#I've got nearly all the materials I just need to:

[vinceaddams]

Early 18th (and late 17th) century fashions are so under-utilized in vampire media and I think it's a damn shame.

I don't actually think I've ever seen a single image of a vampire character in an early 18th century suit. Hardly any movies set in that era either, and hardly any historical costumers who do it. (Even my beloved gay pirate show set in 1717 takes nearly all of its 18th century looks from the second half of the century. Not enough appreciation for baroque fashion!!)

Yes I love late 18th century fashion as much as anyone, and 19th century formal suits are all very well and good, but if you want something that says old, dead, wealthy, and slightly dishevelled, then the 1690's-1730's are where it's at.

(Retrato del Virrey Alencastre Noroña y Silva, Duque de Linares, ca. 1711-1723.)

There was so much dark velvet, and so many little metallic buttons & buttonholes. Blood red linings were VERY fashionable in this era, no matter what the colour of the rest of the suit was.

(Johann Christoph Freiherr von Bartenstein by Martin van Meytens the Younger, 1730's.)

The slits on the front of the shirts are super low, they button only at the collar, and it's fashionable to leave most of the waistcoat unbuttoned so the shirt sticks out, as seen in the above portraits.

(Portrait of Anne Louis Goislard de Montsabert, Comte de Richbourg-le-Toureil, 1734.)

Waistcoats are very long, coats are very full, and the cuffs are huge. But the sleeves are on the shorter side to show off more of that shirt, and the ruffles if it has them! Creepy undead hands with long nails would sit so nicely under those ruffles.

(1720's-30's, LACMA)

Embroidery designs are huge and chunky and often full of metallic threads, and the brocade designs even bigger.

(1730's, V&A, metal and silk embroidery on silk satin.)

Sometimes they did this fun thing where the coat would have contrasting cuffs made from the same fabric as the waistcoat.

(Niklaus Sigmund Steiger by Johann Rudolf Huber, 1724.)

Tell me this look isn't positively made for vampires!

(Portrait of Jean-Baptiste de Roll-Montpellier, 1713.)

(Yeah I am cherry-picking mostly red and black examples for this post, and there are plenty of non-vampire-y looking images from this time, but you get the idea!)

And the wrappers (at-home robes) were also cut very large, and, if you could afford it, made with incredible brocades.

(Portrait of a nobleman by Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess maybe 1680's or 90's.)

(Circle of Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess very late 17th or very early 18th century.)

Now that looks like a child who's been stuck at the same age for a hundred years if I ever saw one!

I don't know as much about the women's fashion from this era, but they had many equally large and elabourate things.

(1730's, Museo del Traje.)

(Don't believe The Met's shitty dating, this is a robe volante from probably the 1720's.)

(Mantua, c. 1708, The Met. No idea why they had to be that specific when they get other things wrong by entire decades but ok.)

(Portrait of Duchess Colavit Piccolomini, 1690's.)

(Maria van Buttinga-van Berghuys by Hermannus Collenius, 1717.)

Sometimes they also had these cute little devil horn hair curls that came down on either side of the forehead.

(Viago in drag Portrait of a lady, Italian School, c. 1690.)

Enough suave Victorian vampires, I want to see Baroque ones! With huge wigs and brocade coat cuffs so big they go past the elbow!

[risingsunresistance]

vanguard loot is so good im having a blast over here

[willowser]

"i ain't takin' a fuckin' bath."

katsuki's half-undressed, standing in the kitchen with the fridge doors wide open; shirtless, shoulders broad and muscles round and taut, cool air raising goosebumps across his exposed skin. his un-buttoned tac pants are dangerously low on his hips, so low that you wonder—while staring at the dimples of his back—if he's doing it on purpose.

the dewy sheen of sweat he'd come home with has gone matte, leaving him in a thin, sticky, grimy layer that is grimace-inducing to feel. like most nights, dirt and soot and even blood—grown dark and less worrisome with time—color him haphazardly, strewn across his body; a mosaic of dynamight, made by his own hands.

"but you stink," you fail to suppress a smile when he snaps his head around, to fix you with an ugly look that you return. he manages to hide his own amusement in the bulge of his bicep. "i'm serious! a bath will help you relax!"

turning back to the open fridge, he grumbles, "i am relaxed," in a tone that doesn't sound relaxed. at all.

"come on," you urge, shuffling up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist despite all his dried grease and muck. "you go first and i'll be there in a minute."

that catches his attention enough that he finally closes the doors, facing you as he runs a lazy hand over his stomach. to his credit, he does look a bit more relaxed than he had when he'd come through the door—but the set of his jaw is still too stern, brow only ever furrowed, a little more argumentative than usual, even if it's harmless.

katsuki seems to consider your unspoken proposition, before finally surrendering with a roll of his eyes. "fine, but i'm takin' a shower like a grown ass man."

"no!" you groan, latching onto his arm when he moves to step around you. you try to dig your heels into the ground, but you're in the kitchen in socks, and katsuki only yanks you after him with a wicked grin. "bath! a bath will help you relax, i mean it! i've got lavender oils!"

"i ain't using' your frilly shit!"

he finally slips from you when you sputter out a laugh, tugging free from your grip before throwing you a look that is hot in more ways than one. innocent as you aimed to be, something tightens in your stomach; awakened at the sight of him.

you warn, "i'm only coming if you're in the bath!" and his loud, exaggerated groan echoes nearly throughout your entire house, swallowing up your chirpy laugh.

—but, much to your surprise, he listens.

you let him soak for a good five minutes before following after, and when you find him, he's got his head leaned back over the edge, elbows resting on either side of the tub, legs bent and knees sticking up out of the water. handsome as ever, you think, a little dreamy, before the marble of him shifts at your arrival.

he only opens one eye, and you can see already the tension has drained from his face; half-asleep, a little bloodshot and breathing too even to convince you otherwise.

"well, well, well," you murmur, lowering to the floor on your knees after his eye slips shut again. "look at you, princess."

katsuki makes a haughty noise of irritation, but doesn't bite back: a dead giveaway of his exhaustion. instead his hand finds the material of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before he slurs out, "get y'r ass in the tub."

you'd bite his fingers if they weren't still disgusting, but you place a teeny kiss on the cleanest spot you can see on his wrist. "i don't need a bath, but thanks."

"hah?" he grunts, eye shooting open again as he frowns at you. when you only smile coyly at him, he raises his head and glares at you properly. "y'dirty liar, you said—"

"i said i'd be right behind you," you grin. "not that i'd be getting in."

the water sloshes up against the sides as he straightens his posture, baring his teeth at you as he prepares, you think, to lunge out and haul you in with him despite a screaming protest—but you reach forward just before he can, dipping a hand down into the warmth right between his thighs.

katsuki jumps, seriously, leg kicking out so hard that his heel slams into the edge of the tub, when you gently hold him where he's soft. "jesus!" he all but yelps, eyes going a little wide as he realizes what you've done. what you've made of him.

he's still—marble-still—air sucking in sharply between his parted, frozen lips as you touch him, and heat pools so obviously, so suddenly, in his cheeks, sweet enough that you want to bite into the apples of them. in your hand he swells thick, quickly, a little slippery from the soap he's already added to the water.

all his tension returns, as a different strain; katsuki swallows, hard, as his eyes dart back and forth between your own and where your hand disappears into the water; when you gently rub your thumb back and forth across the tip of him, his back straightens, even moreso, and, you don't think he knows it, but his legs part even further.

an invitation if you'd ever seen one.

he finally comes back to life when you lean in close enough to nudge your nose to his, just to see him blink.

he's so cute, you want to eat him alive.

"the f-fuck are y'doin'?" he whispers, eyes dropping back down as you stroke him lightly, just enough to coil him tighter. at the end of the tub, water sloshes quietly from the movement, and katsuki's ears burn.

you've caught him entirely off guard, and if it wasn't clear before, it becomes crystalline when you kiss him, deeply. he's lazy to reciprocate, breathing softly, open-mouthed, as you press a soft kiss to his top lip and then to his bottom, whispering his name back to him just to hear his sharp inhale.

you time a clever stroke of your wrist with the firm press of your mouth to his, insistent and fast, urging the wildness of him to catch up, to come out. it hits him all at once—your desire, his own, the heat of it all—and his hand shoots out of the water to grip the back of your neck, a deep groan slipping from his chest as his cock kicks in your hand.

you try more than once to pull back from him with a sneaky little laugh, but his fingers tangle in your hair and he kisses your teeth and you think, maybe, you're not teasing him enough. his knees knock lightly against the ceramic as he tries to spread them, even further, and his hips shift up with every slick pump of your fist, urgent and eager.

he speaks, furiously, against your lips, when you snatch your hand away, instead teasing your fingers along the inside of his thigh. "get—in th'fuckin' tub." his shoulders tremble, ever so slightly. "i ain't askin' again."

you laugh against him and his nostrils flare. "you didn't ask at all!"

"so quit your bullshit already."

you lick his bottom lip, nipping at the fat of it gently before weaving your own hand into his damp hair. "no," you tease, like a brat, but when you tug enough at the strands, he gets the hint and allows you to pull away. "i'm trying to help you relax, you know?"

katsuki doesn't respond at first, only huffing out a frustrated sound when you wrap your hand around his length again. his face is steaming, despite how firm he's trying to be; your own desire strikes hot when his head tips back just slightly, jaw straining as he grits his teeth.

"no," he finally grunts, eyes dark and pinned to you. "'s'the last thing i feel, is-is relaxed."

"hmm," you make a point to frown and look away, like you're thinking, but katsuki's impatience wins out and he drags you back in for a shuddering kiss. he's fervent, now, nipping at your lip and brushing his tongue against your own eagerly, trying to muffle a painful sound against your cheek. "that's too bad," you tell him—but you don't think he hears you, really, over his low curse and the returning slosh of water against the tub.

but when you ask him again, only a handful of minutes later—his boneless answer is precisely what you were looking for.

[moonstruckme]

I feel like Poly!marauders are sooo caring so maybe a dynamic where the reader is like an overly-insependent person and is not used to this kind of care and affection. Maybe it is reader’s first relationship so they have a hard time with the concept of leaning to others for support. Thank you in advance love!

Lmao this came wayyy too easily because I've definitely done all of these things! Thanks for requesting lovely <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

"Where you headed off to, gorgeous?" Sirius looks up from his laptop as you step into your shoes.

"Grocery store," you say. "I'm thinking of making souffle tonight, would you want some?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." He grins at you in that way of his, and you know he knows your knees just went wobbly. "Want a lift?"

"Thanks, but the bus goes almost directly there."

Remus looks up from his book with eyebrows already furrowed in disapproval. "It's nearly dark out, love. You shouldn't be walking around by yourself this late."

You roll your eyes. Men. "I can handle myself, been doing it for years," you say as reassuringly as you can, slipping out the door before either of them can argue with you further. "I'll be back soon!"

You keep a hand close to the rape alarm attached to your bag as you maneuver your way through the shadowy streets. You've been tired since you woke up that morning, so a ride would have been nice, sure, but you don't want to become one of those girlfriends who relies on her boyfriends for everything. That was your biggest concern with getting into a relationship: losing the sense of self-reliance you've cultivated over your life. You don't need help from anyone, even if the big, strong men think you do. You huff a laugh to yourself.

The grocery shopping goes quick, soon you're back at your own front door. Sirius and Remus are almost exactly as you left them, both curled up on the couch, but now James is home from the gym. You know this, because he apprehends you as soon as you walk through the door, hair wet from the shower and dripping on your paper grocery bags as he attempts to take them from you.

"I've got them," you laugh, dodging him.

James gives chase. "You're carrying three! Let me take a couple."

"I can handle it." You kick at his ankle playfully, sniffling.

He pauses, and you take the opportunity to whisk the bags into the kitchen, setting them on the counter victoriously. "You feeling alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

"Yeah." You wave him off. "It's just chilly outside. Go relax, I'm about to start dinner."

James pouts but goes, flopping dramatically over the side of the couch. His head lands in Sirius' lap, and the other boy starts combing his fingers through the tangles of James' wet hair absentmindedly. Satisfied, you start setting out the ingredients you'll need, but a moment later Remus materializes beside you.

"You've been running around all day," he says. "Let me make dinner. You go relax."

