#husbands have matching opposite dimples

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! OC/Reader

Little Silas Vanserra had Eris vowing to never have anymore children.

He thanked the Mother that his daughter was a little angel- still at the age where she wanted to be carried everywhere, snuggled peacefully in an adult’s arms.

Her pale hair and violet ringed autumnal eyes reminding him so much of the woman he loved.

Her older brother was the complete opposite.

He wondered if this was his punishment, a cruel joke played upon him by the Gods for having such a carefree life since his father died and reminding him that he needed to keep his faltered guard up.

And that’s how he felt in the early hours of the morning, with little hands patting at his face and excited little feet hopping on the oak floors of his bedroom.

Tired.

He cracked one amber eye open- unceremoniously meeting a matching golden flecked iris, one full of wonder and guiltlessness, as he supposed his own once were.

He closed it as quickly as it had opened, letting a wry smirk take over his ostensibly lazed features.

“Daddyyyy I know you’re awake-“ the little boy began incredulously before shrieking in glee as Eris swooped him onto his chest with ease, tickling his son mercilessly as his Mate softly slept beside him.

After the boy had relented, his rounded cheek flushed with the childish mirth of giggles, Eris couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the boy’s wild red locks.

As expected the boy’s mother was still soundly asleep, Eris had always been a light sleeper, in fact having his Mate beside him and children down the hall only worsened the fact, even though his father was no longer a threat- to him or his loved ones, simply having them in such a place always had him on high alert.

Even though he had done his very best to rid the Autumn Court of longtime Advisors, the types of men that would love nothing more than to see the Night Court Princess with a Fae bane arrow through her much too large heart, he knew there was no good in him-undeserved of him in ever feeling content.

It had the opposite effect on his wife, who admittedly had never slept better than when she was in the comforting arms of her husband- the natural warmth emanating from him lulling her into such ecstasy she wished she never had to be cruelly ripped away from by the chill of the Autumn morning.

She had never really slept well in the Night Court, the pain of living there without her mother sister always too much to bear.

Eris was her new home.

Since having children- her body still not quite having recovered from their second and Eris insisting she get as much rest at she could, even the joyous squeals of her firstborn still wouldn’t- couldn’t make her budge.

“Daddy Uncle Lulu said you p-pwomised-“

“Promised,”

“Promised to show me m-my fire againnn!”

The boy was practically trembling with excitement, his father’s hands coming to steady him as his little body wriggled with joy, perched on his father’s raised knees who raised a slim digit to his smaller lips, reminding him to remain quiet as possible.

Not that it would have made a difference to the blissfully knocked out woman beside them.

“Did he now?” Eris withered, the thought of his brother- knowing just how much he treasured the few late mornings a High Lord might have, had told his son- who’s adorable little face noone could deny, that those small, valuable hours were reserved for “magic time”.

It took only a brief moment, a fleeting fall of Silas’ dimpled grin- his mother’s grin, to have the High Lord swinging his legs from the refuge of his silken sheets, his boy held firmly in his strong hands.

“Then I think it is best we get dressed appropriately, what do you say Little Flame?”

The boy simply cheered in response and Eris couldn’t help the grin on his own face at the feel of chubby hands around his neck in a makeshift embrace, carrying him down the hall as his son rattled on in half nonsensical toddler speak about how he was going to ‘beat his Uncle Lulu in a duel’.

~

The Maids cooed as the little Prince raced down the hall in his teeny tiny Autumnal uniform- gifted to him by his Aunty Elain who thought they were the cutest thing ever.

The boy stopped when he reached the top of the grand staircase, skidding to a halt with a nervous expression on his little face.

The same staircase his Mummy always carried him down, the same staircase he had been told to scoot down on his bottom in case he tripped, the same staircase she had been slowly helping him descend himself (holding his hand tightly and giving up halfway as he took nearly a whole minute per ten steps)

Eris watched him amusedly- a miserable jutted lip and a coy flush on his baby cheeks.

“Umm Daddy, M-Mummy said I am not s’pose to go down m-myself in case of ouchies…”

That was not what she had said.

“I thought you were a big boy now, hmm?” Eris teased as his son pouted, just as his mother would have.

“I-I am…” Silas’ point was refuted with the small grabby motions his little arms made to his father who looked down at him with a smirk.

“Do big boys get carried down the stairs?”

“Ummm…Yes?” The boy widened his glimmering autumnal eyes, “pleasies?”

And so with a roll of his eyes, all in good humour, Eris fastened his excitable son against his chest as they began to exit the grand estate, heading into the vast, luscious gardens where they would begin their training.

~

Lucien could only laugh when found his brother- sincere and unbridled joy dancing in his otherwise piercing gaze, watching his son chase after the little flames he made for him.

“Uncle Lulu!” The boy squealed, barrelling into the male who swung him atop his shoulders with ease.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Eris warned, “he has quickly figured out how to control his magic, you might end up with that treasured hair of your singed at the root.”

Silas nodded furiously, his little feet hitting the floor as he flexed his small palm as proof, and to his pure wonder, delicate embers- faint as they were, twinkled at his will.

“Look Daddy! I did it! I did it!” Eris couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his son danced with not only with the little flicker he had mustered with his father’s help, but larger wistful wisps that flowed around him with delicate care.

Eris couldn’t help but feel his heart constrict, wishing nothing more than to give his children the childhood he had wanted- deserved.

He took one look at his son and wondered how anyone could ever hurt him, let alone do it himself.

He wondered what he had done to make his own father hate him so, vowing to never once make his own offspring feel even a fraction of the way he had.

For what seemed like hours Lucien and Eris entertained the little boy, sometimes engaging in a silent battle between one another who could impress the young heir the most.

Lucien eventually was called away and Eris wondered if his years were finally catching up to him, small burn marks littering his clothes from his son’s inexperienced hands and an ache in his legs from chasing after him.

After Silas’ giggles had dissipated along with his energy, Eris suggested they head back, the boy agreed sleepily, the thrum of magic still alive in his little body as Eris made a mental note to keep an eye on his budding powers.

“T-Thank you for giving me my fire,” Silas mumbled, stumbling over to his father “love you Daddy…”And as a pair of all too familiar amber eyes met the High Lord’s blurring own, he bent down and received his greatest gift in his trembling arms.

A reminder he would never be the man who had damned him, a reminder that he was a good man- a good man that was loved.

#fanfic #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra x oc #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

The metallic sheen of your matching outfits was almost bright enough to outshine the fading sun. Your families would demand no less than outrageous opulence for this wedding — not when it was between the Heir of Highgarden and a Baratheon Princess with a Lannister grandsire. It felt like every jeweler and dressmaker had emptied their stores of fine materials for the occasion, every guess dressed to impress. None more than you and your new lord husband though.

Despite the opposition thrown from both your mother, Queen Cersi, and Willas’ grandmother, Lady Olenna — the two of them hand banded together to make sure none would outshine Willas and you. They might have hated each other quite a bit and had hated the proposed union even more but they had both, begrudgingly, agreed that the only thing worse than being family-by-law was to be upstaged at the ceremony of the decade. It wasn’t often that the three richest Houses, two Wardens of the Realm and the Royal Family, would merge in such a way and everyone who was anyone (even some that were nobody and no one) had been invited.

To be honest, you had left all of those decisions to your mother and your new grandmother. Instead, you had spent the time they were planning the wedding to get to know your betrothed, Willas, and his siblings. When the match was first announced, you had been unsure of what to think. You had only three marriages close to you to reflect on and none were happy.

It was no secret that Father had scores of bastards littered through the lands and Mother had not been one to hide her words from you, listing off every fault she had found in her marriage — to prepare you for your own future husband. She didn’t want you to go into the marriage with hopes of being happy. Your uncle, Stannis, was never happy, especially not in King’s Landing and you don’t remember a time when you’d seen his wife, the Lady Selyse, smile. And the less you thought about Jon and Lysa Arryn, the better.

So when the Tyrells had come to the Capital ahead of the ceremony, you had been cautious but not overly optimistic. With such stellar examples of marriages and even siblings, much as you might have been fond of Myrcella and Tommen, you had to dig deep within yourself to find the bravery needed to accept the invitation to meet the family for an afternoon meal.

You were glad that you had. They had been absolutely wonderful. It had only been Lady Olenna and two of her grandchildren, Willas and Margaery, at that meal. She had been brisk but kind when she had let you know that the rest of the family would be coming in the moon right before the wedding. Instead, she had brought a small section of the family to help plan it, including Willas and Margaery so that you might get to know them before your move to Highgarden.

The meal that followed was spent shyly introducing yourself and being charmed by them in return. Lady Olenna suffered no fools but was kind enough to you when she saw the trembles in your hands that you tried to hide. She was once a young girl about to marry and she knew the pressure you were under. Margaery had been a gem, kind and sweet beyond belief, seemingly delighted to be gaining another sister, beyond her brother Garlan’s wife. She had taken it upon herself to lead most of the conversation, you too shy and Willas not used to being the center of attention. And he was. At least yours.

It had taken more focus than you thought you had, to keep your concentration on the idle ideas being floated to you by Margaery on different activities to occupy your days. You were mindlessly agreeing to whatever she was saying, more focused on the handsome man sitting across from you. He had the classic Tyrell beauty — warm gorgeous curls, stunning green eyes that almost matched yours, and a smile that was topped by playful dimples.

You didn’t realize it but the both of you had been besotted with each other immediately. You had been trading looks with each other the entire meal, just barely missing each other's eyes, blushes spreading across both faces. Lady Olenna and Margaery had equally spent the meal charmed by how smitten you both were. They had been worried you were a smaller Cersi but it had only taken minutes for the two of them to see the innocence within you.

The next moons passed quickly, your days spent with the Tyrells. It had only taken a few days for you to grow over your shyness and you had taken quickly to Willas. It had been very, very easy for you to fall for him. He was smart and charming, handsome and charismatic. You loved nothing more than to listen to him speak. You had been quick to ask him about his interests, having known only that he was known for the excellent breeding of hounds, hawks, and horses. In fact, your mount was a sweet golden mare that was a gift for your 15th birthday. Willas seemed pleased that he had a new audience to speak to about his hobby and was doubly pleased that you were actually interested in learning what he had to say. The two of you could easily spend the day in quiet conversations and had done so several times.

Equally, you spent time with your new sister. Margaery was a delight. Away from the distracting presence of her oldest brother, you were better able to focus on her and building a relationship with her. The two of you had spent time wandering around the Red Keep, showing her all the secret entrances and tunnels that led almost everywhere in the castle. You had had an adventurous childhood, exploring to your heart's content. It was nice, for the both of you, you hoped, that there was now someone your age you could confide in.

When the other Tyrell siblings joined the group in King’s Landing, it was just as easy to make friendships with them despite not spending as much time with them. Loras had been taken with another uncle of yours, Renly, and they had seldom been seen without one another. Garlan had been tasked by Lady Olenna to follow Lord Mace Tyrell to try and limit his stupid decisions, her words, and had as such little time to spend with you. They had been kind enough to you though.

So as the moons sped by — you grew closer to your family-by-law and you spent time saying goodbye to your younger siblings. Happy as you were about your union, it saddened you that you were going to say goodbye to the life you’d led so far.

But all of that was over now, the wedding finally over. It had been a stressful day, having started when the sun had yet to rise. It was now sunset and the feast was just starting, the wedding ceremony having taken all day. The fading sun threw gorgeous shades of orange and pink over the party happening in front of you, catching all the jewels that laced through the matching fabrics that Willas and you were dressed in.

The smile etched on your face had been there for hours and it was almost starting to hurt but you couldn’t help yourself. Leaning closer to your husband, “Did you want to leave now? Uncle Tyrion promised to help us escape the bedding ceremony and I know the maids could fetch us some food for, you know…after.”

The fetching blush that spread across his face was bashful but Willas nodded. When you looked up from your focus on him, Tyrion was easy to find. With a slight nod in his direction, Tyrion raised his goblet in acknowledgment. He had a plan and soon you could leave in peace.

#willas tyrell imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf imagine #got imagine #willas tyrell #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #my stuff #m’s drabbles #m’e imagines #january prompts

[allmylouv]

louis tomlinson’s hidden dimples

#husbands have matching opposite dimples #since louis has a right dimple #and harry has a left dimple #dimples! #* #1k

[erodasfishtacos]

could u write something where yn takes ivy to visit harry at work but they catch him shouting at a worker and ivy get scared of him but then he goes all soft <3

love this concept; thanks for the request.

Last blurb until one shot.

A Natural (mini blurb)

Ivy had just got done with preschool and insisted that they pick up her father lunch and deliver to the office as a surprise.

Knowing he could probably use a pick-me-up in the form of his daughter. It always made his day a million times better.

The toddler is carrying her father’s plastic bottle of sparkling water they’d bought him protectively in her arms.

Ivy giggles when she pressed a few too many elevators buttons and the annoyed workers would have said something but knew who little Miss. Ivy Styles was and stayed silent.

YN did apologize, which they were surprised that Styles’ wife had manners unlike him, as well as his curly-haired baby who squeaks, “This is my daddy’s!”

Referring to the bottle she’s holding tightly.

They nod, not risking getting screamed out by their boss for talking to his kid.

Harry didn’t yell, cuss, use rude tones at home. He was the opposite of everything he brought into the office.

He could be firm with Ivy when she was misbehaving but she’d never experienced the angry booming bravado of his voice when he’s nearly yelling.

When they exit to the top floor, Harry is actually a bit down the hallway with a few men.

YN can already hear him furiously scolding the men in front of him and goes to stop Ivy but she’s already taken off towards her father excitedly.

“Y’nearly lost me two million fucking pounds over a typing error! I fuckin’ pay you to do what all day? Fuckin’ twiddle your thumbs!” Harry snaps at them, he has his tall stance and arms crossed.

His face is twisted into an expression Ivy doesn’t know, he’s features dark and uncaring. His voice thick and precise.

“N-no, it wasn’t double-check-“

“How many god damn times to I have to tell grown ass men to check their work? I feel like a fuckin’ primary school teacher!” Harry’s shakes his head, the little girl has never heard her father be so loud.

She stops right behind his legs and a shiver of fright runs through his daughter - she drops the bottle she worked so hard on protecting and looks at her father’s back.

“Now what,” Harry hisses when he hears the noise, the furious expression on his face falling when he realizes it’s his baby.

Ivy’s matching green eyes are wide in fear, when he strides over to comfort her - she runs back until she’s bumping into her mum’s shins and begging to be picked up.

YN has a little humor mixed with concern playing on her face when she looks at her husband, their daughter digging her face into her mum’s neck.

Harry’s frowning, meeting them in the middle and putting his hand on his daughters back, “Daddy didn’t mean to scare y’little dove.”

After a moment her head pops up, teary eyes looking at her favorite man on earth, “Too loud.”

He gives her a small smile which widens when she lets her mum pass her over into his arms, “Yeah, daddy was t’loud, huh?”

Ivy nods and snickers when Harry rubs his nose against hers. People are really trying not to stare as Harry gets scolded by his toddler.

“We brought lunch,” YN huffs belatedly, nodding to the paper bag in her hand and gives his jaw a quick peck.

Before they head into the office, Ivy wriggles down and rushes down the hall to retrieve the water bottle and the men are still standing there in utter fright.

The miniature version of their boss with the same hair, eyes, and dimples smiles at them widely and tells them, “I bring f’my daddy!

They look over to Harry and he glared at them, his eyes telling them to respond to his daughter and not ignore her.

“O-oh? That’s very nice of you,” Henry stammers, intimidated by a toddler in a frilly bright outfit with a bunny on it. **

“Ivy say ‘get back to work or you’re fired,’” Harry smirks, YN smacking his arm and giving him a shove towards the office.

As the little girl trails back to her parents, she brightly parrots her father, “Get back or you’re fired!”

Harry beams proudly as he picks her up and delivers a kiss to her cheek.

“Y’a natural,” He tells her proudly.

#mini blurb #husband harry styles #ceo!harry blurbs #ceo!harry masterlist #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff

[lue-arlert]

Warm Spring

A/N: This is my first (and possibly only) non-AOT related content!

Warm Spring is a one-shot I wrote for a friend for her birthday, so this is dedicated to you, G ily uwu

18+ MDNI (minor and ageless blogs will be blocked)

Featuring: Sasuke x Sakura

WC: 2.6k

Content warnings: public sex, birthday sex, fingering, hand job, use of pet names, size kink(?), creampie

The breeze carried a saccharine scent through the air, drifting between the trees and bushes as delicate pink petals danced through it into a flowing river.

The sun was cloaked ever so lightly by thin layers of clouds, keeping the afternoon air cool.

A soft blanket guarded bare legs from the tickle of grass, a spread of various bento laid atop of it, boxes nearly empty of their contents.

A soft sigh left the lips of the woman leaned against the firm chest of her husband, her hand idly playing with his in his lap.

She could feel the warm press of his mouth against the crown of her head, and she lifted her face up to his to give him a warm smile. “I love you.” She said quietly, taking in his beauty. “Thank you for this birthday dinner, Sasuke.”

He returned the smile, ever so small to match his stoic features, then leaned his face down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you, Sakura.”

Her smile widened as she reached up and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss, this one more firm than the previous.

Sasuke leaned into her and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her ever closer to him. Her lips were soft against his, both familiar and foreign, each time feeling like their first with the butterflies she always seemed to give him.

It felt as if the air stopped around them, allowing them to be together in this moment, with nothing to interrupt their embrace.

It wasn’t long before the man ran his tongue over his wife’s lips, asking quiet permission to enter her mouth and taste her further.

With a soft exhale through her nose, Sakura smiled as she parted her lips and granted him entrance, the flavor of his meal lingering on his tongue. It was a pleasant taste, delicious even, as their tongues swirled together, licking the roofs of their mouths, insides of their cheeks, the backs of their teeth.

Soon, hands began to wander, Sasuke’s trailed up her arm from her elbow, curving over the round of her shoulder before cupping the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her jaw as his mouth danced across hers more fervently.

Sakura shifted to sit on her knees facing him, taking his face into her hands as she slowly slithered into his lap, wanting to be held close to him as much as possible. A giggle escaped her lips when he wrapped an arm around her back, massaging the small of her waist, then gliding around to her back, up between her shoulder blades, back down to the dimples above her tailbone, until he slowly grasped the globe of her ass, bringing his other hand to her opposite cheek and giving a firm squeeze.

He let out a soft groan at the plushy meat beneath his palms, then pulled his face down just enough to kiss her lower lip, then her chin, then her jaw, then her neck, a feeling of pride rising within him at the sounds of her quiet gasps and breaths.

“I want you, darling,” he whispered against her skin, bringing his hands up once again groping at her hips until he reached her waist, holding her firmly against his lap. “I want you right here.”

“Sasuke,” her blush that crept over her face nearly matched her hair as she glanced around the park to see if there were any watchful eyes on them. She found it empty, and her shoulders relaxed some until they tensed again when his thumbs danced over the front of her pelvis, bordering dangerously close to her warming core.

She let out a shaky breath as she leaned her head back, eyes closing at his touch and kisses. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“We should,” he grumbled into her neck. “We have to—I want you.” His voice became stern as he pulled away from her and brought a hand to the back of her head, tilting it forward until their foreheads touched and he could look into her eyes. “I need you, darling. I need to make you feel good.”

“Sasuke…” She sighed dreamily and placed a kiss on his mouth, her arms sliding around his neck to pull him closer to her, their chests squishing together. “Take me, then, dear,” she whispered on his lips, their noses grazing.

He took her mouth once more and curled his fingers around the hem of her shirt, guiding it up over her torso and past her arms and shoulders, over her head and placed it beside him. With just a touch to her back, he grinned to himself finding that she chose today not to wear a bra, grateful for one less article to remove from the body he couldn’t get enough of.

He allowed her to remove his own top, shifting his shoulders around to help the fabric peel off of his body, before he wrapped his bulging arms around her waist, the skin-on-skin warmth filling him with joy.

His kisses trailed down her jaw and neck again, then over her collarbone, until his teeth nipped at the soft skin of her chest and the swell of her breasts, his hands coming back around her to cup the sides of them, pushing them up closer to his face.

Sakura moaned and rested a hand on the back of his head as she brought her face down to look at him, her nose barely brushing through his soft, dark locks. With a breathy exhale of his name, she whimpered as his tongue delved into the valley of her breasts, his large hands kneading her, thumbs making their way to brush her nipples.

His pants were beginning to grow tighter over his lap, his urges becoming increasingly difficult to control. He wanted her, wanted to be inside of her, wanted to feel her fluttering around him, taking him in so deeply the way he loved.

He knew she could feel his arousal too, the way her hips twitched over his crotch and her breath hitched told him that soon they would both be ready to take each other.

Sasuke was beginning to grow too eager, as he pulled one of her breasts into his mouth, twirling his tongue over her stiff nipple as he relished in the sound of her growing moans, becoming higher in pitch with each suckle and nibble on her salty skin.

Her fist tightened in his hair, his silky strands tickling her knuckles and the back of her hand as she tried to pull him ever closer to her, not wanting the pleasure of his mouth on her sensitive bud to end. She continued to moan his name, her free hand exploring his defined torso, touching and flicking his own nipples, pinching at them and massaging his pecs.

The firmness beneath her warmth was beginning to grow a hunger in her, a hunger she knew he could curb if given the chance—and she initiated that chance, sliding her hand down his belly and past his navel until she reached his trousers, pulling and prying at the buttons until they came undone.

The dark haired man lifted her hips from his lap and he pulled away from her just enough to wiggle his pants down over his ass and thighs, before pulling her back over his lap, his hard cock pressing into her bare inner thigh beneath her skirt.

His fingers nimbly made their way between her legs, grazing the tips over her clothed center while he brought their lips together once more. “Wanna feel you around my fingers,” he mumbled into her mouth.

“Wanna feel it, too.” She nodded against his face and reached between them, pulling her panties to the side before gripping his wide girth and pumping it slowly, smiling as Sasuke groaned into her mouth.

She was sure to take her time stroking him, letting her fingers languidly grip and release his shaft as she pumped him, running her thumb over the slit on his tip, twisting her wrist all the while.

His breathing grew heavy against her skin and he could feel himself growing needy for her as he slid his fingers to her clit, softly rubbing small circles over it and staring into her eyes as she moaned at his touch.

“Sasuke,” she whimpered, rocking her hips as he continued his motions, speeding up before slowing down again.

With a sly grin tugging at the corner of his swollen lips, he pushed his fingers into her folds and into her hole, kissing her throat as she leaned her head back from the pleasure of his touch. “Darling, you’re so wet,” he whispered, dragging his fingertips in and out of her slowly.

Sakura’s vision was beginning to blur at the ecstasy she felt between her legs, and her grip on his cock faltered as he prodded at her spongy spot within her that made her hips jerk.

With his free hand, he unwrapped her fist from his member and laced his fingers into hers, cooing beneath her ear, “Let me make you feel good, darling. Let me make my birthday girl cum, I want you to cum for me like the good girl I know you are.”

She whined loudly at his words, rocking her hips with his motions and squeezing his hand tightly in her shaky fingers, arm trembling from the stimulation he was giving her. “Sasuke, I—I’m getting—”

Another, higher whine left her throat as she leaned her forehead on his, eyes screwed shut. “Sasuke, don’t stop—”

“I could never.” He kissed her cheeks and the sides of her nose as he pressed his thumb into her clit, swirling it at the same tempo as his others that were pumping in and out of her tight, soaked hole.

This sent her over the edge and she jerked her hips forward as she came, white blurs and stars engulfing her vision while shivers racked her limbs, her tits bouncing as she rocked her body to ride out her orgasm, shouting his name.

Sasuke chuckled lowly and pulled his fingers from her, reaching up to cup her cheek with his slick-coated fingers and pulled her face down to his, kissing her roughly with his tongue and teeth. After several breath-stealing moments of the kiss, he pulled away and growled against her cheek, “Now lie on your back and spread those pretty legs for me, darling.”

Her mind fuzzy and barely comprehending his demand, Sakura crawled from his lap and fell to her back, looking over at him as she pulled her knees towards her chest. She watched him as his eyes devoured her body while he rolled onto his knees, crawling over her like a beast about to claim his prey.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised as he kissed the side of her knee, his lips dancing little butterfly kisses along the inside of her thigh, up her pelvis, across her stomach in a zig-zag, over her ribs, and finally landing back over her nipple. “Everything about you is beautiful,” he whispered as he grabbed her hips and lifted her lower half from the ground.

“Sasuke,” she whined, drunk on his kisses and his mouth wrapped around her skin, his bruising grip on her hips.

He hummed over the fatty mound between his lips and shuffled onto his knees until the tops of his thighs were under hers and her ass, hoisting her hips to where he could coat his cock in the slick that dripped out of her, prepping himself to enter her.

“You ready darling?” He asked, biting the soft skin of her sternum, his cheeks brushing the inner sides of her tits.

Before Sakura could give him her answer, he was sheathing himself inside of her, stretching her slowly and bottoming out completely inside of her, his teeth clamped around her clavicle at the tightness around his cock, holding back a whimper.

She, however, could not contain the mewling and gasping that escaped her lips, her hands clawing at the blanket beneath her and his bare back, newly forming red scratches decorating his pale skin.

“Too much!” She babbled through a sob. “Too much, Sasuke!”

“You can take it, darling.” He growled into her neck and began to thrust his hips, knowing full well his wife could handle his cock, the cavern so familiar and inviting, like it was made for him and only him, sucking him in so sweetly and molding to his shape.

He brought his mouth to hers, and they panted against each other’s lips while he fucked her slowly, one hand gripping her tightly on her lower back to pull her to him, his other propping him up beside her head.

He could feel sweat beginning to bead over his back as his motions grew quicker, and he could taste the sweat that began to glisten over Sakura's chest as he began to leave his claim on her, sucking and biting dark spot everywhere he could reach, his throat filling with groans and moans as her velvet walls fluttered around his dick while he rocked in and out of her.

