#worst workout mistakes

[literaryavenger]

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely. 

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him? 

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat. 

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on. 

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways. 

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

Requested taglist: @vicmc624 @matchat3a @nerd-without-a-cause @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 @mostlymarvelgirl @julvrs @blackhawkfanatic @lillianacristina @armystay89 @imdoingbetternow @spookyparadisesheep @elizalexwil @aceofhearts25 @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog @justab-eautifulmess @buggy14 @thedonswife13

[reidsglasscs]

COULD YOU MAKE IT ANY MORE OBVIOUS?

✸ pairing: rockstar!percy jackson x ballerina! reader

✸ synopsis: you and percy jackson are absolutely, totally, by no means dating … as far as the public knows

✸ warnings: none!

✸ notes: THIS WAS THE CUTEST IDEA EVER, I LOVE IT SM!!! i’m down to do more parts if anyone wants… 👀 requested! also, pls understand the reference in the title 🙏

exhausting was the only word for it, your life. and as of lately, there was so much going on that you could barely see straight.

your ballet company had always had long hours, but now that the performance that you were not only in, but the star of, was quickly approaching, it was chaos in sparkles and pointe shoes.

wake up, rehearse, workout, rehearse, meetings, rehearse, costume fittings, rehearse, sleep, repeat.

you had just finished up with your final rehearsal for the night when your manager called you into an impromptu meeting and shoved a screen in your face.

eyes blurry from lack of sleep, it had taken a moment for you to see the image clearly, but when you did, your heart dropped all the way down to your sore feet.

a screenshot from a news article in some random pop culture tabloid with your name plastered across the caption along with another you knew: percy jackson.

international rockstar and lead singer of the sensational boy band, greek symphony, percy jackson was all the talk in gossip magazines and blogs, a modern-day heartthrobs for girls to go crazy over.

he was a troublemaker at best, holding the worst record yet best reputation among his band mates. he was dangerous, mischievous, and so undeniably hot. and therefore, so totally off limits.

in the world of shoebiz, the two of you fell on opposite sides of the spectrum. you were a peaceful black swan, whereas he was the thunderous wave that disturbed your peaceful gliding across the water’s surface, sending your world into a frenzy by a mere touch.

but as off limits and unlikely of an idea as he was, he also happened to be confined to the same home city as you in new york. could they really blame you if you said things just … happened?

“what is this?” you asked, looking dead at a photo that you knew was definitely you.

apparently, you and your clandestine lover hadn’t been as careful as you usually were and a photo had been captured by a rouge paparazzi.

luckily, it was dark and showed none of your face and about half of his side profile, and therefore, easy to play off as a mistake.

“according to the article, it’s you scurrying about with the rockstar percy jackson,” your manager told you, a sour look on her face.

“percy jackson? are you kidding me?” you gasped, lips twisted in a disgusted frown. “i’ve never even met that guy, much less been scurrying around the city with him!”

two lies in one sentence, you were on a roll.

“well, according to just about every celebrity news outlet right now, you’re his latest victim,” said the head of your pr team, piper. “and this picture is their proof.”

“that’s not me!” you argued. it was you.

you could pinpoint exactly when and where that photo was taken, actually. it had been last week, when you and percy had to sneak out the back of his apartment to avoid his bandmate, leo valdez, seeing you all piled up in percy’s arms while watching pride and prejudice.

apparently, paparazzis liked lurking around the backend of apartment complexes.

“yn.” said piper, giving you a pointed look. “are you sure?”

“i think i know what i look like, pipes,” you scoffed. “he may be running around with some girl, but it’s not me. please, make sure everybody knows that.”

at your words, your team got started on damage control, while you snatched up your things and headed home to your apartment, right where the very boy you’d just convinced everyone that you had never met was waiting for you.

you dropped your dance bag to the floor the second the door to your home closed, exhaling a deep breath as the anxieties and physical abuse of the day hit you all at once.

as you leaned against the closed door and blew a tuft of hair from your eyes, the familiar face of your boyfriend rounded the corner.

“there she is!” he grinned, wielding a spatula as he threw his arms out dramatically. “dinner’s almost ready. how’s my favorite girl?”

“exhausted,” you sighed with a smile. “sorry for being so late, something came up.”

“ah, don’t worry about it,” he told you. “i put the spare key back, by the way.”

you already knew that, of course. he put it back where it belonged every time he used it, but never failed to let you know.

six months you’d been doing this— sneaking around behind the backs of your friends and the media, falling further in love with someone you weren’t even supposed to be acquainted with inside the private four walls of each of your apartments and secret meeting spots.

you followed him into your little quaint kitchen, where he went to flipping a final pancake on the stovetop.

“looks good, honey,” you smiled tiredly. “but—“

“oh no, no buts,” he whined.

“but,” you insisted. “we have an issue. someone snagged a picture of us last week and today it was published. my team’s already working on getting it down, but it’s done some damage.”

you pulled out your phone and showed him a picture of the article as he turned the heat off on the stove. he took a moment to squint and it and evaluate before saying,

“okay, that’s not as bad as i expected. jase called about an hour ago and told me all about it, but he said he denied that it was me to mr. d.”

thank the heavens above for jason grace (the bassist in percy’s band and member who had a better head on his shoulders than the other three of them combined).

“i dunno perce, it’s a pretty good shot of you,” you told him.

“i think all shots of me are pretty good ones, if i do say so myself.” he smirked, closing the already small gap between the two of you as he leaned a hand against the counter on either side of you, trapping you in.

“i bet you do, rockstar,” you replied, looking up at him through tired lids and half-smudged mascara. “I remember it being a pretty good view, personally. except for leo screaming his head off inside.”

percy chuckled, his breath fanning across your cheek. “the price we pay for privacy.”

“apparently not private enough,” you sighed, the headline of the article seared into your mind. gosh, you could already see yourself getting dragged on twitter. “oh, what’re we gonna do if people do find us out?”

percy could see the creases between your brows and the doubt swimming through your irises, a light, almost unnoticeable path of lilac underneath your eyes. you were worried and tired, and he couldn’t be having any of that.

“i don’t think it’d be so bad,” he shrugged, his hands closing in to rest on your hips. “i mean, i know both our bosses would be out for blood, but it’d be worth it for people to know i have you.”

“you want people to know you have me?” you asked, a small, trace of a smile creeping up on the corners of your lips.

“do i want people to know i have a beautiful, smart, sweetheart ballerina for a girlfriend? hell yeah, i do.” he answered. “eventually, y’know.”

your smile appeared now, reaching up to your eyes and hiding away the tiredness in them. percy loved that smile.

“how soon do you think eventually is?” you asked, draping your arms over his shoulders as his face leaned closer to yours.

“as soon as you want it to be, pretty girl,” he answered. he then leaned all the way in, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that melted away all the tension in your muscles as he pulled you in close.

when he leaned away, you chased his lips and landed another peck to the corner of his mouth and then another to his nose, just for good measure.

“now,” he smiled. “let’s forget about the stupid public for a little while and eat, yeah?”

[makethemhoesmad]

ignore it

pazzi again🥰🥰🥰

it’s quite a bit sadder than normal so good luck but you can blame @patscorner and their upsetting new fic

@imaginespazzi is the reason a part two might be achieved

—

when you first fall in love with your best friend, you don’t realize it. because really, you’ve loved the older girl a little bit more every day since the two of you met. but you’re young, so you ignore it.

when you realize your best friend might, someday, love you back, something inside you leaps. outside, you let her think you’re happy for her in a best-friend way. but only because if you acknowledge the part of you that wants to shake her shoulders with joy and kiss her on the mouth, she’ll leave and you’ll never get to think of that again. so you ignore it.

when you kiss your best friend for the first time, your stomach swoops up and down in the same way it does when you’re on a roller coaster. it feels like the moment will never end, while at the same time being devastatingly fleeting. and when she stops, you get that feeling in the pit of your stomach, like when a roller coaster finally drops, leaving you weightless and screaming. but you were both drunk, her more than you, so it probably meant nothing. so you ignore it 

a few years later, you don’t know if “best friends” is the right thing to call you anymore. all best friends fall asleep holding each other, because they can’t sleep any other way, right? all best friends make out every time they’re drunk, and sometimes when they’re not, right? all best friends have, more than once, strip down to nothing for the other and let them explore, right? all best friends get a little jealous, a little sad when the other has a date.its normal. so you ignore it.

you tell yourself its normal enough times, you start to believe it yourself. you start to believe that there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing, that no one will get hurt because it’s a normal thing.

you were wrong. this time, you can’t ignore it.

you can’t ignore it when she’s on her knees in front of you, crying this time. telling you that you mean more to her than you could ever know. you tell her you know. you say it multiple times, running your hands through her hair as she lays her head on your lap. you let her fall asleep, and then you leave. quietly. you text her, from your car, that you feel the same. that you always have. but the two of you won’t work now, maybe not ever. you have too much, she has even more, riding on her career to give it up for each other. you would do it in a heartbeat, if it was just hurting you. but it isn’t. so you take your aching heart, smashed in two with your own shaky hands, and you ignore it.

the funniest thing about being in love with your best friend, spending years wishing she felt the same, is that when you know she does, you don’t speak. 

that’s a lie. you still talk, just not like you used to. you play for the same team, after all. even though your heart is split in two, one half left on the couch in her apartment, the other beating as hard as it can, crying for its other half, your chemistry is perfect. like calls to like, and even though the people running the bodies like to pretend they hate each other, the broken souls reach out to try, just try, to see what it’s like to feel whole again.

but you. ignore. it.

something you’ve learned while not being in love with your best friend is that it’s really amazing to have someone to talk to that knows your everything. another thing you’ve learned is that it’s not so amazing when that person isn’t your person anymore. but you can’t fix it anymore. you know she’s probably moved on, she seems great. so you ignore it.

it’s a tuesday when you can’t ignore it anymore. you had the worst workout of your life in the morning, making mistakes you hadn’t made since high school. then, you went home and showered, feeling better again, cleaning up to go on a date for the first time since, nevermind. then the date’s a horny gold digger so you leave, but instead of ending up at home, your car takes you to her place. you hadn’t been here since your erratic flight that night, almost half a year ago. 

half a year ago.

you see a light on in her window, so against your better judgment, you knock on the door. you think you hear giggling as the knob turns.

you did hear giggling. not from her, though. she only ever giggled with you. 

no, this is someone else, giggling and hanging off her arm.

she looks shocked to see you here, but before she can open her mouth, you’ve turned away, fleeing to your car like you did the last time, not crying until you get there. but then you remember how you were on a date today, she’s allowed to see other people too. you aren’t together. so, even though it hurts you, you fucking ignore it.

you zoom in on a picture of her, holding a girl tight, publicly on instagram. she’s in the wnba now, she can do that, you remind yourself. you look closer, thinking of how her smile doesn’t quite seem to reach her eyes. it’s the same smile she would give girls who would playfully ask for her number. the friendly head shake was normally punctuated by a sneaky wink in your direction, which you would blush at, nudging at her, back when it was easy, acceptable. you’re probably imagining it though, so you just ignore it. 

when you only have a certain amount of time together, it’s important you use it correctly. the incorrect way to use the time you have with the best friend you happen to be in love with is to deny it for years, then perpetuate it in a way that only harms the both of you, and then when it could finally go your way, end it yourself out of fear. the thing is, you only realize it’s incorrect when you look back at it, much later, and you see all the things that could have been. but, you can’t fix it now, so all you can do is ignore it.

you go to bed that night, after coming to that conclusion that should be heart shattering, but barely caused a dent in the super-glued mass you call your heart. you wake up the next morning, you brush your teeth, you pick up your phone. you glance at your phone briefly, then snap your eyes back to it like snapping a rubber band on the soft skin of someone’s leg. starting back at you from the too-light screen is a text from someone you thought would never text you again.

Paige Bueckers

Heard you were in the city. Want to grab a coffee? I have a few things I’d like to clear up.

[the-cauldron-witch]

Protecting his peace

Prompt I came up with: Raph protects everyone else's peace, but who protects his when it comes down to it?

Set in the bayverse TMNT

This past week had to have been the worst Raph has had since Shredder tried to take the city or Krang taking the world. It was just one thing after another, it felt like there was no rest or reprieve from each event. The botched surveillance mission was the beginning of this shitstorm, April had caught wind of some rogue scientists that had managed to find some left-over technology from the Krang’s invasion attempt. What exactly it did and what exactly they wanted to do weren’t clear, so they set out to the supposedly abandoned warehouse for more information.

