#THANK YOU FOR BOUNCING IDEAS WITH ME AND BRAINSTORMING AROUND

[nemo-in-wonderland]

LOLOLOL tbh, Raphael is already canonically safe because his father doesn't want to put up with his shenanigans😂😂😂And YES. The threat of having his son bouncing around his mind with villain songs (that he would sing on repeat until it becomes an earworm) IS STRONGER than any urge to diablarize him to get any Tzimisce power up lololol

AND HELL YEAH (no pun intended) INFERNALIST BUDDIES FOR THE WIN LOLOL. And you are indeed correct, Aranea still very much is set on revenge and whatnot in this universe, and after being turned by Mephisto and taught by him (pretty much like in the BG3 canonical AU), she will also partake in some of his Infernalist tendecies (soul? who cares about our souls, we need power ups lol), albeit not to the same extent as he did. But still, she tipped her toes in those waters, so to speak (I love to imagine that, in true Tremere fashion and true to how she was in life, my girl like to experiment with stuff lolol Mad Scientist right there lololol)

and OMGGG I ADORE THAT HARLEEP WOULD CALL HER "HIS LITTLE FIEND" BECAUSE OF THE TINY HORNS 🙏😭💓Honestly, I love how, as you said, they match each other freak, they are adorable for that.

Do you believe he would maintain his "Raphael" appaerence around Mayhem?? or would he assume his true original form??? SO MANY POSSIBILITIES.

I thought of how to translate the plot of BG3 into VTM. Instead of the Crown, Gortash stole an ancient Thaumatergy ritual from Mephisto and he, Ketheric and Orin are attempting to control a slumbering Antediluvian. If it wakes, it’s pretty much the beginning of Gehenna (ala the Week of Nightmares). There’s obviously no nauteloid so idk how all the companions would meet but regardless they have to band together to save the world.

PICTURE THIS.

Those three are trying their hands at control a slumbering Antedeluvian.

BUT NOT ANY ANTEDELUVIAN.

Oh no.

Those three thought it would be SO MUCH FUN to go and poke MALKAV himself.

Honestly, I gave it some thought about which Antedeluvian would be the most "eligible" in being poked by the Baddies Trio, and my choice was up to either Malkav or Zapathasura  (because, as you quoted WEEK OF NIGHTMARES. -And considering that there are speculation that, despite all the weapons utilized against him, the Ravnos Antedeluvian could still be alive, just in hiding), but between the two of them, I am hella biased with Malkav (i *adore* the Malkavians, I always either play as a Malk or as a Tremere lol),so I like to imagine that he is the Antedeluvian that they are trying to control

(POOR FOOLS, THE THREE OF THEM).

(sorry, POTO moment for me lol)

BG3 but it’s Vampire the Masquerade

Given that VTM is another TTRPG it wasn’t actually all that hard to imagine what clan the BG3 companions would belong to because *game mechanics* and character archetypes but I did it anyways lol. I love the V20 lore for VTM but I prefer some stuff about V5 (especially the fact that the Ravnos aren’t a giant racist stereotype now) so I’ve used both clan names for those that changed between versions.

Karlach - Brujah

Poster girl for Clan Brujah.

Astarion - Toreador

He and Nellie G from L.A. by Night would be friends I think.

Shadowheart - Lasombra

This one was actually the hardest for me to decide, I went for Lasombra because Shar lol

Wyll - Ventrue

No doubts about this one. A true leader.

Gale - Tremere

He would obviously become a vampire wizard. Nerd in life, nerd in undeath.

Lae’zel - Assamite/Banu Haqim

Another one that seemed obvious to me.

Halsin - Gangrel

Probably the most obvious. Was never in question.

Bonus!

Gortash - Lasombra

Master manipulator, pulling the strings from the shadows.

Raphael - Setite/Ministry

Would 10000% run a vampire cult.

Ketheric - Giovanni/Hecata

Duh.

Orin - either Tzimisce or Baali

Tzimisce for the shapeshifting and Baali for Bhaal the bloodshed and murder.

Tagging @nemo-of-house-hamartia since I know you like VTM too :)

[hyunebunx]

💝 with jisung 🤭

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!

It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.

You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.

His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.

“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.

You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.

“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.

Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.

The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.

You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.

The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”

His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.

Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.

He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.

Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”

The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.

“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”

“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.

You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.

For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…

[cybershock24601]

I was doing some brainstorming on what the Rookanis kiddos would be like and it's somehow turned into me contemplating how the inevitable crow civil war would go after Lucanis ditches the crows after he has kids.

So I was thinking that when rookanis finally has kids, they end up with a set of twin boys (one is definitely named Ezio) and that ends up bringing up a lot of emotions for Lucanis because its one thing to contemplate how his kid is going to be raised as a crow but it is a whole other to see the very obvious parallel between these two innocent baby boys and himself and Illario. Lucanis just can't stop thinking about his boys growing up the same way he did with Illario and the inevitable resentment and pain that would come with constantly being forced to compete for a title.

When the babies are a couple months old, Lucanis finally tells Rook he thinks they should leave because he cannot raise their children to be crows and Rook is like "thank the maker, I've been thinking we should ditch for months but haven't been sure how to bring it up" and so that night the two of them start planning their exit strategy. They decide to wait until the boys are a bit older because going on the run with two infants seems like a terrible idea and it will give them time to figure out how to best avoid the inevitable reprisal Lucanis will face for leaving because you don't just leave the Antivan Crows without consequence.

Unfortunately those plans are shot when another Talon decides to get rid of these future competitors while they're still in the crib. Thankfully the assassin fails but it spooks rookanis bad. Caterina is ready to go to war for this, but Lucanis isn't willing to risk his family for a stupid title he never even wanted in the first place. He is not Caterina and he isn't willing to sacrifice his own children for power.

Just a couple weeks after the incident, Lucanis, Rook, and their two boys disappear into the night, sneaking out of the same tunnel he and Rook snuck in through the same night Lucanis was appointed First Talon. All that's left behind is two letters from Lucanis, one addressed to Caterina and one left to Illario. Caterina and Illario never discuss the contents of their individual letters but it is clear whatever Lucanis said to Caterina wounded her deeply. Illario can't help but be hurt Lucanis left without a word but bitterly understands why he did because even if they had done a lot of work to repair their relationship, Illario's betrayal was a wound that never fully healed. As much as it hurts, Illario gets why Lucanis wouldn't trust him enough to tell him that he wanted to leave the Crows.

In the wake of the First Talons abrupt abdication, Caterina goes to take up the mantle again but Lucanis' depature was a major blow to House Dellamorte. Caterina is an old woman and has no heir because its not like anyone is going to let Illario take the seat of First Talon after what he did last time he tried to claim it. It is inevitable that the Crows would descend into chaos as they all started jockeying for power. At least the chaos did keep a lot of crows from going after Lucanis and his family as they bounced around from place to place in an odd parallel to how the Hawke family spent their time on the run.

Teia immediately wants to jump in and assist Caterina but Viago convinces her to stay out of it because there is no point. They both know that without Lucanis, House Dellamorte is finished. It is best to sit back and let the other Houses exhaust themselves fighting amongst each other.

The fighting likely lasts for a few years and there are a lot of dead crows and dead Talons by the end of it. Caterina dies too though whether due to old age or she's eventually taken out by another Talon I haven't decided yet because after Lucanis left, something died in Caterina, perhaps because she finally had to face what had become of her family, what she had done to her family but she definitely lost some of the edge that kept her at the top for so long which made her easier prey. Lucanis is has a lot of feelings about his grandmother dying whether its due to not being by her side or he feels responsible for her death if she was killed by another crow, he is left to deal with a lot of confusing emotions mostly rooted in mix of guilt and grief.

