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yun-fangz · 5 months ago

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Fleur. | K.HJ

my thoughts on Dilf! Designer Hongjoong because @crimsonbubble is an ENABLER. /lh. 🫵

pairing: designer!joong x intern!reader

general warnings: age gap (he's mid to late 30's, reader is early 20's), slightly obsessive!joong, suggestive, tension is off the charts, i need dilf hongjoong soooo bad.

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this has been in my mind since his apearance for balmain and im glad im finally able to share it. if i ever get the time and recources to do so, i would probably want to fic/turn this into a mini series.

NOTE: this was churned out in the heat of the moment, please ignore any formatting/grammatical errors, I'll fix them in a bit i just needed to get it out.

In the fashion world, Hongjoong was considered an enigma, untouchable to virtually everyone. From early on, his brand quickly made its way to the top of high fashion, further mysterizing himself to the world.

When you had managed to become an intern under his brand, Hongjoong’s curiosity was aroused. He watched as you moved along the building, completing your tasks for the workday. He didn't know what it was about you that drew his interest, but as time passed he slowly became infatuated with you. He made it a mission to personally oversee all of your work, seemingly impressed with your creative eye. You’d be called into his office or his “studio” in which he called it, quite often, receiving feedback and praise for your work by the older man.

Your bashfulness to him only served to inflate his ego as these meetings went on, his obsession with you rising alongside it. Late nights in his office would be shared as you began working alongside him. He used this time as an excuse to watch you close up, with the excuse of being a “guiding mentor”. He smirked at the warmth that blooms on your face as his fingers brush your arm, correcting pin placements on the form. As time passed, he’d allow you two to play this little game of cat and mouse, until he could bear it no longer.

As soon as Hongjoong entered the space, you could feel the air shift, a much heavier feeling wafting through the room. Focused on the newest form in front of you, pinning fabrics into place, you could feel his heavy eyes land on you. You continued to work, ignoring the feeling as best you could as he silently watched your every move.

“Not bad,” His voice cut through the quiet, low and smooth as he approached from behind. The prickle of his gaze on your back felt stronger than before he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you,” You murmured quietly. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you adjusted the pins on the garment. You had worked beside the older man for months by now, yet the way his attention lingered on you made you feel like you were constantly on the edge of something else—something more… forbidden.

He stalked closer, his presence so near now that you could almost feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His fingers ran against your arm as he reached from behind, correcting the placement of a pin you’d just set moments prior. such a simple touch sent a wave of heat through your body, and you froze for just a moment, acutely aware of just how close he was. Briefly, you close your eyes as the scent of his cologne wafts into your orbit, causing you to inhale shakily as you take in his arousing scent.

“You’ve learned quickly.” Hongjoong said, his breath brushing lightly against the side of your neck. His words were soft but laced with something else that made your heart thrum heavily against your chest.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the fabric in front of you, but it was nearly impossible to ignore his proximity. Every time you were called into his studio, every time you shared these late nights together, you could feel the tension between the two of you grow.

“Thank you,” you whispered again, your voice quieter this time, not trusting yourself to say much more. Your hands fumbled slightly with the fabric as you worked, your pulse pounding in your eardrums as you tried your hardest not to tremble.

Hongjoong’s hand lingered a moment longer, his fingers sliding lightly across your arm once more before he stepped away. You took a deep breath as his presence backs away, feeling a small sense of relief as you’re now able to think a bit more clearly.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he teases, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he circled around the form to face you. His dark eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see his intentions clearly. “I’m here to guide you, after all.”

You nod, biting your lip to stop the inappropriate thoughts running through your mind. The weight of his words felt heavier than they should have, each syllable laced with more than what they mean.

He moved back toward the garment, examining it with the same critical eye he always did, but his gaze would occasionally flicker to you between each look. You tried to focus, tried to push away the growing tension, but it was always there, like an electric current humming quietly in the background.

Another long moment passed in silence before Hongjoong spoke again, his voice much softer now, as if he were talking to a frightened kitten. “You know,” he began, stepping closer once again, his eyes boring into yours. “I’ve never been this impressed with anyone, let alone this quickly.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you couldn’t help but glance away, the heat all over your body spreading once more like a wildfire. He had praised your work before, many times actually, but this… this felt much different. His gaze lingered too long, it was too intimate, too close to you.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with that same quiet intensity, as if testing the waters, seeing how far he could push you. His fingers reached out again, this time gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the soft gesture contrasting his domineering presence, it sent a thrill through your entire body. “I watch you and wonder,” he said, his voice low and sensual, “—if you even realize how much potential you have.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you force yourself to meet his gaze, though your pulse is racing. “I don’t understand” is all you can manage, your voice shaky as a lump begins to form in your throat, preventing you from speaking further.

Hongjoong’s smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the way you react to him. His fingers brushed lightly against your jaw before he pulled back, his eyes still locked on yours. “You will,” he said quietly, his tone slightly reassuring and filled with something darker, something almost possessive.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the darkness of the candlelit room. You could feel the heat of his gaze, the way it seemed to strip you bare, and you knew that this game of cat and mouse was over. You stand there, unmoving, as his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to your eyes, leaning ever so slightly in.

But then, as if deciding he had pushed just far enough for the night, Hongjoong stepped back, his attention returning to the garment. “We’ll finish this tomorrow,” he said, his tone casual once more, though the lingering heat in the room told you everything you needed to know.

Quickly, you gathered your things to leave, heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder why he toys with you like this. But you already knew, with Hongjoong, nothing was ever simple. The more time you spent around him, the harder it became to resist the pull you felt towards him.

You give one last look at the older man before you step out of his office and into the parisian night, wondering just how long he’ll drag this out.

sorry i got caught up with stuff so this took a little longer to write lol.

#yun fangz.works 🪦#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fics #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong hard thoughts #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hongjoong hard hours

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someonegoood · 1 month ago

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THE CORPORATE EQUATION drabble #2 ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, teasing, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 <3

drabble #2: a taste of normal

The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the air as you pushed the door open to your favorite neighborhood café. The familiar chime of the bell overhead was comforting, a tiny signal that you’d escaped the pressures of the week for a brief moment. Sunday afternoons were your sanctuary, a time to detach from the endless emails, spreadsheets, and office drama.

The last thing you expected was to find your boss seated in the corner booth, looking entirely out of place.

Mr. Jeon was dressed in a simple black hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. A black baseball cap obscured most of his face, though his striking features were unmistakable. You blinked, unsure if you were hallucinating from a lack of caffeine or if this was some bizarre fever dream.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t deserve a coffee break; you just couldn’t imagine him willingly stepping into a café that didn’t serve espresso in tiny porcelain cups and cost more than your weekly grocery bill.

As if sensing your presence, he glanced up from his laptop, his sharp eyes softening slightly when they landed on you.

“Miss?” he asked, his deep voice laced with surprise.

“Boss?” The word tumbled out before you could stop yourself. The second it left your mouth, you cringed internally. Boss. Of course, that’s what you called him. Never mind that you were both technically off the clock.

He sighed, closing his laptop with a soft click. “Do you have to call me that? We’re not at the office.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Well, you do look a little out of place here. Are you sure you’re not scouting this place as a potential business acquisition?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “Funny. I didn’t realize sarcasm was in the HR handbook.”

“It’s in the fine print,” you shot back. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be in a penthouse somewhere, strategizing world domination?”

“Can’t a guy get a cup of coffee without being psychoanalyzed?” he countered, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward in amusement.

You snorted. “Not when that guy is you.”

Despite your banter, you found yourself sliding into the seat across from him. It wasn’t every day you saw Jeon Jungkook, the untouchable CEO, looking almost…normal. The tension that usually accompanied him at the office seemed to dissipate in the warm glow of the café. He looked younger, softer, like the weight of the world had temporarily slipped off his shoulders.

“You’re staring,” he pointed out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m just… surprised,” you admitted. “I’ve never seen you outside of a suit before. It’s unsettling.”

“Unsettling?” He raised an eyebrow. “Should I apologize for being comfortable?”

“Maybe,” you teased. “You’re ruining my perception of you as an untouchable workaholic. What’s next? Are you going to tell me you binge-watch reality TV and own a pair of fuzzy slippers?”

He chuckled, a sound so rare you almost didn’t recognize it. “I’ll have you know my slippers are plain black. No fuzz.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound earning a few curious glances from nearby patrons. It was strange, sitting across from Mr. Jeon and sharing a moment that felt so…ordinary. At work, he was the epitome of composure and authority, a man whose presence demanded attention.

“So... what’s the real reason you’re here?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re working on a Sunday.”

He hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Sometimes it’s easier to think when I’m not surrounded by… distractions.”

“Distractions?” you repeated. “You mean like the employees who keep your company running?”

Jungkook’s lips twitched, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee, his gaze fixed on the window. “You’re not wrong. But it’s not just work. It’s everything. Sometimes I need to step away from all of it, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

There was a vulnerability in his tone that caught you off guard. For a moment, the mask he wore so well slipped, revealing a man who wasn’t as invincible as he seemed. It made you wonder just how heavy the crown of CEO truly was.

“That sounds… lonely,” you said softly.

He glanced at you, his expression guarded. “It’s part of the job.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the café filling the space between you.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“At work, you’re all sunshine and optimism. Always smiling, always ready to solve problems. It’s… annoying, honestly.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Annoying? I’ll have you know my positivity is one of my best qualities.”

“And yet here you are, calling me lonely and ruining my coffee break,” he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your… non-distracting thoughts,” you said, standing up.

Jungkook’s gaze followed you as you walked away, a strange mix of curiosity and something softer lingering in his eyes. As you stepped back into the crisp afternoon air, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t as untouchable as he seemed.

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annwrites · 3 months ago

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⸻ the last unicorn ; part one ⸻

❝love is slowing you down, my lady. i will catch you at last, if you love much more.❞ — peter s. beagle

· pairing: aemond targaryen x unicorn!reader · type: mini-series · summary: aemond finds the most magnificent creature he's ever laid eyes upon in the kingswood. and when he returns in the evening to gaze upon you one last time, he finds himself further left for breath at the unexpected discovery before him. and rather than part with you, he contacts a witch to give him what he desires most...for forever. · tags: love at first sight, innocence, covetousness, angst · word count: 2,935

You are the loveliest mare he has ever set eyes upon.

Your coat is as white as the driven snow—untouched and gleaming. And your mane is long and smooth, and glimmers in the dappled sunlight that shines down upon you between swaying green leaves which comprise the canopy above.

You drink quietly from a babbling brook, wholly unaware of the gaze focused on you from a distance.

He takes a step forward—not measured enough, as he’s entirely enraptured by your beauty—and a twig snaps underfoot, causing your head to jerk up and in his direction.

He stills, as do you. But for him, it is not from wariness or fear, but wonder and disbelief.

“It can’t be,” he whispers. “For none now live.”

Your tail sways behind you and you crook your head.

He grins at the sight while taking another step forward, desperate to place even just one lone hand upon you. It is only through the act of doing so that he will believe that his remaining eye is indeed not deceiving him.

You take a step back and he shakes his head while extending a palm, shooshing you, hoping to calm you.

“It’s alright,” he states—gently. “I don’t want to harm you.”

You exhale and your ears twitch as you listen to words you do not understand.

“You’re quite lovely. Very much so. You are the last of your kind. Do you know that?”

His eyes travel along the polished opalescent horn that juts from the middle of your forehead before looking back into your own.

“It must be a terrible thing to be all alone in the world. I can only imagine such a fate.”

You step back again and he pauses—for he is nearly there, and to lose you when he has only just found you…he cannot bear it.

But to see you alone is a gift from the Seven.

“My name is Aemond,” he tells you with a kind smile. “Targaryen. You should know you are not the first mystical creature I have come across. I rode one once, you know. Not a unicorn, of course, but a dragon.”

He swallows thickly, ignoring the stinging of his eye. “She’s gone now. Lost during the war. To my uncle—my foe. But I repaid the favor by driving my sword through his heart.”

He’s standing before you now, and you have, most surprisingly, not fled.

Painstakingly slowly, he raises a hand and holds his breath as he settles it on your neck.

You blink lazily at him while swishing your tail curiously.

He smiles while shaking his head. “You’re far too trusting. No one has ever hunted you before, have they, sweetling?”

Your eyes move downward, toward his pack.

“You’re quite fortunate in that. Next time someone comes through these woods, you need to run. Hide. If you must, drive your horn through them. Show them no mercy, for the wrong sort of ilk will not show any to you.”

You nudge your nose against his chest and he chuckles while scratching behind your ears. “You’re too gentle for such an act, though, aren’t you?”

He slips his fingers into your mane. “I am not a gentle man myself by nature. Not usually. But for you, I think I can make an exception. I’ve a reputation to maintain, but unicorns sing no songs, so I believe it safe to assume that my secret will be kept.”

You move your snout lower and nuzzle against his bag, sniffing.

And then he snorts. “Ah, I see. It is not me you want, but instead the treats I have to offer.”

He reaches into his brown leather satchel and retrieves a shiny red apple, which he offers to you.

You eat directly from his palm and his lip twitches at the ticklish feel.

“Gods, you are truly a sight to behold. It has been believed for some time by scholars from the Citadel and otherwise that you had all gone extinct. Have you always been here, in the Kingswood? Where do you hide yourself away, I wonder?”

You nudge his pack, wanting for more.

He promptly obliges your request.

He continues to speak while you snack. “It is written that you all are immortal. Rather—you are. And the most innocent and pure of creatures. I would not doubt it now after our chance meeting. I’ve also read…you come only to virgins.”

He grins. “I am certainly not that. So, I suppose the old adage is indeed true: not to believe all you read, or hear.”

You raise your head and stare at him dumbly.

His words sound like no more than a garbled mess to you. Human voices are so unpleasant to the ears. What are they in comparison to the wind, the birds, the rustle of leaves, and the things nature has to tell, which is far more important?

You turn away from him then, suddenly disinterested.

He cocks a brow, following along beside you, so you shake out your mane and hold your head high, wanting for solitude amongst your forest friends.

Men merely think themselves welcome here due to their own hubris. They believe all the earth is theirs for the taking because they consider themselves more intelligent and higher beings.

They forget that other things existed long before they, and will continue to remain longer after their bones blow like dandelion seeds in the wind. They know only of survival. It is what they do to the land: survive off of it. Instead, you live with it as one.

He does gain your interest once more, however, by offering you another apple.

He slides his hand down your back, smoothing your fur. “What might the people think of me if I were to return to the Red Keep atop the back of a unicorn, I wonder? The last remaining one in all the world. Presumably, that is.”

He steps around to the front of you and scratches beneath your chin. “Brief it may’ve been, but the Conqueror’s crown indeed suited me far better than it ever did my fool brother. I was more suited to the role as a whole. Yet, here I am now. In the middle of the Kingswood, passing my afternoon speaking to a horse.”

He could swear that you snort quietly in response, but knows he merely imagined it.

He glances back to his own mount across the way and sighs. “It will be dark soon enough; another day gone. I suppose I should be getting back to the Keep.”

He offers you one final apple, which you relieve him of immediately, and he presses a soft kiss to your mane—a most unexpected gesture—before reluctantly bidding you goodbye.

You do not watch as he goes.

During the night, sleep eludes Aemond and finds him entirely restless. He tosses and turns upon a featherbed which provides little comfort from the incessant thoughts of you which gather like a tempest within his mind.

He is quite tired, yes, but he knows that unless he journeys once more into the Kingswood to chance at having one final look upon you, he will find no peace. So he rises.

He knew it would be a wasted journey. Especially at this hour.

You are nowhere to be seen. A fact which he’s both disappointed, and gladdened by. Gladdened that perhaps some small part of you understood the warnings he spoke to you that afternoon: to run and hide if a man came calling upon the woods you call home.

He shakes his head, deigning himself foolish for even thinking to return here during the hour of the wolf. Since when does Aemond Targaryen, previous Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm, find himself preoccupied by a thing of fairytales?

Ridiculous.

Aemond makes to turn, until he hears the quiet rustle of leaves and he catches a glimmer of light reflecting off a pond across the way. A glimmer of light which grows and grows in fervor—entirely encapsulating you.

It nearly blinds him, and forces him to cover his eyes with his forearm to shield his vision.

In a moment, the spectacle is over and the night returns to darkness. The only illumination provided now being that of the silvery-blue moon in the sky which twinkling stars surround as they wink and kiss the inky black vision above.

Slowly, he drags his gaze upwards once more, squinting to see.

And then his breath lodges in his throat, choking him.

“How in Seven Hells…” He whispers in disbelief, for he does not believe his eye.

Not this time.

For he is surely sleepwalking. Trapped within a dream.

But if such a fact is so, he will kill any man who attempts to wake him.

You rise slowly on trembling legs—only two—and long silvery waves curtain your slim, naked form. You grip the bark of a tree to steady yourself as your body shakes against the cool night air.

His eyes trail along your pale skin—so pale, in fact, that it practically glows. Or perhaps it is just the moon casting you in its light that offers such an illusion.

And soft silver waves slip over your shoulders and shimmer in the light.

Your breasts are small and soft—proportionate to your body—with delicate pink nipples. You’ve womanly curves; the planes of which blend perfectly from your stomach and into your thighs like you are the finest sculpture he has ever lain his eye upon. Crafted by the hands of the Gods themselves you are. Created by the Maiden, for you are indeed her image made flesh.

He steps forward—wanting for answers, for explanation, no matter how impossible it might be—then pauses when you jerk your head in his direction.

You stare at him with wide, lilac eyes, and he shakes his head, sure he is trapped within a delusion of his own making.

He must touch you once more to assure himself otherwise.

“This is madness,” he says quietly, taking another step forward.