"I don't mind," you say, slightly affronted. "I can handle dinner."

"Baby," Sirius pipes up, turning to look at you over the couch, "just let him do it. Take a—" he stops as you sneeze. "Are you sick?"

"No," you sniffle. "I don't think so."

Before you can move away, Remus has a hand on your forehead. "You're warm!" he says, in the same tone as one might say You're killing people and burying them in our backyard! A bit dramatic, in your opinion.

"Oh," you say, covering your face with your elbow as you sneeze again.

"Aw, angel," James says, your sole ally as Remus and Sirius look at you accusingly, as though they suspect you've been keeping this from them on purpose. Which....to be fair, isn't outside the realm of possibility. "Come sit with us, let us take care of you."

"Go," Remus says, moving his hand to the back of your neck and pursing his lips at whatever he feels there. "I'll make dinner, and some tea for you, yeah?"

You shake your head. "That's alright, I can—"

"Don't say you can handle it."

You huff, but it's clear you're not going to win this one. You go to the couch, where James accepts you with eager arms.

"Our poor girl," he coos, kissing every inch of your cheek sloppily. "Fuck, you are warm. You just need to take some time to rest, yeah?"

You sniffle grouchily, but Sirius pokes at your side, eliciting an unwilling snicker. "You could stand to let us help you out every now and then," he says, already seeming less upset with you. You suspect you have your illness to thank for that.

"I can take care of myself," you argue, but the fight is going out of you as you finally give into the cold you maybe sort of knew was coming on all day.

"We know you can, dove," Remus chimes in from the kitchen. "And that's what you've always done, but letting us take care of you sometimes isn't going to suddenly make you helpless, either." He shoots you a knowing look, too perceptive for his own good. And yours, apparently.

You sneeze again, jerking away from James so you don't spray on him. You feel disgusting, and pathetically vulnerable. Is this what they want you to succumb to? "I don't want to get too used to this," you say, voice small as you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve, "and forget how to manage without your help."

Each of your boyfriends, even Remus, softens like butter in the sun.

"Baby." Sirius wraps an arm around you, looking at you with eyes so soft you feel like you could cry. "You won't forget. You're tough, and that's not gonna change just because you let us do some things for you, yeah?"

You look at your lap, contemplating. He's not not making sense. The idea of accepting help is so unfamiliar to you, it feels like a betrayal of your core values. But you love Sirius, and Remus, and James, and if what they want is to help you, maybe you can try to let them. Some of the time, at least.

Sirius curls a finger under your jaw, his thumb resting on your chin as he tilts your face up to his. He must see the concession in your eyes, because he smiles softly. It's almost an apology, and you know that he's aware of how difficult this is for you to give up.

"You're gonna have to get used to this, sweet thing," he says lightly, pressing a kiss to your overwarm forehead. "Because we're not letting you go."

[hollyoongs]

THANK YOU, JAKE ✦ S.JY

pairing tasp!jake x news intern!fem reader

summary when you told your friend about the challenge that your boss put you on in order to work on the company, which was taking a picture of the amazing Spider Man, Jake makes it come true.

genre fluff

warnings both of them like each other, cameo of Jay and Ri-Ki, everything is NYC and I tried to make it short for the other one that I'm planning to make it in the future <3

a/n I can finally get this one up here, I'll do the second part with smut, but Jake's fluff is already needed in this profile. This is my last little present for my em @cmoundiamante (and worst of all, it's late, but I blame my country for that :p), but I'm glad to finally publish it. I know you had an amazing time on your birthday and I want you to look at this little gift as something that can cheer you up for everything you've been through, I'll be there for you and I hope you like it very much. shout out to the editor of THIS Jake Spider-Man, my jupi @glitterjay and also to my lovely moot @ja3yun, this is the spidey!jake I was preparing ;)

wc +3.0k

It was one of those days where everything seemed to conspire against you. As you trudged through the bustling streets of New York City, your camera bag heavy on your shoulder, you couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The sweltering heat of the summer sun only added to your irritation as you made your way to the Daily Bugle, where you were interning as a photographer.

Your future boss, Mr. Jameson, was notorious for his gruff demeanor and demanding nature. Today seemed to be no exception, as he barked orders at the staff, his voice reverberating through the newsroom like thunder. Your friend, Jay, was massaging his forehead, and you couldn't help but go there first. He looked up to see you and gave you a tired smile.

"Rough already?"

"And it's not even 9 a.m." Jay spat in anger, and you opened your bag to give him some of the jelly you always carry around. He took them slightly happier, opening as he started talking again. "He's putting stupid challenges on everyone here. Rumor has it that he's getting jealous of the other newspaper company since they took the #1 place from us."

"Well, wish me luck." You braced yourself for another onslaught of criticism as you approached his desk, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Jameson said, his tone dripping with impatience. "I've got a special assignment for you."

You felt your heart sink at his words, knowing that whatever task he had in store would likely be arduous and thankless, just like Jay said. But you nodded, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

"I want you to get me a picture of Spider-Man," he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing in a challenging glare.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his request. Spider-Man? The elusive vigilante who swung through the city was a hero to some and a menace to others. Getting a photo of him in action was no small feat, and you knew it.

"But how am I supposed to…" you began, but Mr. Jameson cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't care how you do it; just get it done," he said firmly. "And make it front-page material, or you'll be out of your ear."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, you felt a wave of panic wash over you. How were you supposed to capture a photo of Spider-Man when you could barely catch a break in your own life? Desperation clawed at your chest as you racked your brain for a solution. He looked at Jay, and he was with his mouth open. She was simply screwed.

The hours passed slowly, and 7 o'clock of the night finally reached, which made you fly to the only place you find comfort at the moment. Shim Jake's place. Feeling all the weight on your shoulders, you sigh as you knock on the door. His aunt opens before your knuckles can touch the door.

"Hey darling… Oh no, bad day?" like a button, your eyes got watery, and she hugged you. You hold your tears as she loses you in the warm hug. "I'm going to buy food. Jake and Ni-Ki are in the room. I know what you like."

"You are truly the best, May."

"I know, darling. Go." She left you, and you entered the house, going directly to the Australian boy's room. You knocked, and you heard things falling.

"Who's it?"

"Who else, Ni-Ki? Come on, I had a bad day, and I need you guys."

"Hold on a second!" A few seconds passed, and Jake was the one who opened the door, his messy hair, sweat pant and big white shirt and hsi big glasses that made him look more handsome than usual in front of you. "Hey lensgirl, what's wrong?"

You went for a hug, this time with tears going down and your crying getting noticeable.

Jake was taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you pulled away slightly. "It's just… work," you managed to choke out between sobs. "Mr. Jameson… He wants me to get a photo of Spider-Man for the front page, and I- I don't know how to do it. I'm so screwed, Jake."

Jake's expression softened with understanding, though you had no idea just how much he truly understood. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated, guiding you to sit on his bed. "We'll figure it out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Ni-Ki, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from behind the doorframe. "Jake can help," he said, and you could feel Jake getting tense. You looked up to Ni-Ki.

"What?"

"Jake knows Spider-Man. You could get the picture." You open your eyes as your eyes travel again to Jake's.

"Since when?!" You practically shouted at him, and he gave a shy smile, which you loved, but the thought of him being friends with the hero and not telling you was in your mind.

"I'll tell you right after you clean and calm yourself. You know what? Go to the bathroom." As you were protesting, Jake obligated you to go inside. The boys went straight to the room and locked it, Jake basically punching Ni-Ki for opening his mouth.

"Are you being serious?! Why did you say that?"

"You know I'm fond of her, and I can't stand her crying. And also, I'm doing you a favor; you've liked her since forever, and with this, you can make a move. And you know that she loves Spider-Man. I consider this a win."

Jake's heart raced as he processed Ni-Ki's words. He couldn't deny the truth about them. He had harbored feelings for you for what felt like forever, but he never found the courage to act on them, and because of the sudden powers he got after being bite by a spider, the dangers were too much to the point he would rather die with the secret in order to keep you save. That's how much he loved you.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Keeping his identity as Spider-Man a secret was crucial, and now, with you unknowingly on the brink of discovering the truth, he felt the pressure mounting.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jake turned to Ni-Ki. "Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But we have to be careful. She can't know about this, Ni-Ki. It's too risky."

Ni-Ki nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I won't say anything else, I promise. Only you have to stay cool, you get to nervous around her. I'm surprise you're not right now" he assured Jake.

"Because someone open his mouth"

"Stop crying and be grateful. I pulled a move that you couldn't make for the past 4 years."

It has already been two days since that weird conversation and the explanation of Jake being friends with Spider-Man. It was so odd to you, but the most odd thing was when he told you by text, "I will send you the address where he's going to be."

And here you were, going into the alley for him to arrive. It was getting late, and you could feel your heart beating fast when you saw a few guys in there, cigars in their hands, their auras as bad as how they looked.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, which you ignored completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ignored the leering comments from the men in the alley. You clutched your camera bag tightly, feeling a surge of unease as you realized just how vulnerable you were in this dimly lit space.

Just as panic threatened to overtake you, a familiar sound cut through the tension—a whoosh of air followed by the distinct thud of impact. Before you could even process what was happening, Spider-Man descended from the shadows, landing gracefully in front of you with his trademark agility.

"Hey there, fellas," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't think the lady appreciates your company."

The men scoffed, eyeing Spider-Man with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And who are you supposed to be, huh?" One of them sneered, taking a step forward. You started taking your camera out of your bag, setting it up for a good shot, and to make it take as many photos as you could as both men focused on the hero.

Spider-Man's demeanor shifted subtly, his stance becoming more assertive as he addressed the group. "Let's just say I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I'm not too keen on seeing people hassle innocent bystanders, especially this pretty girl," he replied, his tone firm.

The men hesitated, sizing up the masked vigilante before them. But before they could make another move, Spider-Man sprang into action, his movements a blur of speed and precision. With calculated strikes and well-timed dodges, he swiftly incapacitated the would-be troublemakers, leaving them groaning on the ground in defeat.

You watched in awe as Spider-Man effortlessly dispatched the thugs, a surge of gratitude welling up inside you. Once the immediate threat had been neutralized, Spider-Man turned to you, his masked eyes meeting yours with a sense of warmth and reassurance. You took your camera and looked at the pictures, so many good enough to be front page material.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, his concern evident even behind the mask.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you in his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay," you stammered, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded before you. You felt some drops of water falling on your face, looking up at the sky and wondering if more drops were falling. "Damn it, it's raining."

"Then let me take you out of here." without a warning, his hand wrapped around your waist, both of your bodies covering the camera. "Hold on tight lensgirl," you frown at the nicknmae. There's only one person that could call you like that, but you couldn't think much of it as you held dear life to him as he swang you around places.

You ended up on your apartment building—in your balcony, to be more exact—and the roof kept both of you off the water, you went inside for a moment to leave the camera in your bed and return. He was hanging from the ceiling as you watched him, forcing you to believe that everything that happened in the past ten minutes was not a dream.

"Don't you want to stand up? So you don't get dizzy."

"I like it this way. Don't worry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem, that's my job."

"Because you're a hero," the masked guy sighs in front of you. making you feel slighty sad for it.

"Some people don't think so." and it was true, all the fake rumors to paint him as a bad guy made you think about how much free time all this people have to just tear the life of someone who really wants to help.

"But you are, at least I think that."

"It's nice to have a fan as pretty as you."

"Let me say thank you."

"But you already did."

"I meant the trip, not you saving me." You approached him more, and the sound of the rain at the back made the scene more lovely. Then slowly took the mask, only showing his lips. You were surprised by the familiar shape, making your mind go wild. No wonder Ni-Ki and Jake got nervous; no wonder Jake was the only one that could help you with the hero; and there's no wonder why he called you "Lensgirl."

Jake was Spider-Man.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you place your lips on his. The kiss was electrifying, a rush of emotions coursing through both of you as your lips met in a tender embrace. Raindrops fell softly around you, adding to the surreal moment as you shared this intimate connection with the masked hero who had just swept you off your feet—literally.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. Everything suddenly made sense—the mysterious conversations, the unspoken tension between you and Jake, even the strange nickname he had given you. It was all because he was Spider-Man, the hero you had admired from afar, and now he was the man whose lips were pressed against yours.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of you tangled together on that rooftop balcony.