By the end of it, Viago manages to swoop in after most of the other houses have exhausted themselves fighting and take the seat of First Talon in a magnificently executed coup. As his closet ally, Teia ends up in the spot of Second Talon and between her idealism and Viago's pragmatism, the Crows do enter a period of reform and start to become the symbol of Antivan patriotism and pride they appear like in Veilguard.

Illario manages to emerge out of the chaos alive and even keeps House Dellamorte intact as he takes the now vacant role of Fifth Talon. It stings that Illario is not First Talon but there is a vicious sense of satisfaction in managing to secure his own spot as a Talon through his own merit because no one can deny that Illario earned his position, that Illario is a good crow.

Meanwhile Lucanis and Rook are vibing as they travel around Thedas for the first few years of their boys' lives before eventually settling in the Necropolis and raising a lot more babies there. Rook is happy to be home because that what the Necropolis is to her and Lucanis misses Treviso and his family and has the occasional thought of what could have been but is happier taking care of his home and raising his children with his loving, amazing wife as Lucanis Ingellvar then he ever was living the life dictated for him from birth as Lucanis Dellamorte. There is an undeniable sense of freedom in shedding the Dellamorte name and becoming someone new as Lucanis finally lives the life he wants for himself.

[livingdeadmlm]

Hi! I really like your writing, so I wanted to make a request:

Asmodeus (obey me) x male reader. Reader just adores Asmo, praising him every chance he gets, pleasing him whenever it’s possible. Basically male reader is an absolute sucker for Asmodeus, like a service top 🙇

If you could add some smut that would be amazing, thank you!!

Asmodeus with a Service Top Reader

Pronouns: Reader is not refered to as anything

Physical Sex: AMAB

How far are things going?: they fucking!

Warnings: Anal sex, Bottom Asmo, Service Top Reader, IDK how cock rings work but its there, no protection, reader does not cum

Outline: Asmo wants to try out some new lipsticks to test if they're kiss proof.

What inspired me to write how I did: Nothing!

Other: yessss, I have not spoken about it here or anywhere, but I tend to love the pink twink characters in dating sim games, sm Like Asmo and Aster. Those two also have in common their lack of content, which kills me cause they are cuties and should get love!! Plus I am a sucker for characters you meet earlier in the game (Aster) and the freaky one you meet in the middle of the game [(Asmo) Kuya but this isn't about him]

Skipping across the vibrant halls of RAD with you by his side, Asmo’s pinkish-blond hair shimmered like spun sugar in the afternoon light, bouncing playfully with each enthusiastic leap. He was in high spirits, bubbling over with ideas for the upcoming spirit week that Diavolo had enthusiastically put in motion. “Honestly, I can’t even fathom why anyone would want to dedicate days to wearing just one color! How utterly dull and uninspired that would be!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with dramatic flair.

The day was winding down, and with it came a free period you were able to convince Lucifer to give you, insisting you'd use it as study time, which was true at first, but Asmo didn’t let the chance slip away; he always made it a point to grab and whisk you into brainstorming with him. As you strolled together, you couldn’t help but appreciate his energy. “I think that’s a very clever perspective, Asmo! Having a day to wear something outside our usual attire is a rare treat—yet dedicating it solely to one color, no deeper theme? Not everyone can coordinate their wardrobe around that one color,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips.

As his eyes lit up with delight at your compliment, Asmo’s skipping slowed to a gentle walk, his arm playfully linked with yours. His hand covers his mouth as he thanks you for your compliment.

Asmodeus reached into his back pocket and retrieved his phone, its sparkly pink case shimmering under the bright rays of sunlight. With a quick swipe, he opened up Devilgram, feeling a surge of excitement. “Ooh! Hold on, (Name)!” he exclaimed, his voice bubbling enthusiastically, “The lighting is perfect here! This is a must-have moment!”

As he positioned the camera, the sun cast a warm glow around the two of you, highlighting every detail of your smiles and the vibrant scenery of RAD. The colors seemed to pop, making you look even more radiant as he lined up the shot.

The camera perfectly captured both of you in the frame, and Asmo could take in your expression. You stared at him with a soft look. A small smile painted your face, eyes consuming his entire being so softly. Asmo felt an electric buzz in his stomach; it made him feel so giddy. Snapping the photo and typing a quick caption, he posted it to his story. The world felt a little brighter, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought of sharing a glimpse of how you looked at him.

He hummed, linking your arms, "How about we head back home? I was sent some make-up to try, and I want you to help me test them!"

~

Asmodeus wiped off the orangey-pink lip gloss. He picked up another lipstick and huffed, "Not one of these is kiss-proof! What false marketing! " He pouted and opened the next color, which was supposed to be a soft pink glitter gloss.

These lipsticks had never been advertised as kiss-proof. Deep down, both of you were aware of that fact. Yet, as his slender fingers gently cradled your face, you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His slim legs draped over your lap, creating an intoxicating closeness that heightened the tension in the air.

Your hands instinctively held his hip's plush skin, fingers sinking into the softness. At that moment, caught up in the temptation of his half-lidded gaze and the electric feeling that erupted from your pact mark, who were you to point out such a trivial detail?

As your lips pressed softly against his, you could feel the gloss gliding effortlessly between your lips. The formula was smooth and not at all sticky. His pouty lips felt luxuriously soft against yours. The sweet scent of the gloss filled your nose with what you could only guess was strawberry and some other sugary fruit.

With a slight hum Asmo pulled away to check the smudge of the gloss as he let out a dissatisfied sigh.

Asmo caught your gaze in the mirror, his expression softening as he noticed how you admired him again. “You think so?” he asked, his voice sultry. You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Absolutely. It brings out your eyes,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Asmo smiled, the sparkle in his eyes illuminating his entire face. 

He leaned closer, allowing the warmth of his skin to envelop you while the faint scent of his signature fragrance wrapped around the two of you. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Then I suppose I’ll keep this one to the side them,” he said playfully, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. The tension danced in the air as your breathing synchronized. Asmos's hand glided down your chest lifting the bottom of your uniform shirt to admire the pact mark.

Asmodeus couldn't help but giggle at the coincidence of your mark manifesting just above your pelvis. To him, it seemed ironic. However, you weren’t laughing at all. When the mark appeared for the entire first month, any friction at the spot sent waves of indescribable pulsations coursing through your body. It was a sensation that felt so good, but the constant rubbing from your uniform and jeans would drive you up a wall.

Your face burned as his slender fingers traced the swirls of the mark."Please Asmodeus," Your voice came out as a groan as your hands continued to squeeze his hips. "Let me service you~"

Asmo squealed and lept from your lap, "You're too much of a gentleman (Name)! I thought you'd ask so much sooner!! You really know how to keep a demon on his toes!" He teased as he kicked off his shorts and landed on his large mattress with a huff. He got comfortable on his stomach as his lower half hung off the bed. "What is it you want me to do Asmo?" His face fell, becoming impatient.

"I want you to take your pants off and fuck me already!!" The playful glint in his eyes returned as your pants were down within the blink of an eye. Who were you to deny him?

One of the perks of being the Lust Demon was his freedom from the need for preparation. While there were moments when he savored the anticipation of the build-up, his patience was already paper-thin, and in that moment, he craved you over him.

Your hand reached the drawer beside his bed, where he pulled out a rubber ring. With a creek, you shut the small drawer. Admiring the glittery pink ring in your hand, you slowly slipped it over the head and down your shaft. The rubber squeezed the base of your cock firmly, staying perfectly in place.

