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veltana · 2 months

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Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #possessive!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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eminencercm · 2 years

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The growing importance of physician practice management strategies in your practice

Streamlined workflow is not natural. It is earned. With so much happening in all the departments, it becomes important to make the most effective use of time and effort. Streamlining operations is crucial from a patient-experience point of view which must be hassle-free and efficient. Billing is one department whose efficiency makes the most difference in your practice. Outsourcing to Physician billing services can make things easier and much more efficient for you.

What is physician practice management?

It is a management service organization that oversees your non-clinical tasks, including the financial aspects of medical billing, ancillary service department, IT, marketing, and staff management.

Why do you need a physician billing service?

It is difficult for a medical person to ensure the appropriate care to the patient and also perform administrative tasks as well. Frankly, it is a lot to ask for a person with little or no experience in front-desk jobs. Medical billing is a time-consuming job. Time used there can be utilized to resolve much more salient issues.

You can always hire personnel to handle non-financial jobs but finding and training him is no less challenging. There is always a risk of wrongly processed claims. So why not let experts do it for you?

A good physician billing service will not only handle the payment but also ensure they are made on time. It is a cost-effective solution to employ a third party that can steer and perform effective claim management. Their work doesn’t end here. These professionals also follow up on refused claims and pursue troublesome bills.

Here are some more points to prove how important it is to have a good physician billing service:

With the timely processed claims, patient satisfaction improves remarkably

Better and smooth workflow

The cost per patient gets considerably low

Well-organized revenue cycle of healthcare facility

No more overburdened medical staff

Ensure hassle-free dealing with particular payer’s payment policies

Quick turnaround of claims and rejected claims are followed-up.

Effective management of data as each patient is given one account along with an assigned representative

Reduced steps in claim submission and billing

Improved accuracy and stress-free working atmosphere

Medical billing and coding have an immense impact on medical practices, small and big. When handled accurately, providers are paid on time, and patients have an understanding of both their costs and financial responsibility. On the other hand, when not done, both profit and patient satisfaction bear the cost.

Finance is a lot to keep a track of, and not every individual is efficient enough to handle it without an itch. The best solution is to have a medical billing service like Eminence RCM. While you take the best care of your patients, let us support you with our billing expertise.

#Physician Billing Services #Best medical billing companies in USA #Best DME Medical Billing Company #outsource dme billing services #accounts receivable & denial management #DME Billing Services #rcm companies in usa

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2-2-78-09 · 2 years

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As per Equifax, poor billing practices cause doctors in the US to lose an estimated $125 billion each year. To ensure that the billing collections are improved it is significant to identify the reasons which result in claim denials. A few of the reasons for claim denial are mentioned below: 1) Data error in registration 2) Lack of necessary information 3) Duplication of claims 4) Incorrect patient information in the records 5) Credentialing errors Know how to tackle the AR in the RCM system>> https://bit.ly/3dLvTfD

#Medical Billing Services #offshore medical billing company in India #Outsourcing Medical Billing Services to India #offshore medical billing services in India #Offshore Medical billing Agency in India #Outsourcing Medical billing company #Outsource Medical Billing Company #revenue cycle management #Outsource account receivable billing #claim denials #Denial Managemnt

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forteafy · 10 months

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A House, A Home | CL16 & CS55

Summary: A loveless marriage usually comes after years, not before. You've always loved him, his best friend has always loved you.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: Hard Angst, Cheating, Mentions of Sex, Death.

Note: This piece has two heavy inspirations. The first is @lxclerc's amazing pieces 'Moth to a Flame' and 'Call out my Name.' They are both incredible pieces and I highly suggest you give them a read. The second is from a TikTok Account called 'ForPercival,' they are currently doing a social media AU which I cannot recommend enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

Charles Leclerc is a husband.

At least, he was your husband on paper. One year ago, a hidden agreement had been put in place between Scuderia Ferrari and the Leclerc Household; their son, the ‘Il Predestinato,’ of the team, (albeit one whom had had the most terrible season,) could continue to drive for the team, so long as he married the daughter of one of their longest-running investors.

That so happened to be you.

You had been against the entire idea since the first day. After being introduced to Ferrari’s driver, you had instantly felt the divide between the two of you. You’d reluctantly shaken his hand and since then, had been thrown through a mixture of fake dates, a fake engagement and the fakest wedding that could possibly be imagined. The ceremony hadn’t even ended with a kiss, per tradition.

It didn’t take long for your walls to crack; living with Charles, seeing him at his highest and lowest points, his most vulnerable behind the four walls of your home had caused your heart to soften. Forget being forced into this marriage, you’d grown to care, to adore the man who’d once burdened you with his presence. You dreamed of the day he would return your affection; how long would it take for you to realise you lived in denial? In your late-night fantasies, lying alone in one of the guest rooms you’d sought refuge in on moving into this house, you’d dreamt of lying in his arms, lazy morning breakfast, slow kisses when he would come back to you. To your home.

A home, however, is where you feel safe, warm, protected. You lived in a house with Charles. The man who would barely glance your way and after three months of your marriage, started coming home, smelling of rich perfume and lipstick marks littering his jawline.

The first anniversary of your marriage should have been special, even if he despised you in every known form to man. You’d woken up in your room, slipped on the silk robe which had been lying on the empty bedside and slipped out of the bedroom. In your heart of hearts, you knew there would be no significance of today; no flowers, no card, not even a simple text from your husband to signify the date in question. The only text you had received that morning, was a stern reminder from your father, that you were due to attend the Monza Grand Prix in less than one week.

A soft sigh emitted itself from your lips; it was a routine you knew all too well. Every few races, the more significant ones; Monaco, Silverstone, Spa-Francorchamps, Monza, you’d play the doting wife; cheering for your husband whilst dressed in soft summer dresses, a forged grin if he managed to battle his way into the points. On those rare days when he would obtain a podium position, he’d greet you on the barriers with a soft kiss. It was all fake; a routine which had been performed so many times. Yet, each time his lips met yours, you could dream he meant something behind the affection.

The train of thought had played through your mind for so long that you were unaware of the tears pooling on your lower lash line. So, what if Charles wasn’t at home for your anniversary? It was your thought for feeling any kind of emotion towards him in the first place. It was a business deal, after all. Did your husband enjoytreating you like this? His disappearance on that morning was a cold reminder that he felt nothing towards you. No sentiment, no adoration.

Despite the tears which had bade your eyes that morning, until the mid-afternoon, you had a productive day. Of course, leaving the house was out of the question; what would the media say if devoted wife of Ferrari’s driver was seen without him, on their wedding anniversary of all days?

Instead, you’d played soft music whilst re-organising your wardrobe, something you’d put off for a while now. Cooking a meal whilst lazily treading around the kitchen, experimenting with the spices that Yuki had gifted to you on your previous visit to a Grand Prix. The meal itself was too big to eat alone. Instead, you boxed up the remainders of what was left in the tray, carefully placing it in the fridge, knowing Charles wouldn’t actually eat it.

Your evening had been…less productive. You’d found solace in a glass of red wine, lounging on the sofa of the main living area; usually, you kept as far away from that zone as possible. Charles would spend his evenings in the couch, eyes flickering between the television and his phone, no doubt sending longing messages to his mistress whilst his wife was in the home.

The third glass had just about been drained. You were adamant upon gaining a fourth, no longer caring of any commitments you had the next day. Instead, you sat up abruptly from the sofa, hearing the gentle click from the front door.

He had come back to the house.

His green eyes barely took a second to meet yours, slipping off his shoes and placing them into the rack situated by the front door. A rustle of his jacket signified his option to stay. You saw him carry the garment over his arm as he trudged into the living area, set to lie in front of the television for some personal relaxation.

With his entry to the room, you suddenly remembered your position. You’d hastily stood up from the couch, collecting the half-finished bottle from the low table, holding the glass to your chest to draw the attention away from your beverage.

Charles said nothing; he’d unlatched the top two buttons from his dress shirt; faint purple marks nestled on the lower joint of his neck; a clear mark that his mistress had previously made, a sinful reminder of his adultery.

“I left you some dinner in the fridge.” You mumbled, voice barely picking up over the sound of the television. “There’s some clean loungewear on the end of your bed, too.” You finish your sentence. Your husband doesn’t even attempt to tell you he’s acknowledged your words, eyes transfixed on whatever news was currently playing on the television.

“Happy Anniversary.” You mumble, feet leading you back to the kitchen, the bottle of wine against your chest now seemingly the only attention you’d ever get.

Charles Leclerc is an actor.

The entire drive to the track had been bade in complete silence; not even the radio had been switched on to drown out the undeniable tension in the car. You had originally tried to make light conversation with the man; he couldn’t even be bothered to make a sound in response to any of your questions.

You couldn’t handle the harsh tone he had snapped at you with the previous time you had been in the car; instead, you watched the rolling hills and glistening sun of Monza. It was always one of the highlights of the year. If not for the racing, you would have come here in your own time, to bask in the sun and to enjoy the secluded section of Italy as an individual.

The incredible views soon began to fade out, instead replaced by expensive cars and adoring fans, leaning over the barriers in an attempt to see their favourite drivers; there was an uproar as your husband drove past the crowds; he was clearly the home favourite, as any member of the Ferrari crew would be in this location. Silently, you slipped on the sunglasses which had been resting in the pouch of your bag, knowing the paparazzi would be blistering your eyesight sooner rather than later.

Charles effortlessly parked his car in the allocated spot. Silently, he switches off the engine, removing the keys and shoving them into his jean pocket. The man doesn’t so much as register your presence as he opens his door, leaving you to venture out of the car yourself. You’d carefully adjusted the flowing fabric of your dress; the patterned fabric flowing gently around your calves.

You looked beautiful. You just wished your husband would care enough to tell you.

Instead, his priority is the cameras leaning over the barriers. He doesn’t even look in your direction, instead firmly grasping your hand in his own; an act the two of you had performed for the crowd oh-so-many times. He waves towards the crowds; neither of you miss the adoring sounds, the coos for many of the fan’s favourite ‘couple.’ To so many, his affection seemed to clear to you, and yours did to him.

Charles didn’t hold your hand with any adoration. His grasp was harsh, palms roughly mashed together, no intent to keep your grip safe against his own. You were certain that if you were to let go, he wouldn’t think to remedy the situation. Your theory is proven when you gently let go, instead keeping in step, just behind his figure; Charles’ hand seems as if it’s gone into idle mode. His eyes, however, stayed alert, vigilant. Silently, the two of you pass through the paddock security, pausing every few moments for Charles to sign a cap, take a photograph with a fan.

It isn’t until you reach the outskirts of the Ferrari Building that you see her. Soft hair around her shoulders, clothing exquisite, her eyes flickering to your husband, offering him a sympathising smile.

He may have been a devoted husband towards the press, to Ferrari, even to the majority of his team. However, the moment that the cameras were turned off, microphones pushed away, he was sneaking to his mistress, one he had shamelessly invited to so many Grand Prix’s over the past nine months. She was what he wanted; a fun and fancy-free lady, rather than the wife whom stood by his side. There’s a glance between the two of them, as if a whole conversation is had in that moment.

You stay silent as you follow Charles into the Ferrari Building. Instantly, you’re overwhelmed by the welcomes that your husband obtains; so many of them pass onto you. Upon the questions of how married life is treating him, he smiles, fakes a laugh as he pulls you into his side, one hand firmly resting upon your waist.

“Married life is perfect.” He insists, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, one which you falsely giggle about, ignoring the butterflies which were nestling in the pit of your stomach. “It’s even better when she’s standing right here, beside me.”

The entirety of the room buys the staged scene, all except for two people. The first, obviously, is your father. He’s always there, watching that the driver is performing well. He knows of his affair, but in his mind, as long as the affair is kept out of the light, and his marriage was still official, their deal continued. Besides, he would speak to you both sooner rather than later upon extending the family; that would seal both of your fates towards one another. Nobody liked a husband whom left a wife and child.

The second was Carlos Sainz; the second driver for Scuderia Ferrari.

The Spaniard was all too aware of the affair between Charles and his mistress; after qualifying from Baku, Carlos had found his teammate behind the garage, his hands with a firm grip on her waist, their kisses entirely formed of tounge and teeth. The man had furiously ripped Charles from the woman, bellowing in his face about the wife he had, whilst this woman warmed his bed. A deep blush had formed over both of their cheeks, Charles explaining that you were aware of his actions.

Carlos didn’t want to believe it; he’d frantically messaged you that evening, to which you had answered his question, confirming you knew of the affair. That evening, you had revealed everything to him, watching his eyes get glossier as the cruel details were flickered in front of his eyes. It pained him; he’d cared for you since the moment you’d first stepped foot into the paddock alongside your father. His heart shattered upon finding out that you had been betroved to Charles, that he had missed his chance, all that time ago.

He waits; waits until later in the day to approach you. By this point, you had made yourself comfortable in Charles’ driver room. Of course, your husband isn’t actually there. After a brief encounter with most of the members on his team, he’d excused himself. Carlos knew that he had snuck away from the crowds adorned in red to see his mistress, likely stealing kisses and rough fumbles between one another. Whilst that was happening, you, were sat in his drivers’ room, skirts spread across the soft lounger, eyes engrossed in a book which had been enclosed in your bag alongside your sunglasses.

You were the epitome of beauty in Carlos’ eyes. He could have stood at the ajar door to the room, watching you as you engrossed yourself in the story. Instead, he offers a light cough, drawing your attention from the book in your lap. He’s engrossed by your eyes, how the light reflected off them, the glow they offered. Your smile, how you presented your real smile to him so naturally, not the one you forged next to your husband on every single encounter.

“Good morning, Carlos!” You greet him with a bright tone, standing up from your position on the couch. You offer him a hug, feeling his warm arms wrap around your waist, his breath against your face when he kisses your cheek gently. ‘In another life,’ you always tell yourself. One where you were happy, free to marry a man who would return your affection.

“Good morning, Mariposa.” The nickname rolls of his tongue; one he had presented ever since you had once showed up in the paddock, the most beautiful butterfly-imprinted dress flowing in the soft breeze of that Monaco weekend. “You’re hiding out in here today, yes?” He teases. You offer him a small shrug, eyes not able to meet those sweet brown ones of the man stood in front of you.

“Charles is…busy.” You finish the sentence abruptly. Carlos knows not to question further; the two of you have a mutual understanding as to where he would be at this point during the day; wrapped up in the arms of another woman. “He’s probably on his track walk…maybe. I’m just…keeping occupied.” You motion towards the window, looking onto the first straight of the track. “Plus…it looks windy out there.”

“Well…” Carlos invites himself into the room now, looking down at your attire, seeing that your feet were enclosed with the brilliant white trainers you’d left home in that morning. The man shrugs off his own windbreaker, holding it in his arm. “If I give you my jacket, would you like to come on my track walk?” He offers, holding out the garment to you.

You knew you would probably live to regret that moment. However, if you stayed resting in Charles’ driver room much longer, reading the same line of your book whilst your thoughts trailed away to how he would be with his mistress, you would go crazy.

“I’d love to.” You finally respond, slipping your arms through the large sleeves of Carlos’ jacket. Offering you a pat on the shoulder, he motions towards the exit of the driver’s room, determined to keep you on his side whilst walking across the track loved by fans far and wide. He hopes that everybody misses the longing gazes and soft smile on his face every time you make a comment, or your hands brush a little too closely.

Charles Leclerc is a neck kisser.

It’s not as if you would know this. The only kisses you ever had were those for show. Cold, meaningless interactions between somebody who attempted to show unconditional love and one who could dream of being anywhere else in that moment.

You’d carefully unlatched the front door of the house, your wireless earbuds resting comfortably in your ears, unable to hear any other sound apart from the music playing. Slipping off your shoes, hanging up your jacket; your only intention for the afternoon was to go through some of the notes you had made regarding education courses in the area; sitting at home day after day was truly aggravating. You couldn’t pick up yet another hobby. Maybe some form of learning would interest you.

But first, you needed a drink to cool yourself off from the sun. You’d remembered the smoothie packs you made earlier in the week; one of those and going through your notes seemed a perfect plan for the current moment.

The second you rounded the corner into the open-plan kitchen, you wished that you could have taken the scenic route home.

His mistress was sat up on the kitchen island, back straight, legs wrapped around the waist of your husband, her hands grasping at the soft curls atop of his head. Charles’ hands slid across her back, soft grunts coming from his lips, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses along her slender neck. She was loving it, at least, that’s what you could judge from the noises leaving her mouth.

Before either of them could clock your arrival, both too wrapped-up in their embrace, you’d stepped out of the kitchen, hand over your mouth to silence the sobs which were threatening to escape. In a moment, you’re out of the hallway, letting your feet carry you up the carpeted stairs.

The only intention now embedded in your mind was to drink so much you would forget the scene unfolding in front of your eyes.

Charles Leclerc is a slow replier.

The smell of tequila and sweat is strong in the cramped hallway of the club. It was insane to believe that less than three hours ago, you had been cocooned in your king-size duvet, lips slightly parted as you strung a meaningless thread of text messages to one another; you didn’t truly care how one of your friends felt in that moment, the heartbreak shattering in your chest was stronger than any other emotion you could begin to comprehend.

No, your sole reason for texting was to leave this god-forsaken house. You kept telling yourself not to care. Charles’ eyes were all you could think about as you picked out your shortest, slinkiest dress; one which enhanced every curve and dip in the most elegant way. Charles’ dimples were all you could think about when your attention was drawn to outlining your lips with a deep red gloss. Charles’ lips were all you could think about, your foot sliding into the black heeled shoe, your feet finding no solace in being propped up within six inches of their life.

Your friend had messaged you the location of the designated club. How anybody could enjoy one of those places sober was beyond your comprehension. Instead, you had taken the route of every other supposed being in that club; one shot of a suspicious-looking liquid had turned into sixteen – his number, you couldn’t help remembering. That was the reason you had found yourself stood motionlessly in the hallway, trying to navigate yourself back to the bar. At least seventeen wouldn’t have been tied to any other emotion.

The plan, however, was short-lived when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Turning too quickly in your ridiculous heels, you’re met with the figures of Kelly Piquet and Max Verstappen, hands linked together, clearly nowhere near as intoxicated as you were in that moment.

Kelly moves first; you had always enjoyed her presence, spending time with her around the Paddock when you were bade to attend. Penelope was one of the sweetest three-year-olds you had ever come across, always greeting you with a toothy grin and a story of her and ‘Maxie’s’ escapades. When her mother encloses you in a hug, you can feel the tears fall, your drunken façade falling immediately. The woman simply cups your hand in her face, delicately wiping the tears from your lash line, making sure to remove any heavy clumps of mascara. She asks you where Charles is, where your husband is. You can’t make any sound which you believe is cohesive, something about him being back at the house.

Max by now, has his own arm resting around your shoulder. You were Charles’ wife, after all. He knew Charles would do the same for Kelly if she was ever to be found in this state. Something strange stabs at his chest; maybe he was too protective, but he would have never of let Kelly get into this state, at least, not on her own. The driver carefully fumbles in his back pocket, unlocking his own device and filing through his contacts to phone Charles.

The phone goes straight to voicemail, not even a dialling tone. Max tries a second time, a third time. Instead, he leaves messages. How on gods earth did Charles feel relaxed, knowing his wife would be out, probably on some form of alcohol, and not think to check that she would be safe returning home? If only he knew.

The duo moves to a second plan. You needed some fresh air before they could attempt to get you into a car and take you home; standing in the corridor of a nightclub was not an ideal situation, instead moving you to the exit. Your eyes widen, looking up to Max and Kelly as if you had shrunk right down to Penelope’s age, as if they would be the saviours to get you home. By the way Max was holding you by his side and Kelly stroking your hair behind your ears, you may as well been their daughter.

Conversations are had; neither of them is sober enough to drive you home, nor do they think it’s wise to try and sneak you into their hotel room when they had already issues when checking in a little too late. Their prayers are answered when a group of men wander past, one of them stopping to smack Max, his fellow driver on the back. His dark eyes, ones you know so well, widen when he sees your figure, looking so fragile in the light of the early hours in the city.

“Mariposa.” He murmurs, running a hand across your cheek, wanting nothing more than to hold your frame against his chest. Your soft eyes meet his own dark ones, glossed in concern for how on earth you could do this to yourself. The man murmurs something to Max and Kelly, ensuring them that he’d been the sober friend out of his group; promising he would get you home himself. The duo has no reason to not trust him, both of them leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before retiring to their own hotel.

As the couple walk away from the club, you can only feel the warmth of Carlos’ hand, still resting on your face. When he at last turns his attention back to you, he simply wraps a strong arm around your waist, supporting you to stand in those awful, heeled shoes. At the pace you’re walking back towards his car, you would get there just after the sunrise. Instead, he scroops you into his grasp.

The affection, the physical contact is all too much for you. It had been so, so long since anybody had held you, cared for you like this. Your clouded mind, now overwhelmed by warmth and alcohol allowed you to lean your head into Carlos’ sturdy chest. If you were sober, you’d be able to feel the way his heart raced when feeling you rest against him.