You bristle, and he raises a hand slowly, shooshing you—repeating his actions from some hours ago, in hopes of comforting you to his presence. “It’s alright, sweetling. We’ve met. Just today. Don’t you remember me?”

You blink dumbly at him.

“I brought you apples. You liked them.”

Your eyes flit to the pack at his side and he fills with relief.

You recall him indeed.

“I’m not here to harm you. I merely came to see you one last time. But I had certainly not expected this.”

He has nearly made his way around the pond, and you, quite fortunately, have not fled from him in fear.

“Can you change at-will, then? Or is it only the night which brings about this other form?” He asks curiously.

You merely stare at him, remaining unresponsive.

“Can’t you speak?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

You softly cock your head to the side, and silver strands slip over your shoulders, exposing your pert breasts to him, and he takes note of your pebbled nipples.

You’re cold.

Cautiously, he removes the cloak he has wrapped round his own shoulders, then holds it out toward you.

You take a tiny step back, but he still steps forward, fans it out behind you, then clasps it just below your neck.

And then he cups your chilled cheek in his palm.

“I thought you a vision,” he mutters, brushing his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “A creature come straight to me from my most impossible dreams.”

Your eyes flit between his while your lips remain silent.

“You don’t understand a thing I’m saying, do you, sweetling?”

You stare at him in response.

His lip twitches.

How entirely innocent and ignorant you are.

Perfect to mold, he thinks.

Until sunrise, that is.

He assumes, that, come the morn, you most likely return to your equestrian form.

But why? Has it always been this way for you? Are you not immortal, then, like he previously believed? Is this some sort of wretched curse bestowed upon you by a sorceress, warlock, moonsinger, or otherwise? Why punish such a beautifully quiet thing such as yourself? What could you have possibly done to deserve this?

To always be walking between two worlds, but belonging in neither—forever alone… What a horrid thing to be forced upon something as sweet and docile as you.

Quite boldly of you, you reach toward his pack, but he shoves it away on instinct.

You frown slightly, and then he smiles. “Forgive me, my sweet.”

He retrieves for you another apple and settles it into your expectant palm.

You promptly take a bite out of the crisp piece of fruit and lick your lips where sweet juice quickly gathers.

He groans lowly in the back of his throat at the sight, and does his utmost to ignore the slight swelling of his cock beneath his trousers.

He cups your other cheek then, holding you still and close as you take bite after bite while staring up and into his eye as he studies you.

Your long, silver strands slip easily between his fingers as he cups the back of your head affectionately. “If I did not know any better, I would think you are one of us: a true Targaryen. Or a Valyrian, forged in the fires of the Freehold.”

You lean slightly into his touch, merely liking the warmth his body has to offer and provide against the chill of this late hour, but he translates the simple gesture to have a far different meaning: that already you can feel it as well—this invisible ribbon which binds the two of you into one. It wraps your destinies together into a singularly divine fate.

Once you’ve finished with your treat, you lower your arm to your side and drop it. It softly thuds against the forest floor, then rolls down the embankment and into the pond at your side.

You hear a quite splash, and you smile slightly, knowing its remaining core is now feeding one of your friends.

You look at the strange man with one eye again, and your brows furrow in confusion as he closes it and begins to lean forward while slipping an arm beneath the cloak he wrapped around you to combat the chill.

He slides his hand along your waist before settling his palm against the small of your back so you might remain close to him.

And then he presses his lips to yours.

Your body stiffens and your eyes grow wide.

What is he doing? Is this a sort of odd greeting humans give each other, then? A strange form of communication, perhaps?

You blink, then try to swallow, but it’s precisely when your lips part that he slips his tongue into your mouth.

That is when you jerk away.

Aemond chuckles from amusement, then presses a firm, tender kiss to your forehead before leaning forward and resting his own against it.

“My sweet girl,” he whispers. “The Gods blessed me by putting you in my path.”

He pulls back slightly while tucking silver locks behind your ear. “You must be terribly lonely here. Are you not?”

You glance toward the pond, then back to him, wishing he’d let you go so you might stretch your legs for awhile.

“I could change that,” he says—his voice a whisper upon the wind. “At the very least, I can bring someone here who could. Who could keep you in this preferable form…for forever.”

You glance behind him and watch as a doe trots along with her little fawn close to her side.

“I could make you a princess,” he states, earning your attentions once more. “A wife, a mother. You could have fine things and live in a grand castle. Resplendent gowns, jewels, and servants at your beck and call would be yours for the taking. If you wish it—whatever you do—I will make it so. My jester of a brother is not long for this world. And once the Gods have come to call him home, I will ascend his throne.”

His grows quite serious then. “And you might be my bride, if you so covet a crown for yourself as I do. It will be just as lovely as you, I swear it.”

He slides his hand along the soft curve of your waist, then settles it just above the swell of your rear.

“We could make perfect little heirs. Silver hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. The very image of descendants of Old Valyria. None would question their parentage for a moment as they did my dead half-sister’s. Not that I would ever indulge myself by bringing bastards into this world. I would sooner put such abominations to the sword.”

You try to take a step back, unsettled by the wild look in his eye…but he holds firm.

“I want you,” he states lowly. “And I will have it so.”

He smiles, then brushes a kiss along your cheek. “You’ll be pleased with what I next intend to do, sweetling. I swear it. And once you are mine, I will have the finest septas teach and tutor you in how to be a proper princess and wife. You will learn to speak as I do. And I will treasure the moment when you finally utter the words of your undying love, stemming from thankfulness toward me, from having given you the gift of our blessed union.”

He pulls you into his chest and holds you in his arms, knowing it is exactly where you belong. “You’ve no idea the life that awaits you at my side.”

#fic: hotd (aemond targaryen x reader)#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond x reader

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dixons-sunshine · 10 months ago

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Hey!! I really REALLY love your girl dad Daryl series and I thought maybe I could request something :) Imagine Daryl building a doll house or something (maybe a cute little mini motorcycle) for his daughter I can totally see him doing something like that it’s all I can think about when I see this picture. He would totally get the materials from one of his supply runs because I headcanon that everytime he brings something for his daughter (like a doll or something)

His Motorcycle Princess | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When his daughter was born, Daryl swore to himself that he'd do everything in his power to ensure that she remained happy at all costs. So when she asked for her very own motorcycle, who was he to deny her that?

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour arc (the bridge exploding doesn't happen, so Daryl never goes looking for Rick and he's happily living in Alexandria).

Warnings: Swearing, slight suggestive talk.

Word count: 1.3k.

A/n: Okay but why can't Daryl be the father of my future kids? He'd be the best dad ever. All jokes aside, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Daryl, may I ask what the fuck that is?” you asked in surprise at at the sight before you, folding your arms over your chest.

Daryl looked up from his workbench, his ocean coloured eyes meeting your eyes before glancing back down at the big pink object in front of him. “S'a toy bike,” he stated plainly, patting the toy for added effect.

“Okay,” you drawled, nodding your head slowly. “But... Why?”

“S'fer Hazel,” he explained, picking up a screwdriver and resuming his task of assembling the toy motorcycle. “She asked fer a bike like mine, but obviously I ain't 'bout to assemble a real one fer a five year old, so I got this instead.”

You walked down the steps into the garage and walked over to your husband, standing slightly behind him as you watched him tighten the screws of the toy. “Where'd you even get this?”

“I was lucky 'nough to find a toy store tha' was left relatively untouched. Found this hidin' behind one of the shelves,” he explained, glancing over to you and nervously gulping at the close proximity. It amazed him that even after so many years together, you still managed to make butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“Aah, okay,” you nodded, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hazel is gonna freak out over this. This is gonna be her new favourite thing in the world.”

“Ya really think so?” Daryl asked, looking at you hopefully.

You smiled softly at him. There was lot of things people could say about the archer. People who didn't know him personally would call him rude, obnoxious and cold. Those who knew better would call him loyal, determined and caring. When it came to you, there was a lot you could say about your beautiful husband. He was kind, caring, loving, considerate, observant, and so much more. And you could also proudly say that Daryl was an amazing dad. Nobody was perfect and the archer had his moments that he wasn't proud of, but all in all, there was no denying that Daryl would do anything for your daughter.

“I know she'll love it,” you reassured him, wrapping your arms around him from behind and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You could bring her a painted rock and she'd love it. As long as it's from you, she doesn't care.”

“Nah, she hated tha' bunny I brought back fer her,” he replied, closing his eyes at the warm, soft feeling of you pressed against his back.

“It's only because it was covered in walker blood,” you explained. “After I washed it, she wouldn't let the thing go.”

Daryl couldn't deny that. The aforementioned toy had been a proud edition to Hazel's stuffed animal collection for two years at that point. She loved that bunny more than anything, favouring it to join her when she played tea parties with you and Daryl. It made the archer's heart swell with love, just knowing that his daughter appreciated what he did for her made everything worth it. All the battles he fought, all the blood that was shed, it was all worth it in the end. His wife and his daughter were safe, and he'd never been happier in his life than he was in those moments in the small home you shared in Alexandria.

With you still firmly pressed against his back, he got back to work. The toy was almost done; he only had a few finishing touches he had to do. Admittedly, it was a little harder to do so with you pressed against him from behind, but he refused to ask you to move. He'd much rather work on the toy for a few extra minutes than lose the comfort your mere touch brought him.

You watched his hands intently, your mind unwillingly wandering to a place that wasn't needed at that moment. However, you couldn't help it, the knowledge of what those hardworking hands could do in other activities taking over your senses.

“You know, this gives me deja vu,” you started, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah? How so?” Daryl asked, tightening the last screw into the toy.

“Remember back when you were building your own bike five years ago?” you asked, continuing when he nodded. “Seeing you hard at work, doing something you were skilled at really did something to me. It was because you were building your bike that we even have a kid at all now. And now you're building a motorcycle for our kid.”

Daryl chuckled at the memory. “Never knew grease could turn ya on like tha' until then.”

“When it's on my handsome husband's hands? You best believe it does.”

Daryl turned around and wrapped his arms around you, staring down at you lovingly. “And now we have our own kid.”

“Our own little family,” you agreed, smiling up at him. “I love you, Dar.”

“Love ya too, peach.”

“Mama! Daddy!”

Before Daryl could lean down and capture your lips in his for a kiss, your daughter bounded down the steps. The two of you sent each other an amused look, reluctantly pulling apart. Hazel came over to Daryl and held her hands up in a silent plea to be picked up, and the archer complied.

“Hey there, Hazelnut,” Daryl greeted her with a fond smile, placing a light kiss to the top of her head.

“Hi, Daddy,” she giggled, sending a wave at you. “Hi, Mama!”

“Hi, Baby,” you chuckled, walking over to rub her hair affectionately. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah! I'm ready to play now!” she exclaimed happily, a toothy smile on display.

“Well, how 'bout ya and I race our bikes?” Daryl questioned, capturing Hazel's attention.

“But Daddy, only you have a bike.”

“Not anymore,” you said in a playful tone, sharing an excited glance with the archer. “Daddy got you something.”

Daryl turned around with her in his arms and showed her the bright pink toy motorcycle. Hazel let out a surprised gasp before laughing in excitement, throwing her arms around Daryl's neck and hugging him as tightly as she could.

“Thank you, Daddy! Thank you! Thank you!” she exclaimed in excitement.

Daryl chuckled fondly and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. “Yer welcome, Hazelnut.”

“Now I can be like you!” she giggled, wiggling slightly to be put down. When she was, she ran over to the workbench and stared in awe at the toy.

“Yeah,” you agreed, walking over to her to ensure she didn't accidentally hurt herself with the tools that were still on the workbench. “You just need your own crossbow now.”

Hazel gasped in delight and turned to Daryl. “Daddy, can I get a crossbow?”

“'Course ya can. How else would ya help me on my hunts?”

“Yay!” Hazel happily clapped her hands. “Mama, I'm getting a crossbow!”

Daryl smiled and walked over to the two of you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and playfully ruffling Hazel's hair. He chuckled at the giggle she let out, feeling content and comfortable as he listened to Hazel's babbling as she regarded over all the places she would go with her very own motorcycle, even to the moon. There was nothing better in his life than moments like these. This was what he fought for. And he would do it all over again if it meant keeping the two most important people in his life safe.

Because without you, his beautiful wife, and Hazel, your perfect daughter, his life would never be the same.

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lumiambrose · 2 months ago

Text

୨♡୧ Offside attraction

Michael Kaiser x reader, fluff

Romance trope mini series - Opposites attract

To him, you shine like a shooting star. He’d do anything to have you. The only problem, you’re the daughter of one of BM’s executive sponsors who clearly states you’re off limits. 0.9k wc

C.ai bot by dolcesite, ngl this kinda turned into a forbidden romance but oh well

The roar of the stadium was deafening, chants and cheers blurring out any audible conversation. Kaiser, out of breath, wiped the sweat from his brow as he jogged off the pitch. Bastard München had just secured another win, his goal sealing the game in the final minutes. The crowd adored him. To them, he was a star, a prodigy, a player destined to make history.

But as he scanned the stands, his sharp eyes found the only face that mattered.

You stood near the VIP box, illuminated by the late afternoon sun, a vision against the sea of waving scarves and clapping hands. He’s simply glued to the way you exist, you exuded an effortless aura, one that Kaiser can’t take his eyes off of no matter what.

To him, you weren’t just another fan or even a casual admirer. You were untouchable, a beacon of light in his otherwise dark world. The child of one of the club’s top sponsors, you were as far out of reach as the moon.

Kaiser had learned early on that lines existed in football—not just on the field but in life. You were one of those lines. Explicitly off-limits by the higher-ups, you were never even supposed to cross his mind. But knowing something was forbidden only made it more irresistible.

After the match, the team celebrated in the players’ lounge, the area buzzing with energy and accomplishment. Teammates laughed, drinks were passed around, and highlights from the match looped on the TV screens. Kaiser, however, was restless. His mind wasn’t set on their victory.

When he finally stepped outside for air, the cool evening breeze hit him like a balm. He leaned against the railing overlooking the training grounds, his thoughts wandering to you. He could still picture the way your lips had curled into a faint smile when his goal hit the net, the sparkle in your eye as you clapped politely among the more raucous fans.

“Kaiser,” a voice called from behind him, soft yet firm.

He turned, and there you were, framed by the glow of the corridor lights. His pulse quickened, and he hoped the dimness masked his surprise.

“I thought I might find you out here,” you said, stepping closer.

He straightened, suddenly hyper-aware of the space between you. “You’re not in the lounge?”

“It’s not really my scene,” you replied. “And I figured you’d be out here brooding instead of celebrating with your team.”

“Brooding?” He smirked, though his heart was racing. “That’s dramatic.”

You shrugged, leaning on the railing beside him. “It suits you. Lone wolf, football prodigy. I can see the headlines now.”

He chuckled softly, but the sound was short-lived. You were too close, the faint trace of your perfume making his head spin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

You didn’t want to answer. Instead, turning to look at the empty field below. The silence stretched, heavy with plenty unsaid.

“I watched your goal today,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice softer now. “It was... amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Another silence. This one heavier than the last.

“I know I’m not supposed to talk to you,” you said suddenly, your eyes still fixed on the pitch. “But it feels ridiculous, doesn’t it? All these rules about who we can and can’t be around.”

“It’s not about rules,” Kaiser said, though the words felt hollow. “It’s about consequences.”

You finally turned to him, your gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Do you care about consequences?”

The question hung between you, daring him to answer.

“Yes,” he said, though the way his voice wavered betrayed him.

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving his. “I don’t think you do.”

He couldn’t breathe. You were so close now, your presence overwhelming, your gaze pulling him in like gravity. He knew he should step back, create distance, remind himself of the boundaries that existed for a reason.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. It was the smallest of touches, but it sent a shockwave through him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“And you’re not?” you countered, your lips curving into a faint smile.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to fade—the stadium lights in the distance, the noise from the lounge, even the weight of the rules he’d spent his life following. All that remained was you, standing there, daring him to take the risk.

He lifted your hand slowly, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away. When you didn’t, he pressed his lips to your knuckles, the kiss lingering longer than it should have.

It wasn’t just a gesture. It was a promise.

“I would do anything for you,” he said quietly, his voice low and full of conviction.

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, he saw a crack in your carefully constructed composure.

“Kaiser…” you began, but were rudely cut off by the sound of footsteps from the corridor.

You pulled your hand away, stepping back as if the distance could erase what had just happened.

“You should go,” he said, regret evident in his tone.

You nodded, your expression unreadable, and turned to leave.

As you disappeared into the building, Kaiser leaned back against the railing, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he was in too deep, way too deep to pull himself out.

Because to him, you weren’t just a forbidden line to cross. You were the only thing that made the risk worth taking.

Taglist: @sky-casino, @bbladie, @thetwinkims, @strawchocoberry (join my taglist here)

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

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lipringlrh · 1 year ago

Text

race for your heart | mv1

summary: you’re not meant to be there, but you can’t stay away, especially not from the racer who can’t stop winning.

pairing: illegal street racer!max x fem!reader

an: might be my fave thing i’ve ever written. thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts? i’m also not an illegal street racer and have never seen one so might not be accurate x

word count: 3.7k

warnings: illegal, police chase, speeding, mentions of drugs and dodgy men

feedback appreciated and requests open!!

…

You'd been here a few times before, not regularly, never more than twice a month, but enough times to know how everything goes. You weren't meant to be here the first time, you found it by a complete accident but you were grateful now. It filled you with both excitement and dread to be here. It was illegal and wrong, nevermind the fact someone could die.

The place was crawling with creeps and criminals everywhere, one wrong move or one wrong sentence could get you on the wrong side of some dangerous people, but you lived for the thrill. The danger of the drive, and watching the drivers do it. In brand new sports cars you could only dream of affording. You didn't really know much about the drivers, except one.

