#producing stuff but not finishing any of it

[fortheloveoffanfic]

What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

[wrishwrosh]

made the extremely vulnerable mistake of rewatching all of the lord of the rings while bone tired on a work trip and now im revisiting. rereading. reinhabiting my most deranged covid self

[voluptuarian]

At least once every 6 months I become convinced I just literally cannot write fiction anymore. Considering that's a thing that actually happened with my poetry writing and my drawing ability it's a somewhat concerning idea. Currently in one of these phases now.

[viktoriakomova]

expanding on my last post:

i feel like we all just WANTED to be able to love woga guilt-free. they produced, and continue to produce, beautiful gymnasts.

but after bross and then ohashi it was obvious that [valeri's] woga was bad news. then the landi group came onto the scene with kocian and baumann, who, despite being plagued by injuries, seemed overall relatively happy (a subterranean bar lmao) and had a good relationship with laurent and cecile. and they were both at woga since they were wee babes so they really were Wogettes™

and cecile and laurent being the elite group's coaches at woga in valeri's absence almost gave us permission to love woga again. and thats why i think a lot of people are so hesitant to say theyre a problem in any way as coaches

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

what is this?? gurt attempting to write a fanfic that's lived in her mind for like 3 years?? the night after inventory at her store wrapped up when all she REALLY wants to go is sleep for a whole week????

[maxwellatoms]

In one of your last answers, you said “series reboots are usually pretty gross and sad”, and I was wondering if you could expand on that? Assuming “reboot” covers any kind of continuation of a currently cancelled or finished show (and maybe that’s the wrong assumption!), from the outside looking in it feels like a pretty mixed bag. On one hand, if I love XYZ Show, it’s cool that I get more stories with these characters and another chance to support XYZ Show and its creators. On the other, it definitely feels like a lot of ideas can only get funding if they’re tied to something already, meaning creatives are having to now tie whatever cool idea they have to some reboot/relaunch/retread, which can feel pretty disheartening if you don’t want to do a reboot/relaunch/retread. Is that a similar feeling from your side of the industry?

Thank you so much for all your answers and insight!

Usually reboots and spin-offs are just cash grabs. It happens a lot in animation. In fact, I would argue that the entire industry is just one big cash grab now. In the 80s, everyone complained that cartoons were just half-hour commercials for toys. And they were right. And we're right back there, but now that you can't legally push toys all day, it's just general "IP". Mugs, posters, more spinoffs, whatever.

I was offered three show running gigs over the pandemic. All reboots that I would consider unwise to pursue because they were "of a different time" and didn't (in my opinion) have anything more to say. Two of them were properties created by notorious sex pests, so there's also that. The animation industry loves to prop up its sex pests.

I turned all of them down, partially because I didn't respect the original creators but also because none of them had anything going for them except just being "more of the same".

I don't think any of those projects survived the intervening years, so in retrospect I maybe should've taken the job. I'd probably feel a bit gross, but at least I'd have floors in my house.

The entertainment industry is in a bad spot. The whole thing. I've had I don't know how many pitch meetings in the last few years, and they all start the same way:

"Hey! Before we start, we just want to let you know that we're not actively producing anything right now. We think maybe soon, but we won't be picking anything up today..."

And then later:

"The little we are doing is IP, so if you have a new take on our IP or a new IP you're connected to that you can bring in, that'd be great."

I always wanted to make original stuff. There came a time when I'd had my fill of Billy & Mandy and wanted to do something else new and original. That never manifested, and I was constantly being offered IP to produce. I turned too many of those down, maybe, before deciding that it was probably better that I run the IPs that mean something to me rather than having some hack do it.

But now those jobs have all gone to celebrities and fallen live-action writers, who are also slowly being eaten by the system. WB was hot for Scooby stuff a few years back, so I pitched some ideas. A few of them were turned down for being "off-brand" in a variety of ways. WB has now made (I think) all of those off-brand shows (or something close) with celebrity show runners.

I was going through a whole Midlife Impostor Syndrome thing recently where I was wondering if maybe I don't just suck. Like, it's weird that for a couple of decades I'd have people calling me trying to get me to run shows, and now nobody will call me back about the possibility of a design job.

Talking to some friends and realizing that they were in a similar situation helped me feel like I wasn't alone. That was nice. Talking to some of the most talented colleagues in my industry made me made me realize that those people weren't getting jobs either. That was unnerving. Talking to complete strangers in other parts of the entertainment industry now has me thinking that the whole house of cards is coming down. That's real concerning, yo.

It's hard not to think it's purposeful, when deranged billionaires own the entirety of our media and want to shape a society where they can't be criticized. We're letting wealthy tech bros firebomb the very heart of our culture, and it's weird that no one is talking about it. Because (for now) we still have that capability.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

Fish guy is actually pretty much the same height as Steve when they’re sitting next to each other on the edge of the pool. Steve finally gave in, the heat of the day getting too much, and is trailing his feet in the water – fish guy doesn’t seem to care, but Steve still made sure to shower before he came out here. Next to Steve’s feet, the flat point of fish guys tail is also swirling in the water.

Fish guy loves pears. Steve’s sure they’re his new absolute favorite thing, and Steve’s watched him demolish six, cores and stalks and all, one right after the other.

He’s licking sticky juice from his fingers. Steve can’t see his eyes behind the shades; but he’s certain fish guy is watching him. Probably waiting to see if Steve will produce more food; fish guy has developed a hearty appetite, and he hasn’t put on much weight yet, but he’s not exactly what Steve would call emaciated either. A little over a week of regular food is obviously helping.

“Okay,” Steve sips on his beer, the points to himself, “Steve.”

“Steeee,” fish guy readily replies, nodding. Steve has no idea how or when he picked up the nodding and head shaking, but he uses both correctly, as far as Steve can tell, so Steve doesn’t argue.

Steve points at fish guy. Nothing, then a curious head tilt.

Steve’s starting to come to the conclusion that maybe fish guy just doesn’t have a name. Which, okay, Steve can kind of see that. He vaguely wonders if fish guy has any family; if he’d even want to go back to the Upside Down.

“Right. Should probably name you something vaguely fish related, no? Should we stay on brand?” Fish guy cocks his head the other way, like a bird. They’ve been sat here long enough that the sun has started to dry the ropey mess of hair that fish guy has; it gone kind of curly now, pinging up as it dries.

Steve really wants to comb it out, but he has no idea how fish guy will react; they’ve only just made it to sitting next to each other. Steve’s vaguely aware that combing someone else's hair is a bit...familiar, but he figures fish guy is kind of in his care or whatever.

Maybe they could build up to it.

“Fish,” Steve muses vaguely to himself, “fishing? Scales? Tails? Fishing, fisher? Fisher, Eddie, Eddie Fisher, that singer guy Mom really likes. What do you think, how does Eddie sound? Good as anything, right?”

Steve has no idea what’s going on behind the sunglasses, but fish guys head keeps cocking curiously to the side. Steve points to himself, “Steve.”

Fish guy, replies, “Steeee,” as expected, nodding.

Steve points to fish guy, and says, “Eddie.”

Fish guy points to himself cautiously, and quietly volunteers, “Edidie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, nodding, “near enough, man. Eddie. Sounds good.”

“Good,” Eddie replies, startling Steve a bit because it’s clear as a bell.

“That’s right, good. Eddie.”

Eddie, very slowly so Steve can clearly see what he’s doing, reaches for Steve’s beer bottle. Steve’s instinct is to take it away, what if it’s poisonous or something? But then he figures Eddie’s been pretty clear about rejecting stuff so far if he doesn’t want it; plus he lived in the Upside Down for, presumably, years. If he can survive in a toxic environment like that, then surely a sip of beer won’t hurt him.

Eddie’s funny as he lifts it, sniffing cautiously before he works out the mechanics of fitting his lips around the neck of the bottle. He drinks. Seems to ponder it for a moment, and then drinks again, giving the bottle a mournful little shake when he realizes it’s empty. There wasn’t much left anyway; Steve figures he’ll be okay.

“Good,” Eddie says as he hands the bottle back, “inied.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “finished.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t have any gills?”

“You are definitely asking the wrong person here Robs,” Steve scatters another handful of peas into the water, watching as Eddie bobs along, collecting them one at a time and popping them into his mouth, “ask Dustin. He’ll produce a book. There’s literally always a book.”

“I don’t want to ask Dustin, he’ll actually try and explain it to me...I’d rather speculate emptily.”

“You do love a bit of empty speculation.”

Robin nods in agreement, “so, no gills, what do you think?”

“I think…” Steve ponders for a few seconds, filling up the dog bowl with the rest of the peas and floating that on the water, “that he can’t actually breathe underwater. He can just hold his breath for a fucking long time.”

“Nah. Boring. Plausible. Logical. Could be correct. I need something wild Steven.”

Steve thinks, but he doesn’t have much of an imagination, not like the kids or Robin. Clever people have good imaginations; Steve’s not one of them. But he does remember hearing something about bugs one time, “he breathes through his skin.”

“Fucking rad.”

“You have been spending way too much time with Argyle.”

“He has the good stuff Steve, supply and demand,” she says shrugging, and then, “why, you jealous?”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. Because no, of course he isn’t. Much. Maybe a tiny bit. But that’s okay, Robin should have other friends and stuff he guesses. She pokes him in the ribs and he flaps at her.

It just encourages her, obviously, so he tries to ignore her which just makes her ten times worse. She pokes more, and she just knows him too well, goes for his ticklish ribs and before Steve knows what’s happening he’s on his side, trying to curl up to get away, begging for mercy and shrieking with laughter, Robin hollering “admit your jealousy Steven. Say uncle! Say iiiiiiiiiit!!”

Robin disappears suddenly with a splash and yelp. She scrambles on the grass, trying to right herself from where she was shoved, Eddie suddenly flopped half on top of Steve, his tail twisting around Steve’s middle. Robin scrambles back a few more paces, Eddie’s arms locked at the elbow to hold his torso up off the ground as far as he can, claws raking into the grass.

He’s completely silent, and Steve, shocked, just sits for a moment, looking at the back of Eddie’s soaking head. The water’s dripping from his hair in rivulets down his pale back, his shoulder blades standing out sharply, the knobs of his spine visible where his back is held in a sharp arch.

He’s puffed up like an angry cat, Steve thinks absently.

He makes eye contact with Robin over Eddie’s shoulder, and she raises her eyebrows just a teeny tiny bit, ‘what the fuck?’

Steve shrugs, ‘I don’t know.’ Then tilts his head to the house a little, ‘give us a minute.’

Robin frowns spectacularly, ‘I’m not leaving you alone with the crazy fish guy’ or words to that effect, Steve guesses.

He nods toward the house again, trying to give his best, ‘I’ll be fine,’ vibes.

She looks hugely doubtful, but does move away, all slow and careful. Eddie hand walks to keep himself between between Steve and Robin, his tail clenching around Steve as he does.

“Eddie,” Steve’s hand hovers in the air for a few seconds before he bites the bullet and lets his hand rest on Eddie’s tail. It’s surprisingly smooth. Not soft exactly, but not hard. Doesn’t even feel scaly really, just smooth and warm it doesn’t look scaly either, now that Steve can have a close up look. It’s just...black. Matt black.

Actually now that he’s here, there are some funny little slits toward the tippy bit, they kind of look like they could be openings, but he doesn’t have time to investigate because Robin’s gone, so Eddie turns to him.

Steve has no clue what to say as Eddie’s tail slowly unwraps from his middle, “Eddie,” he starts, as Eddie slips back into the water.

“Steee.”

Steve just sighs, retrieving what are now Eddie’s sunglasses from where they’ve fallen by the edge of the lawn, “what am I going to do with you?”

Eddie tips his head, listening, but Steve doesn’t have anything else to say. At a loss, he heads inside to make sure Robin is okay.

A/N I know the time line doesn't work with Argyle since this happened after starcourt but lets just all agree to ignore that. There is no tag list for this work.

Part Four

[sparrowlucero]

ik you were joking but I would be genuinely interested to hear about the flux cowriting credits strife if you feel like going into detail on it

So I have a big conspiracy theory about season 13 of Doctor Who ("Flux"), namely that there's a lost episode was scripted and even possibly filmed in near entirety, but ended up being cut and cannibalized in post production due to behind the scenes issues, and the fandom has yet to pick up on it.

For anyone who doesn't watch the show: Flux is a miniseries of Doctor Who; a full season was not commissioned because it was produced during Covid. The most important stuff about it for the purposes of this post are:

It's 6 episodes long (¹). The episodes are all directly continuous and could not be shuffled around. (I should clarify here that, no, the showrunner can't simply choose on a whim to make 10 episodes, or only make 4; they had to stick to 6, as that was the amount they were picked up and scheduled for)

The showrunner, Chris Chibnall , wrote every episode apart from episode 4 (Village of the Angels) which he has a co-writing credit on.

(More subjectively but perhaps relevant) The season is largely considered to be kind of a structural mess and (less subjectively) there appears to some abnormal and consistent production issues (²)

So the first thing I need to evidence here is that Chris Chibnall, aforementioned showrunner and writer of the entire season, was late. Like, really late.

Word of mouth gossip had been circulating for a while that there was some sort of on-set problem involving filming having to be paused because he was still finishing scripts: (³)

This would later be confirmed at a Gallifrey One panel (⁴) with Matt Strevens, the executive producer, who suggests that filming stopped to allow Chris Chibnall to finish scripts; he further implies that large swathes of episode 5/Block 2 weren't written until Episode 4/Block 1 (in which Kevin McNally debuts) was filming:

So with that context, let's talk about that Episode 4, "Village of the Angels", the only episode not attributed solely to Chris Chibnall. Co written by Maxine Alderton.

The filming pics reveal an interesting bit of trivia for Village: namely, the clapperboards show that the story was actually filmed as episode 5, not 4:

As the above tweet suggests, this doesn't make much sense. The miniseries is, again, a single continuous plot. It's not like they flipped Village and the current episode 5, Survivors of the Flux; the latter explicitly takes place chronologically after it. And yet, Village having been intended as the penultimate episode 5 is further evidenced by the original trailer for it, in which a character states that the story takes place on the 28th of November. This line is dubbed over in the final episode and subsequent trailers to instead say the 21st:

Why is this line important enough to dub? Because that's meant to line up with the air date of the episode. Episode 4 aired on the 21st and 5 on the 28th. But something happened in post production, and now it's episode 4 on the 21st instead (⁵):

So if none of these episodes were moved around but it does seem like Village was meant to be episode 5, where and what is the original episode 4?