“Why do you do this to yourself, Mariposa?” He murmurs, settling you into the passenger seat of his car. He can’t help but remove his own jacket, wrapping the soft fabric around your arms, letting you nuzzle into the scent of his fabric softener and aftershave. Once settling himself into the driving seat, he begins the route back to the house, one hand gently resting atop of your leg, some form of comfort for the world in your mind which seemed to be caving in.

“I’d never do this to you.” He whispers, turning into the driveway that he had become accustomed to since the marriage.

Across the city, Max Verstappen is sound asleep. His phone, plugged in on the dressing table across the room buzzes once, notifying a text from his racing rival.

03:21: Charles Leclerc

Hey, sorry, was busy with something. Is everything good?

Charles Leclerc is a traveller.

You hadn’t expected anything to awaken you after the way your body had reacted to the previous night. A natural awakening, however, would have been a lot nicer than hearing the clicking sound of wheels against flooring. Whatever, whoever was outside of your room most certainly had a death wish to awaken you that morning.

It felt as if pins had been pressed into every square inch of your head, the task of even sitting up and forcing yourself towards the door of your bedroom, still dressed in your slinky garment and…somebody’s jacket? The night for you had truly ended as soon as you had that ninth shot of tequila; you thought you could remember Max and Kelly in the same location at some point, maybe that was your mind playing tricks on you, longing for people who enjoyed your company.

You were pulled back to the present when the figure of your husband appears at your doorway. He’s dressed already; loose hoodie and tracksuit bottoms cover his frame; his hand is clasping tightly onto a suitcase. There wasn’t a Grand Prix this weekend, you were certain. He would have left days ago for that. There was-

“I’m going to stay with…” He pauses, clearly trying to think of the correct way to word the fact he would be staying with his Mistress until further notice. Even in your state, you understand, simply raising your hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t want to hear her name, you didn’t want to know that he would be spending the next nights wrapped in her arms, because for once…you didn’t care.

They say alcohol causes dangerous mistakes, but in this moment, your hangover seemed to be your best friend. Every single time, you would think later, Charles would come back from seeing her, would leave to spend an evening by her side or sneak away during your paddock appearances…and you would be focused, your sole attention being on when he would return. Now? Your sole focus was on throwing up the remains of alcohol in your stomach, placing on a facemask and ordering some kind of comfort food to your home.

You didn’t care about him, not right now. Your actions relay this, simply offering him a nod before speaking, your voice surprisingly clear for how much your throat was weeping for a drink.

“Okay.” You pause. There’s nothing left to say after that. What does he want you to do? Wish him a happy time? Charles looks equally taken aback, usually expecting some kind of warm drabble on how he needed to stay safe. In that moment, he can’t help but…want it.

“I’ll be back on Wednesday to pack for Singapore.” He pauses this time, taking in your appearance, your face so…gentle, soothing. “You’re coming, yes?” He remembers a conversation had many a time; his wife should be there to support him as much as possible, even if he wasn’t a fan of the sly ways he would have to leave her in front of his team members.

He isn’t expecting a shrug of the shoulders, bringing a hand up to rest on the door, clearly ready to close it at any given moment.

“I’m not sure.” You offer him, sighing as you begin to close the door yourself. “My father said that race isn’t a priority.” That was the last sentence you offered him before closing the door. You obviously do not see it, but on the other side of the wall, Charles stands in confusion for a full twenty seconds before snapping back to his reality, his clutch on the suitcase a little tighter as he begins his decent down the stairs, wondering where on earth he had seen that jacket you were wearing before?

Your own priorities that morning was in full swing; you had placed your phone on charge, messages beginning to thread through as you stepped into the shower, the cool water savouring your skin. A fluffy robe is tied around your waist, brushing your hair around your back whilst your attention focused on rehydrating your skin, brushing your teeth and cleaning the dirt from underneath your eyes.

The silence is strong when you walk back into your bedroom. In that moment, you opt for some music whilst changing into some comfortable loungewear, easy to roam around the house in and let your hair dry naturally. Sitting at the end of the bed, you’re able to check notifications, seeing Kelly had sent you a photo of Penelope that morning, smiling for her favourite aunt. You see your most recent text had come through from none other than Charles’ teammate, following one which had been sent early that morning.

03:45: Carlos Sainz

Sweet dreams, Mariposa. Let me know if you need anything please.

11:51: Carlos Sainz

Just seen on Twitter Charles is at the airport, he’s not off to see her, is he?

His message brings so many emotions to you, and also answers the question of who’s jacket you had been wearing that morning. Your heart can’t help but soften, knowing already that Charles is on his way to see...her. You think back to your mindset from earlier, how it was the last thing you wanted to care about. Why on earth would you care about them, when you could be focusing on ordering your favourite food and calling your nail technician to come to the house? That would make you feel better, better than he ever had.

You first drop a message to Carlos in response, wanting to let him know you had woken up from potential alcohol poisoning.

12:25: You

Yeah, he is. Didn’t seem so happy that I couldn’t care less. Thank you for the jacket last night, I hope you had a good evening.

12:28: Carlos Sainz

All the better for seeing you. Hoping the hangover isn’t too bad today.

The messages spring backwards and forwards between the two of you for the afternoon; you’re smiling whilst you go through your favourite meal, the taste of it filling your mouth in the best way possible. There’s still a smile on your face when your nail technician arrives, painting some delicate designs into your fingers and toes, subtly asking who on earth has you smiling that much.

It isn’t until that evening; you’re sat in front of the television, a series you had watched one-too many times playing, your eyes glued to the storyline as if it would change again. The notification on your phone instantly drew your attention away from the screen, looking down to see a text on your screen.

21:03: Carlos Sainz

Why don’t you come and stay in Madrid for a few days? I’m sure we could both do with the company.

Charles Leclerc is a stalker.

Well, maybe stalker was too strong of a word. However, his intentions were identical, having watched your latest Instagram story three- no, four times. Since leaving the home several days earlier, his mind could not stop thinking about the fact you truly could not care less about where he was going. This wasn’t you, was it?

He’d arrived at her house, being temporarily distracted by luring himself into her bedroom, an afternoon of escapades and touches until she had rolled onto her side, telling him she was going to shower, and he would be more than welcome to join her. Instead, he pulled out his phone, seeing if you had done your usual; texting him to check that he had arrived safely, asking when he could be coming back to the house.

There’s no messages, no notifications. Huffing to himself, Charles instead pulls up your Instagram, seeing that you had posted a new story that evening, a suitcase in hand, an emoji of an aircraft and a Spanish flag. You were off somewhere, and hadn’t told him? No, no. You always told him where you were going, you always-

“Are you not joining me, then?” Charles’ mistress’ voice suddenly draws him out of his trance, a towel wrapped around her body, hair around her shoulders. It was nowhere near as soft and as gentle as yours was, he realised in that moment. He eventually nods, pulling himself from his phone and following her into the en-suite.

He’s so…distant for the remainder of his visit. When the two of them go to a secluded spot for lunch, when they go for a drive in a car they had hired for the afternoon. When she’s lazily pressing kisses along his neck, trying to grind into his crotch, desperate for his attention. When she finally falls asleep, Charles pulls out his phone, looking through any of the photos you had posted from that day. The soft sands of the beach, a hugestrawberry ice-cream cone, a mirrored selfie of yourself in the most beautiful sundress, hair curled and clearly ready for an evening in the Spanish sun.

The routine continues, he sees your adventures, day after day. You’re touring small markets, trying local delicacies. One day, you’re simply lounging by a pool for the afternoon, a fat paperback resting on your stomach, clearly engrossed by the story which was resting on your stomach. Each time he sees a post, he can’t help but be drawn to how he wants to know how you’re doing. Maybe that’s why he drops you a text message, trying to gain some sort of traction from how you were doing.

23:54: Charles Leclerc

Are you home? I’ve got a flight tomorrow afternoon.

You don’t respond; now, your phone is at the bottom of your bag, resting on the inside cabin of Carlos’ boat. For your final day in Madrid, he had insisted on taking you for a boat ride. You’d shyly mentioned earlier in that week that Charles had never taken you on his own boat, despite the fact that you were indeed married.

The sun began to set over the rolling waves of the ocean; the boat is gently rocking, the sounds of water lapping over one another was music to your ears. You were sat at the edge of the now stilled boat, contemplating dipping your toes into the water. Your attention is so drawn to the scenery that you don’t hear him step away from the wheel, crouching next to you.

“You could just go in.” He teases, “rather than staring at the water. You know how to swim.” The taunt causes you to roll your eyes, simply looking to the Spaniard on your right-hand side.

“What? And have you speed off without me?” You retaliate, using your shoulder to nudge his body. Carlos clicks his lips together, mumbling something incoherent, before he’s suddenly scooped you up into your arms; despite your sounds of protests, he simply holds you against his chest tighter. His dark eyes flicker between yours and the ocean water below the two of you. Before you can say anything, his feet have made their own choice, jumping off the edge of the boat, both of you tumbling into the sea. Your briefly submerged entirely, before your head pops out of the waves, blindly reaching around until two strong arms encircle your waist.

Both you and Carlos laugh for a moment, in pure awe that you just did that. He moves first, one of his hands releasing from your waist, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. There’s a silence between the two of you, where the only sound emitting from your surroundings is the gentle waves of the sea. In that moment, Carlos Sainz wants nothing more than to lean forward, pressing his lips to your own. They look so…soft. He craves to give them the attention they had been longing for so long. But…you’re married. And even if your marriage is loveless, to a point where your husband is openly in an affair, he would never do that to you. Instead, he settles for resting one hand on your cheek, gently kissing the top of your forehead, murmuring some Spanish wording you would never remember.

If you did understand it, however, you would have known that he said there and then that he would always be devoted to you.

Charles Leclerc is a loud shouter.

His voice seemed to travel for miles, you were almost certain the entirety of the secluded neighbourhood could hear him at this current moment. The man had returned home from his secluded stay with his mistress to an empty house; at that point, you were still in the depths of Madrid, packing up your own suitcase, wishing Carlos luck on the Singapore Grand Prix. You had intended to return to the house after Charles had left himself; the heartbreak of seeing him littered in love-bites, his eyes transfixed to his phone from her messages was too much for you.

However, if you had been at the house when he had arrived home, you would have seen his neck clear, phone shoved into his back pocket as he called out your name, wondering if you had returned home yourself. Charles notices your trainers haven’t been left on the shoe rack; there’s no music to signify your afternoon relaxation. A light knock to the door of your room signifies there’s nobody home. The house feels empty.

Maybe, Charles Leclerc was beginning to understand how you felt.

His first instinct is to message you. Surely, you would have seen his text from his previous message by now; what would it hurt to check in once more. The man feels against his rough jean pocket for the device, swiping away from the multiple notifications from his mistress, instead scrolling to your contact’s name, seeing you hadn’t been active in almost twelve hours. You hadn’t even opened his message.

His thumb hovers above the keyboard, not entirely sure what to say in this situation. Instead, he opts to call your number instead; you had always picked up to him; whenever he needed you to stay away from the house, or to remind you to be ready to leave at a certain time. The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. On the fourth ring, your voicemail comes through the speaker, signifying him that you were too busy to pick up the telephone.

Charles didn’t grow concerned during the evening; he grew angry. You were his wife. You were supposed to be at the house to greet him, to welcome him with open arms, ask about his day. Even if…even if he had chosen to ignore your welcoming’s and kind heart for over a year. The man found a distraction in going through the information that Scuderia Ferrari had sent him for his journey tomorrow, making sure his passport was in the correct place. He hadn’t needed to pack; you had made sure to do that for him before your own departure, making sure his comfortable clothes were packed and sunglasses safely secured in the pouches of the case.

It was late, late for you when the door finally opened, signalling the arrival of a second being. Charles immediately sits up from his slouched position on the couch, stepping up from the sofa, almost ready to give you a piece of his mind. Upon reaching the hallway, he sees you, slipping off your trainers, leaving the suitcase next to the front door. Even underneath your jumper, he can see your skin is glowing from the Mediterranean sun, yet your eyes are watering, tears leaking from your lower lash line.

“Where on earth have you been?” He snaps, not actually wanting to hear an answer. You open your mouth to respond, but the man cuts you off before you can speak. “I am your husband. You’re supposed to wait for me!” His temper is getting the better of him, green eyes flickering with anger.

At this point, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed from the news you had received on your drive home, and for this man to question your loyalties to your marriage? You can’t help the scoff which falls from your lips, the emotions building a little too much.

“You’re my husband?” You mock in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise my husband was around at long last, not wrapped in the arms of another woman!” Your temper flares, pushing your hair behind your shoulders, grasping the suitcase to take upstairs and repack.

“You didn’t pick up your phone once.” Charles retaliates. Oh, the cheek of-

“Like when you pick up your phone when I call?” The tears are beginning to flow freely now, wanting nothing more than to get upstairs and completely ignore what has been happening. “You don’t Charles. You’ve done nothing to show that you’re my husband in the past twelve months!” You can’t help yourself now. Instead of seeking the new suitcase, you simply turn around on the step of the front door, slipping your trainers back onto your feet.

“Where are you going?” His voice is now laced in concern; you couldn’t leave yet, surely? You’d only just returned; you wouldn’t be safe to drive in this condition. Why on earth did he care now? His question is answered, but not in the way he desired.

“Like you would care.” It’s the last thing you say before the door to the house is slammed shut.

Charles Leclerc is an investigator.

When arriving in the Ferrari Garage of Singapore, there’s already an eerie feeling through the air; there are no smiles, sympathising looks thrown towards the back end of the garage. The driver isn’t stupid, he knows something must be wrong. He’s unsure of who to ask; who would know what is going on?

His original plan was to ask Xavi, maybe during their morning briefing, until he is told that his flight has been delayed and wouldn’t be there until the late afternoon. Eventually, he spots his racing partner, nestled in the corner of the garage, his eyes flickering across his own phone screen, rapidly typing a message to somebody he would rather not admit to.

“Hey.” He speaks softly, not wanting to startle the man. Silently, Carlos looks up from his device, offering his teammate a small nod, not wanting to prolapse the eye contact for too long. Charles can sense he knows what has happened, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Why is everybody so…quiet?”

The look on Carlos’ face signifies he’s said something wrong. His eyes darken, shaking his head in disappointment rather than fury. It correlates to the kind of look his father would give him during a long talk, when he had broken something and not admitted to it. The Spaniard isn’t sure he should even tell his teammate what had happened. Instead, he changes his phone application to the Emails App, handing the device over to Charles. His eyes flicker across the screen, taking in the information.

Ferrari’s biggest benefactor, your father, would not be attending the race weekend after the untimely death of his wife. Your mother. It suddenly correlates; how the night before, you had seemed inconsolable, despite the fact you had obviously had an incredible vacation. You’d tried to simply walk away, to let yourself grieve without bothering him. Instead, you had found comfort in Carlos as he had driven you to the airport, whispering sweet words of comfort, promising that everything was going to be okay.

Charles feels his blood run cold, he feels sick. The look on the man stood in front of him tells him enough; he had made the biggest mistake of his life. Murmuring an excuse, he leaves the garage, stepping to the secluded back area, the realisation that he is everything his mother never wanted him to be, hitting hard. He still had the ability to run to her, to ask for her advice. You didn’t have that anymore. You didn’t have anybody, least of all your husband.

The first thing he does in that moment, is pull out his phone, scrolling to the contact of his mistress.

10:09: Charles Leclerc

We need to talk.

Charles Leclerc is a phone call away.

The past day had been filled of tears, clinging to your father, to your younger siblings, to your elder cousins. How on earth your mother had left this world early was beyond you. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair. Your mother was the one whom had been your rock for the past miserable year of your marriage. If not for her, you were almost certain that you would have thrown your silvery key to the house down a drain so long ago.

Without her guidance, without her tutoring, you felt like bird trying to fly individually for the first time; surrounded by fears and almost certain you’d fall into compromising position.

You hadn’t rested. Not since you had arrived at the bleak family home. As customed, every curtain was drawn close, doors to each room sealed, no natural light emitting to the large house, making every shadow and crook of the building seem more terrifying. Eventually, your father had retired to his own bedroom, your younger siblings tucked into their beds, butterfly kisses pressed against their foreheads, a silent promise you were only down the hall if they so desired you.

The bedroom you had grown up in remained almost identical to the one you had painted in your mind; pale pink wallpaper, a luxury bed lined with a rosebud-patterned quilt set. The vanity you had last used to get ready on your wedding day remained pristine, the perfumes and scents which had been your favourite still sitting atop of your shelf. And the photographs. A polaroid of your two closest friends from your childhood; one of your sisters on her christening day, the entire family dressed so elegantly; Charles is in that photograph, off to the side alongside his brothers; you had no idea there and then that boy with the ocean eyes would become your estranged husband.

You could have continued going down memory lane, if not from the buzzing which was coming from your bed. The phone you had carelessly thrown atop of the blankets when first entering the room had finally got some service, a thread of text messages and missed phone calls beginning to filter through. Silently, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, eyes flickering across each message. Some are from members of the Ferrari team, others from family members you hadn’t heard from in what felt like centuries.

There’s one. One from the man whom you had spent the previous week with. The one who had consoled you whilst travelling to the family home. Your husband’s teammate.

23:05: Carlos Sainz

Mariposa, please let me know how you are doing. I’m so worried about you. Let me know if you need anything at all.

23:31: You

Thank you, C. I should be heading home tomorrow, with a bit of luck I’ll be able to swing by and say hello.

You hadn’t expected anything else that evening. You were settled, ready to focus on yourself for the remainder of the evening; in your eyes, there was a high likelihood that your siblings would be burrowing into your blankets later. Once dressed in nightwear, the makeup that had stained your cheeks removed, you noticed the soft glow of your phone screen. Another message had just been received, and in your wildest dreams, you could not have imagined whom it was from.

00:24: Charles Leclerc

I heard about your mother this afternoon; I am truly so, so sorry for your loss. Please let me know if there is anything I can do. I mean it.

Your eyes had barely had time to view the message which had just been received, before your phone screen changes, taking the message away from your sight. The message thread is replaced by a photograph of your husband, his name lighting up on you phone screen. You don’t even think; instead, your thumb swipes across the screen, pressing the green button and holding the device to your ear.

“Charles.” You speak one word, hearing your husband visibly relax on the other end of the line. You realise it’s the first time you’ve said anything coherent in hours; the tone of your voices echoes around the room. Did you always sound that sad when you spoke to him?

“Hey.” He isn’t too sure what he wants to say; the lack of conversation between the two of you means he isn’t aware if there are any boundaries, anything you wouldn’t discuss with him. No, he just wanted to speak to you, to check in. In reality, he had realised how lonely the house was as an individual. His mistress was gone from his contacts, not inviting her around to fill the void had made him realise how you had felt for oh-so-long.

“How…” He pauses, not sure on how to finish his question. He doesn’t need to, because despite the lack of understanding of one another, you know he’s trying, trying to make you feel better.

“I’m…yeah.” You can’t find the correct words to say; ‘sad’ is an understatement, ‘fine’ is a rude response. Neither of you can find the words, but in that moment, you crave somebody who isn’t mourning the loss of your mother as heavily as you are.

“We have some new neighbours.” He’s trying to find anything to create some conversation. It’s almost as if he knows the quiet of the room is making you feel uncomfortable. “They left us an invitation to join them for a tennis session- not that I’m any good.” He laughs to himself, remembering the previous time he’d attended a tennis game alongside his fellow drivers; he’d had to step out after a few minutes, completely terrified he would end up breaking his hand.

He doesn’t hear anything from the other side of the line but continues to talk. “Are you…” He catches himself for a moment. “Are you coming back soon?” His voice turns into barely a whisper, as if saying the wrong thing will cause you to hang up immediately. He doesn’t hear anything for a moment, taking a gentle sigh and awaiting your response.

“Yeah.” You pause. Are you doing this? Are you having a conversation with your husband? “I’m going to fly home tomorrow afternoon. I think my father wants space.” Your sentence closes, looking around your room. The silence is deathly; in that moment, you don’t care about everything that’s happened. All you want is for somebody to hold you in their arms and tell you it would be okay.

“I’ll come and get you.” Charles has spoken before his mouth has had time to catch his brain. Your eyebrows quirk in confusion. The only time your estranged husband ever drove you himself was on your endless journeys to races; you would sit silently, curled away from his figure, eyes transfixed as the world passed by around you. The man not only offering but wanting to pick you up from the airport was a new-found curiosity.

“It’s okay.” You don’t let him continue. If previous standings have taught you anything, it’s that behind those mesmerising eyes cannot be trusted. You knew the secrets that lied beyond the ocean settled in his eye. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt you.” Part of your heart is craving to bring up his mistress; how she would probably be warming his bed in the current moment, walking around the house which you ached to find comfort in.

