#unfortunately the happy settle is also a sad settle

[unhingedselfships]

Torn between "these fit as hell guys with money would 100% help me get into shape" and "babes no they love your chonky self". I feel like these things can coexist but.

I'll settle for "they would do anything to make me happy and improve my health if I expressed that was what I wanted" and "none of them would ever, or allow anyone else to, force me to do something I didn't want to" (unless I was putting my self in significant proven risk of course).

[asahicore]

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don��t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[pigeonpeach]

Genshin men as cats!

Prompt: the genshin men are temporarily turned into cats for one day and you as their lover must take care of them and make sure they stay safe

A/n: idk what happened but apparently half of the post got deleted? I’ll have to rewrite it later ;(

Ayato

Oh he’s not happy. He’s probably a shorthaired white cat in terms of appearance. But he is quite annoyed with this predicament. No one is allowed to tell anyone that the Yashiro Commissioner is suddenly a cat. But being a cat is nice. He can lounge and nap all day. He’s probably demanding of attention though. He simply must have your eyes on him. He adores being brushes so lovingly too. Maybe he should have you brush his hair when he’s back to normal.

Al Haitham

Virtually no change. He may still try to read though he won’t be able to turn the pages as easily. He doesn’t mind a few pats but he mostly prefers to be left alone in the nice warm sun to nap the day away. He’s definitely a grey tabby.

Kaveh

He is so distraught! He meows a storm in fustration as he finds he is completely incapable of finishing his projects! You simply must take care of him! You need to have him strapped in like a baby carrier on your chest because he’s just so clingy. He needs constant reassurance and attention. He’s so needy but so cute. Probably a cute little cream colored kitty.

Kaeya

He is also probably a bit annoyed. While yes he gets a complete day off, he can’t do much as a cat. So he’ll probably try to find some entertainment if you don’t keep him thoroughly entertained. He will find a way to sneak out and go play with Klee or annoy Diluc if you don’t keep him in your grasp at all times.

Neuvillette

He is very confused but also curious. On one hand this form is verrrry different than he’s ever had before but its also very beneficial to him. People are far less intimidated and strangely he enjoys being coddled and pet more than he would. Of course miss Furina is teasing the crap out of him but he doesn’t really care. Sitting on your lap, small and warm. Its such a unique experience he will probably never have again.

Wriothesley

Once the dust settles he’s quite relaxed. This is temporary so might as well enjoy it. Sigewinnie has become very attached to him as she constantly makes sure he’s okay. But in particular he loves being held by you. He’s used to being the big strong man who lifts you all the time etc etc. its nice actually being the reverse here. He gets fed special fish from the cafeteria and gets to spend his day in your arms! The perfect break for him! He’s almost sad it’s temporary but he knows he can’t stay like this forever.

Childe

Oh he’s mad! Even when it’s confirmed to be temporary, he is annoyed! How can he improve his fighting skills if he’s a kitty! Sure he’s a adorable little kitty of course but he looks like a baby! Oh his ego is in shatters. It’s unfortunate too because it wasn’t even around his family so he could play with his little brother at least. He’s practically quarantined to keep him safe. He can’t go on kitty adventures. Therefore YOU must make it up to him. He spends his time sulking and trying to play with anything he can. Dangling uniform piece? New toy! Someone’s foot? New toy! He bites! He meows! He hardly naps. He does love cuddling with you though. Still he’s a ball of energy and he cannot simply sit still for long! No doubt will his office be trashed. You’re making him clean it up once he’s back.

Thoma

Stressed! So stressed! He has so many chores! He cannot hold a broom with two paws! You have to make arrangements for him to have the day off which was hard because everyone was upset by his sudden cancellation. Even so he tries to help. He tries to drag the broom but it doesn’t do anything unfortunately. Oh he feels so useless. You must pamper him. Lavish him with kisses and gentle praise. Call him the cutest little kitty in the world! Oh he’s such a affectionate boy too. He acts like a cat with separation anxiety almost. He cannot sleep if you’re not there with him. Therefore you end up spending the day with him, trying to dissuade him from trying to clean a mess and just making it worse, distracting him with a warm blanket and pets.

Zhongli

He probably did so on purpose actually. Perhaps he was a bit bored and decided to spend the day exploring Liyue from a different perspective. It was quite fun for him actually. He watched as people came over to pet him. Unfortunately they also tried to feed him seafood which wasn’t too good. But after the long day he returned home to see you panicked as to where he could be. He decided to come on over to you, still in his cat form, and distract you. It worked as he helped you relax.

You werent too amused when you found out that cat that broke in was him.

Pantalone

He is quite annoyed. Angry in a more agitated way. Don’t mess up his fur! Pet him properly! Don’t ignore him now! He is a demanding little feline. He is not content unless you are entirely focused on him. He even wants you to break up the fish ro serve to him. He isn’t going to eat like a animal! Oh but he is such s cute kitty. Entirely black with big expressive yellow eyes. Oh you can’t help but comply and spoil him a little more! And he has such lovely fur! He does like hearing your gentle praises as you pet him. He never knew how lovely it felt to be small, sleeping on a nice warm lap, being gently brushed, and told sweet little compliments. He may actually want to do this again sometime.

Diluc

Biggest drama king! How can he protect you or Mondstadt like this! Therefore you cannot leave his sight or he’s convinced you will immediately die. You must stay with him so he can protect you? He is a very warm kitty though so it feels nice to snuggle with him. His fur is a bit messy so you’ll have to brush it. Despite him trying to stay vigilant he ends up falling asleep quickly.

[garoujo]

hiiiii !!! what are your thoughts on reader bumping into ex!gojo at a party, after not having seen him for years? his unboxing has taken a toll on me i’m patiently waiting for anyone to write fics for him 🤸🏻‍♀️

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you don’t realise how much your heart still calls for your ex until you see him again, years later.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! sort of angsty but mostly fluff! ex!boyfie gojo, ex’s to lovers sort of vibe, very much right person wrong time ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to nonnie, i’m also sorry this turned out sad snifle! i wrote it to this song so i blame that! i’m sorry i just had to post for him tonite!

maybe you should’ve just stayed at home, you think despite the way you know you don’t mean it, as you let the drink in your hand swirl around it’s cup a few more minutes longer. it’s lost its bubbles slightly, it’s leaning more towards an hour old— still untouched as you lean yourself against the kitchen counter while your friends catch up around you.

it’s been a while since you’ve seen everyone like this, a few years atleast you’d assume and it was fun, recalling back the memories— the drunken nights and the time you spent together, the seasons you experienced. there’s a sentimental sort of feeling to it all, you realise.

everyone’s different now, not only in looks— in spirit maybe, married and settled down, running their own business or jet setting abroad. your childhood bestfriend is taller, she smiles softer now— maybe it’s the ring on her finger or the love in her life. it suits her.

“hey! you still with us?” she calls to you, just as you hear the apartment door close again— alerting you to more guests despite the way there’s probably around fifteen of you here already. you jolt slightly, sending her a smile before you’re placing down your glass and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you allow yourself a few breaths to relax before you smile at yourself in the mirror, it’s nice being able to see everyone again— not realising how much you’d missed them and suddenly you realise that you’re so happy to have lived.

you pat yourself on the cheeks as you give yourself a silent little nod, soft sort of smile in place as you push your way through the bathroom door again— maybe a little too determined to seize the night when you send yourself into a hard chest as you clumsily leave the room.

“ah! sorry, are you okay?” you begin as you try to steady yourself but there’s hands there to keep you from falling before you even realise you’re on your way down.

“oh? it’s been so long you’re jumping into my arms already?” familiar, you think as the teasing response sounds smoothly and you can’t help the way your body seems to stiffen at the sound— like instinct. you look up and there’s a warm sort of squeeze on your heart at the crystalline gaze that looks back, cheeky grin in place.

you should’ve expected to see him here after all, gojo satoru had always been a constant in your past, up until a few years ago. he was your now ex-boyfriend after all.

he always had this air that seemed to follow him around — this noble sort of presence but he was even more handsome now, unfortunately. he’d grown a little more in height but he filled it out better now. his hair is longer but his gaze is just as pretty, as breathtaking when it meets yours.

you’re pretty sure if this were a movie there’d be a trail of women at gojo’s feet — back of their hand against their forehead and fawning for his attention.

you can still recall the nights you cried on your kitchen floor for him.

“hey, after all these years, you’re getting shy on me?” you didn’t realise you’d zoned out until you blink up to see gojo looking at you, teasing tone and his long fingers flicking gently at your forehead until you’re sending him a cute frown. he remembers that look all too well.

“no, shutup! i just didnt expect to see you.�� you fall back into the dynamic quickly, like he’d never left— both of you parted ways gradually you think. it’s not that the love wasn’t there, but you just felt like your life had taken you down separate paths.

gojo satoru was your right person, wrong time is what you’d tell strangers at parties.

“are you sure? it seems you had an attack planned for my arrival, pretty suspicious i’d say.” he goads, teasing you again and you roll your eyes before you’re shoving playfully at his chest.

“you’re still so annoying.”

“hm? are you just embarrassed i figured you out? did you really think you could catch me off guard with a move like that?” you wish you could say you hate gojo, truly. but it’s been years and instead you realise that it’s quite the opposite, because he’s already got you laughing like you’re both teenagers again.

sometimes you wish you’d known him sooner, even just so you could love him longer than you can now.

“yeah right, i could totally beat you if i tried.” you laugh again, teasing as a cheeky grin settles on your expression and gojo squeezes at your shoulder playfully before you’re both finding yourself returning to the group. but the laughter doesn’t falter.

“you want a beer, satoru?” your friend asks as you both enter the lounge and you cast the snowy haired man to your right a glance before he answers. he won’t take one, he never was a drinker.

“nah, aren’t i fun enough already? it wouldn’t be fair.” he jokes, you all laugh. like old times.

the night continues and you catch yourself looking in your ex boyfriends.. in gojo’s direction a little more frequently than you’d like to admit. but you’re having fun, you realise as you all exchange jokes— even going as far as to pull up videos from your old phones, little vlogs from your days at the beach, shopping trips and more.

you breathe again, nestling back into your place on the couch as the rest of your friends get up to dance to one of your old playlists from a few years ago. you remember it well, like the soundtrack to some coming of age movie.

you allow yourself to look at him once more, to take in the cut of his features— the way his lips still upturn at the corners when he grins and the way he still talks with his hands. you think it’s cute that he still wears his hair down, still doesn’t do the top button of his shirts— you wonder if he still takes four sugars in his coffee.

you feel something twist in your chest with the thought before you look away again. you think it’s embarrassing in a way, the way you’re wanting must show when you look at him. maybe it’s because you already know the feel of his hand on yours or the soft voice he’d always use to call you out of sleep, the taste of his coffee on his lips when he’d kiss you as the sun woke up.

you liked the now, but then you remember how gojo satoru loved you and it’s like you’re aching all over again.

you breathe deep before the couch cushion to your left sinks as someone sits down and you know it’s him when it grounds you.

“you’re not dancing, gojo?” you begin before he can say anything, giggle despite the turmoil in your mind, your heart, and he sends you a soft sort of look before he chuckles.

“oh no, after all those times you told me i was a terrible dancer? it broke my heart so much, i’ll never dance again.” still a drama queen, you think to yourself as you watch him press his palm to his chest — throwing his head back against the back of the couch as he sighs.

“yeah right, you had a great dance partner to level you out back then though.” gojo laughs at that one, nudging his thigh into yours slightly when he does, but neither of you seem to pull away at the touch.

he settles down and you let the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he speaks again,

“satoru is fine, you know. i was always satoru to you, no?” gojo questions gently, although still trying to make it more lighthearted than awkward, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders when you exhale.

“okay then, satoru.” comes more naturally than you’d like to admit, but you’re not ashamed of it either when you notice the soft sort of glow in gojo’s eyes when you speak it with fondness.

he looks at you, nods like he’s smug, then pushes himself up to stand. emphasising how tall he is as he sends you a cheeky sort of grin, followed by his arm outstretching to offer you his hand.

“well oh great dance partner, i may need your expertise. you wouldn’t want me to embarrass my handsome self infront of all our old friends, would you?” gojo whines playfully as he bows towards you, free hand on his heart like he’s begging you for his life.. just his pride this time though.

“‘toru..” you begin, a soft sort of breathe and you wonder if he can hear the hope in it— your own hand twitching by your side.

“come on, for old times sake. you said it yourself, i cant dance without my partner there to lead me, right?” gojo satoru had always been terribly convincing, you realise as you recall all the other moments he’d whisked you off into other great things. memories that you still look fondly back on now.

“fine, for old times sake, satoru.” you finally answer before your hand is resting on his, noticing that is palm still feels warm when he pulls you to your feet.

for the love that once was, and the love that remains. 

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[hellbornsworld]

JUNGKOOK FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS-11

🎀 Angel Eyes by @bunnyhugs77 - OneShot

Pairing: Patient! Jungkook x Reader

"You're such a bad influence, y'know? I can't believe you really almost made me do that." His bunny-like smile is on display when he speaks, "That wasn't me, that was your instinct. For a brief second, you just listened to your heart."

🎀 Falling Skies by @fortunexkookie - Series

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash. Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon had realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did. It was a twin thing. 

🎀 SNOW IMPRINTS by @2hightocare - OneShot

Paring: DILF!JK X Reader

What was supposed to be a family reunion, ends in comparing dick sizes.

🎀 Peach. by @hongjoongscafe - OneShot

Pairing: Professor!jungkook X Camgirl!reader

where his lust and admiration fell for a camgirl.

🎀 slow dancing by @yoonia - Series

Pairings: Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader

When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

🎀 Magic Shop by @jungkookiebus - OneShot

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tea shop owner!jjk x reader 

you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

🎀 bewitched by @jkabbi - Series

pairing: jungkook x reader

Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

🎀 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 by @pennyellee - OneShot

pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader

You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

🎀 nepenthe by @lively-potter - OneShot

Pairing: CEO!JK X Reader

in which solaris celeste vesper, a sad girl with an unfortunate upbringing meets a man far older than her and, within his presence, her sorrow fades into nothingness.

Also in which jeon jungkook finds the sun he so desperately needed in his life.

🎀 PREDESTINED by @keen-li - OneShot

Pairing: Mortal/commer jk x goddess reader

"You shouldn't be here" you say with a smile. Legally he shouldn't be here but personally you're glad he's here.

🎀 SX Seoul by lo1k-diamonds - TwoShot

PAIRING: Jungkook X Reader

You're back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes.

🎀 oxygen by @gimmethatagustd - OneShot

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x f!Reader

If you get caught, you'll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

🎀 ALL AT ONCE by @muniimyg - Series

pairings: unhinged jungkook + shy oc

jungkook confesses and you're in denial

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪ ♫♬♪

[blublublujk]

bound 2 (falling in love)

oneshot

word count: 6.5k

genre: fwb to lovers

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary:

You and Yoongi were okay with being friends with benefits... until you weren't.

warnings: i tried to focus on fluff (did you catch it or did i fail), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (they make love to each other), choking and breath play (hello it's yoongi), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, crying (is it really my ff if there's no crying involved), creampie, very cute aftercare and i think that’s all, this is more sweet than anything lol

a.n: believe it or not this wasn't apart of my drafts i wrote this all one night because i couldn't sleep so thank my insomnia for this, it was about time i write about yoongi :D

also i noticed a lot of you are reading it was destiny and love always wins and i wish you guys wouldn't only because i plan to rewrite some of it and continue them at a further time (chaptered ffs are so hard for me rn since i don't have all the time in the world to dedicate myself to them but i promise to be back with those two series) thank you for everyone who takes time to read what i write it really means so much and your comments have been so motivating. thank you so fucking much for 2k notes on good girl, gone bad i havent seen numbers like that ever im so so grateful, thank you from the bottom of my heart. i'll try to be back one or two more times this month and happy late birthday to me hehe <3

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

It happened again.

Another failed date to add to the sad list of people that simply will never workout for you.

The list was growing longer as months passed. When you started this list, it was barely the start of a very hot summer. Probably the hottest it’s been in years, one can only assume the winter will not be any easier. 

And you were right. Winter was only beginning and it was brutally cold. The streets were moist from the previous night of harsh rainfall. 

What better time to date and settle down than now. When the world gives you rain, settle for the warm arms of a lover.

Unfortunately, you made a grave mistake thinking this would come easy. Ten first dates later and you are still very single and loverless. 

It is not easy to go out during a time like now, suffering at the sight of happy couples and their stupid happy lives. Really, it should disgust you. It used to. The whole concept of devoting your entire life to someone. The need to constantly feel the tender touch of another person. The desire to fall in love and do it all over again, you get it now. At least, you think you do. 

“I don’t think this is gonna work.” The words fall from your mouth in a quiet rush. The man across you sits in silence before he smiles in his loss. 

“Don’t worry, I figured. It seems your mind was elsewhere. I know you don’t want to pursue anything romantically, and that’s fine with me, but is everything okay?” 

Is everything okay? Well currently, yeah you’re okay. As for your heart, it’s heavy and strangely, you feel there’s a hole in your chest and it needs to be filled. That would fix things, you think. You have been single for so long that you forgot what it was like to love and cherish someone. Not that you have ever truly loved or cherished anyone, but you’ve gotten close. If a silly relationship you had in your sophomore year of high school counts. Then yes, you’ve totally been in love. 

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I didn’t mean to lead you on, if it ever felt like I did.” The apology seems bitter in your mouth. Another failed fucking attempt. How difficult can dating be? Have you really been this disconnected with the world around you? 

“Don’t stress it! Things happen. I hope you can find what you’re looking for. See you… around?” The man’s understanding response makes you feel worse. Maybe you should consider deleting Tinder and finding love naturally, if that’s still a thing in the contemporary life. 

“Yeah, totally!” And like that you’re off to the next. Giving yourself plenty of time to bathe in your disappointment and miserably cry about your failed attempts at finding what you’ve been missing. Who knew dating could be so difficult?