"Thank you, Jake," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"Wait… how?"

"You let out "Lensgirl," and I've stared at your lips too much to actually know the shape," he finally dropped himself, taking off his mask completely, revealing his red cheeks and normal shy demeanor.

He actually searched your face for any sign of rejection. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "But I wanted to tell you, not in this way; I've got to learn to also shut my mouth up. I… I care about you more than you'll ever know."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his face in your hands, the weight of everything finally sinking in. "I care about you too, Jake," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just… I never imagined…"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jake leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you with a promise of something more. 

With a smile on your lips and love in your heart, you leaned into Jake's embrace, letting the warmth of his touch chase away the chill of the night as you watched the city skyline glitter in the rain.

"Please write a good news about me."

"Trust me, you'll sure have it, Spidey."

"I just realized that I've to thank Ri-Ki, damn it."

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

NEXT

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊

[letsgetrowdy43]

My Jamie Baby

Jamie Drysdale x podcast host!reader

Ynofficial just posted!!

Liked by emergencyintercom and 108 837 others

Ynofficial new episode of @pennyforyourthoughts just dropped! Go listen now!

Tagged: @tchalamet & @pennyofficial

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User92 this was your best episode yet!!

User37 I’m still so in love with the Timmy and Penny dynamic

User19 I’m still confused on how they know each other

User37 Penny (y/n’s roommate/business partner) went to Colombia University at the same time he did and was in the same program as him!!

Emilyuribee you got him a cake with his face on it!?

Ynofficial you can’t tell me you would want to eat a slice of his face!1

User94 Penny is so pretty 😫

Ynofficial just posted!!

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Ynofficial NYC ✈️ LA

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Penny_official all I am is a table to you 😔

User47 bones and all was so good!!

TrevorZegras put me in the pod!

User37 … trev bbg? What are you doing here??

Penny_official @trevorzegras can you do a backflip??

TrevorZegras I could try?

Ynofficial you’re formal request will be taken into consideration.

Penny_official just posted!!

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Penny_official Go watch the new episode!! It consists of me bullying Trevor and Y/n blushing like a madman (yes we all see it, she had heart eyes)! Anyways… GO LISTEN OR WATCH NOW ON ALL PLATFORMS!

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User73 but did Trevor do the backflip??

Penny_official he definitely did something…

Jamie.drysdale the something in question was nearly breaking his neck.

User83 Jamie just sat there like 🥴 THE. ENTIRE. TIME.

_quinnhughes welcom to the Trevor hate club 🤝

Penny_official can I be the vice president?? I have a lot to bring to the table 🙇‍♀️

Trevorzegras LET ME LIVE PLZ

User74 I just know Jamie went home and immediately yelled out "YIPPIE!!"

User63 Jamie def rewatched the episode and was giggling and kicking his feet the entire time

Ynofficial I did not have heart eyes??

Tchalamet you: 😍

Ynofficial choke.

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Ynofficial a little life lately 🌷

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User92 YOU GOT A CAT

Penny_official we’ve been had that pissy bitch for like a year

Ynofficial you’re bitter cause she rips up your furniture

Penny_official Yes? And? Do I need more of a reason??

User83 secret romance 🤭

Jamie.drysdale ate?

Ynofficial you need to say it with a little more enthusiasm 😁

Jamie.drysdale ATE!

Like by @ynofficial

User02 is that Timmy??

Penny_official Timmy T has the body mass index of a stick bug, THATS A MAN 💪

Masonmctavish23 do you need a man??

Trevorzegras 📣GTFO📣

Jamie.drysdale just posted!!

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Jamie.drysdale off szn 🫡

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Ynofficial bf material 🤭

Penny_official 🤨

User83 I hope his gf knows she’s living my dream

User63 this just proves that Jimbo Drysdale is the most bf, bbg even, man in the nhl

Penny_official Trevor looks busted.

TrevorZegras you just love to hate me 😼

Penny_official I just hate you.

_quinnhughes I’m loving this 🥲

User37 she kinda looks like @ynofficial

Ynofficial just posed!!

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Ynofficial my Jamie baby 🫶🏻

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TrevorZegras this is disgustingly cute

Penny_official for once I agree 😫

User32 YESSS

User63 I'VE BEEN ROOTING FOR THIS

Drewphillips this is a purr moment!

Jamie.drysdale ❤️❤️

The “hoe 4 drysdale” meme was found on Pinterest by @/hermeskid101

[pretty-red-garnet]

Sparkly Blues

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Pre-apocalypse/Prison • Fluff/Angst

I’m not really sure how I feel about this one. I kept going back and forth about it and deleting parts and then rewriting and blah blah blah. But it took way too long to write, so I’m posting it anyway lol. I hope someone enjoys it. Also! I’m taking requests! So give me some for our love Daryl. <3

You had met Daryl by bartending. You were new to the town and it was the only shit job you could manage to get. You were staying in the small Georgia town to take care of a sick family member, and all the money you could get was needed. Even if the job sucked.

It was the hot spot for the local bikers. The patrons you were forced to deal with were all seedy, loud, and rude. You had to stop a bar fight at least twice a night, and got groped and flirted with at least a thousand times. You had only been there a few weeks and you were about to quit. If you thought your sick aunt could make it back to your home town, you would've packed her up in a second.

But then Daryl showed up, in toe with his rowdy older brother. They sat at the bar, and one flash of his sparkly blue eyes and you were hooked. Your heart did one hard thump and your knees just nearly buckled. Damn he was cute.

"Hey, give us two pints!" His brother demanded, his eyes also blue but lacking the sparkle the younger man had. Lacking what made his eyes so pretty. His were empty and had blown pupils. His demand broke your daze, and you rushed to give them their beers. You smiled lightly at Daryl, who just avoided your eyes. You could just barely see in the dim lighting his face was a little pink.

At closing, you questioned your coworker about the brothers, mostly to learn more about the cute quiet one. She paused her wiping a table to look at you with confused eyes.

"Merle and Daryl? They've been coming for years, they go on hunting trips a lot though. That's why you haven't met them," she explains.

"Sooo... who's the quiet one?" She gives you a questioning look with a brow raised.

"You mean Daryl? Daryl Dixon?" She had asked.

"Is Daryl the really cute one with pretty blue eyes?" She laughed and rolled her eyes. "What? I'm serious!"

"Y/N, he's a Dixon," she said, like that was all the explanation you needed. You raised your brows at her to keep talking, she rolls her eyes. "They're no good. Believe me."

"He seemed plenty nice to me..." you say with a shrug. "Quiet, shy, he even thanked me! I mean I think it's the first 'thank you' I've gotten since I got hired."

"Daryl isn't bad I guess. He doesn't really talk to anyone." You nod and when she stops talking, you nudge her. "Y/N believe me, maybe he was ok today, but he's gotten in his fair share of fight. He doesn't say much, but when he does, it's usually yelling. And he's Merle's brother, who you should really stay away from."

"Damn," you mumble with a sigh. "He's really cute though." She laughed and slapped your shoulder.

"This isn't the place to find boyfriend material." She sighed dramatically and fumbled with something behind the bar. You looked at her with a puzzled expression. "But it is the place to drink!" She slams a hefty bottle on the bar and you laugh.

     When the weekend rolls around the Dixons come again. You try to snap yourself out of your daze and do your work, but it's a little hard with the handsome stranger sitting there and your coworker snickering whenever you so much as glanced at him. When closing time came around, you grabbed the wet towel you were cleaning with and snapped her behind with it.

     "Can you blame me?! Have you seen his eyes?!" You snapped at her with a red face, but she only laughed even harder.

     This little routine continued for another two weeks. Stealing little glances at the man and your friend laughing and poking at you until you were red as a firetruck.

    One night though, during a busy Friday night, your friend called out. You were all alone managing both the bar and waitressing as she did. You scurried to the bar from the backroom as you heard a loud ruckus and yelling. And to no one's surprise, it was another bar fight.

     This time it was the Dixon brothers against another two biker assholes. Merle against one and Daryl the other. You yelled and shouted at them to stop, but no one was letting up. Daryl was almost underneath the biker he was fighting, and so against your better judgment, you stepped in.

     "Alright, alright! Enough!" You shouted and tried grabbing his arm that was just about to wail on Daryl. He looked back just a split second before breaking his arm from your grasp and slamming it back into your face. You immediately stumbled back and onto the floor clutching your head, where he got you with a big metal ring right in the temple.

     Finally, an older, more respected biker stepped in. He broke up the fight and shoved the two bikers— who you assumed must've started the fight— out the door.

     You reached up a hand and slightly panicked when you pulled your fingers away and saw blood. Your vision was a little blurry and you looked up blearily to who crouched in front of you, only to see the prettiest eyes imaginable.

     "You alright?" Daryl asked. You nodded in a daze, but his brows furrowed in concern still.

     "Y-yeah. I'm ok." He nodded and reached his hands out to help you up. Even in your state, you can see his knuckles are bloodied and busted.

     He helped you to sit on a bar stool before walking off, and you took a quick glance around. It was just about closing time now, so most were gone. All that remained was the older biker that broke up the fight, a few stragglers, and Merle bragging that he won the brawl.

     "Everybody out! Come on," Daryl calls out. The stragglers filter out the doors pretty quick, still probably buzzing from the excitement of the fight.

     Daryl retuned to you with a little first aid kid. He grabbed a clean wet towel and wiped at the blood on your face. If you weren't still seeing stars, you'd probably be having a conniption right now.

"You gonna fix up the girl, baby brother?" Merle asks with a sickening grin. Daryl just hummed a yes. "Don't come home without getting some tail first!"

"Shut up, man!" Daryl yelled, turning to him. He turned back once he was out the door and his checks were a little flushed.

     "You need a hospital?" He asked a moment later, recovered from Merle's obnoxious comment. His tongue was peaking out of his lip in concentration as he puts a little bandage to your cut. Oh boy.

     "No, no," you stammer out. Now that you were beginning to recover from your state, you realize you were completely alone with him, and he was helping you. Being all gentle while he wipes your face softly, close to his face, staring into his eyes... this is heaven. "I'm ok. Thanks."

     He nods, biting the inside of his lip. He closes the first aid kit and stashed it where it belongs behind the bar.

     "'M sorry you got hurt," he mutters. You just give him a small smile.

     "It's ok. I know you didn't start the fight." He shuffled back over to you and hovers awkwardly. "And you cleaned me up. Thank you."

     "My fault anyway," he says with a shrug. He still didn't meet your eyes.

"Well," you start, but hesitate. Daryl looks at you and waits patiently for you to continue. "I know a way you can repay me. If you really want."

"What's that?" He asks.

"Drive me home?"

From that day forward you and Daryl were somewhat inseparable. He always came to the bar if you knew you were working, sometimes even without Merle which you appreciated. He gave you the creeps, even though Daryl had assured you he wouldn't do anything to you. He also might've threatened to knock him out for you if he ever stepped out of line.

Despite your coworkers concerns, Daryl was pretty perfect— even if a little rough around the edges at times. He was sweet, and while Merle and most of the other bikers looked at you as if you were meat, Daryl always looked at you so genuinely. So sweetly.

He even drove you home most nights now ever since that first night you both really talked. He learned your car broke down, and between your aunt's medical bills and your job's shitty pay, you couldn't get it fixed. Daryl had tried to fix it, but the part you needed was way too pricey. He didn't like that you walked home at almost three in the morning, so he drove you after every shift. Even if he didn't hang out at the bar that night.

You were pretty positive Daryl was the greatest guy you had ever met. So kind, and attentive, and always doing his best to help you with whatever you needed. Helpful without expecting something in return.

     When your aunt eventually died, a few months after being close with Daryl, he was the first one you called. You were in hysterics, and he sped over to the hospital as fast as he could just to hug and hold you.

     He stayed with you for days, made your meals, even hunted so you would have fresh meat for him to cook you. But mostly, he stayed by your side like wet on water.

     Daryl wasn't the best with comforting people, or really with emotions at all, but he tried. And you always appreciated it. Even if he didn't know what to say, and he'd just hold you tight and let you cry. Or played with your hair when you couldn't sleep. Daryl was better with actions than with words, and you didn't mind a bit.

