#why would you cover it? what in the world

[prael]

Day 2: Covered

IVE An Yujin x male reader smut

words: 6,374 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

They said you could have been special; you would argue that you are.

Destined for greatness. A bright future. Whichever other way they wanted to express it.

The thing is, not everyone is cut out for the centre stage, and that's okay. You still get to do what you love, surrounded by people who share the same passion and work just as hard. Sometimes in life, you are the backup dancer in someone else's story. Sometimes, you literally are the backup dancer.

Yujin however, Yujin is the star. The one the world adores. The one that everyone around her seems to orbit.

You're just another face in her gravitational pull. You're on the stages and you're in the videos but no one remembers your name. There's probably an edit on Weverse somewhere with a sticker on your face. It's fine though. You've long made your peace with it.

You refuse to let that take away from the fact you spend so much time with An fucking Yujin. You've seen her in every single state, every emotion. She likes her 5 am coffee black and her mid-day one with ice. Yujin loves it when you massage her shoulders after practice and hates it when you play the same song twice in a row. However, the thing she loves above all else (and this can never go public) is having you on your knees—serving her like the queen you know her to be.

That's her secret. It's one you bear—one you're fine with keeping.

The final shoot is tomorrow, and today's practice is over but you know better than to follow everyone else out of the studio. You wait and you linger, and when the room clears out and you're sure everyone has left, you kneel and you wait. Sure enough, she notices and a smile creeps onto her face.

You don't bother to look up. Instead, you stay kneeling, waiting, knowing she's going to make her way over to you.

She does.

You hear her soft footsteps approaching and see the shadow fall over you as she stands there, looking down at you. You look up, slowly, eyes trailing up the length of her legs, over the expanse of her bare thighs and then just as you reach her hips, her fingers slip into your hair. She tightens her grip and yanks your head back so she can stare directly into your eyes.

"Did I say you could look at my legs?"

You gulp, feeling the tug on your hair and the way it makes your scalp burn. Your throat is dry, mouth parted and eyes wide. "No," you respond.

"Then what are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry," you quickly apologise, your hands clenching into fists and relaxing again as she tugs harder, her grip unrelenting.

"Sorry isn't good enough," she scoffs. "Why do I always have to teach you a lesson?"

You open your mouth to speak but the words die in your throat when she shoves you to the ground and kicks her leg out, planting her foot on your chest.

"Take off my shoes, don't talk."

You rush to comply, untying the laces of her sneaker before slipping it off. Yujin switches foot and you obediently repeat the action, putting the shoe beside the first one. You know that you can't allow your eyes to linger, but her bare legs are right over you and it takes all your self-control to look away.

"Socks," Yujin mutters.

You take a deep breath, knowing exactly what she wants you to do. You're slow to reach out, placing a hand on her ankle. She lets you, allowing you to gently lift her leg and slide her sock off, dropping it to the ground beside her. Your hand slides higher, caressing the soft skin of her calf, tracing the contours of her muscles. You're almost distracted until Yujin clears her throat, glaring down at you.

You nod, sliding the second sock off her foot and letting that join the first. You don't know where to look, her skin is right in front of you, begging to be kissed. Her eyes are boring into you, demanding all your attention.

"I don't know if you deserve it," she hums, lifting her foot. She drags her toes over your chest, the ball of her foot pressing down just beneath your collarbone.

"Deserve what?"

"To taste me," she laughs. "Don't think I didn't notice how distracted you were today. Don't think I didn't notice you staring at me."

"I wasn't—"

"Don't lie," she interrupts. "It's a bad habit."

You're so hopelessly disarmed. Lying underneath her on the hardwood floor of the studio with your body burning. She's so beautiful, and it's not fair. It's not fair how the universe created someone who can ruin you so easily and look so effortless doing it.

"You're lucky it's recording today tomorrow. You know what that means."

Like any other day before a big something, Yujin has a need for a release. It's a tradition at this point. The days leading up to something are so full of stress and excitement that it all gets too much and the only way for her to relieve herself is to use you.

You nod. You know exactly what it means.

She lowers her foot, and you feel her toes brush against the crotch of your shorts. You suck in a breath as she rubs up and down the fabric, pressing into you. She's watching your reaction, watching the way you bite your lip and clench your fists.

"You've been bad today. Distracted. Not focusing. Do you think you deserve this?"

"No," you shake your head.

"I don't think you do either." She removes her foot, stepping back.

It's torture. You clench your eyes as hard as your fists, desperate not to act out of turn.

"But you know what I want," she continues as you dare to open your eyes and look up. She's staring at you, hands on her hips. "You know what to do to get back on my good side."

You nod. Of course, you know. It's not the first time you've found yourself on the floor beneath her. You sit up on your knees and shuffle forwards. Her shorts are black and loose. Your fingers slip into the waistband and you tug them down slowly, sliding them over the curve of her ass, past the smooth, glowing skin of her thighs and down to her ankles.

You take a breath. You're so desperate. So hungry. She's wearing the laced panties you like. The ones you bought for her and left in her bag. They hug her so tightly that she seems to be straining against them. Her ass looks perfect, her thighs thick and inviting and her cunt...you can see the outline of her folds. The thin material barely covers her. She knows how much it affects you.

"You're staring again," she huffs, pushing her hand into your hair once more and tugging roughly.

"I can't help it," you whimper.

Her fingers twist and you feel the burn in your scalp once more as you wince in pain. Yujin's hand moves from your hair, dragging down the length of your neck and around to the front of your throat. Her hand squeezes gently, thumb and index finger digging in just below your jaw.

"You can. You will."

You gasp, her grip is tight and you can't breathe, your eyes watering with the pain and the pleasure that it brings. She leans forward, her breath hot against the shell of your ear, her grip tight. You're trembling, shaking with the effort of holding back.

"Beg me," she whispers.

"Let me taste you. Let me kiss you. Please, please let me—"

Her grip on your neck tightens, cutting you off. Your words dissolve into a whimpering mess and your eyes roll back in their sockets as your body melts into her. Her touch, her words, her everything has such an effect on you that it takes you to another world. The only thing that exists is the two of you.

"Pathetic," she scoffs, her lips brushing your ear. "You'll do anything, won't you?"

"Yes," you moan, and you mean it.

"Good," she says as she pushes you away and you collapse back against the ground. "Now make me feel good, will you? I'm sick of waiting."

Yujin steps over you, her legs on either side of you and she pulls the laced underwear to the side, lowering herself down until she's hovering just over your mouth.

She looks ethereal like this, the lights shining down on her. The goddess of your dreams, the star of your story.

"Please, let me—" You don't even need to finish your sentence, Yujin sinks down, pressing her pussy onto your lips and you open your mouth to lick at her. A mouth full of pussy, the taste of her arousal hitting your tongue. She grinds down, the soft skin of her thighs pressing in on either side of your face, trapping you. You lick again, tongue flat against her, licking up from her entrance and over her clit. She grunts and her hips buck forward, grinding her pussy down harder on your lips.

"More," she pants.

And you give it to her. Your tongue laps at her, teasing her clit. Her hips roll and you feel the slickness between her legs growing and it's all over you, coating your face as you desperately reach for her thighs. She slaps your hand away.

"Did I say you can touch?"

You struggle to shake your head between her legs.

"So keep them down."

Your hands go back to your side and she groans in approval, grinding harder and faster, using you like she knows she can. This is so Yujin, to use you like she's nothing but a toy for her to play with. You don't care, you'll do whatever she wants.

You're lost in the moment, your tongue licking, tasting and teasing as you desperately try and find the rhythm she's moving in. Her thighs tighten around your head, trapping you there. You cut shapes across her clit with your tongue and you feel the shuddering of her legs as she whines. She loves it when you write her name with your tongue. The letters spelling out An Yujin.

It's all it takes for you to be consumed by her. She's in your system and all you want to do is make her feel good.

Even the powerful, composed, elegant, Yujin has to succumb in some form to the pleasure. She's been riding you with so much poise and posture. Her back is slightly arched, so above you is just the beautiful expanse of her upper body—clung to by a sweat-soaked white shirt. She's running her hand across her chest, her fingers twisting a nipple as she works herself into a frenzy on you. Her head rolls, her hand moves to the base of her neck and she moans.

She basks in the light shining down on her, and it's a sight to behold. The way it glistens on her skin. The sweat runs down her chest. Her hair, her face. The way she looks when she's so completely in the moment.

"Fuck—" she gasps and her thighs tense around your head.

You're trapped and you're struggling. Your face is covered in slick and your mouth is filled with her taste. You feel like you're suffocating and all you can think is that this is how you want to die, with Yujin all over you. Yet you know there's more to come. She starts to crumble. The poise fades and she leans forward, slamming the palm of her hand against the floor.

She hunches as she rides harder. She's fucking down onto your face. Grinding her pussy on your lips and your chin, chasing the ecstasy that she needs. She's so close you can feel it in the way she trembles. You hear it in her moaning, her whines. She's there. Right there, on the cusp. 

And how you wish you could take hold of her. Grip her juicy ass in your hands and push your mouth against her cunt and fuck her with your tongue. You'd do it. You would. Your hands twitch at the thought. Your fingers curl into the floor instead. There will be no marks on Yujin's perfect skin from your fingers right now. You keep them clenched and do as you're told.

"Fuck—" She grunts, her thighs trembling. You can't move and you can barely breathe. All you can do is lick at her and let her ride you like a toy.

It's enough. Yujin cries out and her back arches, her head falling backwards. She comes and it's the most glorious sight, watching her body tense as her thighs tremble, clenching around your face. She grinds, rubbing against your tongue as she draws it out. It's messy and loud. She's panting, her chest heaving and she moans, rocking her hips and gasping.

It's like the tension washes out of her body and she sinks down, relaxing against you. She sits on your chest, looking down at you, a satisfied smirk on her face. You try to smile back but all you can manage is a dopey grin as you struggle to catch your breath. She's beautiful like this. Her eyes shine bright, the light behind them twinkling. Her skin glows and she looks like a work of art. A masterpiece.

"You did well," she praises, reaching out to touch your face, stroking her fingers across your cheeks, "you always do well for me, don't you?"

You nod. "I'd do anything for you," you say, and you mean it.

"I know you will." She shifts her hips, her thighs clamping down around your face again, restricting your air. Yujin laughs. "You'd let me suffocate you if I told you to."

And you would. You really would.

"But, I still have use for you," she tells you as she dismounts. Yujin relaxes on the floor next to you, her head propped up on her elbow.

You take a breath and roll over to look at her, still gasping for air. She smiles, reaching out and cupping your face with her hand, thumbing the wetness of her from your cheeks. You're a mess, covered in her, and her eyes tell you how much she loves that sight. How much she enjoys the power of having you like that.

Yujin leans over, her lips grazing over yours. The kiss is so light it makes you shiver. A complete contrast to what you've just experienced. She walks this balance so perfectly. The rough and the gentle, the affection and the torment. She's the best at both and she plays with them like an instrument.

"Do you like me?" Yujin blinks innocent eyes and it's a trap that you fall right into.

"Yes. You know that I do. I like you a lot."

Yujin grins. "Do you like my body?" She shuffles closer, looking down at you a little more. "Do you want to fuck me?"

You gulp, your mouth watering as your eyes wander over the curves of her figure, the way her nipples press against her shirt, the way the hem of it has risen, exposing her midriff and how she plays with the lace of her panties on her hip. You're so hard that you're aching and she knows that. You want her, you need her, you'd give anything to feel her.

"Yujin," you whimper. "Please."

"Do you deserve to fuck me? After being so bad today?"

"I can make up for it. I'll do anything—"

"I bet you would," she hums. Her hand reaches out, sliding over your shorts, her fingers grazing over the obvious bulge. "You want it that badly?"

You nod and you're desperate.

"You want to be inside me?"

"Please, Yujin," you whimper.

She grins, tugging at the waist of your shorts and slipping her fingers under the waist. "You want to grab my ass while I ride you like the toy that you are? Do you want me to bounce on your dick, hm? The one that belongs to me?"

You bite your lip as you nod fervently, watching the way her eyes shine and the corners of her lips twist. Yujin lets out a soft laugh at your desperation.

"Then worship me." She pulls her hand away from your crotch and places it on her hip to pose. "Show me how much you like my body."

Yujin rolls onto her back, throws her hands above her head and bends a knee as her other leg stretches out. She looks so perfect, so inviting. So you climb to your knees, looking over her as she relaxes. There's a natural arch to her body between her shoulders and her ass that leaves a sliver of light between the small of her back and the floor. She's an art piece. Like a statue carved from stone, sculpted and designed to be admired. A creation so beautiful and elegant.

And you're on your knees for her, kissing up her outstretched leg. Your hand traces over her thigh. You're slow, taking your time. The skin beneath your lips is so soft, so smooth, so delicate. You don't deserve her. Your lips press into the path your hand paves up her body. Gentle kisses of appreciation on the thigh you adore so much.

"Yujin—" you breathe the words hot onto her skin. A lick, to taste the sweat from her body, a kiss, to mark the spot. A honey-laced laugh rings in the air. "You're so beautiful," you murmur.

Your mouth presses against her hip, tongue trailing over her skin. Your fingers lip up under her tight-fitted shirt. She's so warm. Her body feels like it's burning and her breaths are heavy.

She looks down the length of her body to watch you as your hand slides up, pushing her shirt with it. Your lips graze over your stomach, tongue teasing and tracing over the defined lines. You're in awe of her. She's perfect, and she knows it, but you still want her to know that she's appreciated. That she's worshipped, admired, adored, lusted for, and wanted.

"I know I am," she laughs, "but tell me more."

"An Yujin," you breathe the name into her skin as you kiss your way to her chest, your hand sliding further up her body until the palm of your hand rests on the softness of her breast. "No one is like you," you whisper as you squeeze the mound in your hand, feeling her body beneath you, feeling the way it moves when your hand does. "You're so flawless."

She moans softly when your fingers pinch her nipple. "Keep going," Yujin hums.

"You're stunning," you continue, looking up at her face as you kiss across her chest to the other breast, your hand still fondling. Your mouth hovers over her nipple and your eyes flicker up to meet hers as you lick over it. She gasps and you lick again, teasing and flicking over it. "You're the most decadent, alluring thing I have ever laid eyes on."

"I'm your fantasy?" Her hands move to the top of your head, her fingers twisting into the strands of your hair as you lick, sucking her into your mouth again, teasing her with the flat of your tongue. You suck and she lets out a sharp hiss of a moan.

"My fantasy," you breathe the words against her chest. "You're my dream."

Her hips lift, pushing against you and the growing ache of your erection. The friction, the heat, the feeling of her—it's so good. She grinds, rolling her hips and rubbing against your cock, smirking at the way you whine, your eyes fluttering.

"You want to cum," she taunts. "Don't you?"

"Yujin," you moan her name again as her fingers twist tighter in your hair. Your hips roll down to meet the grind of her body and your mouth finds the crook of her neck. You inhale the scent of her. You're surrounded by Yujin. It's dizzying. She's everywhere. The smell of her, the taste of her on your tongue and lips, the feeling of her skin on your hands, under your body, the sight of her, the sound of her voice. Everything is Yujin, and you can't think of a better world to live in. "I want you," you tell her. "I want to be inside you, I need you."

"I know what you need," she hums. Yujin's hands tug on your shirt and you sit back and pull it off. Her palms press against your chest, pushing you to lie back on the floor. You watch her and the grace with which she moves, kneeling over your waist as she peels her own shirt over her head and tosses it to the side.

Your eyes are all over her body. Yujin's hands run over the softness of her skin, and she cups her tits in her hands, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, her eyes locked on yours as you watch. Her body is a wonderland. There's no part of it that you haven't seen. No inch of her skin you haven't touched or tasted. You know every crevice of it, every mark and blemish, every imperfection. You know them all and you love them. They're the most perfect imperfections you've ever seen.

She knows the power that her body has over you, the control it gives her. Yujin knows how to wield that weapon, how to make it into the sharpest sword, and how to cut you with it.

"Fuck me," you plead, the words escaping your lips in desperation. "Yujin, please."

"You beg so beautifully for me," she smiles, her fingers sliding under the waistband of your shorts. "Lift your hips."

And you obey, lifting them from the floor. Yujin's fingers tug at the fabric, pulling them down your thighs. She smiles at the sight of you, hard and leaking. Yujin's hands slide over your bare thighs. You're exposed, and the feeling of the cool air hitting your skin sends a chill up your spine. Her palms slide up until she wraps one around the base of your cock and her touch sends a shiver through your body. Yujin strokes up, slowly, twisting her hand on the upstroke. Your hips buck at her touch and she grins at the way your cock twitches, the precum leaking across the back of her hand as she reaches the top.

"You're so needy," she says as her hand glides back down. Your eyes are wide, watching every move she makes as if your life depended on it. "I like it," she tells you.

"I'd do anything—"

"I know you would," Yujin laughs, cutting you off. She shuffles forward on her knees until her thighs press on either side of your waist, caging you between her. The way she towers over you, with that look in her eyes that says you belong to her. "You're my toy, aren't you?"

"I'm your toy."

"That's right." Her hand squeezes tighter around the base of your cock as she lifts her hips, hovering just over you. You don't know how long she's going to keep you waiting, you never do. It could be seconds, it could be minutes. She has a sadistic streak that you've never understood and it's always a game of how desperate can she make you before giving in to your begging. "And who does this belong to?" she asks.

"You. Yujin. It belongs to you," you breathe the words, your fingers curling into the palms of your hands.

"That's right, it belongs to me. This cock," she strokes up again. "It's mine. Isn't it?" Yujin's fingers trace up, circling your tip.

"It's yours," you whimper. The desperation has you whining.

"It is," she laughs, and it's a sound that makes your stomach twist into knots. She squeezes you and lifts her hips just a little, enough for you to feel the heat of her body. You feel her thighs squeeze against you as she grinds her pussy on the underside of your cock, dragging the length of you through her folds and over her clit.

Instinct dictates that you bring your hand to her hip, but you know you can't just take hold of her, not unless she's given the go-ahead. You clench your hands tighter, biting your lip to hold in your frustration, your desperation.

Yujin's hips rock against you again, grinding down and using your cock to get herself off. You can feel the slickness between her legs. You can hear the wet sound it makes. She's using you, and she's loving every second. It's the sound you know too well. She's getting herself off. The feeling of her is intoxicating, and your cock is throbbing, twitching as it slides against her pussy, hitting her clit. The moans from Yujin's lips tell you exactly what it's doing to her. How much she loves the way it makes her feel.

You can't touch. You can't take control. All you can do is lie back, your head tipped back against the floor as your fingers grip in vain at the floor, struggling to keep them from reaching out for her. Yujin's body moves like silk in the wind, and you know she's so close. The sound of her, the feeling of her. She's riding the edge, grinding down, the tip of your cock catching on her entrance as she teases you with every move.

"Yujin—" you beg her name as your head falls to the side, eyes clenched closed.

"What?" Her voice is thick with lust and you feel her hand on your chin, gripping your jaw, her nails biting into your cheeks. She turns your face and forces your eyes open to watch the way she moves. "You want to be inside me?"