Max.

He caught your eye instantly when you'd first shown. He was stood there, head to toe in black, his arm placed carefully on his car, showing off all the right bits. He was the reason you kept coming back. He was fast, quicker than all the other drivers, and everyone knew it. He was the one people wanted to challenge, to beat, but they never seemed to.

You'd seen the bets. The money people were giving to the winner after every race. More money than you knew what to do with. You craved it, the luxury and the lifestyle, but it seemed impossible. You weren't a fast driver, and you weren't a criminal by any means yet you still found yourself drawn here every time. And drawn to the driver everyone deemed untouchable.

He was the same today: a winner. You never expected any different, no one did. All the prizes were handed to him on a gold platter. Crowds cheered for him, men patting him on the back as he got out of his car to grab a beer. He met your eye again as he sat at the bar. He was left alone now, the crowds already moving on to the next big thing to talk about. He didn't look away, and for the second time, he found himself walking over to you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer. He changed his clothes after the race, now dressed in a white button-down and jeans.

He was weary of you the first time you met. You looked lost, you were, and you were not the kind of person to be here. You looked too pure and good to be surrounded by lousy criminals with more money than they knew what to do with. He wondered if you were with the police, trying to scope out the area and shut it down, but he learned quickly he was wrong.

You explained you were lost and he blindly believed you. He was worried once you figured out what you were doing that you would go to the police but he made you promise you wouldn't, and after he watched how your knees went weak after he called you a "good girl," he knew you wouldn't.

He saw you the next few times you went, looking less and less lost every time, but he never caught your eye long enough to feel confident in walking over. "Can you imagine that?" He thought to himself, "I'm treated as though I'm a fucking god around here and I still can't talk to a girl." He beat himself down over it, watching you interact with people he never wanted you to talk to, in fear they'd ruin the pure image he'd created of you in his head. So he watched from afar, giving creeps the eye long enough to scare them off. Of course, you didn't know it was him sending these men away, but sometimes you were grateful and other times you weren't. He felt bad for a moment before not caring again. "It's to keep her safe," he promised to himself every time.

You didn't reply to him immediately, instead drinking in his appearance: the way his face looked under the moonlight, the way his jaw locked when you didn't reply, and the way his shirt stretched over his muscles perfectly, letting you see everything.

"So?" he replied, smirking, watching you look him up and down more times than he could count, "are you going to answer me?"

You're eyes flew to his face again, watching as he became more confident the longer he saw you looking.

"What did you ask?" you mumbled, holding eye contact.

"I said: "What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" Think you can answer that?" he challenged, taking a step closer. He saw what he did to other girls, how he made them crumble, but nothing compared to you, and how he loved watching his effect on you.

"I- well, I just came for a beer?" you answered, sounding more unconfident the more you went on. You knew why you were here: because you liked it, but you didn't want to. It was criminal yet here you were, enjoying the thrill and the danger. And watching Max, racing or not.

"And the last time? And the time before that? You don't seem like the type of girl to go out drinking alone, especially to the type of place so dirty and illegal." He asked, teasing, stepping closer once again. His voice was growing louder even as he got closer until he was touching you and leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I think you like it, don't you?"

Your body shuddered at the closeness, your hand flying straight to his arm to keep balance. Instead, you made it worse for yourself, grabbing straight onto his muscles, and turning your face the slightest shade of red. You hoped Max wouldn't be able to see - you were too close and there wasn't much light, but you were very wrong. Crowds moved everywhere around you, but all of Max's focus was on you. It was impossible for him not to notice, he was trying to pick up on every detail that he could about you.

His head lifted back up so you could see him fully like he could see you. Your faces were barely apart, a few centimetres at best, but it still messed with your head, a million thoughts flying everywhere at once until there were none. None other than Max and what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest nod as a response to his question. You didn't want to admit you liked it but with Max so close to you it was the only reaction you could even fathom of giving. He was messing with your head and he hasn't even done anything yet.

"Are you going to answer me like a good girl or just stand there?" he says, with the cockiest attitude you'd ever seen. He knew what he did to you, and what else those two little words would do, and he loved it.

Before you got the chance to reply, you felt pressure on your back and you were pushed into Max. He grabbed you and kept you upright, but he couldn't miss the sudden uproar of the crowd and the fact they were all running in the same direction.

He gave you a once over to make sure you were alright before looking forward to try to see what was happening. People were screaming and running and he couldn't tell why. His arms wrapped around you in a protective manner, pulling you closer in an attempt to keep you safe.

So many people were shouting at him and he couldn't make out what anyone was saying. He was trying to figure it out but it seemed impossible. You were almost pushed again but the person managed to stop themselves. Max didn't care, he was almost starting to shout at them for their recklessness until he finally found out what was happening.

"Police! Run!" the man screamed at him before carrying on running himself. It was like his fight or flight mode kicked in and he wasn't going to get caught.

"My car," he said as he realised an escape plane, telling you at the same time. He found your hand and took off running, dragging you with him. He led you both to the side of the crowd so that you wouldn't get lost and led you quickly to his car.

Police were everywhere, especially near the cars. They were parked on the road but out of the way of the runners. Many of them were unregistered or stolen, and others held bags upon bags of drugs. Police were stood by his car, trying to look inside the windows for anything immediately suspicious. They were covering the drivers side and he knew he would have to be fast.

"When I jump across to the drivers side, get into the passenger seat and shut the door," he called back to you. You processed the information, barely, and nodded, but Max was already focused on using his free hand to find his keys.

He got them, twisting them around, and unlocking the car just as he was about to reach it. The police were looking in the backseat, but were too slow to process the flashing orange lights and the doors at the opposite side opening.

Max leaped in and switched sides like a machine, doing it with so much ease it seemed impossible. He grabbed the driver's side door, holding it close as officers tried to open it.

"Get in," he screamed, watching as you paused for a moment. You made eye contact with an officer whilst quickly overthinking your whole life up until this moment. How did this happen?

You couldn't think much longer and you got inside, shutting the door shut with a slam. You let out a sigh of relief much too quickly as your breath hitched with the speed the car had just started.

Max locked the doors and took off in a flash. The car sped up in an instant, going to speeds you never dreamed of. Max was absorbed into the roads, dodging people and officers as he tried to escape.

Your hand gripped the seats until your knuckles were white; this was not a situation you ever wanted to be in. Max noticed, taking his eyes off of the road every few seconds to double-check you were okay.

"I do this every day and I've never got hurt," his eyes flicked back to your face after trying to reassure you, which was obviously failing.

"You won't get into trouble with the police either." he tried again. After looking at you again, he realised how badly he was failing. He didn't know what to do. He was fine in situations like these and had never had to comfort anyone. Every solution was running through his mind, not only to get out of here safe and alive but to make sure you knew that.

"Hold my hand," he ordered softly, holding out his hand for you to grab.

"Don't you need to focus on driving?" you questioned, worried. He laughed and lifted his other hand off of the wheel too. When he saw your face he immediately put it back on but kept the other outstretched for you to grab.

You looked at it for a second before grabbing it, interlacing your fingers together, and bringing your hands to rest on top of your thighs. His thumb immediately started traveling back and forth along the back of your hand as you decided to focus on that rather than the road in front of you.

"I promise you I will keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen," he spoke gently. He smiled at you, not that you were looking, but he thought that it might lift the mood anyway. "Trust me," he added, in the softest tone he thought he'd ever spoken with. He shook his head - he was going soft for a girl he's only ever spoken to twice.

You nodded gently, genuinely trusting him for a moment. That all faded when you started hearing sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer.

Max looked through the wing mirrors before speeding up the car even more. You subconsciously squeezed his hand more, gripping it like a vice.

"Okay, pretty girl, I'm going to need my hand back but it's only to keep you safe. I promise I'm going to keep you safe." You didn't believe him but you tried anyway.

You let go of his hand reluctantly, going back to squeezing the seats. You let out a shaky breath and tried to see what was going on behind you. You were on a motorway, going much higher than the speed limit. You could see three police cars in your view, all trying to catch you up.

Max hit the pedal again, speeding up impossibly faster. His eyes were on the road, occasionally on the police behind him and occasionally on you. If he had it his way, they'd be always on you, but he promised to keep you safe and was doing his damn best to keep it.

"We're going faster than their cars can physically go. We'll lose them in no time." He did another once over of you, taking in how petrified you looked once again. "Sitting so tense is going to make you more tense. I don't want you to worry yourself sick."

"Sorry," you mumbled, taking a quick look in the mirrors to see the police much further in the distance than you thought they would be.

"Don't apologise, pretty girl." he spoke, moving the car to the first lane.

He went round a sharp turn, almost heading onto a junction exit but only just missing it. He sped up again, heading around the next corner with flying speed.

"The police will think we just turned off, we'll turn off at the next one." You just nodded, going along with everything. You barely knew the man yet you were on a literal police chase with him.

He slowed the car down to a normal speed, placing his hand back into yours, "see, we're okay."

"We're okay," you repeated, trying to reassure yourself. His thumb was back to tracing lines on the back of your hand and it was helping you more than you'd like to admit.

It wasn't long until you turned off, traveling at a normal speed down some city suburb roads. You headed into an area you'd never seen, full of some of the biggest houses you imagined the city had to offer. You didn't even know where you were going yet you trusted Max blindly.

He parked in front of a huge residence, with all sorts of fancy cars parked in front. You imagined multiple massive families could live there with tonnes of spare space due to the sheer size of the front alone. It was truly extraordinanry.

"Where are we?" You questioned. Max had turned off the car and leaned back in his seat. His hand never left yours, and his thumb never stopped brushing back and forth.

"My home," he spoke, watching your face convey more emotions than he thought was possible. Your mind was racing a mile a minute: what did he want from you? was he kidnapping you? did he want something in return for saving you? You didn't like the thought of what was happening at all but Max read you easily.

"I can drive you back home if you'd prefer. Or take you somewhere, get you a hotel, anything," he spoke sincerely. He fully believed anything you'd want him to do, he would do for you, and he would go to the ends of the world to do it.

"I don't think I can be alone right now." You said, training your eyes onto yours and Max's hand.

"I can take you to a friend's? I can stay with you? I can take you somewhere crowded? Whatever you want me to do, I will do." He said, promising himself he would do whatever you wanted.

It was stupid - so stupid - the way Max had made you feel safe and the fact you wanted to stay by him. Not one thing led to the conclusion that he was a good man yet you still wanted to stay.

"My house is probably over an hour away." You knew Max could drive fast, you knew he could get you there much quicker but you didn't want to leave him. You looked out the window, at his house.

Max saw the way you looked at it, longingly yet worriedly. He didn't want to push you to make a decision, he wanted you to say it himself. He gave you hand a few reassuring squeezes, urging you to say what you felt.

"I want to stay with you," you whispered. You still stared at his house in horror and amusement. Max could see you in the reflection and could feel the worry radiating off you - he wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe.

"Let's go to a hotel." he said, your head immediately flicking back to look at his, "We can get different rooms if you'd like, but if you'd feel more comfortable there, we can go. It's no problem at all."

"Yes please," you nodded, grateful for Max's thinking. The more he was talking, the more comfortable and safe you felt around him. Past you would probably be calling yourself stupid in every way you knew how, but you felt like it'd be okay this time.

He drove off carefully, sticking to all the speed limits, something he rarely did when he was alone. He took you to a nearby hotel, only a ten-minute drive away. It was a lovely-looking hotel, something you'd never check yourself into though when you could just get the classic cheap ones that always worked fine.

"You okay?" Max asked carefully as you peered outside.

"This looks expensive, Max."

God, he loved when you said his name. You hadn't said it a lot but he felt like he could get addicted every time.

He chuckled in amusement, "I've got more money than I could use if I tried, it's on me."

You nodded and opened the car door, unfortunately dropping Max's hand in the process. Not for long though, as Max whipped around the side of the car to grab it again after muttering a small, "let me open it for you next time," to you.

He ordered two separate rooms but made sure they were next to each other and handed you both keys to your room and the spare keys to his, making you promise to let yourself in of you needed anything.

You felt yourself drawn to him, becoming disappointed as he left you to your own room, longing for more. You led in bed, in the same clothes you'd been wearing all day, wanting nothing more than to just be with him again.

You also couldn't stop thinking about the night that passed and how it could've ended much differently. You were reckless and a complete disaster of a person but you didn't think you would change it if you could.

So you left. You got all your belongings and you knocked on Max's room. He opened the door rather quickly, with a sudden look of confusion on his face when he realised it was you.

His hair was messy and stuck up in every direction but he still looked flawless. He had no shirt or pants on, just boxers, and you couldn't help but admire his whole body.

"Are you okay? Just let yourself in next time. What happened?" he asked frantically, worry laced all over his voice.

"Can I stay with you?" You asked nervously, refusing to look at his face.

"Of course, pretty girl," he replied with no hesitation, he would do anything to have you nearby. He stepped aside and welcomed you in, taking everything out of your hands and placing it on a table.

"You take the bed. I can either join you, take the sofa out here or take the chair in the bed room. And here," he said, picking up the shirt he'd changed into after racing, "take this, you can't be comfortable sleeping in that."

You took the shirt with a "thank you," and got changed in the bedroom. The shirt was long enough that you couldn't see anything if you tried, and it was incredibly comfy.

You poked your head out of the bedroom to see Max half asleep with his head in his hands. You gently called his name, his head jolting suddenly towards you.

"Will you stay with me?" you asked, a lot more confidently than before, but still a little shaky.

Max got up with a nod and headed inside the bedroom. He watched you get comfortable in bed and snuggled into the side you hadn't chosen.

You immediately moved towards him, throwing a leg over his, and your head on top of his chest. His arms moved instinctively around you, pulling you impossibly closer. He was so tired but wasn't going to waste an opportunity of staring at you a little longer.

"Sorry the night didn't turn out how you planned," he mumbled, wanting so badly to kiss your forehead but didn't want to overstep boundaries, "and sorry for scaring you."

"It's okay Max," you whispered, turning your head to kiss his chest ever so delicately. He decided to kiss your head in retaliation, smiling all the way through it.

"Tell me if you want to go again and I'll be there," he chuckled against your head, "goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, Max."

…

this might be my favourite thing i’ve ever written so reblogs and feedback would be really appreciated !! :) also thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts?

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jungkoode · 6 days ago

Text

OFF-LABELS | O7

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: February 26th, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: House calls that go wrong, sweater weather complications, unexpected revelations that change everything, surgical precision used for mending more than just socks, and the kind of silence that speaks volumes. | emotional tension, domestic setting, power dynamics, moral crisis, medical ethics, complex relationships, emotional warfare, guilt and desire, medical authority questioned, professional boundaries, casual clothes, internal conflict, communication breakdown, ethical dilemmas, misunderstandings.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,9k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: Okay, so FINALLY posting the drama chapter!! Before you dive in, I need to make something very, very, very (did I say very?) clear about what's happening here. This chapter is absolutely NOT about virginity or some gross purity kink. Like, I would literally projectile vomit if anyone suggested I was writing that kind of male-gaze "untouched flower" bullshit. We are not in Stephen King territory here, describing "pale creamy mommy tits" or whatever horrifying descriptors men think are sexy. 🤢 The actual issue is about psychological dynamics and consent. Throughout these chapters, Hoseok has been enjoying this cat-and-mouse game where Y/N is clearly attracted to him but constantly second-guessing herself. He's been deliberately keeping her in this state of "is he into me or am I imagining it?" because he gets off on her uncertainty. He likes the plausible deniability! He likes watching her squirm! The PROBLEM hits when he realizes she's a virgin, which makes his brain connect some horrifying dots: if she's never been with anyone before, she doesn't understand the psychological game they're playing. She's not pretending to be confused as part of the dynamic—she genuinely doesn't know what's happening. His visceral reaction isn't "oh no, she's pure and innocent!" It's "oh fuck, I've been psychologically conditioning someone who didn't even know they were being manipulated." He thought they were engaged in mutual psychological edging, but now he realizes he's just been breaking her down without her even knowing there was a game being played. And let me clarify something important—when I say "conditioning" or when Hoseok feels like he's been "grooming" her, this is NOT actual grooming in the predatory sense. These are two consenting adults (Y/N is 23ish? Hoseok is 27/28ish?) who have known each other for years (she's had a crush on him for FOUR years, and he's been playing this game for about two). She's in her first year of med school, he's a first-year resident. I've calculated these ages very specifically to keep everything firmly in legal, consensual adult territory. The issue isn’t the age gap—it’s him realizing she wasn't psychologically equipped to understand the mind game they were playing. He thought she was a willing participant in a psychological dynamic, but now he's realizing she was just genuinely confused and uncertain because she lacks the experience to recognize what was happening. THAT'S why he's disgusted with himself. Not because he doesn't want to be her first (he absolutely does), but because he thinks he's been essentially manipulating someone who wasn't a willing participant in the power dynamic. Anyway, rant over! Enjoy the angst! 😈

PLAYLIST

You’re standing on Hoseok’s doorstep.

Hoseok’s doorstep.

Like, his actual apartment. The place where he lives and sleeps and—

(No. Don’t think about that.)

Your fingers twist anxiously in the hem of your sweater as you stare up at the building. It’s ridiculous. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a private balcony, a lobby that smells like wealth and white oak. This isn’t some cramped resident’s crash pad—it’s the kind of place reserved for surgeons who drive luxury cars, not first-years who live off caffeine and whatever snacks they can steal from the nurses’ station.

It doesn’t make sense.

But then again, nothing about Hoseok ever does.

