#this documentary is well worth your time

[toiletpotato]

Driving While Black: Race, Space and Mobility in America

Please consider watching this documentary, especially if you want to learn about how systemic racism works within the system of transportation, as well as its mental and physical effects on Black people in particular. You will learn something new.

You can watch the entire thing, for free, at the link above. It's about two hours long. There are English captions, though near the end the timing is a bit off.

In the second half of the documentary, they show footage of police brutality against Black Americans. The footage is interspersed between interviews and other segments, often without warning. It is distressing and that is the point.

Below are some quotes from the documentary I've collected, if you do not have the time to watch it right now:

Allyson Hobbs, historian at Stanford University: (1:13:48 – 1:14:26) “There’s a very complicated history around the interstate. The interstate for Black travelers creates a very positive benefit in that the interstate makes travel safer in many ways because instead of traveling on country roads and back roads where there was quite a bit of fear and quite a bit of uncertainty about what could happen, traveling on interstates felt more safe and more secure.”

Eric Avila, author of The Folklore of the Freeway: (1:14:31 – 1:14:59) “The interstate highway program was kind of built with this myth of consensus. That it’s what everybody wanted. It’s by popular demand. But for people of color, and for African Americans in particular, they were kind of left out of that consensus because their neighborhoods were the sacrificial lands in which to build this highway.”

Elie: (1:16:20 – 1:16:45): “The thing that people usually say is ‘these were dying communities and we needed the overpasses, we needed the highways to move people out of these ghetto environments.’ Well in fact, these were communities that were vibrant. That people were living in. That the United States government destroyed through a combination of active funding of detrimental projects, and a kind of benign neglect.”

Avila (1:17:23 – 1:18:12): “Highway construction impacted Black communities or other non-white communities, because that’s where property values were the lowest. There is a certain kind of cost effective strategy in building highways through neighborhoods with lower property values. It costs the state less. However, historically, lower property values have been tied to race and African Americans in particular. In many ways all of these federal policies and programs were interconnected. The Federal Housing Administration’s policies, urban renewal, slum clearance, highway construction, all of these processes worked in tandem with each other to create an even more racially stratified geography.”

Leah Chase, chef: (1:18:14 – 1:18:38): “And they did that so fast, I’m telling you: because Black people were not involved in anything in those days. People would do things, we didn’t even know what was going on. We were not involved. In those days we were not allowed into the process so they just came through there with that thing, took away houses; took away good businesses, good people.”

Alvin Hall, author: (1:19:38 – 1:19:52): “You see it again and again in almost every major city in America, and it was really a huge economic setback for many African American businesses because they became isolated.”

Hobbs: (1:19:54 – 1:20:15): “If you retrace it and if you go to some of these areas that were once bustling Black business districts, now often they are abandoned buildings, sometimes they are abandoned, sort of, empty fields.”

Tamara Banks, journalist: (1:20:54 – 1:21:24): “When you erase a history, you erase an identity. You erase what’s important to people and how they connect with their community and how they connect with humanity as a whole. When you lose that culture and that space, now there’s a chink in the chain of your family legacy and you start to wonder, does my legacy matter? Does my life matter?”

Craig Steven Wilder, historian at MIT: (1:25:32 – 1:26:18) “The Montgomery Bus Boycott is actually a story of transportation in many ways. It’s the bus boycott, but it’s also how it was that African American women managed to establish and to reuse a network of connections to deploy their resources to sustain this boycott over months and months and months. And it meant, in fact, accessing cars. It meant finding new ways to move people around town, new ways to actually get people to their jobs. And so Montogomery is in many ways actually a wonderful way of thinking about how Black people deployed the automobile to challenge Jim Crow.”

Sorin: (1:19:15 – 1:19:33): “When road planners put through highways, they often take the path of least resistance, and that’s one of the reasons that Black communities have been so vulnerable, because they have the least amount of power to stop it.”

Sorin: (1:33:11 – 1:33:22): “I think the automobile is the way that many people encounter the police, and I think that’s where we start to get the term ‘Driving While Black.’”

James Baldwin, author: (1:35:07 – 1:35:24): “A cop is a cop. And yeah, he may be a very nice man, but I haven’t got the time to figure that out. All I know is that he has a uniform and a gun, and I have to relate to him in that way. That’s the only way to relate to him, at all, ‘cause one of us is gonna, one of us may have to die.”

Hobbs (1:36:42 – 1:37:10): “There are still so many dangers of being on the road, and I think we’re in a time right now where African Americans are feeling a similar kind of fear as their grandparents felt in the 1930s and 40s.”

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part - Gives You Hell

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist

Word count: 4.3k

-If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well, then he's a fool, you're just as well, hope it gives you hell-

Four minutes left.

You rushed through the park, cursing that the tiled path wasn’t straight. More than anything you cursed your own refusal to run over the grass just to save half a minute. Damn Miss Harrington for keeping everyone after class.

“I dismiss you, my ass,” you wasted precious air to complain and knowing you’d have to go back if you went for the gate, you just jumped over the fence, wincing as it shook behind you. Someone yelled at you to be more careful, but you just began running again, just barely crossing the street before the light turned red.

You spared a moment to look at your watch, two minutes left, and the library was finally in sight. You picked up the pace, luckily avoiding the crowd. Your lungs were burning, tempting you to stop and take a break. So what if you were a minute or two late for work? The world wouldn’t end if you failed to get there on time.

As if. The world might not end, but you were too proud of your perfect record to accept that. You would be there on time and then catch your breath.

“Watch out!” a cyclist yelled a warning, and you looked to the side and just narrowly avoided colliding with him.

“Sorry!” you yelled back as he cursed after you. Well, you did cross his path, so he had the right to do it. Not that you had the time to contemplate on your reckless running as you skidded to a stop in front of the library and went up the stairs as fast as you could. “Right on time,” you went through the door with less than twenty seconds to spare and were met with the annoyance of the people in the library trying to read.

You chuckled sheepishly and then sighed, hanging your head low as you walked through the library as if it was your personal walk of shame. You could just feel the disapproving glares following you, and though you knew it wasn’t exactly everyone in the library judging you it still felt like that. In reality it was more like three people out of about a dozen currently in the library.

“Maybe next time ruin your perfect record instead of barging in and disturbing everyone,” your co-worker and best friend Alex whispered as you went into the break room to leave your things.

“Leave her be, I think it’s cute,” one of the regulars at the library, a pretty, tall girl whose name you somehow kept forgetting whispered and winked at you.

You just shrugged, nodding thanks out of politeness. You were still not sure if she was trying to flirt with you or if she just so happened to always pick the table closest to the counter you and Alex were sitting behind.

~X~

A bit over six and a half hours later, with your backpack on your back and a small paper bag in hand, you opened the doors of the apartment on the seventh floor. You glanced back at the staircase and then at the elevator that worked once in a blue moon. ‘Guess I’m lucky I’m in shape,’ it was a thought that often crossed your mind. Well, childhood spent playing different sports helped.

You locked the doors behind you. “I’m home!” you exclaimed, yelling over the sound of the TV, some animal documentary from what you could hear. Whales? Probably whales. Your mom liked whales a lot. You looked around, the fading scent of cleaning products grabbed your attention, and you noticed it immediately. The lack of any dust, the clean mirror in the hall, tiled floor being so clean you could probably apply the three-second rule to the food if any was dropped on it. The apartment was too clean for your liking, she was cleaning again. Desperately trying to at least take that off your back. “Mom, don’t push yourself,” you sighed as you stepped into the living room and saw her lying on the sofa.

She looked… fragile… in pain, and you swallowed hard, remembering how healthy she was just a year ago. How did things change so quickly?

“Y/N,” she sat up, wincing and holding her back as she did so. “Hey, Sweetheart, how was your day?” she still gave you a gentle, loving smile as you set your bag next to the table and leaned in to kiss her cheek and hug her.

“Great, don’t worry about it,” you whispered and pulled out the medicine from the paper bag, pain killers, for her. Her back’s been killing her, so much so that she could no longer work.

She still went and cleaned the apartment because you just had no time to do it these past few days. The guilt gnawed at you, even if deep down you knew you physically couldn’t do everything.

You felt her hugging you tighter. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized to you on a daily basis, her voice quivering with regret. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how she felt, seeing you work two jobs to take care of her and try and ensure you could continue your education.

“It’s going to be okay, everything will be okay,” and like always you reassured her, fearing something would break if you didn’t. You let go of her and went into the bathroom to freshen up and then heat the dinner up. You weren’t doing bad financially, with just the two of you and owning the two-bedroom apartment instead of paying the rent you had a comfortable life. The issue was saving money for the future, primarily for your college education, and there was no telling if your mom’s health would deteriorate further.

“Alex said hi, by the way. His parents invited us to come over for dinner if you’d like,” you said as you got the lasagna out of the fridge and set the table.

“He’s a good kid,” your mom commented, and he was. Alex was about a year older than you and working at the library, where you met him. You hit it off fairly quickly, he was easy to be around, easy to talk to, cheerful and always willing to encourage those around him.

“So, will you go with me?” you asked, and she nodded, while leaving the apartment would be a bit of a struggle you knew it would be good for her to go outside and be around other people.

~X~

Astrid Deetz was many things, but here, in the library, she was just another girl. No one but the people that worked here needed to know who she was, so, at least here, she wasn’t a freak. She was just another girl reading books. The library allowed coffee to be brought in, as long as the one bringing it was responsible for any potential damages and wasn’t borrowing one of the more valuable books that couldn’t easily be replaced, which was why she preferred reading here instead of going home.

Summer vacations forced her to spend time at home, with her mother, so, the more of that time she could spend away from home the better. Especially since Rory was often at her mother’s house. She was actually surprised he didn’t move in yet, but maybe her mother wasn’t completely blind after all. Who was she kidding? It was only the matter of time before he manipulated her mother into moving in.

Eventually she felt the need to go and grab a bite, so she got up and went to return the book only to see a rather annoying sight and freeze on the spot. There you were, the one flaw of the library she was currently in.

You were currently talking to a tall, blonde girl that looked ridiculously smitten with you, listening to every word you spoke as if you were solving all of life’s mysteries for her. How naïve did the girl have to be to get fooled by the soft, easy smile on your face and patience as you helped her find a new book. And you? Leading the poor girl on, knowing she didn’t really need help and being completely aware that she was just trying to flirt with you. Cruel pain in her ass, that’s what you were.

Luckily, she noticed Alex, your co-worker there as well and went toward him to return her book.

“Miss Deetz, hope everything was to your liking,” he greeted her politely, though Astrid noticed your mood immediately souring the moment her name was said. There it was, your true face. You hid it well though, and the girl blindly in love with you didn’t even notice the shift in your mood.

“Other than certain someone being here, absolutely,” Astrid didn’t even bother hiding her disdain for you.

Alex brushed it off and took the book back. “Good thing I’m here as well,” he said and Astrid wholeheartedly agreed.

“Chihuahua,” you faked a cough to hide the insult, and Astrid felt a vein pop on her forehead.

“Ignoramus,” she spat back and walked by you as you straightened your back, and she didn’t need to look back to know your eyes widened as you stared after her.

And she smiled, knowing she got a more genuine reaction than the girl a head taller than her ever could, no matter how much she flirted.

~X~

You were running on coffee and spite and simple need for money, otherwise you were sure you could fall asleep on your feet while you were washing the chisels and other tools Delia used. Tomorrow you could sleep in, relax just for a bit and recover from the grueling week. Morning job at Delia’s place, four hours, then summer art classes, preparing you for college. You were going to study architecture, hopefully to pursue your passion and design green and sustainable buildings.

And while working with Delia was helping you with your financial circumstances, it was also slowly letting you meet people, make connections and your life at least a bit easier in the future. Still, between working for Delia, the classes, and then the library you were away from home for roughly thirteen hours, which wasn’t exactly ideal for someone who just recently turned eighteen.

“Y/N, could you go and fetch new carving set I ordered?” Delia asked, well, it was more of an order, rather than a request.

“Now?” you asked as you glanced at the clock. You’d have to run again, and you’d probably still be ten minutes late, but work was work.

Delia must have followed your line of sight because she hummed. “No, pick it up on Monday,” she genuinely surprised you with that, she was usually a lot more absorbed in her own work to notice things like that.

“Thank you,” you smiled slightly.

“Architecture, right?” and she surprised you again, you didn’t think she’d remember a conversation you had several months ago.

You nodded and began drying the tools. “Green architecture, I hope,” you knew your eyes shone brightly as you said that. You loved talking about it, about how that was the future, the way to reach a compromise and protect the environment.

Delia looked lost in her thoughts for a moment and then she abruptly began laughing. “Hilarious,” she commented and shook her head.

You were confused, and frankly a bit annoyed, she didn’t strike you as someone who’d find it funny. Hell, she sounded a bit impressed when you first told her, so this reaction genuinely puzzled you. “What is?” you asked slowly, hoping your voice didn’t give away how you felt.

“Just how similar your views and goals are, yet you bicker all the time,” Delia pointed out and walked back to her sculpture, still chuckling every now and then.

You scowled, knowing exactly who she was talking about. The chihuahua that consumed the thesaurus and forced you to Google several words, ignoramus included. You should have guessed it basically meant someone ignorant. The damn infuriating pain in your ass. And Delia’s granddaughter, well, step-granddaughter.

And now Delia said you and Astrid had something in common.

Your day was ruined.

Beyond saving.

Well, maybe making Astrid Deetz lose her composure or force her to Google something would salvage your day, but how the hell were you supposed to make the walking thesaurus Google anything?

~X~

Work sweet work, well, compared to working for Delia. Sure, working for Delia was closer to your artistic side, but the library just had a charm to it that not a lot of places could compete with. The smell of old paper, layers of dust hidden from passing glances since the place was rarely properly cleaned. Not that you blamed anyone working here, you helped with the cleaning three times since starting to work here in the library, and your muscles ached at the mere thought of those times. Moving shelves upon shelves worth of books was not a fun activity. Still, the next one was still far off and perhaps you’d even be away from this city by then. Going off to study somewhere else, somewhere other than your hometown.

It was a slow day, and you leaned back, relaxing with one earbud in so you weren’t completely mentally absent from your workplace. You could just read, you likely will, in a bit, but you had a long sleepless night last night, studying and catching up on your art projects as well.

Eventually you cracked open a book about Renaissance architecture you meant to get your hands on for a long, long time, and now it was finally available at your workplace. Perks of working in the library, you guessed. Just as you were about to start reading the doors opening and a rather annoying girl walking in made your mood drop instantly. She didn't even look at you, just began looking through the shelves, clearly looking for something you could easily help her with if she wasn't so damn proud. You took a deep breath and walked over to the girl, at least you could get it over with quickly. "Deetz, what are you looking for?"

And she ignored you, completely, she didn't even go around you and instead moved with such certainty that you actually had to step back so she wouldn't walk into you.

So, she chose this approach today. It was either insults or pretending you didn’t even exist.

Infuriating entitled brat.

"This would be so much easier if someone worked here," she had the nerve to complain as your jaw dropped and you simply looked at her, flabbergasted by the girl's behavior yet again.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head as Alex came up to the two of you and you couldn’t be happier to see him jumping to your rescue.

"Hey, could you help me find a book?" she immediately asked him, and he looked between you and her with a raised eyebrow, as if he couldn’t already tell what was going on.

You just shrugged. "You're not invisible, good for you," you didn't leave yet, mostly out of spite. Astrid Deetz would not have the satisfaction of knowing she got under your skin, and she especially would not have the satisfaction of you backing away.

"What the- oh, you two are just playing another one of your games," he decided, completely ignoring the absolute dislike bordering on hatred between you and Astrid Deetz.

"I am not playing any games," you both said at the same time and huffed when you realized that.

"Would you look at that, you're in sync as well," he whistled as if he was trying to tease you.

"Bullshit!" you both denied it, once more at the same time and you just waved him off, though you were really tempted to flip him off, and went back to your desk. Pride and the damn Deetz gloating over her ability to indirectly annoy you be damned, you couldn’t stand being anywhere near her.

Eventually, your teasing, traitorous co-worker joined you. “She really likes reading, doesn’t she? And you’d think she’d be some rich kid who scoffs at the very idea of borrowing books instead of buying them, or even hate having the actual book in her hands instead of reading an e-book,” Alex commented, sounding actually impressed by the short annoyance.

You just grunted as a response, after all, you’d never admit you did notice what he just now pointed out. You noticed that from the moment you saw her, months ago, studiously going through several books seeking something rather specific. The unbreakable concentration impressed you back then, but back then you were blind to her actual personality. Still, if there were two things one could count on as far as Astrid Deetz was involved was that she hated her mother and loved reading. That being said Alex did not need to know you had any positive thought about the girl in question. You’d rather die than admit anything nice about the girl, even if deep down you did admire her love for books and reading.

“You’re not going to answer?” he probed for answers, though he should know better by now.

“I’ve got nothing to say,” you muttered and leaned onto your hand, if you could just avoid Astrid for the rest of your life, you’d be the happiest person alive, but no, you just needed to bump into her almost on a daily basis. Either in the library, or at your other work. Granted, it was mostly at the library, but sometimes she would drop by and visit her step-grandmother. That was, beside Delia sometimes getting ridiculous ideas, the only actual downside of your other work. Imagine your surprise when you went to work one day and saw Astrid there, you nearly quit right then and there.

“Yeah, cause she makes you Google new insult she hurls at you every other day,” Alex snickered, trying not to disturb anyone.

You groaned, facepalming as you leaned back in your chair. She really did make you Google things she said a lot. You still remembered Googling barnacle, her favorite word for you. Leave it to Astrid Deetz to declare you as something difficult to get rid of, when you’d do anything in your power to never see her again.

~X~

Astrid did not enjoy making trips to the parts of the town where her family might be, she seldom wanted anything to do with them, especially her mother, but it also began including her step-grandmother after she went and hired the worst possible candidate. You.

But, she had to go and visit a store a few floors above her grandmother so, here she was, in the elevator and certain she would not run into you the very next morning after your encounter at the library. She wasn’t that unlucky, was she? How she almost always ended up visiting during your shift was beyond her grasp. Maybe there was something in all the bullshit her mother talked about, and she was actually cursed with how often she encountered the one person she despised the most.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, and she nearly didn’t look up to see who was coming in. She should have ignored it, should have stared at the wall or something, but no, no, she just had to look!

Astrid could not believe her misfortune as you, carrying a fairly big box, walked into the elevator one floor above her and so far down from her own floor so she would need to actually be in a closed space with you. And she despised the very idea of that. So, just as the doors were about to close she bolted outside.

"What the- that was reckless Deetz!" she heard you yelling. And if there was even a hint of worry in your voice it was absolutely because her grandmother would rope you into whatever funeral arrangement she would choose for her if Astrid happened to tragically pass away.

"Shut it!" she yelled back.

"Fucking chihuahua!" you cursed, and she could feel her blood pressure skyrocketing as the elevator went up. You and your awful nickname for her.

"Damn barnacle!" she yelled back loud enough for you to possibly hear her. She would have the last word no matter what! Insufferable thorn in her side that she couldn’t get out of her life no matter how hard she tried. And to make things even Delia occasionally mentioned you just to get a rise out of her.

Not that anyone needed to tell her anything, she knew you worked two jobs, for whatever reason. Barely any difference in age, yet such different circumstances. While Astrid could do nothing for the rest of her life and still be fine you apparently didn’t have that luxury.

And in those rare moments Astrid would actually notice you despite trying her best not to, she never once heard or saw you complaining about anything. She was actually the only reason for complaining you ever had as far as she could tell. So, while she could find it in herself to admit your work ethic was somewhat admirable, you still could go right back to whatever hell you came out of.

Because that is exactly what you deserved.

Hell.

Okay, maybe not hell.

But definitely not much better than hell!

~X~

You weren’t just annoyed, you were beyond pissed off. How reckless was that girl? “Yeah, I really need that on my consciousness,” you bit out, knowing you’d blame yourself if she ended up getting hurt just because you happened to get into the elevator when she was already inside it.

How were you even supposed to guess she’d be there?!

You opened the doors to Delia’s studio with your elbow and went inside, closing the doors behind you with your foot. You really should have just taken the stairs, but the box you were carrying would have been a pain in your ass if you went with that. Sore muscles might still be a better alternative to having this encounter with Astrid. “Chihuahua,” you gritted out through your teeth as you set the box down.