Emphasis on the word ‘abandoned’ as in, abandoned for so damn long that when Raph went into the rafters one of the beams had rusted too much to hold his weight. He came crashing down into the enemies, blowing their cover entirely and sending most of them scattering, ultimately ruining the mission. Some scientists made off with equipment in the fray. No amount of apologizing or explaining convinced any of his brothers this wasn’t done out of impatience or defiance, despite how hard Raph tried to convince them. Leo even benched him when they went to find out where their next hide-out would be. That really pissed Raph off.

Being in the lair and being forced to stay there were two different things. If he was willingly in the lair it was home, but when he wasn’t allowed to leave it felt like a prison. Turning to his punching bag was one of two outlets for his anger, which he felt the need to use immediately once his brothers finally leave. Just before the three left to follow another lead, Donnie decided to test out an upgrade for the grappling hook. It would make scaling vertical buildings with flat surfaces much quicker.

The force? Perfect. Velocity and precision? Flawless. Donatello’s aim and self awareness? Lacking, as the grappling claw was launched directly through Raph’s punching bag, sand spilling out in a small pile on the floor.

“Oops...” Donnie squeaked.

This mistake ultimately sent Donnie back a few weeks of work as Raph broke the cable entirely from the gun. It was going to be difficult to find another cable the same length and strength. 

Turning his anger to the gym was his second best option, Raph tripling his workout routine and doubling the weight on each machine. The burn and sweat on his muscles helped seal the rage at how completely unfair his situation was, focusing on the work out rather than deal with it.

His sanctuary was unfortunately going to be short-lived thanks to his youngest brother. When Raph put his weights down and headed to the kitchen, wanting to grab a quick power snack before moving onto his next workout, Mikey set to work. Sneaking into the room whilst his brother was busy Mikey set to work on yet another one of his pranks. He had found a recipe on Donnie’s computer for a paint-bomb, one that was actually pretty powerful and took a minute to detonate. This was going to be his best one yet, having made it a bit bigger than the previous ones.

Returning to his spot in the common living space, pretending he was listening to his music the whole time and didn’t notice Raph returning to the weight room, Mikey eagerly waited for his plan to unfold. Biting into the quick sandwich he threw together, Raph stood in the middle of the room for a moment debating on what equipment he wanted to use next. Before he could make a decision or even take a second bite there was a resounding BOOM! Sending bright neon pink paint everywhere, covering far more than the previous bombs.

The previous ones had about a two or three foot blast radius, just enough to make a mess and startle the target while still being manageable for clean up. Not this one. From the ceiling, to the standing mirrors, to every barbell and piece of workout equipment inside the room- himself included, were covered in a fairly thick layer of paint. Spitting the sudden foulness out of his mouth Raph scraped the paint off of his face, his sandwich completely obliterated out of his hand in the blast. Hawking onto the floor, Raph took a long stunned moment to collect himself and register what was happening.

“Oh, shit...” Mikey muttered from the entrance of the gym, wide eyed and a bit taken aback himself. He had not intended for the blast to be THAT big and messy, just enough to startle Raph, maybe a little paint on his dumbbells and a little bit on himself. Right now, it was so pink it looked like it was Barbie’s personal gym. Letting out a guttural snarl Raph was across the room before Mikey had time to get a safe distance away, unable to stop his older brother from blackening his left eye.

Today, two days later from the paint bomb, Raph had absolutely had enough. He screwed up a mission by accident and no one wanted to believe him, now both of his best outlets are completely in disarray. The mostly empty sandbag hung like a chicken on a hook, swaying back and forth gently. Neon pink dried paint still clung to every surface in his workout room, which he demanded be cleaned the previous night. That started off the day's argument.

“This is fucking bullshit!!” Raphael roared, kicking the coffee table over as he stormed out of the common living area.

“Jesus Christ, Raph. Will you calm down?” Leo growled in annoyance, having had enough of his awful mood.

“Your attitude is getting out of hand, Raphael-” Master Splinter chastised, entering the living area with a tap of his cane. He wasn’t pleased with what little good furniture they had being abused.

“Are you shitting me, how the fuck am I the one in trouble?!” Raph exploded in disbelief.

“Do not use such language with me-”

“FUCK THIS!”

Walking tenderly into the lair you listened with caution as voices grew louder and angrier, your boyfriend's voice loudest of all. You had already known about the events of this week through many curse filled texts and phone calls. Talking him down from his heated state took some gentle words and reassurance of returning to the city after visiting family soon. You cut the trip a day short and returned early, you didn’t even bother going home to drop off your things and simply parked it in the usual safe spot you used.

Fury had completely blinded Raph as he stormed off, shoving Leo roughly out of his way as he headed for his room without noticing you entered. The silence was heavy once Raph’s door slammed shut, an uncomfortable aura hanging in the air as you were slowly noticed. No one really said anything to break the tension, so you decided to.

“I’m going to go talk to him,”

“Good luck,” Mikey scoffed from his seat on the couch, his left eye half lidded and swollen. Ignoring the snide comment you continued down the hall to the sound of what could be described as a bull kicking up a tornado. A loud smash and clatter of broken wood could be heard from the other side of the door followed by a few more snarled curses from the infuriated mutant turtle within. Taking a second to let one or two more items be hurled across the room before you reached out and knocked firmly.

Footsteps vibrating from behind the firmly locked door shook beneath you, but didn’t intimidate you in the slightest. The second the door is ripped open and nearly off the wall Raph opened his mouth to roar demandingly just who the hell had the audacity to try and talk to him right now, only for his gaze to fall on you. Immediately his demeanor changed, his shoulders relaxed and face softened from being so tense just seconds ago. You didn’t need to ask permission to come in as Raph side-stepped out of the way and closed the door gently behind you as you entered.

The debris scattered about his room was hard to identify, you were pretty sure the wood was his nightstand and some of the plastic was a game controller, the rest you couldn’t identify. Silent and sulking Raph trudged over to his bed and sat at the edge, his elbows digging into his thighs heavily and gaze secured to the floor. Had he known you had made your way into the lair, he wouldn’t have gotten so loud and angry, that wasn’t a side of him he wanted you seeing and you knew it.

Stepping around the debris you made your way to his bed quietly, normally you would have slipped off your shoes and left them at the entrance but the many broken pieces scattered around the floor made that difficult. The only sound you could hear was the low, deep growl under his breath and the unmistakable grind of his molars as he chewed on his emotions so he could swallow them back down.

He didn’t lift his head as you came to stand directly in front of him, his gaze now at your feet. Palms gently taking either side of his face, you gently lifted his gaze to meet yours, his face was scrunched with clear frustration.

“Talk to me, baby” Leaning over you pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting him know it was safe to let it out. He was still just a moment before taking a deep breath and letting out a long, slow sigh. Wrapping his massive arms around your midsection he pulled your form to his, calloused hands pressing you flush to him as he rested his head on your shoulder and buried his face into your neck.

“I...They...mmph” Tripping over his words Raph sucked in a breath, using your scent to center himself and his thoughts. “It’s like...it’s like I’m not allowed to make a mistake, like as soon as I do somethin’ wrong more shit goes wrong just to beat me further...like I’m not allowed to be angry about how unfair this shit is!”

He huffed frustratedly, pulling you directly into his lap as he began scooting backwards until his shell met the wall with a small thud. The rage in his voice was dwindling, but did not extinguish, not that you could honestly blame him. In your opinion he had every right to be angry, especially since he was genuinely innocent this time. You might not have been there, but by the genuine hurt of not being believed in his eyes made you believe him entirely.

“You’re allowed to feel mad about this, it is completely unfair” You sympathized with him, one palm still cupping his cheek with your thumb gently stroking the softer part of his skin. “Honestly I’m upset for you, you shouldn’t be ganged up on over just one mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, you don’t deserve to be ganged up on for it”

The way his eyes soften at your words made your own anger rise. Raph’s temper may burn the brightest, but that shouldn’t overshadow his own emotions. Swallowing thickly he didn’t respond at first, allowing the rest of his emotions to finally settle. Hurt, disappointment, invalidation, each emotion bubbled and slowly revealed itself as you quelled the rage.

“Like they didn’t screw up too,” He grumbled angrily, “My punching bag basically got disemboweled and my work out room is still covered in paint ‘cause a Donnie and Mikey, but I’m the one getting yelled at for being mad about it!”

“Is that what all that yelling was about?” You questioned gingerly, raising an eyebrow to him.

“I was telling Mikey his ass needed to go and clean my fuckin’ workout room! He had the audacity to tell me to wait ‘cause he was playing some game like it ain’t been two days,” Throwing his free hand in the air in exasperation Raph let it drop onto your thigh, his fingers firmly digging into your flesh and pulling you closer somehow. “I told him if he didn’t clean it ASAP I was gonna crack his shell, then Master Splinter starts in on me and gettin’ mad cause I’m pissed off”

It was strange voicing the emotions slowly simmering in his chest instead of lashing out and covering them up or working them out with weights, all of his focus on scorching them into nonexistence. With your coaxing and genuine care, Raph slowly started talking them through and understanding them more, which unfortunately made him feel them more.

“I’m sorry baby. Did he even say a word to Mikey or Donnie?” Squirming in his lap to get comfortable you slipped your pinned arm under his, pressing your cheek into his collar where his plastron met skin. Tears stung and pricked the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over and be absorbed by his mask. He didn’t want to cry, that felt like admitting defeat, but he couldn’t stop the overwhelming amount of emotions he was feeling now that you opened the floodgates. It was all overwhelming for him now.

“Tch, hell if I know, probably not. Like he or any’a them care, he didn’t even believe me either when I told him about Leo’s bullshit-”

“Are you seriously still on about that?” A scoffing demand from the eldest intruder as the door somehow opened unnoticed. Fire returning to his core Raph audibly gnashed his teeth together, outrage immediately returning to his very being.

“Oh wow, he’s actually crying too” Mikey commented as his own head poked in.

“Get the FUCK out!”

The loud and demanding bark shockingly did not come from Raphael, but yourself. It even came as a shock to you, but seeing the two offending brothers flinch back granted you some unforeseen vigor in you. Releasing you from his grip Raph watched with astonishment as you crawled from his embrace, unsure of how to react to you exploding on his brothers. You had known all of them for some time now, where friends before starting a relationship with Raphael, never had you taken such a tone with any of them.

“You are being completely and totally unreasonable! How are you going to keep dogging on Raph after a mistake like you’re something perfect, huh?” Your heels stomped on the floor with each step you took towards the door, eyes locked with the eldest. There was no response from Leo even as his mouth opened to speak. He didn’t know what or how to respond. With no retort coming, you decided to continue this tangent on behalf of your boyfriend. If they weren’t going to listen to him, they damn well were going to listen to you now.

“And then you come in here and make fun of him for being upset over all this?” You turned yourself to Mikey, who had taken a few paces back when you began shouting. “Especially when his weight room looks like that! It’s like it came out of a damn pepto bismol commercial”

His eye ached when Mikey winced at your comment, the guilt finally digging its claws in. In all honesty the paint bomb wasn’t meant to be that messy, but Mikey had apologized for it...right? Now he was second guessing himself as he felt his eye throbbing.

“Not to MENTION what happened to his punching bag!” You decided to add quickly, not wanting to lose momentum on this running train.

“Sorry...” Came Donnie’s small voice from in front of his desktop, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your chest a little. Given the state of the hollow bag hanging in its spot still, you didn’t feel too bad for calling him out.

“A little late, Donnie!” You huffed in indignation, “You all ganged up on him when he did something wrong and expected him to fix his mistake somehow, but you all made a mistake and you won’t even apologize for it!”

There was an unmistakable static in the air now as you waited for someone to speak up. Swallowing thickly Leo continued to hold your intense glare with his own, normally he would have spat something back with what Mikey would call his ‘leader voice’ in regards to questioning his leadership- but he wasn’t your leader. You were a long time and close friend, so maybe your words worked a little differently.

“Look, maybe we did make mistakes, but we’re not the ones disturbing the peace and lashing out at everyone!” Leo couldn’t think of any other counter argument at this moment. Was there any other argument, though? He wasn’t wrong, Raph had lashed out, but you still couldn’t blame him.

“Well, you know what? I’m protecting his peace now, because he feels none of you give a shit” Your voice was curt and harsh but not as raised as it was. Taking a step back you grabbed the side of the door, “He’ll talk to you all when he’s ready!”