“Sasuke, Sasuke,” she whimpered, while squeezing her legs around his waist, ankles crossed and locked together behind his back, trying to pull him further inside of her with all her strength. “Sasuke, faster,” she hiccuped, “deeper, please.”

He obliged her request and spread his knees to lock his hips into a steadier rhythm, and he began to lose control of his throaty grunts, growing louder as he felt his tip barely grazing her cervix, making her squeal and rut her hips up against his.

He kissed the tears that ran against her temple, smiling to himself knowing that her crying was a sign of her growing closer to her next orgasm. “I love you, Sakura,” he groaned, pressing his nose into her cheek. “I love you around my cock.”

She mumbled something he didn’t quite catch, that sounded along the lines of her begging him for more, that she loved having him inside of her and fucking her so deeply.

He twitched with a jut of his hips, a telling sign that he was close to his own release. “Sakura, I’m—oh, I’m—please, cum,” he thrusted into her three more times, snapping his hips just right and sending her spiraling into her second climax.

He wanted her to cum before he did, and her walls clenching around him finally had him shooting hot ropes of his own cum deep inside of her, filling her and warming her up as he fucked his seed back into her, not wanting a drop of it to escape her pretty, ruined hole.

They whined and moaned together, rocking their hips together to keep the friction of their highs until they couldn’t hold themselves up any longer, and Sasuke collapsed on top of her, grunting and panting into her shoulder.

They stayed that way in silence for several moments, he still buried deep inside of her, and she still wrapped around him, her sweaty thighs trembling around his hips and waist.

Soft kisses were placed over her collarbone until quivering lips found hers, and they embraced each other in a loving kiss.

With a final deep breath, Sasuke pulled his face away and he gazed down at her, bringing a hand to caress her cheek as he whispered, “Happy birthday, darling. I love you with all of my heart.”

“I love you, Sasuke. I love you.” Sakura breathed, kissing the base of his palm with one last whimper before she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, drinking in his scent as he nuzzled her throat.

They laid together in the park for a while longer, not a care in the world if others saw them, not a care in the world for anyone other than each other, their hands fumbling together as they whispered kind words to each other, the afternoon breeze carrying their voices through the trees and bushes.

#SasuSaku #naruto #naruto fic #naruto fanfiction #SasukexSakura #SasuSaku smut #naruto smut #SasukexSakura smut #fic #fanfic #smut #lue writes

[arcticguk]

santa baby | knj

❅ pairing, au, warnings: kim namjoon x reader, fluff, allusions to smut, angst, emotionally and verbally abusive parents, swearing, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, christmas au

❅ précis: you ask namjoon to be your pretend boyfriend for the holidays.

❅ word count: 4,667

❅ part of my holiday drabble series

❅ a/n: pls lmk if u need me to tag anything extra! i put stuff in the warnings, but do not hesitate to tell me if it’s not enough. also we’re gonna ignore the fact that this fic is so much longer than any of my other xmas ones :)

“Namjoon, please?”

“No.” He says firmly, shoving another spoonful of noodles into his mouth. “If this is the only reason you invited me to dinner, I’ll stop coming.”

You snort, loudly. “Like that’ll ever happen. You can’t cook for shit.”

He frowns, setting his fork down beside his near-empty bowl. “And if I do this for you, what will I get in return?”

“Besides my lovely friendship?” You smirk, earning a glare from Namjoon. “I’ll make you dinner every night for a month.”

He presses his lips together, contemplating. “Sold!”

You roll your eyes playfully, flicking his forehead.

“Hey now!” He scolds. “Is that any way to treat your fake boyfriend?”

Your family was very big on appearance. They didn’t care that you sister and her husband practically hated each other, as long as they plastered on fake smiles and put on a good show in front of everyone. They didn’t care that your little brother and his boyfriend had been broken up for two months, they paid the boyfriend to come to a family event and pretend to be infatuated with your brother for one night.

You’d showed up solo to Christmas in the past, but according to your parents, this year was important. They were throwing a huge Christmas Eve party with all of their friends, coworkers, and extended family. They’d made it very clear that if you weren’t going to show up with someone, then you might as well just not show up at all.

And you knew you should just say fuck it and not go. That’s what your brother was doing, but deep down, as much as you hate to admit it, you still crave your parents’ validation and praise.

Namjoon knows how rocky your relationship with your parents is, that’s why he was so against the idea in the first place, but here you were, packing for a trip home with your ‘boyfriend’.

“Okay, we need a backstory.” Namjoon says from the passenger seat. Reaching for the coffee in your cupholder to steal a sip. “Like how we met and started dating.”

“Wait!” He perks up. “Do your parents know that we’re friends? Because then we could say we were friends and then fell for each other or—”

You cut him off with a sharp shake of your head. “No, they don’t know. I don’t tell them very much about what goes on in my life.”

“Okay.” He says softly.

You crack a smile, biting your lip to keep tears at bay, ones you didn’t even realize had formed.

“So, this backstory huh?”

Namjoon grabs both his duffel and yours, helping you shoulder your backpack as he does the same. You take a shaky breath before slamming the car door shut. Namjoon reaches for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Five days,” He breathes in your ear. “You’ve got this.”

You squeeze his hand in thanks, pocketing your keys with your other hand. “Let’s go then?”

You and Namjoon make your way up the front walk, observing the perfectly decorated façade of the house, something you know your parents paid good money for. Before you can ring the bell, the door is yanked open, both your mother and father standing there to greet you.

“___!” Your mother chirps, pulling you in for a hug. She squeezes for a second before letting you go, prompting your father to do the same.

“And who is this handsome young man?” Your mother wonders.

“This is Namjoon.” You swallow. “My boyfriend.”

Your mother smiles, clasping her hands together underneath her chin. “Oh, how wonderful!” She squeaks. “You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.”

You shrug helplessly. “I wanted to surprise you!”

“And what a lovely surprise it is.”

“So, tell me again why we have to change for dinner?” Namjoon wonders, buttoning his grey shirt. You fluff your hair once more before turning to smirk at Namjoon.

“Because, everything in this family is an event.” You say sarcastically, giggling. He laughs, wiping his palms on his dress pants.

“You did great by the way,” You comment, sliding silver hoops into your ears. “I think they love you already.”

He looks at you, admiring the way your chiffon jumpsuit fits you, how great the black material looks against your skin.

“Joon?” You wonder, ripping him out of his daze.

“What? Oh, thanks.” He smiles.

“Hmm.” You grin, reaching up to fix a piece of his hair. He’d recently dyed it black and you were obsessed, you can’t get over how good it looks on him.

“You ready for dinner?” You wonder, reaching for his hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He sighs, pasting on a smile, gripping your hand tightly with his own.

As you make your way down the grand staircase, leading Namjoon, you smile with ease, surprised at the calm in your being. Family dinners always filled you with dread but having your best friend by your side seemed different, less scary.

When everyone is seated at the large, mahogany table, you start on your salad, taking a sip of water. For most of the meal, your parents focus their attention on Namjoon, peppering him with questions about his job, his education, and childhood.

Namjoon smoothly transitions the conversation back to your parents, wondering; “If ___ told you about her big promotion at work?”

Your mother’s gaze shifts to you, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “That’s great sweetheart, congratulations.” You smile at the praise, your face warming bashfully.

After dinner and dessert, you and Namjoon bid a goodnight to your parents, sister, and your brother-in-law, before heading up to your bedroom.

“Are family dinners,” Namjoon starts, tugging his shoes off, once your door is shut, “usually that tense?”

You nod solemnly, removing all your jewelry and pulling out the elastic from your hair. “You really impressed them though!” You exclaim. “And that’s not easy to do.” You mumble, looking down at your feet.

“I’m sure it is for you.” He laughs. How could your parents not be impressed by his beautiful, intelligent, kind, and brilliant best friend.

You shrug, pulling some clothes to sleep in from your bag. “I’m gonna change then the bathroom’s all yours.”

He nods, taking the opportunity to change into his own sleepwear, setting his watch on the dresser, and setting his phone on the charger.

When you emerge from the bathroom, clad in a hoodie and matching sweatpants, Namjoon smiles softly, switching with you so he can wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he exits the bathroom, you’re working your dinner outfit onto a hanger before placing it in the closet.

You flick the overhead lights off, turning on one of the bedside lamps to cast the room with a warm glow. Namjoon awkwardly stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He speaks up. You give him a look, arching an eyebrow.

“Joon, don’t be silly,” You comment. “It’s a king size bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He smiles, gingerly sliding into the bed, tugging the covers over his lap. You smile, doing the same, pulling out your phone to watch something while Namjoon opens a thick novel from his bag. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each doing something separate while together. It’s not awkward, in fact just the opposite. The space surrounding you and Namjoon is comfortable, calm, and it feels nice.

Namjoon learns that breakfast is the only meal where it is acceptable to dress down. After informing him that pajamas, are in fact, allowed when he’d gone to get dressed. After you slide into your slippers, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting you drag him down the stairs just as you had the night before.

You and Namjoon are the first people to arrive at the table, so you scoot your chair extra close to his, giggling when he stumbles getting into his chair. His smile dimples his pink cheeks, a sight that makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Your head is nestled in the crook of his neck, cheeks warm with laughter, giggles escaping your lips at the story Namjoon finished telling you. Namjoon’s lips are parted in a wide grin, one arm flung loosely around the back of your chair, the other one resting on your thigh. When your laughter has subsided, you nuzzle further into his neck, sighing heavily. Namjoon’s hand cradles the back of your head, lips near your ear.

“You doin’ okay?” He wonders softly. You nod against his neck. You reach for his free hand, squeezing it tightly with your own.

“I’m fine.” You breathe. “Just a little on edge.”

He nods in understanding, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

It was not unusual for you and Namjoon to be affectionate with each other, but this morning, butterflies were flapping in your stomach, the way Namjoon is treating you borders on couple territory.

“Well look who’s up!”

The warm, soft atmosphere Namjoon had created for you, vanishes when you hear your mother’s voice, your shoulder’s tensing, head whipping around.

“Hi, hey, good morning.” You stumble, moving you chair back to its normal spot, putting some space between you and Namjoon.

“Good morning.” Namjoon greets with a dimpled smile. He reaches for your hand underneath the table, giving it a big squeeze.

You smile at the small show of affection and squeeze back.

Your parents wait until your sister and her husband have joined at the table, taking their seats directly across from Namjoon and you.

“Orchid!” Your mother says, speaking directly to your older sister. “You should’ve seen Namjoon and ___, when we first came down.” She smiles motioning at the two of you. “They were all over each other.”

Your sister looks to you, eyebrows raised.

“We weren’t, I don’t—” You flounder for words in your haste, Namjoon smoothly cutting you off as he puts his arm around the back of your chair.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re with someone as wonderful as ___.” Namjoon chirps. You step on his foot under the table.

“Cheesy much?” You wonder, quiet, but still loud enough for the other members of the table to hear you.

“Only for you honey.” He produces a megawatt smile before pecking a kiss to your temple.

Your mother practically falls out of her seat swooning, but not before giving a pointed look to Orchid and her husband, Sungmin.

That was what your mother did. She pitted the two of you against each other, pulled out your insecurities and served them out on a silver platter. Orchid and Sungmin were on the brink of divorce, of course they aren’t affection with each other. You were just waiting for your mother to sink her claws into you.

“Oh but ___, did you hear about Orchid’s big case?” She wonders, a vile smile creeping up her face. “It’s very important and her boss has entrusted her with handling it. I have no doubts she’ll win.”

“That’s great Orchid.” You smile. “Congratulations.” You feel genuine warm feelings towards your sister, your shitty childhood making your relationship stronger. Orchid had often held you when you cried and let you sleep in her bed when you were really upset after something your mother had said.

“And ___,” Your mother shifts her attention fast enough to make your head spin. “How’s work?”

“It’s great.” You manage through gritted teeth.

“She actually just got a promotion.” Namjoon smiles. “Like I said last night, its super exciting.” You don’t miss the little dig at your mother, and you suppress the urge to laugh. He grins proudly and you can’t help but smile a little. Namjoon had been the most supportive person in your life ever since he came into, overwhelmingly proud when you became got your degree and again when you got your first serious job.

“I’ve never understood how people can find joy in accounting.” Your mother spits. “It seems boring and there’s so many numbers.”

“Actually,” You pipe up. “It’s very interesting and you can really—”

“Still, I could never do it.” She cuts you off sharply.

“___ is incredibly intelligent.” Namjoon speaks again, eyes locking right on your mother’s. “It’s not boring for her. Although I could see how it could be for those who don’t understand numbers as well.”

Your mother’s jaw drops just the slightest, before she shuts her mouth, arms falling helplessly to her lap. You could kiss Namjoon right there, no one’s ever gotten your mother to shut up like that and you revel in it.

Once your mother has composed herself, she clears her throat, gaining the attention of everyone, yet again.

“So Namjoon, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer.” He answers, posture tall and confident, his eyes right on hers again.

“That’s lovely.” She comments. “Did you know that Sungmin is a doctor?”

“I did not.” He says politely. “That’s a very admirable job.”

“So is writing!” Sungmin pipes up. “I’ve always wished I had a talent with words like that. I used to pay my friends in university to write papers for me.”

Namjoon chuckles at that, smiling.

“Namjoon writes for a magazine in our city and he does some freelance stuff for big companies too.” You say proudly and he grins at you.

“That’s awesome man,” Sangmin comments. “I’d love to read some of your stuff sometime.”

“Yeah, I can—”

“But surely writing can’t be as fulfilling as a doctor. Nothing can beat saving lives.”

Everyone straightens grimly, all smiles disappearing.

“Remember I’m a general care physician, I don’t perform major surgeries.” Sungmin smiles awkwardly.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t save lives baby.” Orchid coos, setting her hand on his forearm. “But no career is better than another.” She comments, looking directly at your mother. “Every job is important, and everyone has different things they’re passionate about.” She looks at Namjoon now. “And I think writing is wonderful. You must be really smart.” You smile at your sister in thanks and she winks.

Your mother just scoffs, finally deciding to be quiet and eat her breakfast.

That was really…intense.” Namjoon sighs, tugging a clean crewneck over his head. You look up from the mirror where you’re rubbing moisturizer into your skin.

“Hmm.” You hum in agreement. “I’m so sorry by the way. The way my mother treated you was unacceptable.”

“It’s okay.” He answers honestly. When he sees your frown deepen, he sets his hands on your cheeks.

“___. I promise you it’s fine.”

“I just feel bad. It’s bad enough you had to come here and do this but now my mother is insulting your career and—”

His thumb nudges your chin, prompting you to stop talking. “First of all, I didn’t have to come here okay? I chose to be here. And second, you are not accountable for the things that mother says. She’s not nice to you either.” He reminds you with a soft smile.

“Thank you.” You say simply. He kisses the top of your head before scrounging his suitcase for his Converse. “Okay, I’m making an executive decision for us.” You state, flopping down onto the bed. His eyebrow quirks in curiosity, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

“We’re going out.” You announce. “I can show you my hometown, we can go shopping, get food. And if we time it right, we won’t have to be here for lunch or dinner.”

“I like the way you think.” He smirks, winking as he laces up his sneakers.

You’re a little buzzed from the spiced cider you had at dinner, giggling when Namjoon helps you out of the car, one arm already full of bags from the purchases you’d both made that day.

One of the things you loved about coming home, was getting to visit all the little shops and restaurants that were set up in town. You and Namjoon spent the day supporting your local small businesses and you couldn’t have been happier. It was a great way to spend time with your best friend—and get away from your parents.

You lean into him as you make your way up the front walk, giggling again when he trips on the cobblestone, his stature pitching forward before he catches himself.

Your parents and sister are lounging in the front room, your parents seated on the large sofa, your sister and Sungmin across from them on the loveseat.

“___, Namjoon, come join us!” Your mom suggests cheerfully, a glass of red wine resting in her hand.

“Okay,” Namjoon nods. “Let us take these bags upstairs and we’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you up the staircase, hand on your lower back.

“We probably should hang out for a bit,” You comment. “We haven’t seen them all day.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, taking the bags from your hands, setting them in the closet alongside his suitcase.

“Lemme just change,” You say, peeling your sweater over your head, eliciting a blush on Namjoon’s cheeks, his head ducking down.

You trade your sweater and jeans for a hoodie and Christmas-themed pajama pants, heading into the bathroom to scrub off your makeup while Namjoon changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Your parents look up when you reenter, smiling softly when they see the way you’ve nuzzled yourself into Namjoon’s side.

“Oh! Look what we put up earlier!” Orchid comments, pointing to the doorframe right above you and Namjoon.

Mistletoe.

“Oh, ha ha.” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly, his face heating up once again.

“Come on lovebirds,” Your sister laughs. “Give us a little show.”

“Gross Orchid.” You mumble, glaring right at her.

“You have to!” Your mother giggles. “It’s the rules.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to melt into the floor, scratching the back of his neck.

You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s lingering in your body, or how cute your best friend looks with his red cheeks, but something fills you with confidence, and you squish his warm cheeks with your hands, pressing a hard kiss to his pouted lips.

Your parents laugh and cheer, Orchid clapping good-naturedly. When you pull away from Namjoon, his eyes are wide, puffy lips parted in astonishment.

“So, this is it huh?” Namjoon wonders, straightening the red tie around his neck, which not-so-coincidentally matched the exact shade of your cocktail dress. “The big party.”

“Yup.” You nod, double checking your makeup in the mirror.

To say Namjoon was nervous about the Christmas Eve party, was an understatement. He was freaking out. He wants to make a good impression on everyone, in hopes that he can sell the lie the two of you have been living the past few days.

“You’ll be fine.”

He nods, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t admit it to you, but the party isn’t the only thing making him uneasy. You had never talked about last night, after you had kissed him, everything went on as usual, as if it never happened.

You slip into your heels, giving him a small smile.

“Alright,” You sigh softly, taking his arm. “Party time.”

You swallow another sip of champagne, gripping tightly to Namjoon’s arm. He had survived all of the introductions, and unsurprisingly, everyone loved him.

Dinner had already been served, and everyone was mingling, upbeat holiday music filtering through the speaker system, champagne and wine flowing easily.

Your parents were talking to some clients from your mother’s interior design firm, and you know without listening that she’s talking about you and Orchid.

That’s the thing about your mom—she’ll criticize every decision you make, but in front of everyone else she plays the proud, devoted parent, bragging about all of your accomplishments, as if she had anything to do with them.

Namjoon senses your discomfort and he nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head. The wine he’d been drinking had earlier served as liquid courage, but now that he was relaxed, he was just sleepier and cuddlier than usual.

“You okay?” He murmurs, lips at your ear. You nod robotically, leaning against his shoulder. Obviously, you’re not okay and he knows that, so he takes your hand, leading you outside to the back patio for a moment of fresh air.

Noticing the chill on your skin and the shiver in your movements, he drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, wrapping an arm around you.

“You’re not okay.” He whispers. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just,” You sigh, leaning into his embrace. “My mother. She’s so critical and finds fault in everything we do, yet when it comes to appearances and other people, she has nothing but good things to say.” You bite your lip to hold back the tears that fill your eyes, looking out into the wooded backyard. “If she really is proud, then why can’t she ever tell us?”

“Oh honey,” Namjoon frowns.

“It just feels like nothing I ever do is good enough. I work hard, I did well in school, but it’s like it’s not good enough. Why do I care so much about my parents’ approval, why can’t I just be proud of myself because I’ve done well?”

You don’t stop the tears from falling, splattering onto your cheeks and no doubt making tracks in your carefully applied makeup.

“I’m sorry.” Namjoon whispers. “I’m so sorry that you feel this way. I’m insanely proud of you and I wish you could see how wonderful you are, so deserving of love and praise.”

“I love you.” You blurt, the words spilling so easily from your lips, with a little help from the champagne in your system.

“Oh,” He smiles. “I love you too, you know th—”

“No Namjoon, I love you.” You murmur.

Something sparks in his eyes, you don’t see the way his demeanor changes, as he realizes what these feelings were—are. Spending all this time with you has made him feel different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling. But now, he knows, he loves you too.

“Can we go upstairs?” You wonder. “I’m so tired, I can’t be down here anymore, I just want—”

He cuts you off with a nod, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the back staircase, so you can escape without anyone seeing you.

Once the door is closed—and locked, you fling off your heels, flopping onto the bed. You drag your ring finger under your eyes, in attempt to collect the mascara clumps that washed off your eyelashes with the tears you’d shed.

“I love you too.” Namjoon announces, throwing his tie and shoes in a pile before standing over you. “God, I love you so much. I never realized how I feel, but now I know and—”

You cut him off with a press of your lips on his, hands grabbing for his shoulders and pulling him down. His lips melt into yours, returning the kiss with more fervor, mouth warm and soft.

You’re gripping on his shirt, clawing at the buttons when he pulls back slightly, running a hand through his damp locks, slicking it up onto his head.

“H-honey,” He starts, stumbling over his words a little. “I don’t know if we should be doing this right now.”

“What?” You pout, sitting up. “Why not? Do you not—”

“No, no, no, trust me I want to.” He sighs. “But you’re upset, we’ve been drinking…” He trails off and you whine.

“Joon please, I want this, I want you, I love you.” You frown, setting a hand on his cheek.

He looks into your eyes, searching for an ounce of hesitation. When he doesn’t find any, he you pull him back down, hovering above your form.

“Are you sure?” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Positive.” With your affirmation, he presses his lips to your own, lightly tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

He breathes in the groan that passes through your lips, sighing deliciously. After Namjoon’s tie is crumpled on the floor and a failed attempt at the buttons on his shirt, you tug on each side until it releases, the fabric literally ripping before you toss it away.

Namjoon only chuckles, shifting positions so that you can straddle his lap. Your hands grip his hair, exhaling when his lips meet the skin on your neck.

“I love you.” He simpers, lips behind your ear. “I love you so damn much.”

When you wake up the next morning, something’s changed. Not only between you and Namjoon—who’s currently cuddled into your side—but also the way you feel about yourself.

“Joonie,” You coo, tousling his hair. “Joon wake up, it’s Christmas.”

“Mmm, morning Christmas,” He murmurs sleepily. He nuzzles his face into your neck, eyelids falling shut.

“Namjoon,” You whisper. “C’mon. Let’s get up.”

“Please?” He whines. “Can we please sleep for a little longer before we have to go down there?”

“No Joonie, we’re going home.” You push back the covers and climb out of the bed, cold air flushing your skin.

His head snaps up, eyes perking up. “What?!”

“We’re leaving.” You announce, sliding on his t-shirt from two nights ago. “Unless, you want to stay?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll start packing now!” He gets out of bed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before grabbing some fresh clothes and entering the bathroom.

You dress and pack up your belongings, so that when Namjoon is ready, you are too.

The two of you hold hands down the stairs, leaving your bags by the doorway before venturing into the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Your mother chirps. “Merry Christmas!”

“Hey guys.” You greet awkwardly.

“Come, sit down—have some breakfast, then we’ll open gifts.”

“Actually Mom,” You breathe. “We’re leaving.”

“What!?”

“Namjoon and I are going to go home.”

“Absolutely not, sit down.”

“No Mom. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I thought now that I’m grown up you would actually treat me with an ounce of respect, but I was wrong.”

“Excuse me?” Your mother snaps.

“Come on honey, let’s just go.” Namjoon urges, squeezing your hand tightly. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.

“Before we leave I have something to say, and you’re going to listen to me.” You tell your mother, tone firm yet gentle. “For my entire life I’ve taken shit from you. The verbal abuse, emotional abuse, all the digs, all the criticism. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of you and I’m done with it. I’m happy with who I am, what I do, and who I choose to spend time with. I’m done trying to impress you, this is my life, not yours. I am more than good enough and shame on you for not seeing it.”

You take a shaky breath wiping the single tear that fell down your face while you were speaking.

“And you Dad?” You add, redirecting your gaze. “You never did say anything. Never stood up for us, and God forbid you actually were proud of us without Mom telling you, you were allowed to be.”

Your parents sit there, dumbfounded. You take a moment to catch your breath before turning to look at Namjoon, who is trying very hard to bite back his grin. Orchid’s face is a mixture of admiration and pure joy, mouthing; I’ll call you later.

“Honey, I’m sorry you feel that way.” Your mother manages, thinking for her next words.

You swiftly shake your head.

“I love you both, but we’re leaving.” You smile. “We can work through this, only if you’re willing. But for now, I want to go home and spend Christmas with my boyfriend.”

You and Namjoon turn to leave, collecting your luggage before loading up the car.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon blurts. “That was fucking amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You smile. “It felt good.” He leans over to kiss you, hand cupping your cheek.

“It was also pretty fucking hot.”

© arcticguk 2020. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

#mine #my work #my writing #bts fluff #bts writing #bts fic #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts blurb #kim namjoon writing #namjoon writing #namjoon fluff #namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon drabble #namjoon blurb #kim namjoon blurb #kim namjoon drabble #bts rm writing #bts namjoon imagine #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #bts rm x reader #series: merry merry #fic: santa baby #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #bts angst #bts smut

[keeper0fthestars]

Fear and Trust

francisco (frankie) morales x fem reader

2K words

warnings: two idiots in love, language, fluff, so much fluff, cheesy intimate moments, Frankie is husband material

summary: There is only one thing in this world that scares you and that thing is heights

a/n:  based on this trope 

I am so blown away by everyone who reblogs my erratic little scribblings and sends me comments, you fuel me more than you will ever know.  And as always i would love to know what you think. 

~~

In search of your shoes, you walk down the hall in your bare feet, hands occupied with the zipper of your sundress. Rounding the corner into the living room, you find Frankie on the couch tidying the mess books and papers on the coffee table. Focused the space in front of him, he pulls a pair of sandals from under the coffee table, letting them dangle on two fingers. 