“Astrid?” you jumped when Delia suddenly spoke up.

You stared at her blankly, as if she needed to ask. She’s seen several of your and Astrid’s hateful clashes.

“She takes after her mother,” the older woman commented as you began pulling out different art supplies from the box.

You had no idea why Delia would even tell you anything about Astrid. You did not need to know, didn’t care about knowing. “I find it hard to imagine anyone could be as infuriating as her,” you frowned, causing Delia to laugh, almost delighted by the comment. Lydia seemed okay, a bit paranoid and utterly blind to her boyfriend’s true intentions, but otherwise she was nice. You couldn’t imagine Lydia being anything like Astrid when she was younger.

“Oh, you have no idea. I reckon Astrid’s attitude is karma finally paying a visit to Lydia,” she sure sounded certain of that claim and you just hummed, internally feeling sorry for whoever had to deal with Astrid being their karma. That seemed like a rather cruel and unjust punishment.

“Mr. Deetz won’t be joining us today?” you asked, noticing the absence of Delia’s husband, though you asked the question mostly to avoid talking about Astrid.

“No, no, he went bird-watching,” she dismissed and you nodded, knowing just how much the man loved doing so, even if it meant traveling the great distances. It was admirable, really, to see someone as old as he was still being passionate about something to that extent. You could only hope you’d have as much energy as him and Delia when you reach their age.

~X~

That night you stood in front of the canvas, a bit of paint smeared on your cheek, an old white shirt you were wearing and your hand. You held your paintbrush as you observed a fairly accurate painting of the Durham Cathedral. It’s been about a month since you started working on the painting, using what little free time you had to work on it, and here it was, finally complete. You set the brush and colors down on your table and sat down, just looking at it with a smile on your face.

You really wished you could go and visit it. You actually had a lot of places you wanted to visit, to study, to touch the old buildings, feel their history and the flow of time coursing through them. The flyer on your table caught your attention and you reluctantly picked it up. It was an ad, seeking volunteers for planting trees. You sighed, massaging your shoulder and wincing at the dull pain in your muscles. You had two days off, you should rest, but you already knew you’d go, you couldn’t help it, that was how you were.

So, knowing you’d go there early in the morning you went and got ready for bed, hoping the shower would relax your aching body.

~X~

“What the fuck?” Astrid halted in the middle of the park, hoping it was just the summer heat. Yeah, that had to be it. The heat was making her see things. It was your damn day off, wasn’t it? Why were you in the park digging a hole for a tree?

Astrid narrowed her eyes, furious at everything. At your shirt clinging to your arms. At the drop of sweat you just brushed off your forehead. At the concentrated look in your eyes and the focus and the way you still had the energy to come and volunteer despite working two jobs.

“Barnacle,” she hissed under her breath and went to the other part of the park, as far from you as she possibly could go while still doing her part as one of the volunteers.

A/N: So, tell me what you think and if you’d like to be on the taglist?

[fluffykiddosstuff]

stanford and stanley pines fighting for you (headcanons)

i just played swooning over stans and...help i'm so obsessed with these two now..here is littles headcanons for them when they are both in love with you :-)

warnings : swearing (thank you stanley), gn!reader, using they/them pronouns, mention of child abuse

context : the kids are gone, the grunkles are on adventures, so to their surprise when they came back for a month, they saw you in the living room (stanley almost hit you with a stick if ford and soos didn't got him), soos explain to them that you got banished from your home and came to the shack late at night under the rain. Pitty hitting them since they know damn well what a lonely life is, they let you stay and life goes on..well not as they expected...

stanley pines :

at first he tries to deny what he feels, you are friends, right ?

if you laugh at his jokes, swear with him against things he dislikes (tv-shows, young people ect..), and that you help him annoy poeple by stealing and other things ? My man is head over heals

you can see he start to grow fond of you when he wants to protect you even more than before, especially since he knows what is gravity falls made of

when you where gone for shopping with soos, he decided it was time to annonce it to his dear twin brother

he would talk about it while watching a romance movie with ford (even tho he said he didn't wanted to watch)

"you know, i start to kinda like them..but like like them you see.."

the pills doesn't pass well when ford says he likes you too

stan is definitely the most childish one

"let's make a bet sixer ! the first to got a date with them wins !"

he likes to come in while ford tries to show you something or even tries to speak to you

he even broke down ford's clock so he would be late to your weekly monster's chase

he still as limits of course, ford is his twin brother after all, and it's only little jokes that doesn't harm anyone right ?

will definitly show off with his boxing skills or by putting a nice suit (for exemple the one in the gif) while you all go out together for a party or something, will try to do sport everyday but heh, he is a little bit too old to do those things daily..

gives you his jacket when you are outside with him, even if you aren't cold, when he sees ford's face when he smells his cologne on you while you both work on something, i'ts worth it

gives you flowers and little gifts, puts them on your bed for you to find when you come back

verbally says what he thinks about you, while ford can't even say two lines in a phrase when all he wanted to say is that your outfit was pretty

stanford pines :

he mainly start to realise he likes you when you helped him with his reasearches for a creature, he is amazed by how much you are interested in his work and doesn't hesitate to take you as an assistant and answer all of your questions

man did he regret telling stan's about his feelins for you, now his life is a living hell (sometimes he thinks about going back in the other dimension by how stan can be extremely annoying, really)

you only get free time with him when you are both in the forest to hunt monsters, you talk for hours about many toppics

smarter than stan, he tries to make you more open around him, asking you about personnal stuff and trying to comfort you when things gets too hard for you to tell, he even experienced to make hugs (bc my dude is awkard) and he purposelly hugs you in front of stan while you are crying about something related from your abusive parents, bonus point if you say : "oh ford..what would i do without you..", he would look at his twin, sticking out his tongue in a proud grin, revenge is a plate you eat cold they said

when you are all watching a show on the t-v and that it's his turn to choose the movie, even if he is dying to watch a documentary, he puts an horror movie and sits next to you, watching you take his hand as a loud noises his heard or hugs you if you are too scared

when you both work and you pass out on a table, he first puts his long jacket on you, and if it gets too late, he takes you in his arms to put you in your bed, all while him and stan are having a "who is gonna look the more angry at eachother" contest

when stan swears , he likes to take him back, especially if you don't like that either (or if it's not the right moment or the right place to do those) of course it doesn't stop him for saying : "for fuck's sake" or "fucking little nerd" while you laugh with ford

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.6

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (m. rec), fingering, dirty talk, switch!ynhoon leaning on dom!hoon, mentions of panic attacks and anxiety, unloving mother, confrontation, anything else lmk! ch. 6 synopsis: after sunghoon's injury, you're making it your mission to care for him, but a surprise visits from his mum and shocking revelations lead you to question everything you have ever felt. wc: 16.6k previous | masterlist | next a/n: surprise! i am gifting you this all a day early <3 i have so much to do over the weekend so you can thank my work for scheduling me crazy hours for this early update. ynhoon stans...i'm sorry. this chapter is a rollercoaster so buckle yourselves in. thank you so much for the love on the last chapter, seeing all your reactions to minhee was...yeah. again, likes, reblogs, feedback is always appreciated!

The day after the incident, you finally summon the courage to visit Sunghoon.

You’ve been in an emotional battle with your head and your heart, wrestling with the decision of whether to give him space or to be there for him during this setback in his career. As his girlfriend, you know you should show support when he needs it most, so you listen to your heart. 

However, you’re still conflicted about one thing: whether to reveal Minhee's involvement in the reason for his injury. The whole ordeal yesterday has left a bad taste in your mouth. Minhee and your mum had planned this sabotage but you have no clue why.

You sense there's more to this than meets the eye, something you don't comprehend, so you’re choosing to keep it hidden for the time being. It's not an easy decision because you've never lied to Sunghoon before but your mind rationalises it as a temporary withholding of information rather than a flat-out lie.

On your way out, you double-check you have everything, but while you’re preoccupied with checking your trusted lip gloss is in your bag, you bump into Minhee.

The atmosphere around you is thick with tension as your eyes meet. You’ve spent the entire night going back and forth in your mind as to why Minhee would do this, mostly because you want to believe he’s a decent human being who wouldn’t sabotage someone else for his own success. 

That’s the part you can’t wrap your head around, the idea that this is for his benefit because there is nothing to gain except getting Sunghoon benched for Nationals. 

Would he stoop so low just to get a better chance at winning first place? It’s so out of character for him. Minhee has always worked exceptionally hard to get the things he deserves, which was evidenced only in the last month with the extra hours practising and perfecting his routine. No logical person would put in hours and hours of grafting just to take the easy way out and eliminate their biggest competition. Even when you both watched the documentary about Tonya Harding, he was the first to say how stupid it would be for anyone to sabotage another skater because the ban would never be worth it if you really loved the sport.

Maybe you just don’t know your brother as well as you think you do, maybe this is his true side coming out. After all, he didn’t know about making it on the Olympic team if he skated well yesterday, and since Minhee’s dream is to be placed on the South Korean skating team, getting Sunghoon out of the way is a sure way to guarantee a spot - he could have conjured up this scheme with your mum.

It’s these conflicting thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind as you look him up and down. Regardless of any reason, he still did what he did, so you snub him, walking past in haste.

“Y/N, where are you going? Why do you have a bag?” he questions your pink overnight bag that you use for long weekends away at Rina’s. You ignore him and boost down the flight of stairs to get your shoes on, “Are you going to his?”

The tinge of sadness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, it’s similar to yesterday although anger has seemingly flushed from him, replaced with a guilty conscience. 

“You know I am so why are you asking?” you spit back.

“Are you going to tell him?” he queries quietly.

You can practically feel his heart gaining speed as he asks the question. He knows if you tell Sunghoon, his career is effectively over. It’s why you have such conflicting thoughts about telling your boyfriend because until you know the whole story, is it really worth ending Minhee’s future like that so easily? 

Standing up, you grab your coat, “Why shouldn’t I?” The question is posed to let Minhee tell you exactly what is going on, it’s up to him to let you in on the reason for his actions.

He rubs his face in his hands and shuts his eyes, you can see he’s fighting himself, “I…I don’t know.”

“Really?” you scoff, “You aren’t even going to give me a reason not to say anything? Then what was this all for, Minhee?”

He doesn’t answer, hanging his head down in shame. It’s the glimpses of him like this that are what are going to stop you from telling Sunghoon. The look on his face wasn’t just guilt he got caught but for his actions.

“Tell Mum I’ll be home in a few days,” With that, you walk out and slam the door behind you. 

You take two buses to get to Sunghoon’s side of town which takes about an hour if there’s traffic but luckily for you, there wasn’t. As you stand outside Sunghoon's flat, your heart leaps with excitement and concern. The rhythmic beat of rock music in your headphones works as a distraction. Sunghoon taught you this trick when you first started to hang out, the loudness of the base helps ease your mind, especially if it was flooded with any nagging thoughts about Minhee. 

You've come all this way to be by Sunghoon's side, realising that your attention should be on him rather than getting caught up in the complexity of Minhee's situation. You slightly curse yourself for not just being with him earlier, you should have been here as soon as he got home yesterday.

Chapping the door, you wait for someone to answer; It’ll either be Jay or Jake because you know Sunghoon will be resting, or at least you hope he will be, your boyfriend always had a habit of defying instructions. The loophole he found to start this whole relationship was a huge giveaway.

The door opens, revealing Jake on the other side. His eyes are filled with relief as he recognises your face, "Hey," he says with a small smile, "Sunghoon's resting, but he'll be glad to see you."

You nod in understanding, a part of you thought maybe the almost 16-hour silence would have put him in a sour mood with you. As you enter the quaint flat, you remove your earbuds and catch sight of Jay in the living room, absorbed in his reading. The subdued atmosphere tells you that everyone is attempting to retain a sense of normalcy in the aftermath of recent events.

It’s funny, you didn’t consider how his closest friends would have reacted, this must be hard for them too considering the three of them are inseparable, each in their own field of sports; Jake in football and Jay in rugby, all of them meeting in the same major at University. You’re appreciative of them, they could empathise with him in ways you couldn’t.

The short walk to Sunghoon's room feels like an eternity as your mind races with thoughts about how to comfort him. How do you approach this? Especially knowing what Minhee did. 

Why are you always harbouring a secret from someone you love?

You gently push the door ajar, revealing Sunghoon lying on his bed, his leg bandaged and propped up on a pillow. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion, meet yours, and a small smile plays on his lips as he registers your presence, “Baby,” he exhales softly and outstretched his arms. 

Closing the door, you walk over to him and envelop him in a tight squeeze. You let the gravity of the situation sink in as he nuzzles his nose into your neck, it wasn’t just his ankle that was hurting but his heart.

“I should have come earlier, I’m sorry,” You confess, drawing back to sit on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t know if you needed space or not.” 

Sunghoon shuffles to sit up straighter, wincing as his ankle subsequently moves with him, “I get it, Sweets, really. You don’t have to apologise…it’s a weird situation, y’know?” He widens his eyes for a moment, inviting understanding without verbalising the implications. It was a fucked up scenario, Sunghoon hasn’t once had an injury in his whole career.

Interlocking your fingers with his, you ask the dreaded question, “What did the doctor say?”

“I have 4 days to live,” he jokes in an attempt to make the air lighter between you both but you don’t find it very amusing. You know he’s hurting inside and you can’t stand when he hides it. Sunghoon is strong and dependable but he rarely admits any vulnerability unless it’s got anything to do with you.

Slapping his chest, you narrow your eyes, “Shut up, I’m serious, Hoonie.”

Sunghoon sighed and looked down at the damaged ankle, “It was just a twist, I should be okay in 1 to 2 weeks but that can take me right up to Nationals. I can’t be on my ass for that long, Y/N.” Anger seeps into him, almost as if he’s realising the severity of what lack of training will do to his chances at Nationals.

Can he even go to Nationals now? Did Minhee and your mum get what they wanted? Maybe you should just tell him about Minhee, an eye for an eye and all that other stuff. 

But you need to investigate first and figure it all out before you jump the gun on this. It’s difficult considering Sunghoon is in front of you, cursing at himself for not stopping the practice, this wasn’t his fault. 

As his mouth keeps moving, you slowly start to tune back into what he’s saying once his skate is mentioned, “You saw my skates the night before, they were perfectly fine!” he exasperates, pointing to them at the bottom of the bed. Somehow, being confronted with the evidence of your brother’s crime brings a moistness to your mouth as if you could vomit right there.

The way your face goes a little paler causes Sunghoon to stop his rant, his hand bringing your face to meet his, “Sweets? What’s wrong?” You’ve spent so much time with him that you’re starting to curse how he can read you easily. If he catches a flash of guilt or withholding in your eyes, he’s never going to drop it.

Standing up with purpose, you advance over to where the skates are, curling your fingers around them. "I think having these in your line of sight isn't healthy for you mentally. I'm going to put them away," you say, opening his cupboard and tucking them in. In actuality, you feel compelled to throw them away, realising that their main purpose now is to serve as a horrible memory. With your back to him, you muster the bravery to bring up the topic of Nationals.

“Coach Lee said if I rest it and can get back on the ice just before the competition, hammer in a few practice sessions and see how it goes since I’ve already officially qualified anyway,” The perks of being the best skater in the city, you suppose, “But Coach Kim says it’s too risky and that I could break my ankle if I go back too fast.” 

"Did the coaches say anything about Nationals? Can you compete?" The avoidance of eye contact becomes a shield, a method to ease the weight of the question from your chest. The guilt you harbour is overwhelming as if you were the one responsible for shattering his skate.

It seems you’ve not been the only one fighting with conflict.

"What are you going to do?" you inquire, returning to his side, your hand soothingly rubbing his thigh, a silent promise of support regardless of his decision.

He bites his lip, determination sparking in his eyes. "I'm going to Nationals, I don't care," he declares with unwavering resolve. "I need to do this. I've finally rediscovered my passion, and I can't bear to watch it disappear again, Y/N. I know that if I miss Nationals and the Olympics, I’ll lose the love I have for it, I feel it."

Nodding in understanding, you convey your unwavering belief in him, your smile a testament to your faith. Taking his hand, you bring it to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckles, the action makes his heart skip.

For Sunghoon, the past few hours have been consumed by self-loathing, but your presence breathes new life into him. He hadn’t decided to try to get fit for Nationals right after the doctor gave him the news, it was only after he saw you walk through that door. You were the reason he wanted to prove he could do it because you always brought him back to life.

"Can I help with anything?" you offer, breaking the tender moment.

"You can give me a kiss," he cheekily responds, a playful smirk gracing his face.

Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you shuffle closer to his side and lean in, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. The synchronicity of your hearts creates a natural rhythm as they engage in their own intimate conversation.

Grabbing your sides, he guides you to sit over his lap, the new angle giving you more leeway to fully capture his lips, melting them with yours. His hands snake under your top, rubbing the skin of your back, grabbing lightly at your sides.

“I love you, Hoonie,” you murmur into his mouth and you feel him smile happily.

“I love you so much more, you’ve got no clue,” he presses your chest flush to his creating little distance between you. As he goes to buck his hips up, the pressure on his ankle makes him cuss and yelp out in pain.

Drawing back, you look behind you, “Sunghoon! Can you watch your ankle please?” You argue with him, trying to climb off but he holds you there in his lap.

"No, don't," he whispers, stealing another kiss, "I need this ankle to heal up quickly." Groaning, he shifts it into a more comfortable position.

"You'll be back on the ice in no time, baby," you offer a reassuring smile, but he looks at you with confusion.

“I wasn’t talking about that. I mean so I can fuck you,” The tender moment takes an unexpected turn as he expresses a different desire. The tone of his voice was offended, Sunghoon didn’t understand why that also wasn’t your first thought. Sometimes, he really is just a man.

His admission catches you off guard, and you playfully chide him, "You can wait, Hoonie." Cradling his face in your arms, you rub his nose with yours.

He doesn’t seem to like that idea.

______

"Hoonie, baby, do you want a cup of tea?" you call out from the kitchen.

You've been taking care of Sunghoon for the past five days, tending to every one of his needs. Part of this is due to your position as his girlfriend, but there is a deeper purpose lurking beneath the surface. You are well aware that your attentiveness is tinged by a desire to make up for your brother's mistake. You don't know why you're carrying the burden for your brother but you're living with it.

As you hear Sunghoon's ‘yes please’ response, you set about preparing the warm brew. The rhythmic clinking of the spoon against his mug becomes a backdrop to the quiet surrounding the flat. 

“Y/N, can you make me one too?” Jay asks while shoving his gym bag on the counter beside you, a flask in his hand. 

Accepting the flask you fill it up with some tea from the pot and add a dash of vanilla milk, just how he likes it.

Living with the three boys for nearly a week hasn’t been as challenging as you once thought. They’re respectable, clean enough, and have created unspoken boundaries to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. Obviously, you knew Jay and Jake before you moved in temporarily to look after your boyfriend but this continuous time with them has made you realise that Sunghoon surrounds himself with only good people, a reflection of his character.

Handing Jay back the flask, he raised it in a silent expression of thanks before walking away, “See you both later. I made extra lunch so eat it before it goes off,” he points to the pot of curry on the stove before he twirls out the door. 

Entering the room with the steaming cup in hand, you find Sunghoon gazing out the window, lost in thought. He has been getting better at a rapid pace, now able to stand confidently on his ankle, albeit not for a long period of time, particularly when he’s standing still, however, the progress he’s making for his recovery is astounding. 

He had a home visit from the doctor at Belmore to check his ankle and he said he might as well be a superhero with how well he is doing. He also said Sunghoon had a high likelihood of getting back in the rink for Nationals, as long as he kept doing what he was doing.

His attention turns from the outside world to you as he graciously accepts the tea from your hands, "Thanks, Sweets," he murmurs, planting a tender peck on your lips before making his way back to the bed. Seating himself at the edge, he glances over at you, curiosity in his eyes as you plonk down on his desk chair.

"Are you going to class today? Jay could have given you a lift," he inquires, taking a sip of his tea, his gaze lingering over the rim as he watches you.

You've willingly abandoned everything - school, work, even Rina and Allen. The neglect of your actual life becomes a mere consequence of your guilt-ridden state; until Sunghoon is better, focusing on anything else seems impossible. You've informed your professors that you're completing all assignments from home, citing an illness that keeps you from attending classes. Another lie to add to your bank.

Shaking your head, “No, not today. I’m all caught up anyway.”

