. 

"She would be sad if we didn't!" 

The bath was full, and Isabel held Ingrid's hand for stability as she climbed in, sinking down into the warm water with a satisfied sigh, leaning into Ingrid's large and soft hand. 

The Norwegian pulled her out of the bath when there was more water on the bathroom floor and Ingrid than there was in the bath, complaining loudly about getting everything wet. 

She giggled as Ingrid dried her off, carrying her in her towel over to where she'd dumped her backpack, pulling out the pyjamas that had been strategically placed right at the top of the bag. 

"Cuddles?"

Ingrid smiled. To be fair, the child looked comfortable in her fuzzy pyjamas, tucked underneath the blankets of Ingrid's bed and surrounded by a barricade of pillows. She took a quick picture, shaking her head. 

"We are going to ring Mami now, and then I'll have my own shower. Cuddles soon, though!" 

It satisfied Isabel, who immediately perked up even more at the though of her mother on the other side of the phone. Mapi picked up after the first ring and Ingrid immediately passed the phone off to the child. 

"Mami!" 

She grinned down the phone, holding it up so only her mouth was visible in the camera. Ingrid laughed, setting up a pillow in front of the child as a stand and resting the phone there so Mapi could actually see the child. 

"Hola mi pequena!" 

Mapi was in bed, the night light on but the rest of her room dark. 

"I miss you so much already, Is!"

Isabel nodded, her face falling only slightly. 

"I miss you too, Mami." She frowned, biting her lip. "I wish you could come with me and Ingrid."

Ingrid left them to it, having her own shower. She could hear Isabel's giggles from the bathroom as she got ready for bed, Mapi's animated voice also audible through the closed door. 

The Norwegian knew how lucky she was to have gained the dynamic duo when she moved to Barcelona. She never expected to find love in the warm city, let alone a child too. It was something that came completely unexpectedly, but something she also couldn't imagine her life without. 

Despite still not living with them, she was there every day. She would put Isabel to bed, read her stories, feed her dinner. She was there when she woke up, making breakfast and feeding the dog. 

She went on every walk to the park, a daily event that had become something of a ritual to the small family, the park meaning so much to them.

She was often mistaken as a mother, a balanced amount of fun, discipline and care. 

It was a soft topic, really. 

Ingrid wished more than anything that Isabel saw her as a mother, that all her thoughts and anxieties would be validated. She didn't want to just be Mapi's girlfriend, she wanted to be a mother too. 

Mapi told her that she was being silly, of course Ingrid was Isabel's mother as well. 

"You don't look after a child this much, you don't watch her grow from a baby to a child without being a mother." Mapi would insist. "You arrived when she was still so little. You and I are all she knows. We are both her mothers."

Ingrid would shake her head because it all seemed so wrong. If she was a mother, she wouldn't be called Ingrid. She would be on those forms from school and would receive the emails about Isabel's progress too. 

But she didn't, because she wasn't a mother. 

She finished up in the bathroom, but remained behind the door for a few more minutes, just listening to Mapi and Isabel interact, hearing how the centre back spoke to her child with so much adoration, so much love. How she listened to everything Isabel said and how Isabel hung onto Mapi's words like they came straight out of god's mouth. 

She heard the laughter, the happiness. She could see the smiles on their faces despite the wall that blocked her vision. 

But when she walked out, Isabel's smile brightened, shuffling over to make space for her. 

"Ingrid just came back, Mami!" 

The Norwegian moved into the camera frame, Mapi's face softening at the sight of her girlfriend. 

"Hola my love."

Ingrid blushed, her hand coming to rest around Isabel as they chatted away, allowing the child to slowly drift off as the two defenders spoke calmly through the phone. She was fighting to stay awake to listen but felt her eyes drooping as she became limp in Ingrid's arms. 

"Night Mami. Night Ingrid."

