#in 16 months to be precise

[lena-oleanderson]

my version of "i wonder what else they have written - RPF hockey???" is my 22 ghostbusters (2016) fanfics i wrote within 2 of my 8 years on ao3

[cutehoons02]

Forced roomates or forced to be lovers?

University series: Jungwon Jake Jay

*pairing: popular pervy gamer Heeseung x popular cheerleader

*trope: forced roomates/opposites attract

*synopsis: Heeseung, a slightly introverted nerd but popular in the world of video games and in his computer course, with a passion for video games, and Y/n, the most popular cheerleader on campus, they find themselves sharing the apartment due to a mistake in the allocation of rooms. They could not be more different: he loves to spend sleepless nights in front of the monitor with always in hand a bowl of ramen, immersed in role-playing games, while she lives between exhausting training cheerleaders, evenings at the various parties of the football team and stories on Instagram. Initially the two barely bear each other, but a series of funny and intimate events will lead them to discover that, perhaps, they complement each other.

*tags: A lot of humor, tension, fluff, spicy, pervy Heeseung, a little pervy reader, Unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) pet names (Barbie, Baby, Good girl), pet names (Nerd, Loser), jealousy, teasing, possession, references to video games, cowgirl, +16,sweet moments at the end.

8.4k words

It’s the first time i write explicit scenes so i hope you like (🎮)

Heeseung’s room at that precise moment was full of mathematical forms and calculation sheets and various drawings of characters he invented, you could hear only the noise of the joystick and the various clilc he made in the mouse, with his excellent score in all subjects in the computer course and being one of the best video game players in the state, Hee had the chance to register for an online tournament for only nerds and professional gamers lasting a few months and the first 3 who had unlocked the level "Queen" they would have received a reward from one of the largest video game production companies and only 3 people would have had the chance with funding from the university and this video game production company to create their own virtual game, but he would not have imagined that his life at that exact moment could change with the entry into play of a noisy Cheerleader, who spent hours in their shared bathroom to make masks or to prepare to go out and tease him from morning to night.

He heard loud punches at the door of his apartment and when he took off his headphones he thought that those punches meant only one thing, His friends Jake and Jay had finished football practice and had come to disturb him or eat a cup of ramen together but when he opened the door he choked on his own because he found himself in front of a girl in a mini denim skirt and tight t-shirt with I ♡ HOT BOYS, Blonde as a ray of sunshine with a bright smile and a scent that left a sweet trail every time she shook her long tail of hair and with a bag of lacquered leather that had to cost more than her computer and a pink suitcase. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was. Y/n, one of the strongest cheerleaders on campus and perhaps all other universities, a marketing student and undisputed queen of the campus. She organized the best parties and seemed to always have the answer ready for any situation.

"Hey, i know you’re a nerd and you don’t deal with girls but are you listening to me instead of looking at me like i’m an alien?" Heeseung fixed Y/n’s shirt and felt the cheeks slightly redden when he read the entire I ♡ HOT BOYS writing and looked at how well it wrapped the shirt slightly tight in the breast of the girl in front of him.

"You’re kidding me, right? What if you are one of those perverts who come to the instant only at the sight of a girl in a slightly tapered T-shirt and a skirt? Did you hear what I just said a few seconds ago?"

Finally Y/n heard the voice of Heeseung «I don’t even know what you’re talking about Barbie, i think you’ve got the wrong apartment» replied Hee with an indifferent tone, returning to his room to continue his game of League of Legends. His online teammates were already complaining about his afk.

“Barbie? Are you serious?" Y/n entered his apartment and like a puppy followed the nerd and went into his room and stared at him with a mixture of contempt and disbelief.

"The lease says this is also my apartment and you will be my roommate for next year, Lee Heeseung."

Heeseung froze when he heard that sentence. He paused the game, ignoring the barrage of insults he was receiving in the game’s chat, and turned to her. «Wait. What would your apartment be like? This is my room for...now a year and in the option, i always put that i did not want roommates and then the other room sometimes I need!»

"Well, now that room will be mine. My parents bought the whole student building and the only apartment where there was only one person was yours. Congratulations, nerd. You’ve got the roommate of your nightmares or maybe your most perverse dreams" You whispered these last words near his ear and then you went to get your pink suitcase and to disturb your roommate I played one of the songs that you were supposed to dance on the football field for the beginning of the new season and sang until your room was slightly "Decent" and clean to your standards.

It was two weeks since the beginning of the partnership and you couldn’t stand Heeseung, he was a serious pain in your neck, You didn’t understand how he had so many followers in his profile and so many girls who commented on his life or who added edit about him while playing. Some girls stopped you to ask if he was engaged or if you had taken part in watching him in one of the many tournaments he did. You really hated that nerd especially when you found empty bowls of ramen around the apartment, colored electric cables scattered around the sofa, and Joysticks of shapes and sizes of verse scattered as well in the laundry but the thing you hated most was that he played until late at night and started laughing with his virtual friends at those stupid games or tournaments you always heard about.

The hatred was mutual also on the part of Heeseung, the cheerleader with whom he shared the apartment had monopolized the bathroom they had in common hair dryers, plates with strange shapes, tricks that cost more than the food she ate, glitter, and also bought a kind of mini refrigerator to put his masks or creams for skin care. Heeseung didn’t understand how everyone was following him or how he had so many friends or guys to go out with but the thing that he couldn’t stand about you was being perfect with everyone from the professors, To your friends, family and how you thought you were always the center of attention.

That late afternoon you and Heeseung were both in the apartment, trying to study business but as always when there was Heeseung at home there was never silence. You snorted and went into Heeseung’s room and watched him sitting in the gamer’s station with his hair slightly ruffled around the professional headphones, he had a slight grin but the thing that struck you most were his hands.

God since when did that boy have such attractive hands? They were large, slightly veiny, and wore a silver and black ring that sometimes tortured them for anxiety or maybe to wait for the next level, you recovered from that state and went near the desk.

Heeseung had noticed you but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being in the center of attention and kept on wielding his joystick even though he was about to start a game. “Can you turn that down? I’m studying." Heeseung watched you speak, a slight puff came out of his lips as he took off his headphones and wore them around his neck. «What do you want, Barbie?»

"I said if you can please turn down that volume, I’m trying to study."

«And you can stop occupying the bathroom for three hours or sprinkling blue and gold glitter in the bathroom? The other day while I was training, i found a flurry of glitter in my gym shirt, and some thought i joined your flying spinner team!» He answered, not taking his eyes off the monitor while dodging a zombie.

Heeseung looked at you with those little deer eyes put his headphones back on and kept talking to his friends as if you’d never even entered his room until he saw you go under his table for a second and sit between his muscular legs, when you sat down you sunned yourself to look at him and observed the small ones that filled his face. Hee stood still for a moment, caught unawares, but he recovered immediately.

«What are you doing? Do you want to sabotage me? You can’t go to one of the many little friends» he asked with a somewhat grumpy tone. You wanted to take him by surprise and see how long it lasted not to give your attention

"I’m just checking your level of concentration. Don’t tell me I’m the first girl to sit over your legs or do this. You know, as an experienced cheerleader, I enjoy distracting nerds like you." Y/n moved slightly above Heeseung’s legs and watched him straighten his hair perhaps out of frustration or embarrassment.

Heeseung laughed slowly, trying not to show her that she was slightly in awe of the blonde sitting almost above her length.

«You know, I knew that I was a temptress and that I had no fear of anything Y/n but spoiler does not scare me either because I’m used to going into video games of wars, zombies, demons, etc» Y/n started laughing and looked at Heeseung

"How do you know those animated things are scary? Let me see I’m curious, nerd."

Heeseung pressed a button and an unsettling scene appeared on the screen: a dark corridor, distant moans, and a shadow creeping slowly into the bloodshot view with eyes out of its sockets. Y/n barely jerked, unintentionally clinging to Hee’s shirt.

"What the hell was that monster?" she exclaimed, opening her eyes wide as a zombie made a chilling sound and hurled itself toward the screen. Hee burst out laughing, holding the controller with ease. Oh, I thought cheerleaders were not afraid of anything. What happened to your courage?» Heeseung looked at you carefully and thought you were not as bad as his mind had painted you but he would never tell you

Y/n turned around, pretending to be upset. "I’m not afraid! It’s just... I didn’t expect it."

«Yes, Barbie. You were shaking like a cat in the rain.»

"I don’t tremble! and I’m not a coward, if I was afraid I would not be thrown by human beings for air as work," said Y/n, straining his shoulders in a theatrical move. " If you want, I’ll take the controller and I’ll kill that thing."

«Oh, yes? please, come in. Let’s see the cheerleader against the zombie. And it has nothing to do with people blowing you up Barbie, if you’re not used to a little horror you’ll always be afraid» You felt Heeseung whispering these things to you and where was the nerd from before who was in awe with you sitting between his legs?

Y/n took the controller with determined action and started playing. Hee looked at her with a restrained smile as she moved nervously through the virtual corridor. «Why are you moving like that? No need, your character does not follow you! If you’re doing it to get my attention all on yourself Barbie did it, so stop moving between my legs and rub against my length because you will never win the level» You hated how that nerd made you feel. The tension increased with each step and suddenly a zombie broke down a side door with a scream. Y/n shouted and almost threw the controller.

"YOU NERDS ARE CRAZY. THIS IS A GAME FOR PSYCHOPATHS!"

Heeseung laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. «You’re incredible! You screamed louder than the zombie! Oh my god, it would have been iconic if it had been live streaming» Y/n stood up how angry but at the same time scared, and ran into his room until he heard Heeseung yell «I have all the cards in hand too win this game between me and you, not play with fire that sooner or later you will burn. Sweet dreams, Barbie» hit your face with your hairy pillow and Lee Heeseung in all the languages of the world.

It was almost a week after that little clash with Heeseung and for two whole nights, you had not slept properly for your standard because you always had in mind those horrible images of zombies with eyes out of the orbites.

«You are a little tired and less energetic Y/n, is everything all right?» Chan asked one of your group’s dancers and one of the few athletes you trusted to get you thrown in the air

"Yes, it’s all right I’m just a little tired of the exams and the selections we would have in the middle of the year. I would like to try to run as captain for the new year and that’s why I’m creating a choreography to run" Chan arranged the sheet you had on your head and smiled at you

«Please do not ask too much of yourself Y/n, The genta thinks this sport is nonsense but I would not want to see you again bandaged and in the hospital while crying because you could not move your leg or because your mind had made you think that you were not perfect for this sport and skipped meals or hours of sleep»

"It won’t happen again Chan, now I go home and make a good hot ramen and a nice hot shower to get all this sweat away and sleep until tomorrow morning at 10" Chan smiled at you and brought the bag until you were under your apartment

«Take care of yourself Y/n, and if you do not ask your roommate to prepare a nice basin of hot water for your feet and make ramen, Every time I get videos of Heeseung on Twitch or Tik Tok always has a bowl of ramen" the smiles and when you came in you raised your eyes, God because everyone saw Heeseung as the perfect boy and not as a loser who spent hours and hours playing those stupid games.

When you entered the apartment scientists immediately it was cold enough for your taste and on the sofa there was Heeseung who was watching a TV series to your great surprise he wasn’t playing any of those games and this thing made you alarmed because he always spent the evening At least 3 hours to laugh with his friends. Perhaps he had understood that you needed a good evening without hearing him giggle or hear from his headphones moans of zombies just killed or guns.

"Why aren’t you playing? Don’t tell me that all your friends have you pulled little and you have no one here to shoot or play" Heeseung raised his eyes and continued to eat and pay attention to the TV series he had put on the TV.

"Hey nerd, you listening? why is it so cold in here I’m going to ask you again why you’re not in your room?" Heeseung suddenly stood up and stood in front of you, you hadn’t looked at how he was dressed and had two sweatshirts and some sweatpants that he never wore inside the apartment because it usually made more than 20 degrees but now it must have been just over 10 degrees.

«The heating system of the whole building is out of use for a couple of hours and before the day after tomorrow will not be adjusted Barbie, for that you see me dressed so stuffed. You’ll have to take a cold shower today or you could call some of your friends and get them to host you» You jumped onto the sofa and made yourself slightly tiny in Heeseung’s eyes

"today is a day to forget in the sense of the word, I did not pass an exam and at Cheerliding I made mistakes I do not know how many steps I would just like to take a nice hot shower, eat some good ramen and put myself to bed warm" Heeseung looked at you and you made him a little pity where the girl had gone always exuberant, cheerful and that played music to the ball and that danced for everything?

«Relax for the ramen I can think of it, I am a master in doing so and if you want I can heat water and put it in baccinelle. I know it won’t be as relaxing as taking a shower with a full hot water shower but at least you can wash yourself and get rid of the sweat from your training»

Heeseung a little amazed and speechless, I did so with my head and you watched Heeseung prepare the ramen for you and even put an egg to you to be seasoned more.

«Here is the ramen, I hope you like it you would have made it with more ingredients but it’s been 2 days that I did not go to the grocery. Now.. Yes, I’ll make you some hot water and bring it to the bathroom. Come and see me when you’re done and leave the dish that I washed» You were seriously surprised by this version of Heeseung, is it not that maybe he suffered from some kind of bipolar disorder? Or was this the real Heeseung that everyone loved?

When you finished eating you went to the bathroom and prepared 4 basins of boiling water in the sink you had also put on a plush over-stuffed sweatshirt and a small smile formed, what is happening to Heeseung because he was so good today with you?

The shower with the basins had not you relaxed at all but at least you were washed and no longer had that smell of sweat, when you left Heeseung was no longer on the sofa, you wanted to thank him for both food and hot water and then knocked on his door.

"Heeseung" From the inside, you heard the familiar sound of the keyboard and a few nervous clicks of the mouse. And you heard his answer distractedly because he was concentrating on some computer calculations

«Yes? What is it?»

You entered without waiting for an invitation and crossed your arms for the cold. God, why is it so cold in this house? You wanted to ask Heeseung to share the bed so you could at least stay close and get a little warm but we are always talking about Heeseung the guy who loved to tease you and make you go crazy. Heeseung looked up, noticing his oversized t-shirt and his sweatshirt on the girl in front of him, he would never admit it but you with his clothes made him feel things that he should not think about you, He always wanted to see you with his things and a side of possessiveness intruded into his body. The sight of you made him swallow noisily, but he strove to keep a neutral expression.

"I wanted to thank you for the food and the hot water... I thought maybe we could share the bed. Just to keep warm. Just for this evening, I called my parents and they told me that tomorrow morning the technician will come. In my room it freezes so I thought to ask you" You had a fake smile shy, you wanted to absolutely embarrass him as he did while playing together with those stupid horror games

Heeseung opened his eyes wide and his mouse slipped out of his hand. God wanted to put him in awe

«what?! I don’t trust you at all Y/n, I know that after making you scared with that game you want to crash me» You raised your eyes to the sky, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, man this guy had understood you immediately but you kept insisting

"Oh, relax. It’s not an indecent proposal. Except that I would never do anything with you, you’re not my type Heeseung. It’s pure survival. We’ll freeze both or keep company and sleep together and warm up a little"

Hee rubbed his neck, embarrassed. He has no idea how to respond. Share the bed with Y/n, the most popular girl she knows. He’s never even been this close to a cheerleader... and now he has to share a bed but the thing that pissed him off was that phrase that said he wasn’t his type at all. Who wanted Y/n in his life? a stupid boy who made him feel nothing or he who always teased her and had seen how she reacted when she sat between her legs that was a little embarrassed also.

Heeseung moved nervously to make room on the bed, trying not to think too much about it as she tucked herself under the duvet with disarmingly natural ease. Y/n sat down next to him and made his feet touch his legs against his

"You’re made of wood, you know? Don’t tell me it’s the first time you've slept or that you’re in bed with a girl, nerd" you joked with Hee to embarrass him a little

«Sorry, I don’t share my bed every day with some girl»

"Really? You wouldn’t know it, you can even admit that you’ve never slept with someone you know" he slowly grinds, moving closer.

Heeseung was definitely tired from the constant grip of the cheerleader so he took off his sweatshirt because he was definitely dying from the heat in that situation and he lay down in bed and spread his legs a little because he did not want to feel Y/n’s legs intertwined with his. Y/n had leaned with an arm and was absorbing it and without thinking embraced the piece of wood next to her and a scent of citrus and spices invaded his nose, Heeseung seriously had a slender body but at the same time toned and felt from the shirt that he had strong abs, not bad for a nerd!

«Y/n, what did you take me for? for your giant teddy bear that you have in your room?» You laughed because even if you could not stand it sometimes it was nice to be in his company.

"Mmm, no my teddy is definitely sweeter and nicer than you, nerd. I’m hugging you because I’m cold and your temperature is too hot to not have the heat on" Heeseung ran his hands through his hair and turned off the lights, for a couple of minutes he no longer heard Y/n speak, and thought she had fallen asleep but before talking about the devil they sprang horns, felt the cold fingers of Y/n go under the shirt and roll them up their bare abs, He felt little shivers all over his body and cursed the heating not working.

«Y/n, stop it I know what game you are playing with me, I will not fall into your trap» you started to laugh even if he had turned off the light could imagine that he had slightly red cheeks and definitely had that super cute grumpy. You also put your other hand on its narrow waist and tried to go a little lower but a strong hand stopped you and now you had your arm over your head and Heeseung slightly above you holding himself with one arm.

«I repeat it again Y/n, I have all the cards in hand to pottery beat, if you are in need of attention go to your friend's football players, or swimmers with whom you do evening but not with me because otherwise, I could ruin you in an instant» You snorted and shoved Heeseung into the other side of the bed and you sunned yourself with your shoulders turned to him. "Sooner or later you will lose Heeseung, and I know for certain that it will be me who will make you lose your head" A small smile formed on your lips before you fell asleep.

Heeseung woke up a little later that morning, you were out of bed, you had gone to study somewhere or to work out. When he went into the bathroom and looked back he started to ride but I swore in all the languages of the world because you had left him a red lipstick stain with your lips engraved on his cheek and the more he tried to send away that joke, the harder it was to remove.

That Saturday went all wrong, the university football team had lost badly and even the show you had prepared to make the majors identify you as suitable to take the place of captain was a mess. Some freshmen had it all wrong and you were seriously pissed off and wanted to just smash yourself in ice cream and finally spend hours under the jet of boiling water they had repaired.

When you came in, you slammed the door of the apartment, with a face tense from anger. You dropped your bag on the floor with a thud. It had been a nightmare day. During the show before the match, a couple of girls continued to make you miss all the shots, and the coach took it with you in front of everyone because if you wanted to become the captain you had to be perfect and able to support also freshman line.

You were about to head for your room when you heard laughter coming from the living room. Heeseung’s familiar voice is clearly distinguished, and also that of Sunghoon one of his closest friends who was skating, and there was also another athlete Jungwon but along with them, there was also a girl. Y/n stood on the threshold, crossing his arms.

On the two chairs, there were Hoon and Jungwon, instead Heeseung was sitting with legs apart, bent forward to look at the screen and see how he smiled or squinted at Heeseung. She was way too close. She had Sunghoon in the same room who was one of the most beautiful guys I’d ever seen, but no she was attached to Hee.

"Well, look at that, our gamer has found someone who gives him a go," you commented in a deliberately sharp tone.

All turned to her. Heeseung seemed surprised, but he recovered immediately and saw that it was past 10 in the evening so the game had ended a long time ago. «Hey, Barbie. Difficult day? don’t tell me that the football team lost» he asked, with a smirk, and raised your eyes to the sky.

"Oh, don’t worry about me. It seems like you’re having enough fun already."

The girl next to Hee laughed, and for some reason, that sound irritated you more than it should have. <<If you want I can leave my place Y/n>> says Jungwon with a genuine smile, man how much gold would have paid to have as a roommate a person like Jungwon always nice and sociable with everyone that loser from Heeseung?