I have a theory.

Flux has a recurring subplot involving two side characters, a married couple (Bel and Vinder) who have been separated by the titular disaster and are traveling the universe to reunite with each other. This story is told through segments sprinkled throughout the episodes. These have a different writing style (including a diary-esque narration only present in these scenes) and an internally consistent visual style that looks somewhat different to the other parts of the season.

Village of the Angels, for instance, is a moody, dark episode set in a village in the 1960s:

However, Bel and Vinder's segments in the episode have a somewhat different look:

On top of this, they never intersect with the episode's A plot (literally or in any clear thematic way), and the majority of these segments piece together into one single scene that seems to have been cut up.

So, what I think is that the bel and vinder scenes across the middle of the season were originally a single full story, an episode 4 that took a breather from the main plot and characters to follow the lives of these two side characters; the differing visual and writing style is due to it originally having been filmed separately and with a somewhat different artistic intent. I believe Chris Chibnall's cowriting credit on Angels exists because these specific scenes are from a script he wrote, but that otherwise the Angel script can be credited solely to Maxine Alderton by normal cowriting standards.

"But wait," you might say, "I thought there were already 6 episodes that are all plot relevant? If no episodes existing right now can be cut, how could this 7th episode exist?"

Remember this tidbit:

The adventures in question comprise a large amount of the next episode (Episode 5: Survivors of the Flux), nearly 20 minutes of a 50ish minute runtime (and frankly, much of the rest of the episode is somewhat fluffy build up that feels like it's taking advantage of an extended runtime). A version without this added plot would, in my opinion, only warrant one final episode rather than two.

I think the showrunner, still scrambling to finish scripts as the episodes were being filmed, and making a snap decision to include a new major subplot (⁶), wrote a finale script so long and with so many plot threads that the only way to keep all this material of was to split it into two episodes, 5 and 6. And because they only could only make 6, he had to get rid of one of the previous 5 episodes - the already scripted and filmed ones - to make room for this new episode 5. A tough order when it's a plot-heavy miniseries... if not for episode 4 being a standalone divergence from the main plot about the lives of two side characters, one that could, in theory, be cut up and dispersed throughout the season without continuity issues for the main story.

(Some notes and clarifications under the cut)

(1) some sources initially reported the episode count as 8; this wasn't inaccurate - the 2022 new years/easter special were part of the episode order. Flux itself was always meant to be 6 episodes long. (2) A few of the production issues include: - episodes filming without a second draft:

- the fx team that had been on the show since 2005 abruptly leaving midseason (because they "didn't feel like part of the team anymore") and returning as soon as the creative team changed, including the head of the studio implying they weren't properly credited (mild vfx body horror warning in link):

- people working on additional projects such as books not receiving clear information on the characters they were assigned to write:

- and likely a director who was put on hold due to a script being rewritten:

Among other things I can't directly cite at the moment, including vfx artists having to do whole episodes solo in crunch time and writers not being told their work was massively overhauled until it aired due to major changes being extremely late in production.

While I don't wish to pontificate too much here and many of these things are pretty normal by themselves, I do think it could paint a picture of a production where an episode well into filming may genuinely be cut on a whim and without consideration for the crew, artists, etc. working on the show. (3) This reddit post comes from a leaker who was known to be consistently accurate. (4) Gallifrey One does not allow filming of panels. I know Kevin's livetweets of panels to be accurate. (5) It's very, very unlikely the entire season was moved back a week, as the premier is a Halloween special that was certainly always intended to air on Oct. 31st. (6) I don't wish to insinuate Chris Chibnall is, throughout his career, an inherently poor showrunner, but I do think that maybe his jump from police procedural - a genre that doesn't involve quite as much concept art, vfx work, marketing, convention panels, set building, episodic storytelling, and keeping in touch with expanded universe producers - to flagship science fiction adventure show may have contributed to some of these issues, especially when he was already in the mindset that things could be changed on a whim (perhaps not such a major issue when it's broadchurch and no new sets need be built)

(source) Basically I don't really think this is "the showrunner's fault" or anything; more that a perfect storm of a showrunner who was habitually late on scripts, used to writing lowkey cop dramas, covid, an entirely serialized season, etc. may have led to these issues

[pressureplus]

Not sure if you have done it or if anyone have already requested it.. but I do like to see a headcanons (NSFW?) on the ovipositor of Sebastian. Like if reader finally agrees to let him pregnant them with his eggs. Kinda stuff like how would it feel like during/after breeding? does it will hurt? How long long does it take? How those eggs/babies develop? And how does the giving birth would be and feel like? Anything like that.

Btw, I love your headcanons and oneshots! <3

So glad you asked! I've been dealing with pain lately so Ive needed consistent care. As per usual we are writing, this one just happened to be finished first. Also, thank you for the compliment <3

♡Sebastian Solace Ovipositor Headcannons♡

Warnings: Describing this Non-Erotically, Implied Sex, Oviposition/Ovipositor, AFAB and AMAB Cannons (God Im Sorry), Pregnancy/Birth Vaguely Mentioned, M!Preg Mentioned

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜

Starting off strong, the moment you agree to have that mans babies he is all over you

Excited, yes, and at the mention of his Ovipositor being put to use he’ll be a little shy but happy to oblige! How can he not be? The idea of having a family almost makes him feel…normal. Happy and normal.

As his tendril is always sheathed, it stays very slick, which makes insertion easier. Despite his absurdly large length (he is well over twice your size) he doesn't need to be all the way inside your body to use said Ovipositor

During the process of actually putting those eggs in your body, it feels…odd. The best way I can describe this is like swallowing those Boba Pearls in drinks? But like…obviously not with your mouth

Doesn't hurt! The eggs arent too large, about an inch in length and diameter, but still not painful! You’d think they would be, right?

This is due to both the slightly muscle relaxant features of said slick, and the flexible nature of his eggs

Despite their size they can easily compress to be smaller if pressure is applied…too much pressure will pop them and make them no longer viable but yes they can get a bit smaller

They're like little jelly balls with a turquoise color

After the fact, you'll really just feel oddly full for the next day or two. These things are decently sticky and almost parasitic in nature so those that are going to continue to develop will be burying themselves into your body

Not a painful process either, by the way

Those that don't end up attaching to anything are not particularly viable as they can't take any of your DNA to make anything. So those really just have to be removed. This can be done decently easily with some pressure applied to your stomach and a bit of pushing

Produces 6-12 eggs on average, but may produce more or less, so you never really know how many actually stuck

The way these eggs develop is rather unnatural to say the least.

If you're AFAB then they'll attempt to fill your uterus much like a normal baby would. They also take as much ‘code’ from your DNA as possible, feeding off your blood for minerals similar to how Anglerfish pairs function

If you're AMAB things get a bit..sticky for you. They'll hollow out their own space inside you, kind of like a very small faux womb. This is NOT painful, but does leave a sort of dull ache like you've just worked out for a while. This small little wound will close behind the eggs as well so they won't be disturbed. They feed off you the same way as they do for those who are AFAB

This pregnancy can last anywhere from 6-9 months depending on how large the batch of eggs is. They do technically ‘share’ their meals so they'll all be ready to hatch at the same time. Think of it like an evolutionary trait for a better chance at survival.

Doesn't entirely feel like pregnancy, you'll feel weaker, bloaty, and maybe a bit sick mostly due to lower mineral/vitamin counts. But as long as you take some kind of supplements or eat healthy you'll be fine

You don't get particularly round or anything either, just a small bump that could easily be passed off as weight gain

On the Plus side for the AFABS, your body does not continue to have its menstrual cycle during these months. They release their own chemicals into your body/bloodstream for a better latch and less chances to be ‘rejected’

As for having these babies? There's conractions/cramping for sure and a bit of blood from where those eggs detach. I wouldn't call them particularly bad contractions, as they're slower and a lot less painful than normal child birth

The body doesn't have to prep as much since they're not normal sized human babies.

If you're AFAB, they'll come out the natural way. If you're AMAB, you're going to need surgery

Surgery is of course an option for both if preferred.

They pop their eggs and are ready to go the second they break, now for the most part the body can just absorb the nutrients in these empty ‘shells’ but they can also be removed. It won't cause additional harm either way

These babies aren't very big when they're taken out

In fact, they're all about palms sized. They're warm to the touch, covered in a bit of blood and whatever liquid is inside those eggs, so they're a bit sticky. But just fine to wipe clean

They’ll be oddly…blue and pale for the first while as they learn to breathe oxygen with their very small lungs. Don't worry, they'll figure it out. They look almost like normal babies aside from this, well, not including those that look more like Sebastian

They’ll develop faster than normal babies as well. Some may even be born with sharp teeth, others will get their set within the first two months.

They're already up and ready to go in about a year or less, as if they're made for survival like wild animals. However this will come at a cost. Your sanity mostly when your 1 year old is chewing through the casings of wires and chair legs.

By the time they're around 5-6 they'll be just a little smaller than the size of a normal human child.

As teenagers getting their growth spurts? Many of your children may end up BIGGER than average humans!

Overall your children will be different, as was the process of having them, but they're still perfectly healthy

[vaspider]

If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

[ssinboo]

Say Yes to me

summary: You've been in love with Jeon Wonwoo since forever, and due to your family relations, you had hopes you'd marry him. Your only problem? he's getting engagement to someone else.

or

During his Engagement party, your childhood best friend and love of your life, Jeon Wonwoo, asks you to run away with him.

pairing: 1960s!AU - Childhood bestfriend! Wonwoo x F!Reader

word count: 10k (45~ minute read) – My longest ever!

warnings: unrequited crushes and overall foolishness, idiots in love, best friends to lovers to not lovers to lovers again, some angst?, Wonwoo is such a nerd, making out in dingy motels, unrealistic mileage for gasoline, seokmin being the sweetest

a/n: This will most certainly be my last fic of the year! So, Happy Holidays everyone! This year has been so troublesome, but I've grown so much and written a lot more, too! I'm so, so grateful for everyone I've met and everyone that's enjoyed my stuff! See you in 2024!

Had you been questioned, there would never be a concrete answer to the question of just how long you had been in love with Jeon Wonwoo. 

You’d know him forever, and maybe you loved him all along.

Your families were business partners turned friends. And there had always been talk of marriage between the children. Of course, for convenience. The Jeon’s produced top-class racing and sports cars, while your family were in the chemical business, specialising in industry paints and finishes, it was only natural to unite the two families and profit. 

Although your wealth was vast, it was nothing compared to the Jeon’s, despite always having the chance to frequent the same environments, you often found you were on different levels altogether. 

Jeon Wonwoo was the eldest son, and he carried himself as such — with all the poise and arrogance of the heir to a global conglomerate. He liked golfing and late night swims. Always took his coffee black with no sugar, and barely had anything for breakfast, preferring a hearty lunch instead. 

His younger brother, Lee Seokmin, was the result of an affair with a secretary, though that did not mean he was loved any less, no. Seokmin lacked a single mean bone in his body, he had a pure heart and a contagious laugh.  

They were by all means what people liked to call Irish Twins, born less than a year apart. And the nature of that fact only made their differences more apparent. Complete opposites they were, and that extended to how they treated you, too. 

Every summer growing up, your family would travel to the country house and you and your sister would spend the better part of the months at the club. Oh, how you loved the country club with the fun summer activities the clear chlorinated water, having a meal under the pool umbrellas and getting funny tan lines. 

But most of all, you enjoyed Jeon Wonwoo.

His family frequented the same club and every summer, you’d be practically glued to Wonwoo, even if he didn’t dare to pay you any attention.

You were only three years apart, yet he acted as if you were an immature brat. Seokmin had always been happy to play with you and your sister, though. 

More often than not, Wonwoo would lounge by the pool with a book, never daring to go in. And you would cross your arms over tile by the sides and try your damnedest to strike a conversation with him. He would ignore your every word, or worse, poke fun at your latest obsession. 

“Wonwoo, at what time where you born?” You ask, spitting out any chlorine filled water off your mouth. 

He arches an eyebrow, looking up from his book.

“What?”

“What time were you born?” You repeat, unbothered by his acidic tone.

“Why would I know that?”

“Can’t you ask your mum?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Why do you wanna know?”

“So I can see your birth chart,” You shrug, twirling a wet strand of hair around your finger. 

“The fuck is a birth chart?”

“It’s like… It’s a way to see your personality… And I can check to see if we’re compatible.”

“That’s stupid…” He rolls his eyes, again, “You’re stupid.” 

You scoff, “You won’t play along— You’re such a bore!” You yell out and dive back in the pool, leaving behind a cackling Wonwoo. 

Those hapless summer days were spent lazing by the pool with your sister and Seokmin — without a care in the world, laughing about nothing. With the isolated water-balloon fight every now and then. 

You’d grown up before you could realise it, never truly leaving behind your childish crush on Wonwoo. Even if by the age hierarchy, you had no chance of marrying him — Your sister were to marry Wonwoo and you possibly married Seokmin. 

Though you held hope, it crumbled away with every passing minute. 

But that year, your sister had the greatest early birthday present: She’d found the man she was to marry and best of all, your daddy could never say no to his girls. 

With your sister marrying the love of her life, it meant that you would marry Wonwoo, right? It was only a matter of time and you would be sworn to each other before God, your friends, and family. And your first love would blossom. 

On your 21st birthday, your father took you to work with him for the day, though you most lazed around and answered his calls. You only expected to have lunch for your birthday and a party on the weekend.

At noon, he drove to the Jeon’s factory to deliver the new paint samples. 

The workers, most of whom had watched you, your sister and the Jeon kids grow up, greet you excitedly and some even wish you happy birthday. Your father goes straight to the floor to speak to the manager.

Unexpectedly, Mr. Jeon himself shows up.

