#and there are minor descriptions of injuries

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.8 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 7. Chapter 9.

Moment to Breathe

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, transwoman clone, Brief mention of inhibitor chips, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

In the end, you had to be sedated.

When Rex was called to continue the fight at the airbase with the reinforcements, you panicked so badly Kix had to inject you to calm you down. 

Luckily, your mind wasn’t clouded and you still had your wits about you. You were still able to treat the wounded, but you didn’t miss how Jesse opted to ‘guard’ you and Kix as you managed to transfer all the wounded into the airbase’s medical facility. 

It was clear he wanted to keep an eye on you since Rex couldn’t. And, truthfully, this was the first time you’d had such a breakdown in front of the men. Kix had his own, when Tup tackled him, so the trooper most likely thought both medics of the 501st were unstable. 

Even if you were, you did your jobs.

The fight was chaotic as the Umbarans battled for their facility. Luckily, with both Jesse and Kix, you got every injured trooper into the safety of the medical bay before the fighting was even done. 

They didn’t have bacta tanks, but they had much needed supplies you used to save everyone you could. Not nearly enough for everyone if Krell decided to pull another suicide mission, but enough to help those that needed it right now.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. 

By the time Krell had joined the soldiers, you and Kix hadn’t lost anyone else. You got the troopers stable, laying on cots, and sleeping as peacefully as they could. Those who didn’t require life sustaining equipment were sent to the barracks of the airbase to rest. 

You and Kix stepped outside once you both were done with the wounded. Jesse had been keeping a steady guard by the door, preventing anyone uninjured from coming inside and disturbing you.

The airbase belonged to the 501st. 

Umbarans who hadn’t died fighting, were led to prison cells somewhere else within the base. Several squads were already walking around, inspecting the Umbaran weaponry. A few were going through crates of supplies, such as weapons and ammo.

You remained silent as you followed Kix and Jesse through the base. The three of you met up with Rex, Fives and Hardcase. There was pride in your lover’s eyes as he spoke to the heroic pilots, “despite Hardcase’s flying, you two saved us all.” 

Hardcase sounded as proud and energized as always, “It wasn’t so tough.”

“You sure?” Jesse took off his helmet with a smirk, “You looked a little green when you came out of that fighter.” He teased the hyperactive trooper. All of them were in a good mood, finding the shred of happiness after such casualties. 

You wished you could feel the same pride and happiness. But your mental state, as well as the sedatives in your blood prevented it. 

“Mesh’la,” Rex turned to you, “Are you ok?” 

“No losses since we took the airbase.” you responded, blatantly ignoring his question about you, “The seriously injured are stable and resting in the med bay.”

“That's not-.”

“Captain,” His words were loudly cut off by Krell. The temporary General stomped towards you all, looking as displeased as ever. Appo was tailing him along with another trooper, “Report, what is our situation?”

The 501st captain stepped forward, “General, we have taken the base and cut off enemy supply lines to the capital.” His back was straight, standing at attention, as did the others. 

You…remained behind Fives, staying out of the Jedi’s line of sight. If Krell turned his ire to you, you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t do something to get yourself court-martialed.

The besliska raised a large hand and rubbed his chin, “Luck has smiled on you today, Captain.” His tone sounded smug, “Consider yourself fortunate.” 

“It wasn't all luck sir,” Rex kept calm and steady, not letting Krell get to him, “A lot of men died to take this base.”

Too many good men. You thought blankly. A part of you felt hollow and empty as the captain mentioned the lost souls.

The General raised his hands, and looked at the dark sky, “A price for such victory.” He looked back down and crossed two of his four arms, “Perhaps you’ll realize this.”

You didn’t miss Rex’s fist clenching in rage. Your lover’s fury was a rare sight. But dammit, Krell was doing a good job at bringing it out. Instead of lashing out however, he took a breath and lowered his head.

The Jedi turned and began to walk away, “Dismissed.”

You and Fives stepped forward. You placed your hand on Rex’s shoulder as the ARC trooper grumbled, “He’s the one who will never realize.”

You remained silent, only squeezing Rex’s shoulder before letting go. You turned and began to walk back to the medical bay, unable to be around anyone right now. 

At least those in the medical facility were unconscious. 

Once the doors opened, you were surprised to see a trooper. Hana, had been waiting for you, holding a bloody wrist, “Sorry to bother, Doc. One of the bastards were hiding and jumped me.”

You motioned for the trooper to sit down on an open cot, “Are sutures alright?” You wanted to save bandages and bacta. Just in case Krell tried to kill anyone else. 

Hana nodded, resting the injury on one of the small medical cabinets that were placed next to every bed. You pulled a chair, set the suture kit down, and immediately got to work.

During your stitching, you took notice of distinguishable features, since this was the first time you’ve seen the trooper without a helmet. White nail polish, small studs for earrings, hair pulled back into a bun, indicating length longer than ‘military standard’. 

You didn’t want to assume, but it wasn’t unheard of for there to be sisters among the troopers.

“Hana.” you spoke softly, “I like your nails. And your earrings.” It was a small push, one to ask the question without assuming.

Hana’s surprised look then relieved smile told you all you needed to know. She responded quietly, “I know it's not regulation, but…”

“Who cares about regulation?” You returned her smile, noticing that she also wore waterproof mascara, “If it's what you want, then no one should stop you.” Your suturing was almost done.

Hana nodded, looking at her nails on the hand you weren’t stitching up. Impressively, they weren’t chipped, “I might go blue, next time.” She murmured, “so I keep matching the 501st.”

“Why not paint one hand blue and the other white?” You suggested, deciding to use a patch to cover the sutures, “Something unique.”

It was nice, having a conversation that wasn’t about Umbara, injuries, the soldiers lost or Krell. It was just…about nail polish. A good distraction. Something to get your mind off your earlier breakdown.

By the time you were done, she settled on a pattern of half blue and half white. She walked out of the clinic, with a stitched up wrist and small smile. Maybe she needed the mental distraction of the doom and death as well. 

Despite losing so many…at least you made Hana feel better.

You sighed, putting your face in your hands as soon as the door was closed. You basked in the small clicks and beeps of machines monitoring the men's status, taking just a few minutes to breathe. After a second, you heard a shift. 

One of the unconscious troopers turned onto his side to get more comfortable. You inspected the medical equipment next to his bed to check his status. He was alive and healing.

All of them were alive.

The doors opened again, and you looked up. Rex was standing there, helmet off and looking at you with both love and worry in his beautiful eyes, “May I…come in?” He asked quietly, as if not to wake the men. 

“You don't have to ask, you know.” you responded, giving him a small, tired smile. It was endearing, how he’d become shy when you two were in private.

He walked over to you and brushed his hand over your cheek, “How’s your arm?” the captain asked, looking at the bandages you still wore. The bacta soaked gauze were doing their job, as the wound pulsed and throbbed in pain, indicating healing. Whether all your muscles would return remains to be seen, but at least the nerves and veins were being repaired. 

“It’s getting better.” you answered, reaching up to hold his face in your hand. Your eyes narrowed, “You need rest.” 

“We all do.” Rex mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his face into your palm. He breathed deeply before opening his eyes to look at you, “Mesh’la,” His term of endearment for you slipped from his lips, “You’ve saved so many of my brothers.” 

That's why he was here. Because of your earlier breakdown. 

“I’m alright now, Rex.” you gently reassured him, “I…was panicked. After the battle with the tanks, and getting Silk killed, I was terrified I’d lose you.” 

Rex leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. One of his hands rested at your hip, holding you close, “Silk’s death wasn’t your fault, none of the losses are your fault,” his tone was so soft, so gentle, “You have saved so many of us, not just on Umbara, but on every planet we’ve been to. Every battle, every fight…you’ve done so much. For all of us.”

“I want to do more,” you responded, “I don’t want you to lose any more of your brothers…I know it's war, but…”

He sighed, “We are clones. We were made to fight for the Republic. Die for the Republic, if the situation calls for it.” His eyes held a certain sadness to it, “We are meant to be expendable.” 

“Not to me.” your voice was resolute. He wasn’t expendable. No clone was expendable.

Rex looked at you like you were the moon and stars themselves. He pulled you closer, kissing you passionately on the lips. Your chest met his armor, and he leaned into you, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…” he murmured when you broke away, “Gar cuyir ner kar'ta bal runi…” His forehead was against yours, holding you so tenderly.

“Bal ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you whispered back, taking in his warmth and love, “Gar cuyir ner oyay bal narser…”

He kissed you again, only pulling away when one of the unconscious soldiers moved in his sleep.

“I have to find Krell,” he mumbled, looking at you mournfully, “He may have orders…”

“Go, be the 501st captain, cyare.” you gave him a peck on the cheek, “Good luck dealing with him.”

He sighed and stepped back, leaving the medical bay. 

You watched him go before checking on all of them men. They were stable still, and luckily, a few were in a good enough state to wake up. A majority of them responded well to your neuro-check. Despite the good response from them, you wanted to keep the soldiers who sustained hits to the head in the med bay. 

However, there was an ARF trooper, Rush, who was still slurring his words. It was a terrible blow to the head he had sustained taking the airbase. Putting him back under the effects of sedatives and painkillers, you wanted to move on to everyone else. But…

Well, the Umbarans were technologically advanced. The life support and monitoring systems were intergalactic basics. All from the same base that you were trained with. However, they had systems and machines you had never seen before. You tried to use some of the more heavy duty equipment, but had no luck. 

One of them was a scanner, that you could tell. It resembled a datapad, but clearly had the technology and structure of the Umbarans. The screen had values and data that exceeded most medical equipment in the Republic. Your fingers toyed with it, trying to get the thing to work in your favor. Such a small but powerful scanner would be useful. 

Your shoulders slumped just as the med bay doors opened again, “Holy fuck you’re still awake!?” Kix’s eyes were wide, staring at you. His helmet was off and he seemed…somewhat refreshed. He probably got something to eat and took a power nap after Krell dismissed everyone. 

“Yea, there's still a lot to do.” you looked at him, holding the scanner, “Plus, I’m trying to crack some of this equipment.”

“The hardware and programming isn’t anything we’ve seen before.” The medic looked over your shoulder to see the tablet in your hands, “Oh? What's this?”

“I think it's a hand-held full body scanner. More powerful than anything in the Republic.” you answered, “I want it. But I can’t get the damn program to behave.” 

He stepped back, one hand on his hip, “Jesse and Fives are in the east hangar playing with some of their weapons,” Kix gave you a soft smile, “I’ll keep an eye on the guys here, take a break.” 

You couldn’t help but return his smile. It was clear the both of you had hit your limits with the losses. But now, after some rest, your spirits were higher.

After you gave an overview of each of the injured troopers, you left the medical bay and went to the hagar. The airbase was more organized now. Supplies were being moved, weapons were being inspected, and patrols were established. The 501st was very efficient. 

The hagar wasn't so organized but definitely had more energy. Several soldiers were on floating platforms, inspecting suspended starships. Others were working on the ships themselves, looking at the mechanics and wiring. It didn’t take you long to find Fives and Jesse. 

The ARC trooper was with Tup, having pried off a metal sheet from the ship he piloted before. The two of them were discussing something, most likely the controls or mechanics, as they inspected the inner workings of the Umbaran weapon. 

Dogma was seated nearby, cleaning his rifle while Jesse was standing at a consol, brow furrowed. He was hard at work attempting to crack the enemy hardware.

You approached, stepping in front of the console, “Hey Jesse,” Your voice was quiet, not wanting to distract the others, or wake up Hardcase who was asleep on the floor, leaning against the ship Tup and Fives worked on, “Are you busy?”

The senior trooper perked up, “Depends,” He leaned forward with a glint in his eye, “I can always make time for you.” you snorted when he winked. 

Dogma scoffed, “That is inappropriate.” 

You rolled your eyes, but handed Jesse the tablet, “Kix told me you were working on the Umbaran hardware, I was hoping you could help me crack this thing.” 

He raised a brow and took it, “What is it?”

“Some kind of scanner, I think.” you answered, sitting down next to Dogma, “But more powerful than anything in the Republic.”

“Might be easier than this fucking thing.” He smacked the console, “Give me a few minutes and I'll-.”

There was a yelp behind you and Fives tumbled off the starship, hitting the ground. The noise woke Hardcase with a jerk, who sat up and looked around confused. 

“I told you not to do that,” Tup looked at the ARC trooper's pathetic form on the floor, “I warned you that if you touched the wire, it would shock you.” 

“I know, I know.” Fives huffed and got to his feet and dusted himself off, “Fucking Umbarans and their…”

“I cracked the hardware,” Jesse raised the tablet, “It says Fives doesn't have a brain.”

“Son of a-”

You laughed softly alongside Tup who had paused his toying with the machine. Once you stepped up to the console, hand open, Jesse looked at you, “Oh, sorry. I actually didn't. I just saw an opportunity.” He chuckled. 

Fives huffed and swiped the Umbara gadget from him, “Give me that. I’ll figure this out.”

“What's going on?” Hardcase slurred from the floor.

“Nothing, go to the barracks and get some sleep.” Dogma mumbled, keeping his eyes down to continue cleaning his weapon. 

Hardcase looked around before he silently nodded and stood up, “Sleep well, buddy.” You bid him farewell as he stumbled out of the hangar. A part of you felt jealous at his ability to sleep right now. 

You…didn’t think you could. Not until all of this was done. 

Tup spoke your name softly, earning your attention, “Are…you and Kix ok?” 

Oh, he’s so sweet. Tup reminded you of a shiny fresh off Kamino, overly respectful, overly polite and overly shy. You hoped that with more experience, he’d break out of the shell, learn that you could be a friend, not just his doctor. 

You gave him a tired yet genuine smile, “We are, just needed some rest and time to breathe.”

The trooper nodded before looking over at Dogma, “Hey, Dogma, isn’t there something you need to tell our good doctor?”

The other trooper flinched before he nodded, “Listen, Doc…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things on the field.” His dark brown eyes were filled with clear sorrow and regret. His apology surprised you, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“How’s your jaw?” You asked, crossing your arms. 

“Hardcase has a strong right hook.” He mumbled, looking away ashamed, “But it's fine…”

With a sigh you approached and put a hand on his shoulder, “It's not the worst that's been said to me.” you wanted to laugh at his surprised look but remained calm, “Apology accepted.”

He slumped his shoulders and let out a relieved sigh. 

“Got it!” Fives practically cheered, causing a trooper on a platform to visibly jump. The ARC trooper gave the scanner to you quickly before he dashed to Jesse’s side to help him with the console.

You looked over the gadget and began to toy with it silently. After a few minutes, the tablet responded to your touch easily. Wordlessly you stood and raised it to Dogma. 

After a press on the screen, a fan of light went over the confused trooper. He paused, looking at you, “Doc…?” 

The screen blinked, and on it, was an outline of his body. Next to it were values. 

Blood pressure. Heart rate. Blood count. Adrenal levels. Liver enzymes. Nerve response time. Bone density. Hours of sleep.

All important values in terms of health and wellbeing. On the outline there were indicators and when you pressed the screen, there was more information. You pressed the area of his jaw, exactly were Hardcase had clocked him. 

“Are you sore where Hardcase hit you?” you asked him and he nodded. After his answer, you perked up happily, knowing the scanner worked. However, there was another indicator in his head. 

When you pressed it, the information was…off. 

To test it, you scanned Fives, only to get the same result. Then Jesse, then Tup. All of them had the same result.

ANOMALY: right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

Huh…weird….

#reader insert #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #tcw x reader #umbara arc #sw tcw #star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #captain rex #arc trooper fives #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper tup #clone trooper kix #pong krell

[mrows-fan-works]

LOST AND FOUND

HEEHOO GUESS WHO FINALLY GOT AROUND TO POSTING THAT ONE-SHOT I'VE BEEN MULLING OVER FOR WEEKS.

YALL IM SO EXCITED.

Words: 1842

Rating: Gen

PLEASE NOTE:

This work is part of "TRUE COURAGE" and WILL NOT MAKE SENSE if read stand-alone. In order to get the FULL CONTEXT PLEASE READ UP TO CHAPTER 36 of TRUE COURAGE. Please and Thank you. But I won't stop you from checking it out either way. I just wanna make sure I warn ya'll properly.

Small Edit: I wrote that Skay and Four were at the Spring of Power but I ment the Spring of Courage. I got the locations mixed. Im sorry.

TRUE COURAGE: Chapter ONE (each post has the next chapter linked <3)

Ao3 link to LOST AND FOUND

One month, seven days, and four hours. 

That’s how long Wild had been searching Hyrule for his family. Rather unsurprisingly, Hylia had decided to spit them out in his neck of the woods, which wouldn’t be a problem. Except Hylia, in her wonderful ways, had decided to separate them throughout the largest iteration of Hyrule in the timeline. Wild would laugh at the absurdity if he didn’t know the dangers his brothers were currently facing. He knew; he’d been there. He’d technically died there in a couple instances. Now, Wild was certain that his brothers were not as prone to serious injury as he was, however, they also weren’t familiar with 95% of the land Wild called home. The only time they’d been here before now they had been transported together and had landed near Hateno and Wild mde damn sure they hadn’t wandered too far lest they run into something and die. 

So far, Wild had only been able to locate Sky and Four. They had landed near the Spring of Courage ruins and had decided to stay put near the spring after seeing the horde of monsters that surrounded them. A smart choice. He was able to find them easily. Wild could only pray that the others had done the same, (could do the same). 

Legend had been his “portal buddy” and was immediately designated to house duty, much to his chagrin. However, his tune quickly changed when Wild dumped Sky and Four in his lap. Both had suffered from heat exhaustion, dehydration, and hadn’t eaten a full meal in days. Legend fell into what Wild lovingly called “mother hen” mode and busied himself with ensuring Sky and Four were able to eat, bathe, and sleep. Sky, with his thicker clothing, ended up taking several days to recover from the ordeal. The sun had burned their skin. Poor Four looked like a flaky tomato as his skin began to heal slowly. That had been in week two of the “Search,” as he was naming it. 

Finding the others: Time, Twilight, Hyrule, Wars, and Wind was proving to be far more difficult. Wild couldn’t check every shrine in Hyrule, that would take years, he didn’t have that kind of time. Instead Wild decided to first check each “ruin of importance,” or “spiritual,” places like the springs, the ruined temples, and the Great Deku Tree. Secondly were the shrines at the stables and towns, where he could gather rumors. Someone would definitely notice his brothers when they passed through. Wild loved them but they were shitty at blending in and a favorite pastime of his people was gossip. 

Wild began at the other springs. Wisdom and Power were vacant. The Forgotten Temple was still forgotten and the Temple of Time was still the picturesque rubble he remembered. Wild did notice, however, the abundance of people in this time. He knew ‘this’ Hyrule, while technically still his was after he took his jello nap and before he woke up from said jello nap. He knew that these people milling about were the ancestors to the people he held dear in the future, (Hylia time-travel was confusing), so Wild had made sure to avoid others when he could with the exception of when he was gathering information at the stables in the hopes of finding a clue. Thankfully, no one had yet recognized him for who he was. For the first time in his life, his scars had done something useful besides being ugly and making simple tasks harder to do.    

It was the fourth week when he finally made it to the Deku Tree. He’d been following Hyrule’s trail. It seems he’d ended up on the eastern slopes of Death Mountain and had made his way towards the Great Tree, since he could shore up at the Goron’s with the considerable lack of heat resistance and the rivers of lava in his way. 

Wild was proud to be honest. It must have taken all his strength not to go frolicking in the lava pools to check out the ores. 

However, in typical Hyrule fashion, Hyrule had missed the Great Tree completely and was in danger of entering the Hebra region, which was, in many ways, just as dangerous as Death Mountain. Wild was rushing in the hopes of heading him off and carting him home when he overheard gossip at the stables of a strange ‘shiny man’ traveling aimlessly just east of the Tree. Wild focused on the area for nearly a week before approaching the Great Deku Tree to ask for his advice. 

Only to be met with the worst possible outcome. 

Wars and Hyrule were there, he had found them, but he almost wished he hadn’t. Hyrule looked exhausted, pale, with multiple lacerations littering his body. His eyes were dark with stress. Wild could tell he had over-extended himself and his magic. Wars looked like he had been stomped on a horse. He was missing his beloved scarf, his eye was swollen shut, and he cradled his side. Wild noticed his spaulder was missing, but he still had his chainmail and knee guards. Panic gripped his throat, his heart beat harshly in his chest. Wild had barely listened to what the Deku Tree had to say in his haze to get Wars and Hyrule home to Legend. 

Barging into Hateno hotel with two critically injured travelers caused quite the ruckus. Sky was beside himself. By this time, Sky and Four had fully recovered. Legend must have recruited them in “house” duty because they immediately took a brother and began addressing their wounds. Legend had cornered Wild like he was a feral fox and forced him to sleep. Of course Wild told him “no” but Legend, the devious traitor, had drugged his tea with sleeping tonic after convincing him to sit down for a moment to calm down. Nevermind the fact that Wild slept for two days straight and felt much better afterwards, Legend was going down in the next prank war. Mark his words. 

Wild stayed an additional two days to make sure Wars and Hyrule were on the mend. They needed his potions, too many of his potions, to recover physically. However, it would be some time before Hyrule could safely use his magic. Legend banned him from using magic for the rest of the week. Wild wasn’t totally sure why, but Legend was adamant that it was important for Hyrule’s health so he didn’t question it. Besides, he had to find the rest of his family. 

The next week was spent following rumors of two strangers traveling from the desert towards Lurelin Village. If he had to guess it was Time and Twilight based on the reports he had gathered. He was periodically visiting different sights on the coast and the village in the hopes of catching them, but in all honesty, he was far more concerned for his youngest brother. 

Wind had a smart head on his shoulders. Wild knew he was taking care of himself, but the fact that no one had seen him, no one was talking, and that he had found no clues to his whereabouts was starting to gnaw at his psyche. A small part of him was hoping that he’d portaled with Time and Twilight, but he knew that chances of that being the case were slim. That meant Wind was alone. In the wild. By himself. Surrounded by dozens of monsters, the Yiga, and less-than-friendly Hylians that could easily overpower him if push came to shove.

Wild was becoming desperate. Desperate enough that after another week of fruitless searching he visited the Deku Tree once again to beg for his help.

Instead he met a young korok named Flit. 

The second he was in sight of the Tree Flit had launched itself into his chest, punching the air out of his lungs. It excitedly questioned him, asking if he was Wild. Nodding in disbelief, Wild listened as Flit beguiled him with the tale of his friend Wind and someone he dubbed “Wind’s Friend.” 

Apparently they had visited just days after he had taken Wars and Hyrule home to be treated for their wounds. The two had been traveling for weeks from the Hebra region and had caught onto War’s trail. They had followed him in the hopes of catching up, but they were too late and had just missed them. Flit chimed sadly, stating that they had only stayed for a couple of days before leaving some “gifts” and a note for him if he decided to visit again. Flit was watching over them, waiting for Wild to come back. Flit explained that the Great Deku Tree was napping and couldn’t wake up until the time was “right.” 

Instead of worrying about the implications of that statement, Wild focused on the things left behind by Wind. He recognized them immediately. It was War’s beloved scarf and Hyrule’s potions bottle. The bottle sparkled in the light. Wild’s heart clenched painfully. Wind had taken the time to meticulously clean his brother’s items. Hylia, he missed him. War’s scaf was obviously cleaned as well, but Wild noticed stains that looked suspiciously like blood littering the fabric. Wild doubted it was from War’s. The man was obsessed with keeping it immaculately clean. Flit noticed his concern and explained how Wind and his friend were chased into the forest by thieves but not before one of them skewered Wind in the leg with an arrow. Flit quickly promised that Wind was okay thanks to his Friend. Panic still bubbled in his chest, but Wild was glad that Wind had found someone willing to help him through Hyrule. 

Wild turned his attention to the note. It read: 

Hey guys! 

Long time, no see. 

I’m doing okay! I portaled into a snowy forest and met a new friend and now we’re traveling together to Hateno. Her name is Elenor and she’s super nice, don't let her appearance fool you. 

Wild, I know you were here a couple days ago and took Wars and Hyrule to Hateno to get better. We found their trail last week and tried to catch up to them. On the way, we found their stuff. I didn’t want them to get lost or broken on the way to Hateno so I left them for you in case you came back. (I figured if we find you first we could just make a pit stop here.) 

Elenor and I are gonna leave tomorrow. I don’’t know if you’ll be coming back this way, but I hope so. Don’t worry about us Wild. We’ll be okay. I know you have to look for the others too. Can you tell War and Hyrule that I hope they feel better and that I’ll be there to annoy them soon? 

I miss you all. A lot.  

Wind

The relief was immeasurable. Wind was doing better than Wild have ever hoped. 

Nevertheless, Wild couldn’t stop looking. 

They were his brothers. He had to find them.

He had to find them all. 

#true courage #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lost and found #linked universe fanfic #lu wild #lu wind #yall pls heed the warning about context #and there are minor descriptions of injuries #i dont go into detail but pls know they are there

[kodieshmodie]

POV: you’re caught in a cave-in but some blonde guy promises to get you out in one piece.

