#just a matter of practicing and getting better

[sydpleton]

ragathas entire character really fucks me up because like. pov youre stuck in a strange scary place with only a few other people. you try your hardest to be friendly and kind to everyone but still struggle to be vulnerable and show your true emotions. this inhibits your ability to make connections with others (the thing you want the most.) youre friendly even when you dont really mean it or when you probably shouldnt but is that really that bad? its better then being mean, and how else are people going to like you? (value you?) A new person arrives and theres an oppurtunity to make a friend! she leaves you for dead when a monster attacks but thats fine, she was scared! (but so were you. what about you?) can you really blame her? you dont hold any hard feelings. (you try not to.) you dont let it deter you and you keep at it! you might be sliiightly smothering her out of desperation but what else can you do? you dont know any other way. but no matter how hard you try. how nice, how friendly, how helpful you try to be she seems to always be drifting just slightly out of your reach. she starts to form connections that are friendlier and more genuine then the ones youve been building up for years. she even gets close with the shittiest guy there (why not you?) and even gets him to open up. (something you thought was impossible. god knows youve tried.) even though you tried your best you couldnt be the person that the others needed. what you needed to be. she did it in just a handful of days. youre stuck in a place where people are practically forced to form bonds and relationships, if only for survival. and you still end up alone

[alinathinkstoomuch]

CLOSET FULL OF NERVES

pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader summary: meeting your FBI boyfriend’s team? cue the outfit crisis, a bad blouse, and a mild spiral. good thing aaron knows exactly how to talk you down and remind you that being yourself is more than enough, based on this requesst. warnings: fluffff, brief porno discussion lol, aaron being sweet and protective word count: 1.1k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Meeting Hotch’s—Aaron’s, now—team shouldn’t have filled you with this much anxiety and yet here you were, engulfed by nerves, knee-deep in a closet implosion, and currently debating whether the sacred casual but cute look was code for jeans or a dress or a possible a tailored meltdown. Your people-pleasing radar was at its absolute peak. You’d changed outfits six times, debated redoing your hair twice, and spent far too long practicing a casual ‘hi’ in the mirror.

When Aaron mentioned drinks with the team at the start of the week, it had sounded breezy enough. Being around a bunch of slightly tipsy profilers (aka human lie detectors) couldn’t be that bad…right?

Well. You were now strongly reconsidering your earlier optimism. 

You’d pieced together a mental scrapbook of them from the sidelines through Aaron’s end-of-day stories, Jack’s offhand dinner-table commentary, and the one time JJ had picked up Henry from a playdate and waved at you like she already knew your SAT scores.

But dating Aaron? That changed the math. This wasn’t idle curiosity anymore. This was entering the orbit of people who could, with startling ease, determine your attachment style and also what you were like in sixth grade. Especially now, since you weren’t just the nanny anymore—you were his person. And walking into a room full of highly perceptive people who loved him like family suddenly felt like the pressure had tripled.

You were still standing in front of the mirror, scrutinising your earrings when you heard your phone buzz. 

Aaron: Leaving now. Should be there in 10.

You: Are we sure this is a good idea? I’m totally fine skipping this one. No pressure, no potential for public humiliation. Everyone wins.

Aaron: You’ll be fine, don’t stress. They’re going to like you. 

You: But will they like-like me?

You wait. Longer than is reasonable for a man who never uses more than ten words per text. 

Aaron: I like-like you.

It was unfair, really, how casually he could undo you with four words and a hyphen. You blinked at your reflection. Your hair was doing something vaguely hopeful and the earrings suddenly didn’t seem like they mattered all that much.

You hearted the text and figured you’d let him actually reverse out of the parking lot and into yours before you started catastrophizing again. You just needed to get through the evening. Smile. Make polite conversation. Don’t say anything that reveals your deeply repressed childhood fears or the fact that you still Google words you pretend to know.

After exactly ten minutes you heard a knock on your door.

You were, naturally, mid-blouse change, tangled in something with too many buttons and not enough leniency. So you grabbed your phone, thumbed out a quick It’s open, and tossed it onto the bed, which now looked like a fabric massacre had occurred.

From downstairs, his voice travelled up to your bedroom. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the door unlocked again.”

You groaned, loudly. “Hello to you too!”

“I’m serious,” Aaron called back. “You live alone, what if someone had walked in?”

You stepped into the hallway, barefoot and still adjusting your sleeves. “What if it was the tooth fairy? You ever consider that? Maybe I was hoping to get my rent covered.”

He appeared at the bottom of the stairs then, that furrow between his brows activated in full-blown dad mode. “You live alone in a house with multiple windows and no security system.”

“Yes, but I have a very scary FBI boyfriend who never smiles. All the nonexistent threats in this neighborhood know better than to mess with me.”

You flicked the bedroom light off, grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs, one hand on the railing, the other trying to discreetly tug your blouse into behaving. You narrowed your eyes at your allegedly serious, stoic boyfriend, who, for someone denying the existence of his own smile, was very clearly suppressing one right now.

“Is something funny?” 

He shook his head, far too quickly. “No. Not at all. You just look... different.”

You stopped at the last step. “Different how?”

“Just…”

“Spit it out, Hotchner, or I swear I’ll continue leaving my doors unlocked.” Blackmail. It never lets you down.

“You don’t look very you. You look like…we’re going to a job interview.”

“Aaron!” you shrieked, giving his chest a shove. 

He took it in stride, both hands raised in surrender, that damn half-smile still flirting with the corner of his mouth. “Honey, I know how you dress. And I would bet actual money that this blouse still has the tags on from when you panic-bought it today.”

“I wanted to make a good impression,” you groaned, tipping your head back. “Figured if I dressed normal enough, it might smooth over the whole ‘Hi, I’m slutting it up with your boss who also happens to be my boss because I’m his nanny’ thing. Which, if we’re being honest, sounds like the plot of a really bad porno.”

Aaron raised a brow. “Oh yeah? What do you know about pornos?”

You squinted at him, suspicious. “Is this a trap?”

“Just curious. You seemed oddly fluent in the premise.”

​​“I—okay, I was making a point. A colourful, exaggerated point.”

“That you’re in a porno.”

You sighed, ready to launch into a defensive monologue but Aaron stepped forward and caught your hands. Both of them. Like he’d done it a hundred times before and would keep doing it until your brain finally agreed you were safe.

“All jokes aside, I want you to be comfortable. And I want you to be you—the great, wonderful, endlessly patient, charming woman I fell in love with. Not some version you think will be more appealing to everyone else.”

You let a breath out. 

“Now,” he continued, “if this blouse makes you feel confident and happy, then wear it. But what I don’t want—what I won’t let happen—is you walking in there thinking any of this is inappropriate, or scandalous, or something to be ashamed of.”

The inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because it was easier to chew on skin than emotion.

“Yes,” he added, “it was a little complicated at the start. We knew that. But I’d go through all of it again if it meant ending up here with you.”

There was something a little terrifying and kind of wonderful about being seen that clearly by someone who refused to look away. Your heart did this weird fluttery thing, like affection had turned into a full-body cramp.

“I hate this blouse,” you mumbled.

Aaron’s mouth twitched. “I suspected.”

“Do I have time to change?”

He checked his watch, then looked back at you. “Only if you tell me what pornos you’ve been watching in your spare time.”

You laughed, a chesty thing that felt borderline suffocating inside the godforsaken polyester trap that passed for a blouse on the receipt. “That’s blackmail.”

“Hm,” he hummed casually,  “wonder where I got the idea from.”

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[archivegyu]

Heyyy

I just wanna know if that is Naeun going to have a younger sibling? If she will. Can I request like how Naeun life changes when she has a sibling or smth like that. THANKS 🤞😋

masterlist

The Princess and the Prince

Part 1: The Art of Being a Girl Dad

hope this gives justice @fwairychlo3 🤍🎀

The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and new beginnings, but seven-year-old Choi Naeun was more concerned with the fact that her new baby brother looked suspiciously like a wrinkled potato.

“Appa,” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to peer into the clear bassinet beside her mother’s bed, “are you sure they gave us the right baby? This one looks… unfinished.”

Seungcheol nearly choked on his coffee, earning a warning look from his exhausted wife. “What do you mean unfinished, princess?”

“Well,” Naeun said with the matter-of-fact tone she’d inherited directly from him, “he’s all red and squishy, and his fingers look like tiny hot dogs. Also, his eyes are closed but he’s not even sleeping properly because he keeps making those weird squeaky noises.”

“Those are normal baby sounds,” Seungcheol explained, though he had to admit his son did sound remarkably like a rusty door hinge.

“Are you sure? Because Kkuma makes better sounds than that, and she’s a dog.”

His wife laughed weakly from the hospital bed. “Naeunie, come here. Do you want to see your little brother up close?”

Naeun’s expression shifted from skeptical to intrigued. “Can I touch him? Will he break if I’m not careful?”

“He’s sturdier than he looks,” Seungcheol assured her, though privately he thought his daughter had a point about the potato resemblance. “But we need to be very gentle. Here, let me lift him so you can see him better.”

Seungcheol carefully picked up Minhyun from the bassinet, supporting his head with practiced ease. Naeun moved closer, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look at her brother’s face.

For a moment, the room was perfectly quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors and Minhyun’s occasional squeaks. Naeun stared down at her brother with intense concentration, her small finger gently tracing the air above his tiny hand, careful not to wake him.

“Appa,” she said finally, “I think he might actually be kind of cute. Like… ugly-cute. Like those dogs that are so ugly they’re adorable.”

“That’s… actually a pretty accurate description of newborns,” Seungcheol admitted.

“Can I teach him things? Like how to hold a tea cup properly and how to make Kkuma wear bows?”

“When he’s older, yes. Right now he mostly just eats and sleeps and makes those sounds you mentioned.”

Naeun considered this information seriously. “So he’s basically like Kkuma, but less useful because he can’t fetch.”

“Much less useful,” Seungcheol agreed solemnly. “At least for the first few months.”

“But he’ll get better at being a person, right? Like, eventually he’ll be able to play games and eat real food and help me with my evil plans?”

“Your what now?”

“My plans,” Naeun said innocently. “You know, like convincing Mama to let us have ice cream for breakfast and teaching Uncle Mingyu that vegetables are actually poisonous.”

Seungcheol made a mental note to have a conversation with his daughter about the difference between white lies and psychological warfare. “Yes, eventually he’ll be able to help with… age-appropriate mischief.”

Minhyun chose that moment to open his eyes for the first time since they’d been in the room, blinking owlishly up at the faces hovering above him. Naeun gasped dramatically.

“Appa! He’s looking at me! Does that mean he knows I’m his big sister?”

“I think it means he’s trying to figure out who you are,” Seungcheol said, pulling out his phone to capture the moment. “What do you think we should tell him?”

Naeun leaned down slightly, bringing her face closer to where Seungcheol held Minhyun. “Hello, little brother,” she said in a voice that was softer than Seungcheol had ever heard from her. “I’m Naeun, and I’m going to teach you everything important. Like how to make Appa make his funny face when he’s confused, and how to get Uncle Jeonghan to do anything you want just by looking sad, and how to convince Uncle Wonwoo to show you magic tricks even when he says he’s too tired.”

Minhyun blinked again, and one tiny hand somehow escaped from his swaddle to wave in the general direction of Naeun’s voice.

“He moved!” Naeun exclaimed. “That means he likes me, right?”

“That definitely means he likes you,” Seungcheol confirmed, though privately he thought it was more likely gas. “I think you’re going to be an excellent big sister.”

“I’m going to be the best big sister in the history of big sisters,” Naeun declared with characteristic confidence. “I’ve been practicing with Kkuma, but she’s not very good at taking directions. Minhyun looks more trainable.”

“You can’t train your brother like a dog, princess.”

“Why not? They’re both small and they both need to learn not to make messes in the house.”

Seungcheol decided to table that particular philosophical discussion for later. “How about we focus on just being kind to him for now?”

“I’m always kind,” Naeun protested. “Remember when I shared my cake with Uncle Seokmin even though he ate the piece with the most frosting?”

“That was very kind of you.”

“And remember when I didn’t tell Mama that you ate ice cream directly from the container while she was napping?”

“That was… also kind. And we agreed never to speak of that.”

“So I’m basically an expert at being kind. Minhyun is lucky to have me.”

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

A soft knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Mingyu’s head appeared in the doorway, followed by what appeared to be his friends in various states of excitement and concern.

“Are we allowed to come in?” Mingyu asked, though he was already halfway through the door. “We brought gifts and an unhealthy amount of enthusiasm.”

“Uncle Gyu!” Naeun called out, though she stayed close to where her father was holding Minhyun. “Come meet my little brother! His name is Minhyun and he looks like a potato but in a cute way!”

The room quickly filled with twelve grown men trying to get their first look at the newest addition to their extended family while maintaining an appropriate volume level. Jeonghan immediately pulled out his phone to document everything, while Wonwoo hung back slightly, observing the chaos with fond amusement.

“He’s so small,” Seokmin whispered with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious experiences.

“All babies are small, hyung,” Chan pointed out with the wisdom of someone who was no longer the youngest member of any group.

“But he’s extra small,” Soonyoung added, leaning in for a closer look. “Like a tiny human.”

“That’s literally what a baby is,” Hansol said dryly.

“Uncle Jihoon,” Naeun called out, having spotted him trying to blend into the background, “do you want to see how good I am at being gentle? I can touch his tiny hands without waking him up!”

Jihoon approached with the careful steps of someone who had limited experience with small humans but unlimited respect for their fragility. “You’re being very careful,” he said seriously. “That’s proper big sister behavior.”

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚

By the time visiting hours were over, Minhyun had been thoroughly introduced to his extended family, Naeun had established herself as the definitive expert on baby care supervision.

“We should probably head home soon,” he said as the room began to empty. “Kkuma is with your grandmother, but she’s probably wondering where everyone went.”

“Can we bring Minhyun home tomorrow?” Naeun asked, having positioned herself as close to the bassinet as possible without actually climbing into it.

“If the doctor says it’s okay,” his wife answered. “But he’ll need to stay in our room for a while, so he doesn’t wake you up at night.”

“That’s okay. I’m going to be too excited to sleep anyway. I have so many things to teach him!” Naeun’s eyes lit up with possibilities. “Like how to make that face you make when Uncle Jeonghan says something ridiculous, and how to get Uncle Jihoon to smile by doing something unexpectedly cute, and how to convince Uncle Joshua to tell us stories in English so we can practice understanding.”

“Maybe we should let him learn to walk before we start on advanced manipulation techniques,” Seungcheol suggested.

“Appa, you have to start early with these things. By the time he can walk, it might be too late to properly train the uncles.”

“Train the uncles?”