     It was during this time that you knew you didn't just care about him as a good friend, or even as a crush, but was in love with him. You loved how caring and loyal he was, how you were completely comfortable with him and knew you could always rely on him.

     "Daryl, I need to tell you something," you murmured, you voice cloudy with tears still. It was only a week after your aunts passing and while you were getting better, you had a really rough day. Memories flashing through your mind and making it nearly impossible to get through your day without breaking down.

     "Hm," Daryl hummed. You felt the vibrations in your chest, as he held you close to him and stroked your hair.

     "I love you," you said, nuzzling your face in his neck, too scared to see his face. To see that he didn't feel for you that way. Or try to push you away. You couldn't look at him.

     Hesitantly, he gently pulled your face away from his neck to look at you. Your eyes were still red and rimmed with tears, which he brushed away with a thumb. You were scared to see rejection, but when you worked up the nerve to look at his face, you saw anything but.

     You saw pure love.

     "Daryl," you called.

     "What?" He said from the other room, shortly before entering the living room where you stood. He was shirtless, wearing only jeans. His hair was still damp from his shower and you took a second to take in the sight before voicing your concerns.

     "I don't think you should go on that hunting trip." You looked back to the news, who was reporting about strange serial killings around the country, now hitting Atlanta. They were eating the bodies.

     He walked up to stand by you. You looked at him in worry. He smiled and brushed a hand down your face gently.

     "That's Atlanta. If anything, me and Merle will be safer from those freaks in the woods," he says and presses his lips to yours to smooth away your worry. "You should come, too."

     "I can't." You level him with a serious look. "My coworker is sick with some flu, I'll be taking care of the bar all by myself."

     Daryl pushes his face into your neck and lays down kisses on your neck, moving down to your shoulders, then chest. You adore the scratchy feeling of his stubble on your delicate skin.

     "Come on," he complains into your chest, and you giggle a little at his whining. "They can close the bar for one goddamn weekend."

     "The money doesn't hurt either, Mr. Dixon," you tease. He pulls away to look you in the eye, hands on your hips and that same soft and genuine look on his face that you fell in love with to begin with. And those eyes. Despite all the years you've been with the man, his sparkly blues were still the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

     "Fine," he obliges, but he still with a little frown. You wipe it away with a firm peck and a caress to his cheek. His eyes close momentarily, soaking in the feeling, before opening them again. He gazes at you with half lidded eyes, so lovingly and tenderly. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Dixon."

     That morning was the last time you'd seen your husband. The flesh eating 'serial killers'—which you now are reanimated corpses— made their way to your small town while he was gone. You tried to stay as long as you could, but soon a herd trying to make their way into your house and you couldn't stay.

     You tried to get to where the Dixons were camping, but was too late. They were already gone for god knows how long. And so you moved around, trying to find him. You had no clue where to look, you weren't a tracker like Daryl, but you tried.

     You moved through the woods and stayed at cabins you found, or made a little camp with cans on wire surrounding it so you can hear anything coming. Daryl had taught you that, when you stayed at a campground with him once where there were larger animals roaming around.

     You missed him.

     You missed how he could always ease your worries and calm you down. His gentle touches and soft kisses. How soft he was with you. The way he always looked at you with love and care. You missed all of him.

     You're ashamed to think that maybe you'll never find him. Or maybe he only lives in your memories now. Maybe the last time you saw him was truly the last time.

     You could still see his eyes in your mind whenever you tried to sleep. You stayed awake most of the time now.

     You move around an abandoned gas station. It was your little camp for the moment. It had four walls and the doors held well enough, for now anyway. It's been almost a year of this now. Of moving around trying to find Daryl, with not even a clue. You needed to hunker down for at least a week, you're growing too weak and exhausted.

     The gas station was littered with dirt and grime, along with some candy and other snacks that weren't scavenged. Some water bottles were still in the coolers, but barren shelves took up most of the space.

     You're moving some of the shelving to the door, hoping that blocking it would keep the monsters out. If they didn't hear or see you, maybe they'll just wander by.

     You set up a blanket in the corner and throw your pack down before laying your head on it. You take a deep breath and try to fight the tears. You can't do this anymore. You can't just survive anymore. Is there even a point? Tears burn at your eyes and you close them shut.

     You must fall asleep at some point, because when your eyes fly open to voices, it's bright out.

     "There's something blocking the door," a woman says, trying in vain to push the doors open. You grab your gun quickly and rush to hide behind some shelving.

     "Hang on, let me try," a man says, before you hear more loud screeching from the metal shelves scraping on the floor. You point your gun in front of you, really hoping you don't have to use it.

     You hear footsteps, and see light streaming in now that the shelves weren't blocking the sun. Your hands shake a little on the gun.

     "Seems clear," the man says. You hold your breath. Maybe they'll just leave. You peak ever so slightly over the shelve to see the two. Ones a Asian guy, and the other is a pretty brunette girl.

     "Glenn," she says, and points over to your blanket and pack. "Someone was here."

     You slink back down, slowly and carefully. You can hear as the two begin to walk cautiously around the tiny store. The guy—Glenn— begins to walk around the shelf you're hiding behind, so you try to move to block yourself from his sight. But you didn't see the empty can by your foot, and kick it, causing it to roll out in the open. Shit.

     "Whoever's back there, come out!" Glenn calls out. "We won't hurt you, just come out slow."

     You weight your options in your head, but decide to walk out. They looked put together and well kept, maybe they had some sort of camp? A stable enough place that they wouldn't kill you for a can a beans and a half empty bottle of water?

     "Put the gun down," the girl says, flanking you from behind while the man is in front. You oblige, and the gun drops to the floor with a metallic thump. Your heart beats a million miles a second.

     "You have a camp?" Glenn asks.

     "This is my camp," you answer. Your hands were raised slightly in front of you, not wanting to startle them in any way and end up with a bullet between your eyes.

     "What about a group? Are you with anyone?" He asks. He eyes your warily, but they seemed kind. The girl walked out in front of you, her gun in hand but not held up. They didn't seem malicious. Maybe this could work out?

"No, just me," you answer. He and the woman give you a long look.

     "We have a camp, answer our questions and we can take you back," the girl says, holstering her weapon. Glenn lowers his but keeps it in his hand. "My names Maggie, and that's Glenn." You nod, and your eyes dance from one to the other. They didn't seem bad, but you can't be too careful nowadays.

     "How many walkers have you killed?" Glenn asks.

     "I don't know," you say with a shrug. "I've been moving around a lot, so a bunch I guess."

     "How many people?" You gulp at his question.

     "I shot a guy trying to rob me, not sure if I killed him." The man nods, and you wonder what's going to happen to you. They have a camp, but is it safe? Even if it is, would you go? Daryl could still be out there...

     "Our camp is a prison not far, you can come back with us," Maggie says, a kind smile gracing her pretty face. "What's your name?"

     "Y/N, Y/N Dixon." The couples eyes fly open, their jaws drop slightly. "What?"

     "You wouldn't happen to know a Daryl Dixon, would you?" She asks, and your heart just about burst right out of your chest.

"Yeah, he's my husband," you say, excitedly. Your heart is thumping almost painfully against your ribs. "You know him?"

"Daryl's married?!" Glenn shouts out. Maggie thumps him once on the shoulder and gives him a stern look. "What?"

The whole trip to the prison you thought you were dreaming. Maybe this isn't happening. I'm asleep still. Daryl is gone.... You still tried to hold onto hope, your chest tight and fingers anxiously drumming against your leg.

Maggie and Glenn were sweet, both with matching grins at the idea of yours and Daryl's reunion. They asked questions along the way, how you'd met him and how long you were married. You answered them all happily, almost to the point of tears.

When the car drove up to the prison fences, you looked around in awe. There were animals and crop gardens, kids running around the fields. It was something you never thought you'd see again.

A man opened the fence for you three, and a grey haired woman followed after seeing you step out of the car. The man had a beard and cowboy boots on, and he smiled warmly when he saw you. The woman had a look just as kind.

"Rick, Carol, you'll never guess who this is," Maggie says, a huge smile plastered on her face as she jumped out of the car. They both give you a second glance and look at her a little confused, and the man— Rick— nodded for her to continue. "Daryl's wife."

"Oh!" Carol gasped, a big smile on her face. "So nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you!"

"Only good things I hope," you say. You're still buzzing, and your eyes fly across the field in hope of catching a glance of your husband. Your heart flutters, your knees feel weak, and you still feel this may be a dream. A figment of your imagination.

And then you see him.

Your eyes widen, and with one last glance at your four new friends, you book it towards him. Your feet barely touch the grass as you bolt towards your husband.

"Daryl!" He turns sharply at the sound of your voice. He's half bent over his bike, hands full of grease and grime, and still he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. He stops in his tracks for just a second before running to meet you in the middle.

You jump into his arms, his grease caked hands rubbing all over you but you couldn't care less. His fingers tremble where they lay on your back. Your face is shoved into his neck and you relish in the feeling of him.

"I thought I lost you I—" he says, cutting himself off, like he couldn't even think of it. "I looked for you everywhere."

"Me too," you say, voice laced with tears. This has to be a dream, it has to be. Your burrow your face even deeper into him and tighten your hold. "I don't want this to be a dream."

     "Shh, it's not," he murmurs lovingly in your ear. "I promise, I'm right here."

     Tears flow down your face even faster. Negative thoughts still plague your brain. Daryl brushes his hands down your back, up to caress your shoulders, before moving back down to clutch at your hips. His touches become more desperate and clingy. You think he's never going to let you go, you never want him to.

     Finally, you muster up the courage to look at him. You slowly peel your face away from his neck. Daryl presses a kiss to your forehead, resting a hand on your cheek softly. You look at him with matching tear stained faces, smiling. Gently, you push his grown out fringe away from his face.

     He's smiling, probably the happiest you've ever seen him, even with tear tracks down his pretty face. And when you finally lock eyes with those sparkly blues you've only seen in your dreams for so long, you know he's really there.

[spectersgirl]

heyyy!! so i just started s5 of suits and (spoiler if you haven’t seen it!!!!) harvey’s panic attacks were introduced after donna left and IM HURTING FOR HIM. but i think that’s such great angst material lol so if you’re still taking requests maybe something with that?

Hiiiii friends!

I know I've been gone for... quite a while... but I'm hoping to start writing more frequently again! I've undergone some massive life changes over the last few months and the stress of that basically caused me to completely burn out creatively. That being said, I have a TONNN of requests in my inbox and a few of them are generally in this same realm, so I will be using all of them for this piece, I hope that's okay with you all <3

The other requests were

"soft harvey just around his girl in a tense moment?!"

"hiii! i love your writing! i was wondering if you could write a fic where harvey had like a bad day at work and he just goes home and collapses onto the reader. like just hugs and softness and cuddles galore!"

I referenced actual events and lines from the show but changed up the context a little bit, obviously.

I appreciate you all for reading my work and liking it enough to request anything from me. I've never had such a positive response to anything I've created before, so this all means the world to me. Truly, thank you :')

Be With You

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

It was nearly 11pm and you were teetering on sleep, having worked all day and come home to do a much-needed cleaning of your apartment followed by a glass of wine, when your phone loudly pinged on the nightstand. You fumbled for it and turned on the small bedside lamp next to you. You smiled when you saw it was your boyfriend, probably just saying goodnight, you'd assumed.

"Hey, can I come over? Please? I really need to see you right now."

A pit formed in your stomach reading the words on your screen. Though you hadn't been dating Harvey all that long, you'd spent a lot of time together, but he'd never sent a message like that.

"Of course, is everything okay?"

You couldn't help but worry, it was simply in your nature. You stared at the bubbles that indicated he was typing, which seemed to take an eternity.

"Not really, it's been a rough day and I just really need you."

Your heart lurched, Harvey had rough days all the time as a lawyer, but none had caused this response from him. You wondered what could've possibly happened. You got up, going back out into the living room and took a seat on the couch as you lit your electric fireplace with a remote.

"I'm sorry :( come over whenever, I'll unlock the door for you."