Swinging the door shut firmly you didn’t give anyone a chance to speak further, the slam of the door effectively sending the lair into silence again. Raphael’s eyes never left your frame, stunned silent at your words. Protecting his peace. It was a strange feeling, he was normally the one protecting himself and those around- he saved the city twice in his lifetime alone. Not since he was a child did he feel like he needed protection, yet somehow here you were doing just that for him.

Beside the door taped to the wall was a Vin Diesel movie poster of one of his many films, pinching the untapped corner of the paper you gently pulled it up to reveal the keypad underneath. Keying in the specific code, which was really just Raphael’s given birthdate, there was a hiss and shudder from within the walls as you activated the security system. The door was now locked tight, the only person that could even hope to enter now was Donnie- if he steeled his nerves enough to make the attempt to enter the dragon's den now. After everything that you had said, you had no intention of letting his family back in his room.

There was a power in your step as you strode back over to the bed, heels crushing whatever litter was scattered across the floor instead of carefully stepping around the mess as you had earlier. A small stone formed by guilt sat uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach, you’d never even had a serious argument with them let alone all the things you had just said. But you meant it, you were protecting his peace when he felt no one else cared about it.

The way he opened his arms to you, beaconing you to come back to him, made your heart hurt some. With the anger washed away finally left behind only hurt in his green eyes that begged you for more comfort silently. Crawling across the messy bed spread you climbed back into his lap, burying yourself under his chin as he dipped his head and held you close to him.

“Thank you...” Was all he murmured, a tear unintentionally spilling from pure frustration. Kissing his cheek you held him the best you could, given the size difference it was the best you could do.

His peace deserved protecting just as much as anyone.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 118 (The Calm Before)

Life continued for Heather and Conrad after their eventful trip to the city. Conrad couldn't be the one to canvas his old apartment building in San Myshuno, but he made arrangements with his partner, Detective Spangler, before he, Heather, and Ash had even returned to Brindleton Bay.

He believed they would find Ximena there, but they had to be discreet, and his team worked with San Myshuno PD to watch the Arts Quarter and confirm their suspicions.

They felt life at home might soon return to normal, so Heather started to think about that wedding and kept up her workouts. Spring would come soon enough, and she'd be able to go for jogs with Gord once the weather warmed, too. Gord couldn't wait for that, either.

Conrad would be able to turn his focus to Rafa and George Brindleton without the threat of Ximena breathing down their necks. While officers worked behind the scenes, the Nesbitt-Gordon household buzzed with contentment.

With the family always happy to see him, River paid a visit to talk with Hazel about her break up. Heather wanted to help, but she had to admit to herself that she was disappointed in Hazel for cheating.

Only 'Old Man River' could find the right words to express disappointment without a hint of judgment, and when he walked into the bedroom, Heather got up to make herself scarce.

River glanced at his younger sister with concern. He could see she was beating herself up and wanted to hear her side of things.

"Why didn't you leave your wife before you called Suri again?"

"I think a part of me wanted to hurt Nicola for how she treated me," admitted Hazel. "I know how terrible that is, but she made me dread coming home some nights, and we kept talking about trying to make it work, but we never did. She was too high maintenance and trying to meet her needs was costing my sanity. I think, more than anything, I was just mad at her, but I feel sick about how much I hurt her. I left town, but she's stuck there trying not to hear everyone whispering about her."

"I wouldn't worry about Nic," River said. "I ran into her mother at the Crumpleclones' flower stall yesterday. She took a sabbatical from the school and Mike's class will have a substitute teacher until she's back. If she comes back. I guess she's going on a show called Dating Deanna that starts filming in Tartosa soon."

Hazel reeled. "Nicola?! On a dating show? Does she know they usually put contestants through their paces and people...people cheat?"

"Maybe she thought her usual ways weren't really working for her anymore."

Hazel considered this with a nod. It was suddenly all too clear why he'd come to see her. "I hope Nic finds someone who makes her happy."

"And is Suri a rebound? Or are you really interested in her?"

"I don't know. I really like her and we have more in common than Nic and I did." Hazel shrugged. "I hope it's real, but we're giving each other space right now, after everything fell apart so publicly."

"That might not be the worst idea, but don't punish yourself and miss out on something that might be really good. You made a mistake and you have to learn from it; it's really that simple, but you're not a horrible person." River offered his little sister a hug, and Hazel accepted it willingly. "Maybe one day you and Nic can get closure for the way everything broke down, but you're on different journeys now, and you both have a chance to find happiness and really discover who you are. That's what really matters."

"Thanks, big bro. I know I'd deserve it if you were all mad at me."

He shook his head with a warm smile. "No you wouldn't. You didn't do anything to us. Just Nic. Maybe Suri, if you dragged her into this for nothing."

He stayed for dinner before heading home, leaving Heather dancing to the aerobics channel on his way out.

Lavender loved to be outside, and if her mom focused too long on her exercising, she'd usually sneak outside with her coat on to play around in the snow. One evening, she found a snowman Ash had built and promptly destroyed it - much to Ash's chagrin.

"I worked hard on that snowman!" he cried, pulling a frightening face to try to scare his little sister. Lavender peeled back in surprise.

"I sowwy, Ashy."

Ash scowled, but he couldn't stay mad at her, and immediately pulled her in for an autonomous hug. "It's okay, Lava. Just try not to do it anymore."

"I'll twy."

The next day, Ash invited his friend Arron Kalani over after school, excited to show off his brilliant new invention. "It's a remote control that will melt the snow!"

He pressed a button. Arron glanced outside the sliding patio doors in the living room and frowned at the white powder that had coated the town since the start of winter. "I don't think it works."

"It's solar powered. When the sun returns in the spring it should power up easier."

Arron turned up his nose in confusion. "What's the point of it working in the spring when the snow will be melted already?"

Lavender sat on the couch and giggled happily. "Ashy took ice-chippy!" she tattled.

Arron chuckled as Ash laughed at his oversight. "It's still pretty cool," Arron insisted. "I bet your next model will work better."

Life was always good, but the Nesbitt-Gordons couldn't help but feel as though things had never been better. For once, they weren't afraid to be hopeful. Heather kept working hard at Buttercup Pet Clinic, and Conrad focused on some other cases at work.

He had just finished looking over Officer Adler's notes on the recent Mercury Gratz assault case when the text they'd all been waiting for came in from Detective Spangler.

"We got her, Lieutenant. She was booked at San Myshuno PD first thing this morning." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Arron is the son of Zoe Patel and Mitchell Kalani, and he has younger twin siblings Isabelle and Xavier.

Thought I'd end the year on a high note with Ximena behind bars! The second batch of year-end favourite screenies comes tomorrow before the story continues on New Year's Day, but the last one could rival any of the last 25, in my opinion.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️

Affect

AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.

Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.

Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.

Word count: 4138

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.

Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.

"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.

"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.

His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.

"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.

Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.

Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.

However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.

You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.

"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.

"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.

"That's my girl,"

Oh.

Oh no.

That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.

"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.

Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.

"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.

"How about some pull-ups next?"

"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"

"You could learn today,"

When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"

"Now you're speaking my language,"

On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.

You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.

You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."

His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"

He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.

You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.

Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.

"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"

Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.

"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.

"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"

By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.

To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.

"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.

"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.

"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.

Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.

You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."

"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"

It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.

"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.

"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"

"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.

"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"

"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.

"What? Hey!"

"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.

"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.

"Yes,"

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.

You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.

Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.

"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.

With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.

"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.

"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.

You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.

He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.

"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.

"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.

"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.

He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.

Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.

"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."

A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.

"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.

"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.

Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.

His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.

"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.

With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.

The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.

The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.

He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.

Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.

"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.

Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.

"Chan, please," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

"Please fuck me,"

His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."

If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.

"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.

"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.

"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.

"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"

You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.

Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.

"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.

Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.

"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.

Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.

"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.

Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.

"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"

You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.

"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.

You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.

Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.

"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.

You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.

[dudadragneel]

Hey guys! It's me!

How are you?

It's been some time but I finally managed to finish one of the requests 😅

🍋, I hope you'll like it!!

🍋

Picture, if you will, Chan waking up in the middle of the night bc his tummy hurts and he's beginning to feel sick to his stomach. He doesn't want to get up and wake people up, so he just lies there and breathes through the nausea as best he can.

Eventually it reaches a point where it's too much, and he burps quite loud. But it's one of those sicky burps right before someone throws up and he knows he's fucked.

He'd make a dash for the bathroom, hit the floor and bend over the toilet with another sicky burp before he's heaving and retching louder than he would like. Of course this would wake at least 1 person up and they would come to see what in gods name is taking place at the unceremonious time in the morning, which is Chan with his arms folded across the toilet while he spills his guts into it.

It would be so cute, them holding his hair back, or even putting it in a little ponytail, and rubbing his back/belly to soothe him and help him feel less ill. Getting him water or medicine, trying to convince him to go back to bed with

a bucket and him refusing because he feels too sick to move from the bathroom floor.

Chan wouldn't even try and hide that he was sick, it would be a rare time he actually admitted to being unwell and not try to go to work. He would let himself be pampered and cared for while his body fights the stomach bug. I hope this is what you're looking for

Unexpected midnight wake-up call

Packed schedules, intense practicing and exercises meant a huge appetite for any idol.

A specific outing, a moment that was meant to be relaxing after a packed week, turned out to be one of Chan's worst nights, more realistically, worst week.

They went to a nearby restaurant, one they tended to go to a lot because the food was delicious, the atmosphere was cozy and relaxing, and quite honestly, the price was good. And a plus, the restaurant owners had a liking to them and they knew how they needed that time to relax, so they did their best to give them privacy.

Everything was good, the food was tasty like always and they used that time to unwind and chat about the past week and what they were gonna do during the short break that was coming. Despite being tired, they were in high spirits like always.

Chan was particularly hungry, having changed his workout routine along with Lee Know and Changbin, his apetite was twice bigger than before. And he saw a dish on the menu that caught his attention as well as Lee Know's, so he didn't hesitate to order.

But oh, was that a mistake.

The dish did taste good and it was definitely one that would enter his list of options whenever they went to that restaurant again.

After finishing their meal, they continued to chat a bit so the food could settle before they walked back to the dorm.

However, Chan was feeling like it wasn't siting as well as he thought but he had to admit it, he had eaten quite a lot so he just attributed it to that.

He'd soon find out that was far from being the case.

The walk back was relaxing and they were taking their time to enjoy the peace and quiet of the street and chilly air. It was a nice walk for everybody, except for Chan.

He was interacting with the boys, laughing and all but there was a strange feeling in his stomach that was starting to bother him.

But then again, he thought it was just a case of overeating and that the walk and maybe some medication would help with the feeling.

It would not, though.

Once in the dorm, they all just threw themselves on the couch or on the floor, completely drained of their batteries and almost entering a food coma.

Chan went to the kitchen and decided to take his medication so it could work on his body as he washed up for sleep.

But one of them noticed it.

- Hyung, what are you doing?

Lee Know asked coming up behind Chan and resting his chin on his hyung's shoulder, like a curious cat.

- Oh, Minho-yah. It's just something to help with digestion, guess I ate too much hahaha

Lee Know just hummed, seemingly satisfied and convinced by Chan's answer and left.

Chan decided to take a shower first and go straight to bed, because in addition to feeling full he was extremely tired and he was almost sure he'd fall asleep standing up.

The hot water felt heavenly, helping relax his aching muscles and distract him from the discomfort in his stomach.

He put on a comfy change of clothes and walked out of the bathroom for one last duty as a leader before he called it a night.

- Kids, go take your showers before you fall asleep on the floor. Come on.

He said gently, nudging each one of them who were already dozing off. When they were all up and deciding who'd go first, Chan retreated to his bedroom for a much needed and deserved rest.

- Good night, kids.

- Good night, hyung.

When he lay down, he felt himself sinking into the mattress, feeling all the pressure of the day slowly dissipating.

He barely managed to pull the blanket before he was fast asleep.

But that relief was short lived. Although he did manage to sleep like a rock, it only lasted maximum 1 hour before he was woken up by the way his stomach starting to twist.

The discomfort from earlier had morphed into a rapidly increasing nausea and he could hear his stomach gurgling really loudly.

It was twisting and turning, its contents sloshing around. He was lying down in his comfy mattress and yet, it felt like it was made of water and that it was swaying continuously.

The world was tilting as if he was moving when in fact he was lying perfectly still.

And the nausea just kept on building up.

He broke into cold sweats, his heart was racing, his mouth started to fill with saliva and he kept on swallowing it until his mouth was completely dry.

But it insisted, the saliva came back and with it his stomach churned and he felt the urge to vomit increasing. But he didn't want to get up, he knew that moving would be one of the worst decisions he could make.