You bought the ring to last about half as long as Asmo. He insisted he didn't mind the few rounds you could handle, but you didn't back down from a challenge.

"I still think it's so sweet how you bought that for me; how romantic!" His voice shook as your cock head pushed into his hole, moving as slow as you could for your own sake. The stretch of you sliding into him made him cry out as your hands pushed up his legs, allowing you to get so much deeper than you could imagine.

Asmo keened as you finally bottomed out. The cock ring you wore flushed against him. While the ring helped you stay harder longer, that didn't mean it made having sex with The Demon of Lust feel any less mind-blowing, no matter how often you two went at it. You sighed, right hand pressing the small of Asmos's back, pressing his cock into the mattress for a new layer of simulation for him.

The wet noises that started as your pace sped up were lewd and would have been loud had Asmodeus's moans not drowned it out. It felt electrifying as you thrust continuously against his prostate. His own weeping cock rubbed harder against the soft comforter of his bed.

Asmo turned to face you, his eyes sparkling with adoration. The smooth, milky skin of his face flushed a soft pink as you maintained a firm yet relentless pace. His body contrasted beautifully with the deep purple color of the bed he was splayed across. His lips parted slightly as he panted, exposing his sharp canines. Canines shining in his mouth. "You're so beautiful; I'd never imagined a more beautiful man to lose myself with for the rest of eternity."

His first orgasm crashed against him like a wave. His eyes screwed shut as his hole felt like a vice grip around you. Your own eyes burned as you did all but pray not to cum so early. Begging your own self that you would last, to indulge longer in this bit of heaven your body could hardly handle as your legs shook.

But the blissed-out expression that painted Asmo's face made the sting of edging all the more worth it.

[angelic-sturniolos111]

Fresh Love Modeling 🍊

You never guessed that Chris Sturniolo would reach out for you to model his Fresh Love clothing brand. You had been following him on social media a while and definitely had a crush on him. What you didn’t know is that when Chris had seen your modeling portfolio he started crushing too. The two of you end up alone in his dressing room together after the photoshoot and things heat up.

chris sturniolo x fem! reader

entirely in Chris’s POV

warnings: cursing, flirty and smuttyyyyy

author’s note: writing this completely sleep deprived :) did not proofread lolz

I want to sit on his lap so bad in this pic

My Fresh Love brand is super important to me and I am so grateful that it has grown in popularity thanks to my fans. I want to grow this brand and reach out to creators and artists outside of the fandom in hopes that eventually Fresh Love Clothing can be sold in stores nationwide. A big part of Fresh Love, and any clothing brand, is the marketing which I take very seriously. I always want to have a diverse group of models, but ultimately they also should be attractive and have a cool aesthetic to be the face of the brand. I had sent out a model casting call last month, and my friend Tril and I were going through all the applications. Tril truly saw my vision and we were usually on the same page when it came to models we thought would work well for the brand.

Today was definitely a “work day” in the house— Nick was editing our recent car vlog, Matt was brainstorming video ideas, and Tril and I sat on the couch on our laptops going through hundreds of model portfolios together. We had been scrolling through applications for nearly two hours and I was honestly bored out of my mind. Luckily, we found a handful of models we like, but I still felt like one was missing. There was a certain look, a certain vibe, that I was looking for and I wasn’t sure what it was but I knew I’d know the second I saw them.

“Hey take a look at this one. I recognize this girl… I think she follows us on insta or something?” Tril says passing me his laptop. Damn. This girl was beyond fine. I scrolled through her portfolio pictures, and I really liked her modeling style. She didn’t look mainstream, which I liked, but she had a really unique look. “Do you recognize her?” Tril said interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I’d definitely remember her if I had seen her before.” I said. I went to the top of her application page, her name was Y/N.

“I like her portfolio and I think she’s a good fit for the brand.” Tril says.

“Absolutely. I really like her. I’m going to accept her application right now.” I said sending her an acceptance sheet back with the photo shoot information.

***

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep. I always have trouble falling asleep because I’ll have a thousand creative ideas that I bounce back and forth in my head, but this time I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking of Y/N. Tril said she followed us, right? I grab my phone and open instagram and typed her name in the search bar, and her profile popped up. She was following Tril and I as well as my brothers, our group account, and our podcast account. Nice, she’s a fan! I went through her posts and God, she was stunning. I wanted to follow her, but I knew if fans saw that they’d get all sorts of crazy ideas and make assumptions so I decided I’d wait to follow her until the Fresh Love shoot would be posted so everyone knew who she was. I looked at some modeling shots she posted, laid back pictures with her friends, and I was unapologetically looking for any signs that she was dating anyone which from her profile she appeared to be single. I saw some of her swimsuit modeling shots she had done recently, and I zoomed in on all parts of her body. Her amazing body. She had these thick thighs that contoured perfectly with her cute ass. My thoughts wandered off, thinking of how badly I wanted those thighs wrapped around my head. I got hard at the thought of it. I continued to mindlessly stalk her instagram before I finally fell asleep… dreaming of her.

*** one month later ***

It was Fresh Love photoshoot day, or as I thought of it, the day I finally get to meet Y/N after crushing on her this past month. I got to the studio before any of the models were scheduled to arrive so I could talk with the photographers and mark out the spaces where I wanted to shoot. I get upstairs and see someone siting in a chair outside the photography studio. When they hear me approaching they look up, and my breath hitches in my throat, it was Y/N. My heart immediately started beating faster, but I knew I had to keep it cool both professionally and so I don’t utterly embarrass myself in front of her.

“Chris! Hey, I’m sorry I know the models aren’t supposed to be here for another hour. Honestly I was hoping to catch a moment alone with you before we shoot.” She says nervously with a big, beautiful smile on her face. She wanted to see me? Alone? I hadn’t realize I went silent for a moment while I was caught up in my thoughts until Y/N interrupted.

“Umm I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just such a huge fan of yours and your brothers, and I wanted to tell you that. Also to tell you I am so grateful and excited to be modeling for Fresh Love. I love your brand and own a few things from it already just from following you for a while now.” She says.

“Oh, no you didn’t scare me! Sorry, I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone this early. I’m happy to hear you’re a fan, and thanks for supporting my brothers and I, it means a lot. I really liked your modeling application and I’ve been looking forward to shooting with you.” I replied. I looked and sounded collected on the outside, but on the inside I was definitely nervous. I’m usually super confident talking to girls, even ones that I like, but Y/N had me acting different. She gave me a sweet smile before we walked into the studio together.

The other models started showing up as I led them to their dressing rooms where their Fresh Love clothing was waiting for them to change into. I stood in front of the backdrop for the first set of pictures and saw as the models rounded the corner all dressed in Fresh Love. Y/N wore the emerald green sweat set, and damn she looked good. The bright color just worked so perfectly with her complexion and brought out the color in her beautiful eyes. Seeing my own brand on her body drove me crazy. Man, this chick has me on a leash.

As time went by the photographers took group shots of all the models together, and some individual shots of each of them. When it came time for Y/N individual shots she was a natural. Her poses were relaxed, but strong and confident at the same time. She really wore the brand well and I was looking forward to seeing the results. She wraps up her individual shots and starts walking over to me.

“So, how did I look?” She says giving me a flirtatious look.

“Really, really great. I was thinking maybe we can get some pictures of just us two together for the Fresh Love instagram.” I said.

“Sounds great!” She says with a smile. She takes a step closer to me and leans in slightly, “Should I go change?” She asks but this time quieter so only I could hear. She makes me so nervous.