Mr. Jeon was a handsome old man a captivating smile, he was incredibly passionate about his work and adored mechanics, but he loved his sons above all — And he had great expectations for his boys. 

He greets you with a warm hug and wishes you a happy birthday before discussing business with your father. To which you busy yourself with staring at the pieces waiting for a coat of paint.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come with us to the patio?” Your father calls and you oblige, skipping toward the two men.

The patio is where they stored their models waiting to be shipped out to agencies or sometimes, for the higher profile clients, directly to the customer. You look at the new line to be launched next winter: sleek and modern with leather seats and wooden accents on the interior. You could never criticise the Jeon’s for their taste, they knew their stuff. 

“Come here, baby,” Your father waves his hands, “What do you think of this car?” 

You study the convertible in a bright red with a cream leather interior; a classic. 

“It’s gorgeous, daddy, when are they launching it?”

“It should be out next year, but what do you think of the colour?”

“I like it,” You nod enthusiastically.

“That’s great baby, why don’t you read up on this model?” He hands you a tiny card, common in the factory, that has the model and batch number, as well as the signature from the supervisor. But just underneath the model, you see the colour name: your name.

As you look at your father, completely astonished, he just lets out a warm laugh and opens his arms for a hug.

“You named a shade after me?!” You glue yourself to him, still in shock. 

“Happy birthday, princess.” 

“Thank you, daddy, you’re the best!” 

“That’s your dad’s present, how about you open mine, now?” Mr. Jeon interjects, waving a tiny jewelry box in the air. 

You fix your hair and take it from his hand, expecting maybe a ring, or earrings. 

But you find brand new car keys.

Mouth agape, you look at him while your father can only laugh at your surprised expression.

“Why don’t you give it a spin?” Mr. Jeon encourages, rushing you toward the convertible. 

And though your father is beside himself with worry for you driving during rush hour, he settles for sitting in the passenger’s seat and doing some good old backseat driving, even though you barely make it past 30.

You drive around the block and return to the factory before your father has an anxiety attack over your driving. 

“Thank you so much, Mr. Jeon! When did you even do this?! I had no idea!”

“Wonwoo oversaw the whole thing, he’s the one you should thank,” He laughs it off, but your heart can only skip a beat at the mention of your beloved’s name. Especially thinking he was the one to take care of such a great gift.

Wonwoo loved mechanics as much as his dad, sometimes even more. He even went to a good college for it, coming back even smarter than before — and much sassier, too. He never stopped doing manual work in the factory, guaranteeing every car made was up to the Jeon standard.

And you were very biased toward his mechanic abilities, especially when he would furrow his brow, glasses perched on the very tip of his nose; he would wipe off sweat off his forehead with his grease covered arm. 

You remember to this day the last time your father came to discuss swatches and you stopped by the shop. Watching Wonwoo work on an older model with a leaky oil tank. 

He did everything himself, changed the tank perched under the car, soldering a brand new one. He also did a once over on anything else that could become a problem in the future, any filters needing change, checking wires and gears, making sure the oil was fresh. The problem came with the lights. He had such a hard time wiggling his thick arms through the machinery to reach the right spot, and you watched very intently how his triceps flexed, deep green veins bulging under his skin.

Wonwoo had gotten so frustrated he’d shed off the top part of his coveralls, sporting a white undershirt so tight you could basically tell the shape of his sweat-clad torso. Oh, how you’d hoped he never got that bulb in place.

“Come’ere,” Wonwoo calls out without further ado. 

“Why?”

“Need your help,” He mumbles under a sigh.

You rise from the barrel you were sitting on and approach the open hood. “With what?”

“Getting this fuckin’ bulb in place,” He hands you the tiny light bulb.

“Where do I need to put it?”

“See— in between this part, need to shove you hand until you reach back here in the light, then you just screw it in.”

“What if I get stuck?” 

“You won’t, you’re so petite,” He smirks.

You scoff, “Shut up.”

Leaning over the hood, you place your left hand on the chassis to steady yourself and shove your right hand in between gears and machinery, trying to find the spot he mentioned.

“I can’t find it,” You complain.

“Keep trying.”

“I am!”

“Here, deeper—“ He reaches for you, one hand on your waist and another on your arm, forcing you toward the place.

You’re way too focused on finding the damn spot for the light, that you barely notice the proximity at all. 

“Can’t find it!”

“Right, right— My right.”

“It’s the same freakin’ right, you idiot,” You hiss.

He laughs, “Fine, our right,” you groan at his stupid joke, “It should be there, try to bring it closer to you.” 

“Found it!” You squeal with a smile, screwing the bulb in its place. 

“Atta girl,” Wonwoo smiles. 

“There!” With a relieved sigh, you finally free your grease-clad hand from the machinery, slightly cringing at the black covering your fingernails — It’d be such a bother to clean it up. 

When you finally lean back, you stumble onto Wonwoo’s firm chest. Lucky for you, he catches you, steady hold at your waist. You’re finally aware of his proximity, to which he only smiles. 

Looking down at where his warm, tauntingly large hands meet your waist, you’re suddenly filled with nothing but rage. ‘

“You got grease all over my dress!” You whine, looking at the perfectly stamped print of his hand over your brand new summer dress. 

He only laughs, “Looks better this way, trust me.”

“Ugh!” You groan, stomping toward the washing area where they kept clean rugs. 

He closes the hood with a loud thump that echoes through the shop and slides into the driver’s seat. The car comes alive with a loud hum and ta-da! The headlight works. 

You are a little proud of your work, yes. But it’s not like you’ll show it.

“Do you not anything clean in here?!” You complain, eyeing the pile of grease-covered rags thrown in a corner. That had to be a fire hazard.

“What?” Wonwoo shouts over the running engine.

You huff and stomp your way back to the car, throwing open the driver’s door. “I have a formal dinner to go to,” You state, leaning over the door.

“Okay, then go.” 

Rolling your eyes, you hold back any possible insults, “Like this?” You gesture toward your otherwise perfectly fine dress. 

He holds back a little mischievous smile, “I have some clean clothes in the office.”

Wide eyes, mouth hanging agape, you stare at him dumbfound, “I hope that’s a joke, Jeon Wonwoo.” 

He laughs, genuinely. That sweet, deep, dorky laugh of his that reverberates through his chest and plunges straight into your heart. 

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

As much as he did tease you, Wonwoo never made short on his promises. 

“Is he around?” You ask Mr. Jeon, trying your best to suppress any expectations.

“Oh, he had some business… But he wished you a happy birthday.”

Your smile falters before your catch it, forcing the corners of your lips into a beautiful, rehearsed smile. “Let him know I’m grateful. For the wishes and for the amazing present.”

It would soon be Wonwoo’s birthday and you had been preparing for what felt like ages. You got him a really nice set of electric work tools since he complained often about how the shop’s tools were always malfunctioning. But you did feel somewhat bad about only getting him a gift relating to work on what should be a day about him. 

So you caved in and got him a gorgeous wrist watch with classy black leather straps; on the underside you had his name inscribed with a heart. — You actually hadn’t planned for the heart, but the jeweller got confused in between so many orders and it was too close to the date to have it re-done. You hoped you could play it off in a cool manner, maybe he would laugh at your story.

The party would be held the eve of his actual birthday, and you arrived at the venue with hours to spare. Your father and sister are by the entrance, speaking to Mr. Jeon, you greet them.

“Hi, Mr. Jeon! Where should I put the gifts?”

“Oh—“ Surprised, he looks at your father, “You’ve brought gifts—“ He seems… surprised? As if it were so weird to bring presents to a birthday party. “Uh— I’m not sure, let me check with my wife where you could place those.”

You father nervously sips on his champagne, avoiding your sister’s burning looks.

“You haven’t told her,” Your sister turns to your father, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“Tell me what?” You ask.

“Honey… This isn’t Wonwoo’s birthday party…” Your father speaks very slowly, gauging for your reaction at his every word.

Eyebrows raised, you question, “What do you mean?”

“It’s an engagement party, he’s getting engaged to Suzy,” Your sister rips the band-aid off.

And you feel the air being sucked out of your lungs at once, an agonising knot pulls at your throat and your nose stings with the threat of tears. The shopping bags fall from your hands and you fight off the urge to bawl your eyes out. 

Before you actually do cry your eyes out, you rush outside.

“Baby—“ Your father calls but you just storm off, not wanting to be near anyone. 

Engaged? Engaged!

Engaged…

Wonwoo was getting fucking engaged. 

With a bitch named Suzy who had the prettiest hair you’d ever seen and knew how to talk to investors and could speak a thousand languages. And worst of all, she was the kindest, sweetest girl ever. You couldn’t even hate her!

You weren’t even allowed that! As much as you weren’t allowed a simple heads up. How hard was it to tell you beforehand “Hey, the guy you’ve loved your entirely life is getting married to some girl and you just brought lemon pies to his engagement party, thought you’d want to know.”

Maybe you should’ve taken the pies with you, at least you’d have some comfort. 

You know what, what the fuck. Why didn’t Wonwoo tell you anything?! It had been barely a couple of days since you saw each other, why couldn’t he tell you? Were you not even worthy of that? 

Like having known each other your entire lives doesn’t make you worthy of such ”wonderful” news? How hard is it to tell someone in passing that you’re getting engaged! And now, you’re supposed to smile all night and pretend like your guts aren’t festering in rage and melancholy and your blood doesn’t run cold at the mere thought of Wonwoo walking down the aisle.

Giving it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t set in stone yet. 

It’s the modern times and even back in your parents’ days, engagements were broken off all the time! He might not marry Suzy. You might have a chance. 

Maybe you could ask— no, you could plead with your father to tell Mr. Jeon to think it all over. Wonwoo is still young, it’s not time to settle down just yet. He wanted to study abroad, he talked about the automobile industry in Europe with such amaze, and if that took a little longer, maybe Suzy would get tired of waiting?

Who were you fooling? You should’ve seen it coming.

Of course, he wouldn’t have married you, what were you thinking?!

He’s the Jeon’s precious firstborn and you’re… someone who can’t even tell apart the sizing in wrenches —  To top it all off, Suzy was notably great with mechanics. 

You really wish you had those pies with you, it would make your salty tears a little sweeter.

By the time you’re done sobbing in your car, you look a hot mess with runny make-up and swollen eyes. With a sigh, you pull out your purse and muster up any cosmetics that can save you for tonight. 

You could cry all you wanted at home, but right now, you needed to look pretty and have your pictures taken.

By the time you return, the party is to start and guests are gathering at the front, your sister immediately rushes to your side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, soft hands reaching for yours. 

Forcing out a smile, “Of course! Who do you think I am?”

By the look on her face, you know she doesn’t trust your words not one bit, but will not pry at your emotions any further. At least not for tonight, you’re sure tomorrow she will grill you about this. But for now, you put on a bright smile and greet all the guests.

From the Jeon’s, Seokmin is the third to arrive, missing only by the birthday boy himself. But he immediately greets his parents and comes to greet your family.

“Hey!” You smile, putting aside your glass of champagne so you can hug him properly.

“How you doin’?” He asks, gorgeous smile on display. 

“I’m— Well—“

“They’ve told you then—“ 

You press your lipstick coloured lips into a thin line, “Yeah,” You nod.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I’m happy, Suzy is… a—“ Nice words. Nice words. “—wonderful girl.”

Seokmin offers you a sweet smile. “Let’s hope she can handle his tantrums,” he nudges at your arm.

“Oh, please!” You laugh.

Wonwoo was known for sometimes having a bit of a short temper, not often, by any means and maybe that’s what made them so memorable. Like the one time he couldn’t finish a puzzle during game night, so he gathered all the pieces and set the ablaze in the backyard.

“Or—“ A waiter passes by with a tray full of champagne and he so kindly grabs two glasses, offering you one. “Listen to this— He gets to the church, covered in grease from head to toe.” 

You laugh at the thought. Gods, how many times has Wonwoo decided to work on an engine while wearing his most expensive outfit? His mother nearly had a fit every time he would show up dishevelled and smelling like motor oil pretending like nothing’s wrong. 

“Please,” You sip at your drink, “I bet he’s gonna be all greased up tonight.”

Seokmin laughs wholeheartedly. He was the sort of guy to never hold back a fit of giggles no matter how inappropriate it may be, and it was certainly refreshing to know someone genuinely found your company enjoyable.

“For sure, I think her parents will freak out.” 

You nod. 

Tapping at your glass, you hesitate the following words, “Guess we’ll be the ones getting married for the family, then…”

You didn’t hate Seokmin, far from it. You loved him to bits— Not like Wonwoo, of course, you believed you would never love a man like you loved Wonwoo, ever again. 

He was funny, and such a gentleman. Not to mention, handsome, too. If you weren’t hopelessly in love with his brother, he would’ve been the perfect husband of your dreams. But he did deserve better than a wife who could never give him what he deserves. 

“Sorry about that,” Seokmin comforts you and that only makes your nose sting with the threat of more tears.

“Stooop!” You whine in a shaky voice and he’s overcome with worry.

“Hey— What’s wrong—?”

“Don’t be so sweet— I’m emotional tonight—“ You laugh at your emotional state, despite the teary-eyes.

“Are you a crybaby tonight?”

You nod, fanning your eyes in the hope of drying your tears before they can wash away your makeup.

Seokmin smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, fighting the urge to cry.

It’s only when you’re certain you won’t bawl your eyes out, that you respond. “It’s not that I hate you, you know I love you, but… You deserve someone that will love you like a husband.” 

He nods, “I know— But it might not be so bad, we’re friends! We’ll have sleepovers every day, and we’ll have Italian every night, we’ll watch those silly movies you like…” Seokmin lists off all the things you would do in your very platonic marriage and it doesn’t sound so bad. 

He knew exactly how you felt, he loved you, of course he did, you were so precious in his eyes, but not like a lover. 

You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Are you gonna let me choose your clothes?” 

Seokmin sighs. You hated his questionable fashion since forever and in only very rare occasions did he accept your input, any other time and he assaulted your spirit with clashing patterns and silly shoes.

“Fine—!” 

You smile brightly, properly comforted. 