“You wouldn’t.” Charles is quick to respond; in his heart of heart, he knows getting you to trust him again would be a monumental task. He’d do anything to prove he would be the husband who would look after you. Who would love you unconditionally; the husband you deserved.

“I’ll let you know when I’ve landed, okay?” It’s your final compromise. The woman whom you had been twelve months ago would love nothing more than to run into Charles’ arms; whether he cared for you the way you did; you would always desire his attention and affection. You’d had to learn through the months that some of life’s biggest temptations had to remain untouched.

Charles Leclerc is your husband.

Landing back in the country was almost eerie; despite being away for only a miniscule amount of time, you felt changed; changed by the loss of your closest companion, changed by the fact your husband had been the one to call you, and not to throw some crazy request down the telephone line.

Arrivals, as always, were completely smothered; couples reuniting, children screaming at the sudden change of scenery. After obtaining your own bag, your eyes flicker through the never-ending crowds, desperate to find some recognition.

Standing apart from the crowd, looking effortlessly rugged in his athletic shorts and hoodie, hair pushed underneath a snapback. His eyes are trained on you, as if he had sensed your presence into the room in less than a moment. The breath catches in the back of your dried throat, a pair of eyes that you trusted undoubtedly. Stumbling, your feet carry you over to the arms of your favourite Spaniard, your head instantly finding solace in the joint between his shoulder and neck, the cologne you were used to from his attendances around the paddock creating a cloud of comfort.

Carlos’ hands effortlessly lock around your torso, pulling you tighter into his chest, one palm rubbing up and down your back. It was the first time, the first time in a long time that anybody had offered you this sort of affection. Mindlessly, the soft tears begin to pool at the bottom of your lash line. Soft snuffles emitting from your lips cause the man to hush you gently, pulling your face away from his body, cradling your head between his larger hands.

He mumbles something quietly, something about taking you back to the house. If it was him, the man would bundle you into his car and drive to his own home. He’d nestle you under his bedroom blankets, dress you in one of his hoodies. Instead, his rough palm finds your soft fingers, intertwining your hands together. Carlos takes your suitcase in his free hand, guiding you to his car parked outside of the airport.

Not much is said during the shortening journey back to the house; the tears glossing your eyes reflect the streetlights, transfixed on the roads which you had left for a few short days. The tears will continue to fall; her loss had taken a part of you that you would you never thought would return. The man to your right, eyes focused on the road can sense your heartbreak. He doesn’t wait to push you; he had spoken to you shortly after the news had originally broken, in that conversation, you had barely been able to say ten words before your voice cracked. Instead, Carlos rests a warm hand on your leg, a silent promise that he will be there no matter what.

The journey feels too short; eventually the driveway to the house rolls into sight, Carlos slowing down the car. When it comes to a halt, he steps out immediately, obtaining your suitcase from the rear of the car, placing it down on the wheels. By this point, you’d wiggled from the seat, ready to wheel your case into the house. However, before you can move, his arms engulf you once more, clinging so tightly, your feet began to lift from the floor. You had clung back just as tight, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek; a silent ‘Thank you,’ for everything.

The embrace ended, Carlos awaiting until the door had unlocked, nodding when he saw you safely enter the house. The building is practically silent; no television sounds, no gentle music, not even the whirr of Charles’ simulator in his downstairs office. Ears pricked, you could hear the jets of a shower from upstairs, the assumption that he must have been in the shower. Paranoia threads your mind, she wouldn’t be showering alongside, would she?

You don’t let your mind wander; instead, you focus on lugging the suitcase along the staircase, silently glad you had gotten further with it since your trip to Madrid. Beelining towards your room, the suitcase rolls behind you, resting it in the corner of the room, a silent promise you’d wash everything tomorrow. However, a delicate bouquet of soft, pink and fresh flowers decorated the vanity of the room; you knew you hadn’t bought flowers since Madrid, and these…They looked as if they’d been placed mere minutes ago.

Overthinking had always been dangerous; instead, you keep yourself busy, wiggling your skincare bag from the suitcase, padding into your bathroom with that and a fresh set of long pyjamas; the late-night breeze had begun to tickle your skin since removing yourself from Carlos’ warm arms. The relish indulges your body, shampoo trickling through your hair, body wash bubbles tickling your body. You’d stepped out a few moments later, changing into the soft clothing, sitting in front of the mirror, brushing your hair out as carefully as you could have.

Silently, your feet carry you from the en-suite towards the main bedroom. Standing at the head of the doorway, is none other than your husband, hair own hair damp from his shower, dressed in soft tracksuit bottoms and a tight tee-shirt. He’d seen your suitcase nestling in the corner of your bedroom, your phone had rumpled the blankets of your bed. Charles had been the one to hear the shower this time, deciding to wait, just to see your soft eyes.

They’re bloodshot; you look so…frail. The years of heartbreak littered across your face. Charles’ heart practically breaks; before you can say a word, he’s across the room, arms pulling around your torso, pulling your head under his chest. Your instinct tells you to fight it, why on earth would you accept some form of affection from a husband who had openly destined you for so long?

And yet, you subcome to his affection, hesitantly holding your own arms to his chest. His scent, his warmth.You felt as if you were dreaming, eyes wet from the overwhelming care, feeling gentle kisses press to the top of your head.

You don’t remember when Charles scooped you to his chest, tucking you into your fresh blankets before nestling in behind you himself. You remind yourself; this is a one-off. You’re almost certain that by tomorrow, he’ll be back in the arms of his mistress, your moment tonight will be an absent moment to your husband. You’ll take it; if it’s one night in his arms, feeling his breath against the back of your neck, tip of his nose pressing into your back, one hand pressed against your stomach in comfort, you’ll take it.

Some point during the night, your phone buzzes, the sound barely audible on the blankets of your bed. You groan slightly, the bubble of yourself and Charles giving you a true form of sanctuary, a true form of home. Curiosity in the night takes the better of you, lifting the dying device to your eyes, slightly blinded by the glow of the screen.

Despite being wrapped in the arms of your husband; you can feel your blood turn cold when you read the one sentence which had been left for you to find.

01:46: Carlos Sainz

I’m in love with you.

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kwanisms · 5 months

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🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 06 🎄

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➮ choir teacher!Seungkwan × fem!Reader wc: 10.9k summary: While organizing a children's choir show, Seungkwan runs into an old fling who offers to help him corral the kids and help run the show. genres/themes/au: angst (only a little), fluff (a lot), smut (also a lot); holiday themes; non idol au, choir teacher au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo @1004luvangel join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes when part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: Seungkwan’s was initially the longest piece before I wrote Wonwoo’s whopping 12k novel in the OG series. I’ve grown as a writer since then so I wanted to explore more with writing for Seungkwan because while he’s my ult bias and the absolute love of my life, I actually don’t write a lot for him so when I do, I like to go a little above and beyond for my fellow Kwannie enthusiasts. So here’s the conclusion to our Lord and Savior, Boo Seungkwan’s part. Thank you so much for reading and if you enjoyed this part, please consider reblogging as it really helps me reach a larger audience. As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (use protection pls. Don’t be like these two idiots lol), dubcon (they’re both pretty drunk), oral (f receiving, m receiving and it’s pretty messy), dirty talk (and lots of it cause whew), Seungkwan has a stocking & lingerie kink, begging (Seungkwan because I believe he’s pretty when he’s all flustered, red in the face, and begging), orgasm denial (m receiving), some thigh fucking (cause why not!), fingering (f receiving), power bottom!Seungkwan, slight voice kink on the MC’s part, and I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed any!

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“Alright, everyone, places please!” Seungkwan called, clapping his hands and looking over the children.

“That’s my spot!”

“Stop shoving!”

“Mr. Seungkwan, Annie took my spot!”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

Seungkwan sighed as the kids around him bickered as they lined up. This was proving to be much for him to handle. Why didn’t he agree to have an assistant? He shook his head before calling over the children’s heads again.

“Please, everyone. We need to get back to practice!” he said. “Annie, your spot is here and Jordan, there you are. Stephen, please stop pushing, we don’t push. Carrie, give Dalton back his hat.” Wrangling twenty-one children was a lot of work but it was his job as a choir teacher at an elementary school.

Upon graduating from university, Seungkwan landed this job and was surprised to find he loved it. He loved singing and teaching. Sure, the kids were hard to control sometimes but they were kids after all. He knows he was probably a handful for his mother at that age.

Once the kids were in line, Seungkwan made sure they were all accounted for before beginning practice. He’d chosen to arrange a holiday choir for the school’s Holiday Festival and had given his students the option of joining, telling them they didn’t have to if they didn’t want to. The other music teacher, Molly, had offered to help him and Seungkwan politely turned her down, thinking he could manage.

To be fair, he could manage but only just. He was barely floating at this point and the kids, as much as he loved them, were wearing him and his patience thin. If this had been his friends, he would have already been yelling at them, cursing between every word but these were kids.

He unfortunately had to be the adult.

“Let’s take it from the top,” he instructed, holding his hands up to direct. “One, two, three…”

Practice had gone about as well as he could expect. The kids were able to get through two of the planned songs before one of the boys, Evan, had a full blown meltdown over the girl next to him yawning. Thankfully the parents arrived to pick up their kids right after and Seungkwan was free to go home.

He stopped by the store on his way, remembering the grocery list on his phone. The store seemed to be a little busier than usual, the holidays being the time of the year where everyone was cooking and baking for family and entertaining friends. Seungkwan managed to snag a parking space close to the doors as a light mist started to fall over the city. He pulled his hat on and got out of his car, heading for the store quickly.

Once inside, he grabbed a cart, pulling out his phone to go over his list and start shopping. It wasn’t his favorite thing in the world but he really did relish the time he got alone in the store. It was the only place he could feel truly alone. At work, he was surrounded by children and at home, he shared an apartment with his best friends.

Seungkwan made a turn into an aisle, looking for pasta sauce when his cart ran into another and he stopped, apologizing profusely. His eyes looked up and widened in surprise as they landed on the person pushing the cart.

“Well, well, well, Boo Seungkwan,” you said with an amused smile. “Long time no see.”

Seungkwan offered a sheepish smile. What were the odds? He’d spilled his guts about the time you and he were camp counselors and hooked up at his last camping trip with his friends and here you were months later. It had been years since he’d seen you and he was captivated by the way you didn’t seem to have changed much but also at the same time, you changed a lot.

“Wow, Y/N,” he replied. “How have you been?” He watched as you shrugged. “Can’t complain,” you replied. “Just been working. I got back from an overseas assignment,” you added. Seungkwan looked at you with surprise. “Whoa, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah! It was really cool. But what about you? What have you been up to?” you asked.

Seungkwan felt his cheeks grow warm. “Uhm,” he hesitated. “I heard you got a job as a vocal teacher, is that right?” you asked. Seungkwan nodded wordlessly before finding his voice. “Yeah, I did,” he answered. “Elementary kids. They have music class divided. One vocal teacher and one music teacher.”

You smiled widely. “That’s great! I know how much you love working with kids.”

Seungkwan nodded. “Yeah, they’re really testing my patience though,” he added in an undertone making you laugh, throwing your head back. God how he had missed your laugh. “Boo Seungkwan, getting his patience tested? Unheard of,” you joked, making him join in your laughter.

“Yeah,” he started, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s just we’re putting on this Holiday Festival and I’m in charge of the choir. These kids signed up for it, it’s not like this is for a grade,” he explained. “But they’re just so restless.”

You nodded as you listened to his worries.

“I’ve been trying to wrangle these kids but it’s really wearing me down,” he explained and you frowned slightly. “Do you need some help?” you asked, making him look up at you. “What?” he asked softly. You offered a warm smile. “I could help, if you’d like?”

Seungkwan couldn’t describe the relief he felt when you offered. Yet he knew he couldn’t accept your help so easily. “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t ask that of you,” he added. You shook your head with a light laugh. “You aren’t asking, Seungkwan,” you replied. “I’m offering.”

Seungkwan made a show of thinking about it before he gave in. “Yes, okay. I could really use some help,” he said quickly, making you giggle. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” you said with a smile as you pulled your phone out. “Is your number the same?”

“Uhh, no,” Seungkwan said, patting his pockets and managing to locate his phone. Once you had swapped new contact information, Seungkwan slipped the device back in his pocket. “I should probably finish this,” he said, gesturing to the shopping cart in front of him. You nodded, placing your hands on your own handlebar. “Same,” you replied. “My mom will kill me if I don’t get back with ample time for her to make dinner.” Seungkwan smiled as you looked up at him.

“Just text me the time and location of the next practice and I’ll be there.”

You let Seungkwan go first, watching as he disappeared around the corner before you headed on to finish your own shopping.

Seungkwan felt like he was speedrunning the rest of his shopping to get to the check out, hoping you might finish around the same time but unfortunately he didn’t see you again in the shop. Outside, he opened the trunk of his car, placing his groceries inside before shutting it and returning the cart.

On the drive home, Seungkwan reminisced about your time together at camp and your long standing rivalry. It wasn’t lost on him how things had changed over the years. In some of his free time, he found himself wondering what you were up to. How had life been treating you? What had changed?

After seeing you again, he was surprised to see not much had changed at all. Sure, you were both a little older, a little wiser, but you looked almost exactly the same. You had a different aura about you, though Seungkwan couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly that was giving you said aura.

Upon arriving home, Seungkwan put the groceries away, taking note that his roommate was not home before he decided to start making dinner. While he cooked, his thoughts drifted to you before remembering he needed to text you where to meet him and what time.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up your contact, hesitating for a moment as he looked at your picture. It was one he’d taken of you at camp all those years ago. The last day he saw you before you both graduated from university and started working, no longer free to work summer camps.

[flashback - 3 years ago]

“Wow,” you exclaimed, hand raised over your eyes as you shielded the sun and looked out over the ocean. “It’s so blue!” Seungkwan smiled as he looked at you. “Come on,” he said, tugging your hand. “Hang on,” you said, pulling from his grip and walking over the sand where the water was washing up onto the shore. “I’ve never been to the ocean,” you exclaimed with a laugh.

Seungkwan walked over slowly, watching you stand and wait for the water to return. As it washed over your barefeet, you squealed in excitement, looking up at him with a bright smile.

It was the last few days of the summer vacation before your final year of university. Soon you would be heading back home for school and after graduation, Seungkwan wasn’t sure when he’d see you again, if ever. He’d invited you to spend a couple weeks in Jeju with him, visiting his family before he, too, returned to school.

“We can come back,” he said, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together, giving you a slight tug. “There’s something I want to show you,” he added and led you away from the shoreline and back towards the path he’d been trying to take you on. He stopped, letting you brush the sand off your feet and put your sandals on before the two of you continued, walking along the path.

The hike wasn’t a long one and it wasn’t too extensive but it boasted arguably the best views on the island and even better was that only a handful of people knew about it. Seungkwan and his friends had stumbled upon the secluded area in middle school one summer and turned it into a haven of sorts.

As you climbed higher and higher into the mountains, you started to whine that you wanted to go back to the beach, making Seungkwan chuckle as he found the hidden path. “I promise this is worth it,” he said softly, pulling back some of the vegetation to reveal the hidden footpath that was much less traveled than the paved one you’d been walking on.

You eyed him suspiciously before stepping onto the path, Seungkwan right behind you. The path between the trees was narrow but Seungkwan kept close to you from behind, making sure you didn’t trip or stumble as you walked.

Soon the path opened up into a small clearing, overlooking the beach and the ocean. You let out a gasp as you stopped, turning to look back at Seungkwan who only smiled and gestured for you to continue.

It had been some time since Seungkwan had been here. The open area was covered overhead by the canopy of leaves and a wall of rocks lined the edge of the cliff. He and his friends had built it to feel a little safer in their youth. It also helped obscure the clear from the beach and made the area look and feel much more private.

“This is incredible, Kwan,” you said softly as you walked closer to the cliff’s edge. “Look at the ocean,” you whispered as he walked up to stand beside you. “It just stretches for miles.” Seungkwan said nothing, letting you soak in the view at your own pace. “It’s gorgeous,” you added, turning to smile at him before quickly looking back at the water as he looked at you.

“Yeah, you are,” he muttered, making you groan and playfully hit his shoulder. Your light punches didn’t seem to phase Seungkwan as he reached up, turning your face towards him as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. After a moment, he pulled back, a smile on his lips before he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and let go of your chin.

Seungkwan sat on a fallen log, one he and his friends had dragged up to the cliff and used as a makeshift bench. You joined him, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder as you both stared out over the water. Neither one of you spoke for several minutes that seemed to take hours to pass by.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” you said softly. “Gonna miss the beach, and the food,” you added. Seungkwan smiled, turning his head to kiss the top of your head. “We can always come back,” he said softly as you raised your head to look at him. “Come back?” you asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a nod. “Next summer,” he continued. Your look of confusion was replaced with one of dejection. “I don’t know if that will be possible,” you said softly, turning to look away from him quickly. Seungkwan took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Why not?” he asked, searching your eyes for the answers but finding only despair. “We’re graduating,” you replied. “Once college is over, real life begins.” Seungkwan chuckled. “Well, of course,” he said, letting go of your chin. “But what does that have to do with --?”

“Who knows if we’ll even see each other again.”

The words you blurted out held a lot of weight and Seungkwan was aware of the fact that what you had shared over the last four summers couldn’t last forever but it still hit him in the gut like a strong punch. Despite knowing things might not ever progress to anything more than a regular summer fling, he still had hope. He had to. How could he not when he was desperately head over heels for you?

“Y/N,” he started, taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I know our paths only cross once a year and have for the last four years,” he continued. “But the thing about graduating college, becoming a full fledged adult, and joining the real world is that we get to decide where we go.”

You looked up from your intertwined hands at him as he looked up to meet your gaze.

“And who we go with.”

[end flashback - the present]

He shook his head, pushing the memory down. Things hadn’t ended the way he’d hoped. He’d been so optimistic about the future you could have had but when graduation came around, he didn’t hear from you and he feared the worst. He’d tried looking you up on social media but never found a profile.

He eventually came to accept this and tried to move on but in the end, he was just too lovesick and so he pushed the memories and feelings down, repressing them rather than confronting them and moving on like a sane person would do.

But you were back. You were back and going to be working with him to get this choir show presentation ready. Seungkwan knew he’d be a fool if he let this opportunity slip him by so he needed a game plan.

The next day of practice for the children’s choir at the youth center came much faster than Seungkwan was prepared for and he was pleasantly surprised to see you waiting at the door for him, a coffee in either hand. You’d chosen to wear a turtleneck black dress that stopped just above the knee, sheer tights, knee high black boots and a cream colored long coat.

You looked like a vision as Seungkwan approached, giving him a warm smile. “Iced americano with extra liquid sugar?” you asked as you held out one of the cups of coffee. Seungkwan took it from you with a muttered thanks, his cheeks starting to grow warm.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” he added as he pulled the door open for you, allowing you inside first. You smiled, laughing softly as you walked together. “Of course I remembered,” you replied. “Listening to you place your order was always one of my favorite things when we were in Jeju.”

Seungkwan froze in his steps, causing you to turn. “Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised. You laughed again, nodding. “Yeah. I like listening to the way you said it in Korean. To be honest, I just like listening to you speak in Korean,” you added as he started to walk again, matching his pace.

Silence washed over the two of you as Seungkwan processed this information. Perhaps his plan to confess his feelings to you wasn’t such a bad idea after all but he needed more to go off of before he could just blurt out he was still in love with you.

“What else do you remember from Jeju?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalantly as possible. You gave him a quick side glance. “I remember the beach,” you said softly as the two of you reached the room Seungkwan had been assigned for the practices.

He unlocked the door and opened it for you, letting you in first before following and turning on the light. “Just the beach?” he asked as he propped the door open and walked over to the desk, setting down his coffee and bag before shrugging off his coat.

He placed it on the back of the chair and turned to find you’d also stripped your coat off, allowing him to see you in your dress fully. It was a form-fitted cable knit sweater dress with long sleeves and turtleneck. The ends of the sleeves had black fuzzy cuffs. You turned to look at him.

“Not just the beach,” you replied, giving him a very pointed look and Seungkwan couldn’t help but smile as a memory resurfaced from your time together in Jeju. He’d taken you all over the island, showing you his hometown, taking you to local spots as well as tourist ones. You’d tried local specialties, seen multiple sights but for him the best part of the trip was when you got back to the cabin you were staying in.

Whether it was making dinner together, watching a movie, or in the sheets, he had loved every minute spent with you in that cabin. It was almost like he imagined being married would be. The domesticity of it all. He loved making dinner with you in the kitchen as you joked around and then doing the dishes and cleaning up. He loved curling up on the sofa to watch a movie before retiring to bed.

Not to mention being able to have a taste of you almost every night was more than worth it.

“Ah,” he said, fighting the urge to smirk. So he wasn’t the only one who remembered the sex.

You turned away from him, pulling your phone out of your purse and checking that the sound was turned off before you walked over to the desk where Seungkwan stood. “I remember a lot about that summer,” you said, leaning against the desk and looking up at him. “Like what?” he asked.

