#you don’t see in real life? what if you put all your effort and thoughts into one topic and obsess over it for god knows how long to the

[seilon]

pretty sure I’ve been hypomanic the last week or so and I’m not sure what to do about it

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: mafia! Seongjoong x f! yn

Word Count: 3517

Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, minor injuries, slight possessive/yandere joong (not super noticeable), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, mafia au, exes to lovers, M for mature audiences

Summary: After leaving the mafia scene for five years, you've had to go back and beg for help from the boss of your former family...and your ex.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, degredation, spitroasting, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, creampie, fingering, felching (again), squirting, one spank, dom/sub (seongjoong dom, yn sub), undernegotiated kinks (its been a while since they fucked so things may have changed but they don't discuss. don't do this)

Written for tipsy drabbles! took me like 3 days to write the smut itself lmao

-

“So. You’ve found your way back to me, begging for me.” You keep your eyes lowered, not afraid but too ashamed to look Hongjoong in the eyes. You haven’t seen the head of the MATZ gang in a long time. Not since the last boss was alive and he was just a capo in his own right. Not since you had left him standing in the hall of his mansion, citing immaturity when it was just your fears of commitment to a mafia member. You know you broke his heart, but he stitched it back up quickly, yelling after you that if you ever came back he wouldn’t help you.

And yet, how the tables have turned.

“I had…I had nowhere else to go. Turn me away if you wish, but hear me out first. Please, Hongjoong.” You keep your gaze focused on your ratty sneakers, a far cry from the Louboutins you used to wear.

“Look at me first.” You freeze. From his tone of voice, you know he knows why you’re here. “I won’t repeat myself, YN.”

Slowly, you bring your head up, wincing at the sharp pain in your throbbing head from the sudden movement. You’re sure you look a mess, with the black eye and split lip. You keep your line of sight trained on the window next to Hongjoong instead of his face, but you can’t miss the way his eyes darken at the sight of you broken in front of him.

“What. Happened.”

His voice is cold and you flinch, hands wringing behind your back as you refuse to break down in front of your first lover (and if you stop lying to yourself, he still is in your heart). “...It was Yang Beomhun. I left you but he tracked me down and thought he could use me as leverage against you. It didn’t work, but at that point, he decided he might as well keep me around for himself and the pretence he had put up dropped. I…don’t know what else to do.”

It was a miracle you were even let back into his mansion. You thought you would have to live a life of suffering with Beomhun as your tormentor, but one of the family had somehow recognised you and let you in, citing it to be some sick joke.

And maybe it was. Who leaves the mafia out of fear for their future, only to end up being run ragged by the justice system? It’s ironic, ending right back up where you left, but once again, you have nothing left to lose.

“Why don’t you just leave him? You clearly are able to.”

You choose to ignore the jibe. “I couldn't. I’ve tried. It was a miracle I made it here, and that was with the help of someone who likely has gotten into deeper trouble.” You can feel your body shaking with the effort to keep your cool. “I don’t know what to tell you. Give me a new life, or just fucking kill me, Hongjoong. I don’t want to be caught in the middle again. I left to avoid the danger but no matter what I do, all I get is the same thing.”

Silence settles over the both of you. It’s only a moment later you realise you finally admitted the real reason you left. Your head shifts lower and you squeeze your eyes shut, both from embarrassment and trying to keep yourself on your feet.

After a long breath, you feel slender fingers on your chin that tip your face up. Blearily, you blink your eyes open to see Hongjoong staring down at you, eyes hiding any emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is soft, softer than you’ve heard in a long time. “I would’ve protected you, given you the safest life I could.”

“I…back then I didn’t want that, Joong. I just wanted a normal life. Not a safe one.” Your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“And now? What do you want?” You open your mouth to speak, but instead, your legs give out and Hongjoong drops to keep you from cracking your head on the wooden floor. “YN, wait–”

-

When you reawaken, you’re in an intricate bedroom you remember as the one you stayed in when you and Hongjoong were still dating. It’s changed quite a bit, his bookshelves cleared and the desk is gone, but otherwise, the drapes remain the same, and the carpet and plants as well. Your body aches but your mind is refreshed, the exhaustion from yesterday gone.

You can feel a heavy weight on the left side of the bed and your heart softens at the sight of Hongjoong sitting beside you, head in his arms as he rests his torso on the bed. As much as you hate to admit it, you missed him every moment you were gone. But you hurt him irrevocably and you know there’s not much you can do to win him back.

Your hand reaches up involuntarily, just about to brush through his platinum blond locks when his head snaps up. Your hand jerks back although his eyes are still closed. “You’re up,” he hums, eyes slowly blinking open. “The medic said you were just exhausted, but I’m glad to see you’re up.”

You stare at him, brows furrowed. “Why are you glad? I hurt you. I don’t deserve your worry.”

Hongjoong’s brow raises. “I don’t think you get to decide who I get to worry about. Yes, you hurt me. But we were young and dumb. We were hardly adults, thrust into a dangerous situation. And I would be lying to say I didn’t miss you, rosebud.”

Your face flushes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in years and Hongjoong smiles at the sight of it. He shifts over, leaning in to brush his nose against yours when the door slams open. “Boss, Seonghwa’s back.”

Your brows furrow. “Seonghwa?” The name escapes your lips before you can catch it and Hongjoong’s eyes narrow to level a sharp gaze at you.

“You met him?” His question is light but there’s danger behind it.

“Yes—He’s the one that helped me escape Beomhun. He was new on the task force, but he saw how Beomhun treated me and was the only one who cared to help me.” You speak quickly, trying to ease the tension lurking in Hongjoong’s eyes. “I swear on my life, Joong. He’s done nothing wrong except help me.”

Hongjoong stares at you for a long moment before he stands quickly, smoothing down his suit. “YN, come. Let’s see this Seonghwa for ourselves.”

Before you can even say anything, he grabs your wrist, pulling you along. You don’t know how to react, much less if you should react, and the entire way down to the basement is silent. You come to a stop behind a glass window, two-way if you remember correctly, and you stare at the slender figure sitting at the table, with sharp eyes and a split lip. “That’s him,” you breathe out.

Hongjoong hums. “Aww, he came all this way to see if you were alive? How sweet. Why don’t you go and show him how much you appreciate him? After all the work I put him to to keep you safe?” His hand pushes at your side a little and you snap your head towards him.

“Joong–” you gasp in shock and confusion.

Hongjoong turned to stare you down. “What? You think I would actually just let you go like that, five years ago? You’re mine, and you’d do well to remember that.” He chuckles low in his throat, his lips pulling into a shark’s smile. “Seonghwa here is my underboss. I trust him the most when it comes to my personal affairs, and I think he deserves a reward for the work he’s done. Come on, baby, why don’t you show him how good you can be?”

Before you can say anything else, he swings the door open and pulls you through. “Hwa, say ‘hi’ to my little rosebud. She’s here to give you a little treat for protecting her.”

He pushes you forward again and you stumble on your feet until large, warm hands land on your waist as you stop between Seonghwa’s open thighs. “Aren’t you just precious, huh,” he groans, pressing his thumbs into your hip bones. “Little missy is just too worried about me, is that right, baby?”

You cast a glance back at Hongjoong, where he’s taken a seat from across the room and is palming at the growing bulge in his pants. Without even thinking about it, your thighs squeeze together and you flush. “Joong–” Back when you were still with him, the two of you would find newcomers to fuck, some kind of sick power play Joong got off on. It’s somewhat comforting to see not much has changed in that regard…and it makes heat bloom in your core.

Seonghwa’s hand gripping your chin directs your gaze to his dark eyes. “Come on, miss, I went to all that work keeping you safe, don’t you want to show your appreciation?” He arches a perfect brow and you swear the expression on his face only serves to make your face even hotter.

“Show him how good you can be, YN,” Hongjoong commands from behind you, his voice heavy. And, well, who are you to disobey him? Immediately, you drop to your knees, your habits from years back still ingrained into your brain.

Seonghwa chuckles, his fingers combing through your hair slowly as he palms his cock straining against his leather pants. “Come on, princess. Show me how good those pretty lips are.”

You don’t need much more prompting than that, quickly reaching forward to undo his belt and slide his zipper down. With a groan, Seonghwa lifts his hips enough for you to shove his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. The tip of it is an angry red, dripping pre-come and your eyes zero in on it.

Seonghwa places his hand on the top of your head, and you don’t need much more prompting before dipping down and pressing a kiss to the tip. You can hear him sigh and it's enough to make you sink down to envelop the head of it in your mouth, letting spit pool around it. Any other day you’d be in the mood to tease, but with Hongjoong watching all you want is to be good.

“Shit, her mouth is so good,” Seonghwa groans, his thighs straining as his hands tighten in your hair. “So perfectly willing to be used.”

You feel another spike of heat in your core as you clench around nothing at his words. The way he doesn’t even direct it at you, only at Hongjoong turns you on more than you’d like to admit it would. “You can be rougher with her, she likes it,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through the fog slowly encapsulating your mind.

Without hesitation, Seonghwa pushes your head down even further and you gag, eyes rolling back at the rough treatment. “Holy shit, she’s into it.” There’s absolute glee in Seonghwa’s voice, and his hips give an experimental thrust. You moan around his thick length, eyes squeezing shut as your spit dribbles down his length. Any shame you feel dissolves into arousal and you can’t help but wriggle your hips, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Look at you, so needy for anything.” Hongjoong’s voice is closer than you remember, and you flinch when you feel his cool hands on your shoulders. They trail down, patting your ass before reaching to cup you through your pants. “Come on, hands and knees for me, okay?”

It takes you a moment to respond, but when Hongjoong paps you on your cunt again, you scramble to present your ass to him while still keeping Seonghwa in your mouth. You can hear both of them chuckle at your eagerness. “She’s such a perfect slut, Joong,” the bite in Seonghwa’s voice makes you whine low in your throat. “So happy to just take cock and sit still, all pretty for us.”

Hongjoong hums as he pulls down your pants and underwear in one swift moment, pressing his fingers against your sopping pussy. “She’s so wet, truly the perfect whore for us,” he sighs, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. His movements are fast, precise, and more slick gushes out of you as you keep moaning around Seonghwa’s cock.

Before you can grind against his hand, his fingers disappear just as fast as they entered you and you whine, feeling much too empty. “Eager or not, bitches should learn patience,” Hongjoong sneers and a smack resounds in the room. You register the stinging pain on your ass a second later and you moan, the sound of it muffled.

Your eyes tear up from the pain and Seonghwa coos, his long fingers brushing away the tears. You lean into the comfort subconsciously but as you do so, you can feel the blunt head of Hongjoong’s cock rubbing against your folds and the slick sounds make your brain fuzzy. The tip of it repeatedly catches on your clit and each time it sends a shock to your core.

Before you can whine any more, Hongjoong lines his cock up to your cole and pushes in without any warning. Your eyes snap open as your body is pushed forward and Seonghwa’s cock is driven deeper into your mouth. “Shit–” Seonghwa groans, his other hand coming down to grip your hair and keep your head in place.

Hongjoong giggles from behind you before drawing back and slamming back in again. The force of his thrust spears him so perfectly inside you, the girth of his cock stretching you open so well. He didn’t prep you well enough, but the sting makes you even wetter. It’s been years, and he still knows exactly what you like and it makes both your heart and your cunt throb. Seonghwa’s cock is longer, but the stretch of Hongjoong is just what you like and you clench around him.

“God, after all this time, you still are so fucking tight. Maybe I didn’t fuck you well enough before,” Hongjoong leans down to whisper in your ear, his weight pushing you impossibly further onto Seonghwa’s dick. “Maybe I’ll let Seonghwa fuck you too until your pussy is nice and sloppy for me to take any time I want. You may be mine, but Seonghwa is too and it would be cruel of me to not let my two playthings have their own fun.”

You’re a little ashamed to admit the idea of that makes you moan, and Hongjoong presses a kiss to your shoulder before biting the flesh, his hips starting to jackhammer into you, setting an unforgiving pace.

Your body goes lip, Hongjoong’s arms around your waist and Seonghwa’s hands in your hair the only thing keeping you up. You really do feel like a doll used only for their enjoyment but something about it is perfect and you keep your mouth slack as your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt is throbbing, pulsing around Hongjoong as he hits the spongy spot inside of you with surprising accuracy. Seonghwa’s started thrusting into your mouth as well, your jaw aching but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You can hear them speaking to each other above you but you’re too far gone to make sense of anything they’re saying, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two men on either side pound into you. But before you can say or do anything, Seonghwa comes, ropes of his come shooting down your throat without you needing to swallow. As his orgasm washes over him, he pulls his cock out, moving one of his hands to your jaw and squeezing, keeping your mouth open and pliant. The tip of his dick rests against your lower lip as drops of come land in your mouth and dribble down your lips. When his cock softens, he tucks himself back in and leans down to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow.” His voice is rough and heavy, and you follow his command immediately. You don’t even notice Hongjoong stilled his hips until a moment later and you whine.

“So greedy,” Hongjoong scoffs, his hands gripping your waist and his nails digging into the skin. Without warning, he pulls you back down on his cock and you moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream. “Your cunt is swallowing me so well, baby. I could do this for hours and I bet you’d just let it happen. God, I can’t believe I let you go last time, no one else could be such a perfect little cumdump for me.”

He punctuates each other with another thrust until he’s groaning as he reaches the edge of his pleasure, his come shooting deep into you and coating your walls. “God, she’s taking you so well,” Seonghwa hums, brushing your hair out of your eyes, the gentleness of his actions the complete opposite of how he was treating your mouth not a minute earlier.

Hongjoong laughs, pulling out his cock to see his come dripping out of you and making a little pool on the floor. His arms release you and you collapse onto the cool tile, your body shuddering. “She’s good, isn’t she,” he says fondly, his hands coming to pull apart your cheeks, admiring the sight of your hole fluttering around nothing. “She hadn’t even come after that. Would you like to reward this good behaviour, Hwa?” 

A chuckle leaves Seonghwa as he moves around to settle in between your legs. You’re too tired to shift to see what they’re doing and you gasp as a flat tongue presses against your dripping hole. Your back arches and Hongjoong chuckles, pressing down on your shoulders to shove you further onto the tile.

Your thighs are shaking from the effort of keeping your hips up, but Seonghwa’s grip doesn’t relent as he licks into you like a starved man, tasting both your slick and Hongjoong’s come. The way it flicks your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to come apart on the title, moans spilling out of your mouth easily as you feel a great pressure on your core and your body shakes from the effort of it. You can hear the sloppy, wet sounds of Seonghwa licking up your release and even when you try to clench around his tongue you just know with how loose you are it doesn’t change much.

“Fuck, I didn’t know she squirts,” you hear the awe in Seonghwa’s voice and Hongjoong hums, please.

“Like I said, she’s really the perfect slut.” Hongjoong pats your head, but the praise doesn’t really register, your mind is all fuzzy from the fucking you just received, and all you do is yawn. You hear soft laughter from the two of them and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “All right, I get it. You can sleep, baby. We’ll clean you up. Just relax.”

At his sweet words, you let your head drop to his shoulder as you let him manoeuvre you so he can pick you up to bring you to a bath. You’re happy to be back.

-

As Hongjoong tucks you into bed, Seonghwa leans against the doorframe, waiting for you to finally drift off. As soon as your breathing levels, Seonghwa moves to stand by Hongjoong sitting on the bed, and he speaks up. “Beomhun asked for his money.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t get it. He broke the rules of the deal and laid his hands on my girl. The agreement was for him to scare her, not fucking hurt her.”

Seonghwa nods. “I know. He has been taken care of. Jongho and Yunho are happy to have been promoted, and I’m sure they’ll bring flowers to the funeral.”

Hongjoong chuckles, low in his throat to keep you from waking. “Good, good. It’ll be good to have some of our men higher in the police force too. Beomhun’s death was needed. But make sure she never finds out.” Seonghwa nods. “Can you go get a report from Yunho?”

Another nod. “I’ll see you later,” Seonghwa says, patting Hongjoong on the shoulder. “We’re still on for dinner, right?”

Hongjoong smiles. “Of course. Come here.” Seonghwa moves to stand between Hongjoong’s legs, much like how you did with him down in the basement. Without another word, Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m happy to have both of you back. I’ll see you later tonight. Maybe YN will be awake for dinner as well.”

Seonghwa flushes red before kissing Hongjoong once more before slipping out the door. Hongjoong turns his attention back to you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re back now, and I intend to keep it this way. No running away from me anymore,” he whispers, his fingers trailing down your face to ghost over your lips. “You’re mine, rosebud.”

[solarsturniolo]

Pugs ‘N’ Kisses // M.S. // PROLOGUE

By Natalie 💋

Summary: Matt has always been the one person you can count on. Whether it be for advice or a holiday event, he always knew how to take care of you. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Other Parts: Chapter One,

Warnings: Smut / Stalking / Voyeurism / Cursing / Obsessive Behavior / Possessive Behavhior / Minors DNI

You never really thought much of it.

Ever since you became friends with him, Matt had always been a sweetheart to you. Opening doors for you, kicking his brother’s ankle if he tried to take the booth seat, driving you everywhere you could possibly want to go; no matter the circumstance, Matt was always someone you could rely on, and he made that clear. He invited you to any outings that he and his brothers attended. He spent hours helping you build that matching furniture set for your bedroom, insisting that he could do it all himself for you. He made himself available for you whenever you needed him. 

Matt made an impression on everyone in your life, and a good one at that. He would help your mom set the table on nights when he was invited for dinner, and he would happily do the dishes once everyone was finished. He was a schmoozer, a charmer. From asking how her day was to empathizing with her frustration with whatever meaningless squabble happened at work with Theresa that works in the next cubicle over. He knew just the right questions to ask and just the right emotions to express on his face. He’d send you a smile across the table, reminding you that he still had his attention on you. One time you were almost sure that he winked at you, something the group chat heard plenty of that evening once he had left, though after some evaluation you assumed it must’ve just been a trick of the light.

After dinner, your mother would always insist on putting a movie on for everyone to watch. A desperate attempt to make you all seem like a normal family in front of your guest, though anyone with half a brain could see through it. You would try to weasel out of it, but Matt would just smile and tell you ‘I don’t mind,’ which was all you needed to give in. Halfway through, every single time, your father would notoriously begin to critique whatever had been put on. It was very easy for Matt to get on your father’s good side, all he had to do was agree with everything he would bitch and moan about. ‘The quality is garbage,’ he would grunt, and Matt would reply ‘It’s like it was recorded on an iPhone 4’ to which your father would laugh and playfully punch his shoulder. ‘This kid knows what’s up,’ he’d approvingly remark, spending the rest of the film making little jabs at the movie with Matt following him up in agreement. 

The biggest impression he had made, and the most important in his eyes, were your friends. Of course your parents’ approval mattered, but they didn’t know the real you, not the way your friends did. Granted, it took a lot of work. They were certain that he and any other human with a dick and balls were bad news. Fair enough, he thought. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, he knew it would take a lot of time and effort. But you are worth that. It had taken almost a year to get your friends one hundred percent on the Matt bandwagon, but he really sealed the deal on your birthday. 

He greeted you at your house that afternoon with a gorgeous floral arrangement in a beautiful glass vase. He knew your friends would be over, he was betting on it. They all watched with envy glossed over their eyes as you admired the beautiful arrangement, and while you were happily distracted, to not take the attention off of you on your special day of course, he brought in three much smaller bouquets; one for each of your friends. From that moment forward, everyone was team Matt. Your parents and friends would ask about him regularly. “When is Matt coming over again?” “You and that Matt boy still friends?” “You should invite Matt!” 

It felt good. Being liked by all of the closest people in your life was important to him. It gave him leverage, access to more sides of you than just what you showed him. He got to see your girly side with your friends, and he got to see your more domestic side with your family, though his favorite side of you was when you were with him. Just him. Not him and your friends, not him and your parents, not him and his brothers. Him.

You had to admit, that was your favorite side of yourself as well. Something about him, maybe it was his aura, maybe it was his horoscope chart, or maybe he was just the first decent guy you had ever gotten close with, but something about him made you feel at ease. He didn’t give you butterflies, instead he made all of the noise and static go quiet. Your hands never shook as long as he was holding them. Your body never felt cold as long as he was next to you. It was a weird feeling; A good feeling, but weird. You had never felt this way about another person before. 

Matt felt the same way. Any day that he got to spend with you was a good day. Any day that he got to speak to you or see your face was a good day. Any day that you made an appearance of any kind became a good day. Summer nights running down the beaches of Cape Cod, rainy days cooped up in your bedroom listening to your favorite vinyl records, late nights sending Game Pigeon games back and forth for hours. It didn’t matter what you did together, it only mattered that he got to do it with you. 

The only thing that mattered to him was you. 

a/n: Welp…good luck yall. @flowerxbunnie and I already planned out this entire story.

Tags: @flowerxbunnie @mattslolita @mattsbratt69 @oversturn @simplysturn @soursturniolo @megamett44-lover @sturnybabes @jjmaybankswifes-blog @plasticferal @cupidsword @liz-stxrn @sturniolosreads @sturnioloskies @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @matthemunch44 @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chris @tillies33ssss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @breeloveschris @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @mattsfavwh3re @lustfulslxt @braindead4l @xtravrgnoliveoil @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @leah-loves-lilies @querenciasturniolo @whicked-hazlatwhore @lacysturniolo @sara2233445

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.5

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: fluff, angst, confrontation, minhee lovers i am so sorry, no smut this chapter, injury, anything else lmk ch.5 synopsis: life is good for you and sunghoon after you become official, yet, things take a drastic turn very quickly, and you're stuck between love and loyalty. wc: 12k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! so this is where the shit gets real icl. i loved writing this chapter honestly, it holds a place in my heart but tbh, the whole series does. not many warnings or whatever and i don't want to spoil anything here so...enjoy! likes, reblogs, feeback are all welcome as always <3 thank you so much for the support, ilyasm.

As you flip through the pages of your Successful Event Management book, your attention wavers, consumed by thoughts of your boyfriend. Despite your efforts, the words on the pages seem to blur together as your mind dances with images of him. Each time the realisation hits that he's officially yours, you find yourself involuntarily twirling a strand of your hair, unable to contain your giggles or the playful kicks of your feet. It's almost unsettling how deeply he occupies your thoughts, and now that you can call him your man, it's as if the intensity has multiplied tenfold.

Over the past week, Sunghoon has been immersed in training, preparing for Nationals, leaving little time for your usual moments together. But you understand, what with Nationals coming up, he has to be prepared for it. Your understanding doesn’t mean you don’t miss him any less though. This time apart has been the longest you’ve gone without seeing him in the past 4 months and it feels agonisingly long.

It’s just past October and you probably missed him most at Halloween, wishing you could have dressed up with him and gone to Rina’s party together, but he couldn’t cancel the trip to Japan he had. If it were any other schedule, he would have blown it off but everything had already been booked, he just couldn’t get out of it.

You loved your boyfriend's willingness to drop everything for you, even if it was often unnecessary. When you told him you nearly broke your ankle while walking down Rina's stairs in 6 inch heels and a bottle of Pinot in hand, Sunghoon instantly left his training and came to check on you. You told him about the incident so you could both laugh at how stupid you are but he didn’t find anything funny, not until he saw you were okay and giggling with Rina as if nothing had happened. 

That’s one thing that’s slightly changed since becoming official, Sunghoon is way more protective of you. Truth be told, he’s always been protective, he can just showcase it more now.

You adored him in every way a person can be adored. All his flaws, all his perfections, he was all yours.

A ping from your phone pauses your idle daydreaming.

My Hoonie ♡

9:10pm: look outside

It’s ominous but you can't resist the pull to glance out the window. Swirling out of your desk chair, you're met with the unexpected sight of Sunghoon, grinning from ear to ear and waving animatedly, as if beckoning you to join him outside.

Why the fuck is he here? He normally texts you to meet him at the corner of the street so he’s out of sight of your family.

Keeping Sunghoon a secret has been surprisingly easy these days, given how rarely you saw Minhee. You sent your brother a play-by-play of what occurred at the ceremony, along with a few pictures, but he hasn't spoken to you since his brief 'Nice' text response. You tried to initiate a few conversations with him about it, asking if anything was bothering him, but he just replied he was busy with training.

He no longer takes you to train with him, but you can't put all the blame on him; you've been telling him you're too tired for weeks to accompany him; he probably just assumed you'd keep saying the same excuse.

You missed him even though he was only across the hallway.

You quickly put on the jumper Sunghoon had given you, grab your phone, and slip on your shoes as you prepare to make a discreet getaway. With your family still inside the house, you turn the front door handle with full caution, making no sound as you sneak out to meet Sunghoon.

"What are you doing here?" you whisper urgently as you greet him.

Sunghoon brings you in for a kiss while his hand cradles the back of your head, answering your question with his actions rather than his words. He missed you, that’s all there was to it. 

"Are you free?" he murmurs against your lips, his kisses lingering, "I want to take you on a date."

You pull back slightly, taken aback, "A date? Why all of a sudden?"

"I realised I haven't properly treated you to a date," Sunghoon admits, a tinge of guilt evident in his tone. The ill-timing of officially becoming a couple and his intense training schedule for Nationals made it look like he was putting in no effort now that he had you. He never intended to spend less time with you, it’s just what happened. 

You lean back to look at him sceptically, “We’ve been on plenty of dates, Hoonie.”