Before you can tease him any further, you spot Wonwoo entering the venue. Although he is immediately swarmed with congratulatory words, his shy nature makes it so his only response is always an awkward smile. 

He immediately spots you among the crowd.

You breathe in. In that moment, despite knowing he was sworn to another, that did not stop your heart from fluttering at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and the crooked tie he clearly put on a rush.

“Congrats, bro!” Seokmin is the first one to greet him, not letting go of your shoulder but instead pulling Wonwoo into a semi-hug. 

“Seokmin…” Wonwoo eyes his brother and then you, and then his brother again.

“Congrats, Nonu,” You smile, letting go of Seokmin’s comfort to reach for a hug. 

Wonwoo smiles, letting you cling onto his neck, your citric perfume seeping into his clothes and body. 

Oh, how his warmth could never compare to another. How you craved his affection like no other. 

“Thanks— Uh, did you bring me anything?” He asks in a teasing tone.

“Ey— Nonu!” Seokmin scolds his brother. 

“How did you know I brought you something?” You giggle, pulling away from the hug. 

Wonwoo shrugs. 

You reach for his crooked tie, straightening it to the best of your abilities. “I brought it earlier, but I think your mum took it to the back room,” You explain, focused on the tie.

He, however is focused on your concentrated face, parted red lips and furrowed brows. The proximity that lets him almost feel your chest pressed against his, as if extending the hug. 

“However, you, mister, have to greet your guests!” You scold, setting his tie in place.

Seokmin joins in, once again throwing his arm around your shoulder. “That’s right, mum already gave me an earful about how late you were— And I got here on time!” 

“Yeah— Yeah— You’re right,” Wonwoo nods.

“Liquid courage?” You offer your half-drunk glass of champagne and he downs it in one go.

You and Seokmin goof around a little more and gossip about certain guests behind their backs. Dinner is served and you all sit down to eat, Seokmin insists you sit beside him, which just so happens to also be next to Wonwoo. And you thank him for indulging you one last time.

Wonwoo is mostly quiet, but you were used to him not being rather fond of public parties, especially when all of the attention is on him. On his other side, sits Suzy, the blushing bride-to-be. She tries to make conversation with Wonwoo, though most of it falls flat, he only ever gives her monosyllabic answers and rarely contributes to discussions. 

That is until Mr. and Mrs. Jeon stand up, tapping forks to their glasses to call for everyone’s attention. The room quiets down instantly. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our little gathering tonight,” Mr Jeon greets the guests. “We have some wonderful news we would like to share with you all.” 

“My beautiful son, how proud I am of you,” He adds, “Every day I am  amazed at your intellect. Often, I question just where did you get those smarts!”

Everyone laughs.

“You have grown into a fine man, and I can’t take credit for any of it. You are the most mature, talented, and intelligent boy and you did it all by yourself— ”

You can watch how Wonwoo’s eyes gloss over with tears. 

“I’m growing old, you know. And every father wants the guarantee that his children will be taken care of… That’s why I’m so relieved and happy to announce that my worries will soon be gone—“ He laughs but his son’s smile falters, “I’d like to announce the engagement of my son, Wonwoo, to this beautiful young lady named Suzanne. Welcome to the family, Suzy.” 

He raises his glass and soon, the room fills with uproar. Everyone claps and you join in, smiling toward Mr. Jeon and Suzy. She stands up, thanking everyone and raising her own glass.

But Wonwoo doesn’t move. 

“Nonu?” You whisper. 

In his ears all that can be heard is muffled screams of joy and the incessant acute ringing. He closes his fists so tight that his blunt nails almost break through skin, he doesn’t look at you, but it’s so clear something is wrong.

You and Seokmin exchange glances. 

Before you can call for him again, he stands up at once, the chair falling behind him with a loud bang that silences the room in an instant. In large and rushed strides, Wonwoo leaves for the patio. 

You stand up and follow him. 

“Wonwoo!” You call out, almost tripping over your party heels. 

He stands in the yard, hand gripping at his gelled hair while the other fights with his tie, pulling at the suffocating fabric until it slides down.

The yard is decorated with a gorgeous fountain, sound of running water somewhat soothing in this moment.

“Nonu, what’s wrong?” You whisper, a hand reaching for his heaving shoulder.

“What wrong?!” He yells back, shoving your hand away, “Did you not fuckin’ hear ‘em?!” 

You step back and his gaze somewhat softens, realising he just pushed you.

“You didn’t know…” You whisper to yourself, epiphany hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could Mr. Jeon do this?! Throw this on him without any previous warning?!

“You— You knew?” His voice is shaky, laced with the sharp sting of betrayal.

“I found it out myself tonight when I got here— I— I thought you knew! I thought you agreed to it!” You argue. 

“How— How can you think I would agree to marry someone—“ His words trail off in the night breeze, never to be finished. 

“Then— What will you do?”

“I don’t know!” 

You bite at your nails, finding a concrete surface to sit on and ponder. 

“I must leave—“ He speaks out, “Run away with me—“

“What?!” you stand up.

“Let’s leave, drive somewhere— Wherever! I can’t stay a moment longer in this place.” 

Oh, what a dilemma it was.

Abandon an engagement party with the groom-to-be, leaving behind furious parents and confused guests. And part of you knew that, despite your family’s closeness and no matter how much your father claimed you were all very close like family, driving off in the middle of the night with a committed man was a blow to any respectable, single, young ladies.

What a dilemma it could’ve been if you weren’t so enamoured with this man you would beck at any given call of his.

“I’ll get my bag and tell your parents you want to stay out here for a couple of minutes,” You announce and he nods.

As you walk back into the venue, all eyes are on you.

“He’s got the wedding jitters, everyone, not to worry. Wonwoo will return after he’s had a bit of fresh air,” You announce with a smile and all guests return to their previous activities.

But Mr. Jeon immediately corners you.

“What is he thinking?!” He half-yells, half-whispers.

“He’s just nervous, it’s a big bit of news…” You lie through your teeth, “I think a little heads up would’ve helped, you know he doesn’t do well with surprises.”

The man sighs, “He wouldn’t ever agree to it. I’ve offered him countless girls to marry and he never accepts any of them.“ Mr. Jeon looks at you and then sighs. “Do me a favour, convince him to come back, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” You nod and head off into the back rooms.

Unbeknown to you, Seokmin is on your trail and he waits until you are in the back lounge, gathering your bags and jacket to close the door and corner you.

“What the hell happened?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion, “You scared me!” You whisper.

“Sorry,” He whispers back.

“He didn’t know!”

“What?!” He says in a normal tone, soon realising just how loud that was. 

“What I said, I think your dad set up a trap… He knows Wonwoo won’t go against his word.”

“Shit. What are we gonna do?”

“He wants to run away,” You announce.

Seokmin looks at you, and then at the purse hanging from your should and the jacket in your hands. 

“And you’re coming with him?”

“I can’t leave him alone, not tonight.”

“And where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” 

“And when are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are coming back, right?”

“I have no idea, Seokmin,” You realise, but the prospect doesn’t scare you as badly.

He scratches at his head. “Leave through the kitchen, I’ll hold off my dad. Make sure to give me a call once you guys are… I don’t know— Just give a call, will you?” 

You nod, pulling him into a hug.

Doing as he instructed, you pass through the kitchen staff and rush through the backdoor, unseen by the guests. Wonwoo is sitting on a concrete bench, his head between his hands.

“Ready?” You call out.

Wonwoo looks up, nodding before he rises to his height. You offer him a comforting smile and reach for his hand. 

Once you get hold of his hand, you bolt across the yard toward the parking lot. He almost stumbles over his lanky legs, but catches up rather fast. You throw your stuff on the backseat and enter your car, Wonwoo decides to jump over the door. 

You laugh at his antics with a shake of your head. 

Once your heels are discarded, you start the engine and drive off, leaving behind that dreaded engagement party. Wonwoo busies himself with shedding his formal wear, throwing his tie on the floor and removing his blazer. 

In any other occasion, this could’ve been such a lovely late-night drive, just the two of you in your beloved car, night breeze caressing your faces with her ice-cold kisses, cruising through deserted roads, barely a soul in sight except for the night owls.

And you might allow yourself to enjoy this moment.

The silence isn’t a bother, no, Wonwoo was always a man of comfortable silences to you, but this once, you’re worried about goes on in that busy mind of his.

“You alright?” You ask, looking away from the road to steal a glance or two at him.

“Yeah,” He replies.

“Truly?”

“No,” He scoffs at his own lie. “But I’ll be.”

You nod. 

You drive out of town and on the interstate roads for ages until Wonwoo finally speaks up. You’re completely engulfed in darkness except for your headlights.

“We should stop soon and have a rest.”

“Okay,” You nod, “Any preferences?”

“Anywhere.” 

And so you tell him to keep his eyes peeled open when a sign on the road says there should be a motel in the next couple KM. It doesn’t take too long before you’re pulling into the parking lot of a roadside motel, much of a far-cry from your expensive hotels and luxury living. 

You check in at the front desk with an old man who seems very unhappy with his life, he short of throws the keys your way. 

The room is… surprisingly nice, given the circumstances of the ambience. Only problem is the, although quite large, singular bed. You exchange glances.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses, “I’m gonna 

“You wanna get hit?” You joke, “He’s minutes away from killing us over this room. We can just share the bed.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”

Oh, he certainly seems to hate the idea of sharing a bed with you, huh.

“Nonu, please, it’s late and we’re both tired. It will be just like when we were kids,” You explain, setting aside your stuff.

Wonwoo nods, sitting on the strangely comfortable bed.

“You think they have robes?” You ask, looking around.

“Wouldn’t bet on it.” 

“Oh, I’d kill to get out of this dress,” You whine, running to the bathroom to check for anything you could wear instead of your dress. 

He just bites at his lips, watching you pace from side to side in that tiny bedroom. 

That’s when you remember your forgotten shopping bags sitting in the trunk! Your compulsive shopping habits just saved you from a very uncomfortable night’s sleep, how convenient!

“I think I have some clothes in my car,” You announce, grabbing the keys and heading toward the door.

“Wait, you’re going by yourself? let me go with you.”

“I don’t wanna lock the door, though,” You whine.

He sighs, “Stay here, I’ll go.” 

You jump, “Thank you, Nonu!”

While Wonwoo rummages through your trunk and pulls out the surprising large amount of shopping bags, you shed off your clothes and head toward the bathroom, dying to get some hot water on your body, put on your new PJs and doze off. 

When he returns however, he is greeted by a sight any other man would die to see. You’ve left a trail of clothes from the bed toward the bathroom door. Starting on your pretty dress, splayed out over tiled-floor, and then your tights and then your underwear, matching, too— 

He clears his throat. “I’m back!” 

But you probably don’t hear him through the running shower, so he just sets down the bags and avoid the sight of your clothes. He decides to turn on the tiny TV and browse through any late night re-runs. You take only a couple of minutes in your shower.

“Nonu?” You ask from the bathroom.

“Yeah?” He turns down the TV.

“Did you find the clothes?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you bring me something to wear?” Wonwoo gulps. 

“Uh— Which one?”

“There should be a light blue bag and a pink one.” 

“Okay—“ He stands up and searches for the aforementioned colours. 

Wonwoo heads to the bathroom door and leans against the wall, facing away from the door. He knocks once. You open the door and shove your arm through, reaching for the bags.

“Thank youu!” 

He returns to the boring TV. Though all he could think about was the sight of your wet supple skin, knowing you were bare with only a thin sheet of plywood separating you. 

You leave the bathroom smelling of cheap soap and fresh into your brand new nightgown. It is tentatively short with an almost see-through round of lace over the hems. In your defence, you weren’t planning on showing this nightgown to anyone anytime soon. 

Sitting on the bed, you look around the room, not noticing how Wonwoo’s eyes don’t really meet yours or how red his ears seem to burn.

“Aren’t you gonna shower?” You ask.

“Feels a bit redundant to shower and get back into my dirty clothes.” 

“I think I might have something for you, if you don’t want to sleep in a suit,” You pry.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

“But you can’t judge! I bought this for my dad because you know he deals very poorly with the heat— And he never buys himself anything!” You’re explaining yourself in advance because you remember very well what you bought.

Silky boxer shorts and a tank top, which your father loved to sleep in on stuffy summer nights but you doubted would be Wonwoo’s first choice of wear, ever.

He haggles with his own mind; give into the silky boxer shorts or sleep in the most uncomfortable outfit ever. With a tired sigh, Wonwoo accepts his fate and grabs the bag. 

You smile as he stomps toward the bathroom with a defeated frown.

By the time he returns, you’ve cleaned up your trail of clothes and made yourself very comfortable in the bed. You turn your head to face him.

God, he could make a potato sack look good. 

“How’s the fit?” You pull your eyes away before you look for too long. 

Wonwoo shrugs, “I’ve had worse.”

You laugh.

He coyly joins you in bed, keeping a large gap between your bodies, settling on top of the covers while you’re under their warmth. 

“Ain’t you cold?” You ask, fidgeting with the TV remote. 

Wonwoo shakes his head, leaning back into the headboard. With a pout, you cross the figurative bridge between the two of you and reach for him. He doesn’t shy away from your touch but it visibly confused.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, hands hovering in the air, far away from your exposed back.

“I’m sorry your birthday party sucked,” You murmur against his chest, Wonwoo smiles softly, letting his hands rest on you.

“It didn’t suck in its entirety,” he says, palms slightly tapping at your back, “it was fun running away with you.”

You giggle at his comment, heart fluttering at its meaning, “What are we going to do? About the engagement, I mean…”

“We?” He raises an eyebrow.

You pull away from him.

“Well— You dragged me into this!” You slap at his chest and he lets out a boisterous laugh that almost manages to pull the corners of your from into a smile.

“I know, I’m taking the piss out of you,” He extends his arms, pulling you back to your previous position, resuming the soft caresses he leaves on your arms. “I don’t know— This is the first time I’ve ever gone against my father.”

You sigh. “Don’t you wanna marry Suzy?”

There’s a pause and oh, you’re begging, wishing to hear the words you want most.

“Fuck no!” Wonwoo exclaims and you fail to hide your excitement.

“She is pretty,” You throw the bait, to pry at his true feelings.