With a sceptical look, he puts the mug down and walks over to you, each of his arms on the rests of the chair, effectively trapping you in, “Sweets, I love you and I love that you’ve taken care of me this week, but you’ve done enough. You can go to University and I promise I won’t break.”

Deep down, you know he’s right but your guilty conscience aside, this was also a lot more fun. The ability to spend everyday with Sunghoon, waking up to him and making him breakfast in exchange for him making dinner, the random shows you’ve both binged and laughed at, learning every intricate detail of him - it’s been the best time you’ve had in years. It gave you a glimpse into the future of what it would be like to live together.

You meet Sunghoon's gaze, your eyes reflecting a mixture of reluctance, "I know," you concede, "but it's been...nice. Taking care of you, being here with you.” 

“Trust me, I appreciate it more than anything, but I’m fine I promise,” Sunghoon tries to give you some comfort by looking into your eyes and assuring you. You can feel his genuine care for you and your own life. He watches your eyes shift as you look away from him, “It’s not just me, is it? There’s something else going on?”

People on Twitter cry out for a man as attentive as him, they crave it because men these days don’t notice anything. Taylor Swift and Adele aren’t top artists on people’s Spotify because men are great at listening. 

But right now you wish he wasn’t so attuned to you, that he didn’t know you so well because you don’t have the energy, nor the words, to explain to him that you know he’ll be fine, you just can’t face going home.

Because that was the real issue here, wasn’t it? 

You can lie to yourself all you want but that house is the last place you want to be. That house is a labyrinth of unresolved issues. Minhee's actions have put you in a difficult position with your boyfriend, secrets linger in the cracks of the house that only he and your mother are privy to, and you feel like a stranger in your own home. Here, in Sunghoon's space, you can simply pretend that the world consists solely of you and him. It's a comforting illusion, shielding you from complicated family drama.

Sunghoon bends down, despite the strain on his ankle, trying to get eye level with you,

“Baby, you can talk to me.”

"You need your eyebrows fixed," you say quickly, seeking to change the subject. His astonished reaction causes you to quickly break into laughter, "They're getting a little wild, Hoonie."

He tilts his head and furrows his brows. "You want me to believe that my eyebrows are what's bothering you, not something a little more serious?"

You eventually stare into his eyes, mentally pleading with him to drop it and accept that your concern is indeed about his brows. The last thing any of you need is for you to reveal the information you're keeping hidden; it might jeopardise the calmness of this week and, potentially, your entire relationship.

His eyes soften and a small but understanding smile tugs at his lips. He relents, knowing you’ll speak to him sooner or later about your worries, “Alright, come on then,” he slaps his palms against his knees and slowly rises, ignoring the shooting pain that courses from his ankle to his knee. It might only have been a twist but fuck did it hurt.

With sparkling eyes and relief, you follow him into the bathroom, excited to get to work on his brows. It might have been a quick scapegoat to change the course of conversation but his brows did actually need to be tidied up. In only a week they’ve become unruly, the true curse of bushy, perfect, luscious eyebrows.

Opening the cabinet door, he reaches for a new hair shaper; you had bought the pack for yourself just in case that one chin hair made an appearance while you stayed here. He goes to hand it to you but yanks it away before you can grab it, “If you even think of shaving them thin I will 100% break up with you,” his tone tells you he’s joking but his eyes are deadly serious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you say with a lighthearted giggle and stand in front of him, putting a few dollops of his moisturiser on your fingertip before rubbing it on the area you plan on attacking. There aren’t many straggling hairs but his eyebrows are a trademark, you can’t let them sit even the slightest bit unruly. 

Taking the razor you pop the cap off and reach up to sculpt his brows. Sunghoon is tall but it’s never really been an issue until now as your line of sight is constantly covered by your hand, no matter how you angle yourself. With a little pout, you assess your options.

Sensing the struggle, he chuckles and decides to take matters into his own hands, literally. He sweeps you off your feet, lifting you effortlessly and placing you on the bathroom sink, “Is that better, Sweets?” From this elevated position, you now have a perfect vantage point to tackle his eyebrows. 

Nodding, you place one kiss on his nose before beginning your venture into his bushy brows, cautious not to shave too far in or knick him. With each swipe, you concentrate more and more, pleased with your work. A sudden surge of adoration pings in your heart as you see the way he’s looking at you, accompanied by his thumbs tracing over your hips. In times like this, you wonder how you could ever be so lucky to have someone like him love you.

While you continue working, Sunghoon is thinking the exact same thing. It’s so strange how as soon as he started to spend time with you all those months back, a valve opened up in his heart to pour love out, and as he’s observing you now, he realises that he’s now just flooded with emotions all over his body. He’s happier, more patient, less angry, and just filled to the brim with adoration for not just you, but his life. 

You wouldn’t know it because he hid it well but he was losing himself before he met you. The pressures of skating and university, the coldness from his mother, and the constant image of being arrogant and obnoxious that was posted about him in the media, it all got to him more than he let on. Now, none of that matters; he loves skating again, you actually make him study with you so he’s on top of all his assignments, and the opinions of his mother and journalists are no longer an issue for him - he doesn’t care anymore. 

“I really do love you, y’know,” he says out of the blue, just as you begin on his left brow.

A chuckle escapes your lips because it was so painfully obvious he did, you’ve never felt more seen or cherished in your entire life. Fair enough, the bar was way down to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, but still, he made you feel on cloud 9 all the time. Even if you argue over different opinions, you never belittle one another or get mad, you talk it out rather than fight. It’s a dynamic you’ve not seen in your personal life before - when your dad was around, he and your mum would scream at one another or just never speak, the complete opposite of you and Sunghoon.

“I love you, too, Sunghoon,” you beam at him so widely you’re showing your gums. If anyone saw the way both of you were in the bathroom, giggling messes and smiling at each other like this, they would slag you off easily. But no one else is here, just you and him. If only it could always be like this.

Getting back to the task at hand, you finish up shaving off the last few bits and tidying the brows up, sculpting them like you’re Michelangelo and he’s David. They look good in your unprofessional opinion but it wasn’t yours that mattered, “I’m all done, take a look.”

As you go to jump off of the sink, he holds you still and shakes his head. Instead, he snakes his arms around your figure and pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looks in the mirror behind you. The intimate action has you instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around his body, clinging to him.

You feel him move his head side to side to inspect, “They’re perfect, Sweets. How much do I owe you?” he jokes, squeezing you before pulling back. 

“I charge one kiss per brow,” you tilt your head and bite your lip.

“As long as I’m your only client,” he looks at you with that same playful serious stare, “I’ll even tip you,” he smirks, pushing your core against him. 

Since the injury, you and Sunghoon haven’t had sex and it’s not through a lack of trying. Every time you both get into the swing of things, he either puts unnecessary pressure on his ankle or hits it off something. It’s stupid because at the end of the day, it’s his ankle and not his hip but you hadn’t realised how important a working ankle is during the deed. Even when you attempted to give him a blowjob, the tension in his leg went straight down into it. 

He feels confident in his ankle today, there’s no way it can cockblock him for the 5th day in a row. He wouldn’t let it happen. 

His plump lips cloak yours as his hands grip your ass and manually grind you onto him, eliciting a moan from you. Between your pyjama shorts and his gym shorts, there isn’t much material between you, so you feel each other’s need for one another easily. 

Dancing your fingertips along the nape of his neck, he shivers, a grunt coming from his mouth when you grip the bottom of his hair.

Your attempt at intimacy is short-lived however when you hear keys rattling in the door but Sunghoon won’t let his roommate stop him, “It’s Jake, ignore him,” he continues to kiss you eagerly, the grip on your ass is so tight you’re bound to have marks.

However, when an unexpected voice echoes in the apartment, you both freeze, hearts in your throats.

“Sunghoon? Where are you?” His mother bellows, locking the door behind her.

She hasn’t bothered to come see her son since the accident, once she knew he would be fine, she left him to his own devices. So why is she here now?

Panicked, you push him off, the sudden movement makes him stumble over his ankle, “Shit, baby, sorry,” you whisper, quickly jumping down from the unit. You can hear her footsteps exploring the living room and kitchen.

She still didn’t know about you both, and as terrified as you were of Minhee finding out, Sunghoon was of equal measure about his mother, claiming she was psychotic enough to hire a hitman on you for ‘distracting’ him. Your boyfriend said it as a joke but he was genuinely scared of her reaction to the news. 

Cupping your cheeks, Sunghoon gives you another kiss, and then another, and then another, “Baby, stay here and keep quiet. I’ll get rid of her,” he keeps dragging you to the door, placing urgent kisses all over your face as he backs up. You should tell him to stop considering he’s risking it but his lips are so addictive, “Fuck, what if I pretend I’m not here?”

“Go, Hoonie,” you’re acutely tuned into her footsteps coming up the hall. 

Opening the door, he gives you three more short kisses before turning around, bumping straight into his mum. She startles, taking a step back, clearly caught off guard by his sudden presence, "Sunghoon, why didn't you answer when I called?" she queries.

“Sorry mum, I was having a piss” 

You roll your eyes as you hear him from outside. There had to have been a better way to say that. Their voices get distant as they walk into his room across the hall but you can still hear them enough with your ear pressed against the door. Is it morally wrong to eavesdrop on the conversation between mother and son? Yes, but you’re nosey and none of the three boys keep magazines in the bathroom for light reading.

As Mrs. Park surveys the room, a disapproving huff escapes her lips, exhibiting her dissatisfaction with its current state, "How are you?" she asks in a monotone voice.

Sunghoon shrugs, “Fine, I guess. What are you doing here?” His arms are crossed defensively and his eyebrow quirked, “And where did you get a key?”

Of all the years he’s lived with Jay and Jake, his mum hasn’t so much as stepped foot into the flat so this was a weird situation he’s found himself in. 

She turns to inspect the shelves of his room, running a finger to collect dust, crumbling it away in disgust, “I made a copy one of the days you were training,” Twisting back to face him she continues, “And can’t a mother drop by to see her son when he’s injured?”

Sunghoon, clearly sceptical, could almost burst into laughter, "I got injured almost a week ago, and I could have easily texted you about my condition," he retorts, his narrowed eyes reflecting suspicion.

“I might have been busy rescheduling your appointments but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, Sunghoon,” she doesn’t flinch and neither does he.

The relationship between them is spread thin at this point, merely a transaction of small talk and managerial duties, he acknowledges this and so does she, so the act she’s putting on right now isn’t fooling anyone, “Mum, we’re not exactly known for heart-to-heart chats. What’s the real reason you’re here?”

Scoffing, she matches his stance, crossing her arms, subsequently closing herself off, “I think it was sabotage.” 

You wish you weren’t listening now. Does she know it was Minhee? There’s no way she could, maybe she’s just a sceptical person…or perceptive.

The tension in the room rises as Sunghoon tries to process her words, “Mum, this isn’t one of those bad dramas you watch during the week, my skate snapped, that’s all it was. Plus, no one hates me enough to do that,” he barters with her, the idea that this was anything more than a freak accident made him laugh. 

In the bathroom, you’re freaking out and regretting all your decisions to keep it a secret. If you had just told him, he would have had some respect for you but you know for certain if she does know that it was Minhee and tells all to her son, he’ll lose every ounce of regard for you. 

This is bad.

His mum shakes her head, dropping her arms and going back to snooping around his room, “I think it was Minhee…or Y/N. She is always around that rink when she can’t even skate, that’s a bit suspicious, no?” 

The accusation makes Sunghoon’s blood boil. You have been the one to look after him throughout all of this and his mother dares to think for a second it was your doing he’s in this position. All the care and love you’ve shown him this week alone is enough for the insinuation to filter in one of Sunghoon’s ears and out the other. 

Paying him no mind, his mother continues to the other side of his room, “The whole family is bad news but her? She’s up to something, far too quiet that one,” look on her face only grows with more disgust as she spouts her words.

“You’re ridiculous! Y/N wouldn’t do that. You don’t know shit about her,” he protests angrily, his fists balling by his sides as he tries to remain some sort of composure. Sunghoon would be dead before he let anyone speak badly about you. 

“Fucking stop it. What is your obsession with the Kangs?” He knows he shouldn’t have asked considering you’re in the bathroom and could probably hear every word of this conversation but it was more rhetorical than genuine curiosity.

However, his mum will take any opportunity to slander your family, “Her mother sleeping with the judge to get that scoundrel of a boy a higher ranking at Junior Regionals is enough of a reason. Her whoring around nearly cost you the final.”

Junior Regionals, 2018, the year your dad left because of a rumour your mum had slept with one, possibly two of the judges. Of course, it wasn’t true, Minhee worked incredibly hard to get high scores that year but Mrs. Park couldn’t accept that your brother almost knocked Sunghoon off the top spot. The rumour spread so fast that it almost tarnished everything that Minhee had worked for, there were investigations and everything - judges got fired, your dad divorced your mum, and it was a rough time for everyone in your family.

Sunghoon swallows down what he actually wants to say, “Is it really that serious? It was like what? 5 years ago and so what if I did come second to him? Would it be the end of the world?” 

“If her little plan had worked the way she wanted it to, you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to work with Mr. Son and get the sponsorship that propelled you to fame, you’d be a nobody like Minhee.” 

Rage, unfiltered, pure toxic rage overcomes you. She can say anything she wants about you, even your mum but never Minhee. He has done nothing but grind on that ice for years to prove himself as a main competitor since the accusations. Minhee is top of his league for a reason, he is just as good as Sunghoon is. Did he work on his humble and modest persona to make brownie points in the press? Sure, but his talent can never be questioned.

Reaching for the knob of the door, you’re about to barge in and tell her where to stick her opinion when you hear Sunghoon, “Are my talents not good enough? Did you ever think that Mr. Son wanted to work with me because he saw my skating and thought I’d make a good ambassador?” His voice is pained.

"Be real, Sunghoon," his mother says dismissively, and a heavy silence falls over the room. Your heart hurts for him, and your hand falls to your side, the weight of their conversation temporarily overriding your desire to intervene.

The admiration you’ve held for Sunghoon’s skating since you were little was a testament to his skills. His fluidity and grace were unrivalled, and he was seen as an embodiment of potential by everyone. It's frustrating to witness his mother's lack of faith in his talents. It feels completely unjust that the one who should champion him the most fails to recognise the kind of athlete Sunghoon is.

Sunghoon's shoulders drop, the weight of his mother's doubts and lack of belief in his talents crashing down on him. He lets out a deep sigh as he struggles to find the words to express his disappointment and dissatisfaction. "Don't you get it, mum? All of my years of training, sacrifices, and everything, were all done to prove something. To prove that I can be more than what you expected,” he lets out a bitter laugh, looking up to the ceiling as if to hold in tears, “But I’ll never be good enough for you, will I?”

The room echoes with the heaviness of Sunghoon's emotions, the unspoken tension hanging in the air like a dense fog. As you listen, a profound empathy washes over you, recognising the pain of a son seeking validation from a parent who seems drastically out of reach. He was always so good at comforting you with your lack of self-esteem instilled by your mum because he knew. He knew how it felt to be seen as less than from your flesh and blood.

His mother remains motionless, her stare unwavering and detached. "Sunghoon, the world is cruel. How can you expect to survive if you can't handle critisism? You are skating on thin ice, both literally and figuratively. Your National top spot is up for grabs, this is serious, I don’t have time for your pity party.”

Sunghoon's jaw clenches, a mixture of frustration and resignation etched on his face. He had hoped for understanding but what did he expect from a mother like his? He gathers himself, not letting her words hinder him anymore today, “I’m fine, just go. You’ve checked in and laid your conspiracies on the table, you can go now.” 

Her gaze remains icy. "Fine? Is this what you call 'fine'? Being 20 years old, living with two delinquents, and a twisted ankle to boot? I came here to tell you about the sabotage to spur you on and give you a reason to get better for Nationals. Don’t you want to show up the person who tried to end your career?”

“No one tried to end my career, you’re fucking delusional!” He raises his voice and it makes you jump, the anger portraying in his voice is similar to when he beat up that guy at the party for touching you. Sunghoon never gets angry, not seriously, so you know he’s had enough, “You seem to have a lot of opinions about people I care about, just so you can justify your weird allegations.”

She raises a brow, “You ‘care’ for the Kangs? Is that what I’m hearing?” 

To be fair, it does sound strange if you don’t know the whole context, Minhee and Sunghoon don’t strike anyone as buddies and you and Sunghoon apparently haven’t spoken two words to one another. 

Sunghoon is so overcome with emotions he doesn’t stop himself, “Yeah, I care about them, Minhee is actually a decent guy who I just don’t see eye to eye with. And Y/N, she…she isn’t even any part of this, so keep her name out of your mouth, okay?”

Mrs. Park looks at him with scepticism, “I’m curious, Sunghoon, how you’ve suddenly become so protective over Y/N. What is she to you?” 

You can feel your heart ripping through your chest as your name bounces between their lips, you never wanted to change your name so much in your life. As your palms get sweaty, you hear nothing but silence.

The question hangs in the air, challenging Sunghoon to define the nature of his connection with you. For a moment, he seems caught between the impulse to reveal his true feelings and the desire to shield you from his mother's wicked ways.

“She’s someone who you don’t know and are making wild accusations about, sorry if i have some morals,” he states firmly, eyes unwavering as he stands his ground. He doesn’t want to add you further into this family drama, you’ve been dragged through it enough at no fault of your own.

Despite his best efforts to swerve you out, his mother drags you back in, “You like her, don’t you?” When Sunghoon doesn’t say anything, his mum cackles, “I should have known, all those nights at the rink were to see her, weren’t they?” 

If she wasn’t basically figuring out your secret relationship with her son, you would have given her some props - the woman is smart. 

Sucking his teeth, Sunghoon nods, “Yeah, so what? I’ve been seeing her and we’re happy, doesn’t that just prove your mad theory about her sabotaging my skate null and void?” 

Her eyes flash in disbelief for a moment before she finds her resolve, “You don’t know her, she could have done it. She would do anything for Minhee.”

You want to argue but she’s right, you would do anything. You’re literally hiding in a bathroom as they argue about someone deliberately breaking his skate knowing fine well it was your brother.

“I know her, mum.” 

"What could you possibly know about her?" she responds sharply, the scepticism written across her features

"I know she loves me, and I love her. She wouldn't do that," Sunghoon says firmly, his voice carrying a confidence that fills the room. In the long silence that follows, you can almost imagine his mother's jaw dropping, either that or she’s fainted.

Staring sternly at Sunghoon, she tightens her jaw, a silent attempt to regain control of the narrative slipping through her fingers, “You’re an immature child, Sunghoon, you don’t know what love is.”

“And you do?” he spits back.

For a while, you don’t hear anything except your heartbeat and the air coming through the toilet vent. It's as if the world around you has vanished, and stepping out of this bathroom will transport you to a reality similar to a dystopian movie where there are no survivors left.

This was not an argument meant for your ears, which weighs hard on your conscience. Guilt flows through you like an electric current, yet ironically, it's a conversation that is entirely about you and your family.

Frustration etches deeper lines onto Mrs. Park's face as Sunghoon doesn’t budge. She clicks her tongue and strides towards him, “Fine. But just know your father would be highly disappointed in you right now,” she pushes past him and storms out of the flat, leaving a heavy atmosphere in her wake.

Sunghoon’s heart wrenches at the thought, he feels sick. He’s only ever wanted to make his father proud and now his mum said that. He stands frozen, his gaze fixed on the ground. The weight of his mother's words hangs in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the room and Sunghoon's heart.

Shock doesn’t even begin to describe your state right now. There is no way she said his dad would be disappointed in him, she said that to spite him because he won the argument, it’s pitiful. Mrs. Park is supposed to be the adult in the situation, yet she handled it like a child. You hate her.

Turning the door handle, you ease your way out of the bathroom, careful not to startle your boyfriend. There’s not a lot you can do for him, her words are a wound that can’t be healed by hugs and kisses. But you have to try.

Tip-toeing into the room, you gingerly place a hand on his arm, “Hoonie?” He jumps slightly but doesn’t lift his eyes to look at you. As you circle to the front of him, you see the water in his eyes and his jaw clenched, holding in anger and hurt.

You reach up to touch his face, stroking his cheek in an attempt to loosen it up but you fail. He is trying to be so strong and not let his emotions overwhelm him but even if he’s fighting them on the outside, inside he is breaking.