"Shh, just let me take you out, please?" he playfully feigns annoyance, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Looking back at your home, you consider the options available. On one hand, there's a mountain of tasks awaiting your attention now that the new school year has kicked off. On the other hand, there's the tempting prospect of spending time with your beloved.

Was it even a question?

"Do I need to change?" you ask, casting a critical eye over your attire: his hoodie, some well-worn leggings, and slightly battered shoes—hardly your typical date ensemble. Sunghoon inspects you, pinching your leggings to rub the fabric thoughtfully, “What are you doing?” you ask quizically, raising an eyebrow.

"Just checking the thickness," he replies, turning you around and lifting the hoodie slightly to inspect the material covering your butt. "They'll do," he declares, giving your ass a playful slap to signify the end of his examination. "I have a pair of your other leggings in my car. We could layer," he suggests with a grin.

You don’t have a clue what he’s planning but it can’t be good. 

Sunghoon interlocks his fingers with yours and walks you to his car up the end of the street. The air is growing cooler now that it's early November, so all you can do is sigh with happiness as you take your seat in his warm car. 

With the early November air turning crisp, you sink into the warmth of his car seat, unable to suppress a contented sigh. Over the past few weeks, Sunghoon has allowed you to personalize the interior of his car to your heart's content. 

It started with a simple addition—a plush teddy bear seatbelt cover to cushion the strap that always seemed to bite into you. But it quickly escalated, evolving into a display of your quirks and interests: stickers adorning the glove compartment, a bobblehead of Cinnamoroll dangling from the dashboard with a matching Tuxedosam counterpart on his side, and even a change in the air freshener scent from ocean breeze to peony and cherry blossoms. Each addition is a testament to your bond and the little ways you've woven your lives together.

His life was covered in you, and he has never been happier.

Since the award ceremony, Sunghoon's skating demeanour has noticeably lightened, shedding the weight of perfectionism now that he has your unwavering support echoing in his ears and he knows you mean it because when he glances over to you in the stands, he sees the pride in your eyes. Coach Lee has commented on it a couple of times, saying how his Nationals performance might be his best yet and to keep up the good work. With you by his side, Sunghoon finds joy in skating again, rediscovering the passion that initially drew him to the sport.

"So, where are we headed?" you inquire, fastening your seatbelt and tuning into the radio.

Sunghoon starts the car and pulls away, his hand resting reassuringly on your thigh, "You'll find out soon enough," he replies cryptically. Normally, surprises catch you off guard, leaving you feeling unprepared—an impromptu birthday party is one thing, but this unexpected adventure is an entirely different story.

He chuckles at your attempt to decipher his plans, giving your leg a playful squeeze, "Sweets, I promise I'm not leading you into a cornfield and abandoning you there. You'll enjoy it, I swear."

“A cornfield is so specific, now I don’t trust you at all”  you tease, your tone laced with mock suspicion, though there's a hint of genuine curiosity beneath it all.

As the drive progresses, a sense of familiarity settles in, and when the car pulls up at Belmore, you twist in your seat to face him. "Belmore?" you query, eyebrows raised in surprise. His only response is a knowing nod, a roguish smirk playing on his lips.

"Baby, no offence, but watching you train isn't exactly my idea of a romantic date. And if it ever did count, I think we've been on far too many dates for only being together a month," you point out with a playful yet pointed look.

Sunghoon parks the car and switches off the engine, turning to you with a grin, "So, you don't consider our friends-with-benefits phase as being together?" he counters, raising an eyebrow. "Because technically, we've been together for like four months."

"No, our 'fuck buddy era' definitely doesn't count," you retort, stepping out of the car.

"That's a shame," Sunghoon muses, a playful glint in his eyes. "I had grand plans to whisk you away for our six-month anniversary in January. I guess I'll just have to enjoy Jeju on my own," he shrugs nonchalantly, locking the car before striding towards the main building, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

You quickly fall into step with him, looping your arm in his, a gleam of merriment in your eyes. "Well, I suppose we could round it up to four months," you offer, hoping he was just joking about going himself.

You're not about to let the opportunity for a trip with your man slip through your fingers, even if he's just teasing. You've been dropping hints about wanting to hike Hallasan Mountain and go tangerine picking on Jeju Island so often that he's actually started a 'Jeju Jar' where you contribute money whenever you mention it.

Sunghoon graciously holds the door open for you, and Miss Barbara's cheerful wave as she recognises you only adds to the excitement bubbling within you.

Miss Barbara has been in on your little secret love affair since you made it official, her only bribery she requested to keep it a secret was a bag of Revels on top of her usual Toffee gift. 

"Hi, Miss Barbara," you greet her warmly as you approach the reception desk.

"Hello, Y/N, Sunghoon. How are my favorite forbidden lovers?" she exclaims with a twinkle in her eye, settling back in her chair.

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. "It's not quite as dramatic as you make it out to be, Miss Barbara," he replies with a good-natured smile, though the receptionist waves off his comment. She's fond of weaving your relationship into a romantic narrative, a tale of two star-crossed lovers defying societal norms to be together. It's a bit over the top, but it gives her something to gush over.

"We're doing well. Is anyone in there?" you inquire, grateful for Miss Barbara's discreet support. With her on your side, it's easier to gauge just how obvious your affection for each other can be. While you don't hide your love in everyday life, at the rink, you're more cautious. The last thing you need is for any of the coaches or, heaven forbid, your families to catch you in a moment of intimacy. That could set you both back to square one.

Keeping it a secret until after Nationals wasn’t just for the benefit of Minhee, but also for your own sanity. If one of your mothers found out, that would be it, you would never hear the end of it. 

“Nope, all free. Coach Kim just left and not another soul in sight.” Miss Barbara confirms.

"Thanks, Miss Barbara. This was a spur-of-the-moment thing, so we'll make sure to bring you double sweet treats tomorrow," Sunghoon promises, knowing full well she's eagerly anticipating her goodies.

"Triple and I'll let you in on a little secret," she counters, arms crossed expectantly. Sunghoon nods in agreement, intrigued, "The coaches are planning to bring you and Minhee in tomorrow for peer review and a Nationals run-through, to ensure you're both in top form for the competition in two weeks. It's a new method they want to try to strengthen your connection, especially since you're both going to be on the same Olympic team," she reveals, her tone filled with anticipation.

Your eyes widen in shock as Miss Barbara's words sink in. "Wait, Minhee and the Olympics?" you repeat, the idea sounding both fitting and surreal at the same time.

"Oh yeah, he's been putting in a ton of hours here, especially in the last three weeks. Coach Kim believes he's more than ready," she confirms with a knowing smile, leaning in conspiratorially. "But shh, it's a surprise. The coaches plan to break the news to him when he places in the top three at Nationals."

The news hits you like a wave of emotions. It's beyond perfect - your brother finally achieving his lifelong dream after years of hard work and dedication. A sense of pride and happiness swells within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Suddenly, you get a strange feeling because the more you think about how excited you are for him, you realise Miss Barbara has just said he's here a lot, but you didn't know that. Although you may not have seen him recently, you should be aware that he is spending his time here. You used to know his entire schedule.

“Was my mum here with him?” you inquire, a hint of concern in your voice.

"No, he's usually by himself or with Coach Kim. Didn't he mention it to you? I was wondering why you haven't been with him like usual," Miss Barbara explains, her tone sympathetic.

Sunghoon notices the discontent written across your face, assuming it's because of the impending peer review with Minhee tomorrow morning. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he gently guides you towards the rink. "Thanks for the heads up," he acknowledges gratefully.

As he leads you into the arena, you can feel the excitement draining from your shoulders, leaving you feeling deflated. Sunghoon hates seeing you like this. He wishes he could simply pluck the negative thoughts from your mind and replace them with happiness, but all he can do is offer distraction.

"Sweets, wait here for a minute," he murmurs, planting a kiss atop your head before darting off to the back rooms to fetch some necessary tools for your impromptu date, leaving you to wonder what surprises he has in store.

A few minutes later, Sunghoon returns, his excitement palpable as he practically skips towards you, hands hidden behind his back. The mischievous glint in his eyes sends a shiver of apprehension down your spine, "Sunghoon, what's going on?" you inquire warily.

He stops in front of you, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You aren't going to watch me train," he announces, revealing a pair of pristine white ice skates and a deep blue helmet from behind his back, which he then presents to you, "I'm teaching you how to skate."

The look on your face is one of absolute shock. You have already told him how your mum had tried to get you on the ice when you were little and it wasn’t pretty, you can barely walk in the skates never mind glide on the ice. Did he forget this was the one thing you explicitly said you couldn’t and wouldn’t do?

Noticing your lack of enthusiasm, Sunghoon's arms drop to his sides, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features. "Come on, it'll be fun! I'm a great teacher," he insists, trying to persuade you. Taking the skates from his hand, you inspect them apprehensively, feeling a surge of fear at the sight of the gleaming blades.

"Look, baby," Sunghoon begins, his voice softening as he places a hand on your shoulder. "You've mentioned how you never took to the ice well, but it occurred to me today that maybe that's because your mum had all these dreams about the Kang siblings dominating the figure skating world. That's a lot of pressure for a seven-year-old. But this... this is just for fun. A simple, free lesson from South Korea's greatest skater who promises to never shout or get impatient with you," he reassures, placing a hand over his heart in a solemn pledge.

It’s true you suppose, there would be no need to feel a weight on your shoulders to be as good as Minhee or have your mum telling you how easy it was and that you just weren’t trying hard enough. 

The sparkle in Sunghoon's eyes only adds to your resolve to give this a shot. He wants to share his love for the sport with you, and you can't help but feel touched by his enthusiasm. If he's willing to keep both feet firmly on the ice, then maybe, just maybe, you can brave this adventure.

"Fine, but I'm not jumping under any circumstances," you bargain with a playful glint in your eye. The last thing you want is to end up flat on your back on the ice. If Sunghoon can promise to keep you grounded, then you'll give it a try.

Sunghoon’s face radiates with glee once you accept his date idea, which is good for him because he doesn’t have a backup. He sits you down on the bench and helps you put on the skates, fastening them tightly. He goes over the warnings every skater gets about new skates, and how they need to be broken in so they might nip at the skin. He’s already tried to stretch them out for you by making Wonyoung wear them for a little while when she warmed up. 

Once both of your skates are securely laced up, Sunghoon swiftly puts on his own, his familiarity with them evident in his speed. He's had these skates for a year now, and they've never failed him.

"Put your helmet on, babe," he instructs, handing it to you. You look at it with disdain, but he catches your expression and intervenes, "I get that it's not glamorous, but the last thing I need is for you to smash your head open," he reasons, gently placing the helmet on your head and fastening it securely.

"I don't want to fall in the first place!" you protest.

"I will always catch you, I promise," Sunghoon reassures you, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your helmet, as if it were your head. He offers a gentle smile, "Plus, the rink just got Zambonied, and they'll be peeved if you dirty up the nice ice with your blood."

"Sunghoon!" you exclaim, a mix of exasperation and affection in your tone.

______

Seventy minutes into the lesson, and you've only stumbled twice. The first time was when you initially stepped onto the ice, resembling one of those cartoon skits where the character can't find their footing and begins flailing everywhere. The second stumble occurred when you attempted to march in place, a simple task that somehow became a challenge on ice. Despite Sunghoon's assurances that you couldn't fall, you seem determined to prove him wrong, even in moments like these.

Nonetheless, you have made progress. Sunghoon has painstakingly taught you how to forward glide and perform a snowplough stop, which seemed impossible given your previous difficulties on the ice. Granted, he's been hovering only centimetres behind you the entire time, waiting to catch you if you fall, but progress is progress.

Now, he's introducing you to forward swizzles, a manoeuvre with a deceptively cute name that you're convinced spells disaster for you. With Sunghoon's reassuring grip on your arm, he explains the technique. "You're just going to do a forward glide and then kind of push your feet outward and then bring them back in a circular motion. Like this," he demonstrates, making it look effortless.

Of course, he makes it look like it’s the easiest thing in the whole world, like using a knife and fork, but he's dealing with a girl who can't even distinguish her left from her right or drive a go-kart without crashing it. This venture into forward swizzles feels like a daunting challenge, but with Sunghoon by your side, you're determined to give it your best shot.

Sunghoon skates to face you, taking both of your hands as you attempt to master the forward swizzles. For the most part, you're actually not too bad at it. But as confidence starts to swell within you, you let go of his hands, only to teeter dangerously on the edge of a fall once more.

True to his word, Sunghoon is there to catch you, his grip firm and reassuring.

Determined to get it right, you take a deep breath, calming your racing heart, and try again. Sunghoon can't help but admire you in this moment. Most people would have thrown in the towel by now, but he knows you're doing this not just for yourself, but for him too. It's a realisation that fills him with a profound sense of affection as he watches you concentrate intently, your tongue sticking out in concentration as you execute a few more forward swizzles with his assistance.

"That's it! My girl is so good at this," he praises, but you shoot him a pointed look. It's not angry; it's more of a silent plea for him to refrain from speaking and distracting you while you're focused. Understanding the cue, Sunghoon promptly stops talking, allowing you to concentrate.

As you cheer and sway joyfully, a surge of euphoria washes over you, you're briefly swept up in the exhilaration of your performance. But the laws of physics are unwavering, and the slippery ice beneath your skates is unforgiving. Without warning you lose your footing and collapse hard onto the ice, your head creating an unnerving thud as it hits the icy surface. Maybe the helmet was a good idea.

"Shit, Y/N!" Sunghoon's voice rings out in panic as he rushes over to you, his expression etched with concern. He kneels beside you, quickly assessing your condition and helping you sit up. Despite the impact, all you can do is laugh. What was once a terrifying prospect - falling on the ice - is now a source of amusement.

"I'm okay," you assure him between fits of laughter, patting the helmet atop your head. "Thank god for this piece of shit helmet, that's all I'm saying." But Sunghoon's expression remains tense, his worry evident, "It's okay, baby, I promise I'm fine. Let's take five, hmm?" you suggest, reaching out to stroke his cheek in a comforting gesture.

Sunghoon nods silently, sitting beside you on the cold ice, both of you ignoring the chill seeping through your clothes. He removes his gloves and places them on your hands, a small but tender gesture that sends a flutter of warmth through your stomach, despite the icy surroundings.

"You're actually pretty good at this, Sweets," Sunghoon compliments, taking your helmet off.

But you brush aside his comment, a question that's been nagging at you for a while now finally bubbling to the surface. "I have a question," you begin, ignoring his compliment. "Why do you call me Sweets? Like, you've called me that since you started skating here."

Sunghoon's face flushes with a deep red blush as he gazes up at the rafters, gathering his thoughts. "I've been calling you that for a lot longer than that," he confesses quietly.

"What do you mean?" you press further, turning your body to face him, curiosity piqued. For all the time you've spent together, you've never questioned the origin of the endearing nickname.

He exhales softly, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face as he begins to reminisce. "Do you remember when you were 14, and you confessed to me with a packet of sweets and a makeshift card?" The memory floods back to you, each detail vivid and clear. "You came up to me at one of the Youth competitions and gave them to me - a packet of Love Hearts, I think.” You want to protest but the more he speaks about it, the more the memory comes back to you.

Back then, you had mustered up all your courage to ask him out after years of secretly admiring him. You knew it was a long shot, considering Sunghoon was the most sought-after skater in the Junior division, but you took the chance anyway. You had even dressed up in your best outfit and attempted makeup—a slick of lip gloss from a teen magazine and a touch of mascara you'd pilfered from your mom's makeup bag.

"You knocked me back!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of offense, "I poured my heart and soul into that card, and you didn't even spare it a glance. I remember now!"

Sunghoon shakes his head defensively, "I did look at it! And I ate the sweets too," he tries to argue back, but the realization only seems to deepen your offense, "Wait, no! I know I said no, but... I had my reasons, okay?"

"Oh yeah, what?" you challenge, shaking your head sassily, eager to hear his explanation.

"I... It doesn't matter, does it? Look who won?" Sunghoon smoothly redirects the conversation back to the present day, "You've got me whipped for you."

You raise an eyebrow, conceding that he does have a point. He is your boyfriend now, albeit five years later than you originally wanted—or eleven years, if you count all the time you spent pining over him as a kid.

"Exactly," you agree, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "If you told fourteen-year-old Y/N Kang that Park Sunghoon would be desperately in love with her now, I think she'd pass out." 

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Sunghoon stares down at his skates, eyes wide and mouth dry. The weight of his confession hangs heavy in the air, catching both of you off guard. He hadn't anticipated the words to spill out so spontaneously, and he's never felt more vulnerable in his life.

Park Sunghoon loves you. He is in love with you.

The arena seemed to vibrate with the weight of his confession, wrapping you both in startled stillness. You can't comprehend it - Sunghoon didn't just say he loved you; he confessed to being desperately in love with you. The enormity of his admission takes your breath away, bringing back memories of your 14-year-old self, who would have had no idea how to deal with such a discovery. Even at 19, the reality of his love has you spinning.

"You love me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from the ice beneath your feet. The words hang in the air, heavy with disbelief and wonder.

Finally, Sunghoon meets your gaze, his own expression a mixture of apprehension and hope. Seeing the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your lips eases some of the tension in his chest. He had thought his love for you was obvious, but he had never found the courage to say it out loud before.

"I do," he affirms, his voice soft but unwavering.

“How long?” you inquire, stealing a glance at him.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, a playful gleam in his eyes as he picks up the helmet and spins it in his hands. “Ah, I can’t tell you that,” he teases, “If I do, you’ll never get your head back in this.” His laughter lightens the mood, but you're not satisfied with his evasive response.

Snatching the helmet from him, you firmly place it back on your head. “See, now you can tell me. It still fits, and there's even a little room,” you declare, shaking your head to demonstrate how loose it is.

Sunghoon reaches over to fasten the helmet again, his laughter mixing with yours. His fingers linger on the strap, tracing it until he reaches your chin, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. “It's been a long time,” he admits, his voice soft but earnest. The more animated your expression becomes, the more the doubt that lingered in his mind fades away.

You don't hesitate to seize the moment, pouncing on him and knocking him back onto the ice. Your chest presses against his as you pin him down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that steals the air from his lungs. Both of you are grinning like fools, reveling in the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

But there's still one final piece missing from this perfect moment.

“I love you, too, Sunghoon,” you whisper into his mouth, your words laden with sincerity. You hope he can feel the depth of your feelings, knowing that you're not just saying it out of obligation but because you truly mean it.

“It was me, by the way,” he admits sheepishly, catching your curious gaze. You silently prompt him to continue, which he happily does “The sweets my dad gave you all the time? I asked him to give them to you. You looked so miserable one day that I gave up the packet of Haribos my dad would sneak me. After I saw your face light up, I told him to just keep giving them to you instead.”

Your heart feels like it could burst with joy. Why hadn’t he told you this before when you brought it up at the cafe? “Why did you do that?” you inquire, searching for an explanation.

Sunghoon just shrugs, playing it off, kissing you on your nose to distract you from asking any more questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. 

You look at each other and exchange sweet, short kisses on each other's lips. The moment is filled with innocence, and pure love surrounds you. But as the rink's ice starts to seep into your bodies, you both realise that, while the kisses and giggles warm you up, the frostbite on Sunghoon's ass is getting a little too much.

He stands, offering you a hand up, which you gladly accept, trying not to wobble. His lips find yours again within seconds, whispering ‘I love you’ over and over like it's a sacred mantra. Even as he picks you up and spins you around, the words never falter.

Your feet dangle in the air, suspended and untethered, a sensation that terrifies you but this whole situation is. Being in love with someone as deeply as you are with Sunghoon, anyone would find it a little scary - that’s even taking out the impending conversation you’ll need to have with Minhee. You can’t believe someone like Sunghoon is even in love with you a little bit. You counted your blessings every day that he even bothered to spend time with you or ask you to be his girlfriend, this was just surreal.

“We should go, yeah? Especially if I have to show up your brother tomorrow,” he suggests, setting you down gently.

“Sunghoon, be nice to him tomorrow, yeah? Don’t provoke him. This is important for him,” you plead with him, your voice laced with concern. All you want is for Minhee to come out of tomorrow's session feeling confident and ready. If your boyfriend starts to poke fun at him, it'll only serve to undermine Minhee's focus and now that he has a chance to go to the Olympics, he needs to feel confident, not taunted.

Sunghoon follows you as you carefully skate off the rink, back to the security of the grated mats outside. “I’m going to give him the critique he needs, brutal or not,” he says, his tone tinged with frustration. Sitting on the bench, he begins to remove his skates. He knows you don’t mean it to sound this way, but your phrasing made it seem like tomorrow wasn’t as significant for him. A whole run-through of his routine in front of everyone to determine if he's ready for Nationals? That's just as crucial for him as it is for your brother.

Ridding yourself of the devil skates you massage your feet. You have a greater respect for anyone that has to wear them for more than an hour, “And that’s fine, but don’t be a dick about it. This could be our chance to sway his opinion of you and make telling him about us easier.”

“Well, are you going to tell him the same thing? Because he isn’t exactly friendly towards me either,” Sunghoon counters. He can't argue with your logic; building a bridge with your brother would make things easier for you both. However, he isn’t willing to let Minhee berate him without standing up for himself.

You sigh, feeling deflated by the conversation already, wondering why you even brought it up. “Sunghoon, please just be the bigger man here, for me. Can you do that?” you ask, your voice pleading.

Putting his blade guards back on with a forceful gesture, he lets out an exasperated groan. “No. I will do anything for you, Sweets, but I draw the line at letting him walk over me,” he asserts firmly.

“I’m not asking you to do that,” you insist, gently pulling his face to meet yours. “If he’s rude to you, you can defend yourself, but just don’t take it too far or say anything unnecessary, especially about his skating.” The tone in your voice, combined with your touch, begins to soften the tension in his body. He grudges how much of an effect on him, “Please? Because you love me?”

He sticks his tongue into the side of his mouth and swipes it along his inner lip, “Wow, are we playing that card now?” You nod, and a satisfied smile sits smugly on your face. It was a low blow, you know that, but when push comes to shove. Inhaling deeply he agrees reluctantly, “Fine, I will be nice to him. But it’s in no way is it for his benefit, I’m doing it for us.”

You’ll take it. It’s a start and every reconciliation has to start somewhere, “Thank you, baby.” You press a smooch to his cheek and stand up, locating your shoes and putting them on.

Glancing at your phone, you notice it's past 11pm and there are a couple of messages from your mom. She's letting you know that you can't stay at Rina's tonight because Coach has requested Minhee's presence tomorrow morning, and she wants you to be there too. And you want to be there, because right now you feel a little like a shit sibling missing out on his training when it used to be the one activity you looked forward to together. 

And he’s been all alone the whole time. What was going on with your mum these days? She would rather die than miss a Minhee schedule, even if it were just practice. 

Sunghoon hugs you from behind, reading your messages, “Don’t tell me the witch is cock blocking me?” 

That’s the other thing about him being your boyfriend, you’ve started to open up to him a lot more about your relationship with your mum and how thin the bond is. You told him about her moving you out of your old room to make way for Minhee’s trophies, how she made you skip Rina’s birthday to attend a dinner with a potential sponsor when you didn’t even have to be there, and so many other unfortunate occasions.

Sunghoon was seething each time you spoke about her because you’re her daughter, you’re meant to be the joy of her life and it sounds like you’re just an inconvenience. Truthfully, you hadn’t paid much mind to it before you said all your woes with her out loud, but Sunghoon doesn’t see it as casually as you do. 

“Guess tomorrow morning is officially happening then,” You say, messaging back a quick ‘okay’ to your mum, “I’m sorry, Hoonie, I can’t come back to yours,” You rest the back of your head on his shoulder as his grip gets tighter around you.

“Sweets, it’s okay. I just wish I got to fuck you good after I proclaimed my undying love for you finally,” he kisses down your neck, “Guess I’ll just need to take you home after I wipe the floor clean of your brother.” 

Angrily, you turn around, “Any more of that and you’ll not only not be able to fuck me, you’ll also be single.” You’re not messing about and Sunghoon knows it.

“Sorry,” He winces, rubbing your arms, “Force of habit. I promise tomorrow I will be on my absolute best behaviour!” he kisses you but you don’t kiss him back, still trying to keep your annoyed demeanour. “Aw, c’mon, baby, don’t be like that! I promise skaters honour and all that.”

“You better be, Hoonie,” you warn him, finally giving in and kissing him back once, just to let him think he can’t get away with it that easily, even if he can. 

As you walk out of the arena, he follows you, stooping down to whisper, "You're kinda sexy when you're mad like that." You know he's only half-joking, so you don't play into it because if you do, he'll make you angry more often since he knows you aren't able to stay angry. Instead, you say your goodnights to Miss Barbara and make your way to his car.

He’s a piece of work, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. You love him exactly how he is.

_____________________

Applying the last finishing touches of your makeup, you check yourself out. Today was a big day, so yes it’s a little extreme to get dolled up at 5am on a Wednesday, but you’re seeing Minhee and Sunghoon skate their Nationals routines in full today, so what’s not to be excited about?

If anyone had told you that today you would feel no nervousness about the both of them being so close to one another, you would have told them to pull the next joke out of their ass. There was no way that could happen but it is and Sunghoon promised to try and be civil with your brother. So now all your worries are on them and their skates. 

You’ve seen Sunghoon’s routine countless times, so you know what to expect, but Minhee was a whole different story. It still irks your heart that you haven’t seen your brother train, you feel awful, truly. You just need to cheer for him extra loud today.