“So is your sister, should I just marry any pretty girl?”

You raise from your position, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Wonwoo looks at you, completely clueless to his words and its consequences.

“What the hell?!” 

“What?” 

Kicking off the covers in a flurry, you kneel on the bed, staring at him dead in the eyes.  “You have the hots for my sister!”

It’s Wonwoo’s turn to get angry, “What?! No— You’re twisting my words—“

“I’m twisting your words?! You just said you think my sister is pretty!” 

“Because she is!”

You jaw drops, you can’t believe he is doubling down. “Wow,” you shake your head. 

“What’s wrong with saying that?”

You shrug, turning away from him and crossing your arms. “I don’t know, why don’t you just go an marry my sister, then.”

Only then, does this thick-headed man you love so much realise he has been complimenting other girls without so much as telling you a single nice word — the bare minimum. He sighs and offers you a soft smile, shifting in the bed until he is near you again.

“I don’t want to marry your sister. I think she is pretty, but she’s not the prettiest sister, you are.” He waits for your reaction.

Hook, line and sinker. 

You turn around immediately, a hint of smile playing in your pretty lips. 

That’s enough for him to break into a wide smile, opening his arms to welcome you back into his warmth. You crash into his chest, wrapping yourself around his torso. 

He groans, falling back into the mattress but not letting go of you.

Minutes pass before you speak again. “It’s past midnight…” You whisper.

“It’s well past midnight… Why?”

You shift upwards until your faces are only inches apart, breath tickling his lips, your beautiful eyes gleaming under dim motel lighting. “Happy birthday,” You whisper between smiles, “Make a wish.” 

Wonwoo breathes in, eyes scanning your face, “There’s one thing I want…” 

“What is it?” 

If he said it out loud, he might’ve lost all courage to do so. 

So he just does it, Wonwoo leans forward until his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss. 

It probably lasted a couple of seconds, but those seconds felt like a lifetime when you were finally kissing the man you’ve loved for god knows how long. There’s a spark of electricity that burns bright from the moment your lips touch and travels through your body, blood boiling in excitement, shyness, and pure love. 

When the kiss ends, Wonwoo studies your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. Which is even more worrying when you’re standing there, froze solid with an empty stare.

But thankfully, before he can say anything, you throw caution into the wind. 

You pull him into a kiss. Throwing every sense of morale and shame you had out the damn window. He was a man sworn to another, for Pete's sake! But here you here, crashing your lips into his perfect, soft ones. 

Wonwoo lets out a quiet groan, almost inaudible, but you hear it, oh yes, you do. And it runs straight through your chest and down to your core. 

Although the sensible, rational part of your brain tells you to quit kissing him at once and just apologise, the other 99% of your brain, who’s been in love with him since forever, wants nothing of the sort. And you might have listened to the not-so-rational part of you, because you just deepened the kiss, shifting your weight until you’re partially on top of him.

Your lips move against him, shyly exploring this kiss, engraving every moment into your memory. 

Yet he reciprocates. His warm hands finds your waist, holding you flush against his torso, heartbeats thumping completely in-sync. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the chance to pull you deeper into those dangerous lips of his. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, licking and twirling against yours, hot and eager. 

He dips his head, one hand reaches to tangle into your hair and manoeuvre you around, allowing himself complete freedom to explore every bit of your mouth. 

Wonwoo kisses like no other. Not that you had too much of a repertoire to compare him to. 

But he consumes your lips with an unbound hunger, nothing similar to the calm and collected Wonwoo you knew, no. He’s hungry, messy, and very clumsy, clashing teeth one too many times, letting saliva drip down your chins and struggling to move with you on top of him.

When you part the kiss, you lay there breathless, gazing into his ridiculously beautiful beady eyes and long eyelashes, his handsome sharp nose and the most kissable lips you’ll ever see.

 It was breathtaking, mind-blowing and nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your heart beats so fast you feel as if you might pass out at any moment but you’d die before you give up experiencing that again.

“What was that?” He whispers and his breath tickle your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Your birthday gift,” You bite at your lower lip. “Did you like it?”

Wonwoo smiles, breathless and half-lidded and your heart damn near bursts. “I did. Did you?”

You nod.

He nods. “Wanna do it again?”

You nod and he gives you that stupidly handsome smile of his.

And once again, you’re attached at the lips. This once, nothing like before, which you though impossible. It’s so much more desperate and it burns, it boils your blood in absolute desire. It leaves you light-headed, it wipes away your cognitive thoughts and leaves behind a foggy cloud of barely strung-together words that only translate into wanting more. More of him. 

You sigh into the kiss and he drinks it all up, he consumes everything you give him with erratic hands and eager tongue. 

Wonwoo leaves your lips and you whine with a breathless sigh of his name, almost chipping at any resolve he had left. But he nips at your neck nonetheless, warm, wet tongue trailing along your skin, making you twitch in his arms with the most delectable little ‘yips’ of surprise. 

He bites, feral and determined; determined to make his claim, to leave behind his mark on your body, to indulge in carnal pleasure without a prospect of tomorrow, letting everything else be a construct beyond these motel walls, away from where you laid. Away from this reality where he had you in his hands and you moaned his name with a soft smile.

Practically tearing your nightgown, he pulls the silky fabric just enough until your tits spill out of its confine. Wonwoo sighs at the sight, fingers trailing the contour of your boobs, raising goosebumps along sensitive skin. His eyes are burning in adoration, the most depraved glaze of hunger hidden behind sheer excitement. 

He dives in, hands kneading at the flesh, squishing soft skin. 

Slender fingers caress your aereolas, running fingernails along your nipples in curiosity, watching you squirm and bite at your lips as your nipples begin to perk up. 

And when you thought he was done, Wonwoo attaches his mouth to your nipple, sloppily running his tongue around it before he sucks. He makes sure to let his teeth graze, just to watch you jump.

All while his other hand makes work of your unattended boob, your attention is so thinly divided between his teasing fingers and his hot tongue and the sweetest, most satisfied groans that erupt from his throat. 

Your face burns and you bite at the back of your hand, shoving down every stubborn moan that tries to make it past; but he won’t have that, no. Wonwoo reaches for your arms, pinning them above your head without so much as pulling away from your tits. 

Mindlessly, you’ve been rocking back and forth against him, chasing a gut feeling you’re unsure of but desire more than anything ever. And without realising, you’ve been teasing him just as much as he has you, which is clear by the volume contained by his shorts. 

He wishes he could ravish your breasts all night, but any more of your squirming and he will come undone without so much as a touch from you. 

Wonwoo pulls away, hands once against finding your waist as he pulls you back to his chest.

“You know what comes next, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, half-lidded, lust-filled eyes gazing so deep into your own. 

“I— I’ve never done it before,” You confess.

And something stirs within him, to know he is your first, the first and only man to every touch you this way, to trace his lips over your gorgeous body, to settle inside of you. 

Wonwoo smiles and kisses your nose, “I don’t care… But only if you don’t care that I haven’t either.”

You’re surprised, to say the least. 

Kissing in between smiles, you raise to your knees, letting him tug at the hem of shorts just enough to free his cock. 

It’s nothing like you’ve seen before and unlike the illustrations you remember from school. It’s red and veiny and it glistens with pre-cum under the dim lighting.

But it’s a part of him and you can’t help that your belly stirs at the sight of him stroking himself. 

When you reach for the hem of your nightgown, his hands stop you.

“Keep it on—“ He whispers.

“Why?”

“We’ve got all night to take it off,” He runs his tongue through his top teeth with a side smirk and you almost smack him up the head for being such a little shit.

As he asked so kindly, you bunch up your nightgown around your waist, hips circling around his warmth, meanwhile he’s playing with the flesh of your love handles, kneading and running his fingers over your skin. 

“Ready?”

You nod. He raises your hips and lets you control the pace, you feed in his cock, centimetre by centimetre, feeling it’s girth tear at your walls with an unimaginable sting, it burns hot and heavy in your hands.  

Crashing onto his chest, you cry out a pained yelp.

Wonwoo run his fingers over your back, kissing the top of your head, his eyebrows are bunched up, face painted with worry.  “We can stop— Let’s stop—“

“No!” you raise your head and he can see the tiny droplets bundling around your eyelashes, “Just gimme a minute!”

So you sit there, his cock half-in, pulsing angry red and throbbing under the  tease of warmth and tightness. Especially when you look so breathtakingly gorgeous, he gulps, leaning back against the headboard, urging his mind to be strong. 

It takes you minutes to get used to it, to slowly let the size settle until your muscles are well and accustomed to it and then you start it all over again, feeding the remaining inches until he’s bottomed out. 

And oh heavens, how utterly full and hot you felt. Despite the stinging pain, part of you wants to chase the pleasure, clenching in sheer hunger. 

Wonwoo stares up at you, looking for any signs of discomfort but he is met with the most enticing, beautiful, and tempting creature he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Your eyes are glassy with tears, but you’ve got a determined look on your face with a hint of a smirk that sends shivers down his spine and up his cock. 

“Shit,” He curses out with a smile, leaning back and rutting into your hips only to watch your eyebrows furrow and your mouth gape, a moan threatening to escape. “Ready to move, pretty girl?”

You breathe out, “Yeah.”

Steadying yourself against his chest, you raise your hips, feeling his absence leave you upsettingly empty until you let your body crash back down, his cock impaling you with its warmth once again. You rock against him, shallowly, though the motion is unbearably teasing, even for you. 

Wonwoo lets out an obscene, strained moan, fingernails digging into your waist, but you’re too focused on rocking your hips to notice. How he wants nothing but to piston his hips into your pussy like there is no tomorrow, he relishes in the feeling of your warmth, tight and gummy around his throbbing member. 

And he finds you might be just as insatiable as he is, especially when you’ve found yourself a steady pace, bouncing up and down, and his name pours out of your lips in such a beautiful manner. Though he can’t just let you have all the control, can he?

“Oh—“ You yip, “Feels so— Good—“ Still unsure of your thought, you explore the feeling, rolling your hips, feeling him stretch your wider, fill your insides and leave you full like you’ve never felt before. 

His hips meet yours half way, chasing your cunt every time you leave and pounding into you when you come back down, filling the room with guttural groans and the lewd sound of skin against skin. 

You run your fingers under his shirt, feeling bare, warm skin, the softness of his flesh against your hands, the definition of his pecs and the way his nipples peek through the fabric. Wonwoo groans at the way your manicured nails scratch at his chest, gathering momentum as you bounce yourself on top of him. 

He notices you’ve started moving faster, practically fucking yourself stupid on his cock and he would tease you halfway through tomorrow if he didn’t find himself in such a similar predicament. His pupils are blown wide, eyebrows furrowed across his brow, pretty lips hanging agape. You’re so utterly perfect and you were all his. 

“Tell me how you feel, baby,” He whispers, slowing down for a second. 

You sigh, nuzzling against his neck, “So good— I can’t even describe it—“ Your words are so airy and mindless, you’ve been consumed by the pleasure he gives you.

He catches the sight of the white rim that pools around his member, a mix of your juices, but it’s gone, sheathed inside you before he can admire it. There’s a poisoning thought that flashes in his mind, a fleeting, tempting picture. Of planting his seed in your womb, watching your grow full with child, his child. How absolutely breathtaking you would look, round cheeks and gorgeous smile, pretty fingers caressing your bump. And he would taint your taut stomach with his cum, watching it drip over your skin.

Wonwoo bites his lips so hard it breaks skin, throwing his head back, willing his mind somewhere else, anything else lest he come undone right then and there. 

Stomach tingling with indescribable pleasure, you lean forward, moaning incessantly, unable to contain your ecstasy. He supports your body, wrapping strong arms around your torso, firm hands planted on your hips, taking over the moving so you can lay still and let the buzz consume your body with its electric touch.

It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, and it crashes over your body in a colossal wave, building up from the pit of your stomach; sending tingles rushing through your boiling blood. 

You raise your head, eyes meeting his and it seems he is familiar with this pleasure. His left hand meets your face, caressing your cheek, yet holding you still so he can gaze, he can watch you come undone around him. 

Wonwoo watches, unblinking, how your eyebrows furry, your eyes are glossy with tears that cling to your pretty lashes, your lips sit in an enticing pout. Yet you part them, letting out increasingly louder cries of his name. 

And you clench around him like there is no tomorrow, egging him on. He thrusts up into you, riding out your orgasm and chasing his over the edge. 

He crashes his lips into yours, savouring your hazy kiss, your tired sighs and it doesn’t take long before he’s spurting hot white strings into you, it trickles down him and stains the silk fabric of his boxers. 

Soon, he stills all movement except for heavy breathing and the soothing circles he runs over your exposed back. 

He kisses your hair. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” You breathe out, “Tired. But good.” 

His chest shakes with a soft chuckle, he runs slender fingers along your hairline, fixing any hairs that cling to sweaty skin. “Me too.” 

“It felt amazing,” You smile, raising your head to face him. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Wonwoo hums. 

“I’m glad it was you, Nonu,” You hid your face against his neck in embarrassment at your own mushy words, but Wonwoo feels their extent, hiding the blush of his cheeks. 

It doesn’t take long before the post-orgasm haze lulls you into sleep. 

And you slept like never before. 

The following morning, Wonwoo wakes up to an empty bed. He panics for a second or two, scrambling to look for your belongings, only to find everything is still there.

Calm, he washes himself up and gets dressed to leave. Finally having a moment to digest the previous night’s events. 

He had made up his mind, he would confront his father. His future was his to decide on. 

Looking for you, Wonwoo reaches the foyer, only to see you leaning against the wall, attached to the payphone. When your eyes meet his, you immediately say your goodbyes, ending the call.

“Who did you call?” Wonwoo crosses his strong arms against his chest and you try to ignore the sight of his muscly forearms peeking from the folded sleeves.

You don’t like his tone. “Seokmin.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why did you call him?”

“I promised I would,” You shrug. 

Wonwoo can’t believe you would call Seokmin out of everyone, especially after you were glued to him last night at the party. “Why him?”

“He’s worried about you, you stupid— Stupid—“ You choke out on any mean names, simply stomping away from him. 