“Looking for thes-,” 

And that’s when he sees you. 

He doesn't drop the shoes in your outstretched hand as you expect; instead, they fall onto the couch and he takes your hand, pulling you up to him, knees knocking with his. His gaze is glued to your dress, the way it matches your eyes and fits you in all the right places and flares just above your knees, leaving just enough bare skin for his eyes to latch onto. He doesn't even need to say anything, your skin is already tingling under the weight of his eyes and you forget why you walked into the living room in the first place. His eyes finally drag back up to yours, his throat bobs and- 

“Tell me something, babe,”  leaning back on the couch soaking up the sight of you. "How the fuck am I supposed to wanna go anywhere with you dressed like this?"

You let him tug you down on top of him, content knowing that the effect you have on him is equally disarming, “Hey, this was your idea, remember?” 

Sinking into the worn leather of the couch, you brace yourself on his shoulders, knees hugging him on either side, your dress bunching over your thighs.  His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down, blowing a hot breath out of his mouth when he catches a glimpse of the dark lace between your legs. He looks weak and starved all at once, running his hands up your thighs, curving around your ass, giving you an appreciative squeeze.

“Mmhm...” he hums, hooking an index finger under the one strap, sliding it off your shoulder, he sits up, his mouth focused on the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your bare skin. “I've got more ideas and all of them include this dress on the floor right now.”

“How am I supposed to resist that?” Sinking your fingers into his hair, you guide his mouth to yours.

His hands slide underneath your dress. “I hope you can’t.”

///

It’s taken all damn day and three caramel apples but he’s finally got you standing in line with him, sharing popcorn and more junk food, and every few minutes when the line advances, his hand finds the small of your back, tracing soothing circles, and you think maybe it’s the way he’s just licked cotton candy off your thumb, or maybe it’s the fact that he could not seem to keep his hands off you all day, but whatever he’s doing is working because the nervous flutter in your chest isn’t so bad anymore. 

From across the pier, it didn’t seem that big, but now that you’re standing directly under it, this is by far the worst ride in the entire park and you blame the sugar high for letting him talk you into this. He senses your jitters again and he tucks you into his side, pressing his lips softly to your temple. Your free hand slides into his back pocket and the brim of his ball cap skims the top of your head, he is warm and solid and more of your tension bleeds away. The next empty bucket that jerks to a halt is for you.

“You owe me for this, Morales.”

“I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer; he just laces his fingers with yours, that dimple in his cheek melting the rest of your resolve and fuck, it’s kinda hard to deny him anything when he smiles like that. He leads the way up the ramp and into the open metal carriage with the narrow bench big enough for two. 

Everything from your elbows down is hidden from sight inside the swaying bucket.  The sturdy bar positioned across your lap looks like it was painted blue at some point but had long since been overtaken by rust. You resist the urge to look up.

The ride operator steps up, reaches inside and jostles the restraint over your lap, testing its latch before shutting the half-door with a clink. Without warning your bucket is yanked backwards a few feet and your stomach lurches, knuckles turning white on the rusted bar. The bucket then jolts to a stop to let the next people in line a chance to get on. 

Yep. Worst idea ever. 

“Oh god,” Taking a shuddering breath, you would give anything to be as relaxed as he looks, knees splaying, back slouched, “I cannot believe you talked me into this.”

He pulls you into the circle of his arms, his calming, “Breathe, baby, I’ve got you,” is the only thing that makes the next few jolts bearable as you climb higher. He reaches across your lap and gently tugs your knees together pulling them snug to his side. 

Turning your face into his shoulder, you wait for him to tell you this is nonsense and that you have nothing to worry about. 

But he won’t because that’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that. 

“Hey,” he coaxes into your ear, “you’re okay, I’m not letting go of you.” 

Forcing yourself to breathe, you relax your grip on the bar in front of you just as another jerk propels you backwards again, then another, and another and now you’re halfway up the back of the massive wheel. Squeezing your eyes shut, your heart is beating inside your throat now and you’re fairly certain your stomach is lying somewhere on the ground below. Frankie has to pry your hand off his thigh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me lose my shit over the damn Ferris Wheel.” 

“But you’re doing it,” with his nose, he nudges your face up, pressing his lips to yours, “even though you’re afraid.”

The truth was, you wouldn’t be doing it if he weren’t with you. And he knew that. 

When he’d learned there was only one thing you were scared of, he found it hard to believe at first and also adorable as hell, but he never bugged you about it; he knew what it was like to be teased about something you can’t control. The irony is not lost on you that your boyfriend happens to be a pilot. The only thing he'd said at the time was, only idiots are not afraid of anything.

Jerking to a halt again, you’re above the trees and now it’s the unobstructed view that captures your attention and steals your breath. It's spectacular, all glowing neon and twinkling lights. The sun is sinking, turning the sky into breathtaking orange and pink, matching the sprawling scene below.

“Oh," you breathe, "this is gorgeous.” 

"Yeah," he lets go of your shoulder to drag his thumb down your neck, placing his mouth just below your ear. “It is.”

Your shiver is accompanied by a familiar surge of warmth under the softness of his voice because he's not talking about the sunset.

Deep down, Frankie knows there would never come a day that his heart would not trip over itself and spill butterflies into his stomach whenever you’d enter a room. 

There used to be a time he'd thought he’d never be enough, but you’d put those deep-seated fears of his to rest a long time ago. You’d been the unshakable and constant stability in his life that left no room for any doubt. Not that he’d had any qualms or cold feet about spending the rest of his life with you; it was quite the opposite.  The purple velvet box at the bottom of his pocket induced enough butterflies to fill his truck bed if that was any indication of how strongly he felt about you. The rush he'd felt in his insides during his very first simulation at the academy was nothing compared to the glow he felt today and he had to keep hiding his smile against your shoulder to try and rein it in. 

The ride starts to glide smoothly and okay; all things considered, this wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. Dusk is beginning to settle and Frankie’s arm rests warm and heavy across your shoulders. The wind on your face feels fantastic and you’re not quite sure when your nervous energy changes into something else but every time you feel the downward pull on your body, your face splits into a grin and if you weren't so damn happy, you'd be rolling your eyes right now wondering when your life turned into a fucking rom-com. 

When he faces you, the sun leaves dazzling flecks of deep gold in his eyes, making them shine like bronze. His crooked smile pulls softly at the corner of his eye, a smile that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking, a smile that makes your heart lose its balance. It’s the same look he’d had when you came out of the bedroom this afternoon; the same look you’d pretended not to notice all day, wandering the pier together. Your heart is suddenly fluttering again and it has nothing to do with being three hundred feet off the ground.

“Okay Frankie, what’s going on? This all part of some plan of yours?” 

He takes off his ball cap and then replaces it in the same spot on his head, clearing his throat. “What plan.” 

“Getting me on the biggest ride here, winning me over with… with enough sugar to last a year and all your sweet talk and... listen, it's gonna take a lot more than a few well-placed kisses to get me into your co-pilot seat.” 

You feel his chest beginning to shake with laughter, “Baby, my chopper is much safer than this fuckin rust bucket. The-,” 

Your mouth gapes.  “Oh fuck you.

Just when you were starting to relax.

He blocks your loose fist with a gentle grip before it hits his shoulder, uses it to pull you in, your affronted gasp cut off when his lazy grin bumps with your open mouth. You had a dozen comebacks for the way he just teased you, but they all melt before they have a chance to materialize. His eyes glitter with amusement and something else but he doesn't give you a chance to examine it. 

“Lemme kiss you properly and then you can think about fucking me, ok.”

It's a little hard to be irritated; it’s a little hard to think straight at all when his fingers start dancing up the inside of your knee. The rush in your stomach now has nothing to do with the way gravity is forcing you down into the seat. Damn this guy and his ability to silence every single thought in your head.  

The ride is nearing the end, and you find yourself disappointed remembering how nervous you’d felt about it at the start. It slows and eases to a stop, suspending the two of you at the highest point in the rotation. 

The sun half gone now, the clouds are washed with purple and dark orange, the leaves in the treetops kissing each other in the breeze. It’s peaceful up here, hanging above the world and you understand why Frankie loves it. And your heart just might shatter right now because for the first time you realize that’s why he wanted to share it with you. 

Your throat clogs up and you don't trust yourself to speak but you don't need to because he shifts slightly, angling you so he can slip his arms around your waist from behind, tucking his chin into your shoulder. He's the one steady hand in your life. You fall asleep at night and wake up knowing that he's never going to be anywhere but beside you.

“You're right,” you manage, "this was worth it."

The edges of his heart twinge at the lightness in your voice, he soaks it up, knowing he’s the one responsible for it, knowing all the things he wants to promise you, knowing he’s the one you lean on, the one you call in the middle of the day just to say hi, the one you trust, the one you’ve said countless times you want to grow old with so why the fuck was he so nervous. 

That’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that.

A fragment of a forgotten conversation echoes in his head, something he’d told you a long time ago: Only complete idiots are not afraid of anything. 

He ignores the trembling in his fingers and reaches into his pocket.

~~

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#frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #fluff #help #i'm so smitten #i cannot handle all these soft feelings #*c.txt #*mine: writing #my frankie feels are gonna be the end of me

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 23

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, car accident

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for continuing to read this! If you enjoyed it, please reblog it so others can see and leave me feedback or send me an ask! I love to read your thoughts about this couple and their world <3 :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

"You're cute. Aren't you so cute. Yes you are!" Hoseok coos to the little girl on the floor in front of him. He's sitting cross legged while the nine-month old baby girl is laid on a play mat in front of him, giggling wildly as your boyfriend tickles her stomach with fingers and a beaming smile.

Even for someone who has zero interest in ever having kids, even you can't deny the flutter of interest you experience as you watch him. His tattoos are prominent beneath his short sleeved tee, black hair pushed back and from this angle you can see his lip ring too. Everything that makes him look big and intimidating to those who don't know him.

And yet there he is, completely taken by little Hana in a yellow and white dress with cute bees sewn all over it. Which is nothing compared to the adorably high pitched voice he’s talking to her with, very reminiscent of how he talks to Kasumi.

You look over at Amelia, the mommy of said little girl, and smile at her in amusement at Hoseok's antics. Despite having met his friends a few times over the months, this was the first time that you’d actually met and talked to Amelia. Her late term pregnancy had prevented it initially, and then after that it had been that she’d been too busy taking care of Hana.

Namjoon had been missing frequently in the past nine months as well, but you knew that Hoseok thought very highly of Amelia and approved of her for his oldest friend. Which meant that you'd been a little worried that she wouldn't like you or anything. Especially when you found out that Hana would be here too.

"He adores her," Amelia says with a grin, nodding over at the two and you take a moment to simply watch as Hoseok lifts Hana up and holds her in his arms. "Uncle Hobi, he was so excited when we told him that we were pregnant."

"He's good with her." You say simply, continuing to watch him and feeling the ever familiar pang of anxiety run through you. He is good with her. Maybe too good, and you suddenly worry that maybe he wants kids in the future.

You'd put on the app that you didn't, but that hadn't been a question that Hoseok's profile showed. And it simply hadn't come up since. Mainly because...well you just didn’t think about kids. They never entered your head because you had zero interest in them. Now suddenly, you were realising that maybe that had been a faux pas.

Given that he was the only child of his parents now, it would make sense for him to want kids. Carry on his family name, pass on his heritage and give his parents grandchildren that they could dote on and love upon. He was the only one left in his family to do that after all. And he was evidently good with them, as you could see.

Would he be angry when he found out you never wanted them? Maybe even break up with you? Kids were a deal breaker, you knew that. 

You would never agree to them. The maternal instinct that some women had, like Amelia had, just didn’t exist in you. You never looked at a child or baby and thought about wanting one in the future. Instead, you just looked at them and shuddered at the very thought. The idea of having to spend eighteen years minimum raising another person was horrifying to you.

All the money that you could’ve used for vacations or things you enjoyed gone, the time you could’ve spent on yourself or with your partner, gone. There was nothing worse you could personally imagine, not to mention the fact that you just didn’t like kids. You didn’t get on with them, you didn’t understand them, they were germ machines and you always wanted to cringe when you saw parents cleaning up the bodily fluids, and more, that kids produced.

As a result, you’d decided many years ago that being a parent simply wasn’t for you and it was never going to be for you. Not only did you have no interest, but you didn’t want to bring a child into the world just because you felt pressured from your partner. You didn’t like kids, but that didn’t mean you felt it was fair for a kid to grow up knowing their mother never wanted them.

Uneasiness bubbled as you silently watched him, potential futures shattering in your mind already. You're distracted though by Amelia's hand as it rests on your arm lightly, the shriek of annoyance from Jimin's fiance, Eden, causing you to jerk in alarm as you’re brought out of your reverie.

"You can hold her if you want. I don't mind. She's very sociable. I think I got lucky with one of those blessedly sweet babies." She has an endearing look on her face that softens into that look of pure love that parents get for their kids. You wonder what it is about babies that does that to some people.

Brow rising, you look back and watch Hana closely for a moment. She's fully delighted by the playfulness of your boyfriend and you smile at her bright grin, noting for a moment how much she looks like her dad. His little girl was going to grow up with his dimples at the very least.

"Ah...don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really...get along with kids. She's cute though. I’m just...not comfortable?" You add on hastily, raising a hand to try and ward off any anger that Amelia might feel towards your comment. Parents got funny when people said they didn't like kids, as if it were a personal insult or something.

There were certainly kids out there that you would happily turn it into an insult, but Hana was too adorable for that. Even if you were slightly endeared by her, but you had no intention of getting close to her.

"Oh? Not a kid person?" Amelia grins broadly, hand covering her mouth as she lets out a laugh that's soft. Her husband appears suddenly, resting a hand on her shoulder before kissing her forehead gently and sitting next to her.

He gives you a polite smile and nod of the head before looking between you both with a questioning glance. "You don't like kids?"

The question is a bit louder than you would have liked, and you feel the familiar rush of heat and sickness as all attention moves to you. Oh no, this was not how you wanted Hoseok to find out. Or anyone. Like you said, people got funny about stuff like this.

It was even worse in this environment, as Hoseok was having to find out your complete lack of interest in children in front of all of his friends. This could be his relationship literally falling apart while they watched on.

Swallowing thickly, your hands play nervously together as you look between them all before giving a weak smile. "I mean...I d-don't hate them. I just...it's hard to explain. I don't...I cant get along with them. I don't...know how to get on their level. I feel stupid playing, I just cant do it and...well it makes me uncomfortable to try."

There's silence for a moment, broken only by the gurgling laughter of Hana and you slowly look up at Hoseok, dread coursing through your body. Only he's not looking at you in disgust.

The crease between his brows says something else entirely, and you watch as he shuffles over, Hana still firmly in his arms before he rests a hand on your knee and gives you a warm smile. His hand is hot on you, yet the reassurance he sends silently makes your eyes sting with unwashed tears as you look down.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's the 21st century. Some people want to be parents and some don't. Don't feel ashamed of it! Own it. I wanted kids but power to you if you don't." Amelia said with a bright grin, arms held out as she accepts her daughter once more.

"Yeah, think of all the vacations we can go on. Games we can buy, cats...other stuff I can't think of." Hoseok's nose wrinkles as he tries to think and you let out a soft breath of laughter, running your fingers through his hair.

His hand squeezes slightly and you smile in gratitude, recognising that there's probably going to be a conversation about this later. Which is fine. It's something that you'd expect and you wouldn't want to leave him unsure as to where he stood in regards to this.

Looking back at Amelia and Hana, you can't help the soft laugh that leaves you as you watch Namjoon pull faces at his daughter. The man is the loving example of a gentle giant and your experience in his presence previously has shown you that he can be just a little bit of a klutz. He's awfully sweet though, with a bashful smile and always willing to help no matter what it is.

You think Amelia got a good one there, watching them both grin at each other as Hana let out a high pitched giggle that had all of you smiling. They made a great family, and you looked down at Hoseok to see him watching them both too.

Feeling your gaze on him, he looks up and runs his hand along your thigh slowly. It's not a sexual gesture, purely comforting and you relax into his touch. In response, you continue to comb your fingers through his thick, dark hair and enjoy the way he leans into you, a quiet hum leaving him.

"Don't worry though. I may not be comfortable with kids but I do recognise when they're cute. And Hana is adorable, she really is." You say to them as you turn back, watching as their faces light up with parental pride. It was funny how easy it was to boost the ego of a parent. Just compliment their child and it's like they've won the lottery.

Not that you were doing it purely to appease them. You were being honest. You hated being around kids, despised the mess they made, but it didn't stop you from occasionally finding babies and young kids cute. They had their sweet moments, but you'd never be convinced to have one.

Kasumi was more than enough for you. Although maybe another cat...or two. 

Namjoon thanks you quietly, his eyes focused on Hana as he takes her and rests her on his chest. She's nine months old, which means that she's not exactly small anymore. And yet she looks tiny in his arms.

You can't help but coo at the sight, causing Hoseok to snort at you. He just shakes his head in amusement when you scowl down at him, kissing your knee affectionately with a bright smile and you flick his ear softly. You may not have any inclination to have kids but dammit, there was something about seeing big, attractive men holding babies that was appealing.

"It'll be Jimin and Eden's turn next!" Jungkook chortles from the floor, his phone firmly in his hand as he plays some stupid game on it. The couple in question both turn and give him a glare, Eden even going so far as to give a slight hiss at the younger man.

"Shut up Kook. He's gotta marry me first. And then I need that promotion. Or a pay rise. With the way my job is going, the planet will have died by the time that happens." She grumbles, poking at Jimin's side and grinning as he lets out a high pitched giggle, body folding over until he almost falls off his seat.

“I’m gonna make the cutest babies though. Watch out everyone. When you look as cute as me, you’ve got no chance.” Jimin says when he finally stops, laughter makes his voice breathy before he looks at everyone and smiles sweetly, pressing a finger into the dimple of each cheek. Smiling, you can’t help but acknowledge that he really is cute.

But it evidently doesn’t go that way with his friends though. Hoseok starts it, making an overly exaggerated retching noise and holding his throat before he pretends to gag repeatedly. This is then followed by Jungkook and Taehyung imitating him while Yoongi sniggers to the side, hand pressing into his mouth to hide his gummy smile.

“Excuse me, but I think you’ll find that Namjoon evidently makes the cutest babies out of you all. And there’s proof right here.” Amelia interrupts their hijinks with a smug smile, leaning against Namjoon and looking down at Hana with an equally soft and fond look.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone looks at each other before Seokjin snorts, rolling his eyes and leaning back. “Well, that’s not fair is it? You can’t use physical proof when none of us have had a chance to prove you wrong. And anyway, as the most handsome member of this entire friend group...I think you’ll find the cutest baby award is going to go to me and my future beau.” 

“Shut up Seokjin.” Yoongi says bluntly, causing everyone to laugh at the sudden rebuke to Seokjin’s burst of confidence. Over the months being with Hoseok, you’d come to know his friends personalities a little more and you still found it fascinating that they all worked well with each other. Seokjin in particular was fascinating, with his seemingly never ending reservoir of self-confidence boosting him through any awkward situations.

Though you had more than a slight suspicion that he wasn’t actually that big headed or confident, but you knew that some people believed it was good to fake it till you make it. And he seemed to be doing well, so you certainly were not going to be the one to call him out on that. If anything, you admired him and wished that you had the courage to be that bold.

The conversation carries on after that, meandering through a ridiculous number of topics. You’d become used to it by this point and if anything, your own random nature when it came to conversation helped to increase the absurdity of what you talk about. Which is why you all end up discussing what kind of fantasy world you wish you could actually live in.

You’d maintained that it would be cool to be able to have magic and dragons, but then Seokjin had pointed out that you’d probably end up like an NPC in Skyrim and get eaten or randomly killed in some stupid accident. That had slightly altered your opinion, though you’d pointed out that you’d obviously be the hero of the story.

It had been firmly abandoned though when Hoseok had told you that it would mean no electricity, no running water and no internet. Which meant no Netflix, no toilets and no showers. That had made you pause more than anything, causing your eyes to widen and face to grimace until he was laughing hard.

You could handle no Netflix, they’d have books after all, but no toilets and showers is most certainly a no in your view. Which is why you swiftly change worlds to a science fiction world instead. Toilets, showers, internet and more in that world.

Throughout all of the conversations though, you could tell that Hoseok was happy and content with his situation. He spent most of the time leaning against your legs while you played with his hair, running your fingers through the soft black strands affectionately and enjoying how his mere presence had become such a calming influence on you.

Unfortunately though, over the months of dating him you’d discovered that while he loved having his hair played with, it was also a quick way to get him drowsy. Which was why his head was resting against your thigh heavily, his responses getting slower every time.

Bending over until your lips are brushing against that soft hair, you kiss his temple before running your fingers over his forehead. “Hey...do you want to go? You’re practically falling asleep.” 

There’s no response for a second before Hoseok murmurs, stretching out and making the strangest noises as he does so, his arms pushing out before he sits back bonelessly and looks back up at you. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

You’d both spent a few hours out and it was a novel concept for you to be the one asking Hoseok if he wanted to leave. Even more novel that he’d said yes, but you didn’t point that out, instead just saying your goodbyes to everyone and waiting for Hoseok to say his own before heading out.

Getting into your car, you turn on the engine and wait for him to finish belting himself in before smiling over at him. You’d driven over this time and you were both going back to your place for the night, letting Hoseok have the novelty of being a passenger. Apparently he’d been the designated driver for most events for years now, wanting to make sure everyone else was taken care of if they were going somewhere that required someone to drive.

It felt nice, normal even as you drove back home. Namjoon and Amelia lived around 20 minutes away from your apartment, meaning that you both got to enjoy the peace of just listening to music. The playlist was now an odd mix of metal, pop and indie. When it had become apparent that your relationship was getting more serious, and the two of you spent more time in a car together, you’d both spent a good two hours bickering over what should be on the official ‘driving playlist’ that you now both had on your Spotify accounts.

Some of the songs he endured, Hoseok really was not a fan of Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran, whereas some of the songs you grit your teeth through. You could probably happily go the rest of your life never listening to another Metallica song.

Which you were convinced personally offended Hoseok on an atomic level.

But you put up with it for him, because he put up with your music too. Even sang along on occasion. He just had to have a lovely singing voice too, but he’d complimented your own many times when you’d sung under your breath quietly.

Despite that, you bite your lip as your fingers tap on the steering wheel, not even taking in the sounds of Ed Sheeran crooning through the speakers. His car was newer than yours, but you still found her reliable. Even if she occasionally seemed to be on the brink of breaking down.

That’s not what you’re thinking about though. Instead...it’s the conversation from earlier in the day that won’t leave your mind. The conversation about children. Hoseok had taken your admission well, but part of you wondered if that was just because he was surrounded by his closest friends and he didn’t want to start something that could potentially be an argument.

But you wanted to make sure. You wanted to have a serious conversation with him about it. Children were a big thing, an important thing to think about in relationships and they changed lives. They cost money and time and affection, and you knew that relationships in which one person saw children in their future and the other didn’t wouldn’t work out well.

If Hoseok genuinely wanted kids, then you just couldn’t see the relationship going any further. And despite as strongly as you felt for him already, you just couldn’t put yourself through the pain of falling further for him only to know that he would want something you couldn’t give him. Wouldn’t give him.

Because there was nothing that would get you to have kids. Not even Hoseok.

You needed to talk with him, even if the very thought of it terrifies you. Because you didn’t have intimate, deep conversations like this with people most of the time. And the idea of him saying something that you wouldn’t agree with was painful. You’d gotten so comfortable with him, the possibility of him not being there anymore was already hurting your chest.

“So...err...earlier...I mean...you know when you were playing...with Hana,” You start, gripping the wheel tighter as you start to feel hot yet cold at the same time. Licking your lips, you swallow again and wish you had a drink suddenly. “And I..err..I said that...about kids. Erm, I need...I want...I mean...do you want kids?”

The question is almost meek after all the stopping and starting you’d just done, coming out quick yet fast as you almost hope he doesn’t hear. But he does. You can tell he does by the way he looks at you, glancing at him quickly out of the corner of your eye before turning back to face the road.

He takes a deep breath before taking your free hand, twining your fingers and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You’re thankful that he’s obviously taking this seriously and not just blurting out an answer he thinks you might want, or just blurting out something without considering what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry you had to say that in front of them all. You shouldn’t have had to explain that. I felt bad that you were put on the spot like that. But to answer you...no I don’t want kids. And I was actually super fucking relieved when you said you don’t want them either.” Silence falls between you then, only the soft music filtering through the speakers and the engine of the car audible.

He doesn’t want kids. Hoseok doesn’t want kids either. You don’t want them. Your futures were actually compatible with each other. For a few moments, your mind shorts out almost as you consider that. 

“Why?” Falls from your lips before you realise, and you widen your eyes immediately after, glancing at him with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s personal. Ignore m-”

“It’s okay. I think my girlfriend is definitely the one person I can explain why I don’t want kids. Your reason is perfectly fine by the way, I’m being serious. There’s nothing wrong in just not wanting to be a parent. I don’t hugely get the fascination in losing all my time and money and energy onto this tiny person who suddenly becomes the most important person in your life. They’re cute to me, and I love being around them but...no. It’s not for me.” He pauses, running his fingers over his lips slowly before sighing.

“I wish I could just say I don’t like kids. But honestly I love them. And maybe in another life I’d have loved to be a dad. Not now though. Not ever. I can’t...I can’t invest that much of myself in someone that’s half me. That level of love and sacrifice that parents put into their kids...that terrifies me.” You can tell he looks over at you then and you squeeze his hand, understanding him but unsure why he’s so worried about it still.

“I mean...I think most people feel like that right? And most parents don’t regret it. Maybe you’d be a great dad and you’d love it?” Why you’re trying to talk him into kids suddenly is beyond you, but you don’t want him to feel like his choice has been stifled by you.