You grab your tote bag, which has some extra panties since you're spending the night with your sweetheart, and head out of your room. His roommates have joked that you’re moving in since you’ve left so much stuff at his place including a toothbrush, clothes, shampoo and conditioner, and even a spare book to read if you wake up before him in the morning. Not like you meant to, just over time it happened.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear Minhee and your mum whispering about something, but it’s hard to make out the conversation. Carefully tiptoeing towards the kitchen, you hold your breath, trying not to make a noise. They don’t normally whisper, especially not at this hour, so whatever they're discussing must be important.

“I can handle it, Mum, I told you,” Minhee's voice is heavy with sadness. Has he always sounded this despondent, or are you just overthinking?

“Good. I've invested too much for you to Cave now. When we get there, you know what you need to do, right?” What is Minhee supposed to do? Cave doing what? What does he have to do? Skate?

There are so many questions that need answers just by this snippet of conversation. You press your back to the wall of the hallway to make sure you stay hidden, hoping for any sort of clarity.

“Mum, I said I got it.” he snaps back and leaves it there, packing his bag, “Did you let Y/N know about today?”

“About the run-through? Yes, I told her.” your mum pours herself a coffee into her reusable cup.

Minhee rubs his eyes, clearly exhausted. Now that you’re getting a good glimpse of him after a few weeks, he looks a lot thinner and the circles under his eyes are a deeper shade than normal, “I told you not to tell her, she doesn’t need to be a part of this,” he zips his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

Does he not want me to be there for his skates anymore? Is that why he hasn’t invited me?

You can’t make head or tail of the conversation or what they mean, but the last thing you want is for Minhee to shut you out. 

“Oh, Y/N there you are,” your mum spots you, foiling your plan to eavesdrop.

At the sound of your name, Minhee tenses, pausing in his tracks for a beat. He was acting so strange, it made you hurt for him. Your brother was so lively and now he looks like a shell of himself. 

Putting on a cheerful facade to conceal your concern, you approach Minhee and casually swipe half of the banana from his hand, as you would normally do. If he were his usual self, Minhee would protest loudly, demanding you to get your own fruit. But instead, he simply hands you the rest without a word.

“Both of you hurry up, we need to go,” your mum whooshes past you both and heads for the front door, leaving you and Minhee on your own.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask, quiet as a kitten. 

Minhee nods his head once and brushes by you, not even glancing at you. The relationship you have with him is now feeling like you’re strangers. You don’t know what spurred this change on but you have a high suspicion it’s because of you.

Obviously, you don’t want it to be, but you haven’t really spent time with him recently or supported him the way you should have. He probably feels neglected, something you never want him to feel.

Taking hold of his wrist you stop him before he exits for the car, “Mini, I’m sorry for not being at your training sessions. Miss Barbara said that you’ve been going to the rink a lot, I should have made it to at least one of those.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I don’t need you there.” 

That hurt. A lot. 

He finally glances down at you and sees your eyes flash with hurt, “I’ve been going spontaneously, you’ve been busy with school and…Rina. Our schedules don’t fit anymore,”  he plays it off but you’re his sister and you know he’s hiding something deeper in his nonchalant words.

Pulling his wrist from your grip, Minhee goes to the car, leaving you a lot more concerned for him than before.

As your mum pulls up to Belmore you see Sunghoon’s car already here. He must be getting in the practice he missed last night because of your date. You would feel guilty about it if it wasn’t his idea.

When the engine stops, there is a weird tension in the air as everyone has gone into covert mode. You want to break the silence but you can’t fathom what to say right now. 

"Minhee, I'm feeling good about today, do well," your mother says. Despite her words of positivity, her expression portrays a different mindset, as if she is just saying what she knows she should.

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you grin at him, "Do your best, Mini, that's all anyone can ask," He smiles back at you, acknowledging your words. What's strange is that he takes your hand and squeezes it, his eyes fixed on yours. Sibling communication is turned on; you just can't understand what he's saying to you.

Walking into the arena is a completely different vibe from last night, no peace to be found. The coaches are happily chatting about their prodigies; it’s nice to see them getting along considering they were also pushed together through this blending of rinks. You wished the same for Minhee and Sunghoon.

Speaking of Sunghoon, he isn’t anywhere to be seen, he’s not on the ice like you thought he would be. 

“Minhee, go get changed, me and your sister will be over there,” your mum points to the same two seats you’ve both occupied for over a decade, “Don’t fuck it up, I’m serious.”

How can she be so harsh? 

Minhee simply waves you both off, shoulders slumped. While you watch him retreat to the changing room, you scowl at your mum, a toxic taste in your mouth at how rude she is being. At the end of the day, Minhee was always her favourite child, and now she can’t even be bothered with him.

Deciding he can’t go out with those being the last words he hears, you excuse yourself and walk in the same direction. You say your hellos to the usual staff as you go into the back hallway, scouting the place for your brother.

Without warning, you’re being pulled back and pinned to the wall. You almost scream until you feel those perfect lips that belong to your boyfriend, smushed against yours. 

Perplexed by his actions, you look around to see if anyone saw you. Fortunately, you were hidden enough, “Hoonie! What are you doing?” 

“I needed a good luck kiss, that’s all,” he smirks, “What do you think?” he draws back and shows you the outfit he was planning to wear at Nationals and your natural reaction is to gasp.

The royal blue silk shirt was basic, but you knew it would spring to life once he got on the ice, and his black slim trousers had crystals embroidered down the side as well as all around the bottom, the gems a mix of white and three shades of blue. He really fits the description of Ice Prince.

Spinning around on his tippy toes, he awaits your response. He felt good in it like he was one hundred percent ready.

“You look like you belong in a museum,” Gawking at him, you cover your mouth, you haven’t seen him look so handsome in any skating costume before, “Why are you wearing it just now?” 

He shrugs, “Coach thought it would be good to see how it holds up since I went with a new designer,” he smiles, rubbing up and down his torso. The material feels so good, he’s grown a habit of touching it whenever he can, “I’ll need to thank Karina when I’m done.”

“Huh? Why?” 

“You’re looking at a Yu Jimin original, I’ve been told she’s going to be famous.” Sunghoon grins at your surprised face.

Your best friend made this outfit? Her talents never failed to amaze you but she had never let anyone wear the clothes she made, not even you unless she was sampling. How on earth did he pull this off? 

Inspecting the costume more carefully, you see Rina’s signature stitching aka the first one she learnt and stuck with because she can ‘always make it work’ and to be fair, she does. It really was hers and your boyfriend was wearing it. 

But she would never do it out of the kindness of her own heart, “How much did she charge?” you ask worried, Rina could easily have bumped up the price since it was Sunghoon, milking him of the money she knew he had.

“Not a penny,” He stands proudly, but you know him, and you know your best friend, so you give him a dubious look, “Well, it didn’t cost money, I gave her a matching Tiffany ring and bracelet set.” He throws the sentence out as if the jewellery didn’t cost 4 times the wages you got this month.

“Hoonie, What the fuck?” 

"Nah, I got these for free a while back. I was planning to gift you them for your birthday." Wearing a playful smile, you tilt your head back as you absorb the unexpected information of your given-away gifts. Sunghoon instantly becomes aware of what he's just confessed. "Then I realised you're worth more than free jewellery and I swear when I gave her them, it was in the most 'I don't love you, this is just to get on Y/N's good side by winning you over' kinda way." 

Sunghoon bats his long eyelashes after he stumbles over his words, nervous you might get the wrong idea. You didn’t though, you know he’s only got eyes for you. 

It does make you laugh and think about how lucky you are, “Thank you for trying to get along with her,” you leave out the jib about it being your supposed gift because you can see how hard he is trying. 

Sunghoon wants to be a part of your life, that much is evident, and he’ll do anything he can to integrate himself peacefully, cautious to not disrupt too much. Rina was an easy win because as soon as she saw the trademark Tiffany Blue boxes she was on his side. Plus, the chance to have her first-ever design worn on a televised competition wasn’t really an opportunity she could pass up.

“I just need to win over Minhee now,” he says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and drawing you closer. But as you remain unresponsive, lost in thought, his concern grows. "Sweets? What's wrong?"

Your mind is consumed by the events of the morning with Minhee. It gnaws at you - his lack of confidence and timid nature seems perplexing, especially given Miss Barbara's assurance that he's practically a shoo-in for the Olympic team. If there ever was a time for Minhee to exude self-assurance, it's now.

Sunghoon shakes you a little, bringing you back, “Sorry, baby, I need to see Minhee.”

“Is everything okay?” Concern is painted on his face but you can’t let him worry over something that doesn’t involve him.

“It’s fine. Good luck out there,” you pull him for an unintentionally long kiss. He melts against you, using his arms to bring you into him, hoping his touch will give you some sort of comfort. Even if you don’t tell him right now, he knows when you’re ready, you’ll let him in on what has you this way.

Stepping out of the hiding spot, you briskly walk to the changing room to find your brother. You don’t want to cast a shadow over his day, not when this performance meant so much for him, but the anxiety and concerns embedded in your body need to be aired. You need to know what’s going on.

As you approach the room, Minhee is just walking out, head hung low. 

He quickly spots you and his eyes stretch wide, “What are you doing here?” he looks around urgently before looking back at you. 

“I just wanted to talk to you. Mum was way out of line back there and I needed you to know I’m proud of you, no matter what happens. You’ve worked so hard and I know how much this skate means considering it’s basically your ticket to the Olympics, and that’s always-”

Minhee interrupts you, “Wait, pause, what do you mean Olympics?” 

Shit. You had to tell him now, you couldn’t backtrack such a monumental piece of information.

“Miss Barbara told me that Coach Kim said you’re ready for it, and if you pass this and make it to Nationals, you’ll be offered a place on the South Korean Olympic team.” You blurt it all out at once and the smile on Minhee’s face grows bigger and bigger with each word.

“You’re not fucking with me, are you?” he asks, his tone in disbelief.

Shaking your head, you mirror his vibrant smile, “No, you’re a shoo-in!” 

Suddenly, Minhee picks you up and squeezes you tight, laughing lightly. You shouldn’t have let it slip but seeing the sadness wash away from him was worth it, even if it ruined the surprise. Coach Kim is so confident in his abilities, and so are you, you just needed Minhee to believe it too.

He puts you down, running his hand through his hair, still processing the good news. Minhee whispers to himself how he can’t believe it. You’ve watched him work tirelessly for this since you were kids, and you also saw how disappointed he was when he missed out on the Youth Olympics, so seeing him now at 20 practically being offered a place on the team is a dream come true for both of you. All you’ve ever wanted was for him to succeed.

Looking behind you, Minhee’s face drops again. As you look to see what caused the sudden change, you see Sunghoon walking towards you both. For the first time in 4 months, you didn’t want to see him right now; Minhee was finally in better spirits and you can’t have Sunghoon ruining it now. But he promised to behave, to take the high road, so you trust him to do just that.

Sunghoon stands beside you, his hand goes to sit on your lower back instinctively but he catches himself, pointing to the rink instead, “Coaches asked if you’re good to go or if you need a warm-up?”

You can’t lie, you’re proud of Sunghoon for not making a snide remark about how Minhee would need the warm-up. It’s tiny, but it’s progress.

Glaring into his eyes, Minhee doesn’t say anything, biting his lips into a thin line and nodding in acknowledgement. 

What is up with him today? You know why Sunghoon is being a bit nicer, but where is Minhee’s sarcastic quip?

“Can I get in there?” Sunghoon gestures to the changing room, “Left my skates,” You move to the side but Minhee doesn’t budge, “Are you seriously going to make me walk around you?” Sunghoon scoffs.

Again, Minhee doesn’t move but you know it’s not in a defiant way, his face isn’t giving you the normal ‘I hate Sunghoon’ look, it’s giving you more of a concern concealed by a deadpan face kind of vibe. Strange. 

Sunghoon isn’t as attuned to your brother's emotions, so he takes offence to Minhee’s resistance to move and pushes him out of the way, “You’re pathetic, Kang.”

You bite your tongue down hard, trying to suppress the anger bubbling inside you. Although Sunghoon warned you already that if Minhee provoked him, he would snap back but he didn’t have to call him pathetic. 

Minhee clenches his jaw and fists, trying to calm himself down. You take the opportunity to rub his arms, soothing him a little, “Don’t listen to him, Mini. Go out there and do your best, yeah? Remember what I told you.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m basically going to the Olympics.”

“No,” you smile softly at him, “I’m proud of you, for everything you’ve achieved and everything you will,” Stepping to stand beside him, you push him towards the rink. The words might not mean anything to him, but you say every syllable with as much sincerity as you can. 

He takes off his blade protectors and skates onto the rink, doing a few laps to warm up. Seeing him glide across the ice, practising his jumps with ease. Miss Barbara was right, he has improved a lot and that’s saying something considering he was already one of the best skaters.

Sunghoon walks up beside you, his skates in one hand as the other takes yours, giving it a quick squeeze before he lets go, joining his coach on the other side. It was a quick moment no one would be able to see but Sunghoon saw the opportunity to touch you for luck just one last time before he had to pretend you meant nothing to him. The sooner you both tell Minhee, the better.

Going back to your seat next to your mother, she doesn’t spare you a look before asking where you went but you don’t bother answering her, choosing to focus your energy on Minhee. He takes his spot in the centre and shifts into his starting pose. He looked so elegant on the ice, even in his sports athleisure. You wonder how much begging and bribery it would take for Rina to make him a costume for his Olympic performance.

Coach Kim gives him a supportive thumbs-up as the music begins. From the bleachers, you see Minhee let out a nervous breath before he begins. His eyes scoot to you and your mum for a second and you use the time to smile and wave enthusiastically which seems to settle him.

As he starts his routine, you can see how his movements have been perfectly choreographed, his frame is poised and he showcases a seamless fusion of strength and elegance. You look to Sunghoon for a moment, who seems to echo your awed amazement. Minhee wove through his spins and intricate footwork with ease. It was like he was a painter and the ice was his canvas, painting the most delicate yet structured portrait. He was sensational.

Minhee looks to your mum mid-skate for approval but you already know she isn’t showing him what he needs, so he shifts to you, eyes never leaving yours as he hits his quadruple axel. The one move he’s been dying to get into his routine, the one move that burdened him forever because he could never land it, now he just achieved it with some ease.

Your hands are clasped to your chest, your face radiating a beam of joy and pride. You can’t believe he did what everyone told him was impossible for him to achieve. The expression on your face is just as elated as his.

He missed having you here to cheer him on, you can tell by the smile of appreciation on his face.

He finishes up his routine with a Biellmann Spin and ends the way he started as if he could continuously loop his performance - it’s been his signature for years.  The arena is silent as all eyes are on your brother as he relaxes from his pose and hunches over for breath. No one can quite believe the magic they just saw.

Surprisingly, Sunghoon is the first one to clap, a smirk on his face. He just witnessed a skate that might actually throw him off the top spot for Nationals, he had to respect it. You join in, standing up to jump and cheer his name. 

On cloud 9, Minhee skates over to Coach Kim who is eagerly awaiting to praise him, “Kid, you were incredible! Seriously, by far your best skate to date,” he roughly pats the skaters back and brings him in for a hug, “My kid is going to Nationals!” The moment was so sweet you naturally pouted before running down to meet him.

“Mini! Oh my god!” your voice pulls him away from his coach, the hug from him being replaced by you, “You did so good, I almost cried! Look at my eyes, I’m not lying,” you point to your face and true to your word, there are tears in the ducts of your eyes. 

Minhee ruffles your hair, “Thanks, Bubs,” he shines at the adoration he’s being soaked in, pure happiness circulating his body.

“You did well, Kang. I have nothing to fault.” Sunghoon’s voice booms behind you, his body pressing against yours as he congratulates Minhee, “Seriously, you’ve always skated well but it’s nice to see you finally bringing me some competition.”

Your brother pulls you from Sunghoon and tucks you into his side. It’s ironic how he’s protecting you from your own boyfriend. Minhee is on such a high, not even Sunghoon could ruin it for him but that doesn’t mean he has to say anything to him. He tightens the hold on your shoulder and walks you past Sunghoon. 

As he puts his guards back on, you take the chance to look at Sunghoon, mouthing him a ‘good luck’ and smile which he happily returns with a wink. He didn’t need luck, he was a pro, but now he does have to step up his game because if he doesn’t get the same reaction from the onlookers, his mum won’t let him leave the rink until he does.

Taking your seat, Minhee gives your mum a look to which she only nods. Was that all he was going to get from her? You seriously needed to find out what had turned them so cold to one another. But that’s future you’s problem, right now, you focus on Sunghoon while he puts on his skates.

He circles the ice, stretching his legs and arms, yet his expression is one of unknowingness. While he chips his skates into the surface a few times, he becomes uneasy. 

Regardless of how he feels, Sunghoon takes his starting stance, arms in the air and one leg spread out behind him.

Beginning his routine, the blare of Ocean Eyes plays through the speakers. The song, the routine, the outfit, everything was cohesive. Sunghoon has spent months preparing his Nationals skate, meticulously changing and adapting every detail to make sure it was perfect. You’ve watched him over the weeks and it’s nothing like how it is right now.

But not in the breathtaking way Minhee was, there was something wrong.

Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow and as it’s coming up to his quad jumps, he skips them. Now you can confirm something is drastically wrong, nevertheless, he continues on, preparing for his flying camel spin. Whatever is going on, he’s doing his best to brush it off.

“What is wrong with him?” you whisper to yourself but your mother overhears it, smirking at you. 

“He’s thrown off by your brother, I imagine,” she says so casually but as you look at her, there’s a glint in her eye.

Just as Sunghoon completes the spin with a slight wobble, Coach Lee encourages him to keep going despite the apparent struggle. Determined, Sunghoon presses on, transitioning into a forward glide as he prepares for the upcoming triple loop. It's in that moment that everything seems to crumble beneath you.

As Sunghoon launches into his jump from his back foot, smoothly completing the rotations in mid-air, however, the performance takes a sudden turn upon landing – a moment of unease grips everyone watching, you included, as his ankle unexpectedly snaps at a 90-degree angle. The consequence is immediate and stark, leading to his descent to the ground. The hushed gasps of the onlookers echo at the sight of his body skimming across the ice. In the aftermath, Sunghoon holds his injured ankle, his face contorted in pain as he tries to move it.

He's badly hurt, unable to move from his spot on the ice, and the circumstances turn what should have been a flawless routine into an unexpected nightmare.

"Hoonie!" you yell, your heart pounding as you rush to the edge of the rink to assess the situation. Sunghoon is writhing in pain, tears pooling in his eyes, and you notice the blade of his skate has come off his boot - It must have come off when he landed. 

You need to be next to him, but before you can check on your lover, Minhee is quick on your heels, dragging you back. "Let me go," you're no longer concerned about how it will look if you go to check on Sunghoon; all you can think about is if he's okay. 

Minhee doesn’t listen, his grip tightening as he pulls you away. You struggle against him, feeling utterly helpless as you watch the commotion around Sunghoon unfold. Coach Kim, Mrs. Park, and others gather around him, their urgent actions heightening your anxiety. But Minhee is determined to remove you from the scene, forcefully guiding you through the doors and out of the arena.

Once in the car park, he releases you with a frustrated exclamation, his agitation evident in his gestures as he runs his hands through his hair. His eyes betray a storm of emotions, leaving you unsettled and desperate for answers.

“Minhee, what’s happening? We have to go back!” you insist, your voice tinged with desperation.

“We can’t, okay? Let’s just go home,” he responds, his tone strained, his features drawn with tension.

Sensing something amiss, you step closer to him, your heart racing with concern. “Minhee, please, tell me what’s going on. None of this makes sense,” you implore, your hands reaching out to him.

“It’s nothing, alright!” he snaps, his words too forceful to be convincing. “His skate broke, that’s all. I didn’t do anything,” he adds, his denial ringing hollow.

The straightforward solution would be for him to share what's going on, but the way he's shutting down makes it clear that direct communication is off the table. Your mind races back to the kitchen, recalling your mom's directive to Minhee to 'get it done.' Then, at the rink, she warned him not to fuck up. It dawns on you that this is more than just about the routine; something else has transpired. Yet, the connection between Minhee and a botched landing seems implausible. Skaters experience falls regularly; it's just a part of the sport. 

Unless he psyched him out but you were with each of them at different times and the only time they interacted was before Sunghoon went to get his skates from the changing room. Minhee acted super strange when Sunghoon asked to pass him like he was nervous about letting him in- 

Sunghoon’s skate…No, surely not. 

You take a cautious step back, your expression one of bewilderment. What you’re thinking couldn’t possibly have happened, your brother wouldn’t stoop so low, “Mini? You didn’t…”

"You're a liar." Minhee abruptly deters the conversation, leaving you much more puzzled than before. Tilting your head, you give him a sceptical look, but he only offers you a harsh stare, “Oh Mini, I would never do that, wasn’t that what you told me? You said that, didn’t you?” 

Okay, you've officially reached the top of your perplexity. What is he on about? “I don’t know what you mean?” you utter, awaiting any form of clarity. 

A visual cloud storms over his head, symbolic of his tone as he spits, “You’re dating Park fucking Sunghoon.”

How did he find out?

The weight of Minhee's accusation hangs in the air as you come to terms with the fact that your hidden relationship with his rival is now openly known. Your mind races, wondering who could have told him. To be honest, it could have been anyone at that point; you weren't being very secretive, merely keeping it low-key around those who knew Minhee. That was your first mistake, clearly.

The forced laugh that leaves his mouth is venomous, “You really ought to be more careful with your lies, Sis.” Retrieving his phone from his trouser pocket, he flicks through it until he finds something. As if viewing it for the first time, he gets angry again, shoving the device in your face, “You sent me it with the others.”

You’re faced with a picture, and not just any picture, the one of Sunghoon kissing your cheek at the award ceremony. The frozen moment captured in time reveals more than words ever could. Your heart sinks as the reality of your indiscretion stares back at you from the screen. The once-precious memory now serves as evidence. The tension in the air increases as you deal with the impact of your secret finally coming to light.

How could you be so stupid? You were so careful around him, always triple-checking everything and now it’s all up in flames.

“Mini-”

“Just tell me one thing, Y/N. Tell me you haven’t been seeing him since that night you got out of his car? That this started way after and you haven’t been with him for like 4 months?” his resolve has turned from one of anger to despair, desperate for you to tell him his suspicions are wrong.

But deception wasn't an option; lying to him now would only add more layers to an already tangled web. It was too complicated to tell him how you stayed away for a week, and how Sunghoon came to your rescue the night of Yeonjun’s party, and it was certainly not the right time to tell him how Sunghoon brought you back to life with his kisses and how he makes you feel like the most important person in the world. Revealing the true depth of your connection with Sunghoon would undoubtedly trigger Minhee, unleashing a storm far beyond fits of anger, something he couldn’t come back from.

The silence gave Minhee his answer, his face falling from anger to disappointment, “I fucking knew it.”

This is what you wanted to avoid the whole time, the reason you kept Sunghoon a secret in the first place. 

If he knew, he would do something rash like…

“Did you mess with Sunghoon’s skate? Did you do this because I’ve been seeing him?” It all starts to click into place but Minhee quickly shuts you down.

“It wasn’t that Y/N.” He dismisses.

“So it was you? You caused that? Minhee what the fuck?!” you shriek at his twisted confession. 

The revelation sends a shiver down your spine as your emotions mix with disbelief and confusion. This wasn’t the brother you knew, the one you grew up with and held so dear to you. 

The air thickens with unspoken words as Minhee rattles his brain for an explanation. His eyes portray the evident guilt he feels, a turbulent storm in the depths of his gaze. Any anger now dissipates with the wind as it blows cold on his face. His voice, when he finally speaks, carries the weight of regret, “Look, Y/N, it’s complicated; you have no idea what’s going on.”

“Then help me understand because right now it seems like you just tried to hurt Sunghoon because he's my boyfriend." The chill in your words reflects the icy breeze. The atmosphere is thick with tension, like a heavy curtain waiting to be dragged back to reveal the truth behind Minhee's aberrant actions.

Minhee’s anger washes his body again, muttering the word ‘boyfriend’ in disbelief before he speaks up, “The less you know the better, okay? Stay out of it.” With a swift turn, he attempts to walk away, yet his mind is unwilling to let the matter of you and Sunghoon rest. "Y’know, when you sent that picture, I was so angry I could have killed him, but as the weeks passed I was just so fucking disappointed you didn’t have the balls to tell me." 

This whole situation is so fucked up and there is nothing you can do to place everything in a perfect timeline that will help you understand his actions because he’s keeping something detrimental from you. If it wasn’t because Sunghoon and you are together, then what could it possibly be? If it was because he wanted to be at Nationals, it wasn’t Sunghoon standing in his way so it couldn’t be that. 

Before you can dwell on the situation further, your mum strides over, balancing both your belongings. "Will you two stop acting like children and fighting? You're not 5 anymore." She thrusts your jacket and bag into your arms and does the same with Minhee. "Get in the car."

“Mum, is he okay?” It’s a hopeful, albeit hesitant, question directed at your Park-hating mother. You know it's a long shot, but you chance it.

"He'll live. I doubt he'll make it to Nationals, though." She smirks, her reply tinged with dark humour that adds an unexpected dimension of tension. The revelation regarding Sunghoon's injury, delivered with that sneering twist, leaves you with a mix of anxiety for your boyfriend. 