“Y-yeah. There’s, um, there’s a pair of joggers and a t-shirt in your dressing room if you want to change into that for me.” I said stuttering.

“Of course, anything for you.” She says confidently flirting with me. I think she can tell she made me nervous, and she was taking advantage of it. That’s so hot.

***

This time I was wearing the black hoodie and jogger set while Y/N wore the gray joggers and blue t-shirt. I sat on the couch we were using for the shoot, and she comes out of her dressing room to join me. She looked really great. I smiled at her and moved over so she could sit on the couch next to me.

“I’m thinking for the first few poses we just sit here kinda relaxed, looking at the camera. Then we do some where you stand behind the couch leaning over it while I sit here in front of you.” I said.

“Yeah sounds good!.” She says, and with that we start posing for the camera. The photographer has us scotch closer together, and I drape my arm behind her on the top of the couch. It was difficult to keep my eyes on the camera because all I wanted to do in the moment was to look at her. She moves off the couch to position herself behind it. “Like this, Chris?” She asks.

I turn around and see her bent over, arms crossed on the back of the couch. Fuck, her ass looks nice bent over like this. “Yeah, looks great.” I smile at her. I turn back around and the camera continues to click. We move around slightly to get different angles. She moves one of her hands to rest on my shoulder. I feel her hand slide up the back of my neck as her fingertips gently play around with my hair. The tension was palpable. I sharply inhale, a chill moving down my spine, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my cool much longer.

“Okay how about we call that a wrap for today. Great job everyone thanks so much for being here.” I blurt out getting off the couch, shaking a few of the photographers hands, before I quickly run into my dressing room without turning back.

***

In the dressing room I can hear the photographers packing up their gear and leave. The other models had gone home for the day, and I wasn’t sure if Y/N had left yet either. I found my answer when I hear a slight knock at the door, “Chris?” She says faintly, “Can I come in?” I’m frozen, I don’t answer before she comes into the room still dressed in her Fresh Love fit. “Are you okay? You seemed kinda frantic towards the end there.” She asks sincerely. I seriously debated telling her I liked her, but I knew that wouldn’t be professional of me.

“Yeah, I just get nervous shooting sometimes.” I lied. Y/N scoffs a little.

“You, nervous? I’ve never been more nervous for a photoshoot before. Having THE Chris Sturniolo sitting inches away for me all day long is something I had only ever dreamed of.” She laughs. “You definitely made me nervous today. God, I’m sorry I sound like such a stupid fangirl right now.” She says looking down.

“I never would have thought you were nervous. You seemed super confident today.” I say.

“Maybe. I tried to be confident so I could impress you.”

“Impress me?” I say a little surprised. She looks up and nods her head. I stand up and approach her meeting her in the middle of the room, “You’ve impressed me plenty, pretty girl.” I’m unsure of where this sudden boldness came from, but I could tell Y/N liked it when her body relaxed, and I could see her whole demeanor change. She looked up at me with seductive eyes.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she runs her hand up my arm before resting it on my chest, “I’m sure I can impress you in other ways too.” Her eyes flash from mine down to my noticeable, growing erection, and then back up to my lips. I can’t keep it in any longer. I lean down and kiss her soft lips, her hand meets the side of my face and my lips part for her to deepen the kiss moving her tongue across mine. We step back and my back hits the wall when her lips move from mine down to my neck bitting and sucking ever so gently.

“Fuck.” I moan softly. I feel her smile into my neck, and she moves a hand down to gingerly palm my boner over my pants.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you like this all day.” She says breathlessly as she pulls away from my neck to look me in the eyes.

“Oh yeah? What else have you wanted to do princess?” I ask suggestively. She smiles, and with that she drops to her knees. She hooks her fingers in the band of my sweatpants before pulling them down to my knees. She places soft kisses on my dick through my underwear, and the slight contact made me groan.

“Eager, aren’t we?” She says as she begins to pull my underwear down. My rock hard dick springs up and hits my stomach and her eyes widen while her mouth parts. She looks up at me and I begin to wrap her hair in my hand holding it back for her while the other gripped the chair next to me as I brace myself. She plants tiny kisses on my thighs on either side of my dick, and the teasing had my cock twitching with every kiss.

“Please, Y/N, please stop teasing.” I sigh. She runs her tongue from the base of my cock on the underside of my dick to the tip where she licks the precum from the slit. She swirls her tongue around my head a few times before pulling away and spitting into her hand. She spreads the wetness on my length as she pumps me a few times before wrapping her lips around my head and pushing her head forward. I let out a moan when I feel my dick hit the back of her throat. She keeps one hand tight at the base of my cock, pumping and twisting it as she bobs her head up and down on it. I’m a whimpering mess. My grip tightens in her hair as I help move her head at a steady pace. Her hand lets go of my shaft as she moves her head all the way forward, taking my full length into her mouth gagging slightly. I look down to see her already looking up at me with tears forming in her eyes. I felt my dick twitch in her mouth as I was close to cumming, but I tugged her hair and pulled her off my length before I could do so.

I move the chair I had been grabbing onto with one hand as my other reached for her chin and guided her to stand.

“Sit.” I demanded. She obliged and sat in the chair as I got to my knees and started pulling the sweatpants off of her. I caress her thighs with my big hands before pulling her thong off and I stare at her dripping wet cunt.

“Did I make you this wet?” I ask, and all she can do is shake her head. “I want you to use your words pretty girl.”

“Yes.” She whines out. “You always make me this wet.”

“Always?” I question. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” I ask. She nods her head again.

“Yes.” She says.

“Do you use your fingers when you touch yourself, princess?”

“Yes” she says. My fingertips move agonizingly slow up and down her folds spreading the wetness around.

“And who’s fingers do you imagine are pumping inside of you when you’re touching yourself baby.”

“Yours Chris. Always yours.” She moans out. Without warning I shove two of my fingers deep into her cunt eliciting a sweet moan from her lips. I pump my fingers in and out of her at a fast pace causing her to grip the back of my head roughly, my hair tight in between her fingers. I kitty lick her clit and curl my fingers inside her.

“F-fuck Chris.” She moans out. I continue moving my fingers in and out of her while I lay my tongue flat licking up and down her clit, sucking on it for a few seconds at a time. She pants, trying to catch her breath as she breathes heavier.

“Chris. CHRIS— I’m gonna cum.” With that I immediately pull my fingers out of her and raise my head.

“Not yet, princess. I want you to cum all over my cock for me baby.” I wrap my arms under her thighs and lift her off of the seat carrying her over to the makeup vanity counter across the room. I place her down and she stands facing me.

She reaches for the hem of her shirt to take it off, and I abruptly stop her grabbing her wrist tightly.

“Leave it on princess. I want to watch myself fucking you while you wear my clothes.”

My hands reach her waist and turn her around roughly pushing down on her upper back to bend her over across the counter. I look in the mirror to see her flushed face and eyes blown with lust. I had never been so sex hungry before. I ripped my hoodie off, and began to align my dick at her entrance. I slid the head of my dick in between her folds getting it nice and wet before I pushed in slowly making me groan loudly. Y/N gasps as I enter her, not ready for my size. I bottom out and stand still, letting her adjust to my length. Suddenly, without warning she begins to lean forward and back moving herself on my cock.

“Please move, Chris.” She begged. I smiled at her in the mirror. I started moving in and out of her with slow, hard thrusts. Her walls were warm and tight around my cock. We moaned together as I kept the steady pace.

“Chris?” She says.

“What is it princess?” I look at her in the mirror, half of her now messy hair covering her flushed pink face. She adjusts her arms to grab the front of the countertop. She lifts her chest up slightly, and the FRESH on her shirt is now visible in the mirror.