“I know most don’t regret it. But then some do. From what you’ve said...I think you could end up in that category and I couldn’t ask that of you. I might be wrong obviously. No...I never want kids, because I just...can’t handle that. That’s too much of myself I have to invest and...and if it all goes wrong then I just...I don’t know how people do it.” You know what he’s talking about then, the reason behind why his voice goes so husky suddenly.

His sister.

“You’re talking about your sister, aren't you?” He doesn’t answer for a moment, just strokes your hand before sighing deeply. It’s an even deeper sigh than before, and you ponder for a moment over the fact that you’ve never seen or heard Hoseok sounding so unsure or...sad.

“Yeah. I mean...she was my sister, and that completely ruined my world for years afterwards. I don’t...I don’t know how my parents did it. You put so much love into a child, you spend nine months waiting for them and then you spend years helping them to grow, watching them take their first words, first steps, first laugh, smile and so much more. And then there’s a chance that it’s all gone, in an instant. Because of a drunk driver, or they stepped out into the road, or...a completely random occurrence. Then you have nothing. Nothing but...pain and hurt and loss and grief. And it’s a pain that doesn’t go away. My mom cries every year on her birthday, at Christmas and on the anniversary of her death. It hurts her just as much now as it did then.” He pauses for a moment, sniffling and you realise quietly that he’s crying.

Carefully, you don’t look at him because you know it’ll set you off too. And you really can’t be having that while you’re driving, so instead you just squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I know that the only reason she carried on is because they had me. But then I think that no matter what they say, they must have had moments of anger as to why I was still here and she wasn’t. They wouldn’t mean it obviously, I know that. But I got to grow up and do everything my sister never got the chance to. I can’t do that. I can’t risk that. And I know the chances are slim...but tell that to my parents. I’m being selfish, but I don’t want to put myself through the risk of that pain. I have no interest in it. So you’re good with me sweetheart. We’ll live a good life with cats and dogs. It hurts less when they go.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s giving you a smile, and you smile yourself despite the tears that slowly fall at his words.

The pain in his voice tells you that despite what he’s said, despite the therapy he’d undergone and the acceptance he’d had years ago, the death of his sister still hurts. And it has obviously scarred him deeper than anyone else knows. For now, you decide the conversation is over as you don’t want to drag even more bad memories up for him.

“I’m okay with cats and dogs too. Always wanted to be a crazy cat lady.” Laughing lightly, you try to lighten the atmosphere in the car from the dark place you’d accidentally dragged it to. It works, because he lets out a peal of soft laughter that has you smiling happily.

“I’ll be your crazy dog man. Do you want a dog?”

“Maybe. I like cats more.”

“But I love dogs. Think how cute a puppy would be. All small and soft and cute, with tiny barks and so excited to see you.”

“Stop it.”

“With little teeny paws and those big puppy eyes, so desperate to play with you.”

“Hoseok!”

“Okay...be cute though.”

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[artificialqueens]

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 1/10 (Multi) - Juno

Summary: This year’s Great British Bake Off will see some baking for sure, but also a few surprises. Tayce goes into the Bake Off tent determined to bring the winning cake stand to Wales, along with a few Star Baker badges, but her attention may not be on baking for too long as she gets to know fellow baker Aurora, on the same row as her. And judging by the other contestants, Tayce might not be the only one focusing on something other than baking this season.

A/N: This is a DRUK2 group based on GBBO - there are a few ships! It’s also on AO3 with 12 chapters but I will post here with 10 for ease as the first two and last two will are being done together. No CWs for this chapter! I hope you enjoy.

PROLOGUE - October 2021

It had been Cheryl who had suggested a live react to the grand finale of this season of Bake Off, so the twelve finalists could all gather together, watch the finale, and then the winner’s reaction could be captured on film and put on the internet for the whole world to see. Cheryl hadn’t even been in the cast - she’d been on the previous season - but she said she’d become invested in the season and the bakers so much so that she hadn’t wanted to let them go yet.

And judging by the public’s reaction to her tweet about it, she wasn’t alone.

Pip had mentioned in their group chat that her sister had a big town house in the Wirral, and she’d offered to let them all use it as a base for their live watch. Channel 4 didn’t have anything purpose-built for them, and the filming location wasn’t available, so they’d all jumped at the chance. Plus, Liverpool served as a good mid-point for them all - it saved Joe having to go all the way to Dundee or Ellie having to go to Brighton.

Aurora had marvelled at the amount of space there was once they’d all arrived the previous day. The living room and dining area were one, with a dining table probably big enough to fit a couple of football teams at it; and the kitchen led into the room with an arched doorway. The kitchen itself was enormous too, in highly polished white surfaces that Aurora was terrified to touch with her probably-impure fingers

“Bit posh, isn’t it!” She’d muttered to Tayce.

Pip’s sister and her husband were staying away, and they had the place all to themselves - the twelve of them reunited, with just Blu and Cheryl for company, operating a handheld camera with the intention of sending the finale footage for Channel 4.

As three endings had been recorded back in June, with each of the finalists winning one of the takes, the actual winner’s reveal would be a surprise to all of them, including the three finalists, and ensure no slip ups from the production team.

That didn’t stop all twelve of them worrying. None of them had slept a wink, all of them keeping an eye on Prue’s twitter to make sure she hadn’t accidentally tweeted the winner again. But mostly they’d been together, reminiscing on some of the moments from the season that had made them laugh. All the funny moments, all the tense moments, and one or two viral moments loaded with innuendo.

Not to mention everything else that had blossomed in tandem with nature that springtime.

It had been quite a season. They’d started out as strangers, and now they were so tightly-knit that they hadn’t even entertained the thought that they would possibly be watching the finale without all of them in the same space.

Aurora swilled the glass of champagne that Joe had insisted on pouring for everyone, and watched all of the people she’d grown close to on the season, a peaceful atmosphere in the room as they waited for the finale to start.

Well, not all of them were peaceful. Lawrence and Ellie were being their usual loud selves, jousting with wooden spoons and shrieking as loudly as they ever did - but Bimini was utterly still for the first time since Aurora had met them, laid against Asttina’s chest as they both reclined on one of the sofas, while Asttina raked her fingers through their mullet; and Bimini’s eyes were closed, their lips in a sleepy smile.

Aurora felt familiar hands creep around her waist, a familiar chin rest on her shoulder from behind, and familiar lips at her cheek.

“I can’t believe it’s coming to an end now,” Aurora murmured, her thoughts escaping her unfiltered, as they sometimes did with Tayce at this close range.

“Well, it was never gonna be forever,” Tayce said into her ear. “But we’re all gonna be friends after this, aren’t we! The wonders of technology! Come into the twenty-first century, Rory. We have this thing called the internet, and group chats, and phones -”

“We’re not all just gonna be friends, though, are we?” Aurora replied.

“We’re all just besties, nothing more than that. Rory, I’m joking!” Tayce laughed at Aurora’s horrified expression. “All I’m saying is that this isn’t the end - just the beginning.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but I’m right, you can’t deny that!”

Aurora let her eyes drift around everyone else in the room.

Tia and Veronica who had barely left their corner of the sofa, hands and legs wound tightly together, both with hearts in their eyes and bigger smiles than anyone else in the room as they chatted quietly, simply enjoying each others’ company.

Lawrence and Ellie, wooden spoons still in hand, making the most noise in the room in delighted laughter as they jousted with each other, almost knocking Pip over as she carried in another tray of snacks to lay on the dining table.

Bimini resting against Asttina’s chest as they reclined on the other sofa, Asttina still running her fingers through Bimini’s freshly-dyed mullet, both of them letting out a contented sigh in tandem.

“Yeah,” Aurora murmured, as Tayce held her tighter, “I guess so.”

——

WEEK 1: BISCUIT WEEK

April 2021

Tayce grinned at the cameras as they panned around everyone. She’d given the interviewer her spiel about how much she’d always dreamt of being in the gingham tent and how excited she was to bring the winning cake stand to Wales for the first time in Bake Off history; and a surprising calm settled in her chest, nerves dissipating, at the genuine warm aura from everyone and everything in the room.

At least Tayce wasn’t in full view of the judges right at the front. That privilege was reserved for two people from London, both of whom looked right at home in front of the cameras, although their names were a mystery for now.

It was all very familiar from seeing it on the telly the last eleven years. Immaculate worktops with varnish that shone like glass; the tent walls decorated with bunting and flowers, and the pastel shelves and adorned with china cups; the multi-coloured KitchenAids ready to whisk, fold and anything else - Tayce’s was pure white, while the woman from Nottingham on the bench opposite her had a turquoise one.

Tayce chanced another glance at her; the tight-lipped smile showed a single dimple, and her long blonde hair was tied off her face, but her fingers drummed nervously on the workbench, and she evidently wasn’t as poised as the veneer she displayed for the cameras.

Tayce smiled to herself. It’ll be fun winning this thing.

——

Signature: 24 Iced Biscuits

The best bit of the show when it was on the telly was the banter between Matt and Noel. Seeing them in person, even from a distance away, made Tayce’s stomach bubble with excitement, and she had to cling to the workbench a little tighter to stay upright.

“Well, bakers, welcome to the gingham tent! Back for another season of Prue-Paul’s Baking Race!”

Prue’s sweet smile was complemented by her brightly-coloured glasses and sharp, matching blazer, while Paul’s cool stare lingered on everyone in the room a split second longer than they all would have liked.

“For the signature today,” Matt said, “the judges would like you to make twenty-four iced biscuits. The biscuits can be any flavour -“

“ - but should tell the judges a little bit about yourselves or where you’re from.”

“Where are you from, Noel?”

“Oh, you know, the moon.”

Everyone was laughing, even Tayce; although it wasn’t that funny - but the whole room was dancing with nerves by now, starting to become contagious from the people around her.

“On your marks -“

“Get set -“

“BAKE!”

Once Matt Lucas and Noel Fielding had declared the immortal lines to the room, everyone was scrambling for ingredients from their bags and the fridges.

Tayce was still cringing a bit at the dragon-shaped cookie-cutter her mum had found in some gift shop near the castle in Cardiff. She didn’t understand why tourists would be making dragon-shaped biscuits inspired by their trip to Wales, but for once she was thankful for tourists. Her friend Cara had customised it a little when she’d seen her a couple of weeks ago, by melting the tail with her lighter, elongating it a little, and extending the jaw and ears to make it look a little more ferocious.

“Can’t have people thinking you’re not breathing fire,” she’d said, passing the cigarette back to Tayce, “otherwise they won’t think you’re competition.”

And Tayce had nodded, holding smoke in her lungs half a beat longer than usual, wondering if she cared whether anyone thought of her as competition. After all, it was Bake Off. The last sabotage attempt there had been a national scandal the following day.

The most unproblematic, drama-free show on the telly.

Nothing was going to happen here.

——

“The judges are coming for you next,” one of the cameramen nudged Tayce out of her thoughts, just as she was measuring out her flour, causing it to fly upwards in a cloud “Just a heads up. Oh, sorry love.”

“Right, right.” Tayce nodded, brushing flour from her face. “What do I say to them again?”

“Just … talk. It’s the first episode. Show them your personality.”

“Personality,” Tayce repeated, nodding. “I’ve got oodles of that.”

“Great stuff. And don’t forget to be doing something bake-ey while they’re coming over.”

The cameraman dodged out of the way to make room for the medical team, running to help the woman in front of Nottingham, who had managed to slice her finger on something already.

“Here they are,” Tayce muttered to herself, taking a deep breath and straightening as the judges, along with Matt and Noel, came over to her.

“Morning, Tayce!”

Paul Hollywood was shorter than he appeared to be, and Prue Leith was taller, but nothing prepared Tayce for meeting either of them. Tayce held her breath for a split second, smiling somewhat mechanically to try to mask the sudden heat in her face.

“Bore da, folks! I’ve brought the weather with me!” Tayce beamed, indicating the heaving downpour of rain that was falling outside the tent; and they all laughed politely.

Tayce momentarily stopped concentrating on the judges and noticed the woman opposite her, turning to watch Tayce interact with the judges. And every time she was describing the perfect quality that her dragon-shaped shortbread biscuits would turn out, she seemed to slow her actions, looking up over at them.

The conversation was light, but Tayce could feel the calm authority of both judges before her, making words freeze on her tongue. It only went on for a minute or two, but Tayce was left feeling as if she should have prepared more.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

The ingredients for her biscuits were mixing slowly in the KitchenAid, the gentle whirr of the blades almost lulling Tayce to sleep as she sipped her cup of tea, before she took out the ball of shortbread dough and rolled it out to cut into biscuits.

“Your accent is so nice.”

Tayce looked up from her biscuits, to see the woman from Nottingham had come over, tucking her hair behind her ear, leaving her hand resting at the back of her neck to play absently with the strings of her apron. Up close, the dimple in her cheek was emphasised as a shy smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Thank you!” Tayce stood to her full height. “This place doesn’t look like Barry Island yet but give it some time!” She leaned against the workbench, tossing her hair away from her shoulders.

“My accent is … well, it’s just … northern,” she continued with a giggle. “I’m Aurora, by the way. I’m so bad at names, I’m sorry, you’ve probably already said yours!”

“Don’t worry, I am too. I’m Tayce. And if I forget your name, well - yeah, same.”

Aurora’s gaze lingered half a second too long as she tested the name on her tongue.

“Tayce.” Her smile widened. “Nice to meet you.”

——

Tayce was terrible at names. She had no idea how she was going to remember who all eleven of these other people were, especially as one of them would be going every week - the pool of people getting smaller and smaller until Tayce would be remaining with whoever else was any good out of these lot.

As the day went on, she started to pick them up.

She had to learn Asttina’s for one, because Asttina seemed to know everyone’s name from the word go. Asttina was one of the two Londoners at the front, and was the only one of the group who had made a deliberate effort to come round to all their workbenches to formally introduce herself during the bake itself, her demeanour confident but her handshake gentle and light as air.

“Nice to meet you, Tayce,” she’d said, with a cool smile that reminded Tayce of a Miss World competition. “Looking forward to tasting all your bakes!”

She knew Pip’s name too, on the bench just behind Asttina, as she’d turned up in the tent wearing elf ears, claiming they were for luck. Everyone had been staring at her workbench, where she’d positioned a tiny blue handbag with a red circle in the middle, saying she took it with her wherever she went.

“I had a sesh with a psychic,” Pip explained to them all as a group of them crowded round her. “She’s a bit of a local celeb in Liverpool, Psychic Sally they call her, but - anyway, she told me to look for a sign in blue and red, said it was from me great-grandpa - and the same day I walked past one of those handbag shops on Paradise Street and there it was, in the window, 70% off!”

“Definitely couldn’t have been a coincidence, Pippa,” Tayce grinned, and Pip shook her head in agreement, but she had a mischievous glint in her eye and Tayce wasn’t entirely sure how serious she was about the whole affair.

Ellie’s name too had become familiar, because of the amount of times the show’s medics would groan it when she managed to hurt herself on something that episode. Ellie herself had been quiet most of the day, seemingly a little shy and evidently the youngest in the room; but she’d bounced on the balls of her feet at meeting Matt Lucas, garbling something about her and her brother doing all the impersonations as kids.

The soft-spoken woman in front of Tayce was called Cherry, and Tayce had found that out because she’d pointed it out to everyone when she put cherry flavouring in her biscuits.

“Does that actually, y’know, work as a flavour?” Tia had asked her when she was explaining it to them.

Tia was another name that Tayce knew, mainly because the woman was so tall and striking. She looked like she’d come straight off a catwalk and wandered into the Bake Off tent by complete accident on her way to London Fashion Week, happening to become covered in flour in the process.

Cherry had huffed. “I don’t know, but you eat cherry-flavoured things all the time! What could go wrong with putting it in biscuits?”

Tia grimaced. “Wait. Have you … never put cherry flavouring in biscuits before? Didn’t you practise at home?”

Tayce couldn’t help but feel a twinge of mirth as she watched Cherry chew her tongue, her cheeks flushing, but her jaw set obstinately. “I know what I’m doing. I can do this.”

“You haven’t even practised this bake? Okay. So how late do the trains run from here to Newcastle?” Tayce had asked Cherry, and Aurora had doubled over in wheezing laughter as Cherry had folded her arms.

“Darlington. Darlington, not Newcastle. And there’s been trains there for nearly two hundred years, love.”

That had just made Aurora laugh harder, clutching her stomach and shaking in silent giggles, leaning on Tayce as Tayce had led her back to her workbench and let her wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing with her biscuit dough.

That was the most important thing Tayce had learned so far in the tent. The woman from Nottingham opposite her was Aurora, and Aurora lit up the whole bench.

When the judges had stood with her earlier, she’d cooed about how much she adored baking everything for all her family - making fairy cakes for charity bakes for work, birthday cakes for her family, tipsy cakes for her best friends for their birthdays, or anniversaries, or whenever they were just feeling crap.

From the smile that she couldn’t hold back, Tayce knew that Aurora was the only person in the room who meant it when she said that she loved baking.

——

“One hour break, folks, and then filming starts for Technical, okay?”

The first bake was over, and Tayce’s shortbread biscuits shaped like dragons had gone down pretty well with the judges. She wasn’t sure if she’d had the best feedback, her nerves kicking in and blocking out most of the other contestants’ comments; but she thought she’d done enough for this round at least.

One of the producers herded them like sheep - or maybe cats, judging by how Ginny had gone chasing after a squirrel they’d seen - back into Norton Hall where they were all staying for the weekends while filming was happening. It was a huge, Georgian manor mouse with ceilings touching the clouds, far more halls than were necessary, and so many excessive bedrooms that each contestant had a room each.

Tayce had half-expected four-poster regal luxury as she’d opened the door to her own, twice the size of her room in her flat; but no such luck - it was furnished sparingly, and all the beds were normal. A small double, she noted. Not that she was likely to get lucky with these master bakers, but a woman could dream.

The floorboards creaked as she crossed the room and flopped backwards onto the bed, gazing at the ceiling, the elation sending a shiver through her skin as she realised again that she had made it to Bake Off.

The Bake Off!

They weren’t meant to change clothes between takes unless they’d made a huge mess with the food, so Tayce just retouched her eyeliner and went back down to the communal room, where most of them had gathered back in the group, polite conversations carrying on amongst relative strangers as they sampled each others’ biscuits.

What a surreal scene.

A group of almost strangers, half of their names unfamiliar, and she was meant to discuss baking with them all.

“Alright, babs?” She heard someone pushing a plate in front of her. “My name’s Ginny, Ginny Lemon, and if you don’t like lemon, well - just skip my biccies, alright love?”

“No, lemon is great,” Tayce forced a smile, taking one of Ginny’s biscuits. “Thanks hun.”

“You’re welcome! Which ones did you make - wait, I remember, the Welsh dragons?”

“Now how did you guess that one?” Tayce raised an eyebrow at them. “My mum’s idea, she was like, do it for the Welsh! So of course she found a dragon-shaped cookie cutter from somewhere. One of the tourist shops in Cardiff. Tourists love dragon biscuits apparently.”

“Oh I know love, I know - speaking of weird biscuits, have you ever tried a Worcester sauce biscuit? I don’t recommend it if you haven’t, but have you?” Ginny shook their head, tutting. “Tastes like shit! Waste of biscuit. Waste of Worcester sauce too, though. Anyway, Pip’s looking lonely without me. Nice to see you!”

And Ginny fled from Tayce’s arm, scurrying back over to Pip. Tayce tasted the biscuit, bracing herself for Worcester sauce, blinking with surprise to find it was actually pretty good, the lemon flavour really tasty, and finding she wanted another.

Most of the rest of the biscuits were arranged on a bench at the back. Tayce picked up another of her own and went down the line, eager to see which had depleted the most.

Gravestone biscuits were the biggest shocker for her - two different sets of biscuits were there, iced to resemble gravestones, mostly untouched - but Tayce politely picked up the better-looking of the two and found a lovely chilli kick to it when she tasted. But gravestones weren’t the only common theme - two different rose patterns were there, one set iced in different shades of pink, and the other with a deep red icing. The pink roses were almost all gone, and Tayce took the second-to-last one, enjoying the raspberry flavour, and grabbing one of the other roses to go.

Tayce peered around the room at the other contestants from her vantage point at the table. Most of them had dropped into twos and threes - with twelve people it was bound to happen - chatting amongst themselves, quietly and politely for the most part, although the two Scottish women in one corner were laughing as if they’d known each other for years.

Eventually, she joined Aurora, who was talking to someone whose white-blonde hair and pencil-thin eyebrows looked very familiar …

“Joe Black,” she said, extending a heavily-tattooed hand to Tayce, whose stomach flipped upon hearing the name.

“You’re - on Instagram, that woman -“

“My internet infamy precedes me, but in that case I hope so too do my bakes, and of course my sense of fun.” Joe’s voice was theatrical, her gestures affected; but her smile was warm, and Cherry looked as enamoured with her as Tayce was feeling.

“And who wins the biscuit version of the wars of the roses?” Joe continued, pointing down at the two rose-shaped iced biscuits on Tayce’s plate. “Lawrence, or Veronica? I must say, the amount that Veronica worried about her own bake, that time probably could have been spent thinking up a better biscuit flavour than rosewater, don’t you agree?”

Tayce glanced at Veronica’s biscuit, then up at Aurora. “Does it taste that bad?”

But before Aurora could answer, they were interrupted by “Alright, babes! How’s it hanging?”

The woman joining them had rich violet hair scraped off her face into a bun at the crown of her head, and an intense green stare. Tayce took the hand that was extended to her, finding a firmer handshake than Asttina’s, trying to follow the stream of words from this woman’s mouth.

“I’m Lauren, but you might as well call me Lawrence, that’s all Ellie’s been calling me all day, thinks she’s fucking hilarious, and I’ve not really met any of you yet because, you know,” Lawrence paused for breath, waving her hands, “baking contest, ooh I’m not here to make friends, et cetera, but now that we’re all here and we’re not baking right now, I thought I’d better find out who everyone is! Are you the one who made the dragon biccies?”

“That’s me, baby!” Tayce grinned. “Bore da, bitches!”

“See, I knew you were Welsh, and there Ellie was trying to convince me the dragon biccies were by someone who just really liked Puff the Magic Dragon, she owes me a tenner now - and you’re - oh wait, I know you!” Lawrence wagged her finger at Joe, whose expression didn’t change apart from the slow blink. “That Instagram video!”

Joe fixed Lawrence with a stare. “Yes, that Instagram video; I know that precedes me, but I hope by the end of this competition that can be eclipsed by my culinary skills.” Her voice still kept the throaty drawl, but Tayce was starting to sense her irritation at the association.

Cherry had already offered her hand to shake, and Lawrence took it. “Alright, I remember your name, because you put it in your biccies as flavouring! Where’re you from, do they grow cherries there?”

“No - I’m from Darlington.”

Lawrence blinked, frowning. “Darlington, near Sweetie-shire is that?”

“No, it’s near -“

“I’m joking babes, I’m joking! I know it’s - hey, hey Ellie!” Lawrence stopped to shout to Ellie, who had evidently reappeared. “Els! It’s not Puff the Magic Dragon! Where’s my tenner? Hey!” And she was gone in an instant, Tayce turning to watch her chase Ellie as she scurried out.

“Anyway,” Joe continued, motioning to Tayce’s plate and one of the gravestone biscuits, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying mine! I know my sense of humour is a little … ah, morbid, but I didn’t count on being one of two people with this bake, let me tell you that!”

Joe glanced over to the left out the sides of her eyes; Tayce followed her gaze to Pip, oblivious, making herself a cup of tea.

“She didn’t - like, you don’t think she -“

“Oh, no, not in a month of Sundays! But it’s a strange little coincidence, isn’t it? The viewers will love the drama!”

Joe opened her mouth wide to let out a violent cackle, a sound that might have made a shiver glide down Tayce’s spine if she hadn’t been mid-biscuit.

——

Technical: 8 Wagon Wheels

The Technical challenge was the first time Tayce felt her nerves return in a rush.

Everyone had identical ingredients and an identical recipe, but nothing prepared any of them for whipping the gingham cloth from them all and flipping the instructions over. Tayce ran her pencil down them, her head spinning.

On the first read, she recalled nothing.

Focus.

She took one steadying breath, letting go of as many nerves as she could, and then ran her pencil back down the list, jotting down timings and a couple of notes. They only had an hour and a half; precision was key.

On her right, Aurora was fidgeting with her apron, twisting her hair around her finger, before grabbing as many bowls as she could from the drawers and setting them all down ready.

It almost felt like more pressure, rather than less, having no judges in the room - just Matt and Noel, and they couldn’t really interact with the bakers at this point, mostly just talking amongst each other and having to film occasional silly quips for the television interludes.

You’re not gonna get this finished if you keep looking at Matt and Noel!

So Tayce mentally blocked out everything and anything around her, not taking her eyes off her workbench. Instructions, ingredients, whisk, repeat. Oven, timers, filling, cooling, done.

She barely remembered anything else that happened in the room.

As she put the last wagon wheel on the tray to take to the front, she wiped her brow, took a swig of tea, and then heard the immortal lines.

“Bakers! You have one minute to go!”

Tayce looked around the room. Tia, three desks ahead, was looking flustered, covered in flour from head to toe - a difficult feat when you were six feet tall - and Veronica, just behind her, was rounding the corner to help her move the biscuits over to the tray one by one as she spread on the jam and marshmallow fluff. Bimini, who Tayce was sure had finished about ten minutes earlier than everyone else, was doing the same thing for Asttina, leaning over her workbench and talking soothingly to her as they both moved biscuits around.

On the other side, Ginny was rubbing Pip’s back, trying to help her load wagon wheels onto the tray but only succeeding in knocking the handbag to the ground. Ellie broke two of her wagon wheels by dropping a palette knife on them, her squeak causing Lawrence to turn from her bench and put her hands on her hips.