The walk back home is just as cold as the outcome of today’s date. Your date insisted he could drive you home and if not that then pay for a cab, but you didn’t live too far from the restaurant you both met at. Though he insisted, you figured this walk could refresh you after yet another failure. You were starting to regret it as the cold wind started roughly hitting your skin. Preserving the chilly weather, you genuinely couldn’t wait to get home and wrap yourself in a bundle of warm blankets and comfortable clothes. 

Cold hands struggle to open your door, you blow on them with warm puffs of breaths, soon making your way in and getting comfortable in your humble apartment. 

yoon: you up?

And that, that is what made this harder. The fact that you knew there was someone completely capable of loving and caring for you the way you desired. You have seen it with your own eyes. Every time you ended up in his bed, in his arms, you felt it. Deep down you know something is there and that something beats everything else. Maybe you’re just delusional, but you look for him in everyone else and you hate it. Hate because you will never be anything more than his personal little whore that comes at the sound of his call. 

me: yeah

Normally, you aren’t dry over texts, especially not with him so he’ll see right through you. You’re hoping for once, he can ignore it. 

He won't. 

yoon: you ok?

me: been better

yoon: wanna talk about it?

me: no, i'm ok

yoon: ok, wanna come over? 

Yes, because during a time like this all you want is the comfort and warmth of someone else’s touch and Yoongi has never failed at giving that to you. But he is not yours.

And you are not his. 

me: not feeling well. sorry.

yoon: sick? 

A white lie never hurt anyone. 

me: yeah, throat hurts

yoon: im sorry 

me: it's not your fault maybe another time.

Though you really shouldn’t say that. There should be no next time. That way you don’t suffer any longer and drag him down with you, considering everything you’ve been feeling and dealing with lately. It’s not fair to Yoongi, but especially yourself.

He doesn’t reply anymore and you can’t even hide your disappointment. You aren’t disappointed at him, okay maybe a little bit at him, but mainly yourself and your recently found complicated feelings. 

You and Yoongi started this whole mess a year ago, before you even realized what you truly wanted. It started off with subtle flirting here and there. They say not to mess with coworkers, given that it can complicate things at work and one should never play with their main source of income, but you did it anyway. You are still young and he only made you feel younger, like a teenage girl crushing over her forbidden crush at church. It was silly, but Yoongi made it easy. 

The flirting turned to one thing, then another. 

“We shouldn’t, not here.” Yoongi had you pinned outside the club you both worked at, leaving trails of wet kisses down your throat.

“Five more minutes.” His words were muffled into your skin as his hands explored your body. Yoongi’s touch was always way too soft for his own good and you fell victim to his deadly warmth. 

“If Mr. Kim finds out, he’ll kill us and fire us both.” That was a bit dramatic on your part and you swore you felt the taller smiling against your neck.

Yoongi drops one last kiss on your cheek as his hot breath hits your ear. “Not if I kill him first.”

You gasped, pushing him off you with a quick smack to his chest. “D-Don’t even joke like that.” 

Yoongi just laughed. 

“Okay, okay baby.” The term of endearment fell from his lips too easily and you melted into the dark night. “See you after work?” 

You only nodded, not being able to deny his temporary warmth and sweet presence. Then he dropped a kiss on your lips, leaving you just as quick as when he first found you. You were fucked.

From there, it only got worse for your sake. Your heart could only take so much. 

Really, you should blame things on him. It was his fault you fell in love with him and his stupidly soft hands. It was all his fault! He left you no choice but to love the feel of his lips against your skin, to easily melt under his soft gaze, and find comfort in his unnecessarily warm bed. Yoongi was perfect. Everything you could ever want. 

That’s why it was so fucking hard. Dating was hard enough, but after feeling Yoongi’s intimate touch, you were a complete goner. Though he was far from it, Yoongi touched you like you were his and he would fuck you like a lover would. Kissing and making love to you as if you were the most beautiful woman on Earth. It was all too much. 

Fuck, you really needed to get a grip.

The knock on your door makes you jump from your couch. 

Ten minutes longer and you would have fallen asleep exactly where you were lying. In outside clothes and all. You didn’t even bother taking off the outfit you had carefully planned thinking that this lucky outfit would have finally taken you somewhere. It didn’t. 

“Coming!” There’s not a single person that should be outside your door, especially at this hour. Your feet make their way to the door regardless and the blood from your face drains when you see the person standing behind the door. 

Quickly, you unlock your front door, rushing the taller inside. “Hurry! It’s freezing! What are you doing out here?” 

Yoongi’s cheeks are surely frozen, a pink dust decorates his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It almost makes him look cute. You were far more gone than you imagined. 

He hustles inside, carrying a fairly large brown bag with him. He brought… groceries? 

“Took you long enough.” The taller one makes himself at home, laying his bag on your coffee table. 

“What are you even doing here?” You ask again. 

He ignores you. “Thought you said you were sick. You don’t look very sick?” 

Yoongi looks at you with a questioning look, his eyes wander your outfit and guilt starts eating your insides. 

You cross your arms, an attempt to hide yourself in shame, but what’s done is done. “I- I had plans.” 

“Yeah, I see that.” He simply says, standing awkwardly in your living area. 

If this doesn’t convince you to delete that forsaken app for the sake of your dignity and shameful behavior, you don’t know what will.

“Anyways, w-what brings you here?” 

“Brought you some stuff.” His hand waves over to the bag he carried inside. 

“Stuff?” You question, a bit dumbfounded, planted still in your place.

“Tea, cough drops, some soup I made earlier this week. Oh and flowers.” Yoongi doesn’t seem at all embarrassed or fazed about the situation. Not that he should be, but he speaks with a puff to his chest, as if he wanted to ensure you understood his every word and action. Like any concerned lover would be. As if he was yours and you were his.

Oh.

This was so so bad. For you and your weak heart. Fuck.

“I-“ 

He cuts you off before you even get to speak. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s just some plain seaweed soup. Usually helps me when I’m sick. I’m not sure what flowers you like, or if you even like flowers. Do you? Their tulips. I did a bit of research before. My mom likes tulips. I figured you might like them too.” 

He did research? Double fuck! 

Yoongi was nervously rambling, now he was slightly embarrassed. Pink flushes his cheeks and it wasn’t the weather’s doing this time. 

“Yoongi…” You start breathlessly and in disbelief. 

“What?” He nearly stutters, his hand is shaking. He’s nervous. Who would have thought? 

“Why.” Is all you manage to ask. 

“You were sick.” Is all he replies. As if things were really that simple. What next? Would he come rushing to the hospital if you suddenly fell ill? God forbid, but it was a valid question. 

What was going on? For a second, you entertain the idea. Maybe he fell in love between the blurry lines of this complicated relationship. Were the shared intimate memories too special for him to forget too? You weren’t sure anymore, but what did this all mean? Maybe he loves you, as much as you love him.

Thoughts keep spinning and you wish there was an easier way to turn off your brain. Not now.

“I know, but why? Why all this? Why for me?” Your vulnerability is showing and it makes you feel weak. Maybe your hands are shaking too. 

“I don't understand?” Yoongi searches for the answer in your glossy eyes, he’s tempted to reach out and comfort you. Have you in his hands, but he’s too coward. He doesn’t want you to feel the shiver of his touch right now. His vulnerability peaks through as well. 

Why not you? It’s always going to be you. 

“I-I’m nothing to you.” There’s a shiver again and then you break. 

Yoongi doesn’t care anymore. He’ll consider the consequences later. Right now, none of it matters.

His hands hold your face, ready to wipe the tears that threaten to leak from your precious eyes. He hopes his hands aren't cold anymore from standing outside for so damn long, but he couldn’t stop himself, in his selfishness and all.

His hands shake slightly, trying to stay strong as he lays it all on the table. “Y/N, you’re everything to me.” He whispers, eyes never leaving yours.

You lay your own hands on his, you feel so delicate around him when you wrap warm hands around his cold wrists.

“I-I am?” You ask between sniffles. His hands are still pretty cold, but they’ll soon warm up against your soft skin. Nobody knows how desperately you need to be touched until you are and then it’s like little fireworks spark inside your body. It consumes you in the best way possible.

“Of course. I thought I made that obvious.” His eyes are soft, different to how he typically looks at you, but you’ve seen these same eyes before. They are no stranger. It’s similar to the look he gives you when you catch him staring at you while you are deep in work. He pretends to look away as if he wasn’t admiring you from afar and you pretend that you don’t notice his curious eyes. It’s the same look he has after you both end up in heated makeout sessions, behind the rusty club you both work at. And it’s definitely the same look he has while he settles on top of you, whispering sweet words of praise and promise.

Nothing should feel different but it just does, there’s something in the way he looks down at you that lets you know that everything you’ve been searching for has always been right here. Right where you’ve been all along.

The taller leans in and you freeze struggling to keep your eyes on his. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against your cheek with a soft touch. You were fragile between his hands and he’s willing to do anything to keep his precious flower safe. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes. Please.” You whisper back in a hurry, scared that this would be nothing but a dream. It wasn’t time for you to wake up yet.

His eyes zero-in on your lips and then he’s kissing you. It’s not much different from other times. After all, you guys have shared plenty of kisses, probably more than you should have considering you guys were friends with benefits, at most. But this time, the kiss isn’t just a careless lust-filled doing, no this time the kiss is a promise. The promise to never again allow you to question his feelings and intentions towards you. 

If Yoongi has to spend his whole life making this up to you, he simply would because that’s how much you meant to him. He can’t believe he even let this go on for this long. He should have been more clear and careful, but he doesn’t regret a damn thing. Not when he has all the time in the world to repair the time lost. And especially not when his reckless actions led him to this. To you.

Yoongi’s lips are soft and bend with yours with ease. He takes his time, never in a rush. Especially not when he has you in-hand. 

The taller doesn’t escalate the kiss. He keeps it sweet and gentle, like he always has been. “I’m so sorry baby.” 

Kiss.

“For?” 

Kiss.

Yoongi has the whole world in his hands right now as he looks down into the sparkles in your eyes and he’s never been so sure about anything in his life. “For being a fucking idiot.”

Kiss. 

“It’s okay.” A kiss is shared again. “I was an idiot too. I was just scared that you wouldn’t want that with me.” 

“Want what?” The taller questions, fingers trailing your face, admiring the imperfections and all. 

“A relationship, I mean. You seemed content with how our relationship already was. I was afraid of losing that. Of losing you.” You admit, eyes fluttering at his touch. 

“Of course, I want that. I want that and more. I-I’m not the best with relationships. I’m only saying this because I want to be open and honest with you. There’s not a second you aren’t on my mind. While at work, you are all I can see. In a crowd of a hundred, my eyes always find yours. I don’t know how to explain what you do to me. But I don’t mind. I think if I ever lost that, I would lose my mind. So I’m sorry if I ever made you feel the opposite. There’s so much more I want to say, but I just don’t know how. I want that. I want that so bad. A relationship and whatever more you give me. I might not be the best boyfriend but I’ll do whatever it takes. I- I love you.” Yoongi’s words are heartfelt and he’s so relieved. One because he’s been keeping this in for so long, any longer and he would have exploded, but second because he’s been dying to say those three words. He really does love you and Yoongi doesn’t love many people in life, but if he had to choose, it’s always gonna be you. 

The tears that were creeping on your eye-lids fall prettily down your face, but Yoongi comes to your rescue. He’s quick to wipe them off your pretty face, tempted to kiss them away, but he keeps that in for now. “Y-Yoongi… I love you too. So much. I think I always have. You are so easy to love. The way you look at me, care for me, and always show up for me. That says more about you than anything else. I tried dating to get over what I felt for you, as you can probably tell, but nothing worked. It was so easy, Yoongi. So easy to fall in love with you. You’re perfect and I don’t doubt that you’ll be the best even after all this. I love you.”

“I love you too, I love you. Fuck, I love you.” Yoongi kisses you again and this time he isn’t as gentle. His lips are still soft as ever as they curl around yours. His tongue comes out and you immediately allow access, letting him explore your mouth. The taste is much better now that there isn’t anything you both are holding back. Everything down on the line and you couldn’t be happier. The hole in your heart was never empty, it was just waiting for this exact moment to remind you that you’ve always had it all. 

“Yoongi.” In between breaths you call his name and Yoongi feels his knees lock. “Take me to bed.” 

Yoongi just nods in a trance with the way your tone drips of arousal. A long strand of hair falls on his face when he picks you up with ease off your feet. He takes you to the place he’s had the honor to visit a hundred times before, but it’s different this time, much different. 

In the process of it all, something falls and it causes you both to laugh until you run out of breath. 

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You laugh into his ear. “You owe me a new lamp. My mother bought me that, you know. House-warming gift.”

“Fuck, sorry.” Yoongi mumbles near a whisper as he grips you harder like he’s afraid he might drop you next and the idea makes you giggle because you know he would never purposely hurt you. “I’ll apologize to your mother directly. Buy you and her a new lamp, whatever it takes.”

“What makes you think you are meeting my mother?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the blush rise on his cheeks. 

“Well, I figured we could, you know, if you would like–” Yoongi doesn’t often get shy about many things but he can’t keep calm around you and that kills him softly.

“I’m just teasing you.” You say and he bites his lip. “Of course you’ll meet my mother and my father and my nosy ass family. I hope you like annoying, persistent grandma’s that stuff you full. My grandma’s the worst of her kind, but she’ll love you.”

“I would love to.” Yoongi simply replies, still whispering as if you guys had to keep quiet or else you’d be in deep trouble. 

“Why are we still whispering?” You whisper back, roaming fingers through his long, gorgeous hair. He needs to remind you to thank his mother personally for insisting he keep his hair long because it made him look pretty and you could never disagree. Yoongi’s so pretty. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

You both smile at each other before sharing another kiss. It’s so sweet and if you weren’t already off your feet, you would be floating by now. He’s gentle when letting you drop into the sheets below, he finds space between your legs and you wrap them around his hips. Lips still in contact, never losing the plushy feel. 

Everything starts to feel hot. Your hips start to slowly grind against his begging for any sort of friction. But the kissing doesn’t stop. 

Not when you start whining against his lips. 

Not even when Yoongi starts trailing his fingers down your waist and around your curves. He teases his fingertips against your waistline, soft to the touch. 

It’s not until you mewl loudly into his mouth, skillful tongue playing with yours, as you feel him start unbuckling your pants, button-by-button. 

Yoongi’s eyes are heavy-lidded, his gaze burning fire. “Gonna take care of you now, is that okay?” 

You furiously nod, coming up to kiss him once more, both your lips are raw and sensitive, but it gives you more of a reason to fix it with even more kisses. 

He drops one quick kiss onto your mouth before he trails down your jaw. Yoongi breathes in the sweet scent on your skin, wishing he could feel you even closer. “Smell so damn good.”

His voice is raspy against your ear and it makes you blush, while you feel his hand finally touch you where you had been aching with need. “Wanna hear you.”

Breathing lightly, you whisper. “Make me.” 

And of course, Yoongi makes you regret how fast you said the words because he delves his fingers forward with little resistance. Two fingers stretch you at the same time, gasping at the sudden sensation. 

By now, you were molded to fit Yoongi’s fingers. On days where you were really in need, you would take four, all at once. Yoongi was best at reading every expression, every crease and scrunch to your face, especially emotions. He knew exactly how to curve his fingers, the way to build you up, and bring you back down. Yoongi knew it all and he was so lucky too. 

He never anticipated it would have gone this far. It was just sex to begin with. But who were you both kidding, it was always much, much more. 

Yoongi curves his fingers in the way he’s used to and watches your mouth drop, sweet noises soon leaving your lips. “Feels good?” 

There’s no need to ask because he can tell. Your expression tells him everything he needs to know. That and the fact that you are dripping around his fingers but it’s sexier hearing it from you. 

“Yeah… f-feels so good.” With his other hand he tugs your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. Remembering the first few times is a bit embarrassing, but Yoongi always made sure to take his time and make you feel comfortable. It was special and memorable in its own way, and Yoongi felt it too. 

This is unlike any first time, but it was technically the first time you could officially make love to each other until you fall lovesick and that had to be impossible around someone like Yoongi. 

“Hold your legs open for me, flower.” You try to ignore the warm feeling that buzzes in your chest, but you are sure your face says it all. Without another word, you spread your legs open, tucking both hands behind your thighs.

“Flower?” You breathe out with a bit of a struggle as his two fingers continue to pump deep inside you, brushing repeatedly against your g-spot. 

“Do you not like it?” Yoongi smiles slightly, biting his bottom lip while he watches you start to tremble, making the prettiest sounds. 

“I do. Why the new name?” Voice a bit unsteady but it does the job. Yoongi thinks of all the times he thought you were as pretty as a flower, which really was all the time. Especially, in the way he has you right now. Pretty, pretty as a flower. 

“I’ve always wanted to call you that. You’re pretty, sweet, delicate. Just like a flower.” He justifies his reasoning and you melt into puddles. 

“Yoongi.” Voice sweet as honey. 

“Yes baby.” He replies with ease.

“Make love to me, Yoongi.” 

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love. How foolish of him to think so. When he met you, it was a complete three-sixty. Suddenly, Yoongi started to look forward to his shit job. He looked forward to that time between breaks where he could admire you from the back like a pinning loser. Yoongi even started to like the walks he had to take to get to work because he knew that the path would eventually lead to you. He started looking forward to tomorrow's and to the bright future that led ahead. His mom would often complain that he was wasting his life away waiting for it to start, but Yoongi thinks life truly started the day he met you. 

It was a bit awkward because you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, intimated by the staff and new environment. You had previously worked in different bars so you assumed it would be no different and it wasn’t, but the intimidation of a new job was there nonetheless. Yoongi was there every step of the way. He had a crush on the new employee and you needed help on fitting in. Either way, your friendship was very platonic until it wasn’t. 

Yoongi knows he should have said something along the lines “hey, maybe we shouldn't be doing this anymore. I’m in love with you and I have been since you started working here” but the stupid words never made it out. He felt it would be too much to hear and it would only make him look like a complete loser. 