Why was Wonwoo being so mean so early in the morning? You thought after the amazing night you spent together things would change between you.   Stomping your way back to your room, you grumble under your breath.

While you’re folding your clothes, Wonwoo comes back. 

“I’ll talk to my father,” He announces. 

Before you can say anything about that, he continues. “We’ll get married— You and I, I mean— ” He clears his throat, “Will you marry me?”

Like a deer in headlights, you’re frozen, staring at him big-eyed with a dopey smile on your lips. 

“You’ll marry me?” You question, just in case you’ve tricked yourself into hearing the words you’ve wanted most. 

“Yes. And I— I’ll take full responsibility—“

You smile crashes into the ground. “You want to marry me out of… Responsibility?!” The words choke you on their way out. 

Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, not understanding why you would be upset. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I don’t want to fucking marry you!” Not like that.

His face falls and he assumes a much scarier look on his face. “What would you rather marry Seokmin, then?”

And in your fury, you blurt out “Yes! Yes, I would rather marry him!”

You realise your rejection hurt him, you do. But you’re so blindsided by your anger you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he sees you as a responsibility. 

Wonwoo is suddenly not so angry, but indifferent. You watch his expression go away, replaced by one much scarier, in your opinion; nothing. A plain poker face. 

“Gather your things and go to the car.”

It’s all he says before he leaves the room. 

The ride back is the most nerve-racking hours you’ve ever experienced. Wonwoo is silent, even you huff and puff under your breath, angrily chewing on your breakfast of vending machine snacks. 

Though he says one phrase as you reach the city. “Leave me here.” 

And that’s the last you saw of him for over a month. 

Your previous anger dries up, turning into sadness. Then you’re furious. And heartbroken until you’ve accepted your reality. You’ve ruined your friendship and lost the love of your life.

It takes your sister plucking you out of bed for you to finally leave your bedroom in weeks. 

She was the first and only person you’ve told about the night spent with Wonwoo. Your parents were absolutely furious that you’d do something so dangerous, though relieved at your safety, they weren’t easy on their words. 

“He’s not doing well, you know,” You sister says. 

You humph. 

“I’m serious. Daddy said he’s clumsy, keeps messing up his work. I think you should go and see him.”

Closing your eyes, you let out a worrisome sigh. You still cared way too much to hear those news and not do something about it. 

So you dress up in whatever you can find and drive to his shop, building up a speech on your way there and practising every scenario. You just hoped everything could go back to the way it was. 

He’s working on an old model, hunched over the hood in his light blue coveralls, stains of grease from head to toe. 

“Knock knock,” You announced your presence, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, looking forward to meeting his eyes as much as you dread to. 

Wonwoo immediately recognises your voice, turning around to meet your eyes. 

And he looks just as wrecked as you felt. Deep-set eye bags and a tired gaze. Yet he still smiles just as handsomely. 

“Hey,” He greets. 

“Busy?”

“No! No,” Wonwoo scrambles, placing the wrench down removing his gloves. 

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, I actually— I wanted to talk to you, too.”

It’s somewhat relieving as well at it’s worrying to hear him say that, it could be an apology as well as an insult or something of the sort. 

“We should— We should go to my office, someone might come in—“

“Yeah— We should.” You nod.

You walk into his office, one you’ve visited and killed time in quite often. But coming here after everything feels so crushing, all this distance between you. 

“Go ahead—“

“You first—“

You both say at the same time and that seems to ease the stubborn awkwardness pooling in the air. You laugh. 

“How about we say it together?” 

“On 3?”

“1”

“2”

“3”

Breathing in, you say the words that come to your mind from the bottom of your heart. 

“I want to marry you.”

“I love you.”

“What?!” 

“What?!” Once again, you both say it at the same time.

“You want to marry me?” He breaks into a wide smile.

“And you love me?” The words feel so alien to you, you can barely believe your ears, you feel the tips of your fingers shake in excitement, your heart pounds so strongly against your rib cage you can almost hear the thumping.

Jeon Wonwoo just said he loves you.

“I— Are you sure you want to marry me? You said you didn’t want to!”

“Yes. Well— I’ve loved you since forever! So when you said you wanted to marry me just out of responsibility— I was heartbroken! It’s like you were forced into doing it!”

“I didn’t want to marry you out of responsibility! I’ve been planning to marry you since the beginning—“

You choke, “You what?!”

Wonwoo sighs, “I never wanted to marry your sister and she was well aware of that… We were blessed that she found her husband and when everything went well, I thought— I hoped that it’d mean we’d be the ones to be wed.”

Processing every word, you almost feel dizzy. “But you said you’d take responsibility!” 

“For roping you into running away from my party.” 

“Oh.” You’re beyond embarrassed for assuming and above all, for getting so angry you didn’t even let him explain himself. 

“I should’ve been clearer,” He admits.

“No— I should’ve talked to you.”

Wonwoo smiles. “Thank you.”

With tiny tears threatening to fall, you can only confirm what you want to know the most. 

“You love me?”

“Always,” He smiles.

Wonwoo seems to remember something, he raises his finger in a “wait” motion and leans over his desk, reaching for the top drawer. It’s only when you catch a peek of the velvet box that you almost keel over.

Gulping, he gathers his courage.

In his grease-stained coveralls that smells of expensive cologne and lavender cleaning supplies, Jeon Wonwoo gets down on one knee, nervously looking up at your with his stupidly gorgeous beady eyes and an expectant smile.

“Will you marry me?”

And in your least presentable dress, the one he’d ruined with grease stains and an unruly hairdo, you respond with the biggest smile:

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Had you been questioned, there would be an answer to just how long you will love Jeon Wonwoo.

You’ll love him forever. 

[ceilidho]

landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

-

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours. 

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet. 

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you. 

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you. 

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing. 

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock. 

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console. 

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff. 

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him. 

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning. 

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away. 

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?” 

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under. 

The first week of December hits town like a truck. 

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance. 

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue. 

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first. 

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you. 

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that. 

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark. 

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake. 

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress. 

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water. 

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there. 

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out. 

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance. 

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed. 

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering. 

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur. 

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again. 

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan. 

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up. 

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch. 

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip. 

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back. 

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you. 

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside. 

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized. 

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured. 

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble. 

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly. 

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache. 

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle. 

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor. 

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you. 

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky. 

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs. 

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body. 

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you. 

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

[hoshifighting]

woozi as a sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar baby x sugar mommy relationship, recording laber ceo!reader, producer!jihoon, smut, fingering, mention of sex toys & stuff, fucking in front of a window, in your office, in his studio, penetrative sex, marriage, and fanting. — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

jihoon was used to the struggle—the late nights in the studio, the endless hours tweaking every sound until it was perfect, and the constant pressure of making hits that never seemed to pay off the way they should. the old CEO made sure of that, always withholding what was owed, dangling the promise of success just out of reach, the guy constantly delayed salaries and left jihoon hanging when the songs he produced didn’t return the money.

but when the label got sold, everything changed, and that’s when you came into the picture.

he didn’t expect you to be any different at first, just another high-powered executive who wouldn’t care about the little guys.

then, one day, while leaving his studio for lunch, he saw you. high heels, a well-tailored dress, and a box in hand, walking toward the building’s garage. he’d never seen you before, but with how polished you looked, he assumed you were an executive from the building next door.

as the elevator doors opened, you stepped in, balancing the box awkwardly. jihoon, always one to lend a hand, offered to help. “need a hand with that?”

you glanced at him, considering for a moment before nodding. “thanks. these heels aren’t exactly helpful.”

he joined you in the elevator, the silence between you comfortable, but his mind was racing with curiosity. as you both reached the garage, he noticed you leading him towards a car that made his heart skip a beat—a fucking mclaren. he didn’t even know people actually drove those in real life, let alone parked them in this garage.

he put the box in the trunk, which was, unsurprisingly, really fucking small. as he stepped back, you smiled at him, a smile that seemed out of place in this concrete underground. “thank you, jihoon.”

his eyes widened. “y-you know me?” he stammered, pointing at himself like an idiot.

you nodded, your expression calm. “yes, i’m new here, but i do know you.”

he nodded back, still processing. “which department are you in?”

you extended your hand, and he shook it, your grip firm, confident. “i’m the new ceo.”

for a moment, jihoon just stood there, staring at you. the new ceo? no fucking way. his brain scrambled to process the information. you, the ceo? the woman who looked like you stepped off the pages of some high-fashion magazine, driving a car that cost more than his entire apartment building?

“i—uh—” he fumbled for words, his usual composure slipping for the first time in a long while. “i didn’t expect... i mean, you...”

you raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “didn’t expect the ceo to be a woman?”

“no, not that!” he rushed to correct himself, heat rising to his face. “i just... didn’t expect someone like you.”

“someone like me?” you echoed, a hint of a challenge in your voice.

“yeah, someone who... actually talks to people and doesn’t act like an asshole,” he finished, his voice quieter, as if testing the waters.

you laughed then, a sound that echoed in the empty garage. “well, let’s just say i have a different approach.”

he nodded, still in a bit of shock. “i can see that.”

“i look forward to working with you, jihoon,” you said, stepping closer, and for a moment, he felt the weight of your gaze, like you were seeing right through him. “i’ve heard a lot about your work.”

“all good things, i hope,” he replied, trying to regain some semblance of cool.

“very good things,” you confirmed, your voice dropping just slightly, enough to make him swallow hard.

you turned to get into your car, and jihoon stood there, still trying to wrap his head around everything. before you drove off, you rolled down the window and called out, “and jihoon?”

“yeah?”

“don’t let the last ceo’s bullshit get to you. you’re worth more than that.”

and you made sure jihoon knew that. almost every day, he’d find a new box waiting in front of his studio. first, it was new producing equipment, then a sleek electric guitar, followed by expensive microphones, headphones, and even a whole computer setup. within a week or two—despite him appearing almost on his knees, begging you to stop showering him with such expensive things—his entire studio was completely renovated.

but you weren't stopping there. if you liked him this much, why not give him a whole new studio? you were already planning to move the company to a bigger, more luxurious building, so why not make sure jihoon’s space matched his talent? when you saw how happy it made him, you realized you were willing to give him anything.

soon, the presents started getting more personal. a high-end watch here, a guitar that had once belonged to a famous musician—a relic he could hardly believe was his. sometimes, you’d send something cute like a teddy bear with Swarovski crystals for eyes.

or when you surprised him with a vip ticket to see his favorite artist—that one was a real game-changer. the joy in his eyes when he got to meet them was unmatched, and in the middle of that fan meeting, with everyone around, he’d grabbed you and kissed you right on the mouth, too caught up in the moment to care. it was instinctual, the way his lips found yours, and it left you stunned, right in the middle of all those people.

later, when you were alone, you asked for another kiss, just to see if it was a fluke. just to see what he’d do, to test if his cold walls would melt. and they did. oh, they did.

he didn’t just kiss you. he pulled you close, his lips pressing against yours with an intensity that had you gasping into his mouth. his hands, usually so precise and controlled in the studio, roamed over your body with an urgency that made your skin tingle.

“you like spoiling me, don’t you?” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and gravelly. before you could respond, one of his hands slipped under your skirt, fingers brushing against your already wet panties. “i should thank you properly.”

he moved you back until you hit the edge of the desk, his hands steadying you as he pulled you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. he kissed you deeper, harder, and you could feel the desire rolling off him in waves.

“jihoon—” you started, but your words were cut off as he slid one finger inside you, his touch skilled, confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he added another finger, stretching you, his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to make you arch into him.

you didn’t even care about the office door or the fact that anyone could walk in. all you could focus on was him—his fingers working you over, bringing you right to the edge. he leaned in, kissing along your neck, your pulse quickening under his lips as he whispered, “let me take care of you, yeah?”

you nodded, unable to find your voice as he continued to finger you, the pleasure building until it was almost unbearable. his free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as you rocked against him, chasing the release that was so close you could taste it.

“jihoon, please,” you gasped, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more, needing him.

with one last kiss, he pulled his fingers out, and you whimpered at the loss, but he was already undoing his pants, his eyes locked on yours. “jump up,” he ordered, his voice rough, full of need.

you didn’t hesitate, letting him guide you as you jumped, your legs wrapping around him again as he positioned himself. he didn’t tease, didn’t make you wait. he pushed inside you with one smooth thrust, filling you completely, and the sensation made you both groan.

his hands were firm on your hips, holding you steady as he started to move, his pace hard and fast, like he couldn’t get enough. each thrust sent a shock of pleasure through you, and you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning his name like a prayer.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he drove into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that had you seeing stars.

“jihoon,” you whimpered, your voice high and needy, and he groaned in response, his pace quickening, his grip on you tightening as he chased his own release.

he was relentless, his hips moving in that perfect rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of you with an assertiveness that left you breathless. you could feel yourself unraveling, the pleasure building until you were right on the edge, teetering, ready to falll.

“come for me,” he whispered, his voice rough, and that was all it took. with one final thrust, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you, leaving you trembling in his arms, your cries muffled against his neck.

jihoon followed right after, his grip on you almost bruising as he came, buried deep inside you, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath ragged and uneven.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “maybe we should do this more often.”

so often, so fucking often, that you couldn’t tell anymore if it was a habit or something more—an obsession, maybe. your office and his studio, the places where this all started, now felt too tame, too boring to fuck in. jihoon had to be more creative, and so did you.

jihoon made sure to fuck you in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of whatever high-rise hotel you were staying in, the city lights sprawling out beneath you as he thrust into you from behind. the last time, some guest from the hotel across the way didn’t appreciate the show, but honestly? you couldn’t have cared less. not with the way jihoon’s hands gripped your hips, his breath hot on your neck, your moans muffled against the glass.

at every award show, he always made sure to dedicate his success to you first. you, who after a long day of work, would head to his studio, where he’d be waiting. there, he’d produce tracks with one hand on the mouse and the other busy finger-fucking you, fast and relentless, as you sat on his lap, struggling to stay composed.

it became a tradition for the two of you to explore sex shops in different countries. you’d pick out new types of condoms, wild flavors, and textures neither of you had seen before. aphrodisiac potions that had the two of you almost ripping each other apart, desperate to feel more, to push further. there were always those little surprises, like thai sex toys that were so intense you couldn’t even look at them without feeling your knees go weak. jihoon loved trying out new things with you, always pushing the boundaries, always finding new ways to make you both lose control.

and you pampered him, oh, how you loved to spoil him. designer clothes, always checking that they wouldn’t irritate his sensitive skin. you introduced him to new experiences all around the world, things he never even knew he wanted until you made it happen. and when you moved his family to a better house, just down the street from where the two of you lived, it felt like you were finally giving him everything he deserved.

you’d met his family a couple of times—sweet people who clearly adored him, and you, by extension. but on the third visit, something changed.

maybe it was the way his mother beamed at you, or the way his father patted your back with such warmth. or maybe it was just the way jihoon looked at you, like you hung the stars just for him. you didn’t even think, you just knew you had to ask.