“Fuck me. Harder.” She pleads, and that was all I needed to hear. I went absolutely feral. I grabbed her hair with one hand making sure to pull her up enough that I could see her Fresh Love shirt in the mirror. My other hand laid flat just above her ass, pushing down so I could balance myself as I relentlessly thrust in and out of her tight pussy.

“Fuck. Fuck, Y/N! You feel so good pretty girl.”

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…” She whines breathlessly.

“Good girl. I want you to cum all over my cock for me.” I say back. We make eye contact in the mirror and I feel her walls clench around me sending a pulsating sensation through my cock, and I knew I was close too. Her face scrunches and she repeatedly moans my name. I feel her cunt tighten and relax around me as she comes all over my cock, and we maintain eye contact as she does.

Seeing her face while she came on my dick was what I needed. My thrusts got harder and sloppier as I felt my dick twitch inside her.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N! Oh, FUCK.” I moan loudly as I feel myself release my big load into her pussy, my cum coating her walls. I thrust a few more times riding out my high before pulling out seeing our orgasms drip out of her cunt. Y/N turns to face me, and tries to stand but fails as her knees wobble and she grabs the countertop as to not fall down. My hands grab her sides to help balance her.

“You’re amazing, princess.” I say to her. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” I place a gentle kiss on her lips before moving my hands to the bottom of her shirt pulling it up. She raises her arms up as I lift the Fresh Love tee over her head. I crouch down and gently begin wiping her clean with the t-shirt.

“Chris! Not the Fresh Love shirt!” Y/N says surprised and in a concerned tone of voice.

“Baby, it’s my brand. I can do whatever the fuck I want with it.” I smirk, earning a cute giggle from her.

**********

This was my first time writing smut and I think it’s kinda trash but lmk what your thoughts are.

- Kay 🖤

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the mysterious blonde (PART 1)

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you are gigi’s best friend and you go over to her house to work on a school project, only to meet her mysterious brother who popped up a couple of months ago and turns out he’s just your type

parts: PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

warnings: it’s long

a/n: actually forgive me because this story is so long, don’t ask me why I got too carried away. there are two more parts as well if you make it through this and actually end up enjoying it. thank you for reading, requests are always open xx

tag list: there is no tag list but let me know if you want to be on it :)

Gigi and I trudge out of double history, so exhausted we look like we’re about to flop onto the floor. I actually think we might.

“That was the longest few hours of my life,” she says to me, her wide eyes almost look sad.

“Literally,” I groan, “why didn’t time seem to move?”

“I don’t know but my brain feels like mush,” she replied, rubbing her temples.

“I can second that,” I sigh.

“And all that homework she gave us! What was all that about?” my best friend exclaims, probably the closest to anger I’ll ever see her.

“I don’t even want to know,” I roll my eyes, “this subject is killing me, why did we even take history?”

“Because we have to,” she deadpans.

I groan aloud again, “this is so stupid.”

“You know saying it’s stupid is not going to change our position,” she tells me, putting an arm around my shoulder.

“I know, I know, but it feels good,” I explain.

“Yeah it does,” Gigi agrees, coming to a sudden halt before yelling , “this is stupid!”

The sound of her voice bounced off of the walls of the now lonely corridor that had been deserted at lunch hour. We continue walking.

“See?” I say, folding my arms across my chest, “feels good does it?”

“Better than peanut butter and jelly cookies,” she says, then pauses, “wait maybe not…”

I wrinkled my nose, “peanut butter and jelly cookies? That’s a low standard, literally anything is better.”

Gigi stops in her tracks, causing me to almost fall over. She stares at me, her face a mix of shock, horror and disbelief as she says, “You’re kidding me, right?”

I stare at her and cautiously answer, “…no?”

“Why are we even friends?” she asks.

The question takes me so off guard that I don’t get time to process it properly before I answer, “What?”

“You don’t like peanut butter and jelly cookies,” she states, “so why are we even friends?”

“Oh my gosh you’re going to disown me as a friend because I don’t like a cookie,” I ask flatly.

“It’s not just a cookie,” she says, a dangerously threatening glint in her eyes that I wasn’t familiar, “take that back. Right now.”

I hold my hands up in mock surrender, “I apologise to you and your love for peanut butter and jelly cookies.”

“Okay,” she smiles as we begin to walk again, “friendship sorted.”

I scoff and shake my head, not helping the smile on my face. We walk to the canteen together and grab our food. We don’t have the energy or effort to carry on conversation seen a history had sucked us dry of any joy or potential excitement to talk. We grab our food and sit where we always do in the summertime. Outside there’s a small wall tucked away. We climb up it as usual and each our lunch there, it’s much more peaceful than dealing with everyone else. Gigi looks as if she’s very fixated on the football game occurring on the field so I let my mind wander. I chew thoughtfully on some dry school bread, brainstorming ideas for the history project we’d just been set. It was only then I notice the absence Gigi’s sister.

“Where’s Savannah?” I suddenly ask.

“Oh I forgot, she’s playing at basketball tournament today,” Gigi replies, a cheerful undertone in her voice.

“That’s amazing,” I say, my eyes wide, “I hope she does well.”

“She will,” Gigi shrugs, “she always does.”

I smile, admiring Gigi’s purest and truest of faith for her sister. Savannah had always been super talented at basketball, on every team and the best one there. Me and Gigi would often go and watch her games, cheering annoyingly loudly from the side lines earning us both dirty looks from the pair of piercing grey eyes that belonged to Savannah. Though we all knew deep down she secretly loved the crazy support even if it did drive her up the wall.

“Hey wanna work on the project at mine later,” Gigi asks suddenly.

“Yeah sure,” I shrug, “I’ve got some of the stuff at my house, I’ll dash home get ready and bring them after school.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she nods, smiling from ear to ear.

“Great,” I smile back.

“Oh by the way, my brother will be there,” she adds quickly, testing the water to see if it might alter my decision.

“What the mystery one that popped out of nowhere that everyone calls the male version of Savannah?” I ask.

Gigi had told me about her mystery brother. When she went M.I.A for a whole week I had panicked like crazy. And that girl cannot lie to save her life. She explained all the happenings to me and I didn’t say a word to anyone. Though I’d never met the infamous Grayson Hawthorne. I didn’t even know he really existed before Gigi told me about him. Of course, I’d hear the name in passing due to the inheritance of a certain seventeen year old girl but other than that I never really knew who he was before Gigi.

“That would be the one,” she grins, swinging her legs up and down, “he always comes for dinner on Wednesdays.”

“Oh,” I say quickly, “don’t want to intrude on family stuff.”

Gigi and Savannah were close and they were close with their mother as well. I didn’t want to get in the way of spending time with their new found brother. Gigi had only ever told me good things about him but Savannah never talked of it much. She avoids the topic like the plague so I never asked. Secretly I think she really loves him.

“Oh no he won’t mind,” Gigi shrugs.

“Are you sure Gigi because-“

“Y/N I’m sure,” she says seriously putting her hands on my shoulders.

I nod and the bell goes off. I sigh, just have to get through the afternoon now.

***

As soon as school is over, I rush home and jump in the shower, flinging on the first clothes I find in my drawer. I fill a tote bag with bits and bobs we might need as well as some chocolate covered pretzels because Gigi goes feral for them. I leave my house, and just as I’m locking the door I get a text. My eyes flick to my phone, Gigi has sent a cat meme, of course. I open it to find a little tabby cat staring at me with its tongue stuck out with the text attached reading ‘where are you??’. I giggle and shake my head and drop a quick text back to tell her I’m on the way.