And you felt the same. It was silly really, because everyone around you knew it and there was no reason to fear someone as easy going and non-judgemental as Yoongi, nonetheless it brought you both here. After many failed dating attempts, you were finally happy and in the arms of someone who you truly love and want to be loved by. 

There was a time in his life where Yoongi believed he could live without love, now Yoongi believes your precious, sweet love brought him back to life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. 

Clothes now discarded on the floor, heavy breathing filling the room, and Yoongi could get wasted on the smell of your intoxicating perfume. “Breathe flower.”

Yoongi felt you shiver at the sound of his words, throwing your head back as he thrusts you full of cock. He pushes inside you with gentle movements, struggling to keep himself up while feeling the tug of your warm velvet-like walls. 

You gasp feeling him hit your cervix in a calm, slow pace. It was breathtaking regardless of the gentle rhythm. “You’re so deep...”

“I know flower, breathe baby, breathe.” He is struggling to keep from coming inside you, overwhelmed by his own emotions as your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure rise in your belly. Without a condom, everything feels so different from other times, feeling every ridge and crease fold inside your drenching heat. You take him so nicely, like you always have. Like you’ve always belonged to him. 

You don’t even notice you stopped breathing until you start feeling lightheaded and desperate for fresh air. Breathing just as much as necessary so you don’t faint, you shake your head against his hold, his eyes watch yours, observing with curiosity. 

“No?”

“Mm, n-no.” You shake your head again, whimpering when you feel him kiss your cervix with his swollen tip, over and over and over. “Can– can you…”

“Can I what, pretty flower?” Yoongi rolls his hips a bit faster, feeling his orgasm build too quickly. He wishes he could have days with you like this always. Days to love and worship you from head to toe.

“Choke me.” You manage to say. “Don— don’t wanna breathe.” 

Yoongi growls deep, increasing his speed even more, desperate to fill the deepest part of your glistening folds. He feels you tense underneath, the sounds coming from your mouth are loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but Yoongi stopped giving a fuck about everything around him. 

He places a hand on your throat and squeezes gently, not blocking off your airways completely, but leaving you just enough air to work with. It drives you insane. The more you breathe, his rough thrusts take the air out from your lungs and the process repeats. It feels so good.  

“M-more. Harder.” You barely hear your own words, but Yoongi seems to understand because his dick is moving rapidly inside you, nearly splitting you in two. You wrap both hands around his wrist, loving the heavy weight against your chest. It’ll end too soon and it disappoints you in a way, but you have all the time in the world to make this up. “G-Gonna come.” 

Yoongi nods, concentrating on the way your face scrunches with pleasure. With love. The way your eyes tell him a story. God, Yoongi’s madly in love. “Come, my precious flower.” 

With those final words, you come on his bare slick cock, blossoming in the blissful afterglow. Yoongi doesn’t stop thrusting inside you, but he takes his hand off your throat, kissing your face gently when he sees tears start leaking down your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay baby. Breathe for me. Slowly.” Yoongi’s words bring you back down and you throw your arms around him, crying against his shoulder. You don’t even know what invoked this strong emotion to sob your eyes out, but Yoongi allows it, caressing the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t judge, he only holds you until you settle down. “It’s okay baby, let it out. Breathe, pretty flower.” 

“C-Come inside muh-me, please.” Even after all that, you still beg for him and Yoongi wants to laugh but for your sake and the fact that it’s endearing to him, he delivers accordingly without further questions. 

Right as he’s going to paint your walls white, he pushes himself up with one hand, still holding you with the other. “You sure?”

You’re confused about the sudden question, the tears still decorate your face but then you understand. “Birth control. Just come in me Yoongi, fuck me, fu-fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to regain his brutal pace, fucking you with purpose. Not that he doesn’t want kids in the near future, but he sure as hell doesn’t want any right now. He’s glad you are on the same page but maybe one day the conversation would spark and he wouldn’t want the mother of his kids to be anyone else but you. You were perfect for him. 

“Gonna come.” That’s the only warning you get, then he’s emptying himself inside your tight walls. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips, his slit leaking puddles, until he’s pumped himself dry. With one last thrust, he groans and carefully pulls out. 

He brings you with him, head falling against his chest as he continues to play with your hair, leaving kisses into your bare shoulders. “You okay baby?”

“Perfect. Feel so good.” You mumble into his skin, feeling around his waist. “I’m leaking your come into the sheets though.”

“I’ll take care of it, pretty flower.” You nod sleepily into his chest with a quiet ‘thank you’, feeling completely sated and satisfied, aching with exhaustion. “Sleep baby, I got you.”

With that, you fall deep into the shackles of sleep. Yoongi rubs your back until you completely fall asleep in his arms. He struggles to unwrap himself from your hold, but when he finally succeeds, he tucks you in and kisses your cheek a few times before getting up to clean up after the mess you both created. 

He’s light on his feet, bringing a warm towel to your slick folds and wipes as best he can, being gentle so you could continue to enjoy your sleep. Even like this, you look so beautiful and Yoongi is an extremely lucky man. 

Yoongi makes sure to also pick up the lamp he dropped from earlier as well. He blows out a breath of relief when he notices that the damage is nothing big and nothing that can’t be fixed. He’ll make sure to fix that as soon as he can. 

While he’s out there, Yoongi places the tulips into a vase and fills it with water, placing it near a window where it could grow and blossom beautifully near the sunlight. He even cuts the tips into slants because he had heard somewhere online they last longer that way, making sure to get rid of any dead leaves and petals. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

After he’s done with the light cleaning, he washes his hands and feels the exhaustion hit him tenfold. He’s careful when placing himself back in bed, lifting your arm and placing himself underneath you. The man smiles when he feels you curl yourself around him, sleeping soundlessly. 

“I love you.” He whispers and even though you don’t say it back Yoongi feels it with the way you melt into his arms. Yoongi falls asleep easily that night. 

…

“Baby.” Yoongi hears someone call him and he ignores it. Sleep calls his name louder and he doesn’t feel like waking up right now so he groans and cuddles deeper into the bedsheets below him, unaware of the life around him. 

“Baby wake up.” You keep calling sweetly and it’s tempting but he persists.

“No. Don’t wanna.” Yoongi grumbles like an old man and you can’t help but to laugh. “Just ten more minutes.”

When you woke up the next morning, you were so thankful Yoongi had kept his promise. Your apartment was flawless and you were as clean as you could be. The tulips looked prettier today as the sun shined on the delicate petals. You even had time to warm the seaweed soup he brought from home and you couldn’t wait to get a taste. The smell alone is delicious and it warmed your home up nicely, you truly couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that this was no longer a dream but your reality. You could definitely get used to this. 

You drop kisses onto his warm cheeks until his eyes flutter open, almost similar to a cat. “There you are.”

Yoongi pulls you into his arms again with quiet noncoherent grumbles and closes his eyes once more. “Give me ten minutes.”

“It’s already been ten.” You whisper lightly laughing. 

“Oh. Ten more then.” You get comfortable on his chest and cuddle for a bit longer because you can’t say no to his cute sleepy self. 

Yoongi starts to sniff the air with curiosity. “Is that the seaweed soup I brought you?” 

“Mhm.” You hum. “Better get up soon before it burns.” 

That manages to be convincing enough and Yoongi forces himself up, with you in his embrace. 

“Wanna wake up like that forever.” He says, voice filled with sleep. 

“You can.” 

Yoongi snaps his heavy eyes towards you. “Are you–”

“Move in with me, Yoongi.” Yes, you skipped every step to this, but nothing was ever to code between you and Yoongi. One thing you were so sure of and that was spending the rest of your life with him. “Please.”

“I- yes, of course.” Yoongi wraps his arms around you for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “I love you. I love you and I’ll prove it to you every single day.” 

“I know, I love you too. I love you.” Those three words come out from your mouths so easily and it’s nice that you no longer have to ever hold back. The man of your dreams is in the palms of your humble home and he’s in love with you. This was better than any dream. 

“Let’s eat?” He says after some time of hugging and kisses being interchanged. 

You nod, letting him take you there. Your kitchen is filled with the cruel aroma of food and your tummy rumbles as you sit comfortably while you wait for him to serve you a bowl of the warm tasty soup. 

“I should be doing that. I’m a terrible host.” Yoongi shakes his head while smiling, the fluff of hair moving with him, then your phone dings. “Hold on, give me a second.” 

Your heart drops when you see it is a Tinder notification from a man you promised to get back to. You look over to find Yoongi serving your bowl, making his way to the table. He leans in puckering slightly and you immediately lean into the sweet sudden kiss while he places your meal in front of you. This Yoongi is new because it wasn’t often you could act domestically towards one another, however this was perfect and just what you needed. 

“Everything okay baby?” Yoongi asks while caressing your soft cheek and you immediately nod in his palm. 

“Yes, everything’s perfect.” You reply in awe. “Thank you Yoongi, for everything.”

For letting me love you and for loving me back. 

The older man just smiles and joins you for the meal. 

It turns out you didn’t need Tinder after all. 

You quickly delete the app off your phone and start to eat with the love of your life, conversation flows while you enjoy each other’s presence and fall deeper in love. 

Alike Yoongi, you couldn’t imagine it happening any other way. You were bound to fall in love, one way or another, but that man was meant to be yours as you were meant to be his.

[tizzyizzy]

More Reasons Izzy's Death Doesn't Work

Assuming you're not writing grimdark where the point is that no one is safe, it can be tricky to pull off killing a sympathetic character in a satisfying way. S2 does not nail the landing. Here are a trio of types of character deaths, and why Izzy's doesn't end up succeeding any any of them.

The Tragic Death

A tragic death, first and foremost, Bad. The audience should be sad, the framing is sad. This death is meant to raise the stakes, or deal an emotional blow to the other characters. If the major villain does it, it makes them seem more menacing, and makes the audience hate them even more. This often occurs in the "dark moment" before the third act, and is part of the protagonist's internal struggle under the weight of their mission. Their death helps the goal seem impossible to reach. If it happens at the climax, the death shows the costs of victory.

Is Izzy's death a tragic death? It's true he's shot by the main villain at the climax but...no. Ricky wasn't defeated; he's still out there. The main couple don't actually intend to pursue him, and are instead settling in to a happy life. Most importantly, Izzy's death was nowhere near sad enough to function as a tragic death. Sure, there was some sadness in his death scene, but the funeral scene was incredible short and almost offensive in its lack of emotional impact. If anything, Izzy's death seems to have cleared up Ed's emotional issues instead of burdening him with despair.

The Final Redemption

This is a classic for redeemed villains and cynical antiheroes. In these deaths, the character marks the end of their character arc by making some final sacrifice for the greater good or their new friends. Their death has meaning for the dead character, the plot, and those they sacrificed themselves to protect.

Izzy's cause of death is more or less random. He just happens to be the one holding the knife to the villain's back.

You could say Izzy's final words are his final redemption, with him giving a final apology. This could work, but unfortunately, not with Ed. At least not how it was handled here.

Izzy had already completed his character arc of accepting Ed retiring and supporting Stede and Ed's relationship. Worse, any of Izzy's wrongs against Ed pale in comparison to Ed's wrongs against Izzy, especially in S2. It doesn't help that Ed had an entire arc of him failing to come even slightly close to making up for what he did. So instead of being glad that Izzy apologized to Ed on his deathbed, we're baffled Izzy is apologizing to the man who forced him to eat his own toes, shot off his leg, and drove him to suicide.

And his dying words fall on deaf ears, since Ed just up and leaves his "family" immediately.

The Good Death

Everyone has to die sometime. A good death is a scene where a character dies, usually due to some sort of natural cause, at peace. This may mean they're surrounded by family and friends, or doing what they love to do most. The point is that, while death is inevitable, to die well is still a happy ending.

Izzy's death isn't peaceful, and following a sneaky plan from Stede isn't what he loves to do most. Worst of all, he isn't surrounded by family. Sure, a some people say he is, but watch the scene again. The reason Roach doesn't even attempt to help Izzy is not only because Izzy is a goner (for some reason). He is also giving Ed space to be with Izzy semi-privately.

Everyone who Izzy developed relationships with is standing back in favor of Ed, who he has just barely started to get along with again. You can't even get a good look at the faces and reactions of some of the characters who had the most meaningful interactions with Izzy.

You could say it's a good death because he is with Ed, but the plot has simply failed to build this up as something satisfying. In fact, focusing on Ed is sort of tragic in and of itself. If this is Izzy's ideal happy ending, it suggests he was obsessed with Ed to the point he'd rather die giving advice and closure to Ed (who will ignore his advice) than be close to the people who actually helped him heal and find peace.

Conclusion

Writing this actually helped clarify, I think, why the death didn't work, but might seem to be doing something on the surface.

There are all sort of bits from each of these meaningful types of deaths. Izzy's speech to Ricky seems like a statement that could seem like part of a brave, dramatic confrontation or last stand, but the actual killing blow falls out of nowhere, without drama. There is tale of revenge that the leads have no interest in pursuing. Izzy's apology is supposed to be a capstone to his development with Ed, but Izzy's supposed corruption of Ed was so downplayed compared to Ed's brutal abuse of Izzy that him apologizing felt more offensive than cathartic. We're supposed to feel like Izzy finally got to die happy after a long life, but Izzy's life just seemed to be starting after healing from his trauma, with his life snatched away just when he was beginning to explore its possibilities.

This is the danger of relying on tropes without understanding the underlying reason why they work. It's why you can't say, "Izzy is a mentor figure, actually, so he should die for Ed's development" on the day you're shooting the scene.

[myosotisa]

scoops steve is a mood so can I request scoops steve??

you absolutely can, my friend!! here is some jealous!Reader with some Scoops Ahoy Steve

New and Different

ǁ summary: You visit your boyfriend at work for the first time and catch him talking with an old classmate. Your envy takes over.

ǁ tags: implied fem!reader, jealousy, happy ending, fluffy, content warning for scoops ahoy shorts because they are simply too much

ǁ word count: 1.8k

One of the problems with Steve working at Scoops Ahoy is that stupid little outfit he has to wear every day.

The two of you had only been dating a few weeks when you decided to visit him at work for the first time. You’d seen the outfit before, of course, but only in the privacy of your own home where it felt like all the thigh on display was completely for your own enjoyment. Seeing him wearing it in public leaves a sour taste in your mouth that you are reluctant to acknowledge is a burning pit of jealousy.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite customer,” his smile is absolutely radiant in the bright overheads of the shop the moment he sees you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of getting to see such a babe during my work day?”

“That depends,” no one is waiting to order so you walk right up to the counter, hands pressed to the vinyl as you lean in toward him, “how many free samples are you allowed to give out?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you as the corners of his eyes crinkle in joy. “For you? I’d sample every flavor.”

The sentiment makes your heart warm as it thumps in your chest. A bit shy, you ask, “Even though you hate people asking for a ton of samples?”

“What can I say?” His head tilts to the side, a lazy smile tilting his mouth. “I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

It’s your turn to laugh, blood rushing to your face in embarrassment. “Okay, smooth operator, why don’t you–”

“God, will you two STOP.” Robin pushes her way out of the swinging doors to your left with a dramatic flourish, hands in the air as she gives you her most exasperated look yet. “We get it, you’re in puppy love, you’re making us all sick with your shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest as he leans a hip against the counter to tilt toward her. “You’re just jealous you’re sad and alone.”

“Wow, dingus, that really hurts,” she retorts in a total monotone, “how will I ever recover from being attacked like this?”

“Sorry Robin,” you offer to try and limit their bickering, an apologetic smile flashed her way. She seems to appreciate the gesture at the very least as she goes to grab what she came to the front for before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Steve is quick to offer you an apology on her behalf that you insist you don��t need and the two of you go back to awkwardly flirting while he puts together a two scoop bowl of ice cream for you. He has a break in 15 minutes or so, encouraging you to take a seat so he can join you when he is able to relinquish his post.

Having no plans this afternoon, you’re quick to agree, settling into a booth on the left hand wall with a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Unfortunately, you are not the only one vying for a view of your pretty boyfriend behind the Scoops Ahoy counter.

Honestly, you don’t even remember her name. Someone from high school that had never said two words to you but probably was an attendee at all of Steve’s parties in his big, empty house on the edge of town. He’d told you recently that people from high school hadn’t treated him very kindly since he started working at the mall – after his falling out with Tommy, his breakup with Nancy, and his failure to get into college, he had changed a lot. So you can see the apprehension he is trying to hide as she approaches the counter and he greets her.

He looks utterly delighted when she not only remembers him, but also seems happy to see him. Acting like old friends catching up and not just 2 people who were acquaintances catching up barely 2 months after graduating in the same class. He’s all bright smiles as he takes her order and they keep talking and you really, really want to be happy for him. You should be happy that he is finally interacting with someone who knew him at King Steve and isn’t being rude or dismissive of him now. That is what a girlfriend should want for her boyfriend.

But she is laughing too brightly and airly. Her hair is twisted around her finger and she looks way more popular – and therefore more attractive – than you. She’s watching him too closely, her gaze shifting down to his ass and thighs in his stupid little shorts when he turns around. And when he hands her the waffle cone she ordered, her fingers linger a little too long on his. Plus, you bet she doodled her phone number with a little heart next to it on her receipt when she slid it back to him. Bitch.

Okay, wait. Hold on there. The little green monster of envy that you try to hide deep in your gut very quickly took the reins of your thoughts for a few moments there. You trust Steve and you know he would never do anything to encourage someone flirting with him or do anything to betray you like that. He probably has no idea she was flirting/checking him out and he doesn’t even look twice when she struts out of the store and calls back to Robin that he’s taking his break.

Which doesn’t leave you nearly enough time to try to recover from your jealousy and the shame that accompanies it before he’s sliding into the booth across from you.

“Hey honey, is this seat taken?” He asks, like a loser, even though he is already sitting in it.

Clearing your throat in an attempt to fully reset yourself, you offer your best attempt at a flirty retort. “Actually, I was saving it for my boyfriend.”

