#and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

[andysorbit]

how long do you think it would take jisung to match your freak? i feel like it would take him months to let out his inner perv but it’s definately in there 🫣

I feel like I said some of this before or maybe because I had most of this in my drafts already and I've been kinda chipping away at it?? if you've seen this before, no you didn't.

but lezgetit!!

Jisung x fem!reader

he would be so eager to start matching your freak but the shyness would have him dragging it out for a few centuries and I know most of the time everyone has him made out to be this soft lil whisper of a guy and I mean I do see him being shy but he's definitely got some kinky marbles rattling around in that big ass head of his ugh bless his heart.

so... here are some ways that Jisung would let you know he got that dawg in him but he's just not ready for you to meet said dawg

as always... minors, fuck off t(-_-t)

• he praises you so casually.

if you tell him about a petting you've done, no matter how tiny it might be, he's gonna praise you for it.

"Okay so I managed to get my dresser drawers reorganized," You tell him as you drop the mail down on the coffee table. "That's wonderful, baby!" he exclaims and pulls you down to sit beside him on the sofa. You turn and press a kiss to his lips, "You always gas me up for nothing. I love that," You whisper appreciatively.

Jisung bumps his nose against yours, "S'not for nothing," he mumbles, "That's a good thing you did and you worked hard on it so I need to acknowledge it and tell you what a good job you did. What kind of a jerk would I be if I couldn't tell my girlfriend how proud I am of her?"

You smirk, "You're proud of me?" You chuckle softly. Jisung shifts to kiss you harder, "Of course I am. You're handling your big girl responsibilities and pretty girls who do good things like handle annoying big girl responsibilities are the best girls."

• he roughs you up but playfully

"So, you little punk... are you gonna tell me what you were out shopping for all day or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?" he asks you as he softly grabs you by the collar of your shirt and backs you against the door.

"Just stuff," You reply with a smug smirk. He tightens his grip on your shirt and kicks your feet apart, " What kind of stuff? Anything you'd like to model for me?" he asks, lowering his voice in longing. He kisses you hard then pulls away and you shake your head, "Mind your beeswax," You tease him dreamily. It's too easy to fall for him. You love where this is going and immediately decide to make this as hard on yourself as possible.

Jisung grabs you by the shoulders and turns you around, pressing the front of your body to the wall, "I'll get the answers I want... You don't have much of a choice, baby." He gently traps your arms behind your back and gives your ass a rough squeeze. You whine in anticipation.

• He jokes a lot but they're jokes very 😏👀😏👀 and then he's a fkn dweeb about it

"would you choke me if I told you I forgot to get your chips when I went shopping?" You ask as Jisung fills a glass with water. He takes a drink then turns to you, "Oh c'mon, I'd choke you just for the fun of it... I didn't mean it like that... Like... I meant I'd- Nevermind, that sounded better in my head."

"No don't start getting shy now! C'mon! Elaborate!" You ask as you float across the kitchen to circle your arms around Jisung's waist, "Keep talkin'."

Jisung takes a long drink from his glass and you watch his Adam's apple bob. You wait for him to find his words and he finally does, "I might've thought about it when I'm fucking you..."

"Might have?" You tease. He kisses you harder, "Maybe."

• Until one day... he's collected enough receipts to know just how to handle you...

he wants you to ride him until he's seeing stars and he wants it to be nasty but he's not gonna just say it. he'd be thinking about heavily one day while laying back in the bed watching you shuffle through your drawer for some pajamas and when I tell you his ass is watching you like a hawk like yeah you've heard of a mean mug but get ready for a subtle horny mug from a very shy boi. I feel like he's more of a hint dropper so he wouldn't say anything ever like he'd just be laying there watching you

after you slip your nightgown on, you turn to look at him and eye him suspiciously, "what's on your mind, pinhead?" he perks up a bit, thrilled that you're taking his bait, "nothing... you just look pretty," he hums, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows nervously. you crawl into bed and make your way up to sit adjacent to his long frame. he's lounged against the pillows, squeezing and releasing the stress ball in his right hand.

"do I?" You ask him softly. he nods and pulls you in for a soft kiss. his free hand softly cups your cheek, "you always do... pretty princess," he whispers as his lips brush against yours, "let me get a better look at the lace." he slinks his arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. he's smooth, almost getting over on you as he examines the pink lace around the plunged neckline of your nightgown. you gasp when you feel him growing hard against you. the thin material of your panties cling to the dampness of your pussy and you both hiss. he presses kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and across your chest; dropping the stress ball down onto the mattress.

"the details in this lace are really good, baby. are these... peonies?" he asks "marigolds, sungie. they're marigolds," you whisper, hips rolling slowly as his cock pulses against your heat.

"they both look alike. does it matter?" he asks, rutting against you and squeezing your ass with his large hands. he's leading this but he does it in such a way that has you positive that you're the one in control.

"that sounds racist against flowers," You whine, "fuck... sungie." You grab his shoulders and drop your hands down to roam over the firmness of his chest.

he chuckles, "sorry flowers. I meant well." You wriggle as you drag your pussy over his cock, "can I ride you?" You ask him longingly. he smiles against your lips and nods, "That's different. are you sure?" he asks you teasingly. he slots his mouth against yours harshly and pries your mouth open. "mhm," You muffle against his open mouth. you raise up when you feel him trying to push his pants down; mewing when his cock thumps against you. one of his hands reaches down to pull your panties aside, "fuck, baby. gonna take it all?" he growls. You nod, "all of it... need it."

Jisung eyes you, "Sit."

You don't hesitate to follow his orders and you slowly begin sinking down on his cock. "That's my girl... That's my good little girl," he groans. You clench around him and he brings a hand up to stroke your cheek, "M'not gonna give it to you, sweetheart. you gotta take it. you asked for it so you gotta take it for yourself. show me how you want it," he groans, fingers digging into your hips. he's done it again; achieving exactly what he wants without having to say it. he smiles briefly; smugness fading as you begin riding him. his head rolls back and he grunts softly, his hands grabbing and squeezing at your hips, "Just like that, baby. you like riding me?" he breathes heavily, hips bucking as he looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

"sungie... love it. love it, baby" you pant. jisung let's you ride him but his hands stay tight against your hips, "m'not your Sungie... m'not your baby either... put some respect on my name little girl."

you open your mouth to speak but quickly shut it, head falling back for a moment as your back arches. "look at me, young lady... right now. c'mon," he coaxes you softly but firmly. you raise your head back up to look him in his eyes. jisung's cheeks burn a deeper shade of red, "close your fucking eyes back. damn," he gushes as he brings a hand up to cover your eyes, "Stop looking at me." you giggle breathlessly and bounce a little harder on his cock. your hands busy themselves with pushing his shirt up. he quickly pulls the reins in on his shyness, "if you wanna see mine, you gotta show me yours," he purrs and slowly begins lifting your nightgown. it feels like a matter of only a second before Jisung is tossing it aside and kissing the heated skin between your breasts. he pulls back, voice even and fond "daddy's turn, princess."

your mouth falls open and you pant as your hands claw at his shirt and clumsily pull it off. Jisung takes the shirt from you and throws it somewhere behind you before pulling you back in for a greedy kiss, "is my pretty girl getting tired?" he asks.

you nod, "don't wanna work for it anymore... please fuck me. please," you plead. your voice breaks and Jisung circles his arms around your torso and plants his feet into the mattress, "please what," he whispers as he slowly fucks into you. it's painfully slow and you whine, "please, daddy," You beg softly.

Jisung bucks his hips up into you, pounding you mercilessly and pulling a string a squeals and whines out of you, "So fucking big," You warble in awe at how his cock always stretches you to your limits. "tell me you love my dick, baby. tell daddy how much you fucking love it," he moans. you nod though you're not sure why you are, "Uh huh," You whimper, pulling a laugh out of Jisung. "Oh my God, am I fucking you stupid? aw, y/n, stop you're so cute, baby," he coos as his hips continue delivering harsh blows to your pussy. your cheeks heat up and you wrap your arms around his neck, "harder, daddy... fuck," You mumble longingly.

Jisung fucks you like he'll never stop, desperately and equally as hard; sending your mind jettisoned into a world where he is the only thing that could sustain you. his mouth, his hands, the feel of his tongue stroking over yours, the way his hips meet yours so needily...

his voice.

"is this hard enough, honey? tell me how you feel," he drawls. you close your eyes again and let the sweet sensation of his cock stroking your walls melt your brain even more, "s'good, daddy... th- mmmm fuck... thank you, daddy..."

"anything for my good girl. good girls always get what they want, right?" he whispers against your lips. you nod, "Yes, daddy... yes, yes, yes, yes..." You cry. Jisung brings his hand between your hips and his own before rubbing circles into your clit, "want you to take daddy's cum... all of it. can you do that for me? wanna... fuck, baby... wanna breed your tight little pussy. tell me it's okay baby," he practically begs. you nod, knowing that to speak right now would be in vain. Jisung's hips and fingers show no mercy, "how many times are you gonna let me make you cum, princess?"

pressing your forehead to his, you whine again, "I dunno... daddy, please. Just want it," You plead. jisung kisses you then rolls you both over and he sits up between your parted legs to push his pants off. you watch him, wonderstruck by the sureness of his movements and his hands grab at your panties, his eyes meet yours and he crumbles again, "would you stop it?" he breathes bashfully and his eyes fall down to where his hands rest on your hips. he does a soft and steady sway from the left to the right as he tosses a thought around in his head. he comes to a halt when you speak,

"Whatever it is you're thinkin' about doin'... just do it. A hundred percent of the choices you've made so far have been fuckin' awesome so... Don't stop now," You whisper. jisung grips your panties and hesitates for a moment before shaking his head, "it's not about whether or not I should but whether or not I can..." he sighs. "but?" You whisper. "we'll never know if I don't try but you'd not fuckin' laugh at me."

you giggle, "I won't, baby. promise." jisung beams at you and gives your thighs a playful slap, "Oh shut up you're already laughing," he laughs. you lock your legs around his waist, "just wanna feel a little helpless," You whisper. jisung nods and makes an attempt tearing the flimsy material but with no success. you both laugh and he tries again with the sand results as before, "never mind then. I can think of a few other ways to make you feel helpless," he says and pulls them off.

"how?" You whisper and pull his hands down to your breasts. he smiles, "like this," he hums and traps your hands above your head. his fingers stroke you, "not gonna stop until you're begging me to," he breathes, "I wanna see if I can get your to cry a little."