She had something to do with this, that’s obvious. You just had to find out how and why.

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

[jhuzen]

married life [m.reader]

this is me taking the first step in creating the househusband hcs of our tall hsr men for us gays and bi kings. happy pride ansismdkf (i mean to say that also in haitham’s post bUT OH WELL). anyway, i still hate luocha. otto trauma so true so real (honestly, his only saving grace in mhy games is ayato because he’s not blond). today, we have ourselves some househusbands.

𖦹 househusband hcs with gepard, sampo, jing yuan, blade, dan heng, caelus and old man welt, no luocha but i’m open to be convinced why i should start loving him, mostly fluff, domestic stuff, modern au though… aren’t they more modern if they can travel the space? huh. normal world au then. forgot to add that ceo reader is implied

GEPARD LANDAU

He’s a very reluctant househusband at first, actually. He’s one who firmly believes that relationships are a team effort (and they are and should be), and thinks that it wouldn’t hurt for the both of you to work together. Of course, you encourage him regardless, and with both of your career-oriented selves, you were basically the couple that could foster a ten or so children and still be financially sound.

Serval is the one who convinced Gepard to lay low a little in his job and relax for once. You’re making a decent income a month — enough for you to be the only one working and still have a comfortable life together.

You have to thank your sister-in-law and her craftiness. She wasn’t Gepard’s sister for nothing. She knew your husband more than anyone and knew that he was too down bad to even refuse in entertaining the thought of not taking care of you. All she had to do was do a little convincing.

“If I were [Name], I sure wouldn’t mind coming home to a nice meal like this every night,” she’d muse with a hum while she ate off of Gepard’s cooking. He came home early that one night and thought to surprise you. Of course, Serval just had to taste test since she’s looking out for you, her beloved brother-in-law. “Also wouldn’t mind being taken care of by my own spouse…”

Gepard quickly folded. What if his sister was right and you wanted that kind of life? But it’s not like he also wants to quit his job just like that. So he made a gradual decrease in work until he can finally have a schedule that can commit as a househusband and occasionally help when he’s needed at work as a consultant.

Your beloved husband is a bit mid from the start — basic in cooking, in chores, but it’s his perseverance that pushes him up to S-tier househusband status. He will really go out of his way to learn recipes that you suddenly brought up in the middle of a conversation and will execute it to the highest standards. He will become a lot more meticulous in his chores around the house.

If he can, he’s definitely the type to drop by and join you in lunch. He’s a lot more free now, and if there’s nothing else to do in the house, he’ll take some lunch and go to where you work and just eat lunch together. Everyone is looking at the windows of your own office in envy while they watched you get spoon fed by your cute husband (they don’t know how embarrassed Gepard is since you technically just coerced him to feed you so people can see you on purpose).

So very attentive to you. He wakes you up early (even earlier if you have meetings where you have to discuss things to be extra prepared) for work. Your lunch is just top tier, but the plating is too cute — with the slightly uneven shapes to create cute animals. He’s the kind to even put a note in your packed lunch every time without fail.

He knows how hard you work and only wants the best for you. And when you recognize his efforts, he’s quick to get flustered from your compliments. He will fold like a wet cardboard. He’s too weak.

“Dear, please,” you could only laugh at your beloved’s winsome attitude. Currently pressed against the marbled counter of the kitchen, you can only shower him in a plethora of love-filled kisses as you expressed your unending gratitude. Your lips left tiny pecks from his cheeks down to his neck, only serving to fluster him even more.

You pulled back but not before leaving another quick kiss on his nose, “What’s got you all knotted up, love? No one’s watching.” You cooed, leaving your poor husband whining at the thought of earlier — when you so cruelly asked him to feed you in front of your subordinates while you busily ‘worked’ on your projects.

But somehow even with the unbridled embarrassment that you brought to him, Gepard couldn’t help but feel the elation engulf his entirety at the prospect of you showing him off in your own mischievous ways. Even with your busy schedule, you were more than willing to let him come inside your work and take the time off just to let him join you for lunch. He’d already heard enough drama around the neighborhood to be grateful that you can still balance your work with your marriage.

He was grateful to have you as his partner for life. And even then, he wouldn’t mind having to visit you just to feed you. It was certainly a rare thing that he’s heard partners would suggest, so to be given a privilege as seeing you everyday at work was something he would cherish more than ever.

A kiss on his temple knocked his fleeting thoughts off the rail and pulled him back to reality, blinking at your curious smile, “…Shield for your thoughts?” You inquired with a gentle tone, eager to pry just what has got your husband so spacey all of a sudden.

He only grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss and murmured against your lips, “Just thanking my lucky stars for having you as my husband.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI

Your friends still think you’re a legend for even managing to wife up the untamable Sampo. But somehow, you pulled him in and he was more than willing to be a househusband. For more reasons than one.

But let’s get out the pinnacle of his reasons out of the way — it being, him living so comfortably? Financially supported by a handsome guy like you? Sign him up. He’s more than willing to take care of you while you take care of him. He’s a sleazy guy, after all. Wouldn’t wanna get married to a broke man. Kidding.

Anyway, he mostly sells the story of getting married just for benefits for laughs. But really, you’ve somehow managed to actually trap him as a prisoner of love. He’s a huge simp for you and actually considers your high-end job a bonus. A really good bonus. But other than that, you’ve got Sampo completely wrapped around your finger. And he’s a very eager househusband.

A surprisingly good househusband. He’s meticulous in his work and can cook. But what really sells him is how well he can budget and actively get discounts just by smooth talking the vendors in the market. You once went with him, telling him to go nuts and buy everything that he needs, and you came home with only just a good half of your money spent. He was scarily good and from then on, you made an oath to take notes from your husband’s amazing haggling skills.

He’s a very resourceful man. If you need anything, he’s there to lend a hand. He’s always there to fix equipments that break down. Really, you rarely get issues with the things at home, because the moment he senses that there’s something wrong, he’s already on the case. Your husband is a jack of all trades.

All he requires is a small fee of some attention and loving from you. Seriously, he will mope around and will let you know that he’s upset that you forgot to give him a goodbye kiss earlier when you left for work.

You wake up much earlier than he does, but please wake him up. He wants to cook you breakfast and see you off like a loving househusband that he is. He will sulk if you so much as even think of leaving him without waking him up. He’s a big drama queen and unless you make up for it once you get home, he will continue to walk around the house with a pout on his face.

The only way to make this man completely crumble underneath you is to spoil him. He’s working so hard with the upkeep of your shared home! If you take him out on surprise date nights, he will melt. Shower him with lavish gifts from all the money you saved up, courtesy of Sampo’s extreme bargaining. He will latch onto your arm the entire night like your pretty little arm candy (even if he’s taller than you).

Oh, right. You will get sudden visits from Natasha or even Seele and Oleg, just to check up on your married life. They’re mostly just there to whack some sense into Sampo if he’s being difficult to you. Suffice to say, they’re always surprised when they come visit your homely abode that’s clean and has a refreshing atmosphere. Seele plugs her ears every time you say it’s all because of Sampo that your house is even remotely presentable. She’s in denial.

It was a grueling day, leaving you completely vulnerable to the throes of exhaustion. You ought to take some vacation days, maybe go on a different country with your husband for a treat. Surely, he’d like that. You noticed he’s been working just as hard as you at home. Speaking of which — the reason for your home’s unfamiliar silence was in fact the lack of singing from your lively husband. You were so used to hearing his voice that the silence felt incredibly deafening when you were alone.

“Love? You home?” You called out, glancing at the shoe rack by the door to see his outdoor shoes in the same place and the indoor shoes missing. He’s here. You pursed your lips, brushing off the peculiarity and headed to the joint dining room and kitchen, seeing a nice still hot meal sitting on a nice plate. But it was the only thing on the table, no other plates or even a husband waiting on you with a smile. You peered at the food to see a card beside the plate, scribbled with a sad face.

“…What.” You sat the card back down before finally poking your head in the living room, seeing your husband watching another sad show while screwing in some panel from what you can only guess a part of your heater. You sauntered up from behind him, before grabbing his face and tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

He made no noise and had it not been for his evident pout, you would’ve only been left wondering what you did to make him so sulky again. You sighed before leaning to press a kiss against your lips. You could feel him finally smile against the kiss.

“So you still love me?” He asked, insinuating that you felt otherwise for not even giving him a kiss goodbye earlier.

“Not like I have a choice,” was your only cheeky response.

“Wha— Hey!”

𐂂

JING YUAN

Out of everyone, he is probably the most eager one to be a househusband. He is so ready to retire. He’s been moaning about it at work constantly, about how he’s just ready to settle in somewhere nice and be taken care of. And when you decided to finally tie the knot with him, you didn’t even have to ask twice, that man is already turning in his resignation and is already making your shared home even cozier than ever.

He’s a very languid man, but that does not mean he’s going to flake out on chores. He can do them all efficiently just for the sake of getting them out of the way so he can keep relaxing after. That, and of course making sure that you come home to a clean home. Aeons know how stressful it is to come home from work and seeing your own home completely cluttered. Jing Yuan has suffered the same thing before he met you.

Jing Yuan loves you through his cooking other than sleeping in with you. He creates the greatest dishes for you. Often are you eating your lunch with so much pride. Your subordinates would come inside your office during lunchtime to pass some papers and they would see you just completely enjoying life with your husband’s cooking.

He likes to greet you with a nice warm meal after your work. And he’d just watch you eat his meals with a fond smile while you continue to talk about each of your days with each other. Of course, occasionally, he’d open his mouth and you would have to feed him as well. Yanqing would sometimes come home to such a sight and never has he seen a more domestic scene than before.

Another one of his much favored ways to show his love is through after work massages. You’d come home and be completely smothered with love just by his touches. Sometimes he’d give you a nice neck and shoulder massage while you’re eating and talking about your day. Or you could both be lounging on the sofa and he would absentmindedly massage your overworked hands.

However his most favored time spent with you is when you’re on a day off and that he would successfully persuade you into staying a little bit longer in bed with him. Just sleep until the afternoon, with limbs tangled against one another. He loves spooning his husband that takes care of him so dearly. Just feeling your back pressed against his chest while he’s nuzzling his nose into the nape of your neck. Bliss. Utter bliss.

The two of you scream old married couple. Just two old geezers enjoying their lives. It’s really such a relaxing relationship. Being married to Jing Yuan is like a vacation from your problems and him being married to you is an adventure without the nauseating exhaustion.

Yanqing is inadvertently your child the moment you got married to your husband. And suffice to say, you were far more content in your life than you could ever imagine. Never have you felt the genuine happiness swell within you the moment you came home to the two of them cooking together. You still have a slightly motion blurred picture in your phone and neither of them know about it.

Overall the most chill househusband. But even in his passivity, you can feel the radiating warmth of love for you. He just… loves you so much that he’s more than willing to take care of you and the little family that you and him have created. He will wait for you by the door with his half-lidded gaze completely fixated on you with so much adoration. He’s lucky to have you.

You were used to the hectic mornings you often faced upon waking up. It was always a rush job in the morning, speeding through all your morning routine before finally leaving for work. But today was not that day. You could tell from the way the sunlight hit your eyelids. You always left just before the sun could even come up, but right now, you had other plans.

You wanted to prepare a nice breakfast for your husband. He had been working so hard all the time, taking care of you and Yanqing with no days off unlike you. You figured you could get the day started and surprise the both of them with some of your cooking prowess. Suddenly filled with the motivation, you sat up, ready to face the first hour of your time off work for a few days.

However, your plans were soon foiled when a strong arm hooked around your waist and immediately pulled you back down on the bed without even breaking a sweat. You sighed, looking off to the side to see one golden eye peering at you sleepily. Lips turning up into a smile, you shifted to fully face him.

“Can’t even let me make you some breakfast in bed, huh?” You teased with the same fondness as the very first day you and him got married.

A quiet grunt was all your lover gave, only to follow it up with his own gruff response a minute later, “While that sounds nice, I believe I can also reap benefits just from canoodling with my husband for let’s say… until the afternoon.”

Your hands were tied at that point, and with one last charming smile from your dozing husband, you dove into his arms, letting him press some kisses on your face before falling asleep, with you following after.

𐂂

BLADE

No one in this world knows how you managed to charm and marry Blade in the first place. Even his family considers you a miracle worker for bagging the hard to get man. You could only reminisce of the times he would give you the cold shoulder when you tried to ask him out. You were cringe but Blade somehow liked it.

Regardless, he’s one of the reluctant househusbands at first. Blade doesn’t like the feeling of not going out and making money like you. He believes that as long as he can, he will contribute to this relationship. It’s really adorable. And you were supportive of what he wants, but when he realized no one can take care of you while you’re busy being the breadwinner, he decided that he’ll take one for the team and take care of everything in the house instead.

He is meticulous in cleaning. Your house is always sparkling clean the moment you arrive at home. He’s constantly on the hunt for any dust that could taint your shared humble abode. He once read that an unclean house can cause sickness to the occupants, and he has never let a single dust touch a furniture ever since then. Your health is his priority and he will do everything in his power to keep you healthy.

You know what? Screw it, he wears his apron without a care too. He goes out of the house in a pink frilly apron you gifted him as a silly little joke and he’s not ashamed of it. Even Kafka’s incessant teasing isn’t enough to deter him from wearing it. You gave it to him and he loves it. That’s all that matters.

Surprisingly loved by your neighbors. In contrast to his gloomy disposition, he’s always seen around the market and with people’s tendency to draw closer to mysterious handsome men like him, let’s just say he’s managed to unintentionally charm your neighbors. Everyone calls you lucky for getting him, everyone calls him lucky for having a good husband that provides.

Really, he cares so little about the money you make. All he needs is your love and attention. It is imperative that you give him calls on certain times of the day, let him know that you’re still alive at the very least. It’s not like you can’t make do on such a promise either, you loved calling him just to take a break from work for a little while. Even just hearing his quiet grunts of agreement while you gossiped about your subordinates was enough.

He wakes you up… like really early. Super early. Like at least a few hours before you call in for work. His reason? To get enough time with you before you go to work. It’s adorable. You two could be just lounging at the balcony, sipping coffee or tea while you both watch the sunrise.

Speaking of which, with him comes a package. His aforementioned family. Kafka and Silver Wolf’s visits are a must. They are a part of him and now they are a part of you. Kafka could be dropping by just to chat and gossip with you (somehow both of you know a lot about people’s own businesses) or Silver Wolf would just barge in and hog all your game systems (she says no one plays them since you’re both old men so she gets the privilege). Either way you’re already used to it, and one guest room is always at the ready.

Getting married to Blade is honestly the best thing you’ve ever done in your life. You still don’t know how you pulled him, but with him resting on you while the both of you watched shows, showing you his vulnerability tells you that doing so is not an accident or a mistake.

“…Would it kill you to step back a little? It’s hard to cook.”

“But you’re so warm. So soft… so…”

Quite possibly out of all the forms of affections that you’ve expressed towards him, Blade finds your nosy hands cupping around his chest from under his clothes the least practical. Especially when you’re doing it while he’s cooking your breakfast before you’re off for work.

He flipped the omelet with ease despite his claims of difficulty just seconds ago. Of course, it wasn’t as hard when he’s standing still. But on times where he had to go get some things, you in your sleepy daze had to trudge behind him like a shadow just to persistently warm your incredibly cold hands.

Regardless, other than the difficulty in moving, Blade finds it even harder not to burn the kitchen down as his concentration dwindled with every kiss you pressed against his neck, unrelenting and incredibly soft, so filled with love in every individual peck that met his skin. His face turned a rather dark shade of scarlet while you busied yourself with him.

“Keep this up and you’re going to be late.”

“At least it’s extra time with you~” you cooed.

Blade only sighed before leaning against your back, using his free hand to softly knock into the side of your head as his form of half-assed discipline.

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind that extra time too.

𐂂

DAN HENG

He’s not so much as a reluctant househusband. In fact, he relishes in the idea of just staying home and doing his work there. He likes the comfort of being able to sit things out for once after having to look after his two gremlins for friends. However, he does want to make sure that you’re always safe when you’re working.

After a lot of reassurances, he finally decides that you can handle your own. He will compensate for it by taking an extremely good care of you and your shared home. And this man does not play around. He’s sort of like Blade, excelling at everything that needs to be done not just because, but it’s to keep you safe. He cooks you healthy meals and scrubs any dirt off the face of the world.

Easily one of the greatest househusbands in the list. Dan Heng has the right temperament and while he’s often aloof to most people, when it comes to you, you could already feel how he seems more lenient, a little softer on you.

He does all his work efficiently to get them over with as fast and as best as he can so he can have time to visit you in your work. If he knows he has time, count on your beloved husband to come and bring you some freshly cooked lunch in your office. Almost everyone in your company already knows who he is. He’s the elusive husband of the big boss, coming in just to bring you some lunch.

Speaking of which, might wanna keep your subordinates in check. Dan Heng is a looker, and the fact that he’s just as considerate, combined with his mysterious nature, people are bound to be more attracted to him. Though honestly, none of their little admiration could measure up to Dan Heng’s love for you.

In his eyes, you are the only one important, right next to his own family with Himeko and the rest. And he will do all that he can to make sure that you’re alright in any aspect of your life. However even with that dedication, it’s also your job to keep him intact. He focuses so much on you that he sometimes forgets to wind down.

Taking him out on something with a serene atmosphere usually does the trick. Bring tons of books to entertain yourselves, and if the stories get too old, you chat about things you have yet to tell each other. Dan Heng really appreciates the effort you put in, investing your time in him despite the fact that you’re running a conglomerate, but even then just a little gesture from you is enough for him to know how grateful you are for his own efforts as well.

Old married couple 2.0. March said so herself when she decided to barge into your home to show you her pictures from her recent travels. She and the raccoon are tied at the tally of visits. Often they just crash just to make sure Dan Heng hasn’t driven you insane yet with his very… unromantic nature. Safe to say March still couldn’t believe that dear old Dan Heng was the first to pop the question in tying the knot.

Speaking of unromantic, your husband does come off as one, often giving you practical solutions than giving you any words of comfort when you’re stressed. And perhaps it’s because you understood that’s his way of romancing you that you and him ended up married in the first place.

Exhaustion was more of a friend than a foe after having to bury yourself in the tower stacks of paperwork. It’s times like these that you had to wonder if running the family company is even worth it.

“I’m too tired to driiiiive,” you whined, looking at the spreadsheets in exasperation.

And as if he had a sixth sense, a knock on your door was heard and you gave the green light with little regard for the person behind the door. You then looked up and almost cried at the sight of your beautiful husband, with two coffees in hand.

“Come on, I’ll take you home,” it was all he had to say to prompt what little motivation you had left in your system, letting your sluggish self spring back to life. You bound to him with a grateful smile on your face and greeted him with an embrace.

You took one cup from him and graced him with a kiss on his cheek, “Hang on, let me get some take home work. I need to at least finish a good third of this.”

Your poor husband was a lot more worried than he could let on with his stoic face — seeing you on the ropes, completely hard at work and barely functioning at the sheer exhaustion was almost enough to tempt him into stopping you from bringing home your work. Alas, he supported you regardless and only thought to compensate for your extra work with an even better dinner.

“Anything you want for tonight?” He asked, thoughtful as always.

“Mmm… chicken fried rice?”

“Chicken fried rice it is.”

𐂂

CAELUS

Not a single soul expected for this man to get married. Everyone thought he’d just end up on the streets willingly, constantly rummaging through trash can after trash can, falling in love with one and settling down with it in his own odd way. Surprise surprise, he is now a househusband that digs through the high end trash cans placed inside your shared home.

Quite frankly, if Caelus was being honest, he also did not expect to trip into you and quite literally fall in love. And for you to reciprocate it. He always thought you two were just the best of friends, with you supporting his hobbies with little to no judgment. So imagine his surprise that he keeps feeling every time he wakes up right next to you (and right next to his five foot pillow of a trashcan, but it’s a separate affair on its own).

Moving aside your husband’s very odd addiction of living the life of a trash panda, Caelus is actually a pretty decent househusband. His specialities are mostly the meals he makes for you. They’re always so delicious and is often the highlight of your day even without him around.

He’s very active around the neighborhood and is always armed with the latest news around town. The other stay at home spouses love him. And you were quite surprised to find out that he’s far more connected in the very place you both live in than you could ever be. When you’re free, you’d sometimes accompany him to the market and somehow end up staying very late because a lot of people recognize him and seem to want to chat with him.

Caelus parades you around as his beloved husband and people are just dropping jaws when they realize you have definitely been interviewed in one of those famous magazines about businesses and all that jazz.

Surprisingly, just like Sampo, Caelus is your man when it comes to spending wisely and learning how to haggle. He knows his way around almost everything and even you couldn’t help but be proud of yourself of fishing out such a dashing man that is wise in finances. Good man, honestly.

One fact about him that you like are his skills in caring for children. There’s something so wonderfully domestic whenever you would come home early and see him playing with the children — Hook and Clara, if you can recall. He’s mostly just babysitting for them on days that he’s not completely hammered to death with housework.

His favorite thing to do with you is grocery shopping at night. Just the two of you cruising around every aisle, more often than not, you’d push the cart with him in it getting gradually buried by every item you decided to purchase. It’s a good way to spend some time together while getting something productive done. And perhaps coax you into buying a little more food than you and him intended in the first place. Dan Heng always advices you not to be too swayed by your husband antics… but it’s clearly not working.

Caelus is a silly little man, with his weird eccentric jokes and his equally strange fascination for all things related to trash cans. But it’s probably because of this that you found yourself enamored. He is your respite in the suffocating world of your workforce. He pushes you in situations you never thought would be fun unless he was with you.

“If you loved me, you would’ve gotten ten more boxes of cookies.”

“And if you loved me, you wouldn’t be willingly burying yourself in that cart instead of helping me pick between chocolate or strawberry milk.” You quipped back with a snarky grin, not even bothering to look at your childish husband who continued to be sprawled out in the cart at ten in the evening while you shopped.

Caelus pouted, you always did make good points. It’s why he could never win an argument against you. Or maybe he could… if he wasn’t so completely smitten at the sight of you. You were always seen as the dignified boss of your company, dressed in three piece suits that could suffocate anyone and their wallet.

But here you were, dressed in a loose shirt (likely one of his just judging from the fit) and some pair of joggers that you haphazardly threw on.

Absolutely breathtaking.

He lent out a hand to reach for the carton of flavored milk that you finally chose, adding it onto the pile. He waited until you were at the end of the cart, getting ready to muscle your way through pushing an incredibly heavy cart, courtesy of your husband.

Caelus looked up at you, “Don’t I at least get a kiss for helping out?”

“Cae, I’m dying from pushing you. How ‘bout we entertain that incentive once you got out of the cart and started helping me, hm?”

Maybe he’s just a simp, but how could he deny his demanding husband’s whims?

𐂂

WELT YANG

This old man is the definition of a reluctant retiree. Well, it’s not actually a retirement for him. He still gets to be the voice of reason, only that he won’t actually personally animating. Who’s to blame? You. To be accurate, this old man officially decided to step down from his hands-on job as an animator so he can be a househusband. You’re a priority after all, and only the heavens know how bad you need to be taken care of.

Welt joins the ranks of a godly househusband. He knows his way around almost every single thing that needs to get fixed. His cooking? Top tier. His housework game? Absolute perfection. Floors are swept, counters are wiped and dusted, sheets and clothes are washed and pressed. He is perfect.

And on top of that, he still manages to balance his work from home as the consultant for any new anime that is about to be produced and can still care for you without even breaking a sweat. Old man Welt is always pulling through.

So let’s get this out of the way — actual old married couple. Not just vibes. You two are old men who look at the screen with squinted eyes. Well, only Welt does that while you laugh at him and then proceed to forget where you placed your own phone despite being on it just a few minutes ago.

Regardless, you live a much more balanced life, just two husbands cruising through life with little worries. You live on a good neighborhood, living comfortably and get a lot of visits from yours and Welt’s friends/family. Most of which are from the trio and Himeko. You and Welt always host these family dinners on weekends where everyone is free. Life is good.

However despite all the glamour of living a comfortable life in this marriage, there is one glaring difference between you and Welt — mostly it’s the fact that you have worse time management than he does and often gets the short end of the stick, always pummeled to death with your paperwork that could leave anyone in a fit of raw despair. Welt looked at your work the one time you left to answer a phone call from office and shuddered at the heavy load.

Welt is essentially your clock when it’s time to unwind from work. You have a tendency to overwork at times and it’s something that Welt always makes sure to keep an eye out for. He just wants what’s best for you, and oftentimes, what’s best is for you is to finally get some shuteye after suffering through another overnight that you pulled.

Also, there is an unspoken rule of not letting any man with long blonde hair inside your home. It’s just a house rule. The top of all other house rules in fact, as it takes the most priority in fulfilling.

Regardless, Welt is so… househusband-shaped. He knows what to do as one and does a damn good execution of it all. Maybe it’s because of his compassionate self that you were quick to fall for the old man. He didn’t even have to try and show off, all he had to do was be himself and you’d still give him the world with every penny you’ve earned from your job.

A taut frown tugged onto Welt’s lips as he squinted on the labels from the spices that Himeko sent from her recent overseas trip. Not that he didn’t trust his good friend’s tastes in any form of flavor, it’s only that he wanted to make sure none of it had any ingredient that could probably send you into an anaphylactic shock. Yes, he is this meticulous when it comes to you.

