#but i think it’ll be nice to have a sort of series like that

[ginnyw-potter]

Return to Hogwarts

a microfic series for the prompts of September @ginnystrophyhusband

prompt: cloth

7. Matching Outfits

“Come over here,” Ginny asked Harry from her secluded corner in the common room. She had just received a package. “Mum’s started on some Christmas outfits.”

“Isn’t it a bit early?” Harry asked.

Ginny shook her head as she bent over something on the table. “Not when you have seven—six kids.”

Harry came up behind her and kissed her temple to soothe her for that painful correction. “How am I involved?”

“Well, she is making matching outfits per couple. A dress for me and a button-down shirt for you in the same fabric.” She showed the picture of a cute tartan dress that was worn over a cosy-looking sweater. “So she sent along pieces of cloth and we need to decide which one we want.”

“Oh.”

Ginny looked up at him and frowned. “You look startled. Were you planning to break up with me before the holidays or something?” she asked lightly.

“No,” he said. “Of course not,” he reiterated. “It’s nice that they see us as a couple.”

Her frown grew deeper. “What does that mean? Because my mum definitely does because she keeps telling me not to let you convince me to do stupid, irresponsible things,” she rambled.

“Such as?” he asked with a teasing smile as he neared her lips.

“Pick which fabric you like,” she told him firmly.

He looked over her shoulder at the pieces she had laid out. “What about this?”

“No, absolutely not,” Ginny said after a quick glance at what he had indicated. “This one?” she said, pointing at the one left to it.

“Sure,” he said.

“That’s not it,” she told him. “I was just testing you.”

He started to think she had sorted them from nicest on the right to worst on the left. He pointed to the one on the right. “This?”

She gasped, looking up excitedly. “That’s my favourite it too. Thanks, I’ll write mum back right away!” She gathered the pieces and put them back in the box.

“Hey, Gin.”

“Hm?” she replied without looking up.

“I think it’ll look really cute on you.”

She beamed at him and he leaned in for a kiss.

[syluses]

Whenever i learn zayne + xavier’s characters i really wanna do a multi LI fic in an apocalypse! au 😖

imagine the group of them acting as saviors, swooping mc up or meeting her in some other similar, very power-imbalanced way while she’s braving the dystopian world alone. maybe she starts off with her gege caleb; maybe she starts off with a catch-22-like sylus as her mentor/protector; but i especially like the idea of her just being taken under their collective wing, and then their group slowly crumbles apart when they realize they’re really really into this cute new addition to their gritty, blood-soaked lives— yet they’re not particularly comfy with the idea of the other guys capturing her full loyalty and affection before one claims it for himself.

Whenever HWWIW is complete (or even before, lol, it depends) i think i want to start a nice lil series like this hehe 👀

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 13

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You score tickets to a Penguins game for Michael’s birthday — but you have more than one way to celebrate in mind.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: I can’t always answer all of your lovely comments or reblogs, but thank you all so much!! I appreciate all the interactions you guys give this series💜

I’m sorry this wasn’t out yesterday! I got a migraine at work and then it just wouldn’t go away all day. It proceeded to stick around for a good chunk of this morning as well lol

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, violence at a hockey game, birthday blowjob (oral, m! receiving), pet names (sweetheart, honey)

not beta read

How you had been able to save enough money to afford the tickets really was beyond you. When Michael picked up your utility bill, you put the money you would have spent and put it into savings. You were then able to buy the tickets for the Penguins vs. Predators game at the PPG Paints Arena after saving for nearly two months.

“So…your birthday is coming up.” You ventured one night, rubbing a thumb into your palm.

He half groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “Don’t remind me.”

“So that’s a no to your gift then?”

His interest piqued, looking back over at you, eyebrow raised. “You got me something?”

You pulled the card out of your bag, “It’s a little early…but you’ll understand why in a moment.”

The card was quaint, with your sprawled handwriting with his name on the front. You hadn’t gotten physical tickets, so the inside of the card was empty, except for the heartfelt little note you had written. Then at the bottom was: you are now two Penguins vs. Predators tickets richer!

Michael read over the note a few more times, before looking back up at you and blinking. He brought a hand to the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” He said, still holding onto you.

“I wanted to.” You smiled and gave him a quick peck. “Not sure if you want to take Jack, or Jake maybe, but I wanted to give you enough notice in case you needed to take time.”

He scoffed like he was offended, “I’m taking you.”

Your smile grew, “Yeah?”

“Of course I’m gonna take you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing you again. “This was really nice of you, thank you.”

Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry I couldn’t do more. Once I’m a CPA—”

“None of that. This is a great gift and I’m looking forward to spending time with you.”

You nodded, taking in his genuine smile.

“I would like you to meet them. Jack and Jake, I mean. And a few other people from the hospital, in a more official manner than showing up for stitches.”

You smiled at him, but anxiety filled your chest at the thought. Jake was his surrogate step-son, and had been in Michael’s life since he was just a kid — you worried over the fact that you were much closer to Jake’s age. You wondered if he was the judgmental sort. And Jack. From everything you had heard about him, he was not likely to sugarcoat anything — if he didn’t like you, you’d know about it.

“I’d like to meet them.” You said, twisting your hands together.

As if sensing your unease, he kissed the side of your head. “They’ll love you.”

“I’m sure it’ll be nice to put all those rumors to rest.” You smirked, thinking back to how everyone hovered both times you had been at the hospital.

He chuckled, “All the people who need to know do now.”

Your face heated, thinking that you had done the same.

You swung your legs into his lap and cuddled close to him, “Good, I did too.”

—

The trek to Saturday was a busy one, hardly having time for each other. When Michael was working, you were studying, and when you were working, he was trying to occupy himself with mundane chores. By Wednesday night, he had showed up on your doorstep with takeout and a smile. You had thrown the door open and crashed your lips together, giggling and saying, “I missed you.”

You found a Penguins t-shirt in the back of your closet to wear for the occasion, slipping on a simple pair of jeans and your favorite sneakers.

You arrived at Michael's apartment with coffee and bagels — set to spend the majority of your day there while you waited for gametime. You lounged around and watched shitty tv reruns, and it was a welcomed lazy few hours for the both of you. Stolen kisses that left you wanting more, and soft touches that made you want to throw your plans out the window.

You ate dinner at a bar near the arena, excitement brewing at being to your first hockey game.

“I don’t wanna jinx it, so I’m just going to hope we have an enjoyable game.” You said, sipping your drink.

Michael chuckled, “Cheers to that.”

The arena was not overly packed, but it felt crowded navigating through the halls and to your seats. You had paid for decent seats, in the last row of the first floor, on one corner near the home bench.

Michael kissed you softly, “These are great seats.”

You beamed at him, and intertwined your fingers. He brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.

At puck drop, you traded conversation over predictions, and hoots and hollers at your favorite players. You laughed and held onto each other when the other team got too close to scoring. You cheered when the Penguins scored their first goal, standing with your hands in the air. You held your breath every time a fight broke out, squeezing Michael’s hand. And you enjoyed the way he knew the game well enough to make calls before the referee’s did — announcing “icing!” or “offside!” before the whistle blew.

During the first intermission, you went together to get a beer before heading back to your seats. The crowd around you was rowdy, but not uncomfortably so. You were enjoying the atmosphere.

Second period came with a few idiotic calls from the referee’s, but also another point for the Penguins. You cheered loud enough you feared you would lose your voice, and Michael watched you affectionately.

In the second intermission, you wandered off to get cheesy fries while Michael got another beer, and you met back at your seats. You were bouncing on your heels in excitement, though did not dare to utter the W word, in fear of jinxing it.

During the third period, the Penguins scored another goal toward the latter half.

“This has been the best game,” You laughed, munching on a cheese fry.

Michael pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He kissed your head.

By the time the buzzer sounded, the Penguins had won in a 3-0 shutout game against the Predators. You gave a relieved laugh, as you had been standing on your feet for the last minute of the game when the Predators had gotten too close. On your way out, you asked a random couple to take your picture.

You added the photo to your favorites on your way out, taking in Michael’s smile, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his other hand in his pocket. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach.

You looked over to him with the widest smile, admiring how handsome he was.

“Something on my face?”

“No,” you said, heat blooming in your cheeks. “Can’t a girl take in the view?”

He grinned softly, making his smile lines crinkle. He brought a hand to cradle your face, rubbing a thumb across your cheek. His eyes flickered between your eyes, and your heart started racing. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, leaning down to kiss you instead.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting to savor it for as long as you could.

When you returned to his apartment, adrenaline filled your senses, suddenly having the urge to get on your knees for him — half desperate to taste him, half addicted to the sounds he made when he was enjoying himself.

“It’s late…you should stay over.�� Michael said in his dim living room, the one side table lamp being the only thing illuminating the room.

“I didn’t bring anything.” You said, a sheepish smile on your lips.

“I’ve got plenty of things that’ll fit.”

Your smile widened into a grin, heart racing at the thought of wearing his clothes. You pulled him down for a kiss, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth. His tongue entered your mouth and you hummed against him.

Something bubbled in your stomach at the feeling of him getting hard, and your thoughts spiraled downward. You moved a hand to the waist of his jeans, pulling at the button until it unbuttoned. Michael’s breathing hitched, bringing both hands to either side of your head and kissing you fiercely.

As the zipper lowered, so did you, getting onto your knees and looking up at him.

He stared down at you, shoulders moving up and down with his breathing, face half shadowed. Though his brown eyes pooled desire low in your belly.

You pulled down his jeans to his knees, running your hand over his length through his boxers, watching as his eyes flickered closed. When you pulled them down, he opened them again, looking down at you with half concealed desire.

“You don’t have to—” he choked on his words when you grabbed hold of him, your hot breath on his tip.

You wet your lips, “I really really want to.”

He cursed lowly, running a hand through his hair, “Fuck, okay, honey.”

You licked tentatively along the head, and you noticed how his stomach quickly clenched and unclenched. Your smile was hard to hide. You took him into your mouth, tongue swirling along the tip before you descended deeper.

Michael let out a low groan from the back of his throat, head pointing up at the ceiling. HIs hand found the back of your head, not pushing, but simply holding you.

You took him until his cock hit the back of your throat and tears quickly gathered. You set a slow pace, using your hand to pick up the slack closer to his base, unable to take the full thing into your mouth. You moved your other hand to cup his balls and he moaned.

Your pussy pulsed at the sound of it, feeling yourself grow wet. You looked up at him through your lashes, and he was watching you intently, eyebrows drawn in.

“So beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck.”

You hummed around him at his words, and his apartment was filled with the sound of his quiet moans and grunts while you unraveled him. You took him deeply again, trying not to gag, flattening your tongue to apply pressure upwards while you hallowed out your cheeks.

“If you keep that up—fuck—I’m going to come down that pretty throat of yours.” He warned, though his voice sounded wrecked.

You looked up at him and didn’t stop, easily saying that that was exactly what you wanted.

He let out a few pants, one hand going to his neck, while his body tensed. You could feel that he was trying not to thrust into your wanting mouth. You ran a finger over his balls still in your hand and picked up your pace.

Michael came with a low groan, eyes squeezing shut, and you took it all. You swallowed his spend until he was twitching from overstimulation. You let go with a wet pop, which made him jolt. He quickly pulled you up in a kiss.

“Yeah, I need you in my clothes right now.”

You met his eyes, noses touching, and you smirked. “You gonna make me, handsome?”

A sly smile grew as he pulled up his pants, “I can certainly do that.”

He chased you into his room, your laugh echoing off the walls.

[ Next ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda @lauracantsleep @rogersbarnesxx @longlivecandice @misshoneypaper

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately some of Dr. Robby & all of The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

three parts to go + the epilogue😭

[headdinthewall]

I CHOOSE YOU #2 ── g.clarke ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : you and george spend all day getting to know each other on a personal level, and then things change around the fire pit a/n : for this li ‘series’ it wont be a full thing, it’ll probably just be major parts of the show and then things i wanna write too // this one is long & full of drama lmfao content : non-established relationship ,, verbal fighting ,, fluff

─────── THE NEXT MORNING was lovely and leisurely. No one was outright upset about your night with George (except Harry, who seemed to have the face of a smacked arse constantly) and all the girls has expressed their support for you.

Even Emma had apologised, which she really didn’t need to do, so it was safe to say you were in a good mood.

George had made you an iced coffee and some toast, even going as far as to spread the jam in a heart shape. You told him it was cute and he kissed the top of your head.

The sun was blazing again today, burning rays snaking their ways across your skin and every other islander there. Sweat dripped down the back of your neck and some of it gathered at your hairline, cursing you with the grimy feeling of greasy hair. The wooden flooring planks were scorching to walk across, the cushioning on the seats felt like hot stones, so the only safe space was in the pool.

The water rolled comfortably over itself as you swayed leisurely, letting the cooling liquid lather over your body. You shivered at the initial contact, the drastic temperature change being a shock to your body, but you quickly adjusted, and the cold became a relief.

You and Chloe ‘swam’ around each other, gossiping idly. She was talking about how happy she was in her couple with Luca, saying that he was such a gentleman and gave a lot of golden retriever energy. You nodded in agreement.

Then she asked, “What are you gonna do about Harry and George?”

“I dunno, to be honest. I haven’t really thought about it.” You answered honestly, “I’m still attracted to Harry somewhat, I don’t know why— like, a lot of the attraction has gone because of how he did me yesterday, but … there’s still something.”

“Maybe it’s just because you were coupled up from day one so you feel some sort of loyalty towards him.” Chloe suggested, “But what about George?”

“I really like him.” You muttered, “Last night, he came in to sleep with me so I wasn’t alone, and it was … it was really nice. He spoke nonsense for about an hour, but it wasn’t annoying and obnoxious, it was funny and I actually listened. And, obviously, yesterday he came to check on me and he said …” You looked around to make sure no one was in ear shot, “Said his door will always be open for me and he has a lot of feelings for me.”

“No way!” Chloe exclaimed, a large grin on her face.

“Shh! Shh!” You hushed her with a giggle.

“If there’s a recoupling, who would you like to be picked by?”

“Mmm, I don’t know, cuz— like, I wouldn’t— How do I word this? I don’t know if my feelings for George are genuine, or just because last night everything was so raw and he was there for me, do you know what I mean? So, I wouldn’t wanna get in a couple with him and then be, basically, leading him on or giving him false hope.”

“Babe, babe, I’m not trying to tell you how you feel or anything, but everything you just said about George was positive. When you were talking about last night, there wasn’t a single bit of ‘hmm, I don’t know’. I think you like him, and you just have to go for it. Test connections, and if it doesn’t work out then,” Chloe shrugged, “So be it.”

“Sorry to interrupt but, reader do you wanna go for a chat?” George asked.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded with a smile.

You lifted yourself out of the pool and reattached your mic pack around your waist. Chloe winked sneakily at you as you walked off.

“You alright?” George asked, looking at you as you walked to the daybeds.

“Yeah, I’m great. It’s hot today.” You hummed, sitting beside him. “This is like, our little spot.”

“I know, right?” George laughed softly, putting his arm around the pillows smoothly. “I just wanted to get to know you a bit more. I feel like I only really know stuff about you from challenges.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You agreed, “Fire away, hon.”

“Favourite colour?”

“Oh, no, George, that’s far too personal.” You joked, making him snort. “Pink is really pretty. I’ve been liking yellow a bit recently too.”

“I think you’d look nice in yellow.”

“Yeah? You want me to wear yellow later?”

“I’d love that.” He smirked, fingers dancing along your arm. “You got any pets?”

“I have a cat but I want another.”

“No dogs?”

“No, are you a dog person?”

“I am.” He sucked his teeth. “I really want a dog, but I currently live with my mates, so it would be a bit tight.”

“You live with your friends?” You raised your eyebrows in shock.

“Yeah … is that a red flag?”

“No, I quite like that. I live with my best friend and it’s really convenient.”

“Do you think you could have a dog?”

You gave him a guilty look as if to say ‘no, not at all’ and he sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

“Just when I thought you were my dream girl.” He said, tutting.

You threw your head back in laughter, “Okay, what about kids?”

“I want them, definitely, but … it’s just a case of when and how many?” He told you.

“I want two. Maybe three, but two is perfect.” You explained, “I have two older brothers, but they’re twins and six years older than me, so I always felt a bit lonely. If I ever have kids, I want them to have a sibling close in age so they don’t feel lonely.”

George’s eyes widened, “Two older brothers? Fuck me, I’m gonna die, aren’t I? Gotta make sure to treat you like a princess.”

“Queen.” You corrected him.

“Right, queen.”

─────── WHEN THE EVENING rolled around, you had indeed put on a yellow dress. It was either that or a red one, simply because you knew it was Harry’s favourite colour on you and you wanted to show him what he was missing out on. But no, you decided on the yellow. Instead of trying to get revenge on a man who simply didn’t deserve any of your attention, you would flaunt your body to a man who did deserve it.

You saw the utter glee on George’s face when he saw the yellow fabric and the dainty sequins and jewels making up the butterfly design on the side. He leaned down close to your ear, muttering words of desire and attraction before kissing your jawline.

“Guys! I’ve got a text!” Sofija exclaimed loudly, “‘Islanders, tonight there will be a recoupling in which the boys will pick their girl! #switchingitup #girlslayback’!”

Your head shot towards Chloe immediately, “You fucking jinxed it!”

“I’m sorry!” She cackled, grabbing your arm.

“Wait is anyone going home? Or is there an even amount of people in the villa?”

“It’s even, it just means things might change.” George said, as if he was plotting.

“Reader, can I talk to you?” Harry approached.

“Oh, here we fuckin’ go.” Chloe huffed, rolling her eyes, “Come to apologise now so you can secure your spot?”

“It’s okay, Chlo. I’ll be back in a sec.” You soothed her, patting her shoulder.

You and Harry walked off and you could feel George’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

“You look nice.” Harry complimented as you sat down across from each other at the mini fire pit.

“Thank you.” You replied.

“I just, I did want to apologise for yesterday. And this isn’t just me saying this now ‘cause there’s a recoupling, I wanted to do this earlier but you were with George all day.”

The way he said his name didn’t sit right with you, it was like he was bitter about it.

“I shouldn’t have kissed Emma like that, and I shouldn’t have joked about you not being good enough.” Harry said.

You shifted your lips to the side, running your tongue over your teeth before replying, “Thank you, for apologising, but, Harry, you … you made me cry. We sat there, on those beds,” You pointed, “And I cried, you heard me crying, and you just walked off. Why didn’t it click for you to apologise then? Or give me a hug? Or comfort me? You said ‘good chat’ and then walked off.”

“Because it was an awkward situation! I felt really awkward and I didn’t want to make it worse for you!”

“It was awkward because of you, Harry! Because you promised me I was the only girl for you and then contradicted it within a couple of hours! That’s why it was awkward! And before you say it, I know I kissed George. But what would you rather me do in that challenge? Kiss someone else and say ‘Oh, I thought there might be a connection’?”

“But now you do have a connection with George, so what does that matter, like— You— You say your happy to be exclusive with me and no you’re all cuddly and giggly-me-giggly with him.”

“Yeah, and I was happy to be exclusive with you, but then you treated me like shit yesterday and made me look like a mug in front of everyone.”

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, your phone dinged.

“I’ve got a text!” You shouted, catching everyone’s attention. “‘Will all Islanders please gather around the fire pit immediately’!”

When you stood, he did too.

“Is that it, then? You don’t wanna try again?” Harry muttered.

“I … I don’t know. Right now? No, I don’t. It’s all still very fresh for me, so if you could just leave me alone tonight, that would be really appreciated.” You said firmly.

“Right, okay. I am sorry, though.”