But Tayce felt an unexpected wave of relief when she saw Aurora finishing her own biscuits right on schedule, stepping back with a sigh, rolling her head and her eyes to the ceiling.

They had to bring the biscuits to the front table, and put them behind their respective photographs for blind judging. Looking at the other biscuits on the bench, Tayce nodded to herself in satisfaction. She definitely wasn’t the worst. The photos were all a blur, but there was definitely one disaster, chocolate and marshmallow oozing; Ellie’s broken biscuits; and another tray with a biscuit missing.

It was easy to breathe a sigh of relief for herself.

“Just get into any order,” the producer said, pointing to the stools that had been set in front of the table, “but don’t sit directly behind your photo. Otherwise it just looks obvious.”

Tayce’s biscuits were second from the right, so she bunched towards the left, and found herself between Aurora and Joe. Joe had pretended to trip over her feet while carrying her own biscuits up, cackling gleefully at Veronica’s pained expression as she watched. Veronica, mercifully, had sat as far from Joe as she could.

Aurora was breathing rapidly next to her, and Tayce gave her a nudge with her knee.

“Chill girl! Relax! It will be fine!”

Aurora nodded, but said nothing, focusing on trying to breathe at a normal rate once again. Tayce could practically hear her heart hammering. She nudged her again playfully, and Aurora nudged her back, taking a deep breath out and seeming to calm from then.

Once Prue and Paul were back, Tayce grew a little sleepy. The judging went on for much longer than on telly, and tent was hot from all the baking and warm bodies, plus Aurora’s knee jogging rhythmically was enough to make her feel a little drowsy. Her biscuits were second to last, and Tayce wasn’t really focusing on any of the other critiques as they went down the line, not even those of the two women on either side of her.

She hated tents. They reminded her of camping. This one wasn’t like any of the camping tents, propped by firm wooden walls and decorations but it still reminded her of trips to the Gower when she was at primary school. And thinking of the Gower made her think of day-tripping to Tenby, where the air was hazy with salt and fresh fish, and the sea was far too cold as they skimmed stones, watching them bounce once, twice, three times …

A nudge at her side from Aurora brought her down from her reverie; blinking, Tayce saw the judges had reached the biscuits behind her photo, looking up expectantly to see who would claim them.

Oh, yeah. It’s the Technical, and I’m here to be judged.

She raised her hand, realising that she’d been in a dream so long that she didn’t even know what place the judges had called her for.

“Tayce - good flavour, biscuits had a good crunch, and the chocolate has set well; it just wasn’t quite filled enough.”

Nodding and smiling, she waited for them to move on to the next person before she leaned over towards Aurora, muttering from the corner of her mouth “Where did they put me again?”

But before Aurora could answer, Paul spoke up. “And in second place, we have -“

“You came third, you bitch!” Aurora whispered, her mouth open in awe, and she looped her hand into Tayce’s and squeezed. “How do you do it? You always look so put-together! Not like - Miss Second-Place down there.”

Tayce glanced at Veronica, right at the end of the line of bakers on their stools, whose hand was raised to claim second place. She was nodding earnestly at the praise, but she still wasn’t smiling, her lips tight and her other hand still quivering a little in her lap.

“That means that first place goes to - Asttina!”

But Aurora hadn’t let go of Tayce’s hand, and Tayce was suddenly more aware of that contact than whoever the winner was, even as she slowly drew her hand away for the polite applause that followed.

“Where did you come?” Tayce asked her in a whisper.

“Seventh. Not great. I over-baked them a little bit,” Aurora shrugged. “I’m never gonna be good at technical.”

——

“Congrats on coming top of Technical!” Tia clapped Asttina on the back as they came back into Norton Hall, and Asttina responded with her winning smile.

“Thanks, babe. I thought you all deserved a taste of what I can do!”

There was a collective amused murmur around the other bakers at Asttina’s slightly smug tone. Tayce grinned, staying silent for now, wondering what the others would have to say to that.

“Oh, there’s more to come, is there?” Tia continued.

“I should hope so.” Asttina licked her lips. “From all of you lot as well.”

“There’s no need to be cocky,” Veronica said, the first time any of them had really heard her speak. Veronica was tiny, with blonde hair and a nasal voice that was louder than any of them had expected; most likely feeling the sting of coming second.

Asttina shook her hair back. “I’m not cocky, Veronica, I just know what I can do. Read the CV, it’s all there! If you want to win stuff, you need to know yourself. Do you want to win?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Veronica retorted.

It was Tia’s snort of laughter that started them all off, diffusing the vague tension creeping into the room. Asttina’s laugh was only drowned out by Veronica’s as she realised what she’d said.

“Is the Pope a Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods … I know, I know. I mean, yeah, I definitely do want to win.”

Asttina shrugged. “Then there’s no point being modest about what you can do. Let your bakes do the talking!”

One of the producers came in at that moment, motioning for them all to come round, and they all bunched together.

“Alright folks, the day’s filming is done, we’ll begin tomorrow at nine sharp for the Showstopper challenges. Until then you’re free to relax and have a nice time - please don’t go into any areas marked as Private, and no excessive drinking, but otherwise, have a good night!”

“Thank you!” They chorused, clapping for some unknown reason, as some of the staff rounded up the leftover biscuits and cleared them away.

“The filming crew get them,” Veronica explained to Tia, “I asked earlier what happened to them all because I knew we wouldn’t be able to eat them all.”

“You know what this means?” Cherry said, addressing them all from on top of one of the sofas. “This is the last evening we’ll all be together. Let’s all cheers to the cast of GBBO!”

She pulled a bottle of something from her bag, and the rest of them grabbed a mug each, sharing out the gin Cherry had brought, and bringing all their drinks together in cheers.

——

Showstopper: A gingerbread sculpture of a place that makes you nostalgic.

The Showstopper was about as broad as you could get. Everyone seemed to have something different in mind. Bimini and Asttina, on the two front benches, looked as poised and confident as they had all the previous day; and Asttina, buoyed by her Technical challenge win, puffed her chest in pride.

Tayce had practised her gingerbread over and over, but nothing prepared any of them for being in the tent, where the pastel colours and the novelty of the bright, friendly conversations started to switch to a competitive edge.

Especially after the Technical, where they had all been ranked. Having a number against your name now, combined with a vague grade against the Signature challenge, meant the Showstopper was the be-all and end-all for some of them.

That was it Tayce thought to herself, as she watched Aurora’s grim determination pass her face every second.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Cherry, on the workbench in front of her, had come sixth; but she’d been much quieter all morning, concentrating on reading and re-reading her instructions, tapping her pencil against her chin and growling frustratedly every now and then.

Ellie, wearing a pair or Pip’s elf ears, was doing even worse. Being ranked eleventh had done very little to ease the nerves she had displayed the day before, and her morning had already started with another blue plaster on yet another finger.

But Aurora was the only person Tayce was concentrating on. Something about the way she’d held her hand … and Tayce was far too quick to let her mind run away without her, thinking it meant anything, when obviously it probably didn’t.

“What are you doing?” Tayce called to Aurora over the chatter of everyone else around the room; but Aurora didn’t reply, her tongue running over her lips as she surveyed the mess that was the butter and sugar mix before her.

“Aurora?” She asked, making her way to stand by her behind the bench.

Aurora was still silent, but the noise from the bowls and KitchenAid she was using spoke volumes for her without her needing to say a word.

“D’you want a cup of tea?” Tayce asked her eventually, waiting for the curt nod from Aurora before sprinting to the tea station, in a tent outside.

When she got back, Aurora had moved up to Ellie’s workbench, and even though her back was to Tayce, she could see her shoulders shaking and Ellie’s hand rubbing her back, before offering her a can of the Monster she always had to have, the label covered in masking tape to escape product placement.

Tayce approached them both to comfort Aurora too, but as she did, cameras zoomed in on all three of them. Aurora pushed them both away and walked out of the tent, covering her face.

Ellie looked from the camera to Tayce and then back again, confused more than anything, and Lawrence, turning from her bench, looked back at them all with a frown.

“What’s going on here? Is she alright?” Lawrence pointed to Aurora, who was busy wiping her tears away in the far corner, with Matt Lucas at her side and a camera in her face.

“No,” Tayce muttered, “and she won’t be while there’s a lens on her.”

After that, Tayce kept half an eye on Aurora as she baked. She mostly ignored the cameramen as they hurried around the tent, taking stock footage of them cutting gingerbread shapes, using their ovens, and decorating, but Tayce purposely kept her mouth tightly closed, and her expression firmly neutral.

As Noel called for ten minutes remaining, Tayce was finishing the detailing of the roof of the stadium. The band were meant to be playing biscuit instruments and there was meant to be a crowd, but Tayce had settled for calling it a backstage pass moment, where VIPs could meet them, and just made models of herself and her friends.

“Time is up! Bakers, step away from your bakes!”

Noel called time, and Tayce took a step back to properly admire her finished product - and really, she was blown away by her own bake. The gingerbread houses she’d made in practise had gone alright, but this one, even in the pressure cooker environment of the tent, had gone almost perfectly, down to the timing of the bakes.

“Wow,” Tayce whispered to herself, “week one is done!”

She took a few seconds to admire everyone else’s in the tent. Some were much better than others. Joe’s looked a little strange - she’d meant to do a wedding scene with the gingerbread church, but the roof was crooked, and the gravestones falling over, not supported by the sticky sugar mixture they’d all used as adhesive. Cherry’s ambitious building was incomplete, and Tayce didn’t even know what it was meant to be.

But Asttina’s was incredible - a beautiful beach scene with a model of a beach hut and even a Ferris wheel. Ellie’s technical slip up was definitely repaired by the pub she’d built, adding fondant banners inside and making the dull gingerbread colours come alive with her imaginative take on the icing outside; while Lawrence had made a theatre, melting jelly babies to create beautiful stained glass in the windows, something Tayce kicked herself for not thinking of.

They all had a chance to leave the tent for a break, to sit outside in the shelter, and to have a breather before the actual judging of the bakes was done.

“I don’t envy the judges,” Joe said, her drawling voice awed, as she took in all of the gingerbread houses from their vantage point outside the tent. “They definitely have their work cut out for them, don’t they?”

“Everyone did amazing,” Aurora nodded, “it’s just a case of who did less amazing. D’you reckon they’ll just take this into account, or the whole weekend?”

Tayce didn’t know why she was worrying. Aurora had come middle of the pack in technical, but had been praised for her Signature, and her gingerbread house - modelled on her Nan’s, she had said - was so prim and dainty that Tayce knew the judges were going to eat it up, and not only literally.

“It won’t be you, chillax!” Tayce reached to rub her hand.

“Who d’you reckon it will be then?”

“Well, they tend to take into account the numbers assigned at the Technical challenge, and the Signature comments, to make the first analysis, at least,” Joe chuckled, “that’s what we see on the television. Who were the bottom three for Technical? I was tenth, Ellie was eleventh, who was twelfth again?”

“It’s - erm,” Aurora pointed, but the name escaped her for a second. “Tia. Tia was twelfth.”

“It’s probably between the three of us, then,” Joe said brightly, “unless something goes … horribly wrong to one of the Showstoppers. And how likely is that?”

As they looked through the panels of the tent, one of the gingerbread houses collapsed into pieces onto the tray it was set on.

Tayce glanced around the other eleven bakers to see whose it was.

One of the bakers had her head in her hands, shoulders tensed, while the two people on either side of her hugged her tightly.

——

“Seriously, Joe, how did you make that happen?” Aurora’s voice was hushed, tense, after the award for Star Baker and the first elimination had taken place.

Joe’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “I don’t quite know - maybe it was just something, spoken into the universe, made to happen.”

“Or maybe it was just gravity and shitty caramelised sugar sticking it all together,” Tayce added.

“Yes,” Joe replied, “or that too.”

Joe, Ellie and Tia had all survived their stint in the bottom at Technical - but Pip, who had come ninth in Technical, and whose Signature had received mediocre feedback, had laughed behind gritted teeth at presenting her collapsed gingerbread house - “More of an Ikea house,” Paul had commented cheerily - which had ultimately turned out to be too hard to bite into and had sealed her fate. Not even the lucky elf ears saved her from the first elimination.

“I was so sure I was going home this week,” Aurora sighed later that night, back at Norton Hall, where everyone had eaten so much of each others’ gingerbread houses that they all felt ill.

“You wouldn’t have, yours was good!” Tayce rubbed her arm. “Relax! It’s done now. Just focus on next week instead.”

“And I can’t believe Prue said she’d like to try a bit of carpet when they were looking at Ellie’s pub,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Did anyone else catch that?”

“Yeah, I did!” Tayce sniggered. “They’re so innocent! This is just gonna be a load of innuendos all season, isn’t it? Imagine what they’re gonna say for next week too.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s cake week, isn’t it?” Aurora seemed to perk up. “That’s a bit more my comfort zone.”

Suddenly the door opened, and Asttina was led back inside the area by the cameraman and a producer. Everyone broke into applause - this time genuine, not the muted, polite sound that had echoed round the tent in the technical. Asttina had just given her winner’s interview and called her family, and now wore the Star Baker badge proudly on the lapel of her jacket, her grin wider than the Cheshire Cat’s.

“How did your mum react when you said you were Star Baker this week?” Bimini asked her.

Asttina smiled the warmest smile any of them had seen all weekend from her at the mention of her family. “They screamed so loud that you probably all heard it in here. My mum was falling off the sofa, my dad was waving a wooden spoon, my brother was banging on the floor with his feet - oh, it was great.”

“Well-deserved, babes,” Bimini nodded, and Asttina pulled them in for a hug.

Everyone else was clamouring around Asttina, congratulating her on her Star Baker win this week and admiring the badge she’d won - biscuit-shaped, or at least cookie-shaped - but Tayce hung back, exchanging a glance with Aurora, a glint in her eye; and both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Let’s not cross Joe Black. She might make our Showstoppers crumble.

——

ELEVEN BAKERS REMAIN

#rpdr fanfiction #juno #down with the recipe #rpdr uk #uk2 #taywhora #asttina x bimini #tia x veronica #ellie x lawrence #tayce #a'whora #asttina mandella #bimini bon boulash #ginny lemon #lawrence chaney #tia kofi #veronica green #ellie diamond #cherry valentine #gbbo au #lesbian au #fluff

[reverielix]

Tenerife Sea (One) ⇢ Bang Chan

genre: fluff, cliché friends to lovers yanno what it is warnings: a curse word, so much cheese, oc has a distorted view on marriage and romantic relationships because of past trauma word count: 729 summary: why would you fall in love just to get your heart broken? and obvi the song is Tenerife Sea lol but I think we’re all familiar with it at this point haha

In a garden of blooming tulips and roses under blazing sun, the husband kisses his new wife. Dads sit in the first row, uncles in the third.

“What?” Chan giggles at my nose scrunch.

“Wouldn’t it be weird to kiss your husband in front of everybody?” An elderly woman behind us in the beige chairs taps my shoulder and holds an index to her lips.

“Sorry.” He covers his mouth with wrinkled eyes.

When the ceremony ends, and I’ve neglected finding relatives for the woman—she looks like a Carla—everybody sits down on the villa’s enormous patio. The newly-wed take photos for an album that will end up in the dusty attic of their once shared home while we wait with grumbling stomached between Calla lilies on carefully allocated tables.

Auntie Livia assigned my parents the same as us. She must've forgotten they divorced. And I forgot to bring my scream pillow.

“Don't leave me alone with your father, sweetie. I had to deal with him for twenty years, can't do another second.” Nineteen years and three months. But she says twenty every time he’s in the same vicinity, and I have to babysit them as if a repayment.

During all five courses I talk with mom about uni—which revives her beloved college memories—and Chan listens to dad ramble about wine and Formula 1. Everybody laughs and clinks glasses when they're not stuffing their faces with fruit snacks like they forgot what comes after: marriage. 

After coffee and cake (it matched auntie's white-purple nails but tasted made-in-a-nail-salon as well), catering leads us to the dance floor at the opposite side of the Mediterranean villa. Uneven cobblestones force women to claw their partners’ arms in too-high-inched heels for seven rounds “to our wonderful bride and groom”.

Off crooked walls resonates “Marry You” by Bruno Mars, tottered dances shared between. This part of the villa is much nicer than the garden and patio: the lilies don't stink like rancid yogurt, mom isn't forced near dad and round lights under the night sky chase children in laughter.

Or maybe it's Chan's hand on my back. “You will fall,” he says. “No Prosecco needed.” Way too many melon-orange sticks for my acid reflux later, he glues himself to my side still.

When Ed Sheeran’s acoustic guitar plays, he withdraws to extend his hand, "Shall we dance?"

Golden circles adore his eyes. “Yes.” People dance with their friends all the time.

A wave of shivers spreads from around my waist where his arms guide me. “You look so wonderful in your dress,” he sings into my neck. “I love your hair like that.”

We are surrounded by all these lights and people who talk too much (about slow dance to teens who ignore them and then regret it because; two, no, three steps on his leather shoes later, he pulls away in a twirl, and changes into falsetto.)

“Should this be the last thing I see, I want you to know it's enough for me.” He hangs off the lyrics as if his confession. “Cause all that you are is all that I’ll ever need.”

Forehead on mine, hands intertwined he looks at me from under his brows. “I'm so in love.”

Dimples charm his shy smile before he hides in my strands. His smell of mint and green apple—the Versace perfume l told mom he wouldn't wear—as I trace a lock.

Right foot first, not more than a step back. The chorus passes without another dirt patch on his leather.

“You look so beautiful in this light. Your silhouette over me.” His breath tickles my neck where the high-low dress ends. He's never sounded this breathy, like he needs to let me in on a secret.

“Just say the word and I will disappear into the wilderness.” But secrets need solace. So I hinge our ring fingers on my search for a hideaway.

Roses and tulips look smaller with the lanterns on, garden bigger without the folding chairs. “I'm so in love,” I sing.

He fills his lungs and crosses his arms on my back through the kiss, mine on his neck. We can't be close enough in a second, third, fourth. Hearts pup faster at how his exhale hits my philtrum, chemise feels under his jacket.

Fuck it. Let's get our hearts broken.

#yes I adore his dimples #bang chan #skz #stray kids #chan #kpop #fanfic #chan fanfic #stray kids fanfic #chan fluff #stray sids fluff #fluff #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #tenerife sea #oneshot #blurb #stray kids oneshot #bang chan oneshot #romance #writing #flash fiction #channie #chris #stray kids bias #stray kids au #non idol au #alternate universe #first person present #chan x oc

[wallwriterstuff]

If you're available I would love to see a Twilight request! The reader has a one or two year old child. She falls asleep with the child in a nearby playpen napping as well. Edward, Jacob or Emmett(Or even the Cullen family returning home from a hunt) arrive and find the child awake, out of their playpen, face covered with marker marks and in the process of coloring sleeping mom's legs. Thank you so much in advance!💖💖

So this took a while because I really struggled to think of a way to write this at first, but I finally got an idea I was happy with because it combines a cute request with some quality Emmett and Rosalie fluff! I hope you enjoy it chickadee :D 

Dream A Little Dream

Words: 2756 

Warnings: None, just a simple bit of fluff! 

Summary: Emmett needs a reprieve from Rosalie’s temper tantrum, so he goes to check on a DIY project, only to find someone else is living their dream. 

“C’mon Rose, talk to me, just tell me-“

“Get out Emmett!”

The door had slammed between them before he could dare say another word, but Emmett was nothing if not persistent. He had spent 66 years married to the woman after all and if he had learned anything from that experience, it was that Rosalie’s temperament was as precarious as an unweighted seesaw - he was confident she’d be cuddling him by tonight.

“Babe.” He rapped his knuckles against the door to the garage but the only reply he received was the loud and sudden blast of a bassline from the CD player. His eyes rolled and he puffed out his cheeks, exhaling in a huff and turning away from the garage to leave his wife to cool off. Edward remained seated at the piano, grinning down at the keys while his fingers diligently moved across the ivory keys.

“No, I have no idea what’s wrong with her.” His voice drifted through from the music room, carrying on the sweet notes of the song he’d composed. He hadn’t played for quite a while but it was a nice, soothing change to listen to the melody he plunked out, Alice’s sugary soprano harmonising beautifully with the key he played in. Emmett scowled in his general direction, moving through the house towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Carlisle’s voice made him stop and turn, his hand on the door handle.

“Out. Rose needs space.” He answered. Carlisle’s brow furrowed, his expression troubled. Emmett couldn’t quite understand it himself. He had never really seen the downsides to vampirism, not when it had gifted him an eternity with his very own angel, not when it came with the added perks of agility and strength and speed he could only have ever dreamed of in his human days. He didn’t have it in to lament for his soul or whatever the rest of them seemed to do. They were vampires, and vampires drank blood – accidents were inevitable. So what if the Swan girl fell prey to Edward’s temptations? They moved on and returned in a few decades when the memory of her had faded, as they had done before and would no doubt do again.

It really wasn’t rocket science! They all knew the laws and neither option was a particularly bad one to him. Either Edward got a good meal, or he had a chance at finding his epic love, his Rosalie, and he might stop brooding for the first time in over a century. Rosalie’s desire to kill the girl was understandable but so was Edward’s urge to protect her, but Emmett didn’t need to be Alice to know there was no future in all the realms of probability that could ever exist where Bella Swan would grow old and grey. Isabella was destined to die one way or another.

“Be safe.” Carlisle’s words made him snort, a smug grin crossing his lips as he opened the door.

“Me be safe? I’m the most dangerous thing out there.” He quipped. Emmett left without looking back. The forest flew past him in what should have been a blur of greens and murky browns, but his eyes saw every detail. Each crack in the bark, the dew glistening on cobwebs, the smallest of insects scuttling up the stems of leaves…it was all a gift to him. He would kill for Rose to see the beauty in it all as he did but she never would. Rose had had all her dreams taken from her by Carlisle long ago, and she was forever going to be bitterly frozen, trapped in her own cycle of self-loathing. He’d burn the world if it put the faintest smile on her face; had taken her to the most incredible places with the most astounding views, bought jewellery so expensive it made even the richest men shudder in disgust at his actions. The one thing that would make his love truly happy was the one thing he could never give her, but he had been thinking of ways to at least soften the heartache.

There was a house (a small ramshackle thing a few miles out from their own sleek residence) that he’d visited once or twice. He’d taken photos and done some minor fixing up of the place, making sure the roof no longer leaked, that the walls were weather-proof and so on. Emmett had laid floors, plastered walls…he’d made the small house viable once more and the only thing he had yet to do was take down a portioning wall between what he envisioned would be the kitchen and lounge space. It would be his anniversary gift to Rosalie, a place she could truly make her own, where she could build her own home. There may not be little feet pattering on the wooden floors, but he could give her two out of three couldn’t he? Renew their vows so they were confirmed husband and wife once more, help build her a home…

He slowed when he neared the site, his nose twitching. Emmett inhaled deeply, an odd mix of smells drifting up his nose. He didn’t remember peonies, and…was that lavender? Emmett approached his little project cautiously, straining all his senses to read his environment, predatorial instincts rising to the surface. A heartbeat, odd rhythm…no, two heartbeats? One slower, one faster, neither the same sort of pace or rhythm as any animal roaming the woods. Humans then? Emmett frowned deeply, struggling to understand why hikers would come all the way out here as he picked his way over the tree roots trying to trip him up, hand dragging over moss covered bark.

A billow of white was the first thing he saw, a sheet in the light breeze. It fluttered, surrounded by bright coloured clothes much too small to be adult sizes, and damp towels. There had been a brief moment of sun this morning but Emmett still had to scoff. Whoever had stolen his project from him was clearly no native to Forks or they’d have known better than to hang their laundry on the line at the slightest bit of sun. Sunshine rarely lasted in Forks. Emmett paused, looking at the fence now enclosing the house he had transformed with his own bare hands. He definitely hadn’t put that up, nor did he recall painting a fence bright green. He hadn’t installed a laundry line either but someone had driven that stake into the ground, the line coming from some sort of contraption nailed into the exterior of the house.

Someone was definitely living in his DIY project, and he was not-

“Shhhhh!”

Emmett was paralysed briefly by the little giggle that followed. It was a soft sound, full of innocence he could never recall having, and it came attached to the sound of scratching and squeaking. His brows pulled low over golden irises, his body moving of its own accord. It had to be a child, but who would leave a child alone in front of their house? Was it even supervised? His curiosity had piqued and though he wanted to be frustrated he just couldn’t be. Maybe Rose wouldn’t ever get to live in this house with him but someone else had clearly made it their home, someone who had achieved the dream Rose had always wanted. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed it but he had to sigh, because only he could attempt to resolve his wife’s bitter disposition and end up adding to it instead.

He didn’t recognise her. From the exterior alone Emmett could tell that in the few weeks it had been since he’d last visited this place, she’d put a lot of effort into making the house a home. The outside had a fresh lick of paint, the windows clean and windowpanes a freshly painted grey, the front door a bright green to match the fence surrounding the house. A wooden picnic table had been added just in front of the kitchen window, and she was sat folded over with her head resting on her arms, eyes closed and skin peppered with goosebumps. Stray wisps of hair blew about her face as his eyes tracked down her figure, noting the gentle, even breathing and the way her eyes twitched about under their lids in her sleep. Beneath the picnic table was the source of the musical laughter.

Emmett crouched, forearms resting on his knees and lips curling into a small smirk as he watched a curly haired little boy press a marker pen to her leg, scribbling a design into her skin. She didn’t even appear close to waking, but the temperature had dropped and clearly the little boy had escaped from the playpen across from the picnic table, the door open and the locking mechanism snapped, paper strewn about the garden by the breeze. Emmett could see the dirt under her fingernails as he got closer, a pair of gardening gloves on her opposite side. She’d clearly done her laundry and a bit of gardening while the sun was out, leaving her son to play in his playpen, but the little boy had seen an opportunity once she’d fallen asleep and took it.