You can only nod in reply, feeling her fingers tighten around you, squeezing. She grins, leaning over and you feel the breath of her laughter on your neck. Her lips brush your skin. Her teeth nip, biting down on your shoulder, making you wince. Yujin's hips roll forward, and the tip of your cock catches on her entrance. She holds there for a moment, a silent torment of anticipation as your mind swirls and your stomach flips. And then you feel the heat, her warmth as she slowly pushes herself onto your cock. You watch with a hitched breath, your heart hammering in your chest. You feel her. She feels you.

The breath you'd held rushes out, a gasping moan, the feeling of being enveloped by her body. The tight warmth as Yujin sinks all the way down. Her pussy grips your length, squeezing tight and you can feel the way it flutters, the way it grips, the way it clenches around you. Your eyes meet hers, and you can see how much she enjoys having this effect on you. How she loves the way you react, the sounds she forces you to make, the way you squirm and gasp beneath her. She owns you. Completely. Utterly. Irrevocably.

Her hands press down on your chest, and she starts to move, rolling her hips, circling, lifting up just enough that she can feel you slide in and out of her. You can feel it all, you're aware of every movement she makes. How she grinds her clit against your body on the downstroke, the way her hips tilt to find the right spot, the way she moans when she hits the perfect angle. The way she moves when she finds the right pace, the perfect rhythm. It's everything and all at once.

"You feel so good inside me," Yujin purrs. She leans back, placing a hand on the top of your thigh. Her body is open to you. She's exposed. The panties she still wears are pulled to the side, her breasts bouncing with every move of her body, her stomach tightening, the soft skin pulled taut as her abs clench. She's a sight, a beauty to behold and a treasure to worship.

"Yujin, please," you breathe the word into the space between the two of you. It's not enough, you need to touch. You have to. But you're trapped and she's in charge. "Let me touch you."

"No." It's simple, the way she says it. It's like she's not even thinking about the effect she's having on you like she doesn't even realise what she's doing to your sanity. She rides you like a toy, her hips moving, grinding down, her thighs squeezing and relaxing as she works. You can only whine, lying back against the ground. You watch as she takes what she needs from you, her hand slipping down her stomach and to her clit, circling quickly as her moans fill the room. "This is my cock," she breathes, "and I'll do what I like with it."

"Yes," you hiss as your hips push upwards, your hands balled into fists at your sides. You're so hard it hurts. It aches and it throbs, and all you can do is lie back, trapped beneath Yujin and her powerful thighs. "Yujin—" you breathe, but the words stick in your throat.

Her eyes are dark, the lust-filled pools staring down at you as you lie back, completely helpless and at her mercy. Your cock twitches and she gasps, her hand on her clit, rubbing furiously, chasing her release. She's getting closer and closer with each passing second and it shows in her face. Her brow creasing, lips parted and eyes fluttering.

She's fucking herself on your dick. Yujin is using you to get herself off and you love every second of it. The feeling of her walls gripping you tight, squeezing, her body clenching around you. The way her thighs tense and shake as she moves. Her moans, her gasps. Her eyes are on you, watching you watch her.

Yujin gasps and her body shudders, her pace quickening, her fingers circling faster, rubbing frantically at her clit as she chases her orgasm. You know how close she is, and all you can do is watch her face as she gets closer and closer. Her body is shaking, trembling as the wave builds inside her. Her moans get louder, and more intense. Her fingers work harder, and you feel her tightening, the walls of her pussy squeezing down, and then she cries out, her head tipping back, her body arching, her chest pushing out as she rides the waves of her orgasm.

It's beautiful. The way her body reacts to it all, the way she looks when she comes undone. Yujin moans your name and it sends shivers up and down your spine. She looks ethereal like this. A deity to be admired. A queen on her throne.

She's beautiful. She's breathtaking. She's Yujin.

When the waves stop crashing, Yujin collapses onto you, her body limp and spent. The warmth of her body pressed against you feels like heaven and your cock is still inside her, pulsing, aching, begging for its own release.

"I don't know if I should let you cum," Yujin pants in a whisper, her face pressed against your shoulder, the hot breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Could just leave you here like this. All hard and frustrated. Aching. You'd probably go home and get yourself off thinking about me."

She's right. Of course, she's right. You would.

"Or maybe you can show me just how much you appreciate me," she breathes, pushing herself up, hands on either side of your head. "Would you like that?"

"Anything," you tell her. Your hands twitch, desperate to reach up to her. "You know I would."

"I know." She smirks and sits up. Her hips lift until you feel your cock slipping out of her, her wetness dripping onto you. Yujin's fingers trace over the mess she's left, smearing it on her fingertips before bringing it to your lips. You know what she wants. She doesn't even need to ask.

Your mouth opens and she pushes her fingers between your parted lips, letting you lick them clean. You suck her fingers and her eyes watch you, a glint of something dangerous shining. She pulls them out slowly, dragging the tips over your bottom lip. "Good," Yujin breathes the word as she climbs off of you and turns around.

The curve of her ass is a beautiful thing to see. It's soft, smooth, plump. She catches a glance at you staring, a smirk tugging on her lips. She plants her hand against her ass (a harsh reminder that feeling it yourself requires her permission) and squeezes the flesh before letting out a laugh. It's all a game to her.

"You're going to show me, by cumming for me. Cumming on me." She settles back onto the floor, gracefully lying back into a pose. "You have two minutes. Two minutes to show me how much you love my body." She runs a hand from her chest all the way to her hips and you watch, entranced by every movement she makes. Yujin laughs again. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

The words kick you into action and you scramble to your knees and shuffle towards her. She laughs at the sweet, sweet honey sound that makes you melt. Your hand wraps around the base of your cock, the wetness from Yujin's pussy coating it, slick and smooth as you slowly stroke your length. You stare at her, watching the way her chest rises and falls with each breath, the way her fingers trace up and down the skin of her thigh, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

It's intoxicating. You're drunk on Yujin, high off of her beauty, and you're addicted. There's no going back. You're hers, completely. Your fist tightens around your length and your strokes quicken. The feeling of it is so good and your cock is still throbbing from being trapped inside her. You can feel the lingering heat of her body on your skin. The scent of her, the taste, the sound. It's everywhere. Surrounding you. Enveloping you. Engulfing you. Consuming you.

"Two minutes," she hums the reminder, her fingers sliding between her thighs. Yujin's fingers slide over the panties she still wears. "Two minutes to make yourself cum for me. To make a mess of my body."

"Yujin," you whimper her name like it's a prayer. The sound of her voice, the sight of her body. The knowledge of what you've done, of what you've experienced. You've been inside her. You've had the taste of her on your tongue, the sound of her in your ears. Her pussy is still dripping and her thighs glistening. You're still so hard that you're aching, and all you can do is stroke yourself. All you can do is pump your hand and feel your fingers glide up and down your shaft.

Your eyes flicker from the smooth, warm, inviting skin of her chest to her pussy and back. You've tasted her. You've felt her. You've felt the way she grips and clenches, the way she feels. The sound of her when she cums.

"I don't know if you can do it. I don't know if you can cum." Yujin teases and she knows how to play you. "One minute."

"Yujin," you moan her name again and again as you feel it building. The pressure. The heat. Your cock twitches in your hand as you stroke. The sensation of the wet heat, the friction, the knowledge that Yujin is beneath you, but you're hers to command, to control. It's too much and it's everything. You feel it in your core, a twisting, coiling, winding tension that's threatening to snap.

"Do you want to cum on me?" Her voice breaks through the fog. "Do you want to mark my body with your cum? Make a mess of me?"

She throws her hands above her head, stretching out her body and presenting herself for your load. "Thirty seconds," Yujin warns, the hint of danger on the tip of her tongue.

"Yujin—" You can only whisper her name as you stroke. Hard and fast, gripping and twisting. You're so close. Right there, standing on the precipice.

"That's it. Be a good boy for me," she praises. "Show me how much you adore me."

"I—I—" Your words die in your throat, a gasping, breathless moan. You're cumming, the tension snaps and it's all too much. The pleasure rushes over you like a wave. You're drowning in it. You're suffocating. Your hips stutter, thrusting into your fist, pumping your length as you feel the hot spurts of your cum painting over Yujin's perfect, beautiful skin. The first spurt splashes across her breasts, the second spattering across her stomach and chest. Her laughter fills the room. She loves this, seeing the way she's ruined you.

Your body shakes, your hand slowing as the final drops fall from your cock to the expanse of Yujin's body. Your mind swims as you struggle to breathe. Your head spins and your vision is blurry. She's laughing, her fingers swiping through the cum, rubbing it into her skin. Her hands roam all over her body and you're entranced. Your body feels like jelly as you collapse, slumped onto your side on the floor beside her.

"Good boy," Yujin purrs, her hand sliding over her stomach and down between her legs, rubbing at her clit with your cum. She's smearing it everywhere, all over her pussy, her fingers slipping between her folds and then back to her clit. It runs over her chest, dripping down the side of her tit. Her breath hitches and you watch, mesmerised by her. "Such a good boy."

"Yujin," her name falls from your lips as if you've lost all other words, the way a prayer is uttered, reverently and devotedly. "I—"

She laughs again. It's light and playful. "I know. I'm the best, right? You're so lucky."

"Yes." It's the only thing you can think of to say. You are lucky. So unbelievably lucky.

[outsideratheart]

Blind To The Signs (Leah Williamson x reader)

A/N: Fun fact, I started this in 2022 and a line in the Gavin & Stacey finale inspired me to finished it.

You were sure that Leah Williamson was the person for you but the timing never seemed right. You had met her at the Arsenal academy when you were 13 years old and since then you were inseparable but the line between friends and something more never got crossed.

There was one night when you almost kissed. It was after the world cup in Paris, you were heartbroken having felt like you let the team down and Leah refused to leave your side. It was how you found yourself walking the streets of the French capital in comfortable silence with your best friend. It was your first time visiting the city and after a few days you realised why it was called the city of love. You wouldn’t be able to say for sure what it was but there was something in the air, something that made you want to be in love, to be in Paris with the woman you love. When you and Leah stopped at bench overlooking the river Seine you realised that you were. With your mind free of football it allowed your heart to tell you how you truly felt about your best friend.

The bench was small, in fact in barely held the two of you. Leah was sitting close to you and when she turned to talk to you she was inches away from you. In that moment you knew your mind was consumed by one thought, you wanted to kiss her. You leaned in but then ducked to the side at the last minute. You covered your true intention by saying that Leah had an eye lash on her cheek, this of course was a lie.

It did get you thinking though. If you were to have gone through with it, would she have kissed you back? Was she having the same thoughts as you? These questions freaked you out. How could you be thinking about Leah in this way, you had been friends for what felt like forever, this couldn’t happen. 

That was the last night you allowed yourself to see Leah in this light. 

A couple of months later Leah had told you that she starting dating Jordan and it was enough for you to know that Leah had your heart whilst Jordan had hers.

As time went on more people learned about your feelings for Leah. You never denied them but you refused to confess. There was too much on the line and you wouldn’t let your friendship be ruined should Leah not feel the same way. 

Then Jordan and Leah broke up leading your best friend to move in with you. Even though you didn’t think it possible, the two of you got closer. You would spend your nights cuddled up on the sofa watching whatever caught your fancy on the TV but your attention very rarely stayed on the screen for the blonde next to you had your attention. This caused the feelings you buried to soon come rising to the surface only they were stronger than before. 

You knew you were tormenting yourself with the what ifs so you told yourself that when you went back to London after Christmas break that you would tell her how you feel. Only thing is Leah never came home, she only texted you saying she would meet you at training and that she had something she wanted to talk to you about. Your stomach filled with butterflies at her response.

The next day you arrived at training earlier than usual. When you see Leah your body pulls you towards her. The hope in your heart soon fades when Jordan appears by her side, your gaze lowering when she reaches for Leah’s hand.

“Before training, we have something to tell you” Leah says as the rest of the team gathers around.

“£50 says they’re back together” Beth says from the side of you.

Deep down you knew she was right yet you choose to hold onto the hope that she was wrong so you agreed to her bet.

“We’re getting married!” 

Suddenly the £50 loss was the last of your worries. 

The two of them approached each player handing them an invite. Leah stops at you and you can tell she is trying to read your face.

“Congratulations Leah” you are numb. You don’t feel sad and you definitely don’t feel happy. In fact you feel nothing at all.

The white envelope felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as your heart.

Holding the invite you realise that you are too late.

The next few months both tested you and teared you down in the process. Leah wanted you to be involved in the wedding planning because she claimed that you knew her better than anyone including herself. You wanted to argue and say that Jordan should know her best but you knew it wouldn’t lead to anything good so you bit your tongue. 

When she asked you to be Maid of Honour you politely declined. You wanted Leah to happy, in fact that was the thing that meant most to you in this world. That being said you knew you couldn’t stand there and watch her marry someone when you truly believed it was you who should be standing opposite her at the altar.

The thought of losing Leah became too big of a burden to bare and as the big day got closer you began to shut off. The only way to cope was to ignore the wedding completely and hope that you would wake up to find that it was all a nightmare.

You never did send back the r.s.v.p. From the moment you received the invitation you never intended on going. Yes she was your best friend but sometimes there are moments that will destroy you into millions of pieces and you have to make the decision to put your wellbeing over doing what everyone else things you should do.

‘Y/N” Leah ran after you as you left St George’s park. It was the last camp before the summer break and her wedding. It was the last moment Leah would see you before she would say I do.

“Leah, whatever it is will have to wait. I have to be back in London for a meeting” it wasn’t a lie but you also didn’t share that the meeting was a evening meeting and it was only 11am.

It might have been small but Leah noticed how you called her by her full birth name. You never called her Leah, only Lee. Well you did call her Leah Catherine whenever she was in trouble but you hadn’t even called her that recently.

“I heard you talking to the girls. Can you really not come to my wedding?” 

Her tone broke your heart even more. You swallow deeply. You didn’t want to have this conversation with her but here you stand. Words failed you in that moment so you shook your head. It was the only way you could respond to the question.

“Are you sure?” Leah hoped that you would be able to change whatever event or meeting that was stopping you from attending. 

“I’m sure” two words, you could handle saying two words. 

“You know there will be a place for you if your plans change” Your best friend still remained hopeful that you would be there on her big day. That hope however was shattered into smithereens with your next sentence and it left her wondering what you truly meant.

“We both know I don’t have any plans” there’s no way that Leah could think you would miss her wedding if not for a very good reason. She had to have felt the connection you both had and you knew that if the roles were reversed then she would do the exact same thing.

With that being said you got into your car and Leah watched you drive away. Yes, you were leaving St George’s park but she couldn’t help but think if you were driving away from her as well. 

We both know I don’t have plans.

For weeks those 7 words played on a loop in Leah’s head. What did you mean by them? She was confused.

The night before the wedding you contemplated texting or calling her to tell her that you’re madly in love with her. You had seen the movies and this is one of the ways to get the girl. When you meet up with Jill a couple of days ago she made a joke that you should stand up and profess your love for Leah when the vicar asks if anyone has a reason why her and Jordan shouldn’t get married. You thought about it but ultimately the fear of rejection made your decision for you.

You buried your feeling in the bottle of whiskey that you opened the night you found out about the pending nuptials. It seemed fitting that you would finish the bottle the night before the ceremony.

With a freshly poured glass of the burning liquor, you make you way out to the balcony that looked out over the city of london. Even though it was late there were several people walking the streets. You thought for moment if one of them could be your person but you knew that there would never be anyone that compared to Leah. She was it for you. She might be your person but Jordan was hers or was she?

Your phone went off signalling you had received a text message.

I’m at your door.

The text message was from Leah.

You re-read it a couple of times as your mind tried to figure out what the best thing to do was. Your head was telling you to let her in and say nothing but you heart wanted to scream ‘I love you’.

The sight on the other side of the threshold took your breathe away. Leah was wearing a dress which was a rare sight in itself but then you remember that she had a meal with her and Jordan’s families.

You move aside so she can enter your home.

“I’m making a mistake aren’t I?” Her question is asked before you can shut the door. It has been a question that had been on her mind for most of the evening.

A couple of hours ago Leah found herself at a posh restaurant with her parents, her soon to be wife and future in-laws. Her father had off handedly mentioned your name and from that moment on you were the only person Leah could think about. It all became a bit much so she politely excused herself from the table. Jordan stood up prepared to go after her but Leah’s mum said she would go see if everything was ok. 

“Leah…”

“I’m getting married mum. Why aren’t I excited? Why don’t I feel the butterflies? You told me how you were the night before you married dad and this isn’t that” 

Amanda knew why and deep down she knew her daughter knew why as well. The only difference is that the older woman could see what was right in front of her and Leah, for some reason, was blind to it. Leah’s mum saw the way Leah had been with you for years and then she saw the way she was with Jordan. Sure it was love but it wasn’t true love. No, true love was the way Leah would talk about you and how her face would light up at the mention of your name.

“Why do you think? Sweetie, I cannot tell you why. You have the figure this out for yourself”

“That’s not helpful mum” Leah was growing frustrated. For the last couple of weeks she kept feeling overwhelmed and not in the way she should be. The excitement she once felt for getting married had died down.

“Leah you know why. You have told me that you’ve loved two women. Now is the time to figure out which one you want to spend your life with”

“You’re talking about Y/N? We aren’t really talking at the minute”

“And why do you think that is?”

“She’s really busy. She has taken more responsibility on lately”

“and when did this start?” Amanda knew when you had taken on all this work and she knew it had been a distraction.

“I don’t….” Leah thought about it for a brief moment “it was after me and Jordan got engaged” her mother nodded her head. Her daughter was a smart girl and she was getting close.

Just as Leah was about to say something else Jordan interrupted saying that their main course had arrived. Only now Leah had no appetite, nor did she want to back into the restaurant. 

This was your chance, she is giving you the perfect opportunity. All you had to do was be honest with her.

“What do you think is a mistake?” You were a coward.

“Marrying Jordan” She goes straight to your freezer as she takes the bottle of Vodka out and pours herself a glass. 

“Do you love her? Are you in love with her?” You asked her the questions hoping that she would answer the way you wanted.

“I do” 

For a split second you mind wanders. You are in the church with Leah standing opposite you, she says those same words before you kiss your bride. You quickly shake the thoughts from your head. 

“Then no, it isn’t a mistake” 

You couldn’t blame Leah for the way you were feeling, you were breaking your own heart.

“You think it is though? That’s why you have barely talked to me since I told I was getting married” 

Leah continued to push you. It felt like she wanted to you to tell her not to get married but you couldn’t do that.

“I won’t lie, it’s been hard. It has been me and you for the longest time, now it will be you and her”

This was another thing. You wasn’t only losing your one true love, you were losing your best friend. 

“It will still be me and you” 

“No it won’t. It hasn’t been for a while now”

“That’s not on me Y/N”

Leah was right, it wasn’t but it didn’t make it easier. The tension between the two of you was building and you knew it wouldn’t end well if the conversation continued so you decided to change the subject. You mind says something before you heart can stop it.

“What if I come tomorrow?” Why were you asking this? It wasn’t something you wanted.

“You had pla-“ Leah stops herself as she remembers what you said in the car park “You don’t have plans so why are you suddenly saying you’ll come”

“Do you want me there?” You pull the oldest trick in the avoidance book and answer her question with a question of your own.