Alas, his cautiousness grants no extra clear sight in viewing the labels and he struggled, holding them in different proximities. Are the characters really that small intentionally or are they so incoherent because they manufacturers made an error in the sizing the font before printing it on the packaging.

Fortunately for him, you came into the rescue as you plucked the packaging from his hands. Welt didn’t need to look up to see the same smug smile plastered on your face whenever you’d catch him doing the same thing to his phone. Well, he loved looking at you so he did it nonetheless.

“Having trouble again, old man?” You teased and Welt only had to sigh in response. “Is this from Himeko’s package?”

Your endeared husband nodded, “Of course. I had to see what else she gave us. And I’m looking over the ingredients so I can keep you out of the hospital as best as I can.” He turned to the stove and lowered the heat. “Now kindly read it for me, dear.”

You only nodded, flipping over the packet, “Sure thing.”

There was a silence that followed, with Welt expecting you to run your mouth about the ingredients already. He looked back to you…

…And saw you squinting at the same bundle of text that he’s been staring at.

Welt scoffed, playful and light in nature, “And you call me old.”

“It’s the manufacturer’s fault…!!”

[evera-era]

Hey love, hope you’re doing wonderful 💞

Can I request Ellie proposing to reader, thx.

hi! thanks sweetie, hope you are too!! ofc u can :)

warnings: fluff, nervous ellie !!

Ellie was fiddling with the small, velvet box when she hears the front door squeal. A few seconds pass before it shuts, then locks.

“Baby?” Your voice chimes out. “I’m home.”

The brunette quickly tucks the box away in the drawer. Her eyes dart around the room as she contemplates what to do next. She exhales swiftly before exiting the bedroom you shared.

“Hey babe,” She says. She turns the corner to see you with your hands full. You’re struggling to put the groceries on the counter.

“They didn’t have the ice cream you wanted, so I got rocky road. I hope that’s okay,” You comment as she quickly comes to your aid. She places the jug of milk near the fridge.

When she doesn’t reply, you look up at her. She’s nearly biting all of the skin off of her lip.

“Ellie?”

“Y-Yeah, rocky road is fine.”

You furrow your brows, setting the rest of the bags down. Once your hands are free, you reach for her face.

“Hey, everything alright?”

“Yeah,” She forces a relaxed smile, leaning against your touch. “Yeah, baby. Just wanna talk to you about something… okay?”

Your eyes widen. She notices, then reassures you.

“N-Nothing bad, just kind of important. I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.”

“Oh... okay.” You murmur. You watch as Ellie crosses the living room before retreating down the hallway.

A few minutes pass as you organize the kitchen. When you turn around after putting everything away, you find her standing in front of you, looking down at her feet.

Her head is filled with worrisome thoughts. What if she scares you off? What if you say yes, then later on change your mind? How would she even begin to cope with something like that?

“Babe?” You ask. Ellie blinks a few times.

“So, um…” She starts. “I’ve been thinking about it, and… I’m really, really happy with you. Being with you, y’know? I feel like I’m at home with you. Like, I don’t have to be someone I’m not. And I—“

She reaches into her pocket. Her heart skips a beat as her fingers brush against the box.

“F-Fuck. I’m just gonna say it, okay? I want you to be mine. Not just mine for now. Mine… always. Assuming, y’know, you feel this way too. And— And we can finally get a house together, a real fuckin’ house, and—“

She pauses for a second to get down on her knees. You gasp.

“Oh my god—“

She smiles softly, revealing the quaint little box.

“Ellie—“ You absentmindedly step back in an effort to steady yourself.

“Are— are you— Is this… real?”

“Yeah,” She whispers softly. “I wanna marry you, Y/N. I wanna wake up to you, every fucking day for the rest of my life. I— I never wanna be without you. I wanna navigate the whole damned world with you right by my side.”

You didn’t realize it, but a tear fell down your cheek. Your face feels like it could go numb from how hard you were blushing. Ellie looks down.

“Will you make me the happiest girl in the world, and—“

“Yes, Ellie,” You cry out. “Oh my god, a million times yes—“

You throw your arms around her, a surge of emotion rushing through your veins. She exhales into your hair, telling herself that she did it, that she didn’t die, and that you — the only thing that matters most — said yes.

She looks at the ceiling, trying to blink away the tears prickling at her eyes. She sniffles, then pulls away momentarily, fiddling with the ring.

“C’mere,” She laughs breathlessly. “So I can put this on you.”

You giggle, wiping your eyes before helping her stand up. You put out your trembling hand.

She slides the diamond ring on your finger before bringing your hand up to her lips and kissing it. Your eyes glisten as you get a better look at the jewelry.

“Oh, baby,” You murmur. “It’s beautiful.”

Ellie watches you, a grin spreading on her face as well. You kiss her passionately, caressing her cheeks so you can keep her close.

She presses her forehead against yours after you pull away. Her eyelashes flutter shut.

“I… I was scared. So fucking scared, baby.” She admits. “That… that you wouldn’t—“

“Oh, no, Ellie. Never.” You breathe out. “You had nothing to be afraid of. I love you so much.”

The two of you remain in the embrace as you catch your breath. You take a deep sigh, then smile up at Ellie.

“Was dreaming of this day, y’know.”

She chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You murmur. “Just didn’t know when. Definitely didn’t think it’d be today — I would’ve made sure to look the part.”

Ellie smiles at your words. Between the two of you, you were always more conscious of your appearance than her.

“I know.” She whispers. “Was gonna wait ‘til our next date night, but I… I couldn’t keep hiding it.”

You smile, nuzzling your nose on hers. “Well, it’s okay. ‘Cause now I have a reason to look real good… show off the ring, and all.”

“You always look real good,” Ellie says gently. You laugh a bit.

“Shh. You know what I meant.”

She nods, wrapping her hands around your waist before giving you another kiss. When she pulls away, she looks deep into your eyes.

“I love you so much, baby.” She murmurs. You look back at her, smiling from ear to ear.

“I love you too, Ellie. Always.”

[eoieopda]

all my dreamin' | hjs

all my dreamin' is only put to shame / and darlin', all my dreamin' has only been given a name / but it came easy, darlin' / as natural as another leg around you in the bed frame.

pairing: joshua hong x reader summary: your LA boyfriend wasn't built for midwest winters. ⇢ insp. by hozier's "to someone from a warm climate (uiscefhuarithe)" type: one-shot | fluff 'n smut wc: only 2.5k! au: established relationship rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) cw: afab! and american!reader; cuddling (👀) for warmth; gropin’ and grindin’; k*ss*ng; slow, unprotected morning sex; p in v penetration. a/n: i love two (2) men — andrew hozier byrne and hong jisoo. idk what else you want me to say, lol. barely proofread (sorry!) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Slatted shades don’t stand much of a chance against the blinding white outside your window. It seeps through the cracks, sunshine refracting harshly off of knee-deep snow and stinging eyes that haven’t yet consented to opening fully. 

Even though that laser-focused beam of light hits you between your eyebrows, it’s not the reason you’re awake in the first place. The real reason is next to you with his head ducked under the covers, rubbing his flannel-coated legs together like he’s trying to start a fire.

“Cricket?” You mumble. 

Still heavy with sleep you didn’t get enough of, your head lolls to the side. If your boyfriend was still topside, you’d be nose to nose; but he’s not, and he doesn’t seem to hear you from inside the cocoon he’s made for himself. 

A little louder, your gravelly voice makes a second attempt. “Are you alive under there?”

“No,” comes the world’s most pitiful whimper from somewhere near your rib cage.

You don’t know what you expected.

With a muffled grunt of effort, you pull the edge of the covers away from your chin and wiggle your way down. In the half-light, you can’t make out Joshua’s face in its entirety. His sweatshirt strings are pulled tight and knotted, hiding most of his features from the air his breath has already started to make hot. All that’s left is the tip of his nose, one eye, and a single, loose wave between the two.

There’s also a hint of a frown in there somewhere when he peeps, “I’m cold.”

You shift even further until he’s within swaddling distance. Wrapping one leg over his topmost thigh, you pull him closer and allow him to nestle his face into the spot below your chin. From where he’s hiding, he can’t see you smirking. It’s for the best, really.

“Hi, Cold.”

“Don’t.”

You don’t listen. Instead, you snicker, more to yourself than him, “I’m Dad.”

Joshua lets out a long groan in reply, but that’s no surprise; you’re huddled so closely together that you felt it building in his chest. 

When it grows quiet again, and you’re no longer laughing at your own joke, the two of you each deflate against each other. Yesterday’s journey from LAX was exhausting in and of itself, and the several-hour leap in time hasn’t made things any easier since you landed. Neither has the weather surrounding your family’s cabin, although you’re faring much better than Joshua is.

His groggy voice comes out of nowhere, startling you. “I don’t know why people live here on purpose.”

From the sound of it, he’s already halfway back to sleep. His arm slips over your waist and pulls you closer, and you get the sneaking suspicion that he’d slip into the front of your sweatshirt if he thought for sure that he could fit. Frankly, you’re shocked he hasn’t tried. His clinginess increases exponentially when he’s exhausted.

“The midwest isn’t a choice; it’s a consequence,” you sigh. “I think being born here was a penance for crimes I committed in a past life.”

Without opening his eyes, Joshua mumbles, “Bleak.”

“Bleak indeed, cricket.”

The third time really must be the charm. Joshua snorts, much too tired to laugh any harder than that, and asks, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Biting back a smile, you tilt your head backwards enough to kiss his forehead — what little you can see of it, anyway.

“That your self-warming violin legs kept me up all night?” Your amusement only grows when you peek down at him and find him glaring up at you. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Lower lip poking out, he scrunches his eyebrows. As offended as he pretends to be, he can’t hide that ever-present twinkle in his eyes. “You could have saved me, you know,” he sniffs.

You mimic his tone with a smirk. “I turned the thermostat up as high as it goes, you know.”

The most you get out of him is a grunt acknowledging that he heard you. Normally, you’d accept this lack of retort as a demurrer, but then you feel his cold fingertips slink below the waistband of your sleep shorts, chilling the bare skin at your hip bone; and it finally hits you.

The thermostat wasn’t the remedy Joshua had been praying for.

As you untie the strings of his sweatshirt hood, you tell yourself that it’s retaliation that motivates your movements — paying him back for his freezing hands by exposing his face to equally cold air. That’s bullshit, though, and you know it. The truth is that you can’t card your fingers through hair that’s covered in thick, grey fabric.

You can’t steal kisses from hidden lips, either.

When Joshua’s mouth is finally on yours, you giggle without meaning to because he still tastes like last night’s spearmint toothpaste. You’d love to tease him for it, but your mind goes blank before you can try. He licks into your mouth, and your snark turns into a breathy little moan instead; he swallows it eagerly, smiling against your lips.

Pinch me. I’m dreaming.

The sudden snap of your elastic waistband against the small of your back makes you jolt. You pull back, lips swollen and kiss-bitten, and balk. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to scold him, however.

“You’re insane for wearing shorts when it’s this cold,” Joshua insists. When you don’t bother to justify your decision — you’re not as much of a freeze baby as he is — he nips at your bottom lip. “I’m grateful, though. They’re easier to work around.”

You’re grateful that his hands have gotten warmer, the longer they cling to you, but you don’t say as much out loud — your body responds for you. His fingers knead into the flesh of your ass, and you roll your hips forward, chasing friction. You find it easily; it’s growing thicker by the second.

“Shit, sweetheart.” He’s still so tired that his words come out slurred — adorable — yet rough around the edges, which drives you the slightest bit wild. “Please do that again.”

“You just want me to do all the work.” You nudge the tip of his nose with yours. The sharp contrast in temperature isn’t lost on you; in fact, you adore it. His sensitivity to cold is one of a million endearing things about him. “Isn’t that right, cricket?” 

The half-expectant, half-sheepish look Joshua sends you confirms that yes, he does. But he asked nicely, and this isn’t on the shortlist of things you wouldn’t do for him, so you grant his wish without complaint.

It’s more than a little bit pathetic that such a lazy motion — a fully-clothed one, at that — makes you both moan in tandem. It’s haphazard, the way your fumbling fingers reach for the knot of his waistband. Your motor skills are still asleep, it seems, making an easy task infinitely more difficult. It only gets worse, the more frustrated you get.

You snag a fingernail on the stubborn flannel and hiss, “Jesus.”

“It’s pronounced Jisoo,” he supplies unhelpfully. 

To avoid the consequences of that quip, Joshua ducks his head down to leave a smattering of lazy kisses along the length of your neck. Whatever you might’ve clapped back with is replaced with a relieved sigh when the drawstrings’ vice grip on one another finally gives. 

Tugging unsuccessfully at the waistband in your hands, you pout. “Help.”

With the way he whines, you’d think you asked him to move a mountain. 

Melodramatically, Joshua’s head drops sideways. It lands with a muffled thump against the scrunched-up comforter that still surrounds you. He doesn’t move another muscle until you open your mouth to nag him; still frowning, still uncoordinated, his hands take the place of yours. His hips lift just enough for him to shimmy his pajama pants down — just enough to provide access.

You roll your eyes at his refusal to undress any further, but before he can remind you of how cold he is, you catch him by the mouth. Successfully placated, Joshua accepts your lips on his with an appreciative hum. That sound transforms into something bordering a groan when your hand claims his length and starts stroking him slowly.

Just like that, Joshua melts under your touch, like putty molding to your frame. His leaking cock is the exception; the only part of him that seems awake enough to beg for you. He’s throbbing in your hand and — once again — you can’t help but laugh. 

Joshua’s incredulous eyes widen, silently demanding an explanation. 

“Some of you is warm,” you offer with a cheeky grin. To ease that wrinkle between his brows, you envelope the crown of his cock with your palm and roll your wrist. The gentle squeeze prompts him to grind forward into your fist, making your stomach flip. “Must be thawing out a little bit.”

“Not fair,” he says, even though he’s moaning with screwed-shut eyes. “Can’t tease me until I’m adequately caffeinated. The Keurig is a million miles away.”

It’s one room over. 

The cabin you’ve borrowed from your parents is a mere six-hundred square feet.

You digress.

The prospect of coffee makes it even harder to fight off the urge to yawn, but you manage to do so. You manage to shimmy even closer to him, too, until the only barrier left is a thin layer of damp cotton. It’s his hand that drops down now to push it aside, making you shiver; and it’s him looking at you through half-lidded eyes that stokes the fire simmering in your belly.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Joshua whispers. 

If his words weren’t invitation enough, the come hither motion of his fingers is. The brush of his fingertips against your clit is so enticing that you decide right then and there to follow wherever he leads. 

You’re the one melting when the tip of his cock replaces his fingers, flicking over that same spot, then gliding through your slicked folds. Each pass pulls another needy sigh right out of you. He takes every little sound he can tease out of you, as if he’s collecting them. 

When the target switches to your entrance, however, you go silent. Your fingers grip the sleeve of his sweatshirt, your forehead drops to lean against his, and your gasp dies on your tongue. It comes out of Joshua’s mouth instead, spearmint breath cooling as it fans across your face.

He might never say so out loud, but this is his favorite way to fuck you — holding you close against him, holding eye contact, holding his eagerness back to slide into you slowly. When he watches your breath catch, his pupils dilate; and he licks his lips, as if he tastes the moans you can’t quite vocalize.

For what it’s worth, you love him like this, too. Him and the drag of his cock; the way it makes pleasure course through you like molasses. The way he capitalizes on the angle of your leg draped over his hip, tilting up to graze your g-spot with a dizzying precision.

As hard as you try, you can’t think of anything better than this. There’s nothing as perfect as his hand’s light hold on your ass cheek, guiding you up and down his length; so fucking deep, but in no rush at all.

Mornings were made to be spent tangled up with him.

“Do you hear that?” Joshua murmurs against your lips. You thread your fingers through his hair and nod, whimpering as you cling to him even tighter. 

How could you not? 

Your arousal floods with every languid thrust, and you know without looking that he’s completely coated in you. And if his satisfied smirk tells you anything, it’s that he can feel you dripping from his shaft down to his balls. You have no reason to doubt it; your inner thighs are a mess.

Joshua takes his hand off your ass just to hitch your leg even higher up on his side. Immediately, you see stars. You can’t even articulate how fucking incredible it feels, having him this deep, so you kiss him with more desperation than you ever have; and you hope he can guess how close you are to unraveling.

It’s impossible to say whether he can read your mind or just your body, but Joshua picks up the pace ever so slightly. As he does, there’s a subtle swirl to his hips when he thrusts into you that has every one of your synapses lighting up like a switchboard. 

“Fuck,” is your eloquent, shuddered response. 

It’s the best you can offer when you're falling apart like this, clenching tightly around him to push you both closer to the edge. No better off, Joshua seems like he’s barely surviving the way your cunt grips him. His voice sounds as shaky as you feel: 

“I l-love it when you do that.” 

To prove it, he flicks his tongue along your bottom lip and begs you to open up for him. You comply automatically, earning a pleased hum from him that tingles down your spine.

You’d kiss him like this all day if you could, but the wildfire burning through the pit of your abdomen is becoming impossible to fight. Ironic, you think, given how completely you’ve soaked through your sleep shorts and how much you’re shivering.

Involuntarily, your head tilts backwards as the pleasure blooms. Joshua traps your bottom lip between his teeth — not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to keep you from disappearing. You know him; you know how much he loves to watch your pupils blow when you cum all over him, and that dead-set determination is crystal clear in the way he fights to keep his heavy-lidded eyes open.

He loses that battle mere seconds after your choked gasp, when your walls flutter around him and you start trembling. He’s twitching inside of you, release spilling, and now he’s the one who starts to laugh.

“What?” You’re still floating somewhere in the stratosphere, but you manage to snort, landing a playful swat on his bare hip. He doesn’t react at all, but you massage your palm into his flesh to soothe him anyway. “What’s so funny?”

In a sudden burst of energy, Joshua’s hands fly up to grab the comforter resting over your heads. With a grunt, he flings it off of you both, thrusting your unsuspecting body into cold air. He doesn’t even notice your startled yelp.

“So hot in there,” he pants. For emphasis, he runs the back of his hand over his forehead. He wasn’t lying; there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his knuckles when he pulls them away again. “Jesus. It’s like a fucking sauna.”

You reach out to unstick a strand of hair from his slicked skin, then you let your arm flop limply back against the pillows. Grinning, you tease, “I thought it was pronounced Jisoo.”

[charmedreincarnation]

hey charm !

i have known about manifestation for years now but i still have a problem with it. so basically, i know for sure that i’m going to enter the void but i don’t know when. everytime something happens in my life, i’m like "it doesn’t matter anyway bc i’m going to manifest my dream life". i have been daydreaming all the time for years so it’s very natural for me. as i see myself in stories that my brain creates, i started doing the same for my dream life. now, i know exactly what it will look like and i live those scenarios in my head like if they were really happening.

the problem is that when i want to enter the void, i’m always trying (i don’t really see myself succeeding) bc i’m scared that if i put too much effort in it or if i really believe it and i don’t succeed i’ll be discouraged.

i really don’t know what to do bc i realized that if i continue just trying and thinking "i’ll get my dream life later" i’ll never manifest it. also i don’t understand the wish fulfilled state bc i feel like i’m already doing it by daydreaming and being sure that i’m going to have my dream life. i want to convince myself that i can enter the void and get everything i want RIGHT NOW and not "later if i’m lucky enough". i feel stuck and i don’t know what to do anymore to keep going.

i’m sorry for the long ask and my bad english…

thank you 🤍🤍

Hi love, first and foremost your English is even better than mine so don’t apologize, and secondly I struggled with this so badly I completely understand.

It's easy to feel stuck waiting for what you want to come to fruition. Even though you might sense that your desire is on its way, it can seem far off, like it's in the future instead of the present. Time passing can make this feeling even stronger, even though time is always moving forward, which makes it even more contradictory. But feeling comfortable and sure that what you want is already yours is the important feeling. By focusing on the idea that your desire is already part of your life, you will shift from waiting for the future to feeling like your desires are already here and now. That's why it's emphasized in the community that you should allow yourself to believe deeply in the fulfillment of your desires right now.

When you really embrace the natural feeling of knowing that your desire is already a part of your life, you will naturally align your thoughts and feelings, with the state of having what you want regardless of the method or technique you’re using to achieve it. That’s what helps me feel confident about making my desires a reality.

seriously understand what you want isn't just something for the future; it's a part of your life right now.The process of manifestation isn't just about daydreaming or imagining your desired reality though that helps. It's about deeply believing that what you want is already real. Shifting your mindset from waiting for luck to deserving and capable of having your dream life will always give you comfort. Also to overcome feeling stuck, i liked practicing mindfulness and using affirmations. Being mindful will help you stay focused on the present, while affirmations helped strengthen my belief!

It's also helpful to detach from the need for immediate results. By letting go of the pressure for instant success, it should reduce your anxiety and allow your inner world to work its magic while staying true to your intentions. Because regardless of how long you think it will take, if you understand it’s immediate and time is passing regardless you will stop trying to fight with the concept of “waiting.” I also recommend reading my time post and this one as well!

Regardless It's natural to feel unsure at times, but start by nurturing your belief in the wish fulfilled state and keep doing what else keep your mind at bay with knowing you really don’t have to do anything unless you want to. Because you’re always doing eveything right

[planetsano]

↻ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: a gripping tale of love as the reader navigates a complex relationship with the infamous toji fushiguro OR toji fushiguro being a shit boyfriend should be a case study!

↻ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: age gap (20’s ↝ 30’s), toxic relationship, smut.

↻ 𝗯𝘆𝗿: female reader, female bodied reader.

You see, the thing about Toji Fushiguro is that he’s always been unapologetically and shamelessly him— he’ll always be a man that will be forever stuck in his own ways. He’s selfish, crude, insensitive, and would do anything no matter how foul and evil to put him forward.

So.. it’s cute— no, admirable that you thought you could change him. A pretty, young thing in her twenties dealing with a wreck of a man like him. How sick is that? Really, your first red flag should have been him wearing a shirt three times too small.

Yeah, the age gap was certainly.. more than a few years, which heavily attributed to the mental disconnect in the relationship. You were bright-eyed and naïve, so much life in you and hadn’t experienced a drop of what real life was like. You often romanticized life, finding beauty in the simplest of moments and weaving dreams from the fabric of everyday experiences. Your vivid imagination painted the world with colors unseen by most, turning mundane occurrences into enchanting adventures.

You held on to the “love could conquer all!” and “I can fix him!” mentality or something like that. But your optimism was a double-edged sword, pushing you to cling to the relationship while also blinding you to the reality that perhaps you both needed different things in life. You needed a life partner and he needed a tight cunt to fuck.

It’s ironic because you approached him first.

“Mister Toji..? What’s your wife like?” You shyly played with the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze like the plague. “Ah?” Toji raised a brow at you, slightly surprised by the forwardness of your question. “Oh right, ‘don’t have a wife.” “Oh..” You feel your face and the tips of your ears become hot with embarrassment. “Well maybe I could.. make you dinner sometime..?”

Toji liked the appeal of having a woman half his age on his arm. But what he simply could not stand was the amount of energy required for it— oh, don’t misunderstand, he never put forth any real efforts anyway, but it was simply the.. expectation. Toji didn’t give a fuck about dates or anniversaries, all he cared about was emptying his balls inside of your pussy, the hot dinners you make for him and cozy shelter you provide.

You liked to play housewife in your own silly little delusion, finding comfort in the make-believe world where everything was picture-perfect. The idea of being the nurturing, organized, and devoted partner gives you a sense of purpose, shielding you from the harsh realities of what really was. It was a cozy escape, a refuge where you could pretend that all your worries were mere fiction.

Yet, there were moments when the illusion began to unravel, and a whisper of doubt crept into your mind. Were you truly content with this role you had assumed, or were you sacrificing your true desires in pursuit of an idealized version of yourself? The nagging ty made you question if he really loved you as much as you were in love with him. Or at all for that matter. He was a busy man but would returning a call really hinder his day? Would a text twist his arm so much? You never ask though, you would hate to upset him or come across as “immature.”

But if he’s just so horrible, this.. big, bad man who found it annoying that you..? That you wanted to hold hands in public! What made you stay? Why stay with a man that seemed to only have his best interest in heart and you were a second, sometimes third, or forth.

His cock.

That cock was an addiction that you had no intention of quitting. The way this man fucked you was enough to liquidate your mind— leaving you nearly brain-dead as his warm seed oozes from your hole. The width of his cock alone made you stretch an absurd amount, teetering the edge of comfortability. His tip relentlessly gives your cervix a beating— bruising it and leaving a delicious soreness that lasts for nights.

Toji’s physical presence was undeniably imposing and large, that alone makes you feel like a delicate trinket, one treasured and protected. Yet, paradoxically, the way he handled you was anything but delicate. His hands, strong and calloused, held a certain roughness that spoke of a life lived on the edge, battle-hardened and weathered. He folds your body as though you were a ragdoll— regardless of your size.

When he’s gone for days on end, you find yourself yearning for his fulfillment— no hand or toy will satisfy you the way he does. Toji’s ruined sex for you.

Toji withheld affection from you whether it was intentional or not. So when he did praise you it felt as though you were a pretty princess— chemically altering your pretty little brain more than a little bit.

He often kept his emotions locked away, leaving you hesitant of where you stood in his heart. The lack of affection was a constant ache, leaving you yearning for even the smallest crumbs of his praise. Yet, when those rare moments arrived, it felt like a euphoric rush, flooding your mind with a mix of serotonin and dopamine.