You did just that and looked down at the pajamas you'd chosen, just some shorts and a tank top. You decided they were fine enough for Harvey to see you in. You busied yourself with some TV to pass the time until he arrived. He was there in 20 minutes, and you immediately clocked the visible exhaustion on his face as he walked inside.

He dropped his jacket onto the couch without saying a word. You opened your arms for him as he walked to you and wrapped himself around you in a hug that felt like he was clinging to you for dear life. You stroked the hair at the back of his neck as he breathed you in, and you felt that he had been sweating.

"Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" You asked hesitantly, still cradled in his strong arms.

He shook his head before pulling back, allowing you to really look at him now. His eyes looked like he'd been crying, and his cheeks were flushed. Your heart plummeted into your stomach.

"Not right now, I just need to be with you." He said, his voice slightly hoarse.

You nodded and sat with him on the couch, laying your head on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat. He absentmindedly stroked your hair while staring into the fireplace, debating on whether he wanted to fully open up about everything that was on his mind.

When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with nerves, and you sat up at full attention.

"I... A while back, right before I met you, Donna had left my desk to go and work for Louis. When that happened, I started having panic attacks. It felt like I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, it just completely took over my entire body until it passed. She came back to work for me, and then I met you, and I think that combination helped me tremendously."

You nodded, listening as he continued.

"I didn't want to tell you about it because I didn't want you to worry or make you think I was weak, and since I stopped having them, I didn't think it was important anymore, but today... I had another one."

"Harvey, I would never think you were weak for being honest about your feelings or your struggles. I'd like to think you'd be understanding and supportive of me if I was going through the same thing."

"Of course I would!" He said definitively.

"Exactly. So, do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to sit some more?"

He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair.

"Donna told me she didn't want to be on my desk anymore, she said she wanted more. I get that, but I just don't know how I'm going to do what I do without her help."

"Did she say what she meant by 'more'?" You asked softly.

"She said she didn't know."

Harvey hung his head slightly, looking down at the floor. You could tell how much this was affecting him, normally he had all the answers and didn't sweat about getting what he wanted, but this time felt different. You knew how much he and Donna had been through for them to get to this point, so it never occurred to you that someday she might want to leave her position. You idly rubbed circles on his back.

"Maybe you can still give her more and keep her at the firm with you?" You suggested, desperately trying to come up with a solution to soothe the pain you knew he was in.

"I'd love that, but ultimately if she wants to go, I have no choice but to let her."

You sighed and laid your head on his shoulder, you yawned and briefly closed your eyes as he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

"You tired?" Harvey asked softly, suddenly noticing that it was long past the time you normally went to bed.

You nodded, sitting up again.

"Yeah, but I knew you needed me." You answered, looking up at him as you grabbed his hand, kissing the back of it.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to keep you up." He replied, feeling guiltier than he had when he walked in. The time hadn't even registered to him after the day he'd had.

"No, no. It's okay, this is what partners do. You should be able to lean on one another, it's a balance. I'm glad you trust me and our relationship enough to want me to be with you for this while you process. Now, are you sleeping here with me or are we going back to your place? Because I know you, and I know you won't admit you don't want to sleep alone tonight."

Harvey smiled weakly before he pulled you in for a soft kiss.

"I love you, Y/N. So much." He whispered against your lips when the kiss broke.

The admission made your heart skip a beat. Neither of you had said the L word yet, but you knew from the moment you saw him that he was it for you. Harvey had felt the same but didn't want to come off as some crazy boyfriend that knew you for all of five minutes, so he buried those feelings deep down for as long as he could bare.

"I love you too, Harvey." You said, a smile growing on your lips.

"Let's stay here tonight, I don't want to spend another second not in a bed with the wonderful, gorgeous, brilliant, selfless woman that I love." Harvey declared, standing and taking you with him.

"Uh oh, you're gonna make me cry." You warned, sensing the impending waterworks.

"I'm just getting started."

[tripleglitchwriting]

I saw that the request is open, so I thought. How about a first contact au with rotb optimus? I've always liked that old bot haha

Hell yeah I rewatched the movie for this. Sorry it took longer for me to actually write this than I anticipated 😅

Some Things Are More Important

CW: Unintentional fearplay, calling a person “it” (also unintentionally)

Ah, the junkyard. A beautiful array of scrap metal glinting under the sun day after day, perfect for welding and crafting. For the longest time the atmosphere of the place put you off, but your drive to create overtook your fear and replaced it with passion.

The day your life changed was no different than any other. You took your time packing your things, preparing to scavenge once again, though the evening sun was already threatening to advance further down the sky. You didn’t need much, it wasn’t a far trip and certainly not a difficult one. You left in good time, pushing down the uneasy feeling you got when you stepped outside the house.

There was a specific piece of metal you were looking for, one you saw a couple days ago but wouldn’t fit in your cart due to how full it had been. It was the perfect size and shape for what you needed, of course you had to leave behind the one thing you needed now, though it couldn’t hurt to pick up some other materials while you were at it. Masterfully navigating your way through the junk was a special talent of yours, one you were quite proud of, so it struck you as odd when a random truck showed up in the middle of the yard.

It was red and blue, one of those trucks that carried huge cargo boxes and were scary to drive next to. It was pretty beat up, though you can’t imagine why someone would leave it here of all places rather than a used car lot or something. Well, you thought, it wasn’t your problem, so you didn’t treat it as such. You simply continued your search. There were so many great pieces of metal, you ended up staying there until dusk, yet you still couldn’t find the one you were looking for.

Now that you think about it, it must’ve been where that truck was now. Maybe somebody moved it, or worse, took it. It would be a huge bummer to lose such a perfect piece to your puzzle, so you figured staying out to look near the truck wouldn’t hurt anybody.

After around ten minutes of picking through trash, you heard a sound. It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was unnerving to say the least. It sounded like metal scraping together so you brushed it off as the wind blowing on some light metal or something. Five minutes later it happened again, this time louder. Not long after it happened again, and by now you were getting pretty freaked out.

Taking metal from the scrapyard wasn’t particularly illegal, after all you’d learned how to do it properly from your law-abiding friends, however it came with a certain set of risks. Getting cut by rusty metal, stepping on a stray nail, or even getting robbed by someone who preys on scrap pickers like yourself. You didn’t want to know what the sound was and you weren’t about to find out, perfect piece be dammed. It was time to cut your losses.

You didn’t take two steps before it happened.

A strange, mechanical, alien sound rattled from behind you. You whipped your head around despite your survival instincts telling you to run immediately. Before your very eyes the red and blue truck started pulling itself part, little pieces forming a much, much larger figure. It looked nearly human really, if not for being impossibly large and also a robot truck.

A gobsmacked look etched itself on your face, not that you noticed it. You were a little preoccupied at the time, with the giant robot reaching a giant robot hand at you. Just then you realized there was a giant robot hand reaching at you, and you screamed louder than any horror movie victim ever could. The hand froze for a second, taken aback by your sudden noise, but when you remained frozen it continued its pursuit.

It was already too late by the time your body agreed to let you move. Incomprehensibly large fingers wrapped around your comparatively small form, gripping you tight enough to stop any struggles you tried to make. The thing held you up to its face, bright blue eyes shining like headlights in your vision. There were plenty of words that came from your mouth at the time, none of which were at any point comprehendible. To your utter shock, the robot seemed to notice this.

“Perhaps I have downloaded the wrong language pack… or I have found the wrong species…” It said to itself in a distinctly human voice.

“Wh- what the- what are- what are you?” Hooray! You got a sentence out. Your heart was not as excited though, as it felt more like it was going to pound out of your chest.

“So you can speak.” The voice boomed, knocking any hope you had of replying out of your throat.

“What?? What???” You rasped out, two words was better than none, you supposed.

“Did I… break you?”

“Did you- no, no you… didn’t. Please don’t.”

“I do not intend to bring you any harm, little one.“

“Then… stop squeezing… me” The grip immediately loosened. You took in a deep breath of air. “Thank you…”

“My sincerest apologies, I did not mean to hurt you.”

“That’s good to know… but, um, what exactly are you? I asked it before but… you know.” The robot nodded with you, a thoughtful motion but a generally unwelcome one because even the smallest moments it made caused you a bout nausea.

“Yes, introductions. My name is Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots.” Optimus Prime… a strange name. Though it’s not like your current situation was any more normal.

“…I’m Whyen, nice to meet you. Could you… put me down, by any chance?” Optimus nodded, gently setting you down. He stood up again, but realized how much you had to crane your neck up to see him, so he resolved to a kneel.

“What are you.” However tough he looked on the outside, you would feel the sheer curiosity oozing off his voice.

“Uh, I’m a human.”

“Human… and you’re the dominant species on this planet?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I see. I was lucky to find a vehicle mode with your language on it.”

“I… don’t really know what that means but ok. So, what are you?”

“I am Cybertronian, from the planet Cybertron.”

“Huh. Another planet.” You kicked by the oncoming existential crisis in hopes of more answers. “Right… so, if you’re from space, why are you here?” His face suddenly shifted from curiosity to a grim look of remembrance.

“There is a war on my planet. Me and my team have ended up here on accident, I’m afraid.”

“Oh… well, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, I have no intention of staying here longer than we have to, doing so could endanger this entire planet.”

“Wait, what? The- all- the whole planet?”

“Yes,” He responded in a low, distant voice. “Our enemies, unlike us, would not hesitate to destroy any planet if it meant winning the war.” You started at him in shock. In an attempt to avoid further panic, you decided to take a different route on questioning.

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“The Autobots, my friends.”

“So you’re saying… you’re leading your side of the war? Like a general?”

“Yes, to put it simply.”

“Wow… this is… a lot. How are you going to find your friends?”

“I… do not know. I was attempting to contact them before I noticed you.“

“Oh…”

“Do not worry. If the Deceptions attack this planet, we will protect it with our very sparks. A young species such as yourselves do not deserve to be punished for our mistakes.” Your expression softened. As this metal titan spoke to you, in gentle, deep tones, you felt strangely at peace. You felt silly for ever being afraid of him, like you’d known this alien for ages. He didn’t even know you, yet he was willing to risk his life for your home.

“…Thank you.”

“Do not thank me now, young human, I have yet to get your people out of harms way.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you going to be okay?” Optimus’s eyes widened for just a second before his face broke into a warm smile.

“…I will be just fine.”

“Well, if it’s my planet at stake… I want to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yeah. I know more about this planet than you do, so I can show you how things work around here. It’s the least I can do.”

“That is very kind of you, you have my thanks.”

“Well, first I have to get home and sleep- my house isn’t too far from here, and I live alone so you don’t have to worry about anyone else freaking out. Not many people live around here.”

“That is good. I… apologies if I am too bold, is it okay if I carry you back to your home? It would be in our best interest to get to your home as fast as possible.”

“Ah, true. Well, I guess so.” He laid out his hand. It took you a second to climb on a stabilize yourself, nodding when you were ready for him to move. And he did, and you guided him all the way home. You hardly even noticed the junkyard and forgotten scrap metal you’d spent the night collecting.

Some things are more important.

[itsplumwriter]

Baking for Bucky

POV: While browsing a small collector’s shop, Bucky finds a vintage WWII magazine from the 40s. He flips through the pages and spots a dessert recipe, asking if you could make it for him.

A/N: Just some fluffsss. I haven't written a fluffy piece in a while so I really hope you'll like this. I love baking, do y'all? It's such a comfort activity and I think it'd be so cute to bake for Bucky.

--- --- ---

“What are we making again?” you ask, pulling out the flour and sugar.

“Gingerbread. It’s a classic from the 40s,” Bucky says, flipping through the old-timey magazine. “Housewives used to pack it in their husband’s box lunches back in the day.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Housewife? I am a housewife now?”

He lowers the magazine, glancing at you. “You can be..."

You nearly trip trying to get the bowl. “Slow your roll, soldier...”

He chuckles as he helps you pull out the rest of the ingredients. You love him, obviously, and you could definitely see yourself marrying him. But you’re both enjoying the dating phase and there’s no need to rush things.

You add the ingredients to the bowl and stir it's contents carefully, noticing a concerned look on Bucky's face. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Bucky smiles, enjoying the fact you know him so well. "The smell is just bringing me back... Usually sights, sounds, and smells bring me back to bad memories from my past, so it's kinda nice to have a smell trigger a good memory for once."