#andysorbit #nct smut #nct #kpop smut #nct hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct dream #nct dream smut #jisung park smut #andyception #park jisung smut #jisung smut #neoculturecollectives

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤmemoirs of the windㅤ...ㅤ( 제이 )

ㅤㅤ﹙2072﹚ ㅤ장르 angst, bittersweetㅤㅤwarnings drinking, light implications of substance abuse, smoking, break-up, sort of non closure on his partㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ for @okwonyo's celestial ballet event ! i had sm fun writing this, thank u for hosting the event

ib only by lee hi ⋆ there are references to the lyrics in this work

the clock strikes eight, a click of the lighter follows— the flame settles on the wick of the candle, fluttering before resting still like everything else in the apartment. the wind plays its melancholic howls as if music orchestrated for the day. outside, it’s a dance of leaves waving on trees. inside, it’s your birthday, and it’s quiet. 

he sits at the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on the cake. it’s your favourite, cherry vanilla, with little flowers made of red buttercream adding to its appeal. the candle lights up a little over and across the sweet delicacy, albeit nothing compared to the dim lights of his kitchen. he sighs, and wonders, and wonders, and then whispers above the weighing silence. 

“happy birthday,” he says to the ghost of you. perhaps you’re on the couch watching him, or maybe on the stool across from him. in his mind, you’re here. in his heart, on his lips, and when the alcohol wears off for a brief minute— you’re back to sweden. 

“happiest birthday,” he mutters again, eyes never leaving your name on the cake. it’s your first birthday without him. you said you’d spend your birthdays with him but here you are nonetheless. here he is, wondering, waiting, wasting himself over memories from six months ago. over words you probably have never meant, maybe they never weighed enough for you. 

there’s alcohol on the side. you detest it— gosh— shuddering away from the whiff alone. jay thought he would have to give up on drinking if he wanted to keep you. there has never been an ‘if’ actually, for he stopped buying beer and wine, stayed away from drinking even though his friends made fun of him, sometimes. and yet there you were on his instagram feed, smiling, partying with a bottle of Kopparberg in your hand.

‘times change,’ you had said once when he saw you munching on your mint-chocolate ice cream. you had claimed to hate it, and then you were on the couch, saying you had changed your mind and it definitely doesn’t taste like toothpaste. ‘people change, jay,’

that day, he didn’t think much over your words and laughed it off, deciding to have a taste as well. today, however, it’s all hitting him like a wave at the sea during a storm. he wonders what else has changed. do you still like macaroons? do you still wear that bracelet he gifted on your hundred days anniversary? is lee hi still your favourite artist?

he remembers the song— only, it’s also from your favourite album of hers. you played it on repeat sometimes, while cleaning your room or baking. soft hums of its familiar melodies danced off your lips while you did laundry. jay could only ask himself why you like it so much, until he actually asked you one day, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. 

‘it’s cute and romantic,’ you had responded while folding your clothes, the slight fragrance of your detergent spinning in the air. ‘it sounds like love,’ 

that was like you, to associate and define things as love. his kisses tasted like love, touch felt like love, voice resonated with love— sometimes, he’d stop and shake his head at your words with a silly smile. how could you see love in everything around, in things as ugly as shame, and pretty as stars? he remembers meeting you and you described the feeling as love. 

you came in like a spring wind. first day, first interaction, and he was floored. 

jay doesn’t know much about love. he isn’t the one to ponder about it and put it in words. love, to him, is the feeling, happy or sad. to him, it’s in longing and yearning, yet also in letting go. you were his first girlfriend, and his hands were shaking when he felt like he had the entire world on his palms. he would stutter and stumble and you would lend him a hand. that’s love to him. when his patience ran thin and he ended up saying words he didn’t mean, when arguments left you with silence weaving itself in between, you would hold him and promise to stay together, and he says he’ll do better. that’s love to him. 

love, to jay, was when he came home in a hurry to your long texts— your bags laid out with clothes inside, and he let your hand slip out of his fingers. 

‘can you explain yourself?’ he had asked, anxious and frantic, going crazy behind his eyes. his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as he pulled you aside, holding your hands ever so dearly and in fear. 

‘there’s nothing to explain. i told you everything over text,’ and that’s all you had said before going back to packing your stuff. jay saw your flight tickets on the bedside table and realised there was a lot you didn’t tell him about— and you’re still a mystery to him.

‘did i do something wrong?’ 

‘did i push you away?’

‘am i not good enough?’

all these questions spun in the room, and you had taken his hand ever so tenderly, planting a soft, gentle kiss, looking at him in the eyes with pain— love. you had told him so inexplicably how happy you were and how much the time you two spent meant to you. you had told him how lovely he was and how all your rainy nights and lonely days felt like you were being coloured in his shiny light because he was with you. 

you told him, he believed, and you let go of his hands with a bittersweet smile before walking back to your closet. 

‘did you fall out of love?’ silence. 

‘are you tired of me?’ and silence. 

he still thinks about those questions he asked, even now as he’s sitting in front of your supposed birthday cake. you never responded, but your silence told more than words could ever recite. he wishes you had answered him, though. it would’ve been easier for him to move on, even though he has always known what your answer would be. sometimes, he wishes for you to come back running, half because he wants to close the door on you and hurt you the same way you hurt him, and half because he wants to hold you in his arms and pour out all the love he has for you. his fingers hover above the like button of your posts. he wonders if he should comment or maybe send you a direct message. he wants to pull you back, but you look so happy without him— and who was he ever to take away your happiness? so he just scrolls past, liking other posts and reels, and hangs in there drowning in thoughts of you until you post again— and the ugly cycle continues. 

jay notices the candle melting and puts it away on the kitchen counter, not wanting the wax to poison the cake if it ever could. he grabs a can of beer from the fridge, downs it, and then grabs another, then another, and another, to the point his vision is blurring. he tries to light a cigarette but the lighter doesn’t work. he takes off his cardigan and throws it around in attempt to make a mess. he wants you to see him— pitiful and in pain, and he wants you to stop him like you always had.

he tunes in the recorder, listening to a few of the songs that you enjoyed. he never bothered changing it. and he drinks yet another can of beer, looking around and out of the window, looking at the unattended cake and the melted wax on the table. oh how you would scrape it out with your nails. 

“do you think about me?” he asks into the empty. the question gnaws at him from the inside, along with a thousand others. he waits, and waits, hoping for a response, knowing it’s useless, hopeless. “sometimes, i think about you every minute,”

he tries to think of how you’d respond to those words— with a laugh, maybe. maybe, you’d tell him you think of him too, he can only guess, he can only imagine. he imagines you walking up to him and leaning down for a kiss. you’d whisper something sweet in your enchanting voice and then kiss him again, this time getting onto his lap, your lips pulling him in a way he can’t help but wrap his arms around you. and just when it would be getting better— you’d pull away. 

‘i don’t like dancing,’ you had mentioned once, as he suddenly remembers via the alcohol taking him down the memory lane, when he asked you for a dance at the freshers party. he didn’t even know you then, not more than the fact that you were the most beautiful person he had seen that night.

and then a year later, you were in his apartment, arms over his shoulders, his hands on your waist. you gave him this sweet smile and made him inch closer for a kiss, all while waltzing to your favourite song. you said you didn’t mind dancing if it was him, only him. because he was the only one. 

and jay huffs at the memory, a bit frustrated. it was a lie, a pure white lie. you didn’t mind sharing dance with a few of your friends. he knew it was childish of him to be upset at this, but he’s annoyed nonetheless. you’ve told him lies, about love, about him, about yourself; to the point he believed they were the truth. like when you said he didn’t have a talent for music so he should take engineering instead so that you two could stay together. and when you said everything would be fine now that he was in love with you— a whole lot of lies. he grips the can tightly at the memory, pressing his fingers into the metal. and then your song comes on. 

jay just stares at the recorder for a few seconds. he pictures you walking up to him from the living room with a smile on your face, asking him for a dance and he’d agree— as he does, standing up from the stool except this time, he’s holding a beer can instead of your hand. every step he takes reminds him of the little dance you two performed together. he closes his eyes occasionally, taking in the lyrics, the chorus that you like so much. he let his mind trace over every single memory of yours he has preserved in his mind. how quickly you made him fall for you and how swiftly you left. 

like a wind blowing past the curtains into his living room, you came into his life, and entranced him in your presence. you had asked him to make room for you in his heart and he gave you your entire self and soul. being with you was an adventure, like walking into a storm. he had to share his love and you’ll never let go. now, he starts picturing you in his arms while waltzing down the kitchen all alone, reliving the feeling of your body pressed close to him.

he lets his feet guide him around his apartment, down to the living room, bumping into the couch slightly but he doesn’t stop. it’s like the first dance he shared with you, magical, as you had him lost in yourself completely. all the walks together with you, hands intertwined together, it all plays in his head like a movie. and jay never understood the song like you did, but he can walk on the world stage and thump his chest to claim you’re the only one— but it wouldn’t mean a damn thing since he’s not yours in return. 

he takes a sip of beer, humming to the melody of the song as he waltzes on his own, walking down to the balcony. you were his muse, and his notepad is full of songs he wrote about you, and he— jay lets out a chuckle— a passerby. you came in like a wind, calling him your only one amongst the other people you had pulled in your whirl all along, and he leans against the railing, taking last sips of beer from his can.

a wind flows by— and you’re gone. 

#—approved. #okwonyo’s 🩰 ( 천상의 발레 ) #jay x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen headcanons #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen fanfiction #enha fluff #enha drabble #enha imagines #enha reactions #enha scenarios #enha headcanons #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enha x reader #enha fanfic #enhypen jay #jay enhypen #jay fluff #jay imagines #jay drabbles #jay soft hours

[earthtoharlow]

Recipe for Love

Chapter One: Gather Your Ingredients

Mia remembered the night vividly it was another industry event where the best of the best mingled in the 5 Star hotel ballroom. She had been feeling practically confident that evening, her black Hervé Léger dress hugging her figure perfectly, her hair styled in an updo. The air was filled with excitement of potential deals, new projects and the thrill of being seen.

Urban had caught her eye early in the night. Tall, with a confident smile, a film camera dangled from around his neck. After a few stolen looks, he finally approached her with a drink in hand. They struck up a conversation naturally, the mutual attraction was undeniable. As the night wore on they found themselves slipping away from the crowd, seeking a quiet corner where they could talk more freely.