“Baby, please don’t listen to her. She is so incredibly wrong,” you speak softly.

His eyes flicker to yours for a split second but it was a mistake, he can see the sympathy in your eyes and it makes him feel weak. He shouldn’t be affected by his mothers words so much, not after he vowed to stop caring about her opinions but the way she spoke so easily about his dad’s disappointment boiled him over the edge, not to mention how she dragged you through the dirt. He felt ashamed for some reason, “Look at me, Sunghoon.”

Pleading with him falls on deaf ears however because he doesn’t dare, knowing he’ll breakdown. Sunghoon has always held it together, even that day he sat rubbing your back on the bleachers, when you hit a nerve he switched from sad to joy in the space of a second, something he’s been so good at his whole life, so why is this influx of sadness any different.

Because she mentioned the two most important people in his life and how the relationships were stained with something negative. Sunghoon obviously knows you wouldn’t corrupt his career like that and he knows his dad won’t be disappointed in him but he can’t help his mothers words poisoning his brain. 

Exhaling slowly, you withdraw your hand from his face and trail it over his heart. It’s beats are irregular, swapping between a regular pace and missing a few pulses completely, his lungs are moving at a faster rate yet his nose and mouth are still.

“Sunghoon, hey, listen to me, okay?” You try to guide him to the chair behind him so he can sit but his feet remain sturdy, “Please, Hoonie, I think you’re going to have a panic attack or something so can you sit down for me?”

All the signs are there. Panic attacks are different for everyone and he might just be going through the motions, but you’re better safe than sorry. 

His entire attention is distant, absorbed in the chaos of his own mind. You can practically see the internal fight in his eyes, the conflict between the emotions and listening to his body. It’s scary because you’ve never seen him like this before.

Sunghoon finally relents, allowing you to guide him to the chair. You crouch down in front of him, placing your hands on his knees, trying to establish a connection. "There we go,” You learned about bringing people down from panic attacks in a mental health first aid course you took years ago. Granted you’ve never used any of the steps on anyone other than yourself, so now would be the perfect time to use it.

Knowing your boyfriend well, he loved it when you lay on top of him, the weight of you calmed him down if he was nervous about something, so, you figured he could benefit from deep pressure touch and if not, you’d try something else. Anything to stop him from hurting like this.

Straddling his lap on the chair, you bring him into a hug, tightening your arms so it is snug and not uncomfortable and hold him, soothing his back and whispering positive affirmations beside him.

You sit with him like that for about 15 minutes before he finally moves, his arms circling your waist and his face buries into your neck. He doesn’t sob or break down, he just holds you with the same force you are giving him. He finds some serenity in your touch and he can’t thank you enough. 

You wish he would just let it all out, to cry because he needs it, but you can’t push him - he copes in his own ways.

“I’m sorry you had to hear all that earlier,” Your heart tears as he mutters the words into the nape of your neck. He is the one in pain right now yet he’s apologising for your feelings that got hurt. Pulling back you see his sullen face as he finally looks at you, “She had no right to accuse you or Minhee like that, she was out of line.”

A lump forms in your throat but you force it back down. You can’t tell him now, not while he’s like this but fuck do you feel like a piece of shit right now. Every fibre of your body wants to tell him and relieve yourself of the burden on your shoulders, but now is not the time for that.

You plaster on a gentle smile and place your hands on his cheeks, “And she had no right to tell you your dad would be disappointed in you because I know for a fact that he isn’t. That man worshipped the ground you walkrd on, he still does. You’re everything he would want you to be.”

The words hit Sunghoon a little too hard, the ducts of his eyes filling again but he quickly blinks them away and clears his throat, shaking his head as if to rid him of any thoughts in his brain.

“Thank you, Y/N. For everything and I don’t just mean right now,” he pauses, collecting the correct words, “I mean for the past few months. I feel so…I don’t know, I can’t even describe it. I just know I’m lucky to have you.”

You jutt your bottom lip out and nod. Of course, you understood what he meant because you felt it too. His mum was certainly wrong about Sunghoon not knowing what love is, he’s experiencing it in ways people can only read about in books. You cherish each other as best friends, as lovers, as soulmates.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he smiles genuinely, “Never leave me, yeah? You’re all I’ve got.”

You look at him, your eyes silently convey the depth of your care and commitment to him, “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me for a long, long time, all my snoring included,” both of you laugh, the tension and animosity that still lingered from the confrontation with his mother slowly but surely dissipating, “I am going to tell Jay and Jake about how you said that though. They’ll be highly offended.”

The joke settles in Sunghoon’s smile, “What can I do to keep you quiet?” 

You pretend to think, mockingly looking up at the ceiling as if to contemplate, “I think I’ll take the same toll as my eyebrow-shaping services. Two kisses and your secret is safe with me.”

If Sunghoon could imprint a single vision to his brain, it would be you right now with the loving smile you have adorning your face, “You drive a hard bargain, Sweets but I’ll pay up,” Leaning forward, he kisses you tenderly, holding your back for support. Your bodies melt together, any tension in your persons now evaporating as you lose yourselves in one another. 

His tongue makes its way into your mouth, licking you softly and with so much affection. You loved this side of Sunghoon, it proved to you that men could actually be soulful. He’s a ruby in a diamond world, you’re certain.

“You know, I never did give you my tip for your services earlier?” He wiggles the freshly shaped eyebrows.

“Seriously? After all that went down, you’re still horny?” You ask confused. 

Nodding he dips his hands down to your ass, “I have been cockblocked for a month-”

“5 days,” you interrupt.

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter how long, I just know I need to feel you,” There’s a playful glint in his eyes but underneath lies a strange vulnerability as if he just needs to be loved, to be wanted. You can understand that; you felt the same way when you were upset after the party, desperate for a genuine connection. 

Lifting you, he carries you to the bed and lays you down gently, yet, with enough urgency to relay his needs to you. He is so desperate for your touch and your love that he’s already kissing down your neck and hands roaming under the borrowed shirt that you’re wearing. 

But you stop him suddenly, using all your strength to push him away and push him to sit up against the headboard. 

He had to feel the pleasure this time and as much as he would tell you that getting you off was enough for him, you wanted to return the favour.

Sunghoon has a terrible habit of just diving into making you feel good that often your night antics are one-sided with him doing most of the work and you get all of the reward. Tonight, you can’t let it follow the same routine, no matter his protests. 

You start rubbing over his cock that is concealed by his sweatpants and boxers. The imprint of his size is already making your pants stick to your pussy.

You sit on Sunghoon’s legs, anchoring him to his bed as you play with the toggles of his sweatpants.

Licking his lips in anticipation, he watches you pull back the strings and let them go, allowing them to snap and send a shock to his already desperate cock. The way you’re just as eager as him makes his blood pump straight down, helping his member to stand to attention.

There is still an apprehension in you to continue; the last time you attempted to suck him off, it ended in his feet digging into the bed and his ankle swelling back up. This time, however, he was in tip-top shape, or at least he would rather be in pain than not have those beautiful lips of yours wrapped around him

Pulling the bands of his bottoms down slightly, you expose his semi-hard dick, drooling at the sight. It looks as pretty as ever, the tip blushed with a hint of pink already from arousal.

Sunghoon rubs your thighs, the pads of his fingers trickling along your skin, setting your body alight. Even the simplest of touches from him is enough to get the blood in your veins to stir. He sees the effect he has on you and smugly licks his bottom lip, “Are you sure you don’t want me to…” he trails off, his right fingers ghosting your heat, giving you just enough to tease but not to please.

“No,” you shake your head with conviction, determined not to fall into his trap, “I want to do this.”

You honestly do feel bad for the lack of give compared to take, but Sunghoon has an addiction to taste you, to feeling your essence on his lips and tongue. He gets lost down there so long you, making you cum however many times he pleases that sometimes you’re too fucked out to even think, never mind give him anything in return.

Your hand is cold compared to his warm shaft, so when you grasp it softly, it jumps in your hand as Sunghoon gasps, “Jesus fuck,” he whispers as he shuts his eyes, his hand gripping your inner thigh.

You slowly drip your spit onto his cock, gathering enough to coat it. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly, spreading your saliva over him, squeezing periodically where you knew he was most sensitive. 

Rubbing your thumb over his head, you apply special pressure to his slit with each passing which Sunghoon obviously loves, his face being the number one indicator; his jaw is tense, eyebrows scrunched together, and his nose is breathing out harshly. You're driving him crazy with lust.

“Baby, please don’t tell me you aren’t going to use that pretty mouth of yours,” he pleads to you while his hips thrust up further, trying to get as close to your mouth as physically possible from the position he’s in, “I want your mouth so much.”

“You want what?” you tease, bringing your lips down to the tip only to spit on it once more, denying him what he craves.

Sunghoon doesn’t take the teasing well, gritting his teeth from aggravation and pleasure. Although he’s desperately seeking the warmth of your tongue sliding up and down his cock, he can’t deny how good your palm feels stroking him like this.

Both of you are as bad as one another, teasing while still giving something. Usually, it’s Sunghoon and his soft kitten licks to your folds when all you want is his fingers inside you. 

It was nice to be in control like this.

Pumping him faster, you watch as he struggles to speak, chest rising and falling with your hand, “Just…fuck…don’t make me ask again,” he pushes out, tone laced in flames. It’s almost cute how he thinks you’ll give up so easily, this is your time to get him back for every time he tortured you.

Bringing your face back down to his head, you lick into his slit and circle his head slowly. As soon as he thinks he’s won, you sit back up straight, smirking as he grinds his jaw in frustration, “Like that?” you ask innocently, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Y/N, c’mon, this is supposed to make me feel better,” he pouts, trying to hide a smile. You falter for a moment, thinking about his words carefully.

You suppose that this was to make him feel better after what just happened with his mum, he needs to feel loved and appreciated, to feel that someone actually cares about him and backs him through everything.

But you know him, and that glint of playfulness in his eyes tells you everything you need to know, “You can’t use the pity card to get what you want, Hoon,” you laugh and continue to work his cock.

Losing his despaired expression, he clicks back into his cheeky self, huffing while he rolls his eyes, “It was worth a shot.” he mutters disappointedly. He really thought that would work.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to guilt trip me into giving you what you want,” you sigh, feigning annoyance. Your hand starts to slow down, “Should I even give you this much?” The confidence in your voice wavers once you look into his eyes.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Sweets,” he challenges you, those menacing fingers from before now pressed exactly where your clit is. You jerk at the sudden touch, loosening your grip on him just slightly. His expression is smug, a wide grin plastered all over his face.

He rubs on your bud causing a chain reaction of events; you fall forward a little, mouth slack open, and with one swift push of your head, he’s gotten exactly what he wants.

Gripping your hair tight with his free hand, he forces you to take him deep into your throat, holding you there as you gag on him, the vibration sending a shiver through his entire body.

Despite his force, he’s left you enough leeway to come off if you want to, but now that you’re down here, mouth stuffed with him, you don’t really feel the need to. Instead, you hollow your cheeks and give in.

His fingers finally slip into you, not even bothering to wait for you to discard your underwear. Curling his two fingers inside you provokes a high-pitched moan to rise from your chest and onto his entire length.

You clasp your hand around his wrist, holding his hand still, grinding on his hand of your own accord. It feels so good you pop off his cock, leaning your head on his shoulder as you get swept away in the goodness.

Your boyfriend tuts mockingly before whispering in your ear, “Baby, I’m starting to think you only want to make yourself feel good,” his voice is embedded with amusement, not a trace of annoyance to be heard. 

Sunghoon’s greatest pride is making you feel good, and as much as your mouth feels fucking unreal, he’ll take hearing your cute noises of need over getting sucked off any day.

You know he doesn’t mind but you want to give him more, something just for him. Regaining your thoughts, you quickly push him to lay flat on the bed, withdrawing his hand from your pussy.

Confused, he raises his eyebrows, “Baby, what are you-holy fuck!”

He stops his question mid-sentence as you take him back in your mouth, this time focusing on sucking his red tip, alternating between licking and slurping.

Grasping at the sheets below him, Sunghoon’s knuckles turn white and his legs tense under you while you give him head, probably with the most vigour you’ve ever shown. He doesn’t know how long he will last with each passing of your tongue over his slit, the accidental dips of the tip of your muscle making him jerk forward.

“Fuck, baby, do that again,” he asks pleadingly, desperate to feel that good again. And you oblige, flicking your tongue into his hole once again, and again, and then once more before you start to taste his precum on your tastebuds. 

As much as he is enjoying this, the idea of splattering his love over your face and tongue, he could think of somewhere else he’d rather have it. Ever since that first time without the condom, you quickly hopped on the pill and never looked back, both of you obsessed with how it felt to fall apart raw like that.

Yes, it was irresponsible, chances of still getting pregnant at a staggering rate but it felt too good and looked even better. Sunghoon still hasn’t got the image of the first time his cum leaked out of you, the sight is the closest thing to heaven as far as he is concerned.

You feel the pulse in his cock thump against your tongue, signalling that he’s close, ready to erupt; however, your hair is yanked to pull you off, the control from each strand to your brain acting as a puppet string as Sunghoon moves you to crawl forward and kiss him, his tongue dancing in your mouth. 

It’s not like him to deny himself release so you know he wants you on him quickly. If his free hand shoving your underwear down wasn’t indicator enough, his little moans certainly were. 

Freeing yourself of your bottoms and pulling his off at the same time, you hover over his angry cock, crying out for your cunt. But that doesn’t mean you can’t cause one more bit of torment. 

Sliding his cock along your wetness, you pretend that you're just gathering enough of your natural lubricate to easily slip him in, but in reality, you keep going; every time his head touches your entrance, you slide it straight back out. 

Clenching his jaw, he shakes his head once you’ve done it one too many times, “Fuck this,” he says lowly. Both of his hands grip your hips tight and once his dick is close enough, he forcefully pushes you onto him, engulfing his whole cock. The sudden action ruptures a loud, porn-like moan from you, the tip of him sitting right at your cervix.

“Isn’t that so much better than being difficult?” he asks cockily, kissing down your neck as you adjust to him, “Remember when you used to be so well-behaved with me?” His words flutter in your tummy, the raspyness of his voice spinning your head around. He must be reading those books you leave at his place, his sex talk is getting a little too good.

He rocks your hips to test the waters for any discomfort, and when he doesn’t see anything but pleasure on your face, he keeps going, “What happened to my good girl? Hmm?” he licks a long strip up your neck before nibbling your earlobe.

This damn praise kink will be the end of you because now all you can think about is him telling you how good you are for him, “I’m sorry, Hoonie. I just wanted to tease you,” you confess, face red from lust and embarrassment at how easy it is for him to get you surrendering.

It’s not a power play, he does it because he knows if you give in and just be your good little self, you enjoy yourself more. You physically shudder at every word of praise and touch of love, why wouldn’t he want you to just surrender to your desires? When you feel good, he feels good; it’s a win-win.

“My beautiful girl, teasing me after saying you wanted to look after me?” he tuts mockingly, smooching along your jawline, “You still want to make me feel good, don’t you?” 

The question makes your pussy walls hug him tight, eyes shut as you quickly nod, “Yes, yes I want to look after you, for the rest of my life,” you utter the words so tenderly that it catches Sunghoon a little off guard. 

When you’re both close like this, having sex, fucking, making love - whatever anyone wants to call it - you are always so vulnerable and honest with him. He wonders if you know you do it or if it subconsciously slips out.

Pickling your hips up, he guides you gently up and down him, the bell of his cock bumping each part of your canal perfectly, “Feel how my heart is beating? That’s because you always look after me, you don’t need to do anything other than be here with me, that’s enough,” he places your hand on his chest and you feel his heart accelerating.

Sunghoon speaks with genuine love, like he’s trying to tie both of you together for an eternity, and you have no reservations about that. You love him so much that even though you can’t see down the tunnel of your future with one another, you know you want to be with him until the end of the line.

Nodding, you smile brightly, “Still, I would like to actually finish giving you head at some point,” you joke, lightening the mood a little.

“I’ll think about it,” he mirrors your expression, nuzzling his nose with yours gently, “For now I think I’d really like to cum inside my girl.” 

You’re convinced you’ve just cum already, the bluntness of his needs only fueling your own. There’s nothing you want more than his cock - which is currently fucking you gently - to fill you up.

It gives you the motivation to move your hips in rhythm with him, pressing your palms on his chest while you pick up speed. Your g-spot is being satisfied each time you fully sink onto him, bringing you close to the edge.

“Fuck, you’re so good, such a good girl,” he echoes loudly. He wants to buck up faster but his ankle has an annoying twinge in it, telling him not to push it too far, so he puts all his strength into his other foot, using that as his anchor to fuck into you deeper.

“Sunghoon…right there,” you whine, your mouth collecting drool as he fucks you dumb. 

He heeds your words and keeps drilling into you, fighting through the discomfort so you can climax. Reaching his thumb up to your mouth, he wipes the saliva formulating at the side of your mouth but he quickly stops when you suck on it, eyes boring into his as you do. 

Your plump lips look delicious while your tongue swirls around, giving him something to think about for the rest of his life. Grabbing your chin, he pulls your mouth open which you do obediently. 

“You’re so close, Sweets, I can feel you,” he states, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing your spit all over your mouth and down your chin, he grips you a bit tighter to keep you staring at him, “You’re gonna cum, and you’re going to keep looking at me when you do, okay? Do you know why?”

Without hesitation, you agree, staring straight into him, “So I know who makes me cum so hard,” It’s a little embarrassing to admit it, but it turns you on so much. You wonder if you could convince him to go full dom on you at some point, you know he has it in him.

“Good girl, you can cum whenever you want,” the huskiness in his voice pulses into your heat, making you clench around him again. The motion only makes him smirk, “I need to feel that perfect pussy fall apart so bad.” The confidence in his voice wavers as his dick spurts a little. He’s trying to hold it in until you cum but it’s proving more difficult than he anticipated, your core just clamping down on him too deliciously.

“Cum with me,” you say, cradling his face, “I want to cum with you.”

The suggestion doesn’t come unfounded, you know he’s holding back until you climax, “Let me milk your cock.”

Okay, you might have to seriously cringe after this because who do you suddenly think you are? Dirty talk isn’t something that comes as naturally to you as Sunghoon so every time you initiate or say something like that, you have to stop yourself from shrivelling up.

What you fail to see is how Sunghoon’s whole body shuts down, the dirty words falling from those angelic lips put his head in a tizzy and cock on the very brink of shooting into you. The drive he has now is exhilarated, his hips snapping into you, weight on both his ankles but he couldn’t care less, he had to feel you coming undone.

You try to keep up with his pace but he’s going so fast you don’t even have time to comprehend how you could add to the situation. His length is pistoning into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again, “Sunghoon! I’m cumming,”

“Cum for me. Milk my cock, Y/N,” he echoes your words but they don’t sound as good to him when it’s not your voice. 

Snaking his hand down to your clit, he rubs it, just helping to push you that last bit over the finish line, and it works like a dream. Your walls contort around him, your body tensing as your orgasm flushes over you. 

With your pussy tightening, Sunghoon spurts his seed into you, filling you up. The way your body is responding to your climax squeezes his cock clear of any cum, his balls deflating as he keeps shooting his sperm into you. 

He doesn’t stop for what feels like minutes, his dick jumping inside of you with each rope, only adding to your pleasure. Sunghoon’s thumb slows down but doesn’t stop giving your clit attention, making sure you get to ride out every remnant of your orgasm. 

Panting, you collapse on him, smooshing your face into his chest and kissing his heart softly, it’s your weak attempt to help him come down. 

Sunghoon wraps his arms around you, the rest of his body going limp as he cherishes the time with you on top of him like this, his cock still buried deep inside you, “You accomplished your goal,” he says into your hair, laying a kiss on your roots, “I feel so much better.”

You look up at him, leaning up slightly, “I never want you to listen to your mum again. She’s wrong about everything, you’re so perfect in every way, shape, and form,” your voice whisps over his face as you try to instil some assurance into him.

There was the little issue of saying this knowing full well she was kind of right about the skate being sabotaged. It gnaws at you, wishing you could tell him what you know, but you don’t want to hurt him, or your brother.

“I promise, I mean it when I say you’re the only one I need,” his fingers trace hearts into your back as you both bathe in the love that fills the room. 

The connection you have to Sunghoon feels surreal like it’s too good to be true. 