I did the Evil Artstyle challenge on Twitter (asked my followers what my art style traits are and tried to draw without them), and this is my attempt! No hair shines or blush, and I had to use thicker more textured lines. Definitely not the best attempt, but it was still very fun to try! 🤩💖

#ff15 prompto #final fantasy xv prompto #prompto argentum #ffxv prompto #ffxv fanart #ffxv #final fantasy fanart #my art #kodieshmodie #evil art style challenge #sketch #illustration #procreate #final fantasy 15 #prompto #digital art #tw blood #cw blood #blood #tw minor blood #tw minor injury #minor blood #minor injury #minor injuries #I definitely failed this challenge to my standards but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still like it #and now I have new brushes I enjoy!! 🤩💖 #alt text #image description in alt #image described

[serenefreakgeekao3]

Ever in our favour... Masterlist

PEETA MELLARK X GN!READER

You wake up with a migraine, surrounded by forests and kids that are more than willing to kill you. What have you fallen into the middle of? And why can't you remember getting here?

Arena fanfiction, cannon-typical violence, descriptions of blood injuries and death, descriptions of a panic attack, temporary memory loss, mentions of familial abuse, depictions of mutated creatures, established relationship, romance, kissing, fluff and angst, minor character deaths, action/adventure

Table of Contents:

Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT (FINALE)

#masterlist #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark #the hunger games #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #district 9 reader #Arena fanfiction #cannon-typical violence #descriptions of blood injuries and death #descriptions of a panic attack #temporary memory loss #mentions of familial abuse #depictions of mutated creatures #established relationship #romance #kissing #fluff and angst #minor character deaths #action/adventure

[topios]

It's my birthday, so have one of the few existing attempts to draw my fave OC Noir in his original shape*

*Look, I have about 6 AU versions each of which has several variations I can fit this lil jerk into basically any setting if you give me a day and some basic lore. I love him. He's annoying and snarky and deep down a good but very troubled kid.

#digital art #ocs #oc artwork #original character #blood #minor injury #he absolutely got that by getting punched in the face #yes I will take questions about him #the only reason I haven't posted a billion arts of him is I don't enjoy drawing humans #why I haven't drawn a million arts of his space moth version is uhh #a mystery #my art #fun fact the freckles are never mentioned in any descriptions and I only added them after a while #fun fact 2 I rarely ever actually describe him visually so basically I had details and “has to look punchable” to work with #I do like the design but humans are haaaard

[captain-mommy-issues]

Ugh, that stupid Greedent hogging the phone all to himself! HELLO ROTOMBLR!!! I know you guys missed ME. Your GOD.

These stupid things are too high leveled and the human didn't bring my knife. All we have are plastic knives! What can I do with that?! I can't yell at him either because he can't understand a thing I say, ugh... He's busy, anyway!

[ Image ID: A photo of Arven, tinkering what seemed to be the time machine. He had a serious look on his face and seemed to be hyper focused on whatever he was currently doing. His eyes were reddened, and his eye bags were quite noticeable. It looked like he hasn't slept in days... More noticeable, a thick, red paste dripping from his nose onto his upper lip. It popped on top of his pale skin. It didn't seem to bother the boy at all, seeing as he hadn't cared for any of his injuries. His school uniform was tattered from sliding down the cliff face. Jagged cuts were visible on his fingers; some red with blood. It's assumed that he got those from trying to grip onto rocks and sharp edges to avoid falling. ]

I tried distracting him from it so many times but he just doesn't react! Stupid human... All these lesser Pokémon are boring! And also I'm hungry!!!

-Arceus

#//don't be worried about my descriptive writing arven's not dying nor is he gonna get like hospitalize or get an arm chopped off or anything #// /gen btw. none of that is happening. i just have fun writing this stuff! he's just getting minor injuries because i hate overly serious #-stuff #arven posts #(not really) #A Mysterious Partner (Arc) #pokemon #pokemon irl #irl pkmn #pokeblogging #pokeblr #rotomblr #tw injury

[kyuureimu]

headcanon. a rundown of kyurem's physical health. (his mental health, you ask? that is, like, a whole other sealed evil in a can of worms. we can touch on that later.) there will be some addendums down the line to elaborate a couple key points, because headcanons with headcanons is our cross to bear. Fair warning: near the end of this post there are hints of potentially implied self harm. If there is anything else I need to tag please let me know via DM.

Kyurem is... not in the best state, to put it very lightly. Anyone with an intuitive eye can see that he is constantly fatigued, or his stride has the barest of a limp. Centuries (and, arguably, lifetimes) worth of scars and injuries litter his body that never truly had the chance to heal properly. What do you expect when you are a literal living husk of your former self?

Some of the oldest ones were sustained during the fall of Isshu. There are the remains of horrible bone-deep cuts along his left shoulder-blade and into his upper arm, and a similar one on his upper right thigh and into his kneecap. In his dragon form at the time he sustained these injuries, these translated to a gruesomely broken wing and fractured leg that required time in his Dragonstone state to heal (at the time, called a Prime Stone).

On top of that... because the flow of the Dragon Force was heavily restricted during this time period, sadly at his own doing, it took centuries for those wounds to even close, much less mend at all. This was more or less the state the twins had found him in when Kyurem awoke in the pre-revolution era. He couldn't fly nor walk properly, so when he tried to take off from the top of Dragonspiral Tower, well, it surely was a dragon spiraling down. With the help of the twins he eventually made a recovery, but it took many years and the weakness in his limbs were still felt during the revolution.

There are definitely some scars here and there from their battles, but of course the most gruesome of all was the time of The Split and afterwards when he was being hunted as a monster. Large horrendous gashes from his collarbone all the way to his lower abdomen, with near-mirrored ones along his back; nasty and discolored and pale, almost like they were still fresh. Jagged claw marks are raked all over his neck, chest, and forearms with varying degrees of length and depth. Many of these look almost frostbitten, like pale veins of ice running underneath his skin.

**A jagged diagonal cut runs from his right lower jaw that breaks and continues over his left eye; sustained from Virizion after he accidentally killed her fellow Swords when they were trying to subdue his rampage. He was forced to revert to his Void Stone state immediately following; so while it thankfully didn't leave permanent vision damage, the scar remains in full view as a reminder of this grave sin that still haunts him to this day.

Not a pleasant time, for sure... There is a reason he covers up his skin as much as possible in his human guise.

To this day Kyurem still suffers from muscular and nerve damage, and they manifest as intense body aches, tenderness, and weakness in limbs. Migraines always follow, with the sensory overload rendering him incapable of being out in the light or around sounds. The cold he generates acts like a natural immune response, dulling the pain when it arises. However, much like a natural immune response, when they get really bad the cold has a tendency to overcompensate, making everything feel worse and making him want to seclude himself even more.

Of course, he refuses to seek any manner of professional medical attention or assistance for his condition and would rather deal with it himself. Good luck trying to convince him otherwise.

Why doesn't he just revert to his Dragonstone form to sidestep the pain? Aside from that these injuries are much too old to ever heal with that method and it would only delay the inevitable, well, that's another headcanon.

#ask to tag #[ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇꜱ ] :: headcanon. #description of injuries // #self harm implied // #**edit: a minor change to accompany new backstory development :)

[wonusite]

Cat and Mouse

❝ Wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant in avoiding him after the amazing night you two spent together, but he’s not going to let you get away from him so easily. ❞

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x female reader

GENRE: bad boy au, smut

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

WARNINGS: bad boy!wonwoo, allusions of illicit activities, descriptions of minor injuries, wonwoo is down HORRENDOUS, reader is in denial about her feelings, our bad boi is soft for one (1) person, mutual pining, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, overstimulation, mating press, aftercare

ㅤ→ continuation of this timestamp

A/N: here’s a little something to celebrate one year with this blog. very grateful to all my followers and mutuals who’ve made this past year amazing! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Wonwoo glares at his phone, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in annoyance.

It’s been a week. An entire fucking week without hearing from you. He knew he should’ve ignored Jihoon’s calls and stayed in bed with you that night, but when he sent a message saying the entire crew needed to be there, he couldn’t ignore it. Now, he really wishes he would have.

The night he spent with you was the most incredible of his life, and now he might never relive it because he left in a haste, only leaving you with a brief kiss and a promise to come back.

“You still torn up over that sweet lil’ thing from that flower shop?” Seungcheol's voice has never sounded more irritating than it does now.

“That’s Shua’s girl, dumbass.”

Being on the receiving end of that mean tone and angry glare doesn’t faze Seungcheol in the slightest. In fact, it only causes his infamous smirk to get wider. To see the stoic Jeon Wonwoo acting up over a girl is not only a rarity, but it’s also really fucking funny. That’s why he can’t resist pushing Wonwoo’s buttons further.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Seungcheol cackles. “Guess you better hurry up and help us finish this shit. Her shift ends soon.”

Wonwoo can feel his irritation near that boiling point he could usually avoid. Of course Seungcheol knows about your schedule. That asshole has the annoying habit of knowing everything about anyone who is even the tiniest bit associated with the crew. Sure, it’s for precautionary reasons, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Nonetheless, Wonwoo focuses on the task at hand so he can catch you before you leave work.

Jeon Wonwoo is the bane of your existence.

From the moment he first came around with that stupidly attractive smirk of his, your life was never the same. And now that you fucked him, it never will be again.

Giving into your carnal desires isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but getting mixed up with the likes of Jeon Wonwoo definitely is. Despite not knowing all of the grimy details, you know he’s bad news. You can see all the red flags clearly—the people he hangs around, all the fights he gets in, and the tattoos littering his body. And yet, none of those warning signs mattered now or when Wonwoo was ravishing you in a way that still made your toes curl just by thinking about it.

Maybe the worst part of it all is that you can’t get the resident bad boy out of your head, or the way he held you after you two had sex. It’s like you can still feel how he nuzzled into your neck, strong arms tightening around you like he never wanted to let you go. Part of you hopes that he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t had some urgent business to take care of. It’s a dangerous thought, but even so you can’t help but crave that uncharacteristically sweet side of him that he presumably only showed you.

A displeased sigh comes out of you as you gather your things to go home. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop thinking about Wonwoo, but to think that you’re actually pining over him even though he literally disappeared after your night together is—

“Y/N left already.”

It’s Mingyu’s voice you hear at first, and it makes you stop in your tracks. You wonder who could be asking for you until you hear someone answer him. It feels like your heart is going to jump out of your chest when you hear a familiar deep voice that has your stupid pussy clenching in anticipation.

“Alright. Thanks.”

You peek out from the back when you hear the door chime. It’s annoying that your chest tightens when you see a set of wide shoulders draped in a leather jacket walking toward the large motorcycle parked outside. The way your mind goes blank yet is also clogged with nothing but thought of Wonwoo is infuriating. You don’t realize you’re pouting at the exit until Mingyu jumps back in shock at seeing your sulking figure.

“Y/N what– I thought you left!” He says, vaguely gesturing behind him. “You just missed your boyfriend! I think he wanted to take you home—”

“Boyfriend?” You interrupt him, not entirely angry or disgusted that your coworker had referred to Wonwoo as such.

Mingyu furrows his eyebrows. “Yeah? The scary dude with the leather jacket that comes in here all the time just to see you. He’s your boyfriend, right?”

It’s almost mortifying that your sweet but oblivious coworker can tell that there was something going on between you and the resident bad boy. And yet, there’s also a part of you that likes the fact that Wonwoo is so obvious about his feelings. You don’t know what to make of these conflicting emotions that you can’t seem to shake, and seeing Wonwoo (even just the back of him) didn’t help you find the clarity you so desperately need.

“Well, even if he’s not, he definitely wants to fuck you.” Mingyu says with a wink as he brushes past you to check on the pastries he had put in the oven ten minutes ago.

You wonder how he would react if you told him that Wonwoo already has.

Wonwoo thinks you’re the cutest person ever. And the part of you he finds the most cute? The fact that you actually think he’s going to let you avoid him forever. You’re good at it, he’ll give you that (even if he can see right through your every method).

It’s funny that you actually change your off days and regular working hours just to avoid seeing him and throw him off, which it does—at first. He knows you haven’t quit because Josh mentioned seeing you at the bakery when he went to buy the love of his life a cake for her birthday. This is confirmed when he goes to see for himself the next day.

Maybe you don’t realize Wonwoo can see you run to the back through the large glass windows when you hear his motorcycle, but either way he thinks it’s funny. Actually, it’s hilarious because soon enough you were going to give into him like before.

Meanwhile, you feel like a mouse being preyed on by a sly cat—one that’s toying with you before he finally catches you. Avoiding Wonwoo had been easy at first, but now you’re starting to wonder if he had let it seem easy.

“Babydoll.”

You almost drop a tray of croissants when you hear a familiar deep voice calling for you. The way you whip around with a gaping mouth must be hilarious because Wonwoo just smirks at you in that infuriating way that drives you crazy. Your hands tighten around the tray as you snap your mouth closed, trying to contemplate on how to navigate the situation.

With a bit of a mental pep talk, you finally manage to put up that happy to help attitude you usually had with every other customer. The smile you give him feels exaggerated and fake, but it’s the only way you can mask all the emotions you’re feeling.

“What can I get for you?”

That devilish smirk widens as Wonwoo pretends to skim all the delicious pastries in the case before he sets his smoldering eyes back on you. “This all looks good,” he muses quietly, but you can hear him perfectly since it’s only you two. “But I think you’re the only thing that can satisfy my hunger.”

It kills you that his words make you heat up from the inside out. You ignore him and start to put the croissants into the case. The clench of your jaw is tight and bordering on painful, but it’s the only way you can keep your emotions from spilling over for him to see.

Unfortunately, your lack of response doesn’t really faze him. One thing you’ve come to learn about Wonwoo is that he’s never uncomfortable in the silence. You wish you could say the same. You’re nearly squirming by the time you’re done placing the croissants in their designated space because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you once.

Finally, you look up to meet Wonwoo’s gaze. It’s so intense that you almost want to look away. However, there’s a part of you that loves being under the heat of his stare since you can clearly see the desire he has for you.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“You’ve been gone.” You counter, vaguely aware that you sound like a sulking girlfriend.

Wonwoo realizes this too because he gently coos at you. “Missed me, babydoll?”

Yes. “You wish.”

It’s obvious Wonwoo doesn’t believe you. That stupid smirk of his only seems to get bigger with every passing moment, and you don’t know if you want to kiss it or smack it off his face.

“I missed you.” He tells you honestly, loving how you’re visibly growing flustered with his words.

Resisting him would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so tempting to you and if the feelings he always evoked from you weren’t so strong. Before you can say anything to betray your easily crumbling facade, Mingyu comes out from the back with a tray of small cakes. Wonwoo gives you a once over before stepping away from the case.

“I’ll be back after your shift. Wait for me.”

You don’t wait for him—technically. It’s not waiting since Wonwoo is already outside of the bakery when your shift ends. He’s clad in his leather jacket, dark jeans, and signature combat boots. It’s not fair that he can lean against his bike so casually while looking as good as ever.

Ignoring him would’ve been all too easy, but you can’t when you notice the bruises and cuts on his pretty face. A familiar irritation bubbles in your chest, but annoyingly enough, it’s overpowered by the concern you feel. You react before you can fully think your actions through.

“What the hell!”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen the tiniest bit when you stomp over to him with angry tears in your eyes. You can’t even enjoy his cute shocked face because of the overwhelming concern and anger you feel. All you can do is hit his brawny chest in frustration.

“You—You asshole!” Your voice cracks with raw emotion as you continue to weakly hit his chest. “You said– you promised that you weren’t going to fight anymore—!”

Wonwoo lets you hit him. His chest aches, but not because of your soft blows. The last thing he meant to do was make you cry, and it’s something he wishes to never see again. His large hands come up to cup your face, fingers delicately wiping your tears. “I know I should’ve kept my promise, and I’m sorry. Just please don’t cry anymore.”

You let out a quiet whimper at his tenderness. His eyes are full of so much remorse and concern that it makes any remaining willpower you have left disappear. It feels right to bury yourself in his chest and let yourself be held by him. He caresses your back, and you can’t hate that it actually makes you feel better.

Once you’ve calmed down, you pull back and smack Wonwoo’s beefy chest again. “Asshole.”

“Your asshole.” His haze is tender as he cradles your tearstained cheek in his hand.

You scowl at him, but it’s quickly wiped off your face when he places a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. A sudden desire consumes you when you see Wonwoo’s affectionate gaze. This time you let yourself be driven by your desire and press your lips against his.

It’s easy for him to melt into the kiss. Wonwoo sighs into your mouth as one of his hands comes up to cup your face. His rings feel cool against your warm skin, and you let out a quiet moan when his other hand slips into the back pocket of your jeans and squeezes your ass while pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow at first until your hands smooth over Wonwoo’s chest and fist his shirt to pull him closer. You part your lips to allow his tongue to slip into your mouth. It feels like you got struck by a bolt of electricity the longer his lips are on yours. His desire and hunger are evident in his needy movement, and you absolutely love it.

When you two finally pull away, you’re left breathless. Wonwoo’s thumb gently caresses your cheek as his heart pounds harshly in his chest. “Stay the night with me, babydoll.”

“M’kay.” You breathe out, mind still swimming.

The smile he gives you is so pretty that it makes something inside you burn with ardent desire. You feel like you’re floating on air when Wonwoo hands you a spare helmet that happens to be your favorite color. He looks bashful as he waits for you to accept it, and you wish you could take a picture of his pretty blush.

In spite of all the reasons you have not to take the helmet from him, you still do. And you don’t regret it.

You’ve never allowed yourself to regret the things that you’ve done because life is too short for regrets. But you definitely regret avoiding Wonwoo as long as you have, especially with the way he’s trailing his lips along your legs. Every wet kiss he leaves behind has your heart hammering and your cunt clenching in want.

Finally, Wonwoo gets to your inner thighs. His large hands spread you open with ease, eyes dark when he sees your wet pussy.

“Fuck.” His gaze fixed between your legs as if he's in a trance. “You’re already so wet.”

Your toes curl when his breath ghosts over your cunt. It sends delicious shivers throughout your body, and you have to stop yourself from bucking your hips into his face. But as you’re starting to learn, it seems like Wonwoo knows what you want before you even ask for it.

“You want my mouth, babydoll?”

Wonwoo nearly blows his load when you nod cutely, a needy mewl escaping your lips. “Please.”

He hooks your legs over his wide shoulders, thumbs spreading your folds open for his viewing pleasure. Wonwoo resists his ravenous desire for you long enough to toy with your pretty pussy before he actually tastes it—a luxury he hadn’t gotten to do last time. His rough hands are soon occupied with you, one hand pinching and flicking your sensitive clit while the other gently rubs your slippery folds.

“Fuck, baby.” You whine, biting down on your lower lip. “Feels so good.”

Your cunt is dripping with so much of your arousal that Wonwoo’s fingers are drenched as he slowly rubs circles against your aching bud. It’s throbbing and pulsing in need as his pace grows the tiniest bit quicker. You can’t even try to contain your moans as you stare down at your boyfriend.

Wonwoo has a huge smirk on his pink lips. You’re making such a mess on his fingers, and he just loves it. “You look so fucking cute when your squirm like this, babydoll.”

A needy whimper tumbles past your lips when he presses a gentle kiss to your throbbing clit. It pulses under the attention like it wants his mouth again. Wonwoo’s pupils are blown wide as he licks the remnants of your arousal off his lips. The addicting taste makes his control snap, and in the next second he smashes his face into your cunt like a starved man.

Your hips start move on their own as Wonwoo groans deeply into your drooling pussy. His mouth latches onto your clit, massaging the nub with his tongue. The movements are skilled and toe-curling, and you already feel like you’re fucked out.

“Wonwoo!” You cry out in absolute pleasure when he slips two fingers inside you.

His long fingers work your cunt open, curling up to rub the sensitive spot inside you that made you arch your back in ecstasy. Your mouth is dropped open in a silent min the longer Wonwoo fucks you with his tongue. He captures your juices with his tongue only to slobber them all over you again. Your hands grab ahold of his hair as he keeps moaning into your wet pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine with every one of his movements.

All it takes his his nose bumping against your clit as he licks around his pumping digits for you to come all over his face. Wonwoo groans into your creamy cunt, licking up every drop of your release.

“So fucking messy.” He grunts as his hand spreads your folds and exposes your heat to the cool air. His fingers trail down your cunt, tenderly rubbing along your sensitive lips. “Fuck, just look at that cream."

You can’t contain your needy moan when Wonwoo brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s so fucking hot that you just want him to fuck you until you can’t think. Before you can get him to do exactly that, a heavy weight settles on your soppy cunt. His cock is hot and wet as it slides between your folds.

“You feel so good, angel.” Wonwoo groans as he thrusts forward, coating the underside of his dick with your arousal. “So fucking wet, just for me.”

The mouthwatering sight of your folds splitting open as he slides his cock between them makes him feel like he’s drunk. Maybe he is. Drunk on your pussy, that is. He only gets to enjoy the feeling for a second before you eagerly buck your hips against his.

“Let me ride you.”

It’s a miracle that Wonwoo doesn’t come all over your stomach at the words you moaned so desperately. He’s quick to get into position, leaning against his headboard as you hover above him. You look so eager as you straddle his lap, the love bites he littered all over your thighs giving him a sense of pride as he brushes his thumbs over them.

Wonwoo’s free hand reaches for your ass. He roughly kneads the skin before slapping it. You moan out in pleasure. Everything is almost too much for you to handle. The sight of him bellow you waiting patiently for you to fuck him like the first time is making your core throb with insatiable desire. His cock rests on his stomach, leaking with precum and waiting for you to sit on it.

The hottest part of it all is how Wonwoo’s looking at you with unadulterated desire and affection—like you’re a living goddess on top of him. Your hands are splayed over his muscular chest, and he just loves the feeling of them smoothing over his hot skin.

His hands move on their own, caressing your hips and mapping out every inch of your body with his rough hands. Wonwoo kisses any part of you he can reach, lips trailing from your neck down to your collarbones. His large hands slip back to your ass to deliver a sharp spank which makes you fall forward. Wonwoo skillfully captures one of your tits in his mouth, tongue immediately gliding over your hardened nipple.

“Nonu!” You cry out as your arms hook over his shoulders to keep him close, softly moaning as he switches between your tits, warm tongue swirling around each erect nub.

The cute little nickname makes his cock twitch. Fuck. You were going to drive him completely insane.

He gently nips at your sensitive bud before pulling away to look up at you. “You look so fucking pretty on top of me, babydoll.” He murmurs, forcing himself to stay still as you shift against his leaking tip.

His sweet praise is enough to make your pussy flutter. You mewl as he teasingly circles his cock against your pussy. The insistent nudges from his leaking head are making your head swim with pleasure. You’re so soaked at this point that he can feel your arousal start to stick to his skin.

Finally, you can’t resist any longer and slowly sink down on his cock. Your tight walls stretch wide, welcoming the bulbous head with just a bit of resistance. It’s been almost two weeks, and you’d already forgotten it felt to have such big and thick dick inside you. His cock isn’t even halfway inside yet, and you can nearly feel him in your stomach.

You sit back and slowly circle your hips, throwing your head back with a moan when his twitching tip nudges your walls repeatedly. Wonwoo feels like he’s gone and died to heaven with the filthy show you’re giving him of your soppy cunt. He curses quietly at the sight of your tight cunt clinging to his fat tip, nearly blowing his load at the erotic sight.

“Show me what you can do, pretty girl.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. With a wanton moan and your hands braced behind you, you slide all the way down. You whimper at the stretch, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open. Mewls flutter from your lips, and it feels like the oxygen is slowly being forced out of your lungs.

Once he’s fully inside you, Wonwoo is sure that he’s never going to feel as good as he does now. His head is thrown back and his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him is absolute heaven. You share in his feeling as you moan loudly, completely full and stretched out as he grips your ass to steady you on his dick.

Wonwoo can’t stop looking at the fucked out look on your face while you’re busy staring down at where your pussy and his cock meet. You don’t notice how his pupils are blown out with lust at the sight of you impaled on his cock. His heart fluttering in his chest because fuck, you’re like a literal goddess on top of him.

“Shit, babydoll. You gotta move.” He sounds out of breath, almost needy with his plea.

Wonwoo looks so fucked out and pretty that your pussy tightens around him at the hot sight. That's all it takes for you to give him what he wants. You lift your hips before slamming your ass back down. His cock reaches so deep inside you that you throw you head back with a loud cry. It makes you ravenous, and you eagerly repeat your movements until your practically bouncing on his cock.

You lean towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, your pace faltering a bit when your lips meet his neck. As you litter his skin with wet kisses and gentle bites, you feel his cock throb and twitch inside you. It makes you think that you might actually get him to come first this time.

At least, until Wonwoo commits the tender act of pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder, removing a hand from your ass to gently thumb at your clit.

“Fuck, Nonu.” You whimper at the stimulation. “You’re so deep.”

“Missed having you on my cock, babydoll. You look so fucking pretty being split open like this.” His fingers trace your stretched hole before they slap your clit.

You moan wantonly when Wonwoo suddenly thrusts up, going impossibly deeper. That’s when you know he's about to ruin you in the way you’ve been craving. You shove your face into his neck, sucking and biting his skin so he can move you on his cock in the way he wants. Apparently, this isn’t enough for him, though.

Wonwoo grips your face, pressing his fingers into your cheeks. “Need to see your pretty face while I fuck you stupid.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he’s gripping your ass and grinding you on his cock. His fingertips press into your soft flesh as he lifts you and brings you down his length. You start bouncing to meeting his pumps. Broken mewls contrast with Wonwoo’s groans and mix in the the sound of lewd squelching and skin slapping. His abs tighten every time you come back down, thighs flexing beneath your ass.

Your swollen clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, and the feeling is quickly driving you insane. The knot in your stomach is coming undone fast, much faster than you want, but you feel too good to stop. Wonwoo isn’t doing much better. His mind is only full of you and the way your hot cunt is gripping his cock. The carnal look in his eye is locked to where you’re connected. He’s mesmerized with strings of arousal connecting his skin to your dripping folds.

