#I’m too young to be getting too old for this:(

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ old habits

➤ summary: you call Rafe out when he acts disrespectfully

➤ w/c: 1.5k.

➤ warnings: themes of toxic masculinity, emotional confrontation

➤ a/n: really wanted to be a part of @zyafics campaign, and I hope that other writers will consider doing it too <3

masterlist

The thing between you and Rafe was still new and fresh—only a few times going out on dates, lingering touches, and way too many moments that were more than just friendly.

Since the first time you had met him, you thought that he had grown to be a better person. He tried to change some of his old habits to become more mature. And you truly saw that, and it was a reason why you even started to catch feelings. But there were still times when he struggled, when some of the traits of that old toxic Rafe were slipping through, either because it was too hard to control things that he had been taught from a young age or because he truly didn’t see himself being in the wrong. 

That day he invited you to the new cafe near the beach on the mainland, saying that it was the best one. For you, Rafe was a gentleman. He picked you up, helped you to get in and out of his truck, complimented your dress and your hair, and let you hold his upper arm when he was leading you to the entrance.

He opened the door for you, and the place was dimly lit with yellow tones and just radiated warmth. It was a little bit too loud with people sitting everywhere, but if the place was good, you didn’t mind that one bit. You looked back at Rafe, sharing a smile, until the young hostess stepped in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry, but as you may see, we’re full right now. You may sit here until one of the tables is free.” With a polite smile, she gestured to the side. “The waiting time will be around fifteen to twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.” 

You nodded to her words without hesitation. “That’s totally fine.” 

But beside you, Rafe let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh, more like a scoff. He raised an eyebrow and looked the girl up and down with something colder in his expression than you would’ve preferred.

“You’re telling me you can’t fit two people in? It’s not even full in here.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, briefly looking at you to figure out how to react. Rafe’s voice wasn’t loud, but you knew how intimidating and cold he might be, especially to people who were not used to it.

“Rafe.” You said his name sharply, tugging his bicep once in hope that he would let it go. 

He glanced at you, then back at the hostess, not getting the problem that you seemed to have. “We’re literally standing here, dressed nicely, just asking for a table. I’m not trying to be a dick. I'm just saying, you could make it work if you actually wanted to.” You didn’t wait for her to respond. You took a step back, slowly removing your hand from his arm.

“I’ll be outside.” You said. No emotion in your voice, hands already folded across your chest. 

You sat at the bench outside, one leg thrown over another, looking at the ocean and debating just simply going back home. Rafe walked out a few minutes later, with hands buried in the pockets of his pants, looking at you like he genuinely could not understand your behavior. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.” You said calmly, not even sparing him a glance. 

“For what? I didn’t even say anything bad. She was the one who couldn’t do her job properly.”

Your head snapped towards him with eyebrows raised in surprise. “No.” You said sharply, taking him aback. “You were being an asshole because you didn’t get what you wanted. She was doing her job, Rafe.” 

His brows knit. “Jesus, I wasn’t an asshole—I was just calling her out.”

“Calling her out for what, Rafe? For not breaking policy? For not giving you special treatment?” He looked away, jaw clenching. His hand reached his head to rub over his buzzed hair in frustration, while you simply looked at him, seeing the conflict that he had. Part of him clearly knew you were being reasonable, that he might’ve stepped over the line, but the rest of him, the louder part, wanted to be right. Wanted to win.

“I’m not dating someone who thinks talking down to people makes him important.” You said firmly, your voice low and calm but hard to let him know how serious that situation was for you. “That’s not cute. That doesn’t make you look cooler or whatever. That’s not something I tolerate.”

Rafe exhaled hard through his nose, briefly throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re making it sound like I screamed at her or something. I was just—I don’t know—frustrated.”

“Yeah, and she was working. Probably scared of losing her job because of kooks who talk down to her every day. Probably already dealing with a bunch of other men who think that they are better than everyone and that other people owe them something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

You stood up, stepping closer with your heels softly clicking against the wood. You squinted your eyes slightly, tilting your head to the side now that you were almost the same height. “Do what?”

“Make me out to be some kind of monster.”

“I’m not.” You shot back. “But if you don’t like how I make you sound by just talking about your actions, maybe ask yourself why instead of getting defensive.”

The silence that followed stretched long between you. You crossed your arms tighter, mostly to keep yourself from softening, because, God, you wanted to. Because part of you knew that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but still addressing the problem was important to prove to him that the said problem existed. 

You watched the gears turning behind his eyes, jaw tight, hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked off toward the ocean like maybe the answer was out there, like it could help him to understand how to break the default settings that were engraved in his brain. 

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Rafe admitted finally, his voice quieter now, and you could hear the edge of hesitation. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it. That I was acting like…” He trailed off, and you knew what he meant. Like Ward.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.” You said softer now, but still steady. “You don’t even notice when you slip. I know that you’re trying to be better. I see it, but I also need you to acknowledge that sometimes you can still be mean, that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Otherwise we won’t work out.”

He looked at you then, as if hurt for a second, because for the part of him, it sounded like a threat or like a challenge that he didn’t want to accept.

“I don’t want to be that guy.” He said after a moment. “I’ve been trying. You know I have.”

“I know. That’s why I’m still standing here and not leaving.” You stepped closer, but you didn’t reach for him.

“But I’m not going to coach you through being a decent person every time you slip. You have to want it for yourself, not just to keep me happy, because I’m telling you right now, Rafe…” You met his eyes, staying your ground. “If that’s the man you choose to be, I will walk away. Even if I don’t want to.”

His throat bobbed in a nervous swallow, his eyes darted away, then back to yours, as if he was trying to measure if you were bluffing. And when a few seconds passed, when you looked at him steadily, waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back toward the café.

You watched him through the front windows when he hesitated near the hostess stand, tugging awkwardly at the expensive watch on his wrist, and then leaned in to speak to the girl. Her face was surprised at first, then softened as he continued to talk, before she nodded a few times, still slightly hesitant, and said something back to him. 

When Rafe returned back to you, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little bit, though his jaw clenched when he rubbed the back of his neck and stopped in front of you like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“I apologized. Told her I was out of line.”

You gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

He shifted on his feet, nervous. “She said the table will be ready in ten.” You nodded again, waiting for him to continue. “You still wanna eat with me?” He asked, almost hesitant, like a boy who'd just been scolded.

“I do.” His lips stretched in a small smile, eyes glimmering with something like surprise and maybe a bit of shyness that you caught every once in a while. Rafe stepped closer, offering you his hand, and you playfully rolled your eyes, smiling back and interlacing your fingers. “Now I’m about to order the whole damn menu, Cameron. And it better be good.” 

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hiii. I live your stories so much and I just wanted to say you are my favourite author on Tumblr. Could I maybe request Carlos 16 year old daughter celebrating her quinceañeras (it sometimes gets celebrated in Spain). And maybe she smokes a it of weed and Lando and Oscar try to help her hide it. Like in Superstore (that's a show on netflix).

Thank you so much. I love you and your stories.❤️❤️❤️

Quinceañera

The music was loud. The lights were soft. The pastel pink decorations, gold balloons, and flower garlands twinkled in the overhead chandeliers. In the center of the ballroom stood Yn Sainz — fifteen years old, radiant, and more than a little overwhelmed. Her baby pink gown shimmered as she turned slowly, cheeks rosy, eyes wide.

Carlos stood at the edge of the dance floor, jaw tight, hands clenched behind his back, tears welling in his eyes.

“She’s grown up,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“I know,” Rebecca said from beside him, dabbing her eyes with a tissue, but also sipping champagne like a woman who knew this night was going to turn sideways eventually.

“I still remember when she tried to eat a tire at the McLaren garage,” Carlos said, voice cracking.

“That was a Lego tire, Carlos,” Rebecca said gently. “And she was three.”

“She’s still my baby.”

From across the room, Uncle Lando and Uncle Oscar were arguing over who got to cut the cake. Not help cut the cake — cut it. With a sword. Which neither of them was supposed to be near.

“Why would you get to hold the sword?” Lando huffed.

“Because I’m trustworthy,” Oscar replied, holding it up like King Arthur.

“You once got locked inside a portable toilet for forty-five minutes.”

“That was sabotage.”

“By a child.”

“That child had a vendetta, Lando!”

“Okay, boys,” Rebecca interrupted as she passed them, grabbing the sword with ease. “If you want to cut anything, go dance.”

“Fine,” they both mumbled, watching the sword disappear like it had just been taken by a Hogwarts professor.

Meanwhile, Yn and her gaggle of best friends — Valeria, Sofía, and Luna — snuck away from the buffet. They all looked like angels. If angels wore rhinestones and whispered things like “Okay, if we just go around the fountain and past Tío Javi, we can light it there.”

The joint, a skinny thing passed from Valeria’s older brother, was unceremoniously lit behind a floral arch made of artificial roses and pure teenage rebellion.

“Oh my God,” Yn giggled after her first hit. “I think I saw the balloon arch blink.”

“You did not!” Luna wheezed, coughing dramatically into her elbow.

Sofía, the chaos gremlin of the group, took an especially long drag, holding it like she was training for the Olympics. “No, wait. She might be right. That arch is looking at me funny.”

The four of them were now officially high at the most extravagant quinceañera southern Spain had seen in recent memory.

Back inside, the music had shifted from soft salsa to full reggaetón. Carlos was visibly vibrating.

“Who let Bad Bunny on the playlist?” he demanded. “That’s too suggestive.”

“It’s her birthday, cariño,” Rebecca replied, calmly eating an empanada. “She’s not going to become a criminal because Daddy Yankee came on.”

Carlos’s expression said he wasn’t convinced.

Meanwhile, Yn re-entered the ballroom like she was walking on pillows made of glitter. She was high. Blissfully, surreally high. And doing her very best to look like a normal, not-at-all-buzzed young lady.

“Smile,” she whispered to herself. “Smile like you don’t hear colors.”

She made her way to the table where Lando and Oscar were now seated with a plate full of churros between them.

“Uncles!” she greeted, a little too enthusiastically.

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

“Of course! I’m totally... ceiling.”

“...Ceiling?” Lando repeated.

“I meant feeling!” Yn said quickly. “I’m feeling great! So much...pink! Did you know your faces are wiggling?”

Oscar blinked.

Lando dropped his churro.

“Oh no,” Lando whispered. “She’s on drugs. She’s high. She’s stoned at her quinceañera. WE’RE GOING TO JAIL!”

“Calm down!” Oscar hissed. “She’s not going to jail — we are if you keep shouting like that!”

Yn sat down slowly, her hands hovering above the chair like it might disappear. “Is this chair...conscious?”

Oscar leaned forward. “Yn. What did you do?”

“Nothing! Nothing bad! I’m just...you know...a little elevated.”

“ELEVATED?” Lando shrieked. “You’re fifteen!”

“I was peer pressured!” Yn said quickly. “Valeria’s brother gave us a joint. It smelled weird and then we laughed at a balloon for twenty minutes.”

“Oh God,” Lando muttered, staring at his own hands. “What if I accidentally inhale second-hand weed smoke? What if I fail a drug test at McLaren?”

“You haven’t been at McLaren in years, Lando.”

“I still want to pass things, Oscar!”

Oscar, ever the steady hand, turned to Yn. “Okay. You’re clearly high. How do you feel?”

“Like the churros are talking about me,” Yn replied solemnly.

“Okay. She’s not dangerous,” Oscar nodded. “Just deeply paranoid.”

Carlos, meanwhile, was hunting for his daughter with the same intensity he brought to qualifying laps. “Has anyone seen Yn?” he asked random guests. “She was supposed to be back for the father-daughter dance!”

“Maybe she went to the bathroom?” someone offered.

“I’m checking all the bathrooms.”

He stormed off.

Rebecca calmly ate another empanada.

Back at the table, Oscar was coaching Yn like she was about to take her driver’s test.

“Okay, listen. Blink slowly. Don’t talk about chairs having souls. And if your dad asks how you are, just say, ‘I’m happy and grateful.’ Got it?”

Yn nodded solemnly. “I am a rock. I am a professional. I am...toast.”

“Oh for the love of—” Lando stood up. “We have to hide her. We need a closet or a dark pantry. Something neutral.”

“We’re not locking her in a pantry, Lando! What is this, Breaking Bad: Quinceañera Edition?!”

“She needs water,” Oscar said, standing. “And bread. I read that carbs help.”

Lando looked horrified. “She’s in heels and a tulle dress. She can’t exactly go full carb coma in the middle of the ballroom!”

Just then, Carlos returned.

“There you are!” he said, eyes lighting up. “The dance is about to start. Yn, come on.”

Yn turned very, very slowly.

“Hi Papa,” she said, blinking one eye at a time like a confused owl. “You look very...horizontal.”

Carlos froze.

Oscar jumped in. “She’s just tired! Emotional day. Hormones. Gowns. You know girls!”

Carlos narrowed his eyes.

“She smells like burnt leaves,” he said.

“She fell into a bush,” Lando blurted.

“WHAT?!”

“Not a real bush,” Oscar corrected. “A metaphorical bush. The bush of...growing up.”

Rebecca, who had walked up silently behind them, took one look at her daughter and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she said, grabbing Yn’s cheeks. “She’s baked.”

Carlos nearly fainted. “YOU WHAT?”

Yn’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Papá! I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to be cool and now I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that smells like cinnamon!”

Lando was fanning himself with a plate. “This is a disaster. We’re going to be deported.”

“We live here, Lando,” Rebecca pointed out.

Carlos was pacing in a small circle, muttering in Spanish. “Mi hija...mi niña...marijuana?! On her quinceañera?!”

Oscar sat Yn down gently. “She’s not hurt. She’s just high. It’ll pass.”

Carlos rounded on her. “Who gave it to you?!”

Yn whimpered. “Valeria’s brother, but please don’t tell her parents! They’ll never let her hang out with me again and she helped me pick this dress!”

Carlos stared at the ceiling.

Rebecca sat beside Yn, patting her hand. “Sweetie, listen. We’re not mad.”

“We’re not?” Carlos demanded.

“We’re concerned. There’s a difference. You made a bad decision, but you’re not a bad person.”

“I smoked,” Yn whispered.

“I once accidentally shoplifted a roll of toilet paper when I was sixteen,” Rebecca replied. “We all do stupid stuff. The important thing is that we learn.”

“Thank you, Mamá,” Yn whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

Carlos sighed heavily, sitting on Yn’s other side.

“You scared me,” he said softly. “I just want you to be okay. No more joints.”

“Never again,” she said solemnly. “Everything smells like glitter and sadness.”

“That’s because you’re sitting next to Lando,” Oscar muttered.

“HEY!”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

Special love to my hermosa @kaworusgf

[fungalwyrms]

*Crawling from my grave.*

Tumblr/internet media discourse people just don’t like women/young girls.

To pull from our history text books.

- People hated Vriska, like actually hated her, just for kind of being a morally grey character.

- People hated Mabel Pines, FOR LITERALLY ACTING HER AGE. This one drives me crazy because people will reference all these times where she ruined something for Dipper, I’m like, yeah as a twin, that fucking happens sometimes and I don’t go around as an adult now saying “My twins a fucking asshole for this thing he did” WHEN WE WERE 12!!??

- I met a guy who hated Katara for literally just missing her mom. “She whines about it too much.” SHES FOURTEEN!??

- Also like Rey, (Star Wars isn’t that serious stop acting like her being op is new to that universe literally Anakin existed as a Jesus metaphor.)

- Most of our other big content was misogynistic from the get go anyway. I loved SuperWhoLock but that shit didn’t like women at all from the source.

Addendum; Yeah some of these characters weren’t written well, but that’s not what the discourse is about most of the time!

And before anyone says “consume media not made for 12 year olds challenge.”

Never, I have joy and whimsy, and like things.