And there’s that lovesick smile again, the apples of his cheeks dusting pink as he runs a hand through his hat-hair. “Well isn’t he a lucky guy?” You hum an agreement before returning your attention to your almost entirely uneaten ice cream that has been steadily melting in front of you since he handed it to you 15 minutes ago. “You’ve barely eaten a bite, did you end up not liking what you picked? Because I can go and grab something else–”

He’s halfway out of his seat again when you hold out a hand to stop him. “No, no, it’s good. Totally fine. I just got distracted, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.” Falling back to sit, he takes your outstretched hand in his own and rubs his thumb back and forth over your knuckles. “What was so distracting that you let award winning Scoops Ahoy brand ice cream melt?” He can barely say it with a serious face, and he makes sure to draw out the word distracting like he knows the answer. And he’s probably assuming you were distracted looking at him, which, in a way, you technically were. Just not in the way that he thinks.

“That girl who was just in here,” his eyebrows raise, pink lips forming a small ‘o’ in surprise, obviously having not anticipated this topic of conversation, “I don’t remember her name, but she went to school with us, right?”

“Yeah, Anna Jakobi. She said she was doing some shopping for some party on Saturday at Carla’s, asked if I wanted to go.”

It feels like your heart drops into your stomach. “Are you going to go?”

His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, obviously confused. “No? I work in the afternoon and then we are going to see a movie with Dustin before he leaves for camp. That’s still the plan, right?”

Although slightly relieved, you still don’t feel entirely settled. “That was the plan but if you’d rather go to this party at Carla’s then you can, I won’t stop you–”

“Hey.” You return to making eye contact with him, not realizing you’d been avoiding doing so for the last few minutes. He looks confused and concerned, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Did I do something wrong? It kinda feels like you’re mad at me.”

“No!” You try to assure him, way too quickly to sound normal, as you bring your other hand up to rub at your forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all, you’re perfect, I promise.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

How are you going to get out of this one?

After taking a few moments to try to find an excuse, you settle on: “I just know you’ve been kinda bummed about losing some of the people you talked to in high school as friends so it sounds like a good opportunity to, I dunno… Reconnect with some of them.”

He chuckles again, a small smile returning. “I don’t really know if I would call a lot of those people my ‘friends’. But you’re right, I was pretty bummed.” A long exhale leaves his nose, his eyes falling to watch his thumb as it continues its gentle glide across your knuckles. “Still, I would much rather spend time with you and Dustin than go to some party.”

You want to believe it. You really do. But the jealousy had linked hands with your insecurity and muddled everything up. “You’d probably have a lot more fun with them,” and you follow it up with an awkward laugh. If only you could bring those words back into your mouth and swallow them so they were never heard from again.

“No way,” he shakes his head, honey shaded eyes returning to yours with a certainty that makes you feel all warm inside, “nothing’s more fun than spending time with my girl.”

The ice melts further, your posture visibly relaxing at the term of endearment as you layer your other hand on top of his. He looks relieved at the smile that returns to you before you see an idea visibly click behind his gaze. “Wait, were you jealous? About me talking to Anna?”

The way you quickly squeak out a “No” makes your case in no way convincing.

And where you’re expecting disgust or anger or maybe pity, you find none. If anything, he looks delighted at this discovery. “You were jealous. That’s why you sat here that whole time without eating any of your ice cream.”

Embarrassment piles on top of your shame, your mood plummeting. “Don’t be mean, Steve.”

He just shrugs, his delighted expression never falling. “I don’t know, honey. It’s kind of a turn on.”

It’s your turn to be shocked, sitting up straighter as you blink your widened eyes rapidly. “What?”

“You seeing me talking to a girl and getting all possessive over me? That’s hot, actually.”

Your heart is absolutely hammering in your chest as you mirror the smile on his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” he confirms a little too enthusiastically, grabbing the attention of someone walking in before you both duck your heads and giggle when they look away. “You can get possessive over me all you want, babe. I’m yours and you’re mine. My girl.”

-

-

[cheesecakethots]

hiii I came across your blog and fell in love with your yandere illumi posts!! <3 can I ask how you think it’d be like if reader actually WAS pregnant and forced to carry the child to term?? if ur comfy ofc!!

ahhh thank you!!

tw// unwanted/forced pregnancy, implied noncon, reader depression, reader su1c1de attempts. this is SAD. just SAD. minimum comfort from this. also you have a baby and you don’t like it

this is the worst possible outcome

i try and kinda base reader off of how i would react in that situation, and my reaction would be BADDDD.

the second you realise that you’re pregnant you’re already making plans to throw yourself off the nearest balcony or down the steepest stairs in the manor. unfortunately, illumi is going to account for this. he’ll probably realise you’re pregnant before you even do, and soon enough the whole manor will be “baby proofed”.

there’s going to be butlers following you every step of the way, anything sharp is taken from bathrooms or your bedroom, even illumi has started to cut your food up for you. it’s extremely demeaning and only settles to make things worse.

you’ll start growing quiet as the pregnancy progresses, first out of spite and then out of genuine sadness. as far as you think, you’re truly just a womb to illumi and his family.

illumi will notice how depressed you’ve gotten, but he’s not exactly a comforting person. he’ll monotonously give you compliments, silently hand you bouquets of flowers, and tell the butlers to prepare your favourite foods as though any of those things are what you want.

occasionally, if his worry starts to grow, he’ll allow you outside into the garden for a couple of hours. he’ll even arrange a little allotment for you to plant your own. you might not even like flowers, or gardening, but the distraction is nice. if not, you can still wander the grounds, as though it can give you some illusion of freedom. it doesn’t.

illumi tells you that during your visits to the garden you’re truly on your own; no guards, no butlers, no maids, and none of his family watching. it’s not necessarily true. he’ll be behind you every step of the way, hidden in plain sight. he once believed you’d start appearing happy when no one was around, proving that it’s all a rouse and that you’re fine. he quickly discovered it wasn’t fake when the first time he watched you in the garden you found a bench and cried on it the entire time.

he starts to convince himself that when you give birth to his child you’ll recover, and you’ll love them and feel less lonely.

you don’t.

the birthing is messy, probably due to your stress, and it’s the first time anyone in the manor has seen illumi so nervous. it may not be obvious to you, but to those who have known him his entire life, it is.

you don’t love your baby. sometimes you can’t bring yourself to even look at it. you know that illumi and his family are going to be training it to be as bloodthirsty and murderous as them, so you tell yourself that there’s no point in even bothering trying to grow close with it.

in all honesty, you’re in for a fucking awful time. illumi might get irritated with your lack of love for your child. he might think another will make you feel less lonely. only when you stop talking and stop reacting entirely does he realise that he truly has broken you.

i don’t really enjoy writing about reader having kids because it would be my worst nightmare. literally horrifying. that’s why illumi is so damn scary, he’s having a child whether you like it or not.

if you do manage to get rid of it before you give birth, illumi is going to be fucking pissed. expect yourself to be taken into the basement for a week, at the minimum.

best case scenario for this is that reader can’t have kids. fuck this shit.

i could potentially see illumi turning away from his family and their insistence for him to have a bunch of kids, but only if your pregnancy was that bad. if you almost died during childbirth, i could imagine him being extremely shaken up about it, and may not want to see you that way again. that a very big if, though.

[cialovesklopp]

everything he’s ever wanted ➺ k.mbappé

( masterlist )

summary — he should have been on the pitch right now, battling with his teammates for victory but he preferred to be here. at his daughter’s ballet play.

pairing — dad! kylian x black! reader

song — maamou [ dadju ]

cia’s quick rambles — hey guys, hope you’re doing well. got so motivated while writing the next genius part that just had to write this quick blurb. it can either be read as a stand-alone or as small glimpse into kylian’s and amara’s life post mon-amour — also i recommend listening to the song, it fits so much 🫶🏾

if someone had told kylian mbappé seven years ago that this would be his life, he would have called that person crazy. 

and now it was his everyday reality. 

he thought the day he moved from paris to madrid would be the happiest in his life. but it paled in comparison to the instant when he knew that he had found the woman of his life. 

then he thought the happiest day in his life was when he won the euros in germany but it got quickly overtaken when he thought back to the moment where he put a ring onto her fingers after winning the competition. how their kiss had been splattered across every news magazine for several weeks and them having to give thousands of interviews. 

but even that meant nothing anymore when he thought back to the day that he saw her in a white dress. the day he vowed to cherish and love her for infinity. 

their love story that had started as a healing friendship with both of them having been hurt in the past. and over time it had bloomed into something more, more comfortable — more loving. he had actually thought that their wedding day was the most beautiful and perfect day in his life. 

and then came their daughter’s birth and it felt like overdosing on endorphins. if he had been swimming in happiness before, now he was drowning in joy. he had gotten all he had ever wanted from life. 

before meeting her, he used to dream about this future and having his own children, with a certain kind of sadness settling deep down when he woke up alone. now he dreaded sleeping because all his dreams had already become his reality. 

and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. for most people going to their daughter’s play would seem like the most mundane thing in the world. but for kylian, especially those moments were special.

his eyes were almost sparkling when he watched his little girl twirl in her tutu — her pink princess tutu that she had begged him to buy — while mimicking the teacher’s moves. there was no denying that his little star had him wrapped around her finger. he noticed the looks people threw at him. 

women lusting after him while fathers who had taken the time off to watch the play, were staring at him in awe. why was the kylian mbappé here? shouldn’t he be on the pitch right now?

of course he should but he had promised himself that he would be there. had promised that he would be present for her. and this was part of it too. 

the lights went out again as beautiful piano music played out in the back and then suddenly his daughter was in front of all the other girls, standing out from the other girls with her pink tutu in contrast to the other white ones. 

she smiled brightly as she danced on stage, spinning around in her tutu. his little ballerina. he searched the stage for her eyes and waved once they met which had her grin. 

this was heaven. ballon d’ors and champions leagues didn’t mean anything to him anymore. being able to watch his daughter dance meant more. he understood now what toni and luka were talking about when he first joined the team. 

it all made sense now. unfortunately for him the play ended way too early. it was too quick over for him — he could have spent hours watching her act around like a ballerina. 

the most ethereal moments often passed like a flash. 

“papa!”, without forewarning, a little bundle of energy was suddenly clinging to his legs, arms thrown around them. he was instantly brought back to reality while the familiar feeling of comfort spread through his chest. 

he smiled as he bent down to pick up his daughter, her small legs wrapping around his hips as he steadied her in his arms. 

her dark-hazelnut eyes beamed at him while a huge smile painted her lips, showing to anyone the two teeth that had fallen out.

she was his spitting image, neither questions nor dna test ever needed. from the shape and color of his eyes to his eyebrows — she had inherited everything from him. he was the only one to recognize that their daughter had her mother’s one million dollar smile. the one that had kylian thanking the power above for blessing him. for giving him the chance to find his own family. 

“i danced — like a ballerina. et regardes! maman a fait mes cheveux,” she pointed excitedly at her hair that had been braided into four cornrows with little pink pearls at the end of each one. for her small age, her head was packed with long and soft hair — the result of his wife’s never ending care for her hair. different routines and treatment to ensure their daughter had rich and healthy hair. — and look! mama made my hair

“tu es la plus belle fille de tout l’univers,” he pressed tender kisses on his daughter’s cheek, tickling her lightly which had her giggle. the most beautiful sound after her mother’s laugh. — you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire universe

kylian had never truly understood how people could love unconditionally. he could comprehend infinite; it was only understandable after meeting the love of his life. but unconditional — looking over all the mistakes and handing out care and love no matter what?

yeah, that didn’t make much sense to him back then. and then his daughter was born and he was ready to go to war for her. love and care for her no matter how many war crimes she could have committed. he loved her more than life. if she asked him to stop football so he could be home more often, he would quit instantly. she was his everything.

“belle,” she squealed, playing excitedly with the pearls in her hair. “maman too?” — pretty

“of course. maman is the most beautiful woman ever,” he replied and lowered his mouth to her ear. “but we don’t tell her that, okay?”

his daughter nodded firmly, as if he had just entrusted her the nuclear codes to some bombs. “why aren’t you playing with uncle auri? et uncle vini?”

kylian laughed. “parce que je voulais voir ma petite princesse.” — because i wanted to see my little princess

the little girl in his arms nudged him lightly on his head. “je ne suis pas une princesse papa. i’m a ballerina. i dance just like maman.” — i’m not a princess

“and you did that beautifully, my little star,” a voice called from behind him and kylian’s eyes at the sight of his wife. 

even after dating and being married, she still amazed him with her beauty everyday. he would always get those tiny butterflies, no matter how many times he looked at her. 

her smile still as radiating as ever, she walked quickly over to them —as quick as it was possible with a huge belly — and joined her little family.

the girl in his arms wiggled and kylian put her down so she could hug her mama. being six months pregnant meant she couldn’t pick her baby girl up anymore for the time being but she could still engulf her in big hugs. 

“i’m surprised you made it,” she whispered to her husband who placed a tiny peck on her neck. 

“i promised i wouldn’t miss those moments. told the coach that i couldn’t be there for the game today.” just like he had said, his priority wasn’t winning anymore. he wasn’t kylian mbappé, the star real madrid player anymore. he was now kylian mbappé, the father and real madrid player. and if being present in his daughter’s life meant missing more matches, he would take it. 

“how’s our future little football star?” he asked her playfully and she grinned. 

“our baby’s been kicking me the entire play. like since we arrived here it’s been punches here and there — oh, and by the way, the moms have got it out for you, as a heads up.” she pointed discreetly at a small group of women, who were watching them. 

“everyone knows i’ve only got eyes for you.” it was true, every living person that had access to social media knew that kylian mbappe was a proudly taken man, who honestly had forgotten that other women existed. he was her man and he felt blessed to be able to call her that. 

shoutout to her ex-boyfriend for screwing up. 

“you better not. don’t worry i know. and this,” she placed a hand on her stomach, putting it cautiously as their daughter was still speaking excitedly to the belly. “is proof enough. je t’aime.” — i love you

“je t’aime aussi.” — i love you too

his smile was plastered on his entire face, so much it hurt already. but how could he stop smiling, he was just so goddamn happy. 

he had been graced with everything he had ever wanted. 

[apostatehamster]

Oh no! Another person's 2 cents on the OFMD finale situation!

Yes, because unfortunately my mind still hasn't settled and is in a state of disbelief over what happened, and I am trying to unravel all of this to make sense of it. Written from the perspective of a sad Izzy fan, so if you do not care to read about that or are simply tired of reading these mind pieces... well don't. And do not bother interacting.

I want to preface this by saying, I do believe Writers should be writing the story they think is right. It is impossible to please everyone so I prefer Author's sticking to their vision rather than bending to the loudest (in most cases, read: displeased) voices of the audience. However, I also think people are entitled to voice their displeasure over writing decisions in a constructive way. I don't condone hate towards authors, actors or anyone involved in the making of the show and if you feel angry enough to send hate or threats, take a walk and calm down instead of being a jerk. That being said, I watched many shows with decisions I did not agree on and few made me as angry & sad as this one, hence me trying to dismantle why.

False marketing, expectations and broken promises

Frankly I hadn't seen much advertising about the show before, most of it was fandom activity that praised the show as feelgood and comfort, with good queer representation. I got into it pretty late, so I can't tell what the show itself presented itself as, but to me it seemed like they fully embraced that image and encouraged the show to be perceived as such. It's a rom-com after all, many laughters and sappy feelings. A safe space-ship for outcasts, so to speak. We expected drama but also making-up and possibly more shenanigans. What we did not expect, was a rather prominently featured character dying as one got used to happening from other shows.

OFMD promised to be different, or at least that was my and many others' impression, and then it turned that around in the last 10 minutes of the finale. But more about that and tonal shifts later.

What baffled me most were the interviews hailing in at the start of season two. I've read articles about how season 2 was leaning into the Ed/Izzy/Stede triangle with David Jenkins saying these three "are on an arc together that’s pretty inseparable". I mean we had Izzy being called a jilted lover before, and in addition to Ed & Stede's love declaration, we also had Izzy declare he had love for Ed, and Ed as well saying He loved him, best he could. There was a lot of love, but it was complicated, and the article gave hope that this season would sort this out.

But after the finale, we got interviews that declared Izzy was a father/mentor figure to Ed, which is such a weird claim that is absolutely unfounded in the way the characters interacted with each other, as well as the fact that Izzy's death apparently was something planned from the beginning as an ending to his arc. And well, I find that death separates characters quite definitely.

I am not saying that Steddyhands was promised to us, gods no, but we were definitely given a chance at it happening, when in fact, the ending had already been written as the complete opposite.

Reception and cognitive dissonance

Every person is different and thus has different feelings and opinions. I've seen Izzy fans hating the finale obviously, I've seen Izzy fans who said they liked it. I've also seen people who weren't explicitly Izzy fans say, they did not like the finale, so really, opinions can go any way.

However what baffled me is Jenkins feeling he delivered a truly happy end. Personally, I've never watched a character die and thought "This makes me happy." I especially would never describe a character struggling through hardship, just to ultimately die as happy or beautiful. I can only imagine that the focus was on Ed and Stede, when a happy ending was mentioned, but Jenkins kept pointing out in the interviews, how Izzy was his favorite, which gave hope for a happy ending for Izzy as well. As much as I enjoy seeing my favorites go through hardships, I also prefer to keep them around by not dying. I especially do not build my favorite up to be a well fleshed out character with growth, just to reduce them back to a plot device for the main character.

I know this is all based upon the interviews, and less on the show, but when I read "And what's the most interesting thing we can do with Con[...]?" my answer definitely wouldn't have been "kill his character off". Con O'Neill does a great job at playing emotional scenes, but we already had him act his heart out in the first three episodes. A last hurrah wasn't needed.

I am also trying to put myself in David Jenkins' shoes here, because I think he truly expected the last episode to be a happy ending, and a gift, just to be proven differently. I just wonder what went wrong, how one can read the room so completely wrong.