You shrugged and then walked to the fire pit, standing at the front with all the girls.

“You okay?” Chloe asked.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you after.” You whispered.

Luca was first, and he stood with a big grin on his face. Throughout his whole speech, he didn’t take his eyes off or Chloe, who was blushing like a rose bush, and had a matching smile on her face. He gushed about how perfect this girl was, and how she looked beautiful no matter what and always managed to make him laugh. Then, he finally declared that his chosen girl was Chloe (to absolutely no one’s surprise) and she joined his side, giving him a kiss.

The next boy was Jamie, who picked Sofija.

When Kai stood up, he spoke from the heart, choosing Becky, which meant George was currently single.

It was finally his turn.

He stood before everyone, biting his lip with his hands clasped in front of his crotch. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I’ve picked this girl because … well, where do I even start? She’s downright gorgeous, makeup or not. She’s incredibly interesting and unique, and I’ve managed to come to that conclusion without even knowing her inside and out. I cant wait to really get to know her on levels that aren’t just the surface. Her smile lights up every room she walks into, she’s constantly got a happy energy about her, even though she’s been done incredibly wrong these past 24 hours, she hasn’t let that change her, and I find that really admirable.”

Some of the boys’ eyes widened at his last detail, while the girls nodded and Chloe stifled a laugh.

“So, the girl I have chosen to couple up with is … Reader.”

Everyone started clapping and you grinned, shuffling over to him and hugging him. He kissed your cheek softly and you sat beside him. You and Chloe shared a giddy look as his arm laid across your shoulder.

“That was a good speech.” You whispered to him.

“Glad you liked it. Didn’t lie.” He whispered back, kissing your head.

─────── THE REST OF the night, you were all giggles and laughter. You were absolutely elated that you were in a couple with George, you couldn’t express it in words. Just as you were enjoying a nice chat with him, Harry stalked over, his jaw clenched tightly.

“George, mate, wanna talk?”

“Sure, yeah.”

You gave an awkward, tight-lipped smile as they walked away together. Harry’s body seemed really tense and uncomfortable, and part of you was worried.

You made your way over to Chloe, your wedged heels clicking along the floor, “Harry’s just pulled George.”

“What?” Luca sat up immediately.

You took a seat between them and told them both what had happened with your talk with Harry earlier, all the while George and Harry were having a somewhat heated conversation.

“I’m just, not happy, mate.” Harry rubbed his jaw, “You could’ve come to me beforehand and said ‘I’m thinking of picking reader’ but you didn’t. Instead, you just took her right off of me. I wanted to stay coupled with her so I can make it up to her.”

“What’s stopping you from still making it up to her? Like, just because people are in couples doesn’t mean you can’t explore. You showed that yesterday in the challenge, perfectly well. So— Also, I have no loyalties towards you. None at all. Especially not after how you made reader feel yesterday—“

“You’re not her knight in fucking shining armour, George.” Harry chuckled, “You’re acting like you did her some kind of favour, like you rescued her from me. I’m not a bad guy, I just made a mistake, and I want to make it up to her. I would’ve appreciated if you came to me and told me you wanted her. Because that,” He pointed to the fire pit, “Was disrespectful and muggy.”

“Well, now you know how reader felt.” George shrugged nonchalantly.

“Oh, give me a fucking break, lad, honestly. Seriously, you can’t make a valid point without bringing her up, this isn’t about her, it’s about being respectful.”

“It is about her though, isn’t it? Because, you’re pissed I coupled up with her, I did that because you treated her like shit and I really like her.” George scoffed, “Why should I be respectful to you, when you don’t deserve it? You haven’t done anything respectful and it’s been three weeks.”

“You’re really pissing me off now.” Harry rubbed the back of his head. “Listen to what I’m saying— The words coming out my mouth— I don’t care that you picked her, I just wanted you to tell me that you were going to do it.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” George kissed his teeth, standing up. “Your own words are contradicting. You do care that I picked her. You’re pissed off because someone who actually likes her is showing interest and now you want what you can’t have.” He started walking off.

“You’re a fucking knobhead, mate.” Harry exclaimed, storming off in the opposite direction.

All heads perked up, everyone’s eyes on the pair who both shared expressions of anger and agitation.

“Maybe to you, but at least I know how to treat a girl right.” George shrugged, making his way back over to you.

Harry turned around, “Say that again! I dare you!”

“Leave it, Harry! Leave it!” Luca shouted, standing up.

“Fucking twat.” George muttered, sitting beside you.

You wrapped your arms around his bicep and rested your cheek on his shoulder. You dragged your nails up and down his arm in a soothing manner, trying to rid him of his rage.

When bedtime rolled around, there was still some unsettled tension in the villa. Your makeup was off and you were sat in bed, tucked under George’s arm with your head on his chest. You drew little patterns on his stomach. You could tell he was still annoyed from the earlier conflict, but you were trying to calm him.

“Hey.” You hummed, grabbing his chin so he would look at you, “You handled that very well.”

“You think?” He hummed.

“I know.” You smiled, kissing his chin.

“You missed.” George smirked.

“You … You want a proper kiss?” You bit back a smile, your heart pounding in your chest.

That was the one thing you could never wrap your head around while watching love island. They kissed everyone so freely and on a whim. For you, it took a lot of courage to kiss someone outside of a challenge. For you, there had to be a genuine connection. You weren’t the type to just kiss somebody after knowing them for a couple of days.

With George, you’d known him since the beginning, but you’d only just recently gotten to know him on a romantic level. Your heart thundered at the thought of kissing him outside of a challenge, unprompted and raw.

“Only if you want to as well.” George admitted. “If you want to wait, we can wait.”

“I-I’m okay with a kiss.” You smiled nervously.

He grinned, leaning down and kissing you. You giggled into it, reciprocating the soft, gentle energy.

After a while, the lights went out. You had your back to him and his arm was around your waist. You took notice of the thick meat of his bicep and chewed the inside your cheek. You glided your feet backwards, entwining your legs with his.

“You alright?” He whispered, breath dancing along the skin of your neck and ear.

“I like these.” You smirked, squeezing his bicep.

“Yeah?” He snorted, bringing it up to rest under your chin. He flexed it, squishing your face between his forearm and bicep.

You squealed with a cackle, making everyone’s heads turn.

“Reader, shush!” Luca scolded you.

“Sorry!” You got out through laughing.

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - if we were us (part four)

warnings ; kissing, but that’s it!

prompt ; in which life gives you and jungkook one more chance to hold on.

note ; hi... hahahahshdhdhdj. remember when i said i was going to update iwwu every two weeks? wellll... then life smacked me upside down, called me a little bitch, and spit on me. so here we are a month later! this chapter is very, very important, even despite the fact there are no jungkook x oc scenes. two main reasons: 1) we get sana and oc's first interaction. sana is nice. so is oc. they're two nice people in unfortunate cirumstances. their relationship is going to grow throughout the story, so this is just a sneak peek! we do not hate sana. we love her <3 we also get a deeper look into namjoon and oc's relationship. you'll have to read between the lines to notice the things that will inevitably cause the downfall of their relationship, so be patient! last but not least, sorry to leave you all on a cliffhanger. 🙂‍↔️ (but we can scream about it together!!! flying to my wonderful home rn — let's chat!!)

playlist here

series masterlist here

wc ; 7.4k

“God, I fucking hate when it rains like this.” 

“Eunchae. Don’t talk bad about my favorite type of weather.”

“First of all,” she clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, settling deeper into the plastic chair that probably cost the school 4,000 won. “the fact that you have a favorite type of weather is disgusting. You’re weirder than me, and that’s saying something."

Considering Hong Eunchae—your bisexual work best friend who walks around with rainbow highlights in her hair and a pet parrot in her classroom named Mango—thinks you’re weirder than her, you might have to call in professional help. 

The gymnasium window has become your afternoon companion, a sheet of glass separating you from the rain that’s been brewing since morning. Each droplet catches what’s left of the sunlight before succumbing to the puddles that transform the sidewalk into watercolor paintings. 

You and Eunchae drew the short straws today—or rather, Principal Park voluntarily assigned you both to afterschool duty with the same dull eyes he always wears. All teachers rotate through the schedule, but it still feels like punishment. 

You’ve never liked the afterschool shift. There’s something heartbreaking about watching kids whose energy has been wrung like laundry out to dry, slumped in chairs waiting for parents who are always running behind. Abandonment is the word you want to use to describe it. Even when you’ve also lived through the compromises parents make to survive. 

Like for example, Lee Aera always picks her daughter up past school hours, at 4 PM, so that she can work an overtime shift at the supermarket to afford Soyoung’s guitar lessons. You’ve seen that woman run through the hallways like she’s being chased by the clock itself. 

You always spend extra time with the afterschool children. You recognize something familiar in their waiting. You used to arrange your school supplies in perfect lines like dominos while your mother hurriedly arranged her last bouquet of flowers for the day at the shop. Your father was usually too busy with one-off jobs to even fathom picking you up. 

“I’m not weird for liking rain, Chae.” You let her least favorite nickname roll off your tongue, knowing it’ll make her bones twitch. 

She snorts loudly, crossing her legs in the plastic chair she’s perched in. “Right. Whatever. So tell me, who’s today’s lucky winner?” She watches the entrance, anticipating a kid to trot through the door any minute now. “Which small human gets to experience the joy of hanging out with Hong Eunchae and her lesser but equally as exciting best friend?” 

You shrug and ignore her sarcasm. The raindrops race each other down the glass. “Probably Duri. I think her father left a note about her mother running off to Japan again,”

“Japan?” She scoffs. Eunchae reaches for the jellybeans she’s been sorting by color for the past thirty minutes, popping a handful of red into her mouth. “Her dad’s hot. You think he’s DTF?”

“Hong Eunchae.”

“What?” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “DILFs are sexy. They usually have that whole weathered-by-responsibility thing going on. Emotionally unavailable, just the way I like it.”

You laugh to yourself before you can stop it, shaking your head. Eunchae has always been the same since the day you started at the school. You swear she views the world through a kaleidoscope that only she can see through. She likes to call herself quirky, but you think special fits her better. Her way of thinking is not one you’ve adopted. “Leave Duri’s dad alone.”

“Fine, fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

“Oh! Speaking of disappointments—did I tell you today one of my kids got into a fight?”

That causes your eyes to widen drastically. “What? Who?”

“Brace yourself for this plot twist. It’s my star pupil. The light of my life. Jun.”

You gasp loudly, probably to be heard in the next classroom over. “Jun? Sweet angel Jun? The kid who apologizes to chairs when he bumps into them?”

“The one and only.” She shovels more jellybeans into her mouth like she’s fueling up for her next sentence. “I’m seriously considering demoting him back to kindergarten so he can suffer through your bug project. Kid’s terrified of anything with wings. How is that going, by the way?”

You glance down at your shirt—there’s a canvas of handprints and random paint splotches in what was supposed to be washable paint but has proven to be permanent. “The bug project is the highlight of my day. The paint your 2+2s activity however…” You gesture helplessly at your outfit. 

What kind of school stocks permanent paint and not watercolor?

“Yeah…” She’s trying not to smile, but failing spectacularly. “I wasn't gonna say anything, but you look like someone dipped you in my jellybean jar.” 

You flick your middle finger up at her and resume staring out the window. 

Candidly, today has been a weird day. You’ve had this weight looming over you since you crossed the threshold of the school. Outside, the rain hasn’t let up once, and your brain has followed suit, deferring to their own storms that have lived within you for a decade. 

You’ve always had a penchant for ignoring things that might cause ripples in the still water that is your life. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to be disliked, or you’re just terrified that speaking your thoughts into existence will reveal you’re too exhausting, too complicated. 

Seeing Jeon Jungkook this morning is something you want to ignore until the day of your last breath. 

Knowing he’s existing in the same city as you, roaming the same streets, frequenting the same coffee shops, makes the weight looming over you feel unbearable rather than just present. He lives in the space between questions you never got to ask and things you never got to say.

There were conversations you had with him in your head while he was thousands of miles away, ones he’ll never get to hear. 

You would never consider reaching out to him on your own, though. You just…wonder about him. Innocently.

And now that he’s here in Korea again, the wondering has amplified. The phantom conversations are returning. 

You want to tell Eunchae all this and more, but the door to the gymnasium swings open before you can find the courage to open your mouth. It’s probably for the best; her idea of advice involves shrugging while saying ‘c’est la vie’. 

Kids’ laughter bounces off the walls and tiny sneakers squeak against waxed floors. You steal one last glance at the rain melting down the window, and pivot towards the entrance with a bright smile on your face. 

Except the smile dissolves just as quickly as it came. It doesn’t fade gradually like most expressions do; it vanishes. 

“Hi, kiddos!” Eunchae bellows, ruffling the boy’s chestnut hair. She moves onto the girl’s pigtails, fixing them after a day of playground warfare. “Are you ready for some epic afterschool adventures?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. 

Those kids. 

Those eyes. You couldn’t forget them even if you tried. 

Jungkook’s eyes, transplanted into these small, perfect faces. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, nor should this come as a shock. You have your wits about you; how did you not connect the dots earlier? This is the most reputable elementary school in Seoul. He would be an idiot not to send his kids here. 

Your chest tightens like someone’s squeezed all the air out your lungs and left you with whatever stale oxygen was hiding in the corner. It’s like drowning in reverse.

“Seonsaengnim! I heard you have good toys!” She bounces on her tippy-toes. 

“Many, many toys. Would you like to come see them?” 

You want to crawl into a hole. Any second now, their little eyes are going to land on you, and everything you spent all day trying to ignore is going to come tumbling down like a house of cards blown over by the big bad wolf. 

Eunchae shoots you an expression that’s equal parts confused and concerned. She knows your usual routine by heart—you’re the first to crouch to their level, ask about their day, and smooth over any residual disappointment of being the last ones picked up. She guides the children by their hands to the play station, where the toys and books lie. “Sit, sit! Your parents will be here before you know it.”

She settles on the foam mat, gravitating towards a basket of colorful blocks. She selects a few and hands them to her twin brother. “Daddy said he was gonna be right on time today!” She frowns, a wrinkle between her brows that suggests she’s not convinced. “But he’s not here yet, so maybe his work got all crazy again.”

He accepts the blocks but doesn’t let go of the same dinosaur he had when you first met him this morning. The green paint is worn in spots where fingers have traced its edges over and over. 

Where is their daddy? 

Where is Jeon Jungkook?

A wave of courage rushes through you. You don’t know what it is. Maybe because you can sense the wobble in her declaration, or the way he’s gripping the toy dinosaur protectively. Maybe because it’s raining. Maybe because you’ve never been able to watch kids worry without wanting to fix it. Whatever it is, it’s stronger than your instinct to hide. 

“Miss Hari? Jungwon? What are you two cuties doing here?” You saunter across the gym floor, trying your hardest to keep the smile permanent.

Hari’s grin transforms her face immediately. It spreads across her cheeks, eyes crinkling into crescents of pure joy. You lower your body down on the foam mat beside them, knees protesting as you reach for a few blocks of your own. 

“Hi, daddy’s friend!” Hari’s body bounces where she sits. “Why are you here? Are you here to take us home?”

Your heart catapults out of the confines of its cage. For a second, your mind wanders to the unfamiliar feeling of what it would be like to pick up kids from afterschool. Walking two small hands to a car, buckling them into car seats, fielding questions about what’s for dinner. 

“No, Hari. I work here, as a teacher. I’m one of the kindergarten teachers.” you focus intently on stacking blocks into a tower aimlessly. 

Eunchae is off to the side, and you don’t even need to look at her to know she’s standing there with her eyebrows raised suspiciously and arms crossed over her chest. 

“You’re a teacher?” Hari gasps excitedly. “Can you be my teacher? Please? I would be the best student, I promise!”

Your hands halt mid-stack. You lean over to smooth down her dress where it’s twisted around her knees. “My classroom is pretty full right now, sweetheart. But I bet it would be a pleasure to teach you.”

Beside you, you notice Jungwon is silently playing with his dinosaur, guiding it through an obstacle course of blocks. 

“I’m gonna ask Daddy to move me to your class!” Hari announces confidently.

Your eyes widen frantically, and your response is quick. Second nature. “There’s no need—”

You need to force your tone back into teacher territory. Now. “We wouldn’t want to trouble your daddy with all that paperwork, right? I bet he’s got enough on his plate.”

She mulls it over, then seems to accept that answer as she plays with her blocks, stacking them atop yours. “Daddy’s always working on his computer now. And Mommy’s always in meetings and stuff.”

Mommy. Jungkook’s wife. The mother of their kids. 

Out of your peripheral vision, you see Eunchae sorting her jellybeans by color once again. She has no interest in you whatsoever. You almost wish you’d told her about this morning’s coffee shop encounter—at least then she could throw you a lifeline when the conversation threatens to pull you under. 

“Where—uh, where does Mommy work?” 

Very subtle, idiot. You pretend to be laser-focused on the colorful toys. Hari shrugs. “In a big building like Daddy used to. But now he stays home with his computer. Mommy says it’s better cause he can pick us up from school and stuff.” 

Big building. Right. Does she work in finance too?

“Oh, that’s very cool, Miss Hari. Bet she’s just as smart as you.”

She sounds like everything you’re not. 

Jungwon’s continued silence is starting to worry you. Kids his age are usually bursting with stories, desperate to share every detail of their personal life with anyone willing to listen. But he’s been guiding that dinosaur through its adventures for far too long. In your experience, this kind of quiet usually means something’s hovering.  

“How is Mister T-Rex doing over there, Jungwon?” you ask gently, shifting your body toward him. 

He looks up at you with those sizable brown eyes and your heart flips the way it did when Jungkook’s tear-soaked eyes peered at you as you yelled at him to go to America, to stop making this harder than it already was. 

“He’s okay,” he mutters. The edge of his voice is fragile. 

You recognize the pattern—emotions will leak out when kids try to keep them stuffed in. You hear it and spring into action. “Well, it looks like T-Rex might need some backup. We need to protect him from the evil aliens. Do you agree, Hari?” you flash her a conspiratorial smile.  

She is the most intelligent five year old on this planet, you think, because she jumps in without missing a beat, “Wonnie, watch out!” she calls, swopping the block through the air in loops. “The aliens are coming for Mister T-Rex!”

Since the moment they walked through that door, Jungwon has been the epitome of silence. But now, Jungwon’s eyes sparkle as he hunches to shield Mister T-Rex, tiny shoulders squared. You use your own blocks to start building a fortress for the dinosaur. 

Hari’s sound effects fill the space—a symphony of “beep boops” and “we come in peace.’ Actual laughter bubbles up from your chest and Jungwon’s.

“Jungwon, we need to build another tower before the aliens invade!” You begin constructing your second tower, and his small fingers work to stack blocks into the most elaborate alienproof barrier ever. 

“Seonsaengnim, you have to take T-Rex and hide him at base!” 

Eunchae lets out a snort, and you fight the urge to glare at her. If looks could kill, she would be skinned alive. 

Jungwon places his precious dinosaur into your cupped palms and you hide T-Rex behind the blocks. Your heart leaps and jumps at his blind trust. 

You’re completely absorbed in this world where your biggest worry has become plastic alien invasions and dinosaur protection. Time feels like an imaginary construct—minutes blend into each other until you can’t remember if you’ve been sitting here for five minutes or fifty. It’s sad to admit, but it’s the first pocket of peace you’ve experienced all day. 

“Seonsaengnim!  Watch out!” Jungwon’s hands leap to protect from Hari’s aerial attacks, and you quickly bury the dinosaur deeper into the block mountain. 

This is exactly why you became a teacher. Not for the lesson plans or parent conferences or meetings about budget cuts for classroom supplies. For moments like this. Moments where you get to disappear to whatever world imagination can build.