"i want morally grey female characters" you fuckers could barely handle rose quartz

[batsandbirdbrains]

All your posts about Dick being younger than everyone thought at first is making me think of a scenario farther in the future, with all the batkids playing never have I ever or something, and Dick's real age comes out. And none of them really bat an eye at it first, because at this point Dick is a legitimate adult. But later it dawns on them just how young he was when he first started and DID BUCE EVEN KNOW???

Okay but the batkids getting together when they’re like all in their 20s. Dick is supposedly 28, Jason is 26, Tim is 23, and Damian is like 18ish.

And what’s the question god I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of a good one.

Okay it’s lame but I’m gonna go with Tim saying “Never have I ever smoked a cigarette before I was a teenager” because they all knew Jason had an unfortunate experience with a cigarette when he was 12 and they always make fun of him for it.

But then Dick takes a drink and they all hound him to find out how he had a cigarette before he was 13 when he lived with Bruce, the world’s biggest helicopter parent.

“Roy got a pack when he was like 18 and all the Titans tried one. They were pretty good, actually, but I coughed like hell for like five straight minutes,” Dick tells them. Then he snorts and laughs and adds, “Wally threw up.”

“Wait, how old were you?”

Dick starts counting on his fingers, then shrugs.

“Like, ten? Maybe eleven?”

“Isn’t Roy only five years older than you?”

And Dick realizes he fucked up, and he tries to start back pedaling and laugh it off and say he misremembered, but they all hound him for it.

“Wait, Roy is 33 right now,” Jason argues. “How fucking old are you, Dickhead? Because your math isn’t making any sense!”

“Just leave it alone, Jason!”

“No, no,” Tim pipes in. “If you were ten when an eighteen year old Roy gave you a cigarette, that means you’re 25 right now.”

“Shut up, Tim! No one asked you to do math!”

“Oh my fucking God, Dick-for-brains, are you younger than me?” Jason gapes at him, then gags. “I am NOT the oldest here! No! I refuse!”

“Then fucking leave it alone then!”

“Does Father know?”

They all whip their heads towards Damian, who’s swirling around the bottle of beer they let him have. He raises an eyebrow at all of them.

“No,” Dick eventually says, his voice strangled. “And no one is going to tell him.”

“What’s in it for me?”

Dick narrows his eyes at Damian, who’s smirking at him.

“You’ve been hanging out with Jason too much.”

“That’s no way to speak about your elders, Dickie!” Jason says with glee. When Dick glares at him in return, Jason holds his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Just kidding, just kidding.”

“This information does not leave this room,” Dick warns all of them. “I know where you all sleep. Don’t test me.”

“Damn, dude,” Tim whispers. “Fine, fine. What do you want, a blood pact?”

“Are you offering?” Dick asks, pulling a wing ding out of his pocket.

“Do you just carry those around?” Jason asks, laughing.

“Obviously. Now everyone hold out your palms.”

“Spit pact, spit pact!” Tim begs. “Don’t make me mix blood with the demon brat!”

“You’re just jealous my blood is superior to yours!”

Jason is the first to spit into his palm, then he holds his hand out.

“Just put your fucking hands in, gremlins,” he orders. Then he shudders and turns to Dick. “No, I do not want to be the oldest. You can keep the role. This secret dies with us.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dick says haughtily, spitting into his own palm and holding his hand out too.

Tim and Damian both groan and whine, but they join the spit pact with the other two. No one ever tells Dick’s secret.

[himasgod]

M-Mayhaps platonic Malleus with reader who is his adoptive sibling but the Senate and majority of the people refuse to accept them as a sibling of their heir as they are half-fae and not a Draconia (Maleficia is fine with them but she holds very little power over the Senate)

MALLEUS AND READER

Where the Senate does not accept you as his sibling

The castle always smelled like briar smoke. You used to love that smell — it meant home, even when nothing else did. But lately, it just reminded you how unwanted you were here.

"You're scowling again," Malleus said beside you as you walked through the hall.

"Am I?" you muttered, hands in the sleeves of your robe. "Must be the lighting."

Your footsteps filled the corridor. The portraits of your adoptive ancestors — tall, haughty Draconias— glared down at you like they knew you didn’t belong.

The news from this morning still clung to your ribs: another vote in the Senate had failed to recognize you as a full member of the royal household.

"Third rejection this season," you said casually, trying not to care. "I’m breaking records."

"Their pride will cost them more than a few stained ledgers if they continue."

You glanced at him. Malleus looked calm, but his eyes were that stillness he always got when he was furious.

For your sake. That still made your chest ache.

"They say I’ll never be a Draconia, no matter how many generations pass. They call me the ‘thornblood orphan’ behind my back."

Malleus stopped walking. You almost kept going before realizing.

"You were not chosen my sibling because of your blood. You were chosen because you were family the moment you looked at me and asked if my horns were heavy, when you were almost a toddler."

"...You remember that?"

He allowed himself a ghost of a smile.

“I had never laughed so much before that night.”

Maleficia was waiting in her usual spot, teacup balanced on one finger.

"You’re late," she said mildly, not looking up.

You bowed your head and flopped gracelessly onto the cushion beside her.

"Politics is a disease."

"Mmm. Caught it young, did you?"

You groaned into the pillow. Maleficia finally turned, her features sharp and amused.

“You’re stronger than them. That’s why they hate you. You've established a bond of trust with Malleus that neither of them has been able to achieve in decades and decades of years.”

"They hate me because I don’t fit into their little picture of a perfect monarchy."

"That too. But mostly because you remind them their rules can be bent. Bent rules threaten old men with no power except tradition."

You peeked up at her.

“Why do you always sound like you’re quoting an evil play?”

“I am an evil play,” she replied, lifting her teacup with flair. “But I’m your play, and I’d turn every last one of those doddering cowards into bats if I had more authority. I could have it, but… I'm getting older. I prefer to drink tea and watch them argue in the Senate with a smile.”

"...Thank you?"

"You’re welcome, little thorn."

The chamber echoed with voices.

“Half-fae or not,” one senator was saying, “the child has no blood claim to the throne and cannot be granted the privileges of the House Draconia.”

Malleus rose from his chair slowly. The room fell into silence.

"You dare refer to my sibling as 'the child' in my presence?"

The senator blanched.

"I recognize blood, but I also recognize loyalty. Character. Strength. And if the Senate does not, perhaps they should look in a mirror and ask if it still deserves to stand.”

The senator sputtered.

“You would threaten the Senate?”

“No,” Malleus said, smiling ever so slightly. “I would only remind it that I am not a child anymore. And neither is my sibling.”

That night, you sat alone in the overgrown garden. You watched the fireflies float, thinking how they never questioned belonging.

Malleus appeared wordlessly and sat beside you.

“…You’re not supposed to talk to the gallery guests,” you said, trying for humor. “It’s probably illegal.”

“Would it make a difference, if I told you that I consider you closer to methan half the fools arguing over titles?”

“They’ll never stop coming for me.”

“Then let them come. You are not alone.”

You leaned against his shoulder. Malleus let you.

At the next state event, you walked at Malleus’s side. Not behind him. Not two steps back as usual.

The nobles stared, bristling in quiet outrage.

Malleus offered you his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Let them see," he said.

"They're already whispering," you replied, adjusting your head high.

"Then let them choke on it."

You smirked.

The thornblood orphan walked like royalty that night. Because you were.

And eventually, they would have no choice but to see it.

[nekonaps0]

Little rival

✦fem!reader

✦characters: Kageyama, Nishinoya, Oikawa, Kuroo, Atsumu

✦A little kid walking up and innocently telling their girlfriend, “When I grow up, I wanna marry you!”

Kageyama Tobio

You and Kageyama are walking together when a chubby-cheeked kid tugs on your sleeve and boldly declares,

“You’re really pretty! When I grow up, I’m gonna marry you!”

Kageyama freezes. Like, full on system error. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then slowly turns to look at the kid like he’s a new challenger entering the match.

“…Hah?” he mutters, so confused he might actually think the kid is serious. “You’re, like, five.”

When you start laughing, Kageyama frowns, crossing his arms. “Why are you laughing? He just proposed to you. That’s not funny. He said he’s gonna marry you! Isn’t he too young for that?!”

You try to explain it was cute and harmless, but Kageyama is now in serious mode. “You are my girlfriend. This isn’t a competition…” he mumbles.

Later that day, he’s quieter than usual. Eventually, he mutters, “I can’t believe I got jealous of a five-year-old…” he covers his embarrassed face with his hands.

Nishinoya Yuu

The moment the kid says, “I’m gonna marry you when I grow up,” Nishinoya gasps so loud it’s theatrical.

He immediately drops into a squat so he’s eye level with the kid, hands on his knees, expression serious.

“Whoa, WHOA, buddy. Bold move.” He grins, but there's a twitch in his eyebrow. “But you gotta earn her heart. This isn’t just a fairy tale, my dude.”

Then he turns to you, gripping your hand dramatically.

“Babe. He wants to steal you from me.” He acts like he’s been betrayed by fate itself.

You’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, while Noya is now giving the kid a motivational speech about love. “When you’re older, you’re gonna meet someone awesome. But this goddess right here? Sorry, already taken. And I would rather DIE than let anyone take her!”

Please stop him before he traumatizes the little boy…

Oikawa Tooru

The second the kid says it, Oikawa puts on the fakest, most plastic smile of his life.

“Awww, that’s soooo sweet of you,” he says through gritted teeth.

Then he crouches next to the kid, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, little man… she’s already dating the most gorgeous, talented, and charming person alive—me. And, well… you’ve got a long way to go before you can compete.”

He throws you a wink, but you can tell he’s definitely sulking. “You like her smile, huh? Yeah, me too. It’s mine. Now move on.” You have to slap him on the back of his head to stop him before he makes the kid cry…

Later, as you’re walking away, he whispers, “You still think I’m cuter than him, right? Right?! Say it.”

And if you tease him even a little by saying, “I mean, he was kind of charming,” Oikawa gets offended. Like you just offended his whole bloodline. “I’m being replaced by a toddler! Is this the end?!”

Kuroo Tetsurou

The kid walks up confidently and says, “I think you’re really pretty, and I’m gonna marry you someday.”

Kuroo arches a brow and glances down at the kid, fighting a smirk. “Oh? That so?”

He slings an arm around your shoulder casually. “You’ve got good taste, kid. But unfortunately, you’re about ten years too early, and about one girlfriend short of a chance.”

You giggle and play along with the kid, who pouts when he realizes you're already taken. Kuroo kneels down, smirking just enough to tease but not scare him.

“Tell you what,” he says. “If you still feel this way some years later, look me up. Until then… hands off.” Then he winks and tousles the kid’s hair.

Later, he teases you about it. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you, huh? Even the kindergarteners are after you.”

Atsumu Miya

The second the kid says he wants to marry you, Atsumu’s jaw drops.

“Huh?? Did I just get challenged by a toddler?!”

He steps between you and the kid like he’s defending his title as your boyfriend.

“First of all, she’s mine, ‘kay? Second of all, you’re, like, in preschool. You even brush your own teeth yet?”

The kid just blinks at him while you try not to die laughing.

Atsumu scoffs. “Listen, lil’ man. I get it. She’s amazing. But I buy her clothes, bring her snacks, giving her massage. Can you do all that? Didn’t think so.”

You eventually pull him away before he starts arguing about taxes with the kid.

Later, he sulks with his head in your lap, mumbling, “Tch… can’t believe I got cock-blocked by a baby…”

You laughed so hard how childish he is but you give him a kiss and tell him he’s your #1 forever, and he immediately lights back up like the sun.

“Damn right I am.”

..............................................................................................................................

[jamespotterismydaddy]

On the Brink

joel miller x reader smut

description: you’ve been wanting him for so long but joel can’t bring himself to give you what you want, what you deserve. a near death experience makes him realize how much he needs you

WORD COUNT: 4,2 k words

WARNINGS: smut, angst, age gap, semi-public sex, it’s also fluffy and cute at the start so no complaining about the angst

Your eyes watch him from across the yard with that same look you’ve had for the past few months. He knows what it is. Of course he knows what it is- he’s not an idiot… but that doesn’t mean he can ever acknowledge it. You’re young. Not a child by any means but for god’s sake, you’re half his age. There will be no entertaining these longing glaces you throw his way.

It was innocent at first, or at least he thinks it was. You would knock on his door, ask for his advice when it came to things like shooting and whatnot. He liked being helpful, useful. He liked that it was him that you came to, not Tommy even if he was known to be a sharpshooter. He thought that you looking up to him was the part he liked; he’s starting to realize that what he really likes is your attention.

“You need some help there, Mr. Miller?” You ask sweetly as he pulls in the planks of wood. He didn’t even see you walk over.

Joel rolls his eyes. You know he doesn’t like it when you call him that. Makes him really feel his age. “Not from you, trouble.”

He was getting the supplies together because part of his front porch was rotting and he’d be damned if he fucked his knee up some more stepping through a weak plank. He could use the help, but he just doesn’t want your help.

“You getting sick of me already?” You say, giving him that ‘kicked puppy’ look that would make any man’s heart melt. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel more than sympathy.

“Course not.” He grumbles. “I did just see you this morning though.”

“What can I say… i’m clingy.” You shrug and grin at him with a smile so bright it could light up the sky.

“Go be clingy with somebody else.” He waves you off as he picks up his pencil and ruler to start marking lines on the wood. “I’m sure any man in Jackson would appreciate it.”

You stop for a moment, like you see something underlying in his words. “That seems to imply that you don’t think my attention is purely friendly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs but doesn’t give you any more of an answer.

“Besides, are you not a man in Jackson?” You ask teasingly, wanting to get more out of him.

He tries to keep his focus on his work so his attention doesn’t feed into your teasing. “That’s different.” He grumbles.

“Why is it different?”

He sighs, keeping his head low but letting his eyes rise up above his glasses to meet yours. “It’s different because i’m an old man in Jackson.”

You frown a little. You know what he means but you want him to explain it anyhow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ that I can’t entertain…” He gestures with his hand. “... whatever this is that you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.”

He knows. Of course he knows; you haven’t been exactly subtle. You just never thought you would be able to make him say it out loud. “And what have I been doing?”

“Askin’ too many damn questions.” He grumbles under his breath and grabs his ruler to check his cut lines again. What is it all those carpenters say? Measure twice, cut once? That must’ve been a rule he would live by.

“What is it that i’m doing, Joel?”

He stops with his work now to look up at you properly. He seems like he’s about to speak but pauses for a moment, knowing that if he addresses this then it’s out in the open. He won’t be able to neatly pack up this conversation and put it in a safe where nobody can find it. Whatever is going on between the two of you… it’s pandora’s box.

But in the moment, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“You’re flirtin’ with me, sweetheart.”

“I am.” Is all you say in reply, looking into his eyes far too deeply.

He’s a little surprised and was half expecting you to deny it. “Well you shouldn’t.”

“How come?” Your quick little replies are irritating him now.

He rubs his forehead with his thumb, feeling frustrated. You’re not stupid and you know he’s twice your age. You know why you shouldn’t. You know it makes him feel wrong. So why act so clueless?

“It ain’t right.” He grumbles. “I’m too old for ya.”

“I don’t mind.” You say softly. “I would still like you if I was 10 years older.”

“It’s not about you liking me. It’s about what’s good for you.” He sighs. “And an old man ain’t it.”

“I hardly care about pre-outbreak morals, Joel.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you deserve. A man that can keep up with you, take care of you even 20 years from now. I can’t be that.” He looks almost nervous now. He feels the same way he did when he asked Tommy to take Ellie to the fireflies. It’s a different sense of care but he still doesn’t feel worthy for you in the same way that he didn’t feel worthy for her.

“It’s you that I want.”

He sighs.

“There’s plenty more age-appropriate men in Jackson who’d be chomping at the bit for a chance with you. You should go and take your pick of them.” He continues, trying his best to push you away. It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Christ, he really wants you. But he also cares about you and that means he’s gotta try to nudge you in the right direction.