Ingrid.

~~~~~~

Isabel woke up before Ingrid the next morning, full of childish excitement about the day ahead. It was exciting, being here with Ingrid, and she wanted to make the most of every day. 

But she didn't want to wake Ingrid up from her sleep so instead she got out her drawing book and pencils, pulling Ingrid's phone off charge and calling Mapi simultaneously. 

It was the morning, so why wouldn't she say good morning to her mother like she had done every single morning of her life?

But Mapi was confused when her phone started ringing at 7am, frowning at her girlfriend's name that lit up the phone. 

She had planned on sleeping in until noon, probably, only rolling out of bed when absolutely necessary - to reluctantly go for a run or to the gym. The Spaniard had not expected this early morning wake up call and her stomach dropped, immediately assuming there was something wrong. 

"Ingrid?" It was a facetime call, but Mapi could only see the roof in the frame, the phone not held up properly. 

"Hola Mami!" 

Despite the low volume, the four year old's voice was way too cheerful for this early in the morning. 

"Isabel, what are you doing on Ingrid's phone? Why are you awake so early?"

The child frowned at her mother's chides, biting her lip and shrugging. 

"To say mornin', mami! And I'm being extra quiet with my voice because I don't wanna wake Ingrid up."

Mapi smiled, her heart melting all over again at her own daughter's words. 

"Ok, Is. What are you going to do while you wait for Ingrid to wake up?"

She didn't answer verbally, instead picking up the phone and awkwardly angling it onto the empty page in front of her. 

"'M drawing!" 

Mapi could only chuckle, settling down in her bed and resting her phone on the pillow as she spoke easily to her daughter. 

She laughed even more as Ingrid's alarm went off, the surprise making Isabel jump right out of her skin before she made a quick recovery, scampering off towards the big bed and poking Ingrid on the side. 

"I know, Is, wake up time."

She heard Mapi's laughter, frowning in confusion as her eyes opened slowly. She was in Norway, Mapi was in Spain? It was too early to realise that the laughter was actually just coming through a phone speaker. 

"Morning sleepyhead." 

Ingrid's eyes scanned the room, searching for the source of her girlfriend's voice before they finally landed on the table on the other side of the room, a full set up of paper and pencils, Ingrid's phone laying face up beside. 

"Did you ring Mami, Is?"

She sat up, her feet coming to rest on the floor beside the bed and her hand reaching around Isabel's waist as the child nodded guiltily. 

"I say mornin' to Mami every day!" 

Ingrid sighed, standing up and walking over to the table, chuckling at Mapi's tired face as she lay in bed, her hair a mess and the blanket tucked up to her chin. 

"You don't have to sleep with the air conditioning on when I'm not there, Maria."

The Norwegian smiled lightly. It was a passing comment she made a couple years ago about how she liked sleeping in colder rooms. Ever since, Mapi had insisted on the air conditioning being turned on despite her own preference for the warmth. 

She would say Ingrid would warm her up, that Ingrid is her princesa, she had to have the best conditions. 

But Ingrid wasn't even in the country and the Spaniard was clearly cold in her bed despite her best efforts to cover up with the duvet. 

She shook her head, her face falling momentarily. 

"I like it." 

Ingrid's voice melted at how soft Mapi's voice was, wanting nothing more than to wrap her up in a hug and warm her up herself. 

"We slept in the cold too!" 

Isabel had climbed as high as she could on Ingrid until the Norwegian relented, helping her up and holding her on her side.

"Were you cold, Is?" Ingrid frowned slightly, worried that she had made the room too cold. Changing the thermometer was a habit, she realised. 

"No, because you are so warm, Ingrid!" 

Mapi smiled, her forehead creasing with happiness and perhaps a little bit of jealousy.

She missed the pair of them, of course she did. She didn't realise how empty her world would be without her daughter until she got home from the airport, no child to feed, to put to bed, to entertain.

No reason to watch cartoons on the TV either, but she found herself tempted to switch on the inane shows that Isabel loved so much.

She didn't need to leave the bedroom door open because there was no chance that Isabel would wake up in the night and want to come and sleep in her bed, but she left it open out of habit, only realising that it was pointless once she had already buried herself under the covers of the inanely cold room.

It was never as warm when she wasn't in Ingrid's arms.

There was nobody to talk to when she was curled up in bed, nobody to laugh with or cry with. She wasn't used to going about her day alone, not used to being so unoccupied, so bored. 

The silence was too eerie for Mapi as she sat on the sofa, even Baloo and Bagheera suffering from the absence of the energetic and excitable child and the calming Norwegian.

But they were in Norway, perfectly content away from home and without the comfort of their Mapi, right there whenever they wanted it.

It was devastating, really, realising that Isabel didn't need her anymore. It felt like just yesterday that she had sobbed her heart out at Alexia's, only calming down when her Mami was in sight, content to be warmed by the tattooed arms.

Apparently, Ingrid noticed the way Mapi's eyes glazed over slightly, her features softening as she read the situation with practiced ease.

"It would have been warmer with Mami here though, right?"

Isabel frowned slightly, looking at her mother through the phone screen.

She nodded, looking back up at Ingrid.

"Mami has the warmest arms, Ingrid. She makes me so warm."

Mapi had to hold back her tears, smiling gratefully at Ingrid who could only nod with pride.

"You make me warm too, my lion cub."