So when his stomach contracted and the amount of saliva increased, he started to swallow convulsively, desperate to keep it at bay.

He covered his eyes with his arm, clenching his fist while his other hand gripped the sheets until his knuckles turned white in an attempt to control his body.

For a brief moment it worked. And he thought that was it. But it was almost as if his body was pranking him, because the moment he relaxed and let out a shaky breath, his stomach jumped once more and he felt something coming up.

An air bubble, so he decided to burp to feel some sort of relief. However, the moment he did so, that burp came out louder and wetter than he intended and brought something with it.

He realized that this time, no effort would keep the disaster from happening, there was no holding it in.

He sat up, way faster than he'd like and it just worsened the feeling.

He had to get to the bathroom in record time, or else he'd vomit on the floor of his bedroom and the thought of having to clean it later was enough to make him even more nauseous.

When he stood up from his bed, the nausea reached its peak and he gagged, clamping a hand to his mouth and heading towards the bathroom.

By the time he reached the bathroom, he was barely holding it together. In fact he could feel something starting to escape his mouth.

He hurriedly closed the door behind him, which made a rather loud noise and he could only pray it didn't wake up any of the kids. And then he basically fell to his knees as he lost the battle against his stomach, part of the first wave getting on the ground and the edges of the toilet.

The vomit was thick and chunky, barely digested, straining his throat and making him cough in the process.

The consistency was so thick, it was being hard to get it out. He kept on gagging and coughing, trying to bring more up but the difficulty in doing that was making him retch even louder.

Loud painful retches filled the bathroom as he tried so desperately to will his stomach to cooperate with him.

Although it was kicking and twisting while he was in bed, constantly sending signals that he was gonna throw up, now it seemed to be pulling a prank on him by not bringing anything up.

Or really just making it so difficult.

The loud retching continued and the amount of effort he was making and the little amount of vomit coming up was starting to make him stressed.

The strain was so much, he had tears this close to streaming down his cheeks, his face was red and his neck's veins were popping.

He was so dazed with the whole situation, he didn't even notice when one of the members entered the bathroom. His brain only registered the presence of someone in there with him after they called his name a couple of times.

It was Changbin.

The younger rapper not only woke up due to the loud noises but also because Lee Know had told him earlier that he saw Chan taking something for his stomach. And that information didn't quite leave his mind.

Chan was more prone to have stomach issues so they kept an eye on him whenever he ate spicy food or when he was overly stressed. Because, normally it meant he'd get sick later.

- Hyung? Chan-hyung?

Changbin called out, trying not to speak too loudly and risk waking up the others. He knew Chan was already stressed with the fact that he popped up in the bathroom and they hadn't exchanged one word yet.

Chan was basically hugging the toilet retching loudly and barely getting bile to come up and then lifted his head a bit and realized Changbin was inside the bathroom.

He let out a frustrated groan and hid his face on his arms.

Great. Now one of the kids was up and worried about him.

Changbin knelt down next to his hyung and proceeded to rub his back.

- What's going on, hyung?

Chan spat out a thick amount of saliva  before burying his face in his arms again and answering Changbin.

- I don't know... I guess I just ate too much...

The sheer mention of food was enough to trigger his stomach again. Before he knew, he was gagging once more, a sequence of painful unproductive loud retches.

Changbin kept his hand on Chan's back, rubbing it up and down as he desperately tried to get something up.

- Fuck... nothing's coming up...

- Do you want me to help you? Or maybe some water to see if helps?

Chan was already feeling bad that his misery woke up Changbin and the idea of being so vulnerable to the point of needed that kind of help made him feel angry at himself. So he settled for the water.

- Water would be good, I guess....

- I'll be back in a minute

The younger rapper said already leaving the bathroom.

Chan just slumped back, leaning against the tub, taking a deep breath and resting his head between his hands. And his mind was spiraling with thoughts.

He had cut short Changbin's peaceful sleep, when he knew everyone needed that rest.

And he was getting annoyed over the fact that his bedroom didn't have a bathroom of his own so when these type of things happened, he could have more privacy.

After a while Changbin came back with a glass of water and gave it to Chan. And also a towel to clean up the mess.

- Thanks....and sorry...

He took a sip and grimaced at how his stomach reacted to it, as if he had drank a shot of vodka and churned but not enough for him to throw up.

Changbin sat by Chan's side, rubbing his back in soothing circles. He didn't know whether Chan wanted that or not, but he didn't complain or anything.

That was when Changbin noticed how his hyung's back was soaked in sweat and he felt kind of hot. He placed a hand on his forehead and confirmed his concern, he was running a fever.

- Hyung, I think you have a fever. I don't think this is a case of overeating...

Chan just let out a frustrated sigh, ducking his head.

The last thing he needed was a stomach bug, not when they still had some work to do before their break.

- Hyung, you good?

- No...my head is throbbing...

He said gripping his head and squeezing it, in an attempt to ease the pain.

- Hyung, why don't you go back to the bedroom? We can leave a bucket there just in case.

- No, I don't wanna leave here. I'm dizzy and my body feels heavy...

- I'll help you.

That sentence, Chan didn't like that sentence not one bit.

He was the oldest of the group, the leader, in his mind he wasn't supposed to be helped but the one helping. There were very rare times where he allowed himself to rest and let the kids take care of him, but it took a lot convincing.

- There's no need to, Changbinnie. I can do it myself.

And there it was. The stubborn leader. The same stubborn leader Changbin found leaning on the side of his bed puking his guts out once.

- You're really stubborn, you know that?

Chan just chuckled and tried standing up. But his body betrayed him.

As soon as he motioned to get up, his stomach lurched and he barely had time to reach for the toilet again before a torrent of thick chunky vomit gushed out of him hitting the toilet with a sickening sound.

Changbin winced and was by his hyung's side in a flash, rubbing his back and holding his hair out of his face.

- Aigoo~, there we go, let it all out, hyung.

His stomach contracted again making him retch another wave before he was left dry heaving, but his stomach didn't stop contracting and it was starting to hurt his abdomen.

- Oh my god, hyung.

It was contracting so intensely that the dizziness amplified tenfold and for a brief moment he blacked out, slumping backwards but Changbin caught him, letting him lean on his body.

- Hyung, you with me?

Changbin asked concerned and nudging Chan slightly.

- Yeah...sorry about that...

Only then Chan realized just how sick he was, he couldn't hide or deny it anymore. And deep inside his mind, his thoughts were divided 60/40.

40% of him was getting anxious at the thought of having the kids take care of him and not being able to work.

The other 60% was feeling bad enough to the point where he didn't wanna work and just stay in bed.

- Changbinnie, I really don't feel good...

Chan admitted, completely defeated, resting his head on Changbin's shoulder.

He was known for cuddling and hugging the members all the time but this time it was different.

This was him acknowledging he wanted and needed comfort and help, and that broke Changbin's heart and also made him increasingly worried.

- I know hyung. What do you say we get you to the bedroom so you can lie down?

- I think I'll take you on that offer now....

Changbin carefully placed his arms under Chan's and gently helped him up.

He swayed, feeling the floor sinking beneath his feet but Changbin steadied him.

- Hyung, I'll stay with you in the bedroom, okay?

Chan just nodded, too tired and too sick to protest. Even to his own surprise, he wanted that comfort, he wanted someone with him, he wanted to be taken care of.

Once Chan lay down on his bed, he noticed how exhausted his body was. He felt like he was boiling from the inside, he was shivering like someone who was left on Mount Everest, his stomach was in knots and it felt like there were heavy weights pressing down all over his body.

For a moment he wasn't sure he'd even be able to move again.

He just groaned trying to shift his position a little to see if he could get more comfortable.

- Do you think it was the food?

Changbin asked sitting on the edge of the bed next to Chan.

The older suppressed a gag and groaned softly before managing to answer.

- Yeah, I think so....I started feeling weird as soon as we finished eating—

He barely finished his sentence when another gag surged. But he managed to keep it down. But not for long.

He covered his eyes with his arm and took deep breaths, trying to calm down his angry stomach.

In the meantime Changbing quickly went to the kitchen to fetch a bucket.

And he got back to the bedroom just in time.

Changbin noticed how Chan was gripping the sheets, his jaw was clenched and he kept on swallowing convulsively.

- Hyung, if you need to throw up just let it happen.

Chan didn't know why, but for some reason most of his walls were completely down.

He really didn't have the energy to move a muscle so Changbin carefully helped him sit up and placed the bucket in front of him.

Chan leaned over spitting out a thick stream of saliva and groaned at the awful sensation all over his body.

He spat out more saliva a couple more times before his stomach heaved again forcing up another thick torrent of vomit.

Changbin stood by his side, holding his hair and rubbing his back up and down as his hyung continued to empty his stomach.

It felt like the organ was trying to turn itself out, purging itself from everything inside.

A harsh contraction sent more content up at the same moment Chan tried to take a breath and he ended up choking, breaking into a coughing fit.

Changbin quickly changed his approach and started patting his back, trying to help dislodge whatever got stuck. A few seconds later, Chan managed to cough up another chunky stream of vomit.

The stench was filling the room and the bucket was getting full way too quickly.

- Hyung, I think you've got a stomach bug...you wouldn't be vomiting like this if it was only a case of overeating. Plus, you're running a fever, which seemed to have gotten higher.

Chan just groaned in response, spitting out and rinsing his mouth with the water Changbin gave him and then slumped back into the bed.

- I'll check your temperature, okay?

The older boy just nodded covering his eyes again, the lights piercing through them and stinging his head.

- Changbinnie, can you dim the lights a bit? My head feels like it's gonna explode...

- Sure.

Changbin did as his leader asked and then grabbed a thermometer.

- 39.5°C, hyung it's pretty high. We need to bring it down. Do you think you can stomach some medicine?

Chan gagged and leaned over the side of the bed in time for a thin stream of bile to come up and out.

- I guess that's a no... Let's take a quick bath then, it might help a bit, okay?

- Okay...

- I'll help you, come on.

Changbin gently helped Chan sit on the edge of the bed, holding him steady as he squeezed his head trying to get rid of the dizziness.

- You good?

- Yeah, just...dizzy...

- Do you think you can walk?

- Yeah, I think so...

But he couldn't, even though Changbin helped him, his knees buckled as soon as he was up. The young rapper quickly grabbed him, steadying so he wouldn't fall.

He wrapped an arm around Chan's waist and guided him to the bathroom.

Once there Chan leaned over the sink, the nausea coming back after that little walk from his bedroom to the bathroom.

- Do you want to throw up again?

Chan just nodded, ducking his head and leaning himself on the sink trying to take deep breaths to calm down his churning stomach. Changbin stood by his side rubbing soothing circles on his back, trying to provide what little comfort he could.

But it was no use. He started dry heaving, his stomach contracting forcefully but nothing was coming up, even though Chan felt like there was still something needing to get out.

And it was starting to get too much.

- Changbinnie, can you help me...?

- Sure, hyung.

Changbin seemed to understand what Chan wanted so he didn't say anything else.

He changed his approach.

Instead of rubbing circles, he started to rub Chan's back from his lower back to in-between his shoulder blades, trying to stimulate his body.

And he used his other hand to press on Chan's stomach, even though he himself knew how that was uncomfortable.

- Hyung, it'll be uncomfortable but bear with me, okay?

- mhmm

Chan was feeling miserable and he needed help, he even asked for it. And Changbin's touch was comforting, making him feel relaxed and not care that much about being vulnerable.

Changbin kept pressing on his stomach, doing it a little harder every time until Chan's stomach reacted to the stimulation.

A sick wet burp brought out another wave of putrid vomit that splattered on the sink. He barely managed to catch his breath when another one came up, so strong it made him sway slightly but Changbin kept a firm grip on him while still rubbing his back.

A few minutes later, Chan was just dry heaving again, his stomach continued to contract but there was nothing more to come up but bile.

- Hyung, try to breathe, okay? Come on, straighten your back a little.

Chan tried to do as he said, gagging again at the movement but pushing through it.

Once he was straight, he closed his eyes and instinctively grabbed Changbin's hand to ground himself and started to take deep breaths.

Changbin kept rubbing Chan's back all the time until he felt stable enough to proceed with the bath.

- Wanna try taking a shower now?

- Yeah...

- Do you want me to stay in here with you?

- No, there's no need to. I think I can manage...

Chan answered, not sounding very convincing. But Changbin knew he wanted his privacy and even though he was afraid of letting Chan alone in the bathroom, he would never cross the line with his hyung.