“You know, I’ve seen you at these events before.” Urban said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But tonight, you look particularly stunning.”

Mia’s cheeks warmed, a genuine smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, Urban. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

One drink led to another, and before long they were leaning in closer, their laughter blending with the soft music playing in the ballroom. Their chemistry seemed electric and it wasn’t long before they found themselves tangled in the sheets of a suite, finally giving in to the magnetic pull that seemed to have drawn them together.

Over the next weeks they continued hooking up, they would meet up in secret, not wanting press in their business. Each stolen moment felt like an escape from their high-profile lives, a secret world where they could be themselves without judgment.

Mia’s best friend Liv invited her out to lunch as she was back in LA from filming a movie in Paris. Liv’s face lit up with excitement. “I have someone I want you to meet!” Her eyes seemed to sparkle with joy.

Mia’s curiosity was piqued, she couldn’t remember the last time Liv was this happy. “Yeah? Who is is?”

Liv’s grin widened. “My new boyfriend! He’s wonderful, Mia. I really think you’ll like him. We’ve only been dating for 5 months but I think he’s the one.”

Anticipation built from the high praise from Liv as they waited for his arrival. When the door of the cafe swung open and Urban walked in, Mia felt the ground shift beneath her designer heels. He looked equally as stunned, but quickly masked it with a practiced smile. Liv jumped up, throwing her arms around him. “Mia, this is Urban.”

Mia’s heart raced and she forced a smile. “Nice to meet you, Urban.” she said, extending her hand as if they were strangers.

Urban shook her hand, his grip firm but his eyes were filled with unspoken words. “Nice to meet you too, Mia.” He replied, his voice was steady.

The rest of the lunch was a blur. Mia struggled to keep her emotions in check as Liv gushed about her new relationship, unaware of the storm brewing. Urban, of course played his part perfectly, attentive and charming but whenever their eyes met, Mia saw the guilt and uncertainty he was desperately trying to hide.

That night, alone in her apartment, Mia tried to process what had happened. She felt torn between her loyalty to Liv and the secret she now shared with Urban. Their affair had been exciting and intense, but it had to end. Liv’s happiness was too important to jeopardize, their friendship was too important to lose.

Mia texted Urban, asking to meet. They found a discreet cafe where they could talk without the fear of being recognized. “This has to stop.” her voice trembling slightly. “Liv deserves better than this.”

Urban nodded, his expression somber. “I know. It was never supposed to get this complicated.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “This all could’ve been avoided if you had told me you had a girlfriend! But I’m not going to keep lying to her.”

“Neither can I,” Urban agreed. “I’ll tell her the truth. She deserves to know.”

Mia shook her head. “No. You don’t have to. Just end it with me and be good to her. That’s all I ask.”

Urban reached out, taking her hand. “I will. I promise.”

Mia’s thoughts were interrupted when the crowd erupted in cheers in the same hotel ballroom she first met Urban. She watched as he got down on one knee, presenting a beautiful ring, one she knew was perfect for Liv. She clapped along, her face with a mask of congratulations. Mia needed to get out, to think, to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her.

As the crowd surged forward to congratulate the newly engaged couple, Mia knew she couldn’t avoid the inevitable. Steeling herself, she approached Liv and Urban, her smile firmly in place.

“Congratulations, Liv!” Mia exclaimed, pulling her friend into a warm embrace. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you, Mia!” Liv beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “This is the best night of my life.”

Mia turned to Urban, who was watching her with a look that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Mia,” he said, his voice smooth. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot to both of us.”

Their hands met in a brief, tense handshake. As their eyes locked, Mia saw a flicker of something in his gaze—a mix of recognition and regret that only she could understand. She forced a smile, trying to keep her composure. “Congratulations, Urban,” she said, her voice steady. “You two make a wonderful couple.”

Urban’s knowing look lingered a moment longer before he nodded. “Thank you, Mia. We’re really happy.”

Mia managed a nod, her heart pounding. She needed to get away, to breathe. Excusing herself, she slipped out onto the balcony, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. She leaned against the railing, staring out into the night, her thoughts a mix of guilt, sadness, and a strange sense of loss.

Despite her lack of feelings for Urban now, the memory of their affair gnawed at her conscience. She knew she should tell Liv the truth, but seeing her friend so happy made the decision agonizingly difficult.

“Mind if I join you?” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts. Startled, Mia turned to see a handsome man with an easy smile standing nearby. He wore a tailored suit, but the warmth in his eyes and the gentle way he held himself made her feel at ease.

“Sure,” Mia replied, trying to sound casual. She wasn’t in the mood for company, but something about the guys presence was oddly comforting.

“I’m Jack, by the way. I’m a close friend of Urban.” He extended his hand. “And I apologize if I’m intruding. I know who you are, and I figured you might want some space.”

Mia shook his hand. “It’s okay, really. It’s nice to meet you, Jack. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me here.”

Jack chuckled softly. “Well, it’s hard not to recognize a famous model when she’s standing right in front of you. But I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just saw you out here and thought you might need someone to talk to.”

She just shrugged her shoulders and continued looking at the skyline. As the night progressed, the vibrant energy of the party began to wear on Mia. Jack, noticing her restlessness, leaned in closer. “Want to get out of here?” he asked, his eyes filled with mischief and a hint of adventure.

Mia hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, why not? Lead the way.”

They slipped out of the party unnoticed, Jack led her through a series of winding streets until they arrived at an old, abandoned building. The structure stood tall and imposing, its once grand facade now worn by time.

Mia glanced around, a playful smirk on her lips. “Are you going to hurt me?” she joked, her tone light but with a hint of curiosity.

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. This is just a place I come to when I need to think. It’s kind of my secret spot.”

Mia looked up at the building, intrigued. “What’s so special about this place?”

Jack’s expression softened as he gazed at the building. “One day, when I make enough money, I’m going to buy it and turn it into a restaurant. I’ve always dreamed of having my own place, and I think this building has a lot of potential. I come here to remind myself of what I’m working towards.”

Mia was touched by the vulnerability in his voice. “That’s a beautiful dream, Jack. I can see it now, a cozy restaurant with amazing food. You’d make it something really special.”

Jack smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Thanks, Mia. It means a lot to hear that.”

They wandered around the building, Jack pointing out where he envisioned the dining area, the kitchen, and even a small rooftop garden. Mia could almost see it, the empty shell of the building coming to life in her mind with Jack’s descriptions.

As they explored, their conversation flowed effortlessly. Jack shared stories of his culinary journey, his struggles and triumphs, and his hopes for the future. Mia found herself opening up as well, talking about her modeling career, the pressures she faced, and her desire to find something more meaningful.

“I’ve always been in the spotlight,” Mia admitted, her voice soft. “But sometimes, I feel like I’m just playing a role. I want to find something real, something that’s mine.”

Jack nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I get that. It’s hard to find authenticity in a world that’s so focused on appearances. But I think you’re already on the right path. You just have to keep following your heart.”

They eventually settled on the building’s rooftop, the city lights stretching out before them in a dazzling display. The night air was crisp and refreshing, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“This place is amazing,” Mia said, her voice filled with awe. “I can see why you come here to think.”

“Yeah,” Jack replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It helps me stay grounded. Reminds me of where I’ve been and where I want to go.”

Mia looked at him, feeling a deep connection forming. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Jack. It’s been a long time since I felt this… at peace.”

Jack turned to her, his eyes softening. “I’m glad I could help. And thank you for trusting me enough to come here.”

Mia gave him a smile, before sighing knowing it was getting late. She had an early shoot the next morning, and didn’t want to wake up with bags under her eyes.

“Ready to head back?” Jack asked before she could. Mia gave him a nod and they took the short walk back to the hotel to part ways.

They reached the parking area, where Mia’s sleek, luxurious car was parked under a streetlight, its polished surface gleaming.

Jack let out an impressed whistle, his eyes widening. “Wow, Mia. This is one fancy ride.”

Mia laughed, a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, it’s one of the perks of the job, I guess.”

Jack shook his head, still admiring the car. “It’s not just fancy, it’s stunning.”

He looked around, spotting his own car parked a few rows away. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways.”

Mia nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment that the night was ending. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They stood there for a moment, neither wanting to say goodbye just yet. Finally, Jack reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze before letting go. “Goodnight, Mia.”

“Goodnight, Jack,” she replied, watching as he walked to his car.

Mia climbed into her own vehicle and started the engine. As she drove home, her mind replayed the events of the evening, the connection she felt with Jack, and the easy, genuine conversation they shared. Despite the complicated emotions surrounding Liv and Urban, the night had been unexpectedly wonderful.

Once she arrived home, Mia went through her usual bedtime routine, though her thoughts were still filled with Jack. She changed into comfortable pajamas and climbed into bed, feeling a sense of satisfaction and contentment.

But as she settled in, a sudden realization hit her: she hadn’t gotten Jack’s number. Her heart sank, the excitement of the evening giving way to a wave of disappointment.

As she drifted off to sleep, Mia held onto the hope that they would run into each other again. The connection they had was too genuine to let slip away, and she was determined to see where it could lead.