~~~~~~

Their phone call with Mapi lasted a while, she stayed on facetime as they both changed and as Ingrid braided Isabel's hair back for the day. She was very proud of herself, wearing a Norway jersey that Ingrid had adjusted to fit her. It was a match worn one and was entirely too big when she first put it on, but she refused to wear anything else to support Ingrid when she was playing with her country.

Ingrid had pulled out her sewing needles, shortening the length and sleeves. It still swallowed the child, but at least she could wear it without the hem getting in the way of her legs when she walked.

She was excited to show off the big 7 on her back, the name that belonged to her Ingrid.

It was her claim to the brunette in front of all the Norwegian players and she was so sure they would be so impressed that she was so close with their coveted midfielder.

She had a grin on her face as they went through the Norwegian phrases she had learnt and as she pestered Ingrid about the different players that she would be meeting today. She knew Caro, of course, but that was all. She had seen the others on TV, from a distance when she came to watch with Mapi.

But not once had she met any of them, always slightly anxious around new people and entirely unconfident in her Norwegian speaking and comprehending abilities. She never believed Mapi or Ingrid when they told her it would be ok, that Ingrid could translate.

It was Norwegian or nothing for the child.

Ingrid assumed that was the reason why Isabel's grip on her hand tightened significantly as they walked down the corridor. She assumed it was why her leg suddenly became the best hiding spot the child could think of.

There was no other explanation as to why her entire demeanour changed as soon as they left the room, from the excited and optimistic child she knew to an anxious and stoic child that she could barely recognise.

She knew better than to say anything though, knowing that if she started crying now she likely wouldn't stop until they were alone again. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option for Ingrid because she had to train, she couldn't just sit with Isabel all day.

As much as she would love to.

It was on purpose that they were the first in the dining room for breakfast, allowing them to make their way through the buffet slowly and sit on an empty table.

Isabel perked up when she noticed the empty room but it was only brief as slowly, all of the players trickled in, their voices loud and fast.

Ingrid squeezed the little girl closer to her, her heart breaking at the way Isabel tensed in her lap.

"Look, Is!" Ingrid pointed over at the door. "Caro's just arrived!"

She forced on a smile, her hands shaking and her breathing rapid.

"Hei, Caro." She whispered softly, not registering that the familiar face was on the other side of the room, completely occupied by the unfamiliar figure approaching.

"Ingrid." She tugged on the brunette's shorts, reaching her arms towards her. Ingrid understood exactly what she was asking for, pulling her onto her lap and wrapping her arms around her.

It was Frida who sat beside Ingrid, smiling as she placed her plate on the table and pulled her chair in.

"It's just Frida, Is, she's not scary at all." The brunette smiled apologetically at Frida as she loosened her hold on Isabel, encouraging her to look at the blonde.

She turned, a shy smile on her face as she leaned into Ingrid.

"Hi Isabel!" She grinned, quickly making Isabel more comfortable. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting you! Ingrid has told me so much about you."

She spoke in slow Norwegian, praying that the child would understand. She had heard all about her problems with confidence in the language - it was the only reason she hadn't met her before.

The blonde felt herself relax in relief as Isabel nodded, replying in hesitant Norwegian.

"Nice to meet you, Frida."

Ingrid grinned, placing a kiss on the top of Isabel's head which prompted the child to look up for affirmation.

"Good?"

"Perfect, Is! I'm so proud of you."

Frida could only smile at their interaction, completely aware of how much Ingrid adored the little girl, how much she worried that she would never be enough for her.

Frida knew she was more than enough. 

The table filled up slowly, but Isabel buried her head back into Ingrid again, apparently too scared to meet anyone else during breakfast. It changed slightly as they left the dining hall when she spotted Caro from afar, scampering over to the familiar forward and barging into the back of her legs.

Ingrid thanked her Barcelona teammate when Isabel was deposited at her room maybe five minutes later, waving goodbye to the child.

They didn't have long in the room, just enough time for Ingrid to change into her training clothes and quickly throw some paper, pencils and snacks in Isabel's backpack.

