#I can't wait for Thursday and new update

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days. 

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days. 

It’s scary. 

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else. 

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space. 

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up. 

But you’re not quite there yet. 

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy. 

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting. 

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice. 

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting. 

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either. 

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause. 

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally. 

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick. 

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach. 

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment. 

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all. 

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat. 

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat. 

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself. 

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position. 

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him. 

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass. 

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that. 

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step. 

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy. 

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you. 

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea. 

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence. 

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes. 

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there. 

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather. 

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do. 

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting��for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue. 

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder. 

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out. 

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person. 

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now. 

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort. 

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you. 

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him. 

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle. 

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer. 

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up. 

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes. 

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.  

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man. 

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that. 

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind. 

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—” 

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again. 

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this. 

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings. 

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you. 

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff. 

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group. 

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice. 

Soon, it’s just the two of you. 

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond. 

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.” 

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high. 

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts. 

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence. 

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice. 

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud. 

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing. 

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset. 

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running. 

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears. 

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream. 

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care. 

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right. 

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you. 

You feel like you might throw up. 

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away. 

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking. 

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is. 

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying. 

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder. 

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette. 

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you. 

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection. 

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you. 

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them. 

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again. 

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.  

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale. 

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice. 

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive. 

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more. 

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby. 

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again. 

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink. 

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.  

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words. 

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles. 

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk. 

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup. 

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant. 

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit. 

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it. 

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede. 

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done. 

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you. 

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him. 

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom. 

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta. 

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever. 

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side. 

“You in there?” 

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup. 

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing. 

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes. 

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating. 

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him. 

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate. 

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed. 

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive. 

Spencer attempts to speak again. 

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?” 

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face. 

You don’t know where it comes from, either. 

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms. 

Too scared. 

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too. 

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room. 

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final. 

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home. 

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do. 

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing. 

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet. 

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move. 

If only time would freeze before he could walk away. 

But it doesn’t. 

He sucks in a decisive breath. 

“Okay,” he murmurs. 

It’s that fucking phone call all over again. 

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up. 

-

part 5.5

[mrs-delaney]

2 AM Confessions

🍻📱 Request: joe drunk texting at 2am—wyd? u up?—she ignores it… so he shows up anyway 🥴💌

🏈 Joe Burrow x Reader | 2k words

💬🔞 warning: flirty 2am texts, unresolved feelings, and sex that might ruin your life a little (in a good way)

author’s note: i’m deep in the next chapter of hide (and joe’s pov for behind the lens is coming along too 👀), but i’m still making time to work through the requests in my inbox. love y’all, mean it 💛

📚 read my masterlist

🎤🏈 read Hide — two people, two careers, and one very complicated kind of love

💌 want to be the first to know when new stories drop? join the taglist for updates, previews, and more. ✨

The buzzing of your phone on the nightstand cuts through the quiet of your apartment. You glance at the clock—2:17 AM—then at the screen lighting up with Joe's name.

You up?

You stare at the message, your heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always does when his name appears. You've been avoiding this. Avoiding him. The silence after he left your place Thursday night wasn't an accident—it was self-preservation.

Your phone buzzes again.

Miss you

Then again.

Why didn't you text me back the other night?

And again.

Coming over. Need to see you.

Panic floods your system. You scramble out of bed, rushing to the bathroom mirror. Your hair is a mess from lying down, and you're wearing an old, oversized, grungy t-shirt. You try to fix your hair without making it obvious that you've fixed it, then quickly change into a cute, matching set—soft cotton shorts and a fitted tank top. You grab your perfume and spray it on your wrists and neck, then pause, realizing you're putting in effort you said you wouldn't, but there's no time to second-guess yourself now.

The knock on your door comes twenty minutes later.

You take a breath, wait a few seconds so you don't seem too eager, then open the door to find Joe leaning against the frame. He's not stumbling drunk, just looser than usual—hair slightly messed up, eyes a little unfocused but still very much him.

"You can't just show up here, Joe."

"You weren't answering." Matter-of-fact, like this explains everything.

"I was asleep." The lie comes easily.

"No, you weren't. Your light was on." He looks past you into the apartment.

You both know he's right.

"Can I come in?"

You don't respond verbally, just step back and open the door wider. He walks past you, and you close the door carefully, buying yourself a second to breathe. The space suddenly feels smaller with him in it.

He turns to look at you once he's inside, taking in the apartment like he's cataloging details. Neither of you moves to sit down. The silence stretches, awkward and charged.

"Why didn't you text me back?"

He's not bothering with small talk.

"You're drunk, Joe. I don't want to do this with you right now."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I left your place Thursday night and haven't heard from you since," he continues, not letting you deflect. "That's not... that's not how this usually goes."

"I needed space."

"Space from me?" His voice goes quieter, more vulnerable.

You cross your arms defensively. "It's getting complicated, Joe. This was supposed to be easy."

"So you need space because you caught feelings?" His tone is slightly challenging, a little harsh.

The question hangs in the air like an accusation. Your heart pounds because he just said what you've been trying not to admit.

"What if I did?" you ask, turning it back on him, making him answer first.

Joe runs his hand through his hair, the alcohol making him bold enough to ask, but your response puts him on the spot. A beat of silence as he processes, then:

"I didn't ask you to."

The words hit harder than he meant them to. You feel your face change instantly—hurt, then anger.

"You know what? This is done."

You're already moving toward the door, done with this conversation after he just shut you down when you were finally being honest.

"Wait, don't... can we just..." He takes a step toward you, panic creeping into his voice as he realizes he's about to lose something important. "I fucked that up."

You stop, but don't turn around; your hand is still on the door handle. "Yeah, you did. And I don't want to be on the roster anymore."

The word choice—"roster"—cuts deep because it's exactly right. You're calling out the casual rotation, the lack of commitment, and Joe feels like you punched him.

"You're not on the roster. You ARE the roster," he says, his voice rough with honesty. "There hasn't been anyone else in weeks."

You freeze with your hand still on the door. That's not what you expected him to say. It changes everything and nothing all at once.

"For weeks," you say slowly, finally turning to look at him. "What about tomorrow? Next month?"

You're asking for commitment he might not be ready to give, asking him to define what you are, what this means beyond just being the only one right now.

"I don't know." His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "It's been a long time since I've done this."

He's not just talking about relationships, but about caring this much. About having something to lose. About being out of his depth, because this actually means something.

"I get that," you say, and you do. "But I can't be in limbo while you figure it out."

The clarity of that statement hits him. You're not being unreasonable—you're protecting yourself. You understand why he's uncertain, but you won't sacrifice yourself for it.

"I know I don't want to lose you," he says finally. "But I don't know what that means yet."

"That's still not enough, Joe." You're exhausted by this whole conversation. "I need more than 'I don't want to lose you.' I need to know this isn't just you telling me what you think I want to hear because it's 2 AM and you want a quick fuck."

The brutal honesty of that accusation makes him feel like you slapped him. You're calling out exactly what you're afraid this is—manipulation for sex.

"That's not what this is," he says, defensive but hurt. "If I just wanted a quick and easy fuck I wouldn't be having this conversation. If that's what this was, I wouldn't have dropped the roster weeks ago."

"So what happens now?" you ask, putting the ball back in his court. He's made his defense, now what's he actually going to do about it?

"I don't know," he admits, the fight going out of him. "Can we just... take it one day at a time?"

He steps closer to you, reaching for you. "Can I stay? We can figure the rest out tomorrow."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, Joe. You can't just—"

"I came here because I couldn't sleep thinking about you," he interrupts, his voice raw with exhaustion and honesty. "I don't have the right words to say right now, but that's the truth."

The simplicity of it hits harder than any flowery speech. He's not trying to charm his way out, just telling you the truth. He reaches for you again, more tentatively this time. "Please let me stay."

The vulnerability in that "please" cracks something open in you. Joe doesn't beg, but this feels like begging. After the emotional back-and-forth, after his raw honesty, you can't find words.

So you close the distance between you, stepping into his reach.

Your actions give him the answer your words couldn't. His arms wrap around you immediately, and the relief in both your bodies is palpable. All that tension finally breaking.

"You smell good," he murmurs into your hair, taking you in after holding you close.

After a few moments of just breathing together, of small touches and the shift from comfort to awareness of each other's bodies, he pulls back slightly to look at your face.

"Come on," he says softly, taking your hand and tugging gently toward the hallway.

You follow without question the unspoken agreement that this is what you both want. The walk to your bedroom is quiet, just the sound of your footsteps and the anticipation building between you.

Once you reach the bedroom, there's a beat of uncertainty. The emotional vulnerability you just shared hangs in the air, making this feel different than your usual hookups. More meaningful.

You reach for him first, your hands sliding up under his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin. He's still for a second, then helps you pull the shirt over his head.

Your fingers trace along his chest, and he lets out a quiet breath. His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing against the soft cotton of your tank top.

"This okay?" he asks, voice low.

You nod, reaching for the hem of your own shirt. He watches as you pull it off, his eyes taking you in like he's memorizing this moment. When his hands finally touch your bare skin, you both exhale at the same time.

The kissing starts slow, tentative, almost careful, but builds quickly. His mouth moves to your neck, finding that spot that makes you gasp, and your fingers tangle in his hair.

"Missed this," he murmurs against your throat. "Missed you."

Your response gets lost in a soft moan as he guides you back toward the bed. The mattress hits the back of your knees, and you sit down, pulling him with you.

He settles between your legs, hands skimming up your sides, relearning your body like it's been months instead of days. When you arch into his touch, he groans low in his chest.

"Fuck, baby."

His hands are everywhere—your ribs, your back, tangling in your hair as he kisses you deeper. You can taste the alcohol on his tongue, feel the slight tremor in his hands that gives away how much he wants this.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down along with his boxers. He kicks them off impatiently, then reaches for your shorts.

"These too," he says, voice rough.

You lift your hips so he can slide them off, and when you're both finally naked, he pauses to look at you. His chest is rising and falling heavily.

"Come here," you whisper, pulling him down to you.

The first touch of skin against skin makes you both gasp. He settles his weight on you carefully, like he's afraid you might disappear.

He reaches between you, fingers sliding through your wetness, and curses under his breath. "Fuck."

You're about to respond when he pushes one finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly. Your back arches off the bed, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"That's it," he murmurs, thumb circling your clit as his fingers work. "Just like that, baby."

The tension builds quickly, your body responding to his touch like it always does. But when you're close, he pulls his hand away, ignoring your frustrated whine.