“I took my pick. Currently, he’s being difficult.” You say and he scoffs as he tries not to think about how endearing he finds your quick wit.

“I said age-appropriate.”

“Well there’s no other man i’m interested in.” You understand why he’s trying to convince you that he’s not somebody you should spend your time on. Maybe there was a time when things like age were more important but it feels miniscule now in the great span of things and besides, you can tell when he’s being self destructive. “So it hardly matters how many there are to choose from.”

He furrows his brows. Joel can hardly understand why it would be him you would want. He originally thought whatever you were feeling was a passing fantasy due to proximity, but it’s starting to appear as if it’s more than that. You’re just so full of light; he doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Y’know I can probably finish up here on my own. I ‘preciate your help though.” It makes him uncomfortable to realize your attention isn’t going to be quite as fleeting as he thought. He doesn’t know how to react to it. It’s not that he wants to hurt you. He’s just never been a man of many words.

“Um… yeah okay. No problem.” You try not to show how upset you are but it hurts for him to brush you aside so easily. “Bye.”

You walk off, regretting trying to push his hand, regretting the conversation in general… and most definitely regretting that you agreed to fill in for Tommy on his patrol shift with Joel in the morning.

~~~~~

When he walks into the stables the next day, Joel’s ready to grumble to his brother about how he has no damn coffee left and slept like shit, but is stopped in his tracks when he finds you tacking up Bellard.

You don’t turn around to look at him, you already recognize the sound of his heavy footsteps and besides, who else would be in the stables at 8am?

“I promise i’m not trying to stalk you. I already agreed to cover Tommy’s shift. Ben’s still not feeling well.” You tighten the cinch on the horse, not wanting to have any more whoopsies involving your saddle half slipping off like when you were just learning to ride.

“Didn’t think you were.” He says, already able to tell how your voice is colder. You’re more closed off to him now.

You put your foot into the stirrup and swing your leg over so you’re sat on the saddle. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel.” It’s ironic really, they way you sound so vulnerable when you speak even though you are literally sitting up on your high horse.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, sweetheart.” He says as he gets up onto his horse as well, giving her a light nudge with his heel to get her moving. “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

His false mirror words don’t fool you, the illusion shattered like glass by his nervous mannerisms. You know your conversation with him yesterday made things weird and you’re starting to wish you’d just ignored the whole thing like a normal person. You’d just really felt the need to defend yourself, never wanting to chase a man who doesn’t want you. Even if you have a feeling that he does.

But he ignores it. For the whole patrol he ignores it. The slight crack you saw in his demeanor has melded itself back together and he is back to the gruff man he usually is.

What you don’t see is his watchful eye, ever on you, protectively. You don’t know that it’s the same way that he watches Ellie and Tommy. The only people he would risk everything for, the only people that he makes sure are safe before himself. But it isn’t quite the same, is it? There’s something more in his gaze as it’s cast upon you, a hint of the same longing you have when your eyes fall on him.

“Did you hear that?” Your question puts him on alert right away. He tries to listen and he thinks his old ears are failing him before he hears the crash. It’s coming from a cabin east of Jackson, one that’s been checked through multiple times, even by Joel himself. While patrol routes are changed often, buildings are still checked regularly for anyone that might be hiding out. Clickers are of course dangerous but thinking, intelligent humans are much worse.

“Stay here. I’ll get closer and see if it’s anything to worry about.” He says, like it’s a command.

“I’m your partner, not your sidekick. I won’t let you go in there alone just because you don’t think I make good backup.”

“Jesus, woman ya really think that’s why I want you to stay behind?” You give him a look that says that’s exactly what you think but he doesn’t have time to validate you when there’s a chance that something dangerous is in that cabin right now. “Just follow at a distance then at the very least.”

That’s enough for you so you nod and the both of you hop off your horses and tie them up, not wanting them to spook at the first sign of whatever is in that cabin.

The two of you approach slowly and you try not to flinch at the crashing sounds so you can hold your gun straight. You also don’t want Joel to sense your fear. It’s not helpful for him to be worrying about you. You won’t be a distraction. He moves around the side of the cabin to look through the window and mouths the word ‘infected’ to you, holding up three fingers. You nod to show your understanding and he starts to make his way back, likely to come up with an action plan.

Though he barely makes it two feet when one of the horses whinnies. You both freeze. It wasn’t that loud, right? How good could an infected’s hearing possibly be?

Your answer comes moments later when they burst through the front door, but they don’t hear Joel. You’re the one who is in direct line of the horses.

“Shit.” You breathe out as you aim your gun and make a shot for the one in front, missing the head but hitting it in the shoulder. A shoulder shot doesn’t stop a runner.

“Goddamn it.” Joel acts quick, putting a bullet through the one closest to him with easy precision. The infected drops to the ground.

The one closest to you is still moving fast and you know you need to make this shot because if Joel misses, the last one will be on you before you can even think. You keep your hands steady, too pumped full of adrenaline to shake like you were before, and you pull the trigger.

You hear a gunshot, but it isn’t yours as Joel takes down the other runner. Your gun never fired.

Because your gun is jammed.

You pull the trigger again, and again, frantic now.

It’s no use so you drop the useless weapon. You look down for a moment to draw your knife but it’s too late as the infected tackles you to the ground.

“Joel!” The call rips out from your throat and Joel is sure he’s never heard such terror in anyone’s voice before. Well… not so sure.

You hold the infected back as well as you can, knowing that it’s over if you’re bitten, but you don’t have to push it back for long.

Joel’s gun fires and the shot rings true as the mindless flesh creature falls off next to you. A headshot taken from just the right position so the bullet wouldn’t graze you.

“Are you hurt?” The fear in his eyes matches your own as he kneels in front of you and seems to check you for injury over anything else.

Then he pauses.

“Are you bit?”

The thought comes to you at the same time. You were so dazed during the attack that it’s something you actually have to think about.

“I um… no.” You stumble over your words for a moment before speaking more confidently. “No, it didn't bite me.”

“Good.” He nods and moves on quickly, helping you to your feet.

He starts to move around, checking the infected, checking the house. He’s not focused on you anymore, like he wants to be distracted from the thought.

“One of them probably got bit a day or two back. Didn’t tell his friends and then…” He trails off, gesturing to the bodies. “This happened. Don’t think it’s something to worry about too much though. Probably an isolated event.”

He explains, but he’s rambling. Joel Miller doesn’t ramble. The near death experience is brushed under the rug, but you won’t have that.

“Joel.” You start but he cuts you off.

“I can write up the report for it. I know that’s something you’re not a fan of.” It’s idle talk, nothing of value.

“Joel.” You say his name more firmly now and he looks up at you. “I almost died.”

He clenches his jaw, the tenseness in the conversation now unavoidable. You walk closer and it takes everything in him to not step away. He wants to leave, wants to push it down, but you almost died. He can hardly wrap his mind around it. If he had shot that runner a second later, it would have bitten you, at the very least, and his next bullet would’ve been in your head.

“I know.” He grumbles.

“Do you? Because you won’t look me in the eye.” There’s desperation in the way you look up at him and it’s like he’s staring through you instead of at you.

He lets out a breath and it kills you because you can’t tell what he’s feeling. There’s emotion in his eyes but you just don’t know which one.

“Please don’t shut down on me.” Your hand rises to touch his shoulder and he feels warmth bloom in his chest. He hasn’t felt that in a long time.

His eyes finally flicker down to yours and then to your lips for just a moment. He should think about what he’s doing, he knows that. Your age should be enough to put him off, but he almost lost you only minutes ago.

He won’t deny himself any longer.

Joel’s hand lifts to your chin and your eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion as he tilts your chin up. You part your lips to speak but don’t get the chance because his mouth is now on yours. All his hunger and need and desire finally come out as he kisses you harshly. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you against him, never breaking the kiss. It’s like he doesn’t need air to breathe as he pushes his lips against yours and walks you back until a tree stops you. His tongue pushes into your mouth and he groans when feeling yours push back.

He pulls back and you worry that he regrets it, thinking he acted irrationally or emotionally. Those worries are quelled when he focuses his attention on your neck, leaving gentle kisses and sucking on the soft skin just the right amount so it won’t leave any marks. You let out a soft moan as his fingertips graze up your thigh before gripping it firmly and lifting it up against him.

“I need you, Joel.” You whisper so softly that he’s not even sure he heard you correctly.

“Hm, honey?” He still isn’t fully focused as he trails kisses up your jawline.

“I need it.” You whine a bit and he frowns.

“No.” He murmurs against your skin, kisses so soft and featherlight that you can’t be convinced he’s even touching you. “Not here. You deserve better than here.”

“Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.” You slip your hand under the hem of his shirt. “Been so patient.”

A hint of a smile graces his face. “Patient? Sweetheart, you’re begging me to fuck you in a forest in the middle of our patrol.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” Your hand slides up his chest. “You gotta finish the things you start, Mr. Miller.”

His hand grabs your other thigh and he lifts you up so you’re pushed against the tree. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of him lifting you up with ease, like he’s got something to prove. “I know.”

“Then you should learn to watch your mouth.”

You smirk, knowing just how easy it is to rile him up. “Why don’t you watch it for me?”

He huffs as if your bratty little comments annoy him, but you know he likes it. It’s easy to tell by the way his lips find yours once again. His moves are messy and imprecise. It’s so unlike him to be so reckless but it’s you that brings it out of him.

Hands are pulling at clothes and you’re quickly at a point where your pants are off enough for him to touch you. His fingers waste no time pushing past your underwear to tease you. The movements are slow now, just enough to leave you wanting for more.

“Joel.” You try to scold but it comes out more like a breathy moan.

“Hmm?” He’s not focused on your face anymore, no matter how pretty it might be. He’s more concerned with how many fingers he can push inside you before you start to whine.

“Joel.” You pout again as he feels your wetness pooling in his palm.

Three then. He thinks to himself, calculating how long he’ll have to wait to let you adjust to his cock before he can fuck you how he wants. But he already knows he’ll be pushing your limits.

“Shh, baby. Clearly, you’re not as patient as you claim to be.”

You can’t even reply, not with how good it feels when his fingers start to curl inside you. Joel continues the motions for a minute or so but it’s not what you want. It feels so damn good but this isn’t the way you want to finish.

You start to push him away and he stops as soon as he sees the hesitation.

“Everything alright?” He asks and your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice.

“I wanna feel something a little bigger.”

He rolls his eyes. “No damn patience.” He unbuckles his belt and starts to unbutton his jeans. “I’ll give you what you want then.”

He pulls his jeans halfway down his thighs- his very nice thighs- so he can pull himself out of his boxers. There’s no more slow, teasing actions. He wants to show you what your impertinence gets you. Lifting you back up with just one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance.

As the head pushes in, he watches your face so he can see how you struggle to take it. You won’t speak up though, not after you whined and begged for him to fuck you. He might be a lot bigger than you’ve had before but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it.

Joel doesn’t want to miss the look on your face as he pushes in but can’t help but glance down. The sight of your desperate pussy sucking him in more and more is almost enough for him to finish there and then, but he holds off. He won’t let this be something you regret.

“Fuck.” He groans as he pushes the rest of the way into you with a sharp thrust. You whimper, hiding your face in his neck. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your cheeks heat and he starts to pull himself back out again before you hear the slick squelch of another deep thrust.

“Shit, Joel.” The stretch stings but it’s a good hurt.

“I know. I was trying to prepare you but you never fucking listen.” His words sound sympathetic, no matter how harsh they are, but the way he punishes you with his dick seems to contrast that.

His hands hold up both your thighs as he leans you against the tree for more leverage so he can pull his hips back and fuck into you deeper and deeper.

“Mmm.” You moan, unable to form thoughts, let alone words.

The way the head of his cock hits just the right spot before slipping up to kiss your cervix makes you feel pleasure in a way you couldn’t previously fathom. You’ve never been fucked like this before and it just makes it oh so better because it’s him fucking you.

Joel’s deep brown eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul with the way he’s watching you. He lives for it, your reactions, every little sound you make. It all makes him harder as he slams into you rougher with each thrust.

“You feel so perfect, sweetheart. Taking me so damn well, finally learning how to listen.”

“Dick.” You grumble and he chuckles.

“I’m not the one who begged for this.” His hips push against yours. You didn’t think he’d be able to get even deeper but he does. “Fucking begged, honey.”

“I’m not the one who let go of all my morals for it though, either.”

It’s a dangerous thing for you to point out, almost threatening enough for him to stop. But it’s also another thing he likes about you. You always bite back. There is even some part, some sick part, of him deep down that enjoys how wrong it is. It enjoys that you, being so beautiful and smart and full of life… and so young still want him. You could have any man between your thighs but it’s Joel whose fucking you.

“I’m close, Joel.” You say after his fingers have crept down to rub between your legs. He needs you to finish first, needs it bad.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezing around me. Wanna know how you love it.”

His pace never falters as he leads you to the edge, drawing in and out of you with a pace that you didn’t think a man his age could hold. It just feels so good; you want it to last forever, but all good things end eventually.

“F-Fuck.” You moan and he feels it as your walls tighten around his cock. It almost makes him cum instantly but he pushes through enough to lead you through your high.

You’re panting now as he pulls out, spilling himself onto the forest floor. You look up at him as he lets you down gently. You’re scared, scared that it’s over now, scared that this was a one time thing. And he just won’t fucking look at you.

“Joel?” Your voice cracks. God, you hate how you can’t control it.

His head snaps back right away and when you look into his eyes… it’s not regret that you see. “It’s okay, trouble. You did good.” There is something more in the way he comforts you. “We’re good.”

It’s not much of an explanation but it relieves you. You understand him and though he didn’t speak many words, you know what lies between the lines. This isn’t the end of what’s between you.

comment to be added to taglist

@grayandthyme @littledes1re just thought I’d tag my new moots because y’all’s writing inspired me to get back into it :)

[rereisstuff]

CHERISH (MY LOVE) !

summary: a mismatch in the concept got Jaemin having cuteness aggression.

pairing: idol!jaemin x idol!reader

note: the idol reader is OBVIOUSLY LEGAL and well she doesn’t match the concept of illit and she’s like 23 or sum.

well this wasn’t what you expected as you re-debuted.

they got you singing about a teenage love story, side by side with 17 year olds, at your old age.

being part of a forgotten band wasn’t easy but this wasn’t the outcome you expected.

CLC’s Yujin could, why couldn’t you? Well because her new band didn’t had that childish vibe that yours had and second of all the concept from your previous work mismatched the new one.

well, there you were, acting in a tooth video.

and there was Jaemin taking pictures at everything you did.

you didn’t act childish because you were no child, and also felt weird to try and do that.

“you look just like when we met!” Jaemin took another picture of your hairstyle, giggling like a little girl when he saw the pictures.

you have met at the debut of nct dream and your band, both childish as you were under 17, you used pigtails and ruffle dresses and Jaemin that damn hoverboard.

however you didn’t date since that time, your promotions caught up with the other and you got together by Boom era, a little more grown.

“you’re just too cute” Jaemin looked like a mad man, bleached eyebrows documenting everything so you could post later on your social media.