You’re so immersed in Operation Dinosaur Rescue that you don’t even register the gymnasium door opening, or the rapid clacking of heels against linoleum, or how Eunchae’s jellybeam task comes to an abrupt pause. None of it exists until you see Eunchae leaping out of her chair. “Mrs. Jeon?”

Up until this morning, you hadn’t known a Mrs.Jeon existed. Sure, you guess you had assumed there might be someone—a girlfriend, maybe, someone temporary. 

But in every fortuitous dream you’ve ever had of him, he was always alone. Successful. Happy, hopefully. But always fundamentally unattached. 

You had never stopped to imagine what it would be like for him to find solace in someone else.

And now that someone is in your gym. Your school. Your safe place. 

Your head tentatively turns to face the woman racing towards you, and your stomach churns like you’ve just eaten bad sushi. She has gorgeous light brown hair that almost looks dark red under the harsh lighting of the gymnasium. Her features resemble those of a Barbie doll; porcelain skin, symmetrical proportions. Ethereal.

She’s donning a jumpsuit that hugs every curve of her slender body. 

Your eyes flit down to your outfit, covered in paint and probably other substances. You look like you’re representing an entirely different species compared to her. 

Your legs seem to forget how standing works, but you manage to unfold yourself from the floor without falling over. 

“Hi! God, thank you so much for watching them. I know it’s super late. Usually, their dad gets them but he had something—“

“It’s not a problem.” You shake your head firmly, dinosaur slipping from your hand onto the gymnasium floor. “It’s my pleasure. Plus, we were saving T-Rex from the evil aliens, weren’t we, Jungwon?”

Her eyes follow yours to where Jungwon is sitting cross-legged, still lost in his imaginary world. He’s oblivious to the fact that his mother has arrived. 

“Jungwon, baby? How’s my brave boy doing?” 

Both heads snap up simultaneously and their smiles grow tenfold. “Mommy!” Hari launches herself across the floor like she’s been shot from a cannon, wrapping her little arms around her mother’s legs. Mrs. Jeon pats her back, smoothes her pigtails down. 

Jungwon scrambles after his sister to join, sliding up to claim his own section of her legs. It’s as if these kids hadn’t seen her in years, but you’re no stranger to how separation anxiety can affect this age group. 

“Did you both have a good first day at school?” Her voice is still a little breathless, but warm with fondness. 

“The best!” Hari nods eagerly. “I made friends with everyone, and we got to play with seonsaengnim!” 

“Wow, that sounds fun.” Mrs. Jeon’s perfect smile finds you over Hari’s head. You straighten your spine. “I hope they weren’t too much trouble?” 

It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking to you. You’re so stuck on how easily those children fit around her body, how her eyes sparkle even when it’s raining outside, how her heels look like they cost more than one month of your rent. 

“Not at all,” you rush to say. “They’re wonderful kids. Very creative.”

She chuckles, slightly relieved. “That’s generous of you to say. Trust me, after hour six of their ‘creativity’, you might change your tune. They definitely keep my husband and I on our toes.”

My husband. 

You gulp down the imaginary pebble that’s lodged in your throat. “It’s pretty standard at this age. Your secret is safe with me.”

A flicker of understanding flashes across her face before she glances down at Jungwon and Hari.

“Kids, go play for just a minute, okay?” She pats their heads, and they reluctantly peel off of her. She’s obviously mastered the art of managing them, which is more than you can say for the average parent. “I want to talk to your wonderful teacher here.”

You want to correct her and say you’re not actually their teacher, which she should know if she dropped them off this morning, but the worry clawing up your throat seems to combat that from happening. Talk to you? 

Oh, god. Did Jungkook tell her something? He wouldn’t tell his wife he ran into his ex girlfriend at a coffee shop. Marriages need a certain level of secrecy to operate, right? 

Across the gym, Eunchae has decided this is beneath her attention span. She’s captivated by her phone, shoulders shaking with silent laughter at what you assume are Instagram Reels. They’ve become her latest obsession recently. 

Sana turns to you, tossing her sleek hair over her shoulder. “I don’t think I introduced myself, by the way. I’m Sana. Jeon Sana.”

Hearing her full name makes your legs feel useless again. Your entire body wants to sink through the floor and disappear into whatever underground tunnels might exist beneath the school.  

“[Y/N]. The kids all call me Miss [Y/L/N].”

“[Y/N].” She repeats it like she’s testing the taste of it in her mouth. The smile returns—she does smile a lot. Is she this happy… with Jungkook? You mean, why wouldn’t she be? Her kids are perfect, her husband is successful, and clearly she is too. 

You really need to get this paint off your clothes before you get home. 

“I have to ask, and forgive me if this is rude, but you seem so… young. Are you one of the kindergarten teachers?”

Heat crawls up your neck. “I am. I've been teaching for a while now.”

She shifts her handbag from one arm to the other, and you suddenly feel awkward with your arms hanging loosely at your sides. “You seem great with kids. Jungwon is a… reserved boy. It's nice to see someone play with him.”

So far, no mention of coffee shops or chance encounters. Maybe Jungkook didn’t tell her. Maybe he kept that for himself. 

“Of course,” you respond. “Every kid just needs the right approach. Some are social butterflies, others need a little more time to warm up.”

“Exactly.” She lets her eyes drift off to Hari and Jungwon, where the young girl is teaching her brother a hand-clapping game. “Hari could probably go her whole life without needing me. That girl has never met a stranger.”

“She’s definitely got great social instincts. But I can also tell she was raised right. She seems to have a natural talent for thinking about other’s feelings.”

Sana glances back at you, and a soft, glowy expression glazes over her. You’ve come to learn there is nothing a mother loves more than being told they’re raising their babies right. 

“Thank you, that means a lot.” Her shoulders drop, an invisible tension releasing itself. She leans closer, and you catch a whiff of her perfume. Flowery. “Can I ask you something?”

Here it comes. She’s going to ask who you think you are, why you were speaking to her husband in a coffee shop, how you—

“We just relocated from America and I worry they’re not taking it as well as my husband and I had hoped. What do you think? Do they seem okay?” 

Is she asking you for motherly advice?

You clear your throat. “Hari seems to be adapting pretty well. Jungwon might just need more time to find his groove. Did he have a lot of friends back in America?”

“A few. It just takes a lot for him to open up to someone.” She watches him stack blocks intently. “I’ve never even seen him let someone else hold that dinosaur besides himself and Jungkook, my husband.” 

Your heart flutters in your chest. 

“What made you decide to move back?” You hope you sound curious rather than desperately interested in every detail of her life choices. It doesn’t help that Sana seems to be in a vulnerable state.

“Career opportunity,” she sighs. “My husband and I got offers we couldn’t refuse. We both grew up here, so at the time, it made sense. I’m usually the mom other moms go to for advice, but this situation has me completely out of my depth.”

You don't know her well, but the woman standing in front of you doesn’t seem like someone who needs help very often. 

In fact, she looks like someone you would rely on for advice. Like a therapist. She could pass as one with the clinical jumpsuit she has on. 

“That’s totally fair.” Your lips curve upward slightly, and your hand finds her arm, a touch that surprises you both. “I’m not their teacher, but I’ll keep an ear out in the teachers lounge for anything. For what it’s worth, though, they both seem like amazing kids. Moving across the world isn’t easy for anyone.”

The smile that spreads across her mouth reaches her eyes this time. 

Her shoulders drop another inch, like she’s been holding her breath for weeks. You swear you see her eyes study your paint-splattered appearance for a beat. “I appreciate that. Thanks for watching them today, [Y/N].”

“It’s really no big deal.” You wave off her gratitude. Eunchae must sense the conversation wrapping up, because she’s ditched her jellybean sorting mission and is helping Jungwon and Hari shrug on their backpacks. 

“Oh, and [Y/N]?” Sana says, mid-turn. 

Scratch everything. Every muscle in your body locks up. This is the moment where she reveals her husband mentioned running into you, where she asks you politely but firmly to stay away from him—even though you haven’t done anything—and your paranoid spiral proves justified. 

“Acetone works wonders on paint stains. Or rubbing alcohol, if you’ve got it.” She winks teasingly. 

The laugh you exude is slightly hysterical, and it’s really the only thing your body can manage to do. 

You and Eunchae send the family off, out the double doors of the gymnasium, and into the late afternoon storm. 

Your apartment is ominously quiet at this hour. 

Usually, when you come home after a late afterschool shift, Namjoon is sprawled across his gaming chair, or watching some Netflix series he promised he wouldn’t start without you. 

“Namjoon?” You call out into the void as you cross the threshold of your home. You kick your shoes off, basking in the warmth of your home. 

A muffled sound drifts from the bedroom followed by the shuffle of socked feet against hardwood. Namjoon materializes around the corner, clad in a gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. 

“Hi, baby.” He angles down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re home late.”

“Afterschool shift.” You sigh deeply. “I thought I told you last week?”

“Oh,” His hand finds the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly. “You probably did. Sorry—today was a bit hectic.”

“Do tell.” You follow him towards the living room, flopping down on the couch. 

The couch dips under your weight as you settle into him, still damp from your sprint through the rain and in your paint-covered clothes. Namjoon wraps an arm around you. Your body knows how to fill the space without thinking. 

“Well, Jin and I finally picked out a paint color for his kitchen after sifting through eighty samples.” His fingers trace absentminded patterns along your shoulder. “I now know more about the difference between ‘warm ivory’ and ‘antique white’ more than any human should.”

You twist to look at him properly. “Please tell me you did not let him pick that hideous blue color he was obsessing over last month.”

“God, no. I saved him from that.” His eyes light up a little before he continues on, “Here’s the good part, though. I’m pretty sure we ran into one of his ex-boyfriends at the coffee shop. The dude made up some story about how they’re old friends.” 

You shoot upright at that. Missing all the daytime drama is quite literally the only thing you hate about your teaching job. “No fucking way.”

“Yes way.” Namjoon’s grin expands. Although he claims he doesn’t like to get involved in Jin’s male drama, he’s somehow always the first to share any breaking news. 

“Damn, and I missed all this while shaping the young minds of Korea,” You slump back against him in devastation. “My priorities are all messed up.”

His laughter resounds through your bones, vibrating against your cheek like the aftershock of an earthquake.

It’s moments like these that ground you. There’s no room for second-guessing in your life when things are so perfect with you and Namjoon. 

For a split second, you consider telling him about Jungkook and your encounter. Namjoon wouldn’t be jealous—that’s not who he is—but maybe what you need is reassurance. 

You’ve never really had the ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend talk with him. It never came up nor was it a priority. You fell quickly into your relationship when you first started dating, so there was no need to dwell on what could’ve been or revisit old flames. It felt like your future was falling into place; why torture yourself with the past?

“Uh, baby?” 

“Mmm?”

“Why is there still paint all over you?” 

You swat at his chest. The hard muscle underneath deters him from feeling it too harshly. “It was my stupid paint your 2+2s activity.”

“Jesus.” He snorts. “Better not get any on the couch.”

“It’s completely dry, you idiot.” You giggle, untangling yourself from him to head to the bathroom and freshen up. “Did you eat dinner yet?” 

“Nah,” He picks up his phone, scrolling through it mindlessly. “Was waiting for you to come home.”

Your frigid feet meet the floor and you start to walk towards the bathroom. “What are you thinking for dinner?” 

The bathroom is calling to you—dry clothes, warm water, a chance to wash away the rest of this paint using Sana’s advice. 

“You should make sundubu. With all this rain outside, it just feels right.” His voice follows you down the hallway. 

“Hmm. You got it, baby,” you agree. 

You normally like the smell of rain on you and the way it clings for hours to come, but today, it serves as a reminder to things you’re still trying to wash away. 

By the time you emerge from the shower and start making dinner, Namjoon has remained exactly where you left him, peacefully existing. 

Shared silence used to be a mystery to you. You could never imagine not occupying a place alone. Your old apartment would echo with loneliness, even when you told yourself you preferred solitude. But when you and Namjoon decided to live together, it was comforting to know that you could speak or not speak and either choice is perfectly fine. 

It gave you something to do. You’re constantly caring for him. Not because he demands it, but because it fills some part of you that didn’t know it was empty. 

The fragrant smell of sundubu fills the air as you let the tofu and mushrooms simmer. Arms circle your waist from behind, strong and sure. You melt backward without thinking. 

“Sometimes I think you should work from home too,” Namjoon murmurs into your scalp. “Then I can have access to this domestic energy alllll day.”

“Unfortunately, finger painting can’t be outsourced to Zoom.” You lean into his warmth, spoon moving through the broth in lazy circles. “I gotta supervise those fuckers.”

“Those kids have no idea how lucky they are.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your perfume. “Getting to spend all day with you.”

The contentment in his voice makes your chest warm, having nothing to do with the steam brewing from the pot. Happiness looks like this: quiet kitchens and easy touches and slow evenings. 

“You know, I was talking to my parents on the phone after I saw Jin…”

“And?” 

When you two first started dating seriously, it was difficult to imagine meeting a new set of parents after getting along so well with Jungkook’s. But the Kim family had been an unexpected gift. One you hadn’t even known you were looking for. 

“They asked again when we’re having kids.”

You let out a sound of amusement, “Didn’t we already tell them we need to get married first for that to happen?”

He buries himself deeper into your skin, like he’s trying to crawl inside and live in it. “I already told them that. They seem to be under the impression we’re getting a little old.” 

“I’m only 32. Since when is that ancient?” 

“According to my mother, six months ago.”

You swat him with your wooden spoon, and he yelps. “I am not old, Kim Namjoon. Do you feel old?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs, pulling away and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I mean, my dick doesn’t feel old.”

You gape at him. It’s definitely not old, but that’s not the point. “Namjoon!” 

“What? My boy down there is operating at peak performance levels.” His arm snakes around your waist again, but this time, it’s less innocent. He spins you around abruptly and you’re weightless. 

The kitchen feels warmer than it did thirty seconds ago. 

You stretch up to press a kiss against his mouth, and the taste of him forces your brain to shut off. The edge of the counter presses into your back. “The soup,” you mutter against his lips. 

“Will survive another few minutes,” he replies softly. Gentle compared to the rough calluses of his palm on your waist. 

There’s a lot of things you know in this universe. For starters, you like Korea. You like living here, being close to family. You like how often it rains in the summer. 

But sometimes, you think about America. New York City. If it rains there a lot or if it’s mostly dry. If homesickness transcends oceans even when you’re with someone you love. About Jungkook. 

Where these used to be passing thoughts, are now clear pictures in your head. 

He needs to go back where he came from, because there’s no longer space for him in your mind. 

Not when you’re with Namjoon, and not when you’re working towards a future that feels a lot like the one in your dream book. 

“Sundubu is ready.” You reach for plates, and Namjoon follows suit. You settle two burning hot bowls of sundubu in front of the other, pairing it with white rice. You hand him metal chopsticks, and gather to eat in silence. 

The first spoonful nearly burns your tongue off. For a few minutes, the only sounds are the synchronized symphony of slurping and satisfied sighs. 

“So,” you ask in between bites, chopsticks fishing for mushroom, “did Jin talk your ear off about his boyfriend drama today?"

Namjoon places his spoon down, reaching for his water. “For an hour, actually. The man has more hookups than I have friends.”

You could just ask Jin for this information yourself, but you prefer hearing the account from Namjoon. His straight-guy perspective adds this layer of bewilderment that makes you laugh.  

“Eunchae’s exactly the same way. Just the other day, she told me she was seeing this girl who apparently ‘cracked her open like a lobster.’ I’m still not entirely sure I know what she means.”

“I’ve cracked you open like a lobster before.” He jokes as he pokes your arm with his chopsticks. 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” You slurp some more broth. “I can’t imagine being horny after today’s events.”

And he has no idea how serious you are about that. 

“What, kids drove you mad?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Paint everywhere, my bug project is a crime scene. My classroom is a wreck and I’ll have to clean it all tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a disaster.” He takes a sip of water. Sometimes you don’t think he fully gets your war stories, especially since his biggest workplace challenge is usually surrounding debugging code. “Bet you learned your lesson.”

“I’ll never touch a bug again. The children can learn about nature from books and documentaries like the rest of us.” 

“I’m sure the kids will totally respect your new anti-bug policy.”

You ignore his sarcasm. “I’m a dictator in the classroom.”

“Truly terrifying.” He tips his bowl back to catch the last drops of broth. “Did you want to finish Singles Inferno tonight? I think we left off at one of the eliminations.” 

“Duh.” The excitement in your voice is probably disproportionate to the quality of reality TV, but you don’t care. “I need to catch up before Jin spoils the rest of the season for me. He has zero filter.” 

“He texted me three spoilers before I even met up with him today,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. 

You scrape the last bit of rice from your bowl. “Did he at least warn you first?”

“Nah, you know how he is. Fucker told me exactly which couples are coupling up.”

You stand, reaching for his empty bowl. “Remember when he told us the ending of that thriller we’d been watching?”

“And got confused when we were annoyed about it.” Namjoon stretches his legs out in the chair while you head toward the sink with both bowls in tow. “He was like ‘But now you can focus on the cinematography instead of the jump scares.’ I’ve already decided how I’m going to get him back one day.”

“Whatever. I just want to watch hot people make bad decisions.”

And that’s exactly what you two do for the remainder of the night. 

Later, after you’ve exhausted every possible theory about contestant motivations and relationship compatibility, you find yourselves tangled in bed, making out like teenagers who just learned what kissing feels like. 

But something’s missing in the way you’re kissing him. Almost as if your body is here but some essential part of you is standing off to the far left, observing from a distance. You’re not in the mood for anything beyond just a kiss, but he’s searching for more with how his hand slides up your sleep shirt, mapping skin he knows by heart. 

Even though your sex life is completely normal, you can’t do it. Not tonight, at least. 

Your mind is somewhere else, and it needs to be here. With Namjoon.

“Fuck,” He breathes against the column of your throat as your hips shift involuntarily. His lips travel down to your collarbone, aching, wanting.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll pull away.” You start to pull back, creating space that feels both necessary and wrong. 

“No, c’mere.” His thigh nudges your knees apart, but your legs respond by drawing closed instead of opening. 

“I’m just not really… tonight isn’t…” 

“Oh.” Namjoon’s hands still immediately, a concerned expression painted on his face. “Something wrong?” 

“No, it’s not you. It’s just—”

You pause. You don’t actually know the answer to what he’s asking you. What is wrong?

“School was a lot. My brain won’t shut off.” You force your mouth into a smile. 

“We don’t have to do anything. You know that, right?” He kisses your cheek once more before turning off the bedroom lamp. 

“Rain check for morning?” It’s a lukewarm offer. 

He flips over and fluffs his pillows up. “Always. Get some rest, baby.”

You listen to his breathing gradually slow into a familiar rhythm. But your own mind refuses to remain soundless.

When you finally do float off into sleep that night, the last thing you see is Jungwon and Hari’s eyes.

Three days pass before you deem it acceptable to return to your favorite coffee shop. 

Your routine has always been sacred, but the thought of walking into that shop and running into Jungkook again has kept you miles away. You’ve been surviving on homemade coffee and tea for the past few days; a breaking point has been reached. 

You’ve been coming to this shop for as long as you’ve been at the school—god knows Jiwoo is probably alerting the masses of your absence. 

With rain comes sun, and this Thursday in particular promises golden sunlight, replacing the persistent gray that’s been threatening the sky. Korea’s weather operates on its own whim, and despite your well-documented love affair with rainy days, this change feels like exactly what you need.