"Want to be inside you when you come," he says, positioning himself at your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, both of you breathing hard as he fills you completely.

"Shit," he groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "You feel fucking good."

He starts moving, deep and slow, each thrust deliberate. Your nails dig into his back as you meet his rhythm, the friction building between you.

"Harder," you gasp, and he complies immediately, his hips snapping against yours with more force.

"Look at me," he says, voice strained. When your eyes meet his, something shifts. This isn't just sex anymore. It's something else entirely.

You feel yourself getting close, that familiar heat building low in your belly. "Joe, I'm—"

"I know," he cuts you off, reaching between you to rub tight circles over your clit. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel it."

The orgasm hits you hard, your body clenching around him as pleasure washes over you. He follows seconds later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a low groan.

You both lie there afterward, breathing heavily, his weight comforting against you. After a moment, he shifts to pull out, then collapses beside you, pulling you against his chest.

"We're gonna have to talk about this tomorrow," he says quietly, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh softly against his chest. "You're right."

Neither of you says anything else for a while, just lie there in the quiet darkness, both knowing that something has shifted between you. Maybe you still don't have all the answers, but this—whatever this is—feels like a beginning.

[soulmatesinc-if]

No more teasing this time, I come bearing good news...

The next update is coming on Thursday, the 19th of December at 6PM UTC | 12PM EST | 9AM PST

Lots of interactions to look forward to, I can't wait to share it with you!

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 41 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley really does have to work late, you spend a fun evening with Noah, but Bradley starts to realize all the ways his life is holding yours back when you go out with friends. Then as soon as you let Bradley see you in your formal dress, he wants to take it off of you. In fact, it'll be a miracle if the two of you make it through the retirement party at all.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, spitting, butt plug, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Your phone screen lit up with a call from Bradley just as you shoved the last bite of your sandwich into your mouth while you were typing up a patient's chart. "Hello?" you managed while you chewed.

"Baby, I'm going to be late today. For real," he said, sounding a bit cautious. "Here, talk to Nat. You're on speaker."

"Hi," came his best friend's voice as you finally swallowed. "He's stupid and annoying, but he's not lying. We're staying late with the new mechanical crew to learn about an update."

"I'm assuming you're calling to make sure I can pick Noah up?" you asked as you smiled. It almost made you feel good that Bradley was being so cautious this time around. 

"Yeah. Can you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, perfect. I know I've been asking a lot of you," he said, his voice soft and deep. "But I trust you with everything. And I'll make it up to you."

Now you were smirking as you looked around to be sure none of your coworkers were around. "Are you going to make it up to me in our bed or in the shower, Daddy?"

He made a strangled noise and you heard Nat shriek in the background. "Baby, I said you were on speaker," he whispered. "Well, now you're not."

You had to stifle your laughter as you said, "I need to go. I'll get Noah from daycare. And then I'll try my pretty dress on for you if you're good, Daddy."

"Fuck," he muttered. "Yeah, I'll be good. I'll be so good."

You had to squeeze your thighs together at the prospect of making him beg. The retirement party for Admiral Bates was just a few days away, but you hadn't let Bradley see you in the purple dress yet. For the past few days, ever since you told him what Casey said to you, Bradley had been letting you hold all the cards. When he came home from work that day and told you that Casey shouldn't be a problem for you anymore, you gasped. He told you what he'd said to her, and then you gave him a blowjob. 

"I'll see you at home later tonight," you told him softly. "In my pretty Princess dress."

"I can't wait."

"Oh, and don't forget I have happy hour with my work friends on Thursday."

"I'll make absolutely certain I leave work on time on Thursday," he promised.

When you made it to the preschool to pick Noah up, you smiled at Casey. "Oh, hi. I'm here for Noah," you told her, annunciating each word like she was very stupid. She rolled her eyes and handed you the clipboard as you asked, "No bakery box today?"

She didn't acknowledge you or say a single word as she walked to the classroom door and went inside. You filled out the sheet on the clipboard, smiling as you saw Bradley's signature from earlier this morning. Then Noah came streaking out toward you. "Can we take Skittles on a hike?" he asked as he ran into your arms. 

"Of course," you told him, kissing his soft curls as you practically threw the clipboard at Casey and led Noah outside. "Daddy will be home late, so we can do whatever we want."

His face lit up as you buckled him in his car seat. "Can we get ice cream?"

You pretended to consider your answer before saying, "Of course we can get ice cream!"

You drove home with the windows down and the kid friendly playlist on. When you stopped at a traffic light, you turned around to sing along with Noah. And when you parked your car in the driveway, you carried him inside while you sang the dinosaur song together. 

"I love you so much," you told him as he wrapped his arms around your neck. You unlocked the front door and went right to the crate in the kitchen. Skittles was looking up at the two of you with the biggest, sappiest brown eyes you'd ever seen. Well, other than the ones the Bradshaw boys frequently gave you. 

Noah squirmed out of your arms and went to open the crate door just the way you showed him how. He was so gentle with the little pup, and she whimpered and whined until she was able to lick Noah's hands and face. "Come on, Skittles," you called as you opened the back door. She limped her way across the kitchen floor, and you had to force yourself not to pick her up since she was supposed to be moving around on her own. It was bad enough that Bradley carried her around all the time. She looked at you, and you bent to ruffle her purple bow before she wandered outside to the grass. 

"Should we go get ice cream first and then eat dinner after that?" you asked Noah with a smile.

"Yeah! We can pretend it's opposite day!"

"Great idea."

----------------------------

When Bradley got home, he was irritated. The mechanics took forever to get everything in order so he could sign off and leave for the day. The downside of being responsible for his jet was that he was really responsible for every little detail. When he let himself inside, he could hear the bath water running and laughter coming from the bathroom. 

He poked his head inside to find you kneeling on the floor next to the tub while Noah played, and you were both giggling. Skittles perked up and ran for Bradley, and then Noah saw him too. "Daddy!"

You whipped your head around to face him with a bright smile on your gorgeous face. "Hi, Daddy. You'll never guess what today is."

"Tell me," he said as he walked in still wearing his flight suit and boots, scooping Skittles up in one hand. He knelt on the mat next to you with a soft groan and then buried his face against your neck with a little nip. "I'm dying to know," he whispered as he kissed your ear. Then he reached for Noah and kissed his wet cheek as you turned the water off. 

"It's opposite day!" Noah exclaimed. "The water is dry, and I don't like dinosaurs," he said before bursting into a fit of giggles. 

"Opposite day?" Bradley asked, pretending to need help with the concept while Skittles licked his face. "Can I have another example?"

"We had ice cream before dinner!"

"Noah," you scolded playfully. "You weren't supposed to tell him that!" You eyed Bradley sheepishly. "We did end up eating dinner... just after dessert."

He kissed your cheek. "You're the best Mommy ever. You make everything fun."

"Were you good today?" you asked softly while Noah claimed all of his rubber duckies were sinking when they were clearly floating. 

"So good," he promised. The way you bit your lip reminded Bradley that it had been a few days since you and he had sex. He thought maybe you were ovulating, but it didn't really matter. He needed to do a better job of keeping you full regardless. 

Things had just been a bit hectic, and the tiny dog in his hand was evidence of that. If you got pregnant, things would get even wilder around here, but he didn't mind it. He actually craved it at times. And when he reminded himself that he finally had a teammate in you, things always felt manageable. 

"I have an idea," he said as you washed Noah's hair. "After this, I'll get Noah in bed and let Skittles out one more time, and then you can take your time getting ready while I get a shower."

You nodded. "Did you hear that, Noah? It's time to wake up instead of go to bed."

He laughed again. "Will you read me a good morning story?" he asked Bradley.

"Absolutely, Bub," he replied. "I mean... no, I won't? Opposite day is confusing."

When he got Noah to change into pajamas under the guise that he was really getting dressed for daycare, Bradley heard you get into the shower. Once Noah was tucked in, he took Skittles outside. The bedroom door was closed, so you must be in there putting on your purple dress for the retirement party. He couldn't wait to see it.

Bradley got in the shower and took his time, but he was yawning almost nonstop. He needed to get it together so he could fuck you if that's what you wanted. He'd made a lot of promises about that kind of thing, and he didn't want his age to start catching up with him. "Shit," he mumbled as he toweled his hair off before wrapping it around his waist. 

But he shouldn't have worried. As soon as he walked into his bedroom, Bradley stopped short. You were bending and petting Skittles in her little dog bed, but you really did look like a princess. 

"You're wearing your crown," he rasped, and you stood to your full height and turned to look at him. "Jesus." The purple dress was indeed two pieces, and the top was beaded and very tastefully showcased your tits. Then the skirt was some sort of sheer flowy materials in a million layers, and Bradley wanted to run his hands all over it. But not as much as he wanted to run his fingers along the strip of your skin that showed just above your belly button. 

"You like it?" you asked, twirling for him as you brought one hand up to hold your paper crown on your head. "You paid for it," you said with a laugh. 

The fabric of the skirt swung around your body and moved with you. Bradley was entranced. "Yeah, I like it," he whispered. "Everyone else at the retirement party is going to like it too." Maybe a little too much, but there was nothing to be done about it now. And Nat was right when she'd said you would look incredible next to him in his dress white. "Fuck."

"Daddy," you gasped, looking up at him as his towel fell away from his waist. He was half erect, and he hadn't even touched you. All he had to do was look at you or smell you, and he was ready to go. 

You were standing very close, but you didn't let your hands meet his body, and you seemed too perfect right now for him to touch you without permission. Just like actual royalty. "Princess," he whispered as you licked your lips. "Will you let me pull that pretty skirt up and fuck you?"

In response, you brought your hands up to your hips and jutted your chin in the air. "That was very lewd, Daddy." He grunted as the fabric of your skirt brushed along the head of his cock. He could smell your body wash as you ran your hands up to your top and over your breasts. He could practically taste your pussy as his mouth watered. "You better start begging."

Your gaze followed him as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you and buried his face in your skirt. He kissed the soft layers as he asked, "Please, Baby? I'll do anything you want. Just let me have your pussy. Please."

You brought your fingers up to stroke his cheek and run your thumb across his lips. "You can do better than that."

His cock was throbbing now. "Anything you want. I'll get you off just right. You know I will. I'll worship you." He kissed the soft skin just below your beaded top with the gentlest touch of his lips, and you moaned his name.