"If you get bored or tired or feel sick or anything, min elske, come straight to me, alright? Or you can find Caro if you want but make sure you tell someone so we can help you, alright?"

It was the same deal as at Barcelona training. Her time spent at training had decreased dramatically since starting school and usually Camila was there with her, but she would always sit on a rug under the same tree, occupying herself with drawing or colouring or another miscellaneous activity when she became bored of watching the football.

Usually, Baloo was right beside her, her leash tied onto the tree which allowed her a little bit of room to roam freely when Isabel wasn't holding her favourite animal.

But Baloo wasn't there and neither were the people that Isabel knew, the people she was comfortable enough with to say when something was wrong. Usually, things didn't go wrong.

But it was clear that the child was on edge, her emotions all over the place as she adjusted to Norway and all these new people.

"Phone to call Mami?"

She looked up hopefully and Ingrid smiled, putting her phone in the front pocket of the bag.

"To call Mami, Is. Don't play with this because if it breaks we won't be able to talk to her at all!"

Isabel nodded, letting Ingrid put the backpack on her back.

"Go time?"

The midfielder nodded, ignoring Isabel's hand that reached out to grab Ingrid and instead picking her up, settling her on her hip and holding her easily with one hand.

"Mami says I'm too big to be carried, Ingrid."

Ingrid laughed quietly, planting a soft kiss on her head.

"Maybe. But you'll always be our little girl."

~~~~~~

It turned out that Ingrid was worried for a good reason.

She had kept an eye on Isabel for most of training as she watched them train, as she did her drawing. She watched some, drew for a bit, over and over again. It was a cycle, really, and she wasn't getting bored.

But apparently she tried to call Mapi and Mapi didn't pick up.

That is where the tears had come from. That is why Caro had run the few metres over immediately picking her up and carrying her out of the view of the rest of the Norwegian players, Ingrid following quickly behind. 

She was inconsolable because she wanted to talk to her Mami, because she missed her Mami.

Mapi said she would pick up the phone when she called, she had promised her child that she was the most important thing in her life and that she would drop anything if she saw Ingrid's name come up on her phone.

It was why Isabel had been so keen to come to Norway, reassured over and over again that if anything went wrong, if she was sad, scared or just wanted to hear Mapi's voice she would be able to call and hear it.

But she had called and Mapi hadn't picked up. She remembers frowning, looking around and calling again.

And again.

And again.

By the fourth time, her hands were shaking.

By the fifth, she had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling so much.

By the sixth, there were tears in her eyes, beginning to slowly slip down her face.

But the seventh was the final straw, it seemed, and as soon as the straw was pulled out the child collapsed into sobs. Cries for her Mami, for her home.

Loud cries in Spanish, desperate for the home comfort of being able to speak her first language without worrying about any language barriers. 

Crying because she called seven times and Mapi hadn't picked up once. She said she would drop anything, because Isabel was the most important. She promised.

But she didn't.

Maybe she'd been in Norway too long. Maybe Mapi realised how much easier her life was without her daughter, how much better.

It was only day one. 

She knew she missed home, but it felt so far away.

Even as Ingrid held her close and rocked her as she had done so many times before. As she whispered quiet Spanish as the cries quietened down, allowing Isabel to whimper in her arms instead. 

"M-mami didn't pick up, Ingrid." The hurt in her voice was almost painful for Ingrid to hear. "Mami has more important things now I'm gone from her."

Immediately, Ingrid shook her head because there was no way she would let Isabel think that was true in even the slightest. 

Because everybody in Mapi's life knew that the little girl she called her daughter was the number one top priority at all times. There were never excuses, never changes. 

She was Mapi's everything and Ingrid knew that if the Spaniard caught wind of her daughter thinking this she would be completely and utterly heartbroken. 

It wasn't true. 

It was perhaps one of the most blindingly false statements Ingrid had ever heard. 

"That is not true, Isabel, and I don't want you to ever think or say that again."

Her voice was stern and left no room for questions and Isabel whimpered quietly.

"Mami loves you so, so much, Is. You will always be the most important thing in her life."

Her voice softened easily, but she frowned as Isabel held up seven of her fingers. 

"This many times. She didn't pick up."

Ingrid adjusted Isabel's position, facing her and looking her straight in the eye. 

"She might be driving, she might have left her phone in her room. She didn't ignore you, I promise."

The child looked up at her, the tearful eyes hopeful. 

"Promise?"

She held out her pinky which Ingrid shook gently. 

"I promise."