your personal manager already knew him, as your relationship wasn’t new but the other staff members and bandmates look amused by his antics.

“take a picture of all of us please” Moka smiled and asked, gathering the band, all smiling to your phone in Jaemin’s hands.

once you took the picture everyone scattered to the individual shoots, Jaemin went to pick up the coffee he ordered for the staff and band and you got by yourself with your phone.

you couldn’t help to feel troubled by the pictures, tears building up in your eyes as you saw Iroha and Wonhee smiling almost childishly, Moka, Minju and Yunah looking young as well.

“i look like their mom” was the first thing you sobbed into Jaemin’s arms as soon as he came back announcing the goods he bought on the dining table.

he looked conflicted, caressing your back “why do you say that baby?”

“if it wasn’t for the botox, i would look like their mentor, a trainer” you teared up again, getting attention from the staff but dissipated by Jaemin pulling you aside.

“baby, i would never be half as brave as you to debut again” he said softly “i’ll be too scared to do what you just done and for that i’m the proudest boyfriend”

“i mean, i’m supposed to act my age dressed in this?!” you asked still hysterical but he hugged you tighter.

“i was pushing 17 riding hoverboards to awards with Jisung being a fetus behind me” he joked making you laugh “you look cute and beautiful, but these girls are literally children, i mean those two are”

you saw here he was pointing, showing the younger members sharing a milkshake he specifically asked so they didn’t drink coffee.

“you’re my strong woman whom i raised Jisung with” he kissed your cheek earning a laugh.

[kisses4rafey]

older!rafe catches you smoking

the sun had barely started to dip, your legs stretched out on the back porch of the beach house, a blunt lazily burning between your fingers. you weren’t even high yet—just chasing that first hit, exhaling slow like the smoke might carry your thoughts somewhere less heavy. you didn’t hear the truck until it was too late.

the screen door creaked. “seriously?”— you froze.

there he was towering in the doorway like some storm cloud in a black t-shirt and salt-worn jeans. his eyes narrowed immediately, jaw tight like he’d been biting his tongue all day and just ran out of patience. “are you actually getting high right now?” he asked, stepping out. the blunt was still smoldering in your hand.

you went to flick it. too slow.

he was already in front of you, snatching it from your fingers like it was poison. “jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re really pushing it.”

“it’s not a big deal,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him. and he fucking laughed—humorless. “not a big deal? you’re barely outta high school and you think burning weed on my porch when I’ve got neighbors two houses down who’d love to call your parents is just… casual?” you flinched. the word parents landed too hard. he knew it.

silence stretched between you like the heat coming off the deck boards. “i didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” you muttered.

“oh, that makes it better?” his voice rose, rough and cutting. “you think that makes me less pissed?”

“i’m not a kid—”

“you are a kid,” he snapped. “you’re a kid screwing around with stuff you don’t get to play with—not here, not around me.”

that one hurt. it wasn’t the weed. it was the distance in his voice. the shift. like he was suddenly drawing a line between you again—age, experience, risk. you tried to bite it down. “you’re the one who keeps saying I’m grown enough to be with you. so what is it, rafe? i’m old enough for your bed but too young to smoke a little?”

his jaw clenched. hard. like you’d slapped him.

he stepped closer—too close. you could smell the faint salt of the ocean on his skin, the underlying sting of whatever cologne he always wore when he was pretending not to care.

“you think this is funny?” he asked, voice low now. “you think I’m doing this because I want to control you?” you stared at him, defiant—but your chest was tight. “i don’t want to lose you,” he then proceeded to say in a softer tone. “not to dumb shit like this.”

“you’re not my dad,” you whispered. “you can’t tell me what i can and can’t do”

“no,” he said, still watching you like he was memorizing every expression. “i’m not. but i care about you more than he ever did.” you swallowed hard, throat tight. you hated how his anger cracked just enough to show you where the hurt lived underneath.

then he reached up—gently this time—and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “don’t make me the guy who lets you burn yourself out just to seem cool. i want more for you than that. you hear me?”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s weed, rafe. not heroin. jesus.”

he didn’t laugh.

“you wanna act grown? fine. then be grown enough to take care of yourself. don’t pull this shit and expect me to clean up after you if something goes sideways.”

you blinked. that hit harder than the weed ever could. “i wasn’t expecting anything from you,” you said, quieter now. “i just… i was anxious. and i thought I had time.”

[guksfairy]

ALMOST MISSED YOU | JJK

how you made your way back to him

wc: 1.2k

drabble series masterlist

School was never one of Jungkook’s top priorities, especially now that his main focus was debuting as a solo artist under Wonijin Entertainment. A company that decided to take a chance on young 13 year old Jungkook. They saw the potential the day he walked into their audition room ready to sing his heart out for the world

At most, Jungkook would attend school no more than three days a week, with his parents allowing it only because he promised if he failed he would put school first and even apply to universities.

At this point, if you asked Jungkook what his math teacher’s name was, he’d take a wild guess and probably get it right 2/10 times. Besides his friends, Jungkook only ever noticed one other person in school. You.

You sat in the corner with your friends, minding your business. You weren’t loud like the popular girls but you weren’t so quiet to be an “invisible” person either.

You were beautiful in ways Jungkook didn’t even think could be possible outside of movies. He wishes he could say he befriended you and asked you out but, with him barely being at school, he didn’t feel like he had enough time.

A boyfriend that is too busy cooped up in an entertainment company building isn’t what you deserved.

And when Jungkook finally debuted at the young age of 15, one of the youngest at the time, he was left to wonder what happened to you. He left school and was privately educated by the company’s private educator. He graduated on a random Wednesday afternoon.

You never left his mind though. He’d randomly be practicing one day and think about the girl he was attracted to when he was 13. Or he’d be at a fan signing event and hope that you became a fan of his and were in the audience.

But news of you was a lost cause until that one Monday night. That glorious night you found your way back to his life.

One of his good model friends had reposted your post. It was a group photo. He knew Taehyung but he didn’t recognize the other five people. Except for you in the very center of the picture. Your smile outshining the others as you held a glass of champagne.

Your caption.

Happy Birthday to me! Thank you my loves for the surprise birthday dinner <3

Within seconds Jungkook finds himself scrolling through your account and finds you have become a well known content creator. Mostly vlogs where you show what you do on the average day.

Jungkook watches a handful of your videos that night, feeling like he’s a teenager all over again with the way he felt butterflies in his stomach every time you smiled or laughed.

He thought about following you that night but decided against it when he remembered who he was and the impact it could bring to you if his fans found out he followed you. There was nothing that could get past them. So instead, he texted Taehyung.

Jungkook 10:18PM

You know Y/N?

Taehyung 10:20 PM

Why do you ask?

You know her?

Jungkook 10:20 PM

went to school with her

always wondered what happened with her lol

Taehyung 10:21 PM

Jeon Jungkook wondering about a girl??

The same one that gave that model girl a fake number when he got asked out??

Jungkook 10:21 PM

that was different

i’m not giving my number to a stranger

Taehyung 10:22 PM

*a model

Jungkook 10:22 PM

whatever

Taehyung 10:22 PM

Well if you must know yes I’m friends with Y/N

Jungkook 10:23 PM

is she dating anyone

Taehyung 10:23 PM

lmaoooo smooth

ask her

xxx-xxx-xxxx

As Jungkook stared at the screen in panic, wondering if he should actually text you or not, Taehyung was already next to you excited to tell you about the conversation he just had.

“Do you know Jungkook?”

Everyone around the table was too occupied in their own conversations to notice your eyes widen at the question your dear friend had asked you.

“Jungkook? Oh my god I haven’t heard of him in years,” you chuckle remembering the boy who would show up to school every once in a while and copy off his friend because he was always behind on material.

You knew he was training to become an idol but were never too invested in it the way everyone else in the class was. You always thought he was cute and funny but if he was going to be an idol, there was no use in confessing to him the way you felt.

The stolen glances during class were just that.

“Gave him your number,” Tae says like it’s nothing, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What? Why?”

“Because he asked about you, that’s why,”

He asked about you?

“He asked about me? Why?”

“I don’t know he said something about how he recognized the pretty girl in the picture I reposted,” you roll your eyes not taking him seriously because you know your friend too well at this point.

“Ha ha you’re so funny,” he smiles and replies.

“I’m joking but he did say he knew you so I gave him your number. Maybe you guys could reconnect and maybe you can finally move on from Jongwoo,” Tae says mentioning your current crush that you know is going nowhere since you know he only sees you as a friend.

You stare at Jongwoo across the table talking with someone else and you sigh while looking back at Taehyung.

Ding.

“Couldn’t even wait a full day,” Taehyung chuckles and you read the notification on your phone.

xxx-xxx-xxxx 10:37 PM

Hey it’s Jungkook. Got your number from Tae

Hope you don’t mind

and that you remember me haha

“He texts like a loser,” Taehyung jokes and you gently shove him with a smile.

You don’t text him back in the moment, but hours later when your comfortable in bed you finally have the courage to reply.

You 12:11 PM

Omg hi !!

Sorry for the late reply I was out

Jungkook 12:11PM

don’t apologize i get it lol

happy belated birthday btw

i’m not a creep i just saw Tae’s story

You smile at his text and continue the conversation. One that didn’t end until 3 in the morning with the promise to get coffee in person soon and catch up properly.

You go to bed with a smile not knowing that Jungkook is doing the exact same thing.

He recalls the way he felt the following Monday after he officially left school and how he wouldn’t be able to see his friends now that he had a much stricter schedule, but more importantly he couldn’t see you anymore. Couldn’t look at the back of the class saying he’s just looking outside when really he’s watching you take notes with your glittery pens he knew you liked.

He let you slip out of his life once, and he swears he’s not going to let it happen again.

[demie90s]

What about one with Jackie x teammate reader and reader is a crashout who is down bad for Jackie and will rock anyone’s shit who messes with her so when they play the fever either Sophie or Caitlin start getting smart mouthed and way too physical so reader steps in and DOES rock one of their shit in the name of standing up for Jackie. I saw your post about smut too so maybe it leads into smut or something, idk

Let Me Show You

Jackie Young x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You’re a crashout, a hothead, and the undisputed enforcer on the team—and you’re head over heels for Jackie.

Word Count: ~ 1k

Genre: WNBA chaos, protective love, locker room comedy

Warnings: Violence, foul language, ejection from game, reader got hands and no filter

Everybody on the team know I love Jackie. Quiet, sweet, lowkey Jackie. Real low maintenance but never one to let somebody talk crazy to her.

I respect that. But there’s a difference between standing up for yourself and needing someone to go full crash dummy on your behalf.

That’s me. I’m someone.

I been telling them. From preseason to now, I been saying it. Jackie get hit wrong, Jackie get pushed, Jackie even look remotely uncomfortable, I’m coming off the bench like I ain’t got a contract. Like my mom ain’t watching. Like I didn’t just get off probation. No morals.

So when we play the Fever and Caitlin Clark start talking slick under her breath—everybody hear it but ain’t nobody doing nothing. Jackie just ignore her. Like she always do. Good for her.

Maybe that work for some people. But it damn sure ain’t work for me. It itch at me. I’m already pacing.

First quarter. Caitlin come off a screen and elbows Jackie a little too hard. Jackie stumble. She get up, fix her headband, adjust her shorts. Calm. Like always.

I’m off the bench. Bothered.

Coach tap my wrist and mutter something but I ain’t listening. I just nod cause I already know what I’m bout to do. Ain’t even a play. I go in the game and I don’t blink. I’m not even guarding Caitlin, but I walk right over during the free throw and bump her shoulder hard enough to make her stumble.

She turn around, all attitude. But she don’t say nothing. Cause she know.

Second quarter. Jackie go up for a layup and Caitlin clip her wrist and shove her midair. Jackie hit the floor. And yeah the ref call it, but my hearing turn off. It’s like I can only see Jackie’s body on that hardwood, and I’m walking before I know I’m moving.

I don’t run. I don’t need to. I walk. Slow. Like I’m in a 2010 music video. Wind blowing. Jacket flowing. Real dramatic. Real ready.

Caitlin barely get the chance to open her mouth before I rock her shit. One hit. Clean. Her ponytail swung. She spun like a cartoon character and hit the ground loud. Refs start blowing whistles like they tryna summon someone.

Jackie’s voice come through all soft and shocked, “Y/N…”

I hear it but I’m just looking down at Caitlin like she lucky I stopped at one. Like the cameras not rolling. Like I ain’t got a whole family who been praying for me to stop reacting like this. Knowing they made me like this for a reason.

Ref don’t even say nothing. Just point. I nod. Cool. I walk off like it was a light workout.

Fever crowd booing. Social media gon’ cry. Her little army of Clarkette fans gon’ write novels in the comments.

I don’t give a fuck. You touch Jackie again and I’ma knock your ass into ya next game.

Back in the locker room. Cool air hitting my arms. I’m in my compression shorts eating lemon pepper wings out a foil wrap, watching old “IAmZoie” and “PatDLucky” vids on my phone like I didn’t just cause a scene. Laughing hard as hell too. Got tears in my eyes.

“Broooo, you remember this one,” I say, showing my screen to whoever walk in. “The one where he made, ‘Drop yo shit’ That shit had me in tears the first time.”

Nobody saying shit about what happened. Not yet.

Jackie finally come sit by me. Her knee got ice on it. Her voice still gentle when she lean close and whisper, “You know you didn’t have to do that, right?”

“I didn’t have to,” I say. “I wanted to.”I look over slow, chewing. She shake her head, trying not to smile, but I catch it.

“Don’t be cute now,” I tell her. “I already got ejected. Might as well go all in.”

Jackie press her lips together like she holding in a laugh.

I smirk, eyes back on my phone. Caitlin still somewhere in the building room with an ice pack and a bruised ego. Fans still crying online. The league probably calling my agent.

Meanwhile. I’m eating good. Jackie’s beside me. My hands still hurt a little. I’d do it all again. No regrets. Clark not untouchable.

———————————————————————————————

Lowkey ain’t know how to even start the smut. For once. Here was the plan: After the game. Bus ride to the Aces Training Facility. The team breaks off and goes home or something like that. After a few hours I go to her place to apologize. Like show up in the middle of the night. I lowkey think she an undercover freak. Like shy asl on camera and in person. But get her alone and I bet she’ll out freak you. Anyways…

———————————————————————————————

Jackie stay ten minutes away. Top floor apartment, clean little spot. She don’t answer when I knock, but I see the light under the door. So I knock again—gentler.

Finally, it creaks open. She’s in a big t-shirt. Hair down. Eyes low.

“You good?” she asks, rubbing her wrist like she been tossing and turning.

“I shouldn’t’ve done all that today,” I mutter. “But I’d do it again. And I just… I didn’t wanna leave it like that.”

She nods. Bites her lip.

“I know,” she whispers. “I didn’t think you would… but when you did—when I hit the floor and looked up, and you were already walking toward her—” I take a step forward.

I freeze. My chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Jackie says quietly, shaking her head. “You did it without hesitation. Like you already decided what I was worth to you.”

I don’t know what to say. But she steps back, holding the door open.

“You wanna come in?”

I don’t speak. I just walk past her, slow, brushing against her shoulder on purpose. She closes the door behind me, locks it. That click is loud in the quiet.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[heylittleriotact]

but hidden in his coat is an orange right hand

Here it is. The most unserious thing I've ever written: Emmrich has the day off and Rook is at work. He decides to tidy her apartment for her, but gets distracted by the laundry. He borrows her lotion, and chaos ensues.

@aldisobey - I dedicate this to you with all of my love. This is in every way, in every fucked up word, for You <3

Read below or on ao3

It had all started out so innocently: Rook left for work, and he had the day off. He might have gone home, but with the automatic feeder for Manfred set up to be controlled with an app on his phone, Emmrich decided that loitering around Rook’s small apartment for the day would be a nice change of pace.

By noon he’d washed and put away the sink full of dishes, watered her houseplants, and made a trip to the grocery store to replenish her cupboards.