You shuffle to the front of the line with the rest of the morning crowd, where Jiwoo is yelling at a high school student who’s setting up the coffee beans. “No, I said put them in the—hi, what can I—”

She stops mid-sentence the minute she meets your eyes. “[Y/N]. I’m not even joking, I was about to file a missing persons report.”

“That’s definitely an overreaction.” You can’t help but crack a smile at her dramatics. “Jiwoo, I was gone for barely two days.”

“I don’t care.” She shakes her head. “You haven’t missed a school day since that one time when you had the flu and you crawled in here looking like death reincarnated. You don’t remember when I banned you from the premises for public health reasons?”

“You got me there.” You hike your work bag higher up on your shoulder. “The usual?” 

“Of course,” She reaches for a cup, scrawling your name across the surface with her signature flourish of tiny hearts dotting the letters. At this point, you’re entirely convinced she could make your order blindfolded. 

Before you can even reach for your wallet, she’s shushing you, “Absolutely not. I don’t accept payment from people who vanish and then stroll in like nothing happened.”

“Jiwoo, I—”

“Shut up. Your order will be ready soon.”

She’s pointing in the direction of the pickup counter, and you begrudgingly mope over there. You don’t normally approve of her handouts, but you and Jiwoo have formed some kind of barista-customer bond no one else would understand. 

The cafe is bustling—people clutching laptops like prayer books, conversations bleeding into each other until they feel like you’re encompassed in one big bubble. 

Today's lesson plan sits safely in your bag. No more paint experiments that turn your clothes into abstract art pieces. No more bug habitats that become graveyards. No more creativity. Just bracelet-making with pre-cut strings and silent reading time where the only sounds will be pages turning and whispered questions. 

You watch the teenage barista struggle to make your cloyingly sweet coffee, sweat beading along his forehead. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing. 

The entrance bell chimes atop the door—a brass sound that slices through the chatter. On instinct, your shoulders tense as you automatically glance toward the door. The relief that floods through you when you realize it’s not a dark brown-haired boy with wide eyes almost makes you dizzy. 

“Excuse me, miss?” The teenager’s voice cracks as he hurries over to your spot by the counter. “Did you get the iced coffee, three sugars with milk?” 

Turning around, you face the sweaty teenager. “Yeah, I did.”

“Uh,” He gulps thickly. “Do you mind waiting a few? I can’t find the milk.”

The panic in his eyes doesn’t waver. You’re pretty sure he’s half-expecting you to demand a manager or storm out in a caffeine-deprived rage. 

Unfortunately, you’re too patient to ever tell someone you actually are running a little late for work today. You had to cash in that morning sex raincheck from a few days ago.

“Take your time. No rush at all.”

He grins toothily at you before rushing to the back room to tear apart the storage area in search of dairy. You give him two more days before he finds a new job.

The bell chimes again. 

This time, a primitive part of your brain recognizes something that has nothing to do with sound and everything to do with memories. 

It’s like your skin has detected it before your eyes ever could. 

You turn around slowly, trying to convince yourself of any other possibility. It couldn’t be. It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him—

Jeon Jungkook stands near the entrance, speaking loudly into his cell phone. His dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His brown hair looks as though he’s been excessively running his hands through it. 

The world narrows to just him and the sound of your own heart hammering against your ribs. 

You should leave. Let the teenager figure out the milk situation on his own. Walk right out into the morning sunlight. 

But your feet seem to have developed an inconvenient relationship with the floor, rooting you in place like you’ve grown through the foundation. 

He doesn’t notice you at first, far too absorbed in whatever conversation he’s having. You force yourself to turn around sharply and tap your foot against the tiles repeatedly.

Why would he come back here?

The question circles your mind like water going down a drain. 

Surely, he’s not trying to run into you. Right?

Despite every reasonable instinct screaming at you to mind your own business, you angle your body just enough to steal one more glance. 

His eyes find yours across the morning rush, and even if you wanted to turn away, you’re like two sunflowers straining to feel each other’s warmth. 

Even from this distance, you can see his face shift from irritation to something softer. 

Jungkook pushes past patrons to get to where you’re standing, until he’s standing in front of you. 

A small smile blooms across his cherry lips, eyes twinkling in genuine amusement. 

You expect an awkward moment, or the excruciating encounter you’ve been avoiding. But looking at him now, you remember something you’d forgotten all these years: it could never be truly uncomfortable with someone who once knew all the ways to make you laugh. 

Jungkook says, “We meet again.”

masterlist + ask

taglist ; @arcanekookz @writesvani @yooniepot @whoa-jo @nimmmnikk @readingbee44 @jungshaking @starlight-1010 @jadaocon1 @phoenixxxxstarrrr @jkaxl @butterymin @almatiarau @lovingkoalaface @carriereadsbooks @bhonbhon @lola75111 @yoonstaar @namkookie222 @jeonjenny @lachimochala @kissyfacekoo @libra04 @minimoninini @goldenjeonkoo @ot7even @kopiosuam @annpeachy @literallyjimin @prxdajeon @purplelanterns @neg-l3ct @gguk-lvr @misakiminaa @wisebouquetbarbarian @smoljimjim @mar-lo-pap @senaqsstuff @jkkk9197 @nesha227 @kokoandkookie @rexana19 @delulutofr @adoresjjk @katsukisloveinterest @adolescenceingrained @jeonn044 @sassywildbunny @mellyyyyyyx @parkinglot-nights @alextgef @jeonnabi11 @beattiestreet

[norrisjpg]

── ☆ tea talks & torn paper

��═══════════════════════

series: my kind of woman, LN⁴

content: swearing, max & pietra being adorable, soft lando, relationship advice, torn pages, unspoken feelings and a little bit of tension

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: hi everyone, ever so sorry i went quiet on you all! i was having a bit of an unmotivated era and literally gave up on life itself! but, i've had a mental reset and i'm ready to get back at writing again. so, i really hope you enjoy this one, and welcome to the world of my kind of woman!

════════════════════════

LILY’S FRIDAY AFTERNOON wasn’t supposed to look like this. 

her small suitcase had been packed, outfits meticulously chosen, and nervous system prepared for a full-on media blitz at the book launch she’d been anticipating for weeks. but, when the publishing company had abruptly postponed the event due to some sort of logistical complication, lily had found herself with an unclaimed weekend and a non-refundable train ticket to oxford.

“so, you’re sure you don’t want to reschedule this book launch thing?” the brit piped up from the couch. 

“it’s not reschedulable, you knob.” lily rolled her eyes as she placed her once-packed shoes back on the rack. “the whole thing was canned.”

“what a shame,” pietra teased, walking over to the couch and flopping down next to her boyfriend. “i was really looking forward to my saturday night voice notes about how some sweaty guy grabbed your ass.”

“thankyou p.” the younger fewtrell gave her a deadpan look.

“so welcome.” the girl grinned.

“the offer to come with me and p is still there,” max said breezily. “if you want it, of course. it’ll be fun, he has like ten spare rooms, and you haven’t seen him in ages.”

“you’re not giving me much time to think about this.” she frowned, zipping the suitcase back up.

“because i know you, el.” her brother replied. “you’ll just be in your flat all weekend, reading something sappy and avoiding socialisation – or god forbid, you spend it with harry.”

“hey, leave harry out of this – and maybe i like being a recluse.”

“oh, we’re going golfing too, so pack some golf-friendly clothes.” he pointed out, trying to think of any other things she should know. “and lando has a hot-tub, and a sauna, and a gym… actually just pack for everything.”

“does he even know i’m coming?” she asked, still contemplating whether she should just bale on her not-certain plans already.

“he’s lando, he’d probably forget even if i did tell him.” max shrugged casually, earning a hand to the shoulder from pietra.

“lily, it’ll be fine. lando likes you, you like lando. it’s not like he’s going to make you sleep on the driveway – so you’re not uninvited, just a… nice surprise.”

“okay, i’ll come, when are we leaving?” lily sighed, wheeling her case toward her bedroom. 

max checked his watch, “in thirty.” 

• • • •

THE BACKSEATS of max’s audi were surprisingly spacious, allowing lily to stretch her legs out across the seats, and lean on the pillow she’d brought with her. the spine of her latest read was pressed against her knee, a good girl’s guide to murder printed neatly in black and red on a white background. she’d been meaning to read it for years now, but she’d never quite gotten around to opening the front page – so this was a good excuse, an hours drive to get stuck in.

invested in the teenager’s journey, she had neglected to notice that max had indicated down a tree-lined driveway, and that lando’s surrey pad had come into view – sleek, modern lines softened by ivy-covered walls and warm yellow lights pouring from the interior. 

lando and lily had known each other since they were fifteen, meeting at one of max’s karting races. he’d been awkward and geeky, gushing over engine types and tyre wear, but always sweet and polite with her, if a little nervous sometimes. but the last time she’d seen him was almost a year ago. he’d filled out (obviously, formula 1 drivers aren’t exactly stick-like), and he was charming, making her laugh with well-polished wit and the same immature humour she’d grown to love in their childhood. he’d been effortlessly kind, gentle, sweet in an undemanding way that didn’t make her feel like she had to perform. 

“i still feel weird showing up unannounced.” lily mumbled as she closed her book and carefully placed it into her bag. 

“as my wonderful girlfriend said, just a delightful surprise.” max quoted pietra, shutting the driver’s side door. 

she grumbled something in response, walking around toward the boot of the audi, intending on hauling her suitcase out of the vehicle – but it was short-lived, because the subject of her worries stepped out of the front door with a wide grin on his face.

“hey lovebirds.” lando chimed, skipping down the front steps like the child he was – and not quite noticing the other girl stood behind the car. 

the driver gave the pair a quick hug, “how was your drive?”

“lily wouldn’t stop stressing out about the fact that you didn’t know she was coming.” max blurted, making his sister poke her head out from the rear of the audi.

“hi lando.” she waved with a small, sheepish smile. 

if he wasn’t already smiling, he was practically beaming now. lando’s features softened and lit up at the same time, and he laughed softly, quickly heading toward her. 

“hi lala.” the mclaren driver said quietly, casually embracing the girl as if he’d been waiting for this day – his hoodie smelled like cedarwood and lemon, and it assaulted her senses like a homely candle. “how’ve you been?”

“i’ve been good, thankyou.” she smiled. “you?”

“never better,” lando nodded, gaze flitting over her features as he spoke. “let me get your stuff.”

“it’s okay–” she was cut off by lando easily picking her bag up. “thankyou. you’re sure you don’t mind me crashing here for the weekend?”

“are you kidding?” the brit laughed, “you’ve just improved the guestlist.”

pietra looked at max, raising her eyebrows in that same way she always did, earning an eye roll from her boyfriend. the couple (code for max) grabbed their bags, and then the two of them headed into the house. 

“come on, you can pick your room.” lando nodded, reaching up and closing the boot, before gesturing for her to follow him into the large building.

inside, the house was as chaotic as she’d remembered, but in a more, subtle, i’m an adult now, way. the shoe-shelf by the door was dishevelled to say the least – all of his most-used shoes were on there, just randomised and not in pairs at all. her shoes actually looked out of place, paired neatly and placed next to the strangely organised rack. there were a few pillows on the bottom of the staircase, with an untouched basket of clean washing next to the bannister.

pietra was flopped on the couch like it was her own, with max complaining about having no space and trying to find something to watch on the ridiculously large tv.

“so why’d you end up coming?” lando asked as he carried lily’s suitcase up the stairs. “not that i’m unhappy you’re here.”

“the book launch i was going to got cancelled.” she explained with a shrug of her shoulders. “i wasn’t really looking forward to it anyway. they sent me an early release, didn’t bother to read it.”

“brutal.” the driver laughed, glancing back at her briefly.

“honestly?” lily continued. “i wasn’t in the mood to be charming to strangers.”

“and you are now?” lando queried as they entered the spare room next to his. 

“you’re not a stranger, and define charming.” she laughed.

“exactly what you’re doing now.” he replied coolly, his gaze trained on her for a little too long.

“lando, why do you have four tubs of peanut butter and no bread?” max yelled up the stairs. 

“they substituted my nutella and i forgot about bread.” lando groaned, turning to shout.

“still the same.” she chuckled.

“i’m evolving, slowly.”

“i noticed,” she teased. “you used to live on toast and protein bars.”

“bagels and protein shakes now, i’ve upgraded. very adult.”

“impressive.”

their eyes locked again, and for a second, the faint noise of max and pietra chatting downstairs faded to silence. it was the kind of moment lily had always brushed past before – innocent enough to ignore, but heavy enough to remember. she looked away first, thanking him for carrying her bags and letting her stay.

“you’re always welcome here, lala.”

• • • •

BY TEN O’CLOCK, max was flat out on the sofa after a debate about which premier league team had the best looking players, and pietra had rolled her eyes at her boyfriend so many times she was sure they were going to get stuck there. pietra retired to the other guest bedroom, and lando bidded the younger fewtrell goodnight, before she herself slipped away to her room, the soft click of the door punctuating the quietness of the house.

she wasn’t tired.

restless was a better way to describe her demeanour, the kind of restlessness that came from a long day of travel, too many not quite finished thoughts, and the underlying buzz of something unspoken. maybe it was lando’s nostalgic warmth, maybe it was the glance she caught between max and pietra when lando greeted her, as if they knew something lily didn’t.

she wouldn’t call what happened sleep, moreso closing her eyes for a couple hours and pretending too. so, at five o’clock in the morning, the pull of alertness won, dragging her out of bed and quietly downstairs to the kitchen. 

she padded down the stairs in her hoodie and shorts, expecting silence – but the kitchen light was on, but dimmed.

pietra sat at the counter, sipping from a ceramic mug, her body angled toward the sliding glass doors. outside, the early morning sky stretched wide and pale, clouds tinged with gold and papaya.

“oh, morning.” lily grumbled, not sure if she was pleasantly surprised by the lack of solitude or not. “how come you’re up?”

“not really that tired.” pietra shrugged, sighing softly as she sipped more of her coffee. “how are you and harry doing?”

“yeah, we’re okay, i guess.” lily said, sounding slightly unamused. “we’re just casual, you know?”

“you deserve something that isn’t casual.” she responded. “and look i know it might be a bit random to you, but have you considered lando?”

she laughed, quiet and a little shook. “lando? no way, he’s max’s best mate.”

“but he’s so sweet to you, not like he is with anyone else.”

“he’s nice to everyone.” she brushed it off, like she always did.

“you’re allowed to like someone who’s good for you, you know? no matter who they are.”

she was about to reply, consider pietra’s suggestion, when the pad of heavier footsteps interrupted her train of thought. “oh, good morning.” lando yawned.

“morning lan.” lily smiled, the nickname slipping off of her tongue. 

“morning lando.” pietra replied, glancing at the man. 

he was in the navy quadrant hoodie, looking too soft to be real, hood pulled up and curls sticking out everywhere. on his legs were a light grey pair of shorts, with some matching navy socks on his feet. he looked pliant, adorable even. 

the three of them sat in comfortable silence, lando knowingly sliding a hot cup of tea, with two sugars and a splash of milk, over to lily wordlessly, earning an appreciative smile from her. he hopped up onto the counter next to her, watching the sunrise with the two girls. lily watched a bird land on the balcony fence, wings sharp against the morning blush – admiring the way it could freely come and go whenever it wanted.

“you remembered,” lily smiled after swallowing a mouthful of the warm beverage. “my tea, that is.”

“i have a good memory.” the driver smiled, gently nudging her shoulder with his own. “two sugars with an obscenely small amount of milk.”

she laughed, quiet and real, glancing at him and noticing the faint traces of sleep on his face, in the forms of shallow lines and dishevelled eyelashes. his curls looked ridiculously soft, and when he ruffled them after taking his hood down, she briefly appreciated the beauty of his new hair. 

the way he leaned a little closer to her when she smiled didn’t go unnoticed, instead reluctantly swept away from her mind like the rest of the thoughts he brought with him.

• • • •

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, lily was sat on a deck chair on the patio, nearing the end of the first book in the trilogy. she was so deep into the plotline that she didn’t notice lando creeping up behind her until it was too late. 

when his hands squeezed her shoulders abruptly, she slammed the book shut and pulled on one of the pages near the end – tearing the paper almost clean out. she quietly noticed, he didn’t.

“lando!” she groaned, gently thumping him on the head with the paperback. 

“you ready for my cooking, miss fewtrell?” he asked, hands still on her shoulders, softly holding and rubbing his thumbs over them now. 

“call the fire brigade now.”

“hey! that was one time.” he laughed, resting his chin on top of her head and looking down at her book. “what’cha reading?”

“something you’re clearly too illiterate to read the title of.” she deadpanned, putting the book under her chair and going to get up.

he laughed, genuine and real, for the first time in a while. “so rude – i’ll make you sleep on the drive.”

“who would keep your ego in check then?” lily shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows with a teasing laugh.

a couple hours later, the group were full and max was pretty sure he had chronic indigestion from trying to see how many chips he could eat in thirty seconds. 

lando was out on the deck, making sure he hadn’t left anything out there, when he spotted the white and red book underneath a patio chair. en-route back to the house, the driver flicked through a few pages, his gaze immediately landing on the ripped page near the back – and he quickly realised that he was at fault for it. he didn’t say anything when he handed the book back to her, not yet.

• • • •

MONDAY MORNING came around too quickly, and lando left before the other three did, having to head out early to japan early for some media stuff. he’d hugged her, longer than he did the other two, even whispered a sweet ‘see you soon, lala’ in her ear as he’d pulled away.

she wasn’t actually sure when he’d done it, she’d been with him practically the entire weekend. but when she’d returned to the room she was staying in, with the intention of packing up her stuff – there was a neatly wrapped and strangely-shaped package on the foot of the double bed, clad in brown paper with a small white bow on the top left corner. 

‘sorry about the book. and sorry i didn’t scare max instead. had some help from p too - L’

lily stood there for a few minutes after unwrapping the entire holly jackson series, heart swelling, and the scent of the perfume she’d been wanting but couldn't get curling around her like a spritzed embrace.

outside the window, the wind brushed the trees.

and somewhere deep in her soul, something had begun to change.

════════════════════════

taglist: @verogonewild @tvdtw4ever @shawnscurlz @f1fantasys @hescrush @stonesylove @irisesinthegarden @unfuckwitabella @mayax2o07 @curlylando

i do not give permission for my works to be re-written, re-published, or published on any other platform.

© norrisjpg 2025

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ you're a bullseye, and i aimed right (pt. 3)

music teacher!bob x english teacher!reader

summary: bob gets caught up in the rain after class. you invite him to your place.

notes: heavy discussion of mental health and substance abuse in regards of bob's troubled past. fem!reader. this fic is set on my pb&jj universe, but it can be read as it's own series too. please don't copy or repost anywhere. also yes i decided to go back and give this fic a proper name instead of just naming it bob x reader. thank you <3

part 1, part 2

Bob sits in the front stairs of the school, watching the hard rain fall and pondering if he should just walk to the closest metro station.

He really should’ve brought an umbrella when he spotted the dark clouds in the sky this morning. He knows better than to just crucify himself over it now. Still, he’s trying really hard not to spiral into some self deprecating mind fog.

“Bob?” He hears someone call from behind. He turns around swiftly to find you standing there completely wrapped in a dark blue overcoat, umbrella in hand. With your eyebrows frowning with worry, Bob thinks you’re a vision, lifting the fog up. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He stands up, “Last period ended like, 2 hours ago.”

“I had a meeting with Principal Barnes” You say it like it’s obvious, gesticulating with your hands. “You know, with finals week coming, I needed to go over my school program.” 

“Oh… Yeah, makes sense.” Bob laughs nervously, a little embarrassed. “I, um... I didn’t bring an umbrella, and… Yeah.” He motions to the sky, letting his train of thought die.