****

AN: new series (I promise I won’t abandon it) it probably won’t be more than 10 chapters 🫶

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @toocriticalharlow @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @daphnescorner @angelluv444 @coquette-harlow

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #urban wyatt #urban wyatt x reader #urban Wyatt x oc #jack harlow fanfic #Jack harlow non famous #recipe for love

[twelvedimensional]

incredibly weird episode that to my surprise has knocked out "boom" as my favorite of the season so far. some very scattered thoughts below:

"hey what if we had another dr-lite episode? what if sally sparrow was a supercilious spoiled brat?" - writer of this episode, probably

what LAYERS this ended up having. walked into it expecting a thinly veiled metaphor for "kids these days and their devices," ended up with a thinly veiled metaphor for "everyone these days and their devices and the echo-chamber bubbles they create for themselves that blind them to the real world injustices (and killer slugs) and enforce an artificial homogeneity."

from the start i clocked how White everyone in finetime seemed to be but at first i just brushed it off as the bbc making poor casting choices. then came the loaded statement of "don't worry, he's not as stupid as he looks." and then and then and then. did not expect that to be a plot point but my god. a busload of rich kids in the prime of youth lobbed at an "untamed" land to send resources back home? very uh, colonizer indeed (albeit an interestingly imperfect metaphor for colonization, leaving out those from less-wealthy backgrounds who seized the apparent opportunity colonization offered them to seize and claim land and status for their own)

how many times this season has the "villain" turned out to be "ai/computer/device that is supposed to help you now turning against you"? space babies, boom, dot and bubble makes 3/5 so far? not sure if this is meant to be a Thread. stretching it more broadly to "someone/something you trust turning against you" this encompasses 73 yards too (the way everyone turns away from Ruby after the old woman following her speaks!). that said the devil's chord bucks this pattern so i might just be reaching.

i can't make heads nor tails of ricky september but it was wildly amusing how he seemed to almost show up out of a different genre. the presumably heroic pop star who's Not Like The Rest Of The Milieu -- he turns off his dot! he reads in his apartment! he's different and flouts rules in a way that makes him more desirable -- not different in the way that makes the people of finetime look down on the doctor. and oh, swoon, he tries to protect lindy from the ugly truth of everyone on homeworld being dead, oh, he tries to protect lindy from dot until lindy throws him to the metaphorical wolves. because if you are lindy pepper-bean, if you think you are better, most worthy of being saved -- of course you would, even to someone as within the norm as you.

the fact that the doctor couldn't even get INTO finetime -- i have to wonder, is it that the technology protecting finetime from the outside is SO adept at its inbaked racism it could even keep the tardis out? horrifying!

throughout the episode i was also wondering at how mystifyingly patient the doctor was being with these people. by twenty minutes in i was waiting for him to chew lindy out for being so stupid, so narrow-minded, so resistant to self reliance. we've seen the doctor do this before -- it's not the first time they've tried to save someone utterly intentionally inept or someone hostile to them, it's not the first time he would have yelled at a human for being a "stupid ape!". but i wonder now, with all these pieces in mind -- did the doctor realize from the start that finetime was biased against him? was he playing that deferential balancing act marginalized people often feel they have to resort to in an environment dead set against them? listen to me right now, I'm not a threat to you or your view of the world. i just need you to listen to me right now.

and of course the doctor keeps on trying to save them because the doctor always has hope that people can change, even the most awful ones. it could have been possible for even some of the people of finetime to recognize the cruelty of the sort of society they'd built, the biases that have been entrenched in them. it's possible for all of us to realize these things. but finetime says no. finetime says, thanks for saving us. finetime says, that was your duty. and finetime says, fuck you.

#edit: i just realized rtd is the writer of this ep. sorry I never pay attention to the title card im too busy vibing to the dw theme #i just wanna know how and why dot gained awareness and decided to kill off everyone in finetime #but real interesting ideas in this episode #doctor who #dw spoilers #a very kind smile #i spy an original post

[eldragon-x]

Remembered I can just write scenes without having to structure a whole thing around it. Have Loop having a normal one about their body. Warning for emetophobia, unreality, and visceral/gory descriptions.

You dreamt about your body rotting and falling apart.

You woke up and rushed out of bed into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.

Staring back with wide eyes was a bright star with a lightless body glittering like the night sky. 

You move to put a hand on your arm and the star follows your movement. You grip your arm and yep! Your not-flesh still feels like gelatin with a layer of not-skin draped over it.

You breathe in, and out. It’s just you. Loop.

You’re not sure why you look at mirrors anymore. You know you can’t go back and you think you don’t want to. You already felt like a ghost dragging along your own body in your loops. At least this body is more accurate to how you feel. Not quite real. 

You don’t think you have insides anymore. You miss that. You wish sometimes that you could have the awareness that your body is always working and moving just below your skin again. This body doesn't have blood running through your veins to keep you alive or a beating heart or a working stomach or even lungs. You miss it.

You put a hand against the mirror to feel the cold glass against your palm. You wondered sometimes, what you would do if one day you woke up back in your old body. Would you look at your reflection and see yourself? Would you see Siffrin? Would it feel like you’ve taken the poor rogue’s skin to wear and cover the sky on your skin? Would you feel like you’ve possessed him, corrupted his insides, forcibly made a place for yourself in his flesh? Would the sight make you so sick that Siffrin would throw up lightless glittering sludge in an attempt to push you out and fight you off like an illness?

You don’t want to think about this anymore.

You leave the bathroom and see Siffrin still sleeping in the bed you decided to share for the night. The blanket was on the floor, probably tossed off when you ran for the bathroom.

Siffrin looked like themselves. Not you. You don’t think you could ever call this face your own anymore without feeling sick. 

You pick up the blanket, put it over Siffrin, and decide to get ready for the day ahead.

#isat spoilers #stars n time #writing #loop tag

[ae-azile]

Progression: Chapter 29 Preview

While Chay does work this evening, he may have lied about why he needed to leave for his shift early.

“There is an event,” Chay says to Kim, which is true, “I am going in to help set up and make sure new bottles are at the bar. I’ll be back late.”

Kim buys it. None of it is a lie, but there is an omission of one, single truth. If the circumstances were different, Chay would have no issues with telling Kim he's meeting Ye Joon. But Kim is weird about him, and Chay isn't sure if it comes from a persistent insecurity, a past experience with another producer, or something more complex than either of those things. If Ye Joon wasn't a respected producer and shareholder at the label Chay is now working under, he feels like he would pull away since Kim has such an issue with him. But he is a respected producer and shareholder, one who is involved with big international stars and bands.

And for some reason, he has taken an interest in Chay and his talent. Kim’s as well, but Kim doesn't really need Ye Joon’s support. He's already made it. With the new album, Kim’s place in the music industry will only become more monumental. Chay is still new, and while being featured on Kim’s album is a big deal, it still might not establish him as a separate talent.

At least, that's what Ye Joon says. But Ye Joon has been a powerhouse in the industry for twenty years. He knows what he is talking about. If he thinks Chay is worth putting work into, then he is going to be grateful for that and not mess it up. Kim should understand that.

But Chay also feels like Kim would make a big deal about him going to Ye Joon’s apartment. It was there or the studio, and Ye Joon made a good point about how bad traffic gets downtown around this time. Ye Joon’s apartment is also close to Yok’s, so it made more sense to meet there.

Kim probably wouldn't see it that way, but it will be fine. Chay knows it.

“Right on time,” Ye Joon says, smiling as he lets Chay inside. It's a nice, luxury apartment, one that is only half unpacked. Despite that, Ye Joon has two wine glasses out filled halfway and candles lit.

…Maybe he just likes soft, warm lighting. Kim is the same way.

“Here,” Ye Joon says, putting his hand on the small of Chay’s back as he leads him over to the couch, “Sit.”

Chay does what he's told and runs his hands over his knees as Ye Joon sits down next to him, “You said you wanted to talk to me about an opportunity?”

Ye Joon nods and reaches over to grab a binder, “I heard Kim doesn't have much interest in acting, but I was wondering what your stance on it was.”

“Oh,” Chay says, then tries to think out what he wants to say before actually saying it. He can sing songs in English easily, but speaking in it is a little harder. It isn't as natural for him as it seems to be for Kim.

Maybe he can ask for English lessons next. Kim keeps telling him his English is completely understandable and fine, but the fact that he has to script out longer responses in his head probably means he needs to work on it more.

“I don't know. I haven't given it much thought. I always did school musicals growing up and got prominent roles in them. I did acting workshops at performing arts camps my brother saved up for and sent me to. I got good feedback. My main interest has always been music though.”

“So you would be open to an acting opportunity if it caught your interest and could further advance your music career?” Ye Joon asks, then hands over the binder, “Because I have a partnership with a production and artist management company here. We are developing a few projects to include international up and comers. While I did throw Kim’s name around for another project, Noel made it clear Kim had no current interest in such a venture. But you are your own person, and I see you as someone who is…more suitable for this particular project. It would be a Thai and Korean based project-”

“I only know a little Korean,” Chay cuts in.

Ye Joon shrugs his shoulders, “You don't need to know much. The character I would have in mind for you is Thai and primarily speaks it. His love interest is a tourist from Korea, so he would need to brush up on his Thai and English, but your language skills are where they would need to be for this role.”

“He,” Chay says, “So it's a BL?”

“They are very popular in this country,” Ye Joon says, “Korea is just starting to realize the potential in funding and marketing shows focused on same sex pairings, but they aren't as…daring with it. The shows here seem to be unafraid to cross that boundary. The actors go all out and aren't afraid of the more provocative scenes. Many of the actors have also entered the music industry, either while acting or they transition to the music industry after developing a fanbase. This show would feature a well-known actor from Korea. He's a bit older than you - mid 30s - but that's what the script calls for. I don't want to throw his name out there yet, but I guarantee you have likely seen his work. He's wanting to do something more…unexpected. Dark. He's normally cast as a leading man, but wants to make some waves. Sometimes, that includes some onscreen controversy. Seeing him cast with a younger man as his love interest would get a lot of people talking in Korea. But it's a great script, and he will need a costar around your age with great musical abilities. If you play the part just right, he won't be the only one everyone is talking about.”

“...Oh,” Chay says, then clears his throat, “Uh…I can take it back with me and read it, if you want. Maybe see how I feel-” 

“A read-through would be more immersive, with you reading as the character I have in mind for you,” Ye Joon interjects, his voice gentle but commanding, “We don't have to read the whole thing, of course. I respect that you are still loyal to your other workplace for the time being, even if I don't fully understand it. But I do understand it is important to be punctual. I think we have time for half though. So why don't we get started?"

#kimchay fic #progression preview #progression 29 #cw: power dynamics #chayomc #but not really #this scene definitely isn't with Kim though #if Kim were there #he would be smacking that script out of Chay's hand and make Ye Joon wish he was getting slapped 😉

[unitydruid]

[I carry your heart with me (i carry it in]

-E.E. Cummings

#I’m just having a hard time #sorry everyone #poetry #e e Cummings #and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

[simmyfrobby]

CARLOS GONZALEZ I STAR TRIBUNE

#this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart #🥰🥰 #marc andre fleury #im obsessed w this picture look at the visible signs of aging #I Love Him Most

[kitnita]

★  —  jason robertson for after hours; november 4, 2023 (x)

what's it like being part of arguably the greatest draft class of all time – greatest dallas draft class of all time – with oettinger and heiskanen? so the stars took heiskanen and oettinger in the first round, you in the second round, so it was a very productive draft. is that lost on you, that class? no, I mean, it's, it's — it's truly a special moment, I mean, we always see it, uh, and think about it when it's ever brought up, how special it is. you know, you don't find a franchise goalie, a franchise d-man, and a player … a forward like me in, uh, one round very often. so, um, very — you look back on it now and uh, we hit all of the spots, and six years later we're all pretty, uh … producing, and being big parts of this team. and hopefully and ideally we're gonna be big parts through these, uh — our carers.