Bradley kissed and nuzzled his nose against you, whispering please over and over again before you finally said, "Stand up." He was on his feet immediately, cock at attention and cheeks warm. "Don't mess up my dress," you told him, running your fingertips along his abs as you walked over to the bed. You bent at the waist with your arms and cheek pressed to the soft bedding. You looked so innocent and perfect with your teeth digging into your glossy lip, but you sounded dirty as hell when you said, "Come fuck me, Daddy."

Bradley growled as he reached for your hips through all the layers of your pretty skirt. He forced himself to go slow, pushing the fabric up inch by inch and savoring the way it felt in his hands. Eventually your perfect thighs gave way to your wet pussy, but then Bradley's head tipped back as the most ridiculous noise escaped his lips. 

"Baby," he moaned, rubbing his cock all over your ass and through your wet warmth as you gasped and grabbed at the bedding. You were wearing your purple plug and puckering around it beautifully. So needy, the way you were grinding forward against the edge of the bed. "This is fucking gorgeous," he crooned, gently pushing on the base of the plug and giving you more pressure. 

You rolled your hips back against his hand and raised up on your tiptoes. He knew you wanted your pussy full as well as your ass, and he was going to give you his cock and his cum. Eventually. But first he knelt behind you as you whined, and he pinned your hips in place. "Bradley," you gasped, trying to fight the hold he had on you, but he wouldn't allow it. With your voluminous skirt pushed up to your waist, Bradley kissed you from behind and swiped his tongue through your wet folds. 

"Oh," you gasped loudly, trying to thrust back to meet him.

"Shh," he warned, pressing your plug with his nose. "I'll fuck you just right, but I want you to cum on my mustache first."

It took almost no time, not with how sensitive you were. He debated edging you until you squirted for him, but he figured it was better to ruin the dress after the retirement party. So Bradley ate your pussy like the meal it was until you were on the verge of tears. Every long stripe of his tongue had your legs shaking a little harder. He just wanted a little more before he let you come. So he licked up to your plug and spit, watching his saliva drip back down to your pussy as he finally let you have a little pressure on your clit with his middle finger. 

"Daddy!" you nearly screamed as he rubbed you with steady circles. Your hips jerked as you got his mustache even wetter, crying out against the bedding. But Bradley didn't stop the motion with his middle finger. He kept going as he stood and smiled at your face buried between your fisted hands. 

"That's a good girl. Keep nice and quiet." 

He fucked you, bending over your body and gently kissing your back as he rammed himself deep a few times. You felt somehow even fucking tighter when you were wearing the plug, and Bradley made sure he pressed it deeper as he railed you. 

When he kissed your shoulder, your pussy clenched around him. He wasn't even sure if you were still on your first orgasm or if you'd started to come again, but either way, he felt like your knight right now. When you turned your head to take a deep breath, your crown rolled off, and Bradley watched you look back at him as he fucked into you and bottomed out.

"Am I allowed to come, too?" he grunted, leaning in and licking at your glossy lips. 

"Yes," you whispered, kissing his tongue before he stood at his full height, grabbed you by your hips and thrusted and unloaded. 

Bradley ran one hand up along your beaded top, stroking your bare skin when he came across it. He listened as you hummed and laughed softly while he looked at your purple outfit, your purple plug, and your purple crown on the bed. He'd never had anything so bright in his life before you. 

"Don't mess up my dress," you reminded him, and Bradley just stood there with his cock still inside you and his hands full of fabric. 

"Well, what do you suggest I do back here, Princess?" he asked as you giggled and reached your hands back to hold some of the fabric. You bunched it up higher as you slowly stood, and then Bradley could feel the cool beads of your top against his abs and chest. 

"I think it's safe," you whispered. Bradley withdrew himself, and with a grin, he dropped to his knees behind you. He watched his cum drip down your inner thighs, and when you tried to press your legs together he told you no.

He shoved his hand between your thighs and whispered, "No, it's too pretty," as his semen dripped right from your pussy to his palm. "God, it's so fucking pretty." He kissed along the backs of your legs and the base of your plug, but he didn't move his hand until his palm was coated. 

When he stood again, he whispered, "I'll go get a wet washcloth so I can help you get undressed." But before he could leave the room, you met his eyes and raised his hand to your lips to kiss his cum covered palm and swiped your tongue through it. "Oh, shit," he groaned, watching as you cleaned him up. "How's that taste?"

"Mmm," you hummed, licking your lips. "Good. Like me and you."

His mouth was on yours immediately, needing to taste it for himself as he wrapped his still wet hand around the back of your neck. His tongue met yours, and he tasted himself there along with the sweetness of your pussy. "God damn, Baby. I hope I can keep up with you."

You nodded as he pressed some soft kisses to your lips. "You always do."

---------------------------

On Thursday, you were getting ready for happy hour with your coworkers when Bradley walked into the bedroom. "You look pretty," he said as you applied some of your lip gloss. You smiled at him in the mirror, and he walked a little closer. There was something about you this week that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he had the urge to fuck you nearly nonstop. 

"Thanks, Daddy," you sang as he rubbed his hand along your lower back. 

"Hey," he whispered, letting his lips meet your ear. "You think we have time for a quickie?"

You knew. You must have known by the way you were smiling. He literally couldn't keep his hands off you. "You just like calling me your little cream donut," you replied, but you didn't say no. 

"I really do," he said, reaching for your jeans zipper, but you took his hand in yours and pulled it away. 

"We don't have time," you scolded, kissing his lips and lacing your fingers with his. "You need to get Noah in the car so you boys can drop me off."

"Who's driving you home again?" Bradley asked, needing to be sure you wouldn't get in the car with anyone who'd been drinking. 

"Sarah," you told him, cupping his cheek gently. "She's seven months pregnant. The hardest thing she'll be drinking is ginger ale."

"Alright," he agreed, letting you finish up as he put Noah in the Bronco. Then he drove you and dropped you off at a trendy looking bar in the Gaslamp Quarter which was filled with people your own age. 

"Looks like a bunch of hipsters," he mumbled as he parked in the loading zone at the curb. He could almost imagine Greyson and his idiot friends hanging out here, and he reached for your hand. 

You laughed as he kissed your fingers. "Everyone under thirty looks like a hipster to you. And I mean that with love."

"You don't look like a hipster," he said, brow furrowed as he looked at your hand and briefly wondered why he hadn't taken the time to buy you a ring yet. 

"I see them," you said, pointing out the window before you leaned in to peck his lips. "I'll let you know when I'm on my way home." Then you crawled halfway over the seat and kissed Noah who was already yawning. "Night, sweet Noah," you whispered before kissing Bradley one more time and hopping out. 

He watched you wave to the group of other nurses he'd met briefly. All of them were around your age, and sure enough he saw Sarah with her pregnant belly. He looked at your elegant body; you looked so damn young, but you seemed older than twenty four. And you'd look just right with a belly like that. Bradley groaned and put the Bronco in drive when he saw a group of guys walk toward you and your coworkers as you were about to head inside the bar. You ignored them in favor of waving to Bradley, and he did you the service of waving back before he started driving home. 

You trusted him, and he trusted you. That was all there was to it. He refused to let Casey try to upset you with her bullshit, and you wouldn't chat up random guys. 

"I miss Mommy," Noah said as he yawned again. 

It had literally been five minutes since you got out of the Bronco, but Bradley honestly said, "Me, too." 

And he felt like an idiot after he let Noah eat the ants on logs you left for them. It was nights like this when he started to feel like he was holding you back. He still had engagement rings open on his phone internet tabs, and he knew you'd say yes when he asked. You and he had talked about forever. But these nights out would become almost nonexistent if you got pregnant and there were two kids to look after. 

Noah whined for you at bedtime, and Bradley had to bribe him with extra books since he couldn't have another goodnight kiss from you. Luckily that kid was usually asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but once he was out, Bradley was left alone with his thoughts. He tried to watch TV and even attempted a nap on the couch until you got home. He ended up drinking a beer and holding Skittles on his lap as she licked at the condensation on the bottle. 

"You are begrudgingly very fucking cute," he told the pup as she curled up on his thigh with her casted leg sticking out straight. He petted Skittles until she was sound asleep, her body rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. Bradley finished the beer as he tried not to think about you, which only made it worse. But he kept telling himself you wouldn't still be here right now if you didn't want to be. You'd stayed through Meredith and all of Bradley's bullshit, and you were still here now.

His phone vibrated with a text. My Princess: I'll be home soon!

Home. It was your home, too. You belonged here. So maybe he was supposed to miss you a little bit on nights like this. Perhaps it was normal to notice that your warmth was missing from the room. 

He closed his eyes, about to doze off, when twenty minutes later, you came bursting through the front door. Skittles carefully jumped off his lap and ran to see you as you pulled your shoes off. You looked a little exasperated as you bent to pet the dog before heading his way. 

"Did you have fun?" he asked, about to stand, but you headed right for his lap.

You groaned and settled in so you and he were chest to chest and you tangled your fingers up in his hair, your purple painted nails grazing his scalp. "Everyone my age is exhausting," you said before claiming his lips.

He rubbed his hands up your thighs and smiled against your lips as he asked, "You prefer the older crowd?"

You kissed the side of his neck and yawned before letting your cheek rest on his shoulder. "You know I do. I'm crazy about you and your checkbook and your inability to use a smartphone correctly."

"Well you came to the right place," he whispered. "I have all of the old man shit for you right here."

You giggled before kissing his neck again. "I love you."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you and held you close. This is where you belonged. "I love you, too. You want me to take you to bed?"

You yawned again and said, "I was thinking about you all night, you know? Dirty stuff."

"Dirty stuff?" he asked as you nodded. 

"Mmhmm. You wanna fuck a baby into me?" you asked as your fingers loosened in his hair and your hand came to rest on his chest. "We could do that," you murmured, your lips moving along his neck. "If you want."

Bradley chuckled and held you a little tighter. As much as he loved fucking you, he loved taking care of you even more. "Let's go snuggle, Princess." He scooped you up and carried you to bed where you immediately fell asleep in his arms.

--------------------------------

"This was not a good idea," Bradley murmured as he paced around his living room in his dress whites with his uniform hat in his hands. When he peeked out the front door, Amelia Benjamin was holding Skittles on a leash, and she and Noah were blowing bubbles. He checked the time and groaned. "Such a bad idea."

He could hear laughter coming from his bedroom, and he had to fight the urge to walk back down the hallway and knock on the door again. He knew what the response would be if he asked how much longer it was going to take before you and Nat were ready to go.

"You can't rush perfection," he mumbled to himself as he rolled his eyes and dropped back onto the couch. You already looked perfect all the time. And Nat always looked the same. So he didn't really get the point of the two of you spending the entirety of Saturday afternoon doing each other's hair and makeup just for Admiral Bates' retirement party. It was at the Botanic Garden; it would probably be so humid and crowded inside, everyone would look gross after an hour anyway. 