You stay quiet for a while, glaring at him. “So you were just… waiting for the rain to stop?”

“I- I think so, yeah.” 

“Well, it’s clearly not gonna.” You offer him a chuckle, “Sorry to break it to you. Weather app says it’ll be raining until tonight.”

“Oh, that’s just great.” Bob throws his head back, huffing. “My phone died right after lunch break, so I didn’t really check the weather app.”

You shake your head in a fond manner, walking past him towards the door. Before walking out, you open your umbrella and turn back to him. “Aren’t you coming?”

He straightens his posture, head tilting to the side. “Uh, where exactly?”

“I can’t just let you stay here, Bob.” Your mouth tugs up in a smile, going under the open umbrella and leaving an obvious space for him to go under too. “C’mon, you’re waiting in my place.” 

—

Your apartment is nice. Tiny, but really nice. 

“It’s not that big, I know.” You’re shaking your coat before hanging it up, throwing your dripping wet umbrella into a huge vase by the door. Smart, he thinks. “But it’s just me here, so I wasn’t worried about much space. I hate cleaning anyway.”

He’s looking around as you’re turning on different small lamps throughout the room, a warm orangey tone filling the room. Bob thinks the lightining suits you. 

You move around easily, none of the timid approach you usually carry at work. Bob feels like he’s accessing a whole different side of you now. 

“Water?” You say, opening the fridge and looking at him. 

“Yeah, thanks. Please.” He answers, then a bit more unsure, “I- Um, would you have a charger? I need to let my friends know I’m good.”

You offer him a quick smile, handing him the glass of water and heading inside — He wouldn’t dare follow you, but he’s sort of hoping he’ll get to see what your room looks like someday. You come back with a charger in hand, “It’s really nice that your friends are so caring.”

“Wary, I’d say.” Bob chuckles, a bit nervously. He feels like he’s about to enter some new territory, and he wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that he’s in your apartment. Like he has to open up to you, since you are, in a way, opening up to him too. 

He thinks it’d be a great symbolism if this was a book — the blue curtains, depressing feelings subtext of it all. But this is real life, and you’re looking at him like you’re waiting for him to explain what he meant by that, and he’s terrified of scaring you away. 

He cleans his throat, distancing himself a little. “I- I’m gonna plug this in. Thank you.”

Sitting on your couch, you motion to where he can find the nearest plug, then indicate for him to sit too, but he has other plans. 

He walks to the dark, woody bookshelf by your window. “Oh wow, the famous private library.” Bob looks back at you, watching your face split into a grin. He scams the packed shelves for the first book he borrowed from you. He’s careful when he picks it up, quickly going through your many, many annotations. “Your mind is truly something else, you know? How do you find so many details to go on about?”

“Well, I’m being paid to do so.” You joke, and he finds adorable the way your nose scrunches when you know you’re telling a bad one. “I’ve been studying this for half of my life, Bob. It’s like me asking you about like… How do you know all these different notes from a song? You sort of just know.”

“Yeah, true.” He sits by your side, allowing himself to stretch his arms and lay comfortably. “Still, it’s impressive.”

You offer him a shy smile, “Thank you. You too.” He shrugs, and you say more firmly, “No, it’s true! I’ve seen you play before. You’re really talented.”

“What? Where did you see me play?”

“I was walking by the music room the other day.” You say simply, “I didn’t want to interrupt. You seemed so focused.”

“I usually am when I’m playing.” He says, and you stay quiet, silently urging him to keep going. “Um, it’s always been like this, I think. Like I’m somewhere else entirely.”

Bob looks at you, and he finds that you’re gazing at him so attentively. So fondly. He takes a deep breath and takes a leap of faith. “It helped me a lot during therapy.”

He watches you shift, and for a second he thinks he fucked it all up. Except you lean closer to him.

“Yeah?” You say, in a hushed tone.

“Yeah.” He nods, and you nod back. Keep going, you’re saying. “I- Um, I struggled with substance abuse as a teen. Morphine, mostly. It did evolve for stronger things for a bit, but I- Uh, got help.” 

He’s not looking at you, but he feels your hand land on his shoulder. He stays quiet for a while, pondering where to go from here. He won’t dare to look up, but he feels the warmth of your hand going up and down his back and shoulder, comforting.

He thinks it’s time to finally rip the band-aid. When it comes to getting closer to you, it's presence has been doing more blocking than healing, he thinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I got help pretty soon after switching to them, which I’m glad about. Therapy helped me realise the morphine might have triggered some health issues too. Mental health, I mean.”

You wait until he goes quiet again to say something, “We don’t have to talk about it, Bob.”

He looks at you, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Only if you want to.” Your hand tightens on his shoulder and you offer him a tight-lipped smile, “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear it.”

He glares at you for a second too long and says “I think I’d like you to know me. Like, all of me.”

If you’re taken aback by what he said, you don’t let it show. 

“Is that why you say your friends are wary?”

He nods, “Uh, yeah- I’m okay now, I promise!” He’s quick to add. “Some days are harder, but I’ve been on medication for years. Therapy too.”

“Musical therapy?” You guess, and you see his mouth quirking up. 

“For a long time, yeah. Which is what I meant earlier.” He looks at you again, his face much less stern. “Now it’s just the regular zoom call every week.”

He sees you holding back a smile. “You’re really okay?”

“Yeah. Promise.", he offers you a sickly sweet smile.  "I got enough people worrying about me, sweetheart." 

Your hand travels from his shoulder all through his arm, reaching his hand. You hold it tightly. 

“Thank you for telling me.” You say, your voice in the lowest tone he’s ever heard from you.

“Thank you for listening.” He squeezes your hand — one, two, three times. He sees a smile forming in your face, then you suddenly get up.

“Help me make you some dinner before you have to go?” You offer him your hand and he takes it, using it to help him get up from the couch. You don’t let it go, instead ushering him to lead the way. 

As he’s crossing the kitchen threshold, he feels you pull his hand again. “Bob?”

“Yeah?” He turns back to you, looking at your entangled fingers and your uncertain face.

“Can I hug you?”

Bob can’t think of a single instance where he’d say no to you, but the orange tones of your house illuminating half of your face, just enough for him to see the little twinkle in your eye, makes it especially hard. 

“Of course.” He pulls you in, and your arms immediately wrap around his waist. “Of course, anytime.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is muffled, but he can perfectly hear your tone. Anytime? You’re asking. 

“Yeah. Anytime.” 

His lips briefly touch your temple. Not a kiss, just the promise of it. He thinks again that, if this was a book, that'd be another great symbolism. Except he’s not so terrified of scaring you away anymore.

more notes: i didn't go into heavy detail into naming bob's mental health issues, that was very much intentional. thank you for reading! <3

taglist: @lunarislector - thank you! let me know ifyou're interested in joining the taglist! <3

[satorrruuu]

WAIT I’M REMEMBERING THE FIC I FORGOT TO WRITE DOWN

“I could give you a baby.”

━━ decide which jjk character it is in the poll at the end? <3

So, you’ve been in what you hoped to be your final relationship for a while now. You’re in your late 20s or early 30s at this point, and it’s always been your dream to have kids. One or two, you’re not super picky, but you really want to have that - a loving partner raising a couple of kids together in a lovely house.

Everyone knows this about you: It’s been your dream since high school to have a baby. And it’s not like you were super traditional. It’s just smarter and safer to have a kid when you have the proper funds and support, maybe even taking a few years off work. So, you’ve been saving and planning your life around making that happen.

Your current partner, whom you’ve been with for YEARS, knows this. He’s an all-around nice guy who gets along with your parents and friends, and seemed happy to be in that future-father role. Sometimes he was a bit dismissive when you would ask occasionally what opinions he had on how to make a nursery, what sort of parenting style they should use, etc. He would say, ‘He didn’t really have an opinion’ and ‘now wasn’t the right time to start executing’ and ‘he wanted to get another work promotion and vacation before doing all that’.

Surprise, surprise, the dude was happy that you were treating him like your Provider Baby Daddy before he was one, and since you were so on top of creating plans and driven to make something of your own, he was ready to just coast through life on your hard work. — Maybe that was a mean take on it, but you really were frustrated! He told you, to your face, that he had hoped you’d change your mind about wanting to be a mom. He felt comfortable with you, and because this was the only setback, he wasn’t willing to end the relationship over differing opinions.

So you broke up with him—thank god it was before you both bought that house you were looking at together—and now you’re back to square one.

This is basically all you’ve been telling your friend since you sat down at your monthly coffee meet-up.

It’s all so ridiculous! He wasted your time! This is the window you’ve been planning for, where you were financially ready to have a baby. Even though you still wish to have that extra savings cushion, a partner could give you that if anything were to go wrong or if you’d just like to take more leave from work.

Your body is healthy, and you’ve been researching and preparing to be in your best shape and diet for so long to make it easier to have a smooth and relaxing pregnancy.

God, it was all coming apart. Now you are worrying about your age. You weren’t at the limit by any means, but the longer you wait, the more at risk you are for complications in your life and body. And your parents are getting older, and you really, really wanted them to have a chance to play with their grandchild before their bodies started slowing down.

And fuck, it’s not like it’ll be easy to find the perfect match to commit to spending the rest of your life with - or even just dealing with, if you ended up separating.

But maybe you didn’t have to stress about all this stuff. Because your dear friend had been listening wordlessly through your entire rant, and when you finally went silent, he says to you, dead serious,

“I could give you a baby.”

Poll’s duration will be long because I really want you to think about it lmao. I’m kidding, I’m just busy finishing up a project on my main, I just had to get this idea down before I forgot again. I think I’d write a little teaser recapping all this information first, but I don’t imagine the fic will be super long—it’s a quick-read mini-series at most. There will be baby-making, of course. Love you, thank you for helping me!💕 + Those pretty dividers were made by @/saradika-graphics !

[spideybatsy]

Late Night

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 3K Warnings: being watched without knowing, mentions of erections, nothing too serious. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 This is the first chapter in my new series! I haven't written in a year, so be kind Masterlist

The wind pressed against your sweat slick skin as you stepped into the shadow of Wayne Tower. A shiver rolled down your spine, half caused by the weather and half by the ravenous butterflies in your stomach. Starting a new job is never easy but God, you have never needed a job as much as you need this one.

The renewal of your lease brought a steep increase in rent at the same time as your boss announced he was closing the business. You couldn’t really say you were surprised, the bakery was definitely a front for something nefarious, why else would the GCPD come in every other week?

It was a shame, really. You loved working at the bakery, especially during those quiet moments when you could just sit there and watch the world go by. God knows you’ll be rushed off your feet now.

Cleaning wasn’t your first choice, nor was it your second. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list. But you were not in the position to be anything but grateful when your friend mentioned an opening at their work. The hours weren’t the best but the pay was surprisingly good.

You walked into the building and were immediately shoved by someone sprinting to the lift. Taking a deep breath, you regained your bearings, straightened your shirt, and headed for security. You’d been in the building only once, for your interview, but figured you’d need some sort of pass to get into the actual offices. 

The security man who served you was disarmingly attractive and you couldn’t help but blush as he ran his eyes down your figure. His hair was a dirty blonde, pushed back and behind his ears. 

“First day?”

“That obvious?” 

He chuckled, before asking for your name and looking you up on the system.  “I’ll just call your supervisor, Emily, to come down.” 

“Thank you.” The two of you fell into an almost awkward silence. “How, uh, long until your shift finishes?”

“I’m on a morning today, so I finish at 12. How about you?” 

“Well, I’ll usually be doing the 4 till 10 shift but they wanted me in earlier today. So, I'll finish around 3.” 

“Too bad.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Well, I would’ve loved to take you out for dinner.” Were your cheeks on fire or was it suddenly just really hot in here? “Maybe it’ll have to be lunch instead.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted by Emily calling your name. 

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!”

You flashed a sorry smile at him and rushed over to your friend's side. 

“Hey, what’s that guard's name?” Although you knew he couldn’t hear you from here, you still whispered.

You cringed as Emily started to turn back, quickly reaching out and stopping her.

“I think that’s Russell.” She whispered back, “Why?”

“He asked me out on a date.”

“Really?” Well, no more whispering. You simply nodded your head, following her into the lift. “You don’t even have your access pass and you’ve got the men drooling. You dirty stop out.” 

“I haven’t slept with him!”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be telling HR you called me a slut.”

“Hoping they’ll sleep with you too?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her slightly with your shoulder. As the numbers on the lift drew higher, the two of you settled down. Joking with your friend was one thing but you needed people here to take you seriously, even if you were just the cleaner.

“Are the people here nice?” You weren’t expecting your voice to sound so… small.

Emily looked over at you, affectionately bumping your shoulder. “Yeah, most of them are lovely.” 

“What about the others?”

“Fuckable.”

The lift doors opened and filled the floor with the sound of your combined laughter. 

—-

“And down here, you have Mister Wayne’s office.” You followed Emily down the hallway, looking into an office and making eye contact with an older man. You gave him a quick smile and was pleased when he returned it. 

“That’s Lucius Fox, he’s really the boss.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?” 

“What about him?” Emily stopped at the front of the last door.

“Well, it’s Wayne Enterprises, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You couldn’t help but gasp as she threw the door open, jumping to apologise to the aforementioned man. 

Only, he wasn’t there.

Emily laughed, walking further into the room. “He’s hardly here, probably recovering from his drunken nights spent with supermodels.”

You hesitantly followed her in, amazed by the so-called office. This one room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. It definitely had better views. 

“I’m not sure you should be talking about our boss like that,” you mumbled, walking over to the floor to ceiling windows. 

Emily came to stand next to you, “it’s not like he’s ever here to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted around, instantly fearing the worst. Was it possible you could be fired before you even got your first paycheck? How were you going to pay rent now?

You couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or not when you realised it was the man you’d smiled at earlier. Lucius Fox. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Emily replied, turning back to the view. 

Oh my God. What was she doing? “Please excuse my friend, Mr Fox. I think she meant-”

“I know what she meant,” he responded while walking over. 

You opted to say nothing and pretended to look out the window, wishing for the tension to dissipate as quickly as possible.

“You’re scaring them to death, Fox.” 

The older man laughed, coming to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Worry not, dear. You’ll grow used to the banter.”

The tension started melting from your shoulders, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

Within two weeks, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine. You came into work at 3:45 to make yourself a tea and read your book, before starting work at 4. You start at the side furthest from Wayne’s office, as they left the earliest. By the time you reached the common areas, the rest of the staff would be leaving, only Fox remaining. He was always the last one to leave, usually close to 7. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, since you knew he was typically the first person in the office too. So, you’d bring him a decaffeinated coffee around 5pm. You’d find yourself talking to him for a while, usually about stories from the past that you could both laugh about. 

Truth be told, you were starting to really enjoy the man's company. He had a dry sense of humour that you found hilarious. Being in the office late could be rather lonely, so you clung onto the moments you had with him. 

A positive of working alone in the office was that you could play all your music out loud. You’d recently gotten into a podcast where three friends read stories and discussed them. A lot of them were light hearted or ‘am i the asshole’ reddit posts.

Tonight, you listened to their supernatural episode as you finished up in Fox’s office when you heard a bang down the hallway. Slowly, you creeped to the door to peep down the corridor but there was no one there.

Maybe the ghost stories were getting to you. You shook your head and turned back into the office when you heard the noise again. Jumping, you looked toward the sound. The only thing down there was Mr Wayne’s office.

Clutching your mop between closed fists, you edged down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and rushed in, hoping to catch the perpetrator in action.

Only the office was empty, of course it was. You couldn’t help the relief that coursed through your veins. It was obviously going to be empty, you had yet to see The Bruce Wayne in this room. You were starting to wonder if it had even been used. Maybe Fox should get this office, that way someone can appreciate the view.

You laughed quietly to yourself before turning off the podcast and putting on some tunes. That was more than enough scares for you tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, you were not alone. A certain billionaire had stumbled in here before his night duty, expecting to find the place empty as usual. He hadn’t been in for a few weeks now but things rarely changed this high in the building.

Then you’d burst into the room, armed with a mop and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You were the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Who were you and what were you doing here? 

He couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his trousers. No. Now is not the time. 

He stayed in the shadows and watched you work, diligently going from one room to another before stopping in the kitchen to make a drink. You pulled a book out of your bag and read for a while. Bruce found himself creeping closer, eager to see what you were reading. 

Then you looked up and it seemed like you were staring straight at him. He knew you couldn’t see him but he couldn’t stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Nor the way his lower half jolted. 

What was it about you that made his infamous control slip? He’d never had this issue, not even as a teenager.

Your eyes widened as you kept gazing in his direction and he slowly turned his head. The bat symbol drifted amongst the clouds. 

He held back a sigh as he shifted further into the darkness. 

Maybe he was due a visit back into the office, after all. 

—

Or maybe not. 

It had been a week since Bruce first saw you in his office, clutching a mop like your life depended on it. Sometimes, when he lay awake in his bed, he thought about how oblivious you were to his presence that night. And every night since.

He should really get you some self defence classes, perhaps send them as a gift from Wayne Enterprises. He hated thinking about what could’ve happened if he really was a burglar. He could only keep you so safe, you needed to be able to handle yourself. 

Then he felt a bit crazy. Here he was, talking about you like you were… part of his life. Although, he supposed at this point you were part of his life. He just wasn’t part of yours. Too many times he’d driven to the building just to never get out of his car.

He’d asked Fox about you at his last equipment meeting. He tried to act nonchalant about it, casually asking if there were any new staff on the top floor. 

“We have a new cleaner.” Fox said, relaying your name. “They’ve been here for about three weeks. Settling in very well.”

Bruce repeated your name, strangely satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue. 

“May I inquire why you’ve asked about them?” Fox’s words caught Bruce off guard. “You’ve never been interested in the Wayne staff before.”

“Just keeping up to date with the comings and goings of my fathers legacy.” Bruce suddenly found the kevlar padding very interesting. 

“Better late than never, I suppose.” Fox hummed, running his fingers across the fabric. “This kevlar is half the weight of your current gear.”

“Is it still as durable?”

You didn’t come up in the conversation again but Fox filed the information away, eager to ask Alfred about it. 

—

“What does your partner think about you working so late?”

Fox’s question caught you completely off guard, causing you to almost spurt out your tea. He immediately grabbed the tissues off his desk, handing them to you.

“Forgive me, it was an inappropriate question.” 

“No, no, no. It’s fine.” You said, finally swallowing down your mouthful. “I, uh, don’t have a partner. So, I don’t think they mind.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.” 

Before you could respond, he tactfully changed the conversation. 

—

“They’re single, you know.” 

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look away from his newspaper. “Whose single, Alfred?”

His heart almost broke free from his chest when Alfred said your name. 

“How would you know that?” Bruce’s words were more rushed than he would’ve liked, the newspaper long forgotten on the table.

“Every old man has his secrets.”

“You spoke to Fox,” Bruce sighed. “They probably thought he was coming onto them.”

“Worried you have competition, Master Wayne?” 

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“You know, I may not be the master of romance but I hear that the first step in any relationship is to talk to each other.” 

“Obviously,” Bruce muttered, picking his newspaper back up.

“What you’re doing right now has a name, Master Wayne.” 

“And what is that?”

“Stalking.”

Bruce couldn’t help but flinch at the word. He turned to defend himself but Alfred was already gone, leaving him a pot of tea. 

—

You were sitting in the kitchen, tea in one hand and your book in the other. You’d found yourself in the office a bit earlier than usual but didn’t mind. It was always good to have some time to wind down before you started your shift. 

“What are you reading?” 

You couldn’t help but inwardly sigh, putting your bookmark in. “Just a-” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. If Russell was attractive, this man was downright gorgeous. A face carved for a god with luscious hair combed behind his ear. 