~~~~~~

Ingrid thinks that the whole incident may have been what triggered the homesickness. 

She wasn't sleeping in her own bed at all, only settling after hours of fidgeting and whimpering in Ingrid's arms, waking up after a couple hours of restless sleep.  

She was tearful all the time, always clinging onto Ingrid, reluctantly releasing her whenever she had to train. 

She only ate what was practically forced down her throat, claiming she was full, that she didn't feel hungry. 

Mapi thinks it is her fault, she shouldn't have gone to the wedding, she should have picked up the phone that day. It's all she can think about as she sits through the ceremony, almost booking a flight from her seat at the reception. 

But Ingrid was telling her not to, that it'd all be ok. She could deal with it for a few more days while the wedding was still on and Mapi could come afterwards if she wasn't getting any better.

But Ingrid desperately wanted to prove she could do this, she wanted to show Mapi and everyone else that she was a perfectly sufficient guardian to Isabel too. She had been there for so long but people still questioned it, questioned why she was so close with the little girl. 

It seemed so obvious to the Norwegian. She loved Mapi, she loved Isabel. Surely a further explanation was unnecessary. 

Mapi was entirely ridden with guilt, having left her phone in her hotel room as she reunited with her family. It was stupid, she knew, but she just hadn't been thinking. 

Ingrid's attempts to stop her from beating herself up about it were futile, especially since Isabel stopped trying to call, only speaking to Mapi when Ingrid held her and called the centre back before bed. 

She was scared, she didn't want to experience that rejection again. 

Match day came and so did Gudrun, only allowed into the hotel that morning so Ingrid could focus on the game. She was starting and the staff had told her no distractions, not until after the game was finished. 

Isabel loved Gudrun, the older Norwegian always spoiling and doting over the little girl with the bright eyes and big smile. It was unusual for Ingrid's mother to see Isabel so sad, so stoic when she arrived, malleable in Ingrid's arms as she was passed off. 

"She's homesick, Mama." Ingrid frowned and Gudrun could only stroke the top of her head. "She misses Mapi but won't call because there was an incident a few days ago where Mapi didn't pick up."

Gudrun smiled weakly, trying to silently reassure her daughter. 

"She'll be alright." She looked down at the child. "Have you had fun with Ingrid this week?"

Isabel looked over at the tall Norwegian who tried to hide the exhaustion from her face. It had been another restless night. 

She nodded easily, smiling. 

"Ingrid holds me when I can't sleep. And she let me use her as my climbing frame all week. So much fun with Ingrid."

Ingrid could have cried but she held it back, Gudrun smiling proudly at her daughter. 

"Ingrid is one of my favourite people in the world."

Isabel agreed easily. 

"Me too!" 

Gudrun hugged her daughter goodbye, letting Isabel place a kiss on her cheek before they left, heading out to the park for the few hours they had before the game. 

She played on the playground for a bit but retreated back to Gudrun when she couldn't communicate with the other children. All the people she had spoken to so far slowed down, aware that she was a Spanish child and Norwegian was her second or third language. 

The strangers on the playground didn't know that, so they couldn't communicate. 

And the Norwegian could easily read the situation as Isabel flopped onto the bench beside her, her sigh entirely too emotional for a four year old 

"What's bothering you, Isabel?"

She huffed again, climbing into Gudrun's lap and leaning backwards. 

"I miss Mami and Spain." She missed playing in the park with other kids, she missed being able to sit between Mapi and Ingrid after dinner, watching cartoons. She missed Patri and Pina teasing her and she missed Alexia and Frido's hugs. She missed the familiarity of home and she missed knowing all the players at training. She missed the freedom she had at the Barcelona campus and she missed her dog and cat. 

"I know you do. Mami and Spain miss you too."

But Isabel frowned, still stuck on the reason why her Mami didn't pick up the phone even though she tried so many times. 

"But-" She trailed off but Gudrun hummed encouragingly. "But Mami said she would pick up..."

Gudrun sighed quietly, hugging the child closer. 

"That doesn't mean she doesn't miss you, Isabel. She misses you so much."

"I haven't seen her in so long, I am scared she forgot."

"Forgot what?" Gudrun frowned easily, concerned about where her thoughts were. 

"Me." Isabel's voice was impossibly quiet as her eyes filled up with tears and Gudrun's heart broke at how small she sounded. 