"Jesus," he grunted when he heard two female voices laughing about mascara. He stood and walked to the kitchen, considering making himself another cup of coffee to help him stay awake all night while he rubbed elbows with his superiors, but then your voice sounded louder. He returned to the living room and waited.

"I think your hair looks perfect," you said as Nat walked in wearing a pretty black dress that hugged her figure. Bradley could appreciate that she seemed to have more makeup on than normal, because her eyes looked bigger and more playful than usual. 

"You look nice," Bradley told her, but then his jaw dropped as you strolled in like you dressed up to impress every day. That purple dress. Fuck. He would always associate it with taking you from behind on the bed. But you looked incredible. "Holy shit, Baby."

"I know," you said with a grin as you spun into his arms. "Nat did my makeup." You kissed his lips, and Bradley didn't even care if that dark lipstick left a mark. Shit. He kind of wanted you to kiss him all over right now. 

"Beautiful," he whispered, cupping your cheek in his palm. You looked the same as you always did, really, with just a little something extra to drive him crazy tonight. 

"You look good, too," you said, running your fingers all over his service pins before taking his hat and plopping it down crooked on his head. He ran his hands down the back of your beaded top and pulled you snug against him. "We'll have a lot of fun with all of this later, Daddy."

Nat cleared her throat and clapped her hands. "Well, on that rather disturbing note, let's get going." 

Bradley looked you up and down one more time, kind of wishing you and he didn't have to go to the event at all. But Amelia was already here to watch Noah and Skittles, and if he didn't get you and Nat into the Bronco soon, you would all be late.

"After you," Bradley said as he opened the front door for Nat to talk outside. When you tried to follow, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close again as you laughed. "Not you," he whispered. "You're mine, Baby. I want you with me all night, okay? No wandering off. You know how those Navy guys can be."

"Oh, I know," you replied as he ran his hand along that little strip of skin that showed above your skirt. "They can be very handsy."

"Mmm," he hummed as he looked down into your eyes. "So you'll stay with me?"

"Yeah. I'll stay with you."

------------------------------

Princess is going to look so pretty at the Botanic Gardens. Wonder if she'll end up with that skirt pulled up around her waist again. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 42

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[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (12)

ー☆ Chapter 12: Shame On Me

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 5.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hiii, my lovelies! Shorter chapter but you won't have to wait too long, I'll update next week again! I don't think there will be any more updates to my other stories this week because I'm going to visit my bestie on Thursday and I only come home on Sunday (can't wait to see you again Orsi *cries*). You know the drill, please listen to Shame On Me before or while reading, thank you!! So, uh, you all will hate me after this chapter, I'm sorry in advance, but you can go scream at me in the notes and reblogs! <3 However, I promise the angst won't last for too long :D Thank you all for reading and always leaving feedback, I appreciate it a lot! I hope you enjoy this chapter, don't hate me pls. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            It was quite ominous how well I had slept last night, and despite feeling my eyes burn from staying up too late and not getting enough sleep, I felt well-rested. Perhaps the unusual warmth engulfing my body had something to do with the way my muscles seemed to become one with the mattress, and the comfortable weight around my waist also made me want to give in to the calling of another slumber. I had woken up a few times before, trying to find new comfortable positions as I could hear the birds chirp outside and the sweet cologne that clung to my clothes and the sheets tingled my nose in a way I had to suppress a sneeze. But the sun was high up in the sky already, the blinds open as I felt the warmth of the sunlight on my face. I released a content sigh as my muscles begged for a good stretch, making me groan when I felt a few vertebras pop, tension releasing between them. Gosh, I wish I could wake up feeling this refreshed every morning.

The covers were thick, and thus, the non-existent melody of the bed calling out to me to stay for longer won as I melted back against the pillow, licking my dry lips as I was mildly surprised that there was no impeding headache. I would usually feel hungover even if I drank only a little—hence why I preferred staying away from alcohol—but maybe that hot chocolate I had last night was some magic drink. There was a low groan next to me and I smiled for a second, feeling thick fingers tangle into the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing, definitely not mine as they rode a little too low on my hips. The strings must’ve come undone in my sleep as I kept shifting around. Not really thinking as I was still under the blissful grip of a good night’s sleep, I sneaked my right arm underneath the covers and gently traced the warm skin of the arm pressing against my torso. There was another low hum and I smiled as I turned my head to the left, eyes protesting as I tried to peel them open. Perhaps that can wait until my brain is fully functioning.

“Good morning.” Mingi’s voice was husky and it covered my arms in goosebumps as I felt butterflies in my stomach, the heath of my cheeks unnatural once again.

“Morning.” I whispered and bit my bottom lip, feeling the bed shift again as Mingi’s hand now held my waist firmly, fingers rubbing circles into the skin where his borrowed t-shirt had ridden up. Feeling eyes on me, I opened one eye and chuckled as I saw Mingi’s puffy face, halfway hidden into his pillow as he lay on his stomach, red lips swollen and platinum blonde hair disheveled in every possible way. Mingi’s cheeks tinged pink and he grumbled something intangible as he hid his face into the pillow, feigning a tickle at my waist as I squirmed and pushed his hand off, heartbeat picking up as Mingi caught my hand before I could pull it away and interlaced our fingers. My eyes were painfully dry but I rubbed them with the heel of my left palm, rubbing my face afterwards as the haze of sleep slowly had started dissipating.

So, turns out all of this wasn’t a dream. I did go to Outlaw to watch Mingi perform, I did get drunk and got into a tiny argument with Mingi, and he did drive me home afterwards. And apparently, I did sleep over wearing his clothes and using his toiletries and we did—we did kiss. I gulped and licked my dry lips again, feeling the butterflies dissipate in my stomach as instead a lump formed in my throat. I released a shaky breath as I felt Mingi caress my knuckles underneath the covers, and then he turned his head to look at me. He looked—content. He looked happy. His face was serene and he looked like he has been waiting for this moment for ages. Something in my chest ached at the thought and I gulped, feeling the blissful morning daze dissipate completely and get replace by a slowly impeding dread. I released a shaky sigh as a heartbreakingly beautiful smile graced Mingi’s lips, mouth forming a boxy shape that showed all of his teeth—the protruding front ones that I grew to adore—his nose wrinkling and eyes creasing. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good anymore, I felt like I wanted to cry.

Why was Mingi so perfect? Why was he so kind to me? Why did he treat me so well? Why was he so patient with me? Why did he stick by my side for so long? What was it about me that he liked? What did Mingi want from me?

I froze as suddenly Mingi pushed up onto his elbows and started leaning over me, that smile still present on his lips as he released my hand to caress my cheek. My hands trembled as I tried to hold his eye contact, but all of a sudden I felt sick. I felt dirty and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything smelled like Mingi, everything felt like Mingi—it was too much. Perhaps he saw the subtle shift in my expression as he stopped for a second, eyebrows slightly furrowing, but then his warm lips touched the corner of my mouth and it made my muscles tense up and send my mind off into an alarmed frenzy.

I couldn’t be here, I had to leave. No. What was I doing? How could I do this when I knew Mingi is Yunho’s best friend? How could I hide something like that from him? Why did I let him kiss me and why did I kiss him back? Why have I—why the hell have I started liking Mingi so much that having him next to me suddenly felt right and being away from him made me anxious, made it feel so wrong?

Unable to control myself anymore, I sprung up from the bed, trying to keep my breaths labored as Mingi sat up alarmed, eyebrows furrowing as he watched me scramble around his room looking for my clothes. I couldn’t remember where he had placed them last night—whether I had left them in bathroom or had brought them to the living room. I heard the sheets crinkle as no doubt Mingi was getting out of bed too, I could feel his piercing gaze follow my every move.

“You—” He hesitated for a second, “You don’t have to leave so early—I mean, it’s not that early, but I want to make us breakfast. I promise I’m not a bad cook.”

I bit my lower lip as my eyebrows furrowed, my body freezing as my heart clenched. I wanted that, I wanted to stay with Mingi and eat breakfast and laugh and just let go of everything and forget every single one of my worries, but I couldn’t. I felt so guilty, I couldn’t even turn around and face him. I had to leave and I had to get rid of him, it would be best for the both of us.

“I’m not hungry.” My voice was barely above a whisper, cold, and distant. I finally spotted my clothes sitting neatly folded on Mingi’s desk chair and I leaped towards them, my fingers curling tightly into them as I cradled them into my arms, somehow hoping that it would bring any sort of comfort. It didn’t because I could still feel Mingi’s eyes on me and hear the way his steps faltered.

“Oh, then…” He fell silent and I felt my hands’ tremors worsen, making me bite into my bottom lip to try and keep myself level-headed. It was hard, and I was failing at it, “We could grab some coffee and—”

“I’m going home, Mingi.” I snapped, cutting off his rambling because I was unable to listen to his warm and soothing voice anymore, now laced with obvious hurt and dejection. I wasn’t only hurting myself anymore, I was hurting him too. And I hated myself. He deserved better. Mingi deserves someone who cherishes him and makes him happy, not someone who brings his hopes up and then stomps on his heart like it means nothing. I didn’t want to do this, but I felt like I had no choice. I had dug my own grave by indulging into his little games—they weren’t games, Mingi has been genuine from the get go—and now here I was, suffering the consequences of my own actions.

“I—Y/N.” I froze as my hand reached for the handle to open the door, I couldn’t face him, “What we did—what happened last night, I—no, the kiss, we can’t just glaze over it, I can’t—I can’t do that anymore. Please, what are we?”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sudden tears in them and inhaled a long breath, slowly twisting the handle of the door so that I could flee easier, “The kiss was—a mistake. We were both caught up in our feels and I—I didn’t mean to do that. I never wanted to kiss you. I don’t—it means nothing. We are nothing, Mingi.”

If the same words echoed in my mind but sounded a lot more masculine and venomous, puppylike eyes narrowed and glaring down at me, I gulped and repressed the memory, rushing out of Mingi’s room in a panic. I didn’t want to hear the way Mingi gasped nor the way he called out in confusion after me as I made it towards the shoe rack, finding my boots placed neatly next to his. It took everything I had in me to keep it together, to swallow the tears that wanted to escape my eyes, to keep my voice firm.

“What do you mean it meant nothing?” Mingi didn’t even sound angry, he sounded so utterly hurt, that a tear unintentionally trickled down my cheek, “It couldn’t have meant nothing, Y/N, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long for it to mean nothing. You’ve—I’ve kissed you before, not like this of course, but we did kiss and we’ve held hands and you—you can’t just fucking say it means nothing when it means everything to me!”