"No, no, quiet Jungwon I’m going to take a nice hot shower and some healthy skincare for my skin. I already greeted you all because I don’t know when I’ll get out of that bathroom" You went to the bathroom and felt the look of Heeseung in your body covered only by a shabby skirt and a light sweatshirt but you scrolled away all the slacks with a nice warm bath.

After almost two hours you left the bathroom in your pajamas and at the door, Heeseung’s friends were getting ready to go home, you were preparing a calming herbal tea but you watched the first girl named Luna greet Heeseung with a hug and then with a shy kiss on the cheek. That scene made you even more angry against the world, from what point did you get annoyed by girls around that nerd?

"Really, Heeseung? Bring people here without telling me? And then that girl... who the hell was she? We agreed that when I had a show when I came home I wanted to be at peace"

Heeseung stood in the middle of the living room, an eyebrow raised but with a funny look

«Does it bother you that I had friends here? What should I say when you take your best friends to make your beautiful pajamas that scream or speak of everyone or is it only Luna who has bothered you because you have always made enough friends with all my friends?» You looked at the nerd in front of you and crossed your arms.

"Don’t be smart. I hate that you don’t even have the decency to tell me when you bring people. Aren’t we roommates?"

Hee barely smiled, a smile that seemed to know long.

«You and I are roommates, so why do you seem so... jealous and upset by the presence of Luna?» You looked at him furiously, approaching a few steps.

"Me? Jealous? Of you? Don’t make me laugh, you know you’re not my type."

«Then why are you so agitated?» he replied, standing up to approach you. Heeseung not only looked beautiful but also his height was perfect, you always liked tall guys and he with his 1.83 compared to your 1.65 was overtaking you. You felt the tension grow between you two. you approached again and pushed it slightly with a hand on your chest.

"Maybe because I can’t stand when you’re bragging about your "friends," I saw how comfortable you were and how you flirted with her. You pretend to be the "good guy" of the situation but we all know that underneath you love seeing girls lost for you"

Heeseung looked at you for a few seconds, then shook his head with an incredulous grin.

«You know what? You’re unbearable when you do that, what is it you want to always be the center of attention barbie? the world does not only revolve around you»

"Oh, stop it, you’re so annoying from the first day that I set foot in here with your little smirk cheeky" you answered with your face now a few inches from his.

Heeseung was definitely tired of your spoiled behavior and even as a child he did the last thing he expected to do but he wanted so much to silence you and put you in your place. You felt yourself by the wrists and Heeseung gently slammed you against the island of the small kitchen.

«Stop» he said in a rock and still voice. You looked at him wide-eyed, ready to reply, but the words stuck in your throat when he leaned over and kissed you. The kiss is initially decided, almost to silence you, but then it becomes sweeter as if he was also surprised by his own boldness. You were slightly still for a moment then you relaxed and carried your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you. You felt his big hands under your ass and in a few moments he made you lean on the kitchen island and began to kiss you again or not devour you «Fuck, the only way to make you shut up is this Barbie? , if I knew it before I would have made you quiet in other ways, Y/n» You absolutely wanted to reply but when it detached from your lips he plunged to give light kisses around the clavicle until reaching your neck, a little moan came out of your lips when it began to torture you a small section of your neck under the ear, you felt that it was licking and then biting. Your coach would kill you if she saw some suckers but at that moment you were too much at the mercy of Heeseung and what he made you try; "Hee, stop torturing me I can’t be seen with a" You did not stop talking that you sucked strongly another area of your neck and pulled as much as possible his hair.

What you were doing was absolutely nothing normal but you felt too excited to stand between him, you felt Hee come even closer to you and you perceived its hard length in the pants of the suit she wore, You tried to approach him and touch him but he took your arm and brought it back to the shed.

«I don’t give a fuck if your coach tomorrow sees you with some pacifiers and don’t try to touch me, I don’t let the bad girls put their hands on me, and this evening you were a bad girl rather you behaved like a child and spoiled» You felt the big hand of Heeseung to slightly bloom your pants and felt your panties slightly wet and Heeseung had an expression that you had never seen perhaps victory? His hands made little circles over your pajamas but never took them off because in his eyes you were definitely a bad girl that night without thinking touched your pussy and stimulated you until you felt that from there you would come like a loser with both pants and panties around, You leaned on him and when you felt that you were coming to the climax but he detached and looked at you with all red cheeks.

"It can’t be, you’re really an asshole Heeseung" Heeseung looked at you with a grin and whispered to you «We are already 2-0 for me Barbie, when will you start to understand that with me you’ll burn yourself?» You watched him drink a glass of water and then go to his room as if he had not almost made you come in your underwear and as if you did not exist.

It was a week after those kisses, either Y/n tried in any way to avoid Heeseung and the thing was mutual with him as well. His best friends Jay and Jake had invited him to the last half-season game and with him were Hoon, and Jungwon, But he did not realize that before the game there was the show of the Cheerleaders and in front of his eyes there was Y/ n who was warming with other dancers both male and female. He watched her carefully trying to do a handless somersault and after a few seconds Chan one of the best and most famous dancers on the entire campus took her by the hips and made her lightly jump off the ground and put it over his shoulder, He knew that Y/n was good because she spent hours and hours training but did not think that she had so much charisma and ease to make such a lot of acrobatic. Heeseung looked away from the beautiful cheerleader for a moment and saw Sunoo take it back and give him a hint with his thumb.

"Why are you filming Y/n?" Sunoo looked at the oldest boy in the group with a smile and continued recording

<<I’m making some content for her team’s tik tok and Instagram profile, she asked me the day before yesterday when I saw her in the library>> Heeseung looked at Y/n smiled at Chan, and hugged him slightly, Why did you ask Sunoo to be your little filmmaker and not him who lived on technology? And then why did he embrace Chan so often, relationships between athletes were forbidden but a sense of jealousy took hold in Heeseung, and watched from the edge Y/n field that he was fixing his makeup.

Y/n for her knew that Heeseung was watching her since she had left the locker room but she would not give him his attention for anything in the world because he was seriously an asshole.

<<Your favorite nerd can not take his eyes off you for 20 minutes and is throwing me some hateful looks as if he tried to kill me with an axe or a virtual gun>> You wake up to the joke of Chan and you squatted to pretend to lace your shoes and sunflowers Heeseung’s head and eyes were watching you and you saw him turn all red when you caught him looking at your ass even though it was barely covered by a short skirt the smiles and I made the mark of 2 with my hands because he was still ahead between you two but in added a 1 because even if he did not want to admit it would also sacrifice a game of those stupid tournaments to have you and to make you his, He winked and was petrified to watch you enter the locker room to give the charge to everyone and to start the show before the half-year game.

The game ended in a beautiful victory and you came home to take a quick shower, put on makeup, and dress up for the winter party. When you entered the house there was nobody and it seemed so boring and at the same calm, there were no screams of Heeseung, the laughter of his friends, There were no sounds of gunshots or moans of evil characters and this thing made you a little bit sorry you didn’t want to admit it but by now you were used to all that mess and see the apartment empty and without the blue lights of the computer or smart tv, you put a little sadness. When you left the bathroom you felt a delicious smell coming from the kitchen and at that moment you did not think that Heeseung could return so soon, You went to the kitchen, and Heeseung when he saw you dressed as you were, looked at you with a furious look but at the same time, he saw that it was hard to take your eyes off of how he wrapped your short skirt, a light crop top sweater and on your feet you had black loafers with ankle warmers.

«Where do you think you are going dressed like that? you studied all this morning and this afternoon you trained and not even two hours ago you blew up I don’t know how many times, It’s not better to ask for a break from your body and stay at home» watch Heeseung from the mirror you had at the entrance of the apartment with a grin and sprayed a little perfume and set up your cheerleader bow in your straight hair

"Wow, someone’s in a bad mood didn’t you like the show or the game? I’m going to a party. You know, those social things that normal people do for fun, to drink, to chat, or maybe to be in the company of a nice guy or girl!" You squinted at Heeseung and he had his arms crossed to his chest and wouldn’t stop staring at you «I know what Barbie parties are, just don’t understand why you have to dress like..» you approached him and looked at him with a smile, maybe for the first time in your life you had the knife’s handle on your side the nerd in front of you was seriously jealous.

"How what? A girl who knows she’s irresistible and wants to go out and have fun with her friends? How should I dress to go to a party, certainly not with a pair of sweatpants or a sweatshirt" Heeseung looked at you attentively and saw him blush as you pressed your breasts to her strong chest and flushed from that little touch with your body.

"Relax, nerd. I can handle the compliments myself. You don’t need to worry." You took your Chanel bag and went to the door and looked at Heeseung leaning against the wall with that adorable little grumpy and his deer eyes that didn’t leave a moment. " Don’t expect me awake. I might be late or not even come home."

Heeseung when he saw you leaving the house and leaving a sweet scent whispered «Oh, I will wait for you Barbie.»

When you came back to the apartment it was around one and a half at night, I took off my boots and sighing for fatigue went to your room but before entering I saw Heeseung sitting on the bed wiping his hair wet with a cloth, He had just come out of the shower because there was that citrus scent coming out of the bathroom and you raised a eyebrow curious to see him still awake, if you had made it clear to him that he could go to sleep.

"Why are you still awake? Didn’t I tell you not to wait for me? Don’t tell me you were worried about me and that you wanted to see me safely back home without anyone."

«I admit it I was just worried and wanted to see how you yourself said that you would come home with your legs»

"How sweet. I didn’t know you were so protective." You put your bag on the desk and sat down on the edge of the bed watching Heeseung while he rubbed his hair and stared at you with sneaky eyes Your legs were almost completely uncovered and how he showed you the curves especially your breasts that sweater shrunk

«It’s not protectiveness. It’s frustration. I can’t understand why you enjoy teasing everyone... including me. What do you want Y/n?» a small smile came out of your lips and to Heeseung’s surprise you put on horseshoes in his toned legs and carefully dried the hair half gone for how many times he had passed the cloth to dry them while waiting for you

"Am I the one who provokes? One week ago you almost made me come in my pants and then you left like a loser without completing the work." Heeseung tried to put his hands on your hips but you took his big hands and placed them over his chest, "Don’t dare touch me until I tell you, the last time I was acting jealous or maybe like a child but this night you were the loser of the situation that in order not to admit that you wanted me you left me to go to a mega boring party"

You helped Heeseung to take off her shirt and a little whistle came out of your lips "How can you have such a physique and not show it off?" You began to slowly rock over its width felt it under you become harder and harder and you started kissing its neck until you reached below the navel. Heeseung had dreamed of this moment from the first time he saw you enter his apartment, he would never admit it but masturbated even thinking of you and was seriously afraid to come if you would continue to swing with that miniskirt that now let you all the thighs uncovered and saw your black panties in lace.

«I need to hear you somehow or show you that I’m not a loser as you think Y/n, please let me make you feel good and let me finish what I had started; I hate to pause the gaming games the same thing goes for you Barbie» Heeseung with reddish cheeks and eyes half-shiny desire and gently laid you down in his place and bent down to make you feel good, you made the sign to take off your skirt but he did no head and a grin formed in his face «I want to make you come with this skirt of a bad girl and then you will take my dick» you were seriously shocked by Heeseung’s words that you wanted to tease him again but your voice stopped when you felt the fingers slipping into your still-dressed slot and Heeseung’s slightly wet hair buried under your skirt, You jumped at him as you felt his middle finger and ring slide down your pussy while with the other hand, he suddenly took off your panties in a provocative way. He looked at your panties for a moment and then dived back under your skirt and you felt her finger on your palm clit with her thumb. You crave the feeling, of holding tight to his arms, the longer he pleased your clitoris, the sooner you would lose control of yourself and that was what Heeseung wanted, to see you lost to him. And in the end, you were just giving in to what your body wanted: rubbing against that annoying nerd’s hand, you felt his fingers get inside of you for good, and little moans came out of your mouth.

«Fuck love to hear your moans, and groans for me Y/n, make everyone feel who is fucking you and who is ruining only with two fingers inside of you, I can not wait to see you ride my dick and be able to have you finally mine»

You pulled Hee’s hair and small moans came out of your mouth as fast as her fingers went inside you at that moment.

"Hee, I need" fuck was nice to be filled by his long fingers. You felt his fingers curl inside, and you closed your mouth with your hand, afraid to wake up anyone who was sleeping. Annoyed, Heeseung pulled his hand away from you and admired you as you had your mouth open, hair in his bed, and were standing up for him and not one of those stupid athletes who came after you.

«Come for me baby, don’t be shy» felt that you taunted your clitoris again and came moaning again the name of Heeseung, The nerd under your skirt slowly tasted the mess that had caused you and tasted your shiny white cum that polished your pussy. When he got up he looked at you and leaned to give you a little kiss on the forehead «Good girl», after a while you got your arms around Heeseung’s neck and kissed him with a hunger for him and pushed him back into bed and rode over him to his cock.

"I need you Heeseung" The guy in front of you interrupted the kisses you were giving and looked at you with a shy and sincere smile, «Fuck tell me that I’m not dreaming Y/n, it’s months that I want you close around me, for me this is not a game Y/n» You smiled at Heeseung and took off the light sweater you had and the boy in front of you cheeks turned red and took off your breast-holder with nonchalance and immediately took a bud from your breast and with the other hand held you and tickled the other breast.

"Not for me either Hee this is a game, I want it" A little moan came out of you when he sucked slightly your nipple and a little spit went down your left breast repeated this thing also with the other. You really needed him so you lowered his pants and at the same time boxer shorts and saw his cock semi-erect, caressed him slowly but after a while you started to pump him slightly, It was beautiful to see him swearing under the sensation of your warm hand, slowly pumping it and observing the way his tip leaked copiously liquid.

«I thought of you I don’t know how many times in these months in this exact position...» mumbles, slightly shivering, «please Y/n, I need you» A little laugh came out from your lips, you had never seen Heeseung in this state and it was only thanks to you.

"You know we’re tied right now Heeseung, you seem so desperate for me right now. If you want fuck me”. he sent you a charming smile before pulling down your hips with that slutty skirt still on you; he wheezes sweetly at the feeling of your pussy flying around her tip, already able to feel your exhaling excitement before you finally slowly sink over him.

"Fuck, oh shit Hee" You were seriously ecstatic by the length of Heeseung inside you, and slowly you moved to let it in and out so that your bodies lined up and went at a rhythm.

«God you are so tight» You felt his big hands under your ass and brought you even closer to him and you put your hands over his back to ride it harder. «Who is fucking you so well, Barbie?» You felt again his thumb rub your wet pussy as you took his cock up on the ground and hit exactly your G-spot to make you moan his name. " You, Hee, only you Heeseung"

Heeseung began to leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, climbing up, climbing up until finally reaching your ear, leaving a kiss behind it before whispering: «You are mine and from this moment I will not share you with anyone»

By the time he pushed back in you could already feel the tears ticking your eyes: you’re loud and cheeky in your sounds as he starts hammering you again because he knows it’s coming soon and he wanted to feel your body again, you felt your back curl from the way Hee’s hand started to rub your clitoris again, you could only groan softly for feeling, Allowing him to play with you as if you were his own game or even worse his favorite toy.

"Hee, I’m close."

«Come for me Barbie, I want to feel and see you with my sperm in all your beautiful pussy that right now is taking my cock»

Finally allows herself to come inside you, you can hear Hee sibilate softly for the sensation, triggering her orgasm while you whimper for all the sensations you had experienced thanks to that loser of your roommate. You’re hot and full to the point that it’s already started to leak out, and Heeseung swears he’s never seen a better show, and you’re burying your head in the hollow of your neck.

You felt Hee give you a little kiss on the head and then on the forehead and put you lying in her bed and after a few seconds of silence she went to get you some warm clothes and cleaned you from her cum and put you her clean boxers and her crumpled nerd t-shirt and brought you to my bride in your bed, Your cheeks were seriously all red and maybe you were also agitated because now things would go with him?

When he put you under the covers you saw him lay an arm around your waist and look at you smiling softly move a rebellious tuft from your face around your ear give you a light kiss on the cheek and lay down with his head leaning close to your neck and crossed your legs. You were seriously surprised by his attitude but maybe underneath he also felt emotions like a classic twenty-year-old boy and you embraced him a little timidly because you had never seen this act of Heeseung.

«We are 3-2» You started again with your joke but in your head, you were 2-2.

"What did I do this time to get you back in the game? It seems we are still 2-2" You felt his nose close to your neck and started laughing, he did not want to admit but for him that three were you. He would be able to skip a session of video game tournaments to make you happy and maybe he was falling in love with you but he would never admit it if you didn’t do it first, because the weak point of the situation was him not you.

Comments are appreciated:)🎮

©cutehoons02 all rights reserved 2024.

[holyblonded]

vroom vroom | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, mapi leon x teen!reader, lucy bronze x teen!reader

summary: alexia, lucy, and mapi are tasked with teaching you how to drive

warnings: near death experience in a car, idk about spain’s driving laws but in most states in the US, you get your permit at 15 1/2 and then hold your permit for 9 months and be at least 16 and 3 months before you get you license so this is what it’s based on

notes: in my mind, both keira and lucy are still with barca 🧘🏾‍♀️

“You cannot be serious right now,” you said, staring in disbelief as Alexia secured the bicycle helmet onto her head, adjusting the straps with absolute precision.

“As a heart attack,” Alexia replied, now moving to put on elbow pads.

You turned to Olga, who was sprawled out on the couch, highly amused by the unfolding situation. “Tell her she’s being ridiculous.”

Olga smirked, barely holding back her laughter. “Amor, you are being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously safe,” Alexia corrected, tapping the side of her helmet with confidence.

Your jaw dropped. “Ale, you’re teaching me how to drive. A car. Not a bike, not a scooter, a car. Why are you dressed like you’re about to enter a roller derby?”

Alexia crossed her arms. “Because the last time I let you sit behind the wheel, you nearly drove us into a bush. I like my life, and I intend to keep it intact.”

“That bush came out of nowhere!” you defended yourself, exasperated.

Olga snorted. “Bushes don’t move, Estrellita.”

You shot her a glare before turning back to Alexia. “Fine. If you’re going to be like this, then I get to wear my own safety gear.”

Alexia nodded approvingly. “Good. I have an extra helmet in the trunk.”

“That is not what I meant!” you groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch.

Olga was shaking with laughter at this point, wiping her eyes. “You should’ve just taken the lesson, Estrellita. Now you’re both going to look like two children trying to qualify for their go-kart licenses.”

Alexia smirked. “Better safe than sorry.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I refuse to be seen in public with you like this.”

“Too bad,” Alexia said, grabbing the car keys and motioning for you to follow. “Because we’re going. And if you complain, I will make you wear knee pads too.”

You groaned, dragging your feet toward the door.

“Have fun, kids!” Olga called after you, still giggling.

“You have got to be shitting me!” you exclaimed, freezing in place as you climbed into the driver’s seat, only to be met with Mapi and Lucy sitting smugly in the back.

Both were decked out in full protective gear—helmets securely fastened, elbow and knee pads strapped on like they were about to be thrown into a demolition derby rather than a driving lesson.

“Why are the two of you here? And the helmets? Really?” You gestured wildly, turning to Alexia, who was climbing into the passenger seat like she was about to endure the worst experience of her life.

“Because I can’t do this alone anymore,” Alexia muttered, rubbing her temples like she was already regretting her choices.

“The helmets and guards are for our protection,” Mapi chimed in, adjusting the straps on her helmet until they were practically cutting off circulation. “Last time I took you driving, you nearly hit a mailman.”