After vacuuming the carpet in the living room (how was there so much cat fur? She didn’t even own a cat), he changed the record on her turntable (the Velvet Underground and Nico was swapped for Cohen’s ‘I’m Your Man’), and decided to start on her bedroom: there was nothing like coming home to a tidy house, and there was no denying Rook’s well-lived in space was in need of tending.

He’d been partway through picking up the not insignificant amount of clothing on the floor, and depositing it into the duct-taped plastic laundry basket he fully intended to take down to the communal laundry room in the basement, when he found himself staring at the dark blue panties sitting atop a Motörhead t-shirt that he’d just placed in the basket.

They were just panties. They weren’t even her most alluring pair: these were plain modal fabric, free of lace or cut-outs or suggestive designs.

Yet he stared — and for a good deal longer than he had any reason to.

These were what she had worn to bed the night before after she’d emerged from the shower. She had cuddled up against him, fingers scratching lazily through his chest hair, falling into a deep easy sleep at least a full hour before sleep found him too.

It had been a long day for both of them, and neither had the energy to make love the night before. He liked that about this particular place in their relationship: it wasn’t that he didn’t relish every single opportunity he had to make her legs shake, but there was an ease about their day-to-day interactions after so many months of being together that was effortless and simple. No longer was every spare moment spent wrapped around each other as if it may be their last, but instead their lust had established mature roots until it became a comfortable - but ever-present - option instead of a necessity.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, however, Rook’s worn panties balled up innocently in the laundry basket had his heart racing and blood rushing below his waistline faster than he could say ‘pervert.’

How they’d ended up in his hand was a mystery to him, even as he swallowed hard and brought them to his nose, feeling sinful as he inhaled. His cock throbbed receptively as the familiar scent of her mingled with her body wash and laundry detergent flooded his olfactory receptors.

He moaned softly into the mid-afternoon silence of Rook’s bedroom, and surrendered himself with surprisingly little shame to what his body was implying it should do: it was only natural to feel called to see to oneself from time to time, after all.

Undoing his belt with one hand, he dropped onto his side of Rook’s bed, pushing up his cashmere pullover and unzipping his pants in one efficient motion.

He realized then that the bottle of lube was still in its most recently utilized location, which was the bathroom. Did he really want to hold his pants up and shuffle all that way to get it?

Deciding he’d rather not, his eyes landed on a nondescript bottle of lotion perched on Rook’s bedside table behind the ashtray. Figuring that plain old Jergens was good enough for him when he was a young man, it would most certainly do in a pinch now.

Setting the panties down atop the bulge in his underwear, he reached over the bed and pumped a generous palmful of lotion into his left hand and leaned back into his pillow, careful not to get any on his clothes or the sheets.

The panties were picked up again, and he fished his cock out of his briefs as he savoured the softness of her intimates under his thumb.

Rook… oh… even when he could have her whenever he liked, the thrill never wore off — never diminished to anything less than absolute…

His cock throbbed under his fingers and he let out a low groan as he worked the room-temperature lotion over his hot length. He dragged his teeth over his lower lip, uttering another indulgent moan through them as he lifted the hand gripping the panties again so he could steal another lungful of all that was her.

Everything. She was everything. His life could be defined as little more than banal purgatory before she’d graced it: elevator music and beige everything - endlessly waiting for something, though no one could tell him what.

Oh how he loved her… craved her… needed her…

He set a well-practiced pace, confident in his understanding of his body as his slick hand glided up and down his cock, the lewd sounds of his pleasure accompanying his deep, heavy breaths.

If only she could see: if only she could witness for herself the monumental effect that she had on him, reducing him - an accomplished and successful man of his age - to little more than a horny adolescent, unable to make it through a single afternoon without a furious and passionate wank...

He whined into the cotton against his face, completely lost in the ghostly sweetness of her mesmerizing cunt that had been in contact with the scant clothing only hours earlier.

Maker how lovely it would be if it was actually her cunt against his lips instead…

He’d spread her open like the pages of a lurid book, taking his time - as one should in a beautiful garden - to bury his nose within her perfect bloom; graze upon her with all the gentle innocence of a new fawn nibbling upon the delicate meadow flax of springtime…

She’d whisper his name first: a breathy, flattered little exclamation that would give way to rich moans from deep within the very core of her as her thighs shuddered against his ears and her hips arced upwards…

‘Ohhhh…’ she would sigh, deliriously, deliciously undone. ‘Oh Emmrich - I’m going to cum…’

‘Come for me, darling,’ he would say then. ‘Wash over me like a wave on a cruel summer day, and I shall be the happiest man who ever was - with your dew upon my lips, and the dream that I might yet savour your sweetness, even with my very last breath...’

His hips jerked and he fucked into his clenched hand, his breaths falling from his lips in frenzied bursts as his toes curled into the bedsheets.

He came with a ragged groan, feeling his hot spend pulse out of him and drip steadily down his greasy fingers, pooling on his exposed belly and pubic hair.

Reposed on the bed, he waited until the lightheadedness subsided and his vision cleared, the hand holding the navy blue panties that had been his undoing falling to his side as he swallowed thickly and took stock of the situation: he was laying in his girlfriend’s bed at three o’clock on a Tuesday, covered in lotion and his own cum while she was at work and a half-full laundry basket of clothes sat forgotten on the floor.

She very well may be the death of me…

Confident again in his ability to stand, Emmrich hastily cleaned himself up with the panties, feeling somewhat guilty about soiling them so vulgarly despite their impending date with the washing machine. They were dropped in the laundry basket and he tucked himself back into his pants and refastened his belt before making his way to the bathroom to wash the remnants of cum and lotion off his hand.

Certain he had his wits about him once more, he deposited a few more pieces of clothing into the basket, then hoisted it under his arm, grabbing the laundry detergent and a handful of quarters from the bowl by the front door and whistling a jaunty tune as he descended to the laundry room.

It was about an hour or so later when he was dusting Rook’s dresser that it first occurred to him that something was amiss.

Initially he thought the strange hue of his left palm might be merely a late afternoon shadow filtering in the nicotine-tinted window, but when he set down the Swiffer duster in his right hand and the rabbit shaped piggy bank he’d been dusting underneath, it became abundantly clear that was not the case.

“Uhhh…”

He inspected his left hand — the palm of which was now a vivid copper-orange. Aggressive brown stains lingered on the sides of his fingers and the skin between them, collecting gaudily at the edges of his many rings.

“Oh,” he whimpered, horrible, damning realization settling upon him. “Oh no.”

He cleared the distance to Rook’s nightstand in two long steps, stumbling over her vanity chair in his fervour, and snatched the bottle of duplicitous lotion from its innocent place, holding it up to read the label.

The words ‘natural glow’ imprinted themselves upon his brain in cruel confirmation, and he made a sound like a pelican gargling a bowling ball, fingers tightening around the damnable bottle.

Self-tanner. Why in the name of all that is precious and sane does Rook have a bottle of self-tanner next to her bed? She’s as white as the freshly driven snow! She gets sunburn if she stands close to a window at mid-day for too long!

Why? — WHY?!—

— Horrified and already knowing what awaited him, Emmrich slammed the bottle of lotion down and hooked his thumb into the waistband of his pants, pulling them away from his body far enough to dimly make out his mortifyingly ‘sun-kissed’ dick, nestled in his underwear.

Time. He needed time to figure this out.

He looked at his watch: 4:17. Rook was finished work at 5:00 if no last minute First Calls wandered into the chapel, and Pemberly was a twelve minute drive from her apartment…

He forced himself to take a deep breath.

I have time. I can sort this out with time to spare, surely. Perhaps it hasn’t really had time to develop fully. A shower — yes, a shower is in order…

He was already halfway to the bathroom — sweater yanked off and discarded on the floor, his pants undone for the second time that afternoon — though this time for a much different reason.

This wasn’t as simple as correcting the colouring of a jaundiced cadaver with a few ounces of extra red colourant added to the embalming fluid and some clever cosmetics: this chemical was sunk into the outer layers of his skin, and cosmetizing a penis was no small feat: hiding this from Rook was not going to be an option — he needed to scour the tanner from his person before she got home.

Hopping into the bathtub like a startled doe, Emmrich cranked the faucet, not waiting for the water to heat up (which took no less than forty seconds in Rook’s shower) before standing directly under the frigid water and squirting a full palmful of her grapefruit and neroli body wash into his hand and working it into the briefest of lathers before applying it directly to his nethers.

He coated himself liberally, sudsy fingers slipping over his soft cock, panic mounting as every swath of skin revealed as he worked the soap around was still stubbornly orange.

“Nnnngh!”

He lifted his left hand and held it inches from his face, scrubbing his palm and fingers with his right.

I have to go to work tomorrow… what will people think of a supposedly ‘dignified’ mortician with only one hand suspiciously orange? Ohhhhhh—

“Please!” He begged the obstinate beauty product, as if it would do him any good.

Something else, perhaps…

He glanced around the shower: Rook didn’t use shower poufs or loofahs or anything he could solidly scrub himself with, but…

The pot of body scrub in the corner practically waved at him and he dropped the lid on the floor of the bathtub in his haste to access the contents within.

Three minutes and as much ‘gentle’ exfoliation as his cock could handle later, Emmrich abandoned the idea: it hadn’t helped - perhaps smoothed out some of the patchiness and the brown borders on his fingers, but it had done depressingly little to actually purge the stain from his skin.  

He turned the water off and got out of the shower, parsing his remaining options, settling finally upon the communal knowledge of the internet to hopefully get him out of this predicament.

Vinegar, baking soda, lemon juice - even toothpaste. He tried them all, and with time running out, nothing helped. In fact, the lemon juice might have even made it worse, and now he smelled like a middle-school science project to boot.

It wasn’t that he thought Rook would be disturbed or upset - quite the opposite: she would be delighted. She might never stop laughing.

She might never take him seriously again.

Who could take a man with an orange cock seriously?

He could just leave, he supposed. Text her and tell her that he forgot that he had plans that evening and he wouldn’t be able to see her until tomorrow when hopefully he could figure a way out of this mess…

“What 'plans?'” He asked himself sardonically: Rook knew better. He did too.

All he could do was act as normally as possible and hope that she wouldn't notice. It wouldn't be too difficult, would it? He was right-handed, and could conceal his left easily enough, and there was no real reason she would need to see him naked at any point in the evening. Even if they found themselves in an amorous mood, waiting until the lights were off before undressing would be easy enough. Indeed... with some cunning and carefully controlled lighting, he very well could get away with this without Rook being any the wiser... 

The folly of his plan became apparent a short time later when Rook walked in the door to her pristinely clean apartment and looked around from the entryway, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, before whispering, "Y-you cleaned my apartment for me?"  

He had barely opened his mouth to respond by the time Rook had dumped her backpack on the doormat and shed her jacket in a pile behind her, clearing distance between them with baffling ease and all but tackling him onto the worn couch, her weight - familiar and warm settling against him as her lips met his in an enthusiastic - and deep - kiss.  

"You spent your day off cleaning my apartment?" She breathed, straddling his thigh, her breasts pressing against him, "Why did you do that?"

Knowing where this was going as she nuzzled into his neck and slipped a hand past the hem of his sweater and up over his abdomen, he scrambled to redirect her.

"I-it was nothing, darling - I thought it might be a good way to pass the ti– TIME!"

He yelped when her hand redirected itself instead - directly into his pants, her fingers cool against his flaccid cock.

"I love you," she purred against his neck, her silken palm curving around his softness in a way his own hand never could. "I love you, I love you, I love you – you didn't have to..."

"No, but I wanted to – you know how I operate, dear."

If only he hadn't been enchanted by her panties...

She placed a sucking kiss against his neck, slowly moving her hand within his pants, "Thank you..."

"You're welcome, darling, b-but you needn't..." he swallowed and debated extracting her hand. "Reciprocate."

"But what if I want to?" She breathed against his ear, and he could hear her smile and smell her lipstick: a shiver stroked up his spine – he twitched in her hand.

Oh... the things she did... the way she did them...

His head hit the arm of the couch with a resigned 'thud' as she continued to lick and nibble his earlobe.

“Are you hungry?” He inquired, searching for a way out of this despite his conviction that waned with each stroke of her perfect hand. “L-let me — ohh… let me take you out for dinner — we can go anywhere you’d like.”

Yes — if he could get her out of the apartment…

"Sure..." she murmured, though to his dismay she continued her business within his trousers, grinding herself lazily against his thigh. "But first, an amuse-bouche."

He felt her hand leave his cock and flip the tongue of his belt free from the buckle.

"Wouldn't you rather wait?!" Emmrich half-screeched, catching her wrist before she could undress him further.

Rook sat up, hand still on his belt, his cock straining visibly against the front of his pants. Her eyes left his, wandering pointedly to the bulge between them. "Would you?"

"N-no of course not–" he babbled. "– it's only that, you see – I simply think that – if we only–"

She took advantage of his scramble for an explanation and batted his hand away from hers, easily undoing the rest of his buckle and fly, with a coquettish laugh. "You're being weird, babe. You never turn down a blow– oh!" His cock was in her hand again, bronze tint contrasting garishly with her pale, pale fingers.

Frowning, she studied him, then said, all business: "Emmrich, why is your dick orange?"

Blood rushed to his ears and cheeks. "Why do you have self-tanning lotion on your bedside table?!"

The frown wavered, twitched, then gave way to a disbelieving grin as Rook clearly put the pieces together in her mind.

"Did... did you...? No way..." an amused titter slipped past her lips. "Did you jerk off with self-tanner?"

"I fail to see the humour in this," Emmrich muttered reproachfully.

"Maker's tits, you did!" She was laughing properly now: just like he knew she would... now she was unlikely to ever stop.

"Well why would you leave it next to your bed?" He snapped, trying to sit up, but Rook had him pinned. "You don't even use tanning lotion!"

"No–-" she gasped, "– but at one point I thought I might, so I bought a bottle. That was years ago though. I used it maybe twice."

He wanted to grab her arms and shake her: it was all so funny now, but after a week of this, the novelty of a boyfriend with orange genitals might wear thin.

"I look ridiculous!"

"Yeah," she agreed, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. She slipped down the couch, resting on her belly and putting her face close to the offending reproductive organ, "But you know what, handsome?"

He sighed, wishing for nothing more than to be enveloped by a black hole. "What?"

"I still love you anyway." The words washed over him, body and soul: hot, breathy, and utterly honest.

How had he found himself so fortunate? So blessed?

His breath caught when her tongue dragged up the underside of his length, flicking against the crown of his cock.

"Why does it taste like peppermint?" She inquired in a soft whisper from between his legs, licking him again, stroking him in tandem.

He chanced a look down – saw her looking up at him, the lust in her grey eyes tempered by that benign curiosity he loved so much.

"T-toothpaste..." he confided. "The... the Google suggested it might uh... lighten it. As you can see, it didn't work..."

She didn't call him an idiot for thinking it would. Didn't laugh at his foolish desperation.

Instead, she pressed her lips ever-so-sweetly against the tip of his cock, and they parted in a breathtaking smile.

He loved her. He loved her more than life itself. He would truly give anything to see that smile every day for the rest of their lives...

His Rook. His kind, enchanting, joyful Rook. Non-judgemental and compassionate – a marvelous woman by all definitions.

How foolish he was to think that she would be anything but understanding about this silly faux pas...

He had been just about to tell her that when she placed his cock against the corner of her mouth, and said in the nasally imitation of a beloved cartoon character, "Ehhh... what's up, Doc?" –

– and then proceeded to give him the best blowjob of his life.

[mountainsandmayhem]

F*ckin’ Forty - Part 2

40 year old reader x young Frankie