Fuck.

Perhaps it was good that he was finally showing any other reaction than disappointment and hurt, perhaps I pitied myself less if he was angry at me and shouting—I deserved it. I really did, every mean thing he’d hurl at me, I deserved to hear them because he was right. He was, he had always been. I’m a horrible awful being and I played with his feelings just like Yunho had played with mine. How could I hate Yunho so much when I was just like him?

“We’re both honest and blunt people, Mingi, there’s no reason to dance around this.” My voice sounded leveled, calm, almost as if it was mocking Mingi’s despair and I felt like complete shit, “Quite frankly put, I don’t want to see you again. This everything—whatever the hell we’ve been doing for the past three months, it was a shitshow. I don’t know what your purpose behind your actions was but I know mine and it has nothing to do with—whatever we’ve done last night. There’s no such thing as friendship between a girl and boy, it never works out, somebody always gets heartbroken and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. I think we both mislead each other, which led to this misunderstanding, so yes, it means nothing because I don’t want anything from you, but you clearly want something I cannot give you.”

The deafening silence felt like a slap to my face and it almost made me whirl around to apologize for my harsh words, to tell him that it was all a lie, that I liked him more than who I thought was my first love. I had always thought I loved Yunho with my whole being, that I gave him all of myself, but that wasn’t true. Yunho had never seen me at my lowest, Yunho never tried to fix the issues between us, he never reached out if he knew he did something wrong, he never even tried to pursue me—it was all me, all along. I was the one fighting for us and Yunho just went along with it because it was comfortable, because I was a stable point in his chaotic life, somebody he knew he could come back to. And I was treating Mingi as if he did the same thing to me, as if he was just another replica of Yunho—when he wasn’t. Mingi was so much more than Yunho would ever be, and I ruined everything in the span of five minutes.

I didn’t even bother lacing up my boots as I stepped into them, afraid to look back, but unable to stop myself when the silence just continued to stretch on. I didn’t expect to see Mingi’s eyes bloodshot, nor his bottom lip red and swollen from getting chewed on too much. Fuck, why did my heart ache more than when Yunho left me?!

“I never wanted to be your friend, doll.” The way his tone was emotionless yet his lips uttered the nickname, it made my lungs constrict as the lump got bigger and bigger in my throat, “But I knew you needed time, so I gave it to you. Perhaps—perhaps I shouldn’t have, maybe I should have been cleared with my intentions—”

“Mingi.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as we made eye contact. I couldn’t listen to him anymore; I couldn’t bear to hear him make up excuses for the sake of me. Why was he not screaming at me, why was he not hurting me? This is why he was too good for me, why I didn’t deserve him, “Delete my number.”

“You know your way out.” And I did know it. Without saying anything else, I unlocked the front door and ripped it open, slamming it shut behind me as I raced towards the stairs, hissing as my eyes got blurry and obscured my view of where I was stepping. But I had to get out of the building as fast as possible, scared that Mingi would race after me, that he’d try to reason with me one more time because it would work. It would work and I would give in. I would tell him the truth and then everything would be more painful. I was saving him from the betrayal he didn’t deserve, I was saving him from me, who never treated him right. I thought he was an asshole, an arrogant guy who yearned for attention and validation from every breathing female. But that wasn’t true, Mingi was a selfless and hard-working man who put others above himself, he wasn’t greedy and he wore his heart on his sleeve, ready to offer all the love his body contained without expecting anything in return. And I was a horrible human being because I took advantage of his kindness and goodness, because in the process of trying to get rid of him—I fell for him.

I was gasping for air by the time I stumbled out of the building, the wind harsh and cold as I scrambled to wear my jacket over Mingi’s thin t-shirt. It did nothing to shield me from the harsh weather and perhaps I deserved it, perhaps I deserved to be stared at by the passerby people with questioning or judgmental stares. I had no idea where I was, but thankfully finding my phone in my pocket, I was able to walk myself to a bus station and wait for a bus that would take me home. Mingi lived almost thirty minutes away from my place, but that was fine, I could keep it together for so long. I wouldn’t cry, I refused to cry, this was my own punishment. As I sat on the bench at the bus station, the heather above head lessening the chill that seemed to bite at my body, I closed my eyes and wallowed in the tumultuous emotions I felt.

This was far from how I wanted things to go, I thought I was better, that I could control myself and keep everything in check, but at last, I failed. I failed and now I hurt the guy I had fallen for. I was scared, I was afraid of getting left behind like it previously had happened, and so I wanted to protect myself. I struck before he could. I thought I would be protecting my heart and getting the upper hand, but then why was my heart aching and my stomach clenching so hard that it made me feel nauseous? Why do I always mess things up when they finally go right? Can’t I have something good for myself? Is it so hard to believe that not all guys are like Yunho? But Mingi is his best friend and it started getting easy to spot similarities between them the longer I hung out with Mingi. So could he really be much different from Yunho? I wouldn’t know, now, I would never find out.

            I felt numb, both physically and emotionally, by the time I made it home. The house was empty and dark, rainclouds had gathered outside and I was thankful that I made it home before the downpour. It reminded me of Mingi, everything seemed to remind me of Mingi. I hated it, it made breathing harder as I peeled his clothes off myself and went into the shower, probably staying underneath the spray of the hot water for too long. My skin was all wrinkled by the time I got out and the rain came down heavily against the roof of the house, forcing me to dress up warmly and wear the hood of my hoodie as I was too tired and lazy to dry my hair. I was craving something hot to drink, but when my eyes fell on the hot chocolate in the cupboard I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and had to rush to the bathroom, heaving and heaving without throwing up anything. I felt like I was borderline dying, and I deserved it. I knew I did.

And when I was feeling my utmost worst, there was only one thing that could help. Drawing and painting. I stared at my sketchbook longingly, but decided to use a different one as that one was filled with sketches of Mingi’s eyes, and him performing on stage, him driving or him laughing with his boxy and gummy smile, his hands that were littered with rings, his peaceful face when he had fallen asleep once in the library while we were studying. But something that hasn’t happened before did happen now. No matter how much I stared at the blank paper, nothing came to me. My mind refused to conjure up any images, my hands refused to move. My grip on the pencil turned painful and I hissed as I pushed the sketchbook off my lap, throwing the pencil against the wall in frustration. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I listened to the heavy rain, staring at the window, watching as big drops rolled down quickly. The silence, the darkness, the numbness…it was beginning to be too much. I wished to see Mingi, I wished to talk to him, I wanted to fix this, but I couldn’t. I was an asshole and going back to him just hours later after being a dick and probably hurting him beyond forgiveness was an even bigger dick move. I just couldn’t do it, so, I closed my eyes and waited. For what, I didn’t know until my phone rang loudly, making me jump out of my skin.

I was stupid for feeling a flicker of hope that it was maybe him, but my heart settled when Seulgi’s smiling face greeted me once I grabbed my phone. I sighed and picked up, beyond grateful that she probably had a feeling that things weren’t going so well anymore. I could feel the small smile stretch onto my lips, the greeting on the tip of my tongue, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“What have you done.” I froze, heart falling into my stomach at the harsh tone of my best friend, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Seulgi never spoke like that to me—to anyone—she was a ray of sunshine and she never got angry, she was never disappointed, she never treated anyone roughly, “Y/N!”

I jumped at the way she yelled my name, gulping down nothing as my mouth had gone dry, “I—nothing. I did nothing—”

“You’re full of shit.” Seulgi snapped and I felt my lips tremble as her voice raised in anger, “How can you say you did nothing when Mingi has been at Wooyoung’s ever since noon and hasn’t stopped bawling his eyes out?! He’s not speaking, he’s not eating, he’s not even moving, Y/N. What did you do?”

“I—” I gulped, voice faint as I felt my eyes fill with tears, “I didn’t mean to, I—I told him it was nothing. That I—didn’t want to see him again. I just—I’m scared, Seulgi.”

“You’re the fucking worst, Y/N.” Seulgi’s tone didn’t soften, if anything, it got harsher and I heard someone in the background call out her name in a quiet warning, “How could you say that to Mingi out of all people?! Are you seriously joking right now?! Did you feel good playing around with him when he has made it so fucking clear that he was into you? That he likes you? That he wants to be with you? You aren’t even dense not to see things like this, Y/N, you straight up played with his feelings and then crushed his heart like it meant nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, sniffing loudly as Seulgi scoffed. Hearing everything out loud and getting scolded by my best friend probably was the worst feeling ever. I knew I had fucked up colossally if she was taking Mingi’s side, rightfully so.

“I can’t believe you treated him like nothing,” A slight pause and then her voice dropped to a low whisper, “Like Yunho has treated you. You said the same thing to him, Y/N, aren’t you ashamed of yourself—”

“I fucking hate myself, Seulgi!” I exclaimed, frustrated and panicked and annoyed and wounded, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’m scared! I can’t—what if he leaves me? What if he’s worse than Yunho’s ever been?!”

“We were teenagers back then.” Seulgi sighed and her voice softened the slightest, “And Yunho was an asshole from the very beginning, you just refused to see it. Mingi has always been genuine with you, fair, and kind. Yet you saw that and still threw him to the curb.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, refusing to cry. I didn’t deserve to cry.

“You should be saying that to Mingi, not me.” There was light shuffling in the background and then I heard different voices talking to Seulgi, “Seonghwa is here too now, I have to go. You better fix this even though I don’t know if you deserve his forgiveness at this point.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered, but Seulgi hung up without saying goodbye, and suddenly I didn’t know what to do anymore. The phone fell from my hand as I stared with tear filled eyes at my mother’s guitar, flashes of Mingi’s excitement upon seeing it fresh in my mind, making my throat close up. I couldn’t breathe. Mingi wasn’t talking to anyone and it was because of me, I did that. I made him feel like that and I didn’t even know how to fix this anymore. Could I fix it? Or have I fucked up so badly that he’ll never forgive me? I knew for a fact that if I were Mingi, I wouldn’t forgive myself no matter how much he would’ve begged or tried making things right. Just as my head fell onto my knees and I squeezed my eyes shut, annoyed that the unshed tears kept persisting, there was a knock on my door. I hadn’t even heard my mother get home.

She gently pushed the door open and peered inside with a curious look on her face, looking excited as I turned my head to look at her. She grinned and suddenly stepped inside, holding up a small box in excitement. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched her grab a paper out of it, giving me a cheeky smile as she cleared her throat, “‘I hope every time you drink your hot chocolate out of this mug you’ll be reminded of me, doll – S.M.’”