He was pushing his luck and he knew it but he still wanted to hear you say it.

“The cliff,” you said, catching him off guard. “And the cabin,” you added, your lips pulling into a smirk.

Seungkwan felt heat rise to his face at the same time it started to settle in the pit of his stomach.

Before he could answer, he heard the sound of laughter in the lobby. ‘The kids,’ he thought as he walked over to the door and peered out. He turned back to you. “Alright, they’re here,” he said, looking back at you. “I’d like to introduce you to the parents, so they know you’re here.”

You nodded and walked over to where he stood. You watched him get into his element, greeting the kids and their parents as they wandered over to the door. True to his word, Seungkwan introduced you to all the parents who were more pleased than upset to see you, a stranger, would be helping Seungkwan.

Once all the kids had been dropped off and the parents informed of your presence, you followed Seungkwan back into the room to begin wrangling the kids.

“I need everyone’s attention!” Seungkwan called over the sounds of laughter and giggling.

To your shock, the kids immediately fell silent, turning their attention to their teacher. “We have a guest today,” Seungkwan continued and you saw several pairs of eyes fall on you. “This is my friend, Miss Y/N,” he announced. “She’s going to be helping us during practices. Everyone say ‘hello Miss Y/N!’”

You were suddenly greeted by a cacophony of children saying hello in unison. You smiled warmly around at them before repeating the same sentiment. “Hello everyone,” you said in a cheerful tone. “It’s nice to meet you all!”

Seungkwan launched immediately into practice, having you help him get the children into their places and assisting him in any way you could. It wasn’t particularly hard work and whenever the kids weren’t listening to Seungkwan speak, you were able to walk around the room and gently return their attention up front.

Once practice was over and the parents came to pick their kids up, you were sure you and Seungkwan could manage this. What was the worst that could happen?

The first couple days flew by, you had settled into a routine, bringing Seungkwan a coffee before each Saturday morning practice. You started bringing him breakfast just to make sure he’d eat something in the morning. Setting up the room and getting ready for the kids to arrive while you chatted and caught up with each others’ weeks.

Seungkwan had become extremely grateful for your help and presence. He felt that the children behaved much better with you around. He was grateful for the coffee and breakfast sandwiches you brought him, claiming they were store bought but he knew damn well you were getting up extra early to make him breakfast and stopping to grab coffee.

You also made sure he got lunch, even accompanying him after practice and cleaning up the room. He was looking forward to his Saturday mornings as it meant he got to spend them with you.

The last practice fell on a Friday before the Saturday show was one long practice and dress rehearsal rolled into one. The kids were now on winter break and being exceptionally restless that day and despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t get the kids to pay attention and behave. It was the one morning you hadn’t been able to join him immediately as you had a prior work engagement.

He was really starting to worry that they’d never get through practice when the door opened and you peered in. The kids looked up as you entered and excitedly greeted you as you shut the door behind you. In your arms was a green tub full of white paper sacks.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said as you walked over to the desk and set the tub down before shedding your jacket. The weather had warmed up a little, the remnants of the snow from before melting but another snow storm was due that night. “Hi Miss Y/N!” the kids chimed excitedly, waving.

You waved back as you set your jacket down. Today, you’d chosen to wear another dress. This one was more festive. It was a Christmas green fitted bodice with a circle skirt that fell to the middle of your thighs, and long fitted sleeves. The material looked like some type of velvet and Seungkwan briefly wondered what it would be like to run his hand over the material. He shook the thoughts from his head quickly.

You’d matched the dress with pantyhose, and white low heels. Your makeup was also very festive. A soft eyeshadow look with a bold dark green lip. It was striking and Seungkwan couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you walked over, carrying the tub.

“What’s that?” he asked, peering into the tub. Each bag had a little winter and holiday motif on it. Snowflakes, reindeer, santa, candy canes, and more adorned the bags. “I thought we could take a lunch break,” you said softly. “I checked with the parents and they said they would be extremely grateful for this. I also got dietary restrictions from them for their kids,” you explained under your breath.

Seungkwan’s eyes widened as you started to address the kids.

“How about we take a little break?” you asked, smiling around at them. “I asked your parents if I could bring lunch for you all and they said yes and they also told me what you couldn’t eat, so I went ahead and prepared some lunches!” you said excitedly, showing the contents of the tub to the kids who whispered excitedly.

“Let me help,” Seungkwan said softly, taking the tub from you. “You pass them out, I’ll carry this.”

You worked as a team, calling out names and passing the lunches to the kids. Once everyone had theirs, you told them to dig in before walking over to the desk and showing Seungkwan the lunch you’d grabbed for the two of you.

The kids sat on the floor in circles with their friends, talking animatedly while they ate their lunches. You pulled a chair up to the desk as Seungkwan opened the bag your food had come in. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he murmured so only you could hear. “Although I really appreciate it.”

You smiled as you unwrapped your sandwich. “I don’t mind,” you said softly. “And besides, it lets me use up the groceries I buy in bulk,” you added. “So,” you said as Seungkwan opened a bottle of cola, setting it in front of you before opening one for himself. “Tomorrow’s the big day,” you noted and he nodded, heaving a big sigh. “They’ve been so restless and rowdy all day,” he murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the children.

“I’ve been struggling to get through this practice.”

You smiled, taking a sip of your soda before swallowing. “Well, I’m here now,” you offered. “I’m sure together we can get them to behave long enough to get through practice.” Seungkwan didn’t miss the wink you threw his way. He also didn’t miss the way it made his heart skip a beat.

After lunch, the kids were allowed to rest and you pulled out homemade bingo boards and passed them around to the kids, also passing out bags with smashed marbles as you explained the rules. It was going to be musical bingo. It was going to test their memory of the songs they were going to sing for the show as well as their parts. Seungkwan felt like he could kiss you.

He decided to get some paperwork done while you kept the kids entertained.

It took a couple rounds before kids started getting bingos and it wasn’t until the last child called out a bingo that you ended the game and passed out rewards in the form of snacks and small toys you most likely grabbed from the dollar store.

“Now that we’ve had lunch and we’ve refreshed our memories,” you said as you finished packing up the boards and bags of markers. “Let’s continue this practice cause I know you’ve all got this and you’re going to totally rock this show!”

By the end of practice, Seungkwan wanted to ask you to marry him. You’d managed to turn the children from gremlins into calm little lambs and not only did they behave during practice but they were the best they’d ever been. As the kids were putting on their coats and thanking you for today, Seungkwan had one of his students come up and tug on his sleeve. It was one of the more quiet students.

“What is it, Stephanie?” he asked, squatting down to her level. “You have a really nice girlfriend, Mr. Seungkwan,” she said softly before sauntering off to join her friends. Seungkwan glanced up to where he saw you helping one of the kids put their coat on correctly.

His cheeks burned from the embarrassment and he suddenly wondered who else thought you were his girlfriend. He decided not to dwell on it as the parents started arriving. He’d bring it up to you later.

One by one, the kids were picked up until it was just you and Seungkwan in the room. He grabbed the empty tub and waited for you to put on your jacket and grab your purse before turning the light off and following you out the door, closing and locking it.

The two of you walked to the door and stopped. “Thank you for today,” he said softly. “It was a huge help.” You smiled at him as you wrapped a scarf around your neck. The sun was already starting to set and the temperature had dropped considerably as the weather predicted for the snow coming later.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

You thanked Seungkwan as he opened the door for you and walked into the parking lot. Your car wasn’t far into the parking lot and soon you had reached it, unlocking the doors. “Just put that in the backseat,” you said softly, pointing at the tub and opening the door for Seungkwan to place on the seat before shutting it again.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” you asked and Seungkwan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I think you’re right. They’ve got this.” You smiled as you leaned against your car. Seungkwan contemplated telling you what Stephanie had said. ‘Just tell her, you idiot!’

“You know,” he started, a soft laugh escaping him. “I think my students are really fond of you.”

Another smile spread across your lips. “Not as fond as they are of you,” you replied and he shook his head. “They don’t like me that much.” You shook your head this time. “No, really. They adore you, Seungkwan. It’s really cute actually.”

Silence fell over the two of you for a beat. ‘It’s now or never.’

“Hey, after all of this is said and done,” Seungkwan started, drawing your attention. “Would you maybe want to--”

He was interrupted by the shrill ringing of your phone and you sighed, pulling the device out, glancing at the screen before giving him an apologetic look and answering it. “Yes, mom?” you asked and Seungkwan forced a smile. ‘Cockblocked by the mom. Great.’

You waited, listening to what your mother had to say, nodding along before finally answering. “Yeah, sure. I can swing by the store on my way home.” You looked at Seungkwan and playfully rolled your eyes. “Yeah, we’re leaving just now. So I’ll be home soon… okay. Yep. Love you, too.”

You said bye, hanging up and slipping your phone back into your pocket and looking up at Seungkwan. “Sorry about that,” you said breathlessly. “You were saying?”

Seungkwan looked up, meeting your gaze. ‘Come on, she’s waiting!’

But it was no use. His momentary confidence was gone.

“It’s nothing,” he replied with a smile. “Just, get home safe, okay?” he asked, starting to turn away but stopped when you gently grabbed his arm, making him turn back to face you. “Don’t do that,” you said softly. “I know you want to say something. Don’t psyche yourself into not saying it. Just ask me.”

Seungkwan cleared his throat, cheeks burning from having been caught. You knew him far too well for his own good. He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I thought that maybe when everything is said and done, we could get dinner?” A smile spread across your face and you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’d love that,” you replied. “Just tell me when and where.”

Seungkwan nodded, stepping back as you opened your door and got in, turning on the car and rolling your window down. “Text me when you get back to your mom’s safe, okay?” he said, leaning down to look into your window. You nodded up at him. “You too. Let me know when you get home.”

Seungkwan promised he would before saying he would see you tomorrow and watching you drive off as the first few flurries of snow fell. He glanced up at the sky and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. It wasn’t exactly according to plan, but it was better than nothing.

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

The next morning, the day of the choir show, Seungkwan woke up to a blanket of snow covering the ground but thankfully the road crews were out clearing the roads and treating them for ice. Seungkwan went about his day as usual, nerves setting in.

He wasn’t nervous for the show, but because of you. The kiss last night, even if it was on the cheek, felt extremely intimate for some reason. He chalked it up to him being overly optimistic but he was going to ride that wave for as long as he could.

As the day wore on, Seungkwan got ready for the show. The attire was festive so he chose a red sweater and a pair of black slacks and black shoes, grabbing the green and red striped elf hat and his coat before leaving the apartment. He was thankful for his building’s parking garage as he walked into the covered space, locating his car and getting in.

The concert was to be performed inside the gymnasium at the community center while the rest of the festival took place in the halls and outside. He arrived early, finding a cleared parking lot and pulled into a space before getting out and moving to the trunk of his, pulling out the box of reindeer antlers for the kids.

He walked up to the doors, thanking the man who held it open for him as he exited.

Once inside, Seungkwan made his way to the gym, greeting the staff as he walked up to check in.

He looked at the list and saw you had already arrived, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

‘What is wrong with you? Calm down!’

Seungkwan entered the gymnasium and looked around, astonished at the work put into decorating the space. His eyes landed on you over by the small stage that had been erected, talking to one of the staff members. He walked over, eyes scanning your figure.

You’d really dressed up for the occasion. The dress you wore was another green one but under this one, you wore a white petticoat, fluffing up the skirt. The bodice was fitted but instead of long sleeves, it had short off-the-shoulder cap sleeves. You had on a green Santa hat with white fur trim and the trim of your dress matched the hat. You paired the dress with some pantyhose and a black pair of shoes, ones that Seungkwan was impressed to see had red bottoms.

He approached you, setting the box of antlers on the top of the piano, drawing both yours and the staff members’ attention. Your face lit up upon seeing him, giving him a quick once over. Your makeup was similar to yesterday only your eyes had more shimmer and your lips were a deep red.

Seungkwan sighed dramatically before gesturing at the box. “These feel like they weigh a ton!” he whined and you chuckled lightly at him, turning back to the staff member before she departed, leaving you and Seungkwan alone in your little corner.

“You look incredible,” he said softly. “Th-thanks,” you stuttered, turning away to busy yourself with the box of antlers. “Not gonna lie, I kinda of want to wear these,” you joked. Seungkwan smiled, pointing to your hat. “But your hat matches so well,” he commented. You shrugged. “Maybe I want something different,” you replied cheekily. Seungkwan shook his head, turning away.

When his back was turned, you were quick to grab his hat off his head. Seungkwan spun around, eyes wide and you forced your hat into his hands. “You should have the Santa hat,” you said, putting his hat on your head. “I’m your assistant. I should have the elf ears.”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, smiling all the same as he turned back around. “You’re silly,” he murmured as he picked the box up and moved it over to the side of the stage near the steps and out of the way as you sat on the piano bench.

Seungkwan felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, checking the screen to see Molly was calling him before answering it. “Hey, Molly,” he said softly, glancing at you before paying attention to his co-worker.

“Seungkwan, I’m so sorry!” Molly said, her voice sounding hysterical. “Whoa, whoa, are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, excusing himself and walking a short distance away from where you sat, keeping his voice down as he spoke.

You turned your head, wondering who Molly was and how Seungkwan knew her. ‘Probably his girlfriend,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Or possibly a wife,’ a voice in the back of your brain said. You mentally shook that idea away. ‘He’s not married,’ you told yourself. ‘He would have mentioned that.’

You glanced Seungkwan’s way and saw him nervously biting at his thumbnail. The look on his face was one of distress. ‘That can’t be good…’

A few moments later, after nodding and murmuring a few words you couldn’t hear, Seungkwan hung up, placing his phone back in his pocket and walked over, taking a seat beside you and hanging his head, elbows resting on his thighs.

“That doesn’t sound good,” you said as he let out a deep sigh. “Molly can’t make it,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Oh,” you replied, not sure how to respond. You had no idea who Molly was. “Is that your girlfriend?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seungkwan’s head snapped up and he gave you a bewildered look. “What? No,” he replied, sounding confused. “Molly is the music teacher at the school I work at. She teaches music and I teach vocals,” he explained. “She was supposed to be our accompaniment.”

You mentally scolded yourself before perking up. “Wait,” you said quickly, making Seungkwan look up. “Piano, right?” you asked, turning to him. Seungkwan nodded slowly as a smile spread across your face.

“How much time do we have before the concert?”

Seungkwan narrowed his eyes before checking his watch. “An hour,” he replied, looking back up at you as you stood up and turned to face the piano, lifting the key cover and opening the music book. “Let me run through these songs real quick and I can do it,” you told him.

Seungkwan has lost track of how many times he wanted to kiss you for literally saving the day. “No fucking way,” he laughed in disbelief as you started warming up, flexing your fingers. “It’s been a few years since I’ve played,” you explained, fingers gliding over the keys as you read the sheet music before pausing to look at him.

“But I think I got this.”

Not only did you manage to run through the entire set a couple times with Seungkwan but you followed the kids perfectly, surprising Seungkwan and yourself. When the show came to a close, Seungkwan hurried over to you, a man you’d never seen following him.

“Y/N,” he said as you stood up, brushing off your dress. “This is Jihoon,” he explained, introducing the man who smiled politely at you, a woman standing off to the side on her phone behind him. “JIhoon, this is Y/N,” he said, introducing you excitedly.

You didn’t miss the way Jihoon’s eyes widened slightly, glancing at Seungkwan before looking quickly back at you. “It’s nice to meet you,” Jihoon said, giving you a polite nod. “Sorry, Kwan,” Jihoon said, turning to his friend. “But I’ve got plans.” You noticed how he glanced at the woman who smiled at you and Seungkwan. “We’ll catch up soon,” Jihoon added before waving and walking over to the woman and the pair headed for the gymnasium exit.

Seungkwan stared after them before turning to you. “Sorry about that,” he said softly, taking your green hat off his head. “Jihoon is one of my friends I told you about.” You smiled as he handed your hat back and took his hat off your head, passing it back to him.

“The friends you go camping with, right?” you asked, glancing at the green Santa hat in your hands. “Yeah,” Seungkwan said softly. Silence fell over the two of you briefly before you looked up at Seungkwan. “You want to check out the rest of the festival?” A grin spread over his face before he nodded. “Sure,” he said.

“Why not? You saved the show after all. I’d do anything you asked me to, right now.”

As the festival went on, you dragged Seungkwan outside, donning your coats and walking around the ice sculpture display as well as the holiday lights, taking pictures. Despite the freezing temperatures, Seungkwan still found himself having a good time. Up until you dragged him into a photobooth.

“Nothing good happens in photobooths,” his roommate, Vernon, once told him. As you squeezed into the tight space, you scrolled through the frame options until you settled on one and pushed the button. The first set of pictures turned out okay, some of them sort of awkward so Seungkwan was determined to get ones you could proudly display.

The first picture was just a nice one of the two of you smiling. Then you separate your pointer and index fingers into V’s before putting them upside down to your head, like cat ears which Seungkwan followed. You turned to look at him, laughter on your tongue and he just acted.

His hands went to the sides of your neck, pulling you into a kiss as the flash continued, the pictures all but forgotten as soon as your lips met. It was like time stood still, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt Seungkwan’s tongue swipe over your bottom lip and you parted your lips, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, a muffled groan coming from his chest as he pressed further into you.

After what felt like forever but was probably only a few moments, he pulled back, looking at you with heavy lidded eyes, his cheeks tinged red. His lips were slightly stained from your lipstick but he couldn’t care less and neither could you.

You panted, trying to catch your breath as you stared back before Seungkwan finally spoke, breaking the silence, leaning his forehead against yours.

“God, I love you.”

Your eyes snapped open and you looked up at him. “What?” you whispered.

The moment the words left his mouth, Seungkwan knew he was screwed. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but he just couldn’t hold it in anymore. There was no doubt in his mind that he was hopelessly and shamelessly still in love with you.

He pulled back, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes to meet your confused gaze.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I have ever since Jeju. Actually, since before Jeju,” he explained. “I’ve thought about no one else but you since then. When it’s just me and my thoughts alone, you occupy them. When I see something that reminds me of you, you’re just there. I don’t mean for it to sound so weird but I never stopped loving you,” he continued, cupping your cheeks gently.

“I just repressed all my feelings instead of dealing with them like an adult and --”

You pulled him into a kiss by the collar of his sweater, your lips meeting his and shutting him up mid sentence. When you pulled back, Seungkwan looked properly shocked. “Seungkwan,” you said softly, lips ghosting over his. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Take me home,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. His expression shifted and he nodded. “Oh, okay,” he murmured, pulling back. “I thought you drove here.” Your smile dropped before you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“I meant take me to your home, you idiot.”

His brow furrowed in confusion before the meaning of your words sank in and his eyes widened comically. “Oh!” he said loudly before you clapped your hand over his mouth. “Shh, shut up!” He nodded, pulling your hand from his mouth.

“Right,” he said, his voice lower again. “I’ll take you home,” he said softly.

You grabbed the two strips of photos from the photobooth and allowed Seungkwan to lead you from the festival, making his way over to his car. He unlocked the door and opened it for you, shutting the door and quickly jogging around to the driver’s side before getting in and starting the engine.

The drive back to his place, he tried to obey the traffic laws, he really did, but he was just too eager and impatient. When you noticed his knee bouncing, you reached over, taking his hand gently. “We have all night,” you said softly. “No need to be anxious.” Seungkwan shook his head, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not anxious,” he replied. “I’m impatient.”

Not long after, Seungkwan was pulling into his designated parking space, cutting the engine and making you wait so he could open your door for you. Inside the building, you tried to behave and keep your hands to yourself but the moment you entered the elevator, you lost your resolve.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan cursed as you pushed him back against the mirrored surface of the elevator wall, his hands moving to cup your face. “We shouldn’t be doing this here,” he grunted before taking your lips in a kiss, his tongue hot and messy against yours as your hands pulled at his clothes.

“Ssstop it!” he hissed, breaking the kiss and glancing up at the camera mounted to the shiny elevator ceiling. “Someone’s probably watching,” he whined, hands falling to your hips as your lips moved down his neck. “Then let’s give them a show,” you giggled in his ear, your breath tickling his skin.

The elevator dinged, Seungkwan pushing you back slightly. “We’re here,” he confirmed as the doors opened onto his floor. He took your hand and pulled, tugging you down the deserted hallway towards the door to his apartment. You were only able to get a brief glance at your surroundings as Seungkwan fished for his keycard.

The building was a new building, state of the art card readers on every door. The hallway reminding you of a fancy upscale hotel rather than an apartment building. Seungkwan managed to get the card to read properly and turned the handle, shoving the door open as he dragged you in behind him.

Once the door clicked shut, he had you pinned against it, lips attaching to your neck and leaving soft bites and kisses as he made his way down to your collar, whining at the lack of access due to your blazer. He fumbled with the button, succeeding a moment later and peeling the garment off you.

You kicked your heels off as he stumbled to take his shoes off. You giggled as he pulled you through the apartment, pushing you against the kitchen island as he grinded into you from behind, teeth grazing against the skin of your shoulder. You managed to stumble your way through the apartment to his bedroom, pulling layer after layer of clothes off one another, leaving you in just your underwear.

Once you were laid on the bed, Seungkwan hesitated, taking in your form under him. He could remember the last time he had you like this and it made his cock throb, wanting to bury himself inside you and never leave again.

“God,” he groaned, leaning down to press his face into your chest, his hips resting against yours as he lay between your thighs. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whined. “Kwannie,” you whined, combing your fingers through his hair, undoing the style he’d done earlier before the concert. He lifted his head, pushing himself up and hovering over you.

“Lay back,” you instructed, starting to sit up but Seungkwan placed a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back against the mattress. “Later,” he whispered, lowering his face to kiss your chest. “I just really wanna taste you,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he kissed down your stomach.

“Wanna bury my face between these beautiful thighs,” he groaned, gripping your thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin over your stockings. “Okay,” you breathed as he kissed further down. He wasted no time removing your panties, flinging them away as he settled between your thighs, kissing the inside of each before his mouth descended on your sex, fingers spreading your folds.

You gasped out as he licked slowly up your sex, lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. His eyes opened lazily as he made eye contact before shutting again as he threw himself into it, tongue wiggling against you, slurping and lapping at your clit. You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, slipping inside you until he was knuckles deep.

“Ngh, Seungkwan,” you groaned, back arching off the mattress as he teasingly curled his fingers. “Sound so pretty for me,” he noted, barely pulling back enough to speak before he was licking at your clit, tongue moving quickly against it. His fingers started to pump slowly, just enough to build the tension but he would slow them to a stop when he felt your walls start to flutter.

“Can’t have you coming undone just yet,” he murmured, placing a kiss to your mound before pulling back, resting his head against the inside of your thigh as his fingers moved quicker, scissoring you open. He watched the rise and fall of your lace clad chest, admiring the way you whimpered and mewled as he fingered you.

“I could do this for hours,” he huffed, hot breath fanning over your skin. “D-don’t,” you murmured. “I need you, Kwannie.” You heard him chuckle lowly. “You need me?” he asked, raising his head slightly, turning to place a wet kiss against your thigh.

“Need me to stuff this pretty little pussy full?”

You nodded wordlessly, moans spilling from your lips instead of words. Seungkwan felt his heart swell. Seeing you needy and proclaiming that you needed him certainly was fanning the flames and stroking his ego. He wanted you to want him. Wanted you to need him. He loved feeling this way.

The way you made him feel. Like he was so irresistibly sexy. He loved feeling that way.

“Wanna feel me inside?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. You groaned, walls tightening around his fingers. “You like it when I talk like this?” he asked, raising himself just enough to see your face contorted in pleasure. You nodded fervently, another moan ripping from you as he curled his fingers.

“Wanna feel my cock pound this tight pussy?”

Seungkwan enjoyed the way you tensed up, thighs shaking as your orgasm threatened to wash over you. “I’ll give you what you want,” he murmured. “But only if you do something for me,” he added. You raised yourself up, resting on your elbows to look at him, a thin layer of sweat on your forehead. “Anything,” you whined. Seungkwan’s eyebrow quirked up. “Anything?” he asked.

You nodded, not realizing the implications of your words. “Yes,” you replied. “Anything. I’ll do whatever you ask, just please fuck me.” Seungkwan’s lips curled into a smile as he added a third finger, stretching your walls to prepare you. He glanced down, watching his fingers sink into your heat.

“Alright,” Seungkwan murmured, pulling his fingers from your cunt and bringing his hand to your lips. “Suck,” he ordered, cock twitching as you parted your lips and accepted his fingers into your mouth, licking and sucking them clean. He pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“Keep going,” he continued, moving a hand over his hard cock. You took the hint instantly, pushing him onto his back and slipping your fingers under the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down as he lifted his hips. You licked your lips as his cock sprang up, standing proud.

You wasted no time, taking him in your fist and leaning over, spitting onto the tip and using your saliva to lubricate, your hand started to stroke him quickly. Seungkwan let out a groan, head falling back against the bed as your hand worked him.

When you took the head in your mouth, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven, letting out a pretty pathetic moan but you didn’t seem to mind as you bobbed your head, keeping your fist at the base of his cock. Seungkwan’s hand moved, stroking your hair as he tried to push your head down further but you were firm and stood your ground.

“Please,” he whined, hips starting to buck. You pulled off him with a pop, looking at him as your hand moved up and down his cock. “Be patient,” you reminded him. “You made me wait,” you added. Seungkwan was about to retort when you took him back in your mouth, lips moving down to meet your hand as you continued to stroke him. He let out a groan instead, fingers digging into the bedding beneath him. “Fuck,” he grunted, stomach clenching. “Just like that. Just like that, baby.”

You hummed, your mouth vibrating around Seungkwan’s cock and making him gasp, hips bucking into your face. “Sh-shit!” he breathed. “Sl-slow down, babe.” You pulled him from your mouth, jerking him faster. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he warned. You licked the head of his dick, swirling your tongue around the tip before sinking your mouth back on him.

“Fuck, babe, m’gonna cum,” he warned again. You pulled back, your hand stopping at the base of his cock and letting it fall slightly. Seungkwan let out a whine of protest. “What the hell!” he cried. You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock. “Can’t have you cumming just yet,” you said with a wink.

Seungkwan could have kicked himself. ‘Of course she’s gonna use that against you. Idiot.’

You continued to work him up, bringing him to the brink only to back off and let it slip away from him. Seungkwan was a mess, begging you to stop teasing him and to let him fuck you already.

“Please, baby,” he said, choking back a sob, tears threatening to spill. “Please let me fuck you. I need to be inside you. Please, baby. Please.” Your hand slowed to a stop, lightly squeezing his cock before you sat up. “Okay,” you murmured.

You climbed over him, turning to face away as you planted your hips over his thighs. Seungkwan watched as you grinded backwards against his cock, the sensation of your panties against his throbbing cock almost making him burst into tears. “B-baby. God, fuck. Please. Let me put it in. Let me fuck you. I promise I’ll make you feel so fucking good!”

You scooted back further, reaching down to pull your panties aside and rub your dripping cunt against the underside of Seungkwan’s cock. The glide and friction felt so good, Seungkwan was certain he could have blown his load right then but just as quickly as it started, you lifted off him.

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded as you climbed off him. “Please let me fuck you.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him up as you laid back. “Only if you fuck my thighs first,” you replied, looking up at him through your lashes. Seungkwan melted, moving quickly into position. “O-Okay?” he answered, sounding mildly confused.

You smiled up at him, taking his hand on your knee and placing it between your thighs, pressing it against your soaked panties. “I know you couldn’t get enough of my stockings earlier,” you explained. “You thought you were being slick and that I wouldn’t notice the way you were staring. But I did.”

Seungkwan groaned, moving his thumb to press against your clit through the red lace lingerie.

“And you like this set,” you added, hands moving to cup your breasts. “I noticed the way your eyes lit up when you saw it,” you added. Seungkwan nodded, licking his lips as he brought his free hand up to push one of your hands away, groping your chest. “Fuck,” he said hoarsely. “I do.”

“I fucking love how you look in it.”

You hummed in response, bringing your thighs up. “Then do me a favor and fuck my thighs,” you replied. “And then I’ll let you fuck this pussy. Raw.” Seungkwan choked on his own air as he moved into position, pushing your thighs tighter together. He brought his hand up to his mouth, spitting into it before coating his cock. He guided the head between your thighs, pushing in between them with a groan.

It was so warm and soft. Tight. Almost like fucking you for real.

“Feels so good,” you heard him groan as he pulled back slightly to thrust back in slowly. You felt his saliva smear over your skin as his cock glided between your thighs. “Mmm, that’s it,” you murmured, looking up at him as his eyes fluttered shut, brown knitting together in concentration as he tried to focus.

“That’s good,” you groaned as you felt his cock bump against your cloth covered clit. “Just like that.”

Seungkwan’s fingers dug into your thighs, holding them together tightly as he thrust his hips, fucking between your thighs. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, eyes fluttering open to look down at you. The red lingerie, the black stockings and black garter belt. You were an absolute vision.

“C-can I fuck you now?” Seungkwan asked, tripping over his words as he continued to fuck your thighs. You shook your head, gasping again as you felt his cock nudge against your clit through your panties. “N-not yet-- ah!” you gasped.

Seungkwan took note of your reaction every time his cock brushed against your clit and continued to aim for the same spot. “Come on, princess,” he moaned. “Let me fuck you.” You stared up at him for a moment longer before stopping him.

You sat up, pushing him back against the mattress. You climbed over him, straddling his hips as you reached down, pulling your panties to the side. Seungkwan guided the head of his cock to your entrance, watching as you sank down, cunt enveloping him little by little.

You continued until you were sitting on him, walls gripping his cock tightly. Seungkwan let out a satisfied groan as your walls convulsed around his throbbing length. He wouldn’t last long but he didn’t care. He was inside you again after years. It felt so good. So familiar. So right.

After allowing your walls to relax around him, you placed your hands on his chest, raising your hips only to sink back down, his cock pumping into you. “F-fuck,” you groaned as you sank down, taking more of his cock.

“Ye-yes!” Seungkwan groaned as you started to move fast, bouncing on his cock. The wet sound of his cock entering you repeatedly filled the room, bouncing off the walls and drowning out your breathy moans. You felt his hands grip your hips, trying to speed up your movements.

You slowed to a stop, pushing yourself up until he slipped out of you. “Yah!” Seungkwan protested as you turned to face away, pulling your panties aside and waiting for him to move his cock. Once you felt the tip enter your cunt, you were back to moving, bouncing on his lap, his cock plunging into you.

You felt him grab your hips, one hand moving to massage your ass. “Fuck, we should have done this sooner,” he groaned, hips bucking up to meet your movements. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as you continued to ride him.

“Stay like that,” you heard him groan and felt his weight under you shift as he sat up. “Keep going,” he urged, trying to move your hips. You lifted your ass, sinking back on him. His hands pulling you back when you lifted up. You felt heat pool in your belly, a swelling sensation as tension mounted.

Each matched thrust had you crying out. Seungkwan pulled you off him, moving to kneel behind you before reentering you. “Come on,” he grunted, now meeting your movements with ferocity. “Fuck me like you mean it,” he growled. You let out a mewl, thighs shaking as his hips hit your ass, the slapping growing louder into a clap. “Fuck,” you gasped as Seungkwan pushed your chest down, taking over as he pounded into you from behind.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he growled. “Who’s the one fucking you this good?”

“Yuh-you are!” you stammered. “I am,” he reaffirmed. “I’m fucking you like the good little slut you are. My good little slut. Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, fingers clenching the sheets as you pushed back to meet his movements.

Each thrust drew a little whimper from you, sounds that grew into moans and mewls as Seungkwan continued to fuck you hard. “Who does this pussy belong to?” you heard him ask suddenly, one of his hands moving to the back of your neck and pushing your face down, squishing your cheek against the sheets. “You,” you gasped, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Say it,” Seungkwan commanded.

“It’s yours!” you cried out. “This pussy belongs to you!”

“Fucking right it does. And m’gonna fill it up until you’re dripping. M’gonna cum inside this pretty little pussy, stuff it full, and then fuck it further into you. Pump you full of my cum ‘cause you’re mine. Understand?”

You nodded wordlessly, moan after moan tumbling from your lips onto the sheets along with your drool. “You’re mine and no one else’s! Say it!”

“I-I’m yours! A-and no one else’s!”

You heard Seungkwan groan, hips stuttering as he came, his cock twitching as he painted your walls with his hot thick load. He continued to thrust as he emptied his balls. You whimpered as he didn’t stop, hips still moving as he finally stopped pumping you full.

“Kw-Kwannie, please,” you pleaded. “S-stop. M’so full.”

Seungkwan’s hips came to a stop as he caught his breath. Somewhere between his initial release and the last of his cum spilling into you, your own orgasm had washed over you, rendering you immobile for a few moments as you came down.

You gasped as you felt Seungkwan pull from you, feeling some of his cum mixed with yours slide down the inside of your thigh. “Let me clean that up,” he mumbled. The weight on the bed shifted as he no doubt got up and walked into his bathroom.

He returned moments later, carefully wiping your skin with a warm, damp cloth. He climbed into bed next to you, pulling the covers up over the both of you before you both passed out. The next morning, you awoke to the bluish light of twilight filtering into the room.

You could hear Seungkwan’s soft snores behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he slept peacefully. You started to roll over, a deep aching pain settling between your legs and making you wince. ‘We didn’t even go that hard last night,’ you thought to yourself as you peered over your shoulder at Seungkwan, taking in his angelic expression.

You tried to carefully roll in his hold but you jostled him and he started to stir, making you curse internally. You watched as his eyes fluttered open sleepily. When his eyes met yours, he smiled sleepily. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep from having just woken up.

“Morning,” you replied softly. Seungkwan leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. “My head is killing me,” he whined suddenly and you were glad it wasn’t just you. “We should get some food,” you suggested. “Maybe make some ramyeon.” Seungkwan nodded, rolling onto his back and turning his head to look at the clock. “Later,” he murmured, rolling back to face you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you flush against him.

“It’s only half past five in the morning,” he explained, tucking your head under his chin and sighing contentedly. “We can sleep in longer,” he added. You nodded silently, snuggling up next to him. “And then we can make food?” you asked, smiling as you felt him nod. “And then we can make food,” he confirmed.

It was silent only for a few moments before Seungkwan spoke again.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, breaking the silence. You smiled, tilting your head to press a kiss to his jawline. “Well, I just moved back to the area,” you replied. “Good,” you heard him murmur. “I don’t think I could survive you leaving again like before.” You felt his lips press against your forehead.

You shook your head, letting out a relieved sigh. “Nah,” you answered.

“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#svthub #ksmutsociety #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seungkwan scenarios #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan fanfiction #seungkwan fanfic #seungkwan smut #seungkwan x reader #tales from camp holiday special

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iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 11 months

Text

lesson (still not) learned

part one: lesson (not) learned *** read note below wc: 2k reader: afab (i don't think i used any pronouns so i don't think its femme? just warning you just in case!!) warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT MINORS DNI!!! (detailed warnings below cut) summary: hao convinces poly!reader to help him tie up dom!hanbin when he least expects it SO. this is PART TWO to lesson (not) learned. *** it got c*mm*n*ty l*b*led (lmao i don't want them to find this one) so PLEASE if you wanna go read that one just turn off/enable your l*b*ls on your account to read it. you can always change them back lol. i might repost a version with warnings under the cut since i was stupid and forgot to. oh well. also does this need a part 3 where hao and hanbin get their revenge?? lemme know. anyway i love this one ENJOY!!

SMUT UNDER CUT MINORS DNI!! you have been warned 🚨

warnings: established poly relationship, oral m!receiving, brief mxm (oral), handjob, pussyjob, p in v intercourse— riding, orgasm denial, hanbin and hao’s wrists are tied to the bed, brattysubbyswitch!hao that attempts to dom, switch!reader that doms towards the end, dom-leaningswitch!hanbin that “subs” for most, pet names (baby, angel, honey), they talk in the third person a lot bc they’re all horny messes, obviously swearing, this is not dubcon-- hanbin loves it he just has to keep up his dom persona… also unprotected sex (be smart, stay safe or whatever). i think that should cover it?

“i’d double-knot that if i were you, angel,” hanbin suggests; a broad, cocky smile now gracing his lips. you reluctantly obey— knowing he’s right. how hao had talked you into tricking hanbin, you had no idea.

sure, the idea of tying up hanbin and using him however you liked was incredibly intriguing, but you knew the punishment for it would be more intense than you’d yet to experienced it was both terrifying and thrilling.

plus hao promised to do your laundry for a month if you helped him. so now, here you are— the element of surprise the only way you managed to secure both of hanbin’s wrists to slats in the headboard of the bed with two silk ties. you tuck the extra one you’d brought in case of an emergency under hanbin’s pillow, safely out of his reach.

“no talking,” hao barks, starting to unbutton hanbin’s jeans and pull down the zipper. you can tell that hao is doing his best to imitate how hanbin usually talks to the both if you. it’s cuter than he intended and, from the chuckle that escapes hanbin, you can tell he thinks the same.

“and no laughing,” you add, crawling over to help hao tug hanbin’s jeans down past his hips. “if binnie makes a sound, he’ll have to be punished.”

“yeah? and what will be binnie’s punishment?” hanbin asks curiously; smiling softly at you.

“he’ll find out soon,” hao answers, shimmying hanbin’s jeans and underwear down his legs and discarding them carelessly on the floor, “since he just earned one.”

“ooooh,” hanbin mocks, eyebrows raised in a challenge. though he’s pretending to be annoyed by this stunt, his cock is already hard. “i’m very scared, hyungie.”

“and another,” hao replies before spitting in his hands and wrapping them around the base of hanbin’s length— starting to gently wring them as he takes the tip into his mouth.

hanbin doesn’t react at first, but the farther hao shoves his cock down his throat, the harder it is for him to continue maintaining his composure. once hao starts sucking, the older boy taps hanbin’s hips quickly to signal you to come help him hold them down.

“don’t play with him though,” hao warns as he comes up for air. “binnie’s mine right now.”

you roll your eyes as you crawl back over, placing a hand over hanbin’s lower abdomen to keep him still for hao. the younger boy’s face is screwed up in pleasure— a rogue moan escaping him every now and then despite his best efforts to keep quiet.

it’s not long before the sight has you rubbing your thighs together— the need for friction getting the better of you. hanbin eyes you tentatively, gazing at your core as you feel yourself starting to grind into the sheets.

it’s only another minute before hanbin is cursing— warning hao that he’s about to cum. “g’nna cum, don’t stop! g’nna— NO, NO FUCK!”

hanbin lets out a frustrated cry as hao removes his length from his mouth. hao kisses each of hanbin’s thighs, laughing meanly, “should’ve kept your mouth shut, huh, binnie?”

a particular grind of your pussy against the mattress causes you to moan and hao’s eyes dart to you. his attention falls to your core— practically sticking to the mattress from all of the juice pouring out of it.

“did you like that, baby?” hao asks, lips parting as he continues to stare at your heat. “grinding your little pussy watching us?”

you bite your lip, nodding shyly as hanbin continues to seethe.

“well are you gonna keep it all to yourself or are you gonna share with the rest of us?” hao asks, prompting you to take your index and middle finger and swipe at your slick— starting to hold it out to hanbin.

“ah-ah,” hao shakes his head. “i taste first today, remember?”

you blink back at him, bringing your fingers up to hao’s lips. he takes them in his mouth; sucking them as he lets out a throaty moan. when he releases them, he licks his lips— praising, “taste so good, baby. now give hanbinnie a bite.”

you bring your fingers back to your core, coating them again and extending them to a slightly calmer hanbin. he doesn’t take them in his mouth, but he does lick them clean. “thank you, angel,” he says softly, clearly trying to get on your good side.

“my turn now?” you ask, turning to hao.

“i guess,” the older boy huffs reluctantly as you switch positions; throwing a leg around hanbin’s lap to straddle him. “gonna ride binnie?”

“i don’t think my angel is ready to take m—,” hanbin starts to tease when you hold his cock to your entrance, but as you sink down onto him, his sentence is cut short. “oh, fuuuck.”

letting yourself adjust to his size, you slowly start to bounce up and down— finding a good rhythm as hanbin’s eyes roll back at the feeling of your tight walls around him. hao strokes his cock as he watches the scene— tough guy act thrown out the window within minutes as you continue to ride hanbin.

“perfect,” hanbin pants, a light glisten of sweat starting to form on his skin. he’s getting close again as he’s already riled up from his first orgasm denial and you moan at his praise. “pussy s'perfect.”

“fuck, i wanna see binnie cum,” hao whines from beside you; his pumping of his cock getting sloppier. you shake your head at his infuriating need for constant attention. “baby, please— wanna watch binnie cum inside you.”

“are you kidding me!? this was all your idea,” you yell back at him. hanbin laughs under you and you squeeze your walls tightly to shut him up. he throws his head back in a strangled moan— tugging a little harder on his wrist constraints as his desire to get his hands on you grows even stronger.

“i know, but,” hao replies and a quick glance at him tells you he’s just as desperate as hanbin is for release. you should’ve figured hao would cave under the pressure. “binnie wants to cum so bad.”

you turn back to hanbin. he’s whimpering now; biting his lip hard to keep from coming undone. as his hips lazily trying to fuck up into you, you realize that hanbin must be enjoying this much more than he’s been letting on.

“is it good, binnie?” you ask, running your hands up his chest. hanbin nods wildly; tugging against his restraints again. “does binnie wanna cum?”

hanbin nods again— pressing his lips together to keep from answering. you remember now that hao’s rule for hanbin had been not to talk. but now that you had obviously been handed the reins by your irritatingly needy partner in crime, you were suddenly excited to switch things up and play the game your own way.

you lean forward, pressing a messy kiss to hanbin’s lips. he accepts greedily; thrusting his hips harder as your tongues fight hungrily for dominance. before anyone can win, you pull back slightly. “you can trust me, binnie. i’ll let binnie cum if he tells me he wants to cum.”

hanbin searches your eyes; so overcome with desperation that he doesn’t care whether you’re telling the truth or not. “oh my god, yes— wanna cum inside you, angel.”

his cock twitches inside you and you whimper in response. reaching your left hand out now to cup hao’s jaw beside you, you run your thumb across his cheek soothingly. “does hao wanna cum, too?”

with wide eyes, hao nods— nuzzling his cheek into your touch. “please, baby!”

“come here, then,” you instruct as hao eagerly crawls towards you— positioning himself on his knees to bring his cock more level with your mouth. you wrap your hand around the shaft and bring the tip to your lips; lapping at the head as hao’s right hand caresses your cheek carefully. taking his full length in your mouth, hao gasps when he hits the back of your throat.

the sound makes you clench around hanbin, which causes the younger boy to inadvertently buck his hips up into you. you gag a bit as hanbin cries out pitifully— his abdomen shaking a bit from the pleasurable sensation. removing hao’s cock from your mouth, you continue to pump him.

“look at binnie, honey,” you say, watching as hao directs his attention to hanbin. “this is what you wanted, hmm? to see binnie all squirming and helpless like this?”

as hao reaches his hand towards hanbin’s face, hanbin quickly understands what the older boy is asking for— taking his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. a fresh flood of desire warms your core as hanbin swirls his tongue around hao’s fingers— sucking on them until hao’s jaw drops at the sight.

“mm, binnie’s so pretty sucking my fingers while you fuck him,” hao whimpers as you pick up the pace of your hand; continuing to fuck yourself on hanbin’s cock. the two boys in front of you are starting to get messy in their need to cum. “baby’s so nice to let binnie cum. w-wanna cum, too!”

“lie down, honey,” you suggest as you watch hao’s thighs start to shake— unable to stay propped on his knees as he gets closer to his high. with a mischievous look in your eyes, you continue, “hao can cum, too.”

“hyungie, i wouldn’t do that if i were— oh fuuuuck,” hanbin starts to warn, but you cut him off by milking his dick with your walls again; an absolutely pathetic moan escaping his throat. “do whatever you want, hyung— oh my god.”

hao must not hear any of what hanbin says over the throbbing of his cock, because he collapses on his back next to the younger boy almost immediately— nearly out of his mind as he looks up at you through dark, lust-filled eyes.

“our hao doesn’t know what’s good for him, huh, angel?” hanbin whispers, smirking at you as if he thinks he’s on your team now.

he’s not.

a hard smack to the side of his ass sends him reeling; crying out at the pain that’s followed quickly by pleasure. hanbin looks up at you; bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he mewls. smiling at him innocently, you reply, “neither does binnie.”

“touch hao’s cock!!” the older boy huffs; starting to throw a tantrum at the lack of attention on him. “been so good, just wanna cum.”

hanbin starts to laugh again, but his laugh turns to a yelp at the loss of contact as you lift up off of his length. “no, no, no, nooooo,” he whines, thrusting his hips up to try to find your entrance again but you’re already climbing off him and hooking a leg around the older boy to straddle him.

“didn’t binnie hear? hao wants to cum,” you say to hanbin, nearly giggling at how angry and wet you’ve left his cock. you’re surprised when you see hanbin’s eyes water in frustration. he had apparently been holding it together on the outside this whole time far better than he was on the inside. “and hao’s been so good.”

hao hums; biting his lip in a sweet smile as you lower yourself down towards his crotch. grinding your warm, slick folds on hao’s shaft— both hanbin and hao moan at the contact. “s'amazing, baby. love it s’much, thank you."

taking each of hao’s hands in one of yours, you gently pin them above his head— holding both of his wrists in your left hand as you stealthily reach for the extra silk tie under the pillow that hanbin is resting on.

“could you cum like this, honey?” you ask hao, trying your best to keep your poker face as the veins running up his shaft tease your clit while you grind against him.

hao nods; his eyes closing from the pleasure. “please keep going, baby,” he begs as you wrap the tie around his wrists— taking advantage of his state of blissed-out state of distraction. “g’nna cum if you keep going.”

securing hao’s wrists to a slat in the headboard; you tie the second knot on the far side so its out of reach of his fingers. sitting back up straight, you continue to grind on hao’s cock; reaching over and taking hanbin’s in your hand as well.

hanbin sighs in relief, meeting your gaze. “my angel’s so smart, huh?”

you nod as your hand works the same rhythm as your core. hao hasn’t noticed the constraint on his wrists as his moaning grows even more uncontrollable. the twitching of hanbin’s cock against your palm alerts you that he, too, is dangerously close.

“fuck, g’nna cum, baby,” hao cries, only now attempting to move his arms. his brow furrows confusedly amidst the pleasure as he tugs at the silk tie holding his hands to the headboard. “what the—... mm, when did—… NO, PLEASE! BABY, PLEASE!”

just as hao is about to cum, you pull off of him and crawl back over to hanbin. he immediately begins to cry; babbling absolute nonsense in a hopeless plea to make you come back and finish him off. hanbin is concerningly silent, lips pressed together and brows knitted-- seemingly praying that he’s been nice enough to you tonight to avoid meeting the same fate as hao.

you continue to pump hanbin’s cock; speeding up the pace as he stifles his moaning.

“THIS ISN’T FUCKING FAIR!” hao wails next to hanbin—hiccupping through his tears. “this was my idea!”

“shouldn’t have pussied out so early then,” you reply with a glare, sticking your tongue out at him childishly. brushing hanbin’s bangs out of his face, you tell him sweetly, “don’t worry. binnie gets to cum.”

the younger boy’s face lights up at your words as he melts into your touch like the prettiest puppy— hao still throwing a fit to your left.

“but not yet,” you say with a wicked smile; removing your hand from around hanbin’s cock and quickly hopping off of the bed.

hanbin yelps angrily; thrashing at his wrist restraints— definitely wishing now that he hadn’t reminded you to tie a double-knot. menacingly, he growls, “get your ass back here right now.”

from the doorway, you giggle. “it’s okay— i’ll be back in a little bit! and then whoever can last the longest inside of me can go free.”

running out of the room before the boys can protest further, hanbin and hao are left lying next to each other on the bed— wrists tied up behind them to the headboard.

“you’re a fucking idiot,” hanbin huffs, kicking hao’s shin with his foot.

the older boy pouts, mumbling as the tip of his cock leaks sorrily onto his stomach:

“takes one to know one.”

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knchins · 1 year

Text

Wrapped - Wakasa I. & Shinichiro S.

Summary: Wakasa decides to give his best friend the thing he wants most for Christmas: a threesome with you.

Pairing: Wakasa x Reader x Shinichiro; Wakasa x Shinichiro

Reader Type: AFAB - they/them

Rating: E+

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS for the final chapter, Cuckolding (sorta), Shin is a virgin, Waka is openly bisexual, some not-so-unrequited love, light shibari/bondage, this gets very gay very fast, anxiety mention, oral sex (M receiving), nipple play, vaginal sex, anal fingering, anal sex, condom usage, overstimulation, slight orgasm delay/denial, unsafe sex, cream pie, some light degradation, praise, aftercare

Notes: This was written for @dark-mnjiro for @mekiza 's kinkmas collab event! I was so excited to get Lee's name and I immediately knew what I wanted to write for them! I hope you enjoy it, wifey! <3

“Isn’t this all you’ve ever wanted?” Waka’s words floated through Shinichiro’s hazy memory. At the time he hadn’t known how to respond. He stood with his mouth agape, wondering if his best friend was being serious or if he was just being cruel. Would you do it? Would you really let him finally lose his virginity to the pussy he’d dreamt about for years now?

Even after the timeline had been fixed, even after Takemichi managed to save everyone, Shin wondered if it were possible for the two of you could finally work things out. You seemed to always end up with Wakasa no matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought for you. Even now the two of you were inseparable so again was Wakasa being serious in his proposal?

He was a clumsy, awkward twenty-year-old again. He’d crashed and burned many times in trying to pick up people, including yourself. He just didn’t have the charisma that his best friend had. He didn’t exude coolness or power or money. By all accounts, he was perfectly normal, especially now that he was no longer a time leaper.

Currently, he was on the way to Wakasa’s place where you would hopefully be waiting for him. He wondered why his friend had suddenly decided to share. What was in it for him? Did he secretly like being cucked? Shin had never known Imaushi to be into that sort of thing, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

He pulled up to the apartment complex and parked his bike before going to the door. The smell of rain hung heavily in the air as thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. He paused, listening to it before opening the door and walking inside. Waka didn’t care if he knocked or not, Shin knew he was always welcome.

“Shin? We’re back here!” Wakasa called from the bedroom. He could tell his friend was excited by his tone of voice. While Waka typically kept a calm and cool demeanor, there were times when he’d let his feelings slip. Times like this when he was practically bouncing as he waited or Shin to see you.

It had been Wakasa’s idea, but you had instantly gone along with it. He had wrapped your body with a wide satin ribbon so that it intricately covered your intimate areas. He used his knowledge of shibari to do it, and it made you look even more beautiful than usual. He ended the tie with a big bow on your chest.

You were the perfect Christmas present for him, Wakasa had decided. But this was a two-part gift. Shin wasn’t the only one that would get to fulfill a fantasy tonight.

The man in question stood in the doorway, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull as he took in your mostly nude form. He licked his dry lips, trying to think of what to say. So this wasn’t some big joke, he thought to himself. He swallowed hard, cock twitching in his pants as you blinked slowly, dainty lashes fluttering at him.

“Don’t cum in your pants, dude,” Waka said, clearly joking as a tossed a condom to Shin. “Do you need me to show you how to use it?” He asked and Shin raised his middle finger to him in protest.

Shinichiro shot him a look, “I know how to put on a condom.” He said flatly, watching as Wakasa pulled out a second one. “What do you need that for?”

Wakasa gave him a curious look, “I thought I was clear on the phone.” He replied lazily, eyes staying in their half-lidded state.

“You asked me if I wanted to finally get fucked.” Shin replied, confusion evident on his face. “Then you said you two decided to….” Realization washed over his features, “you want to have sex with me too?”

“Think you can handle it?” Wakasa asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “I’ve seen the way you look at the two of us, but one thing we can never decide on is who you’re most jealous of.”

You let out a small giggle at the surprise on his face. “So you want to settle the score here and now?” He asked, having never considered that Wakasa had unearthed his deepest fantasy. The thing he dreamt of only when he had had too much to drink. Of course, he had no real understanding of what these thoughts meant. He tucked them away as quickly as they came and tried not to drift back to them.

It wasn’t that Shinichiro had any issues with people being gay, he just didn’t think he was. Those were just some silly inebriated thoughts, right? They didn’t really mean anything. He was attracted to women. Homosexuality was natural, he knew that, but he didn’t think it was natural for him.

What he never considered (mainly thanks to the media's erasure of their existence) was that it was entirely possible to be attracted to both. Shinichiro was, without a doubt, the most closeted bisexual in all of Japan.

Wakasa Imaushi, on the other hand, was fully upfront with himself on who he was attracted to. You knew this about him from the start and while he had expected you to turn your nose up or feign away from him after he opened up about himself, you accepted him with open arms. That was the night he knew he had fallen in love with you.

Shinichiro's eyes moved from you to Wakasa and back to you, still wrapped up pretty like the perfect present under the tree. "How do you want me?" He asked with a small defeated sigh. It wasn't that he didn't want this to happen, he was feeling defeated by his own self-doubt.

What if his best friend in the entire world didn't have enough room in his heart for both of you? Wakasa was well versed in sex, what if he didn't like sex with him? What if he was so bad at it that you and him never wanted to talk to Shin again?

His worry showed on his face as plain as day. A soft smile played upon your lips as you got up from the bed and placed your hands on his shoulders, "relax, Shin." You cooed as you began to take off his clothes, the ribbon wrapped around your torso was slightly restricting but not enough that you couldn't strip him down.

Shin stood there, a little awkwardly as you pulled down his boxers while getting down on your knees before him. Your eyes flickered up connecting with his as you took his already-hardened cock into your mouth.

Shinichiro groaned as you bobbed your head, sucking just the right amount as one hand held onto his thigh and then played with his heavy balls. He couldn't take his eyes off you, a feeling of disbelief washing over him once more as you pulled away to lick at his shaft and tip as to tease him.

"Now, lay down on the bed," Wakasa said as you sat back on the balls of your feet. "On your back." He further instructed as he began to take off his own clothes.

Shin laid back on the bed as he was told before fumbling with the condom Wakasa had given him earlier. You took it from him with steady hands and opened it before rolling it onto his stiff cock. "Ready to unwrap your gift?" You teased as he nodded his head like an eager child about to get his favorite treat.

You tugged at the ends of the ribbon, untying it slowly until it was a heap on the ground and your naked form was bare to both men. Even though Wakasa had seen you naked plenty of times, he was still breathtaken with how beautiful you were every time.

He smacked your ass playfully, "show him a good time, baby." He said as you let out an excited giggle. Despite your love for Imaushi, you had always had a soft spot for Shinichiro as well. Always wondered what his virgin cock would feel like and how fun it may be to teach him how to properly fuck someone. Though it seemed like Wakasa was the one that wanted to play teacher tonight.

You moved onto the bed before straddling Shin. You reached down to hold the base of his cock to hold him steady as you guided yourself down, letting him slowly penetrate your slick folds and then wet pussy.

Shin tried to stay still as his eyes stayed glued to your chest. It wasn't that he'd never seen tits before, but these were yours. Something special, something to be coveted. He reached up and grabbed them, one in each hand as he squeezed, nearly cumming already when your walls squeezed around him in response.

You felt a kiss on your shoulder as Waka stood behind you with a bottle of lube in hand. He coated his fingers, noticing that Shin was too lost in the new sensation of you being wrapped around him to notice what he was doing.

As you started to move on top of him, Wakasa nudged his legs apart. Shinichiro wasn't sure what he was up to until he felt the sticky fingers against the cheeks of his ass. A red hot blush formed on his entire face, once that you didn't notice as you were too busy concentrating on his fingers teasing your nipples and the head of his penis that kept kissing the sweet spot in the back of your cunt.

"Waka-" He started, sounding unsure until he felt one of his commander's fingers slip into his tight asshole. The new sensation had him bucking his hips up into you in a way that made you cry out with surprise.

You placed your hands on his chest for added balance, panting slightly as he settled back down once he got used to the feeling of Waka's index finger inside of him. That's when you noticed how flushed he was, which prompted you to lean down and kiss him gently.

"Do you want to stop?" You asked him, not a shred of judgment or disappointment in your tone. Your eyes with pupils blown wide with lust and adoration had him shaking his head no. As new as this all was, he didn't want it to stop.

"You sure? I can just fuck their asshole instead." Waka replied and you shot him a look that told him he needed to be more gentle. He shrugged halfheartedly before wiggling his finger until he found Shin's prostate, pressing against it. Shin gasped out and bucked again, needing to feel more.

As soon as he felt Shin's ring of muscle relax more against his finger, he added a second. He noticed Shin hesitating before moving his hips more, enjoying the dual sensation of being inside of someone with something inside of him.

Wakasa matched the rhythm of his hips to help maximize his pleasure while you stayed still on top of him, letting him go at his own pace as you licked playfully at his pert nipples.

Shinichiro moaned a sound that seemed to intensify the atmosphere of the room. The air was now heavy with the smell of sex as the sounds of skin against skin began to reverberate off the walls.

Waka kept his wrist locked in place as he started to slowly scissor his fingers until he knew Shin was used to the sensation. Then he added a third and while the other man let out a small groan of protest, it quickly turned into a needy whine as you nipped at his chest.

"F-Fuck," Shin gasped, trying to concentrate on pleasuring you but truly failing at being able to focus with Waka being knuckle deep inside of him.

"Are you ready?" You asked, keen eyes flicking to look at his face as you noticed his pace was slowing down considerably and becoming slightly erratic. "You can't cum yet, Shin, you have to wait for Imaushi."

He looked almost annoyed with you, though it was more because this was vastly different than anything he had ever imagined. There was nothing more he wanted in the world right now than to cum, but it would seem that you were more in control than he thought.

"Yeah, he's ready," Waka said as he pulled his fingers out and wiped them off on the bedspread before rolling on the condom. You shot him a look over your shoulder at the action which just made him smirk in response. "I'll wash it later, calm down. Now kiss your new plaything before his face gets stuck in that pout."

Shin rolled his eyes but didn't stop you from kissing him. He allowed Waka to guide his ankles so that they were situated over his tattooed shoulders. Waka pumped himself a few times before pressing his tip against Shin's asshole and slowly pushing in while you keep your lips locked with his.

You bit at his lower lip, trying to take his mind off of any discomfort he was bound to feel from anal for the first time. The slow stretch burned but he hardly felt it as he throbbed inside of you in a silent beg for stimulation. You squeezed down around him, an effort that caused him to shudder.

Before he even knew it, Waka was fully sheathed inside of him, making Shin feel incredibly full almost awkwardly so. “Fuck it’s tight,” Waka hissed as Shin clamped down on him tightly, “Keeps suckin’ in me.”

Shin threw an arm over his eyes to try and hide the embarrassed look on his face. He couldn’t mask the small whimper that came out when Waka began to rut into him slowly. You took this opportunity to begin to move your hips again, letting him feel the dual stimulation once more.

You pried his arm away from his face, “Let me see that handsome face,” You said seductively. He repositioned his hands on your thighs, squeezing them as he tried to thrust, only to find himself unable to in the position he was currently in. “We’ll take care of you, Shin, you don’t need to move.”

A frustrated look crossed his face before his eyes rolled back as Waka adjusted the angle of his hips, his thrusts becoming harder and more deliberate as you matched pace with him the best you could. Shin felt so big inside of you, so impossibly hard as he whimpered again a silent plea. His mind buzzed with overstimulation already and he found himself edging along the line of orgasm.

Waka was lost in his own thoughts, making sure to not be too rough (less he wanted you to be upset with him later) but also going hard and fast enough to suit his own needs. He could feel every twitch every time his head brushed against his prostrate or every time you sunk down completely onto his cock. Of course, he had done threesomes before but they had never been quite like this.

Meanwhile, you were throwing your head back as you rode him as fast as you could. Your hips move at the perfect place to stimulate your clit and g-spot at the same time. His name passed your lips more times than you could count, a sound that sent him over the edge so that he was accidentally cumming into the condom before you had a chance to. “S-Sorry,” He gasped out, still unable to catch a break as Waka rammed into him so that he was cumming again but in an entirely new and different way.

He was feeling too much ecstasy to feel guilty for not getting you off. His vision was hazy as he looked at your soft smile and light giggle as you lifted off of him enough so he’d slip out of you. “Imaushi,” You said in a sing-song voice, “Finish with me?”

Waka chuckled as he pulled out of Shin’s still-spasming hole. He quickly took off the condom before shoving his cock into your now gaping pussy. Shin was helpless as he watched Wakasa fuck you at a pace that he had only seen in hardcore porn before.

He grabbed one of your wrists and pulled it behind your back as he thrust as roughly as he possibly could, abusing your poor cunt. You keened as he tugged on your arm to force you back against him, his balls smacking into your clit repeatedly so that you were quaking on top of Shinichiro.

Shin’s eyes were like saucers as he watched your form bounce and shake above him. “Play with their tits,” Wakasa ordered and he happily obliged, taking his hands and petting them on your chest to squeeze and fondle your breasts. The loudest moan yet erupted from you as you finally came, unable to squirm too much as Waka still had a vice grip on the arm pinned behind your back.

“That’s a good whore,” Waka spat, momently later he was painting your walls white with his seed, making sure to fuck it in as deeply as he could. “You both took me so well.” He said as he released you, letting you fall on top of Shin unceremoniously. He kissed the top of your head as Waka grabbed a towel to clean up the two of you.

He tended to Shin first, throwing away his condom and wiping him down. Shin twitched, still sensitive from before and whimpering as you clung to him. Waka had a small smile of contentment on his face as he then wiped you clean, though you were actively dripping a mixture of his and your cum onto poor Shin.

Shin didn’t mind, he could hardly even feel it as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rubbed your back as you started to fall asleep. The same doubts from earlier started to well up in him, self-doubt eating him alive as he wondered if you’d never want to do this again because he didn’t make you cum.

Sensing his troubles, you gave his bare chest a few feather-light kisses, “next time, I’ll teach you how to make me cum.” You said and you felt his cock twitching beneath you at the thought. The feeling of it made you laugh lightly, ”or maybe I’ll teach you now.”

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 2 months

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The Supreme Court on Monday rejected the appeal of a Minnesota woman who said she was wrongly denied unemployment benefits after being fired for refusing to be vaccinated for COVID-19 because of her religious beliefs.

The Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development determined she wasn’t eligible for benefits because her reasons for refusing the vaccine were based less on religion and more on a lack of trust that the vaccine was effective.

The case shows that the vaccine debate continues to smolder after the pandemic and after the Supreme Court in 2022 halted enforcement of a Biden administration vaccine-or-testing mandate for large employers but declined to hear a challenge to the administration’s COVID-19 vaccine mandate for health care facilities that receive federal funding.

Still pending is an appeal from military chaplains who challenged the military’s vaccination requirement. Although that requirement was later rescinded at the direction of Congress, the chaplains argue they lost out on training opportunities and promotions because they requested religious exemptions.

Minnesota said the unemployment benefit appeal denied Monday wasn’t worth the Supreme Court’s time because benefits have been given to others who were found to have a sincerely held religious objection to the vaccine, so there’s no overarching question to address.

Lawyers for the Upper Midwest Law Center, which represented Tina Goede, had argued she was treated differently by the Minnesota courts than others who successfully appealed their denial of benefits.

REFUSING TO GET VACCINATED, FIRED FROM A PHARMACEUTICAL COMPANY

After refusing to get vaccinated, Goede was fired in 2022 from her job as an account sales manager for the pharmaceutical company Astra Zeneca. Her position had required her to meet with customers in hospitals and clinics, some of which required proof of vaccination.

She told the Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development her religious beliefs prohibit injecting foreign substances into her body, which is a “temple of the Holy Spirit.”

A Catholic opposed to abortion, Goede also objected to the COVID-19 vaccine because she believed it was manufactured using or tested on an aborted fetal-cell line. (A cell line from an abortion decades ago was used to create Johnson & Johnson’s coronavirus vaccine. Fetal cells were used in the early testing, though not in the production, of the Pfizer and Moderna vaccines.)

But Goede told the unemployment law judge she wouldn’t receive the vaccine no matter how it was made “because it doesn’t work.”

The judge said Goede was declining to take some vaccines, but not others, “because she does not trust them, not because of a religious belief.”

Goede’s attorneys said the judge had interrogated her religious beliefs with “unfair `gotcha’ questioning."

“He couched his denial of benefits in Ms. Goede’s credibility and then discounted her religious beliefs by determining that her secular beliefs outweighed them,” the lawyers told the Supreme Court.

At the same time the Minnesota Court of Appeals upheld that decision last year, it reached the opposite conclusion for two others who had been denied benefits after asserting religious objections.

Goede’s lawyers said her case presented a question that will reoccur: how to analyze a religious objection to an employer policy when those objections coincide with secular beliefs.

#us politics #news #usa today #2024 #us supreme court #unemployment benefits #COVID-19 vaccine #covid vaccine #coronavirus vaccine #Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development #Minnesota #vaccine mandates #Tina Goede #unemployment

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whostheblondegirlwriting · 2 years

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Go-around

A Top Gun: Maverick fanfic for @notroosterbradshaw

Smug sonuvabitch. The way he always sauntered in. Sunglasses on, damn near anytime of the day or night; goofy Hawaiian print button down always just one button short of acceptably buttoned or, dear god, over that tight tank. That stupid mustache on his stupid handsome face, just above that fuckin’ cocky grin as he surveyed the room from the door, like he was out looking for trouble. All that swagger when he finally stepped in to-

No. That cocky S.O.B never walked anywhere.

Rooster strutted.

And it used to drive you wild. Now, it just makes you feel a little forlorn.

“Your boy’s here,” you mentioned, tilting your head back over your shoulder but your attention not following in the direction of the rowdy welcome Rooster received.

Sitting up a little straighter, Maverick leaned to see around you drying the glass in front of him. He smiled, seeing who you were referring to and shaking his head to disagree, “I don’t have any kids.”

“Might as well,” Penny jutted her chin. “Not sure sometimes which one of you can be more trouble.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you dryly muttered, eyes wide for emphasis.

Maverick smiled into the next sip of his drink, making no denials or excuses, and Penny put a hand on your shoulder, telling you, “I need to wrap up a few things in the office. You sure you’re okay by yourself?”

You gave a reassuring nod, flipping the towel in your hand to lay over your shoulder as you stepped over to fill another pilsner for the hand that went up in a silent order a few stools down. “Yeah, no problem.”

She sent you an appreciative smile, and Maverick a wink, before she headed to the back to inventory the afternoon’s delivery and finish the payroll, leaving you to manage the early evening crowd. For a Friday night, it was off to a manageable start. In a half hour, your partner’s shift would start, so there’d be help on hand soon enough anyway. You kept pulling taps and pouring shots, and slowly the room started filling in.

The Hard Deck was about as infamous as some of her patrons. Her off post, beach front real estate was a draw to a mix of Navy personnel and civilians. Most were regulars with ties to the base, living local or dropping in on a pass from their float whenever their ship, for however long or brief, touched the docks. There was always a few looky-loos come for one reason or another, mostly spring breakers looking for some notoriety or kitsch for their selfies, and sometimes, hopeful ladies up for a bit of fun. The latter always attracting some extra squids and salty dogs alike on the weekends looking to be of service for the night.

Amongst the crowd, you fell into a small niche with Penny. Your family was local, having put down roots in your teens, the last stop of your station-hopping young life while your father pursued a career in the Navy. Your family had a history of service going back to your great grandfather. You went off to college, on the other coast, thoroughly intent on avoiding anymore military life with an accounting degree. Until you took a summer job your sophomore year at the Hard Deck and fell hard in love with that little bar and her clientele. You went back every summer and, when job applications to “real jobs” in shiny downtown offices went nowhere, you made your way to the bar, where they let you tend the tables at night and mind the books in the mornings. At least that degree didn’t go totally to waste, and Penny was happy for your expertise when she took over the place.

You played too busy to care, taking a full bus bin to the back, when Rooster wandered over to say hello to Maverick at the bar. You tiredly groaned on your return, shoulders dropping at seeing him perched on a stool next to his mentor. He noticed you coming, flipping up a hand in a wave to signal his thirst.

He grinned up at you. “Can I get a-“

“Not even a ‘hello’?” you tutted, already tipping a glass and pulling the tap for him. “Just ‘gimme a beer’?”

Rooster frowned, pointing a finger from his elbow on the bar to note, “I did not say gimme.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded along, putting the glass on the bar to slide over to him.

He tipped his sunglasses up to his forehead, batting those big brown eyes at you. “I’m sorry,” he pouted. “Hello.”

“Hello, Bradley,” you dryly replied, rolling your eyes and giving in to a smile, as he stood up and took his drink back to his buddies.

And that was the gist of your friendship with Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. A well-meaning courtship recategorized to a fling, after Rooster caught probably the shittiest schedule for his first sea duty, and then relegated to the friend zone. Those first exciting dates were looking good. You even managed to navigate dating those first few months around his obligations for the workup before he disappeared on his first cruise. Six months later, he “came back” and, between the training and spending time with his family back home or with his squadron, you barely had him to yourself for a handful of weeks dotted here and there before the next damn cycle started.

You were both lonely and miserable while you were apart. You were a good girl. You’d never cheat. You didn’t think Rooster would either, but it just didn’t seem fair to either of you. You’d never really gotten the traction to have made a real go of it, before you mutually decided to call it quits, agreeing to stay friends and keep in touch. The last part didn’t work out as smoothly as promised, but there was an effort whenever he was on terra firma.

Now, a couple years later, a little thicker skinned and with some life experience under your respective belts, the two of you were back to working on that nearly lost friendship. Sparks had flown a couple times since he’d been off and on in and out of town the last few months, but nobody let any fires start, knowing how it’d turned out before. Life hadn’t changed so much that it could open up for a second try, but damn if you hadn’t been tempted.

He still looked good. Scratch that. He looked even better. Somehow that goddamn mustache worked for him. Was still charming, funny, sincere when he wanted to be and a cut up with his friends or at a piano. Just the way you remembered, and liked, him.

So, what was a little harmless flirting between old lovers anyway?

The answer is “dangerous”.

Apparently for you. It didn’t seem to affect Rooster much, by your assessment. After a few random meet ups for drinks or a dinner with him and some of his buddies, you’d both started to catch on to how much you missed the other. But you didn’t want to set yourself up to be let down again. He asked once, after dinner. You turned him down and that was it. He carried on the way he does, with his chin up and diving headfirst looking for the next adventure. After a week or so to lick his wound, if he even had one, he showed up at the Hard Deck again and was back to turning up the charm and entertaining the ladies around the piano, while you watched from behind the bar, trying your best to not let your disappointment show whenever he came around.

“You know, I think I might try that burger,” Maverick spoke up.

You tuned back in, pulling your attention away from Rooster’s gloating howl of victory over Fanboy and a game of snooker. You gently cleared your throat and picked up a pad and pencil, inviting, “Oh, yeah? The, uh- The bacon and blue or the All American?”

He smiled while you scratched down his order, seeming to have noticed the small flustration your attention on Rooster and the gang had given you. “He’s still a good guy, you know,” he offered, inclining his head toward Rooster when your eyes came back up to his.

You swallowed the little lump in your throat and nodded, a wrinkle of seriousness in your brow to try to come off cooler than you were about the topic. “Yeah. Good guy. I know,” you clumsily went along.

“I just say that because,” he excused, “I know the two of you had-“

“Oh, no.” You scrunched up your nose and waved him off. “Ancient history. We’re just friends.”

He seemed to study you before giving a slow nod and saying, “I see.”

You were relieved to have your shift mate arrive, giving you a friendly pat on the arm to let you know he was there. You gave a quick greeting, summing up the night so far and then hurried off to the kitchen to put in the order.

Customers started rolling in and you, mercifully, didn’t have much time to spend on any one conversation for too long. But you zeroed in on the pair of young ladies at the corner of the bar. With their cute cocktails and eyes running over every potential prospect of the opposite sex, paying particular attention to the ones in uniform, you already knew what was coming.

“Ladies,” Rooster beamed, smile so bright no wonder those fuckin’ sunglasses were still on inside. He slid up on their port side, leaning an elbow and his empty glass on the bar. “How are you?”

“Great,” they both smiled back, in unison.

“You don’t look like you’re in the Navy,” he playfully noted.

The girls giggled, and it was almost enough to make you gag. Rooster was already on to his next line when he put up a hand for your attention and pointed to his empty Pilsner on the bar for a refill. You snarled in disgust, but kept it to yourself as you walked down the bar to swipe his glass. You poured him a fresh one and marked his tab. Your eyes rolled, as you got close enough again to hear him saying rather coyly, “Why, yes, I am a pilot.”

Putting down his next beer, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “He’s not a pilot.”

The women looked confusedly at each other, over to Rooster, and then back to you. Your lips pressed together and brow went up to feign sympathy, nodding to back up what you’d said.

“I mean, look at him,” you doubled down, and Rooster scoffed. You could feel the daggers thrown at you from behind his shades when he sent a look your way. “That shirt?”

Rooster chuckled awkwardly and recovered. “Uh, yes, I am,” he assured them.

“Look for the guys in the khakis,” you advised them, with a nod toward a group of the telltale service uniforms by the jukebox to guide them.

“I am a pilot,” he tried again, reasserting himself. “F-18s. My callsign’s Rooster.”

“See?” you wagged up your brow. “What self respecting pilot would name himself Rooster?”

“You know that’s not how it works,” he reminded you, through a tight smile. “I didn’t name myself Rooster,” he started to explain, giving you a side eye look and forcing a chuckle through his relaxing grin. He turned back to the girls, continuing, “Your callsign is given to you. See, my dad’s callsign was- Hey. Where ya goin’?”

You whistled a descending note, sailing the towel in your hand down toward the bar top, letting it fall from your hand with the mimicked sound of an explosion. A smirk tugged up the corner of your lips, as your eyes followed the pair of ladies heading for the other side of the room. You kept smiling, despite the stern finger wagging your way and aggravated growl from Bradley. Rooster pushed off from the bar, looking toward a safer harbor among his peers by the pool table. You snorted, seeing Penny and Mav snickering down the way at what you’d just done.

Rooster looked too, and didn’t appreciate the audience. He stared accusingly at Maverick and Penny, mouth a little slacked, speechless for a moment. He picked up his jaw and nodded tightly, saying, “Alright. That’s cool.”

Penny cleared her throat, dropping her eyes to her towel in hand wiping at the bar and Maverick quickly looked to you, pointing to his plate, stumbling through, “This, uh- Great burger. Thanks.”

You wheezed, holding down the laughter as long as you could, while Rooster took his beer and stormed off. A proud smile came to you. You don’t know where the inspiration came from tonight, but the joke you’d just played wasn’t out of the lane for some of the shenanigans you were known to pull. You’d cockblocked a few of his squadronmates before, when they were being insufferably douchey about their careers. Your sense of humor had always been part of the appeal. It was just the first time that Rooster was the victim.

Another hour gone by and the place was packed. You felt a little bad, when Maverick left without Penny, but you were grateful that she decided to stay and help on your short-staffed night. The music and conversations were lively and the atmosphere, as always, was too energetic to let the hectic work get you down. You were in the zone. You’d realize how hard you worked when you finally fell into bed right around 3am, like you always did.

“Hey, bartender!”

You turned around, brow wrinkled down at the hostile tone. You wandered down the bar, with a defensive, “Yeah?”

“Stop…telling people I’m not a pilot!” Rooster demanded, trying his best to keep his obvious frustration leveled.

“What?” you laughed, coming to a stop in front of him. “I’m not telling any-“

“This whhhole place is saying it,” Rooster insisted, circling an accusing finger overhead to reference the bar. “Every girl in here is saying it.”

“Bradley, seriously,” you were trying so hard not to smile at his misfortune, but it was a struggle. “It was just those two.”

”Well, guess what,” he flippantly threw his hands up. “They told evvv’ryone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you couldn’t help the snicker that carried your apology. “I swear. I didn’t mean t-“

“I’m a nice guy,” he insisted, his brow high on his pained expression, fingertips to his chest, and plaintive voice pleading for some kind of concurrence, from anyone who’d give it. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Well…” you slowly began, giving a nod of your head to imbue yourself with the nerve to keep going with, “maybe have a little decency and quit macking on innocent civilians just passing through.” Instead of telling him you’d do it again, in a heartbeat, to keep yourself from having anything to be jealous over.

His brow furrowed down suspiciously. “Is that it?” he asked, skeptically. You made another sure nod and he gave an exaggerated scoff, face pinching incredulously. “Bullshit. You’re just taking it out on me.” He waved a directionless hand up, uncoordinatedly elaborating, “The whole, you and me, and whatever. Still mad about me leaving.”

“It’s not that,” you lied, hoping it sounded more convincing to him than you heard it. Besides, mad was the wrong word.

“Fine,” he tightly nodded. Another flip of his hand. “Whatever. It’s whatever. It’s fine.” He raised a finger to add, “And no one says macking anymore.”

You took a step into your side of the bar, looking for whatever sense of privacy the bar could give when you sincerely told him, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between us, and I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I said no again. But, I think, here, with a few beers in you, isn't the place to talk about it. Right?”

A thoughtful expression came to him, and lasted all of about one second. “Another time, perhaps,” he stuffily decided, before his stoicism broke to a frown. “But this isn’t over.”

You held up your hands, promising, “Tonight is. I swear. Next hot chic that walks in here? I’m on it. I’ll wingman the shit out of it for you. Okay?”

“No. I don’t buy it.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t even have to try this hard,” he lamented.

You sighed to yourself and shook your head this time. You popped up on your toes, looking for Hangman, or anyone else you could trust to make sure Rooster got home safe, deciding, “Okay, Rooster. You’ve had enough tonight.”

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” he argued, with an insulted grimace.

“That’s not actually helping your cause, hon,” you tilted your head.

Rooster folded himself on the bar, in dramatic fashion, loudly growling and fists clutching at the front of his shirt. “Whyyy do you have to be so goddamn mea-“

He stopped, the instant Penny cocked up a daring brow and pointed a finger to the first rule of the bar posted beside her. He leveled his eyes at the sign and rolled over, arching as he did to keep his shoulders on the bar and complain to the ceiling, “Fuck!”

Rooster slid off the bar, righting himself to spin around on his heel and point spitefully with the full length of his arm at you, his jaw tight and nostrils flaring. He didn’t say a word, as he backed away from the bar, only lowering his arm when the crowd got in its way.

“How ‘bout you give him a break, huh?”

You turned around to see Penny giving you that knowing maternal look, and your posture deflated with your sigh as you gave in and whined, “But it’s hard.”

“I know,” she sympathetically frowned, rubbing her hand soothingly on your back as she moved around you to grab some held out cash for the tip jar. “Second chances are scary. Believe me,” her eyes went wide for emphasis, “I know.”

She grabbed the whiskey off the shelf to pour, as you lined up a trio of glasses to get the next order ready, defeatedly saying, “I got, like, a half dozen nautical and aviation themed puns I could make about me and Rooster. You want me to start with ships that have sailed or sunk?”

Twisting the bottle to finish her last pour, Penny smirked. “I want you two to have a conversation.”

“We talk all the-“

“A real conversation,” she made a point to say. “Any place else but a bar,” she specified, with a grin and moving to the register to close out a bill.

Shaking your head, as you kept an eye on the draft you poured, you knew, “It’s not gonna go anywhere. He’s not gonna ask again.” You watched her walk around you, dryly saying, “Insert sailed ship pun here.”

Penny sided up next to you to help finish your order. “Then you ask him,” she nonchalantly shrugged. She met your doubtful side of the eye glance her way, and went on, “Neither of you is in the same place you were before. You’re older, a little wiser. You know how this works. You know, now, how to make it work. You just have to get the nerve to try.” She gave a confident sweep of her head. “He doesn’t want you to wingman for him.” She passed a pair of glasses to you to fill up the tray for your waiting patron. “He wants you back.”

“Did you practice that?” you wondered, inflected sass aside. “Sounded rehearsed.”

“That’s experience talking,” she smirked, inclining her head and pointing you to a thirsty customer waiting for attention on the other side of the bar.

You slipped out the door to the deck, pulling the door shut behind you and turning your key in the deadbolt. It wasn’t the closest door to the alarm panel, but going out that way let you double check all the umbrellas were down and chairs stacked in the outdoor area.

“You proud of yourself? Hm?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, a startled gasp escaping you as you clutched a hand to your chest. Your head snapped over your shoulder to see Rooster perched up on the railing.

“Are you?” you dared, giving him a scathing once over. “You about gave me a heart attack.”

“Have to have a heart first,” he grumbled.

“Bad night?” you checked, putting your purse and keys down on a table, the after hours motion lights coming on when you got close. “All thrust, no vector, huh?” you snidely quipped, before clicking your tongue and sweeping your head.

“There! See that?” he pointed accusingly, hopping off the rail and stepping up to your table. “You did it on purpose. I fuckin’ knew it.”

Your head fell back, as you groaned to the sky, “Oh, my god, Rooster. For the last time, it was a joke. I’m sorry.”

“Even Bob got in on it,” he complained, holding his arm away. “The whole night- ruined. It’ll take me weeks to undo that.”

You folded your arms, a facetiously thoughtful crease in your brow as you mused, “See, I love Bob. Everyone thinks he's no fun, but he knows a good joke when he hears it.”

“Fuck Bob and fuck you,” he spat.

Your jaw fell open, fully offended. “Wait just a damn minute,” you scowled. “You are way out of the box h-“

“I’m right on target,” he insisted, with an arrogant nod.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you moved to start dragging chairs up to the side of the building. “You’re an ass, is what you are,” you assured him. “Go home, Rooster.”

He swept his head and pointed a finger at the ground, broadcasting his resolve that he wasn’t going anywhere. “No. I got something to say.”

“Fine. Have at it,” you waved a dismissive hand his way, grabbing another set of chairs to move. “But if you give me anymore shit for a joke I pulled a dozen times before, I’m calling the MA.”

He let the scraping of the plastic chair legs stop before he clarified, “It’s not shit for the joke, it’s for the subtext.”

You pulled a face, begging, “The what?” as you added a chair to one of the stacks up the wall.

“The subtext,” he repeated. “The underlying-“

You flipped him off him. “I know what subtext means. I just didn’t know you did.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” he frowned.

“Fine. What exactly is this alleged subtext?” you invited, heaving up another chair.

“You’re still in love with me,” he said bluntly, the surety of it too firm to be just an accusation.

You let go of the chair, letting it drop the last few inches to the pile with a rattling smack, a little blindsided by the remark. You recovered quickly enough, twisting around to pick up another chair as you told him, “We’re not going through this again, Rooster.” Maybe not as firmly as you wanted it to sound, but it did sound a little more “tired of the conversation” than it did “afraid of the conversation”, and that worked just as well.

“Again?” he laughed. “We never even got through a first time to have an again.” He waved a hand away at the past, pointing out, “We barely got started.”