“will you marry me?”

for a second, everything was silent. jihoon froze, the piece of kimchi still hanging halfway to his mouth. you saw the color drain from his face, his eyes widening like you just told him aliens had landed in the backyard.

“y-you—what?”

you wondered if you’d broken him. then, his knees buckled, and before anyone could react, he was on the floor, out cold.

“jihoon!”

his family already there, fanning him with whatever they could find, pouring water into his mouth like he was a dehydrated athlete at halftime.

“jihoon, wake up!” his mother shouted, disbelief in her voice. “this is not the time to faint!”

“somebody get him water!” his dad shouted, even though he was already holding the glass right in front of jihoon’s face.

���what did you do to him?!” his cousin accused, though you could see the slight amusement in her eyes.

“i just asked him to marry me!” you defended.

jihoon’s father just laughed, shaking his head. “i knew this would happen.”

finally, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, jihoon’s eyes fluttered open. he looked around at all the concerned faces, then up at you.

“i’m marrying you!” jihoon suddenly gasped, sitting up so quickly that you nearly toppled over. his eyes were wide, pure joy. “yes, i’ll marry you!”

[fattystoriez]

Jeremy’s Home

Content Warning: Incest, Weight Gain

Jeremy just finished his freshman year of college and is now back home for summer break. Jeremy wanted to go on vacation with his friends, but his father told him he needed to come home for the summer to help him out. Jeremy hasn’t seen his father since winter break, even though his dad had been acting weird. Any time someone would go around him while he was on his phone he’d quickly hide his screen, so obviously suspicious, like he wanted someone to ask about it. The weirdness didn’t end, when Jeremy got home his father must’ve already gone to bed because he wasn’t anywhere to be found and his room was locked.

“Okay… I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jeremy says to himself.

Jeremy quickly moved his stuff in, stripped down to his boxers and got in bed. That night he had a very strange dream about an old man, old enough to be his grandpa, was rubbing his fat belly all over his bloated looking body. Jeremy gets up, almost immediately forgetting the dream, and his stomach growled. Jeremy got ready for the sad, threw on a grey tank top and black shorts. When he opens up the door, there’s his dad waiting to get into the bathroom… or what looked like his dad. Jeremy’s dad had always been lanky with a bit of a beer gut, but now it looks like his dad has been inflated. His belly padded with so much fat, his chest now a saggy pair of moobs, and his chin replaced by two wobbly double chins. He’s wearing a white tank top that doesn’t look like it’s fit him in years.

“Dad?” Jeremy asks.

“Yes, I’m your daddy” his dad now having a thick southern accent “I need to take a piss, boy.”

Why was his dad talking like that? Why is he so fat? “Dad what happened to you?” Jeremy said very concerned about his father’s health.

“I met me a nice trucker man a couple months ago, he came over and plumped your ole’ man up.” He said, patting his fat belly. “He couldn’t stay, I’m sure you would’ve loved him, boy.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to say, what to think… “Uh… okay?” Jeremy attempted to slip past his dad in the doorway. His dad immediately goes through the doorway as well, his big fat belly pressing Jeremy against the the threshold. “Dad… could you move your-“ Jeremy stopped talking as he felt something weird going on around his belly. “Dad-dy… please just let me go through…”

“Sorry boy, I just want to share my soft fat belly with ya… feel how soft it is son?” His southern twang making him sound oddly comforting.

Jeremy’s body began to rapidly gain pounds of fat. His once skinny figure has now produce a beer gut, as if Jeremy suffered from the Freshman 15. Jeremy continued to grow, his chest becoming supple tits resting on his now sizable belly. Jeremy’s jawline began to fade as fat piled on his face, a double chin forming to cover his neck.

“Daddy- please s-stop… I’m getting so fat” Jeremy said, his voice now having a slight southern twang. Jeremy couldn’t see the hair beginning to recede into his head, leaving him with a very obviously balding head.

“It’s okay boy, you’re looking like a real good son.” His dad starting to move into the bathroom, once fully inside Jeremy’s belly flopped outward over his waistband causing Jeremy to let out a moan.

“Oh daddy” Jeremy’s voice now fully sounding like a redneck, Jeremy began to play with his now blubbery body. All of his memories faded to become his daddies prized pig of a son, dumbing Jeremy down to fully get rid of the once fit college student.

“Go rest on the couch boy, after daddy takes this piss, he’s making you a big breakfast.” And with that, Jeremy will forever be his daddy’s fat boy.

[gegewrites]

Harvey (SDV)- One Glass Was all it Took (SMUT)

Hi, just dropping off this fanfic for you. Eat it up. hope yall enjoy I started this legit at 10am TODAY. This is the fastest I’ve written in a bit and the first fic I’ve finished in months (I’m so sorry)

The Harvey brain rot is real.

4-7-24

5.2k words

Your pov-

The sun was setting and I was relaxing on the porch swing, looking at the sky changing colors. It was a relaxing day, it rained in the morning, which made it easy to pet and collect from the animals, but annoying to  harvest the crops that were ready. It stopping raining at about four, and by then I was already done for the day. I contemplated going fishing or heading to the mines for a few hours to make up some of that wasted time but I ended up just cleaning and re-arranging some of the house. The birds were singing, still warm out but a cool breeze drifted through the trees. It was perfect out. 

"Enjoying the sunset?" I heard Harvey ask, I looked over and he was by the produce bin. I wasn't expecting him at all.

"Yeah, so pretty tonight." I smiled. He didn't come up into the porch, he leaned against the railing in front of me, a bottle of wine in hand being held out to me.

"I had to go to Zuzu City today, I picked this up on my way out. Think you'll enjoy it." He smiled as I leaned off the swing and grabbed it from him.

"This is my job." I giggled. It's a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, the label boasting a 10 year age and top quality French grapes.

"Just a little bit of payback for all the stuff you've brought me." He smiled,"I-"

"Should I get glasses?" I asked,"you don't have to leave so soon do you?"

"I can stay for a bit." He leaned off the railing as I stood up.

"Perfect, come in."

Half and hour later-

"…Just a bunch of city and small town doctors and donors looking to shell out money. If I was convincing enough hopefully a few donors will step up and donate some money to the clinic.” He took a sip from his glass and looked at me,” It's a decent drive to the city, i don’t mind it. I use to intern at the Zuzu hospital, but when I heard they didn't have a doctor in this town, that the other towns also driving to the city for healthcare, I settled in." His eyes looked away from the now dusky blue sky and looked at him, which were watching him intently," why are you here? Besides your grandfathers passing, I don’t think you’ve told me.”

"I wasn't doing so well back home...so when we did get the news grandpa died my parents saw it as a way for me to get a new fresh start...and it worked, but boring I'll be honest. Three years, everyday almost the same." I shrugged my shoulders and finished the last of my glass. We both were only on the first glass, talking more than drinking.

"I get that. In a town so small it's easy to fall into a repetition...only reason why I've kept my car. I could sell it, put that money into the clinic, but when people in the outside towns needs assistance and they can't get here I get to switch it up and go to them."  He looked down at his glass and then back to me,"it's important to find joy in daily life, especially when you're life is a lot of physical work....its also important to find the time to relax."

"Yeah, but there's always something that has to get done over here or someone needs something." His hand came down and sat just above my knee.

"You need to start making time for yourself." His face was serious, but not scolding. His brows lightly furrowed together, but his eyes held a caring look.

"Doctors orders?" I smiled, a chuckle trailing behind the words and I felt my cheeks flush. Luckily it was darker out but the porch light was still on.

"Doctors orders." He smiled, his eye contact was held with mine. He did look like he was contemplating something, his eyes slightly looking down below mine before locking back with mine.

Usually it would take me a third glass to get the confidence to make any sort of move, but over the few years I've been here, the conversations we've had, professional settings and non professional, it gave me the confidence.

The swing wasn't big, our legs were comfortably touching, and his hand still sat on my leg. I pushed up just a bit, my lips connecting to his, my heart was pounding out of my chest, but he returned it quickly, the hand on my thigh came to my check and my heart rate relaxed a bit.  His mustache tickled my nose but I didn't mind it at all. We both tasted like wine and I heard his glass tink against the table in his side, his newly free hand softly held my other cheek, mine still holding my glass. He was the first to pull away from the slow kiss.

"(y/n)..."  he whispered before pulling back more and my heart sped up, awaiting rejection,"are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything, Harvey." I replied quickly but not forcefully, he took the glass from my hand and placed it with his on the table behind him.

I could tell he was thinking, quickly contemplating the decisions he could make. He turned back to me, pushing his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose.

"I'm a thirty four year old doctor stuck in place." His thumb brushed my cheek as he spoke.

"And im a twenty five year old who couldn't hold down a job long enough to have a chance to be stable." I confessed,"my last relationship ended with cops and a restraining order."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But (y/n), you said you're bored, you're bored here... I watch the history channel and live quietly."

"You don't get it, Harv. I'm bored cause I'm alone, everyday I wake up and it's just me, you're stuck in place cause it's just you. Don't humans need others around? We are social animals."  He let out a quiet and sharp exhale from him nose, hand still in my cheek that didn't even realize I've relaxed into.

"There are others-"

"Please Harvey, I've already tried, they've all got their own dreams in places I've already tried to live and couldn't....i want quiet but I don't wanna be alone."  His hand slid away from my cheek, just to hold onto my chin,"there's no reason to not try."

"You have to understand that I'm still your doctor and if it doesn't work-"

"If it doesn't work my ass Harvey." I grabbed lightly onto his other wrist,"I've never been more sure of anything.."I leaned forwards,"and you haven't been only  charging me half for no reason, don't think I haven't noticed. You can say you're not the right one but it's obvious Harv-"

He cut me off with his lips, his hand coming to my waste, pulling my body a bit closer to his. I kissed him back quickly not wasting any time, my body was twisted a bit, my hands held onto his jacket covered shoulders. Our lips moved in sync, tongues tangling with each other, heat and want radiating from the both of us.

My hand grabbed onto his tie as I slid off the swing and stood up, our lips didn't disconnect, his big hands sat on my waist as he sat up higher before standing. He was taller than me, so he was bowed down to keep the kiss going and my back pressed against the railing of the porch. He pulled away, and stood up straight, looking down at me. His hand left my waist and he pushed his glasses back up. God he was handsome.

I decided to ditch the glasses that were on  the table and lead him inside by his tie.

When we got to my bedroom he took off his jacket and I loosened his tie before I started undoing his belt while he kicked off his shoes. His hands coming to the bottom of my shirt, slipping it off of my body, dropping it to the floor as he walked me back, the back of my legs feeling the mattress and he unclipped my bra. My thighs pressed together a bit, feeling that pulse between my legs and myself getting wetter. He slid it down my arms and I sat down, his hands running down my body as he slowly got down onto his knees.

"This bruise is concerning."  He ran his thumb on the right side of my ribs and I rolled my eyes.

"I can't even feel it Harv." I rolled my eyes with a smile and cupped his cheek, his cheek and jaw was a bit tickly. He placed a kiss to the top of my chest, kissing my collarbones and then down between my breasts,"if you want to know it's from my goat getting too excited and accidentally butting me."

"I'm glad.." his hand cupped my breast, fingers massaging it, my nipple pressed into his palm as he placed a kiss on my other. My hand sat on the back of his neck, my nails lightly scratching his scalp, his shaggy hair between my fingers," it's nothing serious…but goats are pretty strong,” he looked up at me,”could’ve broken a rib.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as his lips returned to my breast. I propped up on my left arm, his tongue swirled around my nipple, teeth teasing it lightly and I grinded down to on the mattress from the pressure of need building up inside of me. While he places kisses to my breasts his hands came down and undid the button of my jeans, and unzipped them. He pushed up slightly placing a kiss on my sternum and I laid back on my forearm. He hooked his fingers into my jeans, I raised my hips a bit and he pulled them down slowly, my panties going with them. His eyes locked with mine, until the fabric fell to the floor, and now I was naked with him between my legs.

Both of us paused. Suddenly I wish I had drank another glass. His eyes trailed down my body, taking it in.

“Harvey?” I asked, and he looked up at me, his look alone told me I was the one feeling off.

“Sorry…taking it in now.” He pushed my thighs out, spreading my legs wider, and he grew taller, kneeling only on one knee now,”once these glasses come off I can’t exactly see you the best.”

I felt my face blush as his hand ran along the inside of my thigh, and my pussy tighten from his touch. It’s been awhile, a good four years since I’ve been with something other than a vibrator. I felt his thumb slide up my lips, feeling how wet I’ve gotten, then his thumb slipped between and immediately found my clit. My lips parted the moment his thumb pad touched my clit, he slowly and softly dragged his thumb in a circle against it and my head lulled back a bit and I let out a sigh. He trailed a few kisses on the inside of my thigh, mustache tickling and dragging against my skin. His thumb worked a bit faster and my thighs quivered a few times.

“Harvey please.” I pushed out with a breath and I heard him hum lightly. His thumb left my clit and I felt his middle finger circle my wet hole before dipping in causing a moan to rumble in my throat as I bit my lip. His fingers were nice, he had nice hands at that. His fingers were long kind of thick, but nimble none the less. He curled his finger to the curve of my walls as he slowly dragged it in and out. I didn’t realize where he was till I felt the left side of the bed dip a bit.