“In my defense, he came out of nowhere,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“It was his job to be there! That’s why it’s called mail delivery. You don’t deliver it from the sky!”

Lucy snorted, reaching for her seatbelt. “Yeah, Ale called us in for backup after she told us about the bush incident.”

You groaned, slumping against the wheel. “The bush was literally in the way!”

“The bush was on the sidewalk, Estrelleta,” Alexia deadpanned.

“Okay, whatever. Everybody buckle up,” you muttered, pressing the button to start the car.

“Oh trust me, I’ve been buckled since the moment I sat down,” Mapi said, yanking the belt so tight that it looked like it might fuse with her body.

“Same,” Lucy agreed, giving her helmet a few extra taps. “You can never be too careful.”

Alexia sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose. “Alright, let’s go over the basics again before we even think about moving.”

“I know the basics,” you huffed.

“Oh, do you?” Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Then tell me, where’s the brake?”

You pressed your lips together, staring at the pedals. “Uh, the left one?”

Alexia inhaled sharply, her grip on the passenger-side handle tightening.

Lucy whispered to Mapi, “We are so gonna die.”

“You’ll be fine,” you waved them off. “Alright, here we go!”

And with that, you slammed your foot down.

The car jerked forward like it had just been launched out of a slingshot, sending Mapi and Lucy flying back into their seats with strangled yelps.

“ESTRELLETA!” Alexia screeched, bracing herself against the dashboard.

“BRAKE, BRAKE, BRAKE!” Mapi yelled, gripping the back of Alexia’s seat for dear life.

“I am braking!” you argued.

“No! You’re accelerating!” Lucy shrieked, hands gripping the ceiling as if that would help.

You let out a panicked scream, slamming your foot down on something—thankfully, this time, it was actually the brake.

Everyone lurched forward with a collective oof, and for a moment, there was complete and utter silence in the car.

Alexia, breathing heavily, turned her head very slowly to look at you.

“What,” she said, voice eerily calm, “was that?”

You gave her a sheepish smile. “A test?”

Lucy let out a weak laugh from the back. “Yeah, well, I just saw my entire life flash before my eyes, so that’s fun.”

“I think I had an out-of-body experience,” Mapi muttered, still clutching Alexia’s seat. “I literally saw myself floating above the car.”

“Okay, okay, let’s try again,” you said, clearing your throat.

“God help us,” Alexia mumbled under her breath.

This time, you actually listened to Alexia’s instructions (mostly). The car started smoothly, and for a few blissful minutes, it almost seemed like things were going well.

Until you had to make a turn.

“Turn slowly, slowly—” Alexia started, but it was too late.

You turned the wheel way too fast, sending the car swerving violently.

“SLOWLY, I SAID SLOWLY!” Alexia yelled, grabbing onto the handle above her door.

“WHY IS THIS THING SO SENSITIVE?!” you shrieked back, trying to straighten out.

Lucy and Mapi were screaming in the back.

“ESTRELLITA, I SWEAR TO GOD—” Mapi howled.

“I WANT TO GO HOME!” Lucy shouted.

Somehow, miraculously, you managed to get the car straightened out again. Everyone sat there, breathing heavily.

Alexia had her face buried in her hands.

Mapi looked like she might be reconsidering her entire life.

Lucy was muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

Then, you approached a stop sign.

Alexia exhaled, nodding. “Alright. Good, now—”

But instead of gently stopping, you slammed the brake, sending everyone lurching forward again.

“I SAID GENTLE!” Alexia yelled.

“My bad!” you huffed.

“I HAVE WHIPLASH,” Mapi announced dramatically, rubbing her neck.

“Oh my God, I think my soul left my body again,” Lucy muttered, eyes wide.

And then, finally, you parked.

You leaned back in your seat, exhaling in satisfaction. “I think that went well.”

Alexia turned her head slowly, staring at you like you’d grown a second head.

Mapi and Lucy were both still gripping their seats like they were waiting for the final impact.

“Well?” Alexia repeated, voice dangerously high-pitched.

You grinned. “Yeah! Nobody died, right?”

Alexia blinked. Then she turned to Lucy and Mapi.

“I need strong alcohol,” she announced.

“Agreed,” Mapi and Lucy said in unison.

You pouted. “That’s rude.”

Alexia pointed at you. “You are never driving without supervision.”

“I don’t think my heart can handle another lesson,” Lucy admitted.

“I know mine can’t,” Mapi added, pulling off her helmet with shaky hands.

“Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad!” you protested.

Alexia just gave you a look. “Get out of the driver’s seat before I have an aneurysm.”

With a dramatic sigh, you unbuckled and slid out of the car. “Such little faith.”

As you walked off, Mapi turned to Lucy and muttered, “Next time, we bring airbags.”

Lucy nodded, still dazed. “And a priest.”

[minniesfiles]

BLOOM WITH YOU | month 2

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; angst, fluff, light smut

❧ WARNINGS; none

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1k

▁▁▁▁▁▁

series masterlist

𐚁₊⊹

▍16 FEBRUARY 2026

“Stop! That tickles!” you giggled. You squirmed slightly as you stood in the soft morning light with your shirt bunched up beneath your chest and belly exposed to the cool air.

Wonwoo was kneeling in front of you with a pink sharpie in his hand. He looked determined, but also mildly frustrated, as he stared at his latest attempt at drawing a heart shape around your navel. Your belly was still small but no longer entirely flat,

“Babe,” he groaned. He sat back on his heels with the sharpie still uncapped in one hand while the other rubbed at his temple. “Just stay still for one second. I need this heart to be perfect or it won’t look good in the pictures.”

You rolled your eyes and playfully crossed your arms over your chest. “You’ve already drawn four crooked ones. I think the baby will forgive you if it’s not Instagram-worthy.”

Your husband looked up at you with that soft grin that always managed to melt your irritation. “This is for our baby’s album, not social media. I want them to see everything and how much we loved them before they even arrived.”

Something about that simple statement made your breath catch. Even after all the years together, all the heartbreak and the six losses you never fully healed from, Wonwoo still had the ability to see hope. And to believe in it.

He reached forward and pressed a kiss to your belly, right over the half-formed heart, and whispered something you couldn’t quite hear. You felt the warmth of his breath and the soft scratch of his stubble. But most of all, you felt the gravity of his love.

You were ten weeks along. The bump wasn’t obvious yet. If anything, you just looked like you had a heavy meal. But Wonwoo noticed everything. The slight curve of your abdomen. The way your hand would sometimes drift to rest there without thinking. The tiredness in your eyes in the evenings, and the small shifts in your appetite. To him, those little changes were signs of life. It was proof that the tiny bean growing inside you was still holding on.

And so, every week since the hospital talk, he had been documenting everything. He turned your hallway into a makeshift studio, with white backdrop, fairy lights, even a ring light he ordered online “just to get the right glow.”

His camera, which he would often use for moody cityscapes and random low-light portraits, now clicked infinite pictures of you. Either laughing, crying, or eating pickles and peanut butter at midnight. But his favourite was when you’d nap with your head on his shoulder while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

It had started as a simple idea: a photo every week, just to track the journey. But it quickly turned into a full-on project. Wonwoo was capturing memories. Moments. Little evidence of the love you already carried for someone you hadn’t even met yet.

“Turn a little this way,” he instructed, clicking his tongue as he looked through the viewfinder. “Okay, now place your hands under the bump — yes, like that. Perfect.”

You posed. But at the same time you tried not to laugh at how serious he looked, crouched like a professional photographer with a camera strap dangling from his neck. Like the professional he was, he moved with quiet precision as he snapped photo after photo, then stepping forward to adjust your hair or reposition the lighting with gentle hands.

The room was filled with nothing but shutter clicks and your soft laughter.

╴╴╴╴╴

Later when the mini photo-shoot was over, Wonwoo sat with you on the sofa. Your legs were stretched out over his lap while he edited all the photos he shot. The photos were beautiful. Natural and radiant. You simply looked so happy. Soft and full of a glow you didn’t realised you were carrying.

“See? This is what I want our baby to see.” Wonwoo showed you one photo in particular. It was a candid moment where you were looking down at your belly as you faintly smiled with a hand resting protectively over it.

“I want them to know how deeply they were wanted.”

You pressed your face into his shoulder to hide the sudden wave of emotion. “I’m scared to want this too much,” you admitted. Wonwoo didn’t respond immediately. He just kept stroking your arm gently, his fingers finding their familiar rhythm against your skin.

“We can be scared. That’s okay. But let’s still hope anyway” he finally said.

It was easier said than done.

Every time you dared to hope, every time you picked out names, imagined nursery colours, imagined what your baby would look like with your nose or his eyes — it always ended up with you lying within the four hospital walls.

But this time was different — or so Dr. Jung insisted.

The frequent checkups helped. Every week, she ran another ultrasound, checked your hormone levels, and adjusted medications. There were more tubes and blood draws than you wanted to count, and more nights lying awake wondering if every cramp or twinge was a sign of another loss.

But each visit so far had ended with the same sound: a stable, tiny heartbeat. The baby was holding on.

Dr. Jung was cautiously optimistic. With the added progesterone and hormone therapy, your body was supporting the embryo better than ever before. And with constant surveillance, she said she could catch the earliest signs of complication.

You remembered her words clearly: “We’re not waiting for something to go wrong. We’re staying ahead of it this time.”

It helped having her in your corner. She said the embryo had implanted in a healthy area. Your uterus was responding well to the hormones. Your blood flow was better than expected. The baby had a good chance — better than any of your previous pregnancies.

Still, the fear lingered. It always did.

You remember one night, when Wonwoo was already asleep, where you sat up in bed, hand resting lightly on your stomach. The room was dark, save for the glow of the moon through the window. “Please stay. Just this once…stay” you’d whisper softly.

The next morning, you found a small sticky note taped to the bathroom mirror in Wonwoo’s familiar handwriting.

▏We already love you more than life. Stay with us, little one.”

He never asked if you read it. He didn’t have to.

a/n; short but sweet :)

[svtiddiess]

hii idk if i still can make a request but if yes this is what i want to request, im sorry if my way to req are wrong as it was my first time 🥹

drabble of wonwoo who was the ceo and he fall in live with his secretary (both of them are single) and the had seggs in his office then he confessed to her ;

16. “i am head over heels for you, and you deserve to know... i can't hide it anymore. I. Love. You.”

Head Over Heels

Pairing: Wonwoo (SVT) x afab!reader

Genre: smut, fluff, non-idol! au, fwb to lovers, drabble

Rating: mature/nsfw

Word count: 0.3k

Note: Another small surprise drabble! So sorry this took so long anonie!

Your head falls back as Wonwoo drives into you, hitting that sweet spot with relentless precision. A moan tears from your throat, the pleasure so intense it borders on unbearable.

"Shhh," he murmurs, pressing his palm over your mouth. His breath is hot against your ear. "Unless you want the whole office to know their CEO is fucking his secretary in a supply closet?"

He's right—if anyone found out, you'd be out of a job and blacklisted from the industry before you could even straighten your skirt.

You whimper an apology against his hand, and Wonwoo lets out a dark chuckle, amused by your desperation.

His rhythm stutters, his thrusts growing uneven—he's close. You clench around him on purpose, wringing a ragged groan from his lips. His free hand slips between your bodies, fingers circling your clit with just the right pressure, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

A muffled, broken cry escapes you as you shatter, your body convulsing around him. Wonwoo follows with a few final, deep thrusts, his hips jerking as he spills inside you.

"Fuck—I love you," he growls, the words raw and unfiltered.

You go completely still.

Eyes wide, you search his face as he catches his breath. Did he just—? No. There's no way he said that.

But then he leans his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"You heard me," he whispers, voice rough but achingly sincere. "I'm head over heels for you, and you deserve to know…I can't hide it anymore. I. Love. You."

Your face burns. You've spent months burying your own feelings, convincing yourself this was just physical—that a man like him could never risk his reputation for you. But now, with his confession hanging between you, your heart threatens to burst.

"Let me do this right," he murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Dinner. Tonight. No hiding."

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @kwanniehae @ateez-atiny380 @junnhuisworld @horangipower17 @cheolsbb26 @scoupshawty @shuas-winnie30 @amaranthar @cherriecsc @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96 @smiileflower @yumyumcoo

[proudofmygeneration]

Since people are being dumb about 'why is Tommy a pallbearer, he barely knew Bobby and the 118' I tried to make a timeline.

2005: ‘Chimney begins’: Chimney decides to become a firefighter.

2006: Chimney starts working at the 118. Tommy is already working there. (note 1)

2008: ‘Hen begins’: Hen decides to become a firefighter. (note 2)

2009: Hen starts working at the 118. Tommy is still working there.

June 2015: ‘Bobby begins again’: Bobby starts working at the 118. Tommy is still working there. (note 3)

April 2017: Tommy saves Bobby's life in a house fire. (note 4)

2017 (?): Tommy transfers. The team gets him a cake and a surprise party, because, you know, they are friends.

2017: ‘Buck begins’. Buck starts working at the 118. Tommy is no longer working there.

2019: Tommy saves Eddie's life with a water drop.

2024: Tommy saves Bobby and Athena by flying into a hurricane.

2025: Tommy saves Chimney, Ravi and Hen by creating a diversion so the cure could be delivered. (Remember, the feds were willing to let everyone in that lab die).

During the medal ceremony, Tommy says he transferred out of the 118 ‘five years ago’. But in the same episode Buck is revealed to have been working there for ‘seven years’. In conclusion, the writers can’t do maths and making timelines is impossible. However, assuming the shortest timespan for everything, and assuming that Tommy transferred in 2017, this means:

Tommy worked with Chimney for 11 years.

Tommy worked with Hen for 8 years.

Tommy worked with Bobby for at least 2 years.

Note 1: According to the internet, the training to become a firefighter takes a year. If anyone has conflicting information, please tell me.

Note 2: The Twilight reference puts the date as 2008. I’m again assuming that training takes a year.

Note 3: Thank you Tumblr user a-mel0n for pointing out the apartment fire is on dec 16, 2014, which means that six months later, when Bobby starts working at the 118, it is june 2015.

Note 4: Thank you Tumblr user bucktommybegins for pointing out we have a precise date for the housefire: april 6, 2017.

[honeyed-latte]

Snape is a hero, Snape is a bully. Snape is a mad genius.

He is massively unpleasant to be around, cruel, sarcastic, very precise, he isn't nice at all. Snape wrongfully directs his impotent anger at James toward Harry and mistreats his friends in the same way. Snape is a secretive, elusive, clever man.

Snape is patient when one applies themselves, he is kind in the way he will go OUT OF HIS WAY to better the lives of the students and teachers around him in a roundabout way that hides his motivations, he is a sturdy person emotionally and controls himself with an expert ease.

Snape is powerful, one of the most powerful wizards we've seen in the series, thats an objective fact. He is also one of the most intelligent characters as well.

Severus Snape makes a snide comment about Hermione Grangers teeth, Severus Snape makes an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco even to his own detriment, Severus Snape created a handful of spells that are commonly used WORLD WIDE when he was 15-16.

He humiliates Harry publically, he brews his ex-bully a potion to ease his pain every month to perfection without fail, he most likely brewed the potion guarding the locket Horcrux.

Characters are so much more then one dimensional when you actually pay attention.

[ateliersss]

Blooming Family Part 4 - He Shall Prevail

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: In your past life on earth, when someone would ask you how you managed your job as a nurse with the occasional death of a mother during birth, you told them that you never took it too personal because you would never find yourself in their position. Then why were you now so adamant on giving your life for your pup? Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,497 Part 1: here Part 2: here Part 3: here Masterlist

⇨ Hey, guys! I‘m back to writing. 6 months and 16 exams later, I finally found time to continue my now called “Blooming Family” series. You have no idea how much I missed it.

⇨ Though I have to say, this will probably be the end of this series. Probably. I got rid of every idea about our little family in those four parts and I don’t believe I can offer much more dramatic and exciting plot.

⇨ BUT! I already announced a Prequel on how Mi'ytiar and the Reader meet. I’m still working on it and the process is going smoothly for now. This means, this is definitely not the end of our story, so stay tuned!

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

 

The metallic smell of human blood that usually made him wallow in delight, now made him feel sick. The feeling of human blood on his skin, which usually sent a rush of excitement down his spine, now made him want to cut off any part of his body that made contact with it. The sight of him tearing a human apart — hurting it, killing it — that usually sated his predatory nature, now made him want to gouge his eyes out.

Blood flowed as he cut you, his beloved one, open under Cahrein's watchful eyes. The red fluid coated first his claws and fingertips, then his fingers completely, and before he knew it his whole hand when he started to reach into you.

Your small, beautiful body, which he had worshipped more times than he could count, had long grown numb, unmoving, lifeless. Your big, gorgeous eyes that had held so much love for him were closed, sparing him to witness the moment should the spark within them extinguish.

He wouldn't let that happen, he was sure of it. He just needed time to close the long, precise cut and get the blood that was stashed somewhere here on the ship. He knew how to stitch you together, God knows how many times he had to do it when you were on your hunting trips together, though it was never this kind of wound.

But Mi'ytiar, your oh-so-loving and attentive mate, had done something quite unusual for his species.

With no profound knowledge of births, let alone human births, he witnessed the act of giving life for the very first time when you had been pregnant with Akail. Even without any previous experience, he just knew that Yautja births were quite different from human ones. Their Females wouldn't have suffered that much from pain during labor and because of that, his already devoting stance towards you seemed to reach new heights when you fought like a warrior on your very own battlefield. He was impressed just as he was scared.

So, when Cahrein had confirmed your suspicions on being pregnant again, Mi'ytiar did what every father on earth would and should do when a baby was on its way: he prepared himself. Mostly, Cahrein showed and taught him the necessities who had studied the human anatomy when you arrived on Yautja Prime for the first time — leader's orders. And because there had never been a human in their clan or anywhere near it, he had to travel some time to the nearest one whose location he knew.

That's how Cahrein learned and that's how he was able to brief his clan leader.

You didn't know, but if you did, you once again would not fathom how lucky you were because how many Yautja out there with a human by their side for whatever purpose would put that much effort into them? Would any of them sit down and listen to their healer drone about the function of the ovaries? Would any of them waste their time instead of just finding a replacement? Would they be here when the chance of saving you was like catching mist with bare hands?

Mi'ytiar did, a leader nonetheless.

And when he felt it wasn't enough, he did his very own research on earth. Stalking through hospitals, invisible of course, thanks to the Cloak camouflaging his massive form and hiding him from the human eye, he was taking everything in. He observed the humans dressed in white and dark blue clothes scurry around before he decided to follow one around.

At nighttime, it was much easier when the staff thinned out. This way he had a better chance to explore the hospital and find his way to the infant ward, discovering it by chance. Fourteen see-through cribs were standing in two rows inside the ward. Fourteen tiny human babies were lying inside, sound asleep.

So that's what they looked like.

For a moment, he thought about being human himself. Not for his own appearance but for the possibility of having a pup who looked more like you, his love. You were such a beautiful creature, but sadly, your genes were practically drowned out by his.

In the daytime, he was lucky to watch five women deliver their babies. Four of them did it the natural way while the fifth woman decided willing to do a c-section. Obviously unaware of what would happen in a few years, he gained very useful knowledge that day.

That's how Mi'ytiar learned and that's how he located the pup in your womb so quickly and pulled it out.

He tried not to let himself get lost in the sight of the newborn, squirming and screeching. As much as he wanted to admire the little boy, another paragon created by you, there was a more pressing matter at hand.

He gingerly placed the flailing pup down on the cold glass surface of the table and against your body, snuggled between your motionless arm and your side. With the greatest care, he angled his son's head to rest against your shoulder and moved your arm so it would keep him in place.