Your phone screen still glows with the text he sent this morning, casual as anything, like this is normal. Like this is something you do—just show up at his penthouse on a Thursday afternoon. You’d spent twenty minutes drafting excuses, each one more pathetic than the last, until your brother had mentioned it over breakfast:

“Oh yeah, Hoseok said you’re helping him organize his research papers today?”

Your toast had frozen halfway to your mouth. “He… what?”

“For his residency portfolio,” Caleb had said, not even looking up from his phone. “Said he needs a fresh pair of eyes on it.”

The lie was perfect. Believable. Academic.

(Of course it was. Everything about Hoseok is perfect.)

“Right,” you’d managed weakly. “That’s… that’s why.”

“Want me to drop you off? I’m heading that way anyway.”

And that’s how you ended up here—heart thundering against your ribs as you raise your hand to knock. Before your knuckles can touch the door, it swings open.

Your breath catches.

Because this—this isn't hospital Hoseok or teaching Hoseok or even party Hoseok. This is... home Hoseok.

He's wearing soft gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and a white t-shirt that's clearly been washed too many times, the fabric thin enough that you can almost see the definition underneath. His feet are bare against the hardwood floor, and his hair is slightly messy like he's been running his fingers through it.

It's so domestic it makes your knees weak.

"Come on in." His voice is warm honey, dripping slow and sweet down your spine as he steps aside. The movement makes his shirt ride up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above his waistband that you definitely don't stare at.

(You stare at it.)

Your legs feel like jelly as you step past him into the apartment. His scent is everywhere here—that clean, citrusy smell that haunts your dreams, but stronger now, mixed with something warmer. More intimate.

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft finality that makes your pulse skip.

You're in Hoseok's house.

Alone.

With him.

On a Thursday.

Oh god.

"Shoes off," he instructs gently, and you comply automatically, toeing off your sneakers next to his neatly arranged row of footwear. The sight of your beat-up Converse next to his expensive dress shoes makes something flutter in your stomach.

"This way." His hand settles at the small of your back, guiding you down a hallway lined with framed medical certificates. The touch is light—barely there—but it burns through your sweater like a brand.

You follow him in silence, heart thundering against your ribs as he leads you deeper into his home. Everything is exactly how you imagined it would be: minimalist but warm, all clean lines and rich woods and subtle touches of luxury. A doctor's house. A successful man's house.

(A house where your brother's best friend is about to—)

"Nervous?" His voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, tinged with something that might be amusement.

"No," you lie immediately, the word coming out too fast, too high.

His laugh is soft and knowing as he stops in front of a closed door. "Liar."

Before you can defend yourself, he's opening the door, and—

Oh god.

It's his study.

Of course it's his study.

The room is everything you'd expect: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a massive mahogany desk, leather chairs that probably cost more than your tuition. Late afternoon sunlight streams through tall windows, casting golden shadows across polished surfaces.

But all you can focus on is the way he's looking at you—head tilted slightly, expression gentle but hungry.

Hungry.

"After you," he murmurs, and the words drip like honey down your spine.

You sink into one of the leather chairs, the expensive material creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok settles into the chair beside yours, close enough that his knee almost brushes yours. Almost. The near-contact raises goosebumps across your skin.

"Notes," he says simply, voice steady and professional like this is just another study session. Like you're not alone in his house, surrounded by his scent, drowning in memories of his fingers and his voice and his—

"Right." You reach for your backpack with trembling hands, but the strap slips through your fingers like water. Before it can hit the floor, Hoseok catches it smoothly, his reflexes quick and precise.

(Of course they're precise. He's a surgeon. Those hands are trained for precision.)

"Chip." His voice is gentle—too gentle—as he steadies the bag in your lap. "You're trembling."

Your face burns as his fingers brush against yours, lingering just a second too long. "What's up?"

Everything. Everything is up. You're in his house. Alone. And all you can think about is the way his thumb had pressed against your tongue in the anatomy lab, how his fingers had curled inside you while your brother's party continued downstairs, how badly you want him to—

"Nothing," you manage, voice tight and unconvincing.

He hums—that low, knowing sound he always makes and somehow feels menacing—and suddenly his hand is gripping the edge of your chair. Before you can process what's happening, he's pulling you closer with one fluid movement, the chair sliding across hardwood like you weigh nothing at all.

Your breath catches sharply at the display of casual strength.

Because fuck—how can someone be this effortlessly powerful? This casually devastating?

Does he even realize what he's doing to you, or is this just how he is?

Just Hoseok being Hoseok, completely unaware of how every little thing he does makes you want to crawl into his lap and—

"Nothing?" he repeats softly, and now his knee is definitely touching yours, the heat of him burning through your jeans. "You sure about that?"

No. You're not sure about anything anymore, except maybe the way your heart is trying to escape your chest and the fact that you're probably going to die right here in this expensive leather chair, killed by proximity and the ghost of his fingers on your skin.

His gaze lingers on your trembling hands, head tilting the way it does during patient evaluations—assessing, calculating.

“Your motor coordination's deteriorated since Saturday," he muses, leaning back in his chair with deceptive nonchalance. "We should address that first."

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already spreading his legs, the movement slow and deliberate. His sweatpants strain slightly over his thighs as he nods toward the newly created space between them.

"Come here."

The command is velvet-soft, phrased like a suggestion but weighted like an order. Your heart stutters as his fingers drum once—twice—against his left thigh. A silent countdown.

"W-why?" The question comes out breathless, already defeated.

His smile could sanitize an OR. "Ergonomic alignment. You can't properly present your research if your hands won't stop shaking." He gestures to his lap like he's explaining a textbook diagram. "Center of gravity adjustment. Basic kinesiology, Chip."

Your feet move before your brain catches up, drawn by the gravitational pull of his casual authority.

The first brush of your knees against his inner thighs sends electric currents up your spine. He doesn't help you, doesn't touch you—just watches with that infuriatingly patient smile as you awkwardly try to straddle the chair.

"Proper support requires full contact," he chides gently when you hover uncertainly above him.

His hands finally land on your hips, guiding you down until every inch of you molds against him. The heat of his chest seeps through your sweater, his heartbeat thudding steady against your racing one.

"There. Better?"

You nod mutely, hands braced against his shoulders. His t-shirt rides up slightly under your fingers, exposing the warm skin of his collarbone.

"Good." His thumbs dig into the divots of your hips—clinical pressure points that somehow feel indecent. "Now, synaptic transmission." His breath fans across your lips as he reaches past you, grabbing your notebook. "Start with glutamate receptors."

The pages blur as he flips to your highlighted section. His forearm brushes your breast—accidentally?—as he holds the notes up between you.

“Focus, Chip. Unless..." His head tilts, smile sharpening. "...you need tactile reinforcement?"

His knee shifts upward beneath you, applying deliberate pressure where you're already embarrassingly warm. A gasp escapes before you can stop it, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Ah." His tongue clicks in mock disapproval. "Seems we've identified the distraction." The hand not holding your notes slides up your spine, pressing you closer until his lips graze your ear. "Shall we... desensitize the stimulus?"

His lips find the frantic pulse beneath your ear first—a calculated strike at your carotid artery that makes you sigh.

“Elevated heart rate," he murmurs against damp skin, teeth grazing the spot he'd marked days ago. "Persistent symptom since..." A suckling kiss that pulls a whimper from your throat. "...Thursday's assessment."

Your fingers twist in his worn tee as he works downward, each open-mouthed kiss along your jugular notch methodical. Clinical. Cruel.

"H-Hoseok—"

"Shh." His hand slides up your spine, deft fingers finding your sweater's zipper. "Need to auscultate properly." The zipper parts with a predatory hiss, cool air rushing over your heated skin. "No extraneous layers."

The sweater pools at your elbows before he tugs it off completely. Your arms instinctively cross over your chest—a futile shield against his darkening gaze.

"None of that." He catches your wrists, pinning them gently against his shoulders.

His breath stutters when he sees the bra.

Candyfloss pink. Lace scalloped with tiny bows. Straps straining over the swell of breasts he'd mapped through fabric days prior.

His Adam's apple bobs.

“Well." The word comes out rough, sanded down at the edges. "This is..." His thumb brushes a satin bow between your breasts. "...exceptionally thorough preparation."

You squirm under the praise—the implication—but his grip tightens on your hips. "I didn't—"

"Shh." His palm cups your breast through the lace, calluses catching on delicate threads. "Look at these." His thumb circles your nipple, watching it peak. "Like cherries dusted in sugar.”

"Hoseok—"

"Merely observational." His other hand slips beneath the bra's band, blunt nails scraping your ribcage. "Soft here." A squeeze that makes you arch. "Responsive here." His mouth seals over the lace, tongue swirling the dampening fabric. "Sweet here."

Your head falls back with a choked moo, nails biting into his shoulders. He hums approval against your breast, the vibration ricocheting straight to your clit.

"Still trembling," he notes, fingers walking up your spine to unhook the bra. The clasp gives with a snick that sounds obscenely loud. "We should stabilize your core."

His hands slide around to your front, palms flattening over your bare stomach.

“Deep breath in." You obey shakily. "Hold." His thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts. "Now exhale."

You deflate against him, breasts pressing into his chest. His groan rumbles through you. "There. Better."

His lips find yours in the space between breaths—not a kiss but a shared exhalation.

“Tell me you planned this," he demands against your mouth.

"Planned wh—"

His hips roll up, the thick line of his cock unmistakable through sweatpants and your thin jeans.

“The bows. The pink." A bite to your lower lip. "This devastating little bralette."

"N-no, I just—"

"Liar." He sucks the word from your lips, hands cradling your face. "You knew." Another grind that steals your breath. "Knew I'd want to ruin you in it."

His teeth close on a strap, dragging it down your shoulder. "Knew I'd need to see..." The other strap follows. "...how pretty you look coming undone in pastels."

The bra falls away. His pupils swallow entire galaxies.

"Fuck." The curse is reverence and ruin as he palms your bare breasts. "Should've known you'd weaponize cuteness."

Your retort dies when he lifts you slightly, mouth latching onto a nipple. The suction is brutal—claiming, corrective—as his free hand slides between you.

"Let's see..." His fingers find the button of your jeans. "...if your panties match."

His fingers still for a second as a wicked smile curves against your breast.

“Coordinated sets suggest..." The button pops free. "...premeditation."

You can't deny it—not when his hand slips into your jeans to find matching pink lace waiting.

His laugh ghosts across your damp nipple. “Knew it."

"I didn't—" Your protest breaks on a gasp as his thumb traces the scalloped edge. "It's just—"

"Just happened to wear a complete set?" His teeth graze your collarbone. "Just happened to pick the exact shade that makes me want to..." He tugs your jeans lower, exposing more pink lace. "...devour you?"

Your face burns as his fingers map the delicate fabric.

"Look at these." He hooks a finger under a tiny bow at your hip. "Like sugar spun into thread." His other hand cups your breast again, thumb flicking your peaked nipple.

"Stop—" you whimper, but his palm slides lower, cupping you through damp lace.

"Why?" His smile is gentle poison. "When you clearly dressed for this?" His middle finger traces your slit through the fabric. "When you're already soaking through all this pretty pink?"

Your hips buck against his hand involuntarily. He tsks softly.

"Such a sweet little thing." His fingers press harder, making you mewl. "All wrapped up like candy." His teeth find your pulse. "Makes me want to unwrapyou. Slowly."

The word drips like honey as his hand slips beneath the lace. "See how many licks..." His fingers part your folds. "...it takes..."

Your forehead drops to his shoulder as two fingers slide home.

"...to get to the center."

You let out a shaky exhale at that.

"Still so wet for me," he murmurs against your lips, two fingers pressing inside with careful precision. "Such a good—"

The rhythm of his movements changes subtly—no longer teasing but exploring. Something shifts in his touch, becoming more methodical. More... investigative.

You feel his breath stutter against your neck, the slight tension suddenly coiling through his body where it's pressed against yours.

His fingers curl slightly, pressing deeper, and you tense involuntarily at the unfamiliar pressure. It's different than when he touched you before—that night in your room when he stood behind your chair, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers worked between your thighs. This angle is deeper, more invasive, and your body responds with a reflexive resistance.

"Easy," he whispers, but the playfulness has evaporated from his voice. His free hand moves to your hip, steadying you as his fingers press more deliberately. "Relax for me."

You try, but your muscles tighten instinctively. The slight resistance—the way your inner walls grip his fingers—makes him go absolutely still.

His fingers withdraw so carefully it makes your chest ache. No teasing now. No slow, deliberate drag of his knuckles over your clothed heat just to watch you shudder. Just… absence.

And when you open your eyes, his face is wrong.

Too still. Too pale. His pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the brown. His lips part, then shut again, like he’s bitten through his tongue.

The clinical terms evaporate.

"Chip."

His voice is hoarse.

The nickname that always made your stomach flip—always made you feel small, breakable, something for him to toy with—now sounds like a curse.

Like a word he can’t take back.

His thumb brushes your inner thigh, and—fuck, it’s trembling.

"You’ve never…" The sentence trails off, unfinished.

Your face burns as understanding clicks into place. Of course he can tell. Of course he knows. How many bodies has he been inside? How many women has he unraveled with those precise, knowing hands? Of course he can feel the difference.

"Not with—" your voice comes out too high, too thin, "I mean, I've done other things, but—"

"But never..." His gaze flicks down to where his hand still hovers near your thighs, then back to your face.

"I've used my own fingers," you blurt out, mortified but desperate to explain. "And that time in my room, when you—when we—"

"Different angle," he says quietly, almost to himself. "I was behind you. Not as deep."

You nod, humiliation crawling up your spine like ivy. Your thoughts scatter and race. Does it matter? Why should it matter? It's not like you're some precious untouched flower. It's not like you've been saving yourself. It's just—it's just—

(It's just that nobody has ever made you feel like you wanted to let them inside. Until him.)

"I didn't think it mattered," you whisper, the words tangling in your throat. "It's not like I'm—"

"Not like you're what?" His voice has gone dangerously soft.

"Not like I'm waiting for something special or—or saving myself or whatever stupid thing." Your words tumble out faster. "I just... nobody ever made me want to. Until now."

Silence stretches between you, taut as a surgical suture.

"Until me," he repeats, the words hollow. "Your brother's best friend. The one who's been deliberately blurring lines since the moment we met."

His face changes—like something has clicked into place. Like a puzzle snapping into its final, sickening shape.

But his expression. God. You've never seen him look like this. Like he’s about to be sick. Like you're the one who's done something wrong.

"Don't." Your voice is barely a whisper. Your hands fly up to cover your face. "Don’t make it a thing."

"It is a thing."

His voice cracks.

And when you peek through your fingers, he’s staring at your thighs, at the damp lace beneath the unbuttoned denim. And his hands—fuck, his hands—are trembling as they move to adjust your jeans, tugging the fabric back into place like he can undo what’s already been done.

"Christ," he breathes, hands fisting against the desk’s edge. "I’m your brother’s—"

"Don’t." You sit up too fast, nearly headbutting him. "Don’t use Caleb as an excuse when you’re the one who—"

"I know." The raw admission stops you cold. His knuckles blanch where he grips the wood. "I know exactly what I’ve done. What I’m doing."

A short, bitter laugh punches out of him.

"Manipulating your crush." His teeth click as his jaw clenches. "Abusing my position. Fucking my best friend’s sister in my—"

"You’re not fucking me!" The words burst out louder than intended. "You’re—you're teaching me. Showing me. And I want it. I asked for it."

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and devastated.

"You don’t know what you’re asking."

"Does it matter?"

"It fucking matters!" His voice is jagged now, slicing through the space between you. "Because if I’d known—if I’d realized—" His throat works. "Christ. I let you choke on my cock. Made you take the whole thing. And you—" His eyes flick down, to your open legs, to the flush of your skin beneath the denim. "You didn’t think to mention—"

“Say it.” Your voice is razor-sharp. “Go ahead. Diagnose me, Dr. Jung. What’s my prognosis?”

His flinch is barely perceptible.

"You’re actually—" His breath catches. His eyes squeeze shut. "Inexperienced."

The clinical term dangles between you, sterile and ugly.

"So?" You lift your chin, daring him to look at you. "I wanted this. With you."

His inhale is sharp. Like something being ripped out of him. His head tilts, his gaze drags over you—shaky, uncertain, searching. And then—

His face changes.

Like something has clicked into place. Like a puzzle snapping into its final, sickening shape.

"You don't understand what we've been doing." The words come out like they're being dragged from him. "All this time—the teasing, the ambiguity, the doubt—"

"I understand perfectly well," you snap, but he's already shaking his head.

"No. You don't." His voice breaks on the last word. "This whole thing—the way I've been treating you—it's a specific kind of dynamic. A power exchange. A mind game."

He pushes off the desk, runs his hands roughly through his hair.

"I thought you were playing along," he continues, voice rising with each word. "I thought you understood the game—that you were pretending not to know what was happening. That you were letting me seduce you, letting me make you doubt yourself because you liked it."

Your stomach drops as the implications settle.

"But you weren't playing," he says, voice hollow now. "You weren't pretending to be confused. You actually didn't know what was happening."

He staggers back like he’s been struck. One step. Then two. And then—

Oh, God.

He actually retches.

Bends over, a harsh, sick sound ripping from his throat, hands braced on his knees like he might actually vomit right there on the fucking floor.

Your stomach twists violently.

"Hoseok—"

"Don’t."

He doesn’t even lift his head. His shoulders are heaving, and the fingers pressed to his lips are shaking, and fuck, fuck, fuck, what have you done?

Why does it feel like you’re the one who did something wrong?

"You got off on it." Your voice is quieter now. Less rage, more—god, you don’t even know. "You liked making me doubt myself. Pretending this was all in my head. But now that you know I’m actually—"

"That’s the fucking problem!"