With a heavy sigh, you agreed, “Yeah, maybe.” You waved a hand, dragging over one more chair and calling it, “Bad timing, or whatever, but the point is, it didn’t work, did it?”

“No,” he conceded, his chin lowering a fraction to do so and the sound a little disappointed. But the confidence came back when he suggested, “What if it was bad timing? What if now is different?”

“What’s different from the last time you asked me out?” you pressed, stacking the last of the loose chairs.

“Well, not much,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to his shoes for a minute, and your heart sighed at the adorable sight. “Was only a few weeks ago,” he mumbled. His head came back up, more confident to say, “But you see it, don’t you? How much I’m here, now? It’s my shore duty. I’m not gonna get another cruise for-“

“Oh, I see you around, Rooster,” you agreed, nodding. “I see you in here every weekend, chasing skirts with the guys and letting girls hang on you at the piano. I see a lot, bud.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” he helplessly shrugged, watching you reach over a table to put down its umbrella.

“Well, if you think I’m still hung up on you, why don’t you show a little respect and not do that shit in my bar?” you argued, and then promptly stood a little straighter, surprising even yourself for how harshly that came out.

He didn’t have a snappy comeback. Just stood there, lips a little parted and mouth empty for once. He was just standing there, staring. Or, at least, you figured he was, if you could see his damn eyes.

“And take off those fuckin’ sunglasses,” you frowned, walking over to the next table and umbrella to come down. “It’s 2:30 in the morning, for Christ’s sake.”

“No,” he airily refused. “I like ‘em.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking your head at the heavens. “You are drunk.” Cranking down the umbrella, you told him, “I don’t have anyone’s number, but I can call Penny. She can get Maverick to come get you.”

“No,” he grimaced. “I don’t need a ride. I’m fine. I’m just…pissed.”

You ducked out from underneath the collapsing umbrella. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“It’s so…” He clenched his fists, looking for the word.

When it didn’t come to him, you swept out your hand, sarcastically prompting, “Is sooo...”

“God dammit, woman,” he stomped his foot. “You are infuriating!”

“Okay, Master-at-Arms it is,” you impatiently decided, walking over to get your phone from your purse. “You don’t want a ride, then I’m not gonna sit here and-“

“Would you. just. stop?” he begged. His brow pinching up over the tops of his shades, pleading, “For five fuckin’ seconds.” He held out his upturned palms. “Can we just have a real conversation?”

You cocked up a brow. “Been talking to Penny?”

“What?” his face scrunched up, lip curling, clearly confused. “The hell does that mean?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, taking your hand out of your purse and crossing your arms.

“Sweetheart, look,” he gently began, shoulders drooping in resignation and hand palming over his heart, despite the eye roll you gave him for the name. “I know what it looks like. Okay? I get it,” he promised. “But I go home alone.”

You exhaled tiredly, eyes turning up to the stars, but he pushed on.

“I don’t want to take any of these girls home,” he earnestly said. “I’m just having fun. Helping set ‘em up for the guys. That’s all. Since I’ve been back, I haven’t taken anyone home. And even if I did, nobody’d wanna stay because I’m not good company. I don’t want to go places with them. I don’t wanna meet their friends. I just go home.” He took a beat, looking you up and down, before confessing, “Miserable. Because I don’t sleep anymore…because all I do is think about you.”

“Rooster,” you sighed, “I can’t even take you seriously right now.” You waved a hand up at him. “You've had a few tonight an-“

“I stopped drinking 3 hours ago,” he flatly told you. “Sheesh,” he lightly scoffed, with a small, crooked grin. “What kind of bartender…”

His soft attempt at humor trailed off but you stuck to your guns, finishing, “And, for god’s sake, the sunglasses.”

He took them off, head bowing as he fidgeted with folding his sunglasses with both hands, and you instantly wished he hadn’t. Looking back at those doleful brown eyes, sheepishly looking up at you through his lashes, something inside you started to melt.

Sounding a little embarrassed, he quietly told you, “You know, I wear ‘em because I don’t want people to see me lookin’ at you. Don’t want you to see me looking at you behind the bar.”

That was sweet, but you were still conscious of the need to safeguard your heart.

“I’m glad you’re back, Bradley,” you admitted, with a genuine nod. “I really am. And I’m glad we’ve gotten to spend some time together and, yeah, it’s been fun. I really missed you.” You held your shoulders up in a long shrug, worrying, “But I don’t know what to do with that. Things could be different, but they could just be more of the same. And if it turns out to be the latter, I don’t want to have to see you in here every weekend messing around. It’s not fair. It hurts, ya know?”

He nodded along, looking a little ashamed. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

“So, what do you want, Rooster?” you finally asked.

“You,” he answered simply, with a kind of reserved optimism. “Just you.” He gestured out with his hands and brought them back together to hold the edges of his sunglasses, saying, “Doin’ whatever you wanna do. Picking up where we left off. Startin’ from scratch. Just name it.”

God, at this point he was irresistible.

“What do ya say, sweetheart?” he wondered, a gentle hesitance in his voice. “How about a go-around?”

You took a deep breath and nodded.

He meandered closer, moving around the edge of the table to stand in front of you, reaching his hand out for yours and checking, “You sure?”

Putting your hand in his, you committed with another nod. “I’m sure.”

A grin of relief pulled up the side of his lips and Rooster let your hand go to wrap his arms around you. “Ohh,” he quietly said, squeezing you tight, “I am never letting you go again.”

Arms folded around his waist, you squeezed him back and prayed, “Please don’t.”

He leaned back, pressing a kiss to your forehead before telling you, “Promise.”

From somewhere unseen, a phone chimed in a message. Rooster took a step back, pulling his phone from his back pocket. From your upside down view, you saw it was Hangman, telling him to stop harassing you and they were saving a seat for him.

Rooster shrugged, with an apologetic grin for the interruption. “Sorry. Everyone was going out to IHOP for some food.” He pocketed his phone without a reply. “You hungry?”

“A little, but it’s late,” you knew.

Undeterred, Rooster eagerly proposed, “Let’s go catch up with the guys. C’mon. Come have breakfast. I need pancakes tonight.”

“Pancakes?” you laughed. “That’s what you need? Thought it was me.”

A wolfish smile came to him, as he slipped his sunglasses back on. “I need the carbs before I get to you,” he excused, dipping down to kiss you.

Hooking your arms around his neck, you combed your fingers through the back of his hair and hummed happily. When it was over, you smiled, nodding, “Then, yeah, we should catch up with the guys.”

“That’s my girl,” Rooster beamed.

#top gun: maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun #whostheblondegirlwriting

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artfoold00k · 7 months

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Art requests

I received this feedback for my denial to accept free work.

I want to make clear what "art request" is to me (to avoid assumptions if possible):

a way to reward people who are kind to me and offer back to my community

a way to add great art to my portfolio, something I wouldn't think to draw otherwise, to add some diversity

but most of all, it is just a suggestion of what I could draw in my free time, the time I could spend on life affairs or my own projects.

I have the absolute right to reject any request if the subject does not resonate with me and if I don't see it in my portfolio or feel like I won't enjoy drawing.

you should be ready to draw whatever the person is asking you to

I have healthy boundaries o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o and won't let others to manipulate me.

I've whipped up quite a few free artworks for good strangers, be it raffles or art requests, and luckily, didn't run into any problems or be labeled as rude. I'd love to keep it that way.

· · · ── · · · •✦• · · · ── · · ·

Requesting free art of a character from an artist can be a delightful experience when approached with thoughtfulness and kindness.

Here are some tips to ensure a polite and considerate request:

Familiarize Yourself with Their Art: Begin by immersing yourself in the artist's work. Understand their preferred themes and styles to ensure your request aligns with their creative sensibilities.

Do Your Research: Before making a request, take the time to check if the artist is open to requests and whether they have any specific preferences or conditions.

This information might be publicly available on their profile or a different account.

Join Their Community: Show your appreciation for the artist's work by becoming a member of their community. Subscribe or follow them because you genuinely admire what they create.

Keep It Brief: When reaching out to the artist, craft a concise and polite message. Avoid overwhelming them with questions. Begin by complimenting their talent and then briefly describe your request as a suggestion. For example, you could say, "Could you consider drawing [character name] from [official published title]?"

Choose Characters Wisely: It's advisable to request artwork of characters from well-known titles like games or movies. Original character designs or highly customized requests are often better suited for commissions or art raffles.

Manage Expectations: Understand that not all artists may respond to your request. Some artists might privately consider your request and, if they agree, create the artwork as a public response to your message, tagging you in it.

Approaching artists with courtesy and respect can increase the likelihood of your request being well-received, while also fostering positive interactions within the creative community.

#FUQ_Dook ❓

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

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WASHINGTON − The Supreme Court on Monday rejected the appeal of a Minnesota woman who said she was wrongly denied unemployment benefits after being fired for refusing to be vaccinated for COVID-19 because of her religious beliefs.

'Cancel culture' Supreme Court rejects case on dust-up between Catholic student and Native American

Lawyers for the Upper Midwest Law Center, which represented Tina Goede, had argued she was treated differently by the Minnesota courts than others who successfully appealed their denial of benefits.

Refusing to get vaccinated, fired from a pharmaceutical company

She told the Minnesota Department of Employment and Economic Development her religious beliefs prohibit injecting foreign substances into her body, which is a “temple of the Holy Spirit.”

But Goede told the unemployment law judge she wouldn’t receive the vaccine no matter how it was made “because it doesn’t work.”

The judge said Goede was declining to take some vaccines, but not others, “because she does not trust them, not because of a religious belief.”

Goede’s attorneys said the judge had interrogated her religious beliefs with “unfair `gotcha’ questioning."

At the same time the Minnesota Court of Appeals upheld that decision last year, it reached the opposite conclusion for two others who had been denied benefits after asserting religious objections.

Goede’s lawyers said her case presented a question that will reoccur: how to analyze a religious objection to an employer policy when those objections coincide with secular beliefs.

#nunyas news

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eminencercm · 2 years

Photo

Making healthcare practices swim in success is what EMINENCE is known for! : #RevenueCycleManagement #MedicalBillingCompany #medicalclaim #claimsprocessing #medicalbilling #health #medicalinsurance #claims

#accounts receivable & denial management #outsource dme billing services #Best DME Medical Billing Company #Best medical billing companies in USA #Physician Billing Services #rcm companies in usa #DME Billing Services

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bonmonjour · 4 months

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Denialism from Top to Bottom

[ This is another essay I wrote for college, back in Summer 2023. ]

It is quickly becoming evident that mass anthropogenic climate change is the single greatest environmental problem of our time and has been for decades now. It is surprising, then, that so many continue to promote denial of the reality of climate change. As climate change has become more prominent, the topic of denialism has also become more prominent in scholarship. The body of work is large, spanning many decades and drawing from many fields. Some authors have focused on the ties between climate change denialism and certain groups or institutions, e.g., Congress, journalists, and pseudoscientists (Hansson; Harrison; Zehr). Many papers have also discussed a variety of mental processes that explain the behavior of climate change denial, including motivated reasoning, authoritarianism, emotional regulation, self-efficacy (Jylhä et al.), anti-reflexivity (McCright et al.), or social denial (Norgaard). Interestingly, many authors have noted that having right-wing politics, comorbid with a belief in free-market capitalism, is a predictor for a given individual subscribing to climate change denialism (Björnberg et al.; Hansson; Jylhä et al.; McCright et al.)

One phenomenon that has not received much attention is the source attribution effect. Furthermore, relatively few psychological studies have taken the social aspect into account. With this paper, I will examine the influence of the actions of industry and powerful individuals on climate change denialism, mostly in the United States. First, I will look at how think tanks, a prominent source of denialist rhetoric, promulgate denialism. I will then look at some connections between industry and politicians, another source. This will be followed by a psychological explanation for the right-wing public’s higher support of denial that draws on Hanel et al.’s description of the phenomenon of source attribution. Climate change denial is “well-moneyed and politically well connected” (Hansson 39). Industry and wealthy individuals ostensibly have considerable monetary and political power, and so it is important to examine the ways in which they affect our environment and society.

To start, one individual who is often brought up in the discussion of climate change denial is Charles Koch. Koch is an owner of Koch Industries, a multinational conglomerate involved in, among others, the petroleum and energy industries (“Charles Koch”). Of the three conservative think tanks Björnberg et al. mention, “the Heritage Foundation, the Cato Institute, and the Heartland Institute” (236), Koch has been involved in two. In 1977, he co-founded the Cato Institute, a think tank dedicated to disseminating the ideas of small government and free market through many channels, such as through news media, reports, and even podcasts (“About”). In 2006, they released a report that cast doubt on many predictions of climate change models, e.g., predictions about ice caps, freak weather events, or extinction rates. In doing so, they cast doubt on the computer models themselves as, apparently, they did not reflect reality (Michaels). This is similar to the phenomenon that Zehr describes of managing uncertainty. Instead of outright saying that nothing is happening, they point to flawed models as the reason for why there is uncertainty (94). In recent years, the Cato Institute has laid off the more extreme forms of denialism, but the same cannot be said about its spinoff, the Heartland Institute.

Founded by a former director of the Cato Institute, the Heartland Institute describes itself as “the pipeline between the freedom movement . . . and the nation’s 8,400 national and state elected officials” (“About Us”). Even a cursory search for ‘climate change’ on their website reveals over 200 pages of articles, as well as two recurring segments called “Climate Change Roundtable” and “Climate Change Weekly” that are dedicated to promoting climate change denialism (“Browse Heartland”). One recent article entitled “[Fill in the Blank Climate Crisis] Season is Here” furthers uncertainty around climate change by expanding the problem (Burnett). That is, by bringing up new topics such as allergy season or maple syrup production, they promote the idea that scientists are not certain, and the science is not settled as it is always coming up with something new (Zehr 93). It is evident that rhetoric advanced by conservative think tanks is a key way that industry and powerful individuals can promote their interests, both to policymakers and to the public, by spreading climate change denialism.

Think tanks and policy centers are far from the only way that industry can influence legislators. Often, more direct methods are used. Although the diffusion of authority in the United States’ institutions can be an obstacle to climate change policy, it can also facilitate it. When favorable policy does manage to pass, the system can work to prevent backsliding (Harrison 77). Therefore, the gridlocked legislative system alone cannot explain why climate denialist policy is far more common than the alternative. Instead, connections between industry and policymakers must be taken into account. Although not her focus, Harrison gives examples of industries pressuring the legislature into acting a certain way. After the United States accepted its target during the negotiations for the Kyoto Protocol, a full 31% reduction in emissions, a group consisting of industry, businesses, and trade associations, led in part by the American Petroleum Institute, strongly voiced their opposition to Kyoto (68). Lamont Hempel, documentary filmmaker and chair of Redland College’s Sustainability Council (who has since passed), reported that “Congress bow[ed] to pressure from the fossil fuel lobby and energy-intensive industries” (qtd. in Harrison 78).

The lobbying efforts were not constrained to one party, however. Although the majority of funding from fossil fuel companies went to the Republican party, the Democrats were also lobbied by their local industries— “oil in Louisiana, coal in West Virginia, and automobiles in Michigan” (Harrison 79). Looking at statistical data gathered over the past 30 years, the Democratic party has received approximately 20% of all oil and gas contributions, while Republicans have received approximately the other 80% (“Oil and Gas”). It is clear, then, that the disparity between the types of bills passed is due, in part, to industry pressure. While not the attitude of climate change denialism per se, legislation that treats climate change as a non-issue still denies the reality of climate change and favors the corporations and associations that benefit from the continued use of fossil fuels.

On top of lobbying, policymakers themselves can have personal ties to industry. Harrison notes that “Bush was a former Texas oilman and his vice president was formerly the CEO of the world’s largest oil field” (76). Along with the party leadership, many other Republicans during the Bush administration also had connections to the petroleum industry: people such as White House editor Philip Cooney, former lobbyist for the American Petroleum Institute who left to go work with ExxonMobil, and James Inhofe, the man who peddled the conspiracy theory that climate change was invented by weather channels (86) and has connections to both Charles Koch and the Heritage Foundation (“James Inhofe”). When the economy of a region, or the profit of a corporation, is heavily dependent on processes that exacerbate climate change, the full acknowledgement of climate change can be a threat to profits. Hence, those corporations or individuals can use their considerable resources to implement policy that is beneficial to them. This phenomenon is by no means exclusive to the United States; Norgaard mentions how central natural gas is to the Norwegian economy (349) and how Norwegian policy has favored that industry (365).

Having discussed how wealthy individuals and industries reliant on fossil fuels spread their message through policy centers and politicians, I will now look at a way this affects the public through a psychological lens. The source attribution effect, put simply, is when one is more affected by the source of some information rather than the content. In a series of four experiments, Hanel et al. presented two groups that stereotypically have opposing worldviews with either correctly or incorrectly attributed aphorisms. That is, Christians and atheists were presented with either a Bible verse or a quote from a Greek philosopher, while Democrats and Republicans were given quotes from each party’s presidential candidates (53). What they found was that “the actual origin of the aphorisms did not matter” (56). Christians tended to agree with a statement when it was attributed as a Bible verse, while atheists were more likely to disagree, in spite of the actual source of the quote. More relevantly, this same effect was also observed in the experiment consisting of Democrats and Republicans. A given individual tended to agree with a quote attributed to a member of the party they identified with, even if the quote actually came from the other party (58). This pattern is also not exclusive to the United States. Hanel et al. replicated the experiment in the United Kingdom, with quotes from Conservative and Labour MPs, and found similar results (60).

The source of claims and attitudes about climate change denial are, therefore, crucial to explaining why a certain demographic might lean one way or the other. As discussed previously, a large part of climate denialist rhetoric stems from these conservative Anglophone think tanks and policy centers that often have considerable right-wing funding. Conservative news presenters, podcast hosts, journalists, and politicians appeal to other conservatives because of the source attribution effect. When Bush cited “the incomplete state of scientific knowledge” (Harrison 85), right-wing members of the public—largely Bush voters themselves—were more likely to agree with the claim the science is incomplete. When Republican senator James Inhofe put forward the idea that climate change was a conspiracy made up by weather channels (86), average Republicans were more likely to agree simply because the source was also a Republican.

Although many studies have focused on psychological factors, relatively few have taken the social aspect into context. The source of typically climate denialist claims and attitudes are equally as important as individual predilections. A large part of denialist rhetoric ultimately comes from industries that rely on climate change exacerbating processes, such as the American Petroleum Institute or the Norwegian natural gas industry, or wealthy individuals, like Koch, who have financially benefited from fossil fuels. This rhetoric, one that serves to keep regulation and intervention out of these ventures, is spread by well-funded think tanks and policy centers to both politicians as well as members of the public. The politicians are thus compelled to enact policy that benefits the industry. In addition, politicians that have ties to industry, especially conservative ones, also spread the same rhetoric to their party base. Those in the base, right-wing members of the public who support right-wing politicians, are in turn more likely to believe such rhetoric simply because it is coming from a source in the in-group. This article could not consider every aspect of the transmission from corporation to the public. The roles of other actors, such as activists and scientists, also need to be examined. The state of conservative think tanks in other Anglophone countries could also be explored. In addition, energy-intensive industries and wealthy individuals are just one aspect of the capitalist system. As such, studies focusing on other aspects, such as the propaganda model of media or false consciousness, and their relation to climate change denialism might also be beneficial. With climate change arguably being the most important environmental issue of today, affecting the entire planet, it is important to understand its denial from a multitude of angles. In addition to psychological or sociological effects, looking at broader systems and power dynamics is critical. As capitalism is the social, political, and economic status quo currently, it is necessary to examine all the ways in which it affects our environment and our society.

References

“About.” Cato Institute, 2023, www.cato.org/about. Accessed on 22 June 2023.

“About Us.” The Heartland Institute, 2023, www.heartland.org/about-us. Accessed on 22 June 2023.

Björnberg, Karin Edvardsson, et al. “Climate and Environmental Science Denial: A Review of the Scientific Literature Published in 1990-2015.” Journal of Cleaner Production, vol. 167, 20 November 2017, pp. 229-41, doi.org/10.1016/j.jclepro.2017.08.066.

“Browse Heartland.” The Heartland Institute, 2023, www.heartland.org/?s=climate+change. Accessed on 22 June 2023.

Burnett, H. Sterling. “[Fill in the Blank Climate Crisis] Season Is Here.” The Heartland Institute, 21 March 2023, www.heartland.org/opinion/climate-change-weekly-465-fill-in-the-blank-climate-crisis-season-is-here. Accessed on 22 June 2023.

“Charles Koch.” DeSmog, 25 June 2021, www.desmog.com/charles-koch. Accessed on 22 June 2023.

Hanel, Paul H.P., et al. “The Source Attribution Effect: Demonstrating Pernicious Disagreement between Ideological Groups on Non-Divisive Aphorisms.” Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, vol. 79, November 2018, pp. 51-63, doi.org/10.1016/j.jesp.2018.07.002.

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