- Okay, I'll be right outside. Don't lock the door, hyung and yell if you need anything, okay?

- I will...

With that Changbin left the bathroom and sat by the door, not trusting Chan's body to cooperate with him.

Inside the bathroom Chan had a little bit of difficulty to take off his clothes, the fever making his muscles ache and his body feel heavy.

When he was out of his clothes, he sat on the edge of the bath tub before he could actually take his shower.

It was supposed to be relaxing but the lukewarm water, although helping his aching muscles, made the room stuffy and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and it brought the nausea back.

He was too weak, in fact, he was afraid of moving too fast and risk falling. An injury on top of a stomach bug was not on his wishlist.

So when the nausea grew stronger and sent something up his chest, he braced himself against the wall leaning over the drain as another wave of vomit poured out, the water quickly washing it away.

Changbin must've heard the sound of retching from outside because Chan soon heard a soft knock on the door.

- Hyung? Is everything okay?

He asked, not daring to open the door and take Chan's privacy away.

- Y-Yeah...don't worry...

Chan took a few minutes to recollect himself before he managed to finish his bath without further incidents.

By the time he was done with his bath, he was running on fumes. He barely managed to put on the clothes Changbin left on the bathroom before his body gave out making him sit on the edge of the bathtub again and refusing to move.

And again, Chan didn't want to deal with all this alone. During the bath he wanted his privacy, sure. But now that it was over and he was dressed?

He really wanted Changbin to come back and help him.

- Changbinnie...you can come in....

He said weakly, praying that Changbin heard it because he didn't have the energy to shout.

And he did, thankfully.

- Hey, hyung. Is everything okay? I heard retching...

- yeah, I....I just felt sick again... Can you help me back to the bedroom? My body won't move....

He managed to say with a weak chuckle.

- Of course. Let's go.

Changbin positioned himself in front of Chan to give him a piggyback ride to his bedroom and noticed his body temperature dropped a little, which made him feel relieved.

Once in Chan's bedroom again, Changbin gently lowered him down and Chan just sunk into the pillows. His eyes were barely open.

- I'll check your temperature again, hyung.

Thankfully the fever had lowered a bit, and it was good enough since Chan wouldn't be able to stomach a pill and that bath would have to do the trick.

- How are you feeling now, hyung?

- Dizzy, nauseous, my head hurts...and I'm tired...

- Do you think you're gonna be sick again? Like now?

- No, seems settled for now...

- I'll leave the bucket here just in case. It's a stomach bug, this will be needed.

Changbin said playfully, earning a chuckle from Chan. He then left to grab a cold cloth for him and then placed it on Chan's forehead in a way that it also covered his eyes.

- Woah....this feels good...

And apparently, it helped soothe some of the discomfort Chan was feeling because Changbin noticed how his body instantly relaxed.

- Can...can you stay...here?

Chan asked, barely conscious.

Changbin would be lying that he didn't find it cute or that his heart skipped a beat at the sudden request.

- Of course hyung.

It wasn't always that Chan let the kids take care of him, it was pretty rare for him to let himself be seen in such a weak state. So Changbin took that opportunity to make sure he was as pampered as he deserved.

[lightningidle]

A thought about Gerard’s scene in Episode 18, which is: Elody watches the conversation between Gerard and Rapunzel.

                                                    ——————

Princess Elody is a tactical motherfucker, so even when these cool young women approach her and say all the right things, things that make sense, she doesn’t fully buy in. Not at face value.

When they talk about princes, it’s somehow both completely flippant and with caustic derision — like these young men were props meant to move the plot along, sole owners of agency in stories that weren’t even titled after them. (Elody wonders about their treatment of the princes as the fairies’ deux es machina, wonders about how easy it is to “kill a lot of princes” as Snow White explains. And by their own logic, how likely is it, really, that the princes are cardboard cutouts if Cinderella is so sure her stepmother, not even royalty, has her own book?)

There’s evidence to the contrary of this in her story specifically, which she has no trouble recounting. There’s no way her prince was meant to pacify her into an idyllic life, because he’s a layabout! He’s unreliable! And sure, he’s charming and fun, yes, he tried to pull her away from the war table, but that wasn’t because of any scheming to get her to stay in line, it was just because he wanted attention. He’s frivolous, he’s not a monster, she says. She’s so passionate in her defense of Gerard’s personhood that she almost misses the shared look of the princesses, the glint in Rapunzel’s eye.

Let us show you, Rapunzel says, what a monster looks like.

The scrying ritual is completed quickly and without fuss. Rapunzel stares into a mirror that ripples like water, and then, on the other side, there he is. More froglike than he’s ever been.

“You’re a prince, friends are probably pretty expendable, right? How many friends have you really had, other than Elody?”

Now hold on, Elody wants to say, that’s goading him. That’s not fair. Cinderella puts a firm hand on her shoulder and shakes her head no, to stay quiet, to wait it out. Elody bites her tongue and waits for Gerard to prove one of them right.

“Your friends seem to really value you as a person. I’m sure it’s a comfort to know that they’re not just sort of putting up with you because you’ll tag along and swing your sword, prove a little bit useful.”

Gerard has snowball fights with his friends. He has friends? He has a dedicated workout buddy? She’s not sure he’s ever been dedicated to anything, except for gossip... or her. Now that she thinks about it, he has always been unquestionably devoted to her, hasn’t he?

“I have seen some titanic feats of strength from my companions the Beast, Cinderella, Snow White. Truly impressive acts of heroism.

I do not think I have seen any of my sisters strain more greatly than the Princess Elody to find something kind to say about you.”

Elody does open her mouth to speak this time, which turns out to be a huge mistake when a writhing mass of knotted hair wraps around the lower half of her face. Not to constrict, only to silence. A pit forms in her stomach at the thought that Rapunzel might not be lying, that in trying to defend Gerard she only condemned the worst of him.

“Yes... I don’t... I don’t doubt that.”

Her heart breaks for the second time.

“But I haven't seen the Princess Elody in a while, and I think it's telling that I'm seeing you in this lake and not her or any of the other princesses. I think you’re... manipulating people, or not telling them the full truth.”

Her eyes dart to the other princesses. Snow White’s expression remains unchanged, though Cinderella’s darkens slightly. When Rapunzel speaks again, it does not escape Elody’s notice that she doesn’t acknowledge what Gerard pointed out; she deflects. Elody is getting angrier, now, tugging at the hair around her jaw, hardly even hearing the next bit until a third voice speaks up, says the Princess Elody cares for you deeply.

“Not quite the same thing.”

“It's not, but seeing as the last thing she saw of me was me running away after I had already done that, I’m grateful that she still cares for me at all.”

The hair gathering around her tenses. Elody was brought here to see that, when Gerard thought nobody else could hear, he would prove himself to be just an agent of the fairies, or an empty vessel, or a selfish monster. What she’s seeing is none of those things. But she’s also not seeing the man she knew as her husband: he’s grown and changed, almost become someone else entirely. She wants to call out to Gerard. She wants to get to know him all over again.

“Gerard,” Rapunzel hisses, “what do you think the odds are that it got into Elody's head that the virtuous thing to do was to fall in love with a cold and slimy frog, and that every kindness she has paid you in your life has been a testament to her charity, rather than anything about you that would bring her joy?”

Elody freezes.

“I don't know that I can answer that.”

“It doesn’t seem very fair to Elody that you can’t.” 

“... I agree.”

The image in the mirror of the man who will never be a man again ripples and vanishes. Elody’s hands have fallen away from the hair around her face, which is convenient, as she finds herself suddenly holding a book. The hair recedes, and she doesn’t register what it is Rapunzel is saying to try and placate her, because the book in her hands is a slim volume, bound in her favorite shade of green and embossed in golden ink.

On the front is the title — The Princess Elody.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @robobbin for this adorable commission of Mafiafell Sans caring for their OC sick at home. You know I can't live without big scaryboys absolutely melting when their darling is unwell <3

---

“hey sweetcheeks.”

You looked up from your position nestled on the couch, a flash of hot confusion and embarrassment momentarily awakening you from your feverish stupor. That... wasn’t the voice you expected to hear, coming through your front door. You lifted your head up a few inches- movement in inches was all you could manage right now.

... It was Sans. Sans was in your house. He had a nice, pressed red shirt and black pants- your spare keys hooked onto a claw, two plastic bags over one of his big arms, and an unreadable lilt to his shark grin.

“... Sans?” You mumbled, eyes widening into saucers. You felt your cheeks immediately get even hotter. 

Your fever hadn’t improved, as you’d hoped it would. In fact, it had only gotten worse as the hours wore on; moving and thinking had grown increasingly impossible. In a total mess, you’d called Papyrus, asking if he could bring over something for you to eat... though you didn’t actually recall what he’d said back to you, most of it just blurring together in your head.

... You’d been expecting Pap. Pap knew you, he'd already seen you weak and gross before. Pap had carried you home from the gym, once, after you made the mistake of trying to keep up with his workout.

You were not anticipating the arrival of his hot brother, whom you had a massive crush on. 

Despite feverishly sweating, you pulled the blanket further up over you. You felt embarrassed to be seen like this.

“sorry, i know you were expectin’ boss.” He put both of the plastic bags down onto the coffee table, crouching beside the couch to be closer to your eye level. You twisted your hands in the blanket, his proximity making your heart thump. “he’s swamped with work, so i’m droppin off the emergency goods instead. though i’ll be sure to let him know you missed him.”

“... O-oh.” Your mind was fried. You stared- he looked great. It felt like the longer you knew each other, the better he dressed, it was amazing how his presence could simultaneously make you feel so much worse but also so much better. “N-no, it’s okay. I’m... fine. You’re fine.”

He chuckled, musically, eyelights warm. His voice felt good in your painful chest. “i’m fine?”

“N-not like... fine as in hot. Fine as in okay.” Your cheeks were just on fire at this point. The fever had removed any and all barriers between your head and your mouth, so words just waterfalled out. “Not that you’re not hot. You are. You’re very hot. You.. uh,”

... Shit. Again, that little edge to his smile. You wanted to sink between the couch cushions and die.

Rather than make fun of you, Sans just gently reached over you, placing a cold compress against your forehead. He was so close you could smell him.

“you’re burning up. and ya look terrible. i’m gonna stay over and watch you.”

"N-no-!!" You blurted, nearly sitting up. The guy you liked, staying and seeing you completely out of it, at your absolute worst? No???

He grinned. "sorry, pet. not gettin' rid of me until your fever goes down."

... You covered your face with both hands. This was mortifying. Were you glad he was here? Absolutely. You didn't want to be alone right now, and his insistence on staying despite your protests felt good. But you still wanted to die.

“pap really went nuts with the food when he found out you were unwell. y’know he’s got a list of all your allergies? let’s see...” You could hear him start unpacking the bags, placing things onto the table. “some funky soup. saltines, popsicles, iced coconut water. ginger candy... whole bunch of herbal teabags. you ever had sea tea?”

You kept one hand on your face, gesturing randomly with the other. “Soup. Soup please.”

“soup comin’ right up, gorgeous.”

You tried to say thank you, but just a weak grumble came out, the room was spinning again. You heard him move into the kitchen... so you just let yourself sink back into the couch, comforted by another person’s presence.

...

You didn’t know how much time passed, he eventually returned. You could smell something nice.

"hey. can ya sit up a lil, for me?'

... You didn’t really respond to his query. Curled in blankets like a feverish squirrel, you merely made a sound in the back of your throat to acknowledge him. The fever was getting worse.

... Big hands, on your body. There was movement... Sans shifted you, everything spun. You were vaguely aware of him sitting you up, supporting you with one big hand- you did your best to just watch his face, focus on his lovely red eyelights.

"c'mon. soup’s ready. here comes the airplane."

... Despite the state of you, that made you giggle. And judging by the smile that filled your wobbling vision... he liked the sound.

///---///

...

... He was probably enjoying himself a little too much.

Sans shifted his legs into a slightly comfier position from his spot in front of the couch. This definitely wasn’t what he thought he’d be doing today. He’d been planning on going out for a drink, maybe crossing some names off a list while his blood was up- the usual stupidity he filled his free time with.

... Then he got Pap’s call about you. And instantly, it had felt like nothing else in the world mattered.

Now, here he was; in his crush’s house, spoon-feeding her warm soup, trying to keep a nonchalant face while wrestling with an (emotional) noisy Soul.

... i haven’t felt like this in a long time.