Leah nods. Everything felt right when you were with her and she knew that she was getting cold feet although the reason why was lost on her. In that moment you do what you haven’t done this entire time and you put Leah’s wants and needs ahead of your own. 

“Do you want to come?” 

“What I want doesn’t matter” for the first time since she stepped foot in your apartment you look her in the eye. Oh those blue eyes. You see the ocean in her eyes but she sees pain and heartbreak in yours. In that moment, for the first time, she hears a small voice in her head telling her ‘you’re hurting her Leah’.

“Do you promise to come to my wedding?” Leah asks selfishly.

You hold your pinky out. Never in all the years of knowing Leah had you broken at pinky promise. 

You hold out your little finger but you don’t say the words, you can’t. You know that the night needs to end before you say something you cannot take back so you go to the door and hold it open for Leah.

For the first since you moved into your apartment, she doesn’t feel welcome.

“Y/N” she grabs your hand “What is wrong? You can tell me, we don’t keep secrets”

“Things change Leah” you pull away from her touch. Never have you spoken a sentence that held so many meanings. 

You watch Leah as she enters the elevator. Once she is out of sight you close your door. A mighty weight comes crashing down on you. This was actually happening, Leah was going to marry Jordan. She gave you the chance to stop and you didn’t take it. 

The next day you found yourself standing in the mirror. You had your emergency event suit on and you remember the irony that is that Leah helped pick it out. In that moment neither of you thought you would be wearing it to her wedding. 

The ceremony was at a small church in Milton Keynes. You thought about asking Millie if she wanted to carpool but ultimately decide against it. This way if you changed your mind at the last minute nobody would know. So far everyone in attendance thought you weren’t coming and you chose to keep it that way.

It felt as if you heart was shaking as you entered the church. All heads turned to face you and you could tell that they were all wondering why you were there. You took a place next to Jill and Viv and sat on the aisle. The two Dutchies were close friends of yours, they knew your feeling towards the bride to be but you also knew they would ask no questions. What you didn’t notice is that some of your England team mates sat in front of you.

“I knew you would come. You’re going to stop it, right?” Lucy asked in a hushed tone.

“I’m here to support Leah on her big day just as you all are” support was a strong word but it sounded like the right thing to say. What you didn’t expect was for those who were looking at you to do so with pity in their eyes. 

“Guys, it’s ok, really” it was delusion talking and that was confirmed when you locked eyes with Amanda who was sitting on the front row. She looked at you with an expression you did not recognise before proceeding to shake her head. What was she trying to tell you? Was she saying no? No to you being there? No to Leah not wanting to get married? You didn’t have a clue. 

The church grew silent and you know the wedding was starting. Jordan came down the aisle first and she looked beautiful then came Leah. You were on your feet and when you saw her you wanted to sit back down as it hit you that you shouldn’t be here. If not for Jill then you would have sunk into your seat for the Dutch had held you up. When you looked back at her she saw that your eyes had glassed over. 

“You’ve got this” she tried to reassure you and she was wrong but you didn’t have much of a choice. When Leah walk past you she smiled, she was happy. That made you return the smile. You kept telling yourself that if Leah was happy then you could be happy for her.

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Jordan spoke about Leah as if she hung the stars but there was something about the way Leah spoke. You had been there for the highs and lows of her and Jordan’s relationship. Time and time again you heard Leah speak about how Jordan made her feel and all the memories they had shared yet when it came down to the vows her voice was shaky. Something was wrong and once again Amanda looked your way. This time round the reason why she was shaking her head was clear. Leah didn’t want this. 

When the vicar asked if anyone had any objections you felt eyes on you from your left, right and some burning holes into the back on your head but no gaze felt as strong as your best friend. She was looking at you, she was begging you to say something but you couldn’t. 

What happened next was unexpected. Jordan leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Jordan didn’t care for the church full of people. She wanted to know what was going on in Leah’s head. 

“I can’t marry you Jordan” whilst Jordan’s words were a whisper, Leah’s were loud enough for everyone to hear, yourself included.

With that being said Leah ran down the aisle and out of the church. Nobody knew what to do or so you thought. Turns out the mother of the bride knew exactly what needed to happen.

“Go after her” Amanda says. You look at Jordan wondering what is taking so long to go after Leah only that isn’t who she is talking to. “Y/N, go” 

Suddenly all eyes were on you. You didn’t know what to do. 

“Y/N” you turn to face Jill “this is your chance. You told me that you have loved Leah for years and now is your chance to tell her” 

You look at Jordan who still stood at the front of the alter and mouth I’m sorry.

Leah was almost at the car she came in by the time you reach the doors of the church. 

“Leah!!” You shout as you run after her.

“Why did you tell me to marry her?” Leah was angry at you but you didn’t understand why. In your eyes you were doing the right thing.

“Because you said you loved her. I can’t stand in the middle of that Leah”

“What if I love someone else more? I am going to ask you one more time and I want you to tell me the truth. No avoiding and no lies. Why didn’t want to come today?” 

Now is your chance. That is what Jill told you. Now, right now in this very moment, is the chance for you to tell Leah exactly how you felt. 

“Because I couldn’t stand there and watch you marry Jordan. I didn’t want to be in the audience as you vow to love someone for the rest of your life when that someone isn’t me. I love you Leah and knowing you were going to marry someone else destroyed me. I have been working myself to the bone to stay distracted so that I don’t think about it and about you. My heart has been in pieces since the day you told me you were engaged. I hoped that I could make myself get over you but it was impossible. I should have known that I couldn’t get over you in a matter of months when I hadn’t been able to do so in years. You’re all I’ve ever wanted Leah”

“You should have said something. The vicar gave you a chance to say something” 

“Oh you sound like Jill”

“Jill knows?”

“Lee, everyone knows I love you. It was only you that couldn’t see it”

There it was. No more Leah, it was back to Lee. Being with you in this very moment lifted a weight off of Leah that she didn’t know was suffocating her. Then again everything did feel right when she was with you. All of a sudden she notices the signs. There has been plenty over the years but you were right, Leah was blind to them all. How could she has missed something that has been standing right in front of her.

Silence grew between you. You could tell Leah was thinking and given every thing that had happened in the last ten minutes you gave her space. She has just ran out of her wedding leaving the woman she thought she loved behind. 

“I’ve made a mistake” 

You felt your heart drop as she finished her sentence. 

“I understand. It’s not too late to go back in there. We can say you got overwhelmed but you do want to marry Jordan” even now, after you have just confessed your love, you were willing to follow your best friend’s lead. 

“No, I made a mistake with Jordan. I knew I had feelings for you when I started dating her. She was a distraction but then I started to care for her. When she proposed it seemed like the right thing to do” 

“That’s not what you should feel when someone proposes to you” 

This is something she knew but when you have someone down on one knee in front of you it is hard to differentiate between what you actually want and what you think you want. 

“What do you want Leah?” You asked hoping she would be honest not just with you but also with herself.

“I don’t want to marry Jordan” confession number one.

“I don’t want to wear this dress anymore” confession number two.

Then came what she did want.

“I want to be with the girl that I love, truly and deeply love. I want to be with you”

You nodded your head with a huge smile on your face. Now it was time to act on what Leah has just told you. The blonde watched you dial a number in your phone.

“What are you doing?” 

“Rectifying the situation” you playfully wink at her.

You paced forwards and backwards as you wait for the person on the other end of the line to answer.

“Hi. Yes, Leah is with me. I think she is ok, Leah are you ok?” Leah nods “yeah, she is ok. There isn’t going to be a wedding Amanda. Leah doesn’t want to marry Jordan. You will? Thank you. Of course I will look after her”

Confession one, dealt with. Confession two might be a bit hard right now so you skip to confession three.

“Do you really love me? I know I just layed a lot on you and you are probably very overwhelmed right now”

In less than a second you feel Leah’s lips on yours. This act of intimacy was her way of answering your question and it couldn’t have been clearer. You didn’t want to take advantage of the situation but everything in you was screaming, begging, for you to deepen the kiss so that is exactly what you do.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since Paris” you remember the moment vividly and wonder if it would have felt this way back then or if it would feel different.

“Maybe if you did then it could have been us in that church today. We wouldn’t have wasted years being apart”

“Don’t worry Lee, I don’t plan on wasting another second” and with that you kiss her again but this time you kiss her with all the pent up love that you had buried deep down. 

[kimberlychapman]

Also, working with the canonical female characters at any depth level means addressing not just those unexplored issues with those characters, but the unexplored issues more pertinent to women throughout that universe.

Kirk and Picard have both had plots where unexpected potential offspring have come back to them as adults. Beverly Crusher raised her child.

Kasidy Yates says outright that she remembered to get her birth control shot, so she's pregnant because Sisko forgot to get his. But even there, we get precious little other discussion about what birth control is in this whole Trek universe.

Even before Mirena coils and other period suppression medications started becoming available, I've long wondered if menstruation is even a thing to be suffered in the Federation. I mean...it sucks, it's painful, it's rife with problems, so going back to TNG in my 20s I've had it in my headcanon that nobody in their world even has to have a period, at all, ever.

But then we keep getting these oops-babies plots, because this is shit male writers just don't think about until they need a suprise!baby as a plot device.

So okay, in my fic I'm giving Picard an actual suprise!baby in my OC. But that means I have to define why, at least in the backstory. We have SO MUCH INFORMATION about how Picard didn't want to parent, but in later life seemed willing to accept adult oops-babies. So I figure this "shot" Yates and Sisko refer to is a birth control shot, apparently annual by their conversation. So I figure Picard had his very, very regularly, right?

But apparently it takes two to be sure, because Yates has Sisko's oopsie while he goes off to be SpaceJesus (which is irksome given that his original character arc was supposed to dispense with the absentee-Black-dad stereotype).

So okay if I want Picard to have an adult suprise!baby, I have to construct a whole element to this world where his lover at the time could deliberately not have her shot in the hopes of getting his baby, because the show never deals with this other than as part of male stories. FFS even in my own story it's still a male story!

And this is part of why PIC S3 pissed me off, because there's no fucking way Beverly would hide an oops-baby from Picard like that, to the detriment of all involved. That's only done to let Picard be a victim at the expense of Crusher's moral standing.

The fact that basic human medical needs like menstruation and birth control are barely mentioned in this series that regularly takes on other bio-sci-fi journies tells you exactly how few uterus-owners have been in the writing room and senior on production teams. "Oh I know, let's cover up Visitor's pregnancy as some magic scifi bio stuff where she's actually carrying Keiko's fetus!" says a writer somewhere, and another one goes, "Hur hur hur let's definitely include some episodes were Miles gets horny for her as a result hur hur." All of that but still no basic addressing of procreative medicine in this world.

TL:DR systemic misogyny is woven deeper into these things than you realise.

It just kills me when writers create franchises where like 95% of the speaking roles are male, then get morally offended that all of the popular ships are gay. It’s like, what did they expect?

[cherrixpie]

HOW NOT TO DATE A SLYTHERIN

part five of five (and 1/2 🤫)

↬ being harry potter's sister wouldn't make dating theodore nott any easier - which was why you tried to hide it. after your failed attempt, wounds need mending and your brother a slap on the wrist.

↬ sfw; hurt/comfort; wc: 5.6k; cw: suggestive, self-deprecating thoughts; secret relationship trope, potter!reader, griffindor! reader

The courtyard was silent except for the whisper of the wind rustling through the tree branches. The faint moonlight casted long, skeletal shadows across the stone. If Filch turned up now, you didn't think you’d have it in you to even hide. You sat hunched over on a cold stone bench, arms wrapped tightly around yourself against the cool night air. The tears finally slowed, leaving your face damp and your chest aching.

The weight of your brother's words still clung to you like nasty glue, tenacious and heavy, each accusation replaying in your mind over and over again, like a taunt. You weren't naive. You were capable of thinking and deciding for yourself. Or were you? You think he cares about you? you heard Harry's voice echo in your mind. But of course he did. Pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin onto your knees, you rocked slightly in an effort to calm yourself. Theo liked you. It wasn't impossible. There was something lovable about you, there had to be.

You’d have never doubted Theo, but you began to doubt yourself. Had you been deceiving him into thinking you were desirable by being Harry's sister? There is more to you than just that, a tiny advocate for yourself tried to argue, but the devil on your shoulder shut him up. Was there any other explanation for Theo to be interested in you, than that he saw something in you that you weren't? Frustrated by yourself, you wiped at your cheeks, but fresh tears started to spill and you buried your face in your hands, bundled up against the cold.

Of course Theo liked you. But Harry's words elicited thoughts of doubt in you, a doubt you’d always had and was hard to quell, a doubt that Theo had almost dispersed but now hit you with full force. You weren’t sure if you were angrier at Harry for saying them or at yourself for letting them get to you. Not that he had meant it like that. Harry would never suggest you weren't good enough for Theo, he’d have it the other way around. That Theo had deceived you, tricked you, used you. As if he were the only one with a mind, as if you were a child.

The chill seeped through your robes, but you didn't move, staring at the ground where your tears had dotted the frost-covered cobblestones. The quiet should have been comforting, but instead, it only made you feel smaller, like the world itself had chosen to remind you just how much you didn't belong- not here, not with Theo, not anywhere. You looked anywhere but at the courtyard entrance, maybe because an unconscious part of your mind knew that somebody would come eventually. And that somebody was Theo.

Theo didn't hate much. That may surprise some, but he found disdain to be much more civil and controlled, and therefore elegant. Outright hate was something uncontrollable, overwhelming the most conscious of human spirits with a rage far beyond what they could grasp or deal with. It was the same with violence. Theo preferred measured, unemotional violence before the messy raging of the likes of Mattheo. But Theo couldn't deny it as he watched your lone figure, curled up on the stone bench. He hated to see you cry, and he wanted to inflict as much pain as possible onto your brother.

But he couldn't hurt your brother (seriously), you’d be upset. And he couldn't walk over to you to still your tears, because his feet seemed to be glued to the ground. Even from afar, he could hear your sniffling, it was carried to him like a secret by the cool night breeze. Shaking like a leaf, you seemed to hide your face in your hands. Something intense stirred in his chest, seized his insides in a hard grip. He should've been more vigilant, he should've ensured you could reveal the secret in your own terms. He should've looked out for his girl, and he’d failed.

“Theo?”

Your soft voice penetrated the cloudy mist of self loathing that had consumed his thoughts. A small light, an irrestible pull. Theo raised his head from the cobblestones to you. Still sitting on the bench, you had untangled your limbs and taken your face out of your hands. Your glossy eyes reflected the moonlight, it illuminated the trail your tears had left on your cheeks and again, a wave of emotion was stilled by impotence.

Your brows furrowed doubtfully and Theo considered how he must look on the outside, to you. Stone faced, jaw clenched, straight as an arrow, tense. It wasn't an easy feat to soften his features when the raging desire to kill your brother, his worry and his self-reproach battled for stewardship. Shamefully, he had to admit to the urge to flee he felt, from you, from what you brought forth in him, made him feel. He wasn't cut out for this.

You could sense Theo’s hesitance and immediately felt self-conscious. But before you could decide how to approach him, he pushed himself off the pillar he’d been leaning on and walked towards your bench. You watched his steps carefully. There was something mesmerizing about watching Theo walk. Maybe it was the elegance of his steps, the way he always seemed to know where to go and approached his target without hesitation. Theo would not be caught slouching or walking aimlessly. Right now, you seemed to be the aim, which calmed you a bit.

Your eyes got captured by the reflection of the moonlight on the cobblestone, or maybe you were just avoiding his knowing eyes, as he sat down next to you and left a few inches of space for you, though that meant he was pressed into the corner of the bench, sitting on its edge awkwardly. Burying your fingers in your thighs, you inhaled an intake of breath to apologize, but- “Forgive me, tesoro,” Theo's voice sounded quietly through the silence of the courtyard.

You turned to him, surprised. “Forgive you? What would you have to ask forgiveness for? I’m the one who was reckless and it's because of me Harry said all those awful things about you and then I left you standing there-” you rambled on and wrung your hands desperately. Tears stung in the corners of your eyes but you pushed them down, you didn't want to worry him, you’d already done enough.

Theo couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that you were the one apologizing, that you blamed yourself about what your brother had accused him off. How much you cared about him, that this had been troubling you. A thousand replies, arguments, explanations bombarded his tongue, but he commanded it to silence to sort them. Because he had to make sure you didn't blame yourself- and that you believed him in his love for you.

He moved his arms slowly and deliberately, to give you the chance to back away, shrug them off or ignore them. Instead, you recognized them and threw yourself into his hold, hiding your face in his chest. With a new add of displeasure, Theo noted that your hands and face were ice cold. No wonder you were shivering. “Don't you dare be sorry,” Theo told you, but all harshness had left him as he held your shivering figure. “Don't you dare apologize to me. I couldn't care less what your brother,” he couldn't help the malice in his tone when he mentioned him, “thinks of me. But you do.”

When you raised your head from his chest to protest, you didn't care what Harry thought about Theo, Theo cupped it tenderly. Though he didn't wear a smile, it was as if his hard features had melted and he looked at you with the utmost gentleness. “He’s your brother. And anyways, that wasn't really what I meant.” His thumb brushed over your cold cheek and wiped at the remains of frozen tears. “You care what he thinks about you. But he was wrong.”

“That's what I tell myself,” you laughed dryly, leaning into his touch. Theo loosened his coat and wrapped it around you as he pulled you closer, listening to you intently. “I want to believe that I am lovable or interesting or desirable, but after what he said…” Your voice grew quiet, this was something only Theo could be trusted with, vulnerable words exchanged under the cover of his coat. “I can't come up with a single reason why you would want me.”

“Because there is no single reason,” Theo answered softly as he inspected his coat to make sure you were covered completely. “Or rather, there is such a multitude of reasons you'd have to give me a while to write them down, if you were being fair. Or maybe there isn't one at all. I’m not with you for a specific reason or a specific aspect of you. I want you because of you and everything that entails.”

You could follow his line of thought, but the mean little voice acquitted the abstraction of his words to a lie. “You speak in tongues,” you chuckled sadly and felt him sigh. “Tesoro, is it that inconceivable to you that I could love you?”

“Yes,” you said promptly, for one because it was true, but also because Theo’s dropping of the l-bomb had momentarily stunned you.

“I’ll just have to reiterate then,” Theo said and made you look at him. “Again and again and again until you believe me.” When you continued to look unconvinced, he clenched his teeth in frustration. How on earth was he supposed to convince someone as stubborn as you? In what ways could he comfort you, make you believe him when he told you how much he appreciated you?

“Do you know what tesoro means?” Theo asked and you were hit with the sudden realization that you didn't. In the beginning, before your relationship started, you had been convinced that it was a teasing insult he could dangle over your head, that you couldn't understand. But you’d never asked.

When you shook your head in response, Theo gave you the smallest of smiles, the best he could muster. “It means ‘treasure'. You are so precious to me, tesoro,” he said in a lowered voice as he kissed up the side of your face. “I wouldn't trade you for the world. I want you to let me love you, I want to crush anyone who hurts you.”

Laying in his arms breathlessly, you tried to think of a response, but his wit with words had disarmed you. All you could do was hold onto him, sneak your icy hands under his shirts and draw small patterns there in an attempt to convey your response. Finally, some of the mist faded and you were able to grasp a rational thought. “What do I do now?”