***

After a few buses and too much power walking for one girl, I arrive at the door breathless. I make a mental note that I need to workout more. I give the door a quick knock and wait awkwardly outside.

It swings open within a few minutes revealing a grinning Gigi, “Y/N!”

“Hey Gigi,” I say, giving her a quick hug as we step in.

“It’s like you guys haven’t been together all day,” comes another voice.

My head whips around to see familiar grey eyes and two blonde braids.

“Savannah!” I exclaim, rushing towards her and pulling her into an embrace

“Hey,” she laughs, hugging me back.

“How was your tournament?” I ask her.

“We won,” she shrugs as if it’s nothing, though it probably was to her.

“Of course,” I say, tilting my head, “sorry we couldn’t be there.”

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” she replies, “besides it was nice not having two maniacs howling your name.”

I turn to Gigi, “I think she just admitted she missed us.”

“She did, didn’t she?”

“Whatever helps you guys sleep at night,” Savannah says coolly, “heard about your history project, good luck, I’m glad it’s you and not me,”

“Thanks Sav,” I say sarcastically.

“You are so welcome Y/N,” she grins, ruffling my hair.

“And this is Grayson, my mysterious brother who pretends to be moody all of the time,” Gigi explains, gesturing to a boy.

Well I should say a man because holy mother of all saints and lords… he had the most gorgeous face I’ve ever laid eyes on. He was the pinnacle of perfection and so radiantly beautiful. He practically glowed. His hair was golden like some sort of buried treasure that glistened in the right lighting. He was tall and muscular, that was obvious even through his suit. A pretty face and a fit physique, it was a win win. I hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing there cautiously watching my interactions with his sisters. When our eyes met my legs almost buckled. They were a stormy grey that left me senseless. My heart thumped in my chest and butterflies flew up my stomach every which way. I could see his resemblance with Savannah but there were so many differences that made him… him.

“Hi,” I smile, trying not to blush or sound stupid, dismally failing at both and mentally ticking this off as one of my top ten most embarrassing moments of my whole life entire life.

“Hello Y/N,” he replies, not exactly smiling but not straight faced, somewhere in between, “I can assure you I do not pretend to be moody all of the time no matter what my sister has told you.”

His voice is so mellow it could melt butter with one sound.

“He does,” Gigi whispers loudly enough for him to hear

“It’s okay,” I say to Grayson, “I’m sure you don’t.”

“Gigi’s told me so much about you, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,” he says

I try to not act too surprised at the thought of Gigi telling her brother all about me. I make a mental note to talk to her about it later.

“You too,” I nod with another sweet smile

I was smiling so much my jaw started to ache. I notice Savannah slip away, most likely to go and relax her muscles after the tournament today. I look back to Grayson.

“Well I’ll let you guys get on,” he nods, like a man of business.

I nod and smile shyly. He returns the smile and Gigi takes my hand and pulls we towards the staircase. I get one last glimpse of him and then we’re gone. As we walk up the stairs I struggle to get Grayson out of my head, he’s like an annoying catchy song or advert repeating in a vicious circle… except it’s not annoying when I get to envisage his face. I shake my head and push him out of my mind, I cannot find him attractive, he’s Gigi’s brother for goodness’s sake.

“So now you’ve met my infamous secret brother,” Gigi smirks, nudging me.

“Now I have,” I nod, smiling.

“So now you officially know every inch of my life,” she tells me as we reach her bedroom door, “it’s kind of creepy when you think of it.”

“Then let’s not,” I shrug as we walk in.

We set up together on the floor and that’s when I pull out the bag of treats I’d bought for my addict of a friends. As soon as her eyes connect with the packaging they almost bulge out of her skull.

“You bought chocolate covered pretzels!” she screams, joy and awe written all over her face.

“Obviously,” I roll my eyes, handing her the bag.

“You are officially my favourite best friend ever,” she squeals, hugging them to her chest, like a mother would her child.

“Aren’t I your only best friend?” I say.

“Well yeah, but still…” Gigi trails off, as she opens the bag, “want one?”

“They’re all yours Gigi,” I tell her.

She hesitates for a moment, “Are you sure?”

“Very,” I reassure her, attempting to organise some of notes into piles.

“I’m paying you back,” she says confidently.

“Have fun trying,” I tease her, poking my tongue out,

“I will find a way,” she replied, determination thick in her voice.

Gigi and I only ever argued when it came to paying for things. We both were constantly trying to pay the other back for the 2 dollars they needed for a coffee or the movie tickets from the week before. But I’d gotten very inventive in preventing Gigi from paying me back.

“Sure you will sweetie,” I patronise her.

She ignores me, popping one of her chocolate covered pretzels into her mouth. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back and savours the taste.

“That is so amazingly yum,” she whispers.

“I’m glad,” I grin, “now come on. We have work to do.”

We work on the project for so long we lose track of time. Through giggles and shouts and possibly a few tears that neither of us will admit tomorrow, we’d gotten just short of halfway done. That is when Savannah calls us for dinner. Both in shock that we’d actually worked, made progress and managed to forget the time we go downstairs.

“You do realise that you both never shut up right?” Savannah says as we enter the room.

“Sorry,” I grin sheepishly, tucking the loose stands of hair behind my ears.

“I think it’s a good thing,” Gigi counters, “I like to talk.”

“Don’t we know it,” her sister rolls her eyes, sitting down at the table.

Four plates of streaming food sit on the table and we all take our places. Grayson joins us and sits down beside Savannah opposite me. I try not to hold my eyes on him for too long so it didn’t seem like I was staring but I couldn’t help but steal myself one glance. I’m driving myself crazy thinking about how my hand might fit perfectly into his and his pretty pretty mouth or that one tiny freckle just below his eyebrow, that I’d convinced myself I was the first to notice. I also really wanted this guys hair routine because his hair looked so silky and soft.

“How’s the project going?” Savannah asks over the clanging of silverware on plates.

“Good,” Gigi replies and then rethinks the decision, “I think.”

“We’re nearly halfway finished,” I explain, “but there’s a lot to do.”

“So much!” she groans, tipping her head back.

“What teacher do you have again?” Savannah asks us.

“Ms Harrison,” Gigi replies.

Savannah often wasn’t in our classes due to her extended sports timetable, so we didn’t have a lot of the same teachers. It was always kind of lonely without her.

She screws her face up, “I hate that woman.”

“She treats her subject like her child,” I roll my eyes, laughing.

“I mean when am I ever going to use history in my real life?” Gigi asks.

“You might need it in your job?” I shrug, taking a sip of water.

“As if,” she replies, giving me the look.

“What do you want to do Y/N?”

My head whips up and I stare directly at Grayson. His voice startles me. I’d almost forgotten he was there. It takes me far too long to process the question before I make some sort of awkward blubbering sound as I try and work out what to say.

“With what?” I blurt out, sounding really unsophisticated.

“Your life,” he clarifies.

My mind races at one hundred miles an hour, “big question…” I nervously giggle, “…erm I don’t really know,”

“Oh?” he replied, eyebrows slightly raised in… surprise, disapproval, shock?? I couldn’t tell he was almost impossible to read. I just wanted the ground to swallow me up from this embarrassment.

“I mean I don’t have a set plan,” I say quickly trying to patch things up, “I want to do something that makes me happy.”

“What makes you happy?”

“Stop questioning her Gray,” Gigi interrupts, “you’re creeping her out.”

I feel my cheeks heat up and I look down, suddenly taking an interest in the intricacy of the tablecloth.