He looked eerily familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you bought your gaze back down to the book.

“I’ve never heard of The Dry Heart before,” Bruce’s heart leapt from his chest as he took the seat across from you. “What’s it about?”

You sneaked a glance up at him but immediately looked back down when you made eye contact. “It’s about an unhappy marriage, I’m reading it for a book club.”

He hummed, his eyes searching your face. You were even more breath-catching up close. “You must be our new cleaner,” you liked the way he said your name far too much. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“You have?” Who was this man? You would remember seeing such a gorgeous face among the office. 

“I try to meet all the new employees but I’ve been a bit slack lately, please forgive me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to look at him and couldn’t help the way your lips lifted. 

“Consider it forgotten,” you said softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Fox. 

“Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” Lucius came in and stood beside you. “I see you’ve met our latest employee.”

Your eyes shoot, Mr Wayne? Surely not. In your rushed state, you completely missed the way Fox smirked at Bruce, causing the younger man to stare daggers back at him.

“Of course, it’s important to know everyone in the office.” 

Fox hummed, turning back to you. “Please excuse us, I have a very important meeting to drag Mr Wayne into.” 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You had a hard time even saying the words, your mind whirling. Wasn’t Bruce Wayne an arrogant asshole? This man was the furthest from that. He was so kind and funny. And good looking. Holy shit was he good looking.

No, you’re not doing that. Not to your boss. Especially not when your boss is a world famous womaniser. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow him as he walks out or the way they trail down to his perfect ass. Entering the hallway, Fox rolls his eyes when he sees the massive smirk on Bruce’s face. 

—

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

You can’t help but jump as Bruce walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Please,” he sits down at the table and smiles at you. “Call me Bruce.”

“Okay, Bruce.” 

Bruce savours the way his name rolls off your tongue and how your cheeks go bright red under his gaze. His eyes follow as your blush spreads down your neck and under your neckline. 

“I usually take the new employees out for lunch, your turn is well overdue.” He takes a moment before continuing. “I guess ours would be more like dinner.”

“I suppose so,” you smile at him, oblivious to his wandering gaze. “But you don’t have to do that, Bruce. It’s fine, honestly.”

“I insist. How about tonight?”

You brought a lousy microwave dinner for tonight but there’s no reason why it can’t wait for tomorrow. Plus, who doesn’t like a free dinner? Lost in thought, Bruce takes the opportunity to study the way you bite your lip and store it away for later. 

“Sure, tonight is good.”

—

You weren’t sure what to expect during dinner but it wasn’t this. Bent over, your hand clutching your side in an attempt to ease your stitch as you laugh hysterically. Bruce is laughing too, his smile so big it shows his perfectly pearly whites.

“No way, you’re lying.” You gasp between breaths.

“I wish,” Bruce looks away in faux-shame. “I wasn’t always the smoothest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Your laugh settles into a smile. 

“Why’s that?” He sounds genuine when he asks, curious even.

“Well, look at you.” You immediately heat at the implication, quickly stuttering off an excuse. This is not a date. “Y-You’re The Bruce Wayne. It would’ve been a-all over the newspapers if you, uh, messed up.”

Bruce merely hums, his eyes dropping down to your lips as you bite away at them again. 

This is bad. You cannot be flirting with the boss, especially not your boss's boss. Sure, he might be into it now but he’s not known to stick around with the same person for long. You can not afford to lose this job if things go bad.

You’re saved by the server coming back to drop off the check. Bruce’s hand grasps yours as you go to take the check, sending a bolt of electricity down your arm. His eyes find your own, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’ve got you.”

Fuck. 

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: Photoshoot #4 - Such a Blessing - Kalim

Summary: Your fourth photoshoot was with Kalim and actually involved an outfit traditional to Scalding Sands culture. And, fittingly, you ended up recreating a wedding picture of Kalim’s parents as a light rain started to fall over you both.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 904

Crewel tilted his head, frowning slightly as he looked between me and the perfectly giddy Kalim, who already had my hand clasped in his warm one.

“I wasn’t sure about designing a bridal outfit that is more traditional to the Scalding Sands, but…. I think it’s worked out rather nicely,” Crewel finally nodded as he spoke, and I glanced down at the shirt and skirt, or rather, lehenga, that I wore.

Brilliant red with shiny gold embroidery covering both the short-sleeved bodice and the perfectly massive lehenga skirt that had about three layers in total.

“I think it looks great! If you want, I can give you some more jewelry to wear with it to complete the look!” Kalim looked between me and Crewel excitedly.

Both of us shook our heads hurriedly, apparently agreeing that I was already bedecked in enough gold, even as Kalim frowned in obvious confusion before he quickly recovered, “So what are we going to be doing?”

Crewel tilted his head as he eyed us, “Hmm, I was considering something that would show off the full breadth of the skirt, but now that we’re here……”

“I could kiss Y/n on the cheek!” I blinked at Kalim’s words in surprise, turning to look his way as he outright beamed at Crewel, who stared back at him in surprise that was similar to mine.

Kalim continued though, happily explaining himself as he glanced between me and our instructor, “I’ve seen my parent’s wedding pictures, and one of my mom’s favorites has my dad kissing her on the cheek! She always looks so happy when she sees that picture. In fact, her smile is the exact same as the one she has in the picture!”

Crewel nodded, still looking half-surprised as his gaze met mine and I lifted my shoulder in a half-shrug, largely unbothered by Kalim’s suggestions. It wasn’t like it would be the first time he gave me a kiss of some sort to display his occasionally overwhelming affection,  “Well, it sounds like a cute enough picture; it’s your line of wedding clothes, though.”

“No, it suits me if you’re fine with it.” The instructor shook his head at my words as he continued, “I’ll go tell the photographer, so you two can get in position whenever you’re ready.”

I felt myself smile slightly as I glanced back over towards Kalim only to find the young man already smiling brightly at me.

His hand found mine, clasping it tightly as he continued to beam, “Mom’ll be so happy when she sees these pictures! I bet she’ll want to meet you and everything!”

I felt myself chuckle slightly at his joyful nature even as I tilted my head at him, “Did you already tell your parents that you were going to be a model for Crewel’s line of bridal clothes?”

He shook his head, laughing in that perfectly carefree nature of his, “Nah, but my mom likes looking at wedding dresses, so I know she’ll see the images! She says wedding pictures make her happy.”

“We’re going to have to take these pictures quickly since it’s getting overcast. Are you two ready?” I straightened at the photographer's words. But he was right. Dark clouds were already overhead, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would mess up the lighting for the pictures.

At odds with worries, Kalim was wholly unbothered as he glanced up towards the heavens above us, “Oh, do you think it’ll rain? That would make for a really great picture!”

I glanced at him, half-confused by his words as I frowned slightly, tilting my head at the perpetually bubbly young man, “Because a rainy wedding day is supposed to be good luck?”

He laughed at my words, shaking his head, “No, I just think it would be nice. Rain is always such a blessing after all.”

His red eyes were bright as he grinned at me. Almost brighter than the red of my outfit, and I felt myself smile at his words. Idly wondering how he could be quite so positive about everything, even as I nodded, finding myself squeezing his hand slightly as I spoke, “Let’s hope for the best then.”

He squeezed my hand lightly in return, his expression briefly softening before he looked back over towards where Crewel and the photographer both stood and waved with his free hand, “We’re ready!”

The photographer gave a thumbs up and held up his camera at almost the same time it started to drizzle.

And though I had no idea how he managed to time it quite so perfectly, Kalim tugged me over and kissed me lightly on the cheek, causing me to laugh slightly at his eagerness at the precise moment that the camera flashed. Capturing and immortalizing the moment for eternity as Kalim burst into laughter from beside me.

Wholly unbothered by the rain that was steadily picking up even as Crewel shook his head at us with a distinctly fond smile. But at this point, I felt like most people were fond of Kalim.

Because when it came right down to it, it was hard to be frustrated with Kalim, and the young man always seemed to cause people to smile when he was nearby.

And even without either Crewel or the photographer saying anything as they both peered at the picture on the camera’s screen, I had no doubts that the photograph was perfect.

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[sillystarwrites]

Hi there!

Can you pretty please with a cherry on top do tadc cast x reader that looks like gingerbrave from the cookie run game series? Also just make reader a little shorter then pomni, thanks!

A/N: this is actually hella interesting?? Might be shorter (like about 5 per character) since there’s a lotta characters to write for here, but yipeeee

Type: tadc cast x gn!reader that looks like gingerbrave HCs

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🎩Caine🎩

☆ you’re the first person to enter that looks more food-like, so hes a tad intrigued

☆ still, he treats you like any other member! Full tour and everything

☆ he also used gingerbread a lot more in adventures. For some reason. It did freak you out a bit, to be honest, but you didn’t say much 

☆ I also like the idea that being a gingerbread fella you broke easily, so he’d often fix you up after adventures 

☆ he also gave you an oven in your room, to cook new limbs in case he wasn’t there to repair you

♟️Kinger♟️

☆ he’s a bit bonkers in the light, so you accidentally scare him a lot

☆ he’s sorta like a parent figure to you tbh

☆ like during episode 3 if you get tossed with him and Pomni, he protects you two

☆ also pretty helpful with finding your limbs if they snap off at all

☆ I have like no ideas for him I’m so sorry 😭 

💜Jax💜

☆ he’s purposely break off your limbs, because he would

☆ he probably also broke your arm off just to eat it, so see what it tasted like

☆ it tasted like polygons, much like other food in the circus

☆ he also probably tried to shove you in the oven in your room

☆ considering you occasionally need to bake yourself new limbs, you probably have some sort of frosting to re-attach them with

☆ which he totally stole and managed to glue you to your ceiling 

☆ and you still had to go on the adventure after that 

🧸Ragatha🧸

☆ as she is with everybody, she’s super welcoming to you

☆ also protects you from Jax when he tried to break you

☆ in the instance he does, she IMMEDIATELY helps, she’s such a people pleaser oml

☆ like genuinely it’ll be the smallest thing and she insists on helping, it’s a bit overbearing

☆ you know she’s trying to be nice but god damn

☆ you let her help anyway

☆ she’s pretty nice other than that

☆ checks on you pretty regularly and stuff

☆ during episode 4’s adventure she does spill that she basically pities you.

☆ so it’s like damn okay then

☆ that definitely affects your relationship, but you try not to let it get to you

☆ key word try.

🔶Zooble🔶

☆ they get the bullying from Jax, so they try to help

☆ sometimes it results in their limbs being yoinked, but hey, at least you’re okay

☆ they also help you with your gingerbread limbs

☆ you’re like a lot shorter than them, which they DO think is kinda maybe funny

☆ like they’ll never mock you for it but compared to everyone else you’re almost comically short

🎡Pomni🎡

☆ surprised to have someone a bit shorter than her at first to be honest

☆ she’s pretty nice to you though!!

☆ she might worry about accidentally breaking you so she might avoid you sometimes, but she means well

☆ if someone (Jax) breaks your limbs she’s willing to help if Ragatha doesn’t beat her to it

☆ sometimes wonders if you’re edible, but then she realizes that’s weird asf so she never asks

☆ other than that she seems to like you

🎭Gangle🎭

☆ she seems to like you, you’re nice to her

☆ idk if you two would be that good of friends, but defo talk to each other every now and then

☆ you might distract Jax from bothering her, so she’s a bit grateful for that

☆ you both get along well, for sure

☆ if you two do become friends you help each other out every now and then with whatever

🫧Bubble🫧

☆ tries to eat you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: let me cook please fhshdhdhshdh I had no clue what I was doing.

[achilles-rage]

achilles-rage’s twelve days of christmas

day eight: the man with the bag (ft. evan buckley)

summary: when shopping for some new clothes, you come across something that gives you an idea of how to surprise buck for christmas.

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

a/n: so sorry this is a day late, i didn’t wanna release a half assed fic because i think this idea is so silly lol. every other fic will still be released on time, so tomorrow, and then every other day after that!! also, i think this is so goofy and borerlines on cringy, but simply embrace the cringe because i think buck would love this scenario LOL. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

You feel like you’re in a scene of an early 2000’s rom com as you walk to Buck’s from the parking lot, your coat clutched between your hands; trying to make sure it stays closed. You know it’ll be worth it once you get to his place, but right now, you feel weird and slightly wrong.

It started when you were doing some online shopping, and when you opened one of your favourite clothing store websites, you saw a big flashing ad for their “holiday lingerie collection.”

You got curious; you had no idea what the holidays had to do with lingerie, so you clicked on it. Much to your surprise, most of the items were pretty normal, just in either red or green, but when you saw the set you had ended up buying, you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

It was silly, and you’re not really sure why you actually ended up buying it, but you know it would make Buck laugh just as much, and it’s a perfect gift-not-gift to give him before the actual gifts you bought for him.

When you finally get to his front door, you knock, anxiously looking down the hall as you wait. When you hear his voice from the other side of the door telling you to come in, you’re quick to turn the knob and slip in.

“Buck?” you call into the house when you look into the kitchen, and then the living room, and don’t see him.

“Up here!” he calls from his room.

Well, that’s sort of perfect, you think to yourself.

You take your coat off quickly, then check yourself out in his entryway mirror one more time, looking down at the bright red, mesh babydoll slip you’re wearing with white fuzzy detailing along the neckline and the bottom hem, and the matching red panties. You make sure your makeup is still in place, and then you take your santa hat out of your bag and put it on before slowly ascending the stairs with a smirk on your face.

“No fucking way.” you say with a giggle when you get to the top of the stairs, your smirk falling as you see Buck laid on his bed in nothing but a pair of red santa pants and a hat.

The smirk falls from his face as well, and his jaw drops, eyeing your curves in your lingerie set. He stands up from the bed and closes the distance between you, chuckling as he reaches out and grabs your hips.

“Did we both have the same idea?” he asks, and you nod, resting your forehead against his bare chest as you laugh along with him.

So much for your funny, sexy, weird idea.

“You look fucking incredible. The perfect Mrs. to my Mr. Claus.” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he eyes the tops of your breasts peeking out of your slip when you look back up at him.

“Now, we’re gonna find out if you’ve been naughty, or nice.” he purrs, lowering his head towards your neck.

“I was gonna say that!” you exclaim, laughing in disbelief as you push him back from your neck by his chest.

His brows raise in surprise, and then he smiles widely, bringing a finger up to the underside of your chin and pulling your lips up to his.

You’re absolutely perfect for him, he knows it.

He kisses you passionately, clumsily, and his tongue is quick to dart into your mouth when you part your lips to catch your breath.

“I can’t believe you stole my idea.” you whisper against his lips, hands moving down his firm chest to the waistband of his pants.

He chuckles lowly, his hips moving from your hips to your ass, grabbing and kneading it roughly. The fabric of your slip tickles his bare chest, and he’s not sure what he wants more; for you to keep it on, or to rip it off of you himself.

When he begins to walk you back towards the bed, you break the kiss, tutting softly.

“Uh uh, I walked all the way up to your apartment in this.” you argue softly, then flip him around and push him down onto the bed.

He groans as he hits the bed, his hands immediately finding your thighs as you straddle his lap. Your lips find his quickly, and you kiss him with fervour as you begin to slowly grind against him.

“Now, do you think you’ve been naughty, or nice?” you ask when you pull back, massaging his scalp with one hand while your other arm loops around the back of his neck.

“Hmm, I think I’ve been pretty good to you.” he murmurs, his blood running hot when he sees the devilish look in your eyes.

“I don’t know, I think you’ve been naughty. Might have to do something to make it up to me.” you purr, your hips still moving slowly against his.

He smirks, slowly bringing one of his hands up to the waistband of your red panties, letting his fingers dance along the fabric and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“I can do that.” he hums before dipping his fingers under your panties and finding your clit effortlessly. You let out a soft moan, grinding against his fingers as they circle your clit.

“Yeah, you better.” you manage to get out before he’s inserting two of his fingers into your cunt, moving at an achingly slow pace.

You moan quietly, bringing your lips to his as your hips continue to move against his fingers, desperate for more. Your kisses are sloppy as he swallows your moans, tongues licking into each other’s mouths and teeth clacking together as you both get more desperate.

His thumb moves to circle your clit, his fingers speeding up their pace and making you tilt your head back in pleasure, your hands squeezing his biceps in a desperate attempt to keep yourself grounded.

“What are my chances of getting back into your good graces after this?” he rasps, a wicked grin on his face when he sees how easy it is to have you moaning and squirming for his touch.

“Pretty fucking good.” you whimper, bringing your face back down and smashing your lips to his again.

When he curls his fingers up to tap your g-spot, your mewl loudly, back arching as you clench around his fingers.

“Cum for me, baby.” he whispers, parting from your lips and attaching his own to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin hard.

You fall over the edge with a few more thrusts of his fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as your body goes taut. Buck slows the movements of his fingers slowly, cooing softly as you come down from your high.

When you finally open your eyes, you smile at him lazily, then bring your lips together, humming softly as he brings his hands up to your hips.

Then, in one swift motion, you push him back to lay on the bed completely, his feet still over the edge of the bed and firmly placed on the hardwood as his back hits the sheets.

“Am I on your nice list yet?” he teases, his eyes widening slightly in surprise, but feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the way you take charge.

“Not if you keep asking.” you tease back, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. He groans, smirking as he feels you resuming your grinding against his lap again, hard cock pressing against your dripping folds.

“Yes ma’am.” he whispers before your lips are on his neck, pressing searing kisses down his skin and towards his broad chest. He tries to buck his hips against you, desperate for more friction, and you giggle softly, pulling back from his chest to look down at him.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you tease, smirking. “Keep them there.” you tell him sternly before you take your hands from his wrists.

He’s tempted to grab your hips and flip you over so he’s back in control, but he doesn’t. He loves the way it feels to lay under you like this, and he wants to see it go on for a little while longer.

“Good boy.” you tease, then raise your hips just enough to tug his pants down and let his hard cock spring free. He lets out a ragged moan at the nickname, feeling your fingers ghosting over his length as it hits his stomach.

You pull your panties to the side, and line him up with your entrance, and you don’t waste another second, sinking onto him until he’s completely buried inside of you.

Your hands go back to his wrists as you begin to move, moans tumbling out of both of your lips as he stretches you out.

“God, you feel so good, baby.” he rasps, resisting the urge to get his arms free from your grip. You both know that he could very easily get out of your grip; those muscles aren’t just for show, but it wouldn’t be any fun if he didn’t let you pin him down every once in a while.

“Yeah, you trying to sweet talk me, Buckley?” you tease, rolling your hips against his in a way that has him moaning desperately.

“Is it working?” he asks, letting out a low groan when you lean down and start pressing kisses on his chest, biting and sucking on his skin every now and then.

“Could be.” you whisper against his skin, beginning to bounce on his cock.

He can already feel himself getting close, but he tries to hold back as he watches the way your plush belly and chest move with each bounce.

God, what he’d give to touch your soft skin right now.

When your movements begin to get sloppy, hips moving out of time and your eyes beginning to roll back, he finally rips his wrists from your grip.

He grabs your hips and flips you onto your back before you can react, pushing into you as soon as you’re situated.

You look up at him with a surprised, and slightly dazed expression, and he just chuckles lowly, thrusting into you hard and fast, and moaning loudly as he feels how well you grip his cock.

“What? I’ve still gotta prove that you’re a good girl, don’t I?” he teases, and you let out a quick, breathless laugh, which turns into a moan as he grabs one of your thighs and pulls it up to his hip.

You look up at him, barely able to fight back as you feel the pit forming in your lower belly. Your hands are gripping his biceps hard, and when he brings the hand from your hip up to your neck, you can feel yourself about to fall over the edge.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, baby?” he growls, and all you can do is nod. Your nails are digging into his biceps, making half moon indents in his skin, and he stares into your eyes, wanting to watch your face as you cum on his cock.

With a few more thrusts, you’re clenching and cumming around him, overwhelmed with the feeling of him spilling his seed into your pulsing cunt.

He practically collapses onto you, still buried deep inside you as you both come down from your highs. Your chest is heaving as you hold him close, bringing one hand up and massaging his scalp.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and then each of your cheeks, and then your nose, and then finally your lips with a soft hum.

He pulls out with a low groan, feeling his release slowly dripping out of your cunt and falling down to the bedsheets under you. He watches your soft belly and chest rising and falling under your nearly-see-through slip with each breath as he kneels over you. He’s unable to resist the urge to place his large hands on your tummy, just to feel your plushness between his fingers.

He lets his hands move up under your slip, slowly squeezing and kneading at your tummy, and you giggle softly, feeling your face and the tips of your ears get

hot at the attention.

“Am I on your nice list, now?” you ask with a lazy grin, watching as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the middle of your tummy, just above your belly button.

“Oh, absolutely. But now I think I’ve gotta reward you for being such a good girl.” he purrs, moving to hover over you again with a smirk.

Maybe holiday lingerie wasn’t such a bad idea after all, you think as he flips you over onto your stomach.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[cinnamoqnscent]

.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ sickly sweet .ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

During your last training session with Megumi, a bad storm caught you both while you were outside and due to Megumi saying it was fine to stay outside and carry on sparing. He fell ill with a fever from the rain and cold, so now you were in his dorm taking care of a very sick Megumi.

“You don’t need to fuss, I'm fine” he said dryly as he repositioned the wet flannel on his forehead, his mild coughing gave it away that he was NOT fine. “Your not fine, you have a really high fever and you keep coughing like a chainsmoker”

You said as you rummaged around his dorm for some sort of medicine, “do you have any medicine in your dorm?” Megumi let out a weary sigh, his eyes half closed as his hair was sprawled all over his navy blue pillow, “no i don’t think so..” he let out a raspy cough.

He attempted to sit up only to be pushed back down by your hands. “Ill go see if shoko or someone has any medicine" you kissed his cheek before leaving his room. Megumi's cheeks flushed a deep pink as he watched you leave. He sat there with a conflicted expression, his forehead still resting on the cool flannel. His fingers tracing the outline of the affectionate kiss you had left.

It took you 20 minutes to find someone with medicine and you slowly went back to your bed ridden boyfriend with the medicine and water, and also some bread. As you re-entered his room, Megumi's gaze shifted. “I thought you died," he said, his voice slightly raspy.

He shifted position, sitting up slightly, and his stomach growled at the sight of the bread.

“Sorry megs, literally no one had any medicine" you handed him the small bottle of medicine with water and placed the bread on his bed.

He happily took the medicine and almost drank the whole bottle of water, he slowly started picking at the bread. You moved to sit next to him on his bed, you pulled out your computer from your bag to watch some movies with your sick patient beside you. “Are you feeling any better?” you said looking up at him from your computer screen

”not really” He said as he coughed “this sucks”. You looked at him sympathetically “it’ll get better soon megs”

You soon scooted up next to him and put on the Jurassic park films. Megumi sat on his bed, his back leaning against the headrest, with a small, rare smile on his lips. He had to admit, it felt nice to be pampered. Normally, he would have pushed you away, preferring solitude over affection. Yet here he was, watching the iconic film series with you. The rain soon started to patter against the window, the sound a soothing backdrop to the movie.

“You don’t have to look after me you know?” he said quietly, keeping his eyes on the film, “hm? I want to” you said while looking up at him, his hair was a mess and his face was a light pink colour. Megumi rolled his eyes at your response, your kindness and warm heart was one thing he loved most about you, “you’re a kind person..” he mumbled while you leaned up and kissed his cheek Megumi's blush deepened as your lips touched his cheek. He tried to act nonchalant, to hide the fluttering of his heart, but he was failing miserably.

"Stop that," he protested weakly, "I'm sick, you know. You're taking advantage of my current state to be affectionate."

You just laughed at him before smothering him in kisses, Megumi protested a few more times, but there was no real fight. Your relentless affection was making it impossible for him to remain stoic and indifferent. He let out a defeated sigh and allowed you to smother him with hugs and kisses. Deep down, he knew he wanted this, even if he'd never admit it out loud.

"You're insufferable," he muttered, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Am not” you said before kissing him properly, Megumi's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected kiss, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his hand gently cupping your face.

He tried to resist, to remind himself of his pride, but you had a way of melting his defenses. The rain continued to patter against the window, but the only sound Megumi focused on was the taste of your lips.

He drew away just enough to whisper, "Insufferably sweet," his voice raspy and slightly hoarse. "I'm gonna blame you if i get sick" you whispered while leaning your head onto his warm forehead, "Me?" Megumi feigned innocence, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "You're the one who voluntarily kissed an ill person. I think the blame lies with you." He shifted, pulling you closer so that you were half-resting on his chest.

Megumi slowly got better after a few days of bed rest and was his normal aloof self….you on the other hand got the same thing Megumi had, now it was his turn to take care of a sick you, in his mind you were a lot more whinier when sick…but he never said that.

[scuderiahoney]

Love Of My Life

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Part 5

Masterlist // Series Masterlist

Summary: Four moments leading up to the big day, and the moment you and Max have been dreaming of.

a/n: I actually have SO much to say but I will save it for the end or maybe a separate post. title thanks to Mr. Harry Styles. Hope you all enjoy this one!

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content

1. something old

“You should come over Friday,” Louise tells you over the phone. “I’m having some friends over, you’ll love them. It’ll be fun.”

You don’t have anything better to do, really. You’ve had a hard time making friends since you moved here- people were still hesitant to socialize due to Covid. But things are opening back up now, and the one friend you have made wants to introduce you to more people. You should take the chance. You’d be silly not to.

So you head over with a bottle of white wine. You slip your coat off at the door, finding the apartment full of people. You’re suddenly anxious. You don’t know anyone here besides Louise, and you feel like such an outsider already. These people are all already friends, why would you think you could just insert yourself?

Just as you’re thinking about putting your coat back on and pretending you were never there, Louise spots you in the hallway. She calls out your name and beckons you over. Now you’re stuck. There’s no escaping anymore.

She greets you with a hug, squealing in your ear- you can tell she’s already tipsy. You hug her back and smile at her when she pulls away.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she says, loud enough to be heard over the music playing in her apartment. “I’ve got so many people I want you to meet.”

She takes you to the kitchen first, where there’s a wide array of alcohol and mixers. You help yourself to a tequila & soda. Then she holds your hand and pulls you through the crowd, making stops along the way. She introduces you to all her friends one by one, and you start to put faces to the names in the stories she’s told you. Everyone is kind and excited to meet you- apparently, they’ve heard a lot about you, too.

By the time you meet Max, you’re three drinks in. Louise doesn’t give you any sort of heads up. You suppose it shouldn’t really matter- to her, he’s just her friend Max. You’re not a big F1 fan, but you know enough to know who Max is. So when you’re suddenly face to face with him in a crowded apartment?

You handle it well, all things considered. The alcohol helps, keeps your hand from shaking when you give him a little wave as Louise gushes about you. Max helps, too- for someone who should be intimidating, he’s incredibly kind. It’s not long before Louise is dragging you off again, someone else she needs you to meet.

Max yells after the two of you, his hand cupped around his mouth. “Nice to meet you!”

You echo it back and laugh as she drags you away. You don’t see him again that night, but Max’s soft smile stays imprinted in the back of your brain for days.

2. something new

Just before Christmas, you and Max host a party. Half your friends are out of town visiting family, but you invite the people who are there to come over for dinner and drinks and games. Daniel, who is usually first to arrive and last to leave, gets there far too early. He rings the doorbell and Max looks at you with a wide grin. He has oven mitts on his hands, and he’s wearing an apron. It’s all very domestic, and it makes your heart sing.

“I’ll get it,” you say, sliding off the kitchen stool and heading for the door.

You take a deep breath before you open it. Daniel comes tumbling in, arms full of food and drinks, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. He’s grinning so wide at you that for a moment you think he already knows, but Max had sworn he hadn’t told him yet. He heads towards the kitchen, already talking a mile a minute, but when he turns over his shoulder to look at you he stops in his tracks. He cocks his head at you.

“Something’s different,” he says, one brow quirked. “Did you cut your hair? Something’s… new.”

You shake your head and frown at him. He frowns right back. Then he drops the bottles and bags of food on the couch. He casts a glance towards the kitchen, where Max has his head in the fridge. For a second, you’re worried about what he’s going to ask you.

Then he reaches for your left hand, and you start to laugh.

His grin grows impossibly wider when he spots the ring on your finger. He pulls you into a tight hug before he says anything. You hear Max let out a noise of confusion in the kitchen, but you’re busy hugging Daniel back.

“Congrats,” he says, voice low. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

You laugh, tears suddenly threatening to build up in your eyes. “Thank you. And. Thank you,” you say. “For picking me up and bringing me here that night.”

He nods, squeezes his arms around you once more before he pulls away. Max is standing at the kitchen island, watching the two of you with a soft smile.

“Told you he’d notice immediately,” he says. “Lando’s the one who’ll be oblivious.”

Daniel charges across the room to get to Max and wraps him up in a bear hug. Max reciprocates happily, smiling at you over his friend’s shoulder. They hold onto each other for a long time.

“Wait, so is this an engagement party?” He asks, and Max laughs. “Wait, when did you ask her?”

“Just after we got back from Japan,” you answer.

Daniel turns to you, eyes wide. “You little assholes! You’ve been keeping it a secret for weeks?”

He shoves Max’s shoulder lightly. Max shoves him back. Before long, the two of them are playfully wrestling in the kitchen. The timer on the oven goes off, but it doesn’t seem to stop either of them. You sigh, walk over, take the oven mits from the counter, and sidestep the scramble to get to the oven and pull the tray of cookies out.

Louise walks in without knocking and takes in the entire situation- you, a tray of cookies in your hands, Daniel, his arms around Max, Max, with Daniel in a headlock, and she starts to laugh.

“Oh my god, did you guys get engaged?” She asks.

“How did you know?” Max squeaks- Daniel’s pinched his side mid sentence.

“You’re wearing an apron that says fiancé,” Louise laughs.

You collapse into laughter, barely making sure to set the cookies down on the counter. You’d forgotten about the apron, a gag gift from you to him that he’d insisted on actually wearing. Max looks down at his own chest, tucking his chin comically to do so. He still has Daniel in a headlock. The other man is jabbing at Max’s stomach now.

“Huh. Forgot about that,” he says with a shrug.

“Let me see the ring!” Louise says, making her way towards you.

“Shoes off!” Both you and Max call out, pointing at her feet.

She sighs and shares a look of exasperation with Daniel. He rolls his eyes in agreement. Max sees and remembers his previous fight with Daniel, and seems to decide to return to that, shoving his elbow into his friend’s side.

You ignore them and head for Louise, holding your hand out to her. She squeals over the ring, holding onto your hand tightly, eyes lit up.

“Wouldn’t be here without you,” you tell her.

“And that awful strawberry wine,” she says knowingly.

She’s not exactly wrong. Without that night, the strawberry wine that everyone else hated but you and Max liked, you’re not sure what would’ve happened. You like to believe you would’ve found your way to each other- something else to have in common, something else to share. But you wouldn’t trade any of those shared bottles of wine for the entire world. You treasure each moment.

“They got engaged like three weeks ago!” Daniel calls out. “They’re assholes!”

You slip the ring off your finger and turn it around so Louise can see the strawberry, and you watch her face crumple into a sob. You laugh and feel yours do the same.

“Shit,” Daniel says. “I didn’t mean it.”

Max gives up on wrestling Daniel. “Baby?”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, as you pull Louise into a hug. “Happy tears.”

3. something borrowed

You follow Max to Bahrain for the beginning of the F1 season. He’s often busy before he gets in the car, and you usually spend the time hanging out in hospitality or in the garage. But before the first practice of the season, he finds you and pulls you to the side.

He slips the bracelet you gave him from his wrist and hands it to you. “Keep this safe for me?”

You know the rest of his jewelry- his other bracelets, his watch, and any rings he’d worn- are sitting in his driver room. Your chest warms at the thought that he’s worn this one as long as possible, and that he wants you to hold onto it. You smile up at him and slide the bracelet into your own wrist. It’s a bit too big, but it’ll work.

“Sure, I’ll just borrow it for now,” you tell him.

A wide, soft smile spreads across Max’s lips. “Oh. That’s. That’s nice.”

His face has morphed into something warm and full of affection. His eyes are trained on the bracelet, sitting on your wrist, the way it hangs loosely against the base of your hand. It’s comforting to you, too.

You laugh, noticing the tears in his eyes. “You big sap.”

He brushes his thumb against your wrist and kisses your forehead. “But I’m yours.”

“Yeah, you are,” you say, and you kiss his cheek. “Forever. I’ll see you soon, love.”

After the practice, he finds you, his race suit tied around his waist. He pulls you into a hug, and you slip the bracelet off your wrist and onto his. And so, the tradition begins.

By the end of the race the next weekend, the two of you have it down to a science. He takes it off just before he heads to the grid, leaves it with you. You rub your thumb against the metal during the race, wrap your whole hand around it during the more stressful moments. The cold metal against the palm of your other hand is grounding, somehow. When he crosses the finish line in first, you run to greet him with the crew. He pulls you halfway over the barricade when he finds you, helmet still on, and you press your lips to the top of it as he holds you, strong arms right around your middle. He smells like sweat and shakes with the adrenaline of it all. There are people slapping his shoulders eagerly, people reaching to tap his helmet, but for just a moment, all he’s focused on is you. He reaches for your wrist.

You slip the bracelet off and put it back on his wrist for him. You watch his shoulders relax, like the last bit of tension is draining away. You hold onto the sides of his helmet, staring into his eyes, which are nearly squeezed shut. He holds your face in his hands for just a moment, fingers pressed to your skin.

He’s going to be your husband. In all of this chaos, you’re the person he wants by his side, the first one he runs to. It hits you like a freight train, and you swallow down the tears.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises, smiling through all of it. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you tell him, as you let go of him.

Someone pulls him away- he has other things he has to do now. But he’ll come back to you. He always does.

4. something blue

Soon, it’s late summer in Monaco. The hazy afternoon sun is about to slip below the horizon. You’ve just climbed out of bed after a long nap with Max, both of you having been exhausted from the race weekend and the journey back home. For once, you’d been the one trying to coax him to stay in bed. He’d insisted on getting up, on trying to scrape together dinner from what’s left of the groceries in your apartment. So far, you haven’t made much progress beyond opening a bottle of wine and starting a playlist playing.

“Maybe this could be a first dance song,” you suggest, some sappy love song playing over the speakers in the kitchen.

Max shakes his head, wrinkles his nose. “You don’t even know this song.”

“Sounds pretty.”

“It has to mean something, no?” He says, reaching out and pulling you close. “Not just… sounds pretty.”

“Yeah, but… how do we pick a song that sums it all up?” You ask, and his shoulders drop. “I mean. Have you found the song yet?”

“I have ideas,” he says.

“So do I,” you answer, and then you sigh. “But I don’t think any of them are the one.”

Max stands there, hands on your hips. “Let’s test them out,” he says.

You blink up at him, sliding your hands up his abdomen. “Now?”

You look down at yourself, and at him. He’s shirtless, in nothing but a pair of navy sweatpants and socks. You’re not much more dressed- one of his navy Red Bull tshirts, big enough that it falls down to mid thigh, nothing but your underwear underneath, a pair of light blue cable knit socks on your feet. Your hair is a mess. There are definitely dark circles under your eyes, courtesy of your near-permanent jet lag.

“Yeah, now,” he says, brushing his thumbs against your hips. “You’ve got a list, so do I. How are we going to know which one’s right till we try them out?”

You shrug, then nod, reaching for your phone. You open your music, scrolling to the playlist you’ve already made. Max looks at the screen upside down, trying to read the names of the songs. When the first one begins to play, he takes you into his arms and starts to dance.

The kitchen is big, but it’s no dance floor. The living room might be better, but he seems insistent on staying put. The two of you sway on the tile floors, careful not to bump your hips on the countertops. He spins you in dizzying circles, ones that make you laugh and smile and send you crashing back into his chest. And when you’ve heard enough of each song to know it’s not the song, you skip it.

“Too boring,” he says about one.

“Too cheesy,” you respond to another.

He wrinkles his nose at the next one. “This is even cheesier.”

It’s not long until you’ve exhausted both of your lists. You sigh in defeat, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand sweeps up your back.

“We’ll find it,” you tell him. “Or we’ll get Charles to write us a song.”

Max snorts out a laugh. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“He was the first of your friends that I met, you know,” you remind him with a teasing lilt.

He bends his head to kiss your forehead, but he stops halfway. His brows furrow. Then he reaches for your phone off the counter, swiping to open it.

“What?” You ask, softly.

“Danny- he suggested a song, a while ago. A long time ago, actually-“ he says. “I had forgotten about it. But. We should try, no?”

You nod. He pressed play. You don’t recognize the song as the first chords play out, but you’ll give it a shot. You rest your head against Max’s chest, let him hold you and sway back and forth. For a moment, you think you’re starting to feel it. That this might be the song. There’s a flutter in your chest.

And then the chorus hits, and you hear the lyrics, and you just know. You look up at Max with tears in your eyes and you know he feels it too. The sun is long gone, now, and the kitchen is filled with that blue, post sunset light. It matches Max’s eyes, brings out the color in them. He leans you back in the kitchen of your apartment and kisses you like you’re his wife- like this could be your first dance at your wedding. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him right back.

You’re not sure how many times you listen to that song that night. Enough to learn all the lyrics, enough to commit the feeling of it to memory. By the end of the night, Max is singing it to you while you wash your face and laugh, and you’re humming it while you climb into bed. You lay there, your head on the pillow, looking over at him. Neither of you can wipe the giant smiles off your lips.

5. and a sixpence in your shoe

You wake up just after the sun on a Saturday morning in early January. The year is still fresh, and Max is in bed next to you. He’s got his arm around your waist, face pressed into the pillow. The sight makes you smile.

Today, you get to marry him. You can’t wipe the stupid grin off your face. As Max starts to wake up, you see the smile slip across his face, too. He opens his eyes and meets yours, and the smile only grows. He reaches out, runs the back of his finger over your cheek.

“My beautiful girlfriend,” he says, softly.

You laugh. “My handsome boyfriend.”

“We have to use that up, you know. Say it while we still can,” he says.

He tugs at your side to pull you closer. You go easily.

“We’re getting married today,” you say to him.

He nods, eyes tracing your face. “Any second thoughts? Cold feet?”

You laugh and bury your face in his chest. You press your feet to his calves and he hisses, rolling over on top of you in retaliation. He presses quick, ticklish kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you squeal and try to push him away. He’s much stronger, though, and he keeps you pinned under him.

“My feet are always cold,” you tell him. “But no second thoughts. I’m all in.”

“Are we getting married or playing poker?” He teases. When you groan and shove at his shoulder lightly, he laughs into your neck.

“What about you? Second thoughts?” You ask.

Max laughs again, louder this time. He presses himself closer, if that’s even possible, and kisses the hinge of your jaw gently. His nose brushes against your temple, then, as he presses his lips to your ear.

“Never,” he whispers, making you shiver. “I’m all in, too.”

He pulls away to look at your face, and you’re met with a soft gaze that sends your heart into overdrive. He leans close, lips aiming for yours, his nose bumping against your nose. You let your eyes fall shut, and then there’s someone knocking on your front door, loudly.