#hockey #stars #dallas stars #jason robertson #he is sitting like the world's sweetest & most polite babygirl #but also his thighs are just Out There #something something the duality of man #i will literally never get tired of the 2017 draft class getting asked about each other btw. keep doing it for the next ten years even. #make the special boys talk about how special it is to be in a special little group together! #though to get slightly real about it. i do think it's interesting how much it happens more specifically with jason and jake #& i wonder how much is it that miro came into the league earlier than them so media members had time to see him apart from his matched set #& how much of it is jason and jake having north america specific media training #and being seen specifically by media members as Guys Who Are Good With Media #z:edit #42129

[youngpettyqueen]

I love this argument that Julian and Garak are having about Earth vs Cardassia political styles and I especially love that Garak is like. shocked at how impassioned he is about this topic

#star trek: ds9 #a stitch in time #julian bashir #elim garak #this is JUICY #this is fascinating #fascinating fascinating fascinating #like. yes of course Julian is all for Earth democracy and he wants Cardassia to follow in that #but more importantly he wants GARAK to follow in that #he keeps trying to convince Garak to come to Earth!! and this is established as being a recurring thing #and I love that Garak is VERY resistant to this #obviously the way this is presented is clouded by Garak's own annoyance but this does track with Julian as a character #where he thinks he has the solution and he's confident about it but he doesnt have all the context #so of course he thinks democracy would solve Cardassia's political problems #and sure yes Cardassia at this point does very much need a change in its political systems #but the way Julian explains it- as written in this section- comes across as incredibly condescending #and I LOOOOOVE that Garak is pissed about it!! #because while I think Garak sees that things on Cardassia need to change- what would Julian know about it? #what would Julian TRULY know? #so hearing him confidently explain that the answer is Earth and Federation-style democracy #like it's just that easy #no wonder he gets pissed! #because he cares! he cares about Cardassia and his people so much it hurts! #and being reminded of this takes him by surprise! #especially that he's mad at Julian of all people #I love this insight into how he views him and Julian as having drifted apart #I did not read it like that in the show itself #god I cant wait to rewatch with this in mind

[rambrandt-the-painter]

i win at art btw

#just got back from critique and im a star student to be sure #no one had much to say they all thought my work was wonderful #my professor seemed to suggest that it was exhibition quality #I TOLD THEM TO TEAR ME APART BUT ALL THEY SAID WERE ''you keep smudging it dont do that'' dfhghgfnhdgsdhgs

[lola-a-fleur-de-peau]

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

#I remembered this poem and it takes on a meaning I had never imagined now that Guillaume has passed #I also remember sending my (cheating) across the ocean ex-lover a package with several Amelie Nothomb books translated into English #and writing on the reverse of the card where his address was (“and it’s the wonder that keeps the stars apart)

[werecreature-addicted]

Sacrificial Lamb reader/vampire priest.

Just consider— a cute little lamb reader lying on the altar, begging not to be slaughtered, the tears their crying making the vampires heart flutter. All the cult members are confused why the ritual keeps getting pushed back- meanwhile the vampire is spoiling his little lamb rotten.

ohioohooohiohoo

His hands are gentle, stroking your cheek as you wake slowly, your eyes flutter open slowly to the morning light, and there he is, your keeper.

"Morning," you yawn sleepily,

"Good morning, little one,"

"is it a good morning? I thought my execution was scheduled for today." you huff, you should be more scared but the soft look on his face can only mean one thing. you get out of bed and change idly, not minding the priest as he watches you, he's a man of god after all, there's no way he'd be looking at you in lust.

"ah well, we thought so but some knew doctrine has come to light, now is not the time for sacrifices. we'll have to wait for next winter, at the very least," he says. You hum thoughtfully turning back to face him, his hungry red eyes fixed on your body, flicking up to meet your face as you turn around.

"Well, I'll make myself useful until winter then." When you were born, it had been prophecized that you would be sacrificed to the gods and your death would bring about a new golden age for your homeland. Then, on your eighteenth birthday, you'd been handed over to the church, to live out your final days in the temple, under the watchful gaze of the father and his dedicated cult. Your execution has been postponed four times now.

You wondered if the cultists even bothered setting up the altar this time. it was always something, the stars weren't aligned properly, the materials were all wrong, you fell ill and couldn't be slaughtered while sick, and now, Spring was a time for rebirth, you'd have to wait for winter for the ritual. which winter? who's to say? it might be another few years before he tries to start your sacrifice again.

He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. he puts his nose to your throat and kisses your skin. "You could be useful to me now," he breathes, his voice strained, tight with hunger. You had been so scared the first time you'd almost been killed, you remembered sobbing and pleading for your life, his knife poised above your throat, He told you that you could live, for now, if you served the cult and him. Of course, you agreed, that was the first time he bit you, spilling your blood on the altar in a different way.

You lean your neck to the side and sigh as you feel his fangs pierce your skin. you have to lean back against him for support as he drinks your blood and you grow weaker.

"so perfect, so delicious," he murmurs to himself as he drinks your blood, licking at your throat, catching any stray drops of blood. His hands slide down your body feeling up your hips and thighs. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your back as he slowly grinds against you. The priest is chaste, a man of god, but he's also a vampire, as he's explained he can't help but get erect when he feeds it's a natural side effect and completely nonsexual.

He pins you down on the bed and pushes your legs apart, grinding against you, fully clothed, as he bites your neck again. you feel dizzy, a mix of feelings as your blood is drained and as you buck and grind against the vampire on top of you. you try to keep quiet, but you can't help but moan as he takes full advantage of you. You feel dirty, the man who's saved your life so many times now is just trying to eat and here you are getting off, practically masturbating right in front of him with his cock.

You can feel how large his dick is as you grind together, you can't help but wonder what it would feel like if he pulled your underwear aside and fucked you properly while he drained your blood, the thought alone makes you shudder and press up against him as he continues to dry hump you. although with the sticky feeling between your legs and his wet mouth sucking on your neck, "dry" might be the wrong word.

you bite down on your own hand to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as you cum, still trying to hide your own lust, what would the priest think if he found out you were so lustful? if you were lucky he'd bend you over and spank you for being so sinful, at worst he might chain you down to the sacrificial altar and leave you there.

The priest pulls away, breathless, your blood smeared messily around his mouth "What a mess we've made," he huffs, looking down at your neck, and then his eyes drop further to the place where your bodies meet.

"I can clean it-" you offer weakly,

"no, no little thing, rest, you need to let your body heal, close your eyes, I'll take care of all this," he coos reassuringly, you nod obediently and close your eyes.

You look so venerable like this, he could do almost anything he wanted with you in this weakened state. the prophecy said it had to be a virginal sacrifice, maybe he could halt the ritual permanently if he just took what he'd wanted from the beginning.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #vampire #vampire smut #werewolf boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire x reader smut #blasphemy #tw dubcon

[nachojaehyun]

like a part 2 where the reader just keeps on acting nonchalant like nothing happened and wonwoo gets more and more riled up. cause “why am i the only one going insane here” type of feelings. and he just ends up taking here in a dressing room or something cause damn they need to fuck

she’ll ride the dick like a carnival

pairing. idol! wonwoo + new staff! fem reader!

summary. since that one fateful night at his apartment, jeon wonwoo realizes that he is fucked. but not really, since he can’t seem to get you in his bed.

warnings. [PLEASE READ] dom/sub dynamics, slight dom wonwoo, dirty talk, use of nicknames, THICK dick and lowkey desperate wonu, reader is VERY nonchalant, implied mirror sex, riding, wonu almost cries… AGAIN, sloppy kisses on the tits, subtle jizz play — 18+ MINORS DNI!

note. desperate sex that turns steamy and passionate is my favorite genre holy shit 😭 first time answering an ask! hope you like it :)

find part 1 here

jeon wonwoo could only watch you from across the waiting room as you pranced around in a midi skirt, chatting happily with the staff.

he wanted to cuss you out.

shifting in his chair, he pushed his glasses further up his nose, angrily sniffing.

how could you act like this?

how were you so nonchalant? so unbothered about the fact that you had him seeing stars merely 72 hours ago?

it had been 3 days since you had sucked the soul out of his body. 3 days since he couldn’t stop rutting his cock into his fist to the thoughts of you. 3 days since he had become insane.

he tried to get your attention, he really did. the poor boy would keep trying to pry anything out of your mouth that gave him a hint about your feelings.

but you were unpredictable, just as he had thought.

your face was like a wall — completely emotionless. any thought that passed through your head could barely be understood and wonwoo wanted to smash his head into the concrete at that realization.

“jeez, what’s got you this tense?” mingyu sits down next to him, adjusting his costume as he stared at his best friend. “i’m just… worried about the performance, nothing else.”

mingyu knew that wonwoo was lying.

hell, even wonwoo knew he was lying.

but none of them seemed to question each other as they sat in silence, each immersed in their own thoughts.

“wonwoo-ssi?” your voice called out to him. the boy singled out you and your sound amid nearly 50 people in the room, surprisingly springing to his feet as he walked towards you.

“your outfit is ready, follow me.”

the man silently walked behind you, striding toward the secluded attached room in the corner.

he pulled the curtain and stepped inside, and he was immediately handed his clothes. the outfit was simple— a sleeveless shirt and some baggy white jeans.

“i’ll be outside,” you nodded, bidding him farewell as you pulled the curtain.

sighing, wonwoo turned to look at himself in the mirror. his hardened cock stared at him in the face— a haunting image of the effect you had on him.

how am i the only one who is this riled up? he wondered. i can’t be the only one… right?

he wasn’t.

you would be lying if you said your panties weren’t glued to your core since you walked in. the sight of him had your head spinning, wanting nothing more than to strip him down and pull his dick into your throat.

but of course, you were not some depraved whore.

you set boundaries after that night. he was your client, and you were his stylist. of course you weren’t supposed to suck him off!

the fitting next morning after the incident had made you lose your self control. you recall how you had to get yourself off in the bathroom, relishing in the thoughts of seeing wonwoo in a tight fitted suit.

but of course, you would never voice these thoughts out loud. being in the same room as him was punishment enough to remind you of your sins. you wondered if applying for a styling job for a different member would work—

“uh?” wonwoo’s deep voice cut off your lewd thoughts, making you shake your head to clear them out. “a little help?”