“You look so fucking pretty when you’re bouncing on my cock—just like last time. Gonna let me pump your pretty pussy full again, babydoll?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out mindlessly, a delicious ache blooming in your core. “Whatever you want!”

You can’t believe Wonwoo has the audacity to blush like you two aren’t literally fucking like animals. It makes you gush around him, orgasm so close that you can feel it in every inch of your body.

“God, baby. Keep fucking yourself stupid on my dick.” He growls as he fucks up into you harder, needing to see you come undone on his cock.

The leaking tip of his cock brushes against your sweet spot over and over again until your eyes gloss over like you’re on the brink of tears. Wonwoo will never get enough of that fucked out face of yours, and it drives that insatiable desire in him to fuck you impossibly harder.

It takes only a few more deep thrusts for you to come on his cock with a loud moan. Your body shudders and shakes against him in absolute pleasure. Wonwoo’s movements don't stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and straight into overstimulation. But you can’t really care because it feels so fucking good. All you can do is cry out his name until he’s emptying his balls inside you.

“Y/N!” He groans into your ear as he pumps you full of his hot cum, thick ropes filling you to the brim until it’s leaking out and coating his heavy sack.

You’re gently grinding into each other as your mouths meet for a messy kiss. Wonwoo’s still-hard cock keeps twitching inside you, and you can’t help but groan into his mouth at the feeling.

“More.” You plead against his lips. “Want you to keep stuffing me full of your cum.”

“Fuck, angel.” Wonwoo pants out. “You’ll be the death of me.”

But if this was death, he’d gladly embrace it every time.

Wonwoo moves down the bed until his back meets the messy sheets. With his hands secured on your waist and the back of your neck, he pulls you down to his chest and forces you to take every inch of his throbbing cock. At this angle, he feels even thicker. Your mind goes blank as his fat dick spears into your tight hole relentlessly.

Wet noises fill the room, dancing in the air with your wanton cries. A white ring forms at the base of his cock, smearing down to his loaded sack. Wonwoo moans along with you, large hands sliding down your body to grip fistfuls of your ass. You let out a broken gasp when he grinds up and pulls you down, stuffing you to the brim only to do it again and again.

You’re panting and whimpering as his cock sinks in deep, plugging your dripping cunt. Tingles of ecstasy course through your quivering body with ever snap of his hips. You aren’t even moving anymore, it’s all Wonwoo. He’s fucking you on his cock like you're his personal fucktoy. The more you think about it like that, the more turned on you’re getting.

Your hot cunt tightens around his veiny cock. The drag of his veiny length stretching you out makes more of your juices coat his dick and spill down to his heavy balls. Wonwoo shudders when he feels how tight you keep getting. He can feel his own high quickly approaching.

“You gonna come for me again, babydoll? Soak my cock with your cream and make a mess all over me?” Wonwoo changes the angle of his hips as he speaks his lewd words. The tip of his cock slams into the soft spot inside you that makes you scream in pleasure. He keeps pounding into you from below without stopping, and you love every second of it.

“Fucking love your cock.” You babble mindlessly, any and every thought that’s not about the fat cock splitting you open being fucked out of you.

“Sweet little cunt is all mine now.” Wonwoo growls possessively. “Gonna be mine forever, right, baby?”

It’s all too much. His filthy yet sweet words combined with his fierce thrusts make you fall over that edge and into your orgasm, this one more powerful than the last. Your body erupts in flames as you squirt all over Wonwoo’s aching cock. He keeps you locked on his dick, balls slapping against your ass as he continues to pound into your gushing cunt.

“So fucking good.” Wonwoo groans gutturally before his hot cum floods your ruined cunt, painting your stretched out walls and claiming you in every sense of the word.

So much of his cum spills out and trickles down his pulsing cock, and you whimper when Wonwoo fucks it deeper into your pussy. You’re both sweaty and sticky, yet there’s still a burning ache in your core that seems like it can only be soothes by Wonwoo and his big cock.

“Want it again.” You moan into his ear, clenching down on his twitching dick. “Please.”

This is where you learn that the resident bad boy can never tell you no.

You barely process him flipping you over and manhandling you into the position he wants. Wonwoo presses your legs against your chest and start to pound into you with rough thrusts. He’s slow but brutish, slamming against your cervix every time he pushes in. Your cream soaks his thick cock and your inner thighs. It slowly drips down to your ass where his heavy balls slap against the tender skin.

“Fuck, babydoll. I’ll never get enough of this tight little pussy.” He sounds so gone, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust.

You cry out each time, the pleasure blooming into that delicious feeling in your stomach. Wonwoo’s words have you clenching around his dick, and he lets out a deep groan. He keeps moaning out praises about how good you are for him, but it’s hard to focus on his words when his thick cock is pummeling into you relentlessly.

You continuously gush around Wonwoo’s cock on the brink of yet another orgasm as you leave a stain around the base. Your pussy is stretched beyond belief, and it feels so fucking good that’s it’s making you delirious.

“I’m gonna have to stuff this pretty pussy full every day.” Wonwoo moans, loving how your cunt keeps spasming around his throbbing cock. He’s fantasised about this for so long, and now that he’s had you he’s completely addicted to you.

“Fuh-Fuck!” You wail, soaking his cock even more at his promise, leaving it dripping.

Wonwoo’s thrusts grow more powerful and ravenous. The pretty sounds you’re letting out every time he drives in and out of you is driving him insane. It’s not long for the harsh snapping of his hips to finally send you into your climax. This one is more somehow more intense than your previous one. Wonwoo groans loudly, watching as you squirt all over his cock.

Each time Wonwoo strokes your g-spot, another gush of liquid spurts from your core. “You’re so fucking hot, angel. Making a mess all over my cock.”

“Come inside me.” You beg with a loud moan, mind already so far gone to think about anything else but being fucked full of his hot cum.

Your lewd plea only drives his desire for you. Wonwoo feels his orgasm approaching with every rough thrust. His balls are aching to be emptied again, and he doesn’t hesitate to chase that euphoric feeling. Your pussy is practically begging him to fill you up with his seed, and he does exactly that. With one final shove, he bottoms out inside you and stills, cock twitching and throbbing in your hot cunt.

A huge load of cum pours into you, coating your walls and taking up the minimal space his cock hasn’t covered. Wonwoo slowly fucks it into you until you’re both whimpering from the overstimulation.

When he pulls out, his cum and your cream slowly leak out of your messy cunt. The fucked out pants you’re letting out are quickly stifled by Wonwoo's lips. You moan into his mouth as he slowly lets go of your legs and hooks them around his hips.

Pulling away, you barely register as he starts to tenderly kiss all over your body. You’re completely sated and too gone to acknowledge your surroundings even as Wonwoo gets up and brings back a warm towel. He gently cleans you up, whispering sweet praises that make you feel a different type of euphoria.

“Hold me, Nonu.” You finally manage to say when you realize he’s done cleaning the both of you up.

His smile is so pretty and precious as he goes to lay with you. The way he cradles you against his chest is comforting, and you know that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo

#svthub #wonwoo smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #wonwoo fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fic #svt fic #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #wonwoo imagines

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley fic #cod x reader #cod fic #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw x reader #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw 2

[renjunphile]

kiss, cry, fall in love ☆ jung sungchan

୨♡୧ WORD COUNT: 19.3k ୨♡୧ PAIRING: riize's jung sungchan x female!reader ୨♡୧ TAGS & WARNINGS: figure skating!au, skater!sungchan, skater!yn, friends that kiss to lovers!au, secret/hidden relationship, fluff, angst, mentions of anxiety and skating-related minor injuries, lots of pining, lots of internal monologuing, lots of making out descriptions but no smut!, non linear narrative ୨♡୧ SYNOPSIS: jung sungchan is completely, utterly and hopelessly whipped for the struggling skater who keeps him at an arm's length, yet loves the feeling of his mouth on hers in every corner of the globe.

୨♡୧ NOTES: im sorry this is SOOOO long and its just y/n and sungchan being so cute and head over heels for each other. it's kinda a self-indulgent fic and i didn't really explain the figure skating terms, but i think you can make do without knowing what they mean (ask me anything if you wanna know tho!) pls enjoy this cute piece :) anyway, miss u seunghan!!!

⋆｡°✩

SKATE AMERICA, OCTOBER 2023

Your first love will always be figure skating. There was something about the way the cool air kissed and then smothered your face as you stepped onto the ice, and something about the way your sharp blades screeched as it cut through the top layer. There was something about the way the lights around you reflected on the glossy surface and the way you felt like you were most yourself while cutting through the air.

Your first love is figure skating, and everything to do with it- from the 5am call for training, to the sleepy drives all around the country and the world to get to your competitions, to the cheering, the gasps and the booing from the audience, to the gifted plushies making their home on your couch in your living room, to the stumbles and the landings, to the kiss and cry and most of all, to the skating.

Figure skating was also your first heartbreak- one that you were still trying to get over.

The arena you were competing in today was a familiar one, since you'd completed competitions in both the junior and senior circuit here a couple of times. Over the years, your nerves had truly eased up a little - never totally, of course, but you were always more excited than nervous no matter how well you thought you'd fare.

Still, the familiarity of the layout and the size and the ice was no help towards the pit growing in your stomach that you hadn't felt in competition in years. No matter- you woke up with that dread every single day for months now.

The stands had fallen into a hitched silence when they announced your name over the speaker. You had opened the barrier to the rink with a deep breath and one last forlorn look to your coach, who diverted her eyes quickly from you after a tense smile. It was weird; this was one of the loudest crowds in the grand prix circuit, but for you- last to skate in the short- you could hear a pin drop.

This time last year, you were on top of the world going into your first assignment of the season. You were fresh off the back of an amazing run at your very first Winter Olympics, helping your team secure gold medals in the team event and yourself a silver for your own effort. You had been skating in ice shows left and right in the midst of creating new routines for the new season, and you were on a high in life.

The season had passed well- you won gold, and then silver at your grand prix assignments, cruised through the grand prix final and then swept your discipline at nationals. You medalled for the 4th year running at 4 Continents and then all that was left was worlds.

Easy right? All you had left at the end of the best season of your career was the World Championships against all the skaters you had been consistently beating for years.

Anyway, back to the present.

You continued inhaling and exhaling consciously and intentionally for a while and it felt like forever before the first notes of your music began to boom into the arena and you could make your first move.

All eyes were on you.

It took you a split second to snap yourself from the sudden stage fright that had come over you. For a second there, you had thought that your feet refused to move from their starting position and had anchored themselves to the ice, but thankfully your brain and muscles had connected after a brief pause to send you on your first lap around the rink.

You had a few seconds to compose yourself and perform some intricate arm waving before your very first, and most difficult jump- one you had been rigorously training over and over and over again since the end of the last season when it had sabotaged your Worlds free skate.

When on the ice, the faces of the audience blurred into one continuous mass. You were thankful for this, otherwise you would be staring at the anxious expressions of hundreds of people that would bury and make home in your already fluttering stomach.

You sighed heavily to yourself before beginning the lead up to your jump. You told yourself that even if you didn't make it, it wouldn't affect how the rest of the routine went- you wouldn't let it.

You made the dreaded turn to start skating backwards and counted to 3 in your head before you turned again to take off forward, throwing your arms around yourself and launching your body in the air. You wish you could say that you knew what happened afterwards, but all you know is that you landed on the correct feet and the arena burst into cheers. You prayed that you landed your triple axel, but who knows at this point.

You let out a sigh of relief and continued with the rest of your programme that was ingrained in your mind. You were pretty much running on autopilot, which was not always what you preferred to do in competition. You wanted to be more in control, but honestly whatever got you through this skate would be okay.

The rest of the skate flew by and with each jump and element, you began to loosen up and the cloud in your mind began to dissolve. By the end of it, you could clearly make out the relief and pride splattered on your coach's face.

She gave you a tight squeeze when you opened the gate once more and cooed into your ear how proud she was of you, not that a blip in your routine would make her any less proud.

"Let's go to the kiss and cry and then i'll treat you to whatever you want," your coach Lina squeezed your hand with a reverent smile.

"Well now it sounds like you're bribing me to skate well," you grabbed a Keroppi plushie from one of the attendants that had cleaned up after you, giving her an appreciative smile.

"I always believe that you'll do well," she uttered back.

She sat you down in the middle of the bench and you gave smiles and waves to the camera pointing at you. You finally got to review yourself on the screens showing the live feedback of the broadcast and you were elated to find out that you had in fact landed your triple axel perfectly, instead of just a double.

The score blared out your season's best, just cause it was the start of the season, and it was on par with your scores from the start of last season, so you quickly celebrated and made your way to the media area and the changing rooms.

"Y/N!" you were greeted with a familiar squealing voice and were quickly enveloped in a tight hug.

"Sho! I didn't know you were coming!" you were so happy to see one of your friends around.

Shotaro pulled away and you noticed a towering figure beside him, holding a small bouquet of your favourite flowers, tulips.

"Sungchan," you smiled softly, "Hi."

His eyes were as sparkly as you always found them to be, his lips challenging the pinks on the flowers he was clutching.

He gave you a shy smile back and offered out the bouquet, "Taro and I got this for you. Congratulations on your short."

You wrapped your fingers around the stems and admired the vibrant orange and pink, "I bet you guys were holding your breaths. I know I was."

"It was incredible, as always," Sungchan assured you.

"Every skater goes through this, Y/N. We always know you're giving your best and we always believed you would recover," Shotaro hummed sincerely, "Anyway, we came because a lot of the gang is skating tomorrow. We begged our coach to let us come to this assignment and surprise you and the boys."

Shotaro was the first friend you made outside of your skating club in the junior ranks. He had approached you years and years ago, telling you he admired your skating and offered to be skating friends. In a career that was sending you everywhere around the world with never any stability, it was good to be friendly with people that could end up in the same assignments with you.

He had introduced you to the boys he had befriended himself and that was something you were so grateful for after you stopped finding yourself lonely in the cities you were drawn to.

You recalled seeing Anton and Wonbin drawn to this assignment too, but you hadn't had the chance to see them in their practice or otherwise.

"I'm gonna talk to a few reporters cause I can see my coach giving me some death stares to do them right now, but wait for me and we can get dinner? Or are you seeing the boys?"

"Toni and Bin have practice just after this and the others are watching, so we can get dinner just us and then we're hanging out in Anton's hotel suite after if you wanna join," Shotaro explained, "But yeah, go!"

You gave them both smiles and turned around to make a beeline for the press area, trying to ignore the booming feeling in your heart seeing the tall brunette for the first time in months.

⋆｡°✩

WORLDS, MARCH 2023

"Last to skate, Y/N Y/L/N."

You set off into a lap around the rink before settling in your starting position. You were well poised to walk away with the gold medal this competition, after ending up second in the short program and the competitor above you falling out of her combination in her free skate just before you. It wasn't that you prayed for the downfall of others, it was just that you had to take advantage of all you could.

Still, you were incredibly nervous. Your warm up and public training yesterday hadn't gone so smoothly considering you under-rotated your triple axel and landed your other quads shakily. You didn't know what was wrong with you- you were rounding off the best season of your career so far and this was just one last programme before you could have time to relax for a bit.

Lina gave you an encouraging thumbs up from the side and mouthed a good luck. You gave her a nod and waited for the music to start.

You had polished this routine to perfection, having performed it for two seasons already, so you were able to hit every piece of choreography perfectly as you led up to your first jump.

It was weird, the minute you began the lead up to the axel, this unfamiliar feeling began to nestle itself into your stomach and your mind and you didn't even have a split second to shake it away before you shot up in the air.

Then something snapped.

It felt like time had stopped and you were frozen mid spin in the air. The world had gone quiet and you could suddenly see the faces of everyone contort into worried gasps in slow motion. You didn't know how many times you spun in the air. It should have been 3 and half, but maybe it was 5 and maybe it was 2. It seemed like the laws of physics were non-existent as time suddenly snapped back into motion and you were on the floor the next moment.

You had no idea what was happening. Your mind had completely fogged up as you pulled yourself up. In the replays of this moment, you'd later see your coach in the background motioning for you to stop your skate and retreat, but you had bit your lip to stop the tears and continued your skate.

It was as if you blacked out for the rest of your free skate. All you remember was spinning around and around and trying your hardest to get back on track, but that was incredibly difficult when you had popped out of your quad lutz and fell again on your triple-triple. The audience was stunned, watching in silence and shock as the most likely contender of the competition was skating the worst in her entire career. Even in your junior years, you had never placed lower than 5th and you had certainly never popped out of your jumps before. You could probably count on one hand how many times you had fallen in competition, and this skate was obliterating that statistic.

You received your score in the kiss and cry stoic and unmoving. As soon as the cameras switched, you bolted to the halls of the arena while your coach shouted behind you. It took less than a minute for you to lose her as you navigated the maze of the 'backstage'. You were running on your skates (protected, of course) and you were running on some kind of adrenaline that was currently preventing you from breaking down. It would run out soon enough.

You had finally run into a corridor where the lights weren't activated until you stepped into them, so you had felt safe enough to hide in one of the rooms in the hopes they were empty.

The one you had barged into was a small dressing room, but evidently it was occupied by some people judging by the skate guards on the coffee table and the Team Korea jackets thrown on the couches. You didn't care as long as it was empty.

The silence dawned on you after the ringing that had been plaguing your ears since you came off the ice. It was then that all your emotions erupted and you fell to the floor in body-shaking sobs.

You had no idea what had happened at all. Nothing in the world could explain it and you had never felt like this skating ever again. In fact, skating always made you happy- it was the one thing in life that felt like it was for you. You never belonged anywhere else doing anything else. Skating was it.

So why did that happen?

You had heard of a phenomenon in gymnastics- the twisties. It was the sensation of losing yourself in the air, with your mind and body disconnecting in the middle of an element. It was one of the scariest things that could happen to a gymnast, and maybe that was what you had experienced.

Your tears were falling like a rainstorm on your sequinned dress and you felt the creeping of a throbbing and thunderous headache as you cried into the couch.

That was probably why you couldn't hear the door opening and a tall, young figure skater strolling in with a hum before he stopped in his tracks, noticing you on the floor, "Uh-"

Your eyes snapped to the leaning figure and you couldn't even make out who it was through the tears.

"Y/N?"

That was a voice you knew anywhere.

"Sungchan."

⋆｡°✩

SKATE AMERICA, OCTOBER 2023

"Where's your next assignment again?" Shotaro mumbled out through his mouth full of noodles. The three of you were in a hole-in-the-wall ramen restaurant downtown in the city, somewhere that one of your club-mates had recommended.

You grimaced, urging him to finish his bite first before speaking, "France. So soon."

"That's my first event," Sungchan hummed, sitting diagonally across from you.

Sungchan was one of the quieter ones around you. Of course, that possibly didn't reflect his usual personality around his friends while you were absent, but you'd noticed that in a large group, he tended to flitter on the outskirts and just listen.

"I'm off to Canada in a few days and then to Japan," Shotaro added, "I keep telling the federation to invite some lower ranked skaters to give them Grand Prix experience, but they keep including me in their domestic picks."

"Oh what a shame! You're popular in Japan!" you rolled your eyes playfully and chuckled at him, Sungchan joining along with you.

"Yeah, whatever. I want to experience other assignments. You know i've never been seeded to France?" Shotaro grumbled, "But yeah, I guess a home crowd is always the best crowd."

"The only time I experience a home crowd like that is for nationals, where all my competitors are also the same nationality. Then no one has a home crowd advantage," you mused, "I hope I make it to the final though- I haven't been to Italy in a long time!"

"I believe in you," Sungchan cheered timidly. You returned his musings with a gummy grin.

"Thanks, Sung. After Worlds I stopped believing that phrase, to be honest, but I think I'm getting better at internalising it."

"Ah yeah," Shotaro hissed, "A lot of the guys haven't seen you since. I don't know how much you want to talk about it; do you want me to tell them not to ask?"

"Thanks for being considerate, Taro," you said, "But I think i'm okay to talk about it if they ask. I think I'm coming out the other side of that dark tunnel now. And my therapist says talking about it is the best way to get over it. I guess she's paid to talk about it with me so maybe she just says that so our appointments aren't filled with silence."

Your best friend gave you an understanding nod and continued digging into his bowl of ramen. A comfortable silence fell between the three of you as you finally stopped chattering and were able to divulge into your food. You made small talk about the bowl in front of you- how good the broth was, how chewy the noodles were and how tender the meat was.

After the bill was split three ways, you huddled into the back of a taxi that was taking you to the hotel that most skaters had booked for the competition. You were squished in the middle, thanks to your shorter stature compared to Sungchan and Shotaro, but in an effort to not make Sungchan uncomfortable, you tried to scoot closer to Shotaro. It was pretty much a futile attempt considering the way Sungchan's broad shoulders sprawled over his seat and yours.

Still, you sneaked some glances over to the quiet Korean, who was peering out of the window and watching the busy streets of downtown Texas. His side profile was one you admired, with his enviable nose bridge and plump lips that were pulled into a somewhat pout as his eyes followed the people and the lights outside.

"Hm?" Shotaro poked you with a whisper, "You okay?" You didn't even know that you had dissociated and were staring expressionlessly out through the windshield.

With this, Sungchan snapped his head to you, eyebrows pulled in concern as you dismissed them with a wave, "Yeah i'm fine guys. Just thinking about stuff."

"Well don't plague that pretty head of yours. We're here tonight to help you take your mind off things," Shotaro was well aware that you still had some anxiety about skating and competing, and he mainly dragged Sungchan along to Texas just to help you through your first competition since your disastrous World's run.

Sungchan hummed along, agreeing with Shotaro and soon enough, the taxi was pulling up in front of your hotel. You rolled your eyes when Shotaro pressed on the penthouse button in the elevator; Anton often booked the most expensive suite at his competition hotels, claiming his environment had to be perfect or else it would affect his performance. Whatever, all the more space for all of you to hang out.

Sungchan produced a keycard from his pocket and you could already hear some commotion from the other side of the door. As soon as you heard the beep and the click of the lock opening, you felt a stampede of footsteps running towards the door.

"Noona!" Anton beat everyone to wrapping his arms around you, "Haven't seen you in forever."

"Yeah, I know. I've been a recluse these past few months. I missed you guys though," you giggled into his neck.

"Congratulations on the short," Eunseok hummed as he hugged you.

You received the same sentiments from the rest of the boys before you were being dragged over to the plush L-shaped sofa that they had begun to make their home at, judging from the blankets and jackets and snacks.

"Are you guys excited for tomorrow?" you asked Anton and Wonbin, recalling that the men's short program commenced in the afternoon.

"Excited, nervous; it's all the same emotions," Wonbin shrugged, "I kind of hurt my knee in practice today so hopefully it's okay tomorrow."

You winced at the prospect of an injury. It was so difficult to gauge how much certain bumps and grazes could actually affect you until you're on the ice and giving your all.

"Don't hurt yourself, okay?" Seunghan nudged his friend as he nuzzled into the corner with his blanket.

"Yeah, trust me, you don't want to make it worse," Sohee groaned. He had been dealing with a knee injury for a better part of 6 months and he was praying it would miraculously heal itself before his first assignment in one month.

You plopped down in the middle of the couch and to your surprise, Sungchan took his seat next to you. You tried not to make a big deal out of it, meeting his eyes for a brief second before turning your attention to Eunseok and Shotaro rock-paper-scissoring over who was choosing the movie. Shotaro won and the rest of you groaned, knowing that he was about to subject you to Studio Ghibli film again. For as long as you knew the boys, which was a long time, but you hardly saw them, you had cycled through the whole roster maybe 3 times over.

"How about we don't watch a movie and just chat shit instead?" Seunghan murmured sleepily from his position, "Like to start with, how's everyone's love life going? Any updates?"

You threw a pillow at him, knowing the question was directed at you. The 7 boys were attached to the hip in Korea, all training at the same rink (how the coaches managed that, you don't quite know) for the majority of the off-season. They knew everything about each other.

"Yeah, Y/N, how's your love life?" Sohee teased with a shit-eating grin.

"Non-existent, as always," you rolled your eyes, "I literally don't interact with any guys outside of the 7 of you in this room and that's even a stretch. The only man in my life is my cat at home."

"Why don't you date one of us then?"

Sungchan erupted into a coughing fit and you all looked at him strangely before deciding to address Wonbin's crazy suggestion.

"Sorry, swallowed my spit wrong," Sungchan avoided your eyes and chugged the water bottle he had snatched from the coffee table. He was thankful that everyone moved on from him.

"Wonbin, what the fuck?" you turned back to the long-haired skater, "Are you in love with me or something?"

"Psh, you wish," he dismissed, "But i'm just saying it makes sense. We've been friends for years, you trust us, you can't be bothered to go look for a man and i'm sure the thought of dating even just one of us won't kill you."

"Shut up, Bin. Did you hit your head or something cause that's some crazy allegations there," you defended, "You can't skate with a concussion, you know that right?"

"I'm legit fine," he rolled his eyes and began annoying Eunseok who was sat cross-legged next to him.

Your relationship with these boys was somewhat complicated, you would say. They were your closest friends in the skating world, but you also barely saw them and befriended each one on different levels.

You knew Shotaro better than everyone and you considered him a brother to you, meanwhile Sohee and Anton felt like your children since they adored you so much. Seunghan and Wonbin were your drinking buddies in whatever corner of the world you could find them in and you found yourself museum-hopping with Eunseok more often than not.

And then Sungchan. Ah, Sungchan.