He had the cutest little dimples when he smiled, green eyes shining bright with mischief. Emmett chuckled lowly, zipping about the garden to clean up the papers he’d spotted before approaching the picnic table and clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” he called. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion evident in them for a second before she jumped, straightening in her seat and watching him with wary eyes. Emmett watched her glance to the playpen, her eyes widening. He could hear the way her heartbeat leapt in her chest, the panic stricken expression she wore telling.

“Oh my – no no no –“

“Erm Miss? Don’t panic, he’s under the table.” Emmett smiled, flashing his own dimples in an effort to calm her. He was a naturally unnerving being after all and most humans tended to be either hopelessly attracted to him or deathly afraid – there wasn’t really an in between. She whipped her legs out from under the picnic table, moving so swiftly Emmett was left in awe. She very quickly scooped her son out form under the table and swung him onto her hip, cradling him close and closing her eyes. Her heartbeat began to calm, her breathing growing less rapid now she knew where her boy was.

“Oh god, thank you. I…I guess I fell asleep, the weather was a lot nicer earlier,” She shivered a bit, hand cradling the back of her sons head until he wriggled in her grip. “Not now baby just – really? Oh Damian!” she groaned exasperatedly. Emmett watched amusedly as she licked her thumb and rubbed furiously at his cheek.

“No Mama! No!” the boy cried, squirming in her grip. His face was covered in marker pen, a mixture of blacks and blues and pinks all swirling over his cheeks and down his nose. Emmett couldn’t help but chuckle.

“He’s a real mischief maker huh? He got your leg to.” He informed her. She looked down to her leg with another soft groan, her cheeks turning pink.

“Sounds about right. Have you ever tried to renovate with children?” she questioned, shaking her head. Emmett shook his head, his eyes stuck on the little boy. He shared his mother’s dark hair though not her eyes. Emmett wanted to be upset his plans for Rose’s anniversary surprise had fallen through, but he had been stupid enough to not check the market for this property and it had gone to someone who clearly needed it, though the property was fairly out of the way and an odd choice for a young woman and her child. She seemed intent on making it somewhere nice to live for them both though, and for that he couldn’t fault her.

“Never had any of my own, but your boy sure is a handsome guy. I did renovate this place though, I’m glad it went to someone who needed it.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. Her eyes widened, the surprise in them obvious.

“Oh! It was you! The real estate agent said they had no clue who had started the renovation’s, but it didn’t stop them selling it to me…we didn’t know it was taken.” She bit her lip, hoisting her son higher up on her hip. Damian was still wriggling slightly, looking up at Emmett with wide, curious eyes. It was clear what she was worrying about it, but Emmett shook his head, hands held up before her.

“It’s yours, really, me and my wife live nearby, this was a second property we didn’t really need. It wasn’t like I checked it was for sale or anything either, you won it fair and square.” He promised. The relief was palpable in her eyes as her son squirmed again. She set him down, hand running through his curls briefly before he darted back into the house. She watched him go with a small smile.

“Well I’d be happy to give you the tour of the place, if you like? Show you what I’ve done with it Mr….”

“Cullen, Emmett Cullen.” He introduced himself with a nod, knowing his frigid skin would put her off if he dared shake her hand, and he didn’t want to put her off. Emmett’s brain was spinning a hundred miles an hour, and he was starting to form a plan. Rose might not get to live in the house, but she could spend time perhaps with the one thing she wanted more than anything. Her smile brightened.

“Y/N L/N. Maybe if you give us a little time to clean up first you could drop by later? Neighbours seem rare out here, it’ll be nice to know someone.” She admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Emmett tilted his head slightly, glancing up at the house.

“Yeah. Yeah I er, would you mind if I bought my wife to? She had plans for this place, think she’ll enjoy seeing how you designed it for yourselves.” He said. She didn’t hesitate to nod and he tried his best not to feel too pleased with himself.  

“Of course!” she agreed, and with a time organised between them Emmett sped off home to barrel his way into the garage. Rose was stuck beneath a car still, her BMW to be precise, though Emmett could never fathom what exactly she found to tune up on that thing – he was sure she spent more time under the car than under him. When she didn’t respond to his tapping on the hood, he pulled on her legs till she wheeled out, her expression sour and a smudge of grease across her cheek.

“Emmett.” She huffed. Emmett grinned down at her, completely unperturbed by her pouty glare.

“Rose. Come on, shower, dress up, do whatever it is you do, we got an appointment to keep.” He told her. Rose’s glare was enhanced by the way her nose wrinkled.

“An appointment? Emmett I swear if you’re trying to get me to go to marriage counselling again-“

“I’m trying to make you smile again.” He groaned exasperatedly. Her expression fell immediately, her golden irises softening from hardened topaz to gooey caramel. Emmett sighed, pulling her to her feet and reeling her in close. She was made for him, her body fit perfectly in his hands, against his. She was his shining light but she had been so dim since Bella had come to Forks.

“Emmett-“

“Rose, babe…I know you. I only have eyes for you. Who cares about some human? This family is immortal, we’ll survive it like we’ve survived everything else that comes our way. For one afternoon, just one, can I please, please have my wife back?” he pressed his forehead to hers, running a hand up and down her back. Rose remained tense for a while, but slowly her arms wound around his torso.

“What did you have in mind monkey man?” she tilted her chin, her lips a fraction of a centimetre from his own. Emmett’s smile returned.

“How’s about I take you to meet a really cute baby?”

By the end of the afternoon, seeing Rose smile at the young boy in her arms while he pretended to admire the newly fitted kitchen in Y/N’s house,  Emmett started to understand what made her dream so beautiful, and so painful to wake from.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #cullen family #emmett x rosalie #reader #Emmett is an absolute dumbo but he loves his wife #Rosalie is just stubborn #I bet he's really good at DIY secretly #this man knows plumbing like Mario

[panevanbuckley]

i've been craving christmas fluff all day so when i saw a prompt about matching sweaters i couldn't resist. this is only short and simple but i hope y'all like it 💜

“Did you really get us matching Christmas sweaters?” Sonny laughs, holding said Christmas sweater up against his chest and clearly fighting back a smile at the giant snowman design Rafael chose.

Rafael's heart sinks and he glances down at his lap, knelt by the little coffee table in their apartment as Sonny sits on the couch. He suddenly feels twice as small.

“Dios mío,” Rafael sighs, “you hate it don’t you?”

Sonny gasps.

His wide baby blues shoot down to meet Rafael's eyes when he looks back up and his expression softens upon noticing the worry on his face. “No! No, baby, of course not. I love it!” Rafael's heart skips a beat at the nickname, biting his lip to hold back his smile as relief floods through him.

Sonny glances down to the sweater again, blush spreading over his cheeks. Rafael loves the pink tint on his pale skin, wants to reach over and kiss it, watch it darken under his touch.

But he doesn’t because Sonny is looking truly embarrassed and not just awkward, much alike that time when he’d slipped up and called Rafael "honeypie" in front of his boss, or the time he’d stormed into their apartment stringing together curse after curse only to find Lucia sitting on their couch. That had been his first time meeting Rafael's mother.

They still laugh about it now.

“Sonny?” Rafael rests his hand atop his husbands over the glass table. “What is it?”

“I, uh,” he bends down to pull a gift bag from under the couch. Rafael wonders how he didn't notice it earlier; it's gold and glittery and definitely not classy like the plain purple one he'd used to hold their sweaters. “I kinda did the same thing. In a way...”

Sonny pulls something out of the bag, something wrapped in shiny silver tissue paper, passing it over towards Rafael.

Rafael frowns, carefully peeling back the layers of paper until he can get a good look of the present that has Sonny in such a fluster.

He immediately breaks into a laugh. He can’t help it.

“You got us matching ties?”

He slowly picks up one of the two ties - the deep red one with tiny snowflakes stitched into the soft fabric - and smiles. The other is a lovely dark green, matching snowflakes patterned over it. He assumes that one’s for Sonny and hands it back; green looks amazing on his husband.

“I just thought...” Sonny rubs the back of his neck, the flush of his cheeks putting Rafael’s new tie to shame. “It’s our first Christmas together - well, as a married couple - and I wanted to get you something nice.”

Rafael’s smile widens, if that were even possible, leaning over the coffee table between them until he’s well and truly in his husband’s space. Sonny’s warm breath ghosts over his face as Rafael says, “I love it, cariño.” Fingers hooking under Sonny’s chin, he tilts his face back up to meet his gaze, the pad of his thumb lightly caressing the dimple by the corner of his mouth. “And I love you.”

Sonny beams, grin splitting his face and eyes shining with that same excited fondness that Rafael remembers from their first date. It causes his heart to swell, all of a sudden feeling much too big in his chest, and he wastes no time in swooping down to draw his adorable dork of a husband into a slow, passionate kiss.

5 years later

Sonny is sat in the chair opposite Liv's when he strolls into her office, he's only been at Manhattan SVU for a few months now but, so far, it seems like a good fit. Rafael is secretly glad; he enjoys knowing his husband is working nearby, knowing that he'll be home in time for dinner most days, knowing that he's happy.

Liv is smirking up at him as he comes to a stop beside Sonny, eyebrow raised knowingly.

At first, Rafael has no idea what's got her so amused, but one glance down at his tie explains all.

“Nice tie,” Liv laughs, eyes darting between Rafael’s favourite Christmas tie and the green one wrapped around Sonny’s neck. “Ugh, you two are so nauseating.”

Rafael sticks his tongue out childishly at her and Sonny chuckles, reaching up and wrapping long fingers around Rafael’s red tie, yanking hard until he’s level with Sonny. Rafael crosses his eyes playfully at his husband, who merely leans back in the chair before pulling once more on the tie in his grasp and leading Rafael into a sweet kiss.

“I love this tie on you,” Sonny whispers against his mouth. Rafael laughs, rubbing their noses together.

“You should wear the sweater tomorrow.”

Liv groans. “You guys have matching sweaters?” Rafael glances over his shoulder at her and sees the smile on her face, matching it with his own. Sonny brushes a kiss over his jaw, causing Liv to sigh with exasperation. “Who am I kidding, of course you do.”

also on ao3

#law and order svu #barisi #dominick carisi #rafael barba #olivia benson #fluff fluff and more fluff #christmas prompts

[insfiringyou]

BTS - A Reunion (all members)

Contains: Major fluff. Soft smut. Minor angst. A confession of love. A pregnancy reveal!

Set a few weeks after Jeong-sun and Yoongi make love for the first time following their reunion, he introduces her to the other members and their girlfriends as they gather for a very special dinner, to welcome J-Hope back from the military. 

(In this fic, Jin, Suga and J-Hope have finished their enlistment, RM and V are taking a short vacation from their service and Jimin is on injury leave. Jungkook has not yet received his notification of service.)

Contains no spoilers as all member’s story-lines have FINALLY caught up with themselves, yay!

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & our full masterlist can be found here

You can also see our original art depicting the moment Jeong-sun and Yoongi enter the restaurant here

Some rated content below the cut

PART ONE 

The evening air felt cool when Ji-eun opened the back door of the taxi which parked around the back of the restaurant. She reached for her thin dress, tucking it against her long legs to protect her modesty as she unclasped her seat belt. “We’re a little early.” She turned to Namjoon. “Do you think the table will be ready?”

Adjusting the collar of his white shirt, he peered at the entrance, unable to see whether there were any guests through the window. “I’m sure they can sit us somewhere quiet if it isn’t.” He shrugged. “Come on.” He called softly, thanking the driver before getting out of the car. He reached for his girlfriend’s hand when he reached the other side of the black vehicle, allowing her to smooth out the creases of her burgundy dress as she joined him. His eyes roamed gently over her svelte outline, approving the dipped cut of the fabric above her breasts and the open slit in the skirt which revealed a flash of thigh.

“You look so beautiful…” He grinned, pressing his lips gently to her black hair as they approached the back entrance. 

“I was saving the dress for a special occasion. It’s from Switzerland.” She replied, caressing his thumb gently as he reached with the other for the doorbell. Namjoon remembered her mentioning the visit in question in her letters, the holiday had been with her parents who were trying to secure a European partnership with her father’s firm. He smiled, pictured her discovering it in some small boutique outside of Geneva, trying it on in front of a long mirror. He wondered whether she had bought it with him in mind; anticipating his reaction. His thoughts were broken when the door was answered; a young waiter ushering them silently into the corridor and then into the adjoining room. They were happy to find it empty and suitably private; the view out of the large window was of the patio; a string of white fairy-lights draped around the edge of the sill. A long table had been set out and they thanked the waiter as they seated themselves at the back, in front of the painted feature wall. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes if you wish to order drinks.” The waiter promised and they thanked him again as he backed out of the room.

“I didn’t think we’d be the first ones here.” Ji-eun murmured, tucking her dress once more against her figure as she adjusted her chair. 

“I’m glad we are…” He whispered, fingers trailing gently over her leg, seeking the break in the fabric. “I get you to myself for a little while longer.” She felt his fingers touch her skin, creating goose pimples, and a delightful sensation along her spine. 

“I realise how much I took it for granted, before…” She whispered, brushing a strand of dark hair away from his face. 

“Me too...I won’t anymore.”

They looked at each other for a moment, holding each other’s gaze intensely, but the sound of the door opening broke the silence and she reached for the drinks menu automatically, flipping it open to the list of wines.

“Are you ready to order drinks?” The young man asked politely.

Ji-eun opened her mouth to speak, but Namjoon cut in. “Two waters please.”

The waiter nodded, not noticing the woman’s hesitation as he left the room, and Ji-eun tucked away the menu silently, her hands returning to her knees and brushing the fabric down. 

“I forgot to tell you.” She said after a moment, suddenly remembering. “I have a conference coming up in America... sharing practice with the detectives in D.C.”

“When are you leaving?” 

“At the end of the month.” She smiled, turning to face him. “It sounds pretty exciting.”

Eyebrow raised, he returned her smile a little flirtily. “Will your boss be there?”

“Of course..” She said slowly, knowing what was coming, but willing to play along. She hadn’t seen him in months and missed hearing him confirm his feelings, hearing him say how much he wanted her. “He arranged the conference. Why do you ask?”

“You know he likes you.” The hand returned to her thigh, fingernails lightly dimpling her skin. 

“Are you jealous?” She smirked. 

He shrugged. “A little.”

She made a point of rolling her eyes as she held his knee steady. “Well...there’s no need to be.”

“I just know what men are like...especially when they look at you.” His eyes connected with hers, making her heart thud in her chest.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you’re sexy…” Reaching over, he kissed the sensitive skin behind her ear sensually and she felt the warmth of his mouth as his lips opened against her. The sound of the door opening once more interrupted them and he pulled away sharply, letting out a small cough as the waiter returned, holding a jug of water and a stack of glasses. Behind him, Jin and Min-seo were trailing behind, looking a little overdressed for the warm weather in matching black coats. 

The older man was unable to help his wide smile as he entered the room. “Are we interrupting something?”

The couple stood up from the table to greet them as the waiter placed the glassware on the table. 

“No, we were just waiting for everyone.” Namjoon murmured automatically, his face a little blushed. He was happy to see his friends after so long. “I thought Yoongi might already be here.”

Jin unbuttoned his coat, slipping into the stand in the corner of the room before holding Namjoon in a tight embrace. “He’s running a bit late.” He explained, pulling away. “How have you been?”

On the other side of the table, Min-seo slipped out of the felted fabric and fanned out her floaty, knee-length dress. Pink and orange embroidered daisies danced along the pale fabric. 

“It’s so good to see you…” Ji-eun wrapped her arms around the younger woman’s shoulders, having to bend down to reach her small frame. With the increasing demands at work, Ji-eun had not seen her since their shared holiday to Cyprus, but the momentary brushing of their bodies told her one thing the first glance did not. Ji-eun peered at her, knowingly. “Is there anything you want to share?” She murmured, keeping her voice low so the others would not hear. 

The younger woman’s eyes darted to her husband, across the room, and opened her mouth to speak, but the doorway was once again pried open to a loud greeting as Jimin and Ara pushed into the room, their matching smiles as radiant as their blow-dried hairstyles and colourful clothes. 

Min-seo blushed and shook her head gently. “Not right now...” She whispered, not unkindly. 

***

Around the corner from the restaurant, Hoseok’s long strides became more pronounced as he let go of Nana’s hand to turn around. 

“Can you see them?” He asked, walking backwards as he tugged at the neckline of his yellow shirt. 

With a grin, the older woman grasped the back of the thin fabric gently, forcing him to stop moving to allow her to look. It was easy to see; their heights were almost equal. “No, they’re covered.” She reassured, slipping his fingers back through hers. His smile doubled, though he continued to walk quickly, excited to see his friends. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She laughed. “You can’t see a thing.”

“Phew.” He wiped his brow dramatically with his spare hand. “I thought I was going to have to go back and change.”

Tugging gently on his hand, Nana slowed him once more. He turned to face her, his hand automatically moving to her slender waist. 

“I didn’t mean to get so carried away.” She muttered a little regretfully, her mind's eye remembering the nail marks on his back as he dressed. “I’m just so glad you’re home.” Her voice was earnest and he cupped her cheek gently. 

“Me too. I missed you like crazy.”

There was a pause before his lips met hers, kissing her slowly. He felt her hands running up the back of his dress shirt as her mouth opened passionately against his, forgetting they were standing on the middle of the sidewalk. They broke apart at the sounds of footsteps as a group of students walked past them in the opposite direction, giving them a wide berth. Hoseok’s cheeks were pink when he pulled away, letting out another exhale of air. They resumed walking, a little slower this time. 

“It’s kinda sexy.” Nana eventually muttered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

“The marks?”

She blushed. “Yeah. Did you look?”

Hoseok grinned. “You know I did.” There was a moment of silence. “I’ll never leave for that long again, I promise.”  

“I hope not.” She added, lips turning up in a gentle smile as she entwined her long fingers around his.

***

Yoongi looked up as the pattering sound of the shower stopped, his hand hovering on the handle of a brightly decorated mug. He glanced at the used teabag left in the bottom with a knowing grimace and made a point of scooping it out, disposing of it in the garbage can under the sink. He placed the mug in the sink before returning to the adjoined living room and the object which had caught his attention. It wasn’t until Jeong-sun spoke from the doorway that he realised she was there, wet and fragrant with a fluffy towel clutched around her midriff. 

“You don’t have to clean up after me.” She spoke gently, leaning against the frame. There was a pause. “You could have waited in the bedroom, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t answer at first, instead looking at the mug-ring which stained the top of the glass turnstile, feeling her eyes move over his body, taking in his neatly pressed trousers and white shirt. 

“Have you always had this?” He asked with a playful frown. In addition to the mug, a pile of unopened letters littered the other half of the deck, which he placed on the sofa. 

She watched him attentively, noticing how careful his movements were, as though her bills were fragile. “My dad gave it to me last Christmas when he was clearing out his apartment.” She explained with a smile. “He’s finally discovered digital music. My mom sent him an Ipod.”

“You’re joking.” He grinned.

“I wish I was…” She rolled her eyes, but there was fondness in her voice, instantly telling him how much her dad meant to her. 

His gaze was distracted by the small pile of albums on the shelf next to the record player, the blurred, psychedelic cover on top grabbing his attention. “Why’s it called ‘Pornography’?” He asked curiously, correctly pronouncing the English title. 

She shrugged indifferently, turning to walk down the small corridor into her bedroom. “I think Robert Smith was doing a lot of LSD in the 80s.”

He smirked, following her out of the room. “That explains the hair.” He quipped, remembering the singer in question from a music video Jeong-sun had once played in the background on her laptop; the band’s atmospheric, echoey guitars not to his taste, but enjoying the way his girlfriend sang along under her breath. A year later, shortly before his enlistment, he recognised the instruments playing on the radio in a clothing store, the lyrics muffled in the open space but making his heart thud nonetheless, first with queasy elation, then dropping when his mind caught up and he remembered what he had lost. ‘Love Song’. He remembered the title, and thought it painfully ironic.

He sat on the edge of her bed as she circled the room, teasing the damp ends of her black hair with her fingertips. Reaching forward, he passed her the hairbrush from the bedcovers and watched as she smoothed out her locks. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get home…” She explained, her bare feet leaving damp imprints on the carpet as she paced a little restlessly. “Hae-won’s dishwasher has been playing up...she’s been stockpiling dirty plates all week.”

“Did you check the waste pipe?” He asked automatically, making her smile shrewdly. 

“Yes...I’m not completely useless.” She sighed. It seemed obvious her day had been long and she was feeling fed up. 

“Come here…” He whispered softly, beckoning her. 

“You look really good.” She mumbled, looking down at him, her hands holding the towel closed as she grumbled tiredly. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear…” 

He touched her covered waist gently. “Are you nervous?”

“No…” She said. He stroked her side silently, seeing through her reply, waiting for her to continue when she realised how unconvincing it was. “I mean, I’ve met them all before…” She thought for a moment. “It’s just different…”

“I know.” He mumbled, holding her body quietly, not needing to break the silence. Her fingers found themselves in his hair, brushing the soft strands lovingly, stroking the side of his face with her knuckles. Slowly, he moved her other hand aside, unfolding the towel at the centre to uncover the sides of her breasts and the smooth, pale line of skin down to her pubis. She let out a small whimper as his lips touched her sternum, kissing tenderly down her stomach until he reached the triangle of hair between her thighs. 

“You’ll look beautiful whatever you wear.” He mumbled against her, pecking her labia with soft, closed lips. 

“You don’t want to be late to your own event.” She warned lightly, but allowed him to keep his lips on her a moment longer, finding them comfortingly lulling as he moved back up to the soft curve of her stomach and kissed her belly button before finally pulling away. 

She couldn’t help smiling when she walked to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, sliding open the doors, her cheeks warm and blushing. She pushed past the sets of her pale, pinstriped uniform to get to her dresses and while she realised with an internal sigh that none of her clothes seemed particularly formal, one number stood out above the rest. She pulled the dark blue fabric from its hanger and turned to Yoongi. “What about this?” She asked. 

***

The room had grown considerably louder since Hoseok’s arrival ten minutes before and Jungkook, sitting on the end of the row, had to raise his voice to be heard. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to move over here? There’s more room…” He offered, noticing Taehyung looking cramped on the busier far side, next to Jimin. The older member, who had been gazing into his cup of coffee for the past few minutes in silence, looked up slowly, as though only just realising where he was. They had agreed to wait for everyone to arrive before ordering food but the waiter, sensing a few of the guests had started to grow hungry, had placed baskets of warmed baguettes on the table.

“It’s fine…” He murmured, returning to the cup and taking a sip he did not seem to particularly enjoy. 

Ara leaned over the table to pour a glass of water from the jug. “How is your father doing?” She directed the question at Young-soon who was busily straightening the edge of her collared dress. “I was sorry to hear he was ill…” She uttered sympathetically. 

The older woman felt her hand being squeezed gently under the table, her boyfriend dutifully by her side. 

“Much better thank you.” She smiled, squeezing back. “They were lucky enough to hospitalise him early. He’s been out now for a month...” She turned to her boyfriend and felt her stomach flutter when she realised how affectionately he was looking at her as she spoke. “Jungkook’s been going for walks with him on the beach. We’re lucky to live so close.”

The younger man smiled, stroking her knuckle tenderly before placing a kiss on her hand. 

Taehyung shifted on his seat as Ara finished her drink, the heat of the room making her a little clammy. 

“I’d love to move to Incheon once things have settled down.” She smiled, turning to Jimin. “Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to walk on the sand every day?”

Her boyfriend grinned charmingly. “Like when we first met…” He reminisced. “But do you already want to settle down?” His grin turned into a playful smirk. “You only debuted a year ago…”

Ara blushed, shaking her head. 

“That reminds me…” Young-soon muttered, lowering her voice. “Jungkook’s been playing your new mini album non-stop.” She smiled at Ara. “It would usually drive me crazy, but it’s really catchy.”

“It’s not been non-stop…” Jungkook protested, mouth full of baguette. 

The younger woman beamed with a small laugh. “It’s doing really well, I was just as surprised as everyone.” She turned to Min-seo who was deep in conversation with Nana, across from her. “Are you thirsty?” She asked. 

Min-seo smiled, shaking her head. “I’m okay with water, thanks.”

Young-soon leaned forwards, noticing that Taehyung had so far been excluded from the conversation. “Are you waiting for Cassandra?” She asked, taking a sip from her glass. Jimin caught her eye from across the table and shook his head, trying his best to be subtle. 

“Oh.” Young-soon uttered without meaning to, inadvertently drawing more attention to herself.

The younger man did not show any sign of having noticed, however. Finishing his coffee, he shook his head. “She couldn’t make it.” He mumbled.

Ara watched this exchange with a timid frown. “I’m going to the bar to order some cocktails.” She said. “Does anyone want anything?”

Young-soon, still recovering from her apparent slip-up, shook her head. “I’m okay, thank you.” She blinked, looking at Taehyung with apprehension. He did not notice, his gaze instead following Ara, the sound of her voice seeming to wake him from his moody haze.

“I wouldn’t mind something sweet.” Jimin smiled as the young woman rose from the table, eyes full of coquetry. 

“Jungkook?” Ara raised her eyebrows. 

“Maybe later…”

“Did someone say cocktails?” Ji-eun chriped in, a little loudly, from the other end of the table. Ara turned to her with a nod. “Could you get me a Pina Colada?” The older woman asked. “They can put it on our tab.”

“Okay.” 

“I’ll help you carry them.” Taehyung suddenly spoke, getting to his feet. 

“Thanks.” Ara smiled gratefully as they edged their way to the end of the table. 

Young-soon waited for them to leave the room before she caught Jimin’s eye. “What did I say?” She asked hurriedly, voice full of concern. 

Jimin shook his head solemnly. “They broke up...just before he went in.” He explained, keeping his voice low.

Young-soon grimaced, her mouth twisting. “Oh shit…”

She could see Jungkook’s expression from the corner of her eye, looking just as shocked as she was. 

Jimin shrugged. “You couldn’t have known. He’s been keeping it on the low down.”

“Do you know why?” Jungkook asked. 

“He won’t say…” 

Across the table, Ji-eun turned to Namjoon, sipping from her glass unenthusiastically. “Can we order food yet? I’m starving!”

“We’re just waiting for Yoongi.” Hoseok, seated opposite her, answered with a smile. “I can’t wait to try out the meatballs.”

“If you spill it, you’ll ruin your shirt.” Nana called lightly from his left, brushing the pale material with a smile. 

“Oh, you’re right.” He sighed. “But still...it’s my first proper meal as a free man, I may as well enjoy it, right?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Namjoon grinned. “They feed you well in service.” He argued lightly. 

“We never had Italian food in my camp!” The older man laughed cheerfully. 

The leader shook his head softly as Ara re-entered the room, followed by Taehyung. 

“I’m sorry Tae, I just don’t know…” She murmured, keeping her voice quiet as she walked steadily, holding the drinks. 

“You would tell me if you did?” He replied, voice equally hushed. 

“Of course…” She noticed Jimin watching from across the table and gave a reassuring smile. Turning to the younger man, she sighed. “I haven’t spoken to her since I went on tour...maybe Ji-eun might know?”

Dissatisfied, but accepting her answer, he gave a low grunt of understanding as they joined the others.

PART TWO

The black car pulled into the darkened garage, its tinted windows making the underground space more dim as Yoongi parked it against the far wall. 

“How late are we?” Jeong-sun asked, watching as he unfastened his seatbelt. 

He checked his Rolex, squinting to see its dial in the dark. “Not very.” 

“I hope they haven’t ordered without us...they always bring out everyone’s order at the same time at these places. I don’t want to hold the food up..”

“Don’t worry.” He murmured. 

She sighed. “Am I blabbering?”

A timid grin crept onto his face. “A little bit.”

She felt his hand against hers as she unclasped herself, tucking the edge of her denim jacket against her dress. “I’m sorry…” 

He met her gaze, slipping his fingers through hers, holding her steady. “It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” Smiling gently, she squeezed his hand. “I know.”

They were silent for a moment until she leaned forward, her stomach meeting the hard outline of the clutch as she wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders, pressing her lips to his. He shifted position to hold her closer, running his hand under the soft canopy of her hair to brush the back of her neck as their mouths opened together. He wanted to reassure her; to let her know that while he too was nervous, they would get through it. Ignoring the incessent ticking of his Swiss watch, they took comfort in each other, appreciating the other’s familiar touch, scent and taste as they kissed passionately, his fingertips skimming her collarbone before moving down, fingering the edge of her navy dress where it met her chest. He had been unable to hide how breathless it had made him feel when she slipped the garment on earlier in the evening; the material cupping her breasts and complimenting her shape flatteringly, just as it had done two months before, when she briefly wore it for him in her flooded apartment. 

Slowly, he hooked his fingers beneath the trim, feeling along the lace edge of her bra and slipping it from her breast just enough to free a nipple which he took into his mouth, kissing and sucking it delicately. She let out a soft coo, her mouth opening against the top of his head as he repeated the motion with the other, brushing both thumbs along the hardened nubs as he pressed her breasts together, massaging them in his large palms and placing a final, closed-mouth kiss on each before sliding the fabric back, covering her once more. He pulled away a little breathlessly, his lips moist, and kissed her.

Her cheeks were red, but she seemed more grounded; his sensual mouth had increased her heart rate but, surprisingly, calmed her nerves. 

“I hope they don’t have CCTV.” She smirked, reaching for the handle. 

He smiled reassuringly, sliding from his seat and opening the car door. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame.”

Her stomach felt jittery on the short walk to the restaurant but his hand never left hers. The back entrance was deserted and they could hear the loud roar of laughter through the single-paned window on their approach. Yoongi’s hand hovered against the UPVC.

“You’re okay?” He asked, turning to her. 

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” He whispered, twisting the lever. The voices were louder inside and there was an unmistakable cheerful ring in the air as they walked down the short corridor, past the toilets, and turned into the room. The noise continued for a few moments, the table at the far end packed with people as they joked and drank and laughed. But their presence caught the leader’s eye and the guests soon turned to follow his gaze, a lull falling over the room. 

Jeong-sun felt her fingers loosen, her palms suddenly warm and clammy as she looked over the faces, most of them familiar but feeling surreal; it had been a long time since she had seen them in person. She found her eyes connecting with Jimin, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before looking away. Her hand lost its grasp and began to slip away, though Yoongi quickly found it again and held it tight. 

Bravely, she took a step forward, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shy smile. “Hi…”

Leaping to his feet, Hoseok pushed back his chair and crossed the room to swoop her in an embrace. “Jeong-sun!” He exclaimed, side-stepping Yoongi who gave way to allow his friend to wrap his arms around her shoulders before she could protest. She was still for a moment, unable to stop herself from smiling before she held him back, meeting his tight squeeze with a lighter touch. “It’s so good to see you!” He grinned, pulling away. 

Her hair felt a little dishevelled from the sudden force and she brushed the ends out, slipping off her light denim jacket as the younger man turned to Yoongi and pulled him in an equally tight hug. 

There was some commotion as Hoseok turned back to the group and everyone made way for the extra guest, with Hoseok looking around frantically. “I’ll go and grab you a chair! Don’t go anywhere!” He dashed off through the door and Jeong-sun turned to her boyfriend, a small smile playing on her lips. Tucking his arm around her waist, he pulled her into him, moving his mouth close to her ear.

“I love you.” He murmured. 

It took her a moment to realise what he had said, by which time Hoseok had returned from the corridor with a chair, slightly mismatched from the others in the room, and Yoongi had turned to take off his coat. 

“Let me introduce you to everybody...is the chair okay here?” Hoseok called, pushing the furniture against the table. Jeong-sun blinked, her heart thudding pleasantly in her chest. 

Her surroundings seemed suddenly out of focus, the jumble of voices and the scraping of chairs an unimportant chaos around her. She felt the jacket being taken from her hand as Hoseok returned, putting it with the others on the stand in the corner of the room. Following him wordlessly to the table, the calming presence of his admission swelled inside her and Yoongi gave them space, allowing the younger man to eagerly make the introductions.

 “Okay...this is Young-soon...she’s Jungkook’s girlfriend…” He pointed to the woman on the end, her long dark hair curled prettily against her shoulders. 

“Hi.” Jeong-sun smiled, leaning over to shake her hand when it was offered. 

“Nice to meet you.” The older woman called. 

“And this is Jungkook...he’s the youngest…”

Dutifully, she allowed herself to be introduced to the group, one by one, as though for the first time. When Hoseok reached Min-seo, she noticed the younger woman looking at her softly and felt herself relax. 

“Hi…” Min-seo mouthed, a smile playing on her lips. 

“And finally, this is my girlfriend Nana…”

“It’s good to meet you.” Hoseok’s girlfriend stood up, her frame towering over Jeong-sun as she hugged her deftly, her spindly arms light against her back. Her fragrance was summery, like freshly peeled oranges, and Jeong-sun found herself liking her immediately; she could understand why Hoseok had been attracted to her, and thought they suited each other immensely. 

“And you...” She replied, pulling away slowly as Hoseok pulled back the chair to allow her to sit at the table. He hovered for a moment, fussing over Yoongi as the two men spoke quietly. Jeong-sun leaned forward. “I hear you are a teacher.”

Nana seemed surprised, taking an automatic glance towards Yoongi who was lost in conversation, realising he must have told her about her. “Yeah.” She smiled. “Until recently it was lower juniors, but I was promoted to the top set.”

Jeong-sun smiled. “That seems like more of a challenge.” She muttered understandingly.

“It is…” The other woman rolled her eyes. “At least they are all toilet trained at that age...no accidents.”

Hoseok, catching the end of the conversation, cut in, turning towards the pair with a joyful grin. “Nana was nominated for a regional award last month...best teacher!” His loud voice reached the edges of the table and Nana blushed. 

“They don’t want to hear about that…”

Jin and Min-seo laughed good-naturedly at her reply. 

“Yes they do!” Hoseok argued lightly, his pride in her achievement clear. He addressed the immediate circle. “They announce the winners next month, and if she wins she will get a trophy shaped like an apple and a gift certificate, and a framed photo…”

“It sounds like you love your job.” Jeong-sun smiled. 

Nana nodded. “The kids are great. It’s the parents you need to watch out for.”

“I get that.” She said with a grin. 

“And what is it you do, Jeong-sun?” Jin asked with curiosity from across the table, tucking into one of the slices of bread from the basket on the tablecloth. 

“Can we order yet?” Ji-eun murmured to Namjoon across the table, briefly catching the woman’s attention. 

“I’m sorry if we kept you waiting.” Yoongi’s low voice came from beside her, directed at the older woman, as he slipped gracefully into his chair and took Jeong-sun’s hand. 

Ji-eun blushed, realising she had been overheard. “No, it’s fine.” She murmured. Jeong-sun vaguely wondered whether the older woman recognised her from the time she had driven her home, or if she had been too drunk to take notice. Turning back to Jin, she answered his question.

Further down the table, Jungkook’s hand found Young-soon’s under the table as he turned to her. “Will you miss me when it’s my turn to go?” He asked with a playful grin. 

Jimin, across the way perked up. “Are you dreading it JK?”

Young-soon’s mouth twisted. “Are you kidding? He can’t wait to go in.”

Taehyung looked up slowly. “Is that true?” He asked. 

Jungkook shifted a little uncomfortably. “I don’t want to leave you…” He protested quietly, looking at his girlfriend. She held his gaze lovingly for a moment, before turning to the men across the way. 

“He’s just looking forward to being like the rest of you. He looks up to you.”

Jungkook blushed and Jimin laughed. 

“Just make sure you don’t injure yourself. I haven’t been able to stand properly for weeks…”

Ara smiled sympathetically from beside him, stroking his cheek gently. She had helped wrap the compression bandage around her boyfriend’s sore ankle earlier that day, per his physician’s advice. “My poor baby.”

“Will your service be extended?” Young-soon asked. “On account of the time you’ve had off?”

Jimin shrugged. “We’ve put in an appeal...we won’t find out for a while.”

“By the time you finish, I’ll be on tour again.” Ara murmured, only half-joking as she sighed dramatically. 

A few chairs down, Yoongi turned to Jeong-sun. “Do you want something to drink?” He asked. 

“Um.”

Ji-eun, ears prickeling, spoke up. “You should try the cocktails! They’re two for one.” 

The younger woman observed the yellow coloured drink in the tall glass Ji-eun was drinking from a straw, a wedge of pineapple impaled on the edge. “What are you having? It looks nice.” She asked. 

“A Pina Colada.” Ji-eun finished it off quickly. “I’ll go halves with you, if you want?”

Namjoon shifted beside her, but neither woman seemed to notice. 

Jeong-sun turned to Yoongi. “Do you need help carrying them?”

He shook his head. “I’ll stick to water, I’m driving…”

Min-seo watched this exchange from her place beside the leader’s girlfriend, noticing how at ease Jeong-sun and Yoongi seemed to be having their own, separate conversations while staying connected at the hand, as though their bodies sought the other subconsciously to keep themselves grounded. She didn’t envy them, but it occurred to her how independent they seemed compared to her and Jin, how they didn’t seek the other’s validation before engaging with others. 

Stirring her from her thoughts, her husband leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “When do you want to tell them?” 

She turned to him, her heart leaping at the pride in his soft, brown eyes, before turning back to the couple opposite, watching as Yoongi got to his feet while Jeong-sun was once more drawn into conversation with Hoseok who seemed overly hyperactive. She felt for Jin’s hand, clutching it under the table and moving it to her stomach. “Not now…” She murmured quietly. “Let them have this…” 

***

Jeong-sun had let Ji-eun talk her into buying another cocktail and sipped her White Russian appreciatively, feeling herself slowly mellow as the older woman opted for the stronger choice of a Negroni, but turned down a third. Ji-eun, disappointed, turned to Nana. 

“They taste like oranges…but bitter...” She argued lightly. “You’ll like it!”

Jeong-sun, happy for the brief lull in conversation, turned to Yoongi who was deep in conversation with Jungkook and Jimin. “I need the bathroom.” She murmured. 

“Okay.” 

Min-seo got to her feet. “I’ll join you.” She said, tucking her purse over the back of her chair. “I shouldn’t have drank so much water before the main course.” Smiling shyly, she followed the older woman out of the room, edging carefully around the chairs as the others finished their meals. The bathroom was small and their voices echoed as they opened the door. 

“You look really nice.” Min-seo commented, eyeing Jeong-sun’s tea dress with a smile.

“Thanks.” They entered separate cubicles. “So do you…” She said softly, locking the door behind her.

The alcohol seemed to catch up with her and she peed for what felt like forever, though felt less self-conscious when she heard Min-seo doing the same. “You weren’t joking about the water.” She quipped, flushing the chain. 

“I know, I’ve been so uncomfortable all evening.” The other woman called as they walked to the sinks, a silence falling over them as they washed their hands. 

Jeong-sun was characteristically meticulous as she cleaned under her short nails, paying close attention to her thumbs and between her fingers, and the young woman smiled beside her. 

“You can tell you work in health and social care.” She smiled, turning off the tap and reaching for a paper towel.

Jeong-sun looked at the suds, suddenly realising how worn and red her hands looked under the running water. She grimaced. “I guess you’re right…”

“It must feel good though…” Min-seo continued. “Knowing how important what you do is.”

“People need sociologists too…” She grinned, making them both laugh. Jeong-sun dried her hands thoroughly, reminding herself to buy some hand cream when she next went shopping. 

Calming down, Min-seo fell quiet, thinking of how to say what she was thinking. Eventually, she spoke up. “I was glad to see you tonight…” She said honestly, taking a breath of air. “I’m glad you found each other again. Yoongi’s always been so kind to me...he deserves to be happy.” 

Her words had a profound effect on Jeong-sun and, for a moment, she was stunned into silence, not knowing what to say. Eventually she nodded, strangely humbled by the sentiment. “I hope I can give him that.” She finished.

“You do.” Min-seo whispered. “I can tell.”

Once again, she felt her heart skip, remembering what Yoongi had told her when they arrived at the restaurant. Her cheeks felt hot and she wondered if the other woman could tell she was blushing. Changing the subject, her eyes met Min-seo’s across the tiled space. “When are you due?” She asked calmly.

It was the younger woman’s turn to blush as she played with the back of her ponytail lightly, a little fretfully. “Twelve weeks…” She murmured, her hands automatically moving to the soft swell beneath her loosely fitting dress, the motion smoothing the fabric against her curves, revealing the unmistakable, but perfectly round bump. 

“You don’t look that far gone. It took me a while to notice.” Jeong-sun admitted. 

“I know.” Min-seo murmured, looking down, her face soft. “The doctor said it was normal during the first pregnancy. I didn’t take the test until I was two months gone…”

Another silence fell over them, inadvertently revealing another tid-bit. “Do the others know?” She asked, suspecting the answer. 

Min-seo shook her head. “We were going to tell them tonight.”

“Why haven’t you?”

The younger woman looked up. “Everyone seemed so excited to meet you…” She drifted off and Jeong-sun frowned. 

“Don’t let me steal your thunder.” She joked lightly. 

Min-seo grinned, shaking her head and the older woman continued. “I think you should tell them. They’ll want to know.” She finished softly, placing a light hand on her shoulder. 

“Maybe you’re right…” Min-seo, needing a moment alone, stayed in the bathroom while Jeong-sun rejoined the rowdier section of the restaurant. She noticed the back entrance was open, a cool stream of air filtering into the corridor and the pair of voices on the other side caught her attention.

“Please Ji-eun, I’m begging you…” 

She thought she recognised the voice, deeper than the others, as belonging to Taehyung. There was a pause, before a female spoke, her voice a little slurred, making mistakes. “She promised me not to tell…”

“You promised her?” He affirmed.

“Yes…”

Not wishing to eavesdrop on what was clearly a private conversation, she made her way into the dining room and shimmied past Hoseok’s chair to sit down. 

“Hey.” Yoongi murmured, turning to her. 

“Hey yourself…” She smiled, slipping her fingers through his.

PART THREE

A quiet atmosphere fell over the room with Hoseok and Nana’s departure, the guests growing tired as the remainder of the desserts were taken away by the waiter. Jeong-sun watched as the young man who had been serving them throughout the evening balanced a pile of cocktail glasses precariously on his tray, tiptoeing out of the room as to avoid an accident. She also noticed Ji-eun finishing off a blood-red Negroni, yawning on the opposite side of the table. Taehyung had left an hour before, shortly after the overheard conversation on the porch, but his absence had gone virtually unnoticed; his presence that evening on the opposite end of the table feeling strangely sour to the guests who neighboured him.

“Are you ready to leave?” Yoongi asked. 

She nodded. “I’ll go get my jacket…” 

Min-seo and Jin were slipping on their black trench coats in the corner, buttoning up to get ready to leave. The younger woman pulled Jeong-sun into a departing hug, holding her fondly for a moment before pulling away.

“Congratulations.” Jeong-sun smiled, addressing them both.

Min-seo beamed. “I’ll see you soon.”

They followed the other couple into the night shortly after, clutching their jackets to themselves in the short descent back to his parked car. The evening had grown cool and he wrapped his arm around her waist instinctively. 

“That wasn’t so bad…” She laughed, suddenly noticing how relieved she felt. 

He smiled softly. “I told you it wouldn’t be.”

“Min-seo asked if we would visit them soon, I said we would…I hope that’s okay...”

“Of course we can.”

They walked side by side in silence, in no rush to get back to the car, enjoying the scent of jasmine which drifted from the gardens of the neighbouring restaurants and cafes as they closed for the night. 

“I love you.” She eventually said, her voice calm.

He paused, shifting against her. “You do?” His voice was low and soft, gentle beyond words and she felt her heart stutter. Unable to stop her legs from trembling, she stopped and turned to him, brushing his covered arm with her cold hand. 

“I don’t think I ever stopped.” She whispered, her eyes roaming over his face as he took her in, their breaths turning to steam in the chilly air. “And I don’t want to stop.”

He was silent as her admission took hold, their bodies pressed closely in the middle of the quiet, darkened, street as they held each other. His long fingers were icy against her cheek but she welcomed his touch as he opened his mouth passionately against hers, his tongue warm as it met hers, pulling her into him with a silent promise that he would never let go. 

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook

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[melaninmarvelgirl62]

Overworked Part 2

Erik Killmonger x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Lightly Proofread. Please excuse any errors.

A/N: I’m sorry for how long this took to get out you guys. This is my first time writing Dadmonger and I’m a little nervous. I hope y’all enjoy it. As always please like, comment, and reblog.

9:48 a.m.

‘I should be up by now.’ Erik thought to himself. He sighed lowly and continued staring at the ceiling like he had been doing for the past hour. He should be sitting in his office prepping for the meeting he had at 10, but he isn't. He’s at home, in bed, lying comfortably next to his favorite person in the world. Now, in his defense, he really did try to go to work this morning. He had woken up late, a little after 8, which never happens. He's usually up well before 6, but this morning the sensors in his brain seemed to malfunction this morning. When he finally woke up he managed to, begrudgingly, pull himself out of bed to complete his morning routine. He emptied his bladder, brushed his teeth, and showered all in less than 20 minutes. He got dressed and made his way to his car, where he sat for about 15 minutes before going back into the house, trading his clothes for a pair of basketball shorts and crawling back into bed. So, yeah. He really did try but for some reason he just couldn’t do it. 

Well, maybe not just some reason. 

He looked down to where your body curled into his. Your leg was thrown over his waist and your head was lodged between his side and his armpit. The positioning looked awkward and uncomfortable but the peaceful look on your face, paired with your soft snores told him otherwise. A small smile graced his face as he reached over and tugged gently at the silk scarf that had begun to slip backwards. Taking hold of your thigh he hoisted it slightly higher causing you to curl into him further.

“It’s you. You’re the reason.”,he whispered to your unconscious form, chuckling quietly when a crease formed in your brow, and you burrowed your face further into his side. He thought back to the conversation you two had the night before, remembering the defeated look on your face. He felt like an asshole, honestly. Mostly because he didn’t even realize that he’d been neglecting you and the kids the way he has. None of the work he does is great enough to potentially put the foundation of his family at risk. You and the kids were his world, without y’all none of the other stuff really mattered.

The vibrations of his phone atop his bedside table drew his attention away from you. He looked over to see his assistant’s name flash across his screen and groaned. Reluctantly, Erik untangled your limbs from his. Being careful as to not wake you, he rolled himself into sitting position on the edge of the bed, instantly missing the warmth of your body. He picked up his phone and headed into his closet. Tapping the green icon, he put it on speaker and sat it down in front of him.

“I’m not coming in today, Alicia.”,he stated plainly, dragging a hand over his face.

“Yeah, i figured. I already cancelled your 10 o’clock appointment I was calling to confirm rescheduling dates for it as well as your 3:00.”, she answered, without missing a beat.

A sigh of relief escaped Erik and he smiled to himself, grateful to have hired a competent assistant. The two of them talked for a bit, discussing how taking the weekend off would disturb the week ahead, and  rearranging his schedule to fit in the meetings he would miss. Afterward Erik thanked her, and bid her a good  weekend. Hanging up, he went back into the bedroom in hopes of wrapping you in his arms. His hopes were shattered when he arrived to an empty bed. Beyond the bathroom door the steady pitter-patter of water against the shower floor could be heard. He kissed his teeth. ‘There goes the rest of my blissful morning’. He fell back onto the bed, pout in full effect, before innocent babble sounded through the baby monitor.

He made his way down the hall and into the nursery, where he found his 6-month old son, Isaiah, in his crib playing with a small black panther. Isaiah’s big brown eyes found Erik’s quickly and toothless smile lit up his round face, he dropped his toy and reached up for Erik.

“Wassup, lil man?”,he asked, retrieving him from his crib. Isaiah responded enthusiastically, bouncing in his arms and giggling. Erik smiled, too engrossed in Isaiah to notice you leaning against the door jamb watching with a soft smile on your face.You walk into the room and stand behind him. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you press your lips to his back, before resting your cheek against his warm skin. “I think we got a visitor, lil man.”,Erik said and your smile widened. You step into his line of vision and he leans down to quickly brush his lips over yours, muttering a soft ‘good morning’ against them.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise.” ,you say and Erik chuckles. Your son sees you and reaches down for you with a small whine. You take him into your arms and pepper his face with kisses, causing his infectious laughter to fill the room. “Were you having fun with baba?, you ask Isaiah and he looks to Erik with a big smile, bouncing excitedly saying ‘baba’ and you and Erik chuckled softly.

Leaving the nursery, you make your way across the hall to your 4 year old daughter’s room. You peer into the room to find Kaia sleeping peacefully and ease the door shut. You gesture at your husband to do the same thing for your 5 year old, Elijah. He mirrors your actions, quietly closing the door behind him.

You head downstairs and into the kitchen with your son in tow and your husband close behind. Sitting Isaiah in his high chair, you stand at the island and begin cutting up a banana into large chunks and placing them in front of your son, who wastes no time mashing the fruit between his fingers, eating it, and babbling happily. You chuckle softly and grab a bottle of milk from the fridge, placing it in the bottle warmer, and waiting for the milk to heat. The warmer beeps and Erik watches as you pluck the bottle from the warmer, sitting it in front of Isaiah, after testing the liquid on your skin. He walks around from his seat at the island to stand behind you. He braced himself against the counter top with one hand while his arm found a place around your waist, hand venturing beneath your tank top in search of your warm skin. His hold on your waist loosened slightly as you turned to face him. You wrap your arms around his torso, your eyes peering up to meet his.

“Hi.” The word leaves your lips softly as you smile up at him knowingly.

“Hi” He replies, with a smile that matches your and he leans down to bring his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and unhurried, not unlike the thousands of others you’d shared, but it felt different. Like an unspoken promise of sorts. Your lips left his and you rested you head against his broad chest, appreciating the steadiness of his heartbeat beneath his scarred skin. Your nails scratch at the small of his back, gently, and his hold on your body tightened once more.

“No work today?” ,you asked and he breathed out a quiet ‘mnmm’ in response. Warmth spread through your body at the sound and you smiled. One of his hands slid up your back, and into your hair,  giving the ponytail of faux-locs on your head a light tug. You took the non verbal cue and your eyes met his once more.

“I want you to know that I heard everything you said last night.” his tone was light but serious as his dark brown eyes peered down into yours. You downcast your eyes, your lips ghosting his sternum before resting your chin there.

“I know you did.” ,you said eyes on him again. There was no doubt in your mind that Erik had taken your words seriously. “You being here this morning tells me that much, but for the record, had you gone into the office this morning I wouldn't have doubted that for a second.” He nodded at your words but didn’t say anything further. He simply cradled your head to his chest, fingers gliding against the nape of your neck. The two of you stayed like that until a sharp gasp drew your attention away from each other. Your daughter stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, purple bonnet askew, staring wide eyed at the two of you. Erik let go of you and crouched down low with his arms opened wide. Kaia took off running, small body hitting her father’s chest with a thump. Erik grunted at the impact and folded her into his arms. He showered her face in kisses and she giggled pushing him away.

“Baba, stop it!” she squealed, through a fit of laughter. He placed one last kiss on her dimpled cheek before relenting to her request.

“How’s my princess?” he asked, the brilliant smile on his face mirroring his daughters. Kaia wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, her cheek pressed against his.

“I’m hungry.” ,she answered, shifting her vision in search of you. She found you leaning against the kitchen island with a grin on your face. “Morning, Mommy!” You cross the short distance over to them and kiss her cheek.

 “Good morning, Peanut. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Cereal.”

You spin around, surprised, when another little voice answers instead. Elijah walks past you with tired eyes. He hugs his father’s legs a small ‘good morning’ leaving his mouth, before making his way to you and doing the same. Since the day he was born you swore he was the calmest kid in the world, the polar opposite of his baby sister, who possesses more energy than any four year old you’d ever seen. You bend down and press a kiss into the mess of coils on his head.

“Which cereal would you like?” you ask, heading towards the pantry to retrieve the Coco Puffs you already knew they’d want. A Saturday tradition in the Stevens household. You prepare two bowls sitting them on the table. Kaia detached herself from her father and goes with her brother to sit.

“Thank you, mommy.” their voices mirror in unison.

“You’re welcome, my loves.” You smile and kiss the tops of their heads. Stopping in front of Isaiah, you use the bib around his neck to wipe his face clean, he stops his babbling to give you a gummy smile. Erik joins the children at the table with his own large bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. You stand behind the island committing the moment to memory. It’s been about a month of Sundays since all of you had eaten breakfast together due to Erik’s recent work schedule. Grabbing a bowl, you rip a page out of Erik’s book and take a seat.

The rest of the day went on like that. Kaia and Elijah were glued to their father sides only breaking away for food or the bathroom. As the evening slowly shifted into the nighttime you all found yourselves in the backyard. Bellies full from the  dinner you’d eaten prior. You and Isaiah were sitting on the patio, watching, while the rest of your family splashed around in the pool. You smiled as you watched Erik send a large wave of water crashing down over their heads, thankful that wash day for Kaia was right around the corner. When Isaiah yawned and laid his head against your chest, eyelids fluttering closed tiredly, you checked the time on your phone. 8:49 p.m. You got your husband’s attention, silently telling him that it was time to go inside. You headed upstairs to put Isaiah to sleep. Hopefully for the night. He went down easily, unconsciously gripping the small stuffed panther cub you kept in his crib. 

You eased the door closed and went searching for Erik and the kids. You found them in the bathtub, laughing at something Erik was doing with the bath time toys. They had begged to opt out of nap time today and you could see the tiredness hidden behind their wide eyes.’They’ll sleep good tonight.’ You think to yourself with a small laugh. You walk over, pulling a random co-wash from your product stash and work it through your daughter’s hair, and rinsing it, before moisturizing it and braiding it into four neat cornrows. Erik drains the tub and you each hold out a towel for the children to step into. You take Kaia and Erik takes Elijah. You carry them to their respective rooms to dress them for bed. You tied up Kaia’s hair and tucked her in, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Goodnight’”you whispered, but she didn’t respond, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. You and Erik passed each other in the hallway as you made your way to Elijah’s room and he made his to Kaia’s. Your son’s soft snores were the first thing you noticed when you entered his room. You tiptoed over to his resting form pressing your lips to his forehead before quietly exiting the room.  As you walked back to your bedroom you saw the nursery door open. You peeked in to see Erik standing over Isaiah whispering something in Xhosa. You smiled and continued on to the bedroom.

Once there you walked into the bathroom, and started the shower, shedding the leggings and tank top you’d been in all day. You wrapped your hair into a bun at the top of your head and stepped beneath the spray of the hot water, body relaxing instantly. Taking your loofah, you squeeze the brown sugar and honey scented shower gel into it and begin to scrub the days activities from your body.

“Mind if I join you?”, Erik appears, seemingly out of nowhere, scaring the shit out of you. The small squeak you let out makes him chuckle. He mutters out some form of an apology but there’s absolutely no remorse in his tone. You roll your eyes and smack his chest before returning to the task at hand. He steps fully into the shower behind you, pulling you back against his chest. You instantly relax into his body, the suds on you transferring onto him.. He groans, “I’m tired as fuck. I don’t get how you run after them kids all damn day.”He gets his arms around you securely and plants a trail of kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck.”You a good ass mama.”, he whispers in your ear. You smile softly and turn your head, tilting it up a bit as he captures your lips with his in a deep kiss. He guides you beneath the streams of water, careful not to wet your hair,and watches as the soapy water glides down your body. He pushes your back against the shower wall and covers your lips with his again. You sighed contently as his hands travel over your body, settling on your backside. He kneads the supple flesh, his lips leaving yours to nip down the length of your neck. A soft moan escapes you as he presses himself firmly against you, his thick member weighing heavily against your hip. He makes a move to lift you and you whimper in protest, pushing at his chest. You’ve always hated shower sex, which he knows, and he’s dropped you every single time you two tried it, so that was a hard no.  He pulled away from you, with an eyebrow quirked in question, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. 

You snort and roll your eyes, “I thought you were tired.”He laughs humorlessly, eyes low and drunk with lust, as they freely roamed your wet body. He offers no words as he moves towards you. Acting quickly, you dodge him and step out of the shower. He kisses his teeth,a menacing ‘stop playin’ wit me, ma’ falls from his lips causing a shiver to run down your spine. “I’m not, I promise. Finish your shower and come to bed.” You press your lips to his again, fingers purposefully brushing against his rigid arousal, drawing a low growl from his throat. You pull away smiling. You’ve really missed this.

“Naked.” The word makes you stop in your tracks as you made your way back to the bedroom. You turn to face him a soft ‘hmm?’ leaving you.He walked towards you, water dripping from his naked body, “Be naked when I get there. I mean that shit.” He emphasized the statement with a hard smack to your behind, your wet skin stinging in its wake.

You moaned and a slow smile appeared on your face, “Yes, Daddy,”. You take one of the fluffy white towels from the shelf in your bathroom and pat your body dry. Wrapping yourself in your long silk white robe, you make your way into the bedroom, picking up your vanilla and coconut scented body butter on your way out. You sit on the edge of the bed and smooth the product over your skin, thoroughly enjoying its sweet scent. Your body hummed with excitement as you waited for your husband to come out of the bathroom. You move to remove the robe from your body, your nipples hardening as they meet the cold air. Just as you’re about to drop the garment completely, you hear three little knocks at your door, followed by a soft ‘mommy’. The whine that left you was a little more than pathetic. A defeated sigh escaped you as you pulled the robe around you once more, securing it tightly. Behind the door stood Elijah, thumb in his mouth and his stuffed jaguar tucked beneath his arm.

“What’s wrong, chipmunk? Bad dream?” you asked softly, lowering yourself to  his eye level. He nods, laying his head on your shoulder. Enfolding him in your arms you stand up and walk over to the bed. You take a seat with him in your lap just as Erik steps out of the bathroom, thankfully, with a towel around his waist. He takes in the sight in front of him and laughs at the joke that is his sex life.

“18 days.”,he says,incredulously, to no one in particular, staring up at the ceiling. You laugh softly to keep from crying.

“18 days.”

Erik was going to make sure that the two of you didn’t make it to 19.

A/N: Have kids they said. It’ll be fun they said.Thanks for reading! One more part to go!!! 

@chaneajoyyy @fd-writes

#black panther fanfiction #erik killmonger x black reader #black panther fic #black panther smut #black reader #Erik Killmonger #erik killmonger smut

[bellemorte180]

outtake on Little Love, pls!

Okay. I got this request ALOT. 

Like I think I had four in total messages asking to do something with Little Love, so here we are. It is not as long as the first part but just a short scene in their daily lives...and gives you an idea of how I imagined their life turning out after they got together.

Little Love part two

Caroline balanced her sleeping four-year-old daughter on her hip as she pulled the few groceries from her car. She shut the back door with her free hip and slowly made her way up the steps of her townhome. She kissed her daughter on the head and unlocked the front door. She made her way inside and the second she opened the door, she heard it.

“You are not leaving the house like that Elizabeth Mikaelson!” Klaus sounded loudly, pulling out his daughter’s full name. Caroline winced, knowing that if Klaus and Lizzie were fighting, it was going to last a long while, if it had not been going on for hours already. Both were stubborn and had tempers that flared up at the worst of times. “You are thirteen and way too young to be wearing anything remotely like that!”

“Oh my god, why do you hate me so much!” Lizzie screeched out in a high-pitched voice that always gave Caroline a migraine. Not even bothering to ask for help, Caroline walked into the kitchen to put the groceries on the counter, in order to keep Olaf from getting in them, before laying her still sleeping daughter on the couch in the living room. That child could sleep through anything; which Caroline always found to be a blessing.

“Elizabeth, I don’t hate you. I just do not want you walking around Richmond like a street walker.”

“I’m not going to walking around Richmond like a hooker Dad. It’s just a sleepover.”

“Then why are you wearing that skirt?”

“Penny and I wanted to go to the movies.”

“Will there be boys?”

“It’s a public place. So yes.” Lizzie snapped and Caroline sighed, closing her eyes. She knew about her daughter’s crush on a boy named Sebastian and knew that Klaus was paranoid about their daughter becoming involved with someone of the opposite sex. It was his worst nightmare.

“Nope. You’re not wearing that. Ever. In fact, I want that skirt. Bring it down when you have changed.” Klaus told her and his tone was final. She heard Lizzie screech again and Caroline was considering whether or not she should intervene; seeing that she was typically the disciplinarian between the two of them. But if Klaus was putting his foot down, she did not want to step on his toes; especially since she probably gave Lizzie the okay to buy whatever skirt they were fighting over in the process.

“I hate you!” Caroline went still as she heard the door slam. She didn’t hear Klaus’s footsteps at first, probably being rooted in place in front of Lizzie’s door. After a second, she heard Klaus move and make his way down the stairs. When he walked into the kitchen, Caroline took in her husband’s appearance. He looked haggard, tired and by the state of his jeans, had spent the majority of the day painting. Even after six years together, two years of marriage and a frustrating fight with their eldest child, Caroline’s heart still skipped when she saw him.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in.” Klaus said as he sat down at the counter, watching her put away the groceries. His eyes took in her appearance before his eyes looked around the room for their second child. “Where is Cassie?”

“Asleep on the couch.” Caroline replied with a soft smile. Much like when Lizzie was born, Klaus had fallen in love with their second daughter from the moment she told him she was pregnant; and like her older sister, she was a complete accident. “And I’m surprised she did not wake up with you and Lizzie having a screaming match.”

“Yeah, well, Cassie was always capable of sleeping through a natural disaster.” Klaus muttered and Caroline nodded in agreement. Cassie slept through the night since the day she was born. Lizzie had been a difficult baby and child that they expected the same with Cassie. Instead what they got was the easiest child on the planet; which both pleased and worried her parents. “She hates me.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She sure yelled it loud enough.” Klaus muttered, dwelling on his daughter’s words. Caroline knew that hearing Lizzie say she hated him would cut him deeply. She reached across the island and gripped Klaus’s hands in hers, giving them a squeeze; their rings brushing against one another. Klaus tossed her a bashful look and she could see how hurt he was.

“She doesn’t hate you.” Caroline whispered. “Right now, she is in her room, procrastinating coming downstairs because she regrets what she said. That and she knows that she is in trouble and is worried we will not let her go to her friend’s house tonight.”

“Should we keep her home? We always punish her when she throws a tantrum like this and not letting her spend the night at Penny’s would be a punishment.” Klaus said with a sigh. Caroline put her hands on her hips and shook her head.

“Oh no. She is most certainly going to her friend’s tonight. I have plans for you and part of those plans involves having no children present tonight.” Caroline narrowed her eyes teasingly and when Klaus’s lips perked into that devious smile he reserved only for her. Caroline could not help but feel a chill run over her skin.

“Daddy?” A small voice sounded from the archway that led to their living room. Both Caroline and Klaus turned to see Cassie standing there looking at them with blurry eyes. Cassandra Mikaelson looked much like her sister did at the tender age of four. She had the same dimples, lanky body and blue eyes. However, her hair was much lighter, similar to her mother’s, and was much straighter. “Is Auntie Kat here yet?”

“Hey Love Bug.” Klaus stood and walked over to Cassie and lifted her up into his arms, kissing the side of her head. “Auntie Kat will be here soon. Are you excited to go and spend that night with Nadia?”

Cassie bobbed her head excitedly. A few months after Klaus and Caroline decided to give a relationship ago, Caroline received a phone call from her best friend Katherine, telling her that she and Elijah took a weekend getaway and got married. No one in their family even knew they had gotten back together, let alone were thinking of marriage.

Well, in truth they weren’t thinking about it at all, but it was a spur of the moment decision. Klaus, who was still shocked by the news six years later, claimed that it was the first and last impulse decision Elijah ever made; Caroline blamed Katherine for that. Both Katherine and Caroline had fallen pregnant two years later, but unlike Cassie, Elijah and Katherine’s daughter Nadia was actually planned.

“Cassie, have you picked out what books you want to take yet?” The little girl shook her head, sending strands of her hair flying in Klaus’s face. “Why don’t you run upstairs and pick two. Put them in your bag by the bedroom door okay?” Cassie nodded, wiggling out of Klaus’s arms. Once she hit the ground, she took off running towards the stairs. “Go help her. If one us doesn’t, she will take all of her books and force Katherine and Elijah to read to her.”

“Elijah won’t mind that.”

“No, but Nadia, the offspring of Katherine, will throw a fit.” Klaus looked at Caroline and nodded. While Nadia wasn’t one to throw loud and abrasive tantrum like Lizzie, she was very good at make her displeasure known through more mischievous ways. Neither Klaus nor Caroline wanted a call in the middle of the night saying that the two girls got into a fight.

Fifteen minutes later, Caroline still alone in the kitchen because Klaus was most likely being talked into at least three books by Cassie, when Lizzie entered the kitchen. She was in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt; something that made Caroline raise her eyebrow.

“I see you changed.”

“You don’t even know what I was wearing.” Lizzie said in a small tone. Caroline looked at her daughter and saw that hurt and fear written on her face. She had been right that Lizzie was beating herself up in her room after what she said to Klaus. Lizzie was a daddy’s girl through and through; fighting with him caused her just as much pain. “It’s not like you’re going to let me go to Penny’s now anyway.”

“Sit.” Caroline replied, pointing to the stool. Lizzie obeyed and sat down, waiting for the lecture that was bound to come. “Now, I do not know how this started but I know how it ended. If your father feels that you should not be wearing a skirt out to the movies, then I will agree with him…. within reason. However, I know you most likely were going to see Sebastian tonight at the theater, hence the skirt. What skirt was it anyway?”

“The black plaid one.” Lizzie said, looking down at the counter and Caroline sighed. She remembered what it was like being thirteen and having her very first crush. In truth, Caroline would have done the exact same thing has a teenager and knew that Klaus had reason to worry if Lizzie tried to get away with some of the things Caroline got away with. In the back of her mind, Caroline wondered if she should put Lizzie on birth control in the next few years. She was thankful that she hadn’t gotten her first period yet, but Caroline was waiting for that to come any day.

“Lizzie, I bought that skirt for you last year. You’ve gone through a growth spurt since then and it is way too short now. I thought we put that in the donate pile the last time we cleaned out your closet?” Lizzie shook her head. “Okay, well I agree with you father and you cannot keep it.”

“Okay.”

“Now, when your dad comes down with Cassie, I want you to apologize to him and I never want to hear you say those words to him again.” Lizzie’s face screwed up and turned red. Caroline could see that Lizzie regretted the words the moment they came out of her mouth. Caroline walked around the counter and took her daughter into her arms.

“He hates me now, doesn’t he? I didn’t mean to say it. I was just so mad, and my temper took over. I saw the look on his face as I slammed the door and I knew I made a mistake. I wanted to apologize but I don’t think he could ever forgive me.”

“Elizabeth, listen to me.” Caroline pulled away and looked at her. “No matter what you do or say, your father will always love you. Nothing will change that. Yes, your words hurt him especially because he loves you so much. Yes. He can be overprotective at times but that is because you’re growing up so fast and that scares him. Behind that rough exterior, he really is just a big softie that you have to be gentle with, okay?” Lizzie nodded her head. “Now, Aunt Katherine already agreed to drop you off so you can still go to Penny’s tonight. Do you want to change?”

“Really?” Caroline nodded. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

The sounds of Cassie’s voice flowed down the hallway and into the kitchen; describing in excruciating detail about some elephant fact she learned in one of her books. Despite, being only four years old, Cassie was on a second grader reading level and loved anything to do with elephants. Klaus seemed to be listening patiently, but Caroline could tell that he was not retaining a single word as he sat Cassie’s bag on the floor of the kitchen.

At the sight of her father, Lizzie jumped off the stool and ran over to Klaus; wrapping her arms around his waist tightly. She buried her face into his Henley and sniffled. Caroline saw Klaus’s shoulder’s sag ever so slightly as he wrapped his arms around her. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Caroline held out her hand to Cassie and asked to see the books she picked out.

“I’m sorry Daddy!” Lizzie whimpered. Klaus tightened his grip on her and pulled her close to him. “I didn’t mean it. I promise. I could never hate you. I just got so mad and I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you Little Love.” Klaus whispered in her hair, kissing the top of her head again. He pulled her from his arms and peered down into her face, looking into her eyes. “I love you very much. That will never change. Nothing you say can change that. Okay?” Lizzie nodded and Klaus kissed her forehead one last time. Lizzie pulled from him and headed towards the stairs; messing up Cassie’s hair as she went.  

By the time Katherine arrived, Lizzie had changed into something Klaus and Caroline thought was more fitting for a thirteen-year-old girl; simple jeans and a tank-top with a zip up jacket. Katherine easily loaded up her two nieces and pulled away from the townhouse. When they shut the door behind them, both Klaus and Caroline leaned against it, gazing at one another; listening to the silence of their house.

“Are we really sure we want another one?” Caroline asked and Klaus snorted. He turned to look at his wife, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Neither Lizzie nor Cassie were planned but a few months back Klaus and Caroline began tossing around the idea of having a third. Caroline stopped taking her birth control and it should be out of her system completely; making it easier for them to conceive.

“Come now, Love, we’ve got to have at least one in wedlock.” He kissed her wedding rings before pulling her to him. Caroline went easily into his arms, always enjoying the feeling of them wrapped around her. “Hopefully this time we can have a boy.”

They did end up having a boy; what they didn’t expect was their son’s twin sister along with him.

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline drabbles

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Too Early, Too Late

A/N: Heavily influenced by BTE 199 Part 1. And, just so you know, 1,642 is exactly 4 years and 6 months in days. Matt’s such a softie...

“Please be careful,” I said, sitting in the shade and watching the insanity that was my husbands. Eighteen-month-old Lee napped in the playpen at my side, a sippy cup of juice still grasped in his pudgy baby fingers. I was glad he was too small for the shenanigans Matt and Nick were up to in the back yard. My hand rested on the curve of my stomach. Baby number four was just a few days away.

           Nick leaned against the ropes of the ring they’d pulled out of storage. It was on old one from a promotion that had long gone out of business, and it was better-and safer—than the one that their dad had built when they were backyard wrestling as teens. He smiled at me, tipping his baseball cap down over his eyes. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said easily. “Trust us.”

           It was the same thing he’d said over and over during our eight years together. When Mattie wanted to be tossed into the pool by her Dada… when Nicole wanted to bounce on the trampoline with her sister and her Papa… when we went to the arcade center and the girls wanted to ride the go-karts with their fathers… every time, Nick always looked at me with those blue eyes and smiled and said trust us.

           I did. I trusted them with everything. But that didn’t stop me from having a mini panic attack every time they tried anything that wasn’t 100% safe.

           Matt sat on the top turnbuckle nearby, Nicole—now four-and-a-half—sitting on his knee. “It’s okay, Mama. If anybody’s going to get hurt, it’s us. This tag team is 1,642 and 0 against us. The Young Does whip us every time.”

           Seven-year-old Mattie looked over at her Papa and her baby sister. She was sitting on the apron, swinging her feet against the steel frame. “We need merch, Papa.”

           Nick snorted and leaned over the top rope to ruffle her dark brown hair. “You want gear too?”

           “Yep,” she looked up at Nick with eyes that matched his. “With the fringes just like yours. The ones Mama likes.”

           I grinned. “The Lisa Frank ones. Or the green lightning bolts.”

           Matt turned to stare at me, one brow raised quizzically. “Not the ones with our faces all over them?”

           I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. Then I whispered to my belly, still loud enough that they could hear. “That gear gives me nightmares, baby.”

           The thump and rumble of the boards of the ring startled me. Matt had hopped down from the turnbuckle. I glanced to my side, surprised to see that Lee was still sound asleep. The ring gave a faint rattle with every step as Matt sat Nicole on the apron next to Mattie. “Watch your sister for a second,” he said, grinning at our eldest daughter.

           Mattie turned sideways and held Nicole in her lap. Two pairs of worshipping blue eyes watched as Matt and Nick bounced on the balls of their feet. Nick took a few running steps and leaned into the ropes, propelling himself back across the ring. Halfway across, he tucked into a front roll. He got to his feet and climbed to the top rope, then flipped backwards off of it, landing lightly. The girls clapped and squealed as Nick ran to the opposite corner, leaned into the turnbuckle, and flipped himself heels over the head onto the apron.

           Surprisingly, his hat stayed on.

           “Teach me to do that, Dad,” Mattie begged. She’d dropped the -a when she was six.

           Nick pulled himself up onto the top rope and spring boarded onto Matt, who caught him and landed flat on his back. While Nick swept back up to his feet, Matt pulled his feet up, rolling up onto his shoulder and flipping backward to stand.

           “You’ve got to get taller first,” Nick said, glancing over at me. I leaned back, my feet propped up on another chair, and rubbed slow circles on my belly. I shrugged, well aware that every one of our children would be brought up in the wrestling business and that they might decide to follow in their fathers’ footsteps. “And you’ve got to learn to do a cartwheel first.”

           “But I can!”

           Matt leaned back against the ropes and waved his hand at the center of the ring. “Go ahead then,” he said teasingly. “Nikki, come here.”

           While Mattie climbed over the bottom rope, Nikki crawled underneath and scrambled over to her Papa. Mattie went to the middle of the ring, took a deep breath, and attempted a cartwheel. She planted her hands on the mat, but couldn’t get her feet over her head. Instead, she just sort of hopped from one side to the other and stood up, arms in the air.

           “That’s a good try, my love,” Nick said, climbing back into the ring. “Let’s see if we can get your feet off the ground. Watch me.”

           Nick put his arms over his head and leaned sideways. He landed one hand and kicked up his leg. The other hand came down, the other leg lifted up. For a moment, he did a handstand, then he let his momentum carry him over back onto his feet again.

           “I can’t do that,” Mattie said unhappily. “I’m not strong enough.”

           Matt looked back at her from where he stood, helping Nicole climb the turnbuckles. “You will be. You’ve got to practice. Try again. Dad will help.”

           For the next ten minutes. I watched Nick kneel in the center of the ring and help Mattie do cartwheels. He showed her how to lean over, how to make sure that her hands landed in the right way, and how to kick her legs over the top. Every time she tried, Nick held her by the waist and supported her weight, helping her flip all the way over.

           “You’re going to fall eventually, and you should try to fall safe whenever you can,” Nick instructed. He put his hand on the back of our daughter’s neck. “Always protect your neck. If you feel like you’re going to fall, tuck your chin into your chest and try to land on your back. Like this.”

           Nick got up in a handstand. “Tuck your chin.” He bent his head, pressing his chin against his chest. “Land on the back of your shoulders.” He swung his legs down behind him, the momentum dropping him onto his shoulder blades. The ring made a heavy thump when he landed.

           “Does it hurt when you and Papa fall? Or when you fight with Uncle Kenny or your friends?”

           Matt carried Nicole over to where Nick and Mattie sat in the center of the ring. “Sometimes,” he said. “Our friends know how to fight and not hurt anybody really bad. But sometimes accidents happen. Do you remember when Dad and I came home, and I couldn’t play for a few days and you had to be really careful with hugs? When Mama had to put ice on my back?”

           My chest constricted, my breath catching in my lungs. One bad fall, one wrong move, a careless drop… that’s all it would take to end their careers… or worse. It terrified me every time they had a bump or a bruise or an ache that lingered for more than a day. We tried to keep that from the girls as much as possible. They shouldn’t have to worry about their fathers like that.

           “Yeah,” Mattie replied, looking down and picking at her shoes. I could see it clear as day from where I sat—her little shoulders where straight, even as she shrank into herself. My heart broke. “It was scary.”

           Matt handed Nicole to Nick and gestured for Mattie to come sit on his lap. She perched on her Papa’s knee, twisting her fingers in her lap. Matt put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I know, Tea. It scared me too. And Mama.”

           “And me,” Nick added, watching his brother seriously.

           “Hey,” Matt said, looking between Mattie and Nicole. “I’m going to make you a promise, okay? To you, Nikki, Lee, the new baby, and Mama. I promise that no matter what happens, Dad and I will always come home. And we’re always going to be here for you.”

           He kissed her forehead and reached out for Nicole’s hand. I watched as the men I loved sat in the center of their ring with our daughters in their laps. The tears came and I sniffed, overwhelmed again and again by how much I loved them and how much they loved us. Matt looked my way, his lips curving into a smile that showed the dimples in his round cheeks. I smiled back, bringing my fingers to my lips and blowing a kiss in his direction.

           “C’mon,” Nick said, getting to his feet. “Let’s see if you can suplex me, my love.”

           Mattie grinned as she climbed off her Papa’s lap. Very few seven-year-olds even knew what a suplex was, but our girl knew every different kind of suplex. She was particularly fond of her Uncle Kenny’s snapdragon suplex.

           Personally, I was a sucker for her Papa’s locomotion suplex.  

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#too early too late #the too late tales #matt jackson #nick jackson #matt jackson fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #young bucks #young bucks fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #matt x reader #nick x reader #matt x reader x nick #polyamory #polyamorous #polyamorous relationships