“Well, they’re going to spoil him just like they spoil me, right? But I’ve been working on them for seven years. Minhyun needs to learn the most effective strategies right away so he doesn’t waste time with inefficient methods.”

Seungcheol looked at his wife, who was trying very hard not to laugh. “Our daughter is terrifying.”

“Our daughter is brilliant,” his wife corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“Can’t she be both?”

“She gets the brilliance from me and the terrifying part from you,” his wife said with a grin.

“I am not terrifying!”

“Appa,” Naeun said patiently, “you once made Uncle Chan apologize for eating the last piece of pizza just by looking at him. That’s definitely terrifying.”

“That’s leadership,” Seungcheol protested.

“Same thing, really.”

The drive home was unusually quiet, with Naeun alternating between excited chatter about her plans for Minhyun’s education and thoughtful silence as she processed the reality of having a little brother. Seungcheol found himself watching her in the rearview mirror, marveling at how mature she seemed compared to just that morning.

“Appa,” she said suddenly as they pulled into their apartment complex, “do you think Minhyun will like me as much as I like him?”

The question was asked with uncharacteristic uncertainty, and Seungcheol felt his heart clench. “Princess, he’s going to love you more than anyone else in the world except maybe Mama and me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re going to be the most important person in his life. You’re going to teach him everything he needs to know about being part of this family, and about how much fun it is to have uncles who bring cake and do magic tricks, and about how to be brave and kind and smart like you are.”

“And how to make you do your confused face?”

“Especially that. It’s a very important skill.”

Naeun seemed satisfied with this answer, and by the time they reached their apartment, she was back to planning Minhyun’s comprehensive education in the art of being a Choi.

Kkuma greeted them at the door with the enthusiasm of someone who had been personally offended by their extended absence. Naeun immediately swept her up in a hug, chattering about the new family member while Kkuma listened with the patience of long experience.

“Kkuma-ya, you’re going to love Minhyun! He’s like a tiny human puppy right now, but he’ll get more interesting as he grows up. And you can help me teach him important things, like how to be gentle with small creatures and how to give the best hugs.”

Seungcheol’s mother appeared from the kitchen, having obviously been waiting for a full report on the hospital visit. “How’s our new prince?” she asked, settling into her favorite armchair with the expectation of a detailed account.

“He’s perfect, Grandma,” Naeun announced, launching into a comprehensive description that included everything from Minhyun’s weight and length to the exact shade of his hair. “And I’m going to be the best big sister ever. I already have a whole plan.”

“Of course you do,” Seungcheol’s mother said with fond amusement.

The evening proceeded with the comfortable rhythm of family dinner and bedtime routines, though everything felt slightly different with the knowledge that tomorrow would bring a new addition to their household. Naeun was unusually cooperative during bath time, explaining that she needed to practice being responsible since she was going to be setting an example for Minhyun.

“Big sisters have to be role models,” she informed Seungcheol as he helped her into her pajamas. “That means I have to brush my teeth without being reminded, and put my toys away without complaining, and only have reasonable arguments with you about bedtime.”

“Reasonable arguments?”

“Like, I can’t ask to stay up until midnight anymore. Maybe just an extra half hour on weekends.”

“I see you’ve really thought this through.”

“I’m nothing if not thorough, Appa.”

As Seungcheol tucked her into bed, Naeun was unusually quiet, staring at the ceiling with the expression she wore when working through complex problems.

“What’s on your mind, princess?”

“Do you think things will be very different now? With Minhyun here?”

It was the question he’d been expecting, though he’d hoped she wouldn’t ask it quite so directly. “Some things will be different,” he said honestly. “Mama and I will be tired more often, and we’ll have to divide our attention between you and your brother. But the important things won’t change.”

“Like what?”

“Like how much we love you. Like our Saturday morning pancake tradition and our bedtime stories and the way you can always come to me when you need help with homework or friendship problems or anything else that’s bothering you.”

“And Uncle visits?”

“Definitely Uncle visits. If anything, there will probably be more Uncle visits because they’re all going to want to spoil Minhyun just like they spoil you.”

Naeun seemed to consider this carefully. “That’s okay then. I can share the uncles. There are enough of them to go around.”

“Very generous of you.”

“I’m a generous person, Appa. It’s one of my best qualities.”

“It definitely is,” Seungcheol agreed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Sweet dreams, big sister.”

“Appa?”

“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow, when we bring Minhyun home, can we have a welcome party? Nothing too big, just family. I want his first day here to be special.”

“I think that sounds perfect. We’ll make it a day he’ll always remember.”

“Even though he won’t actually remember it because babies don’t form memories until they’re older?”

“Even then. Sometimes the most important memories are the ones other people keep for us.”

Naeun smiled sleepily. “That’s very wise, Appa. You must get your wisdom from Grandma too.”

“I get my wisdom from you, princess. You teach me something new every day.”

“Tomorrow I’m going to teach you how to change diapers without making that face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you look like you’re about to cry and throw up at the same time.”

Seungcheol laughed despite himself. “I’ll work on that.”

“Good. Minhyun is going to need you to be brave about diapers. It’s part of being a good appa.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You always do, Appa. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

As Seungcheol turned off the light and closed Naeun’s door, he felt the familiar mixture of pride and terror that came with parenting. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new joys, and undoubtedly new examples of his daughter’s remarkable ability to find wisdom in the most unexpected places.

His phone buzzed with a message from the group chat:

Mingyu: How’s our favorite big sister handling everything?

Seungcheol: She’s already planning Minhyun’s education in advanced uncle manipulation techniques.

Jeonghan: She gets that from you.

Wonwoo: I’m honored to be part of her curriculum.

Joshua: She’s going to rule the world someday.

Seungcheol: Probably. But at least she’ll do it with excellent tea party hosting skills.

He smiled as he put his phone away, already looking forward to tomorrow’s welcome party and whatever chaos his brilliant, terrifying, wonderful daughter would orchestrate in honor of her new little brother.

Some things never changed – like his certainty that life with Naeun would never be boring, and his gratitude for a family that chose to love each other through every beautiful, complicated moment.

The princess was ready for her prince, and Seungcheol couldn’t wait to see what they’d accomplish together.

[yokedtablet]

Ellie asks Abby for advice on how to up her strap game and Abby volunteers to help her practice before her date (with Dina?)

-🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Off Limits

Contents: cursed roommate situationship, TENSION, teasing, minor humiliation, cheating, bad decisions, strap-on sex, strap sucking, dom bottom Abby, sub top Ellie, big clit Abby (it’s canon I swear), the boxers stay on during sex, overstimulation, unresolved feelings wc: 3.6k

“You’re wearing it wrong.”

This is the worst idea she’s ever had. 

Ellie’s standing in the living room, purple silicone strap jutting from her fully-clothed hips like a flag at half-mast. Abby leans over the kitchen counter, scrolling on her phone, eating chips with the other hand.

Ellie turns to head back to her room. Terrible, terrible fucking idea, asking Abby for help. “I’m just going to—”

“Don’t go anywhere, Williams.” Abby sets down her phone, stretches. She’s wearing a black tank top that clings to her abs, arms and shoulders on full display—not that she usually covers up around the house, anyway. “Let me see.” 

Ellie just stands there, face turning progressively more red as Abby crosses the living room with no urgency. And then she gets on her knees. 

That makes her feel something she absolutely, definitely, should not feel. 

Because this is for Dina. It was Dina’s idea in the first place, when they stopped outside the sex shop window and Dina dragged her in. Dina was the one that picked it out, and Ellie didn’t buy it then—she had to order it online, so that the cashier with the cool lip piercing wouldn’t know it was her. And also so she could surprise her girlfriend.

The problem is, she has no idea how to use it. Apparently, she doesn’t even know how to wear it.

Abby doesn’t seem to feel weird about this interaction at all, though. She tugs lightly at the harness, pulling Ellie’s hips toward her. Ellie tries to stay stable, balanced, as she loosens them, then pulls the strap downward so that it sits lower, almost between her legs. 

When Abby cinches the harness tighter, she feels the soft plastic settle against her clit, which is probably an indication that it’s in the right place. It also makes her suck in a breath, blush deepening. 

“Yeah, that’s better.” Abby stands and heads back to the counter, this time facing away from Ellie. She leans over to grab another chip, thighs and glutes stretching through jogging shorts. 

Ellie doesn’t really remember how to breathe. 

She reaches down, not really thinking, and strokes the shaft of the strap downward, testing the friction against her body. It gives her a warm, tingly feeling. Abby’s not looking—but she still shouldn’t be jerking off in front of her. 

They’re roommates. They’ve lived together for four years, and Ellie’s gone through several different girlfriends in that time. Dina for the past two. Dina is the only one who’s stuck. Abby never really warmed up to her, just kind of tolerated her presence through silent movie nights and awkward morning-after breakfasts. 

Why she agreed to help Ellie with her little problem, Ellie has no idea. 

Abby turns, still leaning over the counter. Her eyes flick to Ellie’s hand on the strap. Her expression doesn’t change. Not much.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Would I have asked you if I did?” 

Ellie hates this, hates the way Abby needs to feel superior no matter what it is they’re doing—has to drag the admission out of her that she’s actually pretty lost and incompetent. Usually it’s about stupid things, like how Ellie doesn’t know what the check engine light on her dash means, or how to change the tire on her bike, or how to put together their IKEA coffee table. That night, Abby came home after she’d been working on it for hours, grabbed one of the legs out of her hands, re-attached the bracket she’d had on backwards, and handed it back. Then gave her a shrug to say, it’s easy when I do it.

Abby settles onto the couch, thighs spread wide, staring her down. “Show me.”

“You—what?”

“Show me what you’re going to do with it.” 

Ellie doesn’t know exactly what she’s asking for, and thrusting her hips into the air with the strap attached feels like potentially the most humiliating act on earth, aside from that one time she slipped and fell in the shower and had to talk Abby out of calling the fire department. 

Ellie groans, shoulders collapsing. “This is stupid. I’m not doing this.”

Abby softens, but just a little. It feels immediately condescending. “You need to get over whatever weird hangup you have about this if you want my help. Seriously. It’s not a big deal.”

When Ellie doesn’t react, she gives her a gentle nod. “C’mere.”

Ellie approaches, slowly, like she’s afraid Abby will reach out and bite her at any moment. 

“So, you want to surprise her. You want fuck her with it for the first time, like she’s been begging you to. Right?” 

The way she says it is so… clinical. Her eyebrows jump, waiting for Ellie to respond. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna have to be more confident about it than that. Say it like you actually want to fuck her. Just pretend I’m her for a second.” Abby shifts on the couch, straightening her back, sitting more upright.

Ellie laughs. “Is that supposed to be Dina?”

“Yes. Shut up.”

Ellie hums in the back of her throat. She studies the purple cock between her legs. She shifts her hips back and forth lightly, making it swing a little. Then she steadies it with her hand, allowing herself just a little bit of brushing contact with her clit. “Yeah, uh. Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

Abby collapses back against the couch cushions. “Jesus, Ellie. No.” 

“What?!”

“Does that usually work with girls?”

“I don’t usually talk… that much.”

“Okay, fine.” Abby composes herself again, trying and failing to look like she’s not enjoying this. “No talking, then.”

Ellie slumps onto the couch beside her. She feels completely stupid, utterly ridiculous. “Maybe I shouldn’t even do this.”

It’s quiet for a minute, before Abby’s warm palm meet’s Ellie’s thigh, just above the knee. She squeezes lightly. It’s a kind of tenderness Abby doesn’t usually show her. “Ellie. You’ve been talking about this for months.”

She has. She’s been practically bouncing off the walls with nervous energy, waiting for it to arrive, thinking over and over about how Dina will react when she sees it. The surprise, those dark eyes glinting darker. The thought alone makes something in her stomach twist. 

Abby’s hand slides up her thigh, over her sweats, then boings the strap with one finger. It vibrates against Ellie’s pelvis, sending waves of not-quite-enough pleasure through her core.

“Besides, I think you look kinda cute with it on.”

“Abby. Stop.” Ellie hides her face in her hands, trying to ignore the warmth in her stomach—which is inevitably spreading to her cheeks. She’s always been extremely easy to fluster, and Abby knows exactly how to take advantage of that.

“I’m serious.” From behind her hands, Ellie feels the change in Abby’s tone. No longer teasing or condescending. Like she actually means it. “You could be a real menace with that thing if you wanted to.”

Twist and click. Something settles in Ellie’s mind, some knowing she’s always had but never looked at head-on—like she can’t look at Abby now. She’d hoped, always telling herself this was off limits, it could never happen. It’s wrong because Abby’s her roommate. It’s wrong because of Dina.

But suddenly Abby’s coldness toward her first real girlfriend makes sense. Abby, ever dissecting, can see her starting to understand. Seeing the threads come apart.

“Abby—”

“You wanted me to show you, right?”

She’s always been impulsive. It’s how she ends up working odd jobs she hates, or smoking cigarettes with strangers, or driving out to the country for no real reason. She acts before she thinks. It’s very her.

So she nods, body reacting before her brain can process what this really means.

Abby stands, this time a little more stiffly. She spends an unnecessary amount of time tightening her braid, and then she settles into a low kneel—between Ellie’s legs, nudging them apart slightly to make more space. 

Ellie can’t breathe. She can’t move. She sits there, completely still, just staring. And Abby stares back, eyes so hard they burn. 

And then that hand on her thigh again—this time on the inside edge, this time inching upward slowly, as a question. 

“Tell me to stop.”

She wants to. She should. But her throat is dry and whatever the fuck is happening right now is something she doesn’t want to end.

The pressing thought of Dina flutters and dissipates the moment Abby’s hand reaches the base of the strap, holding it gently. Looking up. She gives Ellie one final moment to resist, then places a soft kiss on the silicone tip. 

Ellie slaps a hand over her mouth to cover the pathetic sound that was about to come out of her. It’s not like she can feel it. But it’s exactly the absence of feeling, the promise of feeling, that makes her shudder. 

Abby smiles at her, sharp and devious. “Jesus, you’re a mess. I haven’t even touched you.”

Ellie’s hips push into Abby’s hand, thrusting the strap toward her—asking, begging, for something more. She knows how pathetic she looks. She knows it’s exactly what Abby wants, and she can’t bring herself to care. 

Eyes never leaving Ellie’s, Abby lowers herself until her cheek rests in the crook of Ellie’s hip—the warm, heavy weight of her, dampened through Ellie’s sweats. Then she licks a slow stripe from the base of the strap to the tip. 

She can’t hold it in this time—a moan that’s half curse and half nonsense and half “Abby,” which is too many halves, because Ellie is in pieces. She grabs for Abby’s hair as some kind of anchor, pulling her head back a little too hard. 