“you good?" you sighed. “i’m coming in,” sucking in a breath as you stepped inside the small box.

wonwoo was leaning against one of the mirrored walls, one leg up on a stool in the corner. “what’s wrong?” you searched for a solution in his face.

“i seem to be stuck in a seemingly hard situation.”

one look down to his hands, you immediately realized the problem.

wonwoo’s dick was hard, the bulge over his boxers made that evident. the problem? the sheer size of his chub was not allowing the zipper of his jeans to zip up.

the man had a small waist but also had weirdly broad hips. his pants always had to be altered so that they suited his body type.

however, this was a problem that no other stylist had ever had to deal with.

“what do i do?” wonwoo whined, pouting his lips as he pushed up his glasses.

“wonwoo-ssi,” you spoke. your voice remained surprisingly stable, despite the fact that you could feel your pussy pulsating.

“i think you need to solve this problem on your own,” you looked into his eyes, almost feeling bad at how he panted.

however, before you could turn around and leave, wonwoo pushed his glasses up his nose and caged you between his arms.

your back hit one of the mirrored walls, as a surprised gasp fumbled from your mouth.

“wonw—”

“for the love of god woman, do you not see what you do to me?”

the desperation in his voice made your knees buckle as you stared into his eyes, gaze alternating to his lips as he bit them.

wonwoo heaved as he inched closer towards your face. “give me one good reason why you shouldn’t take care of my problem. you’re the one that caused it after all.”

hearing him voice out his thoughts, you turned your head to the side, embarrassed by the effect his voice had on you. how was this even your fault—

but with a harsh grip, jeon wonwoo grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing to you look at him.

“can’t think of anything can you?” his head dipped down, tracing his teeth along your neck. the sensation made you hiss silently. “help me, please. what would carat think if i went out on stage looking like this?”

“sit,” is all you managed to say, voice enamoured with need.

you all but pushed wonwoo onto the iron stool in the corner, hauling yourself onto his lap as you crashed your lips into his.

fuck, your lips were way better than he had ever imagined. they were soft and pillowy as they engulfed his mouth, tongue grazing against his own as you ground down on his crotch.

wonwoo’s free hand pushed your head impossibly close as he licked into your mouth, wanting to memorize every crevice.

spit dribbles from your connected mouths, sloppy and wet kisses sounding obscenely loud in the secluded area. the man does not care that drool is now staining his tank top. he could never get enough of this.

his other hand gripped tightly onto your ass, groping and fondling the fat. after a second, he pulled away from you, glasses foggy and lips swollen as he tried to catch his breath.

“shit baby, i can’t take it anymore,” he whisper-screamed, tears coating his lashes. you wished you could burn this image into your head for the rest of your life.

you could only nod, ready to sink to your knees before wonwoo stopped you, tutting. “pull your panties to the side, doll,” he commanded, chest heaving.

the change in his tone had your thighs tingling. you pulled your midi skirt up, tucking the ends into the hem as you exposed yourself.

at the sight of your baby blue cotton panties, jeon wonwoo nearly growled.

the material was thoroughly soaked and ruined, a deep blue patch staining the cloth. as you pulled them to the side, he noticed how slicked up your heat was, a string of arousal connected your folds to the cotton.

you gripped onto his shoulders for support in your half-sitting position as he glided two fingers against your folds.

“so wet for me already, huh? don’t even need to work you up for my cock,” he smacked his lips. “filthy girl.”

wonwoo strained his ears to listen for any footsteps near the area as he sucked his dampened fingers into his mouth. your taste was making him dizzy, breath faltering as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head.

without wasting any more time, you pulled his cock out of its confines, sliding his boxers down just enough to free his length.

the sight of him always made you salivate. however, it was clear that he didn’t want that happening today.

steadily, you positioned yourself over him, hovering before you finally pushed his fat tip in.

the sensation had you moaning out loud— before he slapped his hand over your mouth. “shh! don’t be so loud baby, they will hear us,” he cooed.

you nodded frantically, slowly inching downwards as his dick began to fill you up. once he was bottomed out, you couldn’t help but sob into his palm.

“i know baby, i know. feels good yeah?” he smirked, shushing you with sweet words as he let you adjust to his size.

wonwoo’s thick dick was buried up to your hilt, and you felt so incredibly full. your poor walls clenched around his cock, nearly making him bust.

without a word, the man beneath you grabbed at your waist, moving you up and down on his length, slowly. with him pistoning in and out of you, you could feel your senses going into overdrive.

wonwoo tugged your top down with his teeth, suckling along the valley of your breasts to keep himself quiet. your pussy felt incredibly tight, creaming him for all he was worth.

his strong arms continued to guide you, until your legs automatically adjusted to the pace. your body began to move on its own accord— tits jiggling in wonwoo's mouth with each bounce.

"f-fuck!" you whimpered, beginning to lose your mind. for a moment, he looks up at you through his glasses, smiling widely from between your breasts.

the bastard's cheeky grin has you forgetting your own name as he lapped his tongue around your skin like he fucking owned it.

"already going dumb on my cock? shi— you ride so well baby."

your bounces show him just how stretched you were, making wonwoo's stomach clench as he split you apart. you tease him a little by slowing down, grinding down on him as he bites his lips and throws his head back.

as his hands grab onto your cheeks to spread them, he accidentally catches a glimpse of your back in the mirror opposite to you two.

god, you looked so fucking hot.

without knowing why, you felt him twitch inside. "not gonna— oh shit! — last very long now baby."

at the sound of his confession, you bring a hand down to rub at your clit. taking the hint, he begins to rut back into you, using all his strength to fuck into your heat.

"p—please wonwoo hah! cum inside, please please please,"

you're not sure why you beg, but you're too cock drunk to process anything but the fact that you want him filling you up, stuffing your cunt full with his release.

"you su— fuck fuck fuck—" wonwoo whispers, biting down on your right tit to subdue the moan that was about to leave his throat.

with that and a grunt, he cums inside your pussy, filling you up to the brim. his length twitches inside you, shooting out excess spurts. feeling himself soften, wonwoo pulls out of you. you whine at the sudden sensation of feeling so empty.

the boy stays mesmerized at the way your cum mixes together, escaping your spent hole in small globs.

as a pathetic attempt, he uses two fingers to plug the release back inside you, making you whimper again at the sudden intrusion. "sorry," he apologizes, before placing your panties back where they belonged.

with a fluid motion, jeon wonwoo tucks himself back into his calvin klein boxers and then zipping his pants up, meeting your dazed eyes with another cute smile. "see? it fits now."

you can’t help but smile back at him, panting to catch your breath.

your thighs hurt from the awkward position, but you were sure that you would never have it any other way.

so, that's how you end up walking around the rest of the working day— wonwoo's cum safely filled up inside you, as you and him exchanged comically wide-eyed looks every few minutes, a shade of pink grazing your cheeks.

© nachojaehyun, 2024.

#jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo #seventeen #wonwoo asks #seventeen smut drabbles #svt x reader #seventeen drabbles #seventeen thoughts #svt hard thoughts #svt x you #seventeen smut #kpop hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop smut

[crispycreambacon]

The Space Belongs to the Ace

Happy International Asexuality Day! I thought I'd make a tribute not only to all my fellow aces out there but also to space. To me, my asexuality is, on some level, connected to outer space, and I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

If you don't know what I mean by that, let me tell you why.

Space has always meant a lot of me as a kid long before I discovered my asexuality. It is defined as a near-perfect vacuum. Outside of celestial bodies, there is almost nothing out there. No air. No other signs of life as far as we are concerned.

Yet if you look beyond, you can discover something beautiful... You can discover stars that have been here for over a millenia. You can discover spirals that are expanding and will continue to expand. You can discover colours and shapes that can captivate you or even comfort you, telling you that everything will be okay.

That's how I felt when I was finally able to label my experiences. That same wonder astronauts feel when they make a new discovery about space? It is the same wonder I felt when I first heard the term "asexual".

Now there are people who are pushing us out of the LGBT+ community. Even after we built our own as they insisted, people still harrass us for "not being oppressed enough" or for "making up a sexuality" or even "endangering the kids by confusing them with something unnatural".

It's 2024. We can't keep pushing away our fellow members when the world is already pushing us away from society. Exclusionism has only ever served to tear us apart while the people who want to hurt us sit back and let us do the work for them. We can't keep doing this. We deserve to have our space.

We belong here too.

#international asexuality day #asexuality day #ace #asexual #asexuality #the space belongs to the ace #lgbt #lgbtqia #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #chris p fried art

[hischierhoney]

OFF LIMITS

nico hischier x hughes sister!reader

part 2: I Know available now!

It’s not the first time they’ve run into you on a night out, and Nico’s pretty sure it won’t be the last. You live in New York, close enough that your paths overlap quite often. It is, however, the first time he’s seen you this drunk. On top of that, it’s the first time Nico’s run into you without your brothers with him.

Jack may be younger than you, but what he lacks in age he makes up for in overprotectiveness. When they run into you at a bar, Nico rarely gets a chance to even say a word to you before Jack is questioning how much you’ve had to drink or why you’re even out in the first place.

But Jack is in Toronto, for the All Stars game, and Luke’s still too young to be out at a bar and is also out of town, and you’re there, standing under a neon sign, leaning up against the wall. You look hazy. Out of it. There’s a guy standing nearly over you, arm next to your head on the wall. Nico’s stomach twists.

“Isn’t that Hughes’ sister?” Someone asks.

Nico nods, juts his chin at the scene unfolding. “Does she look uncomfortable to you?”

His teammate lets out a snort. “Was wondering the same thing.”

Nico keeps a watchful eye on the situation for just a moment. He doesn’t want to overstep, but something feels off. When you put your hand on the guy’s shoulder and try to push him away, and he stays put, caging you in farther, the switch flips. He’s gone from concerned friend to overprotective captain within a second. He passes his beer off to someone and makes his way across the bar in a few short steps.

“Hey man. Back off.” He snaps.

The guy turns with a glare. Nico stands his ground. Your eyes meet his, and he watches relief wash over your face. He knows then that he’s made the right choice.

“I saw her first,” the guy sneers.

Nico really didn’t want to get in a fight tonight. He was supposed to have a chill night out with the guys, maybe talk to a couple girls, get his mind off of… things. But now he’s here.

“Nico,” you say, softly, and he watches the guy’s face drop as he realizes you know Nico.