She had a split second to decide how to deal with this. She could pass the problem onto Ingrid or Mapi, or she could deal with it herself and maybe help out the young couple. She could smile and tell Isabel that everything was perfect and happy and Mapi loved her or she could be more serious and try to get through to the child. 

So she sighed, adjusting Isabel on her lap so they were looking at each other. 

"I'm Ingrid's Mami, you know that right?"

Isabel nodded, staring up at the Norwegian. 

"And I live in Norway. Ingrid lives in Spain with you, doesn't she?"

The child nodded again, unsure where this was going. 

"Ingrid moved away when she was young, a long time ago. And I was so sad. So sad. I missed her every single day and my heart hurt because my little girl didn't feel like my little girl anymore. She had grown up."

"Mami said I would always be her little girl."

Isabel frowned, not able to draw any comparisons.

"And Ingrid is still mine. But like Ingrid did, you're growing up. This is your first time away from your Mami, and you are so far away from her for such a long time."

Isabel nodded. 

"I miss Mami a lot."

"Ingrid's first time away from home was when she was 11, a week in a place 4 hours away. I cried every night because I missed my little girl so much. And I know your Mami is the same. She is so sad without you, Is. You are so little and you are all she cares about. You are absolutely everything to your Mami and she misses every single thing about you."

Isabel's lip trembles, her eyes beginning to water. 

"And she missed your calls. She is so angry with herself because she didn't pick up because she would have much preferred to talk to you than to talk to anyone at that wedding. You are so important to her and you always will be. Just like Ingrid is so important to me."

Isabel nodded, taking a deep breath.

"You talk to Ingrid whenever she calls?"

Gudrun nodded easily. 

"And I get so excited because I love talking to her so much. But sometimes I miss calls too. Sometimes Ingrid gets upset and I am angry at myself. I love her so much and instead of picking up her calls I was busy with something that was nowhere near as important. Because nothing is as important to me as my children. Since they were born and until I die, they will always be first. And do you know why?"

"Because you love them." 

Gudrun nodded. 

"Because I love them." She confirmed with a nod. "And Mami missed your call, but she didn't mean to. I have missed Ingrid's calls before even though I love her so much."

"Mami loves me."

Gudrun smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

"Yes, Mami loves you so so much. She misses how you feel in her arms, she misses the way you smell, she misses the way your eyes light up when you see something that excites you. She misses catching you when you run into her after school, she misses holding you after a game and watching you with her friends."

"How do you know all this."

"Because I am a Mami too. Mami's are all the same, we all love every single thing about our children."

Isabel nodded, silent for a moment before taking a deep breath. 

"Does Ingrid... does she love me like that too? Because I think I love her like I love Mami."

Gudrun squeezed her tighter, not a shadow of a doubt in her answer. There was no hesitation whatsoever.

"Of course she does."

Isabel was quiet again. Ingrid was Ingrid. She wasn't Mami, because that was Mapi. She wasn't Mama... because she was Ingrid.

But why was she just Ingrid? Why wasn't she Mama. She was like Mapi, really. She played a lot, cooked meals. Dropped her at school and picked her up sometimes too. 

She had rules for Isabel, things she could and could not do. When Isabel broke the rules, she would tell her off, just like Mapi would. She would give her consequences, although she was much better at sticking to them than Mapi. 

Isabel knew she didn't have a Papi like her friends at school. She had a Mami instead. 

And an Ingrid. 