Abby’s teeth are gritted, eyes hard. She lets Ellie hold her there for a minute too long, and then Ellie lets go, and Abby is pulling away from her, and fuck, Ellie feels like she’s been punched in the gut. 

Taller, bigger than she’s been, Abby towers over her. Her face is flushed with something like anger. 

“Room. Now.”

Words mean things, right? These words definitely mean something. Things that Ellie isn’t quite ready to make sense of. She is, however, leaping off the couch, following Abby’s fast clip to her bedroom, and stepping inside before Abby slams the door shut.

It’s warmer in here. The smaller space traps both their body heat against them in the layers of clothes on the floor and stacks of Abby’s books and bath towel on the wall and powerlifter posters on the walls. She feels Abby’s heat even before she gets close to her, and now she’s closing in, so close that Ellie can feel her breath on her forehead.

Thick fingers pinch the waistband of Ellie’s sweats. “You can keep these on, but it won’t feel as good.”

Ellie lets out a breathless laugh, trying hard not to press herself up against Abby’s toned body right now. “Are you trying to get me naked?”

Abby’s thumb brushes her jaw. “I don’t care—” Voice tense, full of care.

It shouldn’t be this easy. It shouldn’t feel this natural for Ellie to shrug the harness off her hips, and then her sweatpants, kicking them away, until she’s just in her boxers and a t-shirt that’s too thin. Abby’s thumbprint is searing into her skin, and she’s so close and too far away, and not touching her enough. Why won’t she touch her?

She doesn’t ask. She stands on her toes, reaching, and kisses her. Abby’s lips are hard, unresponsive for a moment, before they softly open. Ellie’s tongue slips inside. 

Firm hands pull at her waist, her hips, until their bodies are flush, and Ellie feels like she might catch on fire. She squirms, hand tensing in Abby’s tank top for dear life, when Abby dips a hand lower, between her thighs. She murmurs something into Abby’s mouth.

Her touch is blunt, antagonistic, fingers working over her underwear. Ellie’s knees give, only held up against Abby’s bodyweight. 

And then the touch is gone, and Ellie stumbles. Abby nudges her backward a little too hard, making space between them, just looks her over, up and down. Wipes her mouth on her forearm.

“That’s not what you asked me for.” 

It’s like a tearing, wrenching feeling in her gut. She fucked it up. She shouldn’t have kissed her. But then Abby’s eyes drift to the floor where the strap lies, discarded.

“Put it on.”

Abby peels off her tank top—she’s not wearing anything underneath—then her shorts and underwear in one smooth movement. And Ellie chokes on air.

It’s not like she’s never seen her half-naked. Abby’s not really huge on modesty. All those post-shower occasions Ellie ran into her in the kitchen, towel wrapped around her hips with nothing covering her top half, and tried incredibly hard not to stare. But now she sees it, the way Abby’s eyebrows arch—the way she dares her to look. It’s always been an invitation, a dare, and Ellie is the most oblivious fucking person in the world. 

She dares—allows—Ellie’s gaze to drift lower, to the light curls that start at the v-line of her hips and intensify over her mound, clenched between thick thighs. And—holy fucking hell. She’s imagined it, and she was actually right. The tip of Abby’s clit pokes through her curls, even standing like this. She would be on her knees with her mouth on it, right fucking now, if Abby didn’t clearly have other plans for her.

“Sit.” 

She makes it to the edge of the bed, just barely, before her knees give. She wants to collapse, but instead she props herself up, now sitting flush with Abby’s hips. There’s that thumb on Ellie’s jaw again. Brushing. It slips toward Ellie’s lower lip, urging her mouth open.

Then Abby is climbing on top of her, straddling her hips, weight sinking into the mattress. Her warm thighs frame Ellie’s, the weight of her hips coming to rest on Ellie’s pelvis. 

The purple strap rests between them, against Abby’s abdomen and mound. Ellie can only admire it there, the way it brushes soft curls with the gentle movement of their bodies. 

“If you don’t want—”

“Abby.” It’s all she can get out, and Abby knows exactly what she means. How fucking dare she think Ellie would back out now. 

That’s all it takes. 

Abby rises to her knees, all concentration and flexed muscle, and positions the strap where she needs it. The moment Ellie feels the tip meet resistance, base rutting low into her clit, she starts to whimper. She grabs onto Abby’s ass just to have something, anything solid to hold onto, and Abby hisses as she sinks down onto it, silicone stretching that ring of tight muscle. 

“Fuck, Abby.” Wetness spreads inside her boxers. She knows she’s ruining them. She’s just barely holding it together, because Abby is giving Ellie her full weight, the strap buried inside her. They barely move, Ellie just feeling the pressure against her, watching Abby’s chest tighten, her breaths get shallow. 

Abby grabs the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss. She’s rough, needy, tongue searching. Abby lifts herself and sinks back down, and all the warmth and clenching sends ripples down the shaft and straight through Ellie’s core. 

Her hips rise to meet Abby’s—at first tentative, then giving her more. More impact, more depth, until she feels Abby growl against her throat. Ellie grips her ass tighter, soft and tense all at once, and uses it to thrust herself upward until she’s doing most of the work. 

Every thrust sends a spasm of need through her cunt, the strap hitting the top of her clit, not giving her enough. She’s sweating and Abby’s sweating and she needs more skin, so when Abby pulls her shirt over her head, she doesn’t resist. Abby’s fingers roll over her nipples, hard and pinching, like she’s trying to pull Ellie up into her harder. Her hips work frantically, not enough space under Abby’s, not enough—

“Can we—”

Abby’s nodding, stray hairs plastered to her scalp with sweat, and lifts herself off of Ellie’s lap slowly. Ellie nearly cums just from the sight of the strap, now slick with Abby’s juices, glistening. She pumps it in her fist, shameless, grinding the base into her clit and feeling her own wetness soak through her underwear. God, she needs this, she needs it so bad.

She needs Abby, who sprawls out on the mattress, knees bent so that Ellie can see exactly what she’s doing to her. 

She surprises Abby and herself, lifting Abby’s hips so they rest over her own. She wants to rush, heart and cunt throbbing in equal rhythm, but forces herself to slow down. To savor. She runs her hands up Abby’s thighs, thumbs coming to rest in curls that are already wet. Massaging slowly, inching toward the place Abby needs her most.

She watches Abby’s head fall back, abs clenching, hands grabbing blindly at the bedsheets. And Ellie is the one doing this to her. If she had known… If she had known, this would have happened a hell of a lot sooner. 

She sinks two fingers into Abby’s cunt in a way that makes her clench down instinctively. Fuck. The warmth, the sheer strength of Abby’s muscles, gripping her tightly. She can barely move inside of her, so she drags her other hand over Abby’s clit, which makes her hips buck into Ellie’s touch. 

It pulses against her palm. Abby makes low, desperate noises, hips grinding for more friction. Lost in it. 

Ellie savors this as long as Abby will let her. The teasing, the probing of Abby’s body for tender spots that make her twitch and whine. Using her wetness to slick her pulsing clit, stroking its underside, thumbing over the tip until Abby tries to jerk away, only succeeding in pressing herself harder into Ellie’s fingers. 

And she’s fed up pretty quickly, because Abby can be patient, but not that patient, and Ellie’s own need is rolling through her with a new intensity. So when Abby rasps out, “Just fuck me already,” Ellie does exactly what she asks. 

The strap sinks into her easily, this time with a thrust of Ellie’s pelvis, so hard it makes Abby gasp. There’s a momentary pause—a glance, a nod—another yes, another yes, I’ve been waiting, I’ve been trying to tell you, I need—

Ellie fucks into her fast and hard. This new angle brings the base of the strap against her perfectly, sliding against her clit until she’s climbing faster than she means to, nails biting into Abby’s thighs. Her pace gets erratic and reckless, knowing she should slow down, but fuck fuck fuck

She doesn’t mean to, she usually doesn’t, and it happens too quickly, and her own thighs are shaking under Abby’s as she comes, clit throbbing hard against the strap. She’s been holding her breath and lets it out, fingers scrabbling to ground herself, trying and failing—

Abby isn’t finished. She rolls her hips in slow circles, watching Ellie twitch and shudder. 

It’s too much. She burns hot, almost doubling over, but Abby’s ankles lock behind her. 

“Abby, I can’t—”

Abby pushes herself up just enough to yank Ellie down on top of her, legs still sealed around her hips. Ellie sinks deeper. Her open mouth meets Abby’s chest, tongue slick, tasting salt. 

“You will.”

Ellie tries to find her pace again, hips stuttering, head and gut swimming with too much, and she chokes out a sob as Abby rushes to meet her—harder, unforgiving. 

“Good, Ellie.” Her voice is tight and thick, and Ellie can feel her tensing erratically. “Just a— little more.”

And she tries, she really tries, redoubling her efforts, finding her rhythm despite the burning ache that threatens to rise up and overtake her. And it is, it will, she can’t—

She’s not sure if the wetness on her thighs is Abby’s or her own, because Abby grips her tightly, trapping her inside while she comes. Ellie can’t untangle herself, can’t possibly find her own limbs, the ends of her body, and doesn’t want to. She’s melted, fucked-out, not a thought in her mind besides this this this over and over. 

It’s Abby that moves, finally. Abby that lifts Ellie effortlessly off of her, out of her, Ellie whining at the loss of contact. Ellie can only flop into the bed as Abby draws herself up, stands naked in the room, lingers there.

“I need a shower.” She says it plainly, like she’d say to her any other day. Like she’s her regular roommate again, not the roommate who just fucked her until her brain stopped working. 

Abby grabs her towel, and then she’s gone.

Ellie listens—sounds of the faucet running, the shower turned on, water splashing at regular intervals. Abby washing her off. Her skin is still sticky with sweat, her lips raw, her boxers soaked with her and Abby all over them. She won’t ever take them off. 

This means something. There’s a shift, something falling, blankets sliding onto the floor. Ellie has broken something open inside herself with sharp edges that will cut whatever she touches. Abby, Dina, anyone who comes close. She knows this. She knows she’ll have to face it.

For now, she lets the rushing of the shower fill her ears, drown the buzzing in her mind. For now, she lets herself sink. 

-------

Taglist: @smellslike-updyke @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @cinnamonstrr @elliemulate @gardengnosticator @arabellyn @abbysreal-wife @winestainedwhiskers @thenameissnix @enmauchimaki @rareanduselessbird @justanotherabbystan @glass-apothecary @hostileplanets (reply to be added or removed!)

[lilhughesy]

°•*⁀➷ YOU & LUKE — umich hockey au blurb

you missed

-> associated with this umich hockey gc leaked!

warnings! drunk!reader, mentions of underaged alcohol consumption, alcohol intoxication, slightly suggestive!

It wasn’t like you didn’t drink, because that would be a lie considering the large amounts of parties you attended. However, it had been a while since you’ve gotten this drunk. It was going to be a fun night at the frats with Mark, Ethan, and Dylan. But you lost count after 4 drinks, but something about the music playing at the party along with the sweet taste of the coolers seemed to be the perfect combination for the night.

Luke had gotten out from the drivers seat to meet Ethan, who had practically handed you to him before disappearing back to the party crowd. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, stumbling and nearly falling into him before he caught you,

“You came!” You exclaimed as Luke’s arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright.

“You asked me to,” Luke chuckled as he carefully opened the passenger door for you, “Ready to head out?”

You hummed as he helped you settle into your seat and your head dropped back against the headrest, “Mhm, I’m a bit drunk.”

Luke rolled his eyes in amusement while reaching over your lap to fasten your seatbelt, “I can tell.”

A smile drew upon your lips, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, my pretty girl,” He said softly before kissing your temple. He slowly retracted, getting ready to close your car door, “Watch your feet.”

You nodded as he shut the door and made his way to get back into the drivers seat. Luke started the car, putting on his open seat belt as he scrolled through his phone, trying to find the right song to play for the short car ride.

He glanced up to see a small frown on your face, “What’s wrong?” He asked with a slight grin etched on his own.

“You missed!” You told him, like the answer was obvious.

His eyebrows raised, “Missed… what?”

“You’re supposed to kiss me, not my hair,” You explained to him with your finger pointing to your lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry baby,” He chuckled before reaching over the centre console, “Let me fix that for you.”

His larger hand cupped your cheek before going to tilt your chin towards his face, “Hi,”

You giggled while staring at his blue eyes, “Hi,”

The smallest, yet sweetest, smile made its way on his face before he brought his face closer to yours. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. You melted into his touch as your hand ran through his curls, you figured that he must’ve just brushed his teeth with how his lips tasted like mint.

He pulled away ever so slightly, “Better?”

“Hmm,” You paused, “I think I might need another to make up for the one you messed up on.”

Luke let out a breathy laugh before leaning down to kiss you again, “Alright that’s enough for now, let’s go back to my place and we can do a lot more of that there.”

“Only kissing?” You teased as you settled back into your seat.

He pulled away from the curb and back onto the street, before giving you a quick yet knowing look, “You know that answer to that.”

Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink as another giggle slipped past your lips, “Thank you for getting me, Lukey.”

“You know that I’ll always come get you no matter what, baby.” He told you as his right hand rested on your upper thigh and the other staying on the wheel.

[rabbitindisguise]

I feel li- sorry I just looked at the time stamp and took psychic damage when I realized it was June, 2025 when I thought it was may still

Anyways I feel like these are some of the best writers not because they're Old (reductive, trite) but because these are hella long canonical works that take forever to get caught up on, which mean absurdly complicated emotional threads to manage while writing. RPF means they're willing to hunt through 10 interviews from like, 2010 on internet archive or email the library or something just for one line that talks about the street they grew up on to align the star charts and see what flavor of cinnamon roll they at down the block on the friday weekly special or whatever (that's been closed for 8 years). Long comedy shows mean watching episodes they might not find funny ten times for A Single Look, and long legal shows mean juggling a complex cast of characters + understanding real life subjects enough to keep pace with the canon or go beyond that. These are all incredibly challenging things to write fic for, and if you write 20+ of the equivalent of running around like Rock Lee with the weights on- even if those fics aren't your best work the fics where the weights come off are going to be stunning. I mean, the project management skills, the research, the noting down essential canon info, the skill at picking up subtextual cues, and the awareness of multiple nuanced relationships between the cast all contribute to emotionally resonate fanfics. That's discarding the fact that they wrote over a dozen fics which is more than a lot of writers on ao3, too! Practice to completing a full project matters a lot in the final execution of it- editing skills, summary writing, formatting, etc.

Also it means they're like flamingos with the salinity resilience to endure hell and somehow make calories out of it so like. Fear them a little I guess. That's not something you just get from being old, they're just fandom (episodes of show per year) georg.