It wasn't malicious, but the fact that it was apparently meant to be a genuine attempt at offering a happy end makes it even worse.

Tonal shifts and established in-Show laws

It's an understatement to say that the tone of season 2 was decidedly more dramatic. To the point where I questioned myself if this was still allowed to be called a comedy show. I would have described season 1 as mostly slice-of-life, little adventures between the crew and the captains. People got hanged, fingers severed, people got stabbed, but you never felt the threat of actual death hanging over anyone's head, because everything was kept humorous. (Speaking of the non-baddies here. Calico Jack got a cannon ball to the head but with plausible deniability of his death & (apparently) an interview saying he could be brought back, if needed)

Enter season 2, which starts off with murder attempts, major wounds and a suicide attempt. Nothing was played off as a joke, and for that I am grateful because that would have been in poor taste, but the tone was noticeably different and darker. But it still wasn't 'realistic' by any standard. With no real doctor on board, Izzy should have died from his wounds and comatose Edward would have wasted away in the hidden cabin. Everyone came out (fucked up but) relatively fine.

The show goes back to the humorous tone with Anne & Mary who enjoy a good backstabbing and poisoning. We had our crew surrounded by death and a curse in the next episode, but there was any fear of them coming to harm, obviously. The crew gets boarded and tortured by Ned and his crew after that, but they are able to take it out and come away unscathed (some wounds aside). Oh no! Stede challenges Zheng Yi to a duel! Which we know means no one is allowed to interfere, until one of the duelants dies. But it's fine, Zheng Yi is just playing with her food. But watch out, a Cannonball flies towards Zheng Yi's head! Ah but she is fine, she escaped. The Swede pulled a Rasputin and got immune to poison without him even noticing! Look, even Auntie survived the explosion, badly wounded but she lives. Oh no! Izzy gets shot! But it's his left side, we established no vital organs are there. Roach and Stede are already on their way to get bandage- Wait they are back with no bandages, and Izzy he-

Oh, wait. He...died?

When watching season 2 I legitimately considered Izzy dying as an end result, because I am used to my favorite characters dying, frankly. But then I dismissed that thought because OFMD has proven again and again, that people do not die. Heck, Lucius was considered dead in the season 1 finale and he came back, albeit traumatized. But he lived to tell the tale.

Season 2 finale made it a point to leave no room for doubt that Izzy did indeed die. They dug him a grave, and they panned to his grave at the end to remind you, he is definitely dead. So, why did Izzy have to die in a world where our favorites can survive about anything? "Pirates die, that's just pirate life", okay but why was he specifically singled out to be the only pirate dying? In comparison to everyone else, it feels unjust, and it feels cruel towards the fans who felt safe in the knowledge that this was the one show where none of their favorites would die. And it feels like such a betrayal of the fans’ trust, who had hoped this show would do better.

I've seen a take along the lines of "Nowadays people expect the stories to be written explicitly for them, and then they get upset when it doesn't happen" and that take pissed me off enough to write this down. This isn't a case of entitled fans asking to change the story to be exactly what they want to be, there is fanfiction for that. No, this is fans upset that their favorite character got singled out by the narrative to be the one exception to the no dying rule. And I use the narrative loosely, because there was no ramification to the death that couldn't also have been established by the character staying alive and giving advice, so the death didn't even feel purposeful. And for a show that always stresses the "Talk it through as a crew" point, they did not care much for choosing talking it through as a solution.

I also heartily disagree that Izzy's arc was over and had no more stories to tell. I mean the guy followed Edward around for decades, I would have loved to hear more about their past.

I would have especially loved to hear more about their future, as two people who learned to let go of Blackbeard and became their own people again. Where exactly did the idea of that even come from, I don't know.

Pacing and Confusing decisions in the Final episode and the build-up into nothing

(Rambling alert!) 

Personally I didn't feel any pacing issues until episode 6. While I generally liked the episode, it felt crammed with both set-up of the baddie, fun-times, then appearance of baddie (and disappearance) and return to fun-times. The episode ended and I was literally perplexed that it was over, like we basically ran through that episode. But episode 8 took the cake.

Now I am well aware they had to cut corners, and the strike didn't make it easier either, and I wish we could have seen the result without these factors. But we got what we got now, and I have to judge based upon that, but I really would know how the final cut decision came to be.

I did like the beginning with Ed chilling as a fisherman, but in hindsight I wished they had cut that part a bit shorter to give more room for the final parts. We get a lot of Ricky dicking around the pirate republic, showing Jackie reluctantly bringing them drinks. Later on she finally decides to poison him. Why she didn't do so earlier, I have no idea, unless the show is trying to tell me The Swede had to build up enough poison tolerance within one episode to withstand the poison attempt, which would be ridiculous. Why the Swede was held as an emotional hostage, I don't know either. I don't want him dead but Jackie has many other husbands, the Swede being singled out was more to hurt the viewers than for Jackie imho.

We have Zheng Yi suffering through Stede's presence. Our queen is suffering through the loss of her whole crew and her aunt, while Stede unsympathetically offers that being a failure gets easier. I expected more compassion from a guy who treasures his own crew and also enjoyed the hospitality of Zheng Yi's ship, but okay. Being a dick for the sake of comedy, I suppose. "Thing's have a way of working out. At least for me" And Zheng Yi proves Stede right by killing the soldiers, and Stede claims that went just as planned. I am not sure what happened to the Stede who successfully avoided being backstabbed in episode 5 and defended his crew in episode 6 and actually seemed competent, just to go back to an ignorant fool, but hm.

Fisherman Ed returns, thinks Stede in danger, and recovers his leathers that somehow are still in the same place, after mindlessly killing everyone in his way. Whatever happened to not wanting to be a monster and not killing and running away from that, it doesn't matter anymore. The flashback of pop-pop tells him he needs to go back to what he is good at, and I guess... this is it??? The Kraken rises from the sea again. Will there be consequences for Ed's emotional state after that? Well, no. Not really. Or not in this season anyway.

Okay Ricky invites Izzy to a drink, he's quite obviously a Izzy fanboy. For what reason he took him out of prison, I don't know. He later says "Sad, I wanted to let you live", implying he had plans for Izzy. What those plans were, we will never know, Ricky never tells us. Izzy talks about what piracy means to him. "It's not about getting what you want" and I don't know if he means pirates generally robbing ships to get treasure, or of himself being perceived as a mastermind or being a captain, because he never inclined he wanted either. So, what a weird thing for him to say. "It's about belonging to something when the world has told you, you're nothing" is a beautiful line that makes me wish we had gotten at least some backstory to Izzy. Then we're shown a picture of the crew from season 1.... with Izzy in the background, quite obviously not belonging (yet). What an odd choice to cut into. You could have used something from season 2 that showed him actually belonging

Ed finds one of Stede's love letters, it's cute, but I am not sure why we needed that to somehow reinforce that Ed loves him. We already saw him worry for Stede and literally revert to his Blackbeard persona to set out and save him. He also didn't leave because he didn't love Stede or doubted Stede's love for Ed, but because he needed to find himself first to make it work. It's not a long scene but it took a bit of the momentum of the Kraken rising from the water from me.

Ed and Stede see each other again and we have a callback to the episode one opener. Which was also the moment where I slowly realized, death was in the cards for Izzy because that dream sequence meant his death. But no, this is OFMD, it'll be fine...

We're back in the cell, and our mates are trying to escape. Auntie is there! Very much alive, despite having been on an exploding ship. Who brought her there?? When was she brought there?? How long has she been there and why did no one bother to check the cloaked figure in the corner? NEVERMIND, Auntie is here and alive I suppose. Bleeding out and we've got no supplies to treat her, but she will walk it off just fine.

Captain trio congratulate themselves on beating a bunch of soldiers. Honestly impressive, outnumbered as they were. Mh, maybe they should get back to the crew tho...?

Auntie realizing she was harsh on Zheng Yi and admitting maybe she needs a different approach. I am seeing a parallel to Izzy later admitting his approach was wrong too. Except (and excuse the bitterness) Auntie gets to continue to "mentor" Zheng Yi.

We get a weird hard cut from "I don't do soft" to the talk between Izzy and Ricky. I really thought the talk had been talked, but some more insults get thrown at Ricky, and the deus ex machina happens as all prisoners are freed from prison, the captain trio arrives and all soldiers die of poisoning. Personally this was the moment where I had to slow blink in disbelief, because everything was happening so fast.

Stede talks about how they need a plan, and how a royal hostage could prove valuable. Another hard cut "SO, that's the plan". We do not hear the plan. We just gather from the following montage that it has to do with dressing up as English soldiers. We get a montage of everyone preparing for battle and dressing up, looking cool in slow motion. And, they did look hella cool, but there was so much buildup for them dressing up for the plan...without knowing what the plan even IS.

And then the plan apparently is.... just Izzy holding Ricky hostage? And the rest waits around and sees how it plays out? And they're just trusting Ricky to go along with their plan and say what they want him to say? Why was Izzy the one who had to hold Ricky hostage? The one person with a visible wooden leg? Not sure if peg-legs are an established pirate thing in this world, but the British seem to think so, because they look down at it. Why did no one check that Ricky had no weapons on him beforehand? And most importantly, where the fuck was Stede during this suicide plan? He is the one who planned it, yet he was nowhere around the group with Ricky, nor did he fight any Soldiers. He only reappears when everyone is running away. What the hell!! Where'd he fuck off to. Again, all this epic plan build up, for the barely existing plan to go up in shambles within 5 seconds, and then they all run. At this point they could have just left Ricky at the Inn and attempted to walk to the ship safely in disguise without ever drawing attention to the soldiers, and they would have had as much chance.

Ed asks Izzy if he is okay and I raise an eyebrow, A) because we as the viewers barely saw him get hit and B) Ed hasn't cared much about Izzy after Stede returns. But okay, we're stumbling back to the ship, surprisingly no one else gets shot.

Izzy is bleeding out on the ship, Stede and Roach run off to get bandages. "Bonnet is in charge, oh great I am fucked" is a true statement, considering Stede was in charge with the plan already and got Izzy to here. Later you hear footsteps approaching offscreen, which I guess were Stede and Roach. They just appear again, with no bandages and no comment. I don't want to get into detail how much I despise Izzy's parting words, and the message they send out, but Izzy throughout this season proved he wanted to live and got ready for living again, just to end up saying he wants to go here, and it's just so utterly wrong. This scene was presented as someone who was healed and now got to die amongst his loved ones, but he was not healed. He practically still believed he deserved what he got, and he died believing Ed did not need him and thus he was unnecessary. If he truly was healed, he would fight to live, if not for himself and his new found family, then for Ed who he still loves, but no. Okay maybe I did want to go into detail, but anyway, many have said it better than me already.

The crew who bonded with Izzy over the whole season stands mutely in the background, leaving the stage to Ed, who has barely cared about Izzy all season. Out of nothing I am supposed to believe Izzy means something to him, after Ed shot him down, discarded of him, happily mentioned to Frenchie that "But most importantly, no more Izzy" like Izzy had been the bane of his existence, the guy he didn't even have the balls to approach first to apologize but instead mocked Izzy when Izzy himself finally broke their silence, I am supposed to believe that Edward suddenly realizes Izzy's worth and that he deserves to be the one grieving, not leaving any space to the crew? I don't think so.

All season I was waiting for them to make up again, patiently, full of hope, but the remaining episodes got less and less. And I held out hope for them to bond over talks and teamwork, remembering how well they worked together before it turned sour, acknowledging that they could do better if they tried, but instead we got this. This is supposed to help Edward move on as Not Blackbeard, but Izzy had already encouraged Ed to not be Blackbeard, yet Ed came back deciding on his own to don his leather outfit again. This is such a back and forth, it's frustrating. They could have accomplished growth without a death, but I've already talked about that.

Also Izzy telling Ed has family now, because the crew loves him. Ed bonded exactly with one person outside of Stede, and that was Fang, who was once Blackbeard's crew anyway. Other than that Ed only hung back and did not give a shit about what the crew was doing, but sure they love him after the non-pology. Where were the scenes to back this claim up, it was utter nonsense.

Okay, we get a burial. No one says a thing, no one's got to say a thing about their unicorn. Everyone leaves, and "That's that then". Stede talks about Izzy, like he hasn't personally bonded with Izzy over the last episodes and like he was simply a guy Ed dragged along (the way season 1 Stede would have felt). Also, no acknowledgement that Stede's plan was what got Izzy killed whatsoever, no remorse.

Aye no time to be sad, we got a wedding now! It lasts less than a minute screen time, and I am still recovering from the emotional impact of a death scene + burial, maybe give me a minute so I can feel happy for LuPete? No? okay.

Stede and Ed decide to build an Inn, nothing either of them has experience in. Also the "family" Izzy promised Ed is sailing away, so that was for nothing as well. What happened to Stede wanting to be a pirate? What happened to Ed returning to being a pirate, because it's what he's good at? What exactly made them change opinions to leave their crew behind and start this? *lame hand gesture at Izzy's grave* This?? I am usually good at looking for clues and details and figuring stuff out in between the lines, but I am left clueless as to what inspired this.

I am 100% sure there were missing scenes that could have helped soften the blow of the death at least, but like this the episode feels jarringly badly patched together. There is no visible impact to the death that would explain the necessity to the narrative (and yes, we are in a story, not real life. Plot points happen because they bring the narrative along, and it didn't here) With everything established beforehand, it felt like the death got shoehorned in, simply because someone said "I want this character to be dead at the end of the season", and then a story was somehow built around this.

And of course people are upset about this, when I watched I thought it was a joke and I was waiting for the little wink telling me it's not what it seems. The theme I gathered from this season was "belonging", and to see the guy accepting that he belonged and deserved to be loved to be left behind and denied a chance to continue with the crew where he BELONGS, because he's dead and gone, is a very stupid choice.

The season had many unexplained and unresolved things that I chose to overlook because the show was still ongoing and I had hoped they would all work out in the end, but they didn't and this sours the whole experience.

Fandom

This has less to do with me unraveling the happenings of the show, but whatever.

I joined very late, a few weeks before season 2 aired. I was however vaguely aware that Izzy was controversial to the fandom and that fans got hate mail for liking the character who "broke the main couple apart". So going into the new season as someone who utterly loved Izzy in season 1, I was skeptical lol

But it was a nice experience. Season 2 showed parts of Izzy that I had already seen but in a way that made it clear to everyone that this guy has Emotional Layers TM and is capable of more than just being the guy throwing a hissy fit. Everyone could sympathize with him, people enjoyed seeing him, and I legit loved going through the tags of the gifsets and reading all the reactions.

Generally I loved seeing the reactions after every new episode, seeing how fandom came together to talk over what happened, and over what they enjoyed. I had expected a very split fandom but it seemed season 2 was somewhat gluing it together. Izzy was finally an "accepted" character and thus it was "okay" now to love him, now that he wasn't trying to break Ed/Stede apart either. The show was feeding fans too, I felt like I feasted every episode up until the finale happened.

And /then/ the finale happened and the illusion went away.

Up to then I thought this was a season for the Izzy fans, with the opener episode showing how ridiculous the take of "Izzy has to die for Ed/Stede to be happy" was in a mocking dream episode, I thought that was David Jenkins acknowledging the hate that has been sent in the direction of Izzy & his fans, and how it's Not That Easy. And then he proved Izzy was more than that.

And then he killed Izzy off, so Ed/Stede could be happy and we've come full circle again.

Of course Izzy fans were upset, because it felt like a final fuck you after a season full of promises that it would be okay, and of course people were voicing their displeasure and sadness over it. Some people were downright grieving the character, and I can tell you I Am People. I went through the 5 stages of grief, through bargaining and anger directly after the finale, sadness the whole day after, crying over it because it felt so unjust to me. And maybe these reactions seem extreme to you, but that does not mean that people aren't feeling awful about the finale, that it truly hurt them. And you do not get to mock people for feeling in pain. What do you gain from that? If you liked the finale, fine, everyone is different, but allow the people who were shaken by it to express their emotions. Processing emotions takes time, and as a part of this I wrote a goddamn essay to make peace. The least you could do is not be a dick.

Parting thoughts are that the final episode was both a product of unfortunate cuts in screen time, and a writer who didn't expect the effect it would have on the audience.

I am not hating on David Jenkins, I loved every other episode of the season and eagerly anticipated the next one, but I am so incredibly sad that one botched finale broke my trust into the show, soured my love for the previous episodes with the knowledge of what it all built up to, and left the fandom back in shambles.

So long, and be kind to each other.

[eletricheart]

Hiii! I have a request for Donna. You can write about Donna and f!reader who don't speak or understand English but they were injured and lost

Wounded

(Donna Beneviento x Reader)

*image creds to owner

Word count: 737

i did my best😭 hope u like it🫶 its all fluff i promise

ps: i didnt specify the gender, it didnt really matter in the story, i wrote a lot "you" so...idk

----------------------------------------------------

You were running through the snow, desperately trying to gain distance from whatever creature was chasing you. You didn't know what it was, all you saw was blood and a howl, then you ran.

Your legs were burning and the trees were leaving multiple scratches on your face. Suddenly you were pushed to the side, your brain barely registering the pain of falling down a slide.

Your breaths were coming in hard, your lungs were hurting and there was blood dripping down from your head to your eyes. All you could see was a grave surrounded by flowers, ironic since you felt like dying.

You tried to stand but after running, falling and having an unknown pain in your side, you fell back down.

At least the place was nice, the moon's shine left the flowers sparkling slightly.

You heard shuffling and thought the creature came to finish it's job until little doll feet stood in front of your face. You noticed the doll speaking to you, unfortunately you did not speak the language so just stared at her confused.

Your eyes were starting to close when the smells of fresh paint and leaves slightly woke you up. You could feel someone lifting you, wincing when she touched your wounds.

You didn't stay awake enough to see the path, all you remember is waking up in a bed in a strange room. Your body was covered in bandages and there was a doctor doll sitting next to you.