His praise, though infrequent, had an intoxicating effect on you. It was like soaring to the highest of heavens, as if the whole universe had aligned in your favor. In those fleeting instances, self-doubt dissolved, and you basked in the warmth of his approval, feeling valued and cherished.

But the hesitation lingered, a cloud of doubt that never fully dissipated. You wondered if his praises were genuine or merely an act of throwing a dog a bone, a way to keep you satiated so you wouldn’t throw one of your fits. The chemistry of emotions within you danced between soaring highs and daunting lows, creating a rollercoaster of feelings you couldn’t control.

You found yourself seeking those rare moments of praise like an addict craving their next fix, yearning for his validation and acceptance. The intoxicating mix of emotions left you captivated and vulnerable, making it hard to see beyond the haze of his allure and your love goggles. You chose to believe a ring is on it's way at the end of the day.

“You did a good job today, lovebug.” “Really?” “Mm.”

And you jump, just like a lap dog. But don’t feel bad, I would too if I had a man as fine as Toji. Woof. ♡

[fan-fantasies]

Worship

A/N: I need more Rhea fics in my life 😩 I’m using fanfiction to cope with my real life feelings so I need as much as possible 😅

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Warnings: cheating (with Rhea), verbal abuse (from shitbag boyfriend), semi-public smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, swearing, mentions of relationship issues

“Oh, please please please! I need your help!” You begged. Rhea looked at you with an annoyed expression.

“I don’t understand why you need my help for that,” she sighed.

“Because I need someone else’s opinion on whether I look good or not,” you said.

She wanted to tell you that you always look beautiful and no one else compared to you. She wanted to tell you that your no-good, sleazy boyfriend didn’t deserve you and the effort you put into the relationship. She wanted to tell you to choose her instead— but she just settled for “fine.”

“Thank you!” You yelled, jumping into her arms. She knew she was going to come to regret her decision, but your puppy dog eyes were no match for her.

You drove the two of you to the mall and headed straight to your destination.

You grabbed a few pairs of lingerie while Rhea did her best to look uninterested.

“What about this?” You asked, holding up a pink babydoll. The look on her face said enough. “No then, got it.”

“You so owe me for this,” she whined as you continued to browse.

“I definitely do! Whatever you want, just name it,” you said with a smile.

I just want you, was the first thought that popped into her mind.

“I’ll think about it,” she mumbled. “I think you have enough, now can we go?”

“I haven’t even tried them on yet!”

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

“Try them on? You didn’t say anything about that,” she said nervously.

“Well duh, that’s what I need you for; to tell me if I look good in them,” you said nonchalantly. Rhea felt like she was going to die. “Sit right here and I’ll be back.”

You sat her down in the back where the dressing rooms were and took your finds into the little room.

The first piece you tried on was red and left little to the imagination. You stepped out confidently and held your arms out.

“Well?”

Rhea’s mouth went dry at the sight (something else was definitely wet though).

“It’s lovely,” she nodded, not able to take her eyes off of the floor in front of her.

“You aren’t even looking!” You whined. Rhea forced herself to look up and play cool.

“It’s really great, sweetheart,” she said.

“I think I like it, but I still wanna try on the other ones,” you said as you went back into the room.

The next one was a white one-piece and much simpler than the first one.

“It’s cute,” Rhea chuckled.

“Cute? I’m not going for cute!” You scoffed.

“What are you going for exactly?” She asked.

“Fuck me.”

“What?” Rhea asked in a panic.

“I’m going for ‘fuck me’ vibes,” you said simply.

“Oh, yeah. I knew what you meant,” she said. “I still don’t get why you’re doing all this. He’s lucky to even be with you.”

“I know, it’s just…things have been different lately and we haven’t done…anything in a while. I figure maybe I just need to spice things up,” you admitted.

Rhea couldn’t believe her ears. How could someone have you and not want to worship you every second of the day? Before Rhea could say anything, you continued.

“And I know what you’re probably thinking-“ she doubted it- “he’s probably getting it somewhere else but I really don’t think he’d do that, right? Maybe he’s just gotten a little bored with me so I figured maybe this would help.”

Rhea couldn’t help but feel sad at the pain in your voice. If Rhea didn’t hate your boyfriend before, she certainly did now.

“I can guarantee it doesn’t have anything to do with you. If he doesn’t see how lucky he is then he’s an idiot. You don’t have to try and do something extra just to get his attention. You’re beautiful even when you’re in sweats and no makeup.”

“Thank you,” you said with a shy smile. “I have one more I want to try on and then we can go grab lunch, okay?”

“Sounds good, gorgeous,” she said. You went back in to try on your last piece. It was black lace with purple detailing.

You stepped out and Rhea was convinced she had died and gone to heaven. She stood up and circled you, taking in every inch.

“Now this, this is a winner,” she said, playing with the strap on your shoulder. A shiver went down your spine and you took a shaky breath. The way she was looking at you looked like she could eat you right then and there.

“You think so?” You whispered.

“I know so, but I do think it would look better on the floor,” she said, leaning in closer. “How about we find out?”

You should’ve been embarrassed at how fast you nodded. She pulled you into the changing room and locked the door behind you. She was so furious at your boyfriend for making you feel less than, she was determined to worship you exactly how you deserved.

She began to kiss your neck, her hands groping your ass. She finally pulled you in for a kiss and everything seemed to click. Years of friendship melted into more and it just felt right.

She slipped her tongue into your mouth and easily won dominance over yours. She began pulling at the straps of the lingerie and you let her strip it off of you. You tried to pull her belt off but she stopped you.

“This is about you, gorgeous. There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” she chuckled.

She sat you down on the little bench and knelt in front of you. She kissed up your leg and nipped at you thighs before diving into your center. Her tongue worked wonders on your clit. You were extra sensitive, not having been touched in so long.

“Oh shit, more,” you begged. She slid a finger between your folds before sinking it into you. She added another and began to pump them into you while continue to lap at your clit. You did your best to contain your moans, only a thin door separating you from the store outside.

“You taste divine, sweetheart. I bet he never made you feel this good,” she smirked, stretching you with a third finger.

“Never,” you moaned, rolling your eyes back in pleasure.

As if on cue, your phone began to ring. You wanted to ignore it, but Rhea grabbed it with her free hand and handed it to you.

“Answer it, love,” she said. You looked at her like she was crazy and when you didn’t listen, she pulled her fingers out which made you whine. “Answer.”

She lowered her head back down and began to suck on your clit. You pressed answer and took a breath to compose yourself.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you? You were supposed to pick up my dry cleaning and bring it to the office half an hour ago!” Your boyfriend yelled on the other line.

“Shit,” you sighed, Rhea speeding up her actions. “Um, yeah sorry, I forgot.”

“Well get them here asap!”

“I’m busy right now,” you told him.

“I don’t give a shit, bitch,” he snapped. Rhea’s eyes lit up with fury as she pulled away. You began to panic, worried she’d take the phone.

“Go get them yourself, asshole,” you quickly said. Everyone froze.

“What did you just say to me?” He asked, venom in his tone.

“You heard me. We’re done. Now leave me alone, I said I’m busy,” you said before hanging up the phone. You tossed it to the side, not caring where it lands. Rhea looked up at you with a shocked expression.

“I think that deserves a reward,” she chuckled before diving back in. She slid two fingers back into you and thrusted them, circling your clit with her tongue ring. You were getting closer and she could tell. She focused on stimulating your clit, finally pushing you over the edge. You bit onto your fist to keep from screaming out. She slowed down as you came down from your high and finally pulled her fingers from you and licking them clean.

“Guess I had dessert before lunch,” she said with a smirk.

“I guess so,” you laughed, pulling on your clothes. You just finished when she stopped you by grabbing your hands in hers.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sincerity in her voice.

“Never better,” you gave her a genuine smile. “It was long overdue. And I think I might have something better on the horizon anyway.”

“You most definitely do,” she said, kissing you softly.

“I think we have to buy that now,” you said, pointing to the discarded lingerie on the floor.

“As long as I get to take it off of you, we can buy whatever you want,” she chuckled. “Now let’s get out of here, babe.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hm I like the sound of that,” she smirked. She grabbed your hand and pulled you from the dressing room.

The smile on your face never left for the rest of the day. Rhea ended up accompanying you home and you spent the rest of the day making up for lost time.

——————

Please comment and reblog! I love reading replies!

[justalia]

The Self

i haven’t been here in a while and i’ve been exploring the law more and more, gaining even more insight.

i know i haven’t been active as much as i was before but as i said i will come on here to write about what i feel needs to be shared instead of just yapping and sharing things i don’t feel strongly about or just repeat myself.

this is a concept that has been discussed and talked about by many, me included. i personally have always wondered a lot about this, i have understood the concept in theory and applied it too but never managed to live by it, until now.

“The Inner Man”

this is how most of us know the concept i’m talking about, this is the name we’ve all collectively given it. i bet you’ve read the phrase “you are the inner man” several times, hell i have preached it several times.

i think thinking of it in this way sometimes tends to create separation between “you” (the human you) and the you in imagination. at least that’s how i felt when i first read about it last year when i was first approaching the law, even if that’s not what the people who write about it are trying to say.

the idea we’ve all seen repeated over and over by bloggers is that the real you is in imagination and you should identify with the inner man and satisfy your desire with the feeling of having said desire because “that’s what you actually want”.

and that’s partially true.

the inner man’s concept in the way that it is worded inevitably creates separation and makes you believe there’s two entities, the physical you and the one in imagination and that you have to put effort into identifying with the one inside or just “have faith” that it is true.

i don’t know about you but both effort and blind belief have given me problems in the long run because the truth is that you need to study this and understand it for yourself to truly know what this means. knowing something requires no effort and no belief, you just KNOW it is like that and nothing can move you from that. same as knowing the sky is blue, you don’t just “believe” it, nor it requires effort for you to identify the sky as blue, you just know it.

Q. but i can see the sky is blue! i know it is blue because i have proof.

knowing doesn’t always necessarily require physical proof, it can just require understanding and realization and that is what i want you to achieve at the end of this post.

you need to get to a point of knowing you are the one inside and not just “trusting” it or believing it because that is what everyone tells you to do, if you don’t sit on the concept and realize it for yourself blind belief will only take you so far. i suggest you’d do your own research and study everything that inspires you in this law, there’s several places where you can find the source and believe me when i tell you no blogger can be as helpful as your own realizations.

as all feelings of separation, even this separation between the imaginal you and the human body will inevitably bring you troubles in the long run. believing that they are both you will bring confusion and fears inevitably arise. you feel anxiety, you have fearful thoughts and you freak out because as long as you believe it is you, you will inevitably assign it a meaning and that will lead you to think it has some impact on you and you don’t have any control over what happens.

you will start to think that since you had this thought it means you are “out of the state” so it will affect your “manifestation”, you’ll start to think that anything you imagine takes life and expresses without you having any real control over it. you will start to think you are the thoughts, the feelings, the states and you will start to desperately try to control them and/or yourself or better what you believe to be yourself.

you will feel you are your mind and have no control over it, you will lose the safety you once felt inside of imagination and you will not feel alone inside of it.

Self

the Self i’m talking about is the real you and the only one.

sit back in a comfortable position and relax for a few moments, try to quiet the mind, observe the thoughts, drop the judgements.

who am i?

ask yourself this question.

let thoughts come and observe them.

who is observing? your Self.

are you the thoughts or are you the one observing them?

are you the fears or are you observing them?

are you the anxiety or are you observing it?

are you the body or are you observing it?

are you the mind or are you observing it?

are you the thing perceived or the perceiver?

who is that?

The Self.

the one and only self.

there is no imaginal you and physical you. you are the perceiver of all things, you are the dreamer. there is no “i must look for the feeling because that’s how things get expressed” there is no feeling to look for, no effort put into fulfilling one Self whatsoever because once you’ve realized who you are that’s only natural to experience what you want inside, there is no craving for outside validation because the body is not who you are.

the Self inside has experienced it and that’s the only thing you will crave because You have experienced it.

i’m not gonna tell you it won’t take a tiiiiny bit of “effort” AT FIRST to identify with your real Self whenever you’re involved with the ego, because we have habits and habits such as identifying with the ego are not immediately let go of. but i don’t even wanna call it effort because once you hit the realization of who you really are you will WANT to go back to that, it will inevitably feel wrong to identify with the ego because even if comfortable you’ve realized that is not you, it will feel temporary whenever you go back to being the ego.

you don’t need to intentionally identify with the “inner self” aka the only identity you have, you are unlimited consciousness CHOOSING to identify with the ego and the body.

IT’S NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.

that’s why you struggle with this. because you think you have to do something to identify with the self when you simply already are, you just let go of the ego identity you’re so desperate for right now.

[sparklingself]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃

understanding the law thoroughly truly solves most if not all problems you might have regarding manifesting. with understanding i do not mean just reading neville and understanding what you’re reading. i mean understanding on a level where you can apply it and relate it to every aspect in your life. taking in these principles as the upmost truth you live by may take time, but just acknowledging them every day makes a lot of difference.

consciousness is the only reality

"That I may not be misunderstood, let me again lay the foundation of this principle. Consciousness is the one and only reality. We are incapable of seeing other than the contents of our own consciousness." - Neville

there is no other world but the one that you are aware of. we are incapable of seeing other than the contents of our own consciousness. this is why consciousness is the only reality. reality is something you can experience and you only ever experience anything with your consciousness.

“If you are impoverished and borrow from every friend you have, and then suddenly you roll in wealth, where did you bury the poor man? You so completely rub out poverty in your mind's eye that there is nothing in this world you can point to and claim, that is where I left it. A complete transformation of consciousness rubs out all evidence that anything other than this ever existed in the world.” - Neville

anything ever exists only if you’re conscious of it. whether you’re rich or you’re poor you are aware of being one or the other. when you erase anything from your mind that appoints to anything other than you having your desire then eventually everything will prove to you that you have that desire. a complete transformation of consciousness rubs out all evidence that anything other than this ever existed in the world.

"Now put them all together in a practical sense and see what the ancients tried to tell us. As I stand here, having discovered that my consciousness is God, and that I can by simply feeling that I am what I want to be transform myself into the likeness of that which I am assuming I am; I know now that I am all that it takes to scale this mountain." - Neville

you are all that it takes to scale this mountain. there is nothing, no one else that can change anything, but you. any problem, any desire you have is smaller than you. all you need to do is transform yourself.

"Consciousness is the one and only reality. Therefore, we must form the object of our desire out of our own consciousness." - Neville

self-concepts

"Man is always looking for some prop on which to lean. He is always looking for some excuse to justify failure. This revelation gives man no excuse for failure. His concept of himself is the cause of all the circumstances of his life. All changes must first come from within himself; and if he does not change on the outside it is because he has not changed within." - Neville

everything boils down to self. to blame others or some kind of outer circumstance is extremely comfortable. but true freedom is whenever failure hits you to look within. because the concept you have of yourself is the cause of all the circumstances in your life. if you want something to change then change yourself and don’t force change on the outside.

"Heretofore I thought I could change others through effort. Now I know I cannot change another unless I first change myself. To change another within my world I must first change my concept of that other; and to do it best I change my concept of self. For it was the concept I held of self that made me see others as I did." - Neville

"Instead of trying to change others through argument and force, let me but ascend in consciousness to a higher level and I will automatically change others by changing self. "There is no one to change but self; that self is simply your awareness, your consciousness and the world in which it lives is determined by the concept you hold of self. It is to consciousness that we must turn as to the only reality. For there is no clear conception of the origin of phenomena except that consciousness is all and all is consciousness." - Neville

everyone is you pushed out. however people act around you - it is all a result of the concept you have of yourself. you see others the way you do because of your conception of self. if you want to change someone you must change yourself first. self as in your awareness. shift your awareness of that person to the desired version.

“A state is an attitude of mind, a state of experience with a body of beliefs which you live by. Always expressing a state, you identify yourself with it by saying: “I am poor or I am rich. I am known or I am unknown. I am wanted or I am unwanted.” - Neville

a state is your “I AM”. you always identify with something and you’re always expressing that. you are either poor or you are rich. you are either one or the other. the choice is yours.

“Because of your belief in external things you think power into them by transferring the power that you are to the external thing. Realize you yourself are the power you have mistakenly given to outer conditions.” - Neville

"Be still, and know that I am God." - Neville

prayer (assumptions)

"If you are still desiring, stop it right now! Ask yourself what it would be like, were your desire a reality. How would you feel if you were already the one you would like to be? The moment you catch that mood, you are thinking from it. And the great secret of prayer is thinking from, rather than thinking of." - Neville

how would you feel if you were already the one you would like to be? this is the key question to ask yourself when praying (assuming). when you assume you stop desiring because you already have it. the key is to think from your desire not of your desire.

"Take my message to heart and live by it. Practice the art of prayer daily, and then one day you will find the most effective prayer is: "Thank you Father." You will feel this being within you as your very self. You can speak of it as "thou" yet know it is "I." You will then have a thou/I relationship, and say to yourself: "Thank you, Father". If I want something, I know the desire comes from the Father, because all thought springs from Him. Having given me the urge, I thank Him for fulfilling it. Then I walk by faith, in confidence that he who gave it to me through the medium of desire will clothe it in bodily form for me to encounter in the flesh." - Neville

being thankful every day will transform you. make it a habit. taking time to shift your focus inside every day will help you realise your potential. you are God. pray every day to Him knowing that He is you.

"Now that you have assumed that you are what you want to be, do not look back on your former state and wonder HOW it will disappear from your world. For if you look back and give attention to it, you are steeping once more that kid in its mother's milk. Do not say to yourself, 'I wonder if I am really detached from that state," or "I wonder if so and so is true." Give all your attention to the assumption that the thing is so, because all responsibility to make it so is completely removed from your shoulders. You do not have to make it so, it IS so. You appropriate what is already fact, and you walk in the assumption that it is, and in a way that you do not know, I do not know, no man knows, it becomes objectified in your world. Do not be concerned with the how, and do not look back on your former state. "No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." Luke 9:62 Simply assume that it is done and suspend reason, suspend all the arguments of the conscious three-dimensional mind. Your desire is outside of the reach of the three-dimensional mind. Assume you are that which you wish to be; walk as though you were it; and as you remain faithful to your assumption -- it will harden into fact." - Neville

there is no need to search for the “how”. you do not have to make it so, it is so. you already have it. once you give it to yourself inside, it is yours. assume that it is done. your doubts, your concerns are that of the 3D mind. they’re irrelevant, they’re not important. suspend all reason because it belongs to the 3D and the 3D is irrelevant. assume you are that you wish to be; walk as though you were it; and as you remain faithful to your assumption - it will harden into fact. “how” that will happen is unknown. all you need to know is that it is already yours.

"In your mind's eye, you feel that they are as you would like them to be and then drop it. The secret is dropping it. "Let me go" is one the last statement in the gospel. "Do not hold me." If you hold on to it then you haven't dropped it. The seed must fall into the ground and die, before it is made alive. If I hold onto it and keep on holding on to it, I haven't dropped it, and it has to be dropped and left alone too. You can't pick it up every morning and see if it has root. I must drop it and leave it alone and then confront the harvest." - Neville

when you “let go” you accept it to be yours. when you “let go” you stop desiring because it already is yours. you do not have to cling on it because it is already yours and no one can take it from you. yes, it will appear. yes, you don’t have to worry about it.

"If you reach the point of relief, your bread has been cast upon the water to return, perhaps in the matter of an hour. I have had the phone ring – minutes after I have imagined it – to hear confirmation that it has happened. Sometimes it has taken days, weeks, or months; but I do not repeat the action once I have done it and felt the feeling of relief, for I know there is nothing more I need to do." - Neville

time does NOT matter. there is nothing more left to do. if you know it is done and feel relief then so it is - done. it is yours. if you worry about time then you don’t feel it to be yours. accept it to be yours, you’re allowed to have it - you’re allowed to feel whatever you want inside of you.

consciousness is the only reality. therefore all you need to change is your consciousness. more specifically your self conceptions. and you do that through prayer aka assumption. you assume all the time. make your prayers conscious and say “thank you”. it is the greatest prayer because you know your prayers are always heard and what is heard is answered.

take the time to truly understand these principles. remind yourself of these daily and you will notice yourself accepting your power more and more by each day.

[bakubunny]

bringing you some thoughts on sugar daddy!yagi. it was going to be aizawa, but yagi seemed like a much better fit for what came to mind.

tw: f!reader, escort!reader, retired!yagi, retired/quirkless!yagi’s physical appearance isn’t known to the public

sugar daddy!yagi who never intended to be a sugar daddy. felt mortified at the thought that he was seriously considering hiring an escort for something as simple as companionship. why was it so hard to meet a nice woman to settle down with in his retirement? he was kind and knew very well how to build a romantic relationship… in theory. he just spent the majority of his career without one.

sugar daddy!yagi who was so nervous when he met you that his hands shook. who cleaned himself up well. who assumed you would walk away when you saw how he looked. you almost did, but it wasn’t his age or his looks. it was that he’d mentioned he was a bit “high profile,” but wanted to meet you before revealing more details.

sugar daddy!yagi who was stunned when you walked over to his table. his mouth went dry when he saw just how pretty you were in real life. you weren’t quite half his age at thirty, but it was close to that with him being in his late fifties. you hadn’t worn anything special other than a nice, casual dress. he was enraptured by the brightness of your eyes and smile, got a fluttery feeling in his chest whenever you laughed.

sugar daddy!yagi who, if he hadn’t looked so pathetic and anxious to admit that he was toshinori yagi, you wouldn’t have believed him at all. you’d taken on a couple of higher profile clients before, but never a world renowned hero, and the scraggly, dark eyed man looked nothing like all might. yagi begged you not to walk away from the secluded table he’d reserved. you hadn’t laughed in his face, but you certainly didn’t believe him either. “i can prove that i’m telling the truth,” he said. “i’ll double, triple your rate if that’s what it takes. please, give me a chance.”

sugar daddy!yagi who was indeed who he said he was. you decided to agree to meet him a few more times before setting anything into a contract because something about him drew you in. it wasn’t the flowers he bought you or the way he carried himself, it was his kindness.

sugar daddy!yagi who is so adorably nervous even after the contract is set that you can’t help but find it endearing. who makes it very clear that he wants companionship - nothing sexual - in exchange for your time. who spends the majority of his time cuddling with you, taking interest in learning your hobbies, and talking about your life.

sugar daddy!yagi who encourages you to lean into the success of your career and wants to see you grow as a person the more he knows you. who takes the time to learn about your hobbies and try them with you in an effort to have more interests in common. who shares his with you and brings you along to do things with him.

sugar daddy!yagi who doesn’t blink the first time he hands you a check large enough to cover your rent, bills, and groceries for the month thrice over. it’s far above what you’d agreed on for his temporary contract, but the moment you’d mentioned things were “a little tighter than usual,” he wouldn’t hear anything else. if you were going to be his baby, he was going to take care of you.

sugar daddy!yagi who is stunned once again when you give him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. you really didn’t expect generosity like that, especially from a new client, but the more you get to know yagi as a person, the less it surprises you. sure, his career made him put on a character of sorts for the public, but underneath that he was still kindhearted and generous.

sugar daddy!yagi who tells you to save what you don’t need for future expenses and spoils you rotten on top of that. pretty jewelry, clothes, a nice handbag or a pair of shoes, anything your heart could desire, he could give it.

sugar daddy!yagi who blushes so hard the first time you call him daddy, you think you might have done something wrong. he’s in disbelief at how good it feels to hear that on your lips. he squeezes your hand tighter and grins a little.

sugar daddy!yagi who’s shocked when you say you don’t want to start a long term contract. he looks heartbroken until you tell him, “i… i’d rather just be with you, if that’s okay. no contract, just us.” and suddenly his heart is thrumming in his chest. his mind races. he pulls your face in and kisses you tenderly without a second thought. whose eagerness is firm and his hands rough.

sugar daddy!yagi who quickly starts coming out of his shell after that first kiss. who’s shameless in treating you like his baby - spoiling even further, having you on his arm at any given chance, pampering your mind and body as often as he can. who is far from an incompetent lover; the way his hands travel over your body tells you that much.

sugar daddy!yagi who, after a little time, fucks you better than anyone you’ve ever met. who is attentive to every little detail in how you respond. who pulls more orgasms out of you than you thought possible. who fucks you harder when you call him daddy, runs his hands and mouth over your skin while he groans. who grins sheepishly when you compliment him as his cheeks tinge pink.

sugar daddy!yagi who loves it when you sit in his lap and ride him; he gets the best view of your tits and he doesn’t have to do as much work. he loves fucking you stupid, but he’s tired more often than not and adores when you give him that. who chokes out heavy breaths and small whines as he praises you so sweetly for being his good girl.

sugar daddy!yagi who craves slow, lazy morning sex because it pulls out the prettiest mewls from your throat. who wakes you up with kisses on your neck and his hand running over your panties. who will wake you up early every once in a while to fuck you or get you off before work.

sugar daddy!yagi who swears the sound of your sweet voice heals something inside him, whose tired hero heart is mended a little when you moan his name. who adores fucking you and loving you into a complete mess. who shows you daily that he’s lucky to have you as his sweet sugar baby.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @sluttyshigaraki @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem

[luna-writes-stuff]

I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing, Steve Harrington

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Mutual pining, fluff

Word count: 3494

Tw: As a fellow introvert it pains me to tell you you are now going to prom. Sorry. There’s an f-bomb in here. Light cursing?? Idk have you even watched Stranger Things?