Sungchan was just a consistent and quiet presence in your life. You didn't know much about him but he always appeared in the most random times. You weren't sure if Sungchan just treated you nicely because he felt obligated to because of your friendship with the others, or if his considerate but small gestures were out of his own friendly affection for you. There were phases that you convinced yourself that Sungchan disliked you and merely tolerated you for the sake of the others, but he would always prove you wrong otherwise in ways that you like to cast out of your memories.

Sungchan remained pretty quiet for the rest of the night, only chirping in when he felt like he could add something to the conversation, but the warmth radiating from his body next to yours gave you constant comfort. You would say the two of you were friends, but it was hard to quantify and label what you and Sungchan were exactly.

Eventually, Anton and Wonbin began dropping hints that they were tired and needed to rest up for their skate tomorrow, so you began to usher the boys into their rooms. The two competitors were sharing the three-bedroom penthouse, but with the surprise from the boys, they were having to squeeze 7 to the suite. Of course, Anton and Wonbin needed their beauty sleep, so the rest of them were cramming themselves into the 2 king beds in the third bedroom.

The two skaters bid their goodbyes first and you gave them good luck hugs, promising to watch the event tomorrow if you were able. This left the other boys and you standing around the coffee table looking at each other with no purpose.

"Uh, Shotaro and I are going to the gym," Wonbin began.

Sungchan perked up at this, "Oh! Let me co-"

"No!" Shotaro cried out suddenly, "You're not invited! Sorry! C'mon Bin let's go get changed," he dragged the smiling boy towards the spare room in the suite.

You looked around in confusion, noticing Eunseok, Sohee and Sunghan looking mischievous, "We're going to get chicken," Sohee declared, "I know you don't eat fried chicken so close to competition, right Channie? So why don't you walk our dear Y/N to her room? It's dangerous out there, you know?"

Their intention must have flown over your head as you furrowed your eyebrows together and shook your head, "It's okay Sungchan, I can go by myself! It's only a few floors down and you should rest. Must have been a long flight."

He mirrored your action as he reluctantly tugged on your arm, "It's okay; I'll walk you. I wanna get something from the vending machine anyway."

You gave him an unsure look, but relented when he returned a confident smile. You said good night to the boys who were slipping on their jackets and followed Sungchan out of the suite.

"I'm sorry they made you do that and they all just left you," you scurried after him. His long legs were definitely no match for you, "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable or anything so you can just go down to the machine!"

"Hey," he interrupted your ramblings as the two of you entered the elevator, "Don't worry. We're friends, right? And I would hate if something happened to you on the way down. You have a pretty crazy fanbase, you know?"

You grimaced, thinking back to the time that a couple of fans had stalked you around Toronto when you had competed there once. Sungchan was right, in fairness- you never know what information people have access to.

"Thanks, Channie," you reluctantly called him by his affectionate nickname that the others loved to coo at him, "I also think they decided that you're the most eligible bachelor for me, considering they all dipped and left you behind."

"Ah, they're crazy," he rolled his eyes, "Ignore them, please!"

The two of you had reached your floor and you were glad that your room was close to the elevator. You took out your keycard from your jacket pocket and opened the door. You hadn't had time to unpack before going to training the day before, so all that was in your room was your free skate dress hanging in the exposed wardrobe to let the wrinkles drop out, and your closed suitcases in the corner of the room.

"Well, uh," Sungchan scratched the back of his neck, "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Sungchan?"

He looked up at you with glimmering doe eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to come in?" you moved aside to give him the choice to.

He chuckled in amusement, "Yeah, I do."

He stepped foot into the room and kicked off his shoes while you peeled off your jacket. As soon as the lock clicked shut behind him, Sungchan snaked his toned arms around your waist and attached his lips to yours.

Okay, confession time.

Your relationship with Sungchan was incredibly, incredulously complicated.

It all started 3 and a half years ago when your high school boyfriend broke up with you over the phone between your short and free skate in Canada. Sungchan had been the only other one of the group who was competing at the same assignment and although the two of you weren't close, the boys sent him to your hotel room with chocolate, tissues and a picture of him to rip up or stab with a pen.

You had embarrassingly cried your eyes out all over his training shirt and then pathetically asked him to distract you from the heartbreak by making out with you. You couldn't say that 18-year-old you was very smart or emotionally available. Well, to be honest, you still weren't particularly any better.

Anyway, the next day, the two of you decided to never talk about it ever again, swearing to never tell the boys anything and decided to continue with your semi-awkward acquaintanceship.

That was until the two of you stumbled into each other months and months later at a fellow skater's birthday party halfway across the world and ended up making out again in a coat closet for a good amount of time.

And then it carried on like that- finding places to make out around the globe, swearing not to say anything to anyone and then not talking about it ever again.

"We should really stop this, you know," you panted against his lips.

"You say that every time," Sungchan muttered, slotting his tongue between your lips and snaking his smooth hands to your throat, "But totally, yeah. We should stop this."

"Okay, this can be our last," you decided, as he led you over to your bed and pushed you gently down.

To be honest, you would say that you didn't know much about Sungchan despite making out with him 2 or 3 times a year because it was a correct statement. The two of you never really did anything else other than blow off some steam by making out. You never shared meals together or cuddled in bed indulging in pillow talk. It was always a transactional thing. It was weird in your head- all that the two of you did, but Sungchan was too good of a kisser for you to care about all the details of it.

"Better make it worthwhile, huh?" he peppered kisses down your neck until he reached the spot that had you putty in his hands. Sungchan knew better than to leave marks that your friends would definitely not let go of, so he just bit and sucked for a short time before connecting his lips back to yours. Your shirt had creeped up your torso, exposing a sliver of smooth skin that Sungchan attached his large hands to while he laid waste to all your emotions by kissing the breath out of you.

You didn't know how long had passed until Sungchan pulled away with blown out pupils and a pant. A small smile tugged onto the corner of his lips, which you couldn't help but poke, "What's with you?"

He giggled, "Nothing, nothing. You're beautiful, you know?"

A blush rose up to your cheeks and you broke your eye contact with him. It was weird- Sungchan seemed so confident when he was alone with you, but the moment he stepped out of the confines of your little situationship, he returned to being quiet and mysterious. You wished that you could get to know who the real Sungchan was.

"Shut up," you dismissed, cupping his chin and bringing his face down to yours. Sungchan stopped himself until your noses touched and he nudged his against yours sweetly before kissing you once again.

Kissing Sungchan felt like the world stopped spinning and it was only the two of you. All your worries disappeared and every stress left your body when Jung Sungchan's was on yours. He had this amazing power of making the world tilt on its axis the minute his lips touched yours and frankly, you were addicted to the feeling of him.

Your heart was completely and hopelessly beating out of your chest with the way his lips melded perfectly between yours and it was times like this, alone in a hotel room in a city you'll only ever see the ice rink of, that you forgot what your relationship with Jung Sungchan was.

"You should go," you murmured, halting his actions, "I have training early tomorrow."

"Yeah," he untangled his limbs from you and gave you a limp smile, "It's good seeing you again, Y/N. We haven't spoken in a while."

You internally cringe, thinking back to all those nights you sometimes contemplate texting him, only to realise you really don't text or speak at all outside of the groupchat. You think the last time you spoke was when you greeted him a happy birthday over text, and even that was a very fleeting exchange.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Channie," you felt the emptiness rise up again in your stomach as you walked him to the door. You were back to acting like nothing had ever happened between the two of you and as if walking you to your room was the only thing he did, "Thanks."

He bid you a soft goodnight and disappeared around the corner. Your hands rose up to your swollen lips and you sighed.

What were you actually doing?

⋆｡°✩

JUNIOR GRAND PRIX FINAL, DECEMBER 2017

"Urgh," you kicked the vending machine in anger as it withheld your drink in its clutches. It was a futile attempt as it sat on the edge of the shelf, taunting you. You gave it a few more hopeless kicks and groaned in frustration.

First, your triple salchow in your program was a total mess and definitely under-rotated, and now the vending machine wouldn't even disperse the drink that you paid the last of your Japanese coins for.

"Do you want some help?" a soft voice called out to you. You turned around and came face to face with who you presumed to be a skater judging from the pass hanging around his neck. He looked kind of familiar, you thought, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You tried to give your politest, "Sure," but he could probably tell you were annoyed.

He enveloped the vending machine between his two sprawling arms and gave it an abrupt shake. You sighed in relief as you finally saw the melon milk can tip over and fall into the hole.

"Ah, thank you," you crouched down to take the drink, "I'd buy you a drink for that but I just used the last of my money."

He gave you a dashing smile, finally meeting your eyes.

Ah, wow.

He was certainly an attractive boy, with light brown fluffy hair and eyes so big that it made you swoon. This guy was almost two heads taller than you, but he was still built from the soft definition of muscles you could see from his short-sleeve top.

"It's okay," he assured you, flashing you the coins in his palm, "I was gonna buy myself a drink. I'm Sungchan, by the way. I'm a skater from Korea and I'm competing tomorrow."

It clicked in your head suddenly, "Jung Sungchan? Shotaro's friend? I'm Y/N!"

He smiled sheepishly, "I know who you are, of course," he motioned to your ensemble consisting of your competition dress, "You literally just came off the ice, you know that? Plus, Taro talks about you all the time."

You looked down at your costume and your feet that were still in your covered skates, "Oh, yeah. It wasn't my best out there. Anyway, sorry for not recognising you- Shotaro also talks about you guys a lot but he never shows me pictures. It's my fault though- I know I've probably been at numerous assignments with you guys since I've known Sho."

Sungchan popped open his can of strawberry milk, "You're quite harsh on yourself, you know that? Shotaro always says that about you. It was an amazing skate and you swept your competitors. Even if you made a small mistake, it doesn't take away from the rest of your incredible elements. You should always be proud, because those who watch you always are."

You tilted your head at him, a near-stranger offering you some comforting words, "Ah, I've never thought about it like that. I guess I'm harsh on myself because I want to do this for as long as possible. My dream is to win an Olympic gold."

"You're probably the closest out of all of us. Your skate in Norway was out of this world!" he chided. It was true- you already had a Winter Youth Olympics medal, but that was never really a predictor for the real thing- wait, he was at Norway Youth Olympics. Maybe that's why he looks so familiar to you?

You fought the smile arising, "Well, skating's an unpredictable sport; you never know what can happen. You just have to hope for the best," Sungchan opened his mouth to reply, but you could see your coach appearing around the corner, "Ah! I have to go- my coach is coming! It was nice meeting you, Jung Sungchan. I'll definitely see you around and good luck for tomorrow!"

"You too, Y/N," Sungchan watched as you bounded over to your coach, happy to see that you were in a better mood than when he first encountered you. That feeling did something funny to his stomach.

⋆｡°✩

GRAND PRIX DE FRANCE, NOVEMBER 2023

You're on top of the world, and then suddenly you're not. That's the feeling you get when your blade collides with the ice so abruptly, shooting the pain all through your body as you fall on your triple axel again.

You think that you don't even breathe for the rest of the free skate, just running on pure adrenaline pumping through your muscles to get you out of this situation. Fight or flight was really taking over, but you knew that you could never step foot on the ice again if you decide to leave halfway through.

Your coach fussed over you as soon as you stumble out, shell shocked and delirious, but not yet crying.

"Y/N?" she snapped her fingers in front of your face, "Are you okay? Go to the medical team and get that checked out now," she ordered you.

They're satisfied that you didn't sustain any injuries with that fall; you think your mind took the worst of it. You're hunched over on the examination room bed, blanket around your shoulder and shivering.

All you need right now is someone to hold your hand and tell you everything's okay.

"Sungchan?" you whispered into the phone when the call finally connects.

"Y/N! What happened? Where are you?" he sounds breathless, as if he's been running around.

"I'm in the medical room," you looked around the empty room, thankful they gave you the privacy you needed to process, "Can you find me?"

"I'm coming, don't worry," he assured you, "For now, just breathe okay? Just make sure you're breathing. In and out, okay love?"

Love.

Sungchan doesn't bat an eye on this or even try to correct himself. It's something that slips out so naturally to him and that gets your mind going at another 100 miles per hour. Well, at least you weren't thinking about your skate.

It took Sungchan a few more minutes to find the medical room, having asked two staff members along the way. The whole time, he stays on the phone, making sure you're still okay.

He knocked twice and entered the room, finding you in the corner, just staring at his contact information on your phone. Sungchan pressed the hang up button and sighs in relief as he finds you.

Reluctantly, he approached the stiff bed and wrapped his arms around you. The second he does, you melt into his embrace and he's more confident to squeeze you tighter.

Your body begins to shake with sobs and Sungchan feels his shirt become damp, so he places his hand on your head and gave reassuring pats.

"Ah, let it out, Y/N. I know how hard that must have been for you," Sungchan whispered, hoping and praying he was saying the right things.

Falling was nothing new to Sungchan. He fell every day, even. But the immediate feeling you get after it never gets any better. You just have to get better at dealing with the aftermath. He knows you've fallen countless of times before, but after a nearly-traumatic competition all those months ago, he understands why nearly 8 years into your career, you're starting to deal with these new anxieties.

"You're okay, Y/N, you're safe," your sobs let up after a while, but he can still tell that you're still crying, "This is nothing. You're still in the Grand Prix Final and you're still the most amazing skater in the whole world."

You pull away and gave a half-hearted smile through the tears, "Just cause I'm having a breakdown doesn't mean you need to lie to me."

Sungchan is in awe at how beautiful you still look despite the tears rapidly falling. He tucks the hair in your face out of the way and tried to wipe some of the tears, "I'm not a liar. You're my favourite skater and you always have been, ever since juniors."

"Have a crush, do you?" you teased, sniffling and trying to finish up the release of emotions.

"And how bad would it be if I did?"

You tried to ignore him, you really did. You tried to ignore the way his words sent impulses straight to your heart and brain and made you dizzy.

Look, you weren't stupid. You were nearly friends with benefits with this guy and you knew how that usually ended- lovers or enemies. You had been suppressing any emotion all this time to postpone finding out which one you and Sungchan were gonna end up as.

"Y/N?" he called, pulling you out of the trance.

"Hm?"

"Come to Paris with me for a couple of days," Sungchan hums, taking your fingers and playing with them, "I'll help you take your mind off it all."

"Just you and me?"

You think about Eunseok and Seunghan, and how they had expressed their desire to come to Paris after the competition.

"Just you and me," he stated, "Let's just- keep it between us. A healing trip."

"What are you healing from?"

He brings his face close and nudged his nose against yours, "Seeing you cry breaks my heart every time, but I'm glad you come to me."

⋆｡°✩

Sungchan holds your hand the whole 3 hour drive to Paris the next day. While you were feeling better, and watching him skate to a gold also made you happy, you were still fighting your inner thoughts. You look over to your companion, his head resting on his shoulder with his pink lips slightly open as he let out deep breaths. He looked so pretty sleeping, you thought to yourself.

You felt like you were in a romantic film, to be honest. Outside the windows were the sprawling countryside of France between Angers and Paris, and his hand was intertwined with yours and you were sharing an earbud each from his wired headphones connecting to his phone.

You wish you could fall into a slumber like he had, so you wouldn't have to be faced with these thoughts about the two of you. Since your arrangement with Sungchan started, you refused to think about the possibility of anything more between the two of you, convincing yourself that friends was the only title you were destined to bear. When you think about it, you're actually in a much dire situation than you wish to be in. You know you'll have to confront these feelings soon enough the more that Jung Sungchan entwines his life with yours.

Then again, Jung Sungchan has always been in your life.

The minute after you met him at the Junior Grand Prix final when you were 16, you suddenly began to notice him all over the world. He was at nearly every grand prix assignment, every challenger series you participated in and every corner of the world. He was always just there and you never really realised that until recently.

It started off as shy smiles between the two of you and 'good luck's' in passing, and then happy waves and asking each other how you were. When you finally turned 18 and had more freedom at the competitions, you were able to explore town with the boys, Sungchan always in tow since the world loved to put the two of you together.

You didn't know everything about Sungchan but he had already seen you at your worst and at your best. That has to mean something, right?

"We're almost at Mr. Jung's requested destination," your driver cleared his throat, breaking you out of your spell.

You thank him quietly and face the task of waking up what you believe to be the most beautiful sleeping boy in the world.

You reached up to his eyes, pushing the hair out of the way and you cup his warm face with your cold hands. His eyelashes began to flutter, until he woke up at your touch.

"We're almost here," you told him.

He squeezes his eyes shut adorably as he stretches out his body, never breaking his hold on you, "Ah, I fell asleep? Sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"It's okay," you shrugged, "You must be pretty tired considering you had the whole competition and you were last to skate at the gala. You did so well yesterday."

You thought back to how you also met up for drinks with the other boys that night and didn't get into your hotel until 2 in the morning.

"I wanted to spend some time with you, though," he pouted and your head spins at the thought of wanting to kiss the pout off his face.

"We have a few days," you reminded him, "Speaking of, where are we going?"

Sungchan pulls his lips into a sheepish grin, "You might hate it but give me a chance, okay?"

He's right in saying that you absolutely hate the thought of it the second you stepped foot in the building. You pleaded him to do literally anything else in the world as he paid for the tickets and led you past the barriers. You're slow in putting on the equipment and grumbling as you meet him by the gate.

The ice rink is busy, bustling with teenagers, families, couples and everyone alike.

"Give me a chance," Sungchan echoed as he extended his large hands towards you. You nearly laugh at this gesture, considering the two of you were definitely the most experienced skaters on the rink and the possibility of falling was nearly 0, but then you look up at the other couples and groups on the rink, all holding hands as they tried to keep themselves upright.

"We've just spent the last week going around and around the ice until we were going crazy," you began as the two of you set off on a leisurely lap, "And your very best idea for our so called 'healing' trip was to do the same thing?"

He looked at you pleadingly, "Look, I know I can't change the way that skating makes you feel instantly in one day. But I want to get to know you a bit more- find out why you love skating in the first place and hope that I can help you in your journey in falling back in love with skating."

You're struck silent by his explanation, mouth agape. Sungchan smiled softly, tugging on your hand and doing some more intricate steps as you followed. Looking around, there were people of all abilities- adults stumbling and adults gliding, teenagers falling and teenagers spinning, and little children across the whole spectrum of abilities. You awed at the little girl who fell, but got back up immediately, cheeks flushed but expression determined.

There was some couples that you could make out- one partner would be hobbling, holding onto the railing, and then every so often, their more gifted partner would catch up to them in their lap and make conversation, usually grinning and laughing together despite the disparity in ability. You could see the couples holding hands, reassuring each other that they were supported and they weren't gonna let the other fall.

"I was already 9 when my parents first put me on the ice. I fell so many times that my legs were bruised and bleeding up and down both sides and they had to stop me from skating because I was tracking blood and it was a biohazard," Sungchan began, "I hated skating so much at the beginning because I was so bad and I hated being bad at things. I begged and begged my parents to put me into lessons and I was determined to be the best. I hit a stump when I was 13 and puberty hit. I hated how all the easy jumps I could land were suddenly the most difficult thing in the world and it took me a while to find my balance again since I grew so tall in a short period. The time that I hated skating made me realise all the more how much I loved it because it was just showing how much I was willing to give to the sport. That's it, that's my story."

"That's your whole story?" you let go of his hand and skate around him, holding eye contact.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "That's all there is to me. Once I started skating, nothing else mattered. All I do is hang out with you and the boys, and get on the ice at every other time. What's your story, Y/N?"

The two of you skate around an adorable child clutching onto a penguin aid and join again at your hands as you reminisced, "My older cousin loved to skate, so when she would babysit me, she would take me to the rink. At first, my parents hated the idea of that since they didn't want me to get hurt, but I took to skating immediately. It became my life too. School was hard- I was always leaving school early or coming late because of practice and I would be missing days at a time for competitions. I never made many friends at school because of that, so skating was my only friend. I loved everything, but I guess I'm hitting my stump now."

Sungchan hummed and nodded along, "Do you know why?"

"I know it's all in my head," you affirmed, "Me and my therapist agree. I know I can do these jumps and I know that I still do love this sport deep down. I think all the pressure is mounting onto me- you know, continually being the best? But it's all I have and it's driving me crazy. It's the only thing I can take pride in and I think I need something new alongside skating."

"Like what?"

"You're definitely helping," you admitted, looking down, "Not just you. Spending time with you guys is giving me a bit more purpose in life- striving to form better friendships. But you've helped me a lot."

Sungchan grins down at you, surprising you by planting a kiss at the top of your head. He had never been affectionate in public, considering the two of you were keeping a secret from the world, but in this small rink in the outskirts of Paris, he felt like he could shout to the world how he felt about you.

"I don't want you to dread competitions or tear yourself up over your falls. I know there's nothing I can personally say or do to help you, but I just wanna be here for you," Sungchan's words are nearly a confession, but you push that aside as you come to a halt by a little girl falling in the middle of the rink.

"Hey," you coo in your best French, "Are you okay?"

The little girl grabbed your hand with her little fingers and you swooned at how tiny she was. Her eyes are brimming with tears as she tries to find her feet again, so Sungchan grabs her other hand and helps her to stabilise.

He looks over at you, fondness in his eyes as you try to set off the little girl into a slow routine. She's giggling when she is finally able to skate on her own and she thanks you in a cute little voice when she does.

"What's the likelihood that she's gonna be a figure skater when she's older?" you lean against Sungchan's frame, watching her shoot off into the bend.

"Hm, pretty high. You just showed her that if someone's there to pick you up after you fall, it's all gonna be okay."

⋆｡°✩

GRAND PRIX FINAL, DECEMBER 2023

"Song Eunseok," you greeted your friend with a tight hug, and turned to the other, "Park Wonbin! Haven't seen you in a couple of months."

Wonbin affectionately nuzzled his head into your neck, "Did you miss us?"

"I don't know if miss is the right word. Maybe, noticed your absence is better," you teased back, "Isn't this exciting?"

The three of you took your seats right in the front row of the area you had reserved, you in the middle as you watched your best friends warm up on the ice. The other 5 were all participating in the grand prix final, having had the best results in their assignments of the season and were about to compete in the free skate to determine the medalists. Yours had just finished in the slot before, but you were still awaiting the awarding ceremony, hence you still in your costume.

"I would like to be on there with them," Eunseok grumbled, waving hello to a passing Shotaro, "But getting to watch with you isn't so bad."

"There's more seasons to come," you nudged his elbow, "Everyone's on top form this season."

"Especially you, our newly crowned Grand Prix Final gold medalist," Wonbin excitedly clapped, "Three in a row, how does it feel?"

"Like the pressure is still crushing me," you dismissed, "But thank you, Bin. I'm happy."

You steer the conversation along in a different direction, talking about the boys' program and what you were looking forward to see. Anton had a mean quad combination, meanwhile Shotaro's dance elements and step sequences always blew everyone else out of the park. Although you had watched these routines time after time each season, you never got tired of how talented your best friends were.

"Ah right, you went to Paris right? After your assignment there?" Wonbin asked you suddenly.

Your face flushed beet red immediately, "Oh, how do you know?"

"You posted a picture of the Eiffel Tower on your Instagram," Eunseok butted in, "Who'd you go with?"

"Ah, no one you know. Just stopped by on the way to the airport," you lied through your teeth and you hated that you had to do that, but it was your decision anyway.

Sungchan was nearing your side of the stands, and he slowed down significantly as he sent the three of you a wave. You hadn't seen him yet since the end of your free skate that crowned you gold medalist, since he had to prepare to be on the ice immediately afterwards.

"Something's up with Sungchan these days," Wonbin began, eyes trained on the tall figure skating away.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, "But he's like, uh, happier these days? But also more secretive? He's always on his phone and smiling at it and he always sighs when we mention setting him up on a date. Do you think he has a girlfriend he's keeping from us?"

Eunseok nodded along, "I've been noticing that too, actually. What do you think Y/N?"

Your ears flushed red and you prayed they wouldn't notice as you kept your eyes on the boys warming up, "Why are you asking me? You guys spend the most time with him. Plus, why don't you just ask him yourself or wait for him to tell you?"

In all honesty, you were burning with guilt about keeping such a huge secret from the boys, but you and Sungchan were suddenly treading into new territory that you wanted to navigate together first before anything else.

"When we ask him he just changes the topic," Wonbin answered, "To be honest, I thought he had a crush on you. We all did."

"Me?" you exclaimed, looking between the two of them nodding.

"He always talks about you and we thought that was so weird considering you two didn't even seem that close. Channie always asks Taro how you are and we're like: 'why don't you text her yourself?' and then he gets all shy and flustered," Eunseok rambled, "But I guess not."

"Yeah," you trailed off the word, decidedly ending the conversation as the boys evacuated the rink for the first skate.

The thought of Sungchan asking the boys about you made you feel some way- happy, maybe? It was so adorable that he thought of you and that texting you made him shy. You weren't stupid- Sungchan made his intentions clear towards you, but the two of you drew a line and stayed behind it, so you weren't sure what to think. These days, it seemed like Sungchan was destroying that line inch by inch.

Anton was first to skate, so the three of you focused your attention to him instead. A grand prix final with 5 of your best friends was definitely conflicting, but the boys all agreed to never get angry or too competitive with each other and just cheer for each other. Whoever won, won and that was that.

You were glad that all the boys were making it through their programs cleanly and the scores were all in such close proximity to each other that it was actually unclear who might win. Sungchan was last to skate by luck of the draw and by the time it was his turn, you were nearly biting your nails off in anticipation.