Mi'ytiar wasted no time in turning the Medicomp upside down and finding the needed surgical tools much faster that way. Thankfully he hadn't discovered anything wrong once the pup was free, no suspicious rupture or tear that needed stitching. He was deaf to Cahrein's words as he fixed the cut with wound clamps and started to mix a gel that was able to close a wound of any kind, size or depth.

When he was sure the gel was painstakingly spread on the already healing cut, he grabbed the syringe with the purple-ish fluid and inserted its needle in the crook of your unoccupied arm. There was a 50-50 chance that it would work on you. Sxánxik would close all internal damage and increase blood cell production in case of severe blood loss, though he didn't know if it would work on human blood. But there was still a chance since your DNA had evolved through years of infusions of Yautja blood.

"You should get her blood." Cahrein's voice finally found its way into his consciousness.

"Can't leave." Mi'ytiar growled, his eyes focused on the shallow movement of your chest, scared it would stop the second they would stray from you.

"You need to. There is no guarantee sxánxik works." Cahrein pressed, growing restless at his leader's tunnel vision.

He knew he didn't know what was going through Mi'ytiar's mind, and if he said he knew how he was feeling at that moment, he would be lying. It was obvious to anyone who had ever laid eyes on the Life-mated pair that there was a unique and special bond between the two of you. Yautja were caring despite common belief, but even the most affectionate and compassionate of their species would never come close to the emotions your human heart held for your Yautja. Adding the influence you had on Mi'ytiar, it seemed to be fated.

Soulmates, Cahrein believed you had called the both of you when you told him about certain fairytales your mother had read to you when you were a child. Though you had said it in a joking way, telling him it was something hopeless romantics believed in, he could see it in your eyes that there was some kind of hope there.

"Sometimes two people are destined for each other."

Your human nonsense would always make him scoff in amusement until there was living and breathing proof of you being meant for his leader. Two proofs now, to be exact. When you were able to give Mi'ytiar his long-denied offspring where their Females had failed, Cahrein started to be less derogatory about superstitions on earth.

"Fine." Mi'ytiar snarled, hitting the glass surface of the holo-map table on each side of your thighs with closed fists, only hearing a splintering sound as he pushed himself away.

When he returned, the overwhelming sight of your body made him freeze in the doorway when the automatic doors opened. He tried not to tighten his grip around the blood bag in his hand, tried not to let his claws pierce holes into it and spill the red liquid.

You were lying there, paler than you had been moments ago. Where he had positioned your arm so your pup was safely tucked at your side, the other one was lying along the length of your body. Just as your spread legs were dangling down the table, your hand was loosely hanging down where it had previously been grasping the edge in pain.

"Mi'ytiar."

Cahrein's voice was once again pulling him out of his own head before he could drown in dark thoughts.

"I prepare your home for your return." The healer told him when Mi'ytiar covered your naked lower body with one of your blankets that you always kept on the ship.

When Cahrein received no response from his leader, who was too busy getting the blood into your veins before filling syringes with his own to inject it into you, he made the usual farewell gesture and his holo-image dissolved.

As soon as Mi'ytiar could assess you as stable, he took his newborn — he was so tiny, Mi'ytiar was able to hold him with one hand as he fit so easily in his entire palm — and placed him in the crook of his arm, the upper body of his son pressed against his bicep. The typical instinct of a Yautja pup to hold on made his son immediately cling to him.

With a heavy heart at leaving you alone once again, he went through the ship to take the pup to its sleeping place in the sleeping quarters. Digging out more of the cushions and covers you had stashed away, he created a makeshift crib so his son wouldn't move in a fatal position or roll out of the pod by accident. When he was sure he could leave him alone for a moment, he put the pup down and returned to you.

You were still in the same unconscious state he had left you. With a pained, sorrowful purr he lifted you up and into his arms, the almost empty blood bag held up by his hand. The sight of you like this was hurting him more than any wound he ever got from an enemy.

Back in the sleeping quarters, Mi'ytiar put you down in the pod where the two of you would usually rest. And where the little one was probably conceived, he thought with his eyes looking over at the pup.

Since the ship was not equipped with the necessary medical supplies and equipment, he had to make do with what was available to him. All he could do now was let you sleep and heal. Should the sxánxik not do its job, his blood would do.

To distract himself — because looking down at the device around his left arm, the journey back home would take another hour — he picked his newborn pup up and started to rock him softly. He remembered your reaction when you had seen him do it for the first time with Akail, scolding him for hurling the pup around. Your words.

Trying not to let his amusement show too much on his face, he had explained to you that Yautja babies, even when they were mere minutes old, were quite sturdy. They could endure more than you would think and you had learned that in the following five years. To put it simply, Akail had been a menace when he wasn't a complete mama's boy. He had wanted to explore; first your home, then the clan grounds, and then the whole planet.

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle-like rumble at the memory of an eager Akail running around, dodging his mother's arms that tried to keep him inside your home and from running around in the village. He had watched you both with mirth in his eyes but regretted it the second a grumbling laugh left his mouth. If it had been possible, he would have dropped dead when you glared at him with a very nasty look. Wincing inwardly, he pulled his figurative tail between his legs and came to your aid, grabbing Akail by the nape and lifting him up. Then you had looked at your son with an I'm-very-disappointed-in-you expression on your face and this time it was the pup that winced (Mi'ytiar almost too if he was being honest).

Like father, like son.

This one will be just as in love with his mother as his father and older brother were, he was sure of it.

Warm, soft and bright.

Those were the things you noticed first, even with your eyes closed.

The next thing your brain registered was that you could move every part of your body, although a little sluggish when you wiggled your toes and clenched and unclenched your hands. You were relieved that whatever happened to you hadn't paralyzed you.

Blinking, you opened your eyes and with a blurry vision, the very first thing you saw was a familiar but somehow unfamiliar metal pole that looked like an IV stand.

But that couldn't be. You should be the only human thing on Yautja Prime, so why…

"You awake."

You slowly turned your head in the direction of the voice. You could only make out a dark, tall figure standing in the doorway, though not tall enough to be your mate.

"Cahrein?" You murmured.

"Mhm."

Said Yaujta entered the room to inspect the stand, tapping the bag with a clear substance inside. He traced the tube attached to it with a sharp claw to the point where it was connected to the needle in your arm. 

"Fascinating, I must say."

"What is this? Why is it here?" You asked and tried to get up, hoping the fatigue would wear off faster in an upright position.

With a deep rumble and a clicking of his mandibles, Cahrein gently pushed you back down. "The great Mi'ytiar always made sure you had everything you need should medical emergency arise."

"He did?"

Cahrein nodded with his head. "He traveled to ooman world to get whatever you need every time oomans developed their creations."

You looked at the healer who now inspected the red bag filled with your blood.

When you started to be more involved in the life of the Yautja, the possibility of getting hurt grew. It wasn't likely, as your mate never let you do anything that could cause even a bruise. Well, except, of course, mating with him. 

When your already drawn blood expired, you would go to Cahrein so he could take new one for emergencies while you sat in Mi'ytiar's lap, his purring and his hands caressing you, calming you down. Despite being a former nurse you hated needles.

"How..." You coughed, your voice hoarse from not being used. "How long was I… asleep?"

"Six days."

"That long?" You whispered to yourself in disbelief.

You settled back into the soft cushions of your nest, watching the healer adjust the blood bag as if there was the perfect angle for it to hang. Ever the perfectionist. 

You carefully lifted the arm with the needle inside while you grabbed a black woolen blanket to pull it over your body, somehow feeling cold despite the fire burning. 

Doing so, you dragged your heavy-feeling arm over your stomach.

Your flat stomach.

You jumped up from your lying position, ignoring the stabbing headache. 

Cahrein turned around, only needing to take one big step to be by your side, and was ready to scold you for going against your doctor's orders, but his words were dying on his tongue when you ripped the piece of clothing you were wearing open. Immediately, he averted his eyes and turned his back to you. 

You may be his patient right now, but he had no death wish. Sure, he had seen parts of you in his role as the healer, but only with permission and in attendance of your mate. And said mate definitely didn't need to be in the room to witness his human being exposed in front of someone who wasn't him to instill that deep-rooting respect (and maybe even slight fear) in Cahrein. 

You were oblivious to the internal battle of Cahrein who was fighting against the urge to make sure you weren't overexerting yourself and the fact that he couldn't do so without having to look at you. Instead, you were frantically tracing the faint scar across your stomach with shaky hands.

Baby…

Where was your baby?

Where was it?!

The maternal instincts were almost animalistic as they made you heave, your lungs starting to struggle to take in air.

It had been here, inside your belly, carried under your heart…

Why wasn't it here?

It should be… it should be…

Cahrein was really tempted to turn around when he listened to your breath getting more and more irritated and uneven. When he heard suspicious rustling, he spun around and grabbed the nearest cover to put it on you — the blanket you had wanted to snuggle into. 

"Calm, (Y/N), calm." He purred as he pushed you back onto the nest when you tried to crawl out of it. 

"My pup, my pup. Where is my pup?" You squeaked.

You were digging your nails into his skin, scratching it without leaving much damage. You weren't really a challenge to him. You were still weak from the blood loss and the week of bed rest. Had it been a female Yautja, Cahrein would have probably been dead by now. They were just as territorial and protective of their pups as you were right now.

"He is fine. He is with his father." He soothed you and tried to push you onto your back and into the nest. "I will call for him."

Still shaking, you ceased your resistance a little, allowing Cahrein to let go of you. Despite everything screaming inside of you to fight your way to your pup, your body in its state wouldn't even make it out of the room. So you settled down but kept your nerves on edge.

You were taking deep breaths in and out as you strained every muscle to prop yourself up into a sitting position, your legs tangled and angled to the side.

Tugging on the soft fabric of the blanket draped over you, you looked around the room. It was just like you remembered — all four walls made of smooth obsidian-like stone, the large window from the floor up to the ceiling behind your nest giving you the perfect view of the jungle-like valley beneath you by the cliff where the village was located on, the build-in shelves that mostly displayed your mate's most valued trophies, but also some of your possessions from your old home on earth like your books and your favorite pot plant, the futuristic wardrobe Mi'ytiar had made for you when he kept gifting you fabrics, feathers, fur, leather and such so you could make yourself clothes with the help of the Females.

It was home.

As your eyes swept over the room from left to right, they stopped when they spotted the small, wooden crib next to the nest. It had been Akail's when he was a newborn pup. It was lovingly and thoughtfully crafted by Mi'ytiar, while you had carved accents, patterns, and little figures into it.

Sure, Yautja Females had their own, traditional way of taking care of their pups, but you were human and your baby was partly human, so you wanted at least a little human influence in raising it. It's the only way you knew and were able to do it. Mi'tyiar let you take the reins since he had no prior knowledge himself. He was a first-time father and would just follow your instructions when you needed assistance. 

That led to you unknowingly breaking a custom. Usually, at this age, the Female was raising the pup alone. The Male was barely involved during that time and would only take over when it was time for the pup to train as a Youngblood. 

Mi'ytiar, on the other hand, the ever-loving father, was there by your side for every one of Akail's wobbly steps, incoherent mumble and mandible click. If he was human, you fondly mused, he would be that kind of a parent who would take photos and videos of even the most random event and unnecessary thing their baby did.

He was such a fierce and strong leader, callous and ruthless when the situation required it, a brutish savage if he was challenged, but when it came to his little family he was so soft and gentle like any human father or husband.

While you were spacing out, resisting the urge to reach over to the crib and check if the bedding was still warm, signs of a little life sleeping in it, you didn't notice the newcomers in your room.

"Yawne..." A voice sounded far away before you started blinking, refocusing yourself.

Your eyes snapped to the now much larger form standing in the entrance of the room holding a small, wiggling bundle in his arms, cradling it to his chest. His yellow eyes were solely on you, looking at you in disbelief as if he thought they were deceiving him. 

Mi'ytiar pushed the bundle in his arms into those of Cahrein, who you barely registered walking in behind your mate, and made his way over to you in a few quick strides. Your eyes were fixed onto the thing your whole being was screaming for the most, but when Mi'ytiar cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, your whole attention was on him — your mate, the love of your life, your sun and your moon.

"Tahní." You breathed and put your hands on his, craving his warm skin closer to you.

He moved forward and gently put his forehead to yours, purring loudly into the otherwise silent room. 

"I thought I lose you. I thought you die. Again." He grumbled, his eyes closed.

You lifted your head and placed a few kisses on the skin of his forehead. 

"I'm a fighter. I thought you knew that by now." You chuckled, your voice hoarse.

Mi'ytiar grumbled again, not appreciating you making jokes when you had been on the brink of life and death.

"What happened?" You asked and pulled away to finally look at him. 

Mi'ytiar — and you really had no nicer word to describe it — looked horrible. If Yautja were able to develop bags under their eyes, he definitely would have some. He looked beyond tired. There was a devastated but also relieved look in his eyes, you had no problem deciphering the reason behind it. 

"I only remember how my water broke… how you carried me back to the ship… and the call with Cahrein." You mumbled as you tried to recall any memory you had stored in the back of your mind.

It was all blurry and tangled and you had no idea what happened when. The only thing you remembered with conviction was the pain. When the contractions started in that forest, it was far more manageable than the pain at Akail's birth. But when the labor was taking longer than it was normal, it got almost unbearable.

"What happened? How did he…" You trailed off as you glanced past Mi'ytiar and to Cahrein who was rocking the whiny bundle in his arm to calm it down.

"Mi'ytiar, please." You begged as you looked back at him, pleading with your eyes. "Please give him to me. I need to… I need to…"

The distress your body was emitting almost made him shrink away. 

"Cahrein." Mi'ytiar grunted and reached out.

Cahrein, who was struggling a little with the fussing pup in his care, was careful not to accidentally drop it as he made his way over to his leader. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel at least some relief when the restless pup left his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was send you further down a spiral of frantic worry about your baby. He had seen enough Females going rogue for lesser reasons and experience showed to never stand between a mother and their pup. It was the last mistake you would make.

Mi'ytiar purred softly at the bundle before he turned back to you and offered it for you to take it. You eagerly engulfed it in your arms and the second you had a hold on it, the fussing pup settled down.

"Leave." Mi'ytiar ordered gruffly when you started to push down the only cover your body had, not taking his eyes off his son and his mate.

Cahrein bowed his head and quickly took his leave. He would talk about anything medical and the further necessary bed rest another time.

You didn't notice him leaving, too busy freeing your newborn son of the baby blanket that was practically drowning him.

You had knitted it when you were six months pregnant with Akail. He had been obsessed with it as long as he was a tiny pup.

Back when you were a nurse, some mothers had excitedly told you about all the preparations they had done before the baby was due. One of them had brought wool, knitting needles, and a half-finished blanket to her appointments. She had explained to you how she learned knitting only for her baby, so she could make all this stuff for it.

It was a sweet memory.

Mi'ytiar, of course, went on a trip back to earth and got you anything and everything you wanted and needed, even more than you originally needed, in hopes his offerings would please you. And you hadn't even needed to use much persuasion. Looking up at him with those big eyes of yours while rubbing the prominent baby bump was enough to prepare a ship and fly to your home planet the next day.

Sweet, sweet memories.

You were humming as Mi'ytiar crawled on the nest behind you, setting the blanket you had shrugged off to the side and pulling you on his lap. He wrapped his arms around you and watched over your shoulder as you cradled your pup against your bare chest. You sighed in contentment when you could feel your son's skin against your own like it was the final thing you needed to reassure you that you were actually here, that he was real.

Without the baby blanket covering him, you finally got a good look at your son. And god, you didn't know you could fall in love a third time in your life.

He was perfect.

Unlike his big brother, he was the carbon copy of his father. While Akail did look like his father, having the same color scheme as him, the patterns were of opposite colors. His younger brother, on the other hand, didn't only have the same color pallet as his father, but the patterns of his skin were colored just the same as Mi'ytiar's. Otherwise, he didn't look much different from Akail when he had been a newborn — the same numbs on his head where his dreads would grow, the same thin and undeveloped mandibles around his mouth, the same arms and legs.

He was about the size of a human baby. It was incredible to think how big in size and height he would grow in the coming years.

You inspected every aspect of his tiny body, your fingers gliding over his torso and limbs, admiring every centimeter of him.

"You were right." Mi'ytiar suddenly said. "He was in abnormal position. He was stuck."

You stilled for a moment before you continued to coo at your baby.

"You begged me to get him out and I did. I cut in you and you…" He trailed off and grunted at his wavering voice. "You stopped moving when I pulled pup out. You were gone."

"No." You interrupted him and turned your upper body to look at him. "If I was gone, I wouldn't be here with you. With him." You moved your arms with your turned torso so his son was back in his sight. "I wouldn't be here to tell you how happy I am, to tell you how glad I am that you handled it so well. You saved his life. And mine too."

You shifted your pup into one arm to reach up and place your hand on his cheek. You didn't even need to pull him in for him to move closer and put his forehead once again against yours, closing your eyes. Since his anatomy made it impossible to actually kiss him, you decided that forehead-against-forehead was an acceptable compensation. Although it wasn't anything special, it felt so intimate with him that you didn't really miss the ability to kiss your partner.

"I'm here. I'm alive. I'm not going anywhere, Mi'ytiar." You told him softly, rubbing your skin against his like a cat. "Thanks to you I'm able to continue to breathe, to walk and talk. Thanks to you I'm able to continue to love you and live my life with you, my strong and handsome mate, and our pups."

You had so many other things to say to him, but you started to choke on your words. Tears were dripping down your cheeks.

You opened your eyes when you felt something rough rub the skin under them and saw him wiping away the tears with his thumb. His other hand came up and its thumb did the same with the tears coming from your other eye. Mi'ytiar looked fondly down at you, his head cocked to the side.

"Thank you so much." You mumbled, your voice a little shaky, and buried your face into his chest.

Mi'ytiar clicked his mandibles softly and carefully pulled you closer, making sure not to crush the pup between your bodies.

"Anything for you." He purred.

He felt the wetness dripping from your eyes to your cheeks and down on his chest ease after a while. And when you lifted your head to look up at him, you gave him one of those dazzling, soft smiles he loved so much.

Mi'ytiar wanted to reach out again, wanted to pull you closer and snuggle his face into the crook of your neck to smell your sweet, familiar scent he missed so much. But sadly a certain someone demanded your attention more loudly.

The pup in your arms started to fuss again, causing you to use both arms again to hold him tight against you. Shushing him, you nestled him in the crook of your neck and stroked his back.

Mi'ytiar let out a displeased grunt before he could stop himself, glaring at his son being in a place where he wanted to be just a moment ago.

You, of course, didn't miss your mate fixing the pup with a dismayed look and you immediately knew why. This wasn't your first baby, after all.

"Mi'ytiar, don't tell me you're jealous again." You grinned up at him, not even trying to hide your amusement.

"'M not." He grunted.

"You are."

"Not."

"Mhm." You hummed, unconvinced, raising an eyebrow. "Just as you were not jealous when Akail was occupying my boobs as a pillow for a year? Or when I tried breastfeeding with him? Or when he challenged you every time you came near me even though he had just learned to walk? Or when he-"

To silence you, he bit down into your throat and you immediately went slack. It was a somewhat trained reaction every time he would do that. Where a human would shut you up with a kiss, your mate bit you. A show of dominance, without a question, and you would lie if you said it didn't turn you on. The moan that would have proofed it had almost slipped from your lips.

"Not jealous." Mi'ytiar insisted gruffly and licked over the bite mark.

"Fine, fine." You mumbled, still a little dazed from his little display of power.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. The only sound was the occasional chittering and cooing of your son, who was looking up at his parents with his big, pale yellow eyes. They would grow more intense in color in no time.

"Did you already name him?" You asked and giggled when your pup tried to snatch up your finger with which you were drawing patterns in the air, moving it around in front of his face.