His voice breaks.

Loud. Raw. A guttural, vicious thing ripped straight from his chest.

His hands are in his hair, gripping hard. His chest rises, falls—too fast, too sharp, like he can’t catch his breath.

"You were doubting yourself," he grits out. "Actually doubting yourself. You weren’t playing—you weren’t teasing, you weren’t pretending to hesitate—you didn’t know!"

You don’t speak. You can’t.

"You weren’t letting yourself be seduced." His voice drops lower, ragged. "I was conditioning you."

The room tilts.

"You didn’t need coaxing. You weren’t fighting it. You just didn’t know what was happening to you." His eyes are blown wide, almost frantic. "And I liked it."

The breath punches out of your lungs.

"I liked watching you get flustered. I liked seeing you hesitate." His voice is hoarse, unsteady. "I liked watching you struggle to figure out if it was real or in your head."

Something in your stomach plummets.

"But it was never a fucking game for you," he rasps. "You weren’t playing along. You weren’t playing at all."

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

His hands drag down his face. His shoulders are still heaving, like his body is rejecting the words even as he says them.

"I wanted—fuck." His fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard at the roots. "I wanted to ruin you. In pastels, on your knees, pink lace soaked through because I made you like this. I wanted you pliant, desperate—mine—but I never wanted—I thought you knew this type of play—"

His next inhale is sharp.

"But you didn't know the rules at all. Because you've never even played the game before."

His face is ashen now, like all the blood has drained from it.

“Put your clothes on.”

The finality in his voice turns your bones to ice.

And you realize—too late—that the real game is over.

You dress mechanically, fingers trembling on each button. He watches like a surgeon monitoring vitals—detached, analytical.

The car ride is silent.

Your phone buzzes at 2 AM:

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔’𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍. 𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚎.

𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝: A photo of your sock, neatly mended.

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢.

You stare at the message until the screen dims.

He’s lying.

He has to be lying.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

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seventhcallisto · 1 year ago

Text

PROLOGUE

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; scenting. omega in heat. talk of s3x. featuring alpha g-idle. Language. Mature Content! Talk of gender, sex, and the weird system that a/b/o roles have, including the terrible hierarchy system. It's my series so I make my own rules, period!

Never, absolutely never, does a person get their second sex when they're born. It's no surprise they get it towards puberty, yet the majority of times, heats or ruts do not start happening until they're in their late teens- early twenties. Betas never went through that issue. They hardly ever were considered more than peace makers. For a while, they were the least chosen. While not as valuable as an alpha or as wonderful at comforting like an omega. There was still some dull middle ground. They weren't that special.

That was only for a bit, anyway. Eventually, omegas took that spot, lower on the hierarchy, whilst betas gained the middle place. You didn't agree with the system, though. It doesn't matter your second sex. It matters how you hold yourself, how you go about through life with a second sex.

And you stood by that for decades.

You took hold of a company and shaped yourself to fit their mold. Although a foreigner in this strange city, following a dream you didn't know you could grasp, you still went for it. You molded yourself to fit whatever they wanted. A calm, level-headed, peace-maker, beta. With a heart of fire and determination that'll set a field ablaze. You worked your ass off. Getting up as early as possible. Practicing. Making something of yourself. Training yourself. Learning the language.

Someone who could make even the quietest of omegas open up, and the loudest of alphas silent. You were a patient and composed person.

And when you came out on top, the very top, unreachable and untouchable, you knew you maxed out your potential. It was only then that you let it slip from your hands and into the grasp of another. You let them see what you could do, and now it was their turn.

They took it with stride. Quickly, you found yourself linked to a group you'd be a part of for life. You were surprised, to say the least.

"It smells like testosterone in here," you grimaced.

Eventually, you did get used to the stench of 8 alphas. Soon enough, you could actually smell their undertones. A mix of everything drowns every corner of the apartment you live in with them.

You were fairly the least popular in the group by a good amount. Sometimes, you chalked it up to people being oblivious. It never hurt you, why would it? You're a rare gem. Sometimes, it needs a light shined on it to really sparkle.

It's years later of cleaning up after messy alphas and teaching yourself tricks to get used to their behaviors, that you suddenly notice a difference in yourself.

"Hey, you smell different," seonghwa scruches his nose, a pleasantly surprised look on his face. You slip your shoes off in the doorway, closing it behind you. "New perfume," you reply, half hazerdly, sliding your keys into the key bowl. "I thought you liked your own scent?" He comes over and helps you with the handbag in your arm.

You hand it over to the taller guy, slipping your mask down your face. "I'm starting to stink, so i changed my perfume scent. Maybe your guys' stench is making me allergic, or I'm getting sick." You sigh tiredly when he hangs your jacket up in the closet. "No, not sick. I know what you smell like when you're sick," seonghwas eyebrows scrunch.

"You smell.. sweeter.. have you been hanging out with any omegas lately?" He questions, folding his arms over his chest. His white sweater is rolled up his arms, and his black pants hang loosely. Surely, if seonghwa is to lounge around, he's gonna do it with style. You laugh, avoiding his eyes when he catches you looking him up and down. "Ha, yeah, actually. I'm helping Kimmie prep for her heat. She plans to have a couple of mini devils running around this summer. Can you believe it?" You scoff, mentioning your long time once-trainee close friend who you grew attached too.

"Kimmie with kids, I would have never thought," you mumble under your breath, years ago you would of scoffed at the idea of young- impressionable kimmie, mature enough to consider having kids with her beta husband whom you also knew to be a trainee from before. Are you really getting that old? Seonghwa stares for a couple of seconds. His piercing eyes guide you up and down. You're staring back now. Seonghwa doesn't flinch. "Right, let's hope kim is ready for that," he laughs, and just like that, the tension breaks.

You both shuffle into the living room. Calling it a night.

Not even two days later, you're on the couch scrolling mindlessly on your phone whilst you wait for the guys to get dressed. The practice video for one of your group songs is soon. You've only been able to practice by yourself up until that point.

Yeosang takes a seat next to you, pushing you into his side. The alpha gently taps your leg to gain your attention. "What's up?" You put your phone down, giving him your full attention. "My scent is wearing off on you," he almost pouts. You smile, turning towards him and opening your arms. "Okay, c'mere." You beckon his face into your neck. Afterward, you let him take the lead.

It takes two seconds for you to realize he's not scenting you anymore. He didn't even start. "Yeosang?" You call out, threading your fingers on the back of his neck hairs. He hums, and it sounds so far away. His scent grows heavier. "You okay?" You attempt to pull back. he chases your neck. You can hear him breathing heavily, struggling to catch his breath after every strong inhale. His soft hand snakes around your neck, gently leaning your head the opposite way so he can get more room.

You follow, cause you trust your pack member. You can feel his mouth part, his lips drawing closer to your pulse. Your eyebrows furrowed. What are you doing? Obviously, something is up. You pull away from yeosangs grasp. Backing up just a bit. You put a hand to his chest to distance yourself. It's a few seconds before yeosang seems to come back, his foggy eyes focusing. "Sorry, I.. you smell really different lately," he admits, twisting his fingers in his lap.

"How so?" You question him. "Like.. sweeter. I can smell it linger, deep down under our scents I can smell.. an omega," he admits, his eyebrows twitch down. You haven't been to Kimmies house since seonghwa asked, yet you've completely washed and cleaned yourself of her scent entirely. You don't know what to say.

"Well," you fold your legs into your lap. "I think I might be coming down with something, I changed my perfume. It could be that, too?" You can't tell if you're reassuring yourself or yeosang. He hums. His eyes search your front, glancing up at you and then down to your neck where your scent glands are. "Could you wear one of my shirts for practice? I didn't get to properly scent you, and it'd make me feel better. " his tone is more of a demand yet hes still a little shy with it. Behind his eyes, you can see the strange look he casts aside.

You smile wearily. "Sure."

Yeosang had picked a black shirt he wore very often. It took him a hot minute, but by the time you watched him go through everything in his closet, the guys were done and slipping on their shoes. Once he was satisfied with his choice, he handed it to you. A shirt that would be tight fit for yeosang hanged off you. The deepest scents you can pick out are cocoa butter and honeyed citrus, like lemonade. There's the distant scent of strong tea. The cocoa butter blends well into his scent, perfectly layered. Perfectly yeosang.

You took a deep enhale, liking the freshness of his smell. Not noticing the satisfactory smile on yeosangs face, you slipped off into his bathroom and exchanged your shirt for his. Leaving yours behind. Once you came out, you were surprised to still see him there. His scent is everywhere in this room, heavier than normal.

His eyes look your form up and down. You give a tiny spin, smiling awkwardly. Finally, his eyes meet yours, clouded with an unknown emotion. It's a few seconds of silence. You never break off eye contact.

"We're gonna be late!" Hongjoong shouts out from the front door. His voice echoes in the hallway, leading to yeosangs' room. Yeosang smiles, looking away. He makes haste to the door and leaves you. You let the breath out you were holding. What was that?

Practice takes a hard minute to start, the coolness of the room makes it easier to warm up. You're not sweating when you begin repeating steps, adjusting what you deem unfinished or sloppy. Not long does the heat kick into the room. You find yourself removing your hoodie.

"Let's get started" the manager hits the button on the camera, beginning the recording. Your eyes follow your own movement. All of ateez has said you're the ace of the group, in everything you do it seems well-executed. You doubt that sometimes.

Every move and every breath is conditioned from years of practice everyday 'til you couldn't feel your legs. Sometimes you'd go as far as to even run, dance, and jump in terrible stilletos. Which worked out in the end since the majority of the time you'd have to wear heels or platforms to match the height of the guys during every event and performance.

Sweat pools on your collar, your neck, and your forehead as you work across the room. You can smell every one of the guys as they pass around you, a flurry of scents clog your senses. You try to focus on the choreography.

You tried until your shoulder slams into someone, throwing you off balance and onto the hard wood floor. Your elbow bounces off the wood. You slide to a stop quickly. "Fuck!" you curse at the sting in your leg, hip, and ankle. The room grows extremely quiet, the music stops as quickly. Mingi bends down to your level, shock still evident on his face. "Sorry! shit, my bad, are you okay?" He reaches for your head.

"Ow" you whine, like actually whine, instead of brushing it off like you normally would. Touching your elbow. You both simultaneously notice the blood dripping off your elbow. "Why aren't you watching where you're going!?" Yunho walks up to mingi. Mingi stands up from next to you. "I didn't do it on purpose!" Mingi defends, his jaw clenches. The two stare daggers, a tense standoff so sudden you don’t know truly if you falling is the cause of it or if something else is at play. Hongjoong steps forward to stop them. A heated discussion begins.

Wooyoung and San stand back, Jaws clenched, at any moment they look ready to pounce. Yeosang stands with Seonghwa and Jongho, who look just as concerned about the growing argument, yet their faces murge into something completely different at the smell in the air.

It's something no one can put their finger on.

Your ever growing weirdly sweet scent is surprising to even you, your gut twists in an unsettled way. You don't look at their faces, trying to understand the smell and your sudden shift. What the hell is going on with you?

"Boys, out in the hallway now, please" Jongsik. The manager you've had for years steps forward. As the oldest in the room take charge, the guys looked challenged. "What about her!?" Yunho shouts out, fustrated. In the distance another aurgument begins. Mingi squats back down to your level, gently pulling your attention back to him with his hands on either side of your face. "it's not that bad, yeah? It's alright?" He wants to reassure you. "Mingi" you practically whine, pulling at his wrist. The smell of harsh and swirling emotions makes your nose scrunch, it's intense and somewhat intoxicating.

You're dizzy.

Jongsik stands firm. "Out!" He repeats himself pointing to the practice room door. He reaches for mingi's shoulder. He who pushes the older man off, standing abruptly.

Hongjoong, the pack leader, is the one that rounds up the boys and pushes them out, even mingi. Before he shuts the door. He looks at you. He's so tempted to just run back in, coddle you and wrap your elbow in bandages. Yet he closes the door anyways.

There's no defiance or whining from you. because jongsik is a beta, and already mated. He's taken on a fatherly role to you when he pulls you to your feet. "I don't feel good.." You slur. Placing a hand on your head.

"Hey, it's gonna be alright. We're gonna get you to the hospital, alright?"

You lay on an examination bed, squirming by yourself. Anxiously you wait twirling your hand around the bandage on your elbow.

"This is something we've never seen before." With your heightened hearing, you can feel they're talking about you.

"She showed signs of being a beta for years. How could something like this happen so suddenly? It's impossible." Whispers echo in your mind.

What the hell is going on?

"Hello," a doctor, also a lady, steps in. her face is covered with a mask. "I'm Dr Liana." You try to focus, but the ache in your stomach is distracting. "It seems to have been there for a while, most likely due to continuous, omega activities, from what my colleagues and I have assumed."

"Have you been noticing anything different from your usual routine?"

You recount what you can, anything you find weird yourself. And there's so many clues, like when you stole each hoodie and wore it from everyone for a week straight just because 'you wanted too'. Or how touchy you've been recently especially with hongjoong, your pack leader. The scent change, the continuous need to please your members and let them have their way lately.

How you, oh God, how you've started collecting everyone's clothing in your closet, you called it a clothing pile. It's a nest. You've been nesting.

You've been not so subtlety feeding this hunger within you.

Realization has dawned on you for the first time in a month. And after a few more tests, you've spent a total of two days in the hospital.

Once you're out, you're immediately escorted to a heat sanctuary. A common locked and secure place for omegas going into heat.

"What I'm hearing is you're about to go into heat. It'll be a difficult process for you considering you're a beta turned omega, and it's fairly late for you to be getting your first heat, but I'm sure there's plenty of options for you."

There were plenty of other options, yet you opted for the least embarrassing and least dreadful one. It was too late to take heat suppressants. Now, you're stuck in a somewhat luxurious hotel room with glorified room service and plenty of meds to sedate you for a week or less. They're actually so you can't feel the actual pain that comes with a heat without having a knot to sedate the feeling. If you really hoped you could sleep it off, you'd be dead wrong.

The specific question of; "do you have anyone in mind that could take care of you during your heat?" Really lingered. You thought about it. Maybe more than once, but you turned it down. No way. Nooo wayyyy. You wouldn't dare go past the first pack of alphas your mind landed on. Wouldn't even touch that book or open it in your minds eye.

Everything is very sensitive for the first day. You sweat a ton. You feel like you've lost weight, although you eat when you're not... 'foggy'. You feel the sweat pool at every corner of your temporary bed.

Anything you can get your hands on you pull, hard, and rip and tear. A pile of blankets and pillows are strewn on the floor in one giant large pile. Every once in a while you'll come back to your senses and childishly get upset at what you're doing.

No you've got nothing against omegas. You just didn't ask to be one, so therefore you're mad about being one.

Once satisfied, you spraw out and get to working on yourself with whatever you can, clothes and all. Toys. Plugs. Lube. You would have never guessed you'd end up this way. You name it, and they have it. They say there's nothing more satisfying than a knot, yet you don't enjoy the idea of what comes after. Pups? Ew. Is there even anything to counteract that? How do people just sleep with a stranger during a heat and not feel scared about what will happen in the moment? There's nothing wrong with it. It's just not your particular cup of tea.

As a beta, or.. when you were one, it wasn't very hard to find someone to hook up with. Betas have the abilities to hook up with anyone, alphas, omegas, and other betas. Although pregnancies and knotting aren't as easy for betas(you're not a big fan of wrapping it) it'll work eventually if tried enough. There's this middle ground for betas who can have it all. Relationships get difficult when you aren't as drawn to each other as an alpha and omega are, but with patience, it'll work.

There's this gross scent lingering under your skin, you can still smell the scent of your old skin, the beta you once were is suddenly being washed away by a sweet, tropical smell, an omega in full bloom. It's your second day. Yet you couldn't get more miserable. Two or three more days of this? Seriously.

You've never been a girly girl, begging for your way or kissing up to get it. You were commonly told you were a tomboy growing up. Maybe that played its role on your first designated sex. Your company pushed that role, too. Tough girl act. Rapper, Dancer. Never the face of the group. But you weren't complaining. You were the top of top trainees. Nothing could beat you down.

Yet, dressing up in baggy clothes and never looking sexually appealing was your role in the group. Tomboy rapper. Compared to the beginning of fourth gen, you were considered a girl crush but nothing else. least lines, least screen time, least roles. I mean. You trained for this, right?

Now you're stuck with a new second gender you didn't ask for. Pushing you farther behind the scenes. Just your luck.

As soon as your first heat ends. You realize you weren't as bad. Apparently, the first heat ever is the easiest. You're supposed to get worse. Seriously. Worse? God. You can't take this. You go to the only people you know won't make a big deal out of your new.. thing.

Soyeon places a hot cup of tea right in front of you. And you can smell the scent suppressant coming from the steam. "this is supposed to help?" You sniff at it warily, grimacing at the factory like smell.

"You came to us, at our dorm, smelling like the biggest ball of 'fuck me please', take it or leave it." She clicks her tongue at you, propped up on her bed. Minnie takes a seat opposite of you, as does shuhua. "You cant even smell me, you're on scent suppressants" you groan, swirling the tea. "How do yall cope." You sigh and chug the content of the large tea cup. Soyeon laughs, minnie grimaces, and despite having a shocked look, shuhua pumps her fist in encouragement.

You've come to the group of alpha women cause, well, they're your best friends. And they're the most encouraging about any and all supplements and suppressants. They've single handedly encouraged everyone you know to take suppressants. From the front door, you hear it open and close, stepping down the hallway comes yuqi and miyeon, who do a double take.