“Absolutely soaked.” He whispered into my ear and a shiver ran down my spine and I tightened around his finger,”you haven’t had anything in a while, huh?”

“Too busy..mm, too tired at the end of the day.” I answered, feeling him kiss my neck, his stubble scratching lightly at my skin.

He kissed my shoulder with a hum, his middle finger leaving me, but coming back with his ring finger in tow. His fingers slipped right back in, my head couldn’t help my fall back, the front of my neck completely bared to him. He curled his fingers to my anatomy again and he sped up the slightest. I could feel how wet I was, it was almost embarrassing, but come on…it’s Harvey.

My hips rolled into his palm and his fingers found my gspot, I bit down onto my lips, my eyes fell close.

“Right theere.” I moaned, and he changed his fingers positions, a deeper curl. I heard something light fall onto the bed and my eyes opened the littlest. I saw his glasses. I raised my head, timing perfectly with him lifting my left leg onto his shoulder. His stubble rubbing against the inside of my thigh, before feeling his tongue against my clit, he kept a steady pace and motion with his fingers. His tongue slowly lapped at my clit,my hand finding the top of his hair, not tugging but sitting in it, holding it out of his face. I was breathing heavy, breathy moans just slipping out. His lips latched on to clit, a mix of licking and sucking, making my body tense and my moans grow louder.

“Oh God.” I moaned out, my heel digging into his back just below his shoulder blade,”Fuuuck Harv.”

He pushed up onto the bed, his left arm wrapped around the front of my thigh, holding the inside of it with his hand and he pumped his fingers deeper and faster. I heard a groan erupt from him as his tongue dipped in with his fingers before sliding back to my clit, giving it a harsh suck. My hands gripped into his hair, my body pushing into his. My head felt light, my thigh tensing in his grip, being held open to avoid squeezing his head. The way he was circling, sucking, and licking my clit roughly paired with his fingers “come hither” and just how deep his fingers were inside of me I was on the verge of cumming. I could feel my slick dripping down my ass, definitely soaked in the comforter, my walls tightened around his fingers. My moans were more present, louder, and longer. My body felt like it was on fire in the best way possible.

“I’m gonna cum Harv.” I whined out, releasing his hair for a second before griping back on. My thighs started twitching and the upper half of my body curling forwards yet my head lulling back,”I’m gon-gonna cum baby.”

He didn’t change was he was doing, and my toes curled, my eyes rolling back, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as my body tightened. that knot in my abdomen snapping, cumming on his fingers. We kept his pace steady as I rode out my release, only slowing down when I started whimpering and hips near spasming into his face.

I fell onto my back, as his fingers slid out of my pussy, his tongue lapping up my release. His hand left the inside of my thigh, and I heard his glasses drag towards him, before wrapping around it again. He placed a kiss to the inside of my thigh, his mustache wet. I was catching my breath, coming back to reality when my thigh dropped from his shoulder and I felt his thumb swipe across my bottom lip. I opened them and his finger laid on my tongue, I closed my lips around them, cleaning my cum off of them.

I opened my eyes when he slid his fingers out of my mouth. He was standing in front of the bed, looking down at my pussy, the bulge in his dark brown corduroys prominent. I sat up, and pulled him to me by his tie, kissing him heatedly, tasting myself on his tongue. My fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt, tugging it out of jeans and pulling away from him, a light bite dragging his lip before letting go. His lips were pink, so was his face. He undid his tie enough to get it off over his head and took off his long sleeve as I placed kisses down his stomach, slowly unzipping his pants.

He wasn’t a “fit” man, he had a dad bod but no kids(not yet), but he was attractive and sexy as hell nonetheless. He brushed the hair out of my face as I kissed down his happy trail. I slid down to my knees and he took a step back. I looked up at him through my lashes as I hooked my fingers into the waist on his pants and boxer band, and slid them down. His cock sprung out and I stopped pulling down his pants. He was decent size, long enough to where he wouldn’t be able to get all of it in but most, but he was thick. It made sense for a man as meaty as he is.

I kissed up his thigh, which had impeccable grinding quality. His fingers carded through my hair, my hands sat on his hips as I kissed up his body till I was standing, a bit wobbly, but his hand came around to my back.

“I wanna ride you.” I kissed his chest and he chuckled, his hand sat on the side of my neck and lower part of my jaw, his thumb brushed over my jaw, before he angled my face to look up at him.

“You can, but you have to go easy.” I gave him a pouty furrowed brow look and he smirked with fondness,”you haven’t had sex in awhile. Feeling how tight you were-and just with fingers, you have to take it easy.”

“You saying I’m too small for your cock, Doctor?” I whispered intimately and I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood on my tippy toes, my chest pressing into his, his cock pressed against the front of my thigh. His face flushed even more as his hands held onto my waist. My hand came around to the back of his head and I pulled his head closer to mine and I whispered,”guess it’s a good thing I’m absolutely soaked for you.”

He let out a breath I don’t think he realized he was holding in and I lowered down onto my soles. He hasn’t gotten a moment to speak, this pussy has his tongue caught. My fingers dragging against his skin as I backed up and crawled onto the bed. I propped up onto my arms, facing him, and spread my legs open, my heels stable on the edge of the bed.

“Do you wanna be the one to stretch this pussy then?” It looked like his brain stopped working for a second, before has hand gripped onto his cock, his tongue quickly swiping along the bottom of his top lip and he smirked lightly, more adoration then the lust his eyes held.

“I probably shouldn’t, no condoms.” He crossed his arms, oh he looked good.

“What did you go into the city and fuck a stripper?” I joked and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“We’re unprotected.” His hands moved to his waist and I looked at him with a dumbfounded look.

“Harvey…you’re the dude who gives me my birth control every month.” He rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses.

“I’m aware of that, It’s still unsafe nonetheless.” His hands sat on my knees before grabbing the back of my calves.

“Live a little, just for tonight.” His grip tightened on my calves and he looked to the side and then back to me before pulling me edge of the bed, I fell onto my back as he held my calfs on his waist, his cock sitting right over my soaking cunt. His head tapping against it as it bounced lightly.

“For tonight.” His hand let go of my calf and I held it against his waist. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and his caressed my cheek, him thumb brushed against the cheek bone. He used that same hand to drag the head of his cock between my slick lips, running it against my clit, then rubbing his tip against my needy hole, he watched his cock slide between my lips before he looked up at me.

“Need a pillow.” I quickly grabbed the fluffiest one from behind me and handed it to him. I tightens my legs around him but he peeled them off,”where’s your bathroom?”

“Why?” I asked sitting up.

“Just need a towel.” I just fell in love with him. Luckily there was a bathroom in my bedroom so I pointed to the door and he walked over. Man has a nice ass, he is just good looking in general.

He came back with one of my thick towels, dark grey. He folded it into two and put it over the towel. I laid back down, holding my knees close to my chest and he grabbed my calf’s, spreading my legs and placing my lower half onto the pillow.

“That’s better.” His hands guided my legs around his waist, spitting into his palm and stroking his cock. I swallowed and bit down onto my lower lip as he stroked his cock through my lips. He was right, this angle felt better. His tip circled my entrance and he looked at me,”you ready?”

“Mmhmm.” I nodded and he paused for a moment before he started pushing the tip in. I immediately gripped onto the mattress below me my eyes squeezing shut, he was so right. He always right.

“I think I-“ he stopped pushing in mid tip.

“No no, just keep going…Fuck Harv.”

“Just tell me if it hurts, I’ll go easy.” He started pushing it in again. My walls stretching around him yet clamping down on him. It was a mix of absolute pleasure and pain. A deep throaty grain erupted out of his chest, I opened my eyes to see his head tilted back before coming back to look down at his cock stretching into me. I when he bottomed he pressed deeper into me and pushed out a shakey moan from my lips.

He stopped for a moment, giving my body a chance to relax around him, his hand ran up and down my thigh comfortingly as I breathed in and out, my brows twisted together.

“Move, please” I said softly and he did just that, he slowly slid his cock out of me, even his tip, and slid it back inside. Another moan left my left, my lips stayed open as he pushed in deeper this time, pulling out to his tip and pushing back in. He kept it slow and steady, listening to the whines and groans that fell from my lips.

“Shit (y/n).” He groaned out, I felt his thumb press against my clit, rubbing tight and slow circle against it, my legs tightening around his waist. He moved his hips a bit faster, his cock dragging against my walls. His thumb abandoned my clit, and his hands grabbed onto my hips, holding them tightly, fingertips pressing deeply into my ass.

“Fuck me Harvey.” I breathed out.

“How do you want it, darling?” I pressed my lips together and a small giggle sounded in my throat from the pet name that fell from his lips, I felt my body curl a bit as his hand touched my check. His tone was as smooth as whiskey dripping with lust,”tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

“Faster…” I swallowed and took a breath, my voice a bit shakey,”and deeper.”

His movements did become a bit faster, still focused on not hurting me, but he did pressed his cock deeper into me on each thrust.

“Good good.” My lips fell open as he started thrusting harder, his tip starting to hit that spot in me,”oooh yess.”

“found it?”

“Uuhuh.” I moaned, and he thrusted his tip against it again, but harder, to confirm and it was confirmed with an unsolicited moan.

“You’re taking me so well, (y/n). So daaamn good.” He groaned, his thrusts stayed sharp and even but he sped up more, rocking his hips into my pelvis. I tightened around him getting lost in the feeling of his tip sliding through my walls, the sound of his skin now slapping against mine, and the way groans and light moans fell from his lips. My heels dug into his back and his name trailed out of my lips. I felt my slick drip down my ass and into the towel, hearing how wet his motions sound now. I felt his body lean forwards, his thrusts kept steady, but slowed down a bit, fucking deeply into me, his cock grinding perfectly against my g-spot now.

“Oooh! Har-Harvey!” I loudly moaned out, it didn’t hurt, well a little bit, but it felt too good to complain. He was tall so his forearms laid flat on the bed trapping my head. He placed a kiss on my forehead, my hands wrapping around his back and gripping onto his shoulders. I couldn’t help but moan Into his ear, erotic moans falling from my lips as my pussy got wetter.

“Such a good girl. Taking my cock like this.” He strained out, my nails were digging into his skin as he sped up more. My eyes clamped shut, sob like moans ripping out of my throat, that heat building up in my lower abdomen telling me I was the verge of spilling over.

“Ha-Harvey,” I breathed out, my words whined ,”I’m gon-I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my cock, darling.” He groaned into my ear. His breath was hot against my skin, and the erotic groans falling from his lips were a perfect music to my ears. My left hand slid off his back, and I felt his weight shift, and I peeled my eyes open. He didn’t have his glasses on, and he was propped up on left arm, his right hand went back to my pussy, his hand pressed down on my pelvis, his thumb rubbing my clit quickly.

“Harvey! Aaaah fuuuuck!” My back arched up and a moan tore out of me, as my orgasm ripped through me. I saw starbursts behind my closed eyes, a rush of heat covering my whole body as it tensed up. My walls clamped around him as my right hands nails scraping against his back and he let out a strained groan.

“That’s it…That’s it.” He cooed, and I felt

His cock twitch inside of me as he fucked me through my high.

He kept his pace as steady as he could, going back to standing, his thumb abandoned my clit. I looked at him with heavy lids, watching his face,his glasses were back on, his lips were parted and his eyes watched his cock thrust in and out of me , and how his hands gripped onto my thighs.

“Come on Harv.” My tone tripped with ecstasy, as I propped up on my arms a bit to watch him and his body better, his eyes met mine, half lidded, before looking down, watching the way my chest moved from his thrusts,”cum for me Harvey.”

I felt his cock twitch more inside of me, his thrust still felt good and I couldn’t help but moan.

“Fuck.” He groaned out, his neck straining, his body tightening, and I bit my lip at the sight of him on the verge of coming undone, but there was something holding him back, himself really.

“You-you can cum inside of me Harv..” I breathed out and swallowed and he locked his eyes with mine,”you can cum wherever.”

I relaxed my legs grip on his waist, and with those words he finally came undone. He slid out of me quickly, his hand stroking his cock roughly, spirting white cum onto my stomach. His head lulled back as he stroked his cock, slowing it down that last bit dripped down the bottom of his head and onto my stomach.

He breathed heavily as my legs fell from his waist and he sat down in the edge of the bed and fell into his back next to me. I closed my legs and r looked up and over at him, hand on his chest, catching his breath. I kissed his shoulder and he looked over at me, a blissed out look on his face and I smiled.

“You got game Harv.” I giggled and looked down at my stomach, and he sat up.

“I’ll get you cleaned up.” He leaned to me and placed a kiss on my lips before standing up, and proceeded to do just that.

The next day, noon

Harvey slept over last night, but when I woke up at six he was already gone, there was a note on the kitchen table in his hand writing that advised me to hydrate and thanking me for the good night. The wine glasses that were left outside were clean and on the drying rack as well. I had already gotten what I had to get done outside done, but it was another rainy day, absolutely down pouring. I had to change my clothes even though I had on my rain jacket, so I decided today would be a day that I would take to myself.

I was laying in the couch reading, some cable show playing on the tv. My reading was interrupted by a knock on the door, so I placed my marker in the book and got up quickly and headed to the door. I unlocked it and opened it.

“Hi.” Harvey smiled, one hand held a soaked umbrella, his other was behind his back.

“That umbrella didn’t do you too well.” I giggled, seeing the rain spots on his button up, he looked at his shirt and chuckled.

“I guess not, at least I’m not soaked though…I’m sorry I walked out early, there was a shipment coming to the clinic at six thirty I had to be there for.” He explained.

“That’s alright, thanks for cleaning the glasses.” I wasn’t in front of the doorway he could walk in but he hasn’t,”what do you need Harv?”

“I…I wanted to give you this.” The hand that was behind his back came out and revealed a gorgeous bouquet. My lips fell over in shock and soon those like formed the biggest smile. My cheeks flushed as I took it from him, I looked at it for a few seconds before looking back at him,”you’re right…maybe this could work.”

[letalis-psyche]

Swamped with work and stuff so I haven’t been able to produce any finished art… but here is a sketch of my courier and benny being very normal