______

After the few days you’ve spent nonstop with Sunghoon, you decide you need to go back to your normal life, you can’t stay in your comfort cocoon forever. You’ve been back at classes, hanging out with Rina, and returning to work. However, you still haven’t been home, opting to spend the nights with Sunghoon. 

Minhee has texted and called you a few times, leaving messages asking if you can meet up but you ignore him. His messages punctuate your days like soft knocks on a door you are scared to unlock. 

Each time he contacted you, there was a little angel on your shoulder telling you to hear him out and let him explain what’s been going on. You have been telling yourself that the whole reason you refuse to tell Sunghoon about his skate is because you want to find out the truth; so why aren’t you trying?

Instead, you listened to the devil perched on your other shoulder, telling you to ignore him because it was still wrong even if there was an excuse to be had regarding the sabotage. 

Maybe it would have been easier to go back and forgive him if you hadn’t seen Sunghoon struggle to even stand in the shower.

Your boyfriend also got back to normality, he got his boots fixed in spite of you recommending new boots altogether, he’s determined to keep the old ones, claiming them lucky and ‘crucial to his National win’. 

He’s healing well, you wouldn’t even know he had an injury 9 days ago if you hadn’t been by his side. You knew his recovery was going well when he walked to his uni campus and back with no complaints. Well that and how he made up for the lost time and starting fucking you anywhere and everywhere just like before.

As you make your way to the rink to study, you see Sunghoon’s car in the parking lot which is strange because he said he had classes this afternoon. You shrug it off however, it’s probably just a health checkup he forgot to mention. 

Miss Barbara greets you, a beamer of a smile on her face but not like her usual happy to see you smile, more like an ‘I know something you don’t’ type of smile. You want to question her on it but you’re too curious as to what the rink has in store to wait around. 

The sound of multiple skates resounds off the arena walls, it’s just gone 3:30pm so it’s not an unusual occurrence, the junior skaters usually have afterschool training on a Tuesday anyway. It’s the bellow of Coach Lee’s voice that causes you confusion.

“Take it easy okay, don’t walk before you can run,” Strange. He doesn’t take the Junior class anymore, not since most of the parents complained that he was ‘far too harsh’ on their children. Of course, that’s not how Coach Lee saw it. 

As the rink comes into your sight you see the children standing to observe the skater on the ice as he lands a triple axel.

Sunghoon.

What on earth is he doing here, specifically, what is he doing skating like nothing happened?

You aren’t the only one who has a distaste in your mouth due to Sunghoon’s showing off. Coach is crossing his arms and tapping his foot in annoyance because his star skater has just defied his advice, “Sunghoon! Get off the ice. Now,” His tone indicates that he is in no mood for Sunghoon’s showboating.

Slowly, you make your way to the side while Sunghoon hops off the ice. Knowing your boyfriend, you can see his frustration with his coach, the slightly pouty lips and narrow eyes are a dead giveaway. 

He hasn’t noticed you yet, too busy begrudgingly taking his skates off. To be honest, you’re a little surprised that he doesn’t have some form of PTSD or at least apprehension about getting on the ice again; it would scare the shit out of you never mind doing tricks as if you didn’t almost have a career-ending fall.

“Listen to me, if you want to make Nationals next week you need to calm down with the aerials, alright? We need to build up to it,” Coach reasons with him.

“You saw me, I was perfectly fine,” He mumbles, tying his trainers in a strop. Sometimes he acted just like a kid but you found it endearing, probably because you’re never on the other side of the tantrum.

You now stand next to Coach Lee with a dissatisfied look on your face, “Hoonie, if you don’t listen to Coach Lee, you’ll end up injured again and I am not looking after you again,” Your voice is playful but coach points to you and nods, his eyes still on Sunghoon.

Whipping his head up at your voice, the bratty attitude melts from his body and is replaced with pure happiness. He stands up and brings you in for the tightest hug, his hand placed behind your head as he scratches your hair. 

Now that everyone in your immediate lives knew about you and Sunghoon, there wasn’t really any need to hide it. Both coaches were a little perplexed, wondering how your relationship started considering you both looked like you never spoke a word to one another. Little did they know you’ve spoken and fucked in every room of Belmore, including their office but you’ll omit that information if they ever ask. 

You don’t actually know if your mum knows but rather just assumed she would, either the coaches or Minhee have told her. If she’s anything like Mrs. Park, she will not take it well. 

As you’ve come to realise, your relationship with Sunghoon isn’t that controversial, it’s just two people falling in love while their families go at one another’s throats, like Romeo and Juliet but way, way less dramatic and hopefully no death. Although, if you had gotten a hold of Mrs. Park the day she came to visit Sunghoon, there might be one casualty in it all.

Coach Lee leaves you both, heading into his office. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, still unaware as to why he’s skating.

Leaning back to look at you, he smiles, “I got the all-clear from the doctor. He said I must be some bionic mutation because it’s basically fixed itself,” You’re sceptical, knowing his doctor would usually be a little more cautious than just telling Sunghoon he’s good to go.

Unwrapping your arms from his waist, you raise an eyebrow, “He just…said you can go back to skating? Perform your intense routine at Nationals like it was nothing?” He senses your apprehension and dubiousness and looks away, whistling. He isn’t slick and he knows it, “I guess I’ll go ask him.”

“No! Wait!,” He pulls you back as you go to walk away, a guilty smile plastered on his face, “Okay, maybe he told me to take it easy, skip Nationals and rest up for a few months.”

The look on your face is incredulous, how can Sunghoon and his coach possibly justify letting him back on the ice? 

Sunghoon fails to tell you that the doctor also said if he goes back too fast then he risks tearing a ligament and possibly putting him out of action for the foreseeable and with his age, he doesn’t have a lot of time left in competitive competitions.

That’s why he’s taking the risk. He’s 20 now, which is young in anyone else’s mind but for him, he’s too aware of the fact that in ten years maximum, he’ll either be doing exhibitions, coaching, or not skating at all. He had to take the chance, he had to make it to the Olympics and experience it.

“Sweets, I know what I’m doing, I know my body better than anyone,” He bargains with you, trying to help you see it from his point of view, “If I skate at Nationals, rest up for a bit before the winter Olympics, I’ll be all set. Trust me, baby.”

You do trust him, but you're also acutely aware of his stubborn nature. "Sunghoon, this plan might look good on paper, but it carries serious risks. You could really get hurt," you express, unintentionally letting a hint of begging slip into your voice. The mere thought of him sustaining another injury is unbearable.

Admittedly, there's a selfish reason you don’t want him to skate too soon. You don't want him to risk injury because, deep down, you fear that Minhee would have technically ended Sunghoon's career, invoking the butterfly effect.

“You also said that about us, that we’re good on paper but it couldn’t work. Look at us now,” Using your own words and relationship against you is a low blow, he knows that but it’s the only way you’ll understand. 

With a slow nod, you reluctantly drop the argument. "Just please be careful. I don't want you to cause yourself more damage, okay? If you see my side, at least consider it."

Sunghoon intertwines his fingers with yours, leaning down to kiss you. Instead of responding with words, he lets the kiss convey his gratitude for your concern for him. He knows you’re only looking out for him at the end of the day, just like always.

For a moment, you both get lost in each other, almost forgetting your surroundings. The usual nagging in your brain about the need to be discreet fades away, allowing you to revel in the affection. It’s the joy of telling the world about your relationship.

However, before the moment can linger, your name is angrily shouted from the entrance door, shattering the intimacy. "Y/N, what on earth do you think you're doing?" Your mum storms over to you and Sunghoon, his protective grip on you tightening in response. 

If she didn’t know about you and Sunghoon, she did now. Minhee tries to reach for your mum to calm her down but he isn’t quick enough.

“Mum, I-”

Before you can finish your sentence, she cuts you off, lifting her hand to silence you, “Don’t ‘mum’ me. I have been worried sick about you. You disappeared with…him for almost two weeks, not so much as a phone call to anyone.” She’s furious, if she was a cartoon you would see the steam coming from her scalp.

Sunghoon scoffs, bringing you to his side as a way to stand by you against her, “It’s a bit late to care about her now,” he mutters under his breath like he’s saying it to himself but it doesn’t go unnoticed from your mother.

“Excuse me?” She challenges Sunghoon, her posture hardening to match her stern gaze, “Do not involve yourself in our lives, I know what you’re up to,” her voice is accusatory. 

Yanking you away from your boyfriend, she roughly shoves you to Minhee’s side who catches you. This is the first time you’ve seen him since the morning after the argument and he looks horrible, his entire expression is sullen and his dark undereyes showcase the lack of sleep he’s had. Your heart hurts, wishing you had picked up the phone at least once.

That’s the thing, everything is easier when you shut people out. You haven’t given much thought about how Minhee would be feeling since the incident because you didn’t have to face him.

He gives you a sympathetic look, genuine remorse in his eyes. 

“Don’t speak and listen very carefully,” your mum looks at you, turning her back on Sunghoon to dismiss his presence entirely, “I didn’t want to believe the rumours about you two but it ends now. You will not see him again, that family is cruel and evil and I will not let you continue this relationship any further. Do I make myself clear?” You know she’s angry because she’s speaking clear and concise to get her point across. 

“Not Sunghoon, mum, he’s not a bad person,” 

Pleading with her falls short, her manner never wavering. You look to Sunghoon who shakes his head in disbelief at how brazen your mother was being by talking about him so poorly while he was right there.

She huffs, clearly irritated by your defiance. "Sunghoon is especially toxic."

"Mu-"

"He's using you to get to your brother."

The entire arena seems captivated by this unexpected drama, like it’s an episode of  Maury and the DNA results are about to be revealed. Minhee and Sunghoon exchange perplexed glances, but all you can muster is laughter.

The idea that Sunghoon has ulterior motives for dating you seems utterly ludicrous, "Mum, Sunghoon and I are together, and we're happy. Why can't you just leave us be?"

Ignoring your plea, she digs into her handbag, determined to prove her point. As she scrolls through her phone, you seize the opportunity to exchange a glance with Minhee, who can only offer a shrug, equally taken aback by the unfolding spectacle.

Finally finding what she's looking for, she hands you the phone, revealing screenshots of text messages between two individuals. "I did some digging once I found out about your little relationship. He's been texting his friends and making a mockery of you."

As you peer at the phone, Sunghoon's name is at the top of the screen, and the messages depict Sunghoon boasting about sleeping with you and how easy you are to get into bed, all it took was playing on your ‘mommy issues’.

The stress in your body builds, lying heavily on your shoulders. Despite the initial shock, the rational part of your mind takes over. Nowadays, anyone can make a fake text. The absurdity of the situation dawns on you, and you suspect that your mother is creating drama for her own sick pleasure.

"Mum, anyone can fake text messages. This doesn't prove anything," you assert, hoping to inject some reason into the escalating confrontation. 

Sunghoon still hasn’t seen the messages so he doesn’t know the severity of the allegations being made about him but he knows it can’t be good. Although you’re ninety percent convinced that it’s fabricated, he can see the ten percent of you arguing that they’re real.

With a dismissive wave, your mum takes back the mobile, “Thought you might say that. Texts can be faked, but voices? They don’t lie.” 

You suddenly have a sick feeling that’s rising from your stomach to your throat. What else could she possibly have? It won’t be substantial, it can’t be.

Out of your eyeshot, Minhee and Sunghoon are exchanging a look of curiosity, both wondering what Sunghoon could possibly have said about you that would elude to your relationship being made from lies.

Opening a file on her phone, your mum plays an audio clip, the sound of Sunghoon’s voice fills the tense air.

"All I gotta do is keep her hooked until Nationals. Once Minhee catches wind of me messing around with his little sister, he'll be too wrapped up in that drama to think about anything else. Can't have him messing with the Olympic team, you know?...

…No, she doesn’t have a clue. I practically have her doing anything I say. Seriously, sex whenever I want! I missed my opportunity to be an actor because how i’ve been pretending to be in love with her makes me worthy of an Oscar….

I just used lines from those movies that girls watch, read a few Twitter threads, I did my research man c’mon.”

In the wake of the phone call clip, a heavy burdening silence hangs around the rink, suffocating you. Your mum adorns a victorious smile, proud of her revelation. 

She’s the only one who was happy in this situation.

Minhee balls his fists, face going red and stature in fight mode, ready to knock everyone out of the way so he can lay his hands on Sunghoon. He isn’t even upset that he was planning all of this to sabotage him but rather that he hurt the one person most precious to him. You.

You find yourself at a crossroads, torn between the person you’ve come to love and the evidence presented to you. Sunghoon wouldn’t do this to you but the proof is right there, clear as day. The weight on your shoulders is unbearable as you contemplate the idea that maybe the Sunghoon you thought you knew, the one you love, actually isn’t who he says he is.

Sunghoon’s mouth hangs open and his eyebrows merge together as he processes what he just heard, “Y/N, I swear I didn’t say that, I have never…I wouldn’t…” He can’t even finish the words, still perplexed by the audio.

“Oh? But isn’t that your voice?” your mum says. It’s sick how much she seems to be enjoying this, almost like this will be the most gratifying ‘I told you so’ in history. 

“Well…yeah but I did NOT say that,” he walks towards you, hands on his chest, “Baby, please believe me. I love you, I wouldn’t use you,” Sunghoon’s voice wavers with anger and sadness, conflicting feelings fighting one another as his mind bats them around.

The weight of humiliation and deceit bears down on you, threatening to shatter your composure. A storm of emotions swirls within, but you stubbornly refuse to let it consume you, denying anyone the satisfaction of witnessing your breakdown.

With determination, you storm out, deaf to the desperate pleas from Minhee and Sunghoon. Your singular focus is on escaping the prying eyes, sparing yourself from the judgment and pity.

How could Sunghoon betray you like this? You gave each part of yourself to him, only for him to throw it back in your face.

But it was so real, the connection you have with him, even from the start, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before so how could it all be a lie? The way he made you feel was otherworldly, it’s hard to believe for a second he would have manipulated you like that. 

Was every whispered promise and affectionate moment just a ploy to damage your brother's chances?

As you push open the double doors, your mind is filled with conflicting thoughts that drown out the background noises of the outside world. The confusion envelopes you like a thick cloud and the cold air hits you like a slap in the face, a dramatic contrast to the hot chaos left behind in the rink. 

Stumbling slightly, you make your way through the car park, the weight of betrayal and inner struggle increasing with each step.

Tears threaten to spill, but you clench your hands, determined to maintain composure. The weight of embarrassment, uncertainty, and sadness pushes over your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

“Y/N! Wait!” Sunghoon’s cry finally infiltrates its way through your ears, “Sweets, please talk to me,” his voice gets louder as he catches up, attempting to grab your wrist but you harshly pull it from his grasp.

You’ve had too many arguments in this car park for your liking, whoever runs the CCTV must sit with some popcorn every time you trudge out of Belmore.

“Was this your plan, huh? To use me like this?” This was your chance to find out why he did it, why he tricked you so easily, “Was all of it a lie? When you told me you loved me, was it all fake?” you batter question after question out to him, word vomiting your inner thoughts in hopes of some clarity to the situation.

Standing in front of you, Sunghoon’s expression reads more anger than hurt, “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. Don’t fucking diminish my feelings like that,” he argues back. It instilled a fury within him that you could even elude to his love being a lie.

“Oh? So what, getting under my brother’s skin was the plan but then you started to fall in love with me as time went on like one of those bullshit Rom Coms. Is that really the angle you’re pulling here?” You can hear your voice getting louder and you have no desire to lower it. 

Sunghoon is a mirror of you, anger rising but it’s not aimed at you, it’s the situation he’s furious with, “Y/N I swear on my life I didn’t say any of those words back there. I…I don’t know what’s going on,” his shoulders raise as he fights internally with himself. 

“That was your voice, Sunghoon. YOU. I hope you get your fucking Oscar, I’m sorry it was so hard to pretend to be in love with me, isn’t that what you said?” It’s not like you to scream at someone, however, the love you have for him is like a clutch in your heart, a burden you once thought was a privilege. 

Tightening his jaw, he has a tough act on in front of you but his wavering voice gives him away, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much you can’t actually think for a second any of this was fake to me.” Sunghoon groans and slaps his cheeks lightly, a habit he has when he’s frustrated, “I don’t know how to prove to you I am not fucking lying. Y/N, you’re my whole world and you know it. Why are you believing your mum when she couldn’t give two shits about you,” he barely pushes out the last sentence from pure agitation. 

Weeks and weeks have gone by and he has listened to you tell him stories about your mother and how she’s a horrible person. Now you’re standing in front of him suddenly believing her over the one person that has shown you all the love you’ve been missing. It’s enraging him to another level he didn’t even know he was capable of.

“Why shouldn’t I believe her? She literally has stone-cold proof of you admitting that you used me,” you argue.

He takes two long steps to stand in front of you, invading your bubble. His big hands hold your cheeks as he forces you to look into his eyes, “I didn’t say it. I didn’t send any texts. I haven’t got any friends except Jay and Jake and they would be on my ass if I pulled something like this. I love you so fucking much. Are you really going to believe a shitty audio clip instead of seeing what’s right in front of you?”

Either he’s telling the truth or he’s really committing to the role. The sincerity in his eyes clashes with the damning evidence, leaving you torn between love and reason. 

Pushing him back, you shake your head. You can’t rationalise anything, the red you’re seeing clouding over your judgement. His love that poured through the words was evident but even on the call he said he faked being in love with you, maybe he was just a natural talent in the art of deception.

“You’re just like my brother, y’know, literal carbon copies of each other. You’ll do anything to win, to top one another in this stupid rivalry. First, it was him with your skate and now this, using me like I’m some pawn in your game.”

A weird silence fills the air as Sunghoon takes in your rambling, “What about my skate?” 

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

As if the icy air just took over your body, your blood runs cold at your accidental admission. This isn’t how you wanted to tell him, truthfully, you didn’t want to tell him at all but if you did, you wanted it to be a bit gentler than this and well after you figured out what Minhee was thinking.

“Did Minhee fuck up my skate that day?” Sunghoon can’t believe it, his face going a paler shade as he takes in the gravity of your words, “My mum was right? You both had something to do with it?”

He is seething, his body shaking as he comes to terms with your words. Sunghoon has never felt more fury coursing through his blood as he does right now, never in his life did he ever think you could make him this angry.

“Of course, I didn’t, Sunghoon. Believe it or not, I was actually in this relationship for real, not pretending,” you spit back at his accusation.

“You knew he did this to my ankle, you listened to me argue with my mum and defend both of you to the point she won’t speak to me anymore and it was true?” The hurt in his voice drains some of the anger from you, making room for guilt to sit shallowly at the surface. 

There wasn’t anything you could say right now that would make you look better in this scenario. You fucked up, you knew when you found out about the skate, you knew it while you cradled Sunghoon in your arms as he broke down, and you know it now.

What you did was fucked up. Lying to him was bang out of order.

However, since the guilt is only taking about a 1/8th of your body, the anger suffocates it, choking it down, “You’re turning it on me but I can’t control Minhee’s actions.”

“You kept it a secret, that’s just as bad,” he shouts, veins popping from his neck.

It hurts, the way he says it. He sounds so betrayed.

But he betrayed you, he’s been lying this whole relationship and now he’s getting angry at you for keeping one fact to yourself. You know it’s wrong to try and compare the two, to find a way and dilute the severity of your lie but you’re livid at him right now. Once you’ve calmed down you might be able to see clearly, that won’t be today though.

“Okay, fine. I should have told you but you’ve also been lying to me, and for a lot longer,” you retort back, staring into his eyes.

Stunned by your confession, his mind temporarily short circuits. You lied to him, after everything you saw him go through with his ankle, you neglected to mention that it was Minhee. He practically disowned his mother in honour of not just you but your brother…for it all to be true. And to top it all off, you still don’t believe him as he tells you that he loves you, that somehow that audio is fake.

Before Sunghoon can gather any words to say back, Coach Lee has a firm grip on his arm, the man’s eyes flicking between you both. It’s clear that even without hearing the conversation, your relationship was essentially over and Coach Lee didn’t want to meddle.

“Y/N, go home. Sunghoon, come with me.” His parental voice is switched on as if he’s telling his kids to stop playing with their food or drawing on the walls. 

You and Sunghoon stay stagnant as you watch each of your worlds crumble beneath you. All that you knew and loved got swept away on a random Tuesday afternoon.