While you try not to have favourites between the boys, considering them all to be equally talented in their own ways, Sungchan just had a way of skating that spoke to you. You determined this even before your arrangement.

For a skater his height, he was incredibly graceful with long limbs creating beautiful lines and silhouettes. Despite his abnormally broad shoulders, his jumps were well balanced and tight, and his athleticism made all of them look so easy. His choreographer and coach really used all of his features and abilities to create the most visually stunning and technically superb skate.

"Hyung's been on fire this season," Wonbin muttered beside you, in awe of his friend that was so magnificently treading the ice.

"He's incredible," you agreed softly.

Sungchan was incredibly passionate about figure skating. Of course, you all were since it was your careers and if you didn't love what you were doing, you would quickly burn out. He just had this fire in him that you hadn't seen reflected in other people in a very long time, and that's what you admired about him.

Pushing your own feelings for him aside, you watched him intently as he led up to the most difficult skill in his arsenal- the three of you in the stands all linked arms and muttered prayers and pleadings. It felt like you were on the ice instead- you couldn't breathe until it was over.

"1, 2," you counted under your breath as he took off into his quad lutz. It was almost as if you watched him jump in slow motion, counting every turn until he landed, switched sides of his blades with an euler, before taking off into his triple flip.

You were still holding your breath when Wonbin and Eunseok dragged you up as they jumped up to cheer and whoop at the clean landing and combination. Jung Sungchan was truly one of a kind.

"He's so good," Wonbin squealed as you sat back down to watch him finish off his program, "Crazy good."

You're completely captivated by him for the rest of his skate and it even takes your coach multiple tries to catch your attention to tell you to come down to prepare for the victory ceremony. You plead to wait until Sungchan finished his skate and she just clicks her tongue and gives you a knowing smile.

The rest of the event goes by in a whirlwind, accepting your medals and flowers and taking pictures with your fellow medallists. You speak to some media and change into your comfier clothes, relaxing in your self-prescribed dressing room, which was just an empty room with a table and a couple of chairs.

A knock at the door snapped you out of your trance thinking about your program, and you shouted for them to come in.

"My gold medalist," Sungchan grinned over at you from the door as you jumped up to greet him. He's holding a gorgeous arrangement of flowers in his arms, extending it to you once more, "A gift from us."

You took the flowers, admiring the colours and the smell, before placing it down with the other gifts and your medal, "You guys are always so sweet to me. Congratulations to you as well; that was one of the best programs i've seen in my life!"

"Thank you, Y/N. And Taro says you're our only ice princess so we should spoil you," Sungchan chuckled, slowly approaching you closer and closer, "Anyway, they asked me to come and get you so we can go and get dinner together."

"They asked or you volunteered?"

A smirk took over his face, "Now why would I want to get you alone?"

"Who knows?" you teased as his large hands cupped your cheeks and guided your face to his. All tiredness left your body as you melted into his kiss and you wished that time would stop so you could do this forever.

He captured your lips with his own soft and plump lips, nibbling and kissing so softly and delicately, as if he would break you. It was worlds away from the way you two would make out ferociously in dimly lit hotel rooms after competitions ended at night. It was intentional, sweet and utterly heart-clenching.

"My gorgeous champion," Sungchan murmured against your lips, connecting them again passionately as he snaked his arms around you.

"Channie, we talked about this," you whispered, "We're just getting to know each other still."

Sungchan playfully rolled his eyes and left a fleeting peck before he pulled away, "I know, I know. Let's go before the boys get suspicious?"

He offered out his hand after you picked up all your things and you laced your fingers together and walked out side by side.

⋆｡°✩

PARIS, NOVEMBER 2023

November in the city of love and enlightenment was certainly a chilly ordeal. You were wrapped up in infinite layers, face red and tucked behind a wooly scarf and hat. You would think that since your profession was being around literal ice all day that you would be acclimated to the cold, but Paris was tearing you a new one with its weather.

You and Sungchan were taking a stroll by the River Seine, people watching and basking in each other's quiet company. The thing with Sungchan was that you felt comfortable with him; you's been friends for 6 years anyway, but all this time, you had kept him at arms length in order to protect your heart. Sungchan was still somewhat of a mystery to you- all his thoughts and all his feelings unknown.

"I heard that at night in the summer, they have people play live music here and people will dance along all night," Sungchan sighed, watching the couples stroll by with arms and hands interlocked, bundling together tight to warm each other up.

"That really sounds amazing," you replied, trying to stop yourself imagining dancing with Sungchan by a twinkling river on a cool summer night, "I want to come to Paris again when it's warmer and fully explore it!"

"We should do a trip," Sungchan said and you don't even ask if he meant as a group or just the two of you.

"Y/N?" he called again.

"Hm?"

He stopped to lead you to an empty bench, sitting with a considerable gap away from you before he made the bold move to shuffle closer. Sungchan stared you in the eyes with a longing gaze, "How come you trust me so much? How come you let me stay through your vulnerable moments when I know you don't do that with the others?"

You paused to think momentarily about his question that you'd pondered yourself during sleepless nights many times, "You're always just there. Whenever I end up in a situation like that, you somehow always find me like you have some spider-sense that i'm breaking down. And your presence calms me; you don't even need to say anything," you talked through your thought process slowly, trying to make it make sense in your head as well, "I feel like you understand me well whereas others may feel like I'm self absorbed and selfish for freaking out over such minor mistakes. And I can just feel in my heart that I can trust you. Thank you for always being there for me, Sungchan. I hope I don't burden you with my own breakdowns."

Sungchan smiled shyly, taking your gloved hands between his, "I'm really thankful that you do trust me. Don't ever think that you burden me because I do want to be there for you. Me and the boys hate seeing you so upset, so whatever I can do to help you through is nothing for me; we're in such a demanding field that it's important to have a good support system."

"You guys have really made my career. I don't know how I could have lasted this long without all of you," you emphasised the 'all', hoping he would catch on to your allusion of how special he was to you.

"You know, Y/N," he began, voice suddenly shaking and nervous, "I've been meaning to get some time alone with you in the daytime to talk for a while now."

You chuckled anxiously, "Did you take me to Paris to break up with me? Break up as in end our arrangement?"

"I like you, Y/N," he deadpanned, dismissing your pessimistic comment. Your heart started beating fast instantly, "I really like you and I can't carry on what we have until I tell you. We can move forward however you want: we can end the arrangement or just carry on as we are, but I just wanted to tell you."

His words don't shock you much. You think Sungchan has been confessing in his own little gestures and actions for some time now, but he finally threw the ball in your court.

You looked down at your intertwined hands, smiling softly and exhaled a puff of white frost, "We were bound to fall for each other, right? I just don't want to to hurt you since I've been in a bad place this past few months. I'm slowly getting out of it, but I just don't want to drag you down with me."

"I just want to be by your side," Sungchan whispered gently, "I just want to be able to kiss you in front of the world and call you mine."

"In front of the world?" you teased, ignoring the way your heart was swooning at his sweet confession.

"I know it's selfish of me, but I don't want to hide you forever," Sungchan voiced out, "I want to text you how you are and not feel like I'm overstepping and I have so much more of myself I want to give you."

You finally met his eyes again, "Let's make a deal, Jung Sungchan. Let's get to know each other well and more intentionally over the rest of the season and try that out. When it ends, we can think about what's next."

"I like the sound of that," Sungchan grinned, "I can still kiss you though, right? I think I'd die without it. The months between Worlds and your first assignment was hell for me."

"You're so dramatic," you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging your shoulders against his.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Sungchan?"

"Does that mean you like me back?"

You let out a laugh that Sungchan swears is the best thing he's heard in his life, and you pulled him by your entwined hands, telling him you want to go see the Eiffel Tower.

⋆｡°✩

SOUTH KOREA, APRIL 2024

Shotaro is smiling happily as he placed the orange juice pouch in front of you on the sand. You're sat on a blanket, knees tucked up to your chest as you watched the waves crash against the rocks peacefully. You think it's a good time to swim since the tide might be too strong later.

"Thank you," you coo at your best friend as he laid down beside you, flicking his sunglasses over his eyes.

You pierced the pouch with the straw and let out a happy sigh as the freezing cold juice invaded your taste buds. Late April in the south coast of Korea was thankfully warmer than the previous weeks you spent in Seoul with a new choreographer, piecing together your new program for the upcoming season.

The beach house behind you does very little to block out the sun, considering the sun is shining the opposite way and down to you, so you had made sure to lather up in sunscreen before relaxing on the beach. You had read half your book before Shotaro woke up from his short post-breakfast power nap and decided to join you on the sand.

"I think Anton and Sohee are still asleep cuddling," Shotaro laughed. You had tried to wake up the pair for breakfast, but they had both grumbled and sent you on your way back to the kitchen, nestling into their shared bed even more.

"They can be in charge of lunch then," you huffed, "When's everyone else coming? What time is it?"

"It's only 11:30," he told you, "I think the other 4 are all arriving together soon- maybe around now."

You, Shotaro, Anton and Sohee were able to make it first to the beach house that you all booked for a peaceful week and a half trip. You had already stayed the night, but the other boys had commitments that meant they could only come now. It was all fine, since you were there for a pretty long time anyway.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as Shotaro closed his eyes and took in the fresh sea breeze.

"How have you been since Worlds?" Shotaro broke the silence.

"Better, but I'd hate to find out if my happiness only stems from redeeming myself at this year's Worlds," you recounted. The last time you had seen the boys previous to the trip was the Worlds Championship the previous month, the same competition that caused a year-long spiral down into near insanity. Thankfully, you managed to escape scot-free and with a gold medal around your neck.

"How does it feel now stepping onto the ice? Does that dread still overcome you?" Shotaro asked softly.

After your worst skate on the world stage, it had taken you nearly a month to step back onto the ice since every time you attempted, you were instantly tossed back into that moment. It took another month before you even tried attempting your signature triple axel again. At your first assignment, you had felt fear instead of excitement as you began.

"I don't think so," you said lowly, afraid that if you said it with anymore confidence, it would come back to haunt you, "I think i'm on the other side completely. I have you and the boys to thank for that."

Shotaro smiled proudly, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tight affectionately. You missed speaking like this to your best friend, just the two of you- on rooftops, beaches, cafés, ice rinks, diners- spilling your hearts and confiding in each other. You hated that you were still keeping such a big secret from him.

"Hyung? Noona?" you heard a soft voice call out behind you. You turned around to find Anton peeking only his head out of the double doors at the back of the house overlooking the beach, "The others are pulling up!" The two of you shot up, picking up your blanket, your book and your trash before skipping through the sand to reach the house.

You were nervous, quite honestly, but the good kind, which was new for you. You hadn't seen Sungchan since Worlds (though you've stayed much more connected than in the past when apart) and all you could think about was the agreement between the two of you to revise your arrangement once the season had ended. And it has.

However, the talk was still pending.

You joined Sohee and Anton watching from the wide open front door as the boys were getting their bags out of the car trunk and rolling it up the driveway.

"Vacation time!" Seunghan whooped, dancing into the house with his suitcase in tow and a plastic bag filled with clinking glass, "We're going to get fucked up this week!"

"Well hello to you too, Hannie," he approached you with open arms before you were pulled away into another hug.

"Hmph," you were taken by surprise as Wonbin crushed your frame.

"Haven't seen you in ages," he said sadly. He wasn't at Worlds since he had injured himself slightly at 4 Continents before that, so it had been a while.

"How are you?" you poked his arm, "How's the knee?"

"It'll be totally fixed up before the season starts," he dismissed, grinning at you before going to greet the boys. You quickly hugged Eunseok and turned your attention to the last one through the door.

"Sungchan," you quickly enveloped his waist in a tight hug and he wrapped his arms around your neck and leaned down to your ear.

"Hey there," you could feel him smiling, "Missed you."

You pulled away quickly, trying to not be obvious in front of the boys, simply giving him a smile of reciprocation as you all migrated to the living room.

"D'you guys claim rooms already?" Eunseok looked around at the interior of the beach house.

"Hm," Sohee nodded sleepily, "Anton and I took the double bed on the right of the stairs and there's a room with another double across it."

"My room has a single bed and a double so two more of you can stay with me," Shotaro explained, "Then our princess Y/N gets the master bedroom all to herself."

You grinned teasingly at the boys who affectionately cooed at you and your overpacking. Your clothes were all currently sprawled out everywhere since you dug deep into it to find your pyjamas the night before and didn't bother to unpack properly.

"Dibs on the single," Eunseok rushed out, to which the other boys groaned at, "What? Shotaro likes to cuddle at night and I get too hot for that."

"I'll cuddle with you, Hyung," Wonbin said cutely, wrapping his arms and leg around Shotaro's side. Shotaro chuckled and fondly agreed.

"Yay, we're roomies!" Seunghan tugged on Sungchan's arm, "What are we doing today?"

"How about relaxing?" Wonbin groaned, "Sleeping?"

"Yah, you already slept the whole drive down!" Eunseok protested, "We can unpack and then grocery shop?"

The others seemed to decide that was a good idea so you also headed up to your room to sort out your clothes. Normally, you never properly unpacked in the countless hotel rooms you stayed in, since you only every brought your skates, your costumes and a couple of comfortable sweats to lounge in in between skating sessions. However, since you were staying for a while and doing activities (Shotaro made sure to book a place far from any ice skating rinks), you had to bring a lot of clothes.

Leaving your door open as you sat on the wooden floor and arranged your clothes into piles, you saw Eunseok and Wonbin drag their suitcases up the stairs and onto your wing of the house and they peeked in.

"Wow, noona this room is so nice," Wonbin expressed, "You're so lucky."

"Yeah I deserve not having to share with you guys. You're all pigs," you threw a sock at him that he threw right back.

"Guys, come look at the master," Eunseok craned his head and called over to the other boys bringing their bags up. Eunseok and Wonbin crossed the landing to their room to make space for the approaching Seunghan and Sungchan.

"Wow," Sungchan gasped in awe as he traversed the room and past you, "A bay window looking out at the sea?" He clapped happily as he stretched out across the cushions on the bay.

"Yah, get off! It's mine," you pouted, getting up from the floor to check the view outside. Since you arrived after the sun had already set, you didn't get to see what the view was like before and in the morning, Shotaro had dragged you straight down to the kitchen without even letting you do so much as brush your hair.

You could see from the corner of your eye that Seunghan had turned around and closed the door behind him, which left you slightly suspicious.

"Why did he close the door and leave?" Sungchan frowned, sitting up and patting the cushion next to him for you to have a seat. You sat down, twisting your body to examine the view. It was so peaceful and you couldn't wait to see how the sunset would illuminate your room in vivid colours.

"Beats me," you shrugged, "Did you tell them anything? They've been suspicious that you've been dating someone since grand prix final!"

"Yeah, I know. They keep bugging me about it," he rolled his eyes, "But I haven't said anything!"

"Hm," you hummed, "Anyway, how was the drive up?"

"I called shotgun then Eunseok demanded that I stay awake the whole time to keep him company," Sungchan recounted, "Seunghan and Wonbin were completely knocked out in the back, but it was a nice and smooth trip. What have you guys been doing here?"

"We all just explored the house and then went to bed last night pretty quickly, but Taro and I had breakfast and sat on the beach for a bit before you guys came."

Sungchan shuffled over, his hips bumping against yours, "Mhm, sounds nice! We should take a walk on the beach later. A nice long walk on the beach."

"Just us?" you inquired, brow raised.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure how to get you alone without the others being suspicious. This is probably suspicious enough," he pointed at the door, "They're all probably on the other side with their ears pressed against the door."

"We could just tell them," you suggested cautiously, "That we're getting to know each other?"

Sungchan dropped his head onto your shoulder and sighed, "I like keeping this to us. Our own little secret. It's fun for now, but maybe when we get a bit more tired we can tell them. We'll find a way to spend time with each other a little bit, but I guess it's a group vacation after all."

"Yeah, let's not stress," you agreed. Sungchan started playing with your fingers, twisting your rings and measuring up his large hands with yours before he entwined them together. He peered up at you from your shoulder and reached up to press a kiss along your jawline. You rotated your head to look down at him and before you know it, he had stolen a kiss from your lips.

You nudged him off of your body playfully as he tried to lean in for another kiss, "Go unpack! Hannie's gonna get suspicious!"

He feigned displeasure as he got up and stretched high, nearly touching the ceiling, "Mhm, okay, whatever you say. I'll see you later, love."

You bit back a grin, "Bye Channie."

⋆｡°✩

Sungchan is pushing one of the shopping carts as Shotaro and Sohee trailed behind him. In reality, they should be ahead, but they stopped far too often to point at random things and Sungchan was getting impatient. The three of them were on snack duty, while you, Eunseok and Wonbin were on ingredients duty, as you were the best cooks. Anton and Seunghan had skipped away the second you all arrived and every so often passed by and dumped an armful of things in the cart.

"What kind of crisps should we get?" Shotaro placed his hands on his hips and examined the vast wall of options in front of him. He picked out a few, Sohee following also and placed them in the cart.

Sungchan spotted a rare flavour to find, "They have truffle flavour! Let's get this. I think Y/N likes these."

"How'd you know that, hyung?" Sohee questioned, not interrogatively, just nonchalantly.

"Uh- I think she's mentioned it before," Sungchan stammered, "Let's get drinks."

Shotaro shot him an unsure look, but skipped ahead of the cart anyway to find the beverage aisle. From a few aisles down, Sungchan could hear you laughing with Wonbin and Eunseok and he wished he was by your side.

Eventually, you all converged at the checkouts, carts full and wallets about to be emptied, metaphorically. You had chosen a bunch of meats to grill on the patio down to the beach and lots of ingredients to make side dishes and other random things. The three in charge of cooking followed their task diligently, whereas Anton and Seunghan had produced a pool floater, a bunch of water guns and so many hangover sticks that you were all worried about how much Seunghan was going to force everyone to drink.

You returned to the house in two cars, the same groupings as how you came to the house and rapidly unpacked everything.

"Today, Eunseok, Wonbin and Seunghan are in charge of lunch for everyone," Shotaro declared, "We'll take turns making food each mealtime!"

Everyone made noises of agreement, slowly dispersing through the house as the cooks brainstormed what to serve.

"Does anyone want to go on a walk on the beach? I haven't seen it yet," Sungchan queried to no one in particular. Anton and Shotaro had turned around guiltily from where they were crouched under the TV. You could see that they were fiddling with some wires and powering on the console that they brought to the house. Ah, boys.

"Gonna play FIFA," Shotaro held up the game case sheepishly, "Maybe later?"

"I'll come with you now," you offered slowly, "I love the beach!"

Sungchan gave you a knowing smile and turned to Sohee, "What about you?"

Sohee looked up at you and Sungchan and then down to Anton and Shotaro, who had widened their eyes in order to communicate with him. He opened his mouth and spoke hesitantly, "Uh, I wanna play as well. Is it okay?"

"Mhm, suit yourself," Sungchan shrugged, happy on the inside that he had found a way to be alone with you.

The two of you slipped on more suitable footwear and grabbed a few snacks before heading out onto the beach.

(Meanwhile, Shotaro, Anton and Sohee were smirking in the living room, delighted that their own devious plan to get you and Sungchan together was coming into effect.)

"That was easy," Sungchan chuckled as you chose a direction to walk down.

"Surprisingly! You know how much Sohee loves the beach!" you frowned again but shook out the suspicion, "Whatever. I'm happy to spend time with you."

The second you were far enough from clear view from the house, Sungchan had interlaced his fingers with yours, happily swinging your conjoined arms between you. With his other hand, he ran it through his fluffy brown locks and basked in the soft breeze of being down by the ocean.

The beach was fortunately pretty deserted of people, since it wasn't terribly hot in climate yet, but there were a couple of people dotted around closer to the water.

"This is definitely what a healing trip is made of," he sighed contently, "That was a hard season."

Facing your own challenges didn't mean that the boys also weren't experiencing some hardships of their own. You know that Sohee was taking it hard with some injuries and Sungchan had only introduced his hardest combination the season just past, which is never easy.

"We all deserve a little break," you agreed, "To spend time with each other and definitely not talk or think about skating at all."

"What a dream," Sungchan was too elated being on this trip and it had barely begun, "Here with my best friends and my best girl."

You had stopped in your tracks and punched him softly in the chest, "Don't say that!"

He lowered his neck to meet you at your eye-level, "Why? Did it give you butterflies?"

You scoffed, pushing him away from you, but he decided to wrap his arms around you instead and sway your bodies around.

"You're too bold now, Jung Sungchan," you huffed, "Where's the boy that never speaks whenever we're around people? And the boy that blushed every time we kissed in secret?"

"He found out that the girl he liked likes him back and was giving him a chance to woo her off her feet!" Sungchan poked his tongue out at you and finally let you go, returning to your linked hands and continuing to walk.

"Woo?" you laughed at his teasing.

He nodded affirmatively, "Yeah, woo. Have you been woo'ed?"

You looked away for a second, hesitant to be so candid with him, but you figured that if he was so bold, you couldn't let this chance slip away.

"You're my ideal man, Sungchanie," you admitted quietly, "I like everything about you. I like having you by my side."

His face heated up so suddenly, so far removed from the confidence that was radiating off him just seconds ago. His heart was beating out of his chest as he tried to utter his words as casually as possible, "Enough to make me your boyfriend?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip to stop you from freaking out and smiling like a maniac, "Is that a confession? Is this our evaluation?"

"You already know I like you," he affirmed softly, "If you're ready for a relationship and if you're ready to have me in that way, you're in control."

You were still walking, barely looking at each other and too shy.

"Ask me."

"What?"

"Ask me the question," you whined as he seemed to play dumb.

Sungchan grinned down at you, his bambi eyes sparkling in the sun as he shook his hair out of them. He paused your stroll momentarily, turning to face you and closing the distance between your feet.

He nudged his nose against yours, a favourite move of his as he took a deep breath, "Y/N," he began slowly, "Please can I be your boyfriend?"

"Sungchan!" you laughed suddenly, "The question is 'will you be my girlfriend?'"

"That's not enough to express how much I want to be your boyfriend though," he pouted, "Doesn't matter, just give me an answer."

You threw your arms around his neck, still giggling, "Of course you can be my boyfriend, Jung Sungchan. I'm sorry you've been on trial period for like 5 months now."

Sungchan connected his lips to yours, giving you a soft peck, "Don't be sorry. I just wanted to show you how much I wanted to be there for you."

"And thank you for that. I couldn't have gotten through this season without you," you proclaimed gently.

He bumped his shoulders with yours as he took your hand again, "Don't get too sappy. You'll probably hate us by the end of this trip."

"I swear, if you guys don't clean after yourselves and leave the bathroom messy and dirty, I'll kill you all!" you remarked.

Sungchan laughed heartily- a sound that you had grown to adore over the past few months when you would share hushed conversations getting to know each other over the phone at night and calls whenever your schedules aligned. The two of you walked a little further, just talking about your plans for the trip and pointing out the cute, but also the endearingly ugly, dogs that were running around the beach. Eventually, Eunseok had texted you that lunch was nearly cooked and for the two of you to start heading back.

You couldn't believe that you left the beach house in a situationship and came back as a girlfriend! In fact, you probably still hadn't processed the fact that the Jung Sungchan was finally your boyfriend after all these years of creating boundaries and drawing lines to protect yourself and your heart.

All this time, Sungchan was your right person, wrong time, but you were so happy to be able to say that he stayed by your side long enough to become your right person at the right time.

⋆｡°✩

You were breathless and pliant in Sungchan's hold as he pressed feather-light kisses along your neck. He peppered them across your jaw, ending at the corner of your mouth before pulling away.

"Just kiss me," you begged as he smirked above you. Sungchan loved seeing you like this and now that you were officially his, it ignited a new spark in his heart that had always beat for you anyway.

It was past halfway through the beach trip and you had spent the past week lounging around on the beach and exploring the seaside town together. You spent mornings taking walks with the boys, the afternoon sunbathing and relaxing under parasols on the beach and the evening huddled around a bonfire just talking, singing and reminiscing. You were hard-pressed to find time alone with Sungchan, but you didn't mind since you came with the intention to hang out with your best friends and the new season wasn't going into full effect for a few months anyway.

Despite that, Sungchan had been sneaking into your room either before the others woke up or after they went to sleep, usually just to say goodnight and pillow talk, but sometimes to also make out like you were doing now.

Light flooded into the room from the expansive bay window, bathing Sungchan's face in sunlight. His twinkling eyes against his golden skin made you want to stare in them forever.

You were snapped out of your daydream when you heard a door click open and then close behind someone, and then footsteps on the hardwood floor. You pushed Sungchan off of you and he rushed over to sit at the bay window while you straightened out your bed and your clothes to give the illusion that your boyfriend hadn't been attacking you with his lips for the past half an hour.

You could hear a few more doors open and then close, before a knock on your door sounded out. Gingerly, you shuffled to your door and peeked out to find a sleepy and dishevelled Seunghan.

"Noona, have you seen Sungchan-hyung? He's not in bed," he was blinking slowly, as if trying to adjust to the natural light in your room. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, you opened the door wider and pointed sheepishly at the missing boy.

"Hey, I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep so me and Y/N were just talking and planning the day," Sungchan hummed as casually as he could muster up, "Do you need something?"

You let Seunghan inside your room and he immediately collapsed on your four-poster bed, sighing as he felt the soft sheets hit his head, "Nah, just wondering where you went and if you guys suddenly all decided to wake up and do something without me."

"You know everyone's so hard to get up in the morning," you mused, "Sungchan and I are the only morning people."

"You must have got closer then," Seunghan mumbled to himself, eyes fluttering shut, "That's good, noona. You weren't always as close to hyung."