Summary: Steve was convinced he was only able to fall in love once, and that one love was Nancy Wheeler. And when all of that fell apart, he met you. He couldn’t explain how or why, but you were simply it for him. Never before had he been anxious to ask a girl out, so why were you so different? And how come Dustin knows more about flirting than he does?

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while you are sleeping. While you're far away and dreaming.”

Steve has only been in love once - Nancy Wheeler. He had told himself this over and over again. He knew what it felt like, he knew what it was like. He knew what the difference was between liking and loving. And the only one he had truly loved was Nancy Wheeler. So, when she started dating Jonathan, his heart crumbled into a million little pieces. For once, he finally understood the girls at his high school who would spend their break wallowing away in bathrooms.

After that, he wouldn’t dare even look at others in a specific way. He was convinced he could only love one person his entire life. He’d never find something real after that. It was a terrifying melodramatic thought in his head that simply refused to leave.

He was at his lowest when he met you.

“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever. Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure.”

How you had never caught his eyes, he couldn’t quite believe. For years, you had been in the same English class. Hell, you used to sit directly next to him for a handful of months. He was so blindly and foolishly in love with Nancy, he refused to see anything else for him out there. And where he had once blamed it on loyalty and fidelity, he could now only consider himself as stupid.

You were forced to work on a project together in your senior year, Steve’s final year of torment. He was too late to pair with familiar faces, and was left with the person behind him - you. A lucky coincidence.

It wasn’t anything special at first. You were simply a classmate. But when he failed to show up on agreed study times, or refused to form a normal conversation with you, you showed up at his doorstep. You barely even know him, yet you took the effort to seek him out - initially in pure anger, as this was supposed to be your grade as well, and he was screwing it up, but you afterwards considered this action to have been out of genuine caring. It wouldn’t take an expert to recognize that he had not been true to his prior years persona.

Reluctantly, he had allowed you in, trying to procrastinate as much as he could. You spent the evening properly introducing yourself. You talked about family, work, school, interests, and friends that would later appear to be somewhat mutual (Steve didn’t necessarily consider Jonathan his friend, but he at least knew him on certain terms.) Where you first appeared to be the stuck-up good grades student, he found that you were actually quite interesting to talk with. Even if your interests weren’t always related, he found himself relaxing around you.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

It took two weeks for him to shift slightly around you. He’d grown more comfortable, and had actually tried to put in some effort in your project. After the study dates, he’d treat you to a drink at a nearby snackbar on his way to your home. During classes - if they were shared -, he started seeking you out more. Sometimes, though rare, he’d sit at your table at lunch, ranting about a teacher or a test he just had.

It took two more weeks before he started changing again. To him, it came out of nothing. You had been at his place, discussing what you would be doing the final three weeks of your project, your voice passionate as you explained your plan, your hands following along with your speech enthusiastically. Then, it all clicked for him. There was no special thing you did that made it happen: no faces too nearby, no flirty laugh, no hesitant hug, no brief kiss on his cheek - it was simply you speaking about something you were excited about. And his heart skipped a beat at it. The feeling you’d get just before you go down a rollercoaster, or when your chair almost falls backwards - but then in a good way.

The last time he felt that was when Nancy winked at him from across the room. And that was last year. He knew the feeling, and it did not take him longer than a second to figure out what it was. He didn’t dare to say it, though. He might say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing and something about that made him so scared. He’d never felt anxious to walk up to someone and simply confess how he felt. It came easy to him.

Not after that one stupid rant you did.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

He wouldn’t speak of it to anyone. He hadn’t even told himself out loud yet. He told himself that if he’d speak it, it might disappear, or bring him bad luck. He cursed himself afterwards and scolded his mind for suddenly picking up superstition.

He’d try so badly to behave somewhat normal around you, and not as if his heart was beating way too quickly whenever you spoke his name or nudged his shoulder with your pen. In his eyes, he was doing a great job at it. He didn’t stutter once, nor did he forget his words. He didn’t sweat, didn’t act on emotion. He was completely nailing this.

He never noticed his staring. You had.

“Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating. And I'm wondering what you're dreaming. Wondering if it's me you're seeing.”

You had noticed it only a day after Steve’s realisation. Sure, he had shown interest in you, but they never included prolonged eye contact, nor the feeling of being watched over during classes. It was uncomfortable when it first started, but when he failed to do anything about the staring in a negative sense, you figured his mind had just been too preoccupied with other things and let it slide.

But every time you’d walk the halls, you swear Steve kept his eyes on you even after you had greeted him at the lockers. During breaks, he would constantly be throwing you looks, and you had to pretend to look at something else to not be creepy as well. He started walking you to your car, helping you carry school books, and saving you lunch.

You might not have been the smartest, but you weren’t oblivious. He didn’t do this for his other friends - which he had known way longer than he had known you. He wouldn’t even walk his ‘children’ friends outside school. And you might have understood him if he had done so. But he didn’t. Not with anyone except you.

But maybe you were thinking too much of it.

“Then I kiss your eyes And thank God we're together. And I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever. Forever and ever.”

“Steve,” Dustin urged. “Earth to Steve.” The boy in question only grunted in annoyance, reluctantly tearing his eyes from you and your friend group. “Dude, this is almost becoming creepy.” Dustin continued. “Just talk to her. You’re friends, right?” “Yes, Dustin,” Steve groaned. “We’re friends.” An aloud confirmation. To himself and to Dustin. You were just friends, sure.

“Friends don’t really stare at each other the entire time.” Rolling his eyes, Steve shook his head at the boy, giving him a pointed look. “I’m not looking at her the entire time.” “Maybe not, but when you’re not looking, she is.” That made his head spin around too fast, his eyes briefly meeting yours before they cast back to your friends.

“That’s totally normal,” Dustin emphasised. “Me and Mike make love-sick eyes at each other the entire time.” “Will you shut it?” Steve hissed, his face warm as he tried to look at the wall behind you. “I would, but all of this staring is making me sick.” “No one asked you to look.” “It’s impossible not to.”

“I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna to fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“She’s totally into you, you know that right?” Dustin prodded. “Shut up.” “No, I’m serious, man. She’s my babysitter and she talks about you all the time.” He exaggerated, a notion Steve was quick to catch onto, giving the younger boy an accusing look. “Okay, so, maybe I am the one who brings you up, but she is the one who starts laughing and talking all about how funny you are.” He defended, holding his hands up as he shrugged. And with those words, Steve was left speechless for just a short second.

“If you ask her out to prom, I can guarantee you, she’ll say yes.” Dustin hinted. “You’ll have the perfect ambiance - lights, music, clothes, and amazing company.” “Dude, you’re twelve.” Steve deadpanned, yet curiously thinking Dustin’s offer over. “I’m thirteen.” “Big difference.”

“If this is what growing up is like, I don’t want any part of it.” “No,” Steve finally agreed. “Trust me; you don’t.”

“Dude, you’re the king of Hawkins High,” Dustin tried to convince. “If you can’t ask a girl out, what are my chances?” Steve formed his lips in a thin line upon the words, shrugging aimlessly. Dustin’s hands found Steve’s biceps, clutching them tightly, taking him by surprise. “Give me hope, Steve.”

“Geez, man,” Steve muttered confused. “It’s not the end of the world.” “You’re right: it isn’t.” Dustin agreed, a sudden smile on his face. “So, talk to her.” Then, he turned the older boy around, forcing his eyes to suddenly fall on yours. Again, his face heated up at the contact, his eyes back on the wall behind you before yours could fall to the floor in a flustered mess.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream will never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

He wanted to back away, let the weird thirteen-year-old he met last year down and swallow his pride to the depth of his stomach, but one of your friends had already noticed him, sparing him a wave before taking off with the rest of the group, leaving only you there. If he couldn’t even ask you when you were alone, what dignity did he have left?

And thus, with courage he did not know he had to muster up, he walked towards you, his heart wildly beating, screaming at him to turn around and hide while he still could. Stupid. That never happened before. It was scary - he hated it. Weak for a talk.

“You didn’t mention a little brother,” You began, trying to start a conversation as your eyes fell on Dustin, who had - not so casually - started paying a lot of attention to his shoes. Chuckling awkwardly, Steve shook his head. “No, he’s not my brother.” “Cousin?” “Weird kid that started following me around last year.” A quiet ‘ah’ of understanding escaped you as you nodded hesitantly. “Must have been quite the conversation you were having.” “You really don't want to know.” You laughed at this.

Stupid. Stupid heart skipping that stupid beat at your stupid smile.

“I don't wanna miss one smile. And I don't wanna miss one kiss. And I just wanna be with you Right here with you, just like this.”

Then, the silence came. You hadn’t shared those yet. You always had a lot to say, and if not, he would. But this was an uncomfortable silence. Granted, he had known you for five weeks, but he did not like this one bit. He felt as if he had gotten to know you better in five weeks than he had his other friends in four years. He didn’t even know if Tommy had a brother or a sister - or maybe it was both. He knew your entire family, though.

Dustin was right. That wasn’t normal for friends. Or at least - not for his versions of friends. He was interested in them, but not as much as he was in you. And that wasn’t just because you were generally pleasing to look at. It was important to him, though.

“Um, pretty,” Steve mumbled, not even realising what he had said. An unconscious notion of himself as he tried to fill the silence. It even startled him, his heart sinking slightly as he tried to cover it up. “Prom.”

Yes, there was no going back now.

“And I just wanna hold you close. I feel your heart so close to mine. And just stay here in this moment For all the rest of time.”

“Prom.” You nodded at him as he repeated his words. “Next month.” You reminded him, thinking he didn’t know the date. “Right, yes,” Steve agreed, grateful you hadn’t taken up his slip. “Do you plan on going?” You thought of it for a while. In truth, you had meant to be going with a friend, but she cancelled last week, claiming she’d rather take another friend who would be in town that week. You understood her - you might have done the same. But you weren’t going to show up to prom alone. Besides, staying home wouldn’t be the worst idea. Cinemas would likely be very empty that night. You might spend your evening there.

“I don’t think so.” You finally settled on. “Not?” “I was gonna go with a friend, but she cancelled.” “That’s lame, I’m sorry.” Steve tried to offer in sympathy, but you shook him off. “No, I don’t blame her. One of her long-distance friends will be in town, and she’d rather take her.” “Still,” Steve continued. “That must have sucked.” You lightly shook your head at him, a tiny grin on your face. “Yes, but it’s okay. I don’t hate her for it.”

Another silence. This time due to both of you thinking over your words. Stupid. He never had to do that before.

“Why?” You prodded playfully. “Planning to ask me yourself, Harrington?”

Yet again, his heart skipped a beat. Stupid.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. Don't wanna fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“Only out of pity.” He covered up quickly, his eyes not deviating from yours once. “I’m the worst pity party.” You joked, to which he faintly found himself sparing a laugh. “I’d be happy to join it.” “Yeah, you would.” You replied sarcastically, nodding your head in humour.

A third beat of silence. Now, the pounding in his heart was begging for some action. One more silence and he might spontaneously combust. “What if I was?” He mustered out, his eyes falling back on the wall behind you. Looking behind you to see what he was looking at, you frowned lightly, forcing your eyes back to his face. “What if you were what?” “Planning to ask you to prom?” A deep falling of his heart. Stupid.

“I’d ask why you didn’t ask future prom queen Heather.” You replied after a handful of seconds, not sure how to respond to him. You’d be lying if you said your heart wasn’t copying his exact movements. “Because she’s fake.” He stated easily, causing you to gasp lightly, looking around to check if others were around. “Steve,” You scolded. “I’m serious,” He disclosed honestly. “She always pretends to feel bad for others, but she’s as much of a bully as she is narcissistic.”

You could join him and rant about this girl, but in truth, you barely even knew her. Part of it made you feel guilty. Thankfully, Steve caught on quickly: “Besides, I already rejected her.”

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do. I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

Mouth slacked open, you looked at him in surprise. Again, you didn’t really know the girl, but you knew her enough to be aware of her reputation. Or, more importantly, her looks. “You rejected Heather?” You asked confused, a feather light feeling entering your stomach. “Yeah, well, I’m not really one for dances, but I could make an exception.” Steve defended, trying to play it off cool. His exterior was doing a great job at it. Inside, whatsoever, it was pure rampage. His brain was scavenging for the right words or actions. He truly didn’t want to screw this up, but he had never felt this anxious around a person. If this would not be the moment, he didn’t know if it would ever come again.

Luckily, you did not notice the turmoil, and responded to his words before he could make a fool out of himself. “You’d make an exception for your study buddy?” You tested, still unsure whether he was joking or not. If he was, it was a cruel one. “You need those grades, don’t you?” “No.” He denied quickly, almost instantly. “I’d make an exception for a good friend. And all I need is just a little bit of your time.” “For what?” You asked, raising your eyebrows slightly.

Holding you, you idiot. Keeping you close, not tearing my eyes from you if I can help it. Maybe a little kiss here and there, light touches on your waist, repressing those stupid beats of my heart.

Instead, what came out was: “Dancing, duh.”

“I don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, 'Cause I'd miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“I don’t have an outfit.” You avoided, slightly taken aback by his cool behaviour. Sure, you had learned his humour, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to show just a little emotion and a positive response to your slightly high hopes. Then, he said something that truly took you aback.

“Wear this. You look beautiful in this too.” It was out before he could even stop it. He hadn’t even realised his brain had been forming these words. They just stumbled out. And when you went slack at them, he wanted nothing more than to dig his head into the nearest wall. “I’m-“ He tried to salvage, desperately stumbling over his words.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was exactly what he had been avoiding all this time and now his speech was failing him.

“I’m sorry, that was-“ No words managed to follow up that trail of thought, leaving you there, still wide-eyed. “Fuck.” He silently mumbled to himself, before just running with what he had slipped out. “You look perfect just like this.”

“Thank you.” You nearly whispered, your heart surely in your throat now. This was precisely what you wanted to hear, so why did you not know how to respond to it.

“Yeah, no problem.” Steve sighed helplessly.

“'Cause even when I dream of you The sweetest dream would never do, I'd still miss you baby. And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

“So, prom? With me?” He swallowed his dignity, saying his words as he had always meant them. No de-tours now. And at that, your courage began to build up again. “As friends?” You tested. “Maybe,” Steve answered. “Or, maybe, as a date.” A sigh of relief swept through you, the action not going unnoticed by Steve. He did not mention it however.

“It’ll be a hell of a first date.” You muttered, your happiness doing its best containing itself. “It doesn’t have to be.” Steve dismissed. Your hopes fell to the floor at that, afraid you had gotten ahead of yourself. Hadn’t he said it aloud? Hadn’t he proposed it had been a date?

“I heard the cinema is playing Gremlins tonight.” He interrupted your train of thought, a slight smile on his face. You copied it nearly immediately, more relief flooding your senses. And then, a sudden burst of confidence: “You know the purpose of the cinema is watching movies, right? Not me.” Hissing and nodding at your hint, his shoulders fell slightly. “Am I that creepy?” “At first, yes,” You admit honestly. “But it’s cute.”

Cute. Stupid.

“What time?” Having remembered the exact time for this perfect scenario, Steve perked up slightly. “Eight.” “Pick me up at seven-thirty,” You proposed. “You know where I live.” Then, you turned around, ready to head to your next classes. You spared him a light wave, before moving towards the halls. His eyes followed you until you were out of sight.

That stupid smile. Those stupid eyes. Your stupid voice. Your stupid humour.

You were going to be the death of him.

“Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep, And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

[precious-little-scoundrel]

| Ida’s Law

Introductory Part

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlisting and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life, if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Warnings: disturbing content- if you made it through last one this one should be a breeze, however it picks up where we left off so expect mentions of war, wounds, illusions to past rapes, Nazis being racist fucks, possibly some internalized misogyny about it all and some hopefully very 🥹🤧 reunions

A Note Going Forward: With this part now published, I am happy to open this series up for prompts. Ideally I’d like this series to end up being exclusively prompt-inspired and will be putting out prompt lists accordingly. I think that will be a fun way to keep the interaction going, stretch my own skills and explore all the different scenarios that may intrigue y’all. You’re welcome to come up with your own prompts, too. All are welcome, none guaranteed but let’s be real -I’m obsessed with this AU so I’ll likely do it. For now I’ll be keeping all writing to POW Camp and Liberation and Post-Liberation timelines.

“Well, what do we know?” Ida Brady asked the first officer out on the other side as they began to filter through the laborious processing of the camp. She counted them down, one familiar face after another appearing through the doorway again with no worse indignity than the new identification tags hanging from their necks.

“I hate a guy named Johann, and I like a guy named Fritz, and the lieutenant guy wasn’t bad.” Maureen declared, straightening her precious cap atop muddy auburn tresses. “Who went and named their son Fritz after the last war? I mean really? Who does that to a kid? It’s like he’s making up for it now, though, awfully nice.”

“Mm, I thought so, too.” Ida hummed, “Might keep an eye on that one, work on him a bit. You think, Kendeigh?”

“Work on him yourself, Ida.” Maureen scoffed.

“Not much to work with.” Ida retorted, the first general reference to her disfigurement she’d made. “What do you know? What’s up?” she left off to inquire after Tallulah Smith who came out the other side of processing looking more than exasperated.

“Know? They don’t know squat.” she said, “Never heard of a Cherokee.”

“I’ll be.” Maureen was grinning sharply. “Wasn't enough being a woman for ya Smith, ya had to go and be a brown one.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” She griped, “They kept insisting I was a fighter pilot. That’s what all the ‘dark ones’ are, according to them. Told them I’d rewire their insides and maybe then they’d take my engineering degree seriously.”

“I’d like to see that.” Maureen murmured, drowsiness beginning to take over at the comparative calm of their new surroundings.

“Looks like we got everyone, yeah?” Ida peered over the heads of the crowing room and counted out her charges in a silent tally.

“Looks like.” Smith agreed. “Got billet assignments?”

“I do. Colonel Clark, most senior prisoner here, said the combines are strict but the rooms aren’t. Let’s try to behave until we feel our way, then we can swap, if they allow.”

“It’s going to smell like feet no matter where and who we share it with.” Smith pointed out and Ida heaved a great sigh as if that were the hardest prospect she’d yet encountered.

“Mm.”

“Buck is out there!” Maureen suddenly cried out, grabbing at Ida’s arm, pointing out the window at the muddy yard.

“How nice. Gotta get this sorted first, eyes in, Kendeigh.”

Maureen reluctantly tore her eyes away from her dearly missed pilot. “Yes sir.”

“All right,” Ida’s voice carried as well as it ever had, commanding immediate quiet and attention, “those in the 350th, 419th, -the hundredth!- on me. Gather ‘round. That’s it, come on. Alright, well, we made it, well done. Truly, well done to all of you. Now I know you well enough to not accuse any of you of being pure idiots, just because we made it to where we wanted to go doesn’t mean any of what’s ahead is going to be easy. Be wary, don’t let your guard down, you don’t know plenty of these men and they don’t know you, I’m sure there are measures in place for spying already. Be sensible. I am certain we can rely on the kindness of those in the hundredth, but even then keep in mind, if you are cold, they are too, if you're hungry, you best believe they are hungrier, the last thing we need is a crisis of chivalry in here. Rely on them, except their help, but don’t ever take from them. Understood? And one more thing, since the human spirit is irrepressible I feel it’s warranted to make one more housekeeping note. None, and I do mean none, no inner relations at all are allowed. I don’t care how cold you are, how sweet he’s been, or how much you’ve missed him. The Red Cross aren’t sending rubbers, and don’t ever take the promise of a pull out. Do you want a one-way ticket to a death camp or a bullet to the head? Get pregnant. Simple as that. You think the Jerries think poorly of you now for being female? Try being a matron. The point is to blend in as much as possible, keep that in mind. Whatever you do, keep that in mind. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“Colonel?” One voice demurred, raised hand and respectful title only forerunners for an obvious objection incoming.

“Yes? Sanchez, isn’t it? You’re not one of mine, I think.”

“No, sir, 55th -fighters.”

“Yes, well, welcome. What’s your question?”

“No offense sir but- what about the guards?” Sanchez asked.

“We don’t know yet,” Brady replied with typical candor, “I believe so far we’ve seen a mix here. I’m sure our friends can give us tips on who to watch out for.”

“No sir, sorry I meant-“ Sanchez kept her teeth clenched until her thoughts seemed to form better, “-you said no relations. What about the guards? No disrespect meant colonel and I don’t know about yours, but mine -they weren’t pulling out.”

“Mm.” Maureen thought that if Ida smashed her lips together any tighter they’d turn whiter than her skin, the bent aviators she had managed to preserve this entire time did a remarkable job of masking whatever feeling was stiffening her spine to the current degree, but all the same, her spine was stiff, “no offense taken, an excellent point. I’ll inquire about any possible…remedies. Anyone else?”

A multitude of hands shot up and Ida Brady scanned them with bewilderment until she realized her lapse in specificity. “Anyone else with questions, I meant! Saints alive. No? Good, let’s claim our bunks and see about a wash.”

After the dark interior of the building, being processed for hours, the hazy late afternoon light of outside glared painfully against Ida’s bloodshot eyes as she stepped out, leading the way down the three wooden steps to the muddy yard. Monochrome, this place, brown wooden buildings and brown earth and a muddy sky and brown flight jackets one after another.

And there in the midst of it, waiting for them with ever constant patience and thinned stateliness was Gale Cleven and his lost blue eyes and an alarmingly symmetrical set of facial scars.

“Major.” Ida felt her face soften into an odd expression she realized was likely that of relief. Cleven had that way about him, it was better suited to her preferences than Egan’s blustering warm hearted concern, Colonel Harding’s gruff joviality or her John’s perpetually intense concern. Her little brother was, oddly, nowhere to be seen now and that was a comfort in this wide open, highly observed space.

“Colonel.” Gale Cleven’s eyes weren’t a lost blue anymore but a pair of stormy seas and Ida steeled herself for pity. She found smoldering rage in his face instead. Another relief.

“How was it?” he was nodding to the command hut.

“Fine.” she assured.

He was searching for something in her face and Ida was sure it was easily found skin deep along her puffy, purpled left cheek, but if she had anything to do with her expression alone, he’d be kept guessing for ages. “Good.” he decided at last but his smile was tight, “Made John wait in the combine, he’s in there pacing like a madman. They make a note of who’s attached to whom, Colonel,” he explained, “a more discreet reunion seemed in order.”

“We’d appreciate all the direction you—“ Ida had begun but was cut short by Lt. Kendeigh who broke ranks from the processed group and came out of the hut behind Ida like a bat out of hell, running up to Cleven and tackling him in a hug, rather like a dog with their long lost master.

The Major’s lanky frame staggered under her surprise attack, perhaps more from shock and ill preparedness than poor rations and a weakened constitution. Or at least Ida, hoped that was the case.

Well, there went all intentions for discretion about partiality on their part, five seconds had gone by and Maureen still hadn’t let go, her valued cap about ready to knock off her head and his too. Seeing the gig was up, Cleven even belatedly brought an arm up to hug her shoulders, his pleased face bashfully pacifying her intensity. “If it isn’t my favorite bombardier.” Cleven mumbled, his lips failing not to tug upwards in the tiniest of smiles, and he gave her a pat on the back.

“Buck!” Smith was coming in hot behind Kendeigh and knocked Ida’s shoulder in her haste to get around her and join in. “Thank Jesus you’re here.” she grunted as she squeezed him and Kendeigh both, “I mean -we’re sorry you’re here but since we’re here-“

“Glad you’re here, too, Smith.” he assured her gently, another pat on another back and Ida watched Cleven’s composure began to flake as he took stock of their roughened appearances. “It’s gonna be ok now.” he offered, and coming from someone else that statement would’ve sounded a great deal less impressive than it did coming from him. It also sounded hollow without Bucky’s typical parroting of the upbeat sentiment. “Let’s get you girls sorted.” he nodded at Ida who fell in alongside him, if only to distance and displace Kendeigh and her over familiarity just a tad.

“What’s your Kommandant like?” Ida asked by way of conversation as Gale directed them in a trudge along the brown paths towards his specified hut.

“Think I know him as well as you.” Gale admitted, “Tried to stay low, been no reason for socializing. Wouldn’t advise a trip to the camp doctor though.” He added the last part after a beat.

“Why?”

“Your Johnny says he’s got an experimental mind.” Gale smiled wryly but there was a grieved look behind it that made Ida’s pulse pound in alarm, “If you go in with a cold, you might come out with a radioactive arm instead.”

“Noted.” Ida muttured with a shiver, wishing to god her jacket hadn’t been taken off her a couple stops ago, the sun was waning in the dull sky and the breeze was frigid without it. “Speaking of doctors,” she decided to go for it, “is Johnny -my John- is he alright? At the gate it was such a racket, was he…standing?”

Gale paused in his step up into the combine, brows knitted in surprise and she noticed along with him that their little march had drawn quite a little audience from the fellow inmates. Females in a Stalag -what a novelty. “Yeah, John’s fine. He’s fit.” Gale still had that quizzical look on his face.

Ida swallowed hard and gave him another curt nod, one she wanted to come across as grateful but wasn’t sure it did, her battered cheek was responding less and less to her mind’s commands. “Right. This us?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d try to keep as many close as possible.” He explained, “Welcome to paradise.”