Yuqi takes a giant whiff, and her eyes bulge. "What happened to you!?" She coughs at the stench of omega. Something she doesn't find common in their room when you're around. Miyeon scoots to the side when Soojin pushes through with a cake of some sort and a tiny charcuterie board. She places it down in front of you. You can tell the alpha in her is desperately trying to please you.

"Somehow, our poor, once beta, girl friend has changed sex." Soyeon speaks through a bite of twizzlers. You don't comment at her choice of words. Yuqi and Miyeon scoot into the room, staring at their doting member.

"There you go." Soojin pats your head and takes a seat on the bean bag in front of you. "Thanks," you sigh, digging in. The cake, which soojin explains, is a long-lasting scent changer. Magic is baked into every bite.

As for the charcuterie board. It's just something to get you some protein with the lack of good supplements in your system. In her eyes, you've lost at least half of your body weight. You haven't. Yet she's still encouraging you to take care of yourself from such a rushed heat.

"Poor girl," miyeon sighs, "I've never heard of that happening to anyone before. How's that even possible?" She takes to removing her hoodie and placing it down properly. Yuqi shuffles off her bag. Plopping onto the bed next to you. "How'd the guys react?" She steals a piece of meat from your board.

"I haven't told them" you sigh, the room goes silent.

"That's fucked up" yuqi laughs. Miyeon slaps her ankle. "So we're the first to know?" Shuhua confirms, you nod. "Wow, I'm sure they'll be happy about that," soyeon laughs lightly. You tear your eyes off shuhua. "What do you mean by that?" You clearly speak, eyebrows pulled down. Minnie places a hand on your ankle to get your attention. "Well, we're your girl pack. We'll always be your girl pack." she looks nervous.

"But the last time I hung out with you, your boys stared at me like I was an intruder in their territory." she pats your ankle. Your eyebrows pull taunt. You want to defend them. "What? No way.." You truly think about it. "Whatever you say, your boys aren't as good as we are at keeping up with our contribution to not being alpha whores" soyeon sighs pushing to sit up. "Especially mingi, he's the whoriest of them all, he goes into rut every week it seems. He needs a heavy dose of rut suppressants." she takes another chunk off her twizzler.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to tell them first. Butt.. you shouldn't be surprised when they get upset about you telling us first." The girls all nod. You fall back onto soyeons pillows. A puff of sandal wood and cinnamon surrounds you. Slowly dying down as the tea takes its hold on your heightened senses. "Maybe I should have thought this through," you rub at your eyes.

"You're always welcomed here." soojin clears your mind, patting her hand against your hip in a friendly gesture. "This won't change anything. You're still my- our best friend," soojin speaks on behalf of the girls. Everyone hums to confirm.

"Thanks," you say genuinely. "It's a bit late for you to get a drive all the way home, What'd the company say to the guys?" Miyeon perks up from the edge of the bed. "Something about me needing medical evaluation. I'm pretty sure they think I'm still in the hospital." Yuqi scoots up next to you. "Did you check your phone?"

You didn't even think about it, pulling it from your pocket. You try to power it on. "No, everything was rushed. I didn't have a chance to check anything before I had to give it up so I wouldn't expose the place I was at." The screen doesn't light up. It's completely dead.

"It's dead," you pass it to soojin, who already had her hand out to take it. She plugs it into soyeons charger. "Well, I guess you're stuck here." Shuhua and yuqi topple on top of you, squishing you into the mattress.

"Sleepover!"

The next morning, you wake up sore. Not because of anything the girls did but because of such a long trial of whatever you did to yourself in the haze of heat. You groan when you shift your hip, burying yourself closer to the center of the makeshift bed you made in the living room.

The night was full of movies and being doted on by every one of the girls. Things aren't supposed to change because of your new sex, and that's remained true. They just baby you a little bit more than usual. "Shuhua, 'mega! Come eat! Now!" Minnie yells from the kitchen. The nickname startles you, something you've never heard before is somewhat pleasent to your ears. There's stomping towards the living room. Your head slams back down onto the pillow, pretending to sleep.

"I know you're awake." yuqis smile can be heard through her words. You can't help the prying of your lip. "Nu-uh," you grin, eyes still closed. "Get up!" She jumps on you, pulling you into a suffocating hug that she wiggles around in. You laugh and pull her equally as close. After the struggle of a couple of seconds, your exhaustion returns. Your arms fall limply around her waist.

"You doing alright?" She asks, picking herself up and off of you so you can breathe. "Yeah, I just tired myself out this week." you laugh, embarrassed. "Don't worry," shuhua perks her head up from the couch next to you. "You should have heard when yuqi had her first rut," shuhua laughs menacingly, yuqi springs up. "Shut up!" She yells. "She wouldn't stop! All night and day! We had to quarantine the whole top floor!" Shuhuas words stop on occasion when yuqi is wrestling to cover her mouth. You laugh at them.

"Hey," soojin stands over, ignoring her members. "Hi," you smile back. "Hungry?" She lends you her hand, pulling you up off the floor. "Starved," you take it, embracing her rose filled scent.

A platter of delicious food is placed right in front of you. Breakfast in their apartment is somewhat new to you. You've never really been able to stay long when you visit. Maybe you're starting to realize the guys have a stronger hold on you than you thought. Speaking of the guys. As soon as you finish your plate, Soojin places your phone down in front of you. The screen is still black, signaling she hasn't turned it on.

"You're gonna want to answer your boy toys before they stalk you down themselves," soyeon gestures. She's not wrong.

You power your phone on and let it reboot for a second. Yuqi is still eating with shuhua, talking to miyeon and minnie about something you don't pay attention to. Your phone makes a continuous notification sound when all of your messages pop up.

104 missed messages. 32 missed calls.

You're in deep shit.

Taglist: @0325tiny @bratty-tingz @lelaleleb

(Thank you for reading ♡)

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scribblesofagoonerr · 4 months ago

Text

first day jitters | like mother, like daughter mini series

summary: rascal starts her first day at big school and there's some apprehensive big feelings about the day.

like mother, like daughter masterlist

“Alright, yer’ got yer’ new backpack and yer’ shiny new shoes,” Katie was doing the quick checklist to make sure that you were ready and she hadn’t forgotten anything important while you slowly attempted to eat your breakfast cereal, “Okay rascal, I think yer’ ready for yer’ first day!”

Today’s the first day that you’re starting big school. You should be excited about it but instead there’s an uneasy feeling in your stomach, like when you had the chicken-pox before.

You don’t know what to expect.

Continuing to sit at the table, a pout on your face with your cereal still untouched, you’re very adamant about your own feelings right now, “I don’t want to go.”

Katie turned to glance in your direction as she checked over the lunchbox she had packed for you, “What was that, rascal?”

“I don’t want to go to big school today, Mammy,” You repeated, a little louder and clearer that definitely got Katie’s attention, “I want to stay home instead.”

“Yer’ don’t want to go?” Katie’s smile quickly turned into a concerned frown, “But yer’ were so excited the other day, kiddo. Yer’ going to have a whole bunch of fun and make a lot of new friends!”

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore,” You declared, shaking your head promptly as you crossed your arms against your chest, “Stay here, stay with you!”

“Rascal, yer’ can’t stay with me. I have to go to work, remember? I have to go and train for the game,” Katie explained delicately as she moved to crouch down in front of you, “Will yer’ tell Mammy why yer’ don’t really want to go to school?” She asked in a gentle tone of voice.

“I’m scared, Mammy,” You admitted as your bottom lip wobbled in fear about the day ahead and the apprehensive feeling you had.

“I know yer’ scared, but yer’ going to make loads of friends and have lots of fun!” Katie insisted still in that attentive yet gentle tone of voice.

“What if the other kids’ don’t like me, or… or what if my teacher turns out to be a meanie?” You worried about the things that could happen and it made you feel even more uneasy than before.

Katie furrowed her eyebrow and shook her head, “Hey, yer’ listen to me, okay? Yer’ listening to Mammy, yeah?” She paused to make sure you were paying attention, “I promise yer’ that nobody will ever pick on yer’ at all, alright?”

“They won’t?” Your little voice doesn’t sound that convinced.

“Course not!” Katie insisted louder while still shaking her head, “Yer’ my daughter and us McCabes? We stick up for ourselves!”

You beamed a wide smile, “I just like you, Mammy!”

“Exactly, and yer’ know that means yer’ a tough little cookie just like me! So yer’ don’t need to worry about being picked on,” Katie squeezed your knee gently.

“What about my teacher?” You had a puzzled expression on your face, weary about your new teacher, although you have previously met her.

“Yer’ don’t need to worry about her either, we’ve already been and met her before remember?” Katie reminded you about the time when you went to visit your big school with Katie and Ruesha to meet your new teacher, “And yer’ liked her didn’t yer’?”

You thought about it for a brief second before you nodded, “She’s nice.”

“See? Yer’ going to be absolutely fine, Rascal. I promise!” Katie reassured you with a kind smile, “Now, do you think yer’ can eat yer’ breakfast now? We’re gonna have to go soon, and it’ll be better if yer’ tummy’s full, won't it?” She joked, prodding at your stomach lightly.

Standing outside of the tall gates was daunting to you, but being here with Katie and Ruesha, who made sure she was available for the day and met you at school gates, made things seem that little bit better.

“Alright, this is it, rascal,” Katie was the first one to speak up as the three of you stood in the playground, surrounded by other parents and kids, who were feeling the same way that you did, “Yer’ ready to go in there and learn?”

“It’s a big school,” You murmured nervously.

Katie hummed in agreement as she looked at the school in front of her, “It is a big school, isn’t it?” she chuckled, wrapping a free arm around your shoulder.

“Too big, it looks scary!” You mumbled, inching closer to the brunette to try and hide behind her leg.

“I know it looks scary, kid, but look there’s a cool playground,” Ruesha crouched down to your own level, “Doesn’t that look fun? You’re going to have the best day, today. Right, Katie?” She checked with her ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah. Yer’ Mamas’ right there, rascal,” Katie nodded in agreement with her ex, “You’re going to have a lot of fun doin’ all that fingerpainting and reading and well the extra stuff– You’re not going to miss either of us.” She reassured you, trying to be as honest as possible.

You continued to shake your head in determination that you didn’t want to go in, “I don’t wanna go in.”

“Rascal, we talked about this though, didn’t we? Yer’ gotta go in there, kid,” Katie explained carefully, reminding you of what the pair of you talked about earlier on, “I promise yer’ going to have so much fun, kid.”

“Please, Mammy. I don’t wanna– I wanna come with you. I don’t wanna go in there!” You plead, attempting to cling onto her trouser leg and look up at her with wide eyes, “I don’t wanna go in!” You repeated, scared.

“Yer’ have to go in,” Katie continued to try and coax you closer towards the doors to go inside.

“No, I don’t want to,” You mumbled, shaking your head, determined you weren’t going in as you looked towards Ruesha, “Mama, I… I don’t want to go in. Please don’t make me go in!”

Ruesha exhaled a sigh and scratched the back of her head, “Well, eh, that’s okay. How about we could try again tomorrow?” She suggested.

“No Rue, she has to start school today,” Katie gave Ruesha a firm look before peering back down to look at you, “I know you're scared, rascal, but there’s lots of other kids’ here that feel the same way that you do, remember?” she reminded you.

“I know, Mammy,” You mumbled, prising your small hands around Katie and clinging onto her still, “I don’t wanna go in though!” You declared.

Katie exhaled a sigh but knew she needed to stand firm on her decision, “I know you don’t want to, but remember what we talked about during breakfast, don’t yer’?”

“I’m a McCabe, and McCabes’ stick up for themselves!” You insisted, puffing out your chest promptly although you're still very hesitant to want to go into the school building right at this very moment.

“Atta’ girl,” Katie chuckled while she ruffled your hair, “Yer’ gonna be fine, rascal.”

Now it was Ruesha’s turn to look unimpressed at Katie, “Don’t tell me you’ve been telling our daughter to go around fitting with her fists.”

“Well, no not exactly…” Katie mumbled, scratching the back of her head awkwardly, “I just said if she needed to stick up for herself then she can.” She added.

“Unbelievable,” Ruesha scoffed and shook her head before she looked down at you, “Don’t listen to your Mammy, you don’t hurt people at all. Violence is not the answer.”

“But Mama, Mammy always says it is,” You tell her innocently with wide eyes fluttering between Katie and Ruesha, “Right, Mammy?”

“Eh, well, sometimes, you see Rascal…” Katie began to speak as lucky for her, your new teacher appeared to greet the three of you.

“Well hello there!” A warm voice called out, breaking the little standoff between you and the two of them, she had a kind smile on her face as she walked over to the three of you, “Are you ready to come and join us?” She asked in a kind tone of voice.

You didn’t bother to speak as you continued to look between Katie and Ruesha in apprehension.

“Yer’ gonna go in, rascal?” Katie nudged you slightly forward with a soft and reassuring smile on her face.

“I don’t wanna go in, Mammy,” You murmured your response, shaking your little head in disagreement.

“Come on kid,” Ruesha tried her luck to coax you towards the doors, “I know you’re going to have so much fun. I bet when we pick you up later, you’re gonna have had so much fun that you’re not gonna want to leave, eh?” She wondered.

You pouted in disagreement, firm in your choice that you definitely didn’t want to go in, “No, I stay with you both instead!”

“Yer’ can’t do that though Rascal,” Katie frowned, deep in regret that she was making you go into school after all, but this is something that you had to do now.

Your new teacher knelt down to be on the same level as you and was giving you a soft smile, “I know that starting a new school can be a bit scary sometimes, can’t it?” She questioned as you nodded in agreement, “We have some really fun activities waiting for you inside, would you like to come and see what we have?” She suggested.

That started to pique your interest about what there might be, “What activities?” You wondered, curiously.

“Well we have a little bit of everything set up. We have a section for painting,” Your teacher told you, still in that kind tone of voice, “Do you like painting?” She asked.

“I do,” You replied in agreement, nodding your little head in a fast motion as you slowly released your hands from around Katie’s legs.

“You do?” Your teacher fauxed a gasp, “Well then, would you like to come and see what we have set up? Maybe you can paint a picture for your Mammy and Mama, hm?”

“Yeah!” You agreed enthusiastically, liking the sound of that after all, “But I’ll have to make 2 pictures though. My Mammy and Mama don’t live together anymore.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem too much,” Your teacher said, nodding along with your short ramble, “Well how about we say goodbye to your Mammy and Mama, and we head inside to take a look?” She asked.

“O… Okay then,” You agreed, you’re still a bit hesitant to go in but the idea of painting a picture does sound like a lot of fun at least, “Do I get to find my own peg as well?”

“Ah yes you do, I’m glad you remembered that,” Your teacher responded with her usual pepiness in her tone of voice.

You smile a little brighter as you turn to look at Katie and Ruesha, “It’s okay, I will be brave now,” You paused for a minute, “I’m gonna have fun. Bye, Mammy. Bye, Mama!” You waved, exchanging a small hug with both of them.

Katie was the first to bend down and wrapped her arms around your small frame, “Bye Rascal, have fun at school, and don’t miss me too much okay? I love yer’,” She said, feeling the tears well up in her own eyes at the reality of you going to big school now.

“Come here you little monster,” Ruesha joked, coaxing you into her embrace, “Have fun, okay? But not too much fun. I wanna pick you up and hear about all the great things you’ve done today.” She said, feeling herself get emotional as well as she squeezed you gently in her arms.

“Mama, you’re squeezing too tight,” You struggled to wriggle free from her as you giggled, “I’ll be okay, I’m brave. Love you both!” You said, giving them another wave with a newfound determination to conquer big school.

“Bye rascal,” Katie murmured, standing up straight as she waves while watching you walk through the doors of the school, “She’s growing up so fast.” She mumbled aloud.

“Yep, it doesn’t seem like five minutes ago since she was born,” Ruesha said in response, standing up and wiping a few tears from her eyes, “Where’d the time go?”

Katie took no shame in wiping a few stray ones from her eyes and nodded, “It went quick,” She replied as she shook her head, “Er, right, well… She finishes school around 3. Do yer’ want to pick her up, or should I come and pick her up?” She wondered.

“How about we do it together?” Ruesha questioned, making Katie blink in disbelief, “Surely we can get along for one day for the sake of our kid, right?” She asked.

“Well, er, yeah I guess so,” Katie shrugged her shoulders and shoved her hands in her pockets, “Alright then… I’ll see yer’ back here.” With that, she gave Ruesha a nod, her voice a little softer than usual, before making the quick escape back to her car.

Only after she closed the door behind her, she let out a shaky breath and allowed the tears that she’d finally held back to finally fall.

It was a bittersweet mix of pride and heartache - watching you, her little rascal, take this big step into the world.

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #like mother like daughter fic #scribblesofagoonerr #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #ruesha littlejohn x reader

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apoptoses · 3 months ago

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♰ 𝔄𝔭𝔬𝔭𝔱𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔉𝔦𝔠 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ♰

𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡/𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩

𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰:

Come Pull My Strings: a series exploring the chase years and a little beyond

I'll Be Your Operator - 10.3k - [Explicit] • Armand and Daniel's dinner at the Copley [voyeurism]

Flesh and Bone by the Telephone - 8.5k - [Explicit] • An expansion of the 'call paris' scene [handjobs, frottage]

Pale Shelter - 15.6k - [Explicit] • The aftermath of Armand bailing Daniel out of jail [spanking, fingering, frottage]

The Killing Moon - 6.3k - [Explicit] • Armand's pov of the events in Pale Shelter [angst, smut]

To Bring You My Love - 1.9k - [General] • Armand's pov of the subway scene in Pale Shelter [fluff]

When Half Won't Do - 12.3k - [Explicit] • Armand and Daniel set up house in London [anal, felching, breathplay, cockwarming]

Something So Trivial - 6.9k - [Explicit] • A valentine's day fic in which Daniel gets Armand a gift [lingerie, dry humping, blood play]

Til the Act is Done: mini-series exploring role reversal

Love Like Blood - 7.7k - [Explicit] • Armand and Daniel roleplay as if Armand were the interviewer and Daniel the vampire [roleplay, blood sharing, frottage]

Fade Into You - 6.1k - [Explicit] • Daniel explores giving pleasure to a vampire and getting Armand to submit [biting, blood play, canon compliant smut]

Muscles Better, and Nerves More: miniseries exploring body worship

Turn Away No More - 5.4k - [Explicit] • Daniel shows Armand all of the things he finds masculine about him [body worship, scent kink, canon compliant smut]

Come Get Your Knife - 26.5k - [Explicit] • An exploration of Armand's religious trauma and reclaiming sexuality [canon compliant smut, threesomes, anal]

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔠

Blood Sanation - 59k - [Explicit] • Daniel and Armand reunite, re-evaluate their relationship, and repair things between them. Filling in the mission reunion from Prince Lestat.

𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰:

Mercy in You - 3.2k - [Mature] • Armand gets Daniel to eat dinner and has a snack himself [blood sharing, mild angst, shotgunning]

Angle of Incidence - 9.4k - [Explicit] • Armand wants to know all of Daniel's body and its functions [medical fetish, inappropriate use of an obgyn office, watersports, humiliation]

Bespoke - 4k- [Explicit] • Armand, Daniel, and a pair of expensive leather gloves [leather fetish, finger sucking, fingering, bondage, handjobs, marking]

Fate as it Flows - 14.8k - [Explicit] • Daniel learns to ask for exactly what he wants [watersports, humiliation, omorashi, kink negotiation]

Red, Violent Red - 9.6k - [Explicit] • Armand learns about 20th century dirty talk, gets spanked, and indulges in some brief submission [spanking, dirty talk, teacher roleplay]

Paradoxical Movement - 11k - [Explicit] • Armand learns more about Daniel's body via endoscopy ft. two endings depending on your taste in kink [medical fetish, gagging and choking, praise kink]

These Hands Stained Red - 8.2k- [Explicit] • Daniel allows Armand to drink from him while he sleeps [consensual somnophilia, marking, blood play]

Apotheosis - 6k - [Explicit] • Armand takes Daniel to church and keeps him from being bored by placing a vision in his mind [blasphemy, religious imagery, blood sharing, coming in public]

Climb to the Sun - 6.3k - [Explicit] • The morning after Pompeii, where Daniel explores his fetish for being bitten and sharing the blood [blood sharing, coming untouched]

Once Bitten Twice Shy - 4.7k - [Explicit] • Christmas fic in which Daniel takes Armand to see holiday lights [mild angst, blood sharing, frottage]

More Than Neither - 6.3k - [Explicit] • Genderswap fic: butch!Daniel gets her period, experiences some body dysmorphia, and gets help from femme!Armand [eating out, period smut]

The Weightiest Business - 13.3k- [Explicit] • Just before moving to Night Island Daniel and Armand explore Tokyo and all its culinary delights [feeding fetish, hand feeding, pet play, handjobs]

𝔱𝔲𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔯 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔰:

Like Sugar - [General] • A sweet kiss on a hot NYC night [fluffl]

Lift Up The Receiver - [Explicit] • Armand interrupts Daniel's business call on Night Island [handjobs, teasing, blood sharing, fooling around during a phone call]

Every Part - [Explicit] • "You know what they say about men with big feet, Daniel" [foot fetish, Armand being a literal ankle biter]

Playing Doctor - [Explicit] • Daniel breaks his ankle. Armand takes care of him. [med fetish, public handjobs]

Sleeping In - [General] • Daniel's late mornings have turned into late evenings [vampire Daniel, fluff]

𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡/𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱

𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔰:

Those tender moments - 3.5k - [Mature] • Lestat doesn't feel at home at Trinity Gate. Armand helps change that. [blood sharing, fluff]

A matter of taste - 3k - [Explicit] • Armand gets stuck with an ugly sofa at Trinity Gate. Lestat takes care of the problem with him. [blood sharing, canon compliant smut, fluff]

Precious and Fragile Things - 4k - [Explicit] • Armand tries on lingerie for Lestat and teaches him a lesson in a dressing room. [mild cbt, lingerie, sub!lestat, canon compliant smut]

𝔱𝔲𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔯 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔰:

Leather - [Explicit] • Armand visits Lestat backstage at a concert. [blood sharing, sub!Lestat, leather kink]

"This is the last time" prompt - [Teen] • Armand entertains Lestat in Auvergne [fluff]

𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡/𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩/𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱

Three of Hearts - 6.9k - [Explicit] • A card game gets out of hand and ends in Armand playing voyeur again, this time to Daniel and Lestat [canon compliant vampire smut, pet play, dom!Armand, threesomes]

𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡/ℜ𝔦𝔠𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔬

The Devil's Water - 6.5k - [Explicit] • Amadeo can't sleep, and finds solace in Riccardo, among other things [friends with benefits, anal, marking, fluff and mild angst]

Art Lessons - [General] • Riccardo helps Armand regain his creative spirit [fluff, kissing]

𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡/𝔅𝔦𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔞

Objects of Virtue - [Explicit] • Armand passes a rainy afternoon in Bianca's rooms and helps her bathe [handjobs, fingering, teasing]

𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩/𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱

"This was a terrible idea" - [Teen] • Daniel and Lestat go out for the night [fluff, kissing]

𝔄𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡/𝔇𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔩/𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔰 + 𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔰/𝔓𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔯𝔞

Collared and Yoked - [General] • Marius watches Daniel and Armand lounge together, and discusses his relationship to them with Pandora

#oof this took FOREVER #but here's all my fic including the tumblr prompts i've done!!!#armand/daniel #armand/lestat #devil's minion #vampire chronicles #armand/riccardo #daniel/lestat #armand/bianca #vc fic #apoptoses fic

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lucy90712 · 2 months ago

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Coming home for Christmas- Jude Bellingham

A/n: Happy holidays guys, I have one more Christmas story to come out in the next few days and then a surprise new mini series for new years so get ready Christmas is supposed to be a happy and joyful time of year but this year I just can't get myself in the Christmas spirit. My boyfriend Jude was supposed to spend Christmas with me and my family this year I left a week before Christmas to spend more time with my family and he was supposed to join us after his last league game but due to bad weather he hasn't been able to get a flight. He's been trying for days and last night he text me and said the last flight that would get here on time got cancelled and he wouldn't be able to make it. I had to hide my sadness in front of my siblings as they didn't need me to ruin Christmas for them but once they had gone to bed I did have a good cry with my mum.