“Hm, I don't know,” Theo answered, the slightest bit of amusement in his voice. You squinted your eyes up at him. “You aren't being a help,” you lied and he crooked his head knowingly before he got serious once more. “It's up to you what to do, tesoro. Whatever you choose to do, it's valid.”

“What if I blow up the astronomy tower?” you joked in an attempt to downplay how touched you were by his trust, by his respect and esteem for you that you had found questioned before a sea of onlookers half an hour prior. “Still valid,” Theo decided and pursed his lips, making you giggle irrationally. He seemed to take it as a sign of tiredness and took his cloak from you despite your protests. “Let's get you up into bed, tesoro.”

“I don't want to,” you muttered darkly. “They’ll all know what happened by now, and I don't want to run into Harry.”

“We could go back to my dorm,” Theo said openly as he took your hands and placed them in his pockets to protect them against the frosty wind. “But my dorm mates can be a bit trampy, and they are no nice sight to wake up to. Plus, they’ll be frustrated by the lost match, I don't know whether the option is more pleasant.”

But something had just dawned on you, an idea so brilliant you were surprised by yourself. “I know where we can go.” Without questioning your use of ‘we’, Theo locked your fingers with his. “Lead the way, then.”

You half expected Filch to turn up every time you crossed a corner, or to stumble upon Mrs Norris, which would be equally as unfortunate. But your way up to the fifth floor remained miraculously free of cats and caretakers. When you flung around a corner, Theo hot on your heels, you suddenly felt a tug on your hand as he slowed down. Before you could turn around to ask what was wrong, you felt his breath close to your ear. “I know where you’re taking me, tesoro.”

You didn't doubt that for a second, what with all his mountains of knowledge, it was hard to come across something Theo didn't know. “Why didn't you think of it, then?” you asked and kept walking. If you remembered right from your fifth year, it had to be somewhere around here, maybe in the next corridor…

“I tend to use that room for … other purposes,” his tone of voice, the little smirk adorning his lips and the subtle mirth in his eyes left no doubt for the nature of those purposes. Stupidly, you felt your cheeks heat up and tried to avert your face, doing your very best to hide your blush. Though Theo’s barely concealed chuckle had you realize the pointlessness of that endeavor.

When you pushed open the doors of the room of requirement, you were, unsurprisingly, treated to a welcoming sight. The room was warm and several fireplaces along its walls gave it a homely feeling. In fact, it reminded you of the Griffindor tower a little. Just that the cushions and couches had been replaced by a large, king sized four poster in the middle of the room, its curtains swaying softly in the nonexistent breeze. “Nice,” Theo complimented and you smiled to yourself. “You think so?”

Now, alone with Theo, hands brushing, voices whispering without any reason, you felt much calmer. You parted from him to step further into the room and reached the bed, sitting down on it. A surprised sigh left your lips when you practically sunk in the soft sheets and you fell back onto your back. As you blinked up at the high ceiling, Theo's face came into view. He, too, looked a lot more relaxed, had his hands in his pockets and looked down on you with a teasing smile. “So… there seems to be only one bed in your ideal room for us.”

You frowned. “If you want your own bed, I'm sure the room will provide it.” Theo hummed and looked around as if he were looking for it. “Strange, it doesn't. Seems like I don't want my own bed after all.”

You scooted aside to make space for him and he settled down on the mattress with far more elegance than you. Theo hoisted his long legs onto the bed, slipped off his shoes and pulled you closer with one arm. With a tired sigh, you settled against his warm chest and his fingers drew circles on the skin beneath your shirt. You, too, took off your shoes without bothering to remove any other piece of clothing. When you took his hand, you heard an intake of breath from Theo, as if he had wanted to say something that didn't make it past his lips.

Angling your head upwards, you found him already looking at you. “Thank you,” he said, and it sounded more grave, more intimate than his apology and declaration of love had. Theo didn't thank people very often, you realized. “For what?” you whispered, not daring to raise your voice against the silence that seemed to lay its protective cloak over the two of you. “You defended me,” Theo said mutedly, still drawing tender patterns onto your skin. “In front of all those people. Against your brother.”

“Ah, well,” you shrugged and smiled. “That was nothing. Theo?” “Hm?” It was your turn to cup his face gently. “You deserve to be stood up for.” You frowned at the sarcastic twitch around his mouth, but the smile he gave you was genuine. “I don't deserve you, tesoro. Come oso mettere le mani su qualcosa di così puro?”

“You deserve the world, Theo,” you said fiercely and sat up, fisting his shirt in your hands. Your heart was thrumming as you prepared the words, tried them on your tongue silently, and finally, they slipped past your lips. With a heavy accent, no doubt, and a shaky voice. “Ti amo, Theo.”

His eyes widened subtly. A movement rippled through his whole body, you could barely comprehend it when he pulled you onto his lap and shot up, lips clashing into yours in one fluid motion. His lips beckoned yours into a sensual dance as he whispered into your mouth: “Anch'io ti amo, tesoro.” When you whimpered against his lips, Theo surged forward and flipped you onto your back.

All your thoughts were consumed by him, him, him. The caress of his lips, the touch of his hands that ran up and down your body, the sound of his voice as he whispered foreign phrases of Italian into your ear. If he didn't feel so real and warm under your fingertips, you'd have thought him a vivid daydream. Each and every touch seemed to push you, you with you, lead you to a predetermined end he'd already set for you. His fingertips and lips ignited a fire inside of you that burned through every last bit of self control and you moaned helplessly against him, eliciting a chuckle from Theo .

When you ran out of breath, you broke free from him and looked into his impossibly blue eyes. They were brimming with tenderness, raking over your figure, taking in your disheveled hair, heaving chest and hazy eyes. “You look tired.”

Theo manouvered you back onto your back and pulled the blankets over the two of you. Snuggling against him, your fingertips brushed over your kiss-bitten lips in silent memory. Only Theo's voice could pull you out of your daydreams. “You should get some sleep.” Nodding, you closed your eyes and allowed your body to relax against his. Only one thing was still bugging you. “Theo?”

“Hm?”

“Promise me you won't hurt Harry,” you said as sternly as you could manage in your half sleeping state. A silence followed, during which you almost dozed off, but Theo’s voice sounded through the deafening tiredness that weighed your lids down. “If you insist.”

By breakfast the next morning, somehow, half the school knew what had happened the last night. And when noon rolled around, it was the whole student body. Hermoine had stayed up late last night, in the hopes of talking to you when you came back to your dorm, but you hadn't, and hadn't been in your bed when she had woken up either. Hermoine only managed to catch a glimpse of you when you hurriedly left the Griffindor table at breakfast upon their arrival, and you seemed to have spend the forenoon avoiding them with the assistance of Fred’s and George’s magic sweets.

Harry had been in a particularly foul mood all morning, staring gloomily and snapping at her and Ron any chance he got. Though Hermoine caught his unmistakably worried look when you called in sick and flew from the Griffindor table. Her irritation had grown worse as well, as she was subjected to Harry’s short temper, and reached its peak at dinner time when the three of them were on their way to the Great Hall and Harry raised his voice at her for something so minor it was ridiculous.

“Harry, we need to talk,” she said sternly and halted her steps. The two boys turned to her reluctantly, Harry looked exasperated, Ron cast worried glances at him. “What, Hermoine?” Harry asked sharply and she crossed her arms. “There is no reason to use that tone with me. We need to talk about last night. You clearly feel bad for what happened-”

“I couldn't care less,” Harry pressed through clenched teeth, but none of them took the chance to revel in the irony. “And I wasn't the one who betrayed the family-”

“Are you sure?” Hermoine interrupted him. “She is your only family, and you made her cry.”

Harry snorted. “Me? It's all that bloke Nott’s fault! And she's to blind to see that he's just using her!” He stormed off, but Hermoine caught up with him, unwilling to let the topic go. Ron, on the other hand, looked as uncomfortable as if he was following two acromantulae instead of his best friends.

“Look,” Hermoine tried the diplomatical approach, slightly out of breath. “I don't like Nott either, but other than her, I've never exchanged a single word with him. And neither have you.”

“Yeah, he's super quiet,” Ron chimed in, “He's weird that one, he's got something to hide for sure. What if he's a death eater, too?”

“She doesn't know what she's getting herself into with him,” Harry retorted hotly, skipping Ron's comment.

“What makes you think that?” Hermoine asked angrily. A surprised gasp left Harry's throat when she grabbed his robes and brought him to a halt. “Why don't you trust her? I get that you’re worried, but she's not a child, and honestly, she's far more reflecting than you are being right now. I would trust her to read someone over you, Harry, because she's smart and she could hold her own. And you know she's struggling with self esteem and still, you said these horrible things to her. You look more like an asshole than Nott right now!”

Hermoine's chest rose and fell rapidly and Harry seemed dumbfounded for a second. A second Ron used to attempt to diffuse the heated situation. “Look, neither of us likes Nott, but we all like her. How about we just find her, you apologize, Harry, and we reconcile. And Nott is a topic for tomorrow.”

Hermoine read in Harry's face that he knew Ron was right, but she also knew that your stubbornness was only rivaled by your brother’s. “I just want to protect her, Hermoine.”

“You have a funny way of showing that, Potter.”

All three of them spun around so fast their bags knocked against each other. Leaning against a tapestry a few feet from them was Theodore Nott, in the flesh, hands in his pockets, a picture of dangerous calm. His piercing eyes were fixed on Harry, and though his features were as unreadable as ever, the line of his jaw was unnaturally sharp, revealing his tension.

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked aggressively, stepping in front of Harry. When Nott let his gaze wander over him, he flushed slightly but didn't back down. Hermoine felt herself tense up. Though you never knew with him, the look in Nott's eyes was unmistakable, and she reached for her wand under her robes, just to feel less helpless.

“I’m not here to fight you, so you can put that away, Granger,” he said, without looking at her. Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to stand up for her, but Hermoine stepped on his foot to silence him before he could utter a word. Unbothered by Ron’s glare and Harry’s drawn wand, Nott returned his cool stare to Harry. “Your sister made me promise not to hurt you, so I won't. But you will apologize to her.” His tone left no room for doubt what would happen if his demands weren't met.

When neither of the three replied, Theo pushed himself off the wall. Somehow, he was even taller than Ron, who planted himself in front of the other two protectively. “Did you hear, Potter?” he asked softly, his tone indicated that he greatly enjoyed the effect he had. “You will apologize. You will take everything back. You will let her make the calls. And if she tells you to shut it and go away, you will. Though I figure you, too, know that she is far too kind for that. And if you don’t, you will be on the receiving end of my wrath.”

“You'd break your promise, huh?” Harry snarled and Hermoine could have punched him. “You act so high and mighty, as if you cared about her, but in the end, you would go over her head just like that.”

Notts eyes glinted dangerously and his voice grew even softer, if that was even possible. “Other than you maladroit Griffindor lot, I have ways of getting my retaliation other than hurting you, Potter.”

“Are you including my sister in that ‘maladroit Griffindor lot’?” Harry hissed and Theo raised his brow. “No. She's the exception.” There was a few seconds of silence, during which Theo and Harry glared at each other and Ron and Hermoine exchanged nervous glances.

Finally, Nott took another step forward. He seemed to attempt a less hostile tone, but didn't quite succeed. “She means a lot to me. Her happiness means a lot to me. And you will not stand in the way of it. I want this … arrangement to work for her, so I ask you,” the last part seemed to strain him, “to tolerate me, as I will tolerate you.”

“If you’re trying to get me to accept you-” Harry began, incensed, but Theo cut him off. “I'm not asking for your acceptance, Potter, I ask you to respect your sister and her decision and not throw a hissy fit because she gets her own life instead of running around fixing yours.” The short term diplomacy had vanished and he let out an exasperated sigh, rummaging in his robes for a pack of cigarettes.

As much as Hermoine held an aversion to him and his friends, she couldn't deny that he had a point. Harry couldn't either, she saw it in his face, the way he gripped his wand but let it slip back under his robes. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed off. Ron waited a few tactful seconds before following him, but Hermoine remained, casting nervous glances at the Slytherin. When Nott looked up from lighting his cigarette, he raised his brow at her still standing there.

“Do you really like her?” she asked, testing his reaction. His fingers holding the cigarette twitched as he lifted them to his mouth once more. If Filch caught him smoking in the halls, he’d earn himself a punishment even he couldn't buy himself out of. Maybe this afflicted him more than he let on, if he risked his polished record so carelessly.

“Yes,” he said simply, but his tone was grave and intense. His eyes bored into her skull, it seemed, and Hermoine wondered wether he could do legilimency. She nodded in thought. Hermoine couldn't help but believe him, though she still didn't like him. But one thing she knew.

“She likes you too,” Hermoine replied and there was a subtle twitch in his brows. “She's been happier lately. Absent and secretive, but she seems to be doing better than ever. Well, you two have my blessing, is what I just wanted to say. If that means anything.” A little embarrassed, she turned to go but stopped when he called out to her.

“It does.” When he saw the surprised look on her face, Nott waved with his cigarette. “It means something to her. So, thank you.” Nodding, Hermoine turned her back on him and walked up the corridor, replaying the conversation in her mind. Madness, she thought, shaking her head. Theodore Nott thanking someone, thanking her. Unbelievable.

You had made sure to hide in the room of requirement until fifteen minutes before curfew, when you hurried up to Griffindor tower. Per your estimation, the common room would be fairly empty, since it was a weekday, and your dorm mates would be sleeping if you waited out midnight by the fire. When you slipped through the portrait hole, you found the common room deserted and breathed a sigh of relief. Your favorite armchair by the fire was free and you sank into the cushion with a satisfied exhale.

“Can we talk?”

Just as quickly as you had fallen into the armchair, you jumped up from it. Your eyes found a lone figure near the steps to the boy’s dormitories. Harry’s hair was even more disheveled as usual and he looked tired, but he hadn't changed into his pyjamas yet. So he had been waiting for you.

Even though you were not keen on another lecture, you didn't want to affront him when he wasn't yelling at you anymore. So you nodded and sat back down, pulling your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your kneecaps to stare into the flickering flames. You heard Harry shuffle closer and saw him plopp down on the couch next to you out of your peripheral vision. He, too, seemed to have directed his eyes to the fire.

“I … ran into Nott earlier,” he said and you did a double take. “How are you still in one piece?” Harry gave you a deadpan look that you would've laughed about, if you had felt like laughing. “According to him, you made him promise not to hex me.”

“Right,” you said, remembering if vaguely, and leaned back into the cushion. “How did it go?” you asked shyly, drawing hope from the fact that Harry seemed unharmed. “He was … direct,” Harry said with pursed lips and you couldn't suppress the light chuckle that fell from your lips. “He tends to be. When it suits him.”

“Make sure you tell him I apologized,” Harry mumbled, giving you a tentative look. “Or he might take my head off.”

“You didn't,” you said firmly, feeling a pang of guilt when Harry looked up. The look in his eyes reminded you of when he was younger. “You didn't apologize yet,” you explained and Harry shifted, visibly uncomfortable. “Right.” With a long sigh, he ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have called you naive, or stupid, or delusional.” “It hurt me,” you clarified and hugged your legs tighter to your chest. “Made me feel like I'm not even my own person. And you knew it would hurt me.”

“Yes,” Harry admitted and you could hear his regret laced into every syllable. “I wanted to hurt Nott, but I only hurt you. I overreacted a bit, I admit that. But-” “No buts,” you cut him off, sensing an incoming tirade over Theo. Sitting up in your seat, you crossed your arms and made him look at you. “You don't know him. But I do, and I trust him. And if you trust me, you should respect my decision. I get that you're worried, and it's sweet, it really is, but this is my call, not yours.”

“I know,” Harry groaned, hiding his face in his hands. You felt your resolve melt and rose out of your armchair to walk over to him, sitting down next to him and opening your arms. He slumped into them and you pulled him against your chest as you ran your hands through his hair.

“Harry?” “Hm?” “I'm sorry too. For not telling you.”

“Can't blame you,” he spoke against his hands so his voice came out muffled. “I was a prick last night.” “Stronzo,” you said proudly, “is what Theo would call you.” In reminiscence of your moments with him, you watched the flames flicker and patted your brothers head. “Apology accepted, by the way. If you keep your opinions about my relationship to yourself.”

“Thank you,” Harry muffled against your sweater and lifted himself up to put his head on your shoulder. You rested your chin upon his and pulled a blanket over the two of you. No more words were exchanged as you rested against each other, too lazy to stand up and go to your dorms. You closed your eyes and enjoyed the warmth of your brother and the fire. A weight that had accumulated over the last months was finally from your shoulders. Not in the way you had hoped, but you couldn't help but feel utterly content right now, with your brother, drowning in the cushion, head swarming with thoughts of Theo.

a/n: thank you all for reading! to wrap this story up, I'll ad an (unofficial) nsfw part for those who are interested that I hope to get out before the start of 2025 (no promises). until then, enjoy this little teaser:

You sat cross-legged on the king sized bed in the room of requirement, fingers picking at the threads of the soft duvet beneath you. Anticipation curled in your insides as you fixed your eyes on the door. The room had answered your subconscious wish and provided a clock, an old grandfather clock, that ticked softly. Apart from your breathing, it was the only sound breaking the silence. Until the door handle clicked.

The door creaked open, and you looked up sharply, your breath catching as Theo slipped inside. His hair was damp from the rain still falling outside, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, his sharp features softening as his eyes landed on you. He hesitated for a moment, as if gauging the mood, before closing the door behind him with a quiet thud. There was a sort of tension in the room, or maybe you were imagining it because your nerves ran high. When Theo crooked his head, you realized what he was waiting for.

“Oh, Harry apologized,” you reassured him and Theo nodded, approaching the bed slowly. On his way, he shed his cloak and bag and sat down on the bed, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. “How did your friends take the whole thing?” you asked and scooted back to make space for him. Theo's eyes followed your retreating figure and he raised his brow, moving after you. “Are you running from me, tesoro?”

“Are you avoiding my question, Theo?” you countered and scooted back even more to tease him. Theo chuckled darkly and surged forward, trapping you beneath him by seizing your wrists and pushing them gently into the cushion. You couldn't help the high pitched gasp that left your throat. One of Theo's large hands was enough to bind both your wrists, leaving you utterly helpless under his hungry eyes. The other drew a teasing line down your side.

“Wouldn't dream of it, tesoro.”

[...] -> to be continued

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[your-hockey-mom]

loved your sick gf/helpful quinn post

can we get a sick quinn this time? I feel like he'd be a big baby when he's sick

Quinn had coughed all night.

It had started off small but had quickly developed into something more consistent and with a persistent wheeze alongside it. He seemed so uncomfortable: tossing and turning, trembling with the chills and cold sweats. It seemed like with each passing hour a new symptom appeared: from the cough to finally the body aches. You wanted to soothe his pain and make him comfortable but he just pushed you away, It had kind of hurt your feelings having him reject you time and again, but you were just trying to help. Best you could do was tell yourself it was just because he felt bad and that he didn't mean to be that way.