You barely could move but managed to turn your head enough to properly look at them, a chuckle left your lips hurting your ribs a bit.

You were close to falling asleep again when the door opened gently. A woman dressed in black was holding a tray with what appeared to be tea and some fruits. She settled it on the nearby table and approached you.

She pointed at your bandage. "The tea will heal it." Her voice wasn't louder than a whisper, cracking on a few words.

You furrowed your brows, not understanding what she says. You attempted to speak in your language but three words in and the woman shook her head, held one finger up(as in one second) and left.

You couldn't move therefore waited. She didn't take long to return with a notebook and pen.

She wrote down her name and pointed at herself. You nodded and told her your name, also asking her to carry on.

Donna understood your name but the rest was messy, so she tilted her head momentarily confused, to which you picked up on and looked at the tray.

The dollmaker nodded and laid it beside you, helping you into a sitting position. You ate in silence, she would occasionally stare at you but most of the time looked at the floor. Once you were done she took the tray and set it back on the table before moving back to sit beside you.

Donna kept wondering on how to speak to you, she could find a dictionary but there weren't many options in her house and she didn't know what language you were speaking. Perhaps she could ask the name, but she also wasn't sure on how to.

After what felt like ages for the dollmaker, she picked up the notebook and wrote a sad face. She presented to you and pointed at the bandages.

You were happy she was trying to talk to you, not hiding your smile and making a more or less gesture. You still needed to thank her and the language barrier was an issue, so you pointed at your wounds, gave her a thumbs up, pointed at her and made a heart with your hands.

Donna was thankful you couldn't see her face through the veil for she was blushing furiously, she still nodded politely but was melting on the inside.

The next days were the same, she'd come in, check your wounds and you'd talk through drawings. Angie absolutely adored this, believing it was all a game, eventually she understood you couldn't understand when she talked so the doll would tease Donna and tell her secrets to you. You would always look at her with a confused but smiling face.

Donna did find out which language you spoke and arranged a dictionary, now both of your days were filled with studying and giggling when one would say something in the other language.

----------------------------------------------------

requests are open: masterlist

[aceghosts]

Be Mine Forever

Summary: On Valentine's day, you reminisce about your former lover, Albert Wesker. A series of memories set through your time at S.T.A.R.S. Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death; Canon Typical Violence; Sexual Harassment (Very brief and the dude gets what's coming to him), Grief/Mourning, Boss/Employee Relationship, and Possessive Behavior. Let me know if I need to tag for anything else. Words: 3.8 k Author's Note: This is a gift for @mydisenchantedeulogy as part of @carlosoliveiraa's My Bloody Valentine's Day Gift Exchange! Amanda, thank you for letting me participate! Sugar, I really hope you like this! I had a lot of fun writing this.

AO3

Snow crunches beneath your boots as you head home from your late shift at the police station. Your breath comes out in misty puffs in the cold February air, gloved hands shoved in your pockets. A gust of wind blows, shivering as it tosses your hair in your face. You brush your hair out of your face, lamps lighting your way home as you walk along the crowded city sidewalk. Passing by a local restaurant, you catch sight of happy couples through the window, enjoying romantic candle-lit dinners. Stepping out of the way of other strangers on the sidewalk, you stop, an overwhelming sadness encompasses you. Those couples look so happy, so in love, especially the pair closest to the window. He gazes into her eyes, full of adoration, holding her hands with no regard for others around them. That should have been you and him. You should have been gazing lovingly into his cold blue eyes, holding his hand as he talked. Just the two of you together. Why couldn’t this be you and him?

Because he had chosen another path, one where you could not follow him.

Letting out a mournful sigh, you begin your journey home once again. Valentine’s Day, a holiday you once merely tolerated, was now a day of pain. All because of Albert Wesker. You hear his voice in your head, shaking it off. It was no use thinking of him; Albert was dead, and even worse, he had betrayed S.T.A.R.S., you included. When you spoke with your former team members, you pretended to be angry, yet that anger came from a real place, a different place. They were angry because of his betrayal. You were angry that he chose death over you. He chose ambition and power games over you. Yet, your heart longs for him, wishing to feel the warm comfort of his arms around you once again. You couldn’t help but mourn the man you loved; mourn the future you envisioned with him.

“Why Albert? Why?” You ask quietly, knowing no one will answer you. As you walk, memories of your days with Albert and S.T.A.R.S. play out.

—

A position on the S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team was something you dreamed of and fought like hell for. Irons thought you didn’t deserve to be on the team, but Enrico vouched for you, asserting that you were the right fit, that you could carry your weight. Wesker, your Captain at the time, accepted you as a member of the team reluctantly. He would later admit, when it was just you two in bed late at night, that letting you on the team was one of the best decisions that he ever made. He would pick you to be a part of the team, again and again. Unfortunately, not everyone felt the same way.

Paul was a pain in your ass from the moment you met him, a bully to everyone around him. He hated you the most, believing you stole his spot on the Alpha team.  Fortunately for you, he was terrified of Wesker, slinking away whenever he saw the Captain. Paul would also back off (albeit reluctantly) when Barry or Chris stepped in. As you hit the punching bag, alone in the station gym late at night, you hear a familiar annoying voice. “Hey!” You stop, turning to find Paul striding towards him. You give him your best glare, one that would frighten most. “What? A fellow officer can’t say hello?”

“What do you want?” You really wish Wesker was here. Or Chris. Or Barry. Hell, you would even settle for Brad, who was slightly intimidated by Paul.

He sneers, crowding into your space. You step back, knowing there is limited room between you and the bag. “You too good for the rest of us now, huh? Being part of S.T.A.R.S. has really gone to your head.”

You don’t think you’re too good for anyone. (Well, you might be better than a few people, Paul included.) “I am, or at least, I know I’m better than you, Paul. I earned my spot on the team.” You really shouldn’t push Paul’s buttons, but God, does it feel so good. 

“Fuck off,” He says, hands clenching into fists, “You probably had to sleep your way onto the team, huh? You sleep with Wesker to-.” Red colors your vision, anger flaring in your chest. Wesker might be a hardass, but you respect the hell out of him, and you won’t let anyone besmirch his name.

Without thinking, you throw a punch, catching Paul in the stomach. He coughs, doubling over with a wheeze of pain. As he stumbles back, he curses, “you fucking asshole, I’m going to-.”

“You are going to what?” A familiar, cold voice cuts in, and as you look over to your left, you find Wesker watching the both of you intently. His posture is a little tense, compared to the normally controlled discipline. You feel something radiating off him, something akin to a frosty rage.

Paul straightens up quickly, playing the victim. “Captain Wesker! I was just asking them what they were doing here, and they attacked me!”

Wesker smirks. “Is that what happened?” He asks, coming next to you, “From where I was standing, you were harassing one of my officers. What was it you said? That they had to sleep their way on the team?”

Color drains from Paul’s face.  “I-I wasn’t-.”

He holds his hand up, cutting Paul off with a sneer on his face. “I think it’s time I made something very clear: you never had a spot on the Alpha team. You were never considered for a number of reasons, and,” Wesker places a hand on your shoulder, “They have proven themself to be a true asset to the team. I am proud to serve as their captain. If you were on my team, I would quit.” Wesker’s hand leaves your shoulder as he steps closer to Paul. “Now, are you going to leave them alone? Or do you need more encouragement?”

Paul nods, swallowing fearfully as he backs away. “Yes, Captain,” He says, before turning tail and fleeing.

Letting out a relieved sigh, you say, “Thanks for helping. Paul’s been a pain in my ass since I started.”

Wesker nods. “Why did you punch him?” He asks, a note of genuine curiosity. You notice he is more relaxed now that Paul is gone.

Your cheeks heat up, feeling slightly embarrassed. “He insulted you by saying that you slept with me for my spot on the team.”

“Not for yourself?”

Shaking your head, you say, “I really like you as a Captain. I’ve learned a lot being a part of Alpha team, more than anywhere else. I respect you a lot.” It’s more than respect, but you aren’t about to admit that. You swear you catch a look of delight on his face as you pause for a second, before asking, “Did you really mean it when you said that I’m an asset to the team?”

Wesker nods. “I do,” He says, giving you an approving look, “You’ve proven yourself to be a fine officer. I had my doubts when Enrico suggested you, but you continue to surpass my expectations everyday.” His words surprise you, but delight you, especially the surpassing expectations part. Smirking, he adds with a rather teasing tone, “I look forward to you continuing to do so, but please don’t punch anyone else on my behalf.”

You nod, letting out a small laugh. No more punching anyone on Wesker’s behalf, but you’ll still defend his honor verbally. Never said anything about putting someone in their place with a well-timed tongue-lashing.

A few weeks later, Paul disappears. You hear something about him accepting a job at another police station, wishing his new coworkers the best.  

—

At S.T.A.R.S., you continue to make Wesker proud, determined to be the best you can be. You work harder than you ever have, putting in blood, sweat, and tears. Wesker demands so much more of the team and more. His training is rigorous, but you feel prepared for whatever may come your and Alpha Team’s way. And as much as you loathe to admit, a part of you yearns for praises from Wesker. When he tells you that you’ve done well with a slightly approving tone, a rush of pride overwhelms you, a faint heat on your cheeks. And you swear that you’ve caught him smirking at that once or twice, especially in after-hours training where he’ll lean down, speaking the words of praise into your ear. It always sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. And, it definitely doesn’t help with that tiny crush you have.

One night, late after the rest of your teammates have gone home, you return to the station to pick up the book you were reading, left in the top drawer of your desk. As you reach the door of the S.T.A.R.S. office, you find Wesker alone, his office door open. He looks frustrated as he stares down at the paperwork, sunglasses on his desk. His hand runs through his hair, a few platinum blond strands falling loose. Wesker sighs, and your heart twinges a little. You can’t do Wesker’s paperwork for him, but you want to help in whatever way you can. A thought pops into your mind, and you head to the staff break room, ready to put your plan into action.

“Wesker?” His head snaps up, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.   

“What brings you to the station this late at night?” Wesker asks, placing the pen down as his gaze lands on the cup of coffee in your hand. He snorts. “Surely, the station coffee can’t be that good…”

You shake your head. “I came back to pick up my book, but I saw you, and…” you trail off slightly, feeling slightly shy, “I thought you could use a cup of coffee.” You hold out the Styrofoam cup of coffee for Wesker to take.

Suspicious, Wesker looks between you and the cup in your hands, eyes narrowed as if you might have poisoned it. Eventually, he relents, taking the cup from your hand. His fingers briefly make contact with your fingers, sending a spark of pleasure through you. Taking a sip of the coffee, Wesker looks pleased, raising an eyebrow. “This does not taste like the normal sludge that comes from the break room.”

“I know where all the good creamers and coffee are hidden,” You say proudly, taking a seat at Wesker’s desk.  

Wesker smiles, taking another sip of coffee. “A hidden talent perhaps?’

“I have many hidden talents,” you flirt, a devilish smile on your lips, “Maybe, I’ll show you sometime.”

He smiles, a darkly hungry look in his eyes. “Perhaps, you will.”

That damn man. How unfair he make you feel this way. One of the loose blond strands of hair briefly falls in his face, and you’re struck with the need to push it back for him. Impulsively, you rise and lean over the desk, your hand reaching towards him. You gently push his hair back, your fingers grazing his skin softly. Wesker grabs your wrist tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place. His lips are slightly parted, pupils wide. “I’m sorry,” You apologize, hoping you didn’t cross a line, “I wanted to help.”

Wesker releases your wrist, allowing you to draw your hand away, the ghost of his touch still haunting you. “Don’t apologize.” Sitting back down in your seat, you’re relieved to see that Wesker isn’t upset. Rather, he seems delighted by your touch. “I did not expect it, but,” he emphasizes that word, “That does not mean I did not like it.”

Your heart leaps at those words, butterflies in your stomach. “Good,” You say softly, before deciding to change the subject, “Do you need help with something else?”

“No,” He says, shaking his head, “I should be done soon, especially thanks to your coffee.” You straighten up with pride, always hungry for the tiniest bits of praise. “You should go home for the night.”

Heeding his advice, you get up from your chair. “Have a good night, Wesker.”

“You as well,” He replies, a teasing smirk on his face, “Sweet dreams.” What a cruel man. Like that isn’t going to haunt you for the rest of the night.

—

You sip your beer, watching Jill lineup her shot as you lean against the bar. Tonight, you’re at one of the local bars in Raccoon City with the Alpha and Bravo team, watching your teammates play Pool.  It’s not a bad way to spend a Friday night; you actually like the rest of your team and don’t mind spending a Friday night with them every once in a while. Even better, Wesker is here with the rest of you at the bar tonight, a rare occurrence.

Someone leans against the bar next to you. Looking over to your right, you realize it’s Wesker, beer in hand as he asks, “No interest in Pool?”

You shake your head. “I have fun playing Pool, but I thought I would sit this round out.” He nods, the silence settling around you two. You can’t help but wonder why Wesker is here. He always seems so busy, like he’s got something that he is hiding from the rest of you.

“You seem like you have something to ask,” He says, taking a sip of his beer.

Letting curiosity get the best of you, you ask, “Why are you here? You don’t normally join us,” before adding quickly a moment later, “not that anyone is complaining.” Well, that’s a lie. A few people did complain, namely that they would have to be on better behavior since Wesker was there. You definitely weren’t complaining; you were very happy to see him.

“I wanted to be here.”

Tilting your head, you wonder why Wesker would want to be here. No offense, but the cheap dive bar that Alpha and Bravo teams hung out at never seemed like his type of place. Wesker always stood out, like this was all beneath him. “Really?”

He nods. “Are you surprised?”

You shrug. “Kinda. I thought you might have something else to do. Or maybe, someone waiting for you at home.”

“There is no one waiting for me at home,” he slides closer, your breath catching in your throat, “And you? Is there someone waiting for you?” 

Shaking your head, you reply, “No, I’m single.” Since you met Wesker, most potential partners hadn’t measured up to him. Maybe it’s the beer or maybe it’s being so close to him, you decide to take a chance. “But there is someone that I’m interested in.”

“Do tell.”

You swallow nervously, your heart pounding. “Well, he works at RCPD with us.”

Wesker groans. “Please tell me it isn’t Redfield.”

“It’s not.” Chris was a good friend, nothing more. “He is a member of S.T.A.R.S.,” Wesker raises an eyebrow, “Everyone thinks he standoffish, but I think they’re wrong. He expects the best and settles for nothing less. I find that very attractive in a man.” He takes another sip of his beer, but you get the feeling that Wesker has already caught on, with that knowing twinkle in his blue eyes. “But I can’t ask him out.”

“Why would that be?”

“I don’t know if he would say yes,” You admit honestly, finding Wesker difficult to read at times, “And he’s my boss.”

 “Would you like to get out of here with me? Perhaps dinner?” He asks, placing his beer on the bar as you watch him with eyes wide. Was he really-?

“Yes,” you nod your head, excitement rising in your chest, “Yes, I would love to.”

“Good. I’ll leave first. Leave fifteen minutes after I do; I will be waiting for you outside.”

You watch him leave, on cloud nine. Holy shit, this was happening; this was really happening.

—

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart cracking into pieces. Albert, your Albert, was a plant for Umbrella. Or he used to be one. Apparently, Albert was moving on to bigger and better things. But he only had one problem: S.T.A.R.S. He lured you and the rest of S.T.A.R.S. to Arklay, to die here, your fates unknown to the rest of the world. You tremble, taking shaky breaths as you blink back tears. Was your whole relationship a lie? A helpful cover to make Albert seem normal? “Albert…” His name slips from your lips.

Albert focuses on you, a sneer on his face. “Sorry, you had to be here for this, Dearheart. Perhaps, things would have been different for us in another life.”

Bullshit. The way he says it so flippantly makes you angry, red coloring your vision. “Fuck you,” You snarl, “You can make things different now. You don’t have to do this!”

“I don’t want to, Dearheart. It was always going to happen this way.” You wince, the words cutting deeply. Behind Albert, the glass splinters, the giant tyrant behind him awake. With a swift swipe, its long claws bury themselves directly into Albert’s chest. He gasps in pain, his eyes still on you. You see the fear in his eyes, and maybe due to a little wishful thinking, you see something like regret. Albert coughs up blood, dribbling down his chin onto his shirt. His hand twitches, slightly in your direction. That thing simply tosses him aside like a piece of garbage.

“ALBERT!” You scream, a painful howl of grief and anger. You step towards him, attempting to run for him. Despite everything he had done, he was your Albert, and you still loved him.

Jill grabs your shoulders roughly, holding you back from Albert. You try to scramble from her grip, but she holds tight as you scream. “Don’t! He’s dead!” She says, her fingers digging in as she tries to pull you back. Logically, you know Jill is right, but your heart desperately wants you to go to him, to run towards him. Maybe, Albert really isn’t dead. Maybe, you still have a chance to save him. “Barry, get them out of here.”

Barry nods, pulling you away from Jill. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” He looks over to Jill, who is only focused on the tyrant, her face determined.

“I’ll take care of this guy and meet you upstairs.”

He guides you away from Jill and the tyrant, back towards the door. “Be safe, Jill.” Your eyes are still on Albert, lifeless and motionless in a puddle of blood on the floor. His eyes are hollow, devoid of the intense storm of emotion you saw in his eyes. Why? Why did he have to do this? To leave you alone?

As Barry pulls you out of the lab, all you can think is: Is there some way you could have changed this?

—

Opening the door to your apartment, you let out a relieved sigh, stepping into the darkness. Flicking on the hallway light, you close the door behind you, dropping your keys into the bowl. You hang up your coat and scarf before eventually discarding your gloves on the table beside the bowls for your keys. Heading towards your kitchen, you glance over towards your living room. Stopping dead in your tracks, shock washes over you as your heart pounds loudly in your ears. That-that couldn’t be….

“Hello Dearheart,” Your former boss and lover says, sitting in your oversized armchair. He stands, shrouded in the dark of your apartment.