I suppose that was all I needed for the cup to be full, to be tipped over the edge as the tears suddenly sprung free, ripping loud sobs from my throat as I grabbed at my hair, yanking on the strands harshly. My mother gasped in fright and I heard movement behind myself, then I felt hands untangle my fingers from my hair, placing them in my lap with one hand as with her other hand she cradled my head against her chest. She smelled like the sanitizers they used at the hospitals, infused with a little musk as it was my mother’s favorite scent, and I was suddenly so grateful for having her. I turned my body to hug her tightly, crying into her chest like I was a little girl once again. My mother sighed as I felt her pat my head and rub my back up and down, humming a song I knew all too well as we used to listen to it a lot while I was growing up. The weight of her chin felt comforting against the top of my head and I gripped her work clothes perhaps a little too tight, but I didn’t care. I have missed her embrace, I missed laughing with her and crying with her, I have missed talking to her. After Yunho left me, I became closed off. I didn’t let anyone know how I felt or what I was going through, and despite my mother being a nurse, she could only help me if I let her—and I didn’t. I was repulsed by any closeness and I needed to be on my own. Days turned into months and those into years, and it took me this long to realize I wasn’t doing as well as I thought I was.

“Mom,” I was still crying, but my sobs have stopped, “I messed up so bad.”

She hummed as her fingers tried to untangle the knots in my hair, “Does it have to do anything with whom the mug is from?”

I nodded wordlessly and she hummed again, tapping my thigh for me to pull back, “Is it that tall boy with sharp eyes, cute glasses and sweet smile, fluffy dark hair?”

“He’s blonde now.” I muttered as I sniffed loudly and disgustingly as I pulled back, letting my mom wipe my tears off my face.

“You hate blonde guys, though.” She muttered with her eyebrows furrowed as I sheepishly looked up into her eyes.

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed and then she started giggling, prompting me to giggle along, my heart still aching but the relief of being in her arms made me feel like I could breathe once again, “Well, that is no good then. I hope you aren’t crying because this S.M. boy went blonde—”

“Song Mingi, his name is Song Mingi.” I whispered as I chewed on my bottom lip, averting my eyes, “I can’t believe you already forgot his name.”

“Well, I’m particularly bad with names, starlight.” My mother chuckled and I felt a smile tug at my lips. She always found peculiar nicknames to call me by, “And he never came over for dinner, that was my trick to remember his name and well—get to know him better, I suppose.”

“He’s not coming over for dinner—like ever.” My tone was grim as I grumbled, picking at my cuticle as I looked down at my lap, avoiding the look of confusion on my mother’s face.

“So, things didn’t work out…” I hummed and sighed, pulling away completely from my mother’s embrace.

“I’m a fool.” I muttered as I pulled my knees up to my chest again, staring at my socked feet. My mother placed her hand on my shoulder and massaged it softly, “I hurt him and now he hates me. I said what happened between us meant nothing, but I was lying. I think I’m in love with him, mom.”

“Has he said that he hates you?” My mother raised her eyebrows in question and I shook my head, “Then he doesn’t hate you. Yes, you hurt him with your harsh words but if you really love him—what’s holding you back, my starlight? You’re a smart woman and you know how to fix your mistakes, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you. So don’t just sulk and wail and make him hurt for no reason—”

“He’s Yunho’s best friend.” I whispered, peeking up at my mother’s face, surprised to find a smile that looked both comforting and amused.

“And does he know that?”

“What?” I asked confused, making my mother chuckle, “Of course he knows he’s Yunho’s best friend.”

“That’s not what I asked, starlight.”

“No, he doesn’t know.” I muttered and grimaced as my mother shook her head at me, “I never found the right moment to tell him, actually, things were never supposed to get this far, mom.”

“I see,” My mother hummed and leaned closer, “You know, I’m speaking based on many years of experience, but this Mingi boy doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges for too long or judge you for your past. Sure, it must feel weird knowing your current girlfriend has dated your best friend, but that was like ages ago—and you’re still making a big deal out of it—”

“Mom.” I groaned, giving her an unimpressed look, but she only giggled.

“You know, you didn’t take after me for being so dramatic.” She pursed her lips and suddenly pushed me over, making me fall to my side with a loud gasp, “It’s one of the few reasons your father didn’t stick around for long—he was too dramatic.”

“I thought he left us.” I muttered as I sat up straight, making my mother roll her eyes at me.

“He certainly did after I told him I didn’t need a junkie in my house while I was trying to raise my child—” She rolled her eyes then stood up, extending her hand out for me, “And then he thought I tried to baby trap him—huh, what an idiot. Who wants to baby trap a broke dude who’s doing nothing with his life while I was in school learning to be a nurse and girlbossing my way through life?!”

“Don’t ever again say girlbossing, mom.” I groaned embarrassed as I let her help me up.

“What?!” She chuckled, holding my hand gently, “It’s cool, everyone at the hospital says it—well, the younger generation. Anyways, we’re going to cook yummy dinner together, and then I’ll magically make some ice cream appear from our fridge and I have some really nice wine hiding in the cupboard, waiting for us to consume it while you tell me everything about this Song Mingi guy. We haven’t had a girl’s night in so long, I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, mom, but,” I frowned as I let her pull me after herself, “you do realize I’m suffering and am on the verge of having another break down, yet you still want me to talk about Mingi?”

“It’s called therapy, honey, even if I’m not a therapist.” She shrugged as we walked down the stairs, “Besides, I’ve got some bomb advice to give you to win this boy over. I can’t believe I managed to raise a strong and independent woman that’s emotionally constipated!”

“Oh, my God.” I muttered under my breath, wondering just how many of her coworkers were too young for her to be hanging around, and why on Earth were they teaching my mother cringey slang.

But she was right. I did need her advice, desperately so, and having a girl’s night while I can talk about Mingi without feeling embarrassed to admit I am into him sounded nice—especially now that I have successfully fucked everything up.

『You run away when you just can't face it

Hide in the dark, but you know you hate it』

❱❱ Next chapter

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[shopwitchvamp]

Keep an eye out for more cotton midi skirt updates after this one, but here's another little sneak peek about what's to come soon: If all goes as planned (no guarantee lately.. but hopefully it will) I'll be opening up preorders for solid black cotton midis in A-C Sizes (XXS-3X) starting this Thursday!! The manu for these knows about our current other order's tariff struggle and is willing to work with us about a lower order minimum to start, so I think I'll only need about 12 preorders to be able to fund an initial production order with them! Which is GREAT news!! A few other things to note: - D Size will have to wait until a future order *or* will only unlock if we get a lot more than 12 preorders initially (I'll be figuring out the math on that soon), so apologies in advance if it take us a little while to get that size implemented in cotton. - Price will be $149.99 - Same fit and huge pockets as our current synthetic midis, but the fabric of course has a bit less stretch to it so maybe you can only fit like 39 hotwheels in a pocket instead of 46 or w/e - I will only have solid black available. Later on I plan to do some hand dyed design sort of stuff using the black skirts as a base since I can't have printing done the way we do on synthetics & I also can't really afford to order more than one color/design regardless. If you want something with more of a design going on, please hold out for future updates (tho it could be quite a ways away still), but also if we can't sell enough solid black it'll be tough to get to the stage of having ones with designs to offer ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ - Fulfillment will be in July(? have to confirm a few more things to be certain) - Compared to our mainstay stuff, tariffs are less likely to fuck with this project too much (the factory is in India), but they could definitely become an issue in the future. Who knows.. - I hope everything will go as smoothly as possible and everyone who gets one will love their new cotton skirts!!! Thank you!

[laudaddysmitten]

I...

am almost...

done...

writing...

my latest chapter...

of Stunning View!

(The full chapter 7)

FREAKING FINALLY!

It's scheduled for Thursday! 🎉

Stunning View cover art by @lexarturo

I'm excited because: science, new custom art, some of my best writing, and a love letter to Crowley. 🤓 🖼️ 🌎 ✍️ 💌

~NEW ART by Orth~

How about some cryptic teases?

I'm super excited for the new art by one of my very favorite Good Omens fanartists @orth82 - who was kind enough to make it for me, and I can't wait for people to finally get to see it!

The science nerd 🤓 in me is very very happy because this is the rest of the

💜🌍EARTH SCIENCE CHAPTER!!! 🌎💜

🌎🌊🌐🗺️💎🌋🌏

✍️ And you know what? I am extremely insecure and self-deprecating most of the time, and will continue to be, especially about how slooooow I am with writing, but...

I'm actually pretty 💓 in love 💓 with this chapter! Like....a lot. Which is partially why it took forever to write it to my satisfaction.

But it'll have ART, some of my favorite science, some of my favorite writing I've done including imagery that I think is rather cool.

And maybe best of all (imo)

It's basically my love letter to Crowley. 💝

Can't wait! (And hopefully others besides me will enjoy it as well! 😂)

If you've not read it and feel like catching up on chapters 1-6 before Thursday, here's the AO3 link!

FYI There's a mini "teaser" chapter 7 on there, which will be updated to the full thing Thursday. I suggest skipping it until then. For subscribers, I will add an "announcement-only Chapter 8" to let you know that 7 is updated, so you still get a notification. 💜💜💜

Even though this isn't an official new chapter posty thingee yet, and there will be others to tag when I do that, I have to tag my long-time beta anyway, without whom I would not have made it this far! @totheendtimes

[jammatown919]

Chaos Counter 1

Welcome to my first weekly Chaos Counter, where I will be counting down the days to dates (both speculated and confirmed) relating to various Jurassic things, largely because I'm chewing drywall waiting for more Chaos Theory.

34 days (5 weeks) until Netflix Annecy on June 11-12. This is probably the absolute latest time that Chaos Theory season four will be officially announced. I was told that season two was announced at this event last year, but after some digging, we already had quite a bit for season two by June 7, which was a week before Annecy. So, there's definitely a solid chance of an announcement at some point before this, but we could also expect to see something at June 11's "Next on Netflix Animation" presentation, or June 12's discussion of their "full animation slate". Given the wording of "full animation slate", it seems like we have to hear something by June 12 at the very latest. It would also line up with Jurassic June hyping up all things Jurassic, but leave the next few weeks purely for Rebirth hype. I don't expect too much out of this, but at the very least confirmation from Netflix about season four (because while we know it's happening, it was an unofficial announcement from a Mattel employee), and hopefully some kind of release window or release date.