“You two better be decent!” Daniel calls out. “We’re here, time to get up!”

You sigh, throwing your head back on the pillow. Max lets out a long, loud groan, hands suddenly everywhere on your body, like he’s trying to get as much touching in as he can before it’s too late. You laugh and try to push him away again, but it’s no use.

“Why’d we tell him to come get us so early?” Max says, bordering on a whine. “And why did he listen to us?”

“He’s your best man,” you remind him. “You chose him.”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door. “Come on, lovebirds. We’ve got a schedule to keep. It’s your wedding day!” This time it’s Louise, who’s your maid of honor.

You sigh and try to sit up, bringing Max with you. He doesn’t go easily, or willingly. He seems perfectly content to stay tucked in bed, despite the threats from your friends. In fact, the second you’re halfway sitting up, he’s trying to push you back down onto the pillows.

“Max. I’m not wearing a shirt,” you hiss, gesturing down at yourself. “And Danny is threatening to come in here-“

Max sits up suddenly, eyes wide. “Okay, okay, we’re getting up,” he calls out. “Give us a minute to get dressed, yeah?”

You meet the two of them in the kitchen ten minutes later. Max is in a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, while you’re in a cream lounge set your friend Audrey bought you as a wedding shower gift. You have one of Max’s shirts overtop of it, unbuttoned and hanging like a jacket. Daniel and Louise are sitting at the kitchen counter, coffee and breakfast waiting for both you and Max. Your friends greet each of you with hugs and then rush you both out the door.

You ride to the wedding venue together, and even as you head to get ready, you don’t separate. This is what you both decided- you get ready for every other big event in your lives together, side by side, so why would this one be any different? Your friends all join you, your family members too, trickling in and out of the space. The morning is full of love and light. Max sits next to you and watches you get your hair and makeup done. Your makeup artist has to tell him to stop making you laugh- she’s worried she’s going to mess up your lipstick.

Max just grins and shakes his head. “We can’t have that,” he teases. “That’s my job.”

You wait until the last possible second to put on your dress. That’s when you leave Max’s side, letting go of him until you meet him at the end of the aisle. He's in his tux, a blue bow tie around his neck. There’s this peaceful smile on his face, one that grounds you and comforts you every time you see it. He kisses your temple to avoid messing up your makeup, and you smile up at him softly.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promises eyes sparkling.

“Yeah, see you soon,” you answer, feeling giddy.

The wedding itself is a tiny, intimate affair. Just your closest friends and family and someone to officiate. You can see the garden where you’re going to get married from the room you’ve been getting ready in. The guests are all in the seats- your family and Max’s in the front row. GP and his wife are there, craning their necks when they spot Max. Lando is there, sitting next to Martin. Your mutual friends take up a whole row, the ones you met the same night you met Max, the ones who welcomed you with open arms. A whole lot of love in such a little space.

You take a deep breath and head downstairs with Louise, who helps make sure your dress is perfect before you head down the aisle. You stay hidden, watching through a window as Max walks down to the front. Daniel gives you a gentle hug, tears already forming in his eyes. Then the music begins, and Louise grabs you by the shoulders.

“This is your last chance,” she says. “I can be your getaway car.”

You laugh, tears already forming in your eyes, and you shake your head. “No. No second thoughts, no cold feet. I’ve never been more sure.”

She grins at you and squeezes your shoulders. “Cool, because we would’ve had to steal Danny’s car. Oh, I have something for you.”

She reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a coin- a sixpence. Suddenly, you remember the old rhyme, and panic rushes through your body. She’s smiling, though, and shaking her head.

“Something old,” she says, pointing at the vintage bracelet you’d been gifted by Max’s mother for the day. “The something new is the perfume you bought special for today.”

“Something borrowed,” Daniel chimes in, a wide grin on his face, “is the pair of cufflinks I lent Max. And something blue-“

“His bow tie,” you say, softly. “I picked it because it brings out his eyes, but… it works, right?”

Daniel and Louise both nod, grinning brightly. Tears are already forming in your eyes. Louise swipes them away quickly with a tissue as you slip one of your heels off and place the coin there. You take a deep breath.

“Now I’m ready,” you say with a firm nod.

But really, you’ve been ready since the day you met him.

The rest of it is a bit of a blur. It’s like one moment, you’re standing there, watching it all from the outside. Then the next, you’re at the front with Max, his hands in yours, tears in both of your eyes. You hate crowds, hate public speaking, but for him you’d do anything. For him, you’d shout it all from the rooftops.

He has that soft look on his face, the one that makes you melt every time. His cheeks are rosy red, and you have to fight the urge to sweep your thumb against his face, to lean in and kiss him right there. You barely hear what the officiant is saying, but that’s okay because you already know it by heart.

“Now, I believe the two of you have prepared vows?” The officiant says. “Max, would you like to start us off?”

Max nods, squeezes your hands, smiles at you. You smile right back and hold onto him tightly.

“My wonderful love,” he says, voice so soft and tender it makes your chest hurt. “I spent a lot of my life before I met you wondering how you know when it’s love. But you’ve taught me that it’s not just a feeling, it’s a choice. At every turn, I choose you, and you have done the same. You’re my sunshine, my quiet in the noise. So in all the messes, in the stressful days, I love you. Not in spite of, or anyways. I love you in all of it, the good and the tough parts. I’d choose you over and over again.” He squeezes your hands softly. “I promise to save you the best strawberries, to listen when you need to talk, to talk when you need to listen. Most of all, I promise to always walk you home.”

God, you love him. You love him so much it’ll burn you up, so much it aches deep in your chest. You can’t quite believe that you get to spend your whole life with him. You hold onto his hands and blink away tears. His blue eyes stare straight into yours, calm and kind as always. If you could, you’d kiss him right then and there. You take a deep breath instead and begin to speak.

“I heard a quote once, that said there are years that ask questions and years that answer. I think that since I’ve met you, it’s all felt like an answer to a question I didn’t even know I had. You pick me up when I fall, you cheer me on when I succeed, and I love being able to do the same for you,” you say, softly. “I am so thankful for every moment I get to spend with you, from the dances in our kitchen to watching you win on the racetrack. You’re the best part of my life, my steady rock, my anchor in a storm. I can’t wait to be by your side for the rest of our lives. I promise to always share the wine, to cheer you on, to be the sane person in a room full of chaos.” He grins widely at that, eyes glittering with tears. “Above all else, I promise to love you for the rest of my life.”

Then it’s the I dos and the rings, handed to you by Daniel, who’s got tears in his eyes. Your hands shake as you slip the ring onto his finger. Max’s do too. The bands sit perfectly on your fingers, and you can’t take your eyes off Max’s hand- the ring, the bracelet, too. When you finally drag your gaze away, you look up at him again, tears slipping down your cheeks. His face mirrors yours, teary eyed but oh-so-happy.

When the officiant tells him to kiss the bride, he sweeps you up in his arms, the same way he did in the hallway of the club all that time ago, when you were still unsure, when you didn’t realize he wanted this, too. He kisses you sweetly, holds you close, and you feel it in every bone in your body, every muscle, every nerve. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. You could do this forever. Forever and ever.

…..

While the wedding was small, the reception is huge, and it’s packed with people. Everyone you or Max have ever spoken to seems to be there. There’s good food, better drinks, and enough strawberry wine to supply the entire city for a month, you’re sure. Someone forces you and Max to sit and eat dinner- you do your best. Then you wander the reception, hand in hand with him, greeting all of your guests.

You’ve changed dresses since the ceremony- out of your more simple white dress and into a bit more of an elegant one. You give so many hugs you think your arms will fall off, and accept countless compliments on the dress and the decor and the food. People tell you how proud they are of the two of you, how happy they are for you, how in love the two of you look.

You’ve just barely collapsed into your chair again, wincing at the ache already present in your feet, when they announce the first dance. Suddenly, you’re rejuvenated. Max grabs your hand and helps you up, a wide smile on his face.

“My wife,” he says, seemingly never tiring of using your new title. “May I have this dance?”

“My husband,” you respond, smiling. “This dance and every single other one.”

He laughs. It’s incredibly cheesy, overly sappy. But someday, a long time ago, you pulled your heart out of your chest and handed it over to him. And he took it, wrapped it up and held it safely, promised to protect it with his life, and then gave you his in exhchange. You have the right to be sappy and cheesy and emotional. He leads you to the dance floor, a million eyes on you. You just stare into his, and the rest of the world disappears as the song begins to play. It’s not the typical kind of music you two listen to, and it’s probably not what your friends were expecting. But when the chorus plays…

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

You rest your head on his shoulder as he holds you close, one hand linked with yours.

“I love you,” you whisper, fingers dancing in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love you, liefje,” he says, brushing a kiss against your forehead.

He kisses you on the lips at the end of the song. Everyone cheers, and you smile into it, unable to help yourself. Max raises one fist above your heads, like he’s just won a race, and you start to laugh. It’s one of the happiest moments of your life.

…..

When the reception ends, the afterparty begins. Most of the older or calmer guests head out. Louise helps you change your dress one more time- from the ballgown to a short party dress. You ditch your heels for a pair of white sneakers and sigh in relief at the feeling. By the time you make an appearance, the party is truly in full swing, and you spot Max up on the DJ stand with Lando and Martin. Years ago, if you’d have guessed who’d DJ your wedding afterparty, you’d have never suggested Martin Garrix and Lando Norris, and yet, here you are.

You climb up there with them, greeting your two friends with hugs before sliding up to Max’s side. He’s lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way, and his neatly tied bow tie hangs loose and crooked from his neck. You reach to try and fix it for him. He looks you up and down, a sly smile on his lips.

He wraps his arms around you, letting his hands fall low on your back. “This might be my favorite dress of the day,” he says into your ear.

You shove at his shoulder lightly. “You’re just drunk and horny.”

He shakes his head and kisses your cheek. “No, it’s just… you look the most like you in this one. Like the you I fell in love with.” He nudges his foot against your sneakers. “More comfortable, too.”

You feel warm and soft over that, over the way he’s looking at you right now. “Aw, Maxie,” you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I mean, you also look hot,” he says, hands slipping down to squeeze your ass. “But that is just an added bonus.”

You laugh, your forehead pressed to his chest. There are people all around you, music pounding in your chest, but you’ve got Max, and that’s all you need.

“Should we go dance?” He asks.

You press your lips to his jaw, then his ear. “Yeah, we should.”

The two of you climb down from the platform. Soon enough, you disappear into the crowd of people, his hand linked with yours the whole time.

You stumble out of the club at 3am, Max’s arm wrapped around your waist. Daniel, ever the dutiful best man, is the one to get the two of you into the car, despite Max’s protests that he can walk you home. You wave goodbye to all your friends, who cheer and wave from the sidewalk. Max has his arm around your waist as you lean out the window to hug Louise, and he yelps and pulls you back in when you start to lean too far.

By the time you’re halfway through the elevator ride up to your apartment, you’re pinned between him and the mirrored wall, his lips on yours. It’s messy and hot and you drag your hands down his torso as his hands slide down your back. When the elevator doors slide open on your floor, he picks you up easily, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to the front door, pins you against it so he can unlock it, and then stumbles inside, your legs wrapped around his waist. You press your lips to his neck and laugh.

“My wife,” he says, kicking his shoes off and shoving them aside.

You nip at his jaw. “My husband.”

He carries you all the way into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed. You’re a giggly mess, covering your face with your hands as he tugs your shoes off your feet for you. When his hands are free, you reach for him, pulling on his dress shirt until it comes untucked from his pants. The motion knocks him off balance, and he catches himself with both hands on either side of your head, face to face with you.

You always love him, really, but he’s your husband now. It makes butterflies swirl in your stomach, makes you giddy and warm inside. You reach for the collar of his shirt and start working on his buttons.

He starts pressing kisses all over your face- your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids. Each time you try to chase his lips with your own, he pulls away, kissing some other part of your face. You’re three buttons in on his shirt when you give up, grab for his jaw, and start doing the same to him.

When you pull away, he smiles down at you, and you admire your handiwork. There’s lipstick on his cheeks, now, smudged and messy. There’s a line of it down his jaw, leading to a spot that looks so inviting you have to leave a mark there. You dive in and seal your lips there, pulling a groan from his.

You’ll admit it- you’re the first one to yawn. You have your hands under his shirt, pressed against his warm skin, and his lips are dragging against your neck, and the exhaustion hits you all at once. You cover the yawn with your hand, blinking frantically to try and wake yourself up. You can’t fall asleep during this part of your wedding night.

But. Max’s lips are slow against your neck, and his kisses are messier and messier. You run your fingers along his side and he sighs softly. When you feel him yawn, you nudge his shoulder until he looks up at you. His eyes are half lidded, lips red and puffy, and he looks exhausted.

“Do you really want to have sex right now?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair.

“With you? Always,” he mumbles into the bare skin of your collarbone. Then he lets his head drop back against your chest.

“You’re literally falling asleep,” you say, tugging lightly on his hair. You get no reaction. “See? I just pulled your hair, and nothing. That always makes you-“

“Mm. Yeah. Morning sex it is,” he says, nodding against you. “Probably for the best. We have a flight in…” he looks at the clock on the bedside table. “Six hours.”

You groan and cover your face with your hands again. “Why did we do that? It’s your plane, we could’ve picked any time.”

“Your plane, too,” he says against your skin. “Our plane.”

You stare at the ceiling with wide eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to have sex? That sentence was hotter than it should’ve been. Ours.”

Max laughs against you and squeezes your hips. “How about this. We sleep. Wake up at the last possible second. Get in the car, go to the plane. Maybe more sleep. Then, we have-“

“Sex on the plane,” you say with him, nodding. “Fuck, we really are married, huh? We’re scheduling sex.”

“Yes. But it’s okay, because it’s mile high club scheduled sex, so it’s cooler.” Max says, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

Then he shoves at your hips, trying to push you further onto the bed. You go willingly and he follows. The two of you fall asleep still half dressed in your wedding clothes, with his head on your chest and your lipstick all over his face.

…..

You’d had a thought, a long time ago, about a honeymoon phase with Max. It’s what those first weeks had felt like, before anything was official, when you thought nobody knew. Now, you lay between his legs on a beach chair on your actual honeymoon, running your hands through his hair, your chest against his. The morning sun beats down on your skin, warming you up the same way he warms your heart. You look at him, at the smile on his face that matches the one on yours, and you think that maybe this is what relationships are all about. Finding the next honeymoon, the next thing to jump into headfirst, together, hand in hand.

“You’ll walk me home, right?” You’d asked him, so many nights ago in the restaurant lobby.

“Always,” he’d answered.

You look at your rings on your finger, laying against his chest. You feel his ring against your cheek when he cups your face, cold in stark contrast to the warmth of his hand, the warmth of him. Always.

That sounds pretty perfect.

a/n: I actually didn’t know about the sixpence in your shoe part of the wedding rhyme until I wrote this. learn something new every day! anyways. this all started with a oneshot and somehow transformed into this. i have a deeper love for max and a deeper hatred for his affinity for wearing Red Bull merch- it makes it very difficult to make fic headers. thank you to everyone who has helped encourage me while writing this fic, and to everyone who has read any of it i love you all! And now, we say goodbye to the strawberry wine universe, thanks for reading! 🍓🍷

ps. this is the last full part but i might have some blurbs if anyone is interested

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @ggaslyp1

[sleepyeckles]

I wanna go on a rant about past life, but I don’t have the energy for that right now.

I do wanna say though, I feel like c!Pearl’s death hits harder (at least for me) in this season because she already lost four lives, and that this is the earliest c!Pearl has ever gone out in the whole series.

We the viewer can obliviously tell she had a rough episode and for it to end in her final death and thus ending her series leaves a bad taste.

Ngl c!Jimmy’s kill on c!Pearl was impressive and Pearl was doomed to die the moment she was sent to kill him. But if this scenenario were to happen in a different or even in the final with a different lead up then I don’t think her death would’ve been that hard.

Right now im rooting for the Villies more than ever and im really gunning for Gem win as i think it’ll be a nice avenge/character arc. That or least some sort of revenge plot.

Either way Pearl has very much become the catalyst for whatever the villies do for the rest of the season.

[audreyscribes]

Do you think that maybe you could post head canons for children of Ganymede? Like would they be on Zeus' or Hera's bad side? Would they sorta look like children of Aphrodite, because of Ganymede's famous beauty? Or how they would be treated at camp? Pretty pleaseeeeeeee!

A/N: Fitting how this ask came in just in time for Pride Month and Ganymede is not only the Cupbearer of the Gods, but also a god of Homosexual Love and Desire (well at least stated clearly in the PJO Books), a symbol for beautiful young male who attracted homosexual desire and love. I’ll try to give it a shot but it’ll be sort of short. Hopefully it’s alright and thanks for stopping by!! I hope you have a nice day!  [edit: 6/11/2025: minor editing]

Considering it has been implied that male gods can have demigods with male mortals, example shown in the books, in the Trial of Apollo series, with Kayla Knowles; her fathers being Apollo and Darren Knowles, a male Canadian Archery instructor. So it's not impossible to say that Ganymede, being a symbol of homosexual love, would have a demigod child with a mortal man. (Now I’m thinking whether to say female gods can have children with female mortals has not been implied but if the male gods can, I guess female gods can too? Don’t ask me the logistics for this please; my gray-asexual brain can’t think on it properly).

Considering Ganymede has been said to be the most beautiful out of the gods, with the exception being Aphrodite, it’s sufficient to say they would give off the allure much like a child of Aphrodite. Their domains are in the same realm so there’s also that. There would be a difference but how much and how big they are, depends.

As for being on either Zeus’ or Hera’s bad side….oof, I’m not sure if its either or, but I can see it leaning more towards Zeus in terms of displeasure

I can see a child of Ganymede being on Zeus’ bad side because Zeus was the one who abducted Ganymede, which has been alluded to with the Eagle or it was Zeus’ himself doing the deed, and it can be safe to say that Zeus is possessive of Ganymede, so for him to go fall in love with a mortal man and have a child, I can see Zeus being jealous and taking his anger out on the demigod. Funny to think about since for Zeus, it’d probably be the first time (in a while) to feel like watching his ‘lover’ go and have children with someone else, putting him in the same position as Hera has been multiple times. In this case, I see the child of Ganymede being favourable by Hera, solely because she can feel smug and Zeus gets a taste of his own medicine of what infidelity is like.

If the Ganymede demigod were to be on Hera’s bad side, also, it may be just solely be jealously that is directed at Ganymede towards you; since towards other gods, other gods can’t deal direct damage or something to each other, (except for great minor inconveniences) so having a demigod to be able to direct her ire towards would be it. But what I said in the other point probably weighs more than this; so you have to hope that Zeus is actually very angry and bothered by the Ganymede demigod's existence to avoid Hera’s bad mood.

In terms of Camp, I’d feel like people would look at the child of Ganymede with confusion, suspicion, and worry because everyone knows about Ganymede and his story, so they’re just going to wonder if they’ll suffer any consequence by being around them. There may be some reactions being born from Ganymede and a mortal man, but considering Kayla exists already in the books, it's just a thing people who didn’t know, learn is a thing and move on. More so that is possible then the idea of it.

Otherwise, the child of Ganymede would be treated as another demigod, a representation of Ganymede’s godly realm and so forth. They probably are looked at with the perspective of a child of Aphrodite, but specifically homosexual love and stuff like that. Any charm speaking skills if there are any, only work (more) on the same gender as themselves, etc.

Probably an irrational fear or distaste of Eagles cause well… *looks at how Ganymede was abducted by Eagles* Yeah.