By this point, you couldn't sleep. Quinn's constant shifting and coughing had given you no peace or himself for that matter. Sometime in the night, you grabbed your pillow and went to the sofa instead, You didn't want to leave him, but if he was sick, he would need someone to care for him come the morning. If you were running on a couple hours sleep, it wasn't going to be you; you might as well be sick right alongside of him.

Even from the living room, you could hear him cough, hear the wheeze cause him so much pain with its ability to take his breath away. You probably didn't sleep any more on the sofa than you would have beside him. Every so often you'd force yourself to get up and check on him. He had a fever and was burning up yet he appeared to be asleep. Quinn needed medicine and as soon as possible but you weren't about to wake him up to take any. Instead, you'd dig through the bathroom cabinets and find some multi-symptom cough syrup. The label said it would help counteract each of the things Quinn was dealing with but would it be enough? You'd leave it on his bedside table for the next time a coughing fit woke him.

When morning came around he seemed worse. Congestion had set in and it had changed the sound of his voice to something nasally instead of its usually velvety tone. Getting him to take anything was like pulling teeth because he just wanted to lay with the pillow over his head, hidden from everything especially the morning light. Though Quinn wasn't normally the dramatic type, when he was sick, it was like the end of the world.

"Baby, please, just take this and I'll leave you alone. That's all I asking you to do."

"I'm fine. I just-- I'm fine," he said from under the covers.

"You're not and you know it. Please, just take it?"

"I just need to sleep it off."

You tried to contain your sigh but it was hard. He was being completely unreasonable and it was starting to wear on your nerves. If he just took the medicine it would help but getting him to see that point wasn't going your way. This wasn't the first time he had probably felt like this, so why was he being such a baby?

"Why won't you take it, Quinn?"

There was a long pause. You knew he wasn't asleep. Was he ignoring you in the hopes that you'd give up and just walk away? If that were the case, you were close to it.

"Okay, fine. Suit yourself." Leaving the medicine on the table, you'd leave the room defeated. What else were you supposed to do? He didn't want to be touched, loved on, or anything but left alone. At least that's how it seemed. Even simple conversations were proving to be a battle.

You shut the bedroom door behind you and went to the kitchen. Food didn't seem like the magical end-all-be-all cure to his cold but if he didn't want it then you'd just take it for yourself. Soup seemed like the best choice even if it was the cliche option. "Comforting to the soul and stomach," your mom always said when you were sick. However, a quick assessment of the pantry revealed you didn't have what you needed for soup.

Instead of sticking your head back into the bedroom to let him know you were headed out, you texted his phone saying something similar.

"I going to the store. I'll be back in a bit."

Short and painfully to the point. It wouldn't be until you were in Quinn's car that you felt guilty for how you had come off. You'd text him once more before finally leaving; trying to rewrite your sour attitude towards him.

"I love you."

- - -

When you returned to the apartment, you could see signs of life that hadn't been there before. The cough medicine was now on the island; the used dosing cup had remnants of the syrup still in the bottom, A loaf of bread was poorly wrapped up alongside it, and what looked like a simple cheese sandwich sat on a napkin with one bite taken out of it. And finally, on the sofa, was a bundled up Quinn, his tangled curls spilling out over one of the pillows he rested his head on.

"Hi," he said, when you walked past him. His tone was defeated, moping even. Had you hurt his feelings? It wasn't your intention to, but it was just frustrating trying to help someone who just came off like they would rather stay miserable.

"Hi, baby."

"Where did you go? I came out and you were gone." Quinn didn't lift his head off the pillow or even his eyes. When you looked over at him he was looking at your feet.

"I texted you. I went to the store to get stuff to make you soup."

"I haven't looked at my phone. You didn't have to do that." His monotone was worse now, tinged slightly with his own flavour of annoyance.

Had you been in a worse mood, you would have said something about checking his phone, but instead you were able to bite your tongue. He didn't feel good, you had to remind yourself of this fact. This wasn't your Quinn - your sweet Huggy Bear - this was someone struggling with their body fighting against them to get better. You knew Quinn would never purposefully give you an attitude or be short with you, and the same should have been said about you.

"I'm sorry I was short with you, Quinn," you finally get out. You had hoped that would have removed some weight from your chest but instead it only made it heavier. He still wouldn't look at you. In fact, he closed his eyes after you had spoken your apology. Seeing him ignore you that way felt terrible, but you felt you had earned his cold shoulder. You had been sick a few times since you had been together and Quinn had been so kind and selfless. What had given you the right to be so unsympathetic?

"It's fine," he said, snuggling deeper into his self-made cocoon.

"It's not fine." Your heart hurts as you cross the room to kneel before where he lay. "Honey, I'm sorry." You brush the sweat-matted hair from his forehead. He was burning up with fever but this time he managed to look at you. He looked like he could melt into tears at any moment.

"I'm sorry I ignored you earlier," he replied, meeting you halfway with his own apology.

"You don't feel good, Quinn, it's okay. I'm sorry I got mad. I had no right to."

Quinn sniffled, either from the congestion or just because he was getting that emotional. Either way, you leaned forward and gave him a tender kiss to his forehead. This made the faintest smile appear on his half-concealed lips.

"You probably shouldn't kiss me," he mumbles, silently thankful for the gentle affection. Deep down, he wanted it; wanted to be babied and taken care of but instead of asking for it, he just found himself coming off as hard-headed.

"It's alright," you reassure him, a second kiss finding its mark along with the first. "I'll just get sick right with you."

"I don't want you to get sick, though."

"I know you don't but sometimes it happens. At least we'll have soup." You give him a smile, the first one that day. He returns the sentiment.

"What kind?"

"Broccoli cheddar and the classic chicken noodle. Which do you want first?"

"You got stuff for both?" His little voice sounded shocked, amazed that you'd treat him to two different types of soup varieties. Sometimes it was the little things that made the biggest impact.

"Of course I did."

Quinn tries to sit but gets winded halfway through, a coughing fit taking what strength he had built up.

"Oh, baby, you need to rest. How about you get a nap and I'll wake you up when I get something done?"

"Okay."

"It's okay, sweetheart, I'll manage." You wink, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay, and that you could handle some soup-making alone. When you stood up, you caught the subtle trembling from under his blanket. "I'm going to get you another blanket, okay?"

"Okay."

Those short responses you recognized were the best he could do at the time and didn't strike a nerve like they had earlier. But walking away from him still hurt like it had the first time, and you could feel his eyes on you still. From a tote under your bed, you found a heated blanket your parents had sent you after you made the decision to move to Vancouver. Hopefully this would bring Quinn some more consistent heat despite his body running his internal thermostat like a child left unsupervised.

"Here, baby, this should help you. Do you want this overtop or...?"

"I want that one," he said, pulling the original one from his body as best he could.

"It's okay, it's okay. Here, let me get it," you say, helping Quinn untuck himself before draping him with the ultra-plush heated one. "Should be nice and hot in just a few minutes."

"Thank you," he said, gripping it tightly. "Thanks for helping me."

"Thank you for letting me. I'm going to go make you some soup, okay? I'll try to be quiet so I don't wake you."

"I'll just...I'll be right here," he said through a yawn, the medicine finally kicking in and lulling him to sleep.

[thewitchblue]

"Are you... reading Twilight?"

You had asked Jason, who broke into your apartment while you were gone grocery shopping. He only gave you a hum and continued reading as you set your grocery bags on your kitchen table.

You watched him turn the page and felt a sense of dread. It was your copy from when you were 13 years old. It had notes and doodles in the margins. Did he read your notes? Of course he would. He reads the annotated versions of Jane Austen he has for fun. Why wouldn't he read your notes? The world seemed to be against you this day.

You were so mortified you didn't even hear him laugh at a doodle you had of Edward biting a dog with the word "nom" next to it. He was almost done with the book.

You've only been dating for a handful of months. Would the notes break up your relationship? You don't remember the majority of them.

You haven't touched the trilogy since school, and you originally didn't even want to read it. The social pressure from your friends became to be too much, and it felt like a religious experience at the time.

You had forgotten about the book entirely in the years you've had it crammed in a bookcase next to the rest of the series, which, with great horror, you saw he also pulled out to read.

"Don't tell me you're enjoying the book."

You said in disbelief. The memories run through your head of your blushing cheeks at simple words on pages while the girls ganged up on you to ask which team your on. What team is Jason on? Or has he read this before behind closed doors? He shrugged and simply replied,

"I am."

You wanted to bolt out the door, but you had melting limited addition candy cane ice cream in your grocery bag.

Instead of running away, you bravely start putting away your groceries with your eyes trained on Jason. He seemed to genuinely enjoy your trashy romance book that's so incredibly dated. This is so bizarre to you. He's a fan of the classics and loves books that he can revisit without cringing.

The book appeared partially destroyed by the abyss of your backpack with a torn cover and a broken spine, but it drew Jason's attention. Of course, it would draw his attention. He always said a well loved book is one you take everywhere. A book with a broken spine and torn cover is going to make him curious.

He never had the normal teenage phase, so he's never read the book. He was curious, and he was rewarded so far. He understands now why teenagers like the trilogy so far.

You decided to break into the ice cream. You tensed at every page turned. What did you write in there? You tried to remember. You vaguely remember writing "yummy muscles" on a page. You cringed. Oh, the horrors of a horny teen.

The ice cream was as delicious as you expected it to be. How could you look him in the eyes ever again? Will he tell the whole family? You were stress eating.

Jason finished the book and went to pick up the next one, but you plucked it out of his hands before he could open it and grabbed the final book as well.

"I'm seriously going to throw these in the shredder."

Jason smirked at you. He enjoyed your little doodles and notes. It was as if he was meeting you when you were kids. He pointed out,

"I think they are too big to shred, pipsqueak."

You pouted, which only made him more amused. He pulled you into his lap and kissed your cheek. You huffed,

"I can still try."

He laughed. You were so adorable. He might have to embarrass you more. He murmured to you,

"I especially enjoyed your note of 'delicious dog meat.'"

You groaned and held your face in your hands, making the books fall to the floor. You hated your past self in this moment. Why did you keep those books? For Jason to show up and read them?

The feeling of dread eventually went away the more he kissed you. You filed away the fact you can know for a fact Jason read Twilight now, and part of you wondered if he'll spiral into the hellscape of fanfiction as a result. You are going to burn those books.

You like to think you ended up with a better love story than Twilght. Sure, you may be dating a zombie instead of a vampire or werewolf like teen you had wanted (if we can have Superman, we can have a sexy vampire or werewolf), but your zombie is perfect in his own ways.

[human-monokuma]

"Hear it form him you shall." *With a playful tap on the nose, Mikado started seeing and hearing things from Celestia's perspective. it was her memory of her conversation with Monokuma.*

Monokuma: "So what did you want to talk about?"

Celestia: "Your rewards for your selflessness and bravery in the face of despair and disaster. Such as this." *She covers Monokuma Ina bright light, changing his form into living human form.* "With this, you shall be able to traverse the living realm as anyone else that is alive."

"Traverse? Ma'am, in case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead and I'm sort of tied to Hell. Because sinner, you know?"

Celestia: "Fufufufu~. Atomata of Despair, I bestow upon you a special gift." *A small light hovers over to Monokuma's hand, attaching itself to the back of his hand.*

Celestia: "This is a Warp Crystal, which will allow you to teleport between realms and teleport to any location you desire. From Earth, to Heaven, to any ring in Hell without any kind of restriction. With this, you will be able to return home and live out the rest of your days with your family until it is their time as well."

"........Why would you do this for me?"

Celestia: "You've fought hard for your happiness and for the happiness and well-being of others. I say it's only fair to reward you properly with something that will please you and your loved ones. Is that not it?"

"it's not that. It's just...I don't know. Doesn't feel right. Like, I've done so many bad things to other people. No way I can just return to a normal life after everything."

Celestia: "You know Makoto will tell them everything."

"That's not going to change anything. The people up there won't ever forgive me. Not after after Future foundation and hope's peak. Worse case scenario, they'll accuse Makoto as a fraud and start treating him like an enemy too. or worse. Don't get me wrong. I do want to be with everyone again. With my friends. my family. Mikado and Lucky, my brothers. But...what if I land them in trouble again? I....I don't know."

Celestia: "Your loved ones are willing to carry you along with your sins. Surely you're not going to disregard their feelings, are you?"

"You're not helping, you know. Like, what am I supposed to do? I'm already dead and me going back to Earth isn't going to make life easier for anyone. As long as they know that I'm still alive, then they're just going to keep bothering me and my friends just to get to me." *...........DING*

"wait a minute. 'As long as they know'? Or rather....It's 'if they know'. If they know that I'm back on Earth alive......But if they think I'm permanently dead....Yeah. Yeah, that can work. Maybe I can make this work. As long as the world thinks I'm dead, then they won't come after my family nor my friends. That way, even if I do return to earth, it should be fine if I'm hidden well enough. Yeah."

"Yeah! Hahahaha! Maybe I'll be able to return home after all! Hey, mind if I stay here a bit longer to work out the finer details?"

Celestia: "Of course. be my guess." *Monokuma its there and starts thinking things over. After a while, he nods to himself.*

"Ok. I think I got a decent idea of what to do now. First, I need to make sure that Makoto informs the world of my death and my involvement with the demon tree. I'm sure Monodam, a witness, will be able to make the story more convincing. or maybe I should ask one of the reapers. or that weird Sparkle chick. And now for Mikado....Hmm...."

Celestia: "While you're thinking about this I should inform you that you are not allow to tell anyone I granted you these rewards. They could try to take advantage of you in some ways."

"Well I am in Hell and this place is fully of scumbags, for the most part. Sooooooooo.....Yeah. Can't really tell anyone out in the open. Though, I don't want to leave Mikado in the dark. But I also can't tell him about my plan out of fear of being leaked. if that happens, I don't think I can return to Earth period and then there's what could happen to my family and friends....Yeah. I'm going to have to talk to Mikado about me staying in Hell for the long term. I just hope I can get through to him and make him understand. I would ask him to stay, but I don't want him to waste his life like that. Maybe I can ask Makoto to hire Mikado to give him proper protection from those Kisaragi jerks. Knowing him, he probably could allow Mikado a way in. The last thing I want to happen is for anyone I care about fighting or killing on my behalf. I want them to live their lives happy and free of worry and stress if possible. No more need to spilling the blood of innocence and junk like that....Sigh. This is going to be tough." *The memory comes to an end as Celestia takes her finger off Mikado's forehead.*

"I hope that cleared things up for you, Mikado. I understand your worries and concerns for your friend, which are indeed valid and he understands it too. He just needs to make sure that things will be alright enough for him to return so that no more tragedy comes your way."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[bvidzsoo]

Is Santa the new Cupid?

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x gender neutral reader

❆ Warning: none, no usage of Y/N ❆ Word count: 5.9k ❆ Rating: sfw ❆ Genre: holiday themed, office romance, mutual pinning, brother's best friend, fluff ❆ Summary: With the holiday's rolling around, everyone is in a festive spirit. You're not a huge fan of Christmas, but your brother is, so, he organises a Secret Santa themed party at work. What you don't expect, however, is for him to scheme to try and bring you together with your work crush.

A/N: ~Ho, ho, ho, @hee0soo your Secret Santa is here! ^^ I hope this story is to your liking and that you will enjoy it! As for everyone else, hello, my lovelies! This is a little event I partook in, and I'd like to thank @cromernet for hosting it, being in this server has been nothing but a pleasure! <3 To those who celebrate it, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and to those who don't, a well earned rest and an overall joyful time! I hope everyone will enjoy this little piece, and if I don't write anything in the upcoming days, then I wish you a Happy New Year, and I shall see you in the next year! Thank you for being here and for supporting me, for all the feedback and kindness, you make writing a little more pleasant! I'll let you go on and read now, I hope you enjoy! Your feedback is always appreciated! <33 divider

            The holidays had always been a mess. No matter where you looked, people were stressing about getting the perfect gifts, the most glamorous outfits, the best seasoning for their food, and the most colourful decorations they could get their hands on. The sight was enough to send you into another spiral of why you thought this whole fussing about a celebration—that not everyone celebrates, by the way—was so unnecessary and only damaging your health, raising your cortisol levels. But alas, this is how the world worked, and you couldn’t go against it. Your flat was minimally decorated, and you were still debating whether you’d get a Christmas tree this year or not. There was no point in throwing out money if you weren’t wholeheartedly in tune with the whole holiday…that is unless your nosy brother decides to take over your flat like last year and turn it into a whole Christmas fest. You swear you were finding glitter even a month later in places like your salt shaker and the medical cabinet in your bathroom. Seonghwa loved everything shiny, so when his lovely sibling refused to abide by his wishes, he put his persuasive skills to use and coerced you into the most blinding corset you could have ever found. Which brings us to the current time, with you hiding out in your brother’s office and furiously scrubbing at the stained red glitter. Nothing was working, your co-worker’s red wine would be forever embedded into your pricey piece of clothing.

You didn’t blame him, it was an unfortunate accident. The waiter was walking by with a tray filled with cheese when your co-worker had thrust his hand backwards, calling for a disaster. Which happened mere seconds later when the beverage sloshed all over your chest and the top of the sweetheart neckline of your corset. You sighed as you gave it one last try, perhaps if you put more passion into it then you might be able to make the stain fade a little bit. The fabric of the corset was a bright red and the dark stain was rather visible despite the glittery studs that covered it. You had told Seonghwa that the outfit was a bit too much for an office Christmas party, but he only told you to suck it up and wear it unless you didn’t want to be on theme. Which you were, thanks to your brother, except that seemingly everyone else had gone for more casual or silly outfits, and here were you…wearing a sexy sparkly—now ruined—corset, and some black wide-legged pants that hid the stilettos which matched the colour of your top. With a frustrated groan, you flopped into the chair placed in front of your brother’s desk and closed your eyes, accepting your fate.

You would’ve further ruined the fabric at this point if you kept on scrubbing the way you were, and that would be a waste of Seonghwa’s money…since he was the one to get you this outfit. He was rather pushy this year, it was suspicious, but you didn’t question it. Your brother had always been a bit weird, particular about the things he liked, and a perfectionist in everything he did…but at least he spoiled you well, so you couldn’t really complain. The cacophony of the ongoing party from beyond the door reminded you that you couldn’t hide out in your brother’s office anymore, so you took a deep breath and told yourself that everyone would understand how the stain got there without ridiculing you. Your co-worker already felt terrible for being so clumsy, and you weren’t even mad at him. The door which you had left ajar was suddenly flung open, and your eyes widened when you saw who had walked inside. Great, just what you needed…your work crush to see you in this state of despair when today was supposed to be filled with jolliness. You quickly stood and dusted off your pants out of habit, trying to keep yourself calm and collected…which was something you often failed to do in Kim Hongjoong’s presence.

He wore something similar, suspiciously, and for a millisecond you wondered if this was Seonghwa’s work, who wasn’t just your brother, but also Hongjoong’s best friend. When you say work crush…you mean the longest crush you’ve had on anyone since you’ve been hopelessly pinning on Hongjoong since like…high school. Embarrassing, but you were a few years younger, and Hongjoong was too cool to notice you or regard you as anyone else than his best friend’s younger sibling. Hongjoong’s cat-like eyes widened as the two of you stared at each other wordlessly, and you realized his blazer looked an awful lot like your corset. It was the same shade and had the same sparkly studs, the shoulders were puffed out, and it was cropped, stopping right above Hongjoong’s waist. He had always been stylish, and he loved going all out at events like this one. His long black pants reached below his ankles, and the huge black bow tied around his waist truly elevated the whole look. His satin white shirt was spotless, unlike your stained corset. You wished you had something to cover it with…you supposed perfectionism ran in the family, after all.