“Sorry,” Grayson says. I couldn’t see his face but I would assume from his tone that he was also finding the tablecloth interesting right about now.

“No it’s fine,” I say, my eyes darting up for a millisecond and then straight back down.

There’s an uncomfortable silence and nothing can be heard. Not even breathing.

“Have you seen the new frappuccino on the menu at the coffee shop around the corner?” Gigi asks, breaking the deadly silence, “I think it’s honey and gingerbread.”

The conversation picks back up from there but Grayson doesn’t really make conversation after that. When dinner is over, we all clean up, mostly in silence. There were pockets of small talk here and there but not much. When we’re almost done, I make eye contact with Savannah and she gives me a look. A furrow my brows confused and tilt my head. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes slightly. She takes me by the arm and leads me into the bathroom.

“Savannah? What is this?” I ask her, absolutely baffled, “because it’s starting to feel like one of those murder mysteries except it’s not a mystery to me if I’m the one being murdered.”

“I’m not going to murder you,” she scoffs, “and if I was I would do it in a much classier way.”

“Oh thanks,” I say, sarcastically, “so why have you dragged me in here, please.”

“We need to talk,” she says, a serious look in her eyes.

I suddenly feel an odd sense of dread building up inside but laugh it off and attempt to make a joke, “look if you want to break up-“

She flashes a grin and then her face goes serious again. I suddenly get a wave of nervousness come over me and my brain flicks through every possible thing I could’ve messed up in the past few weeks.

“Why is it Sav? Did I do something?” I ask, concerned and scared.

“Can you stop eyeball flirting with my brother,” Savannah deadpans, “it’s making me uncomfortable.”

“What!?” I yell without thinking, before my hands fly to my mouth when I realise how loud I’ve been.

She sighs and starts to repeat her sentence, “can you stop eyeball-“

“I heard you the first time,” I tell her.

“Good, now can you?” Savannah asks, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the wall.

“I’m not eyeball flirting with anyone?” I hiss at her, maybe a bit too defensively.

“Okay, if you say so,” she says, “so can you stop ‘not eyeball flirting’ with my brother.”

“I can’t stop something I’m not doing,” I argue.

She stares at me, “you don’t want to fall for him.”

Her face doesn’t match her tone, it isn’t angry or aggressive, it’s concerned and worried.

“I’m not falling for him,” I reply softly, putting my hand on her arm, “I’ve barely met the poor guy.”

“He’s not a ‘poor guy’ by any long shot,” she laughs bitterly, “and if you think you like him, don’t. It’s a horrible road to go down.”

“Savannah I don’t like-“

“I know you,” she says sharply, stopping me mid sentence.

She’s right. She did know me. And I did like her brother… but she didn’t have to know just yet.

“He’s attractive, sure,” I shrug, trying to act cool and collected about the whole affair, “but it’s not like that.”

“Good,” Savannah says.

“Can we leave the almost murder scene now?” I joke, a smirk playing on my lips.

She rolls her eyes and shoves my shoulder playfully, “oh leave off.”

a/n: well done you made it to the end 😭😭 I’m so sorry but it’s not even over… PART 2 is coming up :) and I promise it’s more interesting that this part…

(this was originally just going to be one long piece of writing but I’ve split it into two now)

… more fics on my TIG masterlist

[geotjwrs]

Can I request a platonic Jenna x male reader where r is a writer and like one of his screenplays like gets picked up and Jenna stars in it and they both realise each other are incvled in project and just a sweet look into their friendship?

invisible string

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

Y/N had always dreamt of becoming a screenwriter. From the days spent scribbling stories in his worn-out notebooks to the nights staying up late typing away on his laptop, he poured his heart and soul into every word. It was his passion, his escape, and now, finally, it seemed to be paying off. One of his screenplays had been picked up by a major production company. The excitement was overwhelming, but nothing prepared him for the shock of finding out who would be starring in his film: Jenna Ortega.

Jenna and Y/N had met a few years back at a film festival. They had hit it off immediately, bonding over their mutual love for cinema and storytelling. Despite their busy schedules, they had kept in touch, exchanging messages and occasionally catching up over coffee whenever they found themselves in the same city. Their friendship was a comforting constant in Y/N's ever-changing life.

When Y/N received the news, he couldn't believe his luck. He was both thrilled and nervous about the project, especially with Jenna being involved. He knew how talented she was, and having her bring his words to life was an incredible honor.

The first day on set was a whirlwind of activity. Crew members buzzed around, setting up equipment, adjusting lighting, and preparing for the day's shoot. Y/N arrived early, wanting to soak in every moment of this experience. As he walked onto the set, he spotted Jenna talking to the director. She looked radiant, her enthusiasm contagious as she animatedly discussed her character.

"Y/N!" Jenna called out, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she saw him.

"Jenna!" Y/N replied, grinning as he walked over to her.

They hugged tightly, both of them laughing with excitement. "I can't believe you're here!" Jenna exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "When they told me about the project, I had no idea it was your screenplay. This is amazing!"

"I know, right? It's like a dream come true," Y/N said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't wait to see you bring the character to life."

"Well, I promise to do your words justice," Jenna said, her tone sincere. "Your script is incredible, Y/N. It's one of the best I've read in a long time."

"Thank you, Jenna. That means a lot coming from you," Y/N replied, feeling a warm sense of pride.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N spent a lot of time on set, observing and learning. He was amazed at how Jenna immersed herself in her role, bringing depth and nuance to the character he had created. They often found themselves discussing scenes, bouncing ideas off each other, and refining the dialogue.

Their friendship deepened during this time, built on mutual respect and admiration. They shared countless moments of laughter, inside jokes, and even some late-night brainstorming sessions when inspiration struck. Jenna's dedication and talent inspired Y/N, and he felt grateful to have her as both a friend and a collaborator.

One evening, after a long day of shooting, Y/N and Jenna found themselves sitting on the steps of her trailer, sipping coffee and enjoying the cool breeze. The set was quiet, most of the crew having left for the day.

"You know," Jenna said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I'm really proud of you, Y/N. You've come a long way since we first met."

Y/N smiled, looking down at his coffee cup. "Thanks, Jenna. I couldn't have done it without your support."

Jenna nudged him playfully. "Don't sell yourself short. You've got talent, and you work hard. You deserve all the success that's coming your way."

"Well, it helps to have amazing friends like you," Y/N said, meeting her gaze.

They sat there for a while, enjoying each other's company and the sense of accomplishment that came with seeing their hard work come to fruition.

As the filming progressed, Y/N and Jenna continued to support each other, both on and off set. They celebrated the small victories, like nailing a difficult scene or receiving positive feedback from the director. They also leaned on each other during the tough times, offering encouragement and reassurance.

One particularly challenging day, when everything seemed to be going wrong, Jenna found Y/N sitting alone in a quiet corner of the set, looking stressed.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting down next to him. "You okay?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Just feeling overwhelmed, I guess. It's a lot of pressure."

Jenna put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know it's tough, but you're doing an amazing job. Remember why you started this journey. Your passion and talent brought you here, and you've got a whole team behind you."

Y/N looked at her, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Thanks, Jenna. I needed that."

"Anytime," she replied with a warm smile. "We're in this together, remember?"

As the final days of shooting approached, there was a bittersweet feeling in the air. The cast and crew had become like a family, and it was hard to believe that their time together was coming to an end. On the last day of filming, emotions ran high as they wrapped up the final scene.

After the director called "Cut!" for the last time, there was a moment of silence before the set erupted into cheers and applause. Y/N felt a mix of relief, pride, and sadness as he looked around at the people who had brought his vision to life.