18+ || Minors Do Not Interact

Summary: Men your age don’t do the way a twenty five year old future helicopter pilot can.

A/N: once again, all p*orn, no plot. This is written first person and there’s a few minor description of reader. Listen, I don’t know when I turned into a cougar BUT HERE WE FUCKIN’ ARE!!! This is in no way proofread or beta read; much like 40 yr old reader, we don’t care.

T/W: subby Frankie, pet names (baby, sweet boy, etc), I don’t speak Spanish but googled told me Mi Reina means My Queen (just ignore it if that’s not right, there’s bigger problems right now!), teasing, dirty talk, masturbating, Frankie being whiny (but in a good way)

Word Count: 2.5k

I love my job, and that’s not something a lot of people can say. But, as an owner of a small romance bookstore, I am not only living my dream but countless others as well. However, this week, when all I can think about is the weekend and Frankie’s never-ending hard cock? Yeah, I hate my job.

After work on Thursday, I went to buy some sexy lingerie. The last time I put something like this on was for my ex-husband about five years ago. He took one look at me and went, “I think we are a little too old for pyjamas like that”.

Too old? We were fucking thirty-five! And pyjamas? I went back into our bathroom to change and did the worst possible thing I could have - I looked in the mirror. My eyes instantly went to the imperfections of my body and I promptly went on a spiral. Stretch marks from being pregnant three times. Breasts that didn’t sit as high as they used to. Thighs that touch. Bits of cellulite dimpled my ass and hips.

But when I put on this delicate baby blue lace bra, panty, and garter set, I felt powerful and sexy. None of the things, including the few extra pounds I gained in the last five years of my marriage, jumped out at me this time. I don’t know if it was just the way the fabric hugged me just right, or the small “BEG” that was embroidered along the front of the thong (which, yes, is crotchless) but I couldn’t wait for Frankie’s reaction.

While having sushi last Sunday, I told Frankie that I’d prefer to keep all communication to just the weekends since I'm not looking for a relationship or to make this more complicated than just sex and sushi. His response gave me yet another reason to keep fucking younger men, “I’m not looking for anything either, so that is more than okay with me, but if you need me for anything, I’m here.”

Friday had finally arrived. Around noon, I checked my phone and had a text from Frankie.

Frankie: I can’t wait to be buried in that sweet little pussy all fucking weekend

You: now, now, is that any way to talk to a lady? Be nice, or I’ll make you beg for it, sweet boy.

Frankie: I’ll get on my knees and bark like a dog if that’s what you want.

You: that so?

Frankie: woof woof, mi reina

You: see you in a few hours

After an everything shower, I pace in my kitchen nervously while sipping a glass of red wine. I’m in just the baby blue barely there outfit and a short silky black robe that sits mid-thigh when Frankie knocks on my door right at nine o’clock. The soft rapping of his knuckles sends sparks across my skin.

I let him in, his soft brown eyes meeting mine, and the world melts away. No bills, no shitty ex texting me about parents weekend next month, no worrying about the event for local writers coming up at work. Just Francisco “Magic Tongue” Morales.

“Hi, baby,” he says, then brings his lips to mine in a heated kiss. I let him take me, let him close the door and then turn us and press me against the thick white wood that keeps us tucked away from the world.

I kiss him back feverishly as if he’s charging me back up after an entire week without him. I bring my hands to the nape of his neck and scratch gently at his scalp. His grip tightens on my hips. He’s already hard behind his jeans as he grinds into me.

“You look so fucking hot,” he hums between kisses and I remember that I had a plan tonight, so I bring my hands to his chest and push him back just enough so I can see his face.

“Get on your knees and keep your hands to yourself. Then I’ll show you what’s underneath this robe.” I don’t command him or say it harshly. It’s soft and flirty. My words tug a smile at the corner of his cheek, showing off his dimple amongst his patch beard.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispers, his hands giving me one last squeeze before he steps back and lowers himself to his knees.

I run my hands along my thighs, and his eyes track every inch of skin that I expose to him. I lift the sides of my robe, then let it flutter back down around my legs as I reach for the delicate tie around my waist. His breathing speeds up as I play with the fabric.

“What’s the matter, Francisco?”

“N-nothing,” he stammers, watching as my fingers trace the lapels of the silk.

“That so?” I coo, pulling the robe open so he can see part of the light blue bra. I do the same to the other side, showing my cleavage, but not fully letting my breasts out. The fabric is thin enough that you can see my nipples through it, and he hasn’t earned that yet.

His big puppy eyes flick up to my face. He licks his lips before saying, “Please stop teasing me.”

I laugh seductively, shaking my head as my hands pull the tie of the robe. Frankie is nearly panting in anticipation, but I don’t let what’s keeping me covered from him fall open just yet. “I’ve only just started playing with you though.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers when my hands move away from the knot. I use one hand to push his curly hair back. Just as he leans into my touch I grip his soft chocolate brown hair and tug back so he’s looking at me. He hisses, but his eyes are practically onyx with desire when they meet mine.

“That what you want? Me to play with you? Make you work for it?” He looks so goddamn hot on his knees that it takes everything inside of me not to abandon my plan and just let him fuck me senseless.

“Yes, mi reina. Whatever you want. Just please let me see you. Please.”

“You sound so good when you whimper like that,” I bend down and kiss him hard, nipping at his bottom lip as I pull away. “Such a good listener, keeping your hands in your lap like the good boy I know you are.”

He looks wrecked already, whimpering when I stand back up and release his hair. My fingers work the loose knot that’s holding my robe closed. I stop when he looks down.

“No, no, baby. Eyes on mine.” He groans in frustration and then looks back at me. As I continue, I open the robe the rest of the way. “That’s my boy. I’m going to let you look, and touch, but only after you do one tiny little thing for me.”

He nods, his breathing quick and shallow. My eyes flick down to my panties then back to him, he doesn’t break eye contact, so I do it again. “Read them, sweet boy.”

He lowers his chin slowly, his eyes branding my skin as he takes me in. He blinks at the three letters embroidered on the panties just above my clit - BEG. I let the robe slip off my arms and fall to the floor.

“Oh fuuuck,” he breathes. And then, on his knees, his face level with my pussy, he does exactly what I want. “Please, my queen. Let me touch you. Let me make you come so many times you forget your name.”

I step my feet apart so he can see that the lacy blue panties that he’s salivating over are open where the gusset would usually be. His face goes soft, lips parting as his hands ball into tight fists on his lap.

“You can do better than that,” I taunt.

“Fuuuuck me. Your pussy is so damn beautiful. Shining for me already. I’ve been craving your taste, missing how soft you are against my tongue. Please. Let me lick your perfect cunt.” His voice is airy and desperate and I can feel myself getting wetter. He looks up at me and continues, “I’ll stay clothed. I’ll stay on my knees. Fuck, I’ll stay right here all weekend with my tongue out if you want. Just please. Please let me taste you.”

“Open.” That heaven-sent tongue of his wets his lips before he opens his mouth. “Tongue out.”

I place the pads of my pointer and middle finger on the flat of his tongue and a whimper bubbles from his throat. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, baby. You’re going to get my fingers nice and wet, then you’re going to take out that pretty little cock so I can watch it while I touch myself. After I come all over my fingers, assuming you’re my good boy, you can clean them off.”

He hums a sound of agreement, nodding his head as I push on his tongue, watching the saliva pool in his cheeks. I lean down, sponging my lips to his right eyebrow, feeling him gravitate towards my caress.

“What are you waiting for, Francisco?” I whisper, my voice full of love and encouragement. He sucks eagerly, bobbing up and down on my fingers, swirling that perfect tongue along them. For a moment, I wonder if he’s ever sucked a cock before, and for some reason, the thought of that turns me on more than I expected it to.

“Fuck, you’re such a good listener,” I coo, and he preens at the praise. “Okay, that’s enough now, Frankie”

His lips release with a pop. “Please, I need to see you spread out for me.”

“Take off your shirt,” he whips his white t-shirt off so fast and I laugh silently. He’s so fucking cute. “Show me your cock. I haven’t stopped thinking about it all week.”

His hands scramble to his belt. Then he fumbles with the buckle and the button fly of his jeans because he’s wholly focused on my nearly exposed cunt. He tugs his jeans and boxers down just enough so that his cock springs free and I feel myself melt into the door behind me.

“Beautiful,” I murmur and he smiles up at me. “Ready?”

He nods, “Yes yes, I want to watch how you make yourself come, mi reina.”

I press my shoulder blades into the door, lifting my left foot and resting the arch on his shoulder, letting my knee fall open before rolling my hips forward. He’s so close that I can feel the heat of his shaky exhales on my skin. I bring my wet fingers towards my center, stopping just before they make contact with my swollen clit.

“Hold onto your cock for me, sweet boy. Right at the base. But don’t stroke yourself.”

“I - I c-can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes, you can, because you’re my good boy. Right?” I say, my voice equally encouraging and taunting.

“I’ll break. I can’t.” He whines.

“Francisco Morales,” I bark, “Wrap your fist around that pretty cock or I won’t let you cum all fucking weekend.”

He looks up at me through his lashes, eyes dark and pleading, then does as I ask. He squeezes his cock and a bead of pre cum leaks from the tip.

“That’s my boy,” I whisper, then drag my fingers along my cunt. I was never this wet for my ex-husband. I start at my entrance, gathering my arousal and spreading it up towards my clit. I gasp as my fingers touch where I’ve been needing them; swirling a little circle around my most sensitive spot before repeating the motion.

“Fuck, your pussy is so incredibly beautiful. All needy and flushed pink,” Frankie murmurs, the heat of his breath making me a jerk. “Get more of your juices for me. Coat your fingers. Make a mess. Make me clean your entire hand.”

“Oh my god, Frankie,” I’m already right on the edge, white blurs the side of my vision as it gets tighter and tighter behind my navel. I slip my fingers inside myself easily, feeling the way the walls of my pussy grip and pull, desperate for more. “Hnnnng, fuuuck.”

“Yes, my queen. Shit, I’m so hard for you right now.”

I pull my fingers from my cunt, looking down as I spread my arousal up my pussy and then focus on my clit. I rub tight, fast circles along it. My legs start to tremble.

“I’m…oh god…I’m gonna-“

“Show me,” he whispers, then blows cool air along my aching cunt and I fall over the edge. My pussy clenches around nothing again and again, but I don’t stop my ministrations. I let the moans fill my apartment, uncaring that anyone walking past my door would be able to hear me. It’s just him and I, the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

“Keep going, baby. I know that must feel so good.” Frankie’s praise feels like the sun, warming my skin and revitalizing me. I keep teasing myself, my body jerking through the aftershocks.

My wrist goes limp, my eyelids falling shut as I catch my breath. After a few quiet moments, I find it in myself to lift my foot off Frankie’s shoulder. He’s still got his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. I stumble slightly, his free hand coming to my hip.

“Easy, baby. Go slow.”

I both hate and love how soft he’s being right now, but then I look back down at his dick. The tip is red and leaking cum; it looks almost painful.

I lift my hand to his lips. “Clean them,” I croak, my voice already hoarse just from one orgasm; I must have been moaning louder than I thought.

Frankie sucks my fingers into his mouth. His eyes rolled back at the taste of me.

“Does that taste good, my beautiful boy?”

He groans in agreement, his breathing changing to be erratic. His hand releases his cock, and I watch as it twitches before he cums on the floor in front of me without even being touched. He releases my fingers, then falls to his hands.

“I’m sorry. Oh god. I’m sorry,” he says through his panting breaths.

I start to laugh, not in a cruel way and definitely not at him, mostly because I don’t know what else to do. Frankie’s big brown eyes look at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say through my laughter. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m just…I’ve never done something like that before. I don’t know what came over me.”

Frankie gestures towards where his cum is pooled onto the tile of your front entrance. “Well, I clearly liked it.”

“Take me to my room,” my voice is a hum and then Frankie shows me once again why fucking a younger is superior when he hoists me over his shoulder as he stands; strong, no lower back or bad shoulders. I squeal, watching as he shuffle steps to my room, his pants pooling around his feet. “Don’t you dare drop me.”

“Never, baby. Never.”

[obx-may]

Together -Rafe Cameron

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, lots of fluff at the beginning, angst with a happy ending, self doubt (rafe), comfort, excessive alcohol consumption.

summary: after telling rafe he was going to be a father you were surprised with how well he took it, though when he felt the first kick everything got a little to real and he freaked out, leaving you crying in your shared apartment and hoping that he’d come back to you.

notes: this is an unofficial part two to this fic that i wrote a little while ago (which you don’t need to read to understand this). i’m stuck on ideas so i decided to just add to that original story! hope you enjoy angels🧸🤍🫶🏼 - this is a long one for me so strap in!

The first few weeks after telling Rafe were hard. You were so stressed about telling your family and everyone on the island possibly whispering about how stupid you could’ve been to get knocked up at such a young age. But Rafe was always there to reassure you.

He was surprisingly calm and collected. He was nervous, anyone would be in that situation but he kept himself together for you.

“It’s okay baby, let it all out.” He’d whisper as you battled morning sickness, one hand on your back rubbing soft circles as the other held the hair out of your face.

He held you when you cried and sobbed about how you were just so scared. He’d let you talk before reassuring you, “I’m here, we’re going to be okay. We can do this.”

When you eventually broke the news to your and his parents he held your hand and did as much of the talking as you wanted him too.

Ward was disappointed, Rose managed to crack a fake smile, you were so relieved when your mother pulled you into a hug and told you she’d be there for you, even though your father sat straight and glared at Rafe with rage in his eyes.

Eventually he calmed down and after around a week he became accustomed to the idea. You knew he was accepting when you were going to spend the night at Rafe’s house and before you left he said, “now you be carful driving on those roads, it’s been raining and you’ve got my grand baby in there.” He gestured to your stomach. You hugged him and he hugged you back, which is something the both of you didn’t know you needed.

After that Rafe proposed moving in together. He knew it was inevitable so he said he’d rather be settled at a place when the baby arrives than scrambling last minute.

Within a few weeks he - with the help of Ward - had found and bought an apartment, it was spacious yet cosy. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an open plan kitchen and living room with a sweet little balcony overlooking the sea. It was perfect.

News spread fast once you went to your first appointment, told your friends and began to show - just slightly but it was there.

The stories were ridiculous. “She baby trapped him for the money.” “I heard it’s not even Rafes.” “She’s faking it for attention.”

You tried not to think about it too much and Rafe helped with that. Though sometimes he made the situation significantly worse by reacting to the stares when you were out. “What the fuck are you looking at punk? Huh? That’s what I thought.” His excuse always being that he was just protecting his girl, which you didn’t argue with.

Your old life was completely gone, being pregnant meant no drinking, partying or staying up late since you were always exhausted anyway.

Though Rafe on the other hand did continue his drinking and partying late, just now without you by his side.

You were pleased at first. You hadn’t wanted him to give up all the tings he did before since you thought he’d be much worse if he had to suddenly change his lifestyle.

Unfortunately, at some point - actually around the time you started to show and a small bump formed on your stomach - it got excessive.

You brushed it off at first, the coming home at two in the morning completely plastered, the increasing nights spent at the country club with Topper and Kelce, but you now realised he was beginning to slip away from you.

Arguments about his behaviour became a reoccurring thing. You cried all the time, though he was never there to hold you and tell you everything was going to be fine like he would’ve in the beginning.

Something had changed in him but you couldn’t understand why.

You felt so alone. Pregnancy is weird like that, even though you’re actually never alone because you constantly have a little human in your stomach it makes you feel like you are, even when there’s people around you who do care.

One night, you heard Rafe stumble through the door as usual. The door to your shared bedroom swinging open just moments later. “Hey baby,” he murmured drunkenly.

You sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with your knees to your chest, tear marks on your face.