55 days (8 weeks) until Jurassic World: Rebirth releases in theaters on July 2. Those who are excited for the movie can enjoy, and those who just want more Chaos Theory can look forward to Jurassic's advertising space opening up once Rebirth has had its time in the spotlight.

77 days (11 weeks) until San Diego Comic Con begins on July 24. If there is a Chaos Theory panel, which there was last year, we could get a lot out of this. Last year, if I remember correctly, they screened two full episodes early. Depending on when season four releases, we could also see a trailer around this time, as a late August release is possible and trailers tend to drop a month before the season. It is also possible that we will get a release date around this time if we haven't already.

133 days (19 weeks) until September 18, which I think is a likely release date for season four. It's a Thursday this year, which is the most common day for seasons to drop, and the five-year anniversary of the first season of Camp Cretaceous. Purely speculation, of course, but this date feels extremely likely. However, based on previous patterns of release, late August is also a possibility, and so is roughly any time in September. I count down to this date specifically because it seems the most likely and because, as we get closer, we will get a more accurate date. Also, if I'm right about this date, we're already 20% of the way through the wait, which is neat.

I'll continue to update this counter weekly with new information. If anything particularly big happens (like an announcement) between posts, I'll update early.

(edited some of the weeks because apparently I can't count)

[beelearnsfinnish]

weekly recap: week 06 [03.02.25 - 09.02.25]

studying

Finnish

Being honest I have spent so little time with Finnish this past week(s) but in my defense, it's exam season and all my study time has gone towards my degree. But I finish exams on Tuesday and will get back on track for at least 2 weeks before my Finland trip! Pretty excited about that, and to see if I notice any change in my level once I'm there.

I've kept up with my daily watch of the news, tho I've dropped the daily Drops. It was starting to become quite repetitive again, so I've decided to set it aside for a while, and once I have time try to update my flashcards and use them as the daily vocab review.

I've been watching couple of youtube videos, maily from the Finnish Language Nuggets, really enjoying those. I've also tried a couple of shows in Yle, but most of them arent available outside Finland and I have yet to find one that I can somewhat understand and it's watchable

My degree

Exam season! I had my first exam on Thursday and tho I was pretty worried cause it was bit difficult subject, about laws and stuff I can't just come up with answers based on my previous knowledge of the area, it went really well! Got a 9,25 so pretty happy about it.

I have my next two on Tuesday and then I'll be free. I'm more confident in one than in the other, but the subjects are easier and I'm praying for full test exams so will see. Can't wait to be done, these exams are taking years of my life away i stg.

Others

Haven't had time to do anything related to the Hygieniapassi test, but as soon as I finish my exams I'll completely focus on it, I'll have two weeks ish before the exam. Being honest I'm more worried about the exam itself (getting to the right place, understanding signs and instructions etc) than the contents, but still know I have to focus on some of the more specific subjects.

life updates

Nothing mayor to update on. Had some shitty past weeks but we're coming back out of it. I have my holiday soon so can't wait for that (can't wait to see my bf but also just be in Finland, where I'm always very happy and in peace, and no work no studying just relax)

Did a fun plan today tho! Had my monthly bookclub meeting. February's pick was Heartless by Marissa Meyer and I think it's the book I've enjoyed the most up to date. Had a really lovely morning in a cute cafe with the girls. Not very sure about next month's pick tho, as we go back to the romance romance ���

media update

📖 Heartless - Marissa Meyer - 4.5 ⭐️

🎬 La chica de nieve 2 - Spanish Tv show

🎧 Ankles - Lucy Dacus

[qrowings]

So a few life updates from yours truly <3

1 last time I posted here I was trying to get a job transfer iirc? I got the transfer! I now only work 2/3 days a week, rarely 3. I am off every thursday and usually work Tuesday > Saturday > Sunday > Friday > Tuesday wash rinse repeat!

2 my father had his kidney removed succesfully, just in time for my mother to land herself in the hospital with a really bad UTI and then a bad reaction to dilauded (which she's known for reacting badly too)

3 I am waiting to be on a new narcolepsy medication, which should hopefully be my Key to more motivation and being able to actually do things instead of just... sitting around sleeping all day

4 All the chairs in my home have broken, we're trying to get a couch rn but currently we have a recliner I can't sit in because it broke in such a way you have to sit up straight in it and that's painful for me, and our other recliner totally snapped in half, so I sit on the floor which is really depressing to me for some reason

[mfrance-writes]

Helene Updates: People Don't Know What's Going on in East Tennessee.

I live in East Tennessee. The things that are going on here apparently haven't been reported on very well as we've been dealing with the effects of Helene. People in this same area just an hour to a couple of hours away don't even know what's going on over here.

The area of East Tennessee that I live in is close enough to Asheville that we can pop over to go to the farmers market or pop over for a nice dinner without really thinking about it. We have three rivers in my area: The Pigeon River, the French Broad River, and the Little Pigeon River. The Nolichucky River isn't in my county, but it is close enough to affect the area where I live. These rivers have not flooded in my lifetime or my parents' lifetime.

We are not an area that has EVER experienced more than a small rise in river levels that usually quickly recedes before the flash floods actually occur. We were told that we should prepare for rain to move in by Thursday and then wind to come with more rain on Friday that may disrupt power due to downed trees. There was the possibility of a flash flood in some areas, but overall we weren't told that we needed to be extremely concerned about Helene in my area. (I mean, we're in the Smokey Mountains, in a land-locked state.)

On Friday, we woke up expecting it to be rainy and windy. What we got was news that Waterville Dam and Lake Lure Dam in North Carolina had failed or been severely breached. Later that night, the Nolichucky Dam in Tennessee was breached and expected to catastrophically fail. As a result, the Pigeon River, the French Broad River, the Little Pigeon, and the Nolichucky River all rose to levels that we haven't seen since the late 1800s and the early 1900s.

We were prepared for SOME bad weather...power outages, travel delays because of downed trees or power lines. We were not prepared for something that has never happened here before. How can you prepare for something that has never happened that nobody knew we should be expecting?

We were not prepared for the rivers to break records from over 100 years ago. We were not prepared for the dams to breach and/or fail. We were not prepared for a mass flooding event that made the central area of our town grind to a halt as the first (and sometimes second) floors of essential businesses were submerged in flood waters. We were not prepared for the evacuation orders because we have never experienced evacuations on such a large scale before. This is an event that has never happened in my area.

We are in a State of Emergency. We are waiting for natural disaster relief. People have died, and more are still missing in the more rural areas. Entire homes, farms, businesses have been lost. We do not have water, and there is no timeline for when we can expect that to be fixed. Many people are still without power, and in the more rural areas, the linemen can't get to them to run new power lines without the help of other agencies. Many people still do not have cell and internet service back up and running. The post office is not operational, and the mail is not running. Updates from the Mayor via Facebook Live is the way we're getting most of our information.

I went into the office (because the courts in surrounding counties are still up and running and we have to prep for that), and the area where the law office is located is closed to the public. Helicopters and sirens are an ever-present sound as searches are being conducted. It looks like some kind of post-apocalyptic movie scene, and it kind of feels like one, too.

And the people around us (except for North Carolina, which was totally devastated) don't seem to know that's what we're dealing with for some reason. The sheer number of people I talked to today that are from as close as an hour away that have no idea we're in a State of Emergency is baffling. Literally, people called asking for consults, office appointments, letting us know they were mailing things in, asking if we could hurry and file things... Then when I have to tell them that we're in a State of Emergency, they're shocked because they "had no idea it was that bad."

At the time of posting, I have also only seen (maybe) two news cameras in the area since Saturday. (More may have come via helicopter for aerial footage.)

[ros3ybabe]

Day 32: 90 Day Challenge 🎀

Almost forgot to update for yesterday. Had the worst mental breakdown ever and proceeded to have a terrible nightmarish nap that scared the heck out of me and somehow today was so much better.

🏋‍♀️ Physical Activity

50 minute glute workout in the gym

resisted the urge to binge

🧠 Mental Health

guided Journal in the morning

❤️ Emotional Health

let myself have a good well needed cry

📚 Intellectual Health

nothing honestly that I can remember

🏘 Adulting

zoom called boyfriend

talked to my dad on the phone

started watching a new TV show that wasn't American dad

🥰 Self Love/Care

gently bullied myself into brushing my teeth and washing my face/doing skincare before laying down

morning skincare

full shower + washed hair

Today was really good, so I'm looking forward to updating on that tonigjt/tomorrow morning. I'm also super excited to get my nails done and a haircut on Thursday! Plus I gotta go shopping for some new jeans, a new shirt or two to wear to Christmas Eve dinner with my boyfriend at his dad's house. May just cave in and buy him and I matching Christmas sweaters to be "that couple" for fun. Speaking of, I can't wait to see my man on Saturday <333 I haven't seen him since early October, so getting to spend a week and 2 holidays with him will be absolutely amazing. Hopefully his mom likes the little gifts I got her.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[notafragilething]

Late Night Buck & Tommy Rambles: 4 Days Till Tommy Returns

Happy Sunday! We are now only 4 days away from seeing Tommy on our screens again (along with rest of the 118). I'm definitely looking forward to this week for a variety of reasons and I can't wait to see how this kicks off the finale next week.

It was an interesting but pretty calm day in the Buck & Tommy world.

The BuckTommy Hospital kiss reel on Instagram has continued it's burst of views after slowing down for a bit. As of a few minutes ago it was 1094k, meaning it'll likely hit 1.1 million sometime over the next few hours and it's only 25k away from being the 8th most viewed video on their official Instagram. It also has now hit 95k in likes, meaning this burst in views is also coming with new viewers because those likes were pretty much unchanged for a good week or so when it say around 84k in likes. I'm really interested to see if these new views keep up over the course of this week.

The big news of the day was Tim, either late last night or early this morning, posted the fan created BuckTommy Deep Dive youtube video on his private facebook. I've heard through the grapevine the video was sent to him by a fan who is friends with him on facebook but I haven't been able to confirm that yet. If you haven't you watched the video yet, it's a 20 minute breakdown about Buck's past relationships, his bisexuality, the red string theory and why Tommy is potentially going to be a long term love interest. I took two bigs things away from this.

It confirmed to me that the Vertigo poster was likely a fan creation sent to him in a similar way last week so I don't think we need to overanalyze or include that in our theories. So my views haven't changed on that, just been confirmed.

This is a good sign for us Buck & Tommy shippers. That video was really positive towards us and I can't imagine he would post it without watching at least the majority of it. Just like the Vertigo poster, I'm not going to assign a ton of meaning to it beyond him posting something very positively pro-BuckTommy going into this week which is a good sign for us.