I think there are so many fic authors like this specifically because it's what happens when you run out of new stuff. Like I started watching weird, low rated sports anime after going through basically everything that was released for three straight years and wrote three fics for a fandom 1) no one is in 2) I don't know why anyone would be in them 3) I don't even know why I wrote the fics. Probably what happened is they played all the metaphorical tv show genshin impacts of the world and settled on the thing with the longest canon run because they didn't want to hunt for recs anymore. It's like knowing all the major videogames and instead of writing for undertale you write for minecraft youtube.

(I should have just said this last bit to begin with I feel like it makes this point better than anything else. Like ofc, the emotionally moving mcyt fic, we've all seen it. Also Supernatural, dr. who, sherlock, etc)

my favorite thing about navigating fanfiction is finding a really good one and being all “oh boy this was good, I hope they have more!” and literally every other story they’ve ever written was for like Miami Vice 

[cherry-coffees]

gamer!Caitlyn hcs ♡

cw: 837 words | gamer!Caitlyn x gamer!reader, established relationship, fluff, PC games mentioned but these can apply to any type of gaming

Gamer!Caitlyn who isn’t a gamer at first. She’s never played a video game in her life, as Cassandra usually dismissed them with a wave of her gloved hand, saying there were much more productive things her daughter could be doing.

Gamer!Caitlyn first gets into video games because you really want to play with her. She starts to protest when you bring it up, listing her seemingly endless paperwork as an excuse, but eventually caves to your pleading eyes. She grumbles when she downloads the game on her high-quality hextech computer, but she doesn't really mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Gamer!Caitlyn smiles adoringly at you while you explain all the mechanics of the game to her. She can’t help it. You’re just so cute, rambling about the controls and how she can access her inventory. Though, being that she’s never played any video games, she assures you that she’ll catch up. “I’ll figure it out, darling. I’m quite good at investigations, you know.”

Gamer!Caitlyn who actually does figure things out. She struggles for the first few minutes, having bad aim when you face off against enemies. She’s extremely annoyed about this given her talent as a sharpshooter, and it only motivates her to become good. So she does.

Gamer!Caitlyn starts playing nightly after her fumble. She spends her time practicing so she can catch up to you, learn all the skills you seem to naturally possess. So when you spend the night at her place a few days later, you walk into her bedroom to find her with headphones on, furiously clicking her mouse. You jaw goes slack with shock, and you have to blink a few times to entirely process how quickly your girlfriend became a gamer.

Gamer!Caitlyn is so proud of her progress. Caitlyn prides herself in being a composed, proper woman, but she’s beside herself the next time you play together. “Look, darling!” She beams, pointing to her rapidly increasing levels and full inventory. She's like a child that wants to show off their underwater handstand at the pool. “Now we can win together!”

Gamer!Caitlyn who becomes better than you, much to your annoyance. You sulk when she outscores you in matches, teasing you with her proud comments and a nudge to your side. She softens, though, when you spin your chair around to face away from her. “Love,” she complains when you’re hidden from her view. She tugs your chair towards hers, spinning you back around so she can kiss your cheeks. “I should be thanking you. Without you, I would have never played a video game in my life.”

Gamer!Caitlyn doesn’t understand trash talk. She doesn’t know the culture of playfully fighting with people on chat, arguing about who will come out on top. So when someone starts chatting you gloating about a win, she is not happy. You have to grab her hands and pull them away from her keyboard, but by the time you do, she’s already scolding them for how badly they had performed. Even when you (gently) explain that it’s part of gaming culture, she sends you a glare. She does not tolerate anyone bad-mouthing her beautiful, beloved girlfriend.

Gamer!Caitlyn buys you any game you want. You fall in love with a new skin for an avatar? Caitlyn’s logging on to buy it the second you mention it. You want to go out shopping for a new game that caught your eye? Caitlyn’s handing you her card. The second Jayce tells her about the newest hextech PC, it’s in a package at your doorstep, along with a note written in Caitlyn’s neat cursive. “I have some meetings today, darling, so let’s play together tonight. I love you.”

Gamer!Caitlyn ensures that she’s still true to being a morning person. No matter how late she stays up with you, she’ll be up and ready in the mornings, leaving a steaming teacup at your bedside with a kiss on your forehead.

Gamer!Caitlyn who, on the flip side, loves staying up late if it means you get sleepy. She glances over when the battle ends, noting your slow blinks and limp posture. “Oh, my love,” she coos, unable to help herself because you’re just so cute. “Let’s get you to bed, hm?”

Gamer!Caitlyn sits you in her lap when you need a break. Even if you just want to skip a round to eat something or drink some water, she’s already tugging you into her lap, wrapping her arms around your waist as she hits the controls on her keyboard.

Gamer!Caitlyn loves video games because of you. Not only playing with you, but how your whole body lights up when you explain a game to her, or how big you smile when your favorite game hosts a special event. Mostly, though, she loves the bond it creates. She adores you, always has. She’d fall asleep next to you every night if she could. She just loves the layer it adds to your relationship: a shared passion that allows for even more time spent together. 

Gamer!Caitlyn adores video games, but it all stems from her adoration for you.

Inspired bc I love video games (and playing them with people I like teehee)

Anyways! I hope everyone is doing well! Thank you for all your patience while I work through my mental health struggles and for all the birthday wishes this past week. My readers are so lovely, ily guys <3

~Cherry 🍒

[r0-boat]

Hello! I really like your whb writings, and I wanna request a headcanon?: what would the kings say/do if they saw mc/Ra-On in their clothing? It could be just post sex "there is nothung else clean to wear" or its cold and they give yoy their jacket orrrrrrr classic sneaky I-stole-my-boyfriends-hoodie. I like the last one best. I even bought you a kofi as encouragement.

Hi thank you so much for donating!

I can totally do the classic wearing and stealing boyfriend's clothes!!

Whb Seven Kings react Reader wearing their clothes.

Sfw&Nsfw

Satan

'HOLY FUCK HOW ARE YOU THIS FUCKING CUTE?!'He screams at you as he grips onto something so hard it almost breaks. Warn him next time when you do something cute he's afraid that he might level the entire castle to ground level if you catch him off guard again.

Depending on how small or large you are it doesn't matter Have his shit! You are the only one that can wear it. As other devils fun over how cute you look he will just smile in pride... Before beating the shit out of the devil's looking at you. Maybe if you want He can get you the same clothes that look just like his and you can match! FUCK!! HE'S GOING TO PUNCH A HOLE IN THE WALL JUST THINKING ABOUT IT!!

Every time he gives you his coat it is literally drenched in his super strong ass body spray.... Are all devils this??? Territorial?... Yes yes they are. wearing their clothes and smelling like them means territorial claim.

Mammon

Cute... So cute and small. From a mountain demon like maman no matter what size you wear anything will be huge on you. And that's the way he likes it, his clothes draped over you like sheets.

As much as he enjoys it and believe me he does he'd rather you wear the clothes he bought you instead of the ones he has.... But honestly he doesn't mind he'll like anything you wear that is his.

Though his clothes do not do your beauty just... How about some jewels in pearls? He thinks you will look absolutely stunning glittering and gold and jewels. Suddenly you were trying on his entire wardrobe...

Leviathan

Levi's face may look uninterested but there is an inner turmoil going inside or his heart is pounding so hard but he thinks he might die.

The sight of you in any devil's clothes will drive anyone mad by just the sight alone You're cuteness is the power to level entire continents! You must never ever ever wear any other devil's clothes (except his of course)

Fuck fuck fuck It's so cute He can't take it! He hates how much you're affecting him right now but he can't bring himself to tell you to change He can't bring himself. From now on He will be sending you his own clothes to wear He will even buy extras just in case you decide to wear them again Don't even bother giving them back. If other devils see his clothes draped over you they'll think twice.

Beelzebub

His smile just widens and suddenly for the entire day he can't keep his hands off you. If you think he was bad before oh buddy he was practically fondling you in public.

Other than that he's just normal Beelzebub However the true fun starts when you give them back...

Burying his nose into the fabric he slowly stroking his cock. He might have discovered something new about himself... Who knew the smell of your clothes will get them this worked up. Usually he'd rather sample from the source... But this... This is far more arousing than anything he could have predicted.

Lucifer

"Hm..."Is all he says. And honestly that is a huge compliment. He will now find any excuse to get you in those clothes.

Does he find it attractive? Of course he does any animal would be draped in one's scent and coat it is part of biology. Angels are not as territorial as devils but angels are fiercely loyal and devoted almost borderline worship and he is both of those.

On the inside hidden by his poker face His thoughts are plagued of what he saw this morning.

Belphegor

There is nothing in this world that's better. Then cute human in your clothes sleeping in your bed warming it up for you. You're giving him all he wants and more why must you tempt him...

You're tempting him to bed more than the devil of sloth himself... You should be ashamed.

His clothes are already soft and comfortable. And you worn it enough to make it smell like you. You're soft body mixed with your scent he just wants to *snoooore*

Asmodeus

Asmodeus is barely wears anything You probably just got out the shower or something and had nothing else but his cloth to drape over... Or maybe you're just seduced by your curiosity wanting to know how comfortable the fabric really is for a man to wear it all the time and just that for that matter.

Once he saw you the wide-eyed look on your face made you shudder in fear?? Arousal?? You're not sure honestly.

His look darkens as he snarls, "Honey, if you don't take it off, I will rip that off you. You will not leave this bed until You are drenched in my cum and scent. "

[lermisv4]

There is a lot, and I mean a LOT going on with that scene. Others have probably said it already, but let's break this down, shall we?

Kris' background. Their parents love them but they felt like an outcast their whole lives, and their parents clearly favour Asriel. Even Susie points out there's some serious issues in the family dynamic just by seeing Kris' bedroom. The only person in that family who seems to prioritize Kris is Asriel, which of course would make Kris miss him even more.

Then there's the divorce. If we go with the theories, then there's a good chance Kris knows all the details behind the divorce, true. But what's important here isn't the reason behind the divorce, it's the way Asgore and Toriel act - especially Toriel. Toriel keeps badmouthing Asgore in front of Kris, even though the most questionable thing Asgore has done in front of Kris is asking them to deliver flowers to her. Asgore clearly adores Kris and wants to do the best by them even with his limited means, but Toriel paints him as the scum of the earth in front of her child - her incredibly lonenly, always out of place child - out of scorn. She's actively alienating them from Asgore. As for Asgore, while he is better than Toriel in this regard, as I said he keeps asking for Kris to send her flowers.

No matter how you read the above situation, it puts Kris in a messed up position. If they want their parents to get back together, then Toriel shutting down all attempts at communication has to hurt. If they don't want their parents to get back together, they're stuck going along with both Asgore and Toriel's mutually contradictory demands to keep them as happy as possible because they still want a family damnit.

Factor 3 is Sans. Aside from Toriel, nobody likes Sans. Kris doesn't, Susie doesn't, Rudy doesn't; people important to Kris who they value as family do not like Sans. And it's not hard to see why; all Sans did prior to the ending of the chapter is to troll Kris and pull some somewhat mean pranks on them while bragging about how close he got to Toriel. We should mention here he has only known Toriel for a few days. Some of his remarks towards Kris are downright uncomfortable; who the hell says "your mom told me you're a glutton for chocolate"? Imagine being a teenager and a stranger just straight up walks up and tells you this unprompted. Most of his on-screen time is him - an adult - being lowkey a dick towards a couple of teenagers.

All this brings us to chapter 4. Let's disregard the whole thing where Kris and Susie thought Toriel was in danger and let's focus on Toriel's actions.

She cancelled choir practice because of the rain, went to the grocery store, met Sans, and then, in an unknown order, they start partying, SHE gets drunk (not him, only she), and she brings him to her house. While in the house she even says how she met up with Sans and well he was so funny and who gives a fuck about choir practice.

Let's unpack all that.

First of all, she did not bother to call Kris. She did not even think about calling Kris. It's already implied several times in the game that Toriel is not all that attentive as a parent; she treats Kris disappearing for hours on end at random points as just "something Kris does" which contradicts her other behaviours like telling Susie to stay over during the tire slash incident. She comes off as either overly protective or neglectful, and this changes at the drop of a hat.

Now excuse me for thinking this is common sense and basic courtesy, but when something gets cancelled, like classes or a meeting or whatever, don't you usually just... text the person? Put up an announcement? Something? Couldn't she have spared 30 seconds to call or text Kris that class is cancelled? Write a note and stick it to the door of the church where someone coming in could see it? All it would have taken is 30 seconds, and there she would have fulfilled her barebones duty as a parent. And what about the other kids, Kris can't be the only member of the choir. Did she inform the others? Or did she neglect to tell everyone? I'm not sure which scenario is worse: neglecting your duties as an educator, or forgetting your kid in particular.

After that, she goes to the grocery store and meets up with Sans. We don't know the exact timeline of the following events, but we have the outcome; she brings him to her house, while she's drunk.

Red flag #1: what did she go to the store for? "To get groceries" you may say, but are we sure? Or did she go there only to meet up with Sans? What if she really went to get groceries but forgot about her chores because she and Sans were having too much fun? What if she bought them and brought Sans home with her?

Red flag #2: She brought him to her house. Toriel has only known Sans for a few days by this point. Now, I don't know how the dating scene works beyond r/RelationshipAdvice but bringing to your house someone you've only known for a couple of days is just irresponsible and a good way in real life to get robbed. And she doesn't live alone, she has a kid. If anything happens in the house, the kid will also have to deal with the consequences of it.

Red flag #3: She's drunk. What time did she start drinking? Where was she when she started drinking? Why is she so comfortable drinking around strangers? She could have been going for hours by the time Kris finds her. Rudy says in chapter 2 that Toriel was a party animal, but given what American party culture is like, this could be a thinly disguised statement she has a drinking problem. Not to mention, Kris and Susie see her drunk. Did she think Kris would not be home that night? Is she okay with Kris seeing her drunk like that? Did it completely slip her mind? This doesn't exactly teach Kris how to have a healthy relationship with alcohol, you know. And Susie is supremely uncomfortable around this scene, which has some nasty implications considering all the hints she has a bad home life. We already know she's really good at reading the room, and she does NOT like what she sees here.

Red flag #4: ONLY SHE is drunk. Sans looks prefectly sober, there's no indication he's been drinking. A guy who literally just met the girl being alone with her in her house while she's drunk...? This screams "girl run". Except that Toriel was sober when she met up with Sans, what the hell was she thinking? Maybe "a drink or two" and it escalated to this?

Now let's look at Sans' behaviour.

First of all, everything about red flag number 4. To get that out of the way.

Second, he's strongly implied to have abandoned work to hang out with Toriel, which doesn't exactly paint him as responsible.