You were so cute. His nasal ride wrinkled, and he pinched the soup spoon a bit tighter, restraining the urge to grab your cheek- he felt bad for not being able to stop thinking about how cute you looked, when you were so unwell. But he couldn’t help it. All snuggled up in blankets, hair frizzy and unkempt, glasses askew, flushed and warm... you had a twinkly, glazed look to your eyes, not too dissimilar from the look people got when they were drunk. He’d been fighting the urge to ruffle your hair this whole time.

...

Sans bit his tongue. This was mundane, compared to his normal life. Some might even consider it a chore. But... he hadn’t felt this nice in so long. He felt... useful. Wanted.

When was the last time someone had been openly, willingly, weak around him? When was the last time someone was in a state of fragility, and wanted him nearby?

Mushy feelings filled his chest. Soft. Overprotective. He was hyper-aware of how sick you were and he didn’t want to leave your side, not even for a second, not even to go home. Even just acknowledging those emotions made colour rise to his cheekbones... he hadn't felt anything like this level of protectiveness since Pap was just a babybones.

... But damn... it felt good to be needed.

...

Warm fingers curled around his hand.

He very nearly jumped out of his fucking seat at the sensation- he fumbled the soup spoon, mumbling out a little ‘shit’ as he broke out of his thoughts, turning to look at you. 

... Your tiny hand was wrapped around two of his phalanges. Sparkly eyes peered up at him.

fuck. His Soul thudded in his throat. don’t look away from me.

"... h-hey. c'mon." His voice was shaky. "that ain't fair."

"Huh?" Came your bleary reply. so fucking cute. stop it.

"you've stolen my hand, doll."

... You looked to his captured hand, slowly. Like you only just realised you had it.

...

"... Mine now." You mumbled.

...

He tried to muster up a quick joke, like always. Tried to come up with a sharp-witted response. Something with swagger, something with a flirtatious edge, something with confidence that would show you how cool and collected he was. 

...

Nothing came out of his mouth. It was like trying to start an empty car.

“... o-oh.”

...

"... You're great." You said, eyes fluttering closed.

"... huh?"

"Great guy. Handsome guy. Nice to me." It didn't sound like you intended those thoughts to be said out loud. He felt his eyelights flare- his Soul was thumping against his ribs.

Words banged at his tongue, but the only sound he managed to get out was a tiny shaking hum of affirmation.

You drew his hand up toward your face, he absolutely had the strength to stop you but he felt like he’d been flashbanged. All he could do was watch... as turned on your side to get cosy, pulled up his hand to your face... and happily nuzzled the back of it.

“My big guy.” You murmured.

...

Just like that, you were asleep.

...

Sans used his free hand to cover his face. His whole skull was carmine red, glowing like a campfire. It made him look almost as feverish as you.

...

i never want to leave.

[okkalo]

morning workout

sae x reader

genre(s): fluff

warnings: none

I WANNA WRITE FOR RIN SO BAD BUT I ALREADY HAVE SO MUCH RIN SO IM TRYING TO EVEN IT OUT AND IT SUCKS BC RIN WOULD BE SO CUTE IN THIS SCENARIO

“sae…i think i’m actually about to die,” you claimed in between your tired pants, hands resting on your waist. sae could only roll his eyes at your statement, which wasn’t even close to the first one this morning.

“you’re the one who wanted to join my morning workout,” he mentioned while watching your exhausted form. “besides, you’re on your last set anyways.”

when you begged sae to let you accompany him to the gym this morning you were expecting nice couple time. maybe even a time to watch him sweat and show his muscles. besides, you’ve heard how working out can make you feel better. so, of course you persisted on joining sae this morning.

big mistake. it was sae’s leg day and he gave you the same workouts as his, of course with less weights. that didn’t make it any easier.

so here you were, on the last set of your weighted squats feeling the immense aching of your legs. “my legs won’t do another one, sae.” you finally got over your heavy breathes, meeting his eyes.

“this is the last workout of today, you can do it. and if you really can’t then i’m right behind you. i won’t let you get hurt,” he tried to compromise, knowing how much you looked forward to this morning. it made you feel warm—well, warmer than you were—seeing him actually care enough to try to push you a little.

“you’ve already hurt me with this workout, babe,” you sighed, letting your hands fall to your sides as you looked towards the bar. he walked up, stopping in front of you and letting his hand meet your cheek while he occupied your other cheek with a kiss. he gave you a small push to make you look at him.

“ten more, you’re so close,” was all he could say, struggling to come up with more inspiration to give you. really, him saying anything at all was a lot coming from him though. knowing this you gave him a hesitant nod, walking out of his hold to the squat rack—you’re new worst enemy.

“don’t let me die here, please,” you added, dipping your head to the other side of the bar, adjusting your hands as you saw fit. you took a minute to breathe and ready yourself, sae giving you a small squeeze on your hip as you did so.

“i’m right here,” was all you needed to hear before you took your last breathe and lifted the bar. it was a painfully long last set, your legs shaking each time you pushed yourself up. sae noticed, hands carefully hovering around your figure as he mumbled the count. he immediately took the bar once you finished, taking the weight off of you.

“good job,” he gave a muttered praise, hand meeting your back as you went back into your earlier position. he leaned forward to give you another kiss on your flushed cheek before retreating to take the weights off the bar.

“sae, never let me join you again,” you struggled to say in between your breathes, watching as he put the equipment away. “i’m so glad i’m done.”

“we still have to do our cooldown stretches,” he reminded you, prompting a long and loud whine to escape your lips.

unedited thanks for reading!

[adventuringblind]

Picking at my Sins

Oscar piastri x reader

Genre: Angst, smut?

Summary: Reader comes from a religious background and struggles with self worth. Oscar is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: religious trauma, alluded to SH, panic attacks, talks of sex

Notes: mmmmmm definitely not self projecting or anything

Masterlist

The one thing nobody teaches in church is that innocence is simply a construct in the human mind. No one is ever truly innocent. Especially those who you expect to always love and respect you. The ones who preach to always follow the rules.

They turned their back on her. A mistake that wasn't even hers led to her entire church turning their backs on her. She was left to fend with nothing. Her parents were facing the same issue, only they were the ones who started it.

It was for that reason she left.

She wouldn't call herself innocent. Simply inexperienced. She knows what she would like to try but hasn't been able to do so.

She was alone for so long. A new place makes it hard to make friends. Especially since she has a religious background, people tend to immediately think the worst.

She met Oscar in October of 2022. It was cold and rainy that evening. She needed something from the store, and she didn't have a car, so she'd settled for walking in the torrential down pour.

Alcohol. She needed alcohol after a lengthy conversation with her mom that didn't end well and a ten hour shift at a job she gets minimum wage for. Then, to feed her depressed mood, she went to the nearest park with a pretty view, sat on the bench, and drank straight from the bottle.

She's not sure how long she'd been here, but it was long enough that she was shivering and drenched. The liquor barely touched. How had religion touched that, too? Why does she feel sick at the idea of putting her mouth to the bottle?

The park is deserted, and she assumes that it'll remain that way. It doesn't. And at some point, a male comes running towards her. He's probably just out for some kind of workout he can't pause even for the weather.

She assumes he'll run right by her. He doesn't. Imstead he stops to make conversation. Then he sits with her. Then they walk together to somewhere out of the rain.

That is how she found herself talking to the Australian any moment she got. It's how she made a friend who didn't care that she couldn't stomach eating food at times because it could cause imperfections. A friend who let her rant about her ridiculous situation.

Then, a friend became a lover. He asked her out in January. He asked her to that same park which they had met months earlier. He told her they didn't have to do anything quickly. That he was willing to help her figure it out. He truly saw her for who she was and wanted to continue having stupid conversations and finding weird locations to explore.

She worked through things slowly. Many panic attacks were had. The first time she dyed her hair, she cried. Her first time wearing clothes that revealed more than they should have, she also cried. She couldn't even wear them out due to the sheer amount of overwhelming feelings.

Then she left to travel with Oscar. He dragged her around the world with him. Asking nothing in return aside from loving him unconditionally and being his pillar through the stress of a rookie season.

He was so gentle through everything. Honest with her about every misconception she had about life. Reminded her daily that being herself wasn't a sin.

The one thing she hadn't been able to get past was intimacy. It is the most taboo subject to speak about in a church. Aside from hearing that it's bad unless you're married. If it happens any other way, then you'd be punished. Shunned by all. Labeled as wicked and disgusting.

Hand holding was the first step. That came pretty easy while they were friends even. Then he kissed her and she kissed back and even though she was clumsy it was amazing.

The kiss was followed by the first of many panic attacks. A nasty thing that had her wailing and clawing at her skin.

Eventually, she got past that. Though she picked up new habits that probably weren't the best. Oscar made it a point to keep her hands occupied in more productive ways. Even if it felt childish like coloring in a colorbook. They went through three of them in a month. It became a way that they both relax.

She felt herself getting more comfortable with touch after that. Even getting far enough to get clothes off.

And then she wanted to have him completely. He was so gentle through the entire thing. Always asking how she felt. The girl felt utterly clueless and fumbled with everything, but she didn't panic. Maybe it was the overwhelming feeling of love that kept those dark thoughts out of her brain.

It was a month later that it all came crashing down. Her parents had found her. They showed up at her flat while Oscar was there.

She'd never seen the Aussie so defensive. He'd always been so laid back. Until she watched him tell her parents to get out in a horrifyingly stern voice.

It didn't matter, though. The damage had already been done. They'd already yelled about how awful she'd become. The female had just hung her head and listened. It came like muscle memory.

Oscar did get them out eventually. They left in a flurry of shouts as Oscar closed the door and locked it. Then he started from square one again.

That's when the panic attacks during sex started. She couldn't stop the thoughts. They snuck up on her. One second, she was in bliss, and the next, she was trying to claw her skin off her body. The overwhelming disgust with herself seemed to set in after that.

But Oscar was there, every time. He would hold her. Get her cleaned up. Place bandages where her nails had managed to rip skin. Then he’d occupy her mind with anything far away from the topics of intimacy and sex. He’d let her initiate contact so he didn’t scare her.

Sometime, he gets asked by friends (Lando) about his personal life. Why the two aren’t often see going out together. Why she prefers to do a shot then drink mocktails for the rest of the night.

And Oscar always gives the same over used response. “Cause I’d rather see her smiling then picking herself apart over make believe sins.”

[3rinbkk]

taehyung’s masterlist 🤎

SERIES

maybe I do by @chateautae 

genre: arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst.  summary: maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding Kim Taehyung, arguably Seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage o eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all. 

no kisses by @icedmatchatae

genre: fwb au-ish, enemies to frienemies? with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, angst.  summary: it’s championship week! the most anticipated week of the school year; however, reading up to the events, you and your council must collaborate with the football team to promote school spirit and pride. unfortunately, you’re forced to work with your number one enemy, football team captain and fuck boy, Kim Taehyung, known for having a mysterious “no kisses2 rule. 

ONE SHOTS

heatwave by @curly-bangtan 

genre: roommate au, friends to lovers au (f2l), smut, angst if you squint, attempt at sparse crack.  summary: when is hit with a heatwave, and the air conditioning at your shared place coincidentally malfunctions, you star to go a little crazy at your shit luck because there’s nothing you hate more than clammy pits, while Taehyung goes a little crazy thinking you’re trying to seduce him with your tiny shorts and popsicle-sucking skills. 

work out for me by @chateautae

genre: established relationship au, boyfriend!tae, workout!tae, pwp, filthy smut, maybe fluff if you squint real hard.  summary: interrupting your boyfriend’s workout session was either the best mistake you made, or the worst... especially for your legs. 

if it’s not you by @mercurygguk

genre: exes to lovers au, smut, angst, a bit of fluff.  summary: Kim Taehyung grew up watching his parents fall more in love for each day that passed and he always longed for that great, passionate love himself. but if it’s not you? then he doesn’t want it. 

crazy for you by @oddinary4bts 

genre: best friend’s older brother to lovers, a little bit of fake dating trope, idol!au, angst, smut, fluff, snippets of life. summary: you’ve known Kim Taehyung your whole life. when you meet again at a party hosted by your best friend, alcohol looses your lips and you spill your secrets to your childhood crush. will Taehyung give in to to your desire, or will you be struck by remorse?

DRABBLES

heatwave drabbles by @curly-bangtan

[call-me-a-simp]

No One Hates You More Than I Do

Talk It Out (Part 6)

Enemies to lovers (Rhea Ripley x fem. Reader):

You're a well known wrestler in WWE and Rhea is your worst enemy. You hate each other in and outside of the ring. Rhea always flirts with you, not that she means it, she just knows it makes you furious and wants to annoy you. But one day everything changes and you start to feel like all of this isn't a joke anymore and that there might actually be something between you two.