You smile and nod, hoping he'll say more; Bucky rarely opens up. When he does, you find it best to just keep quiet and let it flow naturally.

"I kinda miss the old days, you know?..." he continues. "Sometimes I hate that I was frozen for so long. That so many years were taken from me. Sometimes I wish I could have lived in the era I was supposed to.”

“I can understand that,” you say, nodding.

He approaches you, hugging you. “But the thing is if I hadn’t been frozen... I never would’ve met you."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck. "And that sorta makes it all worth it."

“Bucky,” you sigh. His words are sweet, but they make you upset. "I don't want you to say anything was worth what you went through..."

Bucky takes your hand, kissing your palm. “I mean it. And I meant it when I said I want you to be my wife...”

You smile. "Let's see how this gingerbread turns out first. You may change your mind..."

Bucky chuckles, rolling his eyes.

--- --- ---

The entire house is filled with the smell of gingerbread. A warm feeling enrobes the air, reminding you of Christmastime. You both curl up on the couch, eating a few slices with milk.

"You're clearly wifey material," Bucky chimes.

You raise an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that term..."

Bucky stares at you. "Sam."

You chuckle, shaking your head.

"No, but seriously... This has got to be one of the best desserts I've ever had."

You roll your eyes. "...Don't exaggerate, Bucky."

“I'm not! It's the loveliest thing I've ever tasted because the loveliest person made it for me."

You fiddle with a few gingerbread crumbs on your plate, blushing.

Bucky smiles to himself. "I remember one of my buddies used to have these all the time in his box lunch. He’d brag all the time to us that his wife made it for him... I can’t believe I had to wait nearly 90 years for my wife to make me some...”

You clench your jaw. “But I'm not your wife, Buckyy... I love you and I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. But I don't think I'm ready just yet."

He gives you a soft smile. “No rush, doll... I believe I waited my whole life to meet you... It'd be an honor for me to wait a little longer..."

--- --- ---

AAAHHHH the flufffffff <33 love you all so much!! Did you like??

Follow me on insta: https://www.instagram.com/itsplumwriter

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Love you, dolls xo

God bless <3

[asteroidzzzn]

stargirl | part 2

pairing: rockstar!ellie x bartender!reader

warnings: cursing, smoking, eventual sexual themes, ellies kinda an asshole, reader is delulu (are u sensing a pattern here)

songs in this chapter: r u mine? - arctic monkeys

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i love dina in this

summary: the fireflies is a new band consisting of three people. after being cheated out by their former bassist, they needed to find a replacement, and quick. who better than you, the cute bartender that hasn't touched an instrument in years?

you stepped off the train, glancing down at your phone and back up at the sketchy looking building in front of you. the address dina sent you checked out, meaning you were in the right place. graffiti covered every surface you saw as you walked around searching for the entrance.

you were startled when a cardboard box fell and something scurried out. you sighed. it was just a stray cat.

you tried a metal door underneath a wobbly staircase, but it wouldn't budge. jesse told you they would leave the door unlocked, so this wasn't the one. you went around the back and heard a faint noise coming from a propped-open door.

you entered the hallway and quickly found the group. it was a small room with a single green couch, soundproofed walls, and a coffee table nearly spilling over with bottles, books, and food.

dina and jesse greeted you while you navigated around the wires scattered around the floor. ellie was on the couch, taking up the whole thing, of course, scribbling in the journal she held.

"sorry i didn't bring anything... i had to sell all my old instruments a while ago," you spoke softly, embarrassed about your financial situation. jesse had already picked up a beautiful white guitar with brown accents and held it out to you.

"don't stress it, you can use ellie's."

you gaped at the guitar, holding it with extreme care.

"thanks, ellie," you shifted to face her and gave a small smile. she glanced up at you, and something about her expression said this was the first time she noticed you were here.

"what did i do...?" she noticed her guitar in your arms. "oh, yeah."

you pursed your lips and nodded. you leaned towards dina to whisper.

"so, does she write all the songs? seems pretty focused."

she guided you to sit down on the floor and gestured jesse to join you. she settled in, and you noticed disappointment flash on her face. "we all pitch into the writing, but she's been more intent about doing it herself recently," dina lowered her voice. "she's also not as much of a dick usually, but she just went through a messy breakup. we're trying to love her through it, but she got so closed off."

you felt a twinge of guilt at the new information. you mumbled, "yeah, i get that."

dina continued, "i guess she thinks writing about her ex is good songs material, so she insists she writes alone because she's the only one that," she uses air quotes, "really understands."

jesse nodded in agreement, shoving some cheetos in his mouth. "i've been saying, dude, she's jealous we've never broken up," he mumbled through a full mouth, tilting his head to dina.

your eyebrows lifted. dina and jesse seemed like an unlikely couple, but they also complimented each other very well. it was sweet that they shared a passion for music, and were able to be in the same band together.

dina groaned, "it's like she's back in her angsty teen era."

"yeah, she was insufferable enough during high school," jesse added on. "see, watch this," he turned his body to face ellie.

"how's it going? you got a title yet, or do you need a little help there?" mockery dripped off jesse's voice as he teased her.

"fuck off," ellie replied before jesse could finish his sentence, causing the three of you to share quiet giggles.

"so, when will we practice playing a song?" you inquired.

jesse snickered. "once broody over there is done writing her seventh sob st—"

"ow! fuck, that hurt!"

you and dina couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped your mouths when a pencil flung at jesse's head.

"i heard that. stop being a dick."

"you could've killed me! that almost hit my eye!"

"whatever," she threw the journal onto the coffee table and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "i'm done for now, you wanna try out a song, new girl?" ellie spoke.

"oh," you began, when you realized she was speaking directly at you for the first time. you didn't even bother correcting her with your name, "yeah, which one?"

the band exchanged looks, and dina pulled out her phone. she clicked on a recording titled R U mine?

"this one's kinda a work in progress," she explained, "we were in the middle of touching it up before anderson left."

ellie frowned. "that's too hard for her, pick a different one."

"i can handle a challenge, at least let me listen to it first," you bit back at ellie, clicking play on dina's phone. the song started up immediately with an intense bass riff, followed by symbols as ellie began singing.

you loved it right away. the desperation in ellie's voice, paired with the reckless drums, sudden sharp riffs, and undertones of the keys, had you hooked. it was an incredible song.

just before the bridge, there was a short duet between the bassist and guitar, which you assumed at the time was anderson and ellie. it made you nervous to play a duet with ellie, especially while knowing the last person that did was much more experienced than you.

regardless, you told the band you wanted to play this one. while everyone was preparing their instruments, ellie approached you.

"you don't need to do the intro, i will," she stated simply, beginning to turn around before you caught her arm. her head snapped to look at you, pulling her arm back sharply.

"give me a chance, i won't know what i can or can't do without giving it a shot. if it sucks, you can do it instead next time we run it," as intimidating as it was, you didn't allow your gaze to falter.

her eyebrows were furrowed, with an otherwise unreadable expression. "fine."

you weren't sure why you were pressing so hard to have a chance to show yourself. you wanted to impress, obviously. but for some unknown reason, you felt as if ellie's validation would feel much more rewarding than the others.

you glanced at ellie. with her bangs perfectly falling in front of her face, tank top that had her toned arms and a beautiful forearm tattoo on display, and dark hazel eyes, she was mesmerizing. she was even more attractive up close, and yet, you wished she could be the version she was in your head.

it was selfish, and you knew it, but you couldn't help but picture her as the charming, enticing, brilliant girl you witnessed on stage a few days prior.

she suddenly gestured to you. "whenever you're ready."

dina shot you a thumbs up, and you grinned back.

you hesitantly grazed the strings with your pick as you took a deep breath.

you tapped your foot in a quick rhythm. 5,6,7,8

your eyes flew between the sheet and the guitar as you started up the song with the complicated riff. jesse added on with the drums, and ellie with her guitar.

you let out a sigh of relief as you settled into a pattern and the song continued. you had skimmed over the sheet before beginning, so you knew the first hardest part was over.

it was going much smoother than you expected. you settled into a comfortable space where you followed ellie's lead, and your instruments harmonized perfectly. ellie's eyes closed, and she muttered the lyrics to herself.

you restrained from staring, deciding to focus on giving your best performance, and not fangirl over the rockstar to your left.

the duet was approaching, and you had to hit the first riff. you felt a heavy sense of not wanting to disappoint. this needed to be perfect.

you chewed on your lip as thoughts rushed through your mind, but no time to carefully think each one over.

you had always hated using picks when you played, but were too polite to turn it down when ellie threw you one. you forgot how much you loved having the feeling of the strings on your fingers, and the stinging reminder of it in the morning.

in a quick moment you would later explain as an instinct to follow your gut, you dropped the pick and began the duet, instantly feeling much more confident.

ellie glanced at your hands once her part began. you prayed she wouldn't be upset at your decision. you had already come to realize she had quite a short fuse, and wasn't afraid to let loose on even her seemingly closest friends.

you strummed your guitar again as she paused, and your section eventually lead into the song resuming. there was an intense build up before it calmed down, coming to a gentle ending.

your heart raced with excitement. you thought it was amazing, and you were extremely proud of yourself. you glanced around the room, hoping to hear feedback from any of the band members.

dina's smile grew slowly.

"she told you she could handle a challenge."

jesse let out a short laugh while beaming. "that was great!"

all ellie did was shrug. "not a fan of picks?"

"no, i've always preferred to play without."

she crossed her arms. "sounds better with it. you should get used to it."

you scoffed. "it makes the song sound too scratchy if guitar and bass use a pick. especially if you play this one live, it'll make their ears bleed."

she took a sharp inhale through her nose, turning to dina and jesse. "you guys think it's better when both are on pick, don't you?"

dina and jesse remained silent, but it was clear whose side they were taking.

ellie let out a bitter laugh. "might as well let new girl rename the fucking band while we're at it. next we'll make her the lead singer! how does that sound?" she spat out as she removed the guitar, threw it to the couch, and stormed out the door before you could run it again with vocals.

"i-i'm so sorry, i just... wanted to help," you stuttered, in shock.

"it's not your fault, hun," dina softly spoke, standing up from her stool and walking towards you. "she's too stubborn for her own good, but you'll be good for us, i know it."

you tilted your head in confusion, silently asking for her to elaborate.

dina sighed. "we kind of got used to her pushing us around, since we know how angry and destructive she can get. she needs someone, like you, to not be afraid to challenge her when she's stuck in her ways. and for the record, we thought you were right with the whole scratchy thing."

your heart soared, smiling brightly at dina. "thank you, really."

"yeah, babe, that was wise, i second that," jesse chimed in, creating applause by tapping his drumsticks together, which made you and dina chuckle.

your mind wandered to ellie, and you felt horrible for making her angry. you weren't sure what was going to happen with her. she remained a mystery to you.

you needed to figure her out.

a/n: cute band bonding time and ellie has a temper tantrum. i promise u she will let her guard down eventually 😭 she just needs to be an asshole now so the character development really hits 🙏 hope u all enjoyed this chapter!!!! this series is sm fun to write (*^▽^*) i love learning new stuff about music!

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn

[kaeyx]

Vamp chuuya would flip out after getting intel that kitsune dazai planned on making you immortal that week because he finally gathered all the materials. He would turn you into a vampire in his panic, and only afterwards would realize that dazai tricked him. There were no materials to prepare, chuuya made you immortal without dazai needing to get help from anyone. And even better, you now lived by a very specific set of rules that dazai could take advantage of.

Chuuya keeps you (locked away-) safe in his castle for nearly a year if dazais constant pestering before they reach an agreement. Now the castle has a guard dog(fox) and a traditional japanese vacation home. Its a win for you too, now that you are dependent on blood you have two happy donors. I kinda imagine they wouldnt even let you drink someone elses blood.

Chuuya making you grind and cum on his thigh when you bite him. Leaving for work he gives you one last taste of blood while cumming inside you as a goodbye. 'Making sure your fangs are healthy' by feeling around your mouth with his fingers and groaning as you reflexively produce more saliva or twitch your tongue

Dazai making you give him your underwear before he lets you bite him. <-you were hungry and not allowed in chuuyas cellar. The underwear must be wet before you hand it over and you will be commando for the rest of the day.