“Hi.” Hongjoong broke your wordless staring contest, and you gulped down your nerves, trying to smile at him. You’ve been working together for two years, for God’s sake, you couldn’t freeze anytime Hongjoong even as much as looked at you.

“Hi.” You greeted back lamely, and you were thankful that your voice wasn’t squeaky at least. Hongjoong’s eyes took a quick sweep of your body, and you fought against yourself to keep at bay the blush blooming over your cheeks.

“Is everything okay?” Hongjoong, the ever-considerate guy he was, asked with a concerned look on his face, “I saw you storm off and…I thought maybe something happened.”

How could you not have a crush on this man when he acted like this?

“Oh, I’m alright, don’t worry.” Except that you weren’t exactly, and you knew he could see it on your face, so, you sighed defeated, “Well, okay, Mingi spilt his wine on me and now my corset is stained…and I hate it because everyone can see it.”

You were pouting as you looked down at the darker spot on your corset, and maybe you became a bit sulkier when Hongjoong just chuckled. He looked adorable with his lips curling upward, fighting the urge to outwardly laugh in your face. That was nice of him, you were glad he was nice enough to not make fun of you…not that Hongjoong would make fun of anyone, he was the first one to shut down even the hint of bullying if he came across it.

“Sounds like it’s the end of the world,” Hongjoong teased you, and you rolled your eyes in exchange, “Did you bring a blazer?”

“No,” You shook your head, flopping back down on the chair, “Only a huge fur coat, and I can’t wear that in here…especially since it’s white and people like Mingi exist.”

That made Hongjoong laugh as he nodded, his eyebrows furrowing in thought, “Well, I also suppose you didn’t bring a backup outfit?”

“No, Hongjoong,” You sighed, “Not everyone is as well prepared as you are.”

He hummed knowingly, his office having a wardrobe dedicated to outfits Hongjoong brought in for emergency meetings or occasions. He was well prepared, and most importantly, always well dressed. He had been like that since high school, wearing the edgiest outfits he could find, painting his nails, and experimenting with his hairstyles. Something he hadn’t stopped doing ever since, hence his two-coloured hair at the moment. His middle part was perfect, the left side of his hair bleached blonde while the right side remained a raven black. It looked good on him, too good, and it brought back memories of when he had tried it out for the first time in his final year of college. Just remembering it made you almost blush again, the image of screaming about it into a pillow after running into Hongjoong was still too vivid in your mind.

“Allow me to help you out then, stay here.” Before you could question Hongjoong, he was already out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a racing heart. What could he possibly have in mind? You had always seen him as a creative person—I mean, he really was considering the fact he was in charge of the graphic design department—and he had never shied away from a little challenge. Except that, he wasn’t facing a challenge right now, and you wondered what he had in mind since it brought that excited glint in his eyes, it happened whenever he thought of something brilliant. Because honestly, all of Hongjoong’s ideas were brilliant. You couldn’t help but admire him for being always ahead of the deadlines and thinking up new innovative ways that made you the best on the market. He was a great asset to your brother’s company, everyone valued and respected Hongjoong for all the dedication and hard work he put into his craft.

You were startled out of your thoughts as Hongjoong returned, holding a satin shirt on a green hanger. He had a grin on his lips as you stood, watching him approach you, ultimately making your heart hammer in your chest.

“So, you can borrow this for the evening.” Hongjoong said with a smile, taking the shirt off the hanger as he came to stand in front of you, “It’ll cover up the stain, and won’t make you feel too warm either.”

“Oh, I…that’s so kind of you, but I can’t accept it—”

“Nonsense,” Hongjoong chuckled, brushing you off without hesitation, “Do you want me to help you wear it?”

That would’ve been really embarrassing, so you quickly shook your head and took the shirt from his hands, your fingers accidentally brushing. Your cheeks were burning, and you avoided looking Hongjoong in the eyes as you carefully wore his shirt, trying to keep your screaming thoughts at bay. This felt like a daydream taken straight out of your teenage years. The seventeen-year-old you would be fainting right now if they were to know this would happen years later, even if Hongjoong wasn’t your boyfriend. The fabric was soft and didn’t feel suffocating, and you tried to ignore Hongjoong’s expensive cologne that seemed to cling to it. It had a hint of sweetness in it, but it was rather masculine and woody otherwise. And despite your family being gifted by the gods of height, you didn’t inherit that gene, which made you smaller than even Hongjoong, who wasn’t the tallest of people. The sleeves of the shirt covered your fingers, only your sparkly red nails visible—which was another scheme pulled by Seonghwa. You rarely did your nails red, let alone sparkly.

“Thank you, Hongjoong.” You said quietly, trying not to chew on your bottom lip since it would ruin your lipgloss, making your teeth tinted. And then, as if your heart wasn’t about to malfunction already, Hongjoong stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. You froze and peeked up at him through your eyelashes, watching as a soft smile appeared on his lips. A few black strands fell into his eyes, and you could tell he had used a bit of dark eyeshadow to sharpen his eyes more, giving it depth. His skin was perfect and his pretty lips were red from the cherry lip balm he’s been using since forever.

“There, now it’s perfect,” Hongjoong muttered more to himself, still smoothing down the collar as he started helping you button up the shirt since you had forgotten you were supposed to do that in the first place. Your fingers trembled slightly from the adrenaline rush in your system, and you bit your bottom lip when your knuckles brushed against Hongjoong’s as your hands met while doing the buttons. Hongjoong huffed in amusement, then grabbed your arms to look at the sleeves. You watched him as you let him do as he wished, and he rolled up the sleeve twice so that it would fit you nicely. He looked gorgeous from up close, especially when he was in his element, doing what he liked the most. Sometimes you wondered why he hadn’t become a stylist, his vision was so beautiful, and you had seen the sketches he had made recently. You just knew his brand would be successful all around the world, his designs delicate and modest, but elegant and full of glamour. Now that the shirt was all done, all you had to do was put the hem inside your pants so that you didn’t look like you had just gotten out of bed and borrowed your boyfriend’s clothes.

You blushed even harder at the thought of Hongjoong being your boyfriend, and you were alarmed to find him already looking at you when you peeked at him. Hongjoong’s ears were redder than before, and he had a sheepish smile on his face. His cheeks were dusted a light pink too, and you wondered if his heart was racing as much as yours. You cleared your throat to thank him for his help when there was a loud knock on the open door, making you both jump. Hongjoong whirled around and awkwardly put some distance between you and himself as Seonghwa’s otherwise round eyes were now sharp and narrowed, a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Would you look at that! The two who were missing from the party, fraternizing in my office…” Seonghwa’s tone had a hint of teasing in it as he raised an eyebrow, his eyes slipping from you to his best friend. Hongjoong laughed awkwardly and rubbed his nape, throwing you a glance before he looked back at Seonghwa.

“I was just—”

“Is that Hongjoong’s shirt?” Seonghwa didn’t let his best friend speak as he pointed at you, now both eyebrows raised in surprise. You nodded, ready to explain yourself, but Seonghwa clearly didn’t care, “Did I miss something? Either way, it looks lovely on you, dear, even if it’s a bit too…roomy?”

“Seonghwa—”

Clearly, when your brother had set his mind onto something, he just wouldn’t listen to anyone, “I’m all for offering my office up to those in need, but maybe you should use Hongjoong’s the next time you want to cosy up. In fact—I might even give you, dear, an office. You’ve earned it after the year we had.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother, opening your mouth to speak up, but he raised his hand, “Come on now, I’m about to make my speech and you’ll have to swap your presents.”

Right, the presents…for the person you had randomly picked out of a small vase. And that person was…Hongjoong, as cliché as that sounds. You cleared your throat as Seonghwa turned his back to you and Hongjoong, who gave you a curt nod and followed after his best friend in order to give you privacy so you could fix the shirt. You took a deep breath and stuffed the fabric into your pants, glad that you had worn a belt since it cut the outfit in half nicely.

The company was packed with employees, everyone looking excited as Seonghwa made his way towards the fake podium he had giddily asked Hongjoong to make for him. He had a microphone and everything to make it more enjoyable for him, all placed in front of the massive Christmas tree that had been a hassle to get inside the office, but also to decorate. Your brother’s company wasn’t huge, and that was exactly why it worked so well. Everyone was eager to move forward and make something bigger than them, so the community was tight-knit and hard-working. You were on the sales team, not quite in the leader position yet, but you were getting there. You enjoyed what you did and that was all that mattered, plus, the paycheck was pretty nice. And anytime you didn’t like something, you could always bug the CEO until he finally gave in to you…those were the perks of involving your family with your business, much to Seonghwa’s dismay at times.

You took your place behind your tallest co-workers, who were huddled together and watching something on Yunho’s phone. The waiter walked towards you and handed you a glass of champagne to toast with once your brother was done with his speech, and you couldn’t help but grin when Hongjoong came to stand next to you. He returned your grin, and when you looked away, he continued to stare at you with adoration, thinking to himself how cute you looked wearing his shirt. Hongjoong quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts and focus on his best friend, who was standing on the podium made by him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this little party. I am more than elated to announce that we have come close to another end of year where I can confidently say our company’s been doing better than ever. I am proud and happy to have a team so dedicated as you guys, and I hope the next year holds even greater things for us. Maybe the next party will be held on a private island, at the company’s expense, of course.” People chuckled around you, everyone was well aware you weren’t doing that well yet, but that was the goal. Mingi noticed you stood behind him and gave you a pout, making you pat his shoulder as Yunho glanced between you and Hongjoong, then grinned, “We’ve had our ups and downs this year, perhaps have faced even more challenges than before, but with everyone’s help, we pushed through and made the biggest profit of the company so far. I truly am so proud of each one of you, because, without you, I wouldn’t be standing here, able to live the dreams I’ve had since I was a kid. Before I end my speech, I’d like to especially thank Kim Hongjoong for bringing in our biggest partner, and for having great ideas that pushed our company towards success. When we were teenagers, everything that we have today was just a far-fetched dream, and now…we have it, Hongjoong, we did it, brother. I think it’s time we celebrate as we should.”

Everyone cheered as you watched your brother get teary-eyed, looking at Hongjoong with deep respect and love on his face. Hongjoong raised his glass of champagne and tipped it in Seonghwa’s direction, his composure collected, but you could see he had gotten a bit teary-eyed too. You smiled fondly as you watched your brother run his fingers through his long hair, a habit when he was nervous, and then he raised his glass, prompting the others to do so as well.

“Let us celebrate now, but please don’t mess up the electricity wiring like last year, I still have no idea how that happened…” Everyone looked amused as Seonghwa shook his head, then tipped his champagne back, and you followed as you took an experimental sip. It was a bit bitter and too bubbly, but you took a larger gulp out of respect for Seonghwa, “And now, let us open the presents! I hope nobody forgot whose Secret Santa they were!”

Right, the dreaded moment had come. You handed your glass of champagne to Yunho when you noticed he was already finished with his, and he gave you a wink as he quickly downed your champagne too. Now that the moment everyone had been waiting for came, you all migrated towards the big round table that was littered with gifts inside wrapping paper and small winter-themed bags. Yours was a smaller package with a blue font and white snowflakes on it, placed right in the middle of the table. You waited until you made it closer to the table, then leaned over to grab it with sweaty hands. You were nervous, but you were more scared that Hongjoong would hate his present. You truly hoped he didn’t, but then again, even if he did, you’d never be able to tell…Hongjoong had a great poker face. You turned around and looked for him, only to find him already approaching you. Surely, he wasn’t…wait, you quickly looked towards your brother, who was already watching you with an amused smirk. God, this is why you didn’t like telling Seonghwa anything about your crushes…he had always meddled, even back in high school.

You wanted the earth to eat you up as Hongjoong smiled at you sweetly, looking a bit embarrassed as he came to stand in front of you, “So, uh, we meet again.”

God, he could be so awkward at times, you chuckled embarrassed, “Right, as if we weren’t standing next to each other a second ago.”

But you weren’t better either, Mingi and Yunho, who had also somehow picked each other, snorted as they passed by you and Hongjoong, having overheard your conversation. Gosh, this was so embarrassing, you wanted to flip Seonghwa off and then drag him to his office and lecture him. You were pretty sure this wasn’t done by accident, there was no way on earth both Hongjoong and you had picked each other randomly.

“So, I know you don’t like the whole holiday season that much, but uhm, Merry Christmas.” Hongjoong handed you his gift with both hands, his eyes twinkling with excitement, and suddenly you didn’t hate the thought of gift-giving and receiving that much. You took your gift and handed him his.

“Merry Christmas, Hongjoong, and thank you for the gift too.” It felt awkward standing like that there, facing each other like two strangers, so you took your courage in your hands and stepped forward to hug him. Hongjoong’s eyes widened once he realised your intention, but he opened his arms as you came to hold his torso, making sure you wouldn’t dirty his blazer with your makeup despite it being transfer-proof. You could feel your heart hammer against your chest, and you hoped Hongjoong couldn’t feel it as he embraced you, holding you close as suddenly slow music started playing through the speakers. You knew it was Seonghwa’s doing because you could practically feel his eyes on you, but you ignored your annoying brother and focused on Hongjoong’s warmth instead. But to your surprise, he started slowly swaying the two of you to the rhythm of the song, humming next to your ear. You were both still holding your gifts, and the distance between your bodies made it a little awkward, but you weren’t about to say anything. Hongjoong has never held you like this before, you felt like you were soaring through the sky right now as you tried not to inhale loudly, hoping his scent would never leave your nostrils.

“We might as well dance since we are already embracing…” Hongjoong muttered and you hummed, stepping closer so that you could hold each other better. Your face was beat red and your stomach was doing back flips, but you were smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. You couldn’t be too sure that Hongjoong liked you back, there were small moments when he had tried getting closer or did something that was beyond a friendly gesture, but you didn’t want to face heartbreak in case this was just a one-sided crush…which it most probably was. You didn’t really think he’d finally notice you after all those years you had known each other, you also didn’t think you were much his type. He had always dated people who were like him, creative and basically in love with life, happy to be alive and ready to discover everything. You were more of the quiet type, content with living a comfortable life and never going out of your way to do too much. You liked your space and security, planning ahead and having a vision that would help you stay aligned with your purpose and wishes. Hongjoong wasn’t as organised and he went with the flow, unafraid and unapologetic. And despite the two of you being so different, you couldn’t help but find him the most interesting person you had ever come across.

            After an hour or so of dancing and enjoying your time with your co-workers, you were ready to take a breather. It was too cold outside and you were too overheated to go out, you couldn’t risk catching a cold right around the holidays, so you went back to the round table and took a seat, reaching for a clean cup to pour some peach juice for yourself. You didn’t get the chance to open your gift from Hongjoong yet, so, you grabbed it off the table again and looked through it, your eyes widening when you realised what Hongjoong had gotten for you. You had a bunny at home, a sweet little white thing called Star because it was supposed to be Seonghwa’s initially, but he had discovered he was allergic to her, so he had to give her away. Seonghwa and you had always loved bunnies, so your brother knew she was in safe hands with you. And Hongjoong, the always thoughtful person, had bought various treats for your little Star. But that wasn’t everything, a pink princess costume was packed neatly inside the bag as well, making you grin from ear to ear. Star would look lovely in that, Seonghwa will absolutely love it too once you send him pictures.

But that wasn’t all as you reached inside to grab the small jewellery box, your mouth felt a little bit dry. You paused and looked around, wanting to make sure no one was watching you, but secretly you were also looking for Hongjoong. He was on the dance floor, entertaining Yunho and Mingi who were spinning him around. Hongjoong’s cheeks were red and he kept laughing, the contagious sound reached your ears and made you smile as something warm spread through your chest. Gosh, sometimes you really wish you didn’t have a crush on the most adorable man in the whole world. Glancing back down at your last gift, you braced yourself and opened it up, only for your jaw to drop open. There, in the dainty box, sat a rose gold necklace with a diamond pendant. It wasn’t the fact that Hongjoong had gifted you a diamond necklace that made your heart race, but the fact that you’ve always wanted one in this style. Maybe some would consider you shallow, but you have always liked diamonds. They were gorgeous in the light, and if the stone wasn’t too big, it looked gorgeous. You gulped, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions because you had been mentioning the fact that you’d want to buy yourself a diamond necklace once you could afford it ever since you were just a little kid. To be fair, you had always thought Seonghwa would be the one to surprise you and gift you this, but coming from Hongjoong…you tried to gulp down the lump in your throat.

This wasn’t helping with your one-sided crush, because now all you wanted to do was run up to Hongjoong and kiss him while you cried. The fact that he had even paid enough attention to remember your biggest wish managed to knock you breathless, you needed a second to gather yourself. Your hands shook slightly as you raised it to your eyes, taking in the pendant, and admiring its beauty. It was perfect. The same size and shape you had always envisioned, it was modest and gorgeous. You released a shuddering breath just as you realised someone was approaching you, and your eyes were a little watery as you looked up. Seonghwa had a soft smile on his lips as he walked up to you, and then crouched down in front of you.

“Hey,” He greeted you softly, looking down at the necklace in your hands. He didn’t even seem surprised, he looked pleased as he hummed, looking back up at you, “You opened your presents, I see. I bet you love it, don’t you?”

“It’s a diamond necklace, Hwa,” You whispered, eyes widening slightly, “From Hongjoong. This is…crazy. I know I’ve been mentioning it for ages, but I didn’t think that he…”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows at you as you trailed off, seemingly lost for words, “That he was listening? Hongjoong has always paid attention to you, dear.”

Really? Was that true? Seonghwa wouldn’t lie to you, you felt your heart race all of a sudden. Seonghwa reached out and took the necklace from your hands, walking around you once he stood up. He pulled your hair to the side and clipped the necklace in place, making you reach up to touch the pendant. It was the perfect length too, why was Hongjoong so perfect when he couldn’t even be yours? You sniffed and willed your tears to go away, pouting a little as Seonghwa walked around to come face-to-face with you again. He grinned and grabbed your hands, pulling you up.

“Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your pretty makeup,” He teased you with a wink and you groaned, bottling your feelings up for later, when you were alone and in the safety of your apartment, where only Star could witness your crying session, “I know it’s not technically Christmas yet and that we’ll see each other back home in less than three days for the annual feast, but I got you a present too.”

See, there was no denying that Seonghwa and you were siblings. You grinned and reached inside your pants pocket, grabbing the Spa Coupon you had gotten for him.

“You deserve to relax, you’ve done a lot for the company.” Seonghwa patted your head, messing up your hair a little bit in true brother fashion, “And you can’t use your phone while you’re there, dear, that’s not how you relax.”

Seonghwa handed over the small ticket, and you stared at it for a second before you burst out laughing. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, but then his face turned incredulous before he started laughing too once you handed him your gift for him. Seonghwa had bought you a Spa Coupon too, from the same place you had bought his too. You laughed as you waved your coupons at each other, already knowing you’d get a scolding from your mother for not being a bit more creative with your gifts.