You get ready for work and head out the door, grabbing an energy drink from the nearby grocery store on your way. It was a pretty chill day, only a few interviews and more prepping stuff for the upcoming show where they plan to reveal you as the new member of The Judgement Day.

That evening after work you decide to attend the local gym as you didn't have time for you daily workout yet. You don't notice the person following you in your tired state. You probably wouldn't have noticed them at all if they wouldn't have let you known they're there during one of your breaks between some reps.

Rhea's eyes follow you the whole day, noticing your tired expression and weak body from the lack of sleep and proper food. She doesn't even try to deny her being worried about you. So after you left work she decides to follow you. Keeping a safe distance with her car until she sees you enter the towns local gym. She parks her car in a nearby parking lot where she is able to see if you would leave the building again or not.

Sitting there in silence she thinks about her feelings towards you and your reaction when she told you. It made her wonder if you secretly felt the same and just also had difficulties expressing that. After about twenty minutes she finally worked up the courage to confront you with her thoughts and theories so she gets out the car and walks over to the building you're in.

It doesn't take her long to find you since it's a fairly small area with quite few people being there at that time. She waits until you're taking a break to speak to you.

"Hey" you hear a familiar voice and look up. It was Rhea. "What do you want? Can't you see that I'm busy right now?" you attack her annoyed. "Sorry to bother you.." she raises her arms in defence and looks hurt at your reaction, which makes you feel guilty almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm just very tired." you mumble and sigh. "What is it Ripley? What are you here for?" "I just wanted to talk about.. some uh.. thoughts of mine.." Rhea admits and blushes.

"Fine by me, want to tell me while I finish my reps?" You ask her. "I'd prefer to wait until we're alone, but I can spot you and maybe give you some tips until then?" Rhea responds in a questioning tone. You shrug and nod.

About half an hour later you're walking out of the gym together. "My apartment is almost right around the corner, wanna meet there?" You turn to look at Ripley. "Bet I'll be there first!" Rhea playfully smirks at you and runs off to her car. You didn't notice you were smiling at her actions until you accidentally saw your reflection on the car window. You quickly replace it with a neutral look and shake your head at your behaviour. Why were you smiling at her stupid jokes?

Five minutes later you unlock your front door where Rhea was already waiting for you. Opening it you begin to question yourself if this might be a mistake, if Rhea was just acting nice to land a critical hit on you. You brush it off as your normal overthinking and hold the door open for your guest.

"I haven't cleaned today or anything so please don't mind the mess.." you mumble more to yourself than to her. Rhea hums and follows you to the big main room, consisting of living room and kitchen at the same time. "I'm gonna order some pizza, you want something too?" You ask without turning around to her. "I'm good, thanks" she denies your offer. She then patiently waits until your done with the phone call before speaking up again.

"So uhm.. like I said I wanted to talk about some of my thoughts with you because i feel the urge to clarify some things but now that I'm actually here it's harder than I originally thought.." your counterpart admits awkwardly.

"Tomorrow's a holiday which means no work which means we've got all night" you shrug and turn around to her with a little smile that's meant to reassure her. Your eyes meet and you can see her relax a little more. You smile at each other and you walk over to the couch, signaling Rhea to come sit next to you.

"Maybe it'll be easier if we don't start with it right away and instead focus on something else. For example finally getting over our egos and start working together for real this time." you say with a serious undertone in your voice. Rhea nods but avoids looking directly at you.

"You're right" she eventually says and lifts up her gaze, meeting yours. "I'm sorry for treating you bad all these years, even after I thought we got over our problems. I somehow couldn't help but spread rumors about you, which again, leads us to why I wanted to talk to you so bad" she sighs.

"I know.." you whisper. "And to be honest.. I kinda feel drawn to you too.." There's a few moments of silence until you continue. "It just confuses me because I never felt this way with another woman before. Does that mean I'm a lesbian now?"

Rhea breaks out laughing and you can't help but chuckle too. "If you're still attracted to men then no, it does not make you a lesbian" Ripley laughs but then gets serious again. "So you do like me back?" she wants to clarify, praying she didn't interpret your words the wrong way.

"I- I don't know, like, the sex we had was pretty damn good I have to admit, and I wouldn't complain if we did it again.." you shyly look at her, nervously chuckling as an attempt to calm the anxiety a little. Seeing her eyes lighten up at those words and the little smile that sneaks into her face makes you feel a certain warmth and ease inside. "I.. guess we could try.." you whisper, breaking eye contact as you can feel the heat rush into your cheeks.

"So- uh.. you're saying you think you do like me back and that you're willing to date me, like.. seriously?" Rhea asks completely overwhelmed. "God damn it, yes, you idiot!" You exclaim and wrap your hands around her neck kissing her.

You both smile into the kiss and you lean back, pulling Rhea on top of yourself as you lay down. "I still fucking hate you for what you've done, just to be clear" you murmur against her lips and she chuckles in response. "And what do you want me to do about it now.." she then teases you. "Maybe fuck you so hard you just forget about it?" she smirks at you. "Mmh.. maybe?" you whisper and smirk back at her.

Rhea kisses you again and begins to trail kisses along your jawline and down to the crook of your neck. Slipping one of her legs between yours, she presses her body down against your own, creating a friction that makes you moan softly.

But before it could go any further the doorbell rings, and you push Rhea off of yourself with a grin. You liked that you were able to make her horny and now she got to wait. She looks back at you pouting, but eventually smiles at you as she watches you come back, already with a mouth full of pizza.

"God I just can't be mad at you" she sighs and guides you to sit between her legs with your back against her chest. "I'll turn on a movie okay?" she says softly and kisses your temple while reaching for the tv remote.

----------------------------------------------------------

I AM SO INCREDIBLY SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING Y'ALL FOR SO LONG!!! I don't know what's going on with me at the moment myself or I would have explained it to you, but ye, hope you enjoy and I'll try to write more now :)

Taglist: @specialinterestshows @butterfly12347 @billiewherearetheavocados @lomlrhea @hatdog96 @plk-18 @babybatlover @wiccanpriestess @kagome2909 @domlynch

[0h-sk1nny-lov3]

I used to be skinny, I was really deep into a4a but recovered. WORST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE. I currently weight 188 lbs and I feel like absolute crap. I am starting back up my habits. I need to get back in shape. I’m going to count cals, start running again, doing cardio and workouts, I need to get rid of this fat. Wish me luck y’all and gimme me4nsp0 and th!n$po plzzz

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 2: I've Said Too Much

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Content Warnings: Usual COD content (violence, torture, death, guns), mutual pining, back from the dead, friends to allies to lovers, Reader is GN, some use of Y/N.

Chapter 1 // Masterlist // AO3 Version // Chapter 3

You were dropped off like kids at school, waving off the heli as its blades cast pulses of air across the natural landscape, your uniforms rippling against the swift tide. Your ride floated back into the air and swivelled back the way it came. Fading fast, your ears still strained to hear its farewell whilst you adjusted your vest strap so that it was tucked away and irritating you no longer.

Thus began the hike. You thanked your workout regimen that you were able to power-walk up an incline whilst carrying a heavy duty rucksack and replying to any remark made your way.

Any other day, you’d probably appreciate a walk through these forests. Pine trees thick and brusque, blocking anyone from spotting your team but preventing you from seeing them as well. Overcast clouds of the early evening aided your cover into night and meant you didn’t have to carry around sunscreen, force it on your teams whilst they squinted and whined about it, bunch of babies. Another saving grace was your boots, broken in enough that you never received blisters.

One of Čiernik’s lieutenants, an arm’s dealer called Markovič that he’d collaborated with more and more frequently over the past two years, was rumoured to be at this location, and his identity had been pinged crossing the border. Your first step was to reach the safehouse, an apartment in the town Fraleni, where Markovič was known to frequent, and intercept him on his biweekly visit to the only bar (called Los Gatos) tomorrow night. That was the worst thing to do as someone who wanted to remain under the radar: follow a strict routine.

“Makes you wonder what level of stupidly confident they are,” Crash muttered when you revealed this yesterday.

You had to agree, but not without its own warning: “As long as you don’t make the mistake of acting the same.”

Of course you were suspicious of this routine. Whether it was a trap or not, that remained to be seen. But you were prepared for that potential outcome – as prepared as you could be. Ever the restless beast, your mind ran with every outcome it could come up with.

After two hours, you let someone else lead the way – they’d read the maps, checked their compasses. Meanwhile, you played tail end Charlie for the next hour, watching how the two teams were becoming one. Soap and Bronze were directly in front of you – a few feet ahead, chatting about scars on their arms and their sources. Gaz and Crash, as expected, were next up but included Chance in their talk, occasionally reaching Ghost near the front. Price was leading the way now.

Respite from the growing risk assessments let you wonder when Price had adopted this new kind of hat. He’d had a baseball cap not unlike yours and Garrick’s. As a matter of fact, he borrowed one from you the last few missions you had together. You collected it from his bunk the day he was designated KIA, weeping on the bedsheets with it clasped to your chest as if it could reach and heal your heart, bring him back so you could annoy him into giving it back. It now sat folded and burning a hole in your back pocket.

“How do you know Price?”

Ghost, in your little thought tangent, had drawn back to step beside you. His strides were still longer than yours but you could sense his deliberate hesitation to go at full-steam ahead.

“We worked together, ‘just under a decade back. How’d you two cross paths?”

“Met him being assessed to become a Sergeant, then he brought me into the 141 four years ago.”

“Ah.” You didn’t really know what else to say, nor did you want to add anymore. In your brief time with the Lieutenant, and having pieced together pieces of his reputation, you figured he’d probably appreciate your mutual silence.

Not so mutual, it seemed.

“You’ve been after Čiernik for two years?”

“Three, five if you count the theory crafting.”

“I do.”

“Five it is.”

“That why Price didn’t get you on 141?”

A nervous itch began to whisper that Price had talked about you to the 141, and up until yesterday you’d been a name without a face.

“You’d have to ask him that,” You replied after that brief sabbatical into your thoughts.

“Hey Ghost!” Soap was walking with his head craned around as he yelled back, “You playin’ nice?”

“On my best behaviour,” Ghost replied, his Mancunian accent adding a natural humour to his words.

Soap barked out a laugh at that, and Chance followed up with: “Is that so, Captain?”

“Hmm, he’s gonna get a gold star for his manners,” You said.

Just as this steepness was causing you to break a sweat, your team found the vehicle left for you by an ally, a van with tinted windows. A view from the ridge revealed Fraleni nestled at the foot of the hill, with more modern amenities spreading over and out of the bowl of the valley, miniscule windows glowing in the dusk.

Gaz volunteered to drive, letting the rest of the team fight over the passenger seat, then the rest loading up into the back whilst Bronze enjoyed his seatbelt privileges.

“Last time I got in a car with Ghost at the wheel, crushed two guys with the truck bed and almost gave me whiplash,” Soap said to you, his grin boastful.

Ghost blinked slowly at this short story, “Got us out alive.”

The pride in Soap’s smile was still bold as brass, “You sure did.”

And even you could tell that Ghost was likely smiling beneath the balaclava. It vanished when the van bounced like a see saw, everyone letting out noises of distaste to drown out Gaz’s apology.

Backroads and their bumps brought you into the town. Tiny pavements kept the residence confined to it, and no one paid any mind to your vehicle as it weaved around under Bronze’s directions until it turned straight into a garage, the shutters locking in almost immediately after. Efficient, just the way you liked it, and exactly how you filed into the apartment above, scouting just in case. Plaster was spread across the walls like buttercream on a decorator’s first cake. Sparse decoration made the space feel less homely than if everything was bare, the thick layer of dust giving the safehouse apartment a haunting air. The only thing you could appreciate were the ornate rails at the windows, creating two Juliet balconies that perfectly overlooked

Los Gatos was populated with outdoor seating and a wall of glass that folded to leave it open to the unevenly paved street. The food looked miles better than the MRE awaiting your digestion; the smell wafted up across to your building, knocking on the glass. A foolish part of you suggested going down and grabbing some for the team tomorrow.

Satisfied with their initial survey, everyone gathered in the living room.

“Ghost-”

You stopped immediately, because someone was talking over you. Saying the exact same thing in fact. Price was mirroring your expression, his jaw ajar from cutting you off. The team flicked between you and Price like they were watching a discordant match of tennis, waiting for one to let the other score or take the point for themselves.