Last year I spent Christmas with Jude's family so this year we were supposed to switch and he'd spend Christmas with my family for the first time. I was so excited to have him here and so were my parents and siblings as they love Jude. We had so many plans and Jude was going to join in with all the family Christmas traditions like the matching pyjamas which I have on while I cry looking at Jude's untouched pair on the dresser in my room. Jude did promise to FaceTime me for most of the day but it just won't be the same as having him here.

~~~~~~~~~~

I must've fallen asleep at some point last night as I got woken up by my youngest sister jumping on top of me yelling that Santa had been. She was trying to drag me out of bed and straight downstairs but I managed to convince her to wait just a minute which gave me just enough time to brush my teeth and grab a hoodie to keep me warm. It was only as I walked down the stairs I realised I had one of Jude's hoodies on which made me miss him all over again. Yet again I put on a smile as all my younger siblings were so excited and looking at all the gifts waiting for them under the tree.

The kids really wanted to open presents but my parents insisted we all have breakfast first which in recent years has become my job as everyone loves my pancake recipe. I got the hint and got up to start making the pancakes but before I could get very far the doorbell rang and because I was closest I offered to answer it. My parents didn't say anything which has me a bit confused as I thought they'd be more curious about who was at the door at 7am on Christmas Day but I didn't think much else of it.

I opened the door still holding the spoon I was about to use to mix the pancake batter but that quickly landed on the ground when I saw Jude stood in front of me. I couldn't believe it he wasn't supposed to be here but here he is stood right in front of me. After taking a second to process what just happened I jumped into his arms which luckily he was expecting and he caught me holding me tightly to his chest.

"What are you doing here I thought your flight was cancelled" I said

"I may have lied the flight was delayed for a while but I got in at 3am and slept in the airport for a bit before getting a taxi here to surprise you I thought it would be fun to see your face when I turned up which is why I didn't tell you" he said

"This is the best Christmas present ever I was so sad that you were going to miss everything but now you're here you can help me make pancakes as that's the first tradition we have" I said excitedly

"Let me bring my bags in then I'll help make your famous pancakes" he said

I helped him bring in his suitcases and he took one up to my room but he told me to leave the other one downstairs as it had presents in. He greeted all of my family on his way back down and made sure to act over the top excited when the kids showed him all the gifts under the tree. Eventually he escaped and helped me make the pancakes and serve them as they came out the pan. As Jude can’t take anything seriously for more than five minutes once I'd made both of us some pancakes he grabbed the whipped cream and put some on the pancakes but also my nose. He managed to take a picture before I could wipe the cream off and put it in his face instead. We had to clean up otherwise I'd get in trouble but we laughed the entire time which really made me happy as this is exactly what I wished today would be like.

After breakfast it was time to open presents so Jude went and got his second suitcase which was completely filled with presents which he'd clearly wrapped himself as they weren't very neat but it's the thought that counts. He'd got a couple presents for all my siblings and my parents then he piled the rest of them up in front of me. He has a tendency to go a bit overboard with presents but I didn't expect him to get so much for the rest of my family too as I told him that he didn't have to and I could put some of my presents from him too. The kids all opened their presents first which they were very happy with especially their gifts from Jude as he got them all things they really wanted so they were happy.

While they played with their new toys the rest of us took turns opening gifts. Jude really showed me up with the gifts he got my parents but I'm ok with it as it just shows me that I picked the best boyfriend who cares for my entire family not just me. I managed to redeem myself with my presents for Jude as I went all out I got him things I knew he'd like but also some more sentimental personal gifts which he seemed to really love. Jude can be hard to buy for as he already has everything and he makes a hell of a lot more than I do but I like getting him things that mean something. Jude like always got me things he knew I'd love and like always he was right although I think I'm going to need another suitcase to get it all back out Madrid.

Just when I thought he couldn't possibly have bought any more gifts for me he grabbed my hand and took me to my room upstairs where he handed me a small wrapped box. I took the wrapping paper off but hesitated for a second before opening the box because part of me wondered if it was an engagement ring and as much as I love Jude we said we would wait a bit longer to take that next step in our relationship. My heart rate felt like it tripled when I opened the box and saw a beautiful but delicate ring but Jude quickly managed to calm me down.

"Don't worry this isn't an engagement ring I know we agreed to wait for that but I wanted you to have something that showed how much I love you and shows my commitment to you until the day I give you a proper ring so I guess this a promise ring my promise to always be there by your side and to love you" he said nearly making me cry

"Jude that's the sweetest thing you've ever said and this ring is beautiful" I said

"I hoped you'd like it and I get if you don't want to wear it on your ring finger we don't want to give people the wrong impression but I thought you could wear it on your right hand and it could be our little secret only we know the true meaning behind it" he said

"Thats a great idea" I said leaning in to kiss him

"I do have them sometimes" he joked

I gave him another kiss before he put the ring on my finger and we headed back downstairs. It was a matter of seconds before Jude was stolen from me by my brothers to play football even though it's freezing outside. Before I knew it I'd been roped in too and I was forced to be in goal but it was kind of ok with me as it meant I could put on thicker gloves and pretend they are goalkeeping gloves. Jude taught the boys a lot of little tricks which they picked up quickly and soon they were able to get just as many goals past me as Jude. They had fun but eventually even they felt the cold and we all got to go back inside where my sister was waiting with her new dolls that Jude got her so he was made to play with her but he didn't seem to mind. One of the many reasons I love Jude is because he's so good with all my siblings and they all love him so much when I come home they always ask for Jude even when he's not with me.

Jude eventually got freed from doll playing duties and we got to relax for a little while before my mum started cooking the Christmas dinner and I agreed to help along with Jude who decided he didn't want to leave my side. I was a little nervous about him helping as he's not the best cook in fact he's the worst cook I know but with detailed instructions he did quite well dealing with the vegetables. As he watched the water bubbling his arms wrapped around my waist while I made the Yorkshire puddings which didn't help me at all but he's cute and I've missed him in our week apart so I let him. Once my part was done my mum made us go and enjoy ourselves which we didn't need to be told twice we finally got a few minutes to ourselves to relax and cuddle on the sofa.

Dinner was lovely my mum did a great job and Jude was proud of his contribution so I didn't bother telling him the carrots were slightly overdone. For the whole meal he had a hand on my thigh occasionally rubbing circles on it all while smiling at me like he'd just seen a puppy. His smile was so infectious that we were both smiling at each other throughout the entire meal and completely in our down world. This is exactly how I pictured Christmas with Jude being the little moments like playing with my siblings, cooking together and enjoying dinner together really just made my heart feel filled with love and the Christmas spirit.

After dinner we didn't have to help with cleaning up as we both helped cook so Jude carried me upstairs over his shoulders to my room. He insisted that we put on our matching pyjamas as he missed that part of my family tradition and then he made sure we took pictures together which he promised he would post but I know in a few hours one will be on his instagram story. Despite it only being 8pm we got ready for bed and got under the covers to cuddle as that's the only thing that felt right to end off the perfect day. Just when I thought things couldn't get any better Jude put on miracle on 34th street which I love to watch but he doesn't so I know he did it just for me.

"I'm so glad you could make it today has been the best day" I said

"Me too your whole family are so lovely your brothers are going to be great footballers, your sister has one hell of an imagination and your parents are just so kind to me" he said

"They all love you so much probably more than me but that's ok because I love seeing all of you get along" I said

"Well my family loves you more than me so I guess we're even" he joked

"I guess we are" I smiled kissing him before settling back down to finish watching the movie

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine

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someonegoood · 25 days ago

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THE CORPORATE EQUATION drabble #5 ✫ jeon jungkook

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife @thatgirliehan @rayyrayy10 @lovingkoalaface <3

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

❀ drabble five: a quiet gesture

The office was already buzzing with morning energy when you arrived, balancing your coffee in one hand and a stack of reports in the other. But your mind was elsewhere—still trapped in the haze of last night. The candlelit dinner that had started with tentative warmth, the way your boss had actually listened when you. For a moment, just a moment, it had felt like something shifting between you.

Then she had arrived.

You still didn't know her name. She was tall, poised, effortless in her presence—the kind of woman who fit perfectly into Mr. Jeon’s world. You could still hear the way her voice had curled around his name, see the way he stiffened ever so slightly at her presence.

And then, the final blow—how easily she had slid into the empty seat beside him, turning the quiet intimacy of the evening into something else entirely.

And now, as you stepped into the office, that familiar ache curled in your chest, bitter and unresolved.

But the moment you reached your desk, you froze.

A vase of white lilies sat delicately in the center, their petals fresh and untouched, the soft fragrance immediately wrapping around you. Your breath hitched slightly. Nestled beside them was a small, folded note, its edges crisp, as if the sender had hesitated before finally leaving it there.

Soojin let out a low whistle from her own desk. "Wow. Someone’s got a secret admirer."

Minji leaned over, peering at the flowers with interest. "These are gorgeous. And very specific. White lilies, huh? Someone knows you well."

You swallowed, fingers brushing the edge of the note before you finally picked it up. There was no name. Just a few words written in neat, precise handwriting:

I hope today is better than yesterday. I'm sorry.

That was it. No signature, no grand confession. Just a quiet acknowledgment. A subtle gesture meant only for you to understand. Your fingers tightened around the paper. It didn’t take a genius to know who had left them.

Jeon Jungkook.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the flowers, at the message. The weight in your chest from last night hadn't entirely lifted, but somehow, this made it easier to breathe.

Soojin nudged your arm playfully. "So? Are you going to tell us who they're from?"

You hesitated for a second before tucking the note into your pocket. Then, with the smallest smile, you murmured, "Just… someone making up for a bad night."

Minji raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. The conversation drifted back to work, but as you settled into your chair, your eyes kept straying to the lilies.

Jungkook hadn’t said anything. But he didn’t have to. Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.

previous / next

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writingfics-passingtime · 21 days ago

Note

Looking At Me by Sabrina Carpenter + Loki x reader! If you have an mcu character you’d like better for this then go for it! I’ve just really wanted to prompt you this song for a bit but didn’t know how.

This one-shot is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Steal the Show

Song Prompt: Looking at Me - Sabrina Carpenter

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word Count: ~2560

CW: swearing, innuendo/sexual jokes, threats of violence, objectification of the reader

Minors DNI: this work does not contain smut, but contains a romantic/suggestive relationship between the reader and adult-aged characters. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

Note: Thanks, anon! This sat, almost complete, in my drafts for well over a month because trying to end this fic felt impossible to get right, but I'm releasing it into the world and making peace with how it turned out. This song was so fun, thank you for sending it in!

The van smelled like stale coffee, ironically cheap deodorant, and your own frustration. The monitors flickered, casting a headache-inducing glow that only added to your mounting irritation.

You adjusted your earpiece as you stared at the ballroom feed, where Sophie Vallienne - the untouchable French billionaire dripping in couture - stood in the middle of her carefully curated world. The black diamond necklace she wore was your team's objective tonight.

Hidden inside that necklace was a microchip containing classified national security data - data she planned to sell to the highest bidder.

Your job? Sit in the van. Watch. Provide tactical support while the rest of the team got their hands dirty.

And dirty meant flirty; getting close enough, for long enough, for the micro jammers in your team's pockets to corrupt the data on the chip.

“Anything?” you asked through gritted teeth, eyeing the live feed where Sam leaned against the bar near Sophie, his boyish smirk in full force.

“She’s not biting,” Sam muttered. “Maybe she doesn't like Americans.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like try-hards,” Bucky’s voice cracked through the comms.

You glanced at another screen - one showing Bucky, all dark stubble and brooding stares, approaching Sophie by the champagne tower, only to get rebuffed embarrassingly fast.

“She’s a stone wall,” Bucky grumbled as he walked away without any successful show of interest. “No interest. Not even a flicker.”

“Perhaps she prefers her suitors with more refinement.” Loki’s voice purred through the line straight into your ear, deep and low, and you instantly bristled.

On the screen, he was moving toward Sophie, a sinuous shark among the crowd. His sharp black suit decorated his frame with tailored perfection, and even through the grainy surveillance feed, you could see the beautiful smirk tugging at his lips as he approached your target. Sophie’s gaze flickered to him, a polite smile gracing her features as he leaned in and-

Bastard! He shut his mic off so the rest of you couldn't hear his line.

For a moment, you thought he might succeed. But then Sophie’s smile faltered, her eyes glazing over with that same disinterest she’d shown Sam and Bucky. She excused herself, slipping away toward the bar without a backward glance.

Loki's voice cracked back to life in your ear. "That... should've worked."

“She’s losing patience,” you murmured, more to yourself than the team. "She's going to get suspicious if you guys keep pushing. Back off for a sec. Let me think." You rubbed at your temple, trying to piece together a Plan B.

“What’s your brilliant idea, Overwatch?” Loki’s voice drawled, a mocking edge to it. “Come now, I can hear the cogs turning.”

“Just give me a second to-"

And then you saw it. Sophie’s eyes lingered. Not on Loki, not on Bucky, not on Sam. They followed the sway of a cocktail waitress in a sleek dress, her gaze trailing up her legs and over her shoulders before sliding away.

The realisation hit you like a freight train.

“Oh, fuck me."

“What?” Sam piped up.

"You chuckleheads never stood a chance."

You were already yanking open the disguise kit you kept in the van, grasping for the nanotech bracelet, fingers fumbling to secure it around your wrist.

"What's wrong?"

"Our intel was shit, that's whats-" you finally conquered the clasp, letting out a huff of frustration and relief. "She's into women," you explained.

Why the hell couldn't Natasha be here instead?

“What are you doing?” Bucky demanded over the comms.

"Improvising."

The van’s limited space left you no choice but to strip right there, kicking off your boots and pulling off your practical black pants with a string of curses. The cold air hit your skin as you pulled up the bracelet’s holographic menu, scrolling quickly until you found a floor-length, elegant gown with a thigh-high slit and a neckline that made your stomach twist just looking at it.

The nanotech shimmered across your body, and you felt the dress form around you like a second skin, fitting you in ways you weren’t prepared for. You kept digging through the kit until you found a tube of lipstick perfect for your skin tone, applying it with a deadly hand.

After a few minutes of work, a quick glance in the van’s rearview mirror was enough to make your stomach drop.

You weren’t used to looking so…

Before you could give yourself time to doubt, you grabbed the spare jammer and attached it to a thigh holster, slipping it up the leg not exposed by the dress's slit.

After only a second's hesitation - what the hell am I doing? why do I think I, of all people, would be able to tempt anyone, let alone a beautiful woman like her? - you shoved the van door open, stepping out into the cool night air.

The stilettos pinched, the dress was too exposing, and you felt like you might vomit; never in your career had your armour provided so little protection.

But none of that mattered.

You were the only one here who had a chance at this.

So you threw your shoulders back, and strode toward the entrance of the hotel like you belonged there.

The ballroom swallowed you in a haze of glittering chandeliers and murmured conversations.

Heads actually turned as you walked in, eyes following the sway of your hips, the click of your heels. You ignored them, scanning the room for Sophie, but your eyes landed on him.

He was leaning against a marble column, drink in hand. His ocean eyes snapped to you, and for the first time since you’d met him, the ever-smirking God of Mischief looked utterly at a loss.

His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate, and your pulse quickened under the weight of it.

You felt exposed. Vulnerable. And yet, something in the way he stared made you feel like the most dangerous thing in the room.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered over comms.

“Did anyone else know she could look like that?” Bucky added, his voice incredulous.

You scoffed. "I can hear you, asshole."

Loki’s voice cut through, low and venomous, directed at Barnes and Wilson. “Eyes on the target, not on her.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t dare look at him again. Instead, you moved toward the bar, your shoulders steady with feigned elegance, every step a performance.

You perched on the edge of a stool, crossing your legs as you gestured to the bartender for a drink, letting your body language shift into something soft and coy.

Sophie didn’t make you wait long. She appeared at your side like a shadow, her smile sharp and satisfied.

“You’re new,” she said. Her French accent curled around the words like smoke.

“I am,” you replied, letting your lips curve into a slow smile. Her eyes dipped to your mouth, lingering. You leaned in, letting your voice drop to a low, teasing murmur. “How sweet of you to notice.”

Her laugh was light, intimate. “How could I not?”

Somewhere across the room, Bucky sidled up to Loki. “Good gods,” he muttered, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry over comms.

Loki’s jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on you, gaze sharp enough to cut, hands flexing at his sides. “If a single finger is laid on her... I’ll break every bone in Vallienne's body.”

You leaned against the bar, swirling the last sip of champagne in your glass while Sophie Vallienne’s laugh slithered through your senses. She was so close, impossibly charming, her fingers swirling light patterns along the bar near your hand. You'd been flirting for the better part of ten minutes, and it was progressing. Quickly.

Her touch trailed onto your hand that was resting on the stem of a wine glass.

It sent a shiver up your spine, though you weren’t sure if it was from nerves or sheer absurdity of the situation. You’d never been the centre of such focused attention, let alone from someone as devastatingly beautiful as her.

“Tell me, what brings you here tonight?” Sophie asked, her voice a low, intimate murmur. Her perfectly painted lips curved in a smile that promised danger and delight in equal measure. “What caught your eye?”

“The Rembrandt. It called to me in a way I couldn’t ignore. I’m not usually the type to attend events,” you replied, and it wasn’t a lie. You weren’t used to playing this part, but something about it - about the thrill of being someone else, the control you felt over Sophie’s attention - was exhilarating.

Her eyes roamed over your face, lingering just a little too long on your mouth. “A shame. A woman like you shouldn’t hide.”

Your earpiece crackled, breaking the moment. Sam's voice came over the comms from your spot in the van. “And... done. The chip's fried. Let's move out."

You stiffened, and Sophie’s smile faltered. “Something wrong?”

You set your glass on the bar, shaking your head. “I’m spoken for,” you said, standing. “I shouldn’t have let myself get so… distracted,”

"Distracted, or tempted?"

"Both, if I'm honest." You offered an apologetic smile.

Sophie’s smile returned, sharper this time, but not unkind. “Should you ever find yourself unspoken for…” She stood and whispered some brief instructions on how to contact her, before backing away respectfully, and allowing you your leave.

Her gaze lingered as you stepped away, the heat of her attention following you through the crowd.

You pushed past a sea of glittering dresses and tailored suits, heart pounding in time with the sharp click of your heels on the polished floor. Your confidence waned the closer you got to the exit, the allure of the dress and the night and a beautiful person looking at you like that - all crashing back to reality.

None of it was real.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, and you paused on the grand stone stairs to take a breath.

That was when you saw him again.

Loki was leaning against the railing near the bottom of the staircase, the faint glow of the streetlights catching on the sharp angles of his face. He looked up, and it was his eyes that caught you - they moved over your body, darkening with every inch they traveled.

You fought the instinct to cross your arms, to shield yourself from the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare. “Don’t start,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended as you started down the stairs. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Do you?” he asked, his lips curving into a knowing smirk. He pushed off the railing, his movements slow, deliberate. "Enlighten me."

You rolled your eyes, the heat rising to your cheeks betraying the nonchalance you were aiming for. “You’re going to tell me I look ridiculous.”

Loki’s smirk widened as you stopped two steps above him, putting you level with his eye-line. “Ridiculous,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “is hardly the word I’d choose.”

The way he said it made your stomach flip. You rolled your eyes again, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “What word would you use, then? Enlighten me.”

“Dangerous,” he said simply. “In the kind of way that makes men stop thinking with their heads.”

You swallowed, the intensity in his tone catching you off guard. “Ha-ha” you started, trying to deflect with sarcasm, “I'm sure the rest of the team had a good laugh at this, too.”

“Oh, no one was laughing,” Loki replied, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. “If I were you, I’d be careful around Barnes. He’s likely still piecing together a coherent thought.”

Your laugh was breathless, unbidden. You looked away. “Bucky wouldn’t look at me like that.”

Loki’s brow arched, his expression almost amused. “Everyone in that room... was looking at you like that."

You dared to glance up, instantly regretting it. His eyes were fixed on you, dark and wanting, but there was something else there, something that made your breath hitch.

"It's fascinating," he cocked in head in thought, "these mortal men are so blinded by their fleeting desires, that they only see beauty when it’s presented just so... gift-wrapped in silk and sequins." His voice dipped, rich and intimate, as he leaned close enough that you could start to feel the heat of him. “I’ve always known what you are.”

“Always known?”

“Always wanted,” he murmured, and the raw, unapologetic hunger in his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

The silence that followed between you was crushing, heavy with everything he wasn’t saying, everything you didn’t know how to respond to. You felt the heat coiling low in your belly. But you weren’t about to let him win this game. Not yet.

You smirked, trying to mask the weakness in your knees. “That’s a nice line, but I’m not in the habit of falling for silver-tongued gods.”

“No,” he agreed with a curious tilt of his head, the other way now. “You’re not in the habit of falling at all, are you?”

You shrugged with one shoulder. “Men talk. Big promises, sweet words. Yet somehow, I’m always the one left unsatisfied.”

Something flickered in his eyes - something dangerous, amused, and wickedly self-assured. “Ah, poor thing,” he drawled, the space between you shrinking with every word. “You’ve been wasting your time on mortal men, with their fumbling hands and unimaginative minds. You don’t have the faintest idea of what it feels like to be truly satisfied, do you?”

Your breath caught as you fought to keep your composure. “Like I said - big talk,” you said, your voice wavering slightly despite your best efforts. “But words are cheap.”

“Words are foreplay,” Loki countered smoothly. “And I never disappoint.”

Your eyes narrowed in challenge. “Do you rehearse this? Or is this just natural-born arrogance?”

His smirk deepened, like he could hear the pulse thrumming in your ears. He didn't answer, letting you seep in the abashment swarming through you.

Eventually, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I don't know why I'm entertaining this. You're just flirting for sport."

"You sound disappointed."

"I don't like being played with."

"Oh, you've no idea the ways I could play with you."

Heat and want surged through your body, a shattered, flustered cough escaping you. "You mother fu-"

“Hey,” Sam’s irritated voice interrupted. “Whatever weird, sexually-charged argument you two are having, save it for later. Get in the damn van.”

You stilled as the moment shattered. Gathering yourself before looking over his shoulder to the van. "Let's go then, Trickster. Back to reality.”

“Gladly," he stepped closer, leaning down to whisper low in your ear. "When it comes to you, reality is far more enticing that fantasy or facade... Think about what I said."

He stepped away, hands sliding into his pockets, turning his back and sauntering towards the van with an arrogance that made you want to hurl your shoe at his head.

Think about what I said- who in the hell does he think he is? And what part? He talked a lot of shit. Surely he can't... he can't mean any of it.

But as you followed, dutifully returning to your real life and real job, you stood a little taller, had more surety in your step. And you realised, alarmingly, that this newfound confidence had nothing to do with dress.

Because when you thought about all the things he said, something, deep down, whispered those four little words in his beautiful velvet voice:

Always known. Always wanted.

You were in so much trouble.

#loki x reader #marvel reader insert #no y/n #loki x you #marvel fanfiction #answered #JJ's Mixtape #sabrina carpenter

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lnfours · 1 year ago

Text

tolerate it | l.n

summary: if it’s all in my head, tell me now. tell me i’ve got it wrong somehow.

warnings: happy folklore/evermore season :) angst, language, fears of your partner falling out of love with you, slight anxiety and overthinking, fluffy ending bc i can’t make them stay mad at each other. kinda wanna do an evermore/folklore mini series, let me know if you guys would be interested <3

masterlist | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the colder weather meant the sun was starting to set earlier, and it was evident as you gazed out the window, sitting at the dining room table. the candle you had lit an hour or so ago flickering softly, illuminating the room with a soft glow as the gloomy sky hovered above.

you sighed to yourself, taking another sip from the wine glass that sat next to your plate. you tapped on your phone screen, lighting up and displaying the time and the picture you had set as your lock screen. the 5:30 hovering tauntingly above the picture of you and lando from a few months back, your smile wide and trying to hide it in his shoulder as he held his camera to the mirror. he was sporting a smile also, you could almost hear your shared giggles through the photo.

he was supposed to be home an hour ago, and nights like this were happening more often. he’d always be an hour to an hour and a half late getting home. it was always an apology, saying ‘training ran late’ or the quadrant shoot ‘ran on longer than it was supposed to’, you’d see him for fifteen minutes while the two of you ate dinner, and then he’d go off to the office until he decides to join you in bed later in the night.

at first, you didn’t complain, knowing he was a man with a busy schedule, but after almost two months of this same song and dance, your anxiety was getting the best of you.

what if he was out with someone else? what if he was slowly losing interest in you? what if he just tolerates you?

the sound of the door closing pulled you from your thoughts, snapping your head up as you heard footsteps enter the room. he placed his keys, wallet and phone on the counter, frowning softly.

“sorry i’m late,” here we go again, “i told max i needed to be home by 4 and he insisted we played another round before i left.”

you nodded, taking another sip from the glass on your right, “‘s fine.”

he watched you swallow thickly, tilting your head to look back out the window. he noticed the way your hand tapped against your arm softly, his eyes moving to the plates set on the table. your grandmother’s china.

his heart dropped when he thought back to your conversation the other night, him saying the two of you would have a proper sit down meal tonight since he felt bad for running late lately.

and he just fucked it all up even more.

“you don’t have to lie,” he said, making you advert your attention back to him, “i know you know it’s not fine.”

you shook your head, “what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

he knew he deserved the digs and jabs you were sending his way, “seriously, lando, if you’re not interested in me anymore just say it instead of making me play this stupid game.”

the silence that fell between the two of you after was the final blow. he watched your cheeks glisten in the soft candle light, and fuck, he hated seeing you cry. especially when it was because of him.

he didn’t know what to say as your chair scraped the floor, getting up from your spot at the table and picking up your plate. the food untouched as you grabbed the saran wrap from the pantry.

he heard your quiet sniffle, “i’m so sorry, y/n-“

“then where have you been the past two months?” he blinked back at you before you continued, “every single day it’s the same, overused excuse. so, what is it really, lando? enlighten me.”

he swallowed because he didn’t have answer that didn’t sound like he was making an excuse. he really had been busy with work, but he knew he could’ve done better with planning to make more time for you and him.

you knew he loved you with every fiber of his being, but you were upset. you were angry and sad and all you wanted was for him to come home and spend time together like the two of you used to do. but it was like it was too much to ask for.

of course you knew what you were signing up for when he took you on your very first date, but you didn’t know it would mean being put on the back burner, begging to be let in on the things going on his life.

his silence made you nod, “right,”

he reached out to you slowly, not sure how you would react. you bit down on your bottom lip, the dam breaking now as he stepped towards you.

“y/n,” he said your name softly, understanding that your lash-outs were because of men who had hurt you in the past, knowing too well what it felt like when anxiety and over thinking takes over. he couldn’t be mad at you, he just wanted to make things right. make you feel reminded that he loved you. more than racing, more than his friends, more than anything in the whole world.

the back of your hands were raised to your eyes when he grabbed them and pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his chest. you gave in, knowing that at the end of the day, he was your safe place. your shoulder to cry on, the one who always saw you in your most vulnerable stages. there was no getting past him with this one.

your hands wrapped around his middle loosely as you cried softly into his chest. he rested his head against yours, rubbing your back the same way he always did whenever he’d comfort you. his lips pressed against your hair before he grabbed your face gently, lifting your chin to have you look at him.

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, eyes searching yours and that’s when you realized he had been crying too, “i’m gonna talk to my trainer and the guys and tell them i need a little bit of a break, and you and i are gonna spend every single day together doing whatever you want.”

you felt selfish now, “but this is your job, lan,”

“i don’t care,” he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand to hold your cheek, “they’ll be fine if i take a few days off.”

your hand came up to mimic his on your cheek, your fingers brushing against the small moles on his face. the same ones your lips press against whenever you kiss his face. the pads of your thumbs brushed away the small tear lingering around his nose.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty for being cold to the boy who loved you like no other.

“don’t apologize,” he said, “i should’ve done better. you don’t deserve to feel like you’re on the back burner of my life.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck as his snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. you looked back out the window, the light from the golden hour sun shining on the trees in the backyard. he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, “i love you.”

you smiled softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. your smile making his lips turn up into one mirroring yours, “i love you, too.”

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, a mixture of the wine you had with dinner and the salty tears you had cried a few moments prior with the subtle hint of your chapstick.

you both pulled away, him taking you by surprise when he lifted you off the ground. you squealed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you clung onto his hoodie for dear life.

“lando!” you laughed, letting him carry you to the couch and thanking yourself for putting his dinner plate in the fridge earlier.

you had your boy back.

#lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #mclaren formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mclaren f1

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