Third, he treats this place like his own house already. He ate the food Toriel left for Kris without Toriel knowing, which would be a nope even if he was part of the family; then he leaves his personal belongings in the fridge like he lives here. He's know her for a few days at this point.

Now let's get to how Sans and Toriel react to Kris and Susie when they return.

Once again, Toriel shows minimal care for Kris. She left food for them, sure, but she doesn't point out how it's past midnight when Kris and Susie arrive home. If I was out of the house by the time it was 11 my mom would be calling me to get home as soon as I can. And she doesn't even express any curiosity over what they were doing. She doesn't know Kris was risking their life, but couldn't she ask if "you kids had fun in your hangout?" Or "I hope you didn't get caught up in the rain?"

Then, she invites Susie to stay over... while Sans is there. He's a stranger! And that's one of the students in your school! Who as far as Toriel is concerned, has parents who worry about her?

Then there's Sans. He completely brushes off Toriel's worry about Susie's behaviour, and acts like Kris isn't even there. That's Toriel's kid. He's acting like the first stage of those people who get into a relationship with someone who has kids and hope to get rid of the kids in some way to have the partner all to themselves. He shows absolutely no respect or consideration for the fact there's another person in the house trying to sleep. It's like his mere presence is pushing Kris out of their house.

So to summarise, Toriel tries to push Kris away from a father who loves them, while bringing to the house a stranger who's completely inconsiderate, while throwing a bunch of responsibilities to the wind.

Even without the whole "Kris just fought a Titan while looking for her", this is very uncomfortable and a long series of red flags.

Holy fuck, that ending... it really hammers home just how alone Kris truly is.

They went to save their mother from the church, thinking she was in danger... and after everything, after facing down an honest to goodness TITAN and winning... she was drunk off her ass with a strange new man, partying away while her child withers before her very eyes.

I... really felt for Kris, seeing that. Not to say that I've never felt for them before, but... fuck. I've been there. And it's... not a pleasant experience. Even when you aren't being manipulated from the shadows.

Sometimes, it's the smallest cuts that hurt the most.

[undyingdecay]

Mae, do you have any thoughts on sugar daddy John Walker?

i have so many thoughts about sugar daddy john walker it’s honestly shameful. the possessiveness, the need to provide, the control dressed up like care. and he wouldn’t even be subtle about it.

because john’s not some slick, lowkey benefactor type. no, he’s loud about it. obnoxious. the kind of man who buys you shit just to see it on you, who wants you dripping in things that scream his. gold necklaces heavy at your throat, bracelets clinking when you touch him, expensive little dresses that ride up your thighs no matter how long you tug at the hem. and he acts like it’s nothing. like handing you a credit card and telling you to “get somethin’ nice, baby” is just what a good man does.

and god, the way he watches you when you wear it. smug, possessive, his hand always at the small of your back, thumb brushing circles there like a reminder. like a claim. he gets this look in his eye, that wolfish tilt to his mouth, and you know the second you’re alone he’s going to wreck you for it. and you’ll let him.

because john walker’s the kind of sugar daddy who wants it both ways — wants to spoil you rotten and ruin you in the same breath. he gets off on how good you look all dolled up in things he bought, but he likes you even better when you’re stripped down, makeup smeared, jewelry tangled in your hair while he’s got you spread out on some stupidly expensive hotel bed.

he’s generous too, in the way men like him always are when they’re desperate to prove something. bills paid without you asking, plane tickets dropped in your inbox, some shiny new toy every time he’s away too long. and if you so much as hint at being low on rent, he’s practically shoving a wad of cash in your hand with a gruff little don’t worry ‘bout it, baby, i got you.

and it’s not just about the money. it’s the attention. the way he makes you feel like the most important thing in any room you walk into, like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered. and yeah, sometimes he’s an asshole about it. gets jealous, gets a little sharp around the edges when someone else looks too long. but he always makes it up to you. always drags you into his lap, voice low and rough in your ear, promising things he’ll spend the whole night delivering on.

sugar daddy john walker is dangerous in the most delicious way. and i, for one, would like to personally volunteer as tribute.

[shaisubs]

✨Stop Wavering If You Want Results✨

You’re not stuck. You’re just flip-flopping.

Okay, let’s talk about wavering, because honestly? That’s the #1 reason people don’t have their manifestations. Not because you’re doing it “wrong.” Not because the universe is confused. You’re just not staying consistent in your story.

Wavering = you say one thing, then react to the opposite. You affirm “I have it,” then turn around and say, “Why isn’t it here yet?” You script for 20 minutes, then refresh your phone and spiral because SP didn’t text. You celebrate one sale, then panic the next day because it’s quiet.

Be so serious right now. That’s wavering. That’s mixed signals. That’s confusing your subconscious.

If your story changes every time 3D changes, that’s why your results are hot and cold. You’re letting the 3D tell you who you are instead of YOU telling it what to reflect.

You either have it or you don’t. Pick one.

You can’t be in the state of the wish fulfilled and be checking the 3D every five seconds for “proof.” You can’t be like “I’m in my rich girl era” and also “Ugh why haven’t I made a sale yet.” That’s like planting a seed and digging it up every day to check if it’s growing.

You don’t need proof to believe. You decide it’s done, and that’s the end of it.

Your only job is to pick the story—and STAY THERE. Not just when 3D looks good. Not just when your SP texts back fast. EVERY 👏 SINGLE 👏 TIME the topic comes up, you return to the end. Period.

3D is NOT your parent. Stop asking it for permission.

Stop needing the 3D to validate you. 3D isn’t your mom. It’s not your teacher. It’s not in charge. It’s old. Dead. Delayed. It’s just echoing the old you.

You don’t need its permission to believe in your story. You DECIDE what’s true now, and 3D has to catch up.

So what if you get zero sales today? So what if SP ghosts? That doesn’t mean anything unless you say it does. The new story is the only thing that matters.

Say it. Own it. Repeat it. Even if nothing “happens” in 3D—especially when nothing happens. That’s when you prove to yourself you’re the operant power.

Identity creates. So who TF are you?

Get real with yourself. Who are you being?

The version of you who has it? Who gets what she wants easily? Who’s chosen, rich, loved, confident, unbothered?

Or the version who’s constantly checking 3D, doubting, hoping, reacting?

If you want different results, you have to BE different. Change your inner self-talk. Start affirming and visualizing like it’s already done. Literally brainwash yourself into a new self-concept. I don’t care if it feels fake. It’s SUPPOSED to feel weird at first.

If the old story felt “normal,” then OF COURSE the new one will feel off. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong—it means it’s working.

It takes the same energy to think you can’t have it as it does to think you can.

You’re already thinking about your desire. You’re already scripting, spiraling, stressing.

So why not choose thoughts that feel better? Flip the thought. Flip the story. Even if it’s halfway through the day. Even if you’ve been negative all morning. Flip it NOW.

You’re not stuck. You’re just practiced in lack. That’s it.

You can teach yourself a new story. One where you get what you want. One where you’re always chosen. One where 3D moves FOR YOU.

You’re the operant power. You’re the creator. You get to decide.

So stop wavering. Stop reacting. Stop waiting.

Start deciding.

[blossomcola]

content warnings. alcohol, scissoring, overstimulation.

pairing. curious straight!daniela avanzini x best friend! fem reader.

been thinking for a while about best friend!daniela, who claims to be heterosexual and makes it clear at every opportunity that she doesn’t like girls and would never be with one, but there’s something off about her that makes you doubt it.

she is somewhat double–minded about it because she says she would never be with any woman because that isn’t her preference but every time she has the opportunity she is fruity with you; things like dancing next to you in the middle of a party and end up moving her body against yours, using the excuse of “enjoy the party as you feel the vibe of the song” but she literally has her hands on your body and grinds her hips against yours in a fake hip swing matching your movements… daniela would always do this with a song with a sensual rhythm or suggestive lyrics, waiting for the perfect beat moment to appear in front of you and start with her act, giving you a look that has a playful glint in it as her lips move in time with the lyrics and she slowly moves her hands to your hips, pulling your body towards hers and certainly her hip movements start to turn you on at some point…

i also see her as the type who wouldn’t miss the opportunity to participate in stupid but typical party games, from drinking pong to that moment where the girls who swear they’re straight start passing ice from mouth to mouth but end up kissing… more than likely daniela is one of those who suggests it, or at least, one of the first to start cheering when she hears someone mention it. the rest of the group of friends would joke about it, like lara and megan laughing in the middle of the act but doing it anyway, but daniela? she gets into the role and seems to be doing it for fun rather than because it’s a challenge some drunk from there gave her, and you realize it the moment that instead of just passing you the ice, she prefers to close her lips on yours and practically put her tongue down your throat, making you whimper pathetically into her mouth by the way she takes your jaw with both hands and holds you in place.

and this definitely ends with you two fucking, yeyyy! it was more than expected by the way daniela was looking at you all night, in short, as if she wanted to devour you without even caring that you two were in the middle of a nightclub. you two always end up spending the night together after a party since it’s a safer thing because it’s better than letting either of you take an uber while drunk — but today, unfortunately, you don’t have much time to think about the hangover you’ll have in the morning because daniela doesn’t waste any time and practically throws herself at you the moment you enter to her bedroom! she shuts down your attempts to ask her what she’s doing because she’s kissing you in the messiest and dirtiest way possible, swallowing your whimpers as she uses her body to push you back and make you fall immediately onto the mattress of her bed, being quick to climb on top of you and roughly grind her hips against yours in a thrust that makes you moan.

scissoring with daniela in her bed <3 she’s already been driving you crazy all night with her hip movements, so doing this is the best way to make it up to you there is. she would smirk, enjoying more than she should how you are a babbling mess beneath her, finding it adorable how you move your hips up to match her movements and have more because that’s what you crave but it’s too much overstimulation for you and you end up giving in :( daniela knows about this and is so considerate that she bends down to kiss you again while this time she fucks you against the mattress in a way that makes the bed creak and fill the quiet room along with the moans of both of you

it really doesn’t matter if you don’t have much energy to be on top because daniela, being a dancer, knows what it’s like to have stamina, so you just have to lie down and keep your legs open so she can do all the work.

[lunabug2004]

I love s2 so much but I will always get a little upset at all the adults in the lab practically ignoring Mike the whole time. Like if they are freaked out and scared about the situation, imagine how the only other kid in the room feels?

I know that it could be possible that he received some comfort and we just didn't see it, especially because of the way Mike starts being hidden from us in season 2, but if that was the case I have a feeling his breakdown with Hopper wouldn't have been nearly as loaded as it was.

Maybe it's just the way I operate but if there are kids around me during a stressful situation (even when I was a kid myself), I always make sure they are as far away and as calm as possible. I make sure to explain to them in the best way I can what is going on so that they at least have an idea of how to handle their emotions.

I know Mike wasn't freaking out or anything, but of what we know about his character ("even Mike, who likes to act tough" - LOTL), he wouldn't say anything no matter what awful emotions he was feeling. But I don't care. The adults in the situation should know better.

He's literally watching his best friend be taken over by a monster (which he basically swore to protect him from), be tortured by scientists, and then be forced to kill people, which Mike also tries to stop because he catches onto the trap (just a bit too late). He then has to run through a lab of dead people while being chased by the monsters who killed said people until he gets trapped in a room with no way to help and just has to hope that they all get out alive, which they don't, he learns as he holds Will's limp body then has to comfort Joyce as he coerces her to keep going. Oh yeah, I didn't mention that he also had to convince the adults to put his best friend to sleep or else he could also kill them and has to listen to his screams as they put him under.

I will never stop believing that season 2 is absolutely devastating for Mike and that the trauma he gained from it is almost impossible to fathom.

Now, I'm not saying that he wouldn't have been traumatized if he received comfort, but I at least don't think it would be as bad as it is. I mentioned in a post before that he might've lost even more trust in the adults (I specifically named Hopper) around him because of this. We know he's had a problem with authority since the beginning, but it gets worse in season 3, and I think this might be part of the reason why.

Anyways, I'll stop rambling now. Season 2 is my favorite season, but man (I've said it a million times and I'll keep saying it) Mike in season 2 literally breaks my heart into a trillion pieces.

[localgerman]

Hiiii can I get some TransBPD and TransSystem tips??? Ty is advance :3

-🌀🍬

TransBPD and TransSystem Tips

oh my god while working on this it deleted and it was almost finished so i had to rewrite everything </3 but here you go!

1. TransBPD Tips

- A symptom of bpd is fear of abandonment. For this i say be clingy to those you care anout and dont let them abandon you. You will want to keep them with you no matter what, even if they are just your friend or maybe a lover.

- Switch opinions quickly and randomly. For example if your friend asks if you want to go to mcdonalds or wendys, you first say mcdonalds, then once you are halfways to mcdonalds say „actually lets get wendys“. Just switch opinions randomly, sometimes with no cause.

- Be impulsive! Sometimes just dont think before you do. This can be random things, maybe its buying something, or indulging in a substance, or maybe its trying to do a skateboard trick while not knowing how to skateboard! Just do impulsive things!

- Have a favorite person, this person you will practically obsessive over. You want to talk to them 24/7 and will want to hangout with them all the time, you may even get possesive and jealous over them, not wanting them to talk to anyone else other then you.

- Relationships will usually be unstable for those with BPD, you might have to love bomb a lot; one moment you show plenty of love and the next you may even seem distant.

- Switching emotions even when uneeded. Never stay the same emotion for too long, if you are happy all day maybe find something to be mad about or whatever you wish!

- Episodes of being unstable, you will want to be rapidly changing feelings during these episodes, and they should be intense. Even small things may set you off.

- Random sparks of anger or aggression, sometimes during inappropriate times. If someone asks you a simply question it may just tick you off for no reason.

- Episodes of other random mental issues, you may have to have episodes of deppression where you just dont have motivation to do anything and just want to sleep. Or you may have dissociative episodes where you just dont feel there. You can also have paranoid episodes where you might feel like people are against you or that someone is watching you or maybe even stalking you.

- Subliminals. i will ALWAYS reccomend subliminals for everything. heres a playlist

- Reaearch bpd and find your own symptoms, symptoms you can grow your personality into or symptoms you can easily recreate.

2. Tips for TransSystem

- Make some alters/headmates! there are plenty of BAH(build a headmate) blogs on tumblr, you can request a headmate from them or maybe find a premade headmate. Or maybe just make your own headmate, like creating an oc but this times its your headmate!

- Talk to your headmate(s). Imagine conversations between your headmates. Overtime it should just become natural talking to yourself in your head and getting responses.

- You can get the app simply plural pn the app store to keep track of your alters.

- Disasociate and stop caring about things so they slip your mind, then you can just feel like your alters did that and not you.