Its a good thing if you become a vampire because at least you would be given the supernatural stamina to handle them both.

I've read this at least 10 times now and I just 🥴🥴🥴🥴 holy shit where do I even start

For Chuuya any chance he gets to have sex is also a chance to drink your blood or have you drink his. I imagine the way vampirism works is that you can't produce your own blood but still need it running through your veins so you can function. Chuuya would love leaving a warm load in you before he goes to work and come back after feeding, making you ride his thigh while you suck your share straight from his neck. Helps him feel like he's providing for you, and why would you have to leave if you have your meals delivered right to you? There's no downsides really.

I imagine kitsune blood tastes different, maybe even better than human blood. Might be the magic in it? Either way, it's like a craving you get sometimes and Dazai is delighted to help satisfy it. In exchange for something, of course. Pushing you against a wall and making out with you, rubbing you through your clothes until you're soaked through before he finally lets you feed on him. Loves to feel your warmth smeared over his thigh as you straddle him, fangs in his neck, grinding subtly against him because he got you too worked up. Might even stuff your underwear in your mouth and make you keep getting yourself off against his thigh, because he loves keeping them later as keepsakes. What could be better than a mix of your wetness and his blood, staining a pair of your underwear that he now gets to keep?

[elixrr]

STARS ALIGN!

♡ XIAO × READER (× KAZUHA?) ♡

SYNOPSIS: You don't know how, and you certainly don't know why, but somehow your once-beloved boyfriend, Kuni, broke up with you about a week after high school graduation. After leaving and ghosting you out of nowhere, you decide that you need to move on, and you let your friend, Kazuha, move in with you. While he's definitely a dating candidate, you start college and, by fate, a boy named Xiao sits next to you in the lecture hall...

WARNINGS: Heavy swearing, some fighting, sexy men

CHAPTER: Prologue

NEXT CHAPTER: Ch.1

“What?”

You dropped the glass cup from your hands.

“You heard me.” Kuni scoffed, arms crossed and eyes rolling. “I've had it with you. I'm done. We're done.”

“But— But why? What did I do? Is there something—”

“No.” He cut you off like he meant it. And judging by his demeanor? He really fucking meant it.

“There's nothing to discuss. There's nothing to negotiate.” Kuni leans in close, “We're well fucking over, got it? I don't give two shits if you cry to your friends about me because in my happy little world— without you— we never happened. And never will. Ever again.”

Kuni pushed you away, grabbing his things and his suitcases. He stopped at the door and turned around to look at your tearful face.

“Bye, crumby little shit.”

And the door slammed shut. Even when sobbing, you could hear a car skid to the front of the house, as well as Kuni's suitcases rolling against the pavement. A few car doors open and close, and the car skids away.

And that was the end of it.

What did you even do wrong?

“Wh— Who are you calling a fucking crumby little shit?” You sob, slamming your palms on the kitchen counter.

“What the fuck did... What did I do wrong?” Dirty dishes are suddenly shattered and pieces of ceramic scramble across the floor. A vase with yours and Kuni's one-year anniversary bouquet suddenly crashes and shatters on the floor. You rip the flowers apart and throw them across the room.

What the fuck—

—did you do wrong?

— – -

It's been a good two months since the breakup, and you've been doing better. You've been hanging out with your friend groups more often, and they've been there to cheer you up. Actually, you even let Kazuha move in with you, and after getting that plan straight, you trashed everything that reminded you of Kuni.

Still. Your ex-two-year anniversary will happen a week from now, and you're really not excited. You're curious, though. Why did he even break up with you in the first place? You weren't an asshole, nor were you violent. You and Kuni were a good pair, so why did he leave you like that?

“Y/N?” Kazuha tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “You're spacing out again. Are you okay?”

Snapping out of it, you look at Kazuha with a forced smile. “I'm pretty okay. Actually, thinking about it now, getting rid of Kuni's belongings really helped. I just need to use a different air freshener.”

“Ah, that actually reminds me, I did buy us an air freshener. I picked out something that reminded me of you, so it's on the sweeter side, if you don't mind.”

Kazuha smiles back at you with the air freshener in hand, and you're pretty much speechless.

“Aw, Kazuha! You think I'm sweet?”

“Of course. Now, let's continue moving and building the essentials. I'd rather not sleep on a futon again.”

“Right, let's get on with this.”

You come in and out of the house, unloading the final pieces of furniture from the car. You watch Kazuha swiftly piece the new furniture together one-by-one, and his whole room has all of his belongings organized, even without the furniture being finished.

You stare in awe as Kazuha completes his rocking chair like it was just some small, easy puzzle that just about any baby could solve.

“You're literally such boyfriend material.”

Kazuha stops in his tracks.

“What?”

“Huh? What happened?”

“You... Ah, nothing. I thought you said something. A– Anyways, I'm nearly done. I'll just need the closet.”

“Oh, I have the box and the pieces in it. Let me get it for you!”

You leave Kazuha in the room in shock. He thought you were still into Kuni... Did you actually mean those words? Is he really a potential rebound option for you?

Do you really like him back?

Whatever the case may be, he doesn't want to risk rejection. Not yet, especially when he's just moved in.

“I've got it! Here you go.” You hand Kazuha the parts for the closet. “I hope this is better than your old one. IDEA has some really good furniture.”

“It is, I'm really happy to have a functional room.” Kazuha opens the box up and begins his work on the closet. You lean on the doorframe quietly, watching him work his magic.

It's amazing how times changed. With Kuni around, you rarely ever got to go out alone. He always needed you near, and so you eventually were fired from your job at moonbucks. You had to distance yourself from friends that he didn't get along well with or didn't know of. Kuni was very clingy and just as toxic.

A thought pops into your mind. You smile.

Maybe I'm better off without him.

Why did you even stay with him in the first place?

“So, Y/N. I've been thinking,” Kazuha interrupts your thoughts, “should I start paying the rent? You're jobless, thanks to... Anyways, my family fortunes and my jobs can give us enough for rent, food, and other things.”

“Shit, I should get a job now that Kuni can't control me.”

“Issue is, college starts for both of us, no? Three days from now.”

“Shit! Shit shit shit, you're right. There is a café nearby that I could try going to. Pays above minimum wage, and it's pretty popular, given the only other café nearby is absolute dogwater.”

Kazuha gives you a look.

“...Sorry. I know your friend worked there. But! Ever since he moved away, the place has gotten shittier and shittier. Most of the employees quit, anyway! Ah, whatever, it's okay. I'll look into getting a job at Starry Night.”

— – -

“See you at lunch?” You smile at Kazuha.

“Of course. See you at lunch.” Kazuha smiles back and walks into the building. You watch the doors shut, and you start going towards your destination. You've got about fifteen minutes to get across the campus, and luckily, your class is about five minutes away.

You look around. The day is bright, the sun shines down on the campus, and there are people everywhere. You glance over at everyone nearby, and while you're nervous, you're absolutely ready for this year without a toxic boyfriend.

“Woww Y/N, you got a glow-up!” Hu Tao chimes in, hopping in to give you a hug. “I haven't seen you all summer! How've you been? Why didn't you text me?”

“How's Kuni?” She adds.

“Oh, he's the reason why I haven't texted all summer. His ass broke up with me, and honestly? His loss, my gain. I mean, no more boyfriend air, right?”

“Wow, he really is a dick! Well, just remember that my grandfather runs a funeral home, and if you need to call in for a cremation, I'll give you a discount! Anyway, my class isn't this one, so I'll set you free. Later, friend!”

And within a heartbeat, she runs off to the next friend she spots. You sigh with a smile, entering the building to attend your classes. The actual room was bigger than your average high school classroom, but it was smaller than a gymnasium. A good amount of the seats were full, but there were a few rows left almost completely empty. You sat down in a randomly chosen row, and nobody really sat near you. Besides, you might as well introduce yourself later.

“Can I sit here?” Someone beside you mumbles. You look to see who it is, and it's...

It's a cutie.

“Yes. Absolutely, yes.” You blurt out, coughing in embarrassment. To make matters worse, the boy gives you a confused side-eye but sits down regardless. In this row, there's only you and this mystery boy. A silence settles between you two, even with the slight bustle of the lecture hall, and you just can't help your near deathly curiosity. Who would pass up an opportunity like this, anyway?

You turn to the boy with a small, welcoming smile, and an offer to shake hands.

“By the way, I'm Y/N. What's your name?”

He turns to look at you, removing the airpod that faced towards you. He denies the handshake and responds,

“Xiao.”

CHAPTER 1 ESTIMATE: Sunday, January 21st｜ET

[crimson-calligraphyx]

lma1986 asked:Best friends to lovers Noah returns home from tour and finally gets to spend time with the reader. Make it cute and fluffy 😍

Disclaimer: this is completely fictional. I do not own Bad Omens or anyone affiliated with them. This is a RPF; don't like? Don't read. Hope you enjoy! 😊 Word count: 2,555 Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @ladyveronikawrites @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475 *if you want to be added to the tag list, please let me know!*

A/N: This takes place in Noah's POV and is based off the song "Jenny" by Studio Killers. 😇

I leaned against the passenger door of my car, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded over my chest, waiting for that white door to swing open. I've been through that door a million times before, ever since I was about 5 years old, and I never grew tired of coming to this little pale-yellow house on Chestnut Street. It wasn't my home, but it may as well have been from how often I came here through my adolescent years—I could navigate the ins and outs with a blindfold, and both hands tied behind my back.

The door finally swung open, the petite frame of my best friend materializing from behind it. I chuckled, a smirk tugging at my lips as she freezes, her hand still grasping the door. From a distance, I could see the confusion written on her face when she sees me, and I know she's questioning whether I was really here right now.

I wasn't supposed to be home from our tour until tomorrow—that's what I told her, at least.

"Nono!" she shouts, a cheek-splitting smile across her face as she practically jumps down the front steps. Her golden curls bounced behind her as she ran across the lawn barefoot, the sun accentuating her highlights and shimmering in gentle waves. "When are you gonna stop calling me that?" I pushed off the side of my car with a feigned eye roll, opening my arms to welcome her in a hug. She throws herself at me, nearly knocking me over as I wrapped my arms around her and rocked from one foot to the other. "Never," she mumbles into my shirt, and my chest fills with warmth when I hear her giggle shortly after.

When we first met in kindergarten, Jenny was a little delayed in her speech and had a hard time pronouncing 'Noah'. She called me 'Nono' instead and I absolutely hated it at the time, but as we got older, I grew to cherish it. I never told her that though, and continued with the façade of despising it because I loved the way she laughed, thinking she was getting under my skin by teasing me.

That's how it's always been for the last two decades. We push each other's buttons, we argue, we laugh, we cry. That was just who we are. Nono and Jenny; best of friends, partners in crime, two peas in a pod. I'd like to say that I wouldn't want it any other way, but it simply wasn't true—I wanted her in the way that a flower needs rain to flourish.

After all, aside from Nick, she was the reason I pushed so hard to have this music career take off. She was always so supportive, and a genius at that. On the days where I was stumped, she'd give whatever project I was working on a listen and would come up with a suggestion that always played out just the way I was envisioning it.

"Why are you here?" she asked once we stopped hobbling back and forth, taking a step back to look at me with that heartwarming smile still on her face. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a stern look. "What? I can leave if you don't want me here," I shrugged, beginning to turn around, only to laugh when I feel her hand wrap around my wrist and tug me back. "You know that's not what I mean, jackass," she rolls her eyes. "I thought you were coming back tomorrow."

I tucked my hands in the pockets of my jeans, rolling my shoulders in another shrug. "Took less time than I thought to get back. Anyway, I do have a lot of unpacking to do; I just stopped by to say 'hi'." "Oh," she mumbles, and I pretend that I didn't notice the flash of disappointment on her face. "Well, I'll let you get to it. See you tomorrow like we planned?" "Of course," I grinned, and she returned the gesture in a closed-mouth smile.

We hugged before parting ways, but I stop when I open my door and glanced at her one last time. She oozed disappointment, and I knew she was bummed that I was leaving so soon. I leaned against the roof of my car with my arms folded and scrunched my lips to the side, mulling over our plans.