You watched as your pup finally caught your pointer finger and inserted it into his mouth. You laughed when you felt his gums chew on it. His teeth would develop only in a few weeks.

"The name you chose." Mi'ytiar grunted softly.

You hummed in understanding and snuggled your face into the side of your son's head.

"Hi, Toyah."

Tag List

⇨ Hey guys, despite having only some requests to be tagged in this part, I wanted to tag any and everyone who ever left a comment on one or more parts of this series. I'm seriously so thankful, you have no idea. Thank you so much for showing interest and voicing it. Thank you so much for your kind words that kept me motivated to continue this story. But, as I said at the beginning, this is not the end of Mi'ytiar, so lets hope we see each other on more of my works in the future!

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[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 29

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28

1.6k words

Zen was back to being Zen, though the affection shared between the two of you was often tinged with frustration from him.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

You sat next to Zen by the hearth and marveled at his hand while he wrote. Every movement so precise as he penned his letter to his family.

“Making sure I am not leaving anything out?” Zen teased you.

As far as you could tell his handwriting was very tidy, each character perfectly aligned and spaced out evenly. You could not read a word of it but were still enjoying watching him.

“I can’t believe how delicate you are with only three fingers” you said.

“Only three? I cannot understand how you can do anything without your extra fingers getting in the way.”

“No! Five is a good amount to have! Three isn’t enough.”

“I did not hear any complaints about my hand and fingers when I had one in you.”

You buried your face into the side of his arm and he leaned over a bit to nuzzle the top of your head.

“How long will it take for the letter to get there?” you asked.

“It will depend on who I can find to take it. There are some minotaur hunting groups that travel close to my village that I could send it with, but that would probably take weeks. And there are fisherman from my village who sail down this way sometimes to sell anything extra they catch, that is a more direct way to get the letter home, but they only dock here sporadically.”

“And when did you want to go visit?”

“Next month. There is quite an important festival then. Though we may actually get there before the letter then, which would not be ideal” he let out a deep sigh, “I will figure this out, somehow.”

Days flew by much the same way they had for the past week. Zen snuggled up against you whenever he could, lots of your free time spent lounging together while you each did your own thing. It was comfortable.

He made no attempt to initiate anything more than cuddling. His hands lingered on you in the bath, little sighs and whimpers as you felt him half hard against your back, though he often had a nervous and frustrated air about him. You would turn to press the side of your face to his chest and hug on to him, the affection always seeming to settle him down.

Often you caught him looking at you with almost a sad expression, sick of waiting and too worried to start again.

It was still early in the day. Zen was off at the hold, going over supply manifests and trying to figure out how to get what little supplies where scrounged out to the more remote settlements.

Slowly you started helping with the house work more and more. Back at home you never had to do anything, but here it was just you and Zen. You were sweeping up the entryway, Zen did his best to not track dirt in but being that trolls did not wear shoes meant that some always got in anyways.

Usually he would come in and wipe off his feet. Bringing in a bucket of fresh water from the well outside with him and cleaning off with a clean washcloth from the stash of them he kept by the door. Still, dirt or mucky footprints made it in the house and you had taken up the responsibility of dealing with that since Zen really did everything else.

There was a loud knock on the door as you were finishing wiping up a footprint that startled you. You were fairly certain Bira was out of town and you normally did not have other visitors.

Slowly you cracked open the door and were surprised to find Ba’tual looking fairly agitated.

“Oh, what are you-” was all you managed before he cut you off.

“There’s some human at the hold demanding to talk to you right now. He’s refusing to tell Zen or anyone else what it’s about or leave” he told you.

“Did he say his name?”

“Probably, but I wasn’t called in until Zen asked me to come get you, so I don’t know who he is.”

“Yeah, ok, yeah I’ll meet you guys at the hold then. Just let me actually get dressed” you said has you tried to piece it all together and figure out who could be demanding to speak to you.

“Zen specifically told me to escort you there, he doesn’t want you walking alone.”

Ba’tual waited outside while you got dressed and kept a close eye on you as the two of you made your way to the hold. It was a tense walk all the way there, Ba’tual did not seem to have any answers for you besides there was a human there making a scene and demanding to talk to you.

Zen looked visibly agitated when the two of you got to the hold. He was pacing the room with a annoyed expression on his face, nearly a snarl until he saw you. Immediately his expression softened and he rush over to you, placing a large hand on the back of your head as he crouched down to be eye level with you and nuzzled your forehead.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked as you nuzzled him back.

“Him” Zen nearly spat.

You peered around Zen to see a human man standing at the edge of the room dressed in your kingdom’s navy uniform. You recognized the man, a petty officer who served under your father and unfortunately someone you knew besides just that.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as the man approached.

“Call off your attack dogs” he sneered and motioned to both Zen and Ba’tual, “I’m here to take you home. And what are you wearing?”

You looked to Zen and Ba’tual who were both hovering close to you, “I can handle him, just give me a little space?”

Neither seemed to like this, but both took a few steps back.

You looked down at your outfit, it was pretty typical clothing for here. A knee length skirt tied around your hips and simple halter top style shirt, both in a soft forest green.

“Home? I am home. And this is perfectly normal for here” you defended.

“It is not suitable or appropriate for a lady of your status to be dressed like that, a poor representation of your family. Not that it matters, we’re leaving now.”

“No” you said firmly, “This is my home, my husband is here. This is where I belong.”

“Husband? That absolute beast? This charade has gone on long enough and served its purpose. Big things are in the works so it’s time to leave. Now.” he took a step towards you and went to grab your wrist.

It always amazed you how fast Zen could move, immediately he was between you and the other man.

“She already told you she was not going with you. You would do well to mind that” Zen’s voice uncharacteristically cold.

The man peered around Zen, “You’re making a massive mistake, this isn’t where you belong.”

“No I think it is” you said.

“Ba” called Zen, “Escort him back to his ship.”

Ba’tual gave him a nodded. Zen stopped him as he passed, placing a hand on his shoulder and telling him something in troll. Ba’tual motioned to several of the guards and they made their way out of the hold.

“You spoke as though you knew him” Zen said.

“Yeah, a while I told you my family promised me to the son of another family if he could make a name for himself in the navy. Well, that was him.”

“He does not seem like a good person. I do not like that an arranged marriage could have stuck you with someone like that.”

“I know, and you don’t have to like it. But it’s how it is where I’m from and it’s not wrong, it’s just different. Plus, we’re in an arranged marriage and it turned out good, didn’t it?”

“That’s different” he muttered.

“How so? Because both of us were told we were getting married and that was that.”

“I believe I am a better person than him.”

“And you are, that’s for sure. But I didn’t know that when I got here. I met a man who was grumpy, didn’t speak to me at all when getting married, left me home alone for hours, and then snapped at me for things I did know.”

“And I have apologized and done better” he interjected.

“You have, but it doesn’t change the fact you were a stranger to me and I didn’t get a good first impression of you, and everything still turned out well” you tugged him back down to your level to nuzzle him and give him a kiss on the cheek, “And what did you tell Ba’tual?”

“To make sure our visitor goes straight back to his ship, no detours, and to take a few guards to sweep the city for anyone who should not be here.”

“Do you think that was really necessary?”

“You did not see how he was talking and acting before you got here. I do not trust him. I am not taking any chances with keeping you safe. I failed in that once, I will not make the same mistakes again.”

--------

Part 30

Tag list

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(As per usual, mobile loves to mess with the tag list 😭 sorry if your tag didn’t work! I’ll fix it later when I’m home and on my pc!)

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Election Day in New York, Pt. 2 [16/17]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 5.3k Summary: The polls start coming to a close on the East Coast, but Election Day is far from over.

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to lovers, the longest story ever with a never ending amount of chapters

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[NOVEMBER 3 - 5:47PM - EN ROUTE TO THE PLAZA]

The black SUV weaves through Manhattan traffic with practiced precision, the tinted windows providing a shield from the curious gazes of passersby.

Agent Delaney, your lead Secret Service agent, sits behind the wheel with the stoic focus that has become familiar over these many months. Her eyes constantly scan the road ahead, hands steady at ten and two on the steering wheel. In the passenger seat is Agent Martinez, the man who has been head of Steve’s detail since the White House first sent the Secret Service to cover members of the Rogers-Young campaign. Martinez speaks quietly into his wrist mic, coordinating with the vehicles ahead and behind yours.

You're sitting comfortably next to Steve in the middle row of the SUV while Bucky rides solo in the backseat, having come with the motorcade to brief you and Steve on updates and get him going on afternoon radio show calls. 

"Yes, that's exactly right," Steve says into the phone pressed to his ear, his voice measured and clear despite the chaos outside. "We're still focusing on our core message right through the finish line," Steve says, glancing at his notes while nodding. "Yes, that’s what we’re seeing. The polls are showing movement in Pennsylvania and Michigan, but we're not taking anything for granted. There aren’t swing states for us, there are fifty states who get to decide who their next president will be."

You watch Steve as he handles the radio interview with the same calm confidence he's shown throughout the campaign. This is the fourth back-to-back phone interview he’s taken on the drive, each targeted at commuter drive-times in different swing states. You know Steve means it when he says swing states aren’t more important than any other voices, but Jake knows that’s where some of the essential pieces on a path to any potential victory will be. 

"The American people deserve leadership that puts their needs over parties because both parties exist to serve the people," Steve continues, his voice warm yet authoritative. "That's been our message from day one, and it's what we'll deliver if given the chance to serve."

While Steve focuses on the interview, you look at Bucky seated behind you in the rearview mirror. The Winter Soldier who signed on to be Steve’s personal aide through all of this has turned into a savvy campaign advisor as well. His involvement has been a constant, steadying presence throughout this journey, his strategic mind and unwavering loyalty proving invaluable time and again. Though the connection between the two of you had started off with wary and tenuous circling around each other as you crossed paths in Steve’s orbit, he’s become as dear and as trusted to you as Sam and Sophia. 

He catches your eye and smirks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you laugh softly.

“You’re thinking something,” Bucky murmurs, mindful to keep the conversation low so Steve can continue his calls. 

You turn and lean slightly toward the back seat. "Hypothetically," you begin in a hushed tone, "if someone were to need a chief of staff in the near future, would you hypothetically be interested in that position?"

Bucky's expression shifts from surprise to caution, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your question. "Hypothetically," he echoes, matching your tone, "are we talking about a First Lady's office?" 

You give a small nod, watching his reaction carefully. "Hypothetically, yes." 

Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considers your proposition. The metal arm whirs almost imperceptibly as he adjusts his position. "That's not something I've considered," he admits, his voice thoughtful. 

"You should," you reply. "You're organized, detail-oriented, efficient, strategic, and incredibly intelligent. I’ve watched as you’ve taken on more and more responsibility with this campaign. I think you’d be the perfect person to spearhead the infrastructure and initiatives I’ll hypothetically need.”

A hint of a smile plays at the corner of Bucky's mouth, though his eyes remain serious. "The public might have questions about having the Winter Soldier as a First Lady's chief of staff," he points out, his voice matter-of-fact rather than self-deprecating. “You think they’re ready for that? Hypothetically?”

"The public has questions about everything and they’re not ready for anything we’ve done," you counter. "But they adapt. Our numbers in the polls have shown that. Besides, you're not just the Winter Soldier anymore. You're James Buchanan Barnes, decorated war hero and key campaign strategist for potentially the next President of the United States."

The smile does break through now. "You've been practicing that line." 

"Maybe," you admit. "But that doesn't make it any less true." 

Before Bucky can respond, Steve ends his call with a polite "Thank you for your time" and turns toward you both. 

"Are you actually poaching my best friend to be your chief of staff right in front of me?” he asks, half-shocked, half-amused. Or at least you hope you’re reading the amusement correctly.

"Hypothetically," you emphasize with a shrug. 

Steve runs a hand through his hair, the gesture underscoring his disbelief, making you smile. "You're unbelievable, you know that? We haven't even gotten through today yet."

"I'm being proactive," you defend yourself, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Isn't that what you always say? 'Proper preparation prevents poor performance'?" 

"I've literally never said that," Steve replies, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. 

"It was in one of your war bonds PSAs," Bucky chimes in, betraying Steve with a smirk. "The one about saving scraps for the war effort. I've seen the footage." 

"Et tu, Buck?" Steve groans, leaning back against the leather seat. 

“It’s all hypothetical,” you repeat, nudging his knee with yours. 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up, and he turns to face you fully, his expression a mixture of shock and betrayal. "You're plotting a staffing coup in my motorcade." 

You shrug one shoulder, trying to maintain an innocent expression but failing as a smile tugs at your lips. "I'm simply planning ahead. We could hypothetically be in the White House in less than three months." 

"And your first order of business is stealing my right-hand man?" Steve shakes his head, but there's a glimmer of amusement behind his mock outrage. 

"I'm not stealing anything," you counter, placing a hand on his knee. "I'm reallocating resources to maximize efficiency." 

"Hypothetically," Bucky echoes, a grin spreading across his face. "Besides," he adds, "I can't be your chief of staff, Steve. You need someone who actually knows how Washington works—a seasoned political executive with connections on the Hill and experience navigating the bureaucracy. I'm good at what I do, but I'd be learning on the job."

"And you think I won't be?" Steve challenges.

You take his hand. "The difference is, you'll be surrounded by the best people in the country to help you navigate it. The First Lady's office is smaller, more focused, and we won’t be trying to work with Congress the way you’ll need to on a consistent basis. And I need someone I can trust implicitly."

Bucky's eyes warm at your words, and he glances between you and Steve. "I'd be honored to consider it," he says finally, his voice sincere. "If the hypothetical becomes reality." 

Steve looks between you and Bucky, his expression softening. "You've really thought about this."

"I've been thinking about a lot of things," you admit. "What my role would look like, what I could accomplish, how to be effective. I never want anyone to think I’m just a figurehead, Steve. I want to work for the people, too."

He leans over, tips your chin up, and plants a swift kiss on your mouth. “One of the reasons I love you.”

Steve's phone buzzes with a new call, and he checks the screen. "It's the next interview," he says, his expression shifting back to campaign mode. "But I don’t hate this idea, and I hear you.”

As Steve answers, you turn back to Bucky, lowering your voice again. "Think about it," you urge. "I'm serious." 

"I will," he promises, and you can see he means it. 

You bring your entwined hands up to your face and press a soft kiss on the back of Steve’s hand. He smiles and squeezes your hand in acknowledgment as he converses with the DJ on the other end of the call. 

[5:56PM - THE PLAZA HOTEL, MANHATTAN]

The SUV slows as it approaches The Plaza, the iconic façade coming into view ahead. Outside, the streets are already filled with people are buzzing with energy, some holding signs with Steve's name. News vans line the street, their satellite dishes extending skyward like mechanical trees. The media presence has grown exponentially as the day has progressed, each network vying for the best position to capture what could be a historic night.

"We're arriving at The Plaza in two minutes," Agent Martinez announces from the front seat. "Security perimeter is established and the path to the private entrance is clear." 

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the transition from the private cocoon of the SUV back into the public eye. Steve concludes his interview with practiced efficiency, thanking the host and ending the call just as the vehicle slows to a complete stop. 

"Ready?" he asks, his eyes finding yours. 

"Let’s do this," you reply with a smile, squeezing his hand once more before releasing it to gather your things.

The Plaza's side entrance has been secured for your arrival, allowing you to bypass the crowd gathering at the main doors. As you step out of the SUV, the November air hits your face, brisk and energizing after the warmth of the vehicle. Steve’s hand finds the small of your back in that protective gesture that's become second nature to him.

The Plaza staff have created a secure corridor for your entrance, lined with Secret Service agents and hotel security. Campaign staffers wait just inside, tablets and phones in hand, ready to brief you on the latest developments. Sophia stands at the front, her professional demeanor in place but unable to hide the excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Welcome back," she says, falling into step beside you as you enter the lobby. "Everything's set upstairs. The core team is assembled with Jake in a suite on the fifteenth floor, and the on-site campaign command center has been hard at work all day in the Edwardian Room. After we meet upstairs, we’ll stop in at the Edwardian Room before heading to Central Park for the public event.”

"Any major developments since we've been off the grid?" Steve asks, his tone shifting subtly into what you've come to recognize as his command voice—focused, strategic, ready to absorb information and make decisions. 

"Nothing earth-shattering," Sophia replies as you all step into the private elevator. "Exit polls are starting to come in from the East Coast states. Early indicators show stronger-than-expected turnout in urban centers, which could be good for us. Charlie's plane just landed at LaGuardia—he'll be here within the hour." 

"And social media?" you ask, thinking about the brief digital detox you've just experienced. 

"Trending positively," Sophia says with a small smile. "Peter's content has been rolling out all afternoon. The 'Five Boroughs in Five Hours' hashtag is getting significant engagement. People are responding to the ground-level approach." 

The elevator doors open with a ding, and the lot of you file in. 

"And how's the crowd at Central Park?" Steve asks, his voice calm but you can hear the underlying tension—the same tension that's been building all day.

"Growing by the minute," Sophia replies, checking her tablet. "NYPD estimates we're already at capacity with over 50,000 people, and they've started setting up overflow areas. The energy is... incredible." Her professional demeanor slips momentarily, revealing genuine awe. "Nothing like this has happened in any campaigns I’ve seen before." 

"The networks?" you ask, adjusting your pace to match Steve's longer stride. 

"All major networks have crews on site. Coverage is wall-to-wall," Sophia confirms. "CNN has a reporter dedicated to the Central Park coverage and one here at the hotel. Even international press—BBC, Al Jazeera, NHK from Japan—they're all covering this as if it's—" 

"History in the making," Bucky finishes for her, his voice low as he steps out of the elevator behind you.

Sophia nods, her eyes bright. "Exactly." 

The group of you follow Sophia down the corridor toward the suite where the core team awaits. You've been living this campaign for months, every day a whirlwind of speeches, strategy sessions, and connecting with voters. With just hours until the first results are announced, the magnitude of what you and Steve have undertaken hits you with renewed force. There was never a point at which you didn’t want to win, but now that it’s all coming to an end, you feel in your bones how much you want this - for Steve and for you. You’ve spoken with so many people, made so many plans, dreamed so many dreams of what you could do… 

And you know that these last moments before you enter the suite are the final breath before the organized chaos that the rest of the night will be. 

Steve must sense your thoughts because his hand finds yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When you glance up at him, his expression is steady, grounding, softness in his blue eyes, and a tight-lipped smile. 

Your heart warms and expands, filling your chest with the confidence that you’re doing this with him, the man you respected and admired and now have come to love and adore and trust implicitly. 

Sophia opens the door to the suite, and a wave of conversation washes over you. The room buzzes with energy—laptops open on every surface, phones ringing, screens displaying electoral maps and polling data from across the country. The campaign's nerve center is alive with purpose and anticipation.

"There they are!" Sam's voice cuts through the din as he strides across the room, arms outstretched. He pulls Steve into a quick, firm embrace before turning to you. "How was that little break?" Sam asks, his voice warm with genuine concern beneath the teasing tone. "You two look significantly less like zombies."

"We're good," Steve confirms. "Ready for the final stretch."

You continue into the suite, taking in the familiar faces of your campaign team. Jake stands by a large tactical map of the United States, deep in conversation with Gavin, the campaign's polling director. "Welcome back," he says, handing your phones back to you and Steve. "Hope you enjoyed your forced relaxation."

"It was exactly what we needed," you admit, pocketing your phone without immediately checking it. 

Lisa approaches with a sealed folder. "Here's the latest polling aggregate from the last three hours. We're seeing significant movement in Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Wisconsin. All three could be in play." 

You continue to scan the room, taking in all the activity. Maria Hill and Agent Calloway are in the corner, and over by the window are two faces conversing with Pepper Potts that you were not expecting to see - your parents!