“Wait, don’t tell me you got one for mom too…” Seonghwa trailed off, his eyes widening slightly.

“Let me guess, you got one for dad too?” You raised an eyebrow and Seonghwa nodded innocently, prompting you to shake your head as you both snickered.

“Well, seems like we’ll be spending some quality time as a family over the break.” Seonghwa grinned, pocketing his coupon, and then he placed his hands behind his back, looking somewhere behind you.

“Ugh, great, now mom won’t get off my back about me finding a boyfriend somehow finally.” You grimaced, not keen on going home only to listen to your mother’s nagging. She never stopped asking, never stopped trying to set you up on blind dates. It was annoying because she never did that for Seonghwa…at least you had a crush, he couldn’t even bother with that.

“Speaking of boyfriends…” Seonghwa wriggled his eyebrows and you groaned, ready to deny whatever he was about to say, but it wasn’t what you were expecting, “Did you notice you were sitting under a mistletoe?”

“What?” You muttered, looking up confused. Now how the hell did that get there? If you reckon correctly, it wasn’t there like half an hour ago, you had come to the table to grab a drink and it wasn’t there, so how—Seonghwa. The answer was always Seonghwa, “I swear to God, Hwa, you’re my brother. What are you plotting? I refuse to peck even as much as your cheek.”

“I won’t even get a hug?” Seonghwa fake pouted, his eyes glinting wickedly. Nothing good came when Seonghwa had that look in his eyes, you gulped nervously.

“No, now—”

“Fine.” Seonghwa sighed exaggeratedly, “Hate me all you want, but I’m the best brother in the world. If you won’t show me some love, I know exactly who else you could cheer up right now—Hongjoong, can you come over for a little bit?!”

Your eyes widened and you whacked Seonghwa in the chest, turning around frantically. Oh no, Hongjoong was already approaching with a skip in his step, unassuming of what he was walking up to. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was deliciously brushed back, his blazer gone and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“Yeah? You need something?” He called as he walked around the table and Seonghwa stepped aside, making your eyes widen.

“Sure, come here for a second,” Seonghwa said nonchalantly, and by the time you opened your mouth to tell Hongjoong not to fall for Seonghwa’s trap, it was too late. Seonghwa stepped aside and lightly pushed Hongjoong towards you, making both of you panic as you grabbed Hongjoong’s arm so he wouldn’t accidentally fall.

“What—”

“Attention, everyone!” Seonghwa called loudly, shouting over the music, and you were terrified. Hongjoong looked rather confused and looked at you for an answer that you couldn’t formulate at the moment, “We have our first couple under the mistletoe for the night! Now, kiss!”

Everyone was watching the two of you now, and you wanted to strangle Seonghwa as he smirked at you pleased, throwing him a wink when Hongjoong gave your brother a flabbergasted look. He slowly looked up, then back at you, and you started sweating.

“Uhm, we don’t have to, obviously. This tradition is silly, I don’t—”

But it was too late, the whole office was chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Hongjoong had turned red in the face, it went down even to his neck. He gulped and chuckled awkwardly, and you felt horrible. Of course, he wouldn’t want to kiss you, this was terrible and you felt humiliated. Just as you were about to excuse yourself and run off, Hongjoong cleared his throat.

“Well, this isn’t how I wished for our first kiss to happen, but…” He motioned around himself, at all the people staring at you expectantly, “May I kiss you?”

“You—I’m sorry, but—you want to kiss me?” You sputtered out, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“I’ve wanted to for ages.” Hongjoong chuckled and scratched the back of his head. He was blushing and so were you, your heart thudding in your chest as Hongjoong licked his lips, waiting for your answer.

“Yes, okay, yeah, kiss me, Hongjoong.” Damn Seonghwa and everyone else for cheering upon hearing your words, but maybe it was worth it as Hongjoong giggled while leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips were soft and tasted like cherry, and you felt like pudding as your lips locked in an innocent peck that lasted for a second too long. You felt like a teenager all over again, and if seventeen years old you could catch a glimpse into the future and see this exact moment, she’d definitely pass out.

“So, do you want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“God, yes, Hongjoong, please.”

Yeah, seventeen-year-old you would not survive this.

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[sailorrhansol]

Santa Baby | JWW (m)

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend is stuck working on Christmas Eve in hell on earth. You decide to pay him a little visit to cheer him up - and give yourself a good laugh. 

Word Count: 1,400

Genre: Established Relationship 

Type:  Fluff, Humor

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Cranky reader, children slander because the author (me) is a childless wench, some light suggestive talk at the end, explicit language, a single chaste kiss. 

A/N: Merry Crimbus Malison Jederson. You wanted mall Santa and by god, I fucking wrote mall santa lmfaooooo please enjoy this borderline self-insert of what it’s like to experience the mall right before Christmas in that weird holiday-liminal space. 

A/N 2: For @kkaetnipjeon's Haliday request

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliday’s Request Event

Christmas Eve at the mall should be illegal. It’s most certainly a hazard to your health as yet another family bumps into you with their handful of demons - children - nearly knocking you into the swing sign at Victoria Secret telling you to buy something so someone could unwrap you. 

You would love for someone to be unwrapping you right now in the warmth of your home in the sheets that smell like laundry detergent and spicy cologne. The man who would do the unwrapping, however, is currently only available to the population of the world’s most hellish mall. 

Which is why you’re in said hellish mall in the first place. 

Christmas music blares over the speakers of the mall. The smell of grease and the distinct scent of cheese drifts from the food court. Your stomach rumbles, not for the burnt taste of Sbarro pizza but at the thought of going home and finally digging into a proper meal. 

That will have to wait, though. 

Smack in the center of the mall is a towering platform decorated like a winter wonderland. Occasionally, a snowblower from somewhere on the second floor shoots out foam, turning it into the North Pole proper. It earns a combination of screaming in delight and terror from the mostly-kid population waiting in line to walk up the metal catwalk to the top of the winter wonderland where Santa is waiting for them. 

Sighing, you get in line, by-stepping a little girl covered in sticky candy cane residue as she runs from her mother, tears streaming down her face while screaming she doesn’t want a picture with tanta. Well, you’re not sure who tanta is but you can’t blame her, looking at your watch to see it’s nearly eight o'clock at night. 

The line moves sluggishly slow. You shift back and forth on your feet, scrolling mindlessly through social media. The mother in front of you accidentally knocks your phone with her purse as she shifts one of her screaming children from one arm to the next.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes, bouncing the baby in an attempt to soothe him. You wince. You get it - she doesn’t have it easy. “And sorry for his screaming.”

“That’s okay, I think it’s a requirement for kids to scream during the holidays. It’s like an instinct.” 

She laughs. “Is this one yours?” 

You look to where she’s pointing. There’s a child standing next to you with snot running down his nose and a grinch t-shirt on with several questionable stains. He looks up at you with big brown eyes, blinking and asking, “Dada?” 

“No, definitely not.” You point to the father swiftly coming over to scoop the child, an apologetic look on his face. “That’s dada, buddy.” 

“Dada,” the kid agrees, turning to reach his arms up as he’s scooped up and taken away from the line. 

“Oh.” The woman in front of you frowns. “No kids? Just here to see Santa yourself?” 

“Yes. I want to ask him to destroy all the Cybertrucks.” 

“Oh.” End of conversation. 

One less friend and an infinite amount of line to go, you flip through your work emails, cringing to see how many people think it’s appropriate to send you emails on Christmas Eve. Don’t they know you have a line to stand in for forty five minutes? 

You think about asking Santa to send all your coworkers away like Kevin on Home Alone, but realize you’d still be expected to take on all their work. Maybe you should ask for the destruction of capitalism. That seems like a world-wide benefit. 

Finally, the line moves forward significantly. The metal catwalk twangs underneath your boots. You lean on the greasy rail, listening to the musical styling of Mariah Carey as she earns yet another number on her paycheck as foam snow blows overhead. 

In a weird way, it’s not terrible. You look around, drinking in the miserable families just trying to take a last second holiday photo, late shoppers scrambling to get the last of their presents before tomorrow morning, the kitschy decorations making up the mountain with Sana’s chair somewhere at the top. 

You grin, feeling a sense of nostalgia as the line moves forward again. It might be an annoying way to spend your evening, but there’s no denying there’s a bit of magic in the air, even for capitalism Christmas. And Sbarro pizza. 

Finally, you near the top landing. There are elf workers helping take photos and managing the line while Santa sits on a gold chair with velvet cushions. His robes are equally as red, nearly blending in with the seat save for the white beard and hair and the slightly askew glasses as the little kid in his lap knocks him in the head. 

Coughing to disguise your laughter, you watch as Santa delicately removes the child from his lap and gives a hoarse ho ho ho before sighing and readjusting to accept the next family. He doesn’t see you in line, entirely focused on lifting up the little tyke in front of him into his lap to ask what he wants for Christmas.

The teenage elf working the line looks you up and down, raising her brow as she chews her gum. “How many?” 

“Just me.”

“Oh. Ummm. Alright I guess. You get five minutes with Santa. Please don’t go over time. Your photos will be available at the kiosk downstairs. Take this ticket and they’ll print them.” 

You take the piece of paper from her. “How much are photos?” 

“Fifty bucks.”

“Jesus Christ, do I get to kiss him on the mouth too? Why is it so expensive?” 

She stares at you before turning over her shoulder to see the family leaving. “I don’t make the prices. Your turn - and don’t kiss Santa on the mouth.”

Shoving the ticket in your pocket, you mutter under your breath that you can actually kiss this specific Santa all you want. The Santa in question turns to greet you, halfway through his greeting when he sputters,” Ho-ho- holy shit what are you doing here?” 

“Wow, what terrible language, Santa Baby.” You grin, plopping yourself on his lap. Wonwoo nearly drops you as you do, but he recovers quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. “You smell like cheese.” 

“It’s the food court,” he mutters. “It won’t leave me, I swear.” 

“Gross.” You adjust his glasses, heart fluttering. “You look cute.” 

He does, in a weird way. Not because the giant suit and the beard and the hair are flattering, but because you know it’s Wonwoo underneath it all. Wonwoo who somehow got roped into covering for Mingyu as a mall Santa for the evening, Wonwoo who is a little bit overwhelmed by kids but eager to make them laugh anyway, Wonwoo whose grip tightens on you a little, eyes sparkling at your arrival. 

“Do I?” 

“No, but I like you anyway.” 

“Alright, pose with Santa,” the photographer says. 

Both of you ignore him as Wonwoo laughs. “So,” he hums. “Have you been naughty or nice?” 

“Well, I drove an hour in traffic to come to this shitty mall and then fight for parking for another forty-five, got run into by a bunch of families, stood in line and got called dada or mama like four times, all to come see my boyfriend and make his night a little better.”

“Got it. Nice list.” 

You brush stray white hair from his beard. “Definitely nice list.” 

“Thanks for coming to see me.” He hugs you a little closer, softening. “It’s really sweet of you. I’m off in an hour.”

“Good. I’m hungry and I want to watch The Muppets Christmas Carol with my own personal Santa Baby.” 

“Is that what’s on your Christmas list?” 

“Yes. And for all the Cybertrucks to be destroyed.”

His laugh is jovial. You think Wonwoo’s laugh outranks Santa any day, full-bellied and cute. You feel your affection swell, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips despite the teenage elf telling you not too. Too bad she doesn’t decide if you get to kiss your boyfriend or not. 

“Hey!” She yells behind you. “I told you not to kiss Santa!”

“I’ve gotta go,” you laugh. “I think I just made the naughty list.” 

“I’ll see you at home?”

“Mhmm.” You think of the Victoria Secret sale sign. “Come unwrap me.” 

-

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[yourmomsfavouritegirl]

Paige Bueckers x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

Author's notes: Paige is devastated after the loss against usc (i am beyond broken with what i saw) and the reader as her girlfriend is trying to help her feel better. The one shot among many others will be written from the readers pov. It is my first one shot so it is kinda small. I will make sure the others are not as short as this one but until then i hope you like it. Enjoy!!

Y/n's pov

The door slammed shut as the blonde athlete made her way to the bathroom. I sighed as i knew she would be too harsh on herself because of their loss tonight. The shower ran and i ran my hand through my hair as i could only head the water fall and nothing else. I brought her some whine to the bedroom and waited for her to come out. As the water stopped i looked up and seconds later Paige entered the bedroom. Red puffy eyes from crying and posture shrugged as if she was carrying all teh shame in the world. "Baby" i whispered as i made her sit down beside me. She shook her head not wanting to look at me. "Paige look at me honey" i pleaded as i grabbed jer chin and slowly made her look at me. Tears threatened once again to leave her eyes making me feel bad for her. "It was my fault y/n. Only mine. I lost too many shots tonight and my defence was trash. I basically gave them the win" she murmured as she placed her head on my shoulder. "That's not true baby. I watched the game and saw taht you did as best as you could the second half. You are a part of a team Paige. You are not the whole team. Sto being so harsh on yourself baby. You need to relax a bit. Take some time to yourself away from all the drama and pressure. It's not good for you" i said and she shifted in my arms before getting up. "I know. I mean i know but i don't always know you know? I just I don't want people to think I'm a disappointment. And don't tell me that's true because you and i both know that's exactly what they're thinking right now" she said before changing into her PJ's. "Paige you have to let them think whatever they want. Why are you playing basketball for you? Or for them?" I asked her softly cupping her cheek. "For me" she whispered back at me. I smiled at her response and nodded at her "then focus on what you wnat to do and let the others believe whatever they want" i said and she smiled a bit at my words. I felt proud taht i made her smile after such a difficult day. "Come on let's drink some whine and then go to sleep. You look like you need soke alcohol" i joked making her crack a laugh. I smiled as she poured us both a glass and we got under the covers as we chatted about literally anything else just so she could let her mind relax from the constant pressure basketball was giving her. "I love you Paige. That is not going to change when you have some bad days. I just need you to stay the same good hearted person and everything will be okay. Trust me baby" i cooed in her ear as she snuggled against my neck. "I love you too baby. I know i just forget sometimes what basketball means to me. I was so focused on the fear of loosing that i forgot about everything else. Thank you for being there for me" dhe whispered the last part making me place a soft kiss on her forehead. "Let's go to sleep superstar. You need to sleep a bit" i said and she chuckled at the nickname before turning off the lights and coming back to lie on top of me. I smiled at how clingy she was knowing that she was like that when she was vulnerable. I just loved that she found comfort in our little bubble here in the dorm. Even stars like her need a break sometimes

[httpvomitello]

hopefully i’m doin’ this right;;

may i perhaps have daemon targaryen x autistic female reader (whom is very physically affectionate and occasionally clingy) with a song inspiration of: the “JUMPIN’ OVER!” cover by Amiaryllis?

Hello, hello! Thanks for the request, hope you like it ♡

The Rogue Prince and His Wildflower *⁠.⁠✧

daemon targaryen x f!reader

The halls of the Red Keep were alive with whispers, the servants and lords alike speculating about the strange girl who had caught Daemon Targaryen’s attention. You weren’t like the other ladies of the court, with their polished manners and sharp tongues. You spoke plainly, sometimes too much, sometimes too little. You often avoided the endless formalities, finding solace in small, familiar routines.

But it was your touch—your constant, gentle touch—that seemed to mystify and disarm the Rogue Prince.

You were seated in the gardens of the Red Keep, your fingers trailing through the soft petals of a row of wildflowers. Most would have seen nothing remarkable about the scene, but Daemon, ever observant, noticed the way your lips moved silently, as if speaking to the flowers themselves.

“What secrets do they tell you?” he had asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You startled slightly but didn’t retreat. Instead, you looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “They don’t tell secrets. They just… feel nice. Gentle.”

Daemon smirked, intrigued. “Gentle, hmm? As if the world were not a well of kindness.”

Your connection grew quickly, though not without its challenges. You had your routines and rhythms, and Daemon—ever impatient—sometimes found them frustrating.

“Why must you count the steps to the door every time?” he asked one evening as you paced the length of his chambers.

“It helps me think,” you replied simply, pausing to glance at him. “And it feels good. Like… jumping over waves.”

Daemon tilted his head, considering your answer. He didn’t always understand your ways, but he respected them, even if they puzzled him.

“What if I carried you to the door instead?” he teased, striding toward you with a playful grin.

You didn’t resist when he scooped you up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re warm,” you murmured, leaning into him.

“And you’re clingy,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

“I like being close,” you admitted. “It makes me feel safe.”

For all his bravado and sharp edges, Daemon found he couldn’t deny you. “Then stay close, wildflower,” he murmured, holding you tighter.

Daemon learned quickly that you expressed love differently from most. Where others used words or gifts, you used touch. You often reached for his hand, brushing your fingers against his when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. You leaned into him during council meetings, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

One night, after a particularly grueling day, Daemon returned to his chambers to find you waiting for him. You didn’t say a word, simply pulling him down to sit beside you. Your hands moved to his shoulders, massaging the tension away with surprising skill.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice carrying none of its usual sarcasm.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You looked like you needed it.”

Not everyone in court was kind to you. Whispers followed you wherever you went, and there were those who mocked your inability to navigate the subtleties of court life.

Daemon, however, was quick to silence any slight against you. When one particularly cruel lord made a jest at your expense during a feast, Daemon had slammed his goblet down, the sound echoing through the hall.

“Say another word,” he warned, his voice low and deadly, “and you’ll find yourself feeding Caraxes instead of your hounds.”

Even though the lord did not comment on it further, his body was found near Caraxes the next morning.

From then on, the court learned to hold their tongues.

Later that night, as you curled into Daemon’s side, you whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “No one speaks ill of what is mine.”

There were moments of pure joy between the two of you, moments where the world and its expectations seemed to fall away.

One day, as a storm raged outside, you pulled Daemon toward the balcony, your eyes alight with excitement. “Come on!” you urged, your hand tight around his.

“You’re mad,” he said, though he didn’t resist.

The rain soaked you both as you danced across the slick stones, laughing and spinning as if the storm were your own private song. Daemon watched you, his heart swelling at the sight of your unrestrained happiness.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, pulling you close.

“And you’re wet,” you teased, laughing as you wiped rain from his face.

Daemon’s grin was wicked as he wrapped his arms around you, spinning you once more before pressing his lips to yours.

[anonomano]

Connection ~ Carlos Sainz

Prolouge

Mafia!Carlos Sainz x Fem,Arranged!Reader

Part one part two

synopsis: Carlos is forced into a marriage that he doesn’t want. But he isn’t the only unhappy one…

warnings: smut 18+ eventually, violence, bad writing this is my first time, lack of knowledge about the mafia

Carlos Sainz Sr. had just died. A heart attack. He was a well respected, and feared, man; the leader of the Sainz crime family. He left in his wake the opening of that position.

The man who would take that role is his son, Carlos Jr.

No one has seen Carlos in years, the story is that he fought with his father and left to travel the world. Sleeping his way through each hemisphere. The only one he kept in touch with was his youngest sister, they were inseparable as children and that closeness never really changed. But, after hearing the news of his fathers death, Carlos came home to fill the power vacuum and protect his family.