I'm not anticipating a lot of promo for this upcoming episode until Thursday itself. I think a lot of promo is going to be saved for after this episode as they create hype for the finale.

My week is much calmer so I do plan to do nightly updates, even if things are mostly chill because I do think we might get some small rumbles since we are so close to the finale week.

[ladykailitha]

Hiatus and Schedule Update

Hey, all! Things are going really great with me catching up on my backlog. I am almost where I want to be for each story and I can't wait to get back at it!

When?

Starting next Sunday I will be back on posting Sundays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

Now if you've been following me on WIP Wednesdays you'll know that I have SEVEN works in progress, but only four posting days.

So with great thanks to @bookworm0690 I will be posting Spellbound on Sundays but the rest of the days will have a story every other week.

Like This:

Sundays- Spellbound

Tuesdays- Murder in the Heartland/Shut Up and Drive

Thursdays- Heartbreak in Overdrive/Three Cheers for Toby the Tiger!

Saturdays- The Last Dragon Slayer/Forever Young

Then as stories end, (Spellbound for example) another story will move to take its place.

So when Spellbound ends, Forever Young will take it's place on Sundays. But if one on the rest of the week ends either it will get to stand alone like the fic on Sundays or a new fic will take its place (I am always coming up with new ideas, it's a curse).

I can't wait to start posting again! See you next week.

[lizzieislife94x]

Damn It! (e.o)

Requested <3

LizzieG!PxFem Reader

Another update for yall 😇 assssssss always requests are open my loves.

Lizzies POV:

I groan and rub my templates as my extremely attractive new assistant trip's sending the coffees flying this girl can't do anything right I only hired her because I wanna have her "I'm sorry I'm so sorry miss olsen ill get it cleaned and get some more im so sorry" she panics making me look at her god she's so fucking adorable "y/n take a seat just leave it ill get it cleaned after work hours, I need you to go book an appointment for a new client for Thursday can you do that " I say a little annoyed as smiles and nods "yes I can do that easy!" With that she jumps out of the chair and leaves my office.

Y/ns POV:

I can't help but curse myself why am I so clumsy why does she make my brain forget how to brain I sigh and dial the number lizzie gave me as a woman quickly answers

Hey my names y/n I'm calling on behalf of miss olsen she asked me to arrange an appointment for Thursday. I say waiting for a reply

Thursday is perfect this Thursday or next Thursday y/n. I hear as I start to panic fuck shit she just said Thursday is it tomorrow or next week

Umm I uh next Thursday, thank you have a great day. I quickly hang up the phone as I gron leaning against the table.

4 hours later:

"See you tomorrow miss olsen" I say as I head out to leave the building "I need you tomorrow bright and early don't be late" her tone is matter of fact making me gulp "yes miss olsen see you tomorrow"

Next Day:

Y/ns POV:

I take a deep breath before walking into the office "you got this y/n don't let her make your brain stop you can function like a normal human being" I whisper to myself before making my way up to the top of the building "morning y/n I think you should turn around and leave" Joe one of my co workers states making me panic "lizzie is on the war path she had everything ready for the meeting with the new client this morning only to find its booked for next week" I groan and cover my face "fuck I panicked when she asked what Thursday and lizzie didn't tell me it was meant to be today" I whisper as her door swings open "y/n my office now!!!" She yells slamming the door making my blood run cold tears threaten to run from my eyes as I make my way into her office "damn it! Y/n how could you fuck this up" I don't dare look at her "you didn't tell me it was for today I panicked and said next week" I whisper my voice failing me "don't give me the tears it was a simple task and you somehow fucked it up how is that possible" I sniff and look up "I'm sorry miss olsen ill do better" she laughs folding her arms "I think I should teach you a lesson right here huh?" I look at her confused wiping my eyes "please don't fire me miss olsen this is the only sorce of income I have " I pleade as she smirks sitting down "oh I'm not going to fire you be a good girl and go make sure the blinds are closed" I stand up confused as I close them "now come here I'm going to make that cute little ass red bend over the desk and show mommy your ass" her change of tone turning me on what the fuck is happening I slowly do as I'm told till I'm bent over my bosses desk her hands running down my back gently rubbing my ass making me bite my lip "you've been asking for this since you started such a clumsy girl can never do anything right huh, I think you need mommy to teach you " I let our a loud audible moan at her words making lizzie laugh "pl...please teach me mo..m..my" I beg as I feel her stand behind be pulling my ass flush against her waist the feeling of something hard pressing into me "can you feel what you do to me y/n" she whispers into my ear as I nod trying to press my ass into her harder "oh don't worry you'll get mommy's cock and load soon but first I gotta mark that ass of yours princess " I turn slightly as I bite my lip "I.. I.. I'm not on birth control" I stutter as she slaps my ass hard making me moan again "even better you'd love to be full of my seed with my baby growing in your cute little stomach" I nod slowly as she pushes my dress up over my ass "never knew you where a thong girl" she grins pulling my now drenched thong down my legs making me instantly spread my legs a groan falling from her lips as her fingers gently tease my soaking entrance "fuck" I cry out needing more her laugh ringing in my ear "I want you to count how many times I spank your ass can you do that properly? Can you count for mommy" she mocks as I nod her hand slamming onto my right ass cheek "one" I yelp suddenly another and another and another till she finally stops at 10, my ass feeling its on fire "my hand print looks good on your ass" she whispers biting my ear as she unbuttons her pants "so fucking hard thinking about making you take my dick" I turn with my back now on the desk needing to see her "fuck" I pant as she holds her hard cock in her hand "don't worry princess you'll be able to take it " she smirks as she steps closer teasing my dripping pussy "mommy please...Don.. t tease me" I beg as she finally pushes her whole length inside me making me scream "that's it sweetheart let them all hear how good mommy makes you feel" the rest of the world forgotten as I moan like never before as she runs her hand up my body my body grabbing my tits "gonna make you mine slut" she moans her thrusts somehow getting faster the feeling of her deep inside me hitting spots no one ever has has my whole body shaking "shit don't stop oh my fucking godddddddd I'm gonna cum"

I scream as I start to cum lizzies grin getting bigger as she continues to pound me not letting me recover "such a tight little pussy fuck it's like it was made for me" she leans down kissing me as pounds and pounds "fu...ck mommy" I moan against her lips for only her to hear "if you fuck up from now on I'm gonna fuck your brains out baby" I smirk as my eyes roll "that's just gonna make me do it on purpose" she moans as she slows her thrusts "so fucking naughty, I'm close sweetheart gonna fill your pussy" she moans her eyes closing as her thrusts get harder my second orgasm seconds away as I feel her hot sticky seed filling my unprotected pussy sending me over the edge making me cum harder than I ever have my body trembling as the pleasure rushes through me lizzie slamming deep inside me holding still "fuck y/n" she moans into my ear both of us recovering from the intense orgasm "now you gotta walk around with my cum leaking out of this well fucked cunt" she smirks teasing my clit making me shake "I don't even care" I giggle as she pulls out quickly fixing my panties for me "that was better than I've pictured" she smirks cupping my cheeks leaving a gentle kiss on my lips as she fixes her pants before sitting on her chair pulling me into her lap "but we do need to talk about all these mistakes sweetheart" I feel my cheeks blush and hide my face "it's because of you" lizzie looks at me shocked and confused "what do you mean" I groan as she grips my chin making me look at her "you make my brain short circuit like I know I can do the work but you somehow make my brain stop " she laughs cuddling into me "well I'm sure we can start to fix it from now on huh" I smile and nod as I cuddle into her a loud knock making me jump "go away come back in an hour" I giggle as she laughs "I want time with you they can wait" I smile and trace patterns on her neck as we cuddle in comfortable silence.

AN: hope this is OK 👍 drink water and stay hydrated babes 💗 word count 1.5k

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - May 19 - Week 20

Hi friends! My daughter's graduation activities start today (!!!!) and in anticipation of an extremely busy week, I asked @meidui to pinch hit with a guest rec list. Check out her fantastic recs, say hi, and before sure to comment/kudos the fic you enjoy!

Therapy Works (if your therapist isn't a Hydra agent) by @16woodsequ

Tony accidentally stumbles onto the fact that Steve isn't holding things together quite as well as he makes it look. As awkward as it is at first, Tony's been there, and he finds himself reaching out to him.

But the more he tries to push past Steve's walls the more he realises just how deep his issues go. And they all seem to be pointing in one direction.

Should he really be surprised to find SHIELD is at the root of it?

My Thoughts: in sequ we trust when it comes to steve whump!! poor steve is all messed up from shield's abuse and has a list of psychological/emotional issues longer than his pre-serum ailments, and the way it shows is SO SO SO detailed and devastating and believable, and tony being tony is trying to mend what's broken. this is being updated every thursday until it's done and there's so much meat in every chapter that even if you don't usually read wips, this is 100% worth following along 🥺

Just for the Conversation by @msermesth

Tony's fine. He's back on the Avengers, Steve seems to have forgiven him, and he’s building Resilient to change the world.

Then why is he so jealous of Steve’s new boyfriend?

(Or: that awkward moment when you realize you are in love with your old best friend while having a three-way with him and his boyfriend, who just happens to be your counterpart from another universe.)

My Thoughts: if you love multiverse fics like i do this is for you, it's the perfect cocktail of multiverse shenanigans 😌 and don't worry if you haven't read any of the comics before, the author's note is very helpful and you don't need much background to enjoy jealous tony and a steve sandwich <3

Fortune Favours the Bold by @bladeofthenebula27

Omega Steve Rogers is betrothed to an old rich alpha nearly three times his age, and decides on an act of passionate rebellion before his wedding.

My Thoughts: neb writes the best omegaverse fics ever so you automatically cannot go wrong, but the mistaken identity in this fic is so pleasing and steve's internal dialogue is >>>

When It Comes to Trying by @softanticipation

Steve is weird about food. Tony takes notice.

(Or, because I was once told that whenever characters share food together, it means something.)

My Thoughts: i love rereading this fic and it hits the spot every time <3 it starts in the shawarma restaurant post-battle of new york and doesn't shy away from how tony gradually goes from ""disdain"" to adoration and steve adjusts slowly and fits in better with the team, and there's flirting and steve is so sweet and tony gets so gentle with him!! and the focus on food is executed so well i want to eat the whole fic

late night talking by @omg-just-peachy

Steve realizes he can't sleep without the light of the arc reactor.

My Thoughts: if you look up "comfort fic" in the dictionary all 700 words of this fic is there!! the established relationship is established relationshipping and clingy steve waiting on tony is so sweet 🥺