"Mom? Dad?" you manage, crossing the room in quick strides. "What are you doing here? I thought you were watching from home."

Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace, the scent of her perfume—the same one she's worn since you were a child—momentarily transporting you away from the high-stakes political arena to simpler times.

"And miss potentially the most important night of our daughter's life?"

“We voted this morning, then hopped on a plane to get here for our girl,” your dad says, pulling you in for a bear hug of his own once your mom has released you. 

"Pepper called us, actually," your mother explains, beaming with pride. "Said we shouldn't miss this." 

Pepper smiles at you with that serene, knowing expression that somehow communicates both warmth and absolute authority. "Moments like this require family. Consider it my final act as campaign chair," Pepper says with a wink. "After tonight, I'm back to running a company full-time."

"Thank you," you say, squeezing her hand gratefully.

Your eyes mist slightly, the emotional weight of their presence hitting you unexpectedly. These last months have been a whirlwind, with barely enough time for weekly phone calls, and initially even those had been tenuous given the tension after they learned the truth of your wedding. Having them here now grounds you, reminding you of who you were before all this began.

"I'm so glad you came," you say, your voice thick with emotion.

Your father clears his throat, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "We wouldn't be anywhere else." 

His gaze shifts to Steve, who has appeared at your side. "Sir, it's good to see you again."

Your father bypasses the handshake and pulls Steve into a strong hug of his own. Your dad is a giant of a man, and has maybe two or three inches over Steve. He releases him from the hug, but braces his shoulders. “Son, regardless of what happens tonight, I want you to know we are proud of you. Both of you," he adds, meeting Steve's eyes with sincere respect. "You've run one hell of a campaign."

"Thank you, sir," Steve replies, his voice steady but you can hear the emotion in it. "That means a lot." 

Your mother takes your hand, her eyes scanning your face with that maternal scrutiny that misses nothing. "You look tired, but... happy. Really happy." It's not a question, but you hear what she's really asking. 

"I am, Mom," you confirm softly. "Happier than I've ever been." The truth of it rings in your chest like a bell. 

She nods, satisfied, then addresses Steve. "You better keep taking good care of my daughter, Captain." 

"Yes, ma'am," Steve responds with solemn sincerity. “For the rest of my life.”

The moment is interrupted by Jake clapping his hands to draw everyone's attention. "Alright, team. Five minutes until we need to head down to the command center."

The room shifts into final preparations—last-minute briefings, schedule confirmations, communication checks. You look between your parents. “Um, I guess you could…”

“I’ll be their VIP guide tonight,” Pepper assures you. “We’ll come down and see the speech in Central Park, and then we’re all back up here for a late dinner while some of the precincts start to report.”

You nod, assured by Pepper’s care, but your insides squirm when you realize you’ll start seeing genuine and final numbers come in mere hours. 

Steve has already been pulled away and is conferring furtively with Bucky and Sam. Sophia goes over your role for the next hour with you, and though you’re paying attention to her, you can’t take your eyes off of Steve. Whatever he’s discussing across the room with his two best friends seems to be something significant. They all glance at you at the same moment, then swiftly turn back to their conversation. 

That’s suspicious, you think. 

A few moments later, Sam leaves, and Bucky and Steve remain in close conversation. Jake joins them, and then after another two minutes, you’re all making your way as a collective downstairs to the Edwardian Room. 

“If you get Bucky,” Steve says, easily sidling up next to you in the elevator, “I get Sophia as my Executive Assistant.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Not happening, Rogers."

"She's the most qualified person in our inner circle," Steve counters, his voice low enough that only you can hear. "And she already knows how I work." 

"She's also the most qualified person in my inner circle," you point out, giving him a sidelong glance. "And I found her first." 

Steve's lips quirk upward. "Is this going to be our first marital dispute as potential First Couple?" 

"Maybe," you murmur, unable to suppress your own smile. "You can't have Sophia. She's been my right hand since the beginning."

"And Bucky's been mine for nearly a century," Steve counters with that grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. "Fair's fair."

The elevator doors open and you make your way down the hall, ultimately reaching the bustling Edwardian Room, now transformed into campaign headquarters. Dozens of staffers who’ve clearly been there most of the day work at makeshift stations, tracking real-time data from across the country. The elegant crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the scene, an incongruous backdrop to the high-tech operation below.

Jake steps forward, clapping his hands. "Listen up, everyone! The candidate is here."

There’s a cheer and applause, and Steve holds up his hands, both acknowledging the support and trying to quiet the room. The staff's excitement is palpable, their faces flushed with anticipation and the shared camaraderie that comes from months of working toward this single day.

"Thank you all," Steve begins, his voice carrying easily through the space. "I know most of you have been here since dawn, working tirelessly to bring us to this moment. I want you to know that whatever happens tonight, what we've accomplished together is nothing short of extraordinary."

You watch him from a few steps away, pride swelling in your chest. This is the Steve Rogers the public has come to know during this campaign—earnest, inspiring, a natural leader who elevates those around him. But you also see the man behind the candidate, the one who spent the quiet moments in your brownstone questioning if he was doing the right thing, if he was worthy of the trust being placed in him.

"Now," Steve continues as the applause dies down, "we still have work to do. Polls are still open across most of the country. Keep making those calls, keep the social media engagement going, and let's bring this night to a strong finish!”

Another round of applause erupts, and you watch as Steve moves through the room, shaking hands, offering words of encouragement, and thanking volunteers by name. His ability to connect with people on an individual level, to make each person feel seen and valued, is part of what has made this campaign so unique. 

You follow his lead, working your way through the opposite side of the room. Many of these staffers have been with you since the beginning, from those early, uncertain days when the idea of an independent presidential run seemed like a beautiful but impossible dream. Now, they're part of what could become one of the most surprising political victories in American history. 

"Five minutes until we need to head to Central Park," Sophia says, appearing at your elbow with practiced timing.

You nod, finishing your conversation with a young volunteer who's been running the phone bank operations. "You're doing incredible work, Ellie," you tell her. 

“It wouldn’t be worth it for any other candidate,” she says, and you nod, wholeheartedly agreeing with her as you’re swept away. 

"The crowd is at maximum capacity, and the energy is incredible. Peter just sent these."

Sophia shows you several photos on her tablet—a sea of faces stretching across the Great Lawn, American flags waving alongside homemade signs bearing slogans like "A New Way Forward" and the standard campaign lines of "Rogers-Young 2024" and “Rogers for America.” The aerial shot takes your breath away; you've seen crowds throughout the campaign, but nothing like this.

"That's a lot of people," you manage, feeling a flutter of nerves.

"Over fifty thousand," Sophia confirms. "And more in the overflow areas, current estimations of seventy thousand altogether. They've been there for hours, some since early morning."

You exhale slowly, the reality of those numbers sinking in. Fifty thousand people, gathered in the heart of New York City, waiting to hear from Steve—waiting for results with Steve. 

The journey from The Plaza to the secured entrance of Central Park takes only minutes, but it feels both eternal and fleeting. The motorcade glides through streets that have been cleared for your passage, though crowds line the sidewalks, their phones held up to capture a glimpse of Captain America if they can. 

When your fingers intertwine with Steve’s, you feel that familiar current of energy pass between you.

"Nervous?" he asks quietly.

"A little," you admit. "You?"

"Terrified," he says with a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "But in a good way."

"This is the biggest crowd we've had yet."

"We've come a long way from that first town hall in upstate New York," he says with a soft smile, referencing the modest gathering of curious voters who'd come to see Captain America announce his run for president from the Avengers Compound.

"A lifetime ago," you agree, thinking of how much has changed—not just in the campaign, but between the two of you. 

The SUV slows as you approach the secured area near the park entrance. Secret Service agents talk into their earpieces outside, preparing for your arrival. You're about to say something more when Steve turns more toward you, and his hand comes to rest on your thigh. As you continue waiting, it drifts somewhat dangerously up your skirt. 

"Steve," you whisper, surprised by his boldness with Agents Delaney and Martinez just feet away in the front seats.

His eyes darken slightly. "Just making sure you know how much I appreciate you," he murmurs, voice pitched low enough that only you can hear. "How much I love you." 

The warmth of his palm against your skin sends a delicious shiver up your spine, a distraction from the nervous energy in your stomach. 

"Not exactly the time or place for this," you whisper back, but you don't move his hand away. Instead, you lean closer, drawn to him despite the circumstances—or perhaps because of them. The heightened emotions of the day have left you both more raw, more vulnerable to each other.

You bite your lip, feeling heat warming your cheeks. "Steven Grant Rogers, are you trying to distract me right before we address fifty thousand people?"

He leans in closer, his lips ghosting over yours, his fingers a breath away from your core. "Is it working?"

"Yes," you admit, placing your hand at the crook of his elbow to stop his teasing journey. "But we have about thirty seconds before those doors open and we need to be presidential candidates again."

Steve's expression shifts subtly, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. "What if—" he begins, then stops himself.

"What if what?" you prompt, curious about his sudden hesitation.

Before he can answer, the SUV comes to a complete stop. Steve withdraws his hand only a beat before Agent Martinez turns in his seat. "We're here, sir, ma'am. The stage entrance is secured and ready for your arrival."

Steve nods, his expression shifting back to Captain Rogers, presidential candidate, while you’re still feeling flustered and fluttery. 

Agent Delaney opens the door and the sounds of the crowd filter in—distant cheers and music—his eyes lock with yours one more time, transmitting a private message that makes your pulse quicken.

"To be continued," he promises in a whisper.

[6:52PM - CENTRAL PARK]

Secret Service agents flank you on all sides as you follow the path toward the stage, their vigilance heightened in this open setting. Campaign staff hurry alongside, making last-minute adjustments to your appearance—smoothing an errant strand of hair, checking that your microphone pack is secure.

As you approach the stage, the roar of the crowd becomes more distinct—a living, breathing force of energy washing over you in waves. You can feel it resonating in your chest, the collective anticipation of thousands. The November air carries their voices, their hopes, their expectations.

"Ready?" Sophia asks, handing you a bottle of water.

You take a sip, suddenly aware of how dry your mouth has become. "As I'll ever be."

Through a gap in the temporary barriers, you catch your first glimpse of the Great Lawn transformed. The stage stands at one end, draped with bunting and campaign signs, while the massive crowd stretches out like a human sea before it. Massive screens flank either side of the stage, ensuring that even those at the back can see. News helicopters hover overhead, their distant thrum adding to the soundtrack of this moment.

The backstage area is a flurry of activity, staffers with clipboards and earpieces moving with practiced efficiency, sound technicians making final adjustments, and the campaign's advance team confirming every detail of the event. 

And as intimidating as this is - this crowd, this day, this campaign - over the months of this journey you recognize in this moment that you’ve grown the gumption to be able to tackle a night as immense as this. Even a year ago, you wondered about the listlessness of your life, yearning for more direction after floundering in the post-blip reality of your interrupted life. 

And now you are here. 

Jake appears, tablet in hand, his expression a mixture of excitement and focused intensity.

"We've got CNN projecting higher-than-expected turnout in Michigan," he says without preamble. "And early exit polls in New York are showing us with a slight edge. Nothing definitive yet, but the trends are good."

Steve nods, absorbing the information with the calm focus you've come to recognize as his battle-ready demeanor. "What about Florida?"

"Too close to call," Jake admits. "But we're seeing strong numbers from Miami-Dade County, which could make the difference."

You stand slightly apart, watching this exchange while Sophia reviews the speech notes with you one last time. Your eyes scan the crowd, finding additional strength in their attentive faces. These aren't just voters or supporters—they're people with hopes, fears, families. People looking for something real.

A stagehand approaches with two minutes to go. Through the wings, you can see Sam already on stage, his charismatic presence warming up the crowd. His voice carries through the speakers as he talks about his friendship with Steve, about witnessing firsthand the integrity that has defined Steve's every action since they first met.

"There’s our cue," Steve says, appearing at your side. He offers his hand, and you take it without hesitation.

“Ready?” you ask.

He nods. “Let’s do this.”

Sam spots you approaching in the wings and his voice rises with enthusiasm. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, the next President and First Lady of the United States, Steve and—"

The crowd erupts before he can finish, a thunderous wall of sound that hits you physically as you step onto the stage. The lights are blinding, momentarily disorienting as they flash against the darkening November sky. The sea of faces stretches farther than you can comprehend, phones held aloft like a galaxy of stars, American flags waving enthusiastically. 

Sam steps back with a grin, giving Steve a quick shoulder clasp before moving to stand with Bucky backstage. Steve raises your joined hands, and somehow the cheering intensifies. You're stunned by the power of it, by the sheer number of people who have come to hear what Steve has to say, to stand together for this unbelievable campaign. 

Steve steps toward the podium, your hand still firmly in his, and the crowd quiets just enough for him to speak. The sound system projects Steve’s voice across the Great Lawn, strong and clear. You know you say your few lines at the appropriate moments during this brief appearance together, but you’re so in awe of the diversity of faces you can make out in the front rows of the crowd, the power of so many gathered together, that you soak up the moment, focusing on that. There are young couples, elderly veterans wearing their service caps, college students. The diversity of the crowd mirrors the coalition you've built—people from all walks of life united by a shared vision. Even if Steve doesn’t win, so many different hearts and minds coming together to support this dream is something you will never forget. 

next part: Election Night, Pt. 3

welllll

Running gag of this series seems to be that it has an infinite amount of chapters. I'd like to tell you there's only one more chapter and an epilogue, but who are we kidding? That's what I said last weekend, and here we are with me splitting things up again.

(we're avoiding a 10k chapter this way)

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[secular-jew]

I’m a Palestinian American. Here’s Why I Can’t Support the Anti-Israel Protesters. By Elizabeth Gillanders. August 16, 2024

Walking past Union Station in the nation’s capital, I recently was met with a heartbreaking sight. Vandals had defaced the Columbus Memorial Fountain with spray paint, writing the words “Hamas is coming” in big red letters.

Trash and signs discarded by anti-Israel protesters littered the ground. A burnt shopping cart stood off to one side with piles of ash beneath it.

Most depressing, however, were the three bare flag poles that had been robbed of their American flags. Protesters had burned the flags, the only remnant a charred piece of fabric atop another pile of ash.

This was the aftermath of the July 24 “pro-Palestinian” protests in Washington, D.C., organized in response to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s address that day to a joint meeting of Congress.

As an American of Palestinian heritage, some expect me to cheer on these people. They expect me to condemn the U.S., hate Israel, and support Hamas, a terrorist organization dedicated to wiping out the Jewish state.

But these expectations don’t represent me, nor my family.

I inherit my Palestinian background from my mother’s side of the family; her parents emigrated to America from the Middle East. My grandma was born in Israel and later moved to Ramallah in the West Bank and eventually to Jordan.

After arriving in America in her 20s, my grandma worked hard to become a U.S. citizen. She learned the English language while raising my mother and uncle. She opened a restaurant with my grandpa, lovingly named the Chicken Pantry, in Hamtramck, Michigan. When that business closed, my grandma worked as a real estate agent before eventually retiring in the land of prosperity.

America brought my family prosperity. My grandparents taught my mother to “kiss the ground you walk on” because they knew what a blessing America is.

They passed this lesson on to me.

Although many seem to think that my Palestinian heritage should cause me to align with protests that supposedly are “pro-Palestinian,” it’s precisely because of my heritage that I cannot do that.

Israel went to war with Hamas in the Gaza Strip only after Hamas terrorists slaughtered 1,200 and kidnapped about 250 in a rampage of rape, torture, and murder Oct. 7 in southern Israel.

About 10 months later, as pro-Hamas protesters march in this country to “free Palestine,” they call for the death of America. As they burn the American flag, they burn all that my family has worked to achieve.

As the protesters pledge their allegiance to Hamas, they encourage a group that my grandmother wouldn’t hesitate to call a terrorist organization that operates with a strategy of human sacrifice.

Think about it. Why are there no Hamas military bases in the Gaza Strip adjoining Israel? Because the terrorists hide behind their own people.

They dress like noncombatants in Gaza. They establish bunkers in hospitals. They commandeer ambulances for transportation.

These actions are all in direct violation of Article 18 of the Geneva Conventions, the international pacts that set minimum standards during armed conflict for the treatment of civilians, soldiers, and prisoners of war.

One example is Hamas’ use of Gaza’s most important hospital, Al-Shifa. According to the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, Hamas uses a bunker under the hospital as a base for military operations. This not only makes the hospital a target, but takes medical resources needed for the sick.

In contrast, the Israel Defense Forces have given civilians in Gaza opportunities to evacuate and warned of impending attacks. No other nation goes this far to protect enemy civilians.

How can I support pro-Hamas demonstrators who wish to end the nation that brought my family so much? How can I back a terrorist group that uses its own people as human shields? How can I hate Israel, when the IDF has worked to keep Palestinian civilians out of harm’s way?

I believe it’s important to point out that, contrary to popular belief, not all Arabs think the same. Some of us do see this conflict differently. And our thoughts and beliefs should not be snuffed out because they go against the “narrative.”

To some, perhaps our stance makes us walking oxymorons. But we are proud ones, nonetheless.

[parkersbliss]

Wait! I have a request! Would thou spare a mere mortal a moment?? 😭🤚

So like, it’s canon that Keegan is quiet and reserved. And it’s very likely that Keegan has never had a proper romantic relationship, considering he was 16 during Operation Sand Viper. Which means he joined the military when he was like 14-15 something (I kinda hc that he came from a rough home, so he joined the army to get away from it, very similar to Simon “Ghost” Riley). Not to mention that their world is borderline apocalyptic after the ODIN strikes

We all know that, so! How would Keegan act if he fell in love with teammate!reader?? Like would he realize it immediately? Would it take a while for him to realize that this warm buzzing feeling is love? How would he act? What he be like when in love? And how would he act when he realizes that he actually is in love?

I shall spare you the rest of my life, anon. THIS is all I want for keegan. my baby with a knife :') hopefully you like it!! and yes all your ideas are canon idc

SYMPATHOMIMETIC

PAIRING: Keegan Russ x F!teammate!Reader WARNINGS: mentions of blood, angsty but happy ending!! sad keegan backstory A/N: not sure how this is both fluff and angst guys but I love him

Masterlist | Taglist | Requesting (open for cod!)

Keegan considered himself to be an intelligent guy. He felt like the years he’d spent being hardened in the military, learning lessons the public wouldn’t give him an advantage. A different perspective on life and the decisions you make. He also just happened to think very highly of himself. He wouldn’t brag about himself. He just had self-confidence. 

Keegan knew he was good at his job. He took pride in that. 

So why was it then when you came around, his brain fell out of his skull? 

His shots were a little slower, his aim off by a few millimeters and sweat dripping from his brow. 

It was only you. His teammate, comrade, brother in war, co-worker even. Yet somehow, you had a sympathomimetic effect on him. 

His heart beat faster, pupils dilated, and skin flushed from the peripheral vasodilation of his arteries. He was glad he was dressed head to toe, with only his eyes peeking out from the rough fabric of his mask. That way, you didn’t see what a fool you made of him. 

He found it annoying, really. 

He never intended to fall in love, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea either. It was a concept that had existed in his mind,but something he never truly sought after. 

Then again, how could he when most of his life was in the Marines, and then half the population was wiped off the country? 

Keegan’s concerns lay elsewhere than finding a partner. 

When you joined the team, it became more… relevant to him. Again, there was no active pursuit of you. He spent most of his time shoving down the warm, buzzing feeling. Missions required precision, and he always delivered.

He wasn’t rude at all. In fact, you would say that Keegan was your favorite Ghost member. (You wouldn’t actually say it so you don’t offend the Walker brothers.) To you, he was the best companion to have when the world was falling apart. You can see the familiar glint of his scope on the building across from you. It’s unmoving, a steady gleam in your sight. 