“Hi,” he says, kindly and quietly to you. He juts his chin at the guy and shoves his shoulder firmly. “Get lost.”

The man melts away into the crowd. Nico watches him go. Then he turns back to you, to where you’re leaning against the wall, doe eyed and drunk as hell as you stare up at him. His breath gets caught in his throat for just a moment- if your brothers knew the things he thought about when you looked at him like that, they’d have his head. Jack and Luke are a bit oblivious, he thinks. He’s lucky he’s not around you and Quinn at the same time very often. There was that game last year, in Vancouver- you in your Devils jersey, elbowing him lightly, and Quinn’s glare trained on him, one raised brow, like he was just waiting for Nico to take a wrong step.

“My hero,” you say, reaching out to tug on his wrist.

Your words are extremely slurred, and when he gets a closer look he realizes you’re probably close to blacking out. The light is gone from your eyes. He winces.

“Okay, schatz,” he says. He ruffles your hair just to get you to stop staring up at him through your eyelashes, afraid of the way it makes his heart jump. “Can I call someone to come get you?”

You shrug. “Where’s Jacky? Or Lukey?”

Nico groans. “Toronto, and who knows. Not here, though.”

You purse your lips. “Right.” You dig in your pocket for your phone, find it, and Nico watches you try and turn the screen on with no luck- it’s dead. “Huh. That’s not good.”

And… Nico could call one of your brothers. Could ask for some sort of phone number- a roommate or a friend or anyone. But as you stare up at him, you lean away from the wall and fall into his chest, and he knows he needs to act quickly. Preferably before you pass out at the bar.

…..

You don’t remember the walk out of the bar, or the car ride, or the elevator up to the apartment that you’re sure you must’ve taken. Your world zaps back into focus on the entryway of Nico’s apartment. You’ve been here twice- both for parties. It’s different when it’s not full of people. Feels more like Nico.

You toe your shoes off in the doorway. Nico swipes them to the side with his foot and then reaches out to catch you when you stumble. You lean into his shoulder and laugh- he smells good, like honey and whiskey. You want to breathe him in. He laughs, too- you can tell by the way his broad shoulders shake.

He leads you out of the entryway and into the kitchen. He grabs you by your hips to maneuver you, and you nearly squeal at the feeling of his fingers splayed against your body. Instead, when he moves you to lean against the counter, you sigh. You brace yourself, elbows on the granite, and stare up at him as he moves through the room.

“Stop staring at me like that,” he says in a warning tone.

“Like what?” You ask, innocently.

If he’d look at you, you’d bat your eyelashes at him. But he’s not looking, and you’re not going to waste your energy. He has his head in the fridge, an empty glass in his hand. He returns with a pitcher of water and pours it into the glass before sliding it over to you.

He never clarifies what he means by staring like that. You want to circle back to it, but you’re getting really tired, and the water is cool and refreshing. You laugh when you spill a little bit, the water running down your chin and neck. Nico just groans and rolls his eyes.

“You’re drunk,” he states, like you both didn’t already know it.

You nod. “I had a lotta tequila.”

He gives you a look of exasperation mixed with affection. “Trying to forget?”

You shrug. “Something like that.”

Once you’ve finished the glass, he starts maneuvering you again, hands on your shoulders this time as he walks you down the hallway. You wonder what it would be like to have him do this all the time- maybe when you’re not drunk. Does he manhandle his girlfriends, his dates, like this? Maybe manhandle isn’t the right word. You don’t feel handled, you feel… taken care of. Like he’s making sure you’re exactly where you should be. It’s sweet. It makes you shiver just a little bit.

He mistakes the movement for a chill, and he rubs his hands up and down your shoulders. You sigh. The two of you step into the bathroom, and he digs through the drawer until he finds a new toothbrush and toothpaste, and he hands them both to you.

You stumble your way towards the bedroom five minutes later, his hands on your hips again. He pushes open the door to his bedroom and leads you to the bed, having you sit down on the edge while he heads for the dresser. You look around. You’ve been to his place, but never here. It’s… calm. Quiet. The sheets and duvet beneath you are soft, and the lamp next to the bed casts a warm glow over everything. He has trophies taking up space on his desk. The bed is unmade, blankets rumpled and messy.

“Always wondered what your room looked like,” you say.

His shoulders tense, though he shakes it out a few moments after. “Yeah?”

You nod, forgetting he isn’t looking at you, and then supplement with words. “Can learn a lot about a person from their bedroom.”

He laughs and looks over his shoulder at you. “What have you learned, then?”

You shrug and cast your eyes to the ceiling. He goes back to rifling through the drawers. You flop backwards onto the end, laughing lightly at the way it bounces beneath you.

Something lands on your stomach- a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts. You pick them up and hold them above your head.

“Get changed,” he says. When you lean up to look at him, the whole room spins. He sighs, like he can tell. “I’ll be back in a second, okay?”

…..

Nico nearly panics five minutes later, because he knocks on the door to ask if you’re decent and you don’t answer. He’s torn between worry about seeing something he shouldn’t, and worry about you dying- one of them trumps the other, so he shoves his way into the room frantically.

You’re laid out on the bed, swallowed up by his t-shirt, the drawstring of the shorts pulled tight around your waist. Your lips are just barely parted, soft sighs escaping with each rise and fall of your chest. You’re asleep. He could leave you, but right now you’re asleep on your back, and very drunk, and he’s worried you’re going to throw up and- they warned him about that, years ago, when he first started going to parties. Friends don’t let friends sleep on their backs.

He crawls up onto the bed and tucks you into the blankets. Then he rolls you onto your side, and sighs when you immediately try to roll back onto your back. He repeats the process, and this time you groan loudly in response. Without really thinking about it, he sits down on the bed behind you and props his leg against your back. That seems to keep you in place- you lean into the warmth but you don’t try to roll over again.

So. That’s great, except, now he’s stuck. Realistically, he was going to stay anyways. If he was the last person to see you and something awful happened, he’d never forgive himself, and neither would your brothers. So it’s fine, really, that you’re leaning against him, but… you’re warm, and breathing softly, and your hair is strewn all over the pillowcase, and god, he hates the way it all makes him blush.

He can’t do anything about it, especially not now, with the state you’re in. So he just sits and watches you sleep, the way he’s sort of always dreamed about.

Hours later, Nico’s woken from a half asleep state by a loud noise- it’s his cell phone, ringing on the nightstand. He scrambles to pick up, blinking blearily at the screen. 4:53 am, and Jack is calling him. He wouldn’t normally answer, but it’s Jack, and by now he’s probably heard about you, so he swipes to take the call.

“It’s not even 5am, Jack,” he says softly.

“Hischier.” A voice returns- it’s not Jack.

“Quinn.” He replies, carefully.

He keeps his voice low. His gaze flickers down to you. You’re asleep -on your side, thank god- one arm wrapped around his leg. He swallows tightly and carefully brushes a stray piece of hair from your face. You don’t stir.

“It’s not even 5am,” he repeats.

Quinn scoffs. “I know. Woke up to go do some early morning training, and imagine my surprise when I see about ten texts from various people telling me you took my baby sister home with you last night.”

Right. Everybody knows everybody in the NHL. Nico rolls his eyes. You’re older than both Jack and Luke- you’re not a baby. He refrains from saying that, though- knowing it’ll only upset Quinn more. He may sound relatively calm now, but Nico can sense the undercurrent of tension.

“It’s not like that,” Nico says.

“Right. And you’re just whispering for the fun of it, then? Not because you’re afraid to wake her?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “She was wasted. I brought her back here to keep an eye on her. Did they tell you about how I nearly punched a guy to get him to leave her alone?”

He hears Quinn falter whatever he was going to say next. Then he speaks up again. “Doesn’t explain why you’re close enough to her right now that you’d need to be whispering.”

“I was worried she was going to choke on her own vomit,” Nico says curtly. “So I stayed up most of the night making sure she stayed on her side.”

“Right, sure, by what- curling up with her?” Quinn sneers.

Nico slumps down against the headboard. “Jesus, Hughes. You trusted me to take care of your brothers. You said that yourself. You can’t trust me with this?”

“It’s a bit different and we both know it,” Quinn says.

Nico figures that’s fair. If it was his sister… he understands. He just wishes Quinn would give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Look, man. Nothing happened. I swear to you, I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm her, alright? We ran into her at a bar, she was wasted and by herself and trying to push some guy away and he wasn’t letting up. So I put a stop to it, and we couldn’t call any of her friends because her phone was dead. And not sure if you’ve noticed, but your brothers are out of town. I didn’t want to leave her alone.”

He hears Quinn sigh. “You just happened to be there to save the day?”

Nico groans, this time a bit too loudly. You shift next to him, and suddenly you’re awake, blinking up at him with soft eyes. His heart catches in his chest. You wrinkle your nose, likely in confusion at the sight of him on the phone at 5am. He mouths your brother’s name, and your confusion only grows. You gesture for the phone.

“Quinn,” you say, sleepily. “It’s 5am. Why the fuck are you calling?”

Nico can’t hear what your brother is saying anymore- a welcome reprieve, really. You roll your eyes and he holds back a laugh. When he meets your gaze, you’re fighting a laugh, too, he thinks.

“So you called because you were checking on me, right?” You ask, blinking up at Nico. “Not to harass my friend, right? Because that would be a rude thing to do at 5am, you know.”

You’re quiet for a few more moments. Then you yawn and roll your eyes again. “Okay. Well. I’m fine. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

You hang up on him. Nico’s torn between laughter and panic, wondering if Quinn’s going to call again. The phone stays silent in your hand, though. He takes it from you, sets it down on the nightstand carefully. Your arm wraps back around his leg, and he tries not to let it make him sigh in relief.

“Sorry about him,” you say, quietly. “He’s like a guard dog. But one of those little yappy ones.”

Nico laughs. “Ankle biter.”

You nod and laugh, too. “Why’d you even answer?”

Nico drags a hand down his face. “He called from Jack’s phone.”

“Sneaky little bitch,” you scoff.

He shrugs. “To be fair, I probably should’ve at least let someone know where you were. If I’d woken up to a message about my sister like the one Quinn probably got…” he scrubs at the hair on his jaw. “Not sure I’d have reacted differently.”

You huff- your warm breath washes over his leg. “You hockey players are a bunch of gossips, you know that?”

He grumbles at that, not even giving it a real response. He slumps down further against the headboard, eyes feeling heavy, head feeling even heavier. You pat your hand against his knee and sigh.