“What did y’all name this shack?” Maureen asked him as she stepped over the threshold, it was dark inside and smelled of lumber and smoke.

“We haven’t.” Gale admitted, forlorn at the realization that things like that didn’t occur to people like him. If Bucky had been here, he’d have had it named in an hour, and something awful, too. Something that would make them all laugh.

“Damn oversight, Gingerale.” Maureen teased merrily but Cleven noticed the dimming light in her eyes as she took in the cramped, uninspired utility of the place. One wooden doorway after another.

“Talked it over with Colonel Clark during your processing,” Gale said, “decided it were best if we mingle you all among the men we know. Boys from your squadrons, friendly faces. A few of you in each room.”

“I call dibs on yours.” Maureen unabashedly grinned up at Cleven but Ida saw how a heartbroken look of protectiveness skittered across his features.

“Alright.” he muttered without a fight for once.

“Mm, Smith, Sanchez, Tong, you in here.” Ida decided and having snapped her fingers she was moving on to the next stuffy room. Asking Cleven at each about their current occupants, and with the precision of memory required of a woman who had to memorize her opponents on the promotional ladder, chose their new bunk mates accordingly.

“And where’s Johnny bunked?” she asked him in a low tone as she watched the next set settle in from the doorway.

“In with me, further down the hall, Demarco, Hambone, a few others.”

Ida seemed to hesitate as she eyed up an extra bunk in the current room that the last of her girls were settling into.

“Don’t be a stick, colonel,” Maureen spoke up gently, a surprising liberty even for her, “you need friends right now. Bunk with us. Everyone’s going to be fine. Can’t be all places at all times, ya know?”

Ida didn’t reply but after a moment she admitted, “I should go see John.”

Gale and Maureen exchanged a look and then moved in unison to catch up to her as Ida Brady walked, brisk as if she were back home at Thorpe and about to pick a fight with Jack Kidd, down the long hall to one of the last rooms. “In here?” she asked Gale, pointing at the closed door -they liked to keep it so for warmth and privacy, and to acclimate the guards to it being closed when the radio was out.

“Yeah that’s us.” Cleven replied, reaching out and snagging Maureen back a step as Ida turned the handle. “Let’s give ‘em a minute.” he suggested, referring to the Bradys.

He held her jacket sleeve for a brief moment before turning it to grab her hand, he’d missed those hands. To his horror their usual calloused elegance was a swollen paw of bruises. “The hell, Maureen?” he whispered in shock, turning it over to examine it, grip strong around her wrist before she could pull away. “Who did this?”

Maureen did her best to shrug, “Some bitch stood on them.” she said simply, and surrendered the other hand for a similar heartbroken inspection.

Kendeigh was indeed not as visibly marred as Ida Brady or a few of the others, but still, Gale kept turning her crushed hands over and over, recalling with vivid agony the way he’d admired them at all manner of work before. To hurt them that way, to restrain her so meanly- “Maureen,” she’d never heard his voice dip so low, and his eyes were simmering where they cataloged her hurts, “what’d they do to you?”

“What’d they do to your face?” she shot back, perhaps more perturbed by the immaculately symmetrical scars on his once porcelain face than her own condition. Women expected the treatment they’d gotten, in some twisted way, but this on the other hand, it disturbed her.

Gale looked taken aback by her question and quickly dropped her hand to touch his right cheek as if to remind himself the scar was obvious to everyone. “Flak.” he replied a beat too late.

“Awfully precise.” she snarked.

“I asked you first.”

“I told you, a bitch stood on them.”

“I’m your superior officer.”

“Who it looks like someone had some fun with,” Maureen snapped back, “who did this?”

“What happened to you?” He hit right back but his voice quavered.

“I’m fine now. I wanna go see the boys. Come on.”

“Just- give them another minute.” Gale insisted, pulling her back away from the doorway again, “It’s a lot.” He reminded, “For a brother to see his sister like -that.”

Maureen couldn’t argue with that, besides Gale looked so sad and more fragile than she’d ever seen him, and the gentle hold he had on her jacket was as needy and scared as a child’s. “I’m glad we’re in this together.” she whispered.

“Me too.” he admitted, guilty and sad over how true that was before letting her press her lips to his.

Ida Brady didn’t know what she expected when she opened the door, not much she supposed, just a living brother with any luck. It was a decently tidy room, plates stacked on a rough hewn board at the far end, eight bunks lining the walls, stacked three tall. A table was in the middle and there sat dear old Crank and Hambone too, Murph with Benny. A card game was ongoing.

They looked so fine, quite normal, all in all.

All motion in the small room stopped upon her entrance. Cards were dropped and cigarettes forgotten in open mouthed shock.

“Holy shit -colonel?” Demarco didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body, and his disbelieving horror over her appearance came through loud and clear in his greeting. She hadn’t seen him at the gate.

The same for Hambone’s face, one that had never bothered to be discreet in pleasant circumstances, much less in shocking ones like seeing a notorious superior officer come in looking about as battered as a body could get -although his torn cheek was one to talk. Crank recovered first, in his mild, stammering sort of way, glancing at the lean figure who still stood looking out the lone window.

“Well, if it isn’t Ain’t Pretty Brady.” Crank clapped uneasily, summoning her nickname from basic just to cut the tension, it served to startle John.

He turned from the window abruptly, blank faced and unblinking as he realized the sister he had been watching for had already arrived. If their ole nan from the motherland had suddenly materialized before him he could have hardly looked more haunted or aghast, wide fringed fox eyes and that straight fold of a mouth -always so very held together, her little brother. Even after his third belly landing.

But those startled unblinking eyes...

Ida wanted to tell him to blink, that it was all alright now, that they were both alive and that it was good enough, it had to be. But she seemed to have fully lost all power over her throbbing cheek at last, she could feel her lips move in a motion she realized with supreme panic was likely a wobble of emotion. She ripped her aviators off, as if seeing her eyes might help his to come alive.

“John John?” she croaked in greeting, oblivious of the childish endearment tumbling off her lips in a room full of soldiers. If it were something their family was in the habit of doing, Ida Brady might have rushed him like Maureen did her pilot, or held out her own hand to be held, asked for a gesture from him -after what she’d gone through, surely it couldn’t have been weakness to want a clap on the shoulder, a flick to the bicep, a little “well done” for staying alive.

But she just stood there and watched him clock her shame. She could feel her swollen lip splitting in real time as the swelling and incessant trembling tore the taut skin apart, they’d passed around a single canteen in processing and it wasn’t enough, the walls of her throat felt collapsed together. Maybe she should have asked for a mirror first, maybe Cleven or Kendeigh or Smith should have told her she’d bring a whole room to a frozen standstill by her looks alone. They’d seen her at the gate -were these meager lightbulbs really so much more illuminating?

“Eye-eye.” Johnny let it out in a breathy rush as if he’d suddenly come to, and then he was in front of her, hands cradling the sides of her neck, thumbs hooked gently under her bruised jaw. A calloused pad swiped away the ticklish trickle of blood sliding the crease of her mouth.

Eye eye -his onetime baby babble for Ida, and she’d never let him forget it.

She could have wept at the useless sentimentality of it, of the gentle familiarity of familial hands, at the seething loyalty storming across his face.

“The fuck did they do?” he articulated at last, voice gravelly as shit but also reminiscent of the squeaky olden days when his castrato role suddenly no longer served one Sunday in choir.

“You’ve got legs.” she answered instead, sounding maniacal in her happiness.

He looked at her like she’d gone fully crazy as well as beat, “Yeah? Yeah I do.”

“They said, they said you didn’t.” she chuckled, a bizarre merriment trying to take hold in her relief, “During interrogation, that bespectacled cunt told me you had your legs crushed when you crashed.”

“No? No- no I jumped.” He insisted, then let go of her face to step back and gesture to two fit legs, as long and lanky as she remembered, as long and lanky as her own. “I jumped, I’m fine. They told you that?”

“Yeah.” Ida said, “Told me the longer I didn’t comply the longer you were without medical attention. I -I’ve been so…uneasy…about you.”

“I’m fine.” He repeated, hands back on her shoulders and she was grateful for it despite the bruises he was gripping, grateful for the way he kept touching her like he was going to hold her together with his own two hands, same blood, same flesh, same memories, maybe whatever she’d lost he could supply back like a blood donation. “Those sons of bitches.” he cursed them.

“Plasma for planes.” she agreed.

He kept looking at her, at her cheek and at her ragged hair and at the missing buttons, “You didn’t tell them anything did you?” he suddenly asked, wide eyed. “You know i’d rather die than have you tell.”

Ida scoffed, and gave him a grin, the best one she could manage with her cheek and split lip, “What do you take me for, Johnny?”

“A cold hearted bitch, I hope.” he returned the small smile but his voice cracked, still that hint of something long gone and juvenile.

“That’s what their Lieutenant called me.” Ida confirmed, a little proud, and sensing a renewal of his inquiries, Ida chose to take the offensive and call out for a conspicuously absent Kendeigh, “Candy! Didn’t you want to tell Johnny about your charming admirer? The Lieutenant?”

Kendeigh came round the doorway hastily, her lips puffy and cheeks oddly red. Cleven followed after and matched her, and his blush did nothing but highlight those scars of his. “Brady.” Maureen greeted, boldly hugging Ida’s very stiff brother without care —due to his red cheeks and rigid shoulders Ida concluded Cleven had given his own inner-relations talk to the men—, “Yes, I wanted to -oh hello Crank, Benny you son of gun- wanted to tell y'all about my ticket outta here -hell Hambone, how’d you manage to get uglier? -see my integrator, he found me fairly fetching. I think one of these days he’s gonna roll up in his shiny car and take me away from here and you’re all gonna wish you’d taken time to learn a little know-how about Alligators and their hibernation tactics in the winter. He was enthralled.”

There was an awkward silence hanging in the room, Crank grimaced a smile out of sheer generosity of heart and Benny Demarco still sat with his cigarette neglected on his open lip. Cleven, used to her preening brazness kept a tight lip, though a thousand questions seemed to swirl in his eyes.

“He the one who stood on your hands?” John Brady asked her without hesitancy.

Maureen whirled round then, comedy hour over and an angry flush creeping up her neck at his directness. “No.” she snapped. “Can’t some of them be alright?”

“A German’s a German.” he countered.

“There’s Fitzs and then there’s Johanns.” she disagreed nebulously and only Ida got her reference.

“And a shower is a shower,” Ida butted in before this became an experiment in an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force “which we need, badly. We’re…filthy.”

“We’ve got working sinks, trough sinks.” Cleven clarified with an apologetic look as if it were his fault the showers only ran once a week and poorly at that, and the water they had was frigid already in autumn.

“Water is water.” Ida reasoned in return, wondering when Johnny was going to finally let go of her arm.

“We’ll clear it out for ya.” Cleven said.

“And we’ll guard the entrance.” John added emphatically.

“Thanks.” Ida muttured, “Some of us could use to mend our uniforms.” she added, refusing to blanch at the subtle inventory of her jagged tears and crusted blood being made by every man in the room.

Maureen at least had her jacket intact. Her cap, too.

“Here, you can have my trousers while I stitch yours.” her John decided and was unbuckling his belt before she even registered the hand gone from her shoulder.

“What?” Ida balked, “You’re going to go ‘round in your skivvies?”

“Not as uncommon around here as you’d think, Ida.” Gale said, a small smile on his face. “I’m afraid order and decorum has gone to shit without you.”

“Well I’m here now.” she replied sternly but didn’t stop Johnny as he stripped.

“And so am I.” Kendeigh grinned and all Ida could do was to bless the saints for having let only one terror into the camp, were Bucky Egan to be here too, things would become intolerably lax. As soon as she thought it she repented it, sending up a prayer for the poor, absent bastard.

“Say Benny, you’re shorter, can I have your pants?” Maureen pleaded.

“Why mine?” Demarco protested, only offended at the height implication.

“Because Cleven’s too tall and I’ve already been in his pants.”

“Maureen!”

“Ida, order somebody to give me their pants.”

“You can have mine.” Crank offered kindly, and then stood up and bashfully began to unlayer. It left him in skivvies, a snuggly sweater and his flight jacket.

“It’s a good look, Crank,” Maureen grinned at the finished product as he handed the trousers over. “I’m seeing you in a different light.”

“Maureen!”

“Just sayin-“

“Take the pants with you to the washroom!” Brady interjected desperately as Maureen looked ready to strip right here and now. “Jesus, Kendeigh.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Maureen ribbed him, out for blood in her tired state and if she couldn’t have that of the Germans she would of her friends’.

“Alright let’s - let’s settle down.” Gale implored, a tired expression firmly etched onto his face and Ida herself considered giving up on the wash altogether and tumbling into the available bunk to court the oblivion of sleep. Were it only blood and dirt she just might, her usual tidiness be damned.

As it was -it was, there was…the filth was so much worse.

And if Ida thought on it too long she’d go mad and want to pour boiling lye on herself to wash herself clean and to kill the shame of it. She’d have to scrub the pants before she gave them to Johnny to be mended, it was bad enough for a brother to see the blood and busted seams.

“Yes, settle down for God’s sake.” she echoed Cleven, and something about her hoarse voice compelled Maureen to temper herself more than any direct order could. “A wash, come on, let’s get the girls. Oh and one more thing, Cleven-“ Ida turned to Gale and found him alert, eager to help. She was afraid she was only setting him up for failure but she had to make an effort to find those “remedies” she’d promised Sanchez. “There any lemons around?”

The incredulous look on his face suggested he thought she knew better, but he was ever polite in his reply, “No, colonel. No lemons.”

“Mm. Nutmeg?” she tried to recall each wicked trick she’d heard condemned when a girl got herself in the family way without the needed family in place.

“No, no nutmeg.”

“Mm.”

“Nothing but potatoes and cigarettes, ma’am. Do you- why?” he asked.

“Nothing.” she assured, “Just, a hot toddy sounds good right about now. You know?”

“Uh,” he floundered, half in suspicion and half in genuine confusion, “never had one.”

“Well then,” she grinned as she passed him, “that’s something to add to our to-do list for when this is all over. Jameson, though, none of that Kentucky stuff.”

“Yes ma’am.” his tone was vacant, smiling concern brittle, “You uh, you alright, Colonel?”

Ida gave him a withering look and then Gale too, had cause to be repentant.

“Come on Kendeigh, let's get the rest.” Ida gestured as she followed Gale back into the hall, aware of Johnny’s eyes still on her, still taking stock, “They better not be in bunks without a wash. Come on, showers, everyone! Out, come on out. You can sleep afterwards. Out! Would one of you be so kind as to wake us up in time for roll call?” she inquired of the male officers straggling behind her in the hall.

“Course! Yeah, for sure.” about five offers went up.

“You wake Me up.” she clarified coming to a full stop, wary of the enthusiasm, “I’ll wake up the rest.”

“I’ll get you up.” Her John said.

He’d probably sit and watch her sleep, too, needle and torn pants in hand, like a creepy little owl but that was one of those things she figured make or break a family, you either find it endearing you have a brother who rarely blinks or you go mad. Today, after all of it, she didn’t mind having a guardian Angel. Or a watchdog. Speaking of-

“Hey,” she asked him, “you two flew out together, where’s Bucky?”

But no one had an answer for that, not even Little John.

💋Hope you enjoyed AND REMEMBER -prompts are now open.

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[dimepdf]

TAIYO MY LOVE I DIDNT KNOW YOU LIKED ERROR 143 TOO😭 PLS IM ON MY KNEES FOR SOME MICAH CONTENT FROM YOU (if you dont write for him just ignore this)

★  𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. + 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐇 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈𝐍

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. the movie date you go on with Micah ends up being a bit more than PG-13.

─── ☆ notes. i'm always willing to help a fandom in need,, also just finished the game like yesterday and the way i instantly logged in a scrolled for fanfic i need to be TAMED .

─── ☆ length. 2.2k words (22 mins) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, idiots in love, takes place after good ending, praise kink, Exhibitionism, handjob, oral sex(male receiving), height difference, size kink, cheesy fluff, movie date, consent is sexy, Micah’s is a head pusher, comment if i miss something | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

Perhaps it was strange to let the man you had just met online persuade you to go on a movie date with him.

A swarm of not only butterflies but possibilities clouding your thoughts—mostly concerns given the fact that this all could be a trap to lure you away from your home just to kidnap you, or worse, maybe he was just a massive fuckboy toying with your emotions all this time.

However, there you were, nervously shifting your weight as you waited for Micah to arrive as you stood close to the entrance.

It had been a while since you had experienced such anxiety, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering at just the mere thought of some boy like you were back in middle school.

Maybe the reason you had felt like this was that Micah had put you under some strange spell, and you wanted to curse him and his stupid golden eyes, and his stupid lips, and his stupid face.

Oh brother, you had it bad. 

He wasn't hard to miss due to his tall, goofy build, which gave the impression that he was some sort of model strutting down the runway. Once he caught your attention, how dare he look so good a shiver ran down your spine making you straighten up once his sight was on you.

“Well don’t you look beautiful Angel,” his screen lit bright catching sight of his lock screen. 

You had caught just a glimpse of it the day he had first visited you: a very adorable picture of Skrunkly all dressed up in a dinosaur onesie. Just as you caught a glimpse before it had been tucked away in his jean pocket.

“I should be telling you that.” His attire was usual, nothing out of the ordinary from what you had seen him in the comfort of his own home. 

Ripped jeans and a neon sweatshirt that was pulled just above the bend of his elbow gripping the muscle against his golden brown forearm, you had to stop yourself from drooling over him let alone reaching out to touch him like a kid in a candy store.

Though Micah on the other hand could read your mind, as much as that would have been really cool. 

Instead despite your efforts of self-control he is the first to wrap his arms around your torso lifting you just to the tips of your toes against his hard chest into a bear hug enticing you with a laugh to break the tension. 

“Oh my gosh hi,” you giggle with your cheek pressed against his shirt, “did you miss me or something?” Micah lets out a shy noise, something close enough to a whimper to have you figuratively clutching your pearls. 

Nothing could ever brace you for hearing all the little noises Micah would make in real life. “Hm maybe?” he drags out, the hum of his voice comforting you as he lets you go. 

You make the mistake of glancing up at him, the eye contact makes you both melt as his smile curls into a bashful expression, his hand reaching out to hold yours. 

You weren't naive nor blind you saw that Micah had practically towered over you but there was just something about seeing his slender fingers completely engulf yours that made your nerves tingle from the contact. 

You also saw Micah would stare at you as if you were the most precious thing he had ever laid his eyes on like you were the most beautiful good in the world to him.

Which was ironic, given that you also thought the same about him as well. “Do you wanna go in now?” you manage out, still standing in his touch despite offering neither of you moves, both almost afraid to pull away first.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he says almost breathlessly.

Being the first to pull away you offer him a small smile, your fingers still laced together as you step away the small squeeze of his hands in yours giving comfort as he follows behind you almost like a lost puppy. 

Even despite his large build and tall height, Micah was really just an anxious nerd who liked to cover up his anxiety with bold confidence and sarcasm. 

Micah finds ease in watching you guide him through the theater taking lead as if he hadn't looked like some scary guard dog lingering behind you.

The movie you chose was something based on your favorite novel, a romance no-brainer months ago.

When you had first seen the trailer, you never would have thought you’d be seeing it while having the same shy relationship as the main characters instead of torrenting off of some rip-off movie site with a hentai ad in the corner. 

Micah, being the gentleman, was offered to buy snacks, convincing you that since you were the one to buy the tickets it would only be fair for you to let him spoil you with snacks.

You were weary of it even with the knowledge of him having a hefty amount of money tucked away in his many accounts.

It only took him a flash of that adorable toothy smile to have you pipe down and walk to the cinema room with his arms occupied with the list of snacks that he had convinced you to try. 

The theater seats were mostly empty with only a handful of people occupying the seats making it possible for you and Micah to slip to the back right before the lights could dim.

Exciting not just from the movie but sitting so close to Micah as the screen flits to life makes it hard for you to settle comfortably in your seat practically trembling as you sucked down your blue slushie. 

And as the movie continues, you realize why there weren't many people occupying the seats.

You wanted to give it a chance, hoping that maybe the Hollywood famous actors would be able to save the rest of the film as it continues.

But you're still bored. Not even the pile of snacks could help you from your mood souring as from the time you had turned your head Micah had managed to completely inhale almost everything within your taste.

The man doesn't at all seem too fazed by the horrible hating let alone the choppy plot in fact he just looked happy to be there.  

His big glistening eyes and fisting a handful of popcorn in his mouth yet he had still managed to look so perfect under the movie's light. 

You had felt so embarrassed finding his dazed and confused look so attractive he was practically good enough to eat.

So you do the closest thing to that, shoulder bumping into him as you lean over the armrest and place a peck just against his cheek.

The gesture catches him severely off guard flinching at the feeling of your lips against his skin. 

Before he could open his mouth and protest you lean in for another, this time with him facing you so your lips could meet, and the first thing you notice was how he tasted like chocolate and the flavor from your slushie that you shared. 

You wanted to taste more, pressing your tongue into his mouth a small sigh of contentment rolling from his throat as he parts his lips for his tongue to meet yours. 

It feels different not from his split tongue but his piercing ball that was cold from the ice from your drink. 

When pulling away the first thing you see is Micah's frowned expression almost as if he were in concern about why you had just decided to suddenly pounce on him. “Uh, thank you?” The cute reaction keeps you from leaning in again, having to cover your mouth from laughing out loud. 

“Oh shut the hell up.'' He doesn't bother retaliating instead taking the lead with the palm of his head reaching to rest gently around your throat, the pressure of his palm not enough to choke you but instead better to angle you just right for his kiss. 

You're convinced that he could hear your heart thumping against your chest, wanting to break from your rib cage just to present itself to him.

The thumping only gets louder as his fingers hover lower towards your thighs, and the kiss only gets more intense feeling your other heartbeat as Micah’s hand grasps at the flesh as if he needed to hold onto something so tightly to keep himself from bursting at the seams. 

“I kinda wanna leave,” you whisper into his ear after breaking away again, Micah makes a small noise of the struggle.

His head ducked away from your voice as a reaction to the sexual implication of your offer. 

You had practically seen the man's tits and yet here he was squirming in his seat not being able to look you in the eyes. “Don't you wanna finish the movie first?” His tone is whiny, dragging at the question in a way that hinted that he too felt the alluring feeling boiling in his chest and that only added more fuel to the flame inside of you. 

“I kinda wanna suck your dick though,” you say bluntly, almost panting at the way Micah’s eyes widened. 

His canines poked from his mouth as he bit back his lip even in the dim light had you seen the way his cheeks turned a dark shade of purple. “Unless you want me to do it here?”

Micah hesitates, his lips parting to answer but closing the moment his eyes flickering to yours just to look back at the screen. 

Instead of nodding his head, spreading his legs apart even with his eyes glued to the screen. 

You waited to watch him for another sign of confirmation, your hopes being answered as his hand engulfs your wrist. The feeling of his fingers trembling against your skin as he places his hand on top of his erection. 

There was just something about him being so excited. So needy for you that he had managed to be so hot and bothered as you felt up the outline of him. 

Squeezing and groping at the hilt of his dick watching the way Micah twitched and fidgeted under your hand. 

The hitch of his breath as you unzip his jeans and finally break through his layer of clothing. “It's big,” you muttered dumbly as his length twitched against your grasp.

“Oh my fucking god.” Micah leans his head back against the headrest, covering his face with his hands as his body reacts out of his control. 

Fully had you pulled his dick out exposed, you're a bit nervous only allowing your hand to do what you assumed was natural when in reality all you really wanted to do was yank down your pants and take him until he was buried inside of you nice and snug. “Can I put my mouth on it?” 

You swear that you had just witnessed Micah physically reboot, his hands pulled back just enough to peek over at your eyes glancing over with that same nervous look. “Please.” he whimpers, promptly turning his head away once more.

And who were you to ever reject his pleas, having to angle yourself over the armrest just to hunch over his lap Micah readjusts himself for you to have better access to your mouth. 

Your tongue glides against his tip tasting not exactly what you had expected cum would taste, feeling his hips jolt a bit as your mouth wraps around him. 

It takes Micah everything he has to not outright groan from how good your mouth had felt around his dick, the feeling of getting a blowjob with a bunch of strangers in the room only adding to the feeling as he squeezed his eyes closed.

His hips stutter with every tug and pull of your hand, working at the base of his dick the length that you couldn't get to with your mouth. 

Your head bobbed up and down working for his orgasm: the small noises he couldn't help to hold back only being covered by the volume of the movie speakers loud enough to be a whisper were his small moans.

The feeling is just so unbearable, his hands wandering to the back of your head only with the intention of holding back your hair to get a clear view.

But the moment that his fingers wrap around he couldn’t help but press down just a smidge and the noise that you make around his dick makes him want to cum down your throat right then and there.

His senses come too as you pinch his thigh instead of glaring at him even as you crawl to the floor in between his thighs the new look of determination written all over your face. 

A whole new angle just perfect enough to fully deepthroat him, Micah swearing under his breath as your mouth coaxes an orgasm from him. 

It takes a moment for him to gain his composure, kneeling in the aisle licking your lips, and meeting his gaze. 

Giving him a small smile, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, the brush of his thumb against your bottom lip making you open your mouth with frowned brows watching as the male processes that you had swallowed all of him. 

The way his dazed expression crumbles to something else, your eye catching the attention of something else. “Oh, you’re hard again.”

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