"I think I love Ingrid like a Mami too."

~~~~~~

Apparently, Gudrun's words got through to Isabel, who insisted on calling her mother as soon as they were at the stadium. 

The Norwegian happily obliged, dialling her daughter's girlfriend and sighing in relief when the call immediately connected. It wasn't facetime, so Mapi couldn't see her daughter's beaming face, or the fact they were already sat in their seats in the family and friends section. 

"Gudrun?"

"Mami? Holaaa!"

The Spaniard's entire body relaxed right then and there, after what feels like months of worrying that her daughter hated her, that she would never forgive her. She had been so tense for the past few days, completely occupied by her anxieties. 

"My Is." Gudrun could hear the relief in her voice. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too Mami." She frowned at the phone, looking up at Gudrun. "Where is she?"

The Norwegian frowned. 

"At home, Isabel, in Spain." 

But Isabel shook her head, pointing at the phone. 

"Her face?"

Mapi understood before Gudrun, quickly switching to a facetime call. 

"There she is!" Mapi beamed and her daughter returned the expression. "My little girl."

Isabel's smile grew and she leant back into Gudrun's embrace. 

"I'm your little girl." She sighed contentedly. "I love you Mami."

"I love you so much." She waited for Isabel to nod before continuing. "And I want you to know something, Is."

"What?"

"You are the most important thing in the whole entire world. You are my number one. Always."

Isabel just nodded casually. 

"I know."

Mapi was taken aback, surprised by her child's casual demeanour. She had expected to have to do some persuasion, based on the reports she was getting from Ingrid every night. The reports that had broken her heart over and over again, stomping on it and kicking it around.

"How do you- I mean, it's good you kno- it's true."

Isabel smiled happily at her mother's stuttering. 

"Gudrun told me that all Mami's are the same, and she loves Ingrid a whole lot. Ingrid is very important. It means that I matter most to you, like Ingrid matters most to her."

Mapi smiled gratefully at the camera, making a note to thank her girlfriend's mother profusely when she was off the phone call. 

"You are so right, my lion cub."

They stayed on the phone call throughout the whole game, Isabel flipping the camera as Ingrid walked out onto the field so Mapi could watch, her daughter's commentary right in the speaker as the game continued. 

She was still at the wedding, but had the afternoon in her room alone before the final ceremony that night as the game finished, she started to get ready, still on the facetime call as Gudrun lead Isabel down towards the field and as she was lifted over the barricade into Ingrid's arms. 

"It's Mami, Ingrid!"

The Norwegian was exhausted, sweaty and sore, but all she could feel was pure relief. 

Because Isabel was beaming, not a tear in sight. She was on the phone to Mapi which meant she had asked to call her because Ingrid told Gudrun to not bring it up - it had been a soft topic over the past couple of days. 

But there she was, her girlfriend all dressed up, hair and makeup done. 

It was the antithesis of Ingrid, really, her post match appearance a stark contrast to Mapi's pre dinner one. 

But both women felt nothing but happiness in that moment, relief washing over them as they realised everything was ok. Isabel was happy again, for now at least. 

They had four more days in Norway, the homesicknesses would surely make it's return at some point, but now she had Mapi to talk to whenever she wanted. Somehow her entire attitude had changed over the past few hours, apparently an easy switch that Ingrid just hadn't been able to find. 

But one look at her mother with a proud and satisfied smile settled upon her face told Ingrid everything she needed to know. 

So as Isabel scampered over to Caro, the phone still in her hand, Ingrid moved towards her mother, thanking her profusely as she hugged her tight. 

"I had no idea how much that little girl loves you, Ingrid."

Ingrid frowned. "What?"

She had told her so many times about the love she had for Isabel, the love that was so clearly reciprocated. 

"It's an exponential love, growing so quickly. She is a good girl, I am so proud of you."

Her frown changed quickly into a smile, her eyes filling up with tears. 

"Thank you, Mama."

She felt like Gudrun had no idea how much her daughter needed that affirmation, the encouragement that she was something to Isabel, someone important. 

But Gudrun knew. Of course she did. 

~~~~~~

Ingrid finally felt relaxed, the child dozing off slowly in her arms, finally relieved of all her sadness and stress. Her hands carded through the child's curly hair, whispering soft affirmations in her ears to send her to sleep. 

She was less restless that night, but still insistent on sleeping with Ingrid, her own bed so cold and empty on the other side of the room. 

But she was happy, finally, and for the first time since landing in Norway, Ingrid felt confident that she could do it. She could do it without Mapi, no matter how hard it was. She was more than just Mapi’s girlfriend, she was a real guardian of her child.

"Good night, Is. I love you so much."

Isabel hummed contentedly, snuggling closer into Ingrid's warm body. 

"I love you too, Mama."

The Norwegian could only freeze, her eyes filling up with happy tears, placing a kiss on the child's small head. 

Because Isabel hadn't been prompted at all. She meant it, she really saw Ingrid as her mother. 

And that meant the world to the Norwegian, who had spent so much time worrying that she would never be enough for the child, that she would always be an outsider within their little family, despite Mapi's intense efforts to try and reassure her that she was wrong. 

And maybe, just maybe, this was the start of Ingrid finally understanding that she really could be part of their little family.

Or even better, she would realise that she already was.

Ingrid: She called me Mama. I can't believe she called me Mama. 

Mapi: I can.  You are her Mama. She loves you so much.

~~~~~~ sorry this took so long and hope you enjoyed! 

tell me what you think!!

have a good day :)