You sat criss-cross next to his body as you shot Sungchan a pointed look. Was this the time you were going to reveal your relationship to the others? Sneaking around for the past week had been exhilarating, but it did weigh on the two of you to keep such a big secret from them. 

"We're going to the fair today, right?" he carried on, breaking the tension between you and your boyfriend.

"Mhm, so you better get up and wake the others up so we can have breakfast and get going," you told him as he groaned. Sungchan was just smiling at you lazily from the window, watching your sweet and maternal interaction with the younger boy. You prodded Seunghan a few more times before he finally rolled away and off the bed and Sungchan followed him out of the door, giving you a small wave goodbye.

You slowly got yourself ready for the day ahead, knowing it was going to take a while before all 7 of the boys could wake up and get refreshed enough to leave. By the time you were done, the youngest ones were preparing breakfast in the kitchen, singing along to the song on the radio perched on a floating shelf.

"Need any help?" you cast your eyes over Sohee and Anton who grinned happily as they saw you for the first time.

"Mhm, no," Sohee assured you, leading you to the already set dining table and pointing at the food, "We're nearly done so you can just wait for us or start eating if you want."

For the duration of the entire trip, it seemed like the boys were determined to not let you lift a finger. Although you were happy to help in cooking and cleaning, every time you were on the rotation, whoever was with you would work hard and take a lot of your work off you. Then again, the boys had always been sweet to you. Of course, they were funny, teasing and ridiculous, but at the core of it, they treated you like their little sister even though you were older than most of them. You really think that you couldn't have lucked out more with a friendship group and found family.

Anton served an over hard egg on your plate and you noticed that the rest on the serving plate was filled with sunny-side up eggs. See, they even paid attention to your food preferences.

Seunghan was next to come down, more wide awake than when you saw him last and seemingly energised by the prospect of food. He sat on your right, quickly scooping all of the dishes he wanted but stopping himself from eating until everyone came down.

Wonbin and Shotaro descended next, complaining about how long each other took to shower and get ready, but Eunseok came right behind them hair still dripping, to your chagrin as he made the floors slippery. Sungchan finally came down just moments later and took the empty seat next to you.

"Yay, let's eat!" Anton clapped his hands together as you completed the table.

"Wonbin-hyung, you'll go on the rides with us today, right?" Sohee crunched through his sausage.

"No, you can't force me to do anything," he grumbled and the rest of you chuckled at the man you knew to be so scared of fast and high rides, "I can watch over our stuff if you do go."

That was exactly the coversation you were having 2 hours later as all 8 of you stood in front of the tallest and fastest rollercoaster at the fair. In all honesty, it wasn't even that big and scary considering it was only a small fair that moved around, so the rides had to be simple to deconstruct. Even still, Wonbin planted his feet on the ground and firmly shook his head.

"But there's an uneven number of us," Shotaro whined, tugging at Bin's arm, "C'mon, just this once?"

He pouted and batted his long eyelashes as Anton sighed, "It's okay, I'll stay with hyung. I don't feel that good after that hot dog anyway."

Looking around, all of you had accepted defeat, so you joined the short line for the ride and immediately began grouping yourselves into pairs. At the one amusement park you had joined them at since you guys became friends, you stuck by Shotaro's side the whole time as you were still opening yourself up to the others. This time, you didn't really mind as Sohee linked arms with your boyfriend.

As the line progressed and you were at the front, Eunseok made his way to the back of the pack with you and helped you into the cart before sitting by your side. The climb up was decently steep and you could hear and feel the vibrations of the rails under you. You could also see Sohee still clutching Sungchan's arm and Seunghan and Shotaro preparing to raise their arms up when the ride plummeted.

As it slowly approached the peak, Eunseok cleared his throat, "You guys are pretty obvious, you know?"

You snapped your head so fast that even this rollercoaster couldn't give you the whiplash you gave yourself, "What?"

The ride was so rickety and loud that the boys in front of you couldn't hear you as Eunseok smirked, "You and Channie. Well at least to me you're obvious."

You opened your mouth to say something along the lines of you had no idea what he was talking about, but suddenly the ride dropped and a scream erupted from your throat. From beside you, Eunseok was nearly doubling over in laughter at how he caught you so flustered and shocked.

"Yah, don't run away from me," Eunseok laughed, calling after you as you gave him a pointed stare and ran ahead to catch up to Wonbin and Anton first.

Sungchan with his long strides reached you quickly, "What was that about?"

Anton and Wonbin's eyes were trained on you, so you merely waved your hand and dismissed it, "Nothing, just some nonsense."

You were grateful that Eunseok didn't say anything else when he arrived at the fence the others were waiting at, but for the rest of the fair, he would give you teasing smiles whenever you got so much as remotely close to Sungchan.

The sun was about to set and you were all nearly tired enough to go home. Between the big rides, the boys put on their competitive hats and kept challenging each other to the stalls that were known to be scams. They were probably blowing all of their prize money between them, but you had to keep walking back and forth between the fair and your cars since they were accumulating far too many plushies to hold.

"Just one more," Sungchan pleaded so cutely that you were resigned to say yes to, "Then we can go home after! Song Eunseok! Do this one with me!"

He was tugging on your arm, pointing at the basketball booth before slinging his arm around Eunseok's shoulder and dragging him along. Behind you, the youngests were happily munching on long churro sticks that Shotaro had bought for them, meanwhile he was conversing with Wonbin behind them.

"Loser has to grill all the meat later," Eunseok bargained. It was the two of them on main dinner duty once you returned to the house.

"Well what if we both win?" Sungchan huffed.

"Doubt it," Eunseok chuckled, as he handed over his bills to the booth manager.

You rolled your eyes at their antics- everyone knew that the basketball hoops were oval shaped and the chance of getting a ball in was slim. Even still, they both paid for the highest amount of balls in order to have the chance to win the biggest prize. If they got three balls through the hoop, then they could pick from the large prizes.

The boys finally caught up to you guys and sighed at the competition they saw in front of them. Eunseok was very passionate about basketball and Sungcham was very passionate about winning.

"No cheating," Sungchan swatted at Eunseok, who narrowed his eyes playfully.

They both began, the rest of you cheering them on. Both of them missed their first two shots, and they had to make the last 3 to win the big prize. Surprisingly, they also both were able to shoot the next two together, and were staring each other down as they picked up the last basketball.

"You're going down, Song Eunseok," Sungchan taunted, sticking his tongue out. Eunseok rolled his eyes and decided to shoot first at the hoop. You all watched in anticipation as the ball hit the rim... and then bounced off. Eunseok screamed in defeat and all eyes were turned to Sungchan.

He carefully examined the hoop and decided to just go for it. You were all shocked that it went in!

Sunchan whooped in glee, taunting Eunseok before throwing his arm around your shoulder. That was a pretty normal thing for the other boys to do to you, but it certainly wasn't the way Sungchan used to interact with you.

"You can choose the prize, Y/N," he grinned down at you, pointing at the array of large animal plushies attached around the booth.

You gasped as you laid your eyes on the most perfect choice and you leaned into his touch as you pointed it out, "That one!"

The booth attendant took it off its hook and handed it over to you. Gleefully, you held it up to Sungchan and cooed, "It looks just like you, Channie!"

Sungchan was smiling so dorkily at how the large baby deer plushie was making you so happy, and you were both too busy cooing at the plushie to notice the boys, jaws dropped and watching you.

"Uh," Wonbin uttered, "What's going on here?"

The silence that fell caused you and Sungchan to turn around, and upon realising their reaction, you jumped away from each other, still both holding the plushie.

"What do you mean?" Sungchan scratched his neck awkwardly, "You all got a prize for Y/N earlier. I wanted to as well."

Seunghan nodded slowly, "Okay, okay. Sure. But we just got small prizes."

"Is it my fault that I was good at this?" Sungchan retorted as he began walking your group towards the car park. You scurried behind him, hugging the deer close to your chest.

You fell back a little from Sungchan and slowed your footsteps since the boys behind you started whispering to themselves.

"I think Operation Sung-Y/N is working!" Sohee whisper-hissed. You raised your eyebrow at that. There's no way, right? There's no way that they were doing a whole scheme to set you up together with your boyfriend- not that they know that.

You decided not to confront them and joined Sungchan's side again. He had turned to talk to you, but saw you had slowed down so he had stopped in his tracks and waited for you. Sungchan sighed to himself as he watched you bound over with the plushie. He wished he could be in your embrace the way that plushie was connected to you. Frankly, he should have just told everyone else right then as they got suspicious, but he had a feeling you wanted to do it more lowkey.

Later on that night, Sungchan was lying on top of your sheets as you played with his hair. It was his turn to hug the deer- the only one that made it to your bed as you banished the other plushies the boys gave you onto the windowsill.

The others were all downstairs, either preparing the side dishes and preparing the grill or fighting each other on the playstation.

"We can tell them tomorrow," you sighed happily. his hair was so soft and bouncy that it instantly bounced back to its spot after you ran your hand through it, "And then we'll have 2 days here to act like a couple."

"Ah, two days," Sungchan sighed, "When am I going to see you again after that? I want to take you on a proper date, finally."

You gasped to yourself, bringing your hands to your mouth. Sungchan sat up quickly, eyebrows stitched together in worry, "Oh, what's up? What's wrong?"

You began laughing to yourself and Sungchan looked at you like you had grow two heads, "I forgot to tell you guys completely! I have some news for you all!"

"Ah, what is it?"

"I'm going to train in Seoul this season!"

Sungchan yelped in surprise, suddenly attacking you in a hug down onto the bed, "Oh my gosh, really? Are you serious? It's not a joke right?"

You giggled happily as he attacked your face wiyh kisses, "You know my coach Lina? Well, she's pregnant and she asked if I would be willing to relocate to Seoul so she could be around her family and her husband's family! She wants to receive maternal care here, so," you trailed off.

"Oh my, I'm so happy," Sungchan breathed out, "You mean I won't have to wait months in between competitions to come and see you? I can see you everyday?"

"Hey, you have a skating career too," you poked his chest, "Make sure you focus on that. But if it works, then sure! I'm going apartment hunting as soon as we all drive back up to Seoul!"

Sungchan was so elated, dreaming about all his favourite places that he would take you, "Ah, I think there's an apartment empty in our building. Do you want me to ask our management team?"

The boys all lived in the same building, some of them sharing and some of them living alone since there were various apartment layouts. You recalled that Sungchan lived with Shotaro on the 7th floor of the building, but you had only visited twice before.

You had a thought about declining his offer. Maybe it was moving too fast for you if you moved into his apartment building, but then again, the rest of your friends were there too and it wasn't like you were moving into his room. The thought of having all of them around often and being able to guide you through the city comforted you, so you just gave him an appreciative smile and nodded, "Mhm, that would be nice."

A happy sound escaped his throat and you're certain that moving to Seoul was the best move for you at this stage. Sungchan flipped you around so he was below you and you hovering over him. He brought his hand up to your face, tucking your hair out of your eyes and settling his large palms on your soft cheeks.

He guided your face down and you could feel his breath ghosting over your mouth. Sungchan connected his eyes with yours, "I really, really like you, Y/N. Thank you for giving me a chance."

Stealing his move, you grazed your nose against his, "You tell me that everyday, baby. I really, really like you too. I'm excited for this new season."

It wasn't just a new season of figure skating where you were going to debut new programs. It was a whole new season in your life. It felt like you could finally release yourself from the shackles of the bad moments of your past and start anew- a new country, and a new boyfriend.

He craned his neck up to softly touch your lips together, but he hadn't made any other moves, so you slid your arms around his neck and melted into his chest, parting his lips with yours and deepening the kiss.

You have always loved kissing Sungchan. His kisses seemed to heal every pain and suffering in the world and made you forget even your own name sometimes. He was always a passionate person, tending to your whines and requests whenever you got frustrated and he was teasing you. You don't know how, but since becoming his girlfriend, kissing him felt even better than it did before.

You were so engrossed in each other that you hadn't even heard the footsteps coming up the stairs, or Seunghan's soft calls for you, or his knocking on the door, or the way the door creaked as he opened it.

"Yah!" his scream caused Sungchan to sit up so hard and fast that you fell off of him and onto the floor, "My eyes!"

Sungchan smoothed his clothes out in a panic and yelped in apology as he helped you up from the floor. He scowled at his younger friend, "Do you know how to knock?"

"I did!" Seunghan exclaimed, throwing his hands up, "I even called for you, noona! Ah, I'm so traumatised! How can I get that out of my head?"

Your face must have been as red as the way it flushes when you get drunk as you just watched silently against the bed.

"Hey, what's going on? Hurry up, we wanna eat!" Wonbin appeared behind Seunghan who was still rubbing his eyes, unable to believe what he saw. Wonbin looked at him, confused by his reaction and the yells, "What happened?"

Suddenly, the other 4 boys all came out of nowhere too, crammed in the small hallway and looking between you on the bed, Sungchan closer to the door and Seunghan just on the other side.

"I caught them," Seunghan dramatically screeched, throwing his arms around Wonbin, "I caught them!"

"Caught them doing what?" Shotaro frowned.

"Making out!" Seunghan screamed, to which the rest of the boys started yelling in surprise too, suddenly firing questions at you and Sungchan, who was looking worriedly and apologetically at you.

"I knew it!" Eunseok smirked.

"Oh my God?" Anton gasped quietly and Sohee was mirroring his reaction.

"Are you guys fucking?" Seunghan was still dramatically wailing.

Sungchan scoffed, offended, "No! Well-" he looked at you, giving you the choice to give as much information.

"We're in a relationship," you revealed softly, laughing at their dropped jaws, "Well, only since the trip. We've been getting to know each other since Paris."

"Paris?" Wonbin gawked, "Paris? So when we asked you who you went to Paris with and you said no one, you actually were with Sungchan-hyung?"

"Yeah," you tilted your head and scratched the back of your neck, "Sorry for some white lies we've had to tell. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a bit, navigate new territories and make sure it doesn't affect our friendship with you guys."

Shotaro stepped into the room, huddling over to give you a hug, "Well we're all happy for you both. Besides, we were all conspiring to set you two up this trip."

"We were so proud at how well it was working," Sohee cried out, "Turns out we're the fools!"

You think back through the trip at the instances they created to get you alone together, whether it was taking quick trips to the grocery store because they 'forgot' an ingredient, or just leaving you two behind whenever you were walking and relaxing on the beach. You were thankful the boys were so silly to create a plan like that, otherwise you couldn't have spent so much time with your new boyfriend on the healing trip.

"It's okay guys," Sungchan grinned lopsidedly, "It was funny to watch." "Um," Seunghan interrupted, "I actually came up cause I was coming to tell you that dinner was ready."

Eunseok nodded, turning on his heel, "Yeah, I'm really hungry. Can we talk about this over barbecue instead?"

The rest of the boys nodded in agreement, making their way down the stairs. You sighed heavily, looking at Sungchan who placed a loving kiss on your hair, "That was so chaotic. Are we okay, though?"

You smiled up at him and took his hand pulling you up, "More than okay. They were bound to find out and they're all so happy about it."

Sungchan splayed his palm against yours and then locked your fingers together, "Ah, wait til you tell them about moving to Seoul. They'll forget this news instantly!"

You let the grin invade your face as you happily imagined the way they'd cheer and instantly bombard you with outings to do and places to visit together in Seoul. You were definitely certain now that your relationship with Sungchan wasn't going to change your friendship.

"Lovers, come on!" Eunseok yelled up the stairs, "The food is getting cold so stop making out!"

Well, maybe a little bit. But as long as you were able to call Sungchan yours, you were sure you could endure anything.

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a/n: thank you for reading:) pls let me know what you think<3

#riize #sungchan #jung sungchan #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize scenarios #riize angst #riize sungchan #riize au #sungchan au #sungchan fluff #sungchan x reader #figure skating au #sungchan fic #riize fic #riize fanfic #sungchan fanfic #sungchan imagines #sungchan imagine

[katiexpunk]

Scarlet Haze - Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~4K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was, until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now it's his turn to return the favor.

Series Warnings: SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. Set in the TLOU universe in the Boston QZ. Buckle the fuck up for a lot of filthy, feral smut. Check chapter warnings for specifics. This series will follow them through current day (May 2024). Chapter Warning: Setting up some plot before the smut. Canon-typical violence. Blood. Blood sucking (just a lil drop, it's hot, trust me). Sexual tension. Bloody knuckles/wounded Joel. Descriptions of medical care. Guns. Mentions of unwanted pregnancy (not readers). Hallucinations similar to a drug high. Mentions of abortion and abortion medication. Mentions of abuse (not to reader/not by Joel). No use of Y/N. Reader has no physical descriptions. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I've been waiting to a sex pollen fic for forever. This series is dedicated to the lovely Jett -- @morallyinept -- as part of her and her brilliant May Flora and Fauna Challenge. Part 2 coming 5/12.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

“Love, my dear, is the opium of the masses, and once people get high on it, they will trample you like wild horses.” ― Yanko Tsvetkov

Boston QZ, January 2023 The clock ticks past midnight, the only sound in the small, cluttered room where you sit at an ancient, creaking desk. The journal before you is just as old, its pages yellowed and wrinkled from water damage, the ink smudged but still legible. Medical diagrams and handwritten notes fill its margins, proof that such knowledge was more prevalent than now. You strain your eyes in the dim light of a single lamp, deciphering the faded text.

Suddenly, a sharp knock at the door jolts you from your concentration. Your heart skips a beat. It’s late, well past the enforced curfew. FEDRA doesn’t take kindly to nighttime wanderers. You take a deep breath, rise, and approach the door, your steps silent on the wooden floor.

Peering through the peephole, you see the night alive with rain, water streaming down in sheets, distorting the figure standing on your doorstep. You slowly open the door. The broad shoulders hunched against your worn doorframe tell you exactly who it is. His knuckles are bloody, fresh crimson mingling with the rainwater, creating a diluted red that flows into the puddles on the pavement.

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice etched with concern. “Doc,” he rasps, giving you a stiff nod. 

“We can't keep doing this.” 

He looks down, following your gaze to the bloody water at his feet, and then back at you. He offers you a sheepish, almost apologetic grimace. He winces in pain and you know his knuckles are probably the least of his injuries. 

Your face tightens with worry. 

“Show me.” 

He responds by opening his jacket and lifting his shirt to reveal a deep, gruesome gash across his abdomen. You sigh. Hate to see the other guy. 

Without a word, you step aside, gesturing him into the warmth. “Sit in the kitchen chair. I’ll get my kit,” you instruct, closing the door behind him.

He lumbers in, his heavy boots thudding on your floor, leaving wet, muddy prints. You hurry to fetch your medical supplies, already cataloging the steps you need to take to clean and stitch the wound. 

Tonight, like many nights before, you’ll patch him up again.  And like all the nights before, you have a feeling you’ll be left wondering how it even came to this in the first place. 

++++

You carefully wrap the bandages around his side, the room silent except for the rain tapping against the window and the rhythmic sound of his breath.

"Sorry, just a little more," you tell him, giving him an empathetic smile, pulling the bandage snugly against his skin to ensure it's secure. "This should help keep the stitches in place," you add, smoothing the edges as you tape them down. Your hand trails over the hard lines of his core, and breath hitches in your throat. He’s firm, a mass of a man, yet somehow soft around his middle.

"Gonna give you an antibiotic" you explain, preparing the syringe. You notice his focus on the rain-streaked window, his jaw set in a stoic line. “Might sting a bit,” you warn, and he chuckles. When you administer the shot, he doesn’t flinch, just pulls his shirt back over his shoulders with a quiet grunt of acknowledgment. 

You step back, giving him space to adjust his shirt, watching him move with careful, controlled motions. "That should do it for the wound," you say, avoiding saying what you really want to. 

"Thanks, Doc," he says, his voice low and thick like honey.

He looks at you then, really looks, noticing the tiredness in your eyes that doesn't hide your beauty. "You owe me, Miller," you say with a smile, trying to keep the mood light.

"Yeah," he agrees, his tone more serious than the situation warrants. 

He rises to his full height and steps closer to you. You tilt your chin to meet his gaze, and his calloused hand gently cradles your cheek. The pad of his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a tender but deliberate touch, his eyes locking with yours in an intense gaze that thickens the air around you.

“I do.” 

He drinks you in, his eyes dark and hungry. You feel the heat of his attention and it ignites every nerve in your body. His gaze falls to your lips, and yours to his. You stay there for a breath, inches away from an entirely different night.

You place your hand over his on your face, before grabbing it and pulling it down, turning it gently so you can inspect his knuckles. "You—you should let me clean these up, too."

"No point, Darlin'," he responds, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. 

You almost challenge him, ask why he thinks it doesn't matter, but the answer hangs unspoken between you— it’ll happen again. Like fine wine and cheese, Joel Miller and bloody knuckles just seem to go together. 

You're always worried about him, though you'd never openly admit it.

It's late, and the rain shows no signs of stopping. "You could stay," you suggest, hesitating slightly, “If—if you want.” The words hang in the air, surprising even you with their sudden presence.

He pauses, looking deeply into your eyes. Time seems to slow, the world fading away until only he remains in focus. He lowers his hand and steps back, his movement reluctant.

"Better not," he says, voice heavy.

He turns and slides the chair back under the worn dining room table, the wooden legs screeching across the floor, shattering the silence. He then moves around you and heads towards the door. 

You watch him leave, every part of you wanting to call him back, to keep him safe under your roof.

"See you next time, Doc," he calls over his shoulder, glancing back at you framed in the warm glow of your apartment. He looks down, willing his feet to move forward, ignoring every fiber of his being trying to make him turn back to you.

"God damn it, Miller," you say with a half-laugh, shaking your head in a mix of irritation and affection.

You watch him walk away until his figure merges with the rainy night, becoming just another blurred shape in the darkness.

Once inside, the room suddenly feels chillier without him there.

++++

Boston QZ, May 2023

"Who's next?" you ask, stepping out of an exam room, ready to keep the day moving.

She hands you a chart, and as you scan the details, a familiar name catches your eye: Daisy. Your heart sinks a little. Married to a FEDRA guard known for his cruelty, Daisy's visits are all too frequent, and the reasons are always distressing—'accidents' that never sound like accidents. With a heavy sigh, you brace yourself and walk into the next room.

"Daisy, what brings you in today?" you ask, though you're almost sure you know the kind of answer you'll get.

She's sitting on the exam table, her face in her hands, sobbing. "Doc—I, I don't know what I'm going to do," she stammers out between tears. You close the door gently behind you, hoping not to draw any attention from other patients. Her words are few, but her eyes say everything.

"Oh, Daisy, I'm so sorry." you say soothingly, your stomach twisting with the gravity of her situation. You finish up the appointment, providing the care she needs right now, but the real solution she's looking for isn't something you have on hand.

Back at the medicine cabinet, you scan for mifepristone and misoprostol, but the shelf is bare—a too common problem these days with supplies running low everywhere.

"Damn it," you mutter under your breath, pushing vials and bottles aside as you search every inch of the shelf, hoping you might have overlooked it. Overwhelmed, you briefly shut your eyes.

Flashes of that rainy night when Joel appeared at your door – bruised and bleeding – much like the night you first met him, flicker through your mind like scenes from a film. You remember the press of his chest against yours, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. Yeah, I do.

If anyone knows how to find something hard to get, it's Joel. 

Time to see if he can make good on his promise. 

++++

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” he rasps, his voice heavy with finality.

“Joel, please,” you plead, kicking the heel of your boot into the ground and crossing your arms over your chest.

He stands before you, a formidable presence, hands planted on his hips, one knee angled slightly out. God, he's infuriatingly handsome when he's angry. Though you hate to admit it, there's something irresistibly alluring about his fury—the rigid set of his jaw, the pronounced vein pulsing at his neck, and even his lips, pressed into a thin line of displeasure, somehow draw you in. His brow is deeply creased with frustration.

You lock eyes with him, engaging in a silent battle of wills as people pass by, careful not to draw attention. He waits until the bar door swings shut behind you before he speaks again.

“No,” he growls, the word hanging between you for a tense moment before he turns to walk away. 

You hurry to keep pace with him, your steps quick and double-time to match each of his long strides.

"Jesus, Joel, it’s not like I’m asking you to commit mur–" Before you can finish, he grabs your arm and pulls you off into a back alley, away from prying eyes. Suddenly, he's got you pinned against the cool brick wall, his presence so close you can practically feel the heat radiating from him. His skin is a golden tan, kissed by the spring sun, and his jacket carries a heavy scent of fire smoke that envelops you. 

Fuck, he’s intense. 

"Why do you want to go outside the gate, anyway, huh?" he questions, his eyes probing yours intently. "It’s dangerous out there."

“You think I don’t know it’s dangerous?” you scoff, irritation flashing in your voice. “Of course I know. Why else would I come to you?” I’ve seen you come back bloody, bruised, and broken, and you’re still here. 

“That didn’t answer my question, Doc,” he counters, his presence still imposing as he keeps you pinned against the wall.

“I–I need a medication we don’t have here, and I thought maybe a pharmacy out there might still have it.”

He remains silent, eyes locked on yours, searching for any sign of falter in your resolve.

“What kind of medication?” he digs deeper.

“Abortion medication,” you sigh, gluing your gaze to the ground, avoiding his. He recoils slightly, the weight of the word hanging between you. You can almost see the gears turning in his head. There’s a long pause, before the question he doesn’t want the answer to slips from his lip. 