“Any activity?” His voice crackles through your earpiece. 

“Negative,” You said with a sigh, eyes focused on the floors of the building ahead of you. He doesn’t say anything else. You know he won’t. That was Keegan. He was just quiet. A conversation with him required your prompting first. You don't mind. 

“You know what I miss?” You asked. 

He hums back in response, the hint of a questioning tone at the end of the tone. 

“The movies. The temporary escape from this shit reality.” 

“You got one in mind?” 

“Juno.” 

There’s a scoff. “Juno?” Keegan repeats, that light teasing tone you know means he’s smiling. 

“Have you seen it?”

“Negative. Educate me.” 

He wasn’t a flirt. Not really. He spends a few months getting to know you. What you like, what you don’t, your beliefs, your dreams. He does it unknowingly. Keegan was genuinely interested in everything about you. 

When you invited him into a conversation, he’d find a way to make it about you. Then, when he found himself in an old Blockbuster store, searching for a movie called Juno, it hit him. 

Keegan was in love with you. That was a fact. He would search old record stores for your favorite artist on vinyl, department stores for a sweater you’d love, and an old carnival for the biggest stuffed toy. All to see the smile on your face because he knew your real dream was beyond his powers. You wanted the world back to normal. A piece of chalk in your hand, drawing flowers on your parent's driveway in the middle of summer. A life that was never coming back to either of you. 

So he resorted to the small things.  

Then there was the constant fretting over you on missions. The hand on your waist as his cerulean eyes chased your body for any sign of damage. They’d trace back up to meet yours as you grabbed his arm, assuring him you were okay. 

Keegan knew it was obvious he was in love. If any consolation from Hesh or Merrick was enough. They would howl with laughter, claiming he might as well tattoo his love for you on his forehead. 

To which he replied, “You still wouldn’t see it.”

Truthfully, Keegan didn’t care about it being “obvious.” The only thing he cared about was you. A smile on your face, the warmth of your body, the chime of your laughter at something he said. 

So yeah, it was obvious he was in love. How could he not be? You were proof that maybe when everything is said and done, there was a future with the sun beating down on his back as he mowed the lawn. A cliche dream, but his, nonetheless. 

He’d finally tell you that when your hand didn’t grip his to tell him you were okay. Instead, it was soaked in bright red blood as you coughed more up.

He felt like a kid again, growing up in a home where he couldn’t do anything to help his parents. When he was forced to watch the love seep out of them. The fighting, screaming, missed baseball practices, and award shows. The neglect forced his older brother to leave him only in a broken house. 

Everything was falling apart, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Establish bilateral ACs, hang a liter of fluids…” The medics shout, scrambling over one another as Keegan stands there stupidly. 

As stupid as the first time he saw you. 

You reach for him, eyes wide and scared. And in a second, he’s there. He’s gripping your hand, barely registering the medic’s order to not disturb the IV. 

“I love you,” he says.

He watches the way your lips turn up, eyes crinkling. “Am I dreaming?” 

“No. I love you,” He repeats a little more forcefully. 

That damn smile, a spark still in your eyes as the monitor stops beeping. 

“BP coming up! 98/72.” 

“I love you too.” 

When you finally recover, Keegan’s sitting next to you in the med bay. He’s stripped of his mask, his uniform. He’snothing more than the boy who joined the military at 16. 

“Did we win?” You asked, turning to look at him. 

He brushes the tangled hair out of your face. “We won.” 

“Now what?” 

Keegan grins, grabbing something from his pocket. It blinks at you, twinkling under the fluorescent lights of the hospital room. 

“Do I even need to ask?” He teases lightly. 

You laugh, extending a hand to him as he slips the ring on. “You already know the answer.” 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” 

Your daughter tells you all the time his proposal was cheesy. Keegan just smiles, ruffling her hair as she pretends to drive the John Deere down the expanding green of your lawn. 

Read more, HERE. Never wanna miss a fic? Join HERE.

Keegan Taglist: @trxpslxt @galactict3a @engie115

[meadowfics]

stop signs

jeon jae-jun x f!mother!reader

your worst fears came to life at the stop sign outside of your daughter's school

warnings: mature content below. mentions of abuse, stockholm syndrome, and heavy manipulation.

standing at the edge of your past, your breath is steady but your heart is unsteady. as an older teenager just before high school graduation, your world was a haze of manipulation, a cruel game orchestrated by someone you’ve thought you admired… jeon jae-jun. 

he was magnetic, that charm was a weapon. that stupid smile was a trap. the rich guy’s friends or extensions of his will, made your life a gauntlet of torment. you were their prey, caught in their laughter, their taunts, their power. 

all of that happened for an entire year before graduation came like a lifeline, and you clawed your way out, leaving their cruelty behind. 

you thought you were free but freedom came with a price. 

after a full month of throwing up repeatedly, you forced yourself to take that test. 

yup, you were pregnant. 

the realization hit like a blow, your body betraying you with a truth you couldn’t escape. horror gripped you, your mind spiraling with thoughts of ending it, of erasing this remnant of jae-jun’s hold over you. 

time was not your ally. the stress, the fear, the weight of it all pushed you past the legal limit for abortion since you were 16 weeks pregnant when you found out. you were trapped again, not by jae-jun’s hands but by the life growing inside you. 

you named her seo-yeon after she was born, a name that felt like a promise to be better, to be selfless, to give her the world you never had.

fourteen years passed like a dream you fought to keep. 

you built a life from the ashes of your past. college came and went, your determination carving a path to a career as a dentist. you thrived, your practice gleaming with success, your daughter enrolled in one of korea’s finest schools. 

seo-yeon was your light that saved your life, her laughter a balm to the scars you carried. people whispered about her fatherless life, but their words were background noise. 

you were enough and your success silenced their judgment, or so you thought.

the past, though, has a way of creeping back. 

so many familiar figures began to haunt the edges of your world, shadows from a time you’d buried. you felt them before you saw them, a prickle on your skin, a tightening in your chest. 

one day, she unfortunately walked into your office. 

choi hye-jeong, one of the faces from your nightmares, her sneaky smirk still the same as before. 

she didn’t know it was you at first, didn’t recognize the woman you’d become. the flight attendant’s old dentist had moved to america and fate, cruel as ever, had led her to you.

you sat behind your desk, your white coat crisp, your hands steady as you prepared for her appointment. the air was thick with the hum of your equipment, the faint scent of antiseptic. 

hye-jeong entered, her heels clicking against the floor, her designer bag slung over her shoulder. she looked older, but the arrogance in her eyes hadn’t faded. you swallowed the bile rising in your throat and forced a professional smile.

“good afternoon,” you said, your voice calm, betraying nothing. 

“please, have a seat.”

hye-jeong glanced around, her lips curling slightly. 

“nice place. ha– i didn’t expect to end up somewhere so… upscale.” she settled into the dental chair, her posture relaxed, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you.

you adjusted the light above her with your movements precise, “let’s get started. if you don’t mind, i am going to inspect for any lesions or any possible abnormalities. open wide, please.”

she complied, and you worked in silence at first, your tools scraping gently against her teeth. the routine grounded you, kept the memories at bay. 

hye-jeong was never one for silence, even with her month full of dentistry equipment. she tilted her head slightly, her eyes flickering with curiosity.

“you look familiar through that mask of yours,” she said, her voice muffled by the tools in her mouth, “have we met before?”

your grip tightened on the scaler, but you didn’t falter. 

“i don’t think so,” you lied, your tone neutral. 

“i’ve been here for years. maybe you’ve seen me around.”

she hummed, unconvinced, but let it drop. you continued the cleaning, your mind racing. every second in her presence was a test, a reminder of the girl you used to be, the one they broke. however you weren’t her anymore. at least you’ve tried to convince yourself that. you were stronger, untouchable. or so you told yourself.

when the cleaning was done you stepped back and removed your gloves, “all done. no cavities. your teeth are in great shape and there will be no need for any fill ins.”

hye-jeong sat up while smoothing her hair that was pressed down from the seat, “well, that’s a relief. you’re good at this. better than my last dentist.” 

the woman's eyes wandered around the room, landing on a framed photo on the wall. it was you and seo-yeon, taken last summer at the beach, her smile wide and bright. 

hye-jeong’s brow furrowed, and you felt a chill.

“cute kid,” she said, nodding toward the photo. 

“your little sister?”

your jaw clenched, but you kept your voice steady, “my daughter.”

hye-jeong’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise breaking through her polished facade, “your daughter? she looks… what, thirteen or fourteen?”

“yes,” you said, your tone clipped. 

“she’s fourteen.”

hye-jeong leaned back, her gaze sharpening as she studied you. you could see the gears turning, the calculations forming behind her eyes. 

“fourteen,” she repeated almost to herself, “that’s… interesting. didn’t know you had a kid that old.”

“excuse me?” you swallowed.

“come on y/n!! i figured out it was you as i had to stare into your eyes that whole appointment. i’ll never forget those eyes from high school.” hye-jeong fixes her posture, almost trying to ‘up one you’ in a way. 

you forced a smile, your heart pounding. 

“well, i’m flattered that you remember. i have another patient in a few minutes and your appointment is over, ms. choi. you can schedule your next one in about six months with the receptionist.”

she didn’t move right away, her eyes lingering on the photo, then back to you. 

“you’ve done well for yourself,” she said, her voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place… envy, perhaps, or suspicion? 

“i mean, a dentist, a fancy office, a daughter who looks presentable and clean… you’ve come a long way.”

“thank you,” you said, your voice cold. 

“if you’ll excuse me, i have other patients.”

hye-jeong stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder, but her gaze didn’t waver. 

“you know, it’s funny,” she said, her tone too casual. 

“fourteen years ago… that was right around when we were all still in school, wasn’t it? you were… what, with jae-jun at the same time as yeon-jin back then?”

the two names hit you like a slap, but you didn’t flinch. 

you couldn’t. 

“you’re mistaken,” you said sharply, “i wasn’t with anyone. now, please, i have work to do.”

hye-jeong raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

“right. my mistake.” she turned to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back. 

“cute kid, though. she looks a bit like someone we know.”

the door closed behind her, and you stood frozen, your hands trembling. the room felt smaller, the air heavier. hye-jeong’s words echoed in your mind, each one a crack in the life you’d built. she knew or at least she suspected. 

either way, you figured that this was the pastclawing its way back, and you weren’t sure how long you could keep it at bay.

you sank into your chair, your eyes drifting to the photo of seo-yeon. she was your strength, but she was also your vulnerability. hye-jeong’s curiosity wasn’t idle. she was a predator, always had been, and you knew she’d dig until she found something to sink her teeth into. 

jae-jun’s name hung in the air, a ghost you’d spent fourteen years running from. 

five days after hye-jeong’s appointment, the air outside of your daughter’s private school feels clean, like it’s slicing through your lungs as you stand at the stop sign.

your expensive black coat flaps lightly in the late afternoon breeze. thursdays are sacred, a ritual you and seo-yeon have carved out over the years. kimchi runs, just the two of you, laughing over the spicy tang and her insistence on sneaking extra into the cart. 

today, though, the world tilts. 

your daughter isn’t here yet, her school just a block away.

across the street, leaning against an expensive black car, is jeon jae-jun. 

your lungs and everything inside of your body seems to stop once you’ve registered the familiar face in your mind. the businessman’s smirk is a blade, cutting through fifteen years of distance, and your stomach churns so violently you think you might retch.

he hasn’t changed, not really. jaejun has the same sharp jawline, the same predatory glint in his eyes, though time has etched faint lines around them. the man’s hair is slicked back, his expensive coat unbuttoned just enough to scream careless wealth. 

you haven’t seen him since graduation, since you broke free of his suffocating and predatory grip, but here he is, a ghost made flesh, standing between you and the life you’ve built. 

your pulse hammers, your mind screaming one question.

why is he here?

you know why. 

hye-jeong. 

you did not forget about her smirk in your office five days ago, her probing questions about seo-yeon, her too-casual mention of jae-jun’s name… it wasn’t idle. you knew that his friend group were still strong since high school. 

the flight attendant probably ran to him, probably laughing as she spilled her suspicions. you can almost hear her voice, dripping with venom. 

she’d called you and jae-jun sluts in her mind, no doubt, reveling in the chaos she could stir. 

she’d mentioned ya-sol, jae-jun’s four-year-old daughter with yeon-jin and how he has two daughters that he didn’t know about. 

hye-jeong’s cruelty is surgical and now jae-jun is here, investigating her cryptic hints, his curiosity a ticking bomb.

the light turns green, and you force your legs to move, crossing the street toward the spot where seo-yeon will meet you. your black booted heels click against the pavement, each step a battle against the urge to run. 

you’ve always crossed this street for your daughter, especially since she opened up about her colorblindness. you’ve adjusted… brighter clothes, clearer and easier signals, thursdays at this exact spot so she knows where to find you. 

now, jae-jun’s presence taints it, a stain spreading across your carefully ordered world.

he doesn’t move as you approach, just watches, his smirk widening. 

you stop a few feet away, your hands clenched in your coat pockets, your voice low but steady. 

“what are you doing here, jae-jun?”

he tilts his head, his eyes raking over you, lingering too long. 

“well, well,” he drawls, his voice smooth as poison. 

“no hello or how are you? its been fourteen years. i’ll forgive you because i mean– look at you. all grown up, playing mom of the year.”

your skin crawls but you don’t flinch, “answer the question.”

he chuckles, pushing off the car, taking a step closer. you hold your ground, though every instinct screams to bolt. 

“i heard a funny rumor,” he says, his tone light but his eyes dark. 

“hye-jeong’s got a big mouth, you know. she said she got you as her dentsist and you’ve got a kid. a teenager. got me thinking… math isn't that hard, is it?”

your heart lurches but you keep your face blank, “you don’t know what you’re talking about. leave.”

he ignores you, his gaze flicking to the school behind you, where seo-yeon will appear any minute. 

“fourteen years old,” he muses, almost to himself. 

“that’s about right, isn’t it? back when you were so… devoted to me.”

the word twists like a knife, his manipulation from all those years ago flooding back…the way he’d made you feel small, trapped, like you owed him everything. you were a teenager then, vulnerable, but you’re not that girl anymore. 

you’re a mother, a dentist, a woman who’s fought for every inch of her life. 

still, the fear is there because seo-yeon is your world, and jae-jun is a storm that could destroy it.

“you’re wrong,” you say, your voice like ice. 

“i don’t owe you anything, and neither does my daughter. walk away, jae-jun. now.”

he raises an eyebrow, amused, like this is a game. 

“your daughter,” he repeats, tasting the words. 

“what’s her name? seo-yeon, right? heard she’s a smart kid. fancy school, good grades. wonder where she gets that from.”

your blood runs cold. he’s been digging, or hye-jeong has, feeding him details like scraps to a dog. you take a step forward, your voice dropping to a hiss. 

“don’t you dare say her name. you don’t get to come near her. you don’t get to ruin this.”

his smirk falters for a split second, but he recovers, leaning closer, his voice low. 

“ruin? me? come on, y/n. we had something back then. maybe i just want to… reconnect. meet the kid. see if she’s got my eyes.”

you want to scream and to erase him from existence but you can’t with seo-yeon so close. you glance over your shoulder, praying she’s not coming yet, and when you look back, jae-jun’s watching you like a hawk, savoring your fear.

“you’re nothing to her,” you say, each word deliberate. 

“you never were. you think you can just show up after fifteen years and think you can play dad to a girl you don't know? you’re delusional.”

he laughs, but there’s an edge to it, a crack in his confidence. 

“delusional? maybe i am… but hye-jeong’s got me curious, and i’m not the type to let things go. you know that.”

you do. 

you know it too well. jae-jun’s obsession and his need to control is what trapped you back then, and it’s what scares you now. he’s not here for seo-yeon, not really. 

“stay away from us,” you say, your voice trembling with rage, “i’ve built a life without you, and i’ll do whatever it takes to protect it. test me, jae-jun. there is not a power imbalance like there was a long time ago. i am one of you now, believe it or not. test me, i dare you..”

he studies you, his smirk fading into something colder, more calculating. 

“big words,” he says softly. 

“but we’ll see, won’t we?”

before you can respond, you hear seo-yeon’s voice, bright and oblivious, calling your name from down the street. your heart seizes, and you turn, forcing a smile as she approaches, her schoolbag bouncing against her back. 

she was chatting with a friend, her laughter cutting through the tension like a blade. 

you glance back at jae-jun, and he’s watching her, his expression unreadable.

“mom!” seo-yeon calls, waving, her friend peeling off toward another direction. 

she hasn’t seen jae-jun yet, and you need to keep it that way.

“go,” you hiss at him, your voice barely audible. 

“now.”

he doesn’t move right away, his eyes locked on seo-yeon for a moment too long. however to your surprise, he steps back, raising his hands in mock surrender. 

“i will see you both around,” he says, his voice dripping with promise. 

he slides into his car, the engine purring to life, and drives off just as seo-yeon reaches you.

“who was that?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she glances at the retreating car.

“nobody,” you say, too quickly, smoothing her hair. 

“just… someone lost. come on, let’s get that kimchi.”

she grins, oblivious, and starts talking about her day. as you walk, your heart pounds, jae-jun’s smirk burned into your mind. 

he knows.

two weeks after that encounter, your fancy kitchen smells of garlic and sesame oil, the sizzle of bulgogi filling the air as you prep seo-yeon’s fifteenth birthday dinner. your hands move on autopilot, slicing vegetables, stirring sauces, your mind half on the meal and half on the joy of your daughter’s milestone. 

fifteen years old. 

you’ve carried her through every one of them. the table is set with her favorite dishes, a cake waiting in the fridge, its frosting dotted with tiny sugar flowers. everything is perfect and your daughter had plans for some of her friends to come over. 

however, a scream pierces the air when your daughter steps outside her front door. the scream is loud and ecstatic, from just outside the front door.

you freeze, the knife slipping from your hand and clattering against the counter. seo-yeon’s voice, brimming with delight, pulls you out of your trance. 

“mom! mom, come quick!” she shrieks, and your heart lurches but not with joy. it is an inexplicable dread. 

you drop everything, wiping your hands on a towel as you rush to the door, your pulse racing.

outside, the late afternoon sun glints off a sleek black car parked in your driveway, a massive red bow tied across its hood. it’s expensive…too expensive even for you as one of the highest paid dentists in the region.

this is the kind of car that belongs in a showroom, not your modest front yard. seo-yeon is practically bouncing, her eyes wide with disbelief, her hands pressed to her cheeks. 

“mom, is this for me? did you do this?” she squeals, turning to you with a grin that breaks your heart.

you stare at the car, your stomach twisting into knots. 

you didn’t buy this. 

you’d planned to get her a car next year, something practical, something within your means that might've been $30,000 less than this one. this car is a statement, a violation, a hand reaching from the past to choke you. 

your mind flashes to jae-jun, to his rich smirk two weeks ago.

he’s done this. 

you know it in your bones.

seo-yeon throws her arms around you, squeezing tight, her excitement infectious but misplaced. 

“thank you, thank you, thank you!” she chants, and you force a smile, your arms stiff as you hug her back. 

your eyes scan the car, searching for proof and for a sign of the trap you’re certain this is.

“sweetie,” you say, your voice strained, “this… this isn’t from me.”

she pulls back, her brow furrowing, confusion clouding her joy. 

“what? then… who?”

you don’t answer right away, your gaze darting to the car. 

you need to find something, anything, before she does. 