His brows furrowed as he immediately sobered up a little, noticing your state.

He sat on the side of the bed. You flinched when he went to place his hand on your leg. “y/n-”

“I’m going to live with my parents for a while,” you blurted out, voice shaky.

“You’re- what?” He was surprised, caught off guard.

“We- no I need some space. In five months we’re going to have a baby Rafe and you’re off getting drunk twenty four seven. I’m tired and I don’t know what’s happened to my Rafe. The one who took care of me when I was sick, the one who reassured me when I was scared, the one who actually seemed like he loved me-” your sentence broke with a sob, “I don’t recognise you.”

He sat there, blindsided. “I… yeah, maybe you should go stay with your parents,” he replied.

You couldn’t believe it. He really wasn’t going to fight for you? Not even a little bit?

With one nod you got off the bed and started to pack. Was it two o’clock in the morning? Yes. Could you spend even one more second in his company? No, no you couldn’t.

So you packed, left without another word and drove to your parent’s house.

Rafe remained in the same position on the bed. He’d fucked it all up.

In the following few weeks there was little to no contact between you and Rafe. It actually did you good to focus on yourself for a little while though after two weeks you were really starting to miss him.

One night, you were sat on the floor of your childhood bedroom folding your laundry when your phone rang.

It was Rafe. You took a deep breath and answered the call, bringing it to your ear.

“y/n?” Was the first thing he said but he didn’t give you time to respond, “I’m so sorry, I freaked out okay? I love you so much and I know I want this with you. This life, this baby, I want it all and I fucked it up. I’ve stopped drinking, I promise I’ll do better. Can you forgive me?”

You slowly took in his words. You knew what you were signing up for when you got with Rafe and you’d been through worse. “Of course I’ll forgive you, I always will because I love you Rafe. But if this happens again-”

“I know.” He knew he only had a limited number of chances and that you might not forgive him so easily next time.

After that night everything slowly but surely got back to normal. You moved back in, he went to your appointment with you where you found out it was going to be a little girl and he spent every night with you in his arms.

A week later you were mostly back into your usual routine. You woke up, took a shower with Rafe, he left for work and you had recently started a job that you could do from home so that’s what you spent your day doing.

His parents were rich and so were yours - everyone knew that - but the both of you wanted to live your own lives, not relying on your parents for everything, so that’s why you started working and you were slowly building your savings that would mostly go to things for your baby girl.

Hours later Rafe finally arrived home. He greeted you with a gentle peck on the lips before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

He sat down next to you on the sofa and peered over at the website you were scrolling through on your laptop.

“Looking at cribs already?” He asked, before opening and then chugging some of his water.

“There’s a sale on - thirty percent off. I just thought I’d have a look,” you replied calmly.

“Get whichever one you want babe,” he mumbled before kissing your forehead and then standing up.

He got halfway to the bedroom to freshen up before you gasped.

He turned around quickly. “You alright?” He asked, slight panic in his voice.

“Come feel!”

He noticed as he moved towards you that you’d moved the laptop and now had your hand resting at the base of your stomach.

As soon as he was close enough you grabbed his hand and placed it where yours was.

“What- oh? Is that…?”

“She’s kicking! The doctor said it might take a while but she was starting to worry me, I’m so relieved,” you excitedly rambled.

He just stood there, slightly bend down, hand still on your stomach with an emotion you couldn’t quite read on his face.

“Rafe?” You questioned, brows furrowed, “are you okay-”

He pulled his hand away and stood up straight. “I just,” he cut you off, “I can’t- sorry.”

He glanced from your stomach up to your face without fully meeting your eyes then he turned and made b-line for the front door.

Leaving you, now stood in shock. What the hell just happened.

You tried to convince yourself that he’d just got a little overwhelmed and would come back in a minute.

A minute turned into thirty which turned into an hour and then two.

You were now a mess. Just when you thought you’d got him back he was slipping again.

You sat on your bed, head in your hands as you cried. The raging hormones causing through your body definitely weren’t helping the situation.

He’d left everything. His keys, his phone so you couldn’t even call him. You called Topper though, then Kelce, then Sarah, no one had seen or heard from him.

When the clock hit nine you were seriously worried. You decided you couldn’t just sit around any longer so you got up, slipped some shoes on, grabbed your keys and left the apartment.

Since he hadn’t gone to any of his friends or family you decided to go to his most frequented places.

First you went to the country club, he wasn’t there. Next you visited the beach by tanning hill, nope. Lastly you drove to the place you used to hang out at in your early teens, the place you shared your first kiss.

It was a long shot since it’d barely been mentioned since you left school but you were running out of options.

You parked at the bottom of the cliff edge and then walked the ten minutes up hill to get to the top.

By the time you reached it you were huffing and puffing. The baby now pushing down on your lungs meaning you were out of breath doing the simplest of tasks.

But it was all worth it because there he stood. Hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly as he stared out at the crashing waves below the cliff.

“Rafe?” You called from a few meters behind him.

He was quick to turn around, clearly not expecting you to have found him.

You approached him slowly, as if you were trying not to scare him off.

“What’re you doing up here? It’s almost dark,” he asked, his voice soft and quiet.

“I was looking for you dummy. You scared me,” you replied, now standing next to him with your hands crossed over your chest as the evening breeze passed over your skin.

He sighed, a deep, troubled sigh. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. “Talk to me Rafe,” you whispered gently.

“I’m worried,” he began.

You placed your hand on his arm, insinuating that he should continue.

“I’m worried I’m going to turn out like my dad,” he finally admitted.

Your heart sank.

“Look at me.”

He did, finally meeting your eyes.

“You are nothing like him. I know you, I know you’re going to be the best father. You already care so much and the fact you’re worried means you do. Your childhood wasn’t easy, I know, but that’s not us.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for you to laugh or take all that you said back but those things didn’t happen, all he found in your eyes was genuineness.

Rafe never had a way with words so instead he just leaned down and pressed your forehead against his.

“I love you so much,” you whispered, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“I love you more,” he replied, his voice full of emotion before he closed the gap between the two of you.

The kiss that you shared was full of love and relief.

His hands moved to grasp your waist as yours intertwined with the hair on the back of his head.

Once you pulled away the both of you were smiling, because in that moment you knew everything was going to be okay.

[madhels-enby-boyfriend]

Things I wish made it from the Chicago to the Broadway version, ranked in no particular order:

-“and then I’ll win 😎” (at the end of that was then, this is now). I feel like that added such a great insight into what Helen’s ultimate goal is, to win this perpetual game/competition she has with Madeline, that’s far more important than her own happiness or whether or not she actually loves Ernest. It’s what the song ends on, the most important take away, Helen wants to win. It’s another little reminder that Helen isn’t just a helpless victim in this, but also is actively trying to do any and everything to make Madeline jealous, to win this game.

-Madeline’s little sword in Tell me, Ernest for no particular reason, it just made her even more insane and I love a crazy woman

-Helen’s little baret at the start of the show cause it made her look even cuter

-“Let’s buy a boat in Hawaii and name it ‘she’s dead’! I think it’s cute or is that too on the nose?” (Let’s run away together). It makes Ernest panic singing “let’s buy a boat in Hawaii and name it ‘we’re murders’” (Confrontation) so much funnier to me and I love a little throwback (even if it’s only like 5 minutes later).

-I know I’ve said this before but the conversation they have after Ernest fixes them up, where Mad confesses that she’s always been jealous of Helen, it gives her character a little more depth and gives her a motivation beyond “admit you called me trash behind my back my whole career” (Hit Me) which makes little sense cause in Tell me, Ernest, Tell me, Ernest-reprise, and at the start of the show we watch Helen do it right to her face. They also talk about old times and we get a glimpse of what they were like when they were a little less toxic and happier and it also helps provide an answer to the question why Helen keeps going back to Mad (other than being in love and obsessed with her). Like she clings to these memories and maybe even hopes that it could be like that again. In that moment she even asks: “Mad, why couldn’t it have always been like that? We had such fun.” In that same conversation Hel apologizes and Mad is like ‘why are you apologizing, I’m the one that was a bitch’ (paraphrasing) and like there we see the first little moment of growth, like she’s owning up to it. Honestly I just miss that entire conversation like it’s a much needed softer moment with still plenty of humour in it and I love a glimpse of young madhel. Anyway I will forever be in mourning about this.

-“I don’t wanna go back in the bag 🙂‍↔️😨” “You want people to see you like this?” “Put me back in the bag!”

-H: “I’ll go get the car.. do you have the keys? 🙄”

E: “I don’t have them.”

H: “Well I don’t either.”

*Madeline’s arm shoots out of the bag to hand Helen the keys*

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely think the Broadway version is better overall, and I’m happy about most changes, but the Chicago one was the first one I watched so it’s a little sentimental for me (also I do think that one conversation could have added something to the story).

[gtops-thirdwheel]

~My heart belongs to you~

Warnings~cheating~ angst with comfort~ I love to cuss~ mdni~ piv~ fingering~ age gap if you squint~ porn with plot~ unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it!~ toxic relationship.

Summery~ji-Yong fell for a woman that’s not his fiancée, after finding her cheating on him countless times..but with his wedding in a month, his liver decides to end things..

Word count~4933

Ji-yong groans, using his arm to try and shield the morning sun from waking him up. It doesn’t work, his eyes slowly peeking open with a tired glare towards the window. He shuts his eyes again, rolling onto his side to face his lover. He’s not quite ready for it to be morning yet, knowing that means his two week trip in Paris is over..and that means that he has to go back to his shity fiancé. So he keeps his eyes closed, hoping that the world will evaporate around him, leaving him with his lover forever..

ji-yong doesn’t know what he was thinking proposing to his soon to be wife. Their relationship was struggling already, fights every night, along with the many men he caught her cheating on him with..and marriage never fixes things..so why..why did he have to go and propose to her?

He pulls the warm body in bed next to him closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of y/n’s neck, breathing in her scent. She smells like fucking heaven to ji-yong, her perfume smelling like daisys and honey.. he starts leaving soft, lazy kisses along her neck, smiling into her skin.

”mmm~ ji..stop it..” y/n mumbles lazily, swatting his head away from her neck lightly. He slowly pulls his head away, opening his eyes with a tired smile. “Jus wanna kiss you~” he mumbles, his eyes trailing up and down her barely covered body..the sheets of the bed leave nothing to the imagination, and are only half on her body. The sun that he was previously frustrated with, now baths his lover, giving her an angelic glow.

”shit..” ji-yong bites his lip gently, reaching over to his nightstand and snatching his phone so he can immortalize this moment forever. He snaps a few pictures, each one better than the last. “You look so fucking hot~” he groans, looking at the pictures in awe..this..this is why he loves his phone so much..

Y/n's eyes flutter open, taking in the sight of ji-yong on his phone yet again. She playfully rolls her eyes, a small amused smile on her face. “You're on your phone more than I’m on mine, old man~” she teases with a lazy smile. Ji-yong pears over his phone with a small playful pout. “I’m not old..” he huffs, his small smile giving away his true feelings.

Y/n yawns, sitting up with a groan. “I’m going to smoke..” y/n swings her legs off the bed, grabbing her cigarette pack from her bedside table before standing up and stretching her sore limbs. Ji-young’s eyes land right on her ass, groaning quietly at the sight of her bare body. “I need a smoke too…” he mumbles, grabbing his own pack from his bedside table and standing up, his eyes never leaving her body.

They both pull on robes, not wanting to get too dressed just so they can smoke then have to strip before getting back in bed. Ji-yong frowns at y/n's body being covered, silently cursing their shared addiction for being the reason y/ns covering up. They both walk to the balcony, ji-yong's arms wrapping around y/n's waist the moment they both stop moving. Y/n leans onto the railing, lighting her cigarette and staring at the eiffel tower.

y/n gets lost in thought, wondering why she’s with ji-yong when he’s getting married in a month..she knows she needs to end this..move on..she doesn’t know why she still waits for ji-yong to leave Nam-Gil, like he actually will.. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Ji-yong asks, examining her dazed expression. “Nothing..just sad the trip is coming to an end..”

ji-yong sighs, kissing the back of her neck. “Me too.” He mumbles against her neck. Y/n looks down at her burning cigarette..she loves ji-yong..and she knows…knows he loves her too…but she knows she can’t be his dirty little secret anymore..y/n finishes her cigarette, leaning against ji-yong's chest while she waits for him to finish his.

“One day…one day I want to come back here with my husband for my honeymoon..” y/n mumbles wistfully. ji-yong's heart aches in jealousy, he knows that won't be him..and it hurts more than he ever thought it would.

“That sounds nice..what..what would you guys do?” He doesn’t care that he’s torturing himself by asking..y/ns still his right now, and until she’s not he’s going to imagine himself as her future husband. Y/n smiles softly. “We will go to the Eiffel Tower..and i’ll drag him around sight seeing of course..” she giggles softly, the kind of giggle that melts ji-yong right to his core..

Ji-yong's eyes soften as he looks down at the top of y/n's head..”and we will try new foods every day, and go wine tasting~” ji-yong nods, a sad smile on his face. “Sounds amazing…” the silence between them is loud after, they both wish ji-Yong could be the man y/n comes back with. “Enough about that..let's go back inside and enjoy each other until we have to check out.” Y/n whispers, Ji-yong grunts, tightening his grip on y/n for a moment, before letting his arms fall to his sides.

y/n pulls away, walking back into the hotel room. Ji-yong stays on the balcony for a few minutes, processing everything they talked about.. he lets out a deep sigh, taking in the hotel's view one last time before joining y/n inside. A smirk forms on ji-yong face as he takes in y/n's bare body on the bed, her robe thrown on the floor haphazardly. “Ouuu~” he smirks, stripping off his own robe, and throwing it somewhere unknown.

y/n rolls her eyes softly, turning to face him with a playful look on her face. “I fear what’s going through that head of yours~” y/n giggles softly as Ji-yong plops down next to her on the bed. Ji-young’s arms immediately find y/n's waist, pulling her bare body flush against his. “Why would you fear my thoughts?~” he mumbles in her ear, gently kissing the lobe of it. A shiver runs down y/n's spine as ji-yong trails more kisses down her neck and shoulder, gently sucking small marks into her skin every now and then. “Ji…” y/n mumbles, her body betraying her better judgment, leaning into his touch.

ji-yong smirks, his hands running down her sides and stomach until they finally reach their destination between y/ns thighs. “Fuck jagi~” he groans into y/ns ear pressing one finger between her folds to play with her clit teasingly. “your so fucking wet~” y/n's thighs clench around ji-yong's hand, moaning softly at his touch. “F-fuck~ what’s with you and morning sex~” y/n lets out a breathless giggle. Ji-yong smirks, grinding his growing erection against her ass.

”what can i say, you look so fucking irresistible~” ji-yong growls in her ear. Y/n gasps as ji-yong slowly slides one of his fingers into her weeping cunt. “Mmm~” she moans quietly as he easily slides a second finger into her, slowly pumping them in and out teasingly. “Do you hear that jagi?” He grins against y/n's shoulder at the wet sounds coming from her cunt.

Y/n moans, squeezing her eyes shut and squirming in pleasure. “You sound so beautiful~ keep moaning for me, ok?~” he mumbles, kissing back up her neck. Ji-young’s thumb lightly grazes her clit, making her whole body jolt against him. “P-please ji..” a needy whimper falls from y/n’s lips. Ji-yong teasingly runs his thumb over her clit again.

”please? What~ what do you want jagi~” ji-yong smirks against her skin. Y/n would roll her eyes if she didn’t feel so good, instead she moans loudly, her hands finding ji-yong's free arm and gripping hard. “N-need you to touch my clit.. p-please ji~” y/n squeezes his arm, having to physically fight the urge to dig her nails into his skin, knowing she can’t leave any marks on him.