“You’re pregnant?” he asks, wrestling with the grim realities of life outside—and sometimes inside—the walls of the QZ. He can’t shove down the questions bouncing from corner to corner in his mind. Who’s the father? Was it consensual? Why is he so angry?  

“What? Me? God no,” you scoff. You don’t miss the way his shoulders fall from his ears, apparently relieved. “It’s for a patient of mine. I can’t tell you who, but I can tell you that she’s desperate.” 

You step closer, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the worn fabric of his plaid shirt under your palm. You notice stains of crimson set into the cloth, despite the scent of laundry soap. Who’s blood it is you try not to wonder. 

“You did say you owed me one,” you remind him, looking up to catch his gaze, which has softened slightly, his brow knit with concern.

"Fine," he admits reluctantly, his voice tinged with resignation. He turns away quickly, stepping out into the dim light of the alley before he can second-guess his decision.

++++

As the sky begins to darken, tinting the horizon with shades of deep blue and purple, Joel meets you at your apartment just before curfew sets in. He leans against the doorframe, his expression troubled. "You sure about this?" he asks, hoping you might have changed your mind from this morning. 

You nod, trying to sound more confident than you feel. "It'll be fine," you assure him, though his doubtful look suggests he isn't convinced. There’s an acidic fear low in his gut, the weight of keeping you safe heavy on his shoulders. 

You slip quietly through the alleys, avoiding the main routes to evade the guards and the two somehow still working surveillance cameras. 

Once outside the gate, hidden by the fading light, Joel sets some ground rules.

"Listen, if I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide," he instructs firmly, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. "We're here for one thing only—no funny business." He looks so good like this, bathed in the moonlight, all stern stoicism. 

He draws a handgun from behind his back, checks the safety, and then holds it out to you with the handle facing you.

“Think you can handle this?” You nod hesitantly; you're familiar with a gun, though the last time you fired one was during your harrowing journey to the QZ—a memory you desperately try to keep buried. 

"Look, Doc. ‘M not gonna sugarcoat it—it's rough out here. ‘M gonna do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I need you to have this, just in case something happens to me," he explains. You think you see it then, hidden in his expression, the softness of his brown eyes  – his affection for you. 

You accept the handgun from him and trail your fingers over the intricate designs on the handle. It’s heavy, the barrel long and the grip smooth, you think it might be one of his favorites. Heat rises to your chest at the thought, and you shove it down as you slide the weapon into the waistband of your jeans. 

You give him a firm nod, mustering as much confidence as you can manage. 

“I trust you, Joel. Let’s go,” you say, your shoulder brushing his forearm as you step further into the unpredictable. 

Throughout the night, as you make your way deeper into the territory reclaimed by nature, the atmosphere between you two shifts and lightens.

You mostly walk in silence, on Joel’s orders. By dawn, you've reached an area where the city's crumbling remains are overtaken by nature. With more light, he seems to have relaxed a little bit.

“Did you have a place you used to go, just to escape it all?” he asks, catching you off guard. Your eyes scan the horizon as you think of your response. It doesn’t take you long. 

“Yeah, there was this little bookstore near my apartment. Quiet, cozy. I'd lose hours in there. How about you?” “A park bench by the river. I’d go there to think, or just watch the water flow by.” “Didn’t really take you for the meditation type,” you smile, warmth spread on your cheeks at the thought of big, bad Joel Miller sitting on a park bench by the river. Maybe even feeding the ducks. 

“‘M not, but I figured it sounded better than the real answer,” he looks over his shoulder, eyes scanning the perimeter of your surroundings. 

“Alright, consider me hooked. What’s the real answer then?” you ask. 

“Home Depot,” he answers, voice level. 

You laugh.  

“What? Not a fan of Home Depot?” he looks back at you, the corners of his lips lifting to an almost smile. 

“Never really had a reason to go much, but uh – I think it smelled good. Especially near the lumber section, something about the smell of wood. My grandfather used to take me –” you trail off as you see a particularly vibrant patch of flowers through a clearing. 

Excitement bubbles up inside you, and you can't help but rush towards them. "Hang on a sec!" you call out to Joel, who sighs but follows reluctantly, still keeping an eye out for any threats.

"They're gorgeous," you exclaim, bending down to examine the flowers more closely.

Joel watches you, a slight smile playing on his lips as he agrees, "Yeah, they are." But his gaze stays fixed on you, not the flowers. You don’t notice. 

"Can we grab some? I want to press them," you ask, gazing up at him with your biggest pleasepleaseplease eyes. Initially hesitant, Joel nods, standing guard with his rifle slung over his shoulder while you immerse yourself in the floral wonder.  “Alright, but let’s make it quick, don’t want to burn any daylight by dilly-dallying,” he says. 

You make your way through the field and lift your arms to the sky as if to say hello to the clouds, before doing a little twirl of excitement.  

It's a beautiful spring day, albeit windy. As you lean in to smell more of the flowers, a sudden gust sweeps across the field, lifting a cloud of pollen into the air. It sparkles in the sunlight, swirling around you like a shower of gold dust, ethereal and shimmering. For a moment, the world seems enchanted, and Joel can't help but watch, captivated by your beauty and wonder amidst the sparkling air.

“Oh come on, Miller. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to stop and smell the roses?” You tease, the tips of your fingertips dancing over the tops of the flowers. 

You stop short of the middle of the field, attention captured by a patch of flowers you’ve never seen before.

Joel catches up and crouches next to you, curiosity lighting up his usually firm features. "What did you find?" he asks, peering at the cluster in front of you.

"It's bizarre, isn't it?" you say, tracing the delicate petals with your finger. The flowers are vibrant, almost luminescent, with a pattern that doesn't resemble anything you've seen before. The petals are a deep violet at the base, transitioning to a glowing teal at the tips, and the centers are dotted with tiny, sparkling flecks.

Initially, you think about just leaving the flower there, figuring the memory would be enough. But then you think, why not take one? It’s the end of the world, after all. Might as well enjoy a bit of its beauty. 

You pull out a small knife from your pack with the idea of pressing the flower into a bookmark. You reach out to cut the stem, but as you do, a nasty thorn dislodges and embeds itself into your finger. 

“Shit, ouch!” You cry out, shaking your hand in pain, causing Joel to turn his attention back to you. Was he…smelling the flowers? 

“What’s wrong? You okay?” he asks, his eyes instinctively scanning over your exposed skin. “Fine, the flower just uh….bit me?” you reply, trying to make light of it.

He sighs in relief.

"Better the flower than a clicker," Joel quips, moving closer to examine your finger. He notices that the thorn, nearly translucent, is embedded deeply, its core a swirling mass of the same deep violet as the mysterious flowers. He squints, bringing your finger closer to his eyes, and for a moment, he could swear he sees it pulsing in your skin. Without warning, he brings your finger to his mouth. Using the tip of his teeth with surprising gentleness, he clamps onto the embedded thorn. With a quick tug, he frees it, spitting it onto the ground. As he does, he notices a drop of blood pooling on your fingertip. Without hesitation, he brings your finger back to his mouth and sucks gently at the wound. 

The unexpected intimacy of it sends a spark right to your core—arousing and confusing in equal measure.

Joel looks at you, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "All better, Darlin’.” He plants a small kiss on your fingertip and drops your hand. 

You’re speechless. All you can do is mutter thank you and hope he doesn’t think you’re being awkward.

As you and Joel continue your trek through the expansive field, the breeze begins to intensify, carrying with it a heavy swirl of pollen from the myriad of flowers surrounding you. The air fills with vibrant particles, shimmering like tiny, floating jewels in the sunlight. With each breath, the world starts to shift subtly around you.

The colors of the field become unnaturally vivid, each blade of grass a sharp, electric green, and the sky a deep, pulsating blue. The flowers seem to breathe along with you, their petals undulating in slow, hypnotic rhythms. The sounds of birds amplify and distort; the rustling of leaves turns into a soft symphony, and your footsteps resonate like deep drumbeats against the earth.

As you walk, reality bends. The ground beneath your feet feels softer, almost spongy, and the horizon appears to melt into the sky. Everything is connected by a thread of radiant energy that you can almost see, a web of life pulsating in unison.

Joel's voice comes to you as if from a distance, warped and echoing. You turn to look at him and his features seem to blur and sharpen intermittently, as if your eyes can't decide how to see him properly. The familiar becomes alien, and time feels like it's stretching, moments lingering longer than they should.

“Hey, uh – Doc?” He asks, and all you can respond with is a small hmm.

“Do you, uh…feel a little funny?” He stops in front of you, and walks closer, suddenly coming into your line of vision. 

The scarlet haze in your vision begins to dissipate, your attention now solely on Joel. He stands there, illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, his figure sharp against the light. Joel appears almost ethereal, a stark silhouette carved from the backdrop of the broken world around you.

His eyes, deep and expressive, hold yours with an intensity that seems magnified by the surreal experience. They flicker with shades of amber, and a softness that makes your muscles feel like goo. His hair, tousled by the wind, frames his face with a wild, untamed look that adds to the raw, rugged nature of his features.

His face is marked by the trials of the world you both navigate—scratches, a bruise near his temple that is just beginning to fade, a scar on the side of his neck. Yet, despite the harshness, there's a gentleness in his jawline, in the way his lips curve into a half-smile as he sees you regaining focus.

Joel's build, strong and sturdy, reassures you of safety in his presence. His shoulders are broad, set in a posture that’s relaxed yet ready, mirroring his ever-vigilant nature. His hands, rough and calloused, hang by his sides, but even they seem to express a readiness to comfort or defend as needed.

As you stand there, all else fades into the periphery—there's only Joel. 

There’s only ever been Joel. 

And right now you couldn’t need him more. 

In your delusion, it hits you—you’ve seen that flower before. It was in a book about medicinal plants you'd been reading to learn about natural remedies. 

The details are fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream, but one thing stands out clearly: a stark warning at the bottom of the page.

"Warning: The sap and pollen of this flower are known to cause extreme hallucinations and may cause intense arousal."

The words dance in your mind, sharp like diamonds. 

Shit. 

“Joel?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

Oh fuck, that’s new. 

“I think we need to find a place to lay down.” 

Part 2

A/N Continued: Thank you so much for reading! Like most writers, I do have a praise kink. If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I'll not only love you forever, but it keeps me motivated to keep creating.

Tagging some moots for visibility (lmk if you want to be removed -- no hard feelings!) @endlessthxxghts @syd-djarin @auteurdelabre @morning-star-joy @theoasisofthings @chulopascal @yxtkiwiyxt @milly-louise @secretelephanttattoo @sawymredfox @xdaddysprincessxx @burntheedges @punkshort @pedrostories @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @joeldjarin @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #sex pollen #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #jettsflora&faunachallenge

[chrisevansonly]

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ charles gets the one call he never wanted to get, and despite your worries about his precious pista, he doesn’t care about the car. just you.

ʚ angst, description of injuries (minor), mentions of blood, panic attacks, violence (minor), tears and lots of soft charles

ʚ okay idk why i thought of this idea, but i have and here we are, i know people have been asking for angst, this idk if it qualifies as the angst you’re all looking for but I will work on some other ideas too:)

Time was frozen as you sat in the driver’s seat of what once looked like a Ferrari 488 Pista. Only now you could make out the back of the car, the front of it might as well be in a what not to do when you drive a luxury vehicle catalogue. Your head was ringing and your chest pounding as adrenaline and anxiety pumped through your veins, as much as you’d started to feel pain in a multitude of places, your brain was thinking of only one thing;

Charles is going to be so mad.

To make matters worse, the man who had hit you was now cursing through the tinted window, claiming the accident to be all your fault. Deciding to think about Charles’s potential anger later you picked your phone up and called his number.

Thankfully it didn’t take long, 

“Hi baby, are you on your way back”

A pause 

“Um…I-I got in an accident Char…”

The line was silent before he spoke up, panic laced in his voice. 

“Qu'entendez-vous par ‘accident?’  Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? Où es-tu, es-tu gravement blesse.”

“Charles, english please my head hurts so bad.”

Normally you’d be able to hold an entire conversation with him in French, but right now it was just too much.

“I’m sorry, where are you baby? Are you hurt bad?”

Sniffling softly, you hummed

“I am down by the marina; my head really hurts. The man who hit me…he-he is yelling loudly at me…can you-oh Charles your poor car….”

“No, don’t even worry about my car baby, you matter more to me, I can’t replace you, but I can replace the car. I’ll be there in ten minutes, keep the doors locked, don’t get out.”

You nodded, only then realizing he couldn’t see you. 

“Yes, okay, I’ll wait here…please hurry”

“I will chérie, I promise.”

-

Just like he’d said, a familiar black Alfa Romeo pulled up next to the crash site, Charles quick to get out and come towards the driver’s side door, only to see the man banging at the window. 

“Hey, can you step away from my car?”

The man turned to look at Charles

“Cette stupide salope a détruit ma voiture!”

“Je vous le redemande, éloignez-vous de ma voiture”

It was getting harder for Charles to reign in his anger, quickly pushing the man back, giving him a look that at this point in the evening, had him backing away, finally allowing Charles to open the door and see you

“Hey..hey.. I’m here, its okay?”

Charles swore his heart broke as you looked at him with teary eyes, a bruise above your eyebrow, but thankfully you appeared alright otherwise.

“I-I’m so sorry about your car Charlie, he just-he came out of nowhere, and I-I couldn’t-I am so so sorry!”

Holding back the sobs was almost impossible at this point, but Charles was quick to undo your seatbelt, helping you turn towards the door and put your feet on the ground. Once he had you turned toward him, he brought his hands up to hold your face, his thumbs swiping your cheeks.

“My love, listen to me, you are my main priority, you are the love of my life, and this car is just mental and parts, all which can be fixed, but you cannot, and I cannot have another one of you, ever okay?”

Sniffling you nodded

“Okay…”

In the distance you could heard the sirens coming your way, knowing you’d be going to the hospital, it was a given but for now you really just needed Charles, and he wasn’t going anywhere, that was for sure.

“Are you hurting badly baby?”

“No, just my head…can you help me up?”

Your boyfriend nodded, holding onto your arms gently as he helped you stand up, before bringing you into his chest, your arms wrapping around him, as he did the same to you.

“I am so glad you’re okay, you have no idea how worried I was…we’ll get you to the hospital and then i’m not leaving your side”

“Promise you won’t?”

Charles smiled as he saw your pinky finger come up, quickly linking his in a pink promise, a tradition you’d both been doing since your third date.

“I promise, i’m not going anywhere”

As the sirens got closer, you leaned further into Charles, knowing no matter what happened, he’d be by your side for as long as you needed him, he’d be there. It didn’t matter if he had a race, media or social events to attend, for you he’d drop them in a heart beat over and over again.

Because he never wanted to get that kind of phone call again.

translations:

-Qu'entendez-vous par ‘accident?’  Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? Où es-tu, es-tu gravement blesse : What do you mean by 'accident?' What happened? Where are you, are you seriously injured?

-Cette stupide salope a détruit ma voiture!: This stupid bitch destroyed my car!

-Je vous le redemande, éloignez-vous de ma voiture: I'm asking you again, get away from my car

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x wife reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #f #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

[petit-etoile]

in the moonlight (my darling, do not fear)

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 4184 content warnings: mentions of injuries, no in-depth descriptions, minor spoilers for astarion's act ii romance other tags: canon-typical violence, canon complaint, hurt/comfort, whump, developing relationship, love confessions, gender neutral tav, elf!tav archiveofourown: here. sentence prompt: "you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left." — from here. summary: defeating the orthon is no small task. the hardest part is what comes after.

　　　　　　𝐈. ﹕previous fic　　　　　𝐈𝐈. ﹕next fic

‘No!’ he shouts, and it’s so loud it echoes on the edges of your mind. ‘You can’t die.’

I’m not dying, you think but the words never leave your lips. In the depths of your consciousness, you can faintly remember the battle with the Orthon. Karlach had killed the displacer beast, hadn’t she? Shadowheart had blinded the Merregon… You remember violent flashes of light and the shaking of the Gauntlet. Trying to remember takes too much energy, and thinking about opening your eyes makes your stomach roll.

‘Get up, damn you!’ Astarion snaps harshly.

He paws at your desperately, shifting rock and ruin, and when he presses his hands to your side, stars flutter behind your eyelids so violently all you can do is moan. It’s your turn to shove at him. You push at his hands and feel your fingers glide against his skin. But I’m too tired, you want to say. I just want to sleep, to dream. Eventually, you give up your fight and relax into the darkness. Maybe when you awaken, the illithid parasite will be gone and you will be cured. You can only hope that it comes true.

Astarion has other plans for you. He curses your name so sweet it could be a perfectly mulled wine and leans forward. His ear tickles your lips, and whatever he hears come from it is enough to make him heave out a relieved sob. His hands are on your face again. His fingers are sticky, and they smell like powder. He jostles you so violently that you groan against your will, but it doesn’t seem to matter much to him.

Astarion rests his head against your chest right where your broken collarbone has begun to throb. You struggle to open your eyes and stare at the roof above you, but you don’t see the familiar ceiling of Shar’s Temple. The celestial glowing swirls have been blocked from sight by ugly granite floors. If you really put your mind to it, you can recognize Karlach’s desperate cries on the other side.

‘What happened?’ you whisper.

‘You were supposed to jump down!’ Astarion snarls. ‘Gods, why didn’t you jump down!’

The panic in his voice is enough to make you try harder to retrace your memories. You had plunged your blade into Yurgir’s chest but couldn’t manage to pull it out. It hadn’t killed him. Yurgir had laughed at you, had laughed at your friends  —  He had never hated anyone more at that moment.

It had taken the blade you kept on your hip to finally kill Yurgir. He had dropped bombs, you recall. It comes back to you easily now. Astarion had been right behind you and was going to follow you down, but you were so wounded he insisted on helping you jump away from the bombs before they exploded. But you hated heights, you hated the feeling of falling.

‘Scared,’ you admit.

‘Ha! Scared!’ Astarion repeats, tone pitching up in his hysteria. ‘Karlach was going to catch you!’

‘I couldn’t,’ you say. ‘I was scared. I couldn’t jump, I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Astarion.’

A shaky sob escapes his lips. ‘Don’t be sorry, my love,’ he whispers. ‘Don’t close your eyes again.’

A shudder of exhaustion runs throughout your body. You want to ask questions. You can feel them on the tip of your tongue, but moving your jaw is more work than you’re currently cut out for. Without craning your neck, you try to assess the damage.

The displacer beast’s claws had torn your sleeve. You remember how its teeth snapped shut close to your face, and how now matter how hard you tried to push it away, its thick neck kept you from escaping. Shadowheart had distracted it with a clone. Desperation had pushed you to follow Karlach up the steps so that you could fight the Orthon. For Raphael’s contract. For Astarion.

You do as you were commanded. You stare at the shaking, makeshift rooftop and blink dust from your eyes as it filters down like mocking snow. Astarion’s head feels particularly heavy at this moment. With a sudden, horrified realization, you fully come to terms with the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You are lying in a puddle of your own blood and too broken to move. Half of the floor you were standing on has fallen beneath you and blocked you from your allies, and the only one at your side is Astarion. It must be like death itself to sit there surrounded by blood while injured. He could heal himself if he drank. You raise your good hand and place it against his white-silver curls.

‘I know I usually offer first,’ you say sheepishly. ‘But if you need a drink  —  ’

‘Have you lost your gods-damned mind?’ Astarion hisses.

Before you can say anything else, he sits up and leans over you. You are easily distracted by his beautiful, marble-like complexion which is marred by the dirt and dust and blood. He’s beautiful.

Astarion’s cerise eyes are frantic. ‘I do not mean to alarm you, but you are dying.’

Like the ceiling’s fate above them, the reality of the situation comes crashing miserably down on top of you. Shadowheart’s spells cannot penetrate the wall that has come between you. You realize it now. You press your hand against the hole in your side delicately and laugh a little, staring at your fingers coated with blood. You close your eyes, but Astarion’s distressed whine has you search frantically for his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whisper, horrified. ‘I’m sorry. I’m  —  Do not hate me.’

‘Please,’ Astarion begs. ‘Just stay awake. Stay with me. Karlach is trying to get through; All you have to do is stay awake, please.’

You search his face for some hint of comfort, but it’s hard to see through the dark spots knotting in your vision. You do your best to push away the panic, to force the tears back into your eyes. You don’t want to die, not yet. Raphael still has to translate the runes on Astarion’s back. Shadowheart wants to finish the gauntlet. You want to save Karlach’s heart, to absolve Wyll’s pact, to save Gale. Selfishly, you want to kiss Astarion again without any of that which comes after. You want to savor the weight of his mouth against yours.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him again. You swallow harshly. ‘This must be like torture for you.’

Astarion chuckles hoarsely. ‘While you are very tantalizing, this is…nothing compared to two hundred years.’

You smile faintly. Two hundred years of carrion, and now you are laid out in front of him as delicious and forbidden as the feast Raphael offered you once. He ducks out of your view to lay his head on your chest. Though he tries to hide it, you can feel the little shudders of his sobs.

I’m sorry, you think to the ceiling. The weight of Astarion’s head against your shoulder is agonizing to your broken collarbone, but whatever he is doing, he is doing it with such reverence it reminds you of the religious devout and their steadfast adherence to their god.

He burrows his face into your chest, careful to stay small over you, to be mindful of your condition. He tries to balance his breathing so that it’s quieter and less disruptive, but no matter how hard he tries, he cannot quell the frightened way his shoulders jump. You close your eyes for a moment just to memorize the sight of it.

‘No,’ he says suddenly, sitting up. ‘You promised. You cannot die, I forbid it. You said you would protect me, and you cannot do that if you are  —  Speak to me, damn you!’

‘’m awake,’ you say tiredly. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You cannot,’ Astarion insists.

‘Next time,’ you say, ‘I will jump.’

Astarion shakes his head, and little drops of his tears rain down on your skin. ‘It isn’t the smell of you that makes it hard,’ he confesses brokenly. ‘It isn’t even about the damned Infernal runes. It’s you, everything about you. What is left for a disease like me when someone like you goes away?’

‘You will lead them,’ you tell him.

Astarion’s nose wrinkles at the idea. ‘I am not particularly interested in being the face of a revolution,’ he says. ‘No matter how beautiful I am. I am still a sickness, a beast. You are the only one good enough to lead us.’

‘You are like a sickness, then. A horrible disease,’ you say, mindful of the way his eyes narrow. ‘The only way for me to be cured of you  —  to be the cure for you, is to let you consume me until my body has no fight left, Astarion.’

‘How dare you,’ he says with a coquettish shrug.

You can hear Karlach slowly working through the rest of the rubble now. You hate to feel too hopeful, but you can almost hear the sound of the shattered floor breaking free. They were coming to save you, to save him.

‘That was rather poetic, you know,’ Astarion tells you. He watches your face intently as if afraid he’ll miss out on something exceptional. ‘You’ve never been one to use such gorgeous words.’

‘I wanted to,’ you say softly. ‘For you, my love.’

Astarion’s eyes widen as those words fall seamlessly from your lips. You aren’t sure if he meant to say them earlier. After all, he’s only ever been fond of calling you darling or a delectable little treat, treating you recklessly with careful honeyed words. As if getting any closer to you might coax him into accidental oblivion where your name might leave his lips thus solidifying you as something to be treated with care. A pomegranate seed between his teeth.

The shock doesn’t stay for long. Your eyelashes flutter though you fight against it. The decaying darkness around your vision has almost reached the center. You cry faintly and press a hand against your side, horrified that your blood is still pouring from you even if it is slower now. Perhaps you are running out of blood. You want to tell Astarion to drink it all up before it’s mixed with the sulfur and ash, but words are hard to form. Your heart skips a beat.

Don’t let me go to waste, you beg helplessly, reaching out to his mind when yours is all but gone. A heart-wrenching sob erupts from his chest. When you next awake, there is relatively less action than what was happening before. There are no violent tremors of a floor threatening to collapse. The sound of frantic shoving is absent. There’s only a dim hum in your ears, and the sound of a hushed fire burning well into the evening. You slowly open your eyes and blink away your sleepiness.

Shadowheart’s healing spell still hovers over you, but she’s not in your tent so she must be concentrating somewhere else. Your collarbone still smarts and you can definitely feel every single bruise you’ve ever received in your life, but you feel stronger, fuller. You reach a hand as if to inspect the wound at your side again and find the skin there is closed now.

‘You’re awake,’ Astarion says softly. ‘Thank the gods.’

You sit up quickly and feel the world turn sideways for it. Lightning dances along the back of your eyes as you try to steady yourself, and Astarion reaches out to ground you as you sway back and forth. You wonder just how long he’s been sitting there in your tent waiting for you. Your head throbs faintly once you manage to open your eyes.

‘Thank the gods,’ you echo breathlessly. ‘You brought me back?’

Astarion grimaces as though embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t the one who carried you back to camp, no,’ he says almost petulantly. ‘You’ll have to thank Karlach for that. But I have sat here since then, I must admit.’

‘Everyone  —  ’

‘Everyone else is fine,’ Astarion interrupts. ‘Halsin aided Shadowheart in your healing. Gale procured herbs, Wyll kept vigil at camp while you slumbered. It was all very twee. You’ll be sad you missed it.’

Astarion raises his chin much like a cat who desires petting. He would never admit it, but you can see it on his face. He’s relieved. If he were anyone else, he might weep for joy at seeing you awake again. It isn’t who he is, so you settle for knowing that he has not left your side since you escaped the Gauntlet.