- SUBLIMINALS!!!! There are plenty of DID and OSDD subliminals on youtube, heres a playlist!

- Practice different handwriting styles and write in them randomly. you will want to make sure your typical handwriting and the other handwriting and different enough to notice. This is pretty fun since you can be as creative as you want with which handwriting style you choose to use.

- Have conflicting goals and ideas with your alters, it can be small things like which fast food place to eat at or how to style your hair one day, etc etc.

- Do simple things to better establish your system! create a collective name, make picrews or drawings of your alters, maybe even create an innerworld!

- Give your alters random roles, one might be a little and another a protector. These roles may change overtime, but you should have established roles for your alters.

- During stressing times you may have splits, where you form a new alter! Create a new alter then :}

I hope you liked these tips! <3

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Sunchoke;; YJW

Word Count;; 6.1k

Genre;; Fluff, F2Ls

Pairing;; Jungwon x Reader

Summary;;

“Weeds are simply plants that grow in places where humans do not want them to grow.” You’re not in love with your fellow receptionist. Really, you’re not! The feelings you have for Jungwon are purely platonic. You respect him. You admire him. You adore him. Totally normal feelings to have for a coworker! But if perhaps there was an opportunity to spend more time together and to get to know one another better, you wouldn’t say no. And if feelings were to grow during such an outing and you both decided it’s time to explore a future in which you’re hopelessly in love with one another, well, you’re just an adventurous person! Seriously! You’re not head-over-heels madly in love with Jungwon! You’re just friends! . . . unless? “Many people consider sunchokes a weed, but I don’t. The flower is pretty; it reminds me of little sunflowers, sunflowers that come back year after year.”

Warnings;;

None, really. I'll use this as an additional information dump: Non-Idol AU (Hotel Staff AU), Coworkers to Friends to Lovers Humorous (I think it’s funny) It’s meant to be pure fluffy but it’s a little angsty too?? I’m not sure why or even how that happened. But not like super sad!! Just a part with a sad undertone. It’s fluffy and cute, istg, it’s so cute. Mentions of a slight height difference (to me 6’ is tall, anything less is only kind of tall, and anything more is extremely tall so his 5’9 is just ‘slight’) Overuse of italics (you can take them from my cold, dead hands!) and long sentences(, my beloved). It’s a story about spring - did you really think I wouldn’t hit you with flowery prose? And don’t think just because it’s a story about flowers that I won’t find a way to also make it about space.

Prompt;;

'Flower Picking' from my 2022 Valentine's Day Prompts!

Notes;;

Not me typo’ing Jungwon as Kingwon. Twice. It’s also the first fic I wrote since I came back from my hiatus, and the first of 2025! (Not the first new fic I posted, though. I wrote Hold Your Breath while writing this one and it got posted earlier too. Stole all the glory, smh.)

Main Masterlist || EN- Masterlist || Fluff Masterlist || Valentine's Masterlist

Placing the final vase with your latest haul of illegally acquired flowers on your desk, a sense of pride blossoms in your chest. Despite the beauty of the Dawn’s Light Hotel and its world-renowned gardens and meadows, many five star reviews begin with warm regards for the dual reception desks in its modest lobby. The two desks serve as the first glimpse of the hotel’s interior, and you’ve endeavoured to make it a mighty fine one. No matter the season, no matter the weather, the most vibrant bouquets are the first greeting all guests receive.

Followed, of course, by your brightest smile.

“Good morning, madam,” your voice is practised and even, “will you be staying with us today?”

An elderly woman, hair as white as a snowdrop, returns your smile. “Oh my,” she practically giggles as she looks between your desk and the one across the foyer. “It might not be as large or fancy as the Signiel Seoul, but it has more charm, doesn’t it?”

Snapping your attention away from Jungwon’s desk you swallow your disappointment and muster another million-dollar smile. “It sure does! One morning the owner awoke to see the entire estate basked in a golden glow, the air shimmering and the flowers dancing in bloom. He knew then and there that this place was magical.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman says with a content chuckle. Her enthusiastic excitement is hard to ignore and you soon find yourself laughing in tandem.

The check-in process is second nature after all these years. Despite how easy it would be to fall into the motions, to let a robotic subconscious guide you through the day, this job is one you’ve come to cherish every moment of. As guests come to your desk to both check in and out, as tourists ask about the grounds, as your coworkers stop by for a quick break after each major rush, your demeanour never falters – genuine joy that takes root within the lobby and blooms in the hearts of all those you come in contact with. 

Happiness is, after all, contagious. 

Jungwon reminds you of this as you glance at him during a slow period, truly cementing the belief. He is the reason your worldview changed. When you first started this position you had been nervous, body hunching in on itself under the sheer pressure of self-inflicted stress. He took one look at you and saw a lifetime of worries. From that moment henceforth he took it upon himself to care for you.

“You need to slow down every now and then, okay?” he said most often during peak hours.

“Have you walked through the gardens today?” he asked whenever you made a mistake you wouldn’t stop beating yourself up over.

“Everyone has bad days,” he told you more than once during your first few months, back when you let the guests under your skin and allowed your temper to control your tongue. “If every action we take and every word we say will come back around in some kind of karmic retribution system, wouldn’t it be better to spread kindness? If we release goodness into the world on a daily basis, then there’ll be more of it available when we stumble upon an inevitable bad day. At least that’s what I think.” He smiled so brilliantly as he watched over the guests coming and going, entering this paradise ever so briefly before returning to the hardships of their everyday lives.

It was then you realised how much a single smile, the simplest of acts, could brighten a person’s day.

Or, in your case, a person’s entire life;

for everyday you’re witness to his smile and all the warmth that comes with it, a safeguard against bad shifts and worse days. He’s a pure soul with a heart that never falters and a mood that never sours. No matter the season, the weather, or the guest, Jungwon spends every moment bestowing joy and empathy to a broken world.

“He’s amazing,” you murmur. 

To yourself , mind you, but that doesn’t stop your night shift replacement from overhearing.

“And he’s single,” she says, unplugging your phone from the desk charger and holding it out to you. “You should ask him out… or maybe I will, just to spite you.”

With a roll of your eyes you accept your phone and leave your aromatic post in her capable hands.

—

It’s unintentional timing, truly, that finds you both walking the corridors to the staff quarters side by side. The nice older woman you’d helped earlier in the day had stopped you for a quick word. You tried to pay attention to her radiant praise of her room and the hotel itself but your eyes wandered, and where your eyes went so did your mind. It took great effort to keep your body still, grounding it in place lest Jungwon’s gravity ensnare you once more.

Call it divine luck – the woman departed in high spirits right as Jungwon finished his hand-off to his own night shift counterpart. He called out a soft goodnight to the team, to which the entire lobby staff reciprocated. Falling into step with one another came naturally, as did filling the gentle silence with talk of your independent yet parallel days. This is the status quo. What’s good and proper. No messy feelings or talk of relationships. Just coworkers. Friends .

“You outdid yourself today,” you say, long past content with ending a day without a proper conversation. “Your desk looked magnificent.”

Jungwon rounds a corner and pauses. You don’t stop, tired feet eager to end the day despite your heart’s protests. The staff quarters is up ahead, the steel keypad gleaming under the LED lights overhead. A few more steps and you’ll part ways, not just for the day but the whole weekend. 

You can’t help but wonder how he spends his days off. Does he rest? Catch up on sleep or laze about? Is he secretly a party animal? Catch a cab out only to walk home in the morning? Does he live day to day?

Does he let his heart decide how best to live his life?

“I have to do my best,” he says, and the softness of his words has you turning to face him.

“Why? You’re just competing with yourself. You’re in a league all of your own, you know. No one comes close.” You’re rambling. “Not even if they tried, so…”

He sighs as he takes the last few steps to pull ahead and open the door for you. The downtrodden smile that tugs at his lips is so unlike him it damn near hurts to see. It isn’t right. How could the light of the universe flicker and dull? And how can you be expected to stand by quietly and watch?

You can’t bear to watch him spiral alone, lost to whatever dark place his thoughts conjured.

You’ll bring a smile to his face one last time before your parting.

You’ll find him and bring him home.

With a curtsy and an exaggerated bow, you glide over the threshold. Before he can follow you inside, you reach back to hold the door for him. Your goodwill gesture does nothing except earn you a tired frown. You knew it wouldn’t be easy; the roots of melancholia always grow deep.

Oh well. You’ll just have to dig deeper.

“Right this way, my flower prince,” you call out in a posh English accent. “Doth thou haveth any last requests from thee?”

“What are you–”

“Perhapseth you needeth a hot cocoa? Thougheth it iseth a spring day, faire and hot, like you good sir. A cold cocoa might be in order…eth. Ordereth. Ifeth you wanteth.”

“A cold cocoa”–Jungwon grimaces–“sounds awful! Please, no, never.”

You exhale for much longer than necessary and throw your hands up. “The flower prince haveth no taste.”

“But! I do actually have a request, squire. I demand to know your–” 

Upon hearing your disapproving tut he breaks off into a laugh so sweet, it uplifts the drab staff lounge and brings colour to a room once devoid of it.

“I desire the source of thou’s flowers. I wish to knoweth the location. If thou drops the secret to where such rare and beautiful flowers are beheld, thou shall be forgiven for making a mockery of regency period pieces.”

You snort. “Like you did any better.”

“I was up to pitch – you weren’t even center left field.”

“Okay, okay, let’s end this before we do to sports what we–mainly you–did to Bridgerton,” you call to him as you speed walk over to the lounge's snack station. After pocketing some fruit and with a little pep in your step you skip back to Jungwon. “But honestly I don’t think you can handle knowing where I get the flowers.”

Handing him a tangerine, you watch as his face scrunches in confusion, eyebrows knitting and lips pouting. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls open his locker. You sneak glances at him from time to time as you fiddle with your locker’s combination. He’s packing up for the day, exchanging his work gear for his personal belongings. Seconds pass in relative silence as you follow suit.

After the heavy clang of both locker doors crashing shut solidifies the true end of shift, a final (albeit temporary) goodbye of sorts, you’re left unable to move.

Taking a step toward the exit, even a single step, ends whatever it is the two of you have in this fleeting moment. It breaks the bubble, returns you to your own personal, individual, separate lives.

It’s too soon.

Can’t you stay a little longer?

Would he want to stay with you a little longer?

“Well,” he says, and your stomach drops. 

When he turns to you he’s smiling. Always smiling. So vivid, so effulgent. Your body reacts automatically, your expression mirroring his own. A flood of endorphins overcomes all sensibility. You don’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever. Is it selfish? Is it selfish to covet this feeling? To want it always and for no other?

“Well.” You nod, unable to look away, unwilling to shatter the moment.

Jungwon takes a step forward and your first instinct, to your embarrassment, is to lean toward him. A wisp of hibiscus encircles you as the distance between you closes faster than you expect it to, as if you’re not alone in your desires, as if he, too, wants this moment to stretch on and span eternity.

You come to a jerky halt before he has a chance to, giving you time to confirm that he is also leaning in. You might’ve leaned in first, but he leaned in twice as hard. He’s practically doubling over you, cutting the slight height difference out of the equation entirely. Any closer and he’d breathe your air. You’d breathe his air. The thought is dizzying, which is concerning on several levels. 

Friends, remember? 

Keeping it professional.

Keep it professional.

"Well?” and this time you realise it’s not an ending but a question. “Don’t leave me out in the dark.” As if you ever would. “I can keep a secret.”

A secret?

Right. The flowers.

“What makes you think I’m not spending my hard earned paycheck at a florist?”

“Do you really think you can pull one over on me when it comes to florists in this area? I know them all,” he says matter-of-factly. “I know all the gardens, too. I’m the flower prince, remember?”

“Okay,” you acquiesce. “I’ll tell you. Better yet! I’ll show you. But I want to know where you get yours, too. Deal?”

Jungwon extends his hand, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.

“Deal.”

—

An afternoon of texting gave way to an evening of bantering which concluded with ardent plans to meet in the morning. 7am to be precise. Early enough to catch some sun before the midday heat sets in.

Wistful hope and millions of thoughts kept you awake half the night until you at last passed out from sheer exhaustion. Getting up and ready for the day would’ve been torture if not for the fact that it was all for the best cause: seeing Jungwon. Outside of work, no less. In your free time!

Birds sing their little hearts out in bold declarations of love and trees whisper secrets from an eon past. Whenever the breeze picks up the tall grass sways and a hint of a floral paradise teases you. Somewhere along this trail is Jungwon’s secret garden. He hasn’t confirmed the existence of said garden but you know you’re right. The scents, the colours, the atmosphere – it’s all too vibrant, too magical.

It’s been an hour since you stepped foot on the uneven dirt path. You had been a little late (finding the spot proved more difficult than you anticipated) but Jungwon didn’t seem to mind as he leaned against the back of his car, soaking up sunlight with a content smile. When he caught sight of you he waved. His visage, unabashed joy simmering through an outwardly cool exterior, warmed your heart (and your cheeks, though you hope it wasn’t too obvious).

It took the majority of the hike to calm your jittery nerves. Constant reminders of your self-imposed friendzone does little to dissuade the yearning of your heart. Sneaking glances at Jungwon only heightens the battle raging within – the backpack he’s carrying, what is it for? Does he really think you’ll need so many supplies when he simply instructed you to bring nothing more than a bottle of water? Or does he plan to use this time to collect flowers, a sort of two-in-one excursion?

“We’re here,” Jungwon says as he gently guides you to the side of the path.

“Already?”

At least time flies when you’re overthinking your entire life and every interaction you’ve ever had.

 Jungwon huffs out a little laugh before looking up and down the trail. The coast is clear. He takes a step off the rocky dirt onto plush green grass. With a ‘come hither’ wave of his hand, he abandons the path and heads straight toward the treeline. You gulp as you also check the trail one last time, though undoubtedly for very different reasons. There doesn’t appear to be any indicators or markers – how can he be so certain this is the place? For the entire trek you’ve been surrounded by lush foliage and towering trees. What makes this spot any different?

You follow Jungwon off the barely beaten path and into the unknown. A shiver of excitement shoots down your spine. It’s not every day you get to try something new, go somewhere fun.

Emerald leaves caress your skin in a gentle welcome. Birds chirp high above, their calls harmonious. When you glance down you find the remnants of a brick road long forgotten to the years. It’s easy to question what you see. Being present in the moment, however, is much harder.

Pushing the concerns and the curiosity from your mind, you ground yourself in the here and now. Spring is fleeting, sure, yet in its own way it is eternal. Year after year it returns, all of its wonders and beauty offered freely. Animals, from the smallest insect to the largest mammal, rejoice as life circles back around to the beginning once more. The hardships of winter are forgotten and the world is filled with endless possibility.