Within the following second, Price shifted his weight from one leg to the back with an apologetic expression, his hand gesturing to the team, “Your op.”

Why did him passing the mantle back to you feel so irritating? Childishly you wanted to disagree, offer the reply of “your team”. But it was technically your operation, not the polite Olympics. Last thing you needed was your team – now technically both Banshee and 141 – getting the wrong idea about chain of command out here. It was your call.

You started over: “Ok, Ghost, get on the radio to Laswell and update her. Crash and Bronze, set up the perimeter. Gaz, set up sightlines by the windows for where we’ll take watch in slots. Soap, Chance, check the house’s layout for the exits, any dead ends. Once that’s done, we’ll get started on the MREs and organise a schedule for taking watch.”

Murmurs of “yes, Captain” and “on it” followed, bags dumped in the centre of the room before they scuttled off to fulfil their orders. You counted them as they went and landed back on Price who was adjusting a familiar knife handle on his right shoulder.

“What about me?” He asked, still with that relaxed manner meant to appease.

“Come check the plans with me.”

Upon the tiny island countertop, you spread out the plans that had been hiding in your bag’s front pocket. Price stood beside you, and you didn’t ignore how he leant in just a little before speaking.

“I think I owe you an explanation.” His voice was low, his eyes on the others in the room and if they were close enough to hear him. Only you were; a few inches between you and the brim of the boonie left you feeling both discomfited and desiring to lean in further. For fuck’s sake.

Though Price’s words were vague, you knew he was referring to your “unfinished business” – not the mishap over leadership just then, the fact that he’d been KIA in your mind longer than it was a misprint on official documents. Even if the desire to do so was there, you gave no time to playing coy or dumb, especially after such a hike and with so much ahead.

“You don’t need to tell me anything. I read what happened,” You said as you pulled out the blueprints of Los Gatos.

“You did?” Price’s expression and tone were a cross between incredulous and amused.

You remained as neutral as possible, “I requested your file, amongst your team’s. I like to know who I’m working with.”

Ok, that was unintentionally scathing. As you felt the words cross your lips, you felt an edge appear in the final few words to pass judgement on the man in front of you, the kind of man not to tell his best friend he’s not actually dead.

Price’s voice softened, “You’re angry.”

You were four days ago, reading that file of his, redacted areas held up to the light, a stiff drink cooling your palm and soothing your raw throat.

“I’m fine.” Weariness was slipping into your body language, out of the mask, so you adjusted and straightened up your posture. “I’m ready to go over the plans and get this sorted.”

“It’s long overdue, but-” A soft sigh popcorned in Price’s lungs. He must still be a smoker “-I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

That was at least partly true. His capture wasn’t his fault. The last time you heard him being a cry of pain in your earpiece then static wasn’t his fault. Your final moment replaying over and over in your mind, torturing you with every instance you could have intervened, possible or otherwise whilst knowing it was impossible to change it, that wasn’t his fault.

But the years between his return to the SAS and this moment were his fault. What you read about him doing in that span, those were his fault. Most of them were good things: preventing worldwide panic, catastrophe, terrorist attacks. But that long list of achievements and commendations did not report his decision to not reach out and relieve you of the pain you were in. Never sending news of his return, never inviting you to join the 141, never asking you to be a part of his life again.

And, again, you weren’t angry. You had been, and you’d also been devastated that you had evidently meant so little to him when he’d meant more than the world to you. But your head was clear, now that you had missed and mourned for Price longer than you’d known him. The whole ordeal put to bed from your point of view; you just wish he would do the same, for both your sakes.

Price didn’t press for whether you accepted or dismissed his apology, just let you have it and continue with the task at hand.

“Gaz’ll do well down there tomorrow, and Bronze too. I want Soap as sniper, just as a precaution. Chance too. You, Crash and Ghost can intercept in these paths should he make a break for it. I’ll be in the car, ready to take him to the rendezvous for questioning, or for back-up should you need it.”

Price’s affirming nods and hums to your plans were welcomed. They weren’t necessary, neither was his perspective on the plans that you knew were fine. Yet you’d asked for them anyway. Something to consider later.

After another quarter of an hour, you released him to join the others, who’d returned with their duties complete, reported to you their findings, and were opening their MREs – which gave Price an excuse to use that daft pair of scissors he insisted on carrying around with him. You stayed at the counter whilst they cooked, updating your thoughts in your ring-binder notepad. Soap did the same, except his was less tallies and more drawings from the brief glimpse you caught in the tattered leather jacket. You didn’t linger on him, busying yourself with your alone time six feet from the hubbub around the makeshift hobs.

It came to an end all too fast but you didn’t enter this profession for alone time. Chance brought you your plate – some kind of curry - which you accepted then followed her back to the group. No space on the sofas (cushions or arms) so you leant against the wall instead. You were still stirring your meal around in your mess tray when everyone else had finished.

“Captain?” You glanced up to see Chance holding up a deck of cards. “Shithead, you in?”

A short smile brushed across your face, “Sure.”

“I haven’t played in ages!” Gaz said in a tone of hushed awe.

Chance sifted through the deck carefully to check all cards were present, “Crash taught us. She can remind you.”

Already ahead of him, Crash eagerly explained to Soap who’d forgotten the rules and Gaz who was just along for the verbal ride. You let yourself get dealt in, joining around the coffee table. Ghost volunteered for first watch; you had a sneaking suspicion he would sweep the floor everyone if he got the chance to play later on. For the three rounds of Shithead, you were safe from embarrassment. Soap was the first Shithead, then Chance twice which she blamed on being sat beside Crash – merciless and high on breaking her four times Shithead streak.

Settling for the night, the team began choosing their spots on the floor, opting for the biggest room together rather than spread out into the minute bedroom. And if anyone opted to sleep on the bathroom floor, you would’ve asked for a psych eval the second you returned to your base.

You were woken up once, and you rolled over away, trying your best not to notice Price having words with Ghost during their shift swap.

Stirring again at what felt like seconds later, your watch quickly disproved this notion and informed you that it was two minutes until your watch. For that first minute, you continued to lay back, your eyes taking turns to be closed to prevent falling asleep again. The second minute started with you rubbing your eyes and pushing up from your sleeping bag. Then you glanced to where your next two hours would be

Price was sat against the wall, one knee bent, the dull light of his cigar softly illuminating his moustache and nose, but nothing more – attracting no unwanted attention from the street below.

“My turn, scoot.” Awoken somewhere in your muscle memory, your boot gently poked him on the ankle.

Price arched his back with a groan, his shoulder blades crunching as he did so. Then he grappled with his knee to stand up and swap spots with you.You restrained the urge to roll your eyes, the way you used to when he used to put on this act, sounding like a grandad getting out of his easy chair. He was fine. Fit as a damn fiddle.

“Nothing to report,” He whispered gruffly before taking your space on the floor.

Your back guided you down against the wall, and you drilled your stare through the glass. Seconds rolled over one another as you stared at the marmalade glaze that emitted from the scattered lampposts and coated the road. A snore arose from one of the many sleeping bags bundled around your fellow officers. Then another. You sighed in time with the third. Long night ahead.

_______________________________________

AN: Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! I saw the MW3 trailer and I’m Stressed™ about it. I just want all my boys n gals to live!!! That being said, it'll probably motivate me to keep writing, so that I can finish this before the game comes out and if Price dies, y'all have content whilst I go into mourning.

Taglist: @mockerycrow

[hopefulromances]

About "Long time coming" delete scenes and their future, can you please write something about the reader getting a call-up to the World Cup (I don't know if the timeline adds up) and Jamie following her Journey towards the final despite the time difference between Australia and England and him comforting her when she comes back after losing 1-0 to Spain, you can ignore it if you want to <3

OMG This is such a good idea!!!!!!!

We're gonna pretend the timeline adds up cause this is such a good idea omg.

A Long TIme Coming drabble

In the year since Richmond had started the Lady Greyhounds, I'd never been happier. When I got the news that I was chosen for England's International Women's team for the World Cup, I just about lost it.

My skills had come back strong, and the whole country seemed to be talking about (Y/N) (L/N)'s amazing season as the captain of the Greyhounds, leading the team to a third place finish in their first year in the league. But even still I hadn't expected to be recognized with a call up so soon.

The first person you'd rushed to tell was Jamie, of course. The men's team practiced simultaneously as the women's. They'd built onto the club to make a locker room and shower for the women but we all worked out of the same place.

After training that day I'd gone over to the men's locker room, running over to find Jamie as soon as I could.

"Jamie!" I called out, running into the room.

He turned and caught me in his arms, excited to see me. "Hey, love! How was training."

He loved seeing her so happy. In all the times she'd been working with the coaches, he'd never seen her so relaxed and happy before.

"Jamie, I was called up for the international team! I'm gonna play in the Women's World Cup!" I told him, smiling from ear to ear.

Jamie's face lit up as he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up off the floor. The rest of the lads gave me a cheer as well but I only saw him.

"(Y/N) (L/N), you legend!" He squeezed you tight. "I'm so proud of you, kid."

Jamie wasn't able to come with her to Australia, unfortunately. But he kept up with every game. The time difference between England and Australia is 9 hours. Meaning when the game started at 4pm in Australia it was 7am in England.

But Jamie was up already from his workout with Roy and would be at the home watching the game until the last second, then even when he'd gotten to the club, he was checking his phone every few minutes, checking the score.

I only got 15 minutes of play time near the end of the match against the Matilda's and we were already up 3-1 but the Tillies still put up a fight against us.

When I got on the bus after the game, I immediately got a phone call.

"What a match!" Jamie shouted over the phone. I had to pull the phone away as I smiled. Milly, my bus buddy, chuckled as she gave me a knowing smirk. We could both hear Jamie's rambling about the stats and the players and the minutes played. I just blushed and smirked back at Milly.

The worst was when we played Spain. Again, Jamie couldn't come with me. I thought I was going to be disappointed when we won and he wasn't there. But it was worse when we lost. Worse because then I had to wait until we got home to see him and that was almost more unbearable. I could just see him with his sad puppy eyes waiting to comfort me. I didn't want comfort.

I mean I did. But not from him, I was embarrassed. I'd flubbed a pass in my limited time on the field, and I felt the sting of guilt radiating off of me. Though my mistake hadn't directly lead to a goal, I couldn't help but wonder if I hadn't would we have won.

But in the end, Spain was just a better team. They were fantastic, and played extremely well. Jamie didn't call me after the match, he just sent me a text saying how proud he was of me and that he'd seem me when I got home. I was dreading it. The sympathy and pity that would spill out. Jamie Tartt didn't lose games.

Okay, that wasn't true Jamie Tartt had lost a lot of games. But for some reason I was embarrassed that I had lost this game. The car pulled up outside my house and I just had to wait. Forcing myself to stand outside the front door as I worked up the courage to go inside.

The house was weirdly quiet. That was until I walked into the kitchen.

"Surprise!" Jamie jumped out, blowing a noise maker. Above the table, Jamie had hung the same 'Congrats' banner that I'd gotten for him. On the table was a cake and pizza, all the food I wasn't allowed to eat during the season along with a bouquet of all my favorite flowers.

I stared at the set up, all my favorite things, and my favorite person, wearing my jersey. But all I could do was cry. I burst into tears, my bags falling to the ground as I tried to cover my face. Jamie's face fell immediately and he threw his little party hat onto the counter as he raced towards me.

"What's the matter? What'd I do?" he calmed, taking me in his arms. I let out a sob, terrified at the thought that he thought he did something wrong. "Ah! No, it's okay, it's okay, love. What is it? The flowers? I told Roy that you liked daisies and not tulips."

I shook my head, wiping away the tears. "No, no, no, Jamie, no." I reached out and took his cheeks in my hands, needing to feel his skin. "No, you did nothing wrong, you're so amazing. This is amazing."

"I'm just... I was just..." I pouted, the very image of a pity case. "I was expecting you to be all sympathetic and sad for me. And here you are just..." I gestured wildy. "Ready to be excited for me."

"Why would I be sad?" Jamie asked, cocking his head. "England got second in the whole world. That's amazing."

He was right, of course. Here I'd been guilting myself and beating myself up over a lost game. My lip quivered.

"Thank you, Jamie," I said, smally.

He shook his head, chuckling as he pulled me into his chest. I wrapped my arms around his waist, reveling in his strength, the way his arms squeezed me with just the right amount of pressure.

"I'm dead proud of you, really am, kid," he murmured into my ear. "You were bloody brilliant."

And I believed him.