“This-This isn’t real…,” You try to rationalize it, tears welling in your eyes, “We watched you die. I watched you die.”

“I’m very real, Dearheart. Would you like to see for yourself?” He holds out his gloved hand for you to take.

You approach him cautiously, fearful that this might be your lonely heart playing a trick on you. Yet, this vision looks so much like your Albert. Sounds so much like him. You place your hand in his, allowing Albert to draw you close. He feels real as his other arm wraps around your waist, a familiar smirk on his face. He feels so much like your Albert. “Albert, is that-is that you?”

“Yes, I promise I am myself, Dearheart,” He replies, releasing your hand. His hand comes up to your face, gently wiping away tears that you didn’t know were falling. If this is a dream, you don’t ever want to wake up, even if he was a goddamn asshole who betrayed you. You want to stay here with Albert forever. Yet, something about him still feels off, not quite right. You need to see his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. Your hands reach up, gently taking his sunglasses off. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare into his eyes, once blue, now a molten gold against a burning red. His eyes are feline-like, reminding you of a panther. They’re so inhuman, yet something about them is divine. “Scared, Dearheart?”

“No.” You shake your head. You should be, but you aren’t. Albert is back, and you don’t care if some things about him are different. And you like the way he looks at you, utterly possessive, utterly adoring. “Is this why you’re still alive?”

He nods. “One of the few to survive the process.”

Another thought comes to you. Why come back? He was content to let you think he was dead for so long. Why come back to you now? “Why come back for me, Albert? I thought I didn’t matter to you.”

“I believed I did not need you, Dearheart, but I was wrong. I want you; I need you.” The words roll off his tongue naturally, sounding so believable. You so desperately want to believe him, to believe that he came back for you. “You belong to me, Dearheart. I always come back for what belongs to me.”

“Is that your way of asking me to come with you? To leave everything behind?”

He nods. “Come with me. Be mine forever.”

“Yes.” You don’t need to think about it; you want Albert-you always have. You drop his glasses, taking his face into your hands as you kiss him roughly. With both of his hands on your waist, he pulls you against him, eagerly returning the kiss. Albert is overwhelming, your head dizzy and your legs slightly weak. He bites your bottom lip, your mouth opens for him. You missed this; you missed him so much.

You whine as he pulls away, desperate and in need of him. “We will have time for that later, Dearheart, but we need to leave. Now.”

And you don’t look back, allowing Albert Wesker to whisk you away to a new life.  

[maddogofshimano]

The Value of Lies: Majima Boss Rush

Mild spoilers for Y0

A new Majima event! They added a few new cards alongside it

I had a moment of “huh, why’s Shimano from 1985 and not 1988? that’s too late for the YK2 flashback--oh NO............ during Majima’s torture in the Hole????” 

anyways, Shimano is not in the event. sorry to the Shimano stans

Summary: 6 months into Majima’s stint as manager of the Grand, he’s still chasing after as much profit as he can and has scouted a new batch of hostesses. One of them seems lackluster, but there’s more to her than meets the eye...

[Half a year after Majima Goro had began working as the manager of the Cabaret Grand.] [The Grand's revenue had been steadily rising, but was still nowhere near the desired amount-- For the sake of further profits, Majima was aggressively scouting other clubs to refine his own business...]

<door opens, Majima walks in> Majima: ...Sawabe. How'd the new girls do today? (tl note: The name is 沢辺 which is pretty much just Sawabe or Sawanabe)

Grand Employee Sawabe: ...They seem to be doing reasonably well, the customers who like inexperienced girls have been asking for them. Majima: I see. Any gals seem like a standout?

Sawabe: I don't know about a standout, all of them have something special... except for one. Majima: ...Except one? What's goin' on with that?

Sawabe: ...There was one who just didn't seem very motivated. Her name is Arisa. Sawabe: But it's my job to make girls like that useful, so I've been trying to provide lessons. Majima: That's true. I appreciate the help. With how the number of customers keep goin' up, I'll take all the help I can get. Majima: Unfortunately I still gotta be out of the club, so you're my only hope for trainin' the girls here. Sawabe: Please leave it to me. Sawabe: I know that people are the same as water, if left alone they'll settle in low places.

Sawabe: I'll manage the new girls diligently, and make sure they're trained well. Majima: Please see that you do. Majima: ...And just to be sure, ya ain't gonna fall for some of the girls you're teaching and get handsy, right? Sawabe: ...Absolutely not. I could never allow my family to be on the street because I broke one of the club's rules.

[two weeks later...]

<the door opens, Majima enters> Majima: ...I'm back. How'd thing's go, and how were today's sales... huh? (tl note: TWO WEEKS DUDE???)

Sawabe: Ah, welcome back, manager. (tl note: oh okay Majima didn't walk in on hanky panky. my bad. sorry for doubting you Sawabe) New Girl Arisa: ...Well, I'm going back to the floor. Majima: ...Was that Arisa you were just talking to? Sawabe: Yes sir. She just lost her parents. But she still comes to work and does her training because she didn't want to miss any days... Sawabe: So I hear her out when she has difficult feelings that she can't express to the customers. Majima: .........I see. Sawabe: At first I thought she just wasn't motivated at all... I even scolded her a few times before realizing this was the case--she just couldn't get into the right headspace with all that sadness. Majima: ...And ya believe that? Sawabe: Huh? O-Of course. There was nothing to indicate she was lying. Majima: Gotcha. Majima: Seein' as she's havin' such a hard time, I ought to talk with her. <out on the floor> Majima: ...Arisa-chan. Ya got a minute?

Arisa: Yes? Can I help you with something? Majima: If you're makin' a play at Sawabe, it'd be best if ya stopped. Arisa: Huh? What are you talking about? I'm not making a play... Majima: ...Heh, I'm just sayin'. Majima: If ya have any troubles I'm also someone ya can come talk to. Arisa: Umm... Th-Thank you. If you'll excuse me. <she leaves> Majima: ............

[another 2 weeks later]

Sawabe: I'm sorry, Arisa. We can only meet up after everyone has already left. (tl note: I RETRACT MY PREVIOUS APOLOGY. SAWABE YOUR FAMILY!!!!!!!!)

Arisa: No, don't apologize. I'm the one asking unreasonable things... I know we can't let anyone find out about this. Arisa: Besides, I would be happy being anywhere with you, Sawabe-san. Sawabe: Arisa... Arisa: ...Still... The manager isn't going to be back today, right? Sawabe: Yep, he said he was heading straight home. Arisa: So then... it's really just the two of us. Sawabe: Yeah, just us two. .....But, is it alright if I do a bit of work first? Sawabe: It's the last day of the month, so I need to get our sales money so it can be transferred to the bank tomorrow. (tl note: Sawabe if you flake to go fuck a hostess and Majima gets the shit beaten out of him I'm going to throttle you on his behalf) Arisa: Okay, I can wait 🎵 Sawabe: I'm sorry. I'll get it done quick. <she leaves> Sawabe: Now then just gotta get the money out of the safe... <he opens it> Sawabe: ...Hmm? Oh, Arisa must have needed to use the restroom. Now then... huh!!?? <a bunch of goons rush in> Arisa: Sawabe-san. Thanks so much for opening the safe 🎵  ....Now I'll be taking allll the money in it.

Sawabe: Wh-... What the hell's going on? <a goon punches him> Sawabe: Guh... <he drops> Brawny Thug: That dumbass was a good mark for this... Have a nice nap. Arisa: Soooo cool 🎵 Thug's Pal: Hehe... Now we just stuff all this cash into the bag.

???: ...I went to all the trouble of warning you. Arisa: !? Majima: I already told ya, "If you're makin' a play at Sawabe, it'd be best if ya stopped".

Arisa: Wh-Why's the manager... Majima: I noticed ya gettin' awful cozy with Sawabe a little while ago. Majima: So I started doin' a little diggin' and figured out your plan. Had to be gettin' some thugs to rob the safe with ya--your parents aren't dead, your little brother doesn't exist, all ya've been doin' since ya got here is lying and cheatin' people outta money. Arisa: .......... Majima: And on top of trickin' Sawabe, here ya are tryin' to clean us out, which is a much bigger issue. Thug: Well... Even if all of that is true, how do you expect to get yourself out of this situation now? Thug: I don't see any cops around... Don't tell me you plan on handling this all by yourself? Majima: ...Of course I plan to. Thug: The hell? Are you mocking me! <goons rush in> Thug: That's just fine!! If you can do it, go ahead!!!!

<EVENT HAPPENS>

Brawny Thug: N-... No way...

<he collapses> Arisa: ...! <Majima walks over> Majima: ...We're done here.

<he kneels down> Majima: Hey, can you stand? Sawabe: Ugh... S-Sorry... <they're both back to standing> Majima: Don't worry. I'll let ya off easy this time, since I knew what was happenin'. Think ya'll get tricked again? Sawabe: Th-Thank you so much...! Nothing like this will ever happen again...! Sawabe: But... I really didn't think Arisa would do something like this... Arisa: I'm sorry Sawabe-san, Majima-san... That thug was threatening me... that's why I... Sawabe: Eh...!? Majima: ...Are ya that stupid. Now I know ya ain't the kinda guy for this. On the other hand, you were the one that was trickin' that man, ain't ya? Sawabe: Eh... Wh-What do you mean? Arisa: ...Haa, I messed up. That guy said he was a former pro boxer, but he was way too weak.

Sawabe: A-Arisa... you... Arisa: I guess I can't fool you. Are you going to hand me over to the police? Majima: Heh, that's surprisingly upstandin' of ya. Majima: However, I ain't handin' ya over to the cops. Arisa: ...Huh? Majima: There's no profit to be made in that. Majima: I'd rather have ya work at the Grand again. Arisa: Work at the Grand...? Majima: Exactly. Of course, if ya run off or play hooky then I'll throw ya to the cops without mercy.

Majima: And you'll have to make yourself a diligent hostess and work hard--I'll forget about this whole thing if ya become a girl that earns more than ya were gonna steal from this safe. Arisa: ....... Majima: ...What d'ya say? Arisa: I will... return to working at the Grand. Majima: Heh, that settles it. Arisa: Sawabe-san... I'm sorry for deceiving you. I'll do my best from here on out. Sawabe: H-Hold on a minute, boss! I-Is that really okay? Even after all this... Majima: Mhm. Sawabe: I know I was the one who got scammed, so it might not mean much from me, but still... Arisa-chan has the worst sales out of the whole club.

Sawabe: And then she tried to rob us, so, is it really okay to hire that girl...? Majima: It's true that her sales were bad, but that's cause she was half-assin' it. Majima: You experienced first hand just how good she is at this, didn't you? Sawabe: ........... Majima: To keep up a deception like that, ya need all sorts of skills. Majima: You're much warier than most, but she still got her fingers on your purse strings-- Majima: Seein' that you're a very doubting person, she used a lie about her parents' death to get ya sympathetic-- Majima: Two weeks or so of keepin' up that lie, playin' the part of the girl ya'd want, all with the goal of slowly foolin' ya-- Majima: Even with the risk of "If I lose my job my family will be out on the street" ya still caved. Majima: Gettin' someone ya just met's guard down, gettin' them to open their wallet, lying to find out more about them-- Majima: And of course, keepin' up the lie so the person you're talkin' with doesn't catch on... Majima: To me, those are the ideal skills for a hostess. Majima: If she approached our guests with the same diligence that she went after you, I have no doubt that Arisa would be our number one. Majima: In order to make 100 million yen in sales, even though there's a risk, I'm not going to let a profitable woman like her go. Sawabe: ...You may be right, boss. Majima: Whew... Well, I'll see ya tomorrow, but... try not to get scammed again, okay? Sawabe: ...Y-Yes sir.

[Afterwards, when Arisa resumed working at the Grand, things went exactly as Majima predicted. With her ability to see through her customers and her skillful lies, she had one man after another captivated by her. Seeking to become the Grand's number one hostess, she has risen to the very top.]

<EVENT END>

Bonus stuff:

unrelated to this event they released a White Day Kiryu where he awkwardly gives you a return gift. I’m not even making fun of him that’s literally what the title of his card is

Ichiban got one too where he bashfully gives you a senbei

and then not a White Day card but still a guy giving a gift, we got a new KSR 1995 Nishiki

something I didn’t notice until looking through Nishiki’s cards is that they give a date on Nishiki’s new hairdo

ONE YEAR??? NISHIKI YOU ONLY HELD OUT A YEAR??????? it was Christmas in 1995 too so depending on when in 1996 this is it could be even less time. it does make it a kind of cartoonishly awful year for him to have experienced though, if you condense all of the flashbacks into that span. that’s rough buddy

enjoy him looking so sad and dejected (he failed to beat up Haruka)

[to-the-stars8]

Chasing The Memory of You

Summary: In his grief, Asra begins to see you everywhere. Now, he's chasing your fading memory AO3

Asra x MC

Asra made a point to never speak of you, even when asked by the remaining townsfolk he would not answer fully, instead opting to dance around any mention of your existence. It made it easier for him, not to forget you, but to forget the constant reminders that plagued his life. When he avoided the questions about you from the baker, he was saved from the memory of just how much you admired the pumpkin bread. Or, when he ignored the jewelry merchant when she mentioned how a new shipment of your favorite stones had just come in, so he wouldn’t have to picture the stones around your neck. 

He needed to be focused, working on bringing you back to satisfy the insatiable desire to have you near. Avoiding all memories of you prevented him from falling to the floor in agony. So, when he received a letter from the palace requesting his presence, he was relieved. There would be no reminders of you since, to his knowledge, no one in the palace knew you nor vice versa. Luckily, that had been the case for the longest time. Despite the grief, he managed to make progress in not only bringing you back but also letting the sadness settle. He made friends, Nadia and Ilya, and even began to feel fleeting moments of genuine happiness. 

Then, one night, as he was walking back to his rooms after a rendezvous with Ilya, he thought he saw you. Asra had been passing a balcony on the stretch of landing that passed over the ballroom when he saw a glimpse of you, or what he thought was you, standing and looking up at the stars. When he did a double take, there was nothing, just the sound of the harsh wind hitting the glass doors that led out. Shaking his head, Asra assumed that he must have been tired from the day. 

He wouldn’t have thought any more of it, especially since he had finally managed to get some sleep, until he saw some apparition of you again. This time it had been in broad daylight. Asra had been walking the grounds with Nadia, laughing and joking. 

“I could not have picked a more foolish husband, could I?” Nadia jested. 

Asra was going to respond, but, just as they had turned a corner in the maze of rose bushes, he saw you running from another corner behind a tree. When a lack of a response was noticed, Nadia inquired about what was wrong. He was surprised that she had not seen what he just did.

“Did you not see…Um, nevermind.” Asra shook his head. The grief, he reasoned, must have been messing with him, so he tried to carry on the conversation. “I think Lucio is the most foolish husband anyone could find. Not to mention gaudy.”

Nadia, hesitantly, replied. Asra looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to see you, but there was nothing. It left his heart feeling a little heavier. He hoped this would be the last time misery would play with him. 

Unfortunately, hope was a fickle thing when it came to grief and madness. 

Asra was sitting on the terrace with Nadia and Ilya, talking about all sorts of things that had no significance in the long run but were a joy to talk about. They were all laughing about one thing or another when suddenly, amidst their laughter, was the sound of yours. The same light and heavenly sounds that Asra had heard thousands of times. Once he heard it, he turned to look over his shoulder, expecting you to be there in a fit of giggles. Yet, there was nothing but the wall.

All at once, he felt grief and fear through his body. The laugh that echoed sounded too real to be a figment of grief’s imagination. Standing suddenly, Asra decided it would be best to put an end to the taunting haunt. Excusing himself, he walked toward the first place he saw your ghost, on the balcony. 

Upon entering the ballroom the echo of your laugh bounced off the walls, filling it with a familiar, enchanting melody that only your happiness could provide. Calling out your name, Asra looked around, but the room suddenly fell into silence. It was deafening and he begged the stars to stop it. 

The stars listened and answered cruelly. “Asra!” Your voice called. 

Asra would have fallen to the ground in grief if it weren’t for the sight of you running up the grand staircase. You were dressed in the same clothes as the day you first met. Calling your name, Asra begged you to wait. 

“Please, my love,” He said. “Stop running.”

The only response was your laugh. Asra never knew that a sound that brought him so much joy, could also bring pain. When you got to the top of the stairs, you stopped to look down at him—Only then did he realize it was not really you. You stood there, almost as real as day except the moonlight coming through the window cut through you like you were made of translucent glass.

It was almost like you were fading. 

Though he wasn’t entirely sure why, Asra suddenly wanted to make you whole again. He could not let this image of you fade from him—Not when he barely had time to cherish it.

After a moment, you ran off again, and he lost sight of you when you turned onto the balcony. Finally, Asra thought, he could catch this moonlit apparition of you. When he ran onto the balcony there was nothing there except the autumn wind, the stars, and moon. Asra called your name again, but the desperation got caught in the breeze; leaving no one to hear the yearning for you. 

Reduced to his grieving madness, Asra fell to the floor in a mess of tears. Clenching his hands over his heart, he swore to the stars to never love again and that his heart, all of him, belonged to you and you alone.

He’d chase the fading memory of you until he succeeded in bringing you back, or died trying.

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Nice to be Needed

Series Masterlist

Previous part: Inhale, Exhale Next part: Captain-what’s-his-butt

Word count: 4,465

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Descriptions of anxiety attacks and mental health issues.

Steve made sure to show up at your place at exactly 11 am. He wasn't sure what you had in mind for the day, so he settled for his usual jeans and t-shirt with a hat on his head and sunglasses in his pocket just in case.

When you opened the door, you welcomed him in with no hesitation. His first thoughts were about how trusting you continued to be. You had no more than three conversations with him. What if he turned out to be a murderer? A criminal?

Well... technically... he was a criminal. And a fugitive. And he did kill a few nazis back in his day...

But that was exactly his point. Of course he would never hurt you, but what if he was someone a little shadier, a little more rough around the edges?