You were close with your family; your father was Sainz Sr.’s right hand man, and your brothers have worked closely with him for years. But your mother wanted to keep you out of the family business so you really knew nothing about it. You were innocent, so innocent that you were still a virgin, you wanted to wait till marriage. Your mother told you that one day you could find your prince charming, marry him, and spend your lives together.

When Carlos came back he was told that he needed to settle down, get married and have kids. He needed to carry on the family legacy and provide an heir in case anything happens to him. He was very unhappy about this.

“Why?! It doesn’t matter what I’m doing in my own life!” he shouted pacing aroud his fathers, his office. His mother was sitting on the desk watching him. She was still mourning, dressed in black with a veil covering her face, she wore the family pearls that his father gave her when they got married, her makeup and hair done perfectly as it always was.

“Carlos, sweetheart, it matters” she stated “it is no longer just your life, its the family’s” she stood walking over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders “you need a wife, someone who can take care of you, and a mother for your children” she took off the pearl necklace she was wearing, placing them on the desk “when your father and I got married we were in the same position, but it was the best thing we could have done… we got you” she cradles his face in her hands “and your sisters. We didn’t know each other before we got married but we grew to care about each other”

“Fine” Carlos resigned “Will you give me some time,? I need to go through some things… and think.”

He watches his mother leave the room perfectly put together. He never knew their marriage was arranged; he was always under the impression that they fell in love and got married. Did they even love each other? Was his mother forced into this life? He holds the pearls in his hand, perfectly polished, and rarely worn by his mother.

——————————————————————————

You were doing your hair in the mirror; tying a baby pink bow in. The pink perfectly matches the flowers on your dress. Your make up was done lightly, your mother didn’t like it when you wore too much. Some simple mascara and some pink lipgloss was almost too much for her.

A knock at your door startles you. “Darling?” it was your father “Can I come in?”

“Of course daddy!” you open the door, a smile on your face. “What do you need?” you question, cocking your head to the side like an innocent dog.

“Darling, we need to talk” he sits on your bed patting the place beside him “You know how Mr. Sainz just died?” you nod “Well his son, Carlos, is taking over the family buisness. And he needs someone to…share that responsibility with. We think… that person, should be you. Do you understand?”

“But, I don’t know anything about the family business.” You shake your head “you made sure of that. How could I help?” Your father stands, sighs and glaces around searching for the words.

“Darling…he needs a wife. I would like for you to marry him” you stare at him in shock “now I know your mother has always told you that you would fall in love and get married and maybe you will fall in love but this is about business and I need you to do this for me—“

“okay”

“—I have always provided for you and…okay? okay…okay… great I will tell your mother and send her up here to talk to you about…things” He kisses your forehead “Thank you, Darling, truly” he swiftly leaves the room closing the door behind him leaving you behind dreaming about a kindhearted man.

You knew nothing about Carlos Jr.; you barely knew of his existence. But, if he was anything like his father, who had treated you kindly, you would be happy.

[bisexualtwinkk]

bff vi!arcane

queer! fem reader x vi from arcane

summary: you and vi are really close best friends, but she doen't know something quit important about you.

a/n: I can't get vi out of my mind.

it's almost impossible to be best friends for more than 5 years and not be close. you and vi went through a lot of fucked up situations together, being there for each other every day, getting to the point of living together after finishing college. some of your and her friends find it kinda suspicious, teasing both of you every time about being in love. everyone could see the way vi looked at you, with glistening eyes, and how you would do everything to make her happy and safe, from cooking her favorite food to take care of her wounds when she fought with random people when you two went out from drinks. but vi and you were oblivious of these things, continuing to believe you acted like a normal pair of best friends.

"I think I need a nap, vi" you yawned, feeling your eyes growing tired.

"my god, cupcake, can you at least cover your big mouth?" vi stood up, grabbing your arm to get you out of the couch.

"big my ass" she looked you up and down, with a smirk on her face, entering your room.

"I mean, it kinda is"

"that's why everyone think that we are a couple, vi! you're such a tease" you laid down under a blanket, moving closer to the wall, "big spoon or little spoon?"

"yeah, right, I'm the one asking about being cuddled or being the one who cuddles, genius" vi moved closer to you, turning around and grabbing your free arm, placing it on her waist, "which, by the way is a stupid question, I prefer being the little spoon, you should know it by now"

a laugh left you lips, getting even closer to vi, your faced buried in her neck, breathing slowly, "right, sorry about that" you squeezed her a little tight.

"does it bother you? the couple stuff, I know some people can feel uncomfortable and shit" her back got stiffer, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

"oh god, no, never"

"okey, I just thought it may be weird for a straight woman, that's all" your eyes got bigger and a loud laugh interrupted the silence of the room. "why are you laughing, you weirdo?"

"You must be joking!" vi turned around, almost being completely under your body, "vi, you really think I'm straight? like, heterosexual?" you whispered, a big smile decorated your face, looking at violet like the just said the most strange thing in the world.

"yeah?" her face showed how confused she was, "you are not? I mean, you didn't say you weren't, how would I know?" her eyes wonder your face, looking confused by how entertained you were by the situation.

"I'm not straight, vi, that's outdated" your finger tapped on her nose, getting on your old position again. "I'm queer, I think, at least, I just know I'm not straight." your fingers played with her shirt, "what about you?"

"haha, you are so funny, cupcake" vi closed her eyes, an involuntary smile forming on her face.

"we can talk about boys latter, if you want"

"oh, yeah, we can do that, pretty"

[geneviveleocardius]

meeting for the first time

feat. viktor

the dockside streets of zaun were a maze of clanking pipes and crooked cobblestones. you weren’t supposed to be out here, but your sense of adventure had gotten the better of you. with a small satchel slung over your shoulder and dirt smudged on your face, you explored every nook and cranny, stopping only when you spotted someone sitting alone on a crate.

it was a boy, no older than six or seven, with messy brown hair and a pair of sharp golden eyes that seemed to shine even in the dim light. a crutch leaned against the crate, and one of his legs was wrapped in a brace that clicked faintly when he shifted.

you were fascinated immediately.

“hi!” you chirped, bouncing over to him.

he startled, closing the book in his lap with a soft thump. “what do you want?” he asked, his accent lilting and sharp, like his words were always on the verge of being a challenge.

“nothing! i just saw you sitting here and thought you looked lonely.”

“i am not lonely,” he said quickly, frowning. “i am reading.”

you peered at the cover, which had a title far too long for you to understand. “what’s it about?”

he hesitated, clearly deciding whether you were worth his time. finally, he sighed. “it is about machines and how they work. you would not understand.”

“maybe,” you admitted with a shrug, then pointed at his leg brace. “did you make that?”

his eyebrows shot up. “what?”

“your leg thingy! it looks cool. did you build it?”

“no,” he said slowly, as if you were a little strange. “the doctor did. why?”

“because it’s clever,” you said, tilting your head to inspect it. “does it hurt?”

his lips pressed into a thin line, like he wasn’t used to being asked such a thing. “sometimes,” he admitted after a long pause.

“that’s not fair,” you said, sitting down on the cobblestones in front of him. “you should have a leg that doesn’t hurt. maybe one with gears and springs! i could help you make one.”

“you? help me?” he gave you a skeptical look.

“yup!” you said, grinning wide. “i’m good at fixing things! my papa says so.”

he studied you for a moment, like he couldn’t quite figure out what to make of you. “you are strange.”

“and you’re grumpy,” you shot back, unfazed.

to your surprise, his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. “i am viktor,” he said, after a moment.

“that’s a pretty name! let’s be friends.”

“friends?” he echoed, like the word was foreign to him.

“yup! i’ll stick with you forever.” you reached out and poked his arm lightly, as if sealing the promise.

viktor blinked at you, then huffed a little laugh. “you are very annoying.”

“good!” you said, giggling. “now, what were you reading? tell me about it!”

and just like that, a bond was formed. as you listened to him talk about machines and how they worked, you didn’t notice how his shoulders relaxed or how his smile lingered longer than usual. you’d found your first friend, and viktor—despite his protests—had found someone who made the world feel a little less heavy.

forever didn’t seem so long after all.

[moralesluvr]

THE END OF THE WORLD | b. eilish.

“why does my heart go on beating? why do these eyes of mine cry? don’t they know it’s the end of the world, it ended when you said goodbye…”

you were so stupid to fall for her.

the thought of billie crashes against your conscience, uninvited, as you lay underneath the covers of your bed, body completely still. the only thing filling the silence that had left you is the faint spinning of your vinyl, skeeter davis’ ‘the end of the world’ buzzing through your quiet bedroom.

you should’ve known better than to fall for her. she was unpredictable, unbalanced, unfathomably careless, unconcerned. she would come and go as she pleased, sneaking into your apartment late and leaving early, always leaving you to awake to a cold and limp bedside.

she was never meant to stay. she had made it clear to you that she wasn’t looking for anything serious, and it pained you to know that you were falling in love with so hard, so deeply.

but now she’s gone, her absence a hallow thing that presses its fingers up to your throat, clenched but lacking a squeeze.

it was never meant to work, and you couldn’t really blame her for leaving. it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t listen— she expressed clearly what she wanted. but it was hard to fall back when everything she did made you more vulnerable than ever. the way she’d kiss your naked body was unheard of, gentle and kind, but she fucked you like she hated you.

and you hated to admit it, but you were addicted to the dazed contrast. it made you feel high when billie’d kiss you sloppy, but slip your clothes back on with precision. she didn’t know your last name, but she knew how many times you’d blink in a minute. she never knew what your favorite color was, but she knew exactly how you liked your baths ran.

she had told you that night that you met her in your hotel room that she never stayed, she couldn’t. but the way you gave her soft eyes and ran your fingers along her tattooed skin, the way you kissed her with soft and gentle lips— she was addicted. so she stayed the night.

and the night after that.

and the night after that night.

so you let yourself believe, let yourself trust. you’d let yourself accept her superficial gifts and stubborn opinions, no matter how much you hated them. you accepted that she’d leave you on read whenever she wanted, or that she’d demand your attention whenever she felt like it. because you fell.

you fell hard, but by then, it was already too late. she had stopped responding to your late night texts and calls, and then she stopped texting all together.

until the night she called you fourteen times. you were dead in your slumber, thought it wasn’t good sleep. it never was.

you answered reluctantly, half-asleep whispers sounding through the phone as billie told you to unlock your front door. and you had almost gotten excited, but your face fell when she had come over, collecting each and every little one of her belongings from your apartment, from your shared space.

at least you had thought it was shared. but with each shirt she plucked from your wardrobe, with each little trinket she had left on your dresser or kitchen counter, it just reminded you of all the false promises she had conditioned you to believe.

she round up her things, and then her lips were pressed against yours, but there was no softness in the kiss. there was no softness in the way she discarded your clothes onto your floor, no softness in the way she left you curled in your cold bed, just like you are now.

but it’s hard to be mad when you allowed it. you wanted her to touch you, you begged her to— you needed that. you needed that last bit of pleasure that you could hold onto, because the truth was, you knew it was over.

and to her, you were a fun portion of her life, a little story she’d share on to someone that she really loves, reflecting on your existence as nothing but a lesson, an experience.

but to you, it’s the end of the world. because she doesn’t love you anymore, and she may have never loved you at all.

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[holmesianlove]

Chapter 27 -  Gloves

When Sherlock finally found him, John was standing by a frozen lake in the park, shivering. Sherlock was furious. He had just given John gloves and a scarf for specifically this purpose. Beautiful, warm cashmere, even. John had worn them to dinner but where were they now? He knew that even though it was a new habit for John, he would likely refuse to give Sherlock the satisfaction of being right. He would stand there and freeze to death rather than put them on, or admit he’d forgotten them. But Sherlock wouldn’t argue now. John Watson was clearly in crisis in this moment. Now was not the time.

Sherlock moved slowly closer, finally standing beside him in silence. John was staring across the lake, so Sherlock stood beside him, staring out over the lake too. He didn’t want to disturb John, but he needed to help him. He turned to say something and saw John shivering. He could even hear his teeth chattering. He reached out and put a hand on John's arm and the poor man startled like a wild deer. As if he hadn’t even registered that Sherlock was there yet.

“John…” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed uncomfortably, still deep in thought.

“John.” 

“What, Sherlock?” John finally asked, in an irritated growl.

“You’re angry.”

“No. I’m embarrassed, Sherlock.” John shuffled his feet uncomfortably but still refused to turn and look at his friend. 

“You needn’t be,” Sherlock replied gently. “He seemed… very nice.”

“He’s not. Appearances can be very deceiving,” John snapped.

“Is that… why… you…?” Sherlock hesitated.

“Sherlock.” John’s tone was a firm warning.

“I’m just trying to understand, John. You’re always saying you're—“

“Not gay. I know,” John interrupted, finally crossing his arms across his body.

“So, are all the women… a cover up or…?”

“No. Please, Sherlock,” he pleaded. When Sherlock remained silent, John finally spoke again. “I’m… I suppose I’d be bisexual or some part of that grey area that’s indefinable. If it were anyone’s business. If it needed to be clarified,” he said bitterly. “It’s barely relevant since I don’t really date, do I? Not really. I like sex. Who it’s with is generally not so important, although I tend to fall into more traditional, binary preferences and women are just… easier.”

“But that… there… was a relationship, John. You told me it was a relationship…” Sherlock tried to open the lines of communication.

“An awful one.”

“It mustn’t have been. On the train you said…”

“Sherlock, I really don’t want to go over this. If you must know, we were together in medical school and he was an abusive, manipulative piece of work who lied about what he wanted." John sighed heavily. The weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders. "And I got away from him… and I won’t ever be in that position again. Alright?”

Sherlock nodded quietly, knowing better than to push any further. They stood for a while in more silence, and John’s eyes teared up. A single tear made its way down his face. He looked at Sherlock with clear embarrassment. The realisation of what had happened finally hitting him.

“Sorry. I just haven’t seen him… since…”

“John, you’re shaking,” Sherlock said, moving slightly closer, wanting to help him now that his walls were finally coming down.

“Well, it’s bloody cold.”

“You never bring your gloves! Honestly,” Sherlock growled.

“I did!" John argued. "Left them in the bloody restaurant, didn't I?” John sighed.

Sherlock stepped forward. “Here,” he said grabbing both of John’s hands in his.

“What are you doing?” John squeaked, suddenly nervous.

“You’re bloody freezing, John!” Sherlock said angrily. “You’ll catch your death out here. You’re always telling me you don’t like the hassle of scarves and gloves and for someone who has such truly terrible fashion sense, I can't fathom why you’re being so fashion conscious about the one thing that might actually stop you dying of hypothermia. And now, you’re freezing your backside off. So let me warm you up, for heavens sake! Not everything has to mean something alright?” he snapped.

John clenched his jaw after the scolding. “Fine.” He held his hands out again and Sherlock stepped closer. 

“Here,” Sherlock said, pulling his scarf off and tying it around John’s neck before he could argue. Then he held John’s hands between his gloved ones. “Stand closer,” he directed.

John flicked him a dubious look.

“I’m not a predator, John. Why do you always behave like I’m going to…”

John shuffled closer in, stopping Sherlock's words. Their hands were now touching and resting against their chests. They had formed a circle of enclosed body heat. They stood in silence, breathing in each other’s air and finally, John’s shivering started to settle.

“Better?” Sherlock asked, his voice calmer now.

John stayed silent for a moment. “Better,” he finally admitted with a nod. “I do really like my scarf and gloves. I think they fell under the table at dinner. They were with my things when we arrived. I’m not used to having them yet. Sorry.”

He looked up at Sherlock, and in that moment, being so close, he felt sure Sherlock would see something. He would know. John really only had one secret left to hide. The secret that could have him out on the street. Sherlock thought John was worried he was a predator, when really, it was the other way around. John was terrified Sherlock would figure out what was in his head. Surely Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate his flatmate harbouring secret feelings for him? And now, here they were, entwined in a park, in the dark, alone. If John didn’t know any better, it would almost be romantic.

When Sherlock finally looked at him, their faces were so close, their eyes boring into each others. It was mesmerising. Their breath was filling the same space, the condensation leaving their mouths like elegant smoke, entwining like lovers in the narrow space between them. It felt incredible. John was definitely warm. rom the very tip of his toes to his eyeballs everything felt bloody warm now. He was on fire for this man. And now he could feel his breathing finally settling to match the pace of his flatmate’s, calming him.

If only he could read the expression on Sherlock’s face right now.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked. John sighed with irritation. “Sherlock…” But still, he looked up at his friend, allowing him the space to talk.

Sherlock went on. “When we met, you were trying to figure me out, and what to expect with me and I was… uncomfortable too.”

“I remember.”

“Well, just so it’s clear... I am gay.” Sherlock admitted. "Non-practising, though."

John scoffed at that. “I already gathered as much,” John said.

“But you said to me… Back then, you said… it was all fine,” Sherlock continued.

“Yes, so?” John frowned.

“Did you really mean it?”

“I did,” John confirmed.

“But… it hasn’t been all fine, has it? Not really. You haven’t been fine with... any of it,” Sherlock said quietly. "And I've been trying to decide if it's me... or just your own thing... or...?"

John sighed. “I want to be comfortable. With myself. I want to be. But I know I’m not. I’m sort of just drifting along, following your lead, Sherlock, if I'm honest. I go where you go. To Belgium if required. And wherever else you need. The rest... the personal stuff... it just stays over at the side in a dumpster fire not being dealt with.” John made sure to look at Sherlock. "It's not you. It's my own mess."

“This is why the case upset you? The man with the… husband?” Sherlock asked.

“He wasted it. He was able to marry that man but it wasn’t even… he was just collecting spouses like they didn’t even matter. It was so wasteful and so unfair…” John said bitterly between clenched teeth. “And some of us…” He couldn’t finish the thought, his eyes tearing up again.

Sherlock frowned. “John—?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Sherlock,” he said firmly, a sob escaping from his chest. The humiliation was palpable. “I didn’t want you to know any of that and now…”

Sherlock moved his hands away and grabbed both of John’s shoulders, forcing John to look into his eyes. "John, there's something I've been wanting to..."

“I’m tired Sherlock. Please stop,” he pleaded.

Sherlock had thought he might make his move tonight. Things had been so good and on the way home, he was going to talk to John. Their conversation had seemed comfortable lately and he really thought it might be possible to say something. But now, after this revelation. Alex. Sherlock realised that what had been going on in John's head was not at all what he thought, and now things were way more complicated.

“Let’s just go home,” John said, closing his eyes. Everything had been ruined by the appearance of Alex.

Sherlock's face softened slightly, his hands squeezed John's shoulders ever so slightly in support. “I just wanted to say, it’s all fine, John,” he said, looking deep into John's eyes. “I mean it. Whatever you need. It’s all fine.”

John nodded without a word. His heart hurt. His mind was fried. Was it really all fine? Did Sherlock know? Did he suspect? Or was he just trying to be a supportive friend right now?

“Let’s go back and get your things from the restaurant,” Sherlock said gently. “I don’t want anyone else wearing your posh accessories. They’re yours, and yours alone.” He finally let go of John but left his scarf around John’s neck, in a possessive move. His soft and Sherlock-scented scarf, which would drive John crazy all the way home.

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