“stay here,” you say, too sharply, and jog toward the car, your heart pounding.

seo-yeon follows, her curiosity unstoppable, but you’re faster. your fingers brush the windshield, and there it is…a small envelope tucked beneath the wiper.

you snatch it, your hands trembling as you tear it open, praying seo-yeon doesn’t see.

the note is handwritten, the script bold and deliberate: 

happy birthday, sweet seo-yeon – the owner of CC Golf Resorts.

your vision blurs, rage and fear colliding in your chest. jae-jun is the fucking owner of CC Golf Resorts, a name you’ve seen in passing, a detail you buried because it meant nothing until now. 

he’s not just taunting you; he’s claiming her, marking her as his with this obscene gift. 

you want to scream, to tear the note to shreds, to set the car on fire and erase his presence from your life. 

seo-yeon’s voice pulls you back.

“mom, what does it say?” she asks, stepping closer, her eyes bright with curiosity. she’s still smiling, still caught in the thrill of the moment, but you can see the questions forming. 

“do you know who sent it?”

you clutch the note, crumpling it in your fist, and turn to her, your mind racing. you can’t lie…not to her. she’s fifteen now, too smart to be fooled, too perceptive to miss the cracks in your composure. how do you tell her the truth? all she knows is the story you’ve given her: her father left, didn’t want to be a dad, end of story. it was enough when she was younger, a shield to protect her from the ugliness of jae-jun’s manipulation, his cruelty.

now, with this car, with his name creeping closer, that shield is crumbling.

“mom?” she prompts, her voice softer, sensing your distress.

you swallow, forcing your voice to steady. 

“yes,” you say, the word bitter on your tongue. 

“i know the owner.”

seo-ah’s eyes widen, a mix of excitement and confusion. 

“really? who is it? why would they give me a car for my birthday?”

you glance at the car, its glossy surface mocking you, then back at seo-yeon. your daughter’s happiness is a knife in your chest, because you know this gift isn’t love…it’s control, jae-jun’s way of worming into her life without facing the consequences of his absence. 

somehow you wanted to tell her everything, to rip the bandage off and expose him for what he is. however, seo-yeon is beaming and her fifteenth birthday is glowing. you can’t ruin this moment.

“it’s… complicated,” you say, hating how weak it sounds. 

“let’s go inside, okay? we’ll figure this out after dinner.”

she frowns, her excitement dimming. 

“but… the car’s mine, right? i mean, it’s got my name on it.”

you hesitate, the note burning in your hand. 

“we’ll talk about it,” you say, your voice firmer. 

“come on, the food’s getting cold.”

she follows, reluctant, casting one last longing glance at the car. you usher her inside, your mind a storm of panic and calculation. jae-jun’s connections have clearly been at work…someone, maybe hye-jeong, maybe his network of lackeys, has fed him details about seo-yeon’s life, her birthday, her school. 

he’s not guessing anymore; he’s certain, or close to it, and this car is his opening move. i

as seo-yeon chatters about the car, speculating wildly about who would have sent it, you realize you’re on borrowed time. she’s happy now, but her questions won’t stop. she’ll want to know why you’re so shaken, why you’re dodging her, why a stranger would give her something so extravagant. 

worse, jae-jun won’t stop either. 

he’s circling by testing your defenses and if you don’t act he’ll find a way to reach her directly.

you set the note on the counter, out of her sight, and force a smile as you serve the bulgogi. 

“happy birthday, sweetheart,” you say, your voice tight. she grins, oblivious to the war raging inside you. 

as you watch her eat, laughing about her friends and her plans for the weekend, one thought consumes you: you have to tell her about jae-jun. 

not today since it is her birthday, but soon before he does it for you.

the car sits in your driveway like a taunt, its red bow long gone but its presence a constant reminder of jae-jun’s intrusion. 

for days, it festers in your mind, a splinter you can’t pull out. y

our blood runs hot every time seo-yeon mentions it with that hopeful glint in her eyes. you can’t take it anymore. you call in a week off work, citing a family emergency…and you’re not lying. this is an emergency, a threat to the life you’ve built, to the safety you’ve fought for. 

jae-jun has crossed a line, and you’re done running.

you track him down to his luxury store, a gleaming shrine to his wealth and ego, all polished glass and designer displays. the irony isn’t lost on you since this is where he thrives, surrounded by things he owns, things he controls. 

you step inside, your brown coat swishing against your legs, your boots echoing on the marble floor. 

he’s there, alone, thank god, lounging behind the counter like a king on a throne. the man’s eyes light up when he sees you, that infuriating smirk curling his lips, but you don’t give him a chance to speak.

“you’ve gone too far,” you snap, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. 

“a car? for my daughter? you don’t get to waltz into her life like this, jae-jun. you don’t get to play daddy after fifteen years of nothing.”

he leans back, unfazed, his gaze raking over you. 

“your daughter?” he says, his tone mocking. 

“last i checked, it takes two to make a kid and you never told me, y/n.. i had to hear it from hye-jeong, of all fucking people i could’ve been told by.”

your fists clench, nails biting into your palms. 

“don’t you dare turn this on me. you were a monster back then! you are a monster!!! i protected her from you.”

he steps closer, his smirk fading into something colder, more dangerous. 

“protected her? or kept her from her father? i could drag you to court, y/n. right now. i’d get half custody, maybe more, considering how you hid her from me. the law’s funny like that.”

you lose it, your voice rising to a scream. 

“how fucking dare you? you think you can threaten me? after everything you did? you abused me, jae-jun! you manipulated me, you hurt me, you made my life hell!”

he doesn’t flinch, just watches you, his eyes dark and unreadable. slowly, he steps even closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. 

“and yet, here you are. there is still fire in you. i always liked that.” he pauses, his gaze softening in a way that feels like a trap. 

“i thought about you, you know. all these years. wondered where you went, what you were doing. suddenly hye-jeong tells me about seo-yeon, and it all clicks. you and me, we were always meant to be together… or have something that matters.”

you blink, thrown by the shift, by the twisted sincerity in his voice. 

“what are you talking about? there was nothing real between us. you used me.”

he shakes his head, closing the distance until he’s too close, his hands reaching for your coat, gripping the lapels. 

“no,” he says almost tender, “there was something. there’s still something. we could be a family, y/n. you, me, seo-yeon. our daughter, and my other daughter...”

the word family hits like a slap, and you shove at his chest, but he holds firm, his grip tightening. 

“what the fuck is wrong with you! let go of me,” you hiss, but he doesn’t. 

instead, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours, very forceful and unyielding. you push harder, your hands clawing at him. unfortunately, it takes thirty seconds until your body betrays you, a flicker of old weakness into the girl you used to be, softening under his touch. 

for a moment, you falter, caught in the kiss, in the weight of his presence.

you wrench yourself free, gasping, your face burning with shame and fury. 

“don’t touch me,” you spit, wiping your mouth like you can erase him.

he doesn’t back off, his smirk returning, sharper now. 

“tell me something,” he says with his voice low while probing, “have you had any other men around my daughter?”

the possessiveness in his tone makes your skin crawl, but you meet his gaze, defiant. 

“no,” you admit with the truth slipping out before you can stop it, “i haven’t dated since she was born.”

jae-jun’s smirk widens, triumphant. 

“good,” he says, like it’s a victory, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself. 

he steps back, finally, but his eyes never leave you. 

“think about it, y/n. a family. us. seo-yeon deserves to know her father, doesn’t she? this isn’t over. she will know about me.”

he turns, casual as ever, like he didn’t just upend your world again. 

you stand there, your coat askew, your heart pounding, the echo of his kiss a stain you can’t scrub out. 

he’s playing the long game and you can’t keep seo-yeon in the dark forever, not when jae-jun’s already closing in.

masterlist

[eretzyisrael]

by Seth Mandel

In early 2009, the Atlantic’s Jeffrey Goldberg wrote a fiery post about the world’s “pornographic” obsession with anything that can be labeled Jewish moral failure. Goldberg specifically mentioned Hamas’s parading of dead Palestinian babies:

“Why are these pictures so omnipresent? I’ll tell you why, again from firsthand, and repeated, experience: Hamas (and the Aksa Brigades, and Islamic Jihad, the whole bunch) prevents the burial, or even preparation of the bodies for burial, until the bodies are used as props in the Palestinian Passion Play. Once, in Khan Younis, I actually saw gunmen unwrap a shrouded body, carry it a hundred yards and position it atop a pile of rubble — and then wait a half-hour until photographers showed. It was one of the more horrible things I’ve seen in my life. And it’s typical of Hamas. If reporters would probe deeper, they’d learn the awful truth of Hamas. But Palestinian moral failings are not of great interest to many people.”

I recount all this because—as Oct. 7, 2023 and its aftermath showed—the amount of support for Hamas and the obsession with demonizing the Jews, all with the willing collaboration of the media, is a song played on repeat. The details get worse, sure: Both Hamas and the Western media reached new depths of depravity in their own ways over these past 16 months. Hamas’s supporters in the West, meanwhile, gathered in celebration of evil in unprecedented numbers.

One does not want to believe that all or most of these people know what it is they are supporting. One does not want to believe that members of the media are aware of the egregious ethics breaches their outlets routinely engage in. One does not want to believe that the only way to put a stop to this long-running cycle of horror is to destroy Hamas.

But we are now nearly two decades into the era inaugurated by Hezbollah and Hamas in 2006. Supporters of Hamas didn’t abandon their cause when they saw Hamasniks dancing around with the dead bodies of captive children, because it’s what one expects of Hamas. News organizations didn’t institute reforms in 2006 precisely because they expected to be using those same tactics again and again. And Hamas itself is immune to change.

[biblical-chronicles]

Don't be a stranger pt.3

__________________________________

where you and Liam almost get caught [16+]

__________________________________

It had been months now. Months of stolen kisses, whispered phone calls, and carefully timed arrivals and exits. Lennon was an adult, he had his own life, his own schedule—one that you and Liam had learned to work around with an almost ridiculous level of precision.

If Lennon was out, you were in. If Lennon was in, Liam would be at yours. And when Lennon was going away for the weekend? Well, that was your favourite kind of scheduling miracle.

And today, that scheduling miracle had finally happened.

The second you stepped into Liam’s place, barely dropping your bag by the door, he was already on you—grabbing your wrist, tugging you toward the couch with a smirk that made it very clear he had no plans of wasting a single second.

“Eager, are we?” you teased as you plopped down beside him, immediately curling up against his side like you belonged there.

He scoffed, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “Well, yeah. What else am I meant to do when you finally decide to grace me with your presence?”

You hummed, letting your fingers drift up his chest, tracing the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “You could, I don’t know, act like you’ve got a bit of self-control.”

He raised a brow, like the very suggestion offended him. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Fair point.

You grinned, shifting slightly so you could get a better look at him, your fingers still idly tracing over his shirt. “You’re pretty, you know that?”

That made him smirk. “Well, yeah. I’ve got a mirror, don’t I?”

You rolled your eyes, half-expecting that response, but something about the way he said it—so casual, like it was just a fact of life—made you laugh. “Alright, cocky.”

He grinned wider, like he’d just won something, but before he could run his mouth any further, you reached up and cradled his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes properly.

“Genuinely,” you murmured, letting your thumbs skim over his cheekbones. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

That knocked the smirk off his face. Not in a bad way—just enough that you could see something shift behind his eyes, something softer. He blinked once, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right.

“Yeah, alright, no need to go all poetic on me,” he muttered, though he made no move to pull away. “Not tryna write me a love song, are ya?”

You just smiled, thumbs still brushing over his skin. “Maybe I am.”

“Cheeky.” he muttered, but his voice had dipped lower now.

And then, before either of you could say another word, he was kissing you.

His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, like the idea of any space between you physically pained him.

When you finally pulled away, his lips were still hovering near yours, breath warm against your skin.

“Shit, you’re so hot I need a cigarette.” he muttered, a laugh escaping him.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Help yourself, then.”

Without missing a beat, he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table next to the couch, grabbing one and lighting it up, the flame flickering briefly before he inhaled deeply. He leaned back, exhaling the smoke slowly, his eyes still locked on you.

You ran your hand through his hair, the strands soft under your fingers, and when your eyes met his, there was a hunger there that didn’t need words.

“You’re still gorgeous even if you try and deflect it.” you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you watched him take another drag.

His eyes never left yours as he exhaled, the smoke curling up around him like some kind of dark halo. He lifted his head slightly, tilting it back, letting the cigarette hang between his fingers as he drew in another long drag. The movement made his neck tense, the veins visible for a brief second, and without thinking, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against the soft skin of his neck. You kissed it once, then again, before your teeth lightly grazed him, and his breath hitched.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice already low but somehow rougher now. "You can't just—"

But you were already trailing kisses down his neck, ignoring his protests as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. You heard him suck in a breath, his chest rising under your touch, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you found the spot just below his ear where you knew he’d go weak, and you latched onto it, pressing your lips against the pulse point, a soft, biting kiss.

Liam inhaled sharply, throwing his head back further as he gripped the cigarette tighter, his fingers shaking slightly. He was caught between wanting to keep his cool and the way you were making him lose it bit by bit.

You grinned against his skin, the satisfaction of having him unravel just enough to make him lose that cocky edge. "God, you really are easy, aren’t you?" you murmured, the words low, teasing.

But before he could respond, you reached up, taking the cigarette from his fingers without a second thought. Liam’s eyes widened in slight surprise, but before he could say anything, you took a long drag, the smoke filling your lungs. You didn’t break eye contact as you let the smoke settle in your chest, then slowly exhaled it, the smoke curling in front of your face like a veil.

Liam’s gaze was intense as he watched you, his lips parted slightly. "Bloody hell," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?"

You smirked, leaning in close again, a faint taste of tobacco on your lips as you pressed them to his. The kiss was slow, your tongues intertwining for a brief second before you pulled back just enough to see the hunger in his eyes. His hand was at the back of your neck now, holding you close, desperate for the next moment.

You barely had time to catch your breath before your hand slid lower, your fingers tracing the hard outline beneath his jeans. He let out a low groan, hands pulling you closer to kiss you again, your bodies pressed tightly together as you reached for him again, feeling the heat of him under your fingertips.

Just as you were about to undo his jeans, the door slowly creaked open. Liam’s whole body tensed, and before you could register what was happening, the cigarette was flying across the room, landing in the ashtray. Some of the ash caught in the air, drifting down and landing on your skin. You hissed in surprise as a stray ember burned your neck, but the adrenaline was enough to numb the sting.

You froze, eyes wide, staring at Liam, silently asking, What the hell do we do now?

His eyes were wide, too, the panic was almost comical.

Before you could scramble to hide, you heard Lennon’s voice. “Dad, I forgot one of my bags. Just came back to grab it real quick. Was only a thirty-minute drive, thought it was still worth it to go back.”

Liam just turned to face the direction of the door, attempting to maintain a nonchalant posture. "Uh, right. Yeah, mate, no worries. Just, uh, get what you need." His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly cleared it, leaning back as if trying to make it look like this was just a normal Saturday morning. But then his gaze met yours, and the panic was clear in his eyes.

You ducked behind the couch, practically throwing yourself onto the floor to make yourself as small as possible. Liam didn’t have the luxury of doing the same. He just sat there, pretending to be completely at ease, but you could see the tension radiating from him.

Lennon walked into the room, still oblivious to what was going on. He glanced around, looking at nothing in particular, before his eyes landed on the bag by the door. "Oh," he said, not even breaking his stride, "I see you put my bag here for me, cheers."

Liam stiffened, “Yeah, no problem, mate,” he said, his voice smooth but with just the tiniest bit of panic in it. "Take it and go. Have fun, yeah?"

Lennon just leaned down, grabbed the bag and turned to leave. “Cheers, Dad. See ya.”

Liam breathed a sigh of relief the moment his son walked out the door. He leaned back against the couch, his body still tense from the near-miss. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “That was too close. Bloody hell.”

You slowly emerged from behind the couch, still trying to steady your racing heartbeat. “That was me bag,” you said, looking over at the door where Lennon had just left.

Liam smirked, his usual cocky grin returning. “Reckon he’ll notice?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You looked at him, deadpan. “Unless he likes wearing women’s underwear or is an absolute moron, I think he’ll notice.” you said, your voice a bit panicked.

Liam chuckled, clearly finding the whole situation hilarious. He ran a hand through his hair and gave you a look. “Yeah, we just gotta wait for the call now, yeah?” he said, his voice full of mock seriousness. “Gonna be interesting, that’s for sure. Probably won’t hear the end of it.”

You leaned back against the couch, still trying to catch your breath from the close call. “Well, he’s not stupid, is he?” you said, shaking your head with a small smile. “About time he found out, anyway.”

Liam snorted, dropping back beside you and stretching his legs out. “Yeah, think he might’ve suspected it already.”

__________________________________

Right, part 3, I know, I’ve had a few of you asking for it, so sorry it's taken a bit. To be honest, I just feel like everything I’m writing now is a bit shite... Need to come up with a proper solid idea that gets me out of this little misery. So if this one’s crap, sorry, but I’ll try get back to me normal state tomorrow. Love ya !!

also, why are we losing 4-1 with arsenal as of right now, we can't loose to a team named arse anal 😔

[ginnyruin]

i'm sorry but the nurchie "art" is clearly AI generated??? can we please stop sharing and praising shit that some algorithm spat out without ever asking the original creators whose work it steals and regurgitates for their permission

- sincerely, a pissed-off artist

Hello,

I’m going to set the record straight, and I’d suggest you read carefully before making any more baseless accusations. Nurchie is an actual artist—a trained one, with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in digital art and two-dimensional studies (drawing and painting) from a prestigious university. She has 16 years of professional design/digital art experience, and a publicly documented portfolio going back well before AI art even existed.

go look at her earliest work on Deviantart and you'll see how precisely detailed she draws hands, fingers, and clothing. Everything, really.

If you had bothered to do any homework, you’d see that her work reflects thousands of hours of dedicated practice and the expertise of a seasoned digital artist.

Calling her work AI generated is BEYOND insulting. it’s lazy, dismissive, and downright disrespectful to a person who has spent years honing her craft.

She doesn’t ask for clout, she doesn’t do commissions, she doesn't have a patreon or Kofi. She only made a Twitter years ago because I asked her to share her talent with the world or she wouldn't even bother.

This tendency to label any polished work as “AI” just shows ignorance, plain and simple. Real artists deserve better than to have their skills lumped in with AI machine-generated content by people who can’t tell the difference.

Each of her digital paintings takes anywhere from 30-80+ hours. For Altered State specifically, she's been working on all these art pieces for months while I've been on a posting hiatus. Her incredible work keeps me inspired; I would have literally quit ages ago. We go back and forth on details from the writing in the fic and I see these changes she makes in real time.

She paints in her limited free time for these niche fandoms because she loves the stories and wants to support the writers in it. In a world where fandom is becoming increasingly commodified, she is a rare gem.

I didn't even want to bother Nurchie with this silly comment of yours, but she's such a good sport she just laughed at the idea that anyone could accuse her art of being AI generated. She uses a combo of adobe CC suite and clip studio to draw.

nurchie messaged me this, and I asked for her permission to share it: [I just think they are probably some struggling artist, upset that they feel replaced by soulless AI and are lashing out any time they think they see it. I'm sympathetic to their feelings, and understand the annoyance. I've been battling the improper usage of it in my workplace. AI is not AI but just a data collection tool, and I completely agree that the human eye could never be replaced by it.]

yeah, she's the most chill, sweetest person ever, too. So maybe think twice before throwing around accusations you clearly can’t back up. You're trying to hurt a real artist.

-sincerely,

A writer who knows a real artist

https://www.deviantart.com/nurchie/gallery

edit: also accusations like this drive away real fanartists. Why should they bother sharing their work if their talent and skill are being dismissed as some algorithm's output? it's toxic. fandom spaces will be flooded with AI-generated content in the future because all the true artists will have left.