You sit up further and wave your hand through Shadowheart’s healing spell. It doesn’t disperse as much as you wish, but you ignore it, crawling across your lumpy bedroll so you can wrap your arms slowly around Astarion’s neck. He freezes beneath your touch and begins sputtering, but then you feel his arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the side of your neck.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you,’ you mumble against his ear.

You hear him swallow. ‘I’m not apologizing for yelling at you, if that’s what you want.’

‘I would never ask you to,’ you insist.

Before, you thought it would be a small hug. Something to show your thanks to him. You loosen your arms around him so that he can pull away, but if anything, Astarion drags you closer to him. He hides his face in the spot beneath your ear and inhales deeply, memorizing your healthy scent intently.

The hug lasts longer than you thought it would. It’s almost as healing as the magic, too. You hold Astarion as close to you as he will allow, rubbing circles and tracing his curls at the nape of his neck as if to promise that you will never leave again. You decide to sniff him tentatively as well, and beneath the dirt and ash from the collapse, he still smells like Astarion.

You startle a little when you feel his hand tuck beneath your shirt, his fingers reaching to touch a hint of your bare skin. Someone was kind enough to drag the heavier armor from you, but you still have your bloodied shirt on. Astarion’s cool touch is welcome against your aching spine.

‘I thought,’ he says slowly, ‘that you had sentenced me to a lifetime of loneliness again when you were felled earlier. At first, I was so angry that I thought I might hate you for your mistake. I wanted to kill you myself once the dust had settled.’

‘Astarion  —  ’ you start to say, hopeless apologies on your tongue.

‘You will let me finish,’ Astarion says harshly, though he nuzzles you. ‘Elves reincarnate, but how long does it take? How many years would I be forced to wait before I caught the scent of you on the wind?’

You’re freed from his grasp, but you aren’t allowed to escape far. You both kneel in your tent, one of his hands on the back of your head, the other at the side of your waist where your skin had been ripped open before. Astarion allows you to see him for who he truly is. His eyes are soft, weak when he stares deep into your eyes like he’s afraid he’ll forget you.

‘You have made this sinner a worshiper, though it’s no gods I am on my knees for,’ Astarion says to you. ‘The only hymn I care to rehearse is your heartbeat. The only prayer is your name. I begged the gods for years that they would save me, but you are the only divine who has answered my call.’

Your breath catches in your throat.

Astarion presses his hip into yours. ‘I wanted to wait to tell you,’ he says with a miserable shake of his head. ‘To think more.’

‘You still can  —  ’

‘I cannot,’ he admits. ‘When I close my eyes, all I see is your body beneath mine with your life’s blood spilling from you. You begged me to devour you.’

‘I wanted you to be strong,’ you admit. ‘Before, you told me you were only allowed to dine on creatures who couldn’t think. Who knows how long your strength would have lasted…’

His eyes seem to contain infinite sadness. You try to be intent with your words, but you’re distracted by the way he releases his head to palm your chest, pushing his fingers so forcefully skin it’s as though he’s determined to dig through your flesh to grip your heart in his hand. You’d allow him if he asked.

‘You are so self-sacrificing it’s insulting,’ Astarion snorts. ‘Do you think I would have continued in this realm without you? Never have I felt so selfishly about someone before.’

Carefully, almost as if he’s never done it before, Astarion leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. All you can think about is his overwhelming devotion even as you respond to the kiss, melting against the touch. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this.

And you do miss it. You hate being in the Shadow-Cursed Lands more than you hate the lift in the mountains. Everything is dark and dreary and dead, and your companions are prone to being even more distant and distressed than they were before. You feel as though you are of little hope.

But Astarion kisses you now like a man who is breathing air for the first time. His mouth is hungry and insistent, and his hands cling to your skin more than he’s ever clung to you before. It causes you to blush. It’s unlike him to show such desperation. He’s willing, open, honest  —  yet this kiss is so different from the ones you experienced before. It’s almost chaste. He kisses you like a knight would kiss his charge.

‘But I want this,’ he whispers, breath ragged against your cheek. ‘I want you.’

‘Astarion,’ you murmur. That's all you can say.

He presses his nose against your jaw. ‘Whatever my intentions were before, to the hells with them,’ he says harshly. ‘I want us to be something real, something true if you’ll have me. It’s what you deserve.’

‘I do,’ you confess, almost embarrassed. ‘You must’ve known how silly I felt pestering you. You were the first person I sought out when I returned to camp.’

‘You did have a rather obvious air of desperation about you,’ Astarion says with a small laugh.

‘But I wanted you to come to me of your own accord,’ you continue. You touch the edge of his collar. ‘I lacked confidence. I did not want to force you into something knowing your history.’

He kisses you again. This time, it is a little less chaste. Astarion is determined to devour you, mind, body, and soul. His hands wander as though they’ve never felt your body before, and there’s something anguished about the way he returns to cradling the back of your neck. Your mouth is nothing but a scripture he is determined to practice.

You feel drunk with exhaustion. Having been settled between death and undeath for so long has left you feeling as though there is nothing in your sinew, and Astarion is making matters worse. Your head is filled with nothing but him and his unpredictable mercy. You cling to his shirt and struggle.

What have you done to deserve such boundless devotion? You have listened to, and pleaded with, every emotion he has given you. You’ve taken and given and created anew. Now Astarion becomes. Everything you have given him evolves to become this. When he is finally finished memorizing your mouth, he pulls away and confronts you with barely concealed hunger.

‘Say it,’ he begs desperately. ‘Say you want me too.’

‘I want you,’ you say. ‘Gods, you must know this. There’s nothing I want more.’

‘I wanted to manipulate you,’ he says, horrified. He hides in the crook of your jaw. ‘I wanted to use you as a shield, someone to stand behind.’

‘I am not a very big shield,’ you say.

He doesn’t laugh. ‘I was going to do what I had done before,’ he says. ‘Use your emotions for me as a weapon, but  —  I never want to see you near another weapon for as long as we live. Do you understand?’

You press a kiss to his hair. ‘Shall I stand behind you now?’

Astarion does laugh at that. He faces you fully now, hands cupping your cheeks. ‘You may as well be regulated to nothing but camp duty. You find a place for us to rest, you sew our clothes up when they come back with holes in them. I’d say you could make dinner, but…’

You brush a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes and run your thumbs against the swelling. He’s just as exhausted as you are even if he has yet to admit it. The building’s collapse has left him equally as tired. You encourage him to lay down with you, and he does, curling at your side with his head on your chest.

‘Will you be our fearsome party leader?’ you ask. You close your eyes and try to imagine it.

‘Oh yes,’ he swears solemnly for your sake. ‘I will hold the map and point us in the correct direction. Hopefully my leadership will lead us away from Shadow-Cursed things and back to the streets of Baldur’s Gate. I am so ferocious that whoever controls these parasites will give up upon seeing my muscles.’

You try to imagine your life without the tadpole. It seems relatively empty without Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s bickering, and you would miss the way Halsin and Gale are prone to rambling on about whatever is holding their interest at the time. You’d miss Karlach and her boundless enthusiasm for dancing. You’d miss Wyll, too. You’d miss the way he always watches your back.

Would you have met them in Baldur’s Gate? Would Astarion have picked up your scent and chased you down an alleyway intent on drinking your blood? He would be as he was before, angry and cruel and distant. For a moment, you’re almost grateful that the mindflayers had kidnapped you that morning. The circumstances surrounding it were dire, and you hated the gross wiggling the worm was prone to doing when it wanted you to be authoritative, but you would miss them.

‘I don’t regret it, you know,’ you say suddenly.

‘You do not regret what, exactly?’ Astarion asks. ‘Getting blown up and nearly dying? You should.’

You snort despite your best attempts not to. You press your palms against your eyes and try to keep from laughing too hard. For what it’s worth, Astarion does let out a small chuckle. You can hear his frown.

‘Aye,’ you relent. ‘I suppose I do regret nearly dying and. I don’t regret what came before it. If Raphael asked me to strike down all of the gods so that he would translate your back, I would do it without asking a question. You deserve to know.’

‘I cannot overstate how…appreciative I am of that,’ Astarion says finally. ‘But, just so you know, I would do the same for you without question. I have most of the time. I trust at least a third of your decisions.’

‘All of the decisions I make,’ you begin.

But Astarion interrupts, ‘I am sure you make them with everyone’s best interest in mind. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes you end up blown to bits.’

‘I do not regret letting you feed from me,’ you say, pretending he never opened his mouth. ‘I do not regret the silly way I fell into your honeyed words. I do not regret killing the Orthon. I do not regret you.’

‘We’ve barely just begun.’

You swallow. ‘And I will see it through until the end of time,’ you say. You’re fully aware that it’s too soon to make sweeping grand declarations of love, but you can’t stop yourself from saying. ‘You will never be alone again.’

You take Astarion’s silence in stride. You want him to know that he isn’t the only one capable of saying disgustingly romantic things. In the wake of your unconsciousness, you feel a rush of things you haven’t felt in quite some time. Life felt dreary in the mountains and worse in the Underdark. You hate when your world feels as though it’s crushing you. Now, even in the dark, it’s as if the sun shines on your face.

‘I love you,’ you say.

‘Say it again.’

‘I love you,’ you repeat, this time with more meaning. You try to roll onto your side, but your shoulder fusses too much. ‘I want you, and I want this. Forever.’

‘Forever,’ Astarion repeats, a sense of wonder entering his voice as he toys with the taste of it on his tongue. Once again, he sits above you, his head pressed against your chest, shaking as he listens to the sound of your heartbeat beneath your skin. ‘I like the sound of that.’ You smile at the sound of a purr in his voice, and allow yourself to imagine what forever means.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa . #my fic

[zephyrchama]

(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)

“There, all good.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.

Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.

It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.

Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.

“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”

Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”

“…yes?”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.

Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.

Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”

“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”

“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.

“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.

Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.

Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”

“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.

“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.

Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.

“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.

“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.

“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”

A couple of them winced.

“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.

“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.

“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”

Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..

These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”

Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”

Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”

”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.

“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”

There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”

Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”

Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”

“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.

“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.

“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.

“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”

“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.

“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.

The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.

“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.

“Going to my seat…?”

“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.

You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.

“Just make it quick.”

Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.

#mc being able to say “thanks satan” completely unironically is amazing. #they start waving the chair up and down and doing the hora with mc in it #obey me #obey me swd #obey me! #omswd #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me x mc #obey me fanfic #obey me brothers #obey me brothers x reader #obey me brothers x mc #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me drabble #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me mc #obey me fanfiction

[gojomamashouse]

Taking Care of You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x babysitter!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, Fem!reader. Very minor mentions of injury & blood.

Description: He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home.

A/N: crossposted on my Ao3 and Tumblr.

3.7k words

18+ content! Minors and ageless blogs dni!

You remember the first time you came over to babysit for Mike all too clearly. You remember the way your eyes went wide when the door opened, and how your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More importantly, you remember thinking that Mike Schmidt was far too hot for his own good, a clear image in your mind of how he had greeted you with tired eyes, messy hair, and a hand gripping the doorframe.

"Mr. Schmidt," you had blurted, ignorant to how his nose scrunched at the words leaving your mouth, "It's nice to—"

"Don't tell me I look that old?" His tired expression tried a smile, and you found yourself standing there, unable to formulate a proper response as you were already convinced you messed up the job before you even started. "Just Mike is fine.”

Back then, the only thing you knew about him was that he was hot, overworked, and clearly exhausted. So you did your best to make his life easier, even if those things were small, like cleaning all the dishes before he came home, tidying up all the clutter left behind on the table and kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but you figured he could use whatever help he could get. He came home the first night, too tired to even notice before collapsing on the couch. Suppressing a giggle, you threw a blanket over his sleeping form, lingering a moment longer than you should have just to observe his face. Even in his sleep, you weren’t sure you could find even an ounce of peace in his expression.

—

Mike remembers the first week of your babysitting, when he returned home at some ungodly hour that Friday. While most babysitters in the past opted to lay on the couch, sleeping or watching TV, he had discovered that you preferred to be a bit more proactive. That night, in particular, he recalled your humming in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

A strange feeling filled his chest at the sight, the smell of dinner still lingering and the radio playing some old song from his childhood. It was a feeling he shouldn't have been feeling towards the babysitter looking after his little sister. You had jumped when the floorboard creaked beneath himself shifting weight, still shy and jittery around him at the time.

“I didn’t see you come in,” your voice is still shaken from the scare. You turned to the oven, “Oh! I kept the food warm, in case you wanted some. Are you hungry?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, blinking a bit to shake the thoughts from his head, “Ah, you don’t have to do all this, you know. The cooking and cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” you returned your gaze to the dishes in the sink, “Besides, you work hard. It’s the least I can do. Just let me take care of it.”

Just let me take care of it.

A phrase he hadn’t yet forgotten, either. When was the last time anyone had taken care of anything for him? He’d taken on the role of being Abby’s caretaker the moment his parents were out of the picture. He had made countless sacrifices, dropping out of school to work full-time, losing his social life. His old friends preferring to go out partying rather than hang out with the guy who has a kid sister and a full-time job. Every day was work, only to mess up at work. Then go home, stress over a dirty home. Drive Abby to school, stress over her education and development.

He didn’t have it within himself to deny you, not when you were so kind and helpful. Even if the guilt ate away at him, reminding him how he couldn’t even afford to pay you close to what you deserved.

His eyes wandered to an image on the counter. There was himself, a familiar stickman with brown hair. There was Abby, of course, given the height difference. And then there was another figure, the hair undeniably similar to yours. All three figures were holding hands together inside a square home.

“What’s this?” He picked it up.

“Abby told me it’s us,” you had laughed, placing a dish in the dishwasher. “Cute, right?”

There was a thumping in his chest as he looked at you, before looking back down at the paper. All he could manage was a smile as he pinned it to the fridge.

You soon felt his presence at your side, his hand picking up another dish while you rinsed yours.

“Let me help with that,” he said.

—

You’ve fallen into a routine. Every day, when he returns home, he is met with the same thing. You, in the kitchen, humming. You, greeting him with a smile. You, sitting down to eat with him. You, always asking him about his day even though you know by now that he has nothing interesting to say. He prefers to hear you talk instead, to listen to you ramble about your shitty college professors and annoying roommates. He likes it like this. To be able to pretend that he’s not some deadbeat who can’t hold down a job to save his life or some traumatized freak haunted by the memories of his dead brother and parents. With you, he gets to pretend like he’s normal.

But, of course, just because he can pretend things are normal, doesn’t mean they are. Reality soon hits him when he’s sitting in his boss’s office, asking Mike for his badge and ID. It hits him when he’s driving home, remembering how he beat an innocent man, his knuckles still bloody as he grips the steering wheel tight. He walks through the front door, hearing you greet him from the kitchen, a sound that would have been music to his ears any other day.

“Mike?”

He doesn’t have the energy to reply. No, all he can do is walk over to the chair in the living room, sinking into it with a sigh. He loosens his tie and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the sink followed by your footsteps against the hardwood floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice is soft and gentle. His eyes shoot open when he feels your even softer touch against his forehead, laying the back of your palm flat. “You’re not sick, are you?”

In all the time you’ve been babysitting, neither of you had done so much as touch each other at all. The few times he could remember was how your fingers brushed when you reached for the same dish in the sink or the innocent hand you placed on his shoulder that one time you laughed so hard you couldn’t hold yourself up. He had always made sure to keep his hands firmly placed in his pockets or at his side. Now, you were touching his face, and he thinks that’s the first time anyone has touched him like that in years.

“Don’t worry about me.” He pleads, his body betraying his words when he leans into your touch, your hand drifting to caress his cheek, “You don’t have to.”

You ignore him, and your eyes scan over his form, before landing on his bloodied knuckles. A gasp escapes you, followed by the scolding of his name. He hears you stumble towards the bathroom, rummaging through whatever you can find and returning with a washcloth and disinfectant. You kneel beside him, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds and he winced from the sting of the alcohol.

“I know I don’t have to,” you finally break the silence. “I worry because I care.”

“Why?”

You avert your gaze.

“I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” He presses. There’s another pause.

“Because this feels like home.”

The answer is enough to render both of you silent, you out of humiliation, and him out of shock because he hadn’t realized you thought the same way.

You finish wiping the last bit of dried blood from his knuckles and there’s a lingering feeling left on his skin, where your fingers held his hands. Soft. Familiar. You’re still kneeling in front of him, but you’re wearing an expression he hadn’t seen since the first week he met you. It’s that look of shyness, the way you used to squirm under his gaze or shrink your presence out of fear of overstepping a boundary.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?

“Let me take care of you. Please?”

He knows it’s wrong. He knows that “messing around with the babysitter” has never been a good idea in the history of ever, but when he sees you gazing up at him like that, sitting on your knees between his legs, your eyes wide like that. Well, what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

The chair isn’t too high from the floor, so he easily finds himself at somewhat your level when he leans forward, his hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. He pauses, analyzing your face just for a moment. Your lips are parted, so prettily, and your eyes are filled with a look of lust and desperation.

“Please,” you repeat, this time in a whisper.

Any semblance of self-restraint he had before was all lost the moment his lips met yours. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he got a taste, a groan escaping his throat when he feels your tongue in his mouth. And you, you are so pliant. So eager to please. Still timid, hands hesitant as they rested on his knees, but so willing to let him handle you however he pleases, moaning when he tugs on your hair, whimpering when his hands grope your chest through your shirt.

“Quiet,” he mutters between kisses. You feel him pull away, the ghost of his lips at your ear, “we gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead, a tender change from his rough kisses shared only moments prior. He looks down at you, a flustered mess, but knows he must look the same. He couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself indulge like this. He feels your hand slither up his thigh, fumbling with his belt, groaning when you feel him through his jeans.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as your hand dips into his boxers.

“You have no idea,” he says, his hand caressing the side of your face, making circles with his thumb against your cheek. He can feel your skin heat up under his touch. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock, and he has to stop himself from bucking into you. You’re just so gentle and sweet and he knows you’d let him take his frustration out but he just cannot allow himself to do that just yet— not without a little guilt.

“Then talk to me.”

“Got, ah, fired,” he chokes out, feeling your thumb swipe over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and helping you stroke up and down with more ease. “Was my fault, too.”

“You started a fight, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

He looks down at you, his cock now fully hard in your hand. He can’t hold but admire the sight, how you hungrily stare at him, or how you press your thighs together to relieve yourself of your own desires. He feels his breathing become heavier with each passing stroke of your hand on his dick, and he forces himself to look away, his hand that had previously been caressing the side of your head now digging his fingers into the back of your scalp.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he leans his head back, in an attempt to stop himself from busting in your hand before you’ve even done anything. He swears he’s not usually this sensitive, but the fact that it’s been so long, and the fact that it’s you, had him feeling like he was a teenager getting his first handjob all over again. He tries not to think about it. “I’m already behind on bills. I don’t think I can even pay you. Probably won’t even get another fucking job after what I did.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“You’ve got to stop saying shit like that,” he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. He looks down at you again, and you’re pressing your lips to kiss the underside of his dick, then kissing his tip. He shudders. “You’re too good for this. For me.”

He’s about to continue, but your lips wrap around him and he can’t think of anything. Curse words slip from his lips, feeling your tongue work around him, your hot mouth taking him. He still has his hand on the back of your head, tempting him to force your head down, but he’s more curious about whether you’d try to take him all yourself— which you do. He feels your throat contract around him as you try to push yourself down his cock, determined to take it all. Sometimes, you really were that predictable. Sure, you were a timid little thing, but you were equally if not more stubborn. He grips the back of your head to pull you off, a cough rising to your throat as you catch your breath and he smiles lazily.

Your quick to take him back in your mouth, and he cherishes the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your hands that reached for the base of him to stroke whatever you couldn’t take. He gives an experimental thrust and he’s in bliss when he hears you moan around him. And as much as he wishes he could do this forever, watching you take him in your mouth, he knows his own limits and he knows he won’t last any longer. Besides, he’s neglected your needs for far too long.

He pulls you off of his cock finally, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, your lips puffy from their earlier actions. Then, he’s lifting you to the couch, hovering over your form as your back hits the cushions. Mike is thankful that you chose to wear a skirt tonight because with your legs spread like this, he gets a full view of your white cotton underwear, as well as the wet patch your arousal has created. He brings his hand down between your legs, feeling you through the fabric. He can hear your breath hitch and he watches you bite down on your lower lip to suppress your noises. And as much as he wants to tell you not to, he is reminded by the fact that you are both doing this in the living room, and the last thing he wants to do is traumatize his little sister, who is sleeping a few doors down the hallway.

“Didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” he whispers, finally slipping his hand past the fabric barrier to gather your slick at his fingers and rub your clit with his thumb, his other fingers prodding at your hole but not yet entering.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admit, sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle around your clit again. “You’re really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

Two of his fingers finally sink into you and you’re gripping the fabric of his uniform at his shoulders. Rough, long and so much bigger than your own— you have to grit your teeth even harder to stop any sinful noises from escaping you.

“Always thought you were real pretty, too.” He continues, “You’re prettier right now, though.”

He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds making you burn up in embarrassment. He’s obsessed with the way your eyes roll back, how your pretty lashes flutter open and closed, and how your hips buck to meet his rhythm.

“More, please,” you finally let out, your eyes going down to his cock, which was still very much hard. “Need you inside.”

You whimper at the emptiness you feel when his fingers leave, but quickly forget about it the moment your panties are removed and you feel his cock rub against your cunt, the tip resting at your entrance. You expect to feel him push in, only to see that he has paused.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, a pained look on his face. He had no reason to keep any around any more, not since providing for Abby had become his number one priority. He mentally kicked himself for it now.

“Mike,” you whine, trying to roll your hips up, but his hands remained firm against you, keeping you down. “I don’t care. Just pull out or something.”

You feel like a pathetic idiot for saying it, and he feels even more of one for considering it at all. All he can manage is a sigh. He’d already crossed so many lines tonight that he shouldn’t have. What difference would crossing one more be?

He hesitates before pushing in, but once he feels your tight walls around the head of his dick he can’t find it within himself to have any regrets. You’re so tight and warm and wet and he loves the way you stretch around him, gasping with every inch he gives you. He pauses when he’s buried at the hilt, mentally trying to cool himself down because the fact that he’s fucking you raw and you’re taking him so well is driving him mad.

“So good,” he coos, his hand on your face, thumb on your lower lip, “so fucking good.”

He pulls away until he’s nearly out again before thrusting into you fully, and he has to slam his hand over your mouth to stop the moan that would have escaped you. He continues to fuck you like this, slowly, and deeply, before it’s not enough, and he finds himself taking you faster, harder, wanting to see how much you were willing to take.

You feel every inch of him inside you, and you can’t help but clench around him every time the tip of his cock hits the spot inside you that you can’t reach with your own fingers. You feel so full and it’s everything and more that you’ve needed for so long.

He pushes up your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Your breasts are still covered by your bra, but he pinches your nipples through the lacy fabric anyway, content when he hears you make a sound, muffled by his other hand which remains on your mouth.

He can tell you’re close from the telltale sign of your pussy clenching harder, and how you start to freeze up, too fucked out to do anything else. He, too, starts to feel himself approaching his limit but knows he has to hold out long enough to let you reach your high first. He finally removes his hand from your mouth and uses it to rub your clit.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes.

“I’ll always be good for you,” you keep your voice a whisper, “Always waiting for you when you come home.”

Your words ignite a desire within him he never realizes he had. He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home. Now, as he’s fucking you, the only thing he can think about is how deeply he wants to cum inside you, over and over again until he gives you another kid to take care of. He doesn’t care if he can’t afford it. He’ll pick up as many jobs as he can get just to take care of you.

He feels your back arch and your walls clench around him, immediately going to kiss you to swallow your cries. He ruts into you, over and over again and though there’s a sinful voice in the back of his head telling him to fill you up until he’s dripping out of you, he knows he should stay true to his promise to pull out. That is, until you tell him otherwise.

“You can do it inside,” you choke out, still fucked out from your orgasm, “I don’t mind—“

Before you can finish your sentence his hips come to a stop and he’s finishing inside you, as deep as he possibly can, as if to not waste a single drop. When he finally pulls out, he can’t help but watch in awe as his seed drips from your cunt down to your ass, ruining the couch cushions beneath you both. He tries not the think about the consequences that will bring. Instead, he’s pulling you close, catching his breath while laying his head against your stomach. Moments later, he feels your hand running your fingers through his hair and he sighs, leaning into your warmth.

“I don’t want you to be Abby’s babysitter anymore,” he starts, his voice hoarse and worn out. He can feel you tense up when he says it, before immediately continuing, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

He hears you laugh.

“Does that mean I won’t get paid anymore?”

“I’ll repay you in other ways,” he flashes you a suggestive smile, earning him a snort and a flick on his forehead. Still, the guilt gnaws at him from within. “Seriously, though. I will. I’ll take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t care what job he picks up next. He’ll take any job in the world, so long as it means he can provide for you and Abby.

—

You wake up the next morning, the scent of pinewood and campfire surrounding you. You don’t remember exactly how, but you remember, after being fucked mercilessly, being carried to his room, cleaned up, and falling asleep in Mike’s bed. Now, you find the place next to you empty but can observe Mike standing at the door, speaking in a hushed voice while holding back the door.

You stand on shaky legs, still wobbly from your earlier affairs, approaching the argument.

“Abby, go away!”

“No! Let me—“

“What’s all this?” You interject.

Mike loses his grip on the door and Abby opens it wide. Her arms are crossed, adorning a frown while Mike is bringing his hands to his face.

“Abby, I can explain—“

“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were having a sleepover?” She fumes, “We could have built a pillow fort!”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x you

[arieslost]

cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

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#full fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic