#when i tell you this scene was hard to color

[bestworstcase]

What do you think Salems goal is, exactly? It's obviously not ending the world to kill herself, but honestly I feel like she has ulterior motives than just "overthrow the gods".

I personally wouldn't be surprised if she wants to rule in the Gods stead after overthrowing them. She's already brought up replacing the gods, and seems to believe that humanity "needs" gods/guidance, but specifically Not The Brothers. I only say this because she was the one who said that humanity was more divided than ever without the gods and that they need guidance (and essentially replacement gods), not Oz.

It's hard to say whether she Still believes this, but since she parallels Darkness (to an extent) and destruction is essentially taking out the old to make way for the new, I definitely wouldn't be surprised. The Brothers are the old, Salem is the new n all.

I just find it hard to believe that all she wants is to overthrow the gods and do... nothing afterwards. I believe characters like Cinder have stated that they're going to be high up in her new world?? I'm not sure tbh.

Plus, I think her goal being that she wants to rule the world after killing(?) The Brothers would be an interesting dilemma for the main characters. Overthrowing the gods? A good idea even Oz would agree with. Salem ruling? ...Well that might not be such a good idea (she *did* immediately go to "let's spread our word and destroy anyone who goes against it" in the Lost Fable, but I have different opinions on whether or not it's reliable so it likely doesn't matter to you). Either way, it'd make things interesting for our heroes. At least, that's how I'd write it.

Thoughts?

to be clear. my stance on the reliability of the lost fable is that jinn answered with absolute honesty exactly the question ruby asked, which was “what is ozpin hiding from us?”—i think she obeys the same rule ambrosius does. you get EXACTLY what you ask for.

so ‘the lost fable’ includes:

information ozpin knows or sincerely believes to be true, AND

actively chose to hide from team rwby, oscar, and qrow.

the reason jinn frames it as a fairytale (“once upon a time…”) is because she is conveying specifically ozpin’s perspective, and fairytales, stories, are fundamental to how he sees the world. she is telling his story in his words, because that’s what ruby asked her to do!

but the lost fable doesn’t include:

anything ozpin doesn’t know

anything salem told ozma that ozpin believes to be false, except when a synopsis is necessary to provide context

anything that ozpin knows but wasn’t actively keeping a secret (for example, the story omits her answers to his questions about the other relics because neither their original locations nor their powers were something ozpin was hiding; he told them what the lamp could do, when they asked, and if they’d asked about the others he would have told them that too).

so jinn herself is not an unreliable narrator per se, but the question ruby asked necessitated that jinn tell only ozpin’s side of the story, without filling in any gaps in his knowledge or correcting his misunderstandings and mistaken assumptions. the lost fable is therefore honest (in the sense that no part of it is a deliberate lie) but biased and limited (because ozpin is fallible and doesn’t know everything.)

which is something ozpin himself points out in his commentaries in the fairytale anthology—on the infinite man: “no one who wasn’t there could know what really happened. and even then, they would only have a small part of the story,” for example.

all of which is the long way around to saying that i do trust the dialogue in the lost fable to be accurate to what the characters actually said, and the scenes to be accurate depictions of events as they happened (if he was there) or as ozma imagined them happening based on what salem told him (if he wasn’t). the parts i don’t trust are the narration, because that’s the part colored by ozpin’s perspective, and the elisions of ozma’s dialogue in the key ozlem scenes, because things salem says in response to ozma lack the context of what ozma said.

(think about what listening to someone make a phone call is like; if the conversation is about a complex subject, it’s difficult to follow along and easy to misunderstand what the person you can hear is really trying to express.)

and on the topic of those elisions: if salem wanted to rule the world herself, i think she would have made an effort to do so before ozma returned. she is demonstrably capable of both merciless conquest (razing vale) and inspiring awe (slaying the nevermore). she’s immortal. she cannot be killed. before ozma returned there was absolutely no one who could have prevented her from, like, taking over a kingdom and expanding it into an empire with herself as the eternal god-queen.

but she didn’t. she lived alone in the woods, in a miserable hovel. given the well-maintained path leading to her doorstep, she had to have been visited on a regular enough basis for whatever community lived outside the woods to go to the effort of paving the way to her shack. which says… village witch.

left to her own devices, that’s what she did with her life: found some village or town at the edge of a forest and built herself a little house in the woods, just close enough that the townspeople could find her when they needed her but otherwise isolated.

and then once ozma found her, they fixed up her house together and lived happily for… apparently quite some time before ozma brought up “humanity seems more divided than ever” as a problem.

there’s nothing in the lost fable to suggest that salem wanted anything more than the life she had with ozma in that cottage. everything she says about bringing humanity together is specifically in response to OZMA telling her he wasn’t satisfied. she’s supporting HIS stated ambitions.

and like… she’s not… wrong? her phrasing is extremely blunt, but… you can’t bring people together without giving them something to believe in—a cause, a creed, a faith, a purpose—no one is going to unite for the sake of being united. ozma despairs that “humanity seems more divided than ever,” and salem goes… well yeah. the gods killed everyone and fucked off. people just need help. we could help. we have the will and the means to change the world, make it better than before.

but.

the problem is.

the task ozma was given isn’t to help people or make the world a better place; it’s to prepare for the final judgment by uniting the whole world—the god of light instructed him to end conflict full stop. ozma needs everyone to unite in submission to the brothers.

and salem is absolutely correct that you cannot achieve that except by conquest. you cannot, you cannot, you cannot unite the whole world under one creed without genocide. it is impossible.

this is why i say the divine mandate is a fundamentally genocidal ideology: the premise is that humans as they are now do not deserve to exist and must be ‘redeemed,’ and the only way to achieve ‘redemption’ is through genocide. the logical end of any ideology that requires universal adoption or universal acceptance of a certain belief or creed is genocide.

salem understands this intuitively; when ozma asks her “are we sure that this is right?” she spells it out to him in plain terms that it’s what is necessary to achieve his goal. her implication is that if the end does not justify the means, he needs to reconsider the end. i don’t think she cared either way as long as ozma was happy, until she learned the truth about what he wanted to do and why.

as i’ve said before, i believe her final statement—why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we can replace them with what they could never be?—a) reiterates her longstanding dream of humankind overthrowing their “old masters” and claiming the power of creation for themselves to “perfect their own design” and b) quotes/paraphrases the closing lines of ‘the shallow sea’ to express this idea because she’s trying to communicate in ozma’s language, through stories.

and i think ozma understood her perfectly well, he just doesn’t think her third option of rejecting the mandate is possible. in the present, oz only suggests salem is out to destroy the world when he’s trying to scare hazel into turning against her; what he tells his inner circle is that salem’s after the relics because she wants to “change the world.” he believes she’s doomed to fail.

anyway, as to the question of what salem wants now: it’s revolution.

pretty… overtly. “your so-called free world.” her protégée was an enslaved child who grew up wearing a shock collar in the gilded heart of ozpin’s crowning achievement some sixty years after the vytal accords abolished slavery, and the huntsman who found her in that situation used her suffering to groom her for the huntsman academy instead of using his authority to help her by enforcing the laws against slavery.

watch WOR: kingdoms. compare the almost tender tone with which salem talks about the democratic councils that represent the people to the utter disdain she has for the huntsmen academies that exist solely to train “the next generation of defenders who will fight and die to protect the lifestyle that they’ve become so accustomed to.”

she wants to defeat the god of light, yes—or at least prevent him from ever returning, i do think Plan A might be “destroy the relics”—but she also wants to tear down the systems ozma built to uphold the divine mandate, systems that turned a blind eye to slavery and injustice and abuse. she wants the whole world to know the truth.

i think she also probably wants humans to coexist in peace with the grimm, and i suspect that will be the biggest sticking point; but salem clearly feels affection for the grimm, and—gestures at menagerie’s lack of a grimm problem—coexistence between people and grimm is possible, and because salem herself is grimm she’s never going to have peace or freedom until the existential war between humans and grimm is ended.

and i think she does intend to make good on her promises to her inner circle, in some form. hazel believes she’s planning to create a “new world order” (which, definitionally, a world with no huntsmen academies and no everlasting war is) and mercury says she’s “promised [them] everything,” which he takes to mean that they’ll be “top dogs in her new world.” but the one thing we know for certain about what salem offers to her followers is very vague; all of them project their own desires to fill in the gaps and come away with wildly disparate ideas about what this ‘new world’ will look like.

what salem has always wanted is freedom. she’s never shown any personal ambition to rule—even her rebellion, she isn’t the one who leads the charge, she walks among them. before ozma returned, she was… just the village witch somewhere. i do think it’s really quite likely that her plan is to tear down everything ozma built, destroy the relics or defeat the god of light, participate in rebuilding from the ashes to ensure that the new world isn’t founded upon lies or subjugation or eternal war against her existence, and then just… find a place where she can live. all she ever wanted was to leave the tower. i don’t think that’s changed.

[houseofpendragons]

New Ideas for HOTD pt.3

So for this dress, I’m not exactly sure which scene I’d want the dress replaced for:

She wears this dress twice, once when she was meeting with the Lords for her hand, and again when she was meeting with Laenor to discuss their betrothal.

It’s hard to decide bc for one I can’t really tell where Rhaenyra is at when she’s meeting with the Lords. Some say it’s storms end, but a lot of people are saying she’s on Dragonstone. I like the idea that she was on dragonstone but my only issue is the fact that the original season finally was supposed to take place in Dragonstone’s throne room, but they didn’t get the chance to build it…

That doesn’t make sense if this is Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. So when trying to decide which dress suits which climate I’m just…idk man, I’m confused

Continuing on, the dress in question is this:

As you can see it appears to be a little warmer fabric which I originally thought might better suit her walk on the beach due to the oceans breeze, but now I’m starting to think a stone room might require more warmth.

She also appeared a bit colder in that Great Hall with the Lords and in general, bored even. I image her reflecting this in her appearance. A darker Targaryen Red, dragon scales embroidered into the frantic like some of Danaerys’ dresses in GOT. It still a similar design style as well, with the off the shoulders design, and I do believe that at that time she’d be wearing more silver or steel colored jewelry to match Daemons Necklace. And again it would fit her defiance against marriage in her reflecting both her house colors and sigil.

Also I find that when earrings hang they frame the jawline better, giving her an even more colder appearance as she stares down judging at them.

I’m unsure about the hairstyle though, as Alicent and Helaena have been seen with these hairstyles a number of times, not saying she’s petty but 👀

So perhaps something like this:

(W/ Straight hair obviously)

With this as her circlet tiara (before Daemon gifts her the Jade one) as a testament to her father:

I know it’s her Crown in the book but since they’ve changed the crown I think we can change it a bit more. So instead of the crown just having the gold sigils of the great houses, we bring the jewels back and let the be a representation of the seven realms and the seven gods:

#house of the dragon #hotd #team black #team green sympathizer #asoiaf #fire and blood #team rhaenyra #princess rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #king viserys #viserys the peaceful #viserys i targaryen #hotd costumes #hotd fashion

[katebeckets]

CASKETT in EVERY SEASON → Season Four

#castleedit #caskettedit #dailycaskett #kate becket #richard castle #castle #crimeshowsource #usersmash #userlolo #userannalise #caskett seasons #my gifs #my edit #otp: always #em.castle #when i tell you this took FOREVER #because there are SO MANY MOMENTS #the next 4 seasons are gonna be so hard too they're just.. ugh THEM I LOVE THEM #also the kiss scene (and probably the morning after scene too) was a nightmare with coloring #also the way it was shot #so that's why i didn't end up using any of that #but also there are just so many good moments so I tried to choose some less common ones #not sure i was successful but oh well #:) babies. i'm not over it i love them

[bizarrelittlemew]

Love everything about your gif-making skills! May I politely request a captioned gif of Wee John asking "what the hell is going on in towels?" Thank you!!

thank you so much anon <3 it means a lot to hear 🥹

I'm working on a full Wee John gifset (he's my boy I love him) but I want to have all his lines in it so I'll probably finish it when we have the full season. in the meantime, I posted the requested gif here! 💗

#asks #Anonymous #thank you for the request <3 #i've made over 70 gifs since thursday 🫠 working hard in the gif mines #do you all know i have to manually delete every 5th frame because of framerate issues and photoshop being weird #so it creates duplicate frames which makes the gifs choppy (to me) (i've heard no one else can tell the difference but I CAN) #and some of these gifsets have like 6-700 frames #yeah #pretty sure there has to be a better solution but right now i can't be bothered to find it lmao #then cropping and resizing and sharpening and adjusting light and color and splitting and subtitling when relevant #in other words if i see my gifs reposted with no credit then 🔪 #it's super fun though i love it and i discover new things and details about every scene i gif. it's like studying them in a microscope #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd

[saja-star]

I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.

When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"

When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...

"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.

"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"

Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."

People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?

#spinning #historical reenactment #fiber arts #history

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

#blue eye samurai #mizu #akemi #kinuyo #bes #women are birds okay they are BIRDS #the let me die line is so SCARY AND SAD like a part of Mizu wants death but she cant? she doesnt know how?? excuse you show??? #when all these other delicate birds are dying all around her #akemis character gets more and more gutwrenching upon subsequent rewatches because whenever she says her life is in danger #NO ONE BELIEVES HER - certainly not other women #because shes rich and pampered and that means shes safe and is worrying about nothing right? right????? #and it turns out that all of akemis instincts were right and she was in danger the ENTIRE TIME #also I need to make a post just for kinuyo because I am sad

[softgrungeprophet]

elaborate dressup game

#nadia plays cbp2077 #it continues to be best described as Okay. also buggy. #normally i draw tama in her Theme Color (white gold red) but i wasn't liking any of the red outfits i can put together #so i changed her hair to teal a while ago for that yellow and blue outfit and it works well with the other colors of clothes i have too so #keeping it that way for the time being #also i rlly think this game should have been third person or at least mixed third and first person or something #instead of only letting you do third person for driving and THAT'S IT #you cannot see her Multiple Face Piercings in the menu screens at all but she has a bunch of them. but. no third person cut scenes lol. #why would you have such in depth character customization when the only time you can see your character's face is in a mirror #which you have to manually interact with and can only either change your appearance or awkwardly make stupid faces in #there is a third person camera mod but it controls like ass and i don't think it affects cutscenes #the ''more immersive'' argument is bullshit btw and ''too hard'' is also bullshit lol #especially with like a million kinds of guns with unique loading animations surely you could have cut back on that #(maybe stuck to a smaller set of iconic weapons) #and used some of the resources and budget for third person instead... esp since V already has some facial animation... #and have first person still be an option for the people who insist that it's the Only way for a game to be immersive #(i want to see my goddamn character's face) #can you tell what my favorite shoe style in the game is...

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My brain refuses to sleep, so more drabbling! Probably modern-ish AU?

Steve makes a career for himself as a re-decorator (or de-decorator, as he loves to call himself). His clientele are those celebrities who rose to fame so quickly they have plenty of money, but they don't have time to make their houses feel like home. They just bought penthouses and mansions and now live in homes that are fancy, but they feel like hotels.

Steve is there to fix that.

One of his clients is the hard working rockstar Eddie Munson whose life path went from a trailer park to couch surfing to living with 4 people in a tiny apartment, then suddenly tours, hotels and boom! He has a house that looks like an IKEA prop.

He doesn't hide his distaste at the pristine condition of the place (yes, Eddie has a cleaner). "Oh god. A beige carpet?" he scoffs and he sounds so bitchy Eddie decides he likes him already.

He likes him even more when Steve puts on reading glasses. Damn.

Over coffee, they discuss what Eddie wants. Except Steve doesn't just...tell him. He doesn't give him any hints. He just keeps asking about Eddie's favorite colors, what movies he likes, does he have hobbies apart from music? Can Steve see some of the items that bring him comfort?

And Eddie's surprised. "Shouldn't you, like...be telling me what I'm supposed to want?" he asks the gorgeous man who almost wails when he sees the vase with fresh flowers ("This is the third place in a row that has this fugly thing! Is it like a status symbol? Uh, tasteless.").

And Steve just stares at him. "Uh, Mr. Munson?"

"Eddie."

Steve nods. "Eddie. Why should I have any say in what you want? If you ask me what's practical, easy to clean, what bounces off light well, that's another thing. But in matters of taste...you're the boss. You live here, I don't. (Pity, Eddie thinks) Now, let's change this place into somewhere you actually like staying, hm?"

They spend the whole afternoon talking. Eddie opens up about what he loved before the touring and expectations from his agent took that from him. He talks about the Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy in general, and Steve listens, makes tons of notes and asks questions that make Eddie's heart bleed, such as "and who is your favorite Lord of the Rings character?" and "you mentioned elves, dwarves, orcs, wizards...so what is your favorite group?" and "which DnD class would you be then? I guess a bard? Is that too obvious?". Now, Steve doesn't know much about these things, but learns quickly and works with the info he has.

They walk through the house again, with Steve making notes and wincing at transgressions against humanity or at least against his taste in things ("Oh ew. EW. Glossy finish on a kitchen counter? What is this, a future crime scene?") and Eddie feeling equally amused and curious. Eddie orders dinner for them, it goes something like:

"I don't know what would be appropriate, any preferences?"

"Eddie, there's no time or space when pizza is not appropriate."

"What about a funeral?"

"It puts fun in a funeral."

"Touché."

They follow up on a bunch more things. Steve notices Eddie fidgeting and asks him like the mindreader he is if perhaps the place is too clean for him. "Minimalism is what everyone's trying to push," Steve says, not without sympathy, "but it's not for everyone. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like a person who'd love a more....personal, cluttered space."

And god, Eddie feels so seen. He tells Steve about all his favorite books and trinkets that he lost during a horrible earthquake in Indiana, so when he moved to the city it was just some clothes and his two guitars. Steve makes so many notes. "I've seen quite a lot of collectibles for your beloved trilogy," he says with a hint of a smile. "Is that something you'd like in your home?" Eddie can't nod any faster.

They talk about the budget (Eddie just scoffs at that, for the first time in his life money is not an issue), Eddie's absolute no go things ("No more vases, please! PLEASE. Also maybe the one room that can stay as it is is the studio, there's no decor"), if he has issues touching any materials, if he wants to keep any areas in the house neutral for visitors (he doesn't). Then finally, he asks Eddie if he wants to be more consulted or surprised.

And Eddie, tired and surprisingly relaxed from talking to Steve, just grins and says: "Surprise me, big boy."

Steve just smirks and makes one more note. "Oh, I will, Eddie."

...

Eddie goes on yet another tour for a couple of months, which is the ideal time for Steve to start working on the house.

Steve sometimes texts Eddie random choices, such as "Rohan or Gondor or both?" or "what's the best pub in the Middle Earth?" and Eddie usually trips over his feet trying to get to his phone after concerts to see if maybe he has another message from Steve. He learns bits and pieces about the man as well - he has a younger brother, Dustin, who is into the same stuff that Eddie is. Sometimes it goes like this:

STEVE: What's the best battle in the LotR movies?

EDDIE: The Ride of the Rohirrim, duh!

STEVE: Dustin says you're wrong, it's the last stand at the gates of Mordor.

EDDIE: The disrespect to king Théoden!

And finally, the big day comes. Eddie meets with Steve at the door. From the outside, the house still looks boring, but that's what they agreed on. At least for now.

But there's one notable difference and Eddie gasps when he sees it.

"I know we said no changes on the outside," said Steve sheepishly, "but I took the liberty to make one slight change."

Where the door used to be bland and white, it is now carved with silver etchings. It replicates the Doors of Durin. Eddie loves it.

Steve smiles at him. "Speak friend and enter, right? Dustin told me. Anyways, are you ready?"

Turns out, Eddie wasn't ready. Steve took all of the shiny and sterile surfaces and turned them into something beautiful.

The kitchen is now in warmer colors, brown and green, imitating the Green Dragon inn, plaque included.

Guest rooms have been changed, each to represent a group or a nation of the Middle Earth. Eddie thinks his uncle will love the Rohirrim one.

No more vases are to be seen, but Steve got potted plants ("almost immortal, as long as your housekeeper waters them once a week or so").

Eddie howls in laughter when he sees that Steve somehow managed to disguise all his security cameras as tiny eyes of Sauron.

The bathroom is inspired by the Rivendell, with soft tones and nods to Elvish architecture.

Eddie's bedroom resembles the Shire, with round shapes and homely motifs.

But Eddie's absolute favorite is the living room.

The only things that remain there that he bought are the massive TV and his stereo system with records. The rest though...

Gone is the ugly and sharp couch that looked like a geometry exercise. The new one is large and comfortable, with a couple of armchairs to finish the cozy feel. The coffee table and TV stand are more rough looking, with decorative ironwork. And then, around the room and on the walls...

"Oh wow," whispers Eddie and Steve beams at him.

There are collectibles and figurines that young Eddie Munson would have killed for. A replica of the Narsil hangs over the TV. It's cluttered but tasteful, still easy to clean, but Eddie always has something to touch, to play with.

And then he spots the bookcase and actually sobs. "What the fuck, Steve?" he asks, but there's no anger, just awe. "How did you know?"

The bookcase is full of Eddie's most beloved books, all that he told Steve about and more, but it's not just that. These aren't just pristine new prints - Steve managed to get both those and well-loved used copies. Most of them are the same editions that Eddie had before the earthquake. He runs his trembling finger over the back of the Hobbit and it feels like home.

"That was the hardest part," says Steve and leaves Eddie to rummage through the books, the old DnD guides and used comic books. "But I assumed you're sick of new and shiny. In fact, most of the collectibles are already used as well. They have some history. As for the books, uh..." He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I will be honest, I don't read much. Dyslexia and some issues with the eyes, although audio books are making it more possible for me now. So I had to ask Dustin for help. We looked for editions published before the earthquake. I hope we got some of them right?"

Eddie just mutters "Sorry, I'm about to do something really unprofessional now" and pulls Steve into a bear hug. And Steve reciprocates.

"Fuck, this...this is everything," says Eddie into his shoulder. "How did you do this? Are you magic. You must be magic."

Steve grins. "I take it the surprise was a success then?"

Eddie finally pulls back. He would have loved to keep embracing Steve for a bit longer, but boundaries. "A total one. Wow. I mean. It's a lot, but so good. SO GOOD. How can I repay you?"

"You already paid me, Eddie."

"You know what I mean!" Eddie points and the books and apparently also a DVD collection he now owns. "This must have been so much more work than you normally do, no? I doubt every client has you memorize the members of the Fellowship."

"Not just that, but also why Sam is the best," Steve smiles at him and fuck. Eddie might be in love. "It was more than usual, but I loved it, Eddie. That's why I like my job so much, helping people find themselves again. You don't owe me anything. Although, if you're offering..."

"I'm listening."

Steve runs his fingers through that majestic hair. "So, I didn't tell Dustin that I was decorating the house for you, but he's a huge fan of your music. Like, massive, has every album, has been following your career from the start. And feel free to tell me it's too much, you are my client after all, but...he'd love to meet you. Over a pizza, maybe? The plain ham and cheese one you like so it doesn't have too many flavors?"

And Eddie melts. Because Steve still remembers his pizza choice from months ago, even though this definitely wasn't in his notes. He decides there and then that Steven Harrington is a national treasure.

"Sure, big boy," he smiles at Steve, and hopes he didn't imagine Steve leaning into the touch. "How about you invite him over for a movie night or something? With pizza of course."

It looks like Steve could kiss him, but he doesn't. Not yet. That only happens a week later, when they bump into each other in Eddie's kitchen when they scramble to make more popcorn for Dustin.

Steve stays the next night. And maybe a few after that. Always in a different themed bedroom.

They travel for work a lot, but when they are both in Chicago, they always meet in the Green Dragon kitchen, cuddle in the bed that would be far too large for a hobbit, and in the night, Eddie wraps himself around Steve and whispers: "My preciousssss."

And Steve can't really complain, because it's his fault that his boyfriend has re-discovered his dorkiness, so why would he mind?

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #stranger things drabble #steddie au #steddie fanfiction #dustin henderson #lotr steddie #ish #lord of the rings steddie #not proofread we die like Boromir MY BOY #ahem this got long #Steve the redorkifier Harrington #Eddie the reemerging dork Munson

[luv4berry]

earth 42 miles × reader at a dinner with the readers parents + mama rio and uncle Arron?

also when i tell u im in love with your work! that shi has me kicking my feet😭🤦🏾‍♀️

control yourself.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you go out to dinner with your parents, mama rio, uncle aaron and your beloved boyfriend, yet he can’t seem to control himself even in the presence of your parents.

GENRE: fluff <3

WARNINGS: kissing, parents being parents, loverboy miles, clingy miles, suggestive jokes, make outs in the bonus scene.

AUTHORS NOTE: ngl i struggled to write ts like shit, anyways thank you for your request and im deadass cheesing so hard rn thank you for reading!! (p.s, if you left anything in my inbox i HAVE seen it and i will get to it eventually!) hope you like it!

you zero in on miles’ eyes as they dart between your own eyes and your phone. you give him a suspecting look from the other side of the table before bringing your phone out under the table seeing as he’s already filled your notification dashboard.

miles ����

bathroom? 👀

baby pleaseee

you did ts on purpose

holy shit you’re so fine

yk the sundress is lethal baby please 😩

you glance up giving him a stern look, shaking your head and mouthing a ‘no’ as your eyes flicker towards your parents as well as rio at the front counter of the restaurant. to the right of miles is uncle aaron, his eyes set on his phone as he took occasional glances at the two of you.

you make direct eye contact with miles for just a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat, nodding towards the family bathroom to your left. you don’t miss the hint of a smirk plaguing his lips, rolling your eyes playfully at his smugness.

to avoid raising suspicion, you stagger your way towards the family bathroom first—adjusting your slate colored maxi dress in the process. he watches as you disappear into the bathroom, brown eyes scanning the premises before he also gets up to dismiss himself.

“don’t think ion see you, player.” uncle aaron mumbles, grinning at his nephew.

“honestly don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.”

yeah, they were definitely related.

you soon feel a pair of hands curve around your waist and whisk you around, your lips immediately beginning to twitch upwards. “your moms gonna kill you.” you say as he sways you side to side, his hands resting on your waist.

“us. she’s gonna kill us you mean.”

“the hell did i do? you’re the bad influence here.”

“you been giving me all sorts of eyes ever since we got here, don’t do that.”

“or maybe, just maybe you’re deluded and nasty.”

“mhm.” he hums, his hands slipping below your waistline.

“hands goin’ a little low there bud.”

“oh im bud now? thought i was your husband?” he nuzzles his nose into your neck, recalling you calling him that earlier in the day.

“my what? who said i was gonna marry you?” you tease him.

“stop playin’ with me.” he kisses his teeth at you, his chin going to rest on your shoulder as he continues to sway you side to side. after about 2 minutes of silence, his lips begin to inch towards the skin behind your ear, placing a singular kiss to test the waters. when you don’t react, he goes in for another one. when he’s met with silence yet again he goes in for a third—but before they make contact with your skin you place your palm over his lips.

“miles, no.” you give him a forbidding look, “you forgetting where you at?” you shake your head, the clinginess of this boy was unmatched.

“keep kissing up on me like my parents won’t hang me and then you.” you side eye him, unlocking the bathroom door checking the coast.

“why you keep running from me? you scared or something?” he questions you as he crosses his arms over your abdomen, pulling you back into the bathroom with him. he softly pecks your cheek a few times before he begins to kiss up the nape of your neck, your body noticeably relaxing in his arms. when you feel your senses begin to cloud with a familiar feeling, you catch on to his underlying motive.

“morales, you trying to seduce me?”

“‘course not,” he pauses for a moment, “is it working?”

“no comment.”

he smirks against your skin as your eyes close for a moment, allowing yourself to relish in the moment for some time. you also allow his fingertips to dance along your sides for a bit before you snap back to reality. you bring your hands to your abdomen, clasping them with his and turning around to face him. he gives you an unsatisfied look, aware that his time with you is up and you’d have to return.

“i’ll go first, come back like 5 minutes after me.” you cup his cheek, placing a short but meaningful kiss to his lips. you smooth out the wrinkles of your dress, peaking out the door before waltzing down the hall.

when you arrive at the table, you get a knowing looking from your parents, shaking their heads at the antics of teenagers. before you sit down you go over to rio, flashing her your best smile as she gives you a loving kiss on the cheek. you also give uncle aaron a proper greeting, giving him a side hug. soon enough you sit down quietly as the table makes small talk, occasionally checking for miles around the corner.

you zone out for a bit before you’re nudged in the side, your mom leaning into your ear, “you can tell your lil boyfriend he can come back now, we’re not stupid. i was a teenage girl too you know.”

you noticeably jerk in your seat at your mothers comment, diverting your attention to the empty space beside you where miles was supposed to be.

this type of response wasn’t exactly strange when it pertained to miles, out of all your boyfriends he was definitely your parents favorite. before miles, you’d never had a boyfriend come over unannounced just to talk to your father about whatever basketball game had occurred hours before. nor had you seen your mother continuously pester you to invite her “son in-law” over again.

unbeknownst to you, they both recognized that same spark from when they were teenagers growing up in brooklyn, climbing into each others windows at absurd hours of the night just to see each other, or cruising home together after school hand in hand while listening to 90s r&b. they were beyond joyful you had each other to stay on the right path, to not fold into the cruelty of the streets. it was no different with miles side of the family. rio knew that her son had been through a lot, from the death of his dad, to the stripping of his childhood. she saw you as something to bring him back to life, to provide him with joy that would serve him for a lifetime when she was gone.

though, with that being said—yes, you still had to leave the door a crack open whenever he was over, no he couldn’t sleep over, no you couldn’t sleepover. yes, you had been sat down multiple times. yes, miles had also been sat down countless times. again, your parents were teenagers once too, and they knew exactly what teenagers got up to. but, you still had that benefit of the doubt not to do anything they wouldn’t do… partially.

your tense posture relaxes when you see miles emerge from the corner of your eye, approaching your mother and father with a knee buckling smile. before he greets your parents, he approaches his mother. rio stretches out his cheeks, mumbling a “adónde fuiste?”

he greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek paired with a side hug and your father with a dab up. as he takes his place next to you he nudges your thigh, a slick grin still plastered on his face from earlier. you lightly slap his hand, muttering a “behave,” under your breath.

“i gotta ask,” uncle aaron speaks, “how’s the guy doing?”

“oh, him?” you point to him using your thumb, “he’s a pain in my—” miles sends you a side eye, waiting for you to finish your sentence as uncle aaron lets out a boisterous laugh.

“you’re asking y/n? she’s just as difficult.” your father teases from the other end of the table. miles pokes his tongue against his cheek in an effort to prevent a laugh from spilling from his lips due to the truthfulness of your dads statement. you glare at the both of them, your eyes narrowing at their teasing.

“but seriously, how are you guys?” your mother pitches in, genuinely curious.

“he’s alright, i guess.” you playfully state while smiling to yourself.

“she cool, i guess.” miles fires back at you while also smiling.

you lightly punch him in the shoulder, staring at him while fighting the ache in your cheekbones due to how much you had been smiling.

your parents nudge each other in the side as their eyes rapidly bounce between the two of you, silently thinking the same thing, ‘they’re literally us.’ rio and uncle aaron also look at eachother, smiling amongst themselves at the interaction.

it was nice to see miles drop his stoic persona for once, after the death of his dad it was nearly impossible to catch him smiling even slightly. if rio was able to see her son smile like this all the time, then she would gladly welcome you into her home anytime.

“glad to hear,” she smiles, “listen, you have my full permission to slap some sense back into him the moment he starts acting a fool, you hear me?” her eyes bounce between the two of you.

“don’t gotta tell me twice, mrs. morales.” you laugh.

your parents call over a waiter to check on the status of their order, the tables attention redirected for a bit. you soon feel miles lips graze your ear, softly saying “who you gon slap? you know i’d fold you in half, stop playin’.”

after knowing miles for as long as you have, you’ve come to learn that his words tend to have a double meaning. in the rare cases that they didn’t, it would be pretty obvious due to either the tone of his voice, or by his body language. in this case, your suspicion was confirmed by the tone of his voice.

“why does your mind work like that?” you turn to face him.

“ma, you know why.”

“i really don’t.”

“it’s the y/n effect.”

“i know you not over there making moves on my daughter!” your father calls out, miles backing up from you immediately.

“never, sir.” he leans back while laughing.

— BONUS SCENE

“been waiting to do this all night.” miles says as he drags you outside the restaurant while your parents cover the tab.

you quietly laugh when he backs you up against the wall as he shamelessly attaches his lips to yours, his excitement piqued when you return the kiss. his hands trail up and down your body as they fiddle with the straps of your dress, your hands moving up to sensually caress his neck. you fondle the end of his braids, wrapping your arms around his neck.

caught up in the moment, you both fail to realize the chime of the restaurants bell till you hear the clearing of a throat and the shout of your government name. your eyes widen as you quickly shove miles as far away as possible, returning to your respectful places on the stone pavement.

“damn, in the middle of the street? have some decorum at least.” uncle aaron tuts in the midst of your parents wide eyes.

yeah, you were definitely getting the talk tonight.

love, berry.

#miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #atsv miles #atsv x reader #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales

[querenciasturniolo]

chris or matt x fem!reader please !!! i legitimately cannot choose between them for my life so you can choose :) maybe reader’s also like an influencer and they have this secret sort of relationship for a while and its all super fluffy, but fans are already starting to speculate that they’re together and stuff, and then at the end they finally go public with a hard launch and/or live and everyone in the comments ( or chat if it’s a live ) is going FERAL

p.s. also i’ve loved your works for so long you DO NOT UNDERSTAND and i’ve finally gathered up the courage to send in a message even tho it’s sent in with a request !

hard launch ⮕ m.s.

word count: 911

warnings: swearing

summary: request

a/n: STOP YOU’RE SO SWEET 😭 please don’t be scared of me, i promise i don’t bite HAHAHA, ily are you kidding me 🫶🏻😭 also this was so fucking cute, i’m obsessed fr

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Watching Matt stream always had your heart stuttering in your chest.

The theme for Hogwarts Legacy was playing as he was adjusting his camera, your eyes watching him closely and trying to fight the smile stretching across your face. You were sure the viewers could see you staring, considering you were sitting in the chair directly next to him, on camera. His eyes dropped from the screen as he grabbed his controller.

“Alright guys, so, we’re playing Hogwarts Legacy tonight, but I have a special guest with me, as you all can see.” He turned his head and met your eyes, his own smile growing and his cheeks tingeing pink as he caught you already staring. Introduce yourself, he mouthed. You turned to face the camera, grinning wider than before as your eyes scanned over the chat.

“Hey guys, I’m the guest, obviously. My name is Y/n.” You said.

did anyone else see the way she was staring at matt ? they’re in love, confirmed

she’s so real, i’d be staring too

i can’t even handle this, she’s so cute

“Basically, Y/n’s going to play while I tell her what to do. She’s never held a controller in her life.” Matt teased, his eyes flickering between the screen and the chat as you pressed the button to start the game.

“Wait, I have to create a whole character?” You asked, glancing over at Matt as he placed the headset over your ears. He chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, you have to create a whole character, is that not what you were expecting when you begged me to play this game?” He teased. You rolled your eyes and adjusted the headset, making sure the ear that was on his side was exposed so you could hear him.

“This is ridiculous, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me I had to create an entire chara—oh my God I can have pink hair, I take it back.” You rambled, scrambling through the hair colors. Matt’s laugh next to you had you grinning as your eyes flickered between the screen and the chat.

this banter is only proving my point that they’re in love

i’m so glad she’s streaming with him this is so funny

has anyone else noticed that matt hasn’t looked at the screen once

You glanced over at Matt, meeting his eyes immediately. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile as you shook your head and faced the screen again. You created your character, groaning when you realized you had to go through a thousand cut scenes, even though you were thrilled to be playing this game.

“I never understood why you can’t see those weird horse things until that dude gets eaten by the dragon.” Matt said, catching your attention enough for you to glance at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. You sighed through your nose and shook your head.

“I forgot, you’re a fake fan.” You said, interrupting him before he could fire back. “They’re thestrals, you can only see them if you’ve witnessed death, but they’re always there.” You explained, Matt furrowing his eyebrows as you faced the screen again.

y/n being a harry potter fan was not on my docket, but i’m not complaining

her humbling matt has got to be the funniest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life

i love this

The entire time you were going through the beginning quests, you and Matt had bickered back and forth, your smile wide with each comeback you shot at him. It wasn’t until a knock on Matt’s door that the two of you stopped talking. You paused the game, but Matt scoffed and unpaused it.

“You keep playing.” He demanded playfully, your own scoff leaving your lips as you shook your head and continued. Chris peeked his head into the door.

“Food’s here, just thought you guys should know.” He said, Matt nodding his head. Chris left the room, and Matt turned to you.

“I’ll go get it.” He said, standing from the chair as you turned to face him. Before you could process it, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours firmly and turned to leave the room. You smiled and shook your head before facing the screen and realizing what just happened.

oh mY GOD I FUCKING KNEW IT

DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT ??????

WHAT IS GOING ON MATT JUST KISSED HER ON FUCKING STREAM

You ignored the chat, trying to play it off and completely move past what happened, thinking that Matt did it on instinct. Chats were flying in at such a rapid pace that it felt as though everything on the screen was lagging. It was completely screwing up how you were playing, not only your racing heart and shaking hands on the controller.

You completely short circuited, having no idea what to do as Matt walked back into his room. He was laughing at something Chris had said as he sat down next to you and glanced over at the chat.

“Oh.”

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrows, your skin on fire as you watched his eyes scan over the rapid chats flying in at once.

“Yeah.” You said, Matt finally meeting your eyes with pink cheeks. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your nose before he sat back and grinned widely.

“I guess that was one hell of a hard launch, huh?”

tags: @strniolo , @ssturniolo , @thetriplets3 , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @toyourloves , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @jellybeanbby , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @champangekisses , @floofparker , @lovelysturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets #querenciasturniolo

[tofuxtea]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊 + “𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑” 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 | 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 + 𝙘𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dracule mihawk x fem!reader x shanks

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, threesome, cuckholding, fingering, praise (shanks), teasing + edging (mihawk), reader is shanks’ lover, shanks has both arms for the sake of the plot, porn with plot, “mama” and “sweetheart” are used by shanks, “darling” and “naughty girl” are used by mihawk, p in v sex, shanks watches mihawk fuck his girl and gets off to it!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 2.7k words. got this idea from the ending scene where mihawk brings shanks luffy’s wanted poster. they gave such divorced husbands energy and i fucking loved it so much. also what i wouldn’t kill to be in between these two anyways ??! [kinktober m.list]

“bring out the reserve booze, boys.”

your captain had loudly cheered upon discovering the bounty that had been set on an old apprentice of his. that was nearly four hours ago, a rowdy party slowly beginning to wind down.

a majority of your fellow crew-mates had passed out by now, strewn out around in the sand and drunkenly muttering incoherencies in their sleep. the rest were sharing stories by the fire they were lighting, seeing as the sun was giving its final fiery orange hue from the horizon. night would come not long after.

you were still among the living, slowly working on your third cup of the night while swinging in shanks’ hammock. the man himself was busy with the remnants of his crew while they started the nightly bonfire, laughing and celebrating with them.

you smiled towards the man before you broke out into a yawn, realizing you had partied pretty hard that night. it was starting to wind down anyways, who was going to miss you for the rest of it?

so you stumbled out of the hammock with your drink in your hand and started to where the red force had been docked for the week, pausing when you heard a familiar voice calling for you.

“where’re you off to, sweetheart?” shanks asked, playfully swatting at beckman and roux as they not-so-quietly shot suggestive jokes at their captain.

you only smiled back. “off to the ship. you can come join me in a few if you’d like.” you remarked before strutting off, shaking your head as you walked when you heard the boys’ whoops and shouts at the wink you’d given him.

you trekked through the sand for a while before you were aboard the red force, heading straight for yours and shanks sleeping quarters. yet once you ducked inside the dinette, you were stopped short with a shout.

mihawk, shanks’ old rival and the one who had informed them of one monkey d. luffy’s bounty, sat at the dining bench, yellow eyes piercing right through you the second you walked in. “good god, mihawk.” you clutched your chest. “what’re you doin’ in here?” you asked him, laughing lightly.

“the party’s out there, you know.” he replied lazily, swirling the glass he had definitely taken from the ship’s cupboard before taking a sip.

“i should be telling you that.” you squinted warily at his cup. “that better not be shanks’ stashed booze.”

oh, it most definitely was. you could tell by the color alone. how he’d even found it was a mystery, though. he never told anybody where he hid his special liquor. but you only rolled your eyes and took a seat beside him, slumping back with a sigh. “party’s almost over.” you replied softly. “i’m surprised you stayed for so long. figured you’d have a lotta marine work to tend to.”

“i don’t work for them.” mihawk quickly shot you a narrow glance. then he paused and his eyes lowered to his cup. “i’m surprised he asked me to stay.”

“ah.” you nodded understandingly as you took a sip of your own drink. “i was, too. it’s been a while since we’ve last seen you, you know.”

mihawk seemed to pick up on the little underlying suggestiveness in your voice and you noticed his eyebrows pinch together. but it wasn’t hardly the reaction you wanted.

truth was, you’d known him since he was shanks’ rival. the two engaged in battles constantly when they were younger, but over the years they grew farther and farther apart until they just stopped.

the two seemed to form a strange alliance a couple of years ago, which had unintentionally blossomed into something much more not long after that. with you being a key member of shanks’ crew and his lover, you often joined the two for drinks whenever they were together.

sometimes you guys would have too many. the first time it ever happened, it was completely unexpected. it was most definitely the alcohol that had you straddling mihawk’s lap, bucking into the hand between your legs while shanks watched the both of you, painfully hard in his pants.

the second time, however, was not the alcohol anymore. nor were the handful of times after that.

it went on for months. you were shared between the two men more times than you could count on your two hands. it had gotten to the point where you believed mihawk only wanted to pop up for drinks for that reason alone, seeing as the man would vanish not long after you and shanks would knock out. then, as his and shanks’ battles had been, he stopped coming by as often. and then he stopped completely.

the two of you tried to keep regular tabs on the man — not necessarily out of concern for his safety seeing as he had been deemed one of the seven warlords of the sea, but out of sheer curiosity — but eventually it became a second thought. while shanks was well aware that mihawk would never get off of his tail for any reason, you doubted that. at first you believed he was bored of the two of you. maybe he was looking for something new, which didn’t tie you into knots. maybe it was partly out of shame.

shame from having drunkenly fucked his old rival’s lover right in front of him. shame from having done it over and over for months. shame from having enjoyed it a little bit too much.

no matter the reason he once had, he was back now. he’d traveled from wherever he had once been to give shanks a piece of paper. a piece of paper that the crew would have stumbled onto regardless — seeing as the bounty that they were celebrating was the highest in all of the east blue. the kid would’ve become a ship-hold name in no time. and as you stared at the side of mihawk’s motionless face, you knew that he knew that, too.

“you’ve missed me, darling?” you knew he was baiting you the second that name left his mouth, and fortunately for him it was working. your lips slowly curled upwards into an impish smirk and you breathed out a weak laugh.

“you could say that.” you replied with a shrug. you weren’t planning on losing to his games so quickly. he’d made you wait so damn long, after all. “didn’t you?” feigning cluelessness, you leaned into him and slid your palm over his clothed leg.

mihawk didn’t flinch, glancing first at the hand that slowly started moving upwards and then into your eyes. for the first time that night, he stared at you. his eyes were squinted slightly like he was questioning your actions, even though he was well aware of what you were doing.

part of you had not an inkling of knowledge of what he was thinking about. he’d left his cup onto the table in front of him, letting you know you had his attention, but his expression was unreadable, as was his body. but all it took was one look into his yellow eyes that washed away all of your doubt. those never lied to you. you looked down at his lips, running your tongue over your own as you found yourself craving him. his touch, his lips, him.

he brought his hand up to your face, gently pinching your jaw between his fingers as he tilted your head back just a little bit. “i did.” he finally admitted after a long and tense silence. he spoke quietly now, like if he was even slightly too loud, the moment would end.

yet it still did. a noise coming from the entrance made both of your heads turn, and shanks froze as he shut the door behind him, eyeing the scene before him. then he broke out into a wide grin. “i see you got to her before i could.” he took his bottom lip between his teeth as he strode up to the table, eyeing you like a piece of meat. “how ‘bout we take this to bed before the others come lookin’ f’me, hm?”

you could smell the booze on his breath as he pulled you to your feet. you followed him to the room you shared with him, mihawk at your side with his hand pressed into the small of your back. you swore you could see a gentle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he walked, but you’d forgotten all about it once the door shut behind you and shanks pounced on you.

his lips crashed onto yours, wasting no time to push his tongue into your mouth. you moaned, all of the fight leaving your body as he guided you towards the bed. he had a tight grip on your wrist, his other hand squeezing your exposed hip with lust-fueled fervor. you could feel mihawk’s gaze on the both of you and soon you heard his coat hit the ground. your top was next, shanks releasing you only to peel the tight shirt from your torso and toss it aside.

both pairs of eyes shamelessly raked down your naked body, shanks wasting no time to get rid of your shorts next.

“don’t just stare now, mihawk.” you spoke with a devilish smile as you sat yourself on the edge of the bed. the man got the message and followed you, slotting himself between your legs and caging you between his arms. you gently squeezed his hips with your thighs with a giggle before pulling him down into a heated kiss, grasping the brim of his hat and throwing it into the growing pile of clothes on the floor. mihawk groaned against your lips and he bucked into your clothed heat, drawing a whine from you.

your fingers raked through his hair, pulling at his dark ruffled curls each time he would rock his hips into yours. “mihawk,” you purred his name into his ear the moment he pulled away, enjoying the way his breath slightly hitched at the sound of your voice. your hand dove between your bodies and you desperately tugged at the waistband of his pants. “please. need you so badly.” you mindlessly babbled on.

“i’ve never seen her this desperate,” shanks whispered as he crept up behind you on the bed. “c’mon, mama, use your words. tell him where you want him.” the red-haired man looped his arms underneath your armpits, pulling you flush against his chest. he spoke tauntingly, a shit-eating smirk on his face as he looked down at you.

you whined, eyes squeezing shut with what felt like agonizing pain. “need you inside me, please.” you writhed in shanks’ hold, trying to rut up into mihawk’s clothed erection.

“you’ve already made her wait this long.” shanks now stared at mihawk with a lazy grin, waiting to see what he’d do next.

he shot shanks a narrow glance before turning back to you, eyeing the tears that were welling in your waterline because of him. “i suppose i have.” your eyes lit up at his confession and you waited for him to fulfill your wishes.

instead, he lifted himself off of you, completely deaf to your garbled protests, and lowered himself onto his knees beside the bed. you jumped when he pressed the pad of his finger against the damp spot on your panties, his eyes finding yours. “already so wet and i haven’t even touched you yet. naughty girl.” he spoke lowly as he hooked his slender fingers into the waistband of your panties and peeled them down your legs.

mihawk hooked your legs over his shoulders as he pressed a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. you very poorly bit back a cry and let your head fall back onto shanks’ shoulder. he laughed softly.

“so noisy already, aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

mihawk’s lips drew closer and closer to where you needed him most, drinking up every single noise you made because of him. his hand left your thigh and he started circling your clit with his thumb, watching your face morph with pleasure. you writhed around, wanting so desperately to squeeze your legs shut or card your fingers through his hair, but shanks had your arms restrained behind your back.

you bit your lip to keep your cries from spilling out each time mihawk brushed over your sensitive clit. the sensation was already winding up the coil in your gut and you could feel your orgasm building up fast.

“c’mon, sweetheart, let us hear those pretty noises. for us, hm?” shanks cooed into your ear, one of his arms releasing its hold on you to grasp your jaw, his thumb pushing past your lips and onto the flat of your tongue.

you gasped at the intrusion, and mihawk took your moment of weakness to slide his middle and ring fingers into your cunt. you choked against an obscene moan, and your walls clenched around his digits.

“there we go.” shanks mumbled, satisfied as more and more moans spilled from your mouth with each thrust of mihawk’s fingers. “ya sound so pretty for us, mama.”

mihawk was unrelenting, thrusting his fingers inside of you to the knuckle and keeping the pace he knew melted you every time. he could sense your orgasm nearing as your cries grew higher and your thighs started to tremble in his grasp.

he kept going until you were just about to come crashing down, your eyes squeezed shut with anticipation when he suddenly pulled his fingers out.

a sob tore from your throat. “no, nonono, mihawk!” you tried to chase after him as he lifted himself to his feet, but shanks held you securely in place.

it was pitiful, really.

“no need to cry, darling, you’ll get what you want.” mihawk towered over you, gently wiping the fat tear that had rolled down your temple. it was then that you became aware of the distance shanks had put between you and himself. your arms were freed from his grasp, but it wasn’t like you had the strength or mind to use them.

mihawk’s other hand swiftly nudged his pants down his hips, just enough to free his hard cock, before swooping down to catch you in a deep kiss. you moaned into his mouth, drinking in the taste of booze that still lingered on his tongue.

the man pushed himself inside of you, groaning softly into your ear as your velvety walls sucked him in. you cried out and grasped his arms to try to keep yourself grounded. “mihawk!” you moaned when he started thrusting, his pace already unrelenting.

you could hear shanks just beside you, groaning lowly at the sight before him while he jerked his aching cock in his fist. he stared at your face, which was twisted up with utter pleasure, through hooded lids.

a cry slipped from your lips with each of mihawk’s slow, deep thrusts. it was a feeling so familiar yet so foreign after so long of not having him. you’d almost forgotten how perfectly he filled you up, how he was able to hit every single blissful spot inside of you.

you clung to him, your nails gently digging into his skin while he planted sloppy kisses to your neck. you knew they would blossom into bruises that you wouldn’t be able to explain to the rest of the crew the next day.

it didn’t take much longer before you were close, barely able to warn mihawk of your quickly approaching orgasm. but he already knew. he could tell by the way your eyes squeezed shut and how your whines had gotten much higher than before.

“that’s it, darling. just let go.” his palm soothingly slid up and down the side of your waist while he fucked you through your orgasm. your knuckles went white with how tightly you held his biceps and your head lulled back as a string of incoherent curses and moans flew from your swollen lips.

shanks’ breath hitched at the unfolding scene. “fuck, you look so pretty when you come, sweetheart. just for us.” he spoke against gritted teeth as his own orgasm washed over him, thick ropes of cum painting his own hand.

mihawk pulled out moments later, his seed landing on your lower stomach with a groan. his hooded eyes lingered on your cunt, messy with your own cum as it started to drip out of you. the sight nearly made him hard again within seconds.

you laid still, taking a minute to catch your breath when a low laugh from shanks made you pick your head back up.

“don’t fall asleep on us now, mama, we ain’t done yet.”

something about shanks and the word “mama” has done something irreversible and irreparable to my brain chemistry.

#kinktober #one piece kinktober #one piece shanks #shanks #shanks op #shanks smut #shanks one piece smut #one piece smut #shanks op smut #op smut #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk smut #mihawk smut #shanks x reader #one piece mihawk #mihawk op smut #mihawk x shanks x reader #mihawk x shanks

[katebeckets]

Emily’s Follower Appreciation Event 🌷 ⤷ 🎨  nancy tremaine + color palettes

Enchanted (2007) / Disenchanted (2022)

for @gracegordongreene ♡

#fae #em.idina #em.movies #my gifs #my edit #idina menzel #nancy tremaine #idina edit #userladies #moviegifs #userfilm #filmtvcentral #cinematv #ladiesblr #femalecharacters #usercinna #singinprincess #when i tell you i finished this out of sheer stubbornness #i was going to do it entirely with the first scene/color palette #but couldn't figure it out #so then i did this #fkjdak;fa idk man i hope you like it #i don't mind how it turned out but MAN that was hard #i'll probably post the rest of the gifs from the first scene #because she's so pretty and cute i love her

[mingigoo]

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls. 

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing. 

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on,  bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone. 

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you. 

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one. 

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled. 

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine. 

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended. 

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you. 

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew. 

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web. 

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door. 

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside. 

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck. 

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze. 

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really. 

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now. 

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face. 

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him. 

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature. 

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated. 

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you. 

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more. 

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?” 

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass. 

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help,  struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox. 

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really. 

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. 

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful. 

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together. 

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated. 

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first. 

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before. 

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles,  but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared. 

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him. 

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.” 

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more. 

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in. 

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital. 

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.” 

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you. 

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor. 

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more. 

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self. 

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore. 

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude. 

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful. 

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either. 

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm. 

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired. 

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display. 

“Mhm,” you swallowed. 

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. 

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare. 

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him,  his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg. 

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath. 

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either. 

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see. 

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub. 

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin.  He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated. 

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear. 

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see. 

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous. 

You breathed out, “No.” 

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways. 

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face. 

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking. 

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious. 

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you. 

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed. 

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

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kinktober day two

titfucking seungmin x fem!reader summary: seungmin's biggest pet peeve is when you forget plans warnings: warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, 18+, degradation, humiliation, manhandling, use of color system 0.9k words

“seungmin, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean-”

“ground,” he commands.  you comply, not wanting to piss him off more than he already is.

“i’ll make it up to you! i promise! whatever you want-” tears are streaming down your face and your grabbing at his legs, begging him to forgive you.

he grabs your chin in one of his big hands to cut you off. “i want you to shut the fuck up. since you want to act like such a slut, i’ll fucking treat you like one.” he forcefully releases his grip on your face, in a throw-like motion. “take your shirt off to match your fucking cunt.”

you quickly take your shirt off and throw it god knows where. you sit on your knees, hands in your lap, waiting for seungmin to make his next move. you had forgotten that seungmin said he would come over after his schedule today and he caught you playing with yourself. he had previously said that this event would probably stress him out so he wanted to come to your apartment and make love to you before falling asleep. 

“i’m already fucking exhausted from today,” he says, walking over to your nightstand and opening one of your drawers. “and i expected to come home to my beautiful lover that i could make sweet, romantic love to. but no.” he turns around, a small bottle of lube in one hand and he’s unbuckling his belt with the other. “i came home to a slut, who couldn’t even wait for me to come home to make her feel good.”

he grabs you by the chin again and lowers himself to eye level with you. “i was going to be so sweet and gentle with you today, i was thinking about it the whole way home. but now i don’t think you deserve it.”

you gulp, too scared to respond, seungmin picks up on this. normally you would have a snarky remark or would continue to beg for forgiveness, but today you’re too disappointed in yourself to do so. 

“color?” seungmin whispers, lightening the grip on your jaw. 

“g-green,” you whisper back, lowering your head.

“good,” he says, as he stands up fully.

“c-can i say one thing?” you ask meekly.

“yes,” he answers, standing above you looking down at your solemn figure.

“i’m very sorry, i-i had mixed up what days y-you said y-you’d be o-over and i,uh, thought it was ‘morrow.”

“shouldn’t be so forgetful,” he laughs, pulling his belt off and throwing it onto your bed. 

“i know. you can do whatever you need to me tonight and i’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

“i intend to,” he spits. he pulls his slacks down just enough for his hard cock to spring free, the sight makes your mouth water. “sit up,” he commands. 

you do as he asks and sit up on your knees, you’re face to face with his stomach and you look up to him. he looks so handsome like this, telling you want to do and holding this power above you.

“push ‘em together,” he says, removing the cap from the bottle of lube. he doesn’t have to explicitly say it, you know exactly what he’s talking about.

you knew that seungmin was a tit guy, the way he always groped at them or stared at them no matter what you were doing. a couple months ago, you were having a similar scene but you were allowing him to face fuck you. he stopped suddenly and asked if it would be okay to use your tits to get off. ever since then he had become addicted to it and would do it any time you misbehaved.

you pushed your breasts together and he prepared his cock and placed it between your tits. 

“good?” he asks. everytime he checks in, it makes your heart swell. you nod in response.

he slowly begins to move back and forth between your soft breasts. “fuck,” he groans. 

you nod. you feel yourself dripping all over your hardwood floors and you adjust yourself to close your legs and stop any further leaking. 

“sitting nice and still while i use you is the least you could do right now.” he says through gritted teeth.

you try to move again but seungmin grabs you by the jaw and pulls you to look at him.

“why the fuck are you moving?” seungmin yells.

“d-don’t want to make a mess on my floor,” you whisper.

“speak up slut. you were so loud earlier begging for my forgiveness. where is that now?” he taunts, tightening his grip on your jaw.

“i’m making a mess on my floor, d-don’t want to leave a puddle.”

“oh my god,” seungmin erupts into laughter. “you are such a fucking slut aren’t you? i can just use your tits for my own pleasure and it has you gushing all over the place, hmm?”

your face turns red and tears threaten to spill over.

“gonna cry, hmm? save it.” seungmin grabs both of your shoulders and begins to fuck your tits faster.

“push ‘em together further, slut.”

you push your breasts together as hard as you can and seungmin moans loudly in response. 

“gonna come all fucking over you,” he spits before releasing his load. he paints your breasts, neck, and jaw white and you sigh in relief. he takes one of his fingers and slides it over a pile of is cum and holds it to your mouth,

“suck,” he commands and you eagerly take his fingers into your mouth. 

once you wipe them clean, he ponders for a moment. “push ‘em back together,” he says, stroking his cock back to its full length. “i’m not finished yet.”

seungmin simps please rise !!

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[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp. 

“Holy shit—” 

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie. 

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.” 

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. 

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!" 

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be. 

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?” 

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?” 

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.” 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” 

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.” 

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him. 

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.” 

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.” 

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.” 

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.” 

“I’m leavin’.” 

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him. 

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.” 

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel. 

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard. 

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.” 

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?” 

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.” 

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?” 

“I do.” 

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows. 

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—” 

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission. 

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling. 

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.” 

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.” 

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.” 

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.” 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.” 

“Prove it.” 

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

“Joel—Oh my god—” 

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?” 

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.” 

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him. 

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak. 

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week. 

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him. 

A painful week. 

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop. 

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been. 

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well? 

“Hey, Ellie?” 

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?” 

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.” 

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be. 

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together. 

“What are you—” 

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway. 

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?” 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.” 

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t. 

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.” 

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?” 

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.” 

And you do. 

“You need to get your shit together.” 

“Language, Ellie, dammit.” 

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable. 

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him. 

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of. 

He misses your taste on his tongue. 

“She’s miserable too, you know.” 

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?” 

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole” 

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it. 

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.” 

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him. 

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. 

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. .  .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice. 

“You already do.” 

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