As the day went on, he continued learning just how infectious that energy was. He found himself having to hold back even more personal information from you. None of what he told you to fill in the gaps of the life he once knew was a lie. He still couldn't lie to you. So instead he just gave you vague information.

And as you showed him around town, you started to learn more about him. At the coffee shop, you learned he used to serve in the military and work for the government, but a lot of the details were hidden behind walls confidentiality he couldn't break.

He told you at the earth history museum that he was a New York native, his mother and father were no longer around. At that same place he learned you recently lost your father due to an unfortunate circumstance, but your mother was still around to make sure all your choices were lining up to the big list of life long plans she made for you. You were raised in sunny California, but came here to start a life with an ex-boyfriend who had done you wrong. But you were settled, and uprooting once more seemed like too much of a burden. Greenwood sucked you in fast, and you didn't know if you could adjust to the fast paced California lifestyle again at this point in your career.

You asked more about his career as you walked him through the friendship gardens. His service was great for him for a while, but sometimes working so close to anything in the government made him question his own morals. He hated wondering if he was really doing the right thing everyday, so he left. You also learned that he was thirty-something years old.

Finally you led him to the prettiest park surrounded by even prettier views, and that's when he asked you for a rundown on everyone in the neighborhood just so he could be better prepared for when he inevitably meets the locals.

The summer sunshine on his skin was doing wonders to his mood that had been so sad and honestly depressing the passed couple of days, and you once again got this feeling that he really needed a friend. You were happy to sit in the grass with him and people watch as conversation continued to flow naturally between the two of you.

"S0, what got you into baking?" He asked sounding happier than you had heard him in the short time you've known him.

"I used to bake a lot with my grandmother when I was a kid" You explained. "My earliest memories of baking is rolling and cutting out sugar cookies with her, but if they weren't perfect she would make me squish them and try again."

"So I guess that explains why everything you make is so pretty" He pointed out, watching you run your fingers through the blades of grass.

"It's been conditioned into my brain since childhood" You agreed. "Then after that I guess I just found it interesting. There's so many different kinds of baking, and so many niche sets of skills within it that I just wanted to try and learn everything I could. If I didn't get something right, I'd squish it and try again until it came out perfect."

"Even as a hobby you'd squish the imperfect stuff?"

"Oh yeah, but that's what got me to where I am now. Plus, if you squish it in your mouth, it still counts as squishing it" You pointed out your loop hole.

"Ah, I see" He smiled. "Did this make you more afraid or less afraid of failure as an adult?"

"Let's just say my emotions get very squished when something doesn't come out right the first time" You put it gently with a giggle.

"That's such a cute way of saying you get upset" Steve laughed. "I'm going to start using that from now on. I'm no longer going to be mad, or sad, my emotions are just going to squish."

"I think that's the perfect description" You defended your choice of wording.

"I do too" Steve agreed. "Okay, so you liked to bake, and you created a whole tool belt full of different baking skills. What made you want to start the business?"

"I guess it just seemed like the obvious next step" You pondered.

"I'm sure opening up a place like that is a huge learning curve" he thought out-loud.

"If I could give up the whole business side of it, I would in a heartbeat" You giggled. "Payroll, health code standards, government regulation, employer protection laws... it's all so much to have to put into consideration when making the smallest of choices. Oh! And my taxes are a mess"

"But you're happy doing what you do?"

"It's a dream come true" You smiled. "It's stressful sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything else."

"Mmm" he hummed in acknowledgment. His mind ran far away from him as a man walking his dog passed by on the sidewalk about 15 feet away from where they were sitting in the grass. His Iron-Man shirt caught Steve's eye, and his brain started to wander far away from the conversation.

Your eyes followed his gaze, and when they landed on the Tony Stark inspired street ware, the expression on his face became unreadable to you. At this point in the Captain America versus Iron-Man political split, you we're pretty good at guessing who chose which side then avoiding conversations about it like the plague.

Stating which side you supported so publicly usually elicited the reactions of strangers, either filling their faces with pride or disgust. You swore the nature of this town made the topic like a man hunt, as if someone's opinions made them a great person or a completely terrible person based on whichever side they chose. You'd never met anyone like you, willing to entertain both sides, and willing to understand that there was probably more to the situation the public didn't know and that maybe things weren't as black and white as the insufferably bored, small town and small minded folks made it out to be.

Maybe the borderline sad expression on your neighbor's face was a sign that he possibly felt similarly to you, but you were so exhausted over the constant opinions on the topic being thrown at you so you certainly weren't going to subject him to that either.

"What about you?" You questioned, causing his head to snap towards you.

"What?" He asked, trying his hardest to stay calm. Did you ask him something and he completely missed it? Please don't be about the iron-man shirt...

"Got any big career plans or are you happily retired?" You reiterated.

He visibly relaxed and thought about it for a moment. "I dunno..." he shrugged. "I guess this is the first time in my life where I've realized what I've always wanted and what I've been doing were two completely different paths."

"Well, maybe it's a sign to just enjoy life and whatever it throws at you for a bit." You suggested with a pleasant grin.

"Whatever it throws at me better be peaceful and relaxing for once" He agreed with a big lopsided smile. "Like, I don't know, a park ranger or a librarian."

"An artist! ... a baker?"

"If I was a baker there would be a significant increase of squishing happening" He shook his head.

"But you're an artist! I'm sure your creative eye could translate to something in the kitchen. Sugar cookie decorating maybe?"

"You don't even know if I'm a good artist" Steve laughed. "For all you know I could have the skill set of a toddler"

"You told me you went to art school for a year" You defended yourself. "You'd rather me assume that you had the skill set of a toddler rather than the talent of a person who studied art?"

"It's like the glass half full or half empty debate" He brought up.

"I always think the glass is half full"

"I tend think the glass is not half full, nor half empty. The glass is just is" He explained.

"I guess that's a more realistic way to view it" You pondered. "So rather than you being a beginner or an expert in art, you just are where you are."

"Sure, we'll call it that" He slowly nodded his head.

The two of you spent pretty much the entire day together, and yet when you got back home after leaving him with a friendly hug, something just felt off.

It took a warm bath and a glass of wine to figure out what was bothering you. However, once it was in your mind, you held onto it all night until the morning, all day through work, and an hour after you got home until Georgia got back from the gardening center.

She made you both a cup of sweet tea and sat with you on the porch swing as you vented. The hot summer air and warm breeze payed no mind to the setting sun, it wasn't going to allow the impending moonlight to calm the heat.

"Wait- so why were you hanging out with the hunk in the first place?" She asked, trying to digest all the information you spat at her at over a mile a minute. The slow swing of the bench beneath the two of you did nothing to calm your nerves.

"I was just trying to be friendly and show him around, I thought he could use a friend since all of this is so new to him" You justified.

"And that's the only reason?" She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"...yeeahhh..." Your voiced raised in pitch.

"I don't believe a single second of that, but go on darlin'" She smirked.

"I dunno, every time I've seen him I get this weird inclination that I need to talk to him, and every time I do it's fine. He's easy to talk to, we have a few similar interests, he's really good about asking questions about me and seems genuinely interested in getting to know everyone here but the second I ask anything about him it's like he turns into this dull, flat, kind've lifeless creature." You explained.

"A creature, huh?"

"Okay, maybe creature is a little dramatic." You admitted. "I just don't understand how someone could go from a really outgoing chipper dude to the saddest lost puppy in the rain in the span of 2 seconds."

"Maybe he's a murderer" Georgia joked.

"Mrs. Georgia Peach, that is not very nice!" You shrieked, bumping her shoulder with yours.

"A stalker! Maybe, he's freshly divorced."

"Are you implying that a divorcee is just as bad as being a murderer or a stalker?" Your head slanted to the side.

"No, not by any means, Baby doll." She giggled. "My point is, we don't know even a fraction of what he might've been through to land him in a whole new town by himself. There are so many situations in which someone could shut down and maybe not be so trusting of people, he could just need some time. It really could be that simple."

"Maybe I just need to put my patience pants on" You sighed. "I know I probably sound crazy, but there's just something about him I can't quite grasp. I want to be his friend, and I'm trying, but he just seems so... sad?"

"If there's one thing I know it's that when you're in a bad place, you unintentionally push people away. Maybe slowly at first then all at once, but the people in your life who stand their ground and walk by your side are always appreciated. Keep trying, push him back very slowly. You'll get there eventually." Georgia brushed your hair out of your face. "But darlin' it's also important to remember that it's not your job to fix him."

Your track record of all your ex-boyfriends came flooding to mind when she gave you that reminder. Everyone who knew the insight of what your past relationship or two was like seemed to be rightfully concerned about who you chose as a partner going forward. "I know." You sighed. "But you know how I am. I love too much way too fast whether it be a stranger I just met or a dear friend of five years. I can't just let somebody that I know pass by without a second thought."

"I know, baby, and everyone who knows you is so blessed to have received a love like yours but not everyone can understand that it's a privilege and not something that they should be taking advantage of." She continued petting your hair, her hand made it to your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're sweet as pie, anyone from a million miles away could see that. Just make sure you're continuing to make yourself a priority when you're lovin' on everybody else."

"Of course I will." You gave her a reassuring grin. "Remember what I said? I'm happy on my own."

Life proceeded as normal for a few days. Quiet, but normal.

You found solace in your cozy bakery, humming along to the soft music playing over the speaker system as you sat at the decorator's long metal table, decorating sugar cookies for a custom order while your beloved employees prepared to close the store in 15 minutes.

Flooding inside the lines you made with royal icing, the cashier popped her head back in the kitchen that was only occupied by you.

"Someone is asking for you!" She chimed sweetly.

"Thank you! I'll be there in a sec" you looked up.

When you made your way out to the front, you saw Steven in his full glory. The one strand of golden hair that always seemed to have a mind of its own prevailed in it's efforts to never stay in place. Once again, his energy was low and he seemed awfully sad.

"Hey there, honey!" You smiled, even though you recognized that look in his eye. "How are you?" You asked as you walked out from behind the counter to greet him with a warm hug.

"I'm good. Sorry if this is a bad time, I know you guys are closing soon but I haven't seen you around in a few days so I figured I'd stop by real quick just to say hi." He explained.

You looked at the pastry bag in his hand, realizing he had already gotten and paid for a treat. "Not a bad time at all!" You reassured him. "Even if we're closed and you see a light on, just knock on the door and I'll let you in."

Just based off the way you were looking at him, he could tell you knew he was sad. The passed few days have been even more emotionally painful, and it was getting increasingly worse regardless of his effort to make it better.

He tried everything. He ran as far and fast as he could, numbly sat in front of a television playing romcoms, he bathed for hours, drew and painted, read and solved puzzles, but nothing was working.

After a shower, an anxiety attack, pacing around his house for about an hour while seriously considering turning himself in and making this crazy manhunt finally come to an end, he realized the one thing he hadn't tried yet was interacting with another person. So he grabbed his keys and came straight to the only place he knew he'd be warmly welcomed.

"Good to know" He attempted a smile. "What's that?"

He pointed at a big cardboard shipping box sitting on top of a wooden pallet, placed neatly along a wall.

"Oh! That's a new mid-sized stand mixer I ordered since our other one burned out. I went with one slightly bigger then the last and that's how it arrived a few hours ago." You giggled. The shipping situation really did seem dramatic for what was inside the box.

"And they shipped it like that?" He raised his eyebrows at the box.

"Unfortunately" You nodded. "I will say it's a lot heavier than it looks though. The box says 200 pounds so Michael and James from our street are going to come in tomorrow to help me set it up"

"What?" He questioned with an almost genuinely confused look on his face. "I can do it right now."

"... it's two hundred pounds, Steven." You reiterated with a giggle.

Failing to see your point, he handed you the pastry bag in his hands. "Hold my tart"

You took it from him without saying a word, and set it down on the counter before walking behind him towards the box. He bent over and put his hands on it, rocking it from side to side to find its center of balance.

"Oh gosh please be careful, don't hurt yourself" You nagged like a mom, and it actually brought a genuine smile to his face.

If only you knew the real kind've danger he put himself in on a daily basis...

He lifted the box without so much as a grunt or that silly face humans make when something is too heavy. "Holy shit... do you need help?"

"Where do you want it?" He asked, obviously amused that the two men you thought you needed to get the task done were now rendered completely useless.

"In the back, do you need help?" You asked again, and started walking to guide him to the empty counter space you reserved for the mixer.

"Nope, it's totally fine" He shook his head.

He didn't even look like he was struggling.

"Okay follow me" You shook your head in disbelief with a smile on your face as you led him into the kitchen as quickly as you could so he could set it down. "Right here, please!"

When he set it down on the designated counter and you went to grab a box cutter to get it out of the box, you came back still amazed. The two of you opened it up, and he lifted it out of the cardboard and set it where it belonged.

"Easy peasey!" He wiped of his hands.

"And I thought I needed two people for that!" You said loudly with amusement. "What the heck, man! You're ripped."

Steve laughed at your reaction. "What can I say? Moving all that furniture really got my arms in shape"

"No, there's no way that moving a couch made your arms that impressive" You shook your head with a laugh. "You're Hercules. There's no other explanation."

"You're once again giving me too much credit" He shook his head with a smile.

"No need to be humble, Superman."

"Superman isn't real" He rebutted sassily, waving a pointed finger in the air.

You stopped and thought for a second. "... I can't think of a real superhero now that isn't controversial at the moment so we're just going to settle on calling you Superman."

Even though you were being playful and happy as a clam, his mind immediately realized that you would probably hate him if you knew the truth. He couldn't just assume that your thoughts on the Civil War would side with him, and he needed to protect his heart.

Maybe coming here was a bad choice.

"Superman it is" He put on his front that everything was fine. "How about I'll get rid of that pallet in the front while you unwrap all this plastic?"

"No, honey, it's fine. We can take care of the pallet in the morning!" You denied. "You've already helped immensely"

"Please, I insist"

You sighed at the man before a shy smile smeared across your lips. "... thank you"

"I'll be right back"

He took the wooden pallet out from the store and to the dumpster in the parking lot, then made his way back into the kitchen where you had unwrapped the mixer from the plastic it came from and plugged it in. As Steve was washing his hands, you turned it on to make sure it worked, and the swirling sound brought a smile to your face.

"She works?" Steve asked.

"Like a dream" You confirmed. "Thank you so much for the help"

"Absolutely, if you ever need help with anything around here just let me know. I'm more than happy to help out whenever you need."

When you saw how his much his mood changed just from being able to do something for you, you had idea.

From that day on, Steve would come every Friday night to help unload the supply delivery. The 50 pound bags of sugar, flour, powdered sugar and brown sugar kept him occupied for at least half an hour. Especially since he insisted he would reorganize them every week to make sure the new ones made it to the bottom of the stack and the old ones would go on top.

Then it evolved into him staying with you way passed close to watch you decorate. It was fascinating to him, and he was genuinely interested. He'd sit right next to you and ask you why you did things a certain way, how you knew how to move your hand or pick out things like colors or sprinkles.

Soon there after, Friday nights turned into Friday and Wednesday nights. He'd come in after all the employees left and follow you around, you were more than happy to let him.

It was mutually beneficial, you weren't so lonely in the hours required to keep all the custom orders flowing out at the rate they were requested, and Steve finally had something to do.

Sometimes he felt a little bad just sitting there and having hours of conversation without as much as lifting his finger, so as he got more comfortable in your perfect little bakery he'd find things to do.

If you were doing something that required frosting or icing, you'd tell him exactly what color you needed and guide him through making it. He'd mix it all up and put it in the correct kind of piping bag for you, he even got really good at tying off all the ends so it didn't spill out as you squeezed.

Sometimes he'd notice a leaky pipe under the hand washing sinks or wobbling chair legs and he'd fix them up. If there were dishes in the sink that the bakers couldn't get to he'd do them no question. But when there was nothing to do, he'd chat your ear off and you happily listened. He was like your live action podcast, and you learned that Steven knew a whole bunch about a whole lot of different topics.

Nice to be kneaded became his little sanctuary away from home. He looked forward to the days he spent loitering in the shop, and when he got home he loved that his clothes always smelled like cookies.

You added Tuesdays to the mix when Steven asked you to teach him how to make something, anything really. He didn't know if it was because he actually wanted to learn how to bake or if he just wanted a reason to spend more time with you.

He grew to craving your presence on days your schedules didn't match up, and on those days his brain actually had room to think about the reality of what he was doing.

Every time he felt himself growing closer to you, he realized he was only hurting you. Eventually he'd have to go, and that day when you knocked on his door with nobody there to answer would be a hard one. You'd have to process that all the time you'd invested into him were nothing but lies. He knew this was going to end with you hating him, and he knew that would break his heart too.

As close as he was with you, he still wasn't nearly as close as he wanted to be. If his life was in order and his head wasn't always one wrong move away from being on a platter, you would've been swept off your feet by now.

Whenever you smiled and looked at him through your eyelashes, all he wanted to do was kiss it right off your lips. He craved to hold you in his arms, claim you all for himself. But for your sake and his, he stayed an arm's length away.

You deserved better than a fugitive, and you deserved better than whatever he could give to you in his current situation. You definitely deserved better than to be lied to by someone you were devoting so much time and energy to.

So given the circumstances, Steve was doing his best. Plotting ways to let you down easy when the time came for him to go. Maybe if he could fit it in whenever he inevitably needed to run, he'd find a way to tell you with his own mouth. It would be easier hearing it from him rather than a news story or a police report.

But he was sure he had at least a little while longer to figure that out, and he really hoped he did. Because if his time with you taught him anything, it's that he was happy moving around sacks of flour and mixing icing colors for you because it made both of you happy.

He'd tighten all the loose screws, reach every supply on the highest shelf, and barter with your supplier about the astronomical influx of egg prices just for you.

If he had to run as far and fast as he could to a whole different country in a far away place first thing in the morning, he'd always be reminded of the most important lesson you taught him.

It really was nice to be needed.

Next part: Captain-what’s-his-butt

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84

To join the tag list, let me know 🤍🧁