Tearing your gaze up and away from the fragmented path, you watch Jungwon. Wind tousles his hair, depositing the occasional tree seed on his silky strands. Most fall to the ground but you count one, two, three remaining. It’s a conscious decision to reach out, your fingers gliding through his hair and shaking the seeds loose. He’s soft, so soft and surreal under the mosaic rays of sunlight breaching the canopy.

He’s turning to face you, his chin parallel to his shoulder, and your breath catches in your throat. Brown eyes twinkle alongside an energetic smile that never fails to brighten your day. He’s ethereal, impossibly so, born to live amongst the flowers and bathe in the sun. The glade he’s taken you to does little to distract you – he outshines it all. This fact is proven, you realise, by your complete disregard of your journey’s end. How could it possibly compare to him?

“We’re here,” he says, his tone light. “What do you think?”

“Amazing,” you answer breathlessly, never once breaking eye contact. “Truly the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

A smattering of pink dusts his cheeks. “You haven’t even seen it properly yet.”

He reaches his hand back toward you, delicate fingers inviting you to hold, to be held. When you clasp his hand within your own, his warmth spreads from your fingertips through an intricate highway of nerves all the way to your heart. Within seconds your entire body is flushed with heat. You refuse to run from the sensation, doubling down by squeezing his hand, a gesture he returns as he guides you to the centre of the field.

As hard as it is to look away, you know how special this place is to him. You can stare at him for eight hours straight come Monday but he might never bring you here again, an outcome that is becoming more and more likely given how little you seem to care for his treasured paradise.

Swivelling your entire body away from him you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Sweetness coats your tongue and you let it sit there, savouring the taste, before exhaling. You inhale once more and hold the breath, allowing the air to rejuvenate your lungs. Your mind clears. A gentle breeze washes over your skin, cooling you. It’s relaxing; the whole world standing still so you can smell the flowers and listen to birdsong. Pushing the air through your parted lips in a slow exhale, you open your eyes.

Blinking does little to wash away the painting you’re greeted with. You doubt tears would even be enough to erase the beauty of the scene before you. There’s no other way to describe it, either. Hyperbole be damned – it’s fantastical like the Garden of Eden with as much colour and flair as the Miracle Garden in Dubai.

Thousands of tulips, roses and camellias bloom in brilliant shades of sunrise. Light beams down upon the glade, highlighting individual flowers as if they were hand-picked by the Lord Himself. Bees float above the petals, drunk off the sweet spring nectar, their wings humming an afternoon sonata. 

A distinct wave sweeps through the tall grass and before long you see its source: a family of gray squirrels, three playful and eager kits with their tired mother. A small gasp escapes your lips, garnering both the squirrels’ and Jungwon’s attention. While Jungwon smiles, the squirrels are less happy to see you. They take off back into the woods at lightning speeds.

You’re at a loss for words as you rotate in a semicircle, taking in the swaying trees and the critters bustling about. 

It’s all so alive; 

so wonderful and free.

“Jungwon, this place…” you trail off as you take a step toward him, your hand reaching for his. Fingertips graze and the affection you’ve denied for so long blossoms. “It’s magical.”

He interlocks his fingers with yours, a silent invitation, one you accept without hesitation. Sidling ever closer you cosy up to him, side by side. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh. “Thank you for bringing me here, for looking out for me, for caring.” Thank you for all the love you’ve shown me. “Thank you for everything.”

“I am the one who is grateful,” he murmurs, and you tilt your head to better see him. “You push me to greater heights and encourage me when I fall flat.”

You huff. “Like you could ever fall flat.”

“Really?” You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not so you nod, your cheek rubbing against his cotton shirt. He laughs, and you want to record the sound as a pick-me-up on your worst days. “Even now – you can’t help yourself.”

Your eyes narrow as you push away from him, your hand gripping his bicep like he’s a prisoner liable to abscond. “You’ve shown me a magical meadow full of wonder and beauty but somehow that isn’t enough?” A dog barks in the distance as you await his response. He offers nothing more than a shrug so you continue in a much smaller voice. “This isn’t enough?”

“That depends…”

“On what?”

“Where you get your flowers.”

“Where I get my– guy, my dude, you cannot be serious.”

You loosen your hold on him and give him some space. It was odd being that close anyway, like you were pretending to be something more than the two of you are. Pleasant, maybe, but still odd. 

“Where do you get them? I’m finding it harder and harder to compete with them day in and day out. I’m worried I might lose soon,” he says, and you know he’s avoiding a certain topic but can’t fathom for the life of you what it might be. 

You wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. Losing isn’t in your DNA so I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m resigned to a life of second place but I won’t stop trying to one-up you just because of your puppy dog eyes.”

His gaze snaps to your face (for a moment there you thought he lingered on your lips) and a flood of warmth stings your ears.

“I don’t do puppy dog eyes,” he says, and you can’t help but smile.

“If you say so,” you say with a little twirl, hands outstretched yet lowered. The tips of your fingers run across silky petals, their texture soft yet raw in a way only nature can be. “But you do. You get sad sometimes and you pout. Your lips jut out like”–you demonstrate briefly, the expression you put on far more exaggerated than necessary–“and it’s hard not to ki–”

You blanche as your mouth snaps shut.

You did not almost say that.

“Ki…?” he presses.

“Ki…ll. Kill. Kill your sadness.”

“Kill it?” he asks and, as you’re nodding (with vigour and gusto!), adds, “With a kiss?”

Forcing a laugh you ignore the sweat pooling in the well of your spine and point at a random flower. “Isn’t that pretty!”

“That’s a weed.”

You both stare at the white clover patch for a beat before you clear your throat. “No… it’s, um, it’s not. Weeds aren’t really a thing? And it’s technically flowering. So it’s a flower.”

“I agree,” Jungwon says as he leans down to examine the clover. He holds one of the flowering buds between his fingers. “Weeds are just plants people don’t want around anymore. We remove them before they have a chance to flower but they can be beautiful, too, if only given the chance.”

His voice is distant, so distant you worry you might lose him to his own thoughts. With little grace and no foresight, you drop like a sack of potatoes. The soil is soft beneath you, your knees planted firmly amongst tufts of cool grass. Wet grass. Staining-your-clothes-green grass. A chill seeps through your pants and settles into your joints.

The angle, however, is worth the discomfort.

The clover patch rests between you both, with him still bent over and now positioned to look into your eyes while you sit on the damp ground, locked in and observing every trace of melancholia lingering in the shadows of his picturesque features. He lets go of the clover as you stare up at him with parted lips, breathing an afterthought.

He clears his throat and straightens. His slight build now towers over you. It’s a new sensation, feeling small beneath him.

He’s erecting walls and throwing up neon signs in an attempt to distract you as he asks, “Why are you staring at me like that? If I didn’t know any better I would think you had a little crush on me.”

Despite his teasing tone and how clearly he’s trying to steer the conversation toward some light bantering, there’s something your heart yearns to tell him, a desire to dress a wound you never knew needed tending.

“I wouldn’t mind being a weed. They’re fighters, you know? They don’t listen to the haters; they’ll grow where they want, when they want. Against all odds.”

“Which is one of the many reasons weeds are actively targeted and eliminated – they’re a detriment to the plants around them.”

“It’s a plant-eat-plant world, my prince.”

Jungwon cracks a smile as he rolls a stone underfoot. You can’t help but smile alongside him.

“So how about you tell me what’s up, huh? Why do you have to be the best? Are your parents flower shop overlords? Did they kick you out of the family business for being a sunchoke instead of a sunflower?” 

He shoots you a look but ignores your antics.

“I have to because…” Trailing off, his words fade until you’re straining to hear him over the cacophonous racket of mating calls and territorial disputes. 

You blink at him a few times before rolling your hand backward a few times. “Wait, repeat that.”

“ I have to because ,” he enunciates with a little too much sass, to which you quirk a brow but remain silent, giving him time to open up at his own pace. “Because if I don’t, I’ll lose.”

“Lose what?” Your hand idly glides over blades of grass. They imprint an earthy scent on your palm and fingers but you don’t notice, too absorbed in watching Jungwon’s conflicted expression. “What could be so important?”

“You.” Did you hear him wrong? You must’ve. He’s just so quiet, his words escaping alongside a tuft of dandelion seeds let loose in the wind. “I don’t want to lose you .”

For a moment all you can manage is to stare dumbly – mouth open, eyes wide, nary a thought on your mind – until his words process instantaneously, dispersing hope to every ounce of your being. There’s so much potential in that sentence alone. It fuels what could never be voiced yet was so poorly hidden: 

you’re in love with Jungwon. 

Voice a whisper, you ask, “Why would you ever lose me?”

“Because you’re the sun and I’m an annual. One day you’ll best me and you’ll realise you’ve grown bored of the whole thing, that there are greener fields out there with fresh talent and innovative technique and–”

“Technique? What, like genetically modified Frankenstein plants?”

“ And you’ll realise my season has come to an end so you’ll find a new flower to bask in your light, to nurture and care for.”

Is he serious?

He can’t be.

There’s no way.

“I really need you to listen because this is something you should know,” you say as you stand. You brush your knees off in a futile attempt to look a little more presentable before using your grass- and mud-stained hands to cup Jungwon’s cheeks, holding his delicate, pretty, wincing-in-disgust face within your dirty palms. “Sunchokes are perennials. ”

He’s silent for a good thirty seconds before blurting out, “Are you being real with me right now?”

“Yes. They’re perennials. And they’re a tuber, just a little ‘fyi’ since you don’t seem to know much about them.”

His entire body deflates and his expression deadpans.

“I’m bearing my soul to you and this is the response I get? I’m called a sunchoke. A sunchoke ?”

“Yes, and a perennial! Don’t sell yourself short, Jungwonnie.”

“I am not a sunchoke.”

“Don’t hate on sunchokes. They’re good for you. And they’re pretty! An all rounder plant.” Letting go of his cheeks, you use one of your pointer fingers to boop his nose, emphasising each word as you coo, “Just. Like. You.”

Jungwon rolls his eyes but he can’t hide the mirth sparkling within them. You flash him a big grin and give him a full-body nudge, swaying on the balls of your feet as you switch from his left side to the right, your arms pressing against his, fingers eager to entwine until at last he reciprocates. He interlocks his hand with yours and that all too familiar warmth returns. 

You bow your head, shying away from the idea of being too overt, wanting to childishly hide your thoughts from him. The floodgates are open and it’s too much all at once – years of denying your crush, repressing your affection, it’s written all over your face if that goofy quirk of your lip is anything to go by. 

You like him, that much you know for certain.

And he likes you, even if he’s completely wrong about why you endeavour to best him.

So why must it be so hard to like one another, together, at the same time, no misconceptions?

Why can’t you just… be in love?

“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft as you ready yourself for the leap.

“Hey,” he responds, his words your safety net.

“Hey.” You don’t hide your feelings any longer, wearing your heart proudly on your sleeve as you beam up at him, willing all your tender sentiments to pour forth upon him in a gentle shower. “I don’t compete with you because I want to best you – I do it because you’re my gold standard. No one will ever outdo you, not to me. If I’m the sun, then you’re the core at its centre.”

Jungwon’s eyes widen for a mere second before they relax and a soft smile lights his entire face. He rubs the back of your hand with his thumb as a cool breeze sweeps through the glade. Upon the wind comes the hint of lavender, though it’s masked by the sweet aroma of the thousands of roses surrounding you in a veil of spring. Flowers bend and wave, some loose petals taking flight. The trees sing as their leaves rustle and small gaps in the canopy speckle you in sunlight. 

Emboldened by the season of new beginnings, you lean forward, tilting your head upward. 

“Wonnie, you’re the heart of the sun. You’re my heart.”

Jungwon stiffens and despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his grimace. 

Which you don’t hold against him because you, too, are wincing. A low whine is bubbling in your throat and you’re overheating from pure embarrassment. Your heart ? Who says things like that?!

“That was…”

“Yeah, I know, let’s just forget it.”

“Kinda hard to.”

“Well, try to,” you say on the verge of begging but holding yourself back to protect the last threads of your dignity, “please?”

“I make no guarantees. As your heart it’s my duty to remind you about it daily.”

“That’s my brain’s job and it won’t need any help torturing me for the rest of forever, thank you very much.” You sigh, dropping your head against his chest. You bury your face in his shirt and he pats your head. “Now are you going to be my boyfriend or what?”

“Wow,” he drawls. “You really need to leave the romance to me.”

“Not an answer and I’m suffering enough as it is.”

Your eyes flutter open as warmth embraces your cheeks, your face held gently within his hands.

“There’s something I really need you to listen to, okay? I need you to understand this before I can commit to being your boyfriend,” he says as he brushes some strands of windblown hair behind your ears. Your pulse thrums, blood pumping madly at the mere mention of him, your precious Jungwon, committing to the idea of forever with you. “The heart of the sun is the core.”

You’re smiling with your entire being as his words process at their own pace. The whole glade is alive with possibility, with fervent youth! And now Jungwon is smiling as well, though his smile doesn’t look as goofy as yours feels. His is almost… triumphant, like the cat who ate a canary. 

Like he’s gotten the last laugh.

It isn’t until he uses his pointer finger to boop your nose that it dawns on you.

He’s using your own tricks against you.

“You’re a funny guy,” you say with little enthusiasm. “Real funny. Great callback. So clever.”

But you let the whole thing go when his lips press to yours. Sweet like hibiscus, the kiss sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, your whole body thrumming as if on a sugar high. His nose brushes against yours as he tilts his head. The slight angle allows for closer contact, for a deepening of the connection. You part your lips and welcome him, his taste lingering on your tongue even after he pulls away.

“There’s nothing in this world I’d rather be than your boyfriend,” he says, his voice dreamlike and breathless.

“Is that so?” He nods, and you have to fight your giddy glee before it makes a fool out of you. Clearing your throat, you swallow once and take two deep breaths. “On to business, then.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Not at the moment, but as a rule I always prepare for the worst,” you say, patting his fluffy hair before taking a step away. You need the space to think. Your brain needs to be reminded that there’s a world outside of your super cute, really smart, practically perfect flower prince.

“Now that you’re officially my boyfriend–”

“And your heart.”

“–I have a legitimate question for you.”

“I have one for you, too.”

“Me first.” Gesturing around the glade and its thousands of brilliant flowers, you ask, “Why do you need to know all the florists in the city if you have this?” 

You can see the wheels turning for a few seconds before he snaps his fingers. “Ah, right. I did say that. To be honest I don’t actually know any florists. I go in every now and then to the local shops or the farmer’s market to pick out complementary flowers if I think an arrangement needs a little something extra but…” Your mouth forms a little ‘o’ and he shrugs. “Now the million dollar question, the one I’ve been dying to know ever since you brought in that saffron crocus grand bouquet last year: where do you get your flowers?”