“You should lay down,” you mumble.

He sighs. “Yeah. If you’re feeling okay I can go to the couch. Didn’t want to leave you alone, I was scared you’d throw up.”

You stare up at him. He stares right back. Pretty eyes. God, your brothers would kill him.

“No, like, just- lay down,” you tell him, patting the bed next to you. “It’s your bed.”

His heart does a somersault. His stomach follows suit. He shouldn’t. Jack will punch him, Luke will deliver the final blow, and then Quinn will fly down from Canada to stomp on his grave. But he’s exhausted, and the bed is comfy, and you… you’re there, like he’s always dreamed. He won’t touch you. He’ll just lay down right next to you, barely under the blankets, plenty of space between the two of you in his big bed. It’ll be fine.

…..

You wake up hours later with a raging headache and your head against Nico’s chest. You nearly panic until you remember who he is. Then you worry he’ll think it’s weird, having you pressed against him like this, but you realize his arm is wrapped tightly around your waist. He’s strong. You know that, but it’s different to feel it for yourself, the way the thick muscle presses against your back. His cheek is resting on top of your head, too, and he’s just barely snoring, soft sounds through his lips.

You’d stay right there forever if your head didn’t hurt so bad.

When you try to wiggle free, he holds on tighter, groaning softly. You try to pry his arm off your waist and he grunts this time. When he finally wakes up enough to be somewhat coherent, he doesn’t let go.

“Whatimesit?” He asks groggily, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Dunno,” you admit. “Head hurts. S’there ibuprofen in your cupboard?”

He groans softly and then peels his arm away. Before you can make a move, he rolls out of bed and stumbles towards the bathroom. You watch him go and try to pretend you don’t shiver at the roll of his back muscles beneath his t-shirt. He comes back with a glass of water and pills in his hands.

You fight a laugh at the sight of him, sleep rumpled and groggy, brows furrowed tightly. You push yourself up to sit up, leaning on your left hand and rubbing your eyes sleepily with your right. He hands over the water and the pills. You take them eagerly.

You blink up at him after you down the whole glass and cock your head. “Did I dream that Quinn called?”

Nico snorts and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Nope. That was real life.”

You roll your eyes. “Overprotective asshole.”

Nico laughs at that, eyes slipping closed. “Like I said. If I were him, I’d have had the same reaction.”

You let yourself fall back down to the bed. “Right, like you’d ever…” you cut yourself off with a laugh. “I mean, he and Jack and Luke are always so worried about teammates being into me or something. It’s ridiculous.”

Nico laughs, but it sounds hollow. You lay on the bed and stare at the ceiling. You’re already planning how you’re going to chew Quinn out for this one.

“I don’t blame him,” Nico says, quieter this time. “Just wish he wouldn’t have called so early.”

You close your eyes. “He’s annoying. Why’s he worried? Like… none of you guys have ever shown any interest in me, so. ”

Your lack of dating hockey players is not for lack of trying. There’d been Quinn’s teammates in college, and Jack’s from the other teams, too. You’ve had crushes that you’ve eventually let fizzle out after getting nothing in return. Nico’s the only crush that’s stuck around this long. Because despite the fact that you can barely even call him your friend, sometimes he pulls shit like this- taking you back to his place and staying up late to take care of you, fielding phone calls from your protective older brother. Nico’s a giant human teddy bear. You think at this point it’s gone beyond a crush.

“Why d’you think that is?” Nico asks, breaking you from your train of thought.

“Why do I think what is?” You reply.

You swear you feel his hand brush against your wrist.

“That none of us ever show any interest?” He says.

He’s quiet. Quieter, at least. More tentative. Softer. You pry one eye open and look up at him, and you swear he’s blushing. Hm.

“Because…you’re not- nobody’s interested?” You say, softer than even him.

He tilts his head. Your mouth feels dry.

“You remember the first Devils game you came to?” He asks. You nod, and he continues. “Before the game, in the locker room, Jack mentioned his sister was going to be there, and, well, you know how hockey players are. Couple people made comments about wanting to meet you, asked if you’d be at the afterparty. Jack made it pretty clear you were off limits. And, you know. Guys do that shit all the time, get overprotective over their sisters, and it’s never been, you know, an issue. Half the time I don’t even meet the guys’ family, you know?”

He trails off and scrubs his hand through his hair. You watch him closely.

“But that night, after the game, I was leaving and I saw… this girl. This beautiful girl. And she was wearing a Hughes jersey, and I was…” he laughs and closes his eyes. “I was coming up with all these stupid pick up lines, about how I was better than him, and I was walking towards her, and I swear I looked away for a second and then Jack was there. Hugging you, and glaring at me over your shoulder. I got the message.”

You reach up and pinch the bridge of your nose. “I hate my brothers.”

Nico laughs. “In Luke’s defense…”

“Don’t defend any of them, Luke’s the worst of them, he’s just quiet about it,” you scoff. “He chased my college boyfriend out of my dorm with a hockey stick.”

Nico laughs. You laugh, too, but you shake your head. He nudges his knee against yours. When his thumb brushes against your wrist this time, you open your eyes. That blush is there, soft and rosy on his cheeks.

“So you get it, then,” he says, head tilted as he blinks down at you. His hair is falling over his forehead messily. “Why I’ve never made a move.”

You’re so busy trying to process all the information of the day that you almost miss it. Why I’ve never made a move. It could’ve been a fleeting moment, just a quick crush when he saw you the first time, but something about this tells you it’s not. He presses his thumb to your pulse point on your wrist, and the warmth of his hand on your skin makes you shiver slightly. You stare up at him and chew on your lower lip.

“I think you should ask me about my limits,” you say, quietly. “They’re a lot different than my brothers’, you know.”

The grin on Nico’s face grows wider. “S’that so?”

You nod eagerly. He lets out a low, slow breath, like he’s bracing for impact. Something in your chest aches. He plants a hand next to your head and leans towards you, and your heart leaps in your throat.

“What’re your limits on kissing hockey players?” He asks. His other hand comes up and cups the side of your face. He brushes his thumb against your Cupid’s bow. “Y’know. If the opportunity were to come up.”

You shrug. “Would depend on the player, I suppose.”

He nods in understanding, pursing his lips. “How about… hm. 6’1”, brown hair, brown eyes. Team captain. Nice guy, I guess. Would definitely make sure you got home safe from the bar.”

You reach up and draw a hesitant line on his jaw with your fingertip. “Team captain, huh? I do like a man in charge.”

He nods. You nod back. For a moment, the two of you sit in limbo.

In the end, you’re the one to wrap your arms around his neck and pull yourself up to kiss him. When you do, though, he responds eagerly. He cages you in with both arms, and as you melt for him, he does the same for you. It’s a sweet kiss, one full of hope and excitement. You’re surrounded by him, by his arms and his touch and the smell of him on the sheets. You’ve never been more happy you ran into him at a bar than in that very moment.

…..

You’re back in that same bar from weeks ago, standing under the very same neon light. Except this time, there’s no guy hovering over you, and this time, you and Nico both know the other is going to be there. He’s at the bar, pretending he’s just noticed you, smiling and waving as he orders. You shake your empty cup at him, and he nods.

He wanders over a few minutes later, drinks in hand. He leans against the wall next to you and hands you the cup. The neon light glows bright on his dark hair. You sip your drink and smile up at him. Politely. Friendly. Nothing more. He’s a polite, friendly distance away. There’s space between the two of you.

“If we’re gonna make this believable, you’re going to have to come say hello to the rest of the team,” he says.

You nod. “In a minute.”

Across the bar, one of his teammates is yelling about a game on the screen. For now, you want just a minute with Nico. A moment for just the two of you. One where he’s not your brothers’ team captain, but your boyfriend instead.

The word feels new in your brain, would feel even newer on your lips if you said it. So far, you’ve only tried it out a couple times- when he asked the question, and then after that in the bathroom mirror, a wide grin on your face. You haven’t told anyone else. Nico’s worried about Jack and Luke’s reactions, and the season’s almost done- he wants to wait to tell them afterwards, when the results of a game won’t rest so heavily on how they take the news. It’s been a lot of staying in dates, movie nights at home on his couch, which both of you are partial to anyways. And lots of this, too- seemingly chance meetings at local bars, quick texts from him telling you where he’s headed with his friends and you showing up, purely coincidental to anyone other than him.

Eventually, you follow him through the crowd of people to a secluded corner full of hockey players. You spot your brothers, blissfully unaware, nursing matching beers. Just before everyone catches sight of the two of you, Nico sneaks a hand back and squeezes yours. You smile brightly.

“Look who I found!” Nico calls out.

He moves his grip on your hand to your wrist, raises your arm like you’ve won a fight. You laugh and shake your arm free of his hold. You’re met with cheers from the team, loudest of all from your brothers. You can wait to tell them. For now, the way he smiles at you is more than enough.

…..

“Should we just tell them we know they’re… a thing?” Luke asks.

Jack shakes his head, watching you and Nico. “Nah. Let ‘em sweat. She’ll slip up eventually, or he’ll start to freak out.” He sees Nico reach to grab your hip, then pull back at the last second like he’s been burned. A mix of disgust and amusement passes through him- you’re his sister, after all. “Jesus, dunno why they think they’re fooling anyone.”

Jack’s known since the day he got back and saw you at lunch. You’d been overly happy but basically refused to talk about your impromptu stay at Nico’s. Then, he’d seen Nico at practice, and he’d been much the same. By the time the team had gone out to a bar and you mysteriously happened to show up, he’d had his suspicions and had relayed them to Luke. They’d watched you and Nico leave the bar together one night when you thought nobody was looking.

Luke laughs. “Okay, but, when do we tell Quinn?”

Jack turns to him with wide eyes. “We don’t! D’you want our captain to die?”

Luke directs his gaze back towards you and the aforementioned captain. Jack follows suit and tries not to roll his eyes. The two of you aren’t touching, but the smiles on your faces say it all.

“I mean,” Luke starts quietly. “They’re kind of cute. And we want them to be happy, right?”

“Don’t even start,” Jack says firmly.

He’ll let it go for now, in the interest of finishing out the season on a good note. But after that, all bets are off. Definitely. Probably. Jack’s the one who set the rules, who declared you off limits, and he’ll stick to his word.

No matter how much the two of you together are starting to grow on him.

Part 2: I Know

if you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! i hope you’ve enjoyed

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