And you just let it happen.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

[kai-anderson-whore]

The summoning (jmp x tate Langdon x reader smut)

Summary: you had always been fascinated with serial killers and true crime, one day you decided to try and summon your two favourite killers

Warnings: smut, three way, oral (tate receiving), p in v sex, doggy style 😏, summoning a ghost, ouija board,

Word count: 1,3k (another short one it was supposed to be longer)

A/n: this is a request by @villains-are-hot, thank you for the request and once again I apologise that it was very rushed at the end and I took ages to post this 😊

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

For as long as you could remember you had a unhealthy obsession with true crime/ serial killers. Some may say it's far from normal, it was frightening. You knew stories of cases watched all the documentaries and more.

Some people say it's the type of obsession you hear killers having before they kill. You didn't care it was a interest that you were so passionate about. You preferred learning about serial killers, how their mind works, what drove them to do it. The ones you liked learning about the most was Tate Langdon who got shot dead in his bedroom after shooting up his school one day in 1994. And the other was James Patrick march a well known serial killer from the 1920s to the early 1930s. Legend has it they both still reside in their place of death.

You didn't know if that was true or not, you visited the hotel that James Patrick march resides in but nothing, you couldn't exactly go to the murder house since people live there. It intrigued you deeply, the thought it could be true or not.

You didn't know what you were doing when the idea popped into your head, you thought it won't work but it was worth a go. Now researching things to do, how to summon ghosts, some where a bit far fetched others seemed fake but you were willing nonetheless. Finding a method writing down everything that had to be done.

You sat in front of the oujia board your fingers delicately on the triangle piece. You took deep breaths trying to stay calm circling the board three times before saying "James Patrick march and Tate Langdon I invite you to this space" waiting a few seconds you felt eerily quiet and cold.

"Is there anyone here?" You asked the board, you felt something pushing the triangle to yes, you gasped in shock now feeling nervous but your fingers still remain on the piece. "How many sprits are here?" You then asked feeling uneasy slightly regretting your decision. The piece moved to the number 2 you didn't know if it was you or if it was actually two spirits here but you slowly asked your next question "w-who are you?".

The board moved to around spelling out two initials JMP and TL you gasped removing your hands from the board standing up. Completely forgetting to say goodbye. You immediately grabbed the board putting it away "what the fuck, it's probably me doing it it's got to be" you whispered to yourself.

"Not quite dear" a voice chimed making you yelp in fright. "What the fuck!?" You turned around seeing two guys there awfully familiar to you, they looked identical like discrete descent, "w-who are you?" You asked in fear.

"I'm James Patrick march and this is-" "Tate Langdon" they said, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion "you're both dead no this can't be true." You couldn't believe what you were seeing they looked exactly like the killers you knew so much about. "How are you here?" You asked a thousand questions running around your head.

"Well you summoned us" Tate chuckled pointing to the ouija board. That's when you realised "shit I forgot to say goodbye" mentally cursing yourself, "it's quite alright dear, but I must ask how did you manage to get us free?" James asked.

"Dude she used the ouaji board to get us out" Tate said like James was dumb. "That's fascinating" James eyes light up "I don't know how we could ever thank you" James added. Tate's eyes on you like you’re his prey, swallowing a lump in your throat as his steps grew closer to you from behind. "I've got an idea" Tate's breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "Y-you don't need to thank me" your voice was above whisper unsure what they mean.

"Well boy enlighten us with your idea" James's velvety voice made you shiver more. You couldn't deny they were both very attractive despite their tendency to killing. "Well she's pretty isn't she? Don't you agree?" Tate smirked his hands running down the soft skin of your arms. "I do agree with you she is quite remarkable" James agreed beckoning his steps closer to you.

You didn't know if your body was filled with fear or anticipation maybe both. Closing your eyes feeling their breaths breeze across your features. James colds fingertips grazing gracefully along your bare arms bringing goosebumps to their wake. "I think we shall reward her for setting us free from our eternal resistances" James smirked his pencil moustache raising up.

"I was thinking the same" Tate chuckled with a devilish smirk, you didn't know what to feel scared? Or turned on? Maybe both. Feeling their cold hands on you but you didn't protest instead you let out a small sigh tugging on your shirt removing it from your body your head felt like it was spinning feeling their lips on your neck. You felt yourself being guided to your bed. Seeing Tate now above you with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You didn't know where James was until Tate pull away from you, seeing James now in his briefs flipping you over on your hands and knee. You whimpered in anticipation for what's to come feeling James's cold fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric of your underwear off you and into the floor. Tate in front of you his impressive length in-front of you, holding yourself on one hand stroking him, earning a low groan erupted from his mouth. You felt cold fingertips teasing your folds collecting your arousal bringing it to your clit circling it in slow torturous motions.

A small gasp left your lips, your body automatically responding to James's touch "that's it dear" he says huskily, Tate still knelt infront of you his eager length desperate for attention. You took Tate's cock in your hand stroking him kitten licking the tip making him buck his hips into your touch more. You took Tate in your mouth swirling your tongue along the tip, gasping as you felt James enter your heat.

James thrusted into you slowly you moaned against Tate's length. A low groan rumbled from his throat his hips bucked further in your throat. James thrusts grew more faster and harder, tears forming in your eyes. "Fuck" Tate hissed his hips essentially fucking your throat.

"You feel wonderful darling" James hissed his grip on your hips tight, nails digging into your skin only adding to your pleasure. "Fuck" you moaned feeling Tate twitch in your mouth signalling you that he was close. You kept your movements along Tate's cock till he releases into the back of your throat, swallowing every drop. James kept his movements thrusting harshly into you you felt close to the edge "I'm so close" you moaned. Tate was watching you and James with a smirk, his skin flustered. James didn’t stop his movements hitting that spot guaranteed to make you see stars.

With a few more harsh deep thrusts, your body trembles, back arching releasing over James’s length trigging his own release deep inside you. His thrusts became sloppy till they came to a halt. Trying to catch your breath “that was something else” you chuckled. James and tate shared a wicked smile between them, “oh we’re don’t done, we’re only getting started” Tate’s voice make a shiver run down your spine waiting on what’s to come.

[rubywonu]

❝ I miss you, I'm sorry ❞

angst . idol!wonwoo x yn . 600 words

You looked at the billboard, the sight destroying your mental sanity. It was a sight for poor eyes. The ad played repeatedly, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from it.

Wonwoo's captivating gaze graced the screen, and you looked at it as unwanted memories flooded your mind.

You and Wonwoo walking down the same road, laughing and sharing sweet nothings, promising a life of forever love, you couldn't believe you almost bought it.

It seemed like just yesterday, the two of you made a collage of all the things you wanted to achieve as a couple, you drew a house, while he named your children.

You baked while he documented, adamant about making a documentary for the both of you to watch when you're old and wrinkly. You remember the way your heart skipped as Wonwoo walked towards you every morning with a flower or the way he used to smile when he looked at you.

You remember it all, and it tore you apart every single day. You missed the way his lips used to graze yours before he left to work, or the silence that decorated the room as you cried in each other's arms when Wonwoo used to go on tour.

You cherished the moment when Wonwoo, got on his knee and asked you to stay with him forever, you believed it as you screamed 'yes' and wrapped your arms around him. But that soon faded to black, when the memory of you throwing your engagement ring at his chest, tears streaming down your face, crashed into your mind. How could he? you thought. And now all you thought of was how could he not, it was expected.

You even missed the arguments, the way you would scream at him and the way he tried to calm you down. It never worked, but it was a cute attempt.

You looked away from the billboard and stared at the street, it was painfully familiar. The cafe opposite the billboard, housed a few of your favourite moments with him, the place where you first met, the place where you asked him out because he was too shy or the time when Wonwoo told you he was going to debut as an idol. How you wished you could travel to that moment and cherish Wonwoo more. You would go through the pain any time, it was worth it for the love, for the forehead kisses, for the back hugs, for the laughs, for him. He was worth it, he would always be.

Nothing happened in the way you wanted, every corner of this city was haunted by laughter and love. But what could you do? You weren't his and he wasn't yours anymore. There was nothing in this world that could bring you back together, not that it would work. He was a famous singer, and well you were...you. And maybe that was what caused the downfall in the first place.

You tried but everything you knew brought you back to him, and you despised yourself for it.

You heard the honk of the car, and you snapped out of the dream and crossed the road. With each step you took, you forgot about the memories, the moments and the love. You couldn't afford to remember it, you were afraid you would call him. It's not like you hadn't before. It always went the same, two sentences. You would speak and after a moment, you would hear a deep breath, and Wonwoo would say two words that would shatter your heart before he would hang up.

In the last step you took, before you would be out of sight from the billboard, you left the painful repeating memory.

"I miss you."

"I'm sorry."

nia’s notes: hi guys..my first piece in almost 10 months. so I hope you guys go easy on me, cause this is crusty. thank you guys for waiting patiently for a new fic, hope you like it!

taglist: @xomingyu . @pixieskie . @bangchansbae . @weird-bookworm . @chansdimplesmile .

[4theitgirls]

holistic wellness series: stretching

🌱 how often should you stretch?

it is good to stretch every day, but you should stretch at least 2-3x/week for your body to allow the benefits to take effect. stretching also doesn’t have to be time consuming. if you can only do a few minutes per day, that’s totally okay!

🌱 benefits of stretching

there are so many benefits to stretching consistently, including:

better circulation

improved flexibility and mobility

decreased risk of injury and pain

reduced mental and physical stress

better sleep

improved posture

supports digestion

🌱 personal tips

start slow! pushing your body farther than it can go is not worth it. i promise, you do not want to injure yourself. if you stay consistent, you will get to where you want to be, so only do what your body will allow!

watch “this is why i stretch every day (fascia documentary)” by kiana docherty on youtube. it gives an amazing overview of the benefits of stretching every day from a more medical and scientific perspective.

stretch after every workout. i know so many people avoid post workout stretching because they’re tired or they think it’s a “waste of time” but i promise, it is worth it. your muscles will thank you!

[architectureandfilmblog]

"Settlement" housing surveys and dominates the landscape, West Bank, Palestine

THE ARCHITECTURE OF VIOLENCE (2014)

It feels like an important time to revisit this short documentary. Part of the Rebel Architecture series, the film examines, clearly and concisely, the use of design as a weapon of intimidation and subjugation within the Palestine Israel conflict.  One element it focuses on is Palestine's 'architecture of occupation': the way the built environment, even in the form of suburban 'settlement' housing (in which tracts of Israeli homes have been built in occupied territories like the West Bank), has been deliberately shaped to intimidate, surveil, segregate, and even dehumanise.

"Settlements are built on hilltops, overlooking Palestinian valleys, to dominate. They're laid out to create a suburban-scale optical device that can survey the territory. The bright red roofs of the houses are mandated by law... to allow military to understand what's friend and foe: where to bomb and where not to."

"...When you put Israeli colonies on highways, you accelerate Israeli movement through the space. In the same way, with every twist and turn of terrain, Palestinians encounter a checkpoint, a border, a fence, a valley they cannot cross..."

It's important for architects and urban designers everywhere to understand that our craft has the potential to be weaponised. It's important that, no matter whom the client, we think about how a project will impact everyone whose life it touches.  But sadly, as essential as these considerations are, they're of no immediate help to civilians from both sides who are suffering in Gaza and the rest of Palestine and Israel right now. So, it seems worth sharing:

Some ways that we can help:

1. Speak up. Send an email to your elected representative. Sign petitions. Stand up in any forum you can against human rights violations, and against both islamaphobic and antisemitic behaviour.

2. Contribute to a trusted aid organisation working in Gaza, such as Unicef or the British Red Cross. Sites like  charitynavigator and charitychecker can be used to check it's a group who'll use it well.

3. Understand the context. Short videos here and here provide a clear introduction/overview.

4. Boycott companies that are directly profiting from the illegal occupation, and from human rights violations.

(Images: Ronen Zvulun/Reuters via Guardian, Léopold Lambert/Funambulist)

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 "Stalkers" [←Previous | Next→]

—

—

The moment you woke up you immediately felt someone's arms wrapped around you, once you were fully conscious you realized sukunas arms were wrapped around you as your head was on his chest, once you realized this you immediately pulled away, this was the second time this happened...

Not only did you also realize he woke up earlier than you, he was even on his phone but despite that, he still didn't move away or push you off??? Once he realized you were awake he was about to greet you but before he could you suddenly moved away pushing him away

"I thought you were gonna sleep on the couch not in my bed."

"I was about to but someone seemed to be scared of some thunder, now look where I am"

"to be fair I'm not scared of thunders, j was just uhm.. startled...?"

"yeah sure you are.."

—

—

Sukuna was leaning on your counter while you cooked breakfast for the two of you the smell of food lingering in the air, while you cooked he just stared directly at your window in silence before speaking up

"Why is your neighbor watching us with binoculars"

"Who? Maki?"

"yeah that one, look"

At first, you expected him to be joking around just so the food you cooked would end up brunt, but when you turned to look, not only did you see Maki you also saw: Yuji, Maki, Gojo, and Yuki?...

The moment the four of them realized you two saw them they immediately hid in some nearby bushes, you both would just stare till you shrugged it off and went back to cook, and seeing you shrug it off Sukuna just looked at you absolutely dumbfounded

"Are you not gonna question why you're being watched?"

"am I supposed to? I know them so what's there to worry about"

"anyways, it's been a while since we hung out and well I apologized already so..."

"So? Spit it out, quit cutting your sentence"

"y'know the project thing"

"ohh yeah I forgot about that, I forgot to write on my daily documentary"

"couldn't be me, I still wrote"

"how? Like you said it's been awhile since we hanged out"

"yeah well doesn't mean I can't write, but anyways I was wondering if you wanted to go to the mall"

"the mall? Why?"

"to take you on a shopping spree what else?"

"you do know I have money right.."

"yeah so? Just use my card and go buy whatever you want I don't care"

"what if I accidentally max out your card?"

"Please, I doubt you'll even make a dent"

—

It's been about a whole hour, Sukuna kept trailing behind you holding your bags as you bought everything that you liked using his card, of course, I mean he offered didn't he?

And plus Sukuna isn't worried about you running his card to the max, as if that could happen anyway it's all worth it to see you act all giddy with your eyes lighting up, but to him? Anything he does is worth it if it makes you happy but it's not like he'll ever admit that

after a while, you got hungry so you both stopped to go order some food

—

You sat at some table while eating your food waiting for Sukuna to come back from the restroom, but as you ate your food peacefully suddenly you saw a familiar face, one that was too familiar face.. approaching you.

Once your ex Got closer he took a seat across from you making himself comfortable...

"y/n we meet again no?"

"e/n hi...."

"awh don't act like that now! Anywho who are you with? Don't tell me you have a boyfriend now do you?"

"she's taken"

You turn your head to look behind you to see Sukuna finally came back

"really? By who?"

Before you could respond suddenly you felt Sukuna behind you and took a seat beside you with his hands around your waist pulling you close before staring right into your ex

"by me"

"please. Do you expect me to believe that? You two hate each other don't you? If you really are dating like you claim, prove it."

"why not?"

What? You just sat there and stared, is he being serious? you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you saw Sukuna leaning in closer

Should you stay still? Should you move? What do you even do in this situation?...

As you say there frozen, not moving an inch not really knowing what to do, suddenly you see how close his face was to yours before he suddenly crashed his lips into yours...

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: I had to rewrite this 5 times because I kept cringing

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0ssunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb @cadibearrr

[littledata]

@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.

There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.

For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.

And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.

It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.

None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.

Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.

It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.

"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.

Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"

"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."

"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."

"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.

"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."

Ava frowns, "Power tools?"

Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."

So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.

Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.

"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."

Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"

Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"

With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.

"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."

Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.

"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."

"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.

Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"

"Maybe. They weren't helpful."

Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."

Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."

"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"

"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."

(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.

"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")

(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)

[grimesgirll]

you like to match.

maybe it’s a remnant of the old world, back when your biggest problem was how well your outfit was received.

most of the time, you had to dress practically. whenever your group came across an untouched clothing store or cache of quality clothing, the priority was typically finding seasonally appropriate clothing and weather gear, fresh undergarments, new shoes, socks, etcetera. you rarely had the opportunity to put together a real outfit. it was all layering and just taking whatever you could carry. practicality had you collecting cargoes in every color.

rick enjoyed your style; you made an effort to look put together when you could and post-apocalypse, all it took was you finding a pair of jeans that actually fit to propel him from checking you out to tearing them off and bending you over the nearest surface.

daryl thought you were a mall rat. he takes the opportunity to make fun of you and your fashion sense while you’re out on a run.

“this is an abandoned kohl’s, not mooningdale’a or wherever the bitch from ‘friends’ worked.”

you giggle at him. “you mean bloomingdale’s?”

“whatever.”

the two of you are scavenging the former shopping center in search of any edible food, water, tools, anything for judith, just anything that could come in handy. winter coats and appropriate weather gear were pretty large priorities as well.

you thumb through racks of clothing, estimating if it suit fit the person from the group who you were mentally fitting. from flannels for carl, onesies for judith, and boxers for rick, you’re tossing your finds over your arm like an associate was about to come up and offer you a basket.

the pile you’ve accumulated is ditched on an ottoman in the shoe department when a pair of boots catches your eye.

“fuck,” you whisper low enough for daryl not to hear. the brown leather boots have you salivating at the mouth. god, you have nowhere to wear those but if you did…

you’re forced to pick your jaw up off the floor when daryl comes around.

“find anything worth bringin’ back?” his arms are full with everything from tool kits to batteries.

you shake your head. “nope, not much. i’m gonna grab a cart though,” you mention, gesturing to the haul in his arms.

“just don’t get a squeaky one in case there are any walkers lyin’ round.”

“of course!” you chirp, hand wrapping around the metal handlebar as you pry it from a line of other shopping carts.

daryl dumps his finds in and while his back is turned, you toss in the pair of boots. a layer of two of tissue paper on top seems like a good enough disguise.

then the two of you are back to walking the sales floor. you can’t help but watch daryl as he walks in front of you. your breath hitches when you notice how tightly that shirt clings to him - to his rather large arms specifically. you’re so engrossed in how he pushes the cart that you almost miss the gadget out of the corner of your eye.

suddenly you’re doing a double take and walking yourself back to the electronics section.

“you makin’ a documentary or somethin’?”

you turn over the camcorder in your hands. “maybe.” you smile at your traveling companion. “you can take me on one of your hunts and i can get some footage.”

“spook all the deer while you’re at it.”

laughing at him, you flip the screen fully open and put the recording device up to your eye. “maybe i’ll make a survival documentary. video diary or something.”

daryl is walking up to you and flipping the camera shut as soon as he notices the viewfinder trained on his groin.

“what?” you cry, immediately putting on a fake pout. “you don’t wanna make a porn with me?”

“baby, this is a kohl’s.”

you shrug. “what’s it matter? i’m sure people made porn in kohl’s before. wanna go to the dressing room?”

“i don’t think we have time for all that-,”

“ah, i think we do.”

despite his protests, you tug him away from the electronics section - camcorder in your back pocket - and make a beeline for the dressing room.

rick and daryl didn’t like you leaving alexandria without them.

most of the time they made you write them a list as opposed to letting you window shop in the wasteland yourself. so something so mundane as using a dressing room is kind of exciting to you.

the man with a hand in yours rolls the cart up to the dressing room attendant’s desk.

daryl frowns when he notices the boots under the tissue paper. “baby, the fuck’ are these?” he holds up the most gorgeous pair of boots you’ve ever seen.

your lip quivers. “the best pair of shoes i’ve seen since atlanta.”

“how the fuck are you gonna run from walkers in these?”

“uh, i won’t.” you spit.

“you mouthin’ off?”

“never.” you promise with a chuckle.

daryl just shakes his head. “put ‘em back.”

“i think i’ll keep them.”

“really?” he pushes the cart aside to stand in front of you, close enough so that you can feel his body heat radiating towards you.

you offer a playful smile. “i think you just need to see me in them first. then you’ll be convinced.”

with that, the two of you are darting into a dim dressing room - boots in hand.

it doesn’t take long for you to hear the fitting room door swinging open, announcing that rick has found you two.

“we were just discussin’ the merit of her wearing underwear.”

you’re glad the three of you are confined to the handicap dressing room. you wouldn’t want anyone to see your blush when rick gets a cocky grin on his face.

he takes in the sight of you with your jeans pushed down and his best friend next to you, another finger toying at your underwear.

“well, you know my answer.”

you don’t need to ask the constable; he’d make it law for you to go commando at all times if he could.

“yeah, i don’t think you need ‘em.” the younger man agrees.

“why is me wearing underwear such a debate?” you question with a wistful smile. “you two spend awfully more time talking about it than it off.”

“why don’t you show him your boots first?”

you lift an eyebrow, and a leg and do a little kick, still mindful of the intimate dressing room. the light falls on the posh leather boots in such a fashion that you’re forgetting you snatched them off of a shelf at kohl’s.

rick whistles. “you look great in them, darlin’. i’m curious where you think you’ll be wearin’ then though.”

shrugging, you settle back down onto the seat and begin freeing yourself from the leather brown boots. “not sure. they’re pretty to look at though.

“that they are.” rick agrees.

“why don’t you keep ‘em on?”

you raise an eyebrow. “i thought they were,” you make air quotations with your fingers, “shit boots.”

rick sniggers. “so mean to her, dare.’”

you nod, zipping a boot back up. “really.”

“i think you should apologize to the pretty lady. tell her you like her boots.”

you teeter a boot a foot above the ground invitingly. daryl falls to his feet in front of you with a frown that you know is a front. as soon as he’s faced with your inner thighs, his hands are laid out on top of them, and he’s iterating beneath you,”

“i’m sorry ‘bout your boots, baby.” he states, eager fingers inching closer to your waistband again. “i think you look fuckin’ fantastic in ‘em. but where are you gonna wear em’?”

you have an answer but as he peels back your panties and leans in to face a mere few inches from your dripping core, your response is stuck in your throat. it takes a sharp inhale to regain your thoughts when his finger and tongue begin tempting you at the same time. rick leans against the wooden paneled wall, crossing his arms at you.

“you know they’re gonna be hard to match with all your other clothes. not that you don’t have enough.” rick sighs, running a hand through his hair like he’s thinking about storage and reveling in spectating daryl touch and tease you. “you already filled up the closet last time you came out with us. you’re gonna have to call rosita over to take some of it off your hands.”

you roll your eyes. they’re telling you that you need to get rid of clothing like every other month. when it comes time for them to make you bag up anything you’re willing to part with, you typically found some way to end up on your knees or with them bending you over something. that usually gives you another month.

“i thought daryl was saying sorry.” you grumble, smooth legs kicking playfully in protest until daryl has them pinned against the seat, his tongue licking furious stripes from the top of your clit down to your aching little hole.

“baby, you’re so wet.” daryl comments, lips smacking with your slick.

“as always.” rick jeers, walking over to sit next to you. “hey, doll,” he greets into your mouth.

needy and bucking into daryl’s soft mouth, you return the kiss with a fervor that rick’s not expecting. he groans at the bruising brush of your pillowy smooth lips against his.

you’re reaching your hand to the side to grasp at him when you instead find your camcorder. remembering your original plan, you pull it forward onto rick’s lap.

he only chuckles into your mouth when you open the video camera and aim the lens on the man going to town between your legs.

“you forgive me, baby?” daryl inquires with the addition of a finger.

you nod up and down. “fuck, i forgive you, dare’. you’re so good with your mouth.”

rick’s smile turns upside down when he notices how shaky your hand is getting as daryl brings you closer to your first p.m. orgasm. he brings a steady hand up to relieve you of your cameraman duties.

the opportunity presents itself to fall back into rick so you take it. his chest is pressed snugly against your backside now as he angles the camcorder to catch the downright debaucherous scene occurring in this kohl’s dressing room.

your legs are quivering and you’re chanting daryl’s name when he removes his fingers and goes all in on your pussy.

rick clasps a hand on your mouth. “shh, honey. don’t want the others to think somethin’s wrong.”

“mhmmm,” you shudder against his hand.

the pleasure daryl’s been doling out to you comes in the form of a mind numbing orgasm that washes over your tensed form from head to toe. daryl doesn’t slow down either as you cost his face in your sweet slick. he’s licking patterns into you and you swear he’s trying to paint the alphabet across your cunt as you ride out the delicious pressure your boyfriend is treating you to.

“how are you gonna walk back to the car?” rick asks you, pulling your face gently towards his to cup your chin and engross you in another kiss. he only separates from you to pass the camcorder off to daryl and lift your thighs.

“might have to carry you.” daryl muses and begins undoing his belt.

“rick, you’re gonna fuck me, right?” you crane your neck to lock eyes with the man entering you right then and there.

“fuck, give me a moment, darlin’.” rick shakes his head as you grind against him, unable to think straight.

you’re catching your breath when you look up and notice the blue eyed man behind the somehow closed camcorder. bless him.

“i think you have the cover on,” you giggle and stretch using your tippy toes to flip it back for him.

once the red light is on your face, rick yanking your tank top off and attacking your bare chest with open mouthed kisses. the nipple he pops into his mouth pebbles even more at his touch. his mouth coupled with the all encompassing stretch you’re enduring is drawing every moan you can muster.

he cements a grip on your hips to raise you up and down on his cock in his lap. the plushnsss of your ass is making him feral as he’s met with that same pillowy softness upon every meeting with his pelvis.

daryl keeps the camera on you, rick, and the mess you’re creating in your laps. he shuffles to stand next to the seat and offers you his now nude cock which you happily take into your mouth, earning him a better angle in the process.

the camcorder captures you oohing and aahing around daryl as rick fucks the past few hours of tension out of you. nothing like justifying fucking your brains out in a dressing room on stress and performance.

the girthy man in your mouth is thinking the same thing. daryl hisses when he hits the back of your throat and you gag. he’s fucking your throat even faster once he catches sight of his dick disappearing in and out of your pretty pink lips on the screen.

like a seesaw, you rock up and down on rick. the way rick is thrusting upwards into you has you moaning pornographicly around his best friend’s length. it’s only so long before you have to give in. you’re rolling your hips frantically and making the most debauched noises around daryl.

that’s all it takes for the archer to twitch in your throat. you’re prepared to swallow but before you know it, he’s backing his cock out of your mouth and holding it directly in your face, pumping with one hand and recording in the other.

“watch out, rick,” he warns.

and just like that his cock is in front of you, spurting and coating your face.

“does that go with your outfit?”

[writingquestionsanswered]

Guide: Inspiration, Motivation, and Passion

Anonymous asked: I have time to write and TONS of ideas in my notes. I want them to eventually be final drafts... but in this moment I just don't care about them. Does that make sense? I wish I did, but I'm disconnected. Is normal? Do all writers/authors struggle to connect with and feel passion for their stories/characters, but they write anyway and it comes eventually? Or do they not write unless those feelings are in place already? Forget making readers care about my protagonist. How do I care about them? Could my chance to write already be over? Also Audhd btw :) Thank you for all your advice ❤️

(Ask edited for length)

Inspiration, motivation, and passion are all things that can wax and wane for writers, but they do have to be there in some combination at some point if you want to write. If you consistently lack any of them, there's definitely something going on that's worth addressing. So, let's look at each component individually to get a better idea of what they are and how they ultimately work together to help you write.

Inspiration is the collection of sparks that ignite story. In other words: ideas. All those ideas you have in your notes--you wrote them down because they excited you when they popped into your head. Something about those ideas intrigued you enough to write them down and want to explore them later. And the thing that makes you want to explore them later is almost always a question... some sort of "what if" that you need to answer for yourself.

Motivation is the "why" that makes you want to take those ideas and turn them into stories. It's the answers to the following questions: why I write, why I want to answer this question for myself, why I want to tell this story, why I want to explore these themes, why I think this character's story is worth telling, why I want to say the thing I'm trying to say with this story.

Passion is the fire that drives us through the process of turning the ideas into a finished story. It's love for the characters, world, and plot. It's love for all the things motivating you to tell this story. It's love for words and imagery and process. It's love for the act of writing and for being a writer.

Again, all of the above need to be present in some form and combination at some point in order for you to actually complete a story, but these things can all wax and wane during not just one story's writing process, but during different periods in your life. They can also exist on a spectrum that's different for each writer, each project, or different periods of time. BUT... if you never have any inspiration, motivation, or passion for writing... or if you have inspiration initially, but lose interest and have no motivation or passion, writing is going to be really difficult.

Lack of Inspiration - Inspiration is the lifeblood of writing. If you don't have ideas, you can't write. Ideas come from experiencing the world around us. As we live life, observe our fellow humans, learn about history and the universe, and speculate about the unknown, ideas start to occur to us. Whereas a non-writer might think, "That documentary about the future of space travel was neat," a writer might think, "I'm intrigued by the idea of generation ships. I wonder what would happen if a generation ship landed on the wrong planet?" That question is what gets you to the next level... the "why" that motivates you to take this further than a mere moment of curiosity. So, if you're lacking that, there's a very good chance it's because you're not absorbing enough from the world around you. Perhaps your experiences aren't varied enough, you're not observing your fellow humans, and aren't learning about history or the universe, or speculating about the unknown. In which case, my post: Guide: Filling Your Creative Well can help you get into that mode.

Lack of Motivation - Motivation in particular can come and go as you work on a story, but it has to be there at the beginning or you never get started. The answer to "why I want to write" is especially important, because one thing that happens sometimes is people try to get into writing for the wrong reasons. They don't get into it because they have ideas for stories they want to tell, and themes they want to explore, and things they want to say. They get into it because it sounds like fun, because "everyone's doing it," or because it's unique, noteworthy, and--they think--a path to notoriety and/or wealth. But without the need to tell stories, those things aren't enough to make those ideas come or transform them into something more than an idea. But something else that can ruin motivation, and often does for those who do want to tell stories: physical and mental well being. If you don't feel good physically or mentally... if you're busy, tired, distracted, depressed, low on energy, in a bad mood, dealing with chronic pain, under the weather, etc., those things can definitely zap your motivation, even if you really want to tell stories. See these posts for help on that: Writing with Chronic Illness, Writing and Depression.

Lack of Passion - Our fiery love for the characters, setting, story, themes, tropes, questions, etc... that's the thing that most commonly wanes (and sometimes disappears) for writers during the writing process. If it's not there at the beginning, though... if you never feel a fiery love for your characters and their stories... you haven't hit upon the right ideas yet, and you need to keep looking until you find something that really sings to you. But if that passion is there at the beginning and disappears, there can be a number of reasons for that. Physical and mental well being, definitely. Exhaustion, boredom, and any of the things we refer to as "writer's block." These posts can help with finding the problem and reigniting the passion: 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes, Guide: How to Rekindle Your Motivation to Write, Getting Excited About Your Story Again, Getting Unstuck: Motivation Beyond Mood Boards & Playlists

I hope something here will work for you and help you move forward. But just remember: It’s Never Too Late to Become a Writer. If you're just not feeling it right now, that doesn't mean you won't in a month, in a year, in five years. There are famous, well-celebrated authors who didn't start writing until they were beyond their 50s or 60s. So, don't stress about it if it seems like writing just isn't for you right now. Maybe you'll come back around to it eventually, or maybe you'll decide that you're more of a story consumer than a story creator, which is okay, too. ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[bambi-kinos]

Beatles Reading List (Introductory)

Hi guys. So I saw a post floating around asking about "where to start" with the Beatles and how to find out more about them. Moeexyz's recommendation on it was to read fanfiction and this alarmed me a bit. Fanfiction just isn't a good source to get information about the band for one simple reason: fanfic authors change stuff for dramatic purposes all the time. It's just not a great way to get more information about them because fanfiction by necessity shifts things around for the sake of storytelling.

That Beatles iceberg is nice but the only way you're going to get a good picture of the Beatles is by doing a lot of reading of published sources. That's right. You're in for a lot of homework.

In an effort to combat misinformation, I asked the McLennon discord server to help me put together a rough list of introductory level books for Beatle fans that want to learn more about the band. These books are either a) read by me or b) read by someone I trust and I have included her quotes about the books she liked. I'll have color commentary talking about what they are and why they should be read. I do not consider this post finished! My server is constantly reading and discussing (we're looking at podcasts right now because they're the ones doing interviews with Liverpool citizens who were peers of the Beatles!) and they're being very gracious by contributing to this list. That means that this post may be updated in the future as I read more! If you want to keep up with updates then give my blog a follow, I'll post every time I update this list.

Some of these books are available on Archive.org but others can be gotten through your local library or through piracy. If you buy something, buy it used. Never pay more than $20 for a Beatle book.

The Whole Story

Anthology This is the documentary made by the band after John Lennon's death in 1980. It is both a documentary as well as a book (essentially a script of the documentary) which makes it very accessible. This is the version of the story that the band wanted to put out and includes interviews with Paul, George, and Ringo. They cover their beginning to their end. Anthology can be found on archive.org if you want to read it: https://archive.org/details/beatlesanthology0000unse_y2k8 The episodes are also available on Archive.org. If you search for "Beatles Anthology" and select "movies" option to search for videos then you will find it there. It's worth the watch and is all around the best introduction to the Beatles.

The Beatles - Hunter Davies This is the only sanctioned biography of the band. It's written in older language since it is contemporary to the 1960s but it's still very readable and a good intro. It is part of the media image that the band wanted to present at the time so you should make sure to think about what you are reading, who is saying what, and contemplate why he is saying it. It it still a great resource.

150 Glimpses of the Beatles - Craig Brown This is a short book that describes 150 anecdotes about the Beatles and what it was like to experience them. I recommend this because it demonstrates what a unique and personal experience the Beatles are while also demonstrating their global reach and how they became the most famous rock band in the world. It's a short read but a good one and there are many charming and thought provoking anecdotes in it. The story of the Beatles is just as much about their fans as it is about the band and you cannot understand one without looking at the other.

Books About Each Beatle

This particular section is a bit of a minefield. Many books written about the Beatles are of questionable veracity or just out and out wrong. (I can think of two that were written as blatant cash grabs and filled with libel that someone should have been sued over.) My recommendations on this may change so please check back from time to time! John Lennon

The John Lennon Letters - John Lennon, edited by Hunter Davies Primary source documents of the various letters and missives John wrote through his life. This may be the most important book on the list because it shows us who John really is: just another ordinary guy like us, trying to get through life. Also gives insight into his mindset as the decades pressed on.

The Making of John Lennon - Francis Kenny This is a very vital and heartbreaking read for people who want more insight into John. John Lennon is the most famous Beatle but he is also the one who's image is the most obscured and distorted. Francis Kenny is a Liverpool native who puts John in his proper context. To quote my server friend who read this one: Kenny, himself a Liverpudlian, takes into account how life in Liverpool in the first half of the 20th century shaped not only John but everyone he knew and his entire family. Mimi and Julia get a good critical view, and Uncle George gets his moment in the sun. He also lays out how class divides affected the Stanleys and then how Mimi took it out on John and Julia. He quotes a 1880s travel guide of London that said Liverpool was called "the New York of Europe," because of its economy and place on the ocean, and like in the Gilded Age New York that was happening concurrently across the ocean, Liverpool had pockets of wealth and splendor surrounded by poverty and rough living. Definitely a pro-read and a great insight into the culture and time John lived in. It does not fall into the pitfalls of hero worshipping John but Francis Kenny still treats John with sympathy and respect, hard qualities to come by when it comes to the cashgrabs written about John and his family.

John - Cynthia Lennon John's first wife, Cynthia, wrote two autobiographies about herself and John. This is one of them. It's a tough read in many places but a good one. Hers is a voice that doesn't shy away from John's flaws and actions but she also takes care to tell us why she and so many other people love him and remain loyal to him.

Paul McCartney

Many Years From Now - Barry Miles This is Paul's only sanctioned biography. It is formatted as a quasi-interview with Paul where there are interruptions of regular prose in each chapter. There are eyebrow raising moments where you can tell Paul is not quite telling the truth but it's important to read and identify these moments since Paul's habit of embroidering the truth is important to know and understand. Nonetheless it is still a lot more honest than I was expecting when I read it.

Paul McCartney: A Life - Peter Ames Carlin Probably the best Paul McCartney biography on the market. Peter Ames Carlin also did a similarly great bio of Paul Simon for people who are into that. To quote my friend Betty who read it: Paul gets to be a whole person here: the preternaturally talented boy wonder, the guy casting around for meaning, the less than attractive moments and qualities described without getting preachy or turning to [Paul Derangement Syndrome]. Carlin treats him with dignity instead of something to be gawked at and gossiped about. His (many) sources are cited at the end of the book. What I really appreciated was the ideas he put forth that I've only seen on Tumblr and not in Serious Official Biographies, which says to me he's writing as a fan and scholar and not a journalist trying to fill column inches.

George Harrison

I Me Mine - George Harrison Make sure to get the extended edition! George Harrison in his own words. There's a lot to say about this biography but it won't make much sense without context so I just encourage you to read it. George Harrison was, in my opinion, the best Beatle.

George Harrison: Behind the Locked Door - Graeme Thomson A good no bullshit biography about George Harrison. This covers his life as the material musician and the man seeking the divine. Graeme worked very hard to be respectful of George and his life, did extensive interviews with George's wife Olivia. Such a pro-read and definitely the best George biography written to date.

Ringo Starr

Photograph - Ringo Starr Ringo has stated that this book is his autobiography. In a few bumpers on the Beatles Sirius XM channel Ringo says that he doesn't want to write a biography like the others did but he was happy with putting this photobook together and essentially writing a bio through the captions. This is the closest that we will get for a biography for him as of right now. In time that may change but this is your best option. Piracy is the way to go when it comes to getting a copy of this, iirc it was a limited run and getting a physical copy might be very expensive these days.

Brian Epstein

A Cellarful of Noise - Brian Epstein/Derek Taylor This autobiography was ghostwritten by Brian's assistant Derek Taylor. It's not a tell-all but Brian talks about his youth and how he met the Beatles, including giving his own personal (and accurate) insights into each band member.

Conclusion

There are many, many books about the Beatles. Almost all of them offer something but most are about very niche periods in the Beatles history. When it comes to understanding the band I tried to put together a list where you can get an overview of the band and then read materials that either come straight from the Beatle in question or are not as biased as the competition. I am a McLennon shipper but for a post like this I did my best to recommend books that don't have that kind of bias in them so this is a list you can send to non-shipper friends haha.

In another post I will put together a history book list in the order of their timeline as a band, starting from the Quarrymen and on to the present. There is a LOT of ground to cover in a historical arrangement and it will take a while to compile. Please check back here regularly or give me a follow: whenever I update this post or make a new list, I'll make sure to post about it.

My plan is to make a website with all of this information that anyone can reference but it will take a long long time to make such a thing so put a pin in that one.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Bucktommy prompt: Buck finds out Tommy D&D (and is a pretty big nerd overall)

Hope you like it!

"Hey Ev, I know we were planning on date night on Friday, but is there any way we can raincheck it?" Tommy asked.

Buck was a little surprised. "Of course. Is everything okay? I checked our calendars and Friday was open for both of us. Did you pick up a shift or something?"

"No, nothing like that," Tommy replied. "There's this monthly first responder thing that I try to go to, and I've missed the past few months."

"Oh yeah? What kind of first responder thing? Another sport? Poker?" Buck asked, curious.

"Uh, not quite," Tommy said, blushing slightly. He mumbled, "It's Dungeons and Dragons."

"Wait? You play Dungeons and Dragons?" Buck said grinning at Tommy like he was the cutest thing in the world.

"Uh, yeah," Tommy replied, looking a bit sheepish. "It was sort of my escape as a kid. I would come up with these elaborate quests, and it was just so much better than being the awkward closeted gay kid. That and comic books were kind of all I had," Tommy admitted, his voice softening as he shared this piece of his past.

Buck's expression shifted from amusement to understanding, his eyes filled with warmth. "Tommy, that's... that's really cool. I had no idea you were into that stuff."

Tommy shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly something I advertise. But it's still a big part of who I am, you know?"

"I get it," Buck said, reaching out to squeeze Tommy's hand. "Thanks for sharing that with me. So, tell me more about this first responder D&D group. How did that even start?"

Tommy chuckled, seeming more at ease now. "Well, I've only been a part of it since I started at Harbor. I guess when I started there, I came out not only as gay but also as a giant nerd," he laughed.

Buck joined in the laughter, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I love that. It's like you got to be your whole self all at once."

"Yeah, it felt pretty good," Tommy admitted. "The guys at Harbor were surprisingly cool about both things. Turns out, there were a few other closet D&D fans at the station."

Tommy's expression grew more serious for a moment. "It's definitely not something I would've admitted at the 118 with Captain Gerrard in charge. And after my dad's reaction when he found out... well, let's just say it wasn't great, to say the least. I learned pretty quickly to keep that part of myself hidden too."

Buck's face softened with understanding. "I'm sorry you had to hide that part of yourself for so long. But I'm glad you found a place where you can be open about it now."

Tommy nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "Me too. It's nice to finally feel like I can be my whole self, you know?"

"I do know," Buck said, squeezing Tommy's hand. "And for what it's worth, I think your nerdy side is pretty cute."

Tommy's face lit up at Buck's words. "Thanks, baby," he said, a warm smile spreading across his face. "And maybe someday I can help you learn about it. Maybe even help you create a character," he added, his eyes twinkling with excitement at the prospect.

Buck grinned, clearly charmed by Tommy's enthusiasm. "You know what? I'd like that. And you've already met my inner nerd – the one who loves to watch documentaries and info dump about random facts."

Tommy chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That's true. And I love you for it, by the way. Your excitement when you're sharing some obscure fact is one of my favorite things about you."

Buck's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Well, then maybe it's time I embraced my nerdiness fully. Who knows? Maybe I'll discover a hidden talent for D&D."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Tommy said, pulling Buck into a hug. "With your imagination and your love for details, you'll probably end up being the dungeon master before you know it."

Buck smiled brightly and somehow found himself falling even more in love with this man who could be both a brave firefighter pilot and an enthusiastic D&D player. It was just another reminder of the many layers that made up Tommy Kinard, and Buck was grateful for the chance to discover each and every one of them.

[traveler-at-heart]

Finding Home - Part 2

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD, nightmares. Read Part 1 here. It was still dark. A quick glance at the clock on your nightstand told you it was indeed 2:30 am.

With a groan, you stood up from bed, walking into the living room, the penthouse pitch black.

“Jesus, Natasha!” you jumped as the lights revealed her sitting on the couch. Staring at the door. The redhead didn’t even flinch when you shouted. “Hey, is everything ok? Did you hear something?”

Now you felt bad for snapping at her like that. Surely, she had a good reason to be up.

“I don’t understand why they’re not here”

“Who?” you kneeled next to her, so you were eye level. With a pang of guilt, you noticed the bags under her eyes.

How long had this been going on?

“The KGB and Dreykov’s people. It’s only a matter of time. And when they come, I don’t… they can’t hurt you. I wouldn’t forgive myself”

“Nat” you said, squeezing her hand until she finally looked at you. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes struggled to focus on her face, but still, you pushed the words out.

“We are protecting you. SHIELD has eyes and ears everywhere. They won’t come for you, they won’t hurt you. Clint won’t let it happen, Fury won’t let it happen. And I certainly won’t let it happen”

There was a beat of silence, and then Natasha shook her head no.

“I’m not worth the risk”

“Yes you are. Clint thought so when he didn’t shoot that arrow. And I think so too. You’re worth it, and that’s not up for debate”

With a resigned sigh, you sat on the loveseat next to the couch and stared at the door.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked.

“Well, if we’re taking turns watching the door, I’m next”

“Don’t be ridiculous, go to sleep”

The commanding tone made you smile. Slowly, but surely, Natasha had become more open and more herself in the way she interacted with others.

She wasn’t afraid to show she knew better than all of you.

“You go to sleep, Romanoff”

The redhead rolled her eyes, annnoyed at how amused you looked and then turned on the tv, browsing through channels, until she settled on a documentary about chimpanzees.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sleeping, gently snoring.

—

Back at the headquarters, Natasha was showing Maria and Fury some of the technical details of the widow bites she used.

You took the opportunity to pay a visit to Doctor Taylor.

“Agent” she greeted. “You know the rules, you gotta make an appointment”

“It won’t take long, Doc. It’s about Natasha” you scratched the back of your neck, feeling like you were snitching on her. “She’s not sleeping well. Keeps thinking the KGB is showing up any minute now to take her back”

“I would be surprised if she was able to sleep at all. I can prescribe something…”

“Yeah, she’s not gonna take it. Don’t ask me how, I just know it” you shrugged your shoulders. “This is more of a visit to ask for sugggestions. Is there any activity that might distract her?”

“Well, has she even been outside the Penthouse?” the woman asked, glancing at her notes, obviously aware of the answer to the question.

“No, unless we count this lovely government building” you looked down, feeling ashamed. Idiot. Keeping Natasha locked up, of course she’d feel agitated.

Doctor Taylor said your name, your attention snapping back to her.

“Natasha doesn’t know who she is; she dind’t have a childhood or a life. You could… give her choices. Help her figure out what she likes”

“Like her favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Sure, that’s simple. Start there”

“Alright” you straightened your stance, thinking about the day ahead. “Thanks, Doc”

“For what is worth” she said as you turned to open the door. “Natasha’s making progress. Slow but steady. And that’s thanks to you as well”

You nodded, smiling before leaving her office.

—

“It’s this way” Natasha pointed at a street, and you kept driving. “You missed the next exit”

“So now you know how to drive in New York City?” you said, ignoring her comments.

“Yes. I can drive motorcycles, cars, all kinds of helicopters…”

“Cool, congrats. You’re still not driving this car”

“Ass” she mumbled and you chuckled.

The drive was silent and as you found a place to park, Natasha looked around trying to find your destination.

“Ta-da” you sang and she turned back to you.

“Holey cream?” she read the sign above the door, in a very unamused tone.

“Build-your-own donut ice cream sandwich. Doesn’t that sound fun? There are tons of choices. Come on” you looped her arm with yours and practically dragged her inside.

You ordered first, hoping it would give Natasha enough time to decide what she wanted. However, as you got your donut, she was still staring at the ice cream flavors and toppings.

“Have you decided yet?” as she shook her head no, you offered your own donut. “Come on, try it. It’s homemade chocolate peanut better”

Rolling her eyes, she finally agreed and took a bite, modestly covering her mouth as she chewed.

“Too sweet. I think I’ll have the Java Guatemala”

“Holy holey” you muttered, thinking about the amount of caffeine she’d eat. “Strong flavor for a strong woman, am I right?”

“Is the sugar making you hyper?”

“Maybe” you opened the door for her, walking side by side as you took bites of your donuts.

You kept walking, glancing at the restaurants and shops littered on both sides of the street. As you read the menu of an Indian place, Natasha looked at the window of a clothing store.

“Oh, that leather jacket is beautiful” you admired, following her eyes. “Wanna go inside and try it on?”

“No”

“Come on” you ignored, pushing her.

The store clerk greeted you, while Natasha stood awkardly next to the jacket.

“Try it on” she rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. It looked perfect on her, but then again, Natasha managed to look stunning even on training clothes. “It suits you. Do you like it?”

“It’s fine” she shrugged her shoulders, the same way she did when you cooked something that she didn’t really like. As if what she thought wasn’t important.

“Natasha” you said and the woman looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and smiled, encouraging her to say what she really wanted.

“Yes, I like it a lot. But I don’t have any mo…”

“Miss? We’re taking this jacket”

Busy with paying the woman, you missed the way Natasha pulled the jacket close to her body, smiling as she saw her reflection in the mirror.

—

“Article 212, subsection B” Natasha asked.

It was a lovely day, so you were enyoing the sun on Central Park. She insisted on studying for her test, which was honestly overdoing it. Natasha memorized Shields rules in a week.

She was siting, the manual on her lap, while you were laying, your head close to her knees.

“Uh… something, something, paperwork” you answered, getting lost in the warm sun and the blanket where you and Natasha rested. “Are we still catching that movie later today?”

“Yes. And don’t change the subject” she gave you a small tap on the forehead and you frowned.

“Natasha, you memorized it weeks ago. And I already passed my test so…”

“I like it when I can hear you say it” Natasha interrupted you, her voice getting smaller. “I know all the words, yes. But hearing you say it makes it make sense. And I can also learn more about pronunciation. I still have my stupid accent”

“Ok” you nodded, sitting up to face her. You shook the leaves that got stuck in your hair and answered the question.

Natasha nodded when she was satisfied, flipping through the pages to continue.

“And for the record, your accent is not stupid. It’s cute” you said.

You were too busy looking away to hide your blush, so you missed how Natasha’s cheeks were red as well.

—

After that day in the park, you saved a time after dinner to read to Natasha. It was a way for her to improve what you already thought was a perfect English.

“A Scandal in Bohemia. Your very first Sherlock Holmes. Aren’t you excited?”

“Why that one?” she looked up at you. As usual, you were sitting at the end of the couch while she laid her head close to your lap, but never touching your knees.

“Because, you’re just like Irene Adler”

“Who?”

“Well, let me read and you’ll find out”

With every story about mystery, Natasha always commented on how the detectives approcahed the case. But this time, she remained quiet as you read the tale of Holmes and the only woman who outsmarted him.

Once you finished, you looked down to find Natasha sleeping, her usual frown replaced by a soft expression. The image of her head resting under her clasped hands brought you back to the words on the Red Room report.

The girls slept handcuffed to their beds so they wouldn’t escape.

If Dreykov wasn’t already dead, you’d gladly kill him yourself.

On impulse, your hand reached out to touch her own, while the other moved a strand of red hair out of her forehead.

What happened next was completely unexpected.

Natasha woke up instantly, throwing you from the couch and you landed on your front, out of air from the force of her movements. The woman climbed to your back and placed your neck in a headlock.

“Fuck, fuck, Nat, it’s ok. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I’m sorry. It’s me. You’re safe” you said, trying to control your breathing and keeping your voice even.

You could feel Natasha’s heart beating wildly, her breath ragged against your ear.

It wasn’t her and she wasn’t trying to hurt you, that’s all you could think about as she kept you in place, with just enough pressure to make sure you didn’t move.

Little by little, she began to calm down and all of the sudden, let you go.

You coughed and moved forward, allowing yourself to breathe and feel a tiny bit of panic at what could have happened.

Not to you, but to Natasha.

“I’m…” she looked at her shaking hands, tears welling up. Natasha got up and walked to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Nat. It’s ok. Natasha” you knocked several times, to no avail.

She stayed in her room for the rest of the night.

—

The following days were hell.

You went back to training alone. Natasha barely ate, let alone look at you whenever you had to go to SHIELD.

How could you have been so reckless? Of course she’d react that way, living her life in a perpetual state of fight or flight.

The silence took a toll on you. And worse, one day it made you snap.

During the drive to SHIELD, you asked Natasha if she was up for watching a movie at the cinema.

There was no answer, which was to be expected.

The hurt came after, when you caught her chatting with Clint as if everything was ok. Feeling as if someone had punched you in the gut, you looked away.

Maybe everything would be better if you left Natasha alone.

You walked up to them and dropped the keys to the car on the table.

“Here. Take the car”

“But, I thought…”

“I’m walking” was all you answered, turning around to leave the building.

You felt a combination of guilt and anger. You hated how you snapped at her, how your response to her trauma was to be vindictive and unreasonable.

But you also felt tired and way over your head. It wasn’t like you’d been an agent for that long.

Maybe someone more experienced would do better, like Barton.

You found a bar and stayed there for a couple of hours, drinking on an empty stomach. You came back when it was too cold to wander around the city.

The alcohol had hit you harder than you thought, because when you opened your eyes it was noon.

Natasha was long gone by then.

The sight of pancakes on the stove and a note with your name made you want to cry.

You didn’t even know what you were doing at SHIELD headquarters that morning, but still stepped out of the cab and into the building.

“Agent Y/N” Fury said as you walked down the hallway.

It was the last voice you wanted to hear, sporting a massive hangover and a guilt ridden heart.

“Director Fury” you turned around, trying to sound composed.

“There’s a mission”

Missions were at the bottom of your list right now.

“Ask Maria” you snapped.

You fucked up.

“I’m not asking”

“I can’t leave Natasha now”

“She’s joining the mission”

“I don’t think she’s ready” you panicked, imagining her getting hurt over your mistakes.

“It’s been three months. I have to know if she’s at least worth the groceries we’re buying for you in that fancy penthouse in the Upper East Side, Agent” the door behind your back opened. Fury looked at you one last time and then nodded. “That would be all”

As you turned around, Natasha’s eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know if I should wake you…”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry, I slept in. Thanks for the pancakes. I’ll go back to the penthouse… I don’t know why I came here today”

“Ok. I have to stay and go over some stuff” she explained and you nodded.

“See you later”

Back home (it wasn’t really home, was it?), you headed straight for the gym. Correction, bathroom, to throw up, still hungover and then to the gym.

Natasha joined you an hour later, waiting for you to finish punching out your frustrations against a boxing bag.

“I’m sorry” she said, after a particularly hard punch that made you grunt. “I understand if you asked Fury to leave”

“Leave… what?” you turned to her, confused. “And why are you saying you’re sorry?”

“You know why” she said, looking down.

“That wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, Natasha. I should have known better. I should have protected you. You should feel safe and I’m failing”

“You didn’t fail” she insisted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I have. All my life, I’ve hurt and killed. But you know all that, you know it and you’re still not mad. Why aren’t you mad? Why don’t you think I’m a monster?” she said, looking anywhere but you.

“Did you have a choice?” you asked softly. She didn’t reply. “All I know is, the first time someone gave you a choice, you did the right thing”

“And I still hurt people”

“Yeah, our line of work isn’t really black and white, Natasha” you felt relieved when she finally looked at you, though her eyes were reddened. “If you had a choice now, what would you say? ”

“I think… I’d like to help people”

You smiled, not surprised by her answer. Of course she’d want to help. How you wished Natasha could see herself in the way you saw her.

“Good. Because Fury is eager to send us on a mission. Maybe this is a chance. You can save lives, do what’s right”

“I’d like that”

“You have a choice, know that. If you don’t feel ready, I will fight tooth and nail against Fury. Rip that eye patch if I have to”

Natasha smiled at that, and you could float with how relieved you felt. Maybe things could be better after all.

“I’ll start working on dinner” she offered after a beat of silence and you nodded.

Quietly, she exited the gym. The room felt empty again. And as much as you wanted to reach out to her, hold her hand or be closer, like you were before, you’d let her be.

Maybe one day, she’d meet you halfway

[kiryoutann]

𝐄𝐗! 𝐀𝐔 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 (𝟏) ::: 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST.

MINORS do NOT interact. Warning(s): implied cheating, MANIPULATIVE BEHAVIOR, abuse of power, GASLIGHTING, alcohol consumption, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (pls don't settle with someone like this ver of childe in real life!!!!!!), childe sabotaging everything to keep y/n with him, mention of the word "suicide" but no actions, just a description for y/n's frustration.

You know your friends have been talking to you about Ajax for a long time – about how he's a bad man, "he's the exact guy people talk about on Tiktok, baby! the one you should stay away from. Sure, he buys you expensive bags, takes you to nice places, free vacations and five-star hotels, even paying for your college, but that's his way of manipulating you!"

At first, you shrug them off, thinking your girls are just worried, and a little jealous because you're dating THE Ajax.

The crazy, stupid rich Ajax, who is so up there that the casual question he asks some stranger is "Do you ski?" before proceeding to talk about his favorite ski holiday spot and how his family has an estate there in case anyone ever thought about going (and he's gonna give the key for free???).

Around four most expensive and tallest buildings in this city belonged to him, the rest either belonged to his family or one of their assets to run their money with.

He definitely has that laugh that is only limited to the filthy rich.

Ajax is the MOST eligible bachelor of all time, honestly. He has good control over whatever business his family has owned for generations, and he looks good doing it.

Not to mention, he is always well-dressed, quiet-luxury from head to toe. Has a row of cars worth a country, but he's not rubbing it in anyone's face. Humble, down-to-earth guy.

You met him at a socialite party that you and your girls snuck into. Good god, what a contrast—your "nightclub" dress (exactly what you typed on the website) and a sea of people clad in clothes from designer brands whose names you can't even pronounce.

You remember about four or five women scanning you up and down before whispering to their friends "who let these girls in?!?!"

But, then again, perhaps that's what caught Ajax's attention on you.

And while your first meeting and how you ended up dating him is a story for another time, this one isn't.

Despite his "perfection" (money and crazy handsome face), you and Ajax were nominated as the most INSUFFERABLE couple by your friends. On-and-off relationships; one day in the honeymoon phase, the next like adults in crisis threatening to break up.

And the reasons? Because Ajax and his lack of boundaries when it comes to other women always finds a way to make you jealous.

There were many times, but this one—this one was the final.

Your sanity is gradually vanishing, in danger of running out completely. Every second, your breath grows scorching hot—the flames of insanity inching closer. The searing sensation that conquers your chest stands in contrast to your cold stare as your eyes meet those of the ginger-haired man standing in front of you. As if blind, he continues to stand with his lips curled into a stupid smile (or his pretty face is compensation for having little to no empathy).

Ajax, your boyfriend, looks at you mockingly, and you're still unhappy because you saw him being so touchy with an employee. Your gaze flits across his ring-studded digits—the exact same fucking fingers that caressed the dumb bitch's hips.

You're in love, not dumb; at least, not anymore. Ajax can never stand it when a man stands too close to you, always ending with him approaching the poor guy with a smile that reflects anything but friendly—the kind you would see on the cover of a true crime documentary. He should have known you wouldn't like it when you walked into his office and saw the woman hanging to him like a monkey – lips curving shyly, and Ajax doing nothing but smiling back at her as if he was enjoying it (or maybe he DID).

"I told you; she almost fell and I caught her. No need to be so jealous, doll.”

There it is. When you interpret his words as more of a mockery than an explanation (and if it were, it was a very much half-assed one), you know you're not hallucinating.

"Stop trying to gaslight me. I'm not fucking blind, Ajax! You'd fuck her right there if I hadn't walked in!" To hell with self-control; it’s impossible to maintain when another chuckle escapes him. "Oh, you think this is funny?”

Ajax shook his head, still unapologetic. "Sorry, you look adorable."

The audacity of this man????????

Right now, you're unsure of whether to be furious, sad, or strike a knife at his stunning neck. That's THE problem. Ajax takes joy in your suffering—his lips stretch and laughter sprouts in a voice no better than fingernails against a wall. One of these days, you're going to blame yourself; perhaps the reason he acts this way is that you often show the wounds he inflicted as if it's a trophy rather than a disgrace. It is a constant reminder of the power he has over you to watch you burn with jealousy.

But not anymore cause as you shout: “Fuck you, Ajax! We’re done!”

The smile on his handsome face disappeared. A taste of his own medicine. About fucking time.

You walked towards your shared bedroom, He was yelling your name in desperation, but you ignored him. The door swings open. You snatched up a suitcase in a flash and packed it with his stuff. You won't be leaving; Ajax will. He should, at a minimum, vacate the residence and vow to never interact with you again.

“Babe!”

Ajax shouted when you placed his final item of clothing into the luggage. That burgundy shirt feels like fire on your skin. You zipped the luggage before dragging it out of the room. It hit the marble floor with a loud "thud!" sound.

“Babe! You can't be serious!”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Your eyes glared at him, both threatening and challenging. "Get your ass out and leave the fuck here!" was yelled.

Before Ajax could reach you, you quickly closed the bedroom door and locked it. He’s banging on it, and you wouldn't mind if he continued doing that all night though. It will be the best-case scenario if Ajax leaves the apartment, swollen on both hands.

Honestly, you thought it would all end there.

Because there's no way Ajax will risk his ego and continue to beg as if he would be homeless if you kicked him out, when he has four other condos in the city that he can stay in before going somewhere looking for new prey, right?

Wrong.

Imagine the shock on your face when you wake up and come out of your room, to find Ex bf! Ajax standing in the kitchen.

And him opening his mouth saying, “Morning, princess. Feeling better now?”

The devil himself was in his usual apron, a white buttoned shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up. He presents a sickening smile that instantly spurs your frustration levels to the absolute apex of your cranium, fury growing at an alarmingly fast pace.

Unfortunately, he lacks the concern to be worried about the expression on your face. His veiny hands flip the pancakes deftly—his morning routine—he remembers you like your pancakes perfectly done, with butter, and lots of syrup.

Your brain is debating whether to commit suicide or homicide right now.

this ended up being a fanfic but in bullet points LMFAO. might be a part 2 soon(???) and i know i said that im gonna put "ex-problem" on ko-fi but since i'm not able to finish it (probably), im just gonna put this here for u guys to enjoy<33 if anyone wants to give me tip for my writing, you know my ko-fi!!

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