ji-yong's thumb finally makes contact with y/n's aching clit, rubbing fast circles to match the pace of his fingers. “Shit your clenching down on my fingers so hard~” ji-yong groans, kissing her jaw, leaving hickeys in his wake. Y/n moans, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. “S-shit ji~ g-gonna-“

y/n groans in disappointment as ji-yong pulls his hand away, leaving her empty and clenching around nothing. “Not yet jagi~ i want you to cum on my cock~” he whispers in her ear, gently biting her earlobe, tugging it gently as he pulls away. Y/n moans, bucking her hips against his, desperate for some kind of friction. ji-yong groans, gripping her hips, holding them down.

“I want you to ride me y/n~” he groans, laying on his back, pulling her with him so she’s straddling him. y/n smirks down at him, grinding her wet cunt on his stomach. “I’m starting to think this is your favorite position~” she teases. Ji-yong just smirks up at her, gripping her hips tighter. “Maybe it is~” y/n giggles, rolling her eyes.

y/n sits up on her knees, grabbing ji-yong's cock and stroking it a few times before positioning him at her slick entrance. Ji-yong groans, his cock twitching in interest as his eyes trail down her body and to where they are about to be connected. “What do you say ji~” y/n teases, a small smirk playing on her lips as she rubs his cock through her wet folds teasingly.

Ji-yong throws his head back with an annoyed groan. “Plea-“ y/n doesn’t let him finish, sinking down on him fully. “A-ah~” he moans, looking up at her in shock. “Fuck..you’re so hot” he groans, bucking his hips against hers. Y/n smirks down at him, trailing a finger down his chest and stomach, stopping where their connected. “Your so big ji~ fill me all the way up..” y/n moans, starting to roll her hips slowly. Ji-yong's grip on her hips tighten, bound to leave finger shaped bruises.

Ji-yong lets out a needy groan. “N-need you to move faster jagi~” he grunts, lazily thrusting up into her from below. Y/n starts bouncing faster, her back arching at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. She presses both her hands to his chest for balance as she throws her head back. Ji-yongs thrusts start to match her pace, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. “S-shit ji~” y/n moans, leaning down and connecting their lips in a sloppy, needy kiss.

y/n feels the knot start to form in her lower stomach again, so she pulls away from the kiss, speeding up her pace while she starts to rub her clit. She immediately throws her head back, moaning loudly. “I-I’m cumming ji~” ji-yong groans, the feeling of y/n clenching down on him so hard sends him over the edge. He continues to thrust up, riding out both of their highs for as long as he can.

y/ns body slumps down on him, coming down from her high. “You felt so good, jagi~” Ji-yong mumbles lazily, running his hand through her hair. Y/n smiles against his chest, leaving small kisses where her head is resting. They sit in silence for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of sex.

”We should get cleaned up.” Ji-yong gently rolls y/n off of him, laying her on the sheets next to him. “I'll go run us a bath, be right back” he kisses her softly, before jumping up from the bed and walking into the bathroom. Y/n sighs, watching the closed door for a few seconds before finally looking up at the ceiling and zoning out.

y/n loves ji-yong..and she’s sure he loves her..he treats her like he does, yet.. he always goes back to Nam-Gil…y/n has been thinking about ending this for a while..months even, but a part of her always hopes he will leave Nam-Gil for her. Y/n knows that ji-yong doesn’t love his bride to be..yet he still always chooses her over y/n..well..y/n is sick of being the side piece.Y/n know this is the last time her and ji-yong should see each other, she wants to get married and have kids..and so she can’t have that with ji-yong..

ji-yong walks back into the room with a wide grin. “Baths ready~” he says, stopping at the side of the bed. Y/n smiles softly at him. “Ok ji~” y/n is going to enjoy her bath with ji..then she will tell him.. he lifts her off the bed, causing her to squeal quietly before giggles start to pour from her lips “so strong~” she teases, placing her hand on his chest. Ji-yong smirks proudly at her, carrying her all the way to the edge of the bathtub. He sets her down, grabbing her arm to help support her on her wobbly legs. “Be careful when you get in..” ji-yong mumbles, gripping her arm tighter as she steps into the tub. “Thanks ji” she says as she lowers herself into the tub.

Ji-yong lets go of her arm and climbs in behind her, resting his head on her shoulder once he’s sat down. “You're so perfect~” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around y/n's waist and pulling her closer. He pants a soft kiss to the back of her neck, breathing in her scent. “I love you y/n~” he sighs softly, leaving kiss after kiss in the same spot as before.

y/n has to hold back tears, her voice a little choked up as she responds. “I love you too ji-yong..” y/n mumbles, closing her eyes and savoring the feeling of ji-yong's lips on her neck. They sit in silence for a while, ji-yong never stopping his affections on y/n's neck..y/n enjoys it while she can, knowing this is the last time she’s going to get to be like this with him.

The water is starting to get cold and y/n is dreading what’s about to come, but she knows this is what she needs to do, not just for herself, but for ji-yong too. “Ji-yong?” She whispers, she needs to tell him..it’s eating her alive and she can’t wait any longer.. “yeah jagi?” Y/n tenses slightly, and ji-yong feels it, frowning as he pulls away from her neck, concern filling his eyes.

“I-i…” y/n sighs sadly while ji-yong eyes her from behind, he doesn’t like where this is going.. “What's wrong?” He asks, his hands rubbing small comforting circles on her stomach. “I-i think this should be the last time we see each other..” ji-yong fully pulls away, looking at her with betrayal in his eyes. Y/n sighs, turning her body so she’s facing him, giving him the space he needs.

“Listen ji-yong..did you really think i was going to be your side chick forever..that’s not..that’s not what i want..” ji-yong shakes his head. “No..I didn’t think you would be my side chick forever..” ji-yong can’t bring himself to look at her..he thought he had more time with y/n..he needs more time..this can’t be the end..not yet..tears well up in ji-yong's eyes, he wishes he took more time to memorize y/n. The way she laughs, feels..looks…”i-i love you y/n..” ji-yong grabs her hands, bringing them up to his lips as he continues. “Why does it have to end now?”

y/n frowns, squeezing is hands. “You're getting married in a month, ji-yong…i need to move on from this..us..at least somewhat before your big day comes.” Ji-yong's heart aches, he hates the thought of y/n moving on from him..he knows it’s selfish..but he loves her..and the thought of her with someone else breaks his heart in ways he can’t describe. He nods his head, holding back the tears threatening to fall.

”when we separate at the airport..that’s when we’re officially over..ok?” Y/n asks, her eyes full of unshed tears. Ji-yong looks at her with sad eyes for a moment, but nods in agreement anyways.

Y/n rests her forehead against his. “I love you ji-yong…and i'll never forget you or the time i spent with you…the memories of you will haunt me until the day i die~” a tear slides down y/ns cheek. “I will always love you y/n..i'll always-..always think about you..everything i do thoughts of you will follow..” y/n smiles sadly, nudging him in the side. ‘How cheesy of you~” she teases, causing him to chuckle sadly. “It’s true though y/n…i will find a piece of you in everything i do..”

ji-yong pulls her closer, their body’s flush against the others. He wraps his arms back around her waist and crashes his lips against hers. They savor the feeling, holding each other as close as possible. “The water's cold ji..” y/n whispers as she pulls away from him completely. ji-yong’s hands linger on her hips as he gives her a sad look. “I’m not ready to let go yet..” he mumbles, looking at her with pleading eyes. “I know..but it's time..

y/n stands up, ji-yong's hands falling away from her sides. She frowns down at him before stepping out of the bath, wrapping a towel around her body. “Come on ji” ji-yong watches her for another second, before pulling the plug on the bath and stepping out, wrapping a towel around his own body. “this sucks” ji-yong grumbles before walking to the outfit he planned the night before.

y/n nods in agreement. ”Your right…this does suck..” y/n sighs pulling on a cute pair of gray sweats and a dark red crop top. Ji-yong eyes her outfit and smiles softly. “You look beautiful y/n..” he mumbles lovingly, sad eyes taking her in one last time. Y/n sighs. “Don’t do this ji..” she groans sadly, avoiding eye contact. He huffs and crosses his arms. “Do what?” he glares, making her laugh humorlessly. “Acting like were a couple..i-i just..I’m in fucking airport clothes..a-and…ji..i just..” y/n can’t finish her sentence, tears streaming down her face.

Ji-yong’s anger vanishes almost instantly, his eyes widening slightly. “N-no! Don’t cry..i get it ok? I wont act like we're a couple anymore..” he reaches over and gently wipes her tears. “Please stop crying..” she whispers, hating when she cries. He pulls her into a comforting hug, she melts into it much to ji-yong's relief. “We have to check out now..” y/n sighs, pulling away from ji-yong's embrace. She turns to the mirror, hiding any evidence of her crying.

they both quietly grab their bags, stopping at the door to turn and take one last look at the hotel room, which has now become a capsule of all their last memories together. “If you ever change your mind on marrying Nam-Gil you know where to find me…” y/n says before leaving the room, not giving ji-yong enough time to even process what she said.

y/n and ji-yong don’t really talk unless they need to the whole way back to Seoul..they don’t know what to day to each other..so they just stayed quiet, they didn’t want to accept that this is actually the end of them.

Nam-Gil meets ji-yong at the doors of the airport, jumping into his arms and kissing him deeply, even though they both know that she doesn’t give a shit about him… as he’s putting his bags in the trunk of his car, he turns and watches y/n get in a taxi, realizing that’s the very last time he’s going to see y/n..the love of his life..

*one month later*

it's the day of ji-yong's wedding..he’s all dressed up in a fashionable suit that matches his style perfectly, the only part of the wedding he got any say in. he feels nauseous standing in front of all the waiting guests, and not the good, excited but a little scared nauseous..no, this is the most dreadful, gut wrenching, heartbreak kind of nausea. Today he’s going to marry the wrong person..

Ji-yong scans Nam-Gil’s family..they're all happy for the two, not knowing that their relationship had crumbled beneath their feet months ago. That's why he proposed in the first place, to fix things after he caught Nam-Gil cheating the first time..but he knows that this marriage won't change her behavior..she’s just using him..and he’s just letting her.. y/ns words at the hotel have been ringing in his ear since they split. “If you ever change your mind about marrying Nam-Gil, you know where to find me” ji-yong sighs, tearing his gaze away from his soon to be wife’s family.

The music starts, and ji-yong's stomach drops..this is it..why is he doing this?.. he sees Nam-Gil, a fake joyful smile plastered across her face, along with fake tears of happiness falling down her cheeks. She’s really selling this, and if ji-yong didn’t know what real love felt like because of y/n..he would have probably fallen for it too.. he lets tears of his own fall, but not tears of happiness, they are tears of heartbreak, it's not like any of the guests will know otherwise..

Nam-Gil steps up in front of him, and he forces himself to look up at her..y/n in a wedding dress flashes through his mind, and his heart aches, the fact that he will never see her again eating away at his soul..

y/n stares up at the wedding venue, a small frown settling on her face. Tears well up in her eyes, he’s still doing it..marrying Nam-Gil..so why is y/n even here..ji-yong doesn’t want her or he would have fought for her..but y/n knows she needs the closure from doing this, no matter how much it may hurt at first.

She walks up the steps and through the venue doors, the sound of the officiant speaking filling her ears. She shouldn’t be doing this…but if he tells her to leave she will be free to take the job offer she got in Paris, and they’ll never see each other again..hopefully. Y/n peeks around the wall, watching the wedding secretly.

Y/n’s eyes land on ji-yong, he looks…defeated..yet still so devastatingly handsome.. she can see that he doesn’t want this, it's written all over his face..how can the guests not tell his tears aren’t from joy? Y/n’s frown deepens..she knows ji-yong feels trapped in this engagement, she doesn’t know why she waited for him, she should just turn around now, move to Paris and never look back..but he’s the only person holding her here and she doesn’t want any regrets when she leaves..so its time for her to finally close this door for good.

”Does anyone object to this union?!” The officiant calls out. Y/n takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for potential heartbreak. She steps out, her eyes landing on ji-yong. “I-i do!” The whole room freezes, before everyone silently turns to face y/n. Y/n shrinks under the gaze of so many people, focusing her eyes solely on ji-yong. His eyes light up when he sees her, looking at her like she hung the stars, and in that moment she was confident she would be walking out of the venue with ji-yong by her side.

y/n takes a few steps, keeping her eyes on ji-yong’s the whole time. Nam-Gil scoffs angrily. “Who even are you?” she shouts, glaring at y/n with a certain fire in her eyes. Y/n ignores her, the only person that matters to y/n right now is ji-yong, and she wants him to know it.

Ji-yong feels like all the air has been sucked from his lungs, he hasn’t seen y/n since the airport..and he’s missed her so damn much. Now..seeing her in front of him after all this time apart..y/n looks breathtaking. Nam-Gil glares at him angrily. “Do you know her ji-yong?!” she stomps her foot demandingly, looking like a small child who got told no when asking for a new toy.

Ji-yong doesn’t answer, he just starts slowly walking towards y/n. Nam-Gil gasps. “J-ji-yong! Tell your fan to leave!..now!” She shouts, once again stomping her foot like an angry child. Ji-yong continues to ignore her meeting y/n in the middle of the aisle.

Y/n grabs his hands and looks him dead in the eyes. “I’m so sorry I crashed your wedding..i-i just..i had to do this..” she sniffs, squeezing his hands. “If you tell me to leave..you’ll never see me again..i'll never call or text..i won't seek you out..and I’ll pretend nothing ever happened between us..” ji-yong's heart aches at the thought of never seeing y/n again..never hearing her voice or her laugh..he shakes his head, before looking her in the eyes again.

”i love you so much ji-yong..a-and i want to be with you for real…this is our last chance ji..if you send me away now..I’m going to move countries and never look back…” ji-yong's stomach drops, she‘ll leave? No! That can’t happen! The idea hurts..a lot..he smiles at her softly. “You know..it's funny, I didn’t have to find you when I changed my mind..you came to me~” he grabs her cheeks gently pulling her in for a deep loving kiss, people around them be damned.

ji-yong missed y/n's lips this last month, there’s no stopping him now..The crowd gasps, and Nam-Gil practically screams. She storms over, grabbing ji-yong by the arm before pulling him away from y/n. Nam-Gil slaps y/n..hard, the sound echoing off the walls. Y/n rubs her cheek, her cheek red and tingling in pain. Y/n admits she deserves it..she knew ji-yong was engaged the whole time she was with him and its a shitty thing for her to do.

ji-yong is appalled by the slap though, his eyes widening angrily. “What do you think you're doing?!” ji-yong shouts. Nam-Gil raises her hand to slap him too, but he catches her wrist gently, not wanting to hurt her. “I can't believe you would do this to me! I thought you fucking loved me!?” Nam-Gil shouts, trying to pull her wrist from ji-yong's grip so she can slap him.

ji-yong laughs angrily at her. “Maybe if you hadn’t cheated on me all those times I wouldn’t have fucking cheated myself!” She scoffs, finally getting her arm free, she doesn’t go to slap ji-yong though. “I thought this whole engagement was to fix our relationship!” Ji-yong scoffs, a small humorless chuckle falling from his lips. “To fix our relationship you need to actually stop cheating on me!” Ji-yong yells, gently putting his hand on y/n's back before starting to lead her out of the venue.

“Where the fuck are you going!?” Nam-Gil shouts after him. “The weddings off! we‘re over!” He yells back, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he leads y/n outside. They both let out a sigh of relief, the cool air feeling amazing on their flushed skin. “Come on, let's get you home~” ji-yong purrs in y/n's ear as he leads her to his car. He opens the door for her, smiling as he watches her sit down..he’s so happy he made this decision, he knows it’s the right one, he knows he will be way happier with y/n who he actually loves, and loves him back.

he hops in the driver's seat, his hand immediately finding y/n's thigh. She smiles, grabbing his hand in her own and resting her head on her seat, gazing at him lovingly. “Sorry it took so long jagi~” he frowns, pulling the back of y/n's hand to his lips. She smiles at him, savoring the feeling of his lips on her skin after weeks of nothing. “I would have waited centuries if it meant i get to be with you like this~”

he grins at her words, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Well your waiting is over” he mumbles, leaning over the center console to give her a quick kiss, before pulling out of the wedding venue parking lot. Ji-yong holds y/n's hand all the way to her apartment, not wanting to let go even for a single moment.

When they get to y/n's apartment building, ji-yong practically drags her inside, before pushing her up against her apartment door and smashing their lips together. Ji-yong pulls away and observes her cheek with a small frown. “Does it hurt?” He asks, bringing her palm to his lips, kissing down to her inner wrist. “Not anymore~” y/n whispers, before grabbing his face and pulling him into a deep kiss.

ji-yong will think about the fact that he still lives with that she witch later…right now he’s going to enjoy the love of his life’s body~

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