You can’t help but snicker. “The crocus. You know I had no idea at the time that it was worth like… big money. Like, big-big money. I couldn’t go back to the house again after that. They’d probably shoot me.”

“It’s not. Shoot you? Well, not the flower at least, the spice is. But why would someone shoot you?” Jungwon’s all over the place; he’s adorable. “What do you mean, ‘go back to that house’?”

Seeing Jungwon confused and remembering your nightly activities brings on a fit of giggles that soon grows uncontrollable. It’s a full-on laugh, loud and boisterous, but also nervous as you prepare your confession.

“Well, you see,” you manage to huff out, “I steal them!”

“You what ?”

“I steal them! From rich people's yards! At 3 am!”

Each sentence is punctuated with another bout of laughter, and by the time you finish talking you’re not the only one bent over clutching your ribs and wheezing so hard you’re crying.

“So when I took the crocus, well, I didn’t realise they were growing so much because they wanted the stigmas, you know, for saffron. Poof! All their spice gone overnight!”

Jungwon wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe I’m dating a criminal.”

“Soon to become one yourself.” His brow raises quizzically and you continue, “I keep my promises and I clearly remember telling you I’d show you the source from whence all flowers cometh frometh. So you and me, tonight, we’re breaking the law, baby.”

“You know what they say”–Jungwon wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back toward him–“Criminals who crime together, stay together.”

“Sexy bad boy Jungwon, hello,” you say, interlocking your hands behind his neck. “What’s next? Are you going to kiss me until I grow weak in the knees?”

He grins as he leans down, resting his forehead against your own. “I can do that.”

It’s on a fine spring day that time slows as he kisses you with reverence and care;

On a fine spring day, as you reluctantly part in need of air, the world proves itself both good and right;

It is on this finest of spring days that a pair of sunchokes looked upon one another and saw their sun gazing back.

-fin-

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Thank you! – ♡ –

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆ cause you're my iron man, and I love you 3000

notes: based off of this ask, this is kinda different from the actual ask I'm sorry 😭

-- you and niki have an argument.

or

-- the one where you both miss each other but don't know how to say it

niki x fem!reader | wc: 2.9k | angst, comfort, idol au | masterlist | warnings: language, crying, kissing, reader's a college student

****

the past two weeks have just been weird.

conversations between the two of you used to come natural.

it was almost like drinking water between the two of you. and its crazy to think of where you two are now.

it's hard to even fit your sleeping schedules today.

he's out all day and you're out for half of it.

the other half you don't get to breathe.

you're putting up with it because you knew this was the cost to be able to graduate with the degree that you want.

he hasn't even been staying many nights at your place anymore. you'd gotten the same text from him every night around seven pm for a week.

-sorry I can't come over tonight, don't wait up for me!

but the second week came and he stopped texting in all.

it stung a bit. because even though that message would bring your mood down. it was still from him. it was something from him.

sometimes you'd text him a good morning, he'd reply hours later with a good night.

it just felt like you were chasing after the shadow of him, you could see him there but he would inevitably be unreachable, and you were beginning to sense your legs giving out.

niki wasn't doing any better than you.

his face was drained of his natural color, he had bags under his eyes from the nights he lied awake in bed, fighting his thoughts.

it was never easy for him to speak on his feelings, never easy to be the first to do something.

his thoughts were eating him alive. no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't reach out first.

he hated how he felt. he hated himself. he hated that he stopped texting you, stopped calling, stopped coming by.

your apartment was a thirty minute drive from his dorm. he doesn't know what's holding him back.

the boys had noticed this change in him, but nobody asked him about it. they knew he'd just brush it off. he'd tell them it's nothing.

so they didn't push. they stayed quiet. despite the soundless whispers they'd share between each other at night about him.

niki knew.

how could he not? he noticed everything.

it wasn't until the end of the two week mark that jake walked up to him.

they finished practice and the plan was to shower then head over to the recording room.

everyone left, and jake was about to follow after but his hand slipped from the handle.

the door shut abruptly, the noise catching niki’s attention, making him turn his head towards the door.

"hyung?" niki called out, jake dropped the bag that was hanging off his shoulder.

he walked over to where niki was sitting against the mirrored walls.

he copied his position, sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

"just," he sighed, "just say it, niki." jake's eyebrows furrowed, "what's going on?"

niki bit his tongue. jake didn't even ask what's wrong. he asked what was going on. and that was enough of a difference to make his eyes sting.

"I'm an asshole." niki whispered. "I-I don't even know what to do to fix what I did." niki felt a hand on his knee. it was warm against his cold skin, even though he was still sweaty from practice.

"I can help, or i'll try to. just tell me."

niki's head finally raised, his red eyes that were heavy from fatigue finally meeting jakes.

"I don't even know how it started. we were fine like three weeks ago. I was holding her before bed, and she'd wake me up. we'd get ready for the day together," he sniffled, "a-and then I just started getting really busy with our comeback and I was canceling a lot on her. and the days I was finally free she'd cancel on me because of finals seasons. it was just back and forth from there." niki rubbed his left eye with his index finger. jake saw that it was wet when he lowered his hand from his face.

"I stopped texting her everyday because I felt embarrassed. I mean, I'm her boyfriend. the whole point of me is to be there for her. she shouldn't even have to call out my name for me to be next to her."

jake let out a quiet breath. niki breathed in a heavy one.

"I really fucked up. and I can't even bring myself to talk to her. every chance that I get to, I just pull back. I don't know whats fucking wrong with me." he let out a sob now, his hands coming up to rest on his head.

jake pulled his hands away from his head, grabbing his shoulders.

"nothing is wrong with you. okay?" niki tilted his head. "you're just going through a bump in the road. a very large bump. but one nonetheless. and you know the thing about bumps?" niki shook his head. "they end. they're there, and they're a pain in the ass but they end."

jake saw the tears in his eyes fall down, his nose red.

"go over to her apartment right now. I'll tell everyone you weren't feeling well. I want you to go over to her empty handed and talk. even if the thought of it is nauseating." niki gulps, but he nods his head.

jake pulled him into his arms, just holding him there. he could feel niki trembling. the poor boy went nearly a month with no touch, no contact.

niki pulled away, looking at jake's face for a few seconds.

"thank you."

--

the drive to your apartment was daunting.

the whole thirty-two minutes he was on the verge of either sobbing or throwing up.

so when he finally parked his car in front of the building, he rubbed a hand over his face and pulled his hoodie over his head.

he made his way up to your room number. a heavy breath made its way out of his body.

he knocked three times then stopped.

looking at his phone, it was 6:13.

he doesn't know if you're home right now. he doesn't even know if you're home.

soon enough, the door swung open.

"riki?"

his heart broke at your voice.

you couldn't believe that he was standing in front of you.

your thoughts were nonstop but your mind was empty.

you thought seeing him would make you sad, upset.

but really, it just made you angry.

you brought him inside. not wanting your nosy neighbors to get an ear of whatever was going to happen.

"what are you doing here." you asked flatly.

you could see his lips turn downwards.

"y/n-" he stopped himself when he saw your face.

you looked so....disappointed, angry, upset, annoyed, and everything in between. the look was enough to make all his emotions resurface.

no words were coming out of his mouth and that somehow worsened it all for him.

"I know you didn't drive all the way here after three weeks to guilt trip me, riki." you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"no.." he mumbled, gazing at the ground.

"god, I'm so sorry. I don't even know how to start." he licked his lips, "I was so-, god, so wrong and selfish and I shouldn't have ghosted you. I'm supposed to be there with you and I failed. I left y-you alone because I was afraid. and you know what? I still am." his voice broke towards the end.

your face softened a bit. just a bit.

"that doesn't make up for any of this, riki." your voice was firm, your hands moved to gesture between you two.

"I know." he sounded so broken, "and it's my fault, I should've talked with you, I shouldn't have kept everything inside." "but you did."

he felt powerless. like no matter what he would say, or do, wouldn't be enough.

"y/n, please. it was so hard, baby. I swear it." he felt a lump form in his throat. "I couldn't sleep well, I didn't wanna eat. I missed you. so much. and it fucking killed me knowing I could have fixed everything earlier. it was just so hard. it felt like the past three weeks, everything bad in my life was piling up. it's been so hard."

he took a step closer to you.

"I love you. I love you. I love you and everything about you. I missed all of you too." his hands balled into fists on his sides, he felt like he had to physically stop himself from touching you. he didn't know if he had your permission just yet.

"I missed how you'd hold me, how you'd wake me up, how it was you I'd come home to." he knew he probably looked and sounded pathetic. but at this point? he didn't care.

when you saw niki cry, that was it for you. you couldn't help but get watery eyes too.

he never cried, not in front of you at least.

its been two years of you two dating and he's never actually cried in front of you.

"riki-" he shook his head. "please don't call me that." his eyes looked at you, they were red, a bit puffy and held such a weight to them.

he always told you how much he hated hearing his full name from you.

"I-I know i shouldn't have done all of this. and i know i keep saying how i shouldnt have or what i should've done but, please. can i get another chance?"

you sighed, the whole facade you were hoping of keeping up came crumbling down.

you couldn't stay mad at him, maybe upset, but not mad. and you didn't want to yell at him.

"okay.." you walked up to right in front of him, not making any contact yet. "but we're still gonna talk later."

he nodded his head, biting on his lower lip.

"it isn't just your fault, its mine a bit too." he shook his head at your words. "n-no, baby. its all me. really."

you brought a hand up to his cheek. you felt your heart break when he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

how did you go nearly a month without this man? and how did he nearly go a month without you?

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his body. his warmth. the way his shoulders shook slightly against yours and the crook of your neck got wet from his face was enough to really break you.

having him in your arms like this, you couldn't deny the fact that you didn't miss him anymore.

niki kept his voice quiet, still muttering a string of "I'm sorry"s into your body.

you brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled closer to your body.

"I missed you too, baby. I missed you so much. i'm sorry."

the feeling of your hand in his hair and the emotion he felt from your words calmed him down. shaky breaths leaving him now.

ten minutes, ten solid minutes of the two of you sitting in each other arms passed when you said the first word.

"niki, baby?" you called out softly, you heard him reply with a hum. "let's eat, yeah? I know you're probably hungry." he pulled away from you, but kept a hand on your sleeve. he nodded his head, following you as you walked into your kitchen.

you had some leftover food from yesterday, and so you began heating those up.

the whole time you could feel him watching him. like he wanted to say something but he couldn't bring himself to say it. and whenever your eyes would look at him, his would stray away. gazing at the ground as he played with the drawstrings of his hoodie.

niki doesn't think he's ever felt so welcomely unwelcome.

he knew you were okay with him being there, in your own space, but something was still eating at him, telling him he shouldn't even be allowed to have the luxury of sitting down and eating with you.

he was quiet, standing by the entrance of the kitchen and watching you.

the same kitchen you two would make your morning coffees together and bake silly recipes you found online.

it's crazy how fast things can change.

"riki?" you called out. "yeah?" he looked at you with glossy eyes. "come on, let's go sit."

the first thing he noticed when you two sat at your dinner table was the food.

you'd purposefully given him a much larger portion than your own plate.

he reached over the table for your hands, placing a kiss to both of them.

"thank you." he whispered, holding onto your hands tightly.

the whole dinner was silent, you both finished and brought your dishes to the kitchen. he washed and you dried.

that feeling settled into niki again.

"can I stay over....?" he asked when you two finished cleaning.

did he really think you were going to say no?

"of course you can, you wanna freshen up? I'll just be out here." you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down. he nodded his head, walking away.

niki went into your room, you had a cabinet full of his clothes because of how often he'd stay over.

he picked out some for himself and went into the bathroom.

you still had his toothbrush, his face wash, his shampoo. everything was still there.

maybe he was in his head too much.

twenty minutes passed from then until he came out, he seemed calmer. his face looked like it too.

niki saw you working on the couch, laptop in your lap as you typed away to whatever assignment you were doing.

he took a seat next to you, his leg bouncing as he decided what he should say. or do.

before he even knew it, you were closing your laptop and facing him.

you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into him. niki felt his heartbeat speed up, he was pretty sure you could hear it.

"I'll always love you. no matter what." you reassured, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

his breath hitched, and his cheeks tinted with a light pink. niki was always a bit sensitive there. the lack of physical contact and sensitivity made him catch your kiss off guard.

he cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist.

your face was resting softly, there didn't seem to be any trace of your previous emotions.

your eyes were heavy with sleep, cheeks bare from any makeup, and your lips,

god your lips.

he missed them. he missed how they felt, how warm they were. he missed the feeling of them on his own.

he didn't even realize he had a hand tracing over your face. he pulled his hand back quickly.

he couldn't be the first one to touch you. not after everything. you have to set the boundaries and he'll follow.

"why'd you move your hand?" his eyes widened. "u-um, I didn't know if you'd want me to...um, touch you again." his voice was so small, not even in volume but just in its emotion.

"you really think that I don't want you to? now?" he shrugged his shoulders weakly.

you got up, moving to straddle his lap, placing both your hands on his face.

"baby," you looked into his eyes, gaze never wavering. "i'm your girlfriend, niki. I want you to hold me and touch me." your thumb rubbing circles into his face.

he nodded his head, placing his shaky hands on your waist. he breathed out from his nose, his eyes closing and his head falling onto your shoulder.

"right," he mumbled.

he relaxed himself again, focusing on the way your body felt against his.

he doesnt think he could even express in words how much pain he was in for the past weeks.

hed gotten so used to everything from you.

when he'd get a hug from his members, it didn't feel the same as yours. it didn't hold the same satisfying heaviness as yours did.

he'd never tell you, but over at his dorm you left a hoodie behind.

every night he fall asleep with it, and every morning he'd wake up early enough to hide it before one of the boys saw.

but he didn't know that he did a bad job at that. he didn't know that jungwon was always the one to wake up the earliest and peek into everyone's rooms.

and he didn't know that jungwon had texted you countless times, asking when's the next time you'd come over. just to be completely dodged by your replies.

and you'd never tell him, but he had a cologne of his that he left over at your place once. and you'd spray it on one of your pillows, holding it when you'd fall asleep.

"I'm tired, ki..." you mumbled against him, adjusting your head against his chest.

he bit back a smile, one caused purely because of the cuteness he saw from you.

"let's sleep, then." he said quietly, holding onto you as he laid down on the couch. your body on top of his.

he closed his eyes when he heard your voice again.

"ki?"

"yeah?"

"you'll be here...when I wake up. right?"

he interlocked his hand with yours. squeezing gently.

"yeah. I will." he promised, bringing your hand up as he placed a kiss on it.