"Since you clearly missed me so much," I start, "why don't we change it up and have you come over tonight instead?" "Oh, no. Tomorrow is fine," she waves me off, but I can see the infamous tremor of her lips whenever she tries to hide a bashful smile. "You're probably beat from driving." "I'll be fine after a quick nap," I chuckle lightly. "8 o'clock. If for some reason I'm still asleep when you get there, just wake me up." "Great," she scoffs, her eyes rolling skyward. "So, potentially, I gotta deal with your grumpy ass because you want me to disrupt your beauty sleep." I mimic her actions with a roll of my eyes, even though I know she's joking. "See you later," I laugh, getting into my car after she says 'bye'.

Thwump.

I'm jolted awake, and there's now a dull ache on my face as I rubbed my cheek. I hear a giggle behind me, and I know that it's Jenny, so I couldn't be too mad from this unsuspecting wakeup call...even if it was by a pillow to my face.

"Hey," I croaked, rolling onto my back with a stretch. My heart flutters in my chest when I laid eyes on her cheery smile. "Morning, sunshine," she teases, plopping down on the bean bag chair. "Did you have a good sleep?" I pushed myself into a sitting position, a yawn escaping me as I nodded. She giggles again as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with my fist, surely laughing at the rat's nest my hair was.

"Do you always sleep with my shirt as your pillowcase?" She smirks, motioning her head behind me. "Huh?" I furrow my brows at her, turning my head to look down at my pillow. Sure enough, it was her shirt, and my cheeks warm at the realization that I never switched it out for an actual pillowcase like I meant to. My mind scrambled for an excuse—I can't just admit to her that yes, I did in fact use her shirt as my damn pillowcase while I was out on tour.

Why?

Because her perfume lingered on her clothing, and there was always something so soothing about her scent every time I caught wind of it. The warmth of vanilla and the calming notes of sandalwood would encase me each time we hugged, and it was simply intoxicating. Nothing comforted or calmed me down faster, so on the nights where my mind was much too loud after a show, I'd hold my pillow close, imagining it was her in my arms instead. Drinking in her scent quieted my mind faster than a glass of whiskey.

"Oh, that's your shirt? I thought it was one of my thousands of band tees." I tried to play it off; my heart leapt into my throat, hoping she wouldn't see through my bullshit. "I spilled a beer on my pillow on the bus and didn't have a clean case and grabbed a random shirt." "Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure you gave me that shirt. Makes sense that you'd think it was yours," she shrugs, turning to the blank TV screen. "So, what are we watching?"

I puffed out a breath, relieved she bought my excuse, and reached for the remote to flip on the TV. "I dunno," I yawned once more. "I haven't thought that far ahead. Whatever you wanna watch is fine with me." She takes the remote from me with a hum, starting up and scrolling through Netflix. "21 Jump Street?" "Sure," I flashed her a smile, and she happily starts the movie while I got out of bed to grab the snacks I picked up earlier. She loves gummy bears and cherry Sprite.

I tossed the gummy bears in her lap and handed her the soda when she turned her attention to me. "You didn't have to get me these, Nono," she says, but I knew by the way her eyes lit up that she was thankful for it. "I know," I shrugged and sat back down on my bed, my own drink and snack in hand. “But it’s kind of your thing, just like this is mine,” I chuckle, shaking the jar of communion wafers I held. She laughs, throwing her head back. “I can’t believe you still eat those things. You’re so fucking weird.” I raise my brows to her comment. “Yet you’re still here.” “Shut it,” she retorts, throwing one of her bears at me with that same smile she always tries to hide. I narrow my eyes at her, “Don’t make me take those away from you.”

She smirks and averts her eyes to the screen, settling back into the chair as she chews on the gummies—my stomach swirls with giddiness, just wondering what was on her mind.

We fall into a comfortable silence, nothing but the sounds of the movie and laughter filling the room. That was until I was pelted in the face, not once but twice, by a gummy bear. I slowly turned my head towards her, a phony scowl on my face as she sat there giggling away, but I couldn't keep the expression for long. Not with her, not with the way her contagious laugh ricocheted inside my head and riled up the butterflies in my gut.

I jumped from my spot on the bed and snatched her snack, holding it high over her head when she stands with a pout. “Nono, give those back!” she grumbles, standing on her toes to try to take her bears back, but to no avail. “I warned you that I’d take them away, Jenny,” I laughed, taking a step backwards. She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “Fine. I’ll take your Jeez-its away.” I snorted. “Go for it.”

She steps to the side and reaches out, trying to maneuver around me to grab the container lying on my bed, but I sidestepped along with her, blocking her. She sighs, throwing her head back in aggravation. “Noah, c’mon. Can I have the gummy bears back, please?” “Since you asked so nicely,” I mused, lowering my arm. She reaches for them; I fake her out and extend my arm behind me. She follows my arm with a grumble, tripping over my feet and into my chest. I instinctively wrapped an arm around her small frame, and we toppled onto my bed in a fit of laughter. “Why do you always do this shit?” she shakes her head at me, trying to contain her giggles. “Just to piss you off,” I tell her nonchalantly, even though my heart was hammering through my chest from her proximity.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself, but I can’t help the tingle that courses through my veins when she does nothing but grin at me. A blush coasts across her cheeks, her green eyes illuminated by the LEDs bordering my room as she gazes at me through the sheer blanket of her golden locks. It took every fiber of my being to keep my hand from tucking the strand behind her ear and caress her face that I just knew would feel soft and supple beneath my fingertips.

“Why do you like to piss me off so much?” she snorts, moving her hands to my chest to push herself up; she slips the strand of hair behind her ear. I shrug. “Just because.” “That’s it? ‘Just because’?” she muses, her lips curling into a sly smile, and my stomach churns with nerves.

Because I love to see you smile and laugh as the outcome. I love the way your eyes glimmer and your cheeks tint from it. Because I love… you.

My heart is in my throat thinking these thoughts; I try my hardest to swallow it back down to where it belonged, but I can’t with the way she’s laying on my chest with that goddamn smile. And as apprehensive as I was at this very moment, everything felt so…right. How her small frame fit so perfectly against me, my hand settled in the curve of her back in just the right way, the way she looked at me with those alluring, doe-like eyes with affection…I had to tell her.

 “You want me to be honest, Jenny?” “Always, Nono.” I cleared my throat after swallowing harshly, trying to find my voice. “Because I wanna ruin our friendship.” Her head tilts and her brows furrow, trying to understand what I meant. I watched as it clicked in her head with a small gasp, the pink tinge deepening on her cheeks when she mutters a quiet ‘Oh.’ My heart plummets to my stomach, embarrassment immediately settling in—she doesn’t feel the same. “I-I’m sorry, Jenny. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I start to sit up, but she shakes her head at me with a timid grin. “Ruin it.”

She leans closer to me just as my hand cups her cheek delicately, and our mouths crash together. Warmth spreads through my core, and relief drowns out every bit of doubt that was anchoring me down—I feel like I’m soaring as our lips moved together in beautiful synchrony. I wanted to savor every ounce of her when her intoxicating scent infiltrated me, enhancing the sweetness of her luscious lips as she allowed my tongue to taste her.

I knew she wanted this just as badly as I had when she clutched my shirt, and I couldn’t help the low chuckle from rumbling in my throat. She giggles against my lips in response, but neither of us break apart from one another—I swear we were held together by a magnetic force.

There’s a dizziness beginning to encase me and my chest burns, forgetting to breathe. Reluctantly, I separate to gather air in my lungs, and she does the same, smiling at me as she breathes deep. Her lips were plump, her eyes blown with lust, and I couldn’t help the playful grin on my face and the flutter deep in my belly knowing I did that to her.

“What took you so long?” she asks, the bashful tremor on her lips reappearing. I chuckled, trailing my thumb over the apple of her cheek. “I didn’t wanna ruin ruin our friendship, I guess.” “Give me those gummy bears back, and we’ll talk about how ruined this friendship is.” I snort, giving her a light squeeze before reaching out blindly to find the bag of gummy bears. “Here,” I place them on top of her head once I found them. They slide off, spilling all over my bed before she had a chance to stop them from falling and glowers at me. “I hate you.” “No you don’t,” I smirked, pulling her in for another kiss. “I don’t,” she mumbles against my lips, forgetting all about the spilled gummies.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Throat Fucking w/ Sam Winchester

a/n: i enjoyed writing this more than i care to admit. i'm sorry that i'm like- four days behind, i'll catch up! and I'm back in my supernatural phase so expect for fics of them!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

It was as though Sam was the embodiment of the word Big, despite his status of being Dean's pain in the ass little brother. He was big in almost every sense: broad shoulders, tall, large hands, muscular arms, and if you were to be crude— a big dick.

Before you were dating, you would be forced to keep your eyes to yourself as to not risk staring for too long, either that be when you can see the imprint in his pants, or when he'd wake up in just a shirt and boxer shorts, walking into the kitchen bright and early as you made an attempt to not choke on your breakfast Dean has oh so graciously made for you.

But now those days were over, he was yours, and you could finally gawk, and grab, all you wanted. Which was exactly what you were doing right now.

Sam had you pressed up against the door of his bedroom, large hands cupping your face as his mouth devoured yours, your hands were selfishly exploring every part of him, trailing from his hard chest, down to his taunt stomach, and finally onto his hard cock. You gave it a teasing squeeze, pulling a shocked groan from the back of the older man's throat.

“Fuck.” He sighs against your lips. “I'm so glad I'm finally able to touch you.” You muttered, shoving him back gently. He allows you to guide him backwards until his calves hit the edge of the bed— seeing as though he's so monstrously tall.

“Sit,” You whispered sensually, “I wanna taste you.” He didn't hesitate, plopping down on the edge as you got onto your knees. “I've dreamed about this, you know.” You said as you leaned up to unbutton his shirt, the material now loosely settling on his thick shoulders. His hairy torso was exposed to your hungry eyes, your greedy hands running themselves through the hair before tracing the patch of it down to his crotch.

“Really?” He asked airly, stomach sucked in at the light touch of your fingertips. “Yep,” You said as you unbuttoned his jeans, sliding down the zipper of his fly, “Since day one, since I could look but couldn't touch.” Motioning for him to lift up his hips, you continued to talk. “It was so hard to not stare, not to gobble you up with my eyes every single time you opened that mouth of yours.” Tugging down his jeans, you threw them behind you thoughtlessly, eyes now trained on the prominent bugle in his underwear.

“Now you're finally mine.” You breathed, practically ripping off the too-tight garment. As your hand gripped the heated skin of his cock, you placed a teasing kiss to the tip, his pre-cum smearing on your lips enticingly. You didn't give him a chance to respond as you took him down your throat, the man choking on a moan.

“_______!” He nearly shouted, his head falling back. You pulled off of him, “Fuck my throat, baby, show me how lucky I am to have you.” His eyes desperately searched yours for any hesitancy but found nothing but pure lust and need. “Okay, yeah, alright. Just— just let me know if I'm hurting you.” You sent him a smirk. “You know you could never hurt me, love.” You leaned up on your knees once again, your lips that were beginning to swell brushing up against the shell of his ear.

“And besides, I never minded a little pain.” You placed a seductive kiss on the sensitive spot below his ear. “I like when it bruises.” You added before coming back down. You made sure to gauge his reaction, his eyes now lit aflame with the same amount passion as you.

He guided you back down to his cock, where you wasted no time in swallowing him once again. He placed a large hand on the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in your hair as his hips began to gently move. Your throat went lax where you allowed him to use you, hooded over eyes watching his every expression as his jaw clenched.

The burn was pleasureable for you as he picked up the pace, your nails digging into his meaty thighs as he used you to his liking. You listened to the sweet sounds escaping from the ethereal man in front of you, causing your thighs to clench and rub together. At the little friction that you were awarded, you moaned, which sent his hips jolting into your mouth as the vibration traveled up his spine.

“I'm gonna—” His chest heaved, the sound of your throat squelching masking his voice. “'Gonna cum, please.” You made sure to stay secured at his shaft, your nose brushed right against his pubic hairs as you allowed him to cum down your throat.

A gutteral groan left him, almost sounding like a growl as he calmed down. You swallowed around him once more, making sure to not waste a single drop as you pulled back, your face flushed and your eyes red with unshed tears.

“See,” You rasped, “I don't mind a little pain.”

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