Jenna made her way over to him, her eyes shining with tears. "We did it," she said, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Yeah, we did," Y/N replied, his voice choked with emotion.

As they stood there, surrounded by their friends and colleagues, Y/N realized how much this experience had meant to him. Not just because of the success of his screenplay, but because of the incredible journey he had shared with Jenna. Their friendship had been a source of strength and inspiration, and he knew it would continue to be, no matter where their careers took them next.

In the weeks that followed, Y/N and Jenna kept in touch, their bond stronger than ever. They celebrated the film's success together, attending premieres and interviews, always supporting each other. Despite their busy schedules, they made time for their friendship, knowing how important it was.

One evening, as they sat on a rooftop terrace, looking out over the city lights, Jenna turned to Y/N with a thoughtful expression. "You know, this is just the beginning for you. I can't wait to see what you come up with next."

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of excitement and possibility. "And I can't wait to see you in your next role. You're going to keep amazing audiences, Jenna."

They clinked their glasses, toasting to the future and to their enduring friendship. As they sat there, talking and laughing, he would always have Jenna by his side.

And that, he realized, was the greatest gift of all.

[marthawrites]

The state of the fandom is understandably (and rightfully so) shaky right now. I don't want to come into people's messages who are on hiatus, taking a break from hotd, moving on from hotd, or generally not interested in writing/fics/brainstorming. So! I make this post to ask: if you're okay with me coming to you with ideas, idea shares, brainstorming, etc, about fic writing, can you please let me know? 😊 I've got some ideas I kinda wanna bounce around! Thanks!

[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 😊

[simp-ly-writes]

Just a Small Crush

Ask: is there anyway that I can get a Vox x Reader oneshot (from hazbin hotel ofc) where the reader Alastors sister but has a crush on Vox and secretly still hangs out with him and also gives him information of what’s going on at the hotel.

Pairing: Vox x Alastor Sister!Reader

Warnings: light teasing and brief mentions of death.

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA TYSM FOR THE ASK ANON!!!!!!

Masterlist | Taglist | un-edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ You were Alastor's sister, having died a few years after he did you had come to terms with the changing of technology better than he did. Adapting to smart devices and social platforms with relative ease thanks to the help from a certain bright-eyed princess

↳ From this adaptability of yours you soon became the hotels advertisement manager, creating digital ads, short video skits with the guests and posting how-to-make drink recipes with Husk at the bar.

↳ Alastor smiled at this, seeing you so lively and back to your charismatic self that he thought to be forgotten after your sudden death at a young-age. Nevertheless he never became blinded by this happiness of his- often found glaring at the electronic device super-glued to your hands or the keyboard stuck to your fingers. But he would only make side snarky reminders about the time you came from and how you should still uphold your mannerisms

↳ Flashing a quick, bright smile towards your brother you skipped away, phone in hands as you brainstormed a new caption for the radio segment you just filmed together. Your heart races when the video goes green and hundreds of likes come flooding in alongside various comments of varying enthusiasm towards the content

↳ Shutting your phone off, you head to your room for a break, settling in your bed you flick on the newest episode of Late Nights with Vox. Having worked late last night on the editing of your new television advertisement- you had missed the live airing of the show

↳ "Welcome back everyone" Vox leans his head towards the camera hands behind his back as the camera pans backwards and exposes the wooden desk that he is stationed against. You watch as he leans back against the desk, watching as his suit distorts to capture his form as you rapidly scroll through Velvettes Hell-Page, looking for any other pictures of his new suit. "Tonight we some of only hells finest joining us for exclusive interviews alongside the first viewing of our latest Vox-Tech inventions you are sure to love!" A few cheers can be heard just as you clap your hands, immersed in the show and its presenter

↳ Swiping onto your personal account, you flick Velvette over a quick text- sending your praises for Vox's new suit just as you laugh in tune to the TV's cackles in response to Valentino crashing the set and announcing a new production as the show cuts to commercials. A ping of your notifications has you stopping your conversation with Velvette and transitioning over to other Vee as your hands being to sweat.

↳ Vox has texts you, "Hey!- a certain bird tells me you are enjoying the show?" You roll your eyes into a wide smile, he has been picking up on your expressions with all the recent time you had been spending together after-hours from both your jobs.

You: "You do well every night, I don't think you need me to add to your ego..."

Vox: "but you do. "

You: "?"

Vox: "Who else can say that they are friends the radio demons sister?"

You: "you out of all people better not be going around saying that! I do quite like you- wouldn't want my brother to spoil that by spilling your guts out on to the street if we found out."

Vox: "my lips are sealed then."

↳ A few moments pass before Vox texts again, "doing anything tonight?" your face goes red as your eyes flicker over the space, ensuring that you are in fact alone before you respond. "Nope, got all my work done, would you want to come around?"

↳ Your heart races, watching as the message bubbles bounce as you lay there in wait. But just before you can check the message, Vox has travelled through the electrical wires of the buildings sign and is sitting on your windowsill, taping on the glass for you to let him in

↳ A small scream escapes you, falling off your bed as you race over to usher him in. "So..." Vox starts to say, looking around your room before his eyes fall on to you, a smile expanding across his screen as he leans towards you, matching your height as you take a step back, looking for the remote to pause the television show in the background.

↳ "Watching me again?- why need the recording? I can always remake the scenes here for you, give you a synopsis if you will?" He asks, looking at his gloves before casting you a wink. He stands up straight, walking over to your desk before twirling around in your office chair as you sit on the edge of your bed, observing his actions

↳ "I like your suit." You blurt out, eyes going wide as hands cover your mouth in shock that you just admitted that to his face and not Velvette. Vox throws a hand to his knee, repiedidly slapping it with his laughs before he turns to face you once more. He stands, capturing your chin with his hand- ushering your eyes to meet his own. "No need to get embarrassed now, Velvette did a good deal of work on it- whats not to be admired?"

↳ Now scoffing and turning your head away with his ego flaring up once again. He drops his hand from your face as you let out a breath and listen up to what he has to say next, "Anything new to report on here?" You shake your head, unlocking your phone to show him the recent cocktail you and Husk invented, "Thats about it other than Charlie getting that meeting with Adam I told you about last week..." you trail off, breath hitching as you see footsteps from underneath the door

↳ You reach upwards, smacking a head over Vox's mouth. Failing to see as his screen flickers blue for a split second at the sudden touch. You sigh out in relief as the footsteps carry down the hall after a moment, dropping your hand and turning back to watch as Vox raises an eyebrow, "If you want me to shut up, just tell me or else I will think you just don't like me anymore" He states with a teasing smile, enjoying the way your face fires up as you flip him the finger

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @amarokofficial

[sohnric]

2024 REWIND ☆

thank you so much to beam @sungbeam for tagging me in this! I really love stats and numbers so this is definitely something I enjoyed doing. I know I haven't posted in a while but I think it's still great to look back a little on what I managed to put out this year!

first fic of 2024: beloved (eric sohn)

I remember being super super scared of posting this one. I wrote it when I was having a really hard time dealing with a lot of thoughts and emotions. definitely self-indulgent and very personal, but I am happy it's out there 🫶🏻

last fic of 2024: cool kids (sim jaeyun)

not gonna lie this drabble was the most spontaneous thing ever 😭😭 for the length of it it surprisingly took me a lot of time to finish and I wasn't even 100% happy with it, but I think it's a sweet harmless little drabble!

longest fic of 2024: partners in crime (ji changmin) - 33k

this was a work that I've wanted to write for literally years. this idea has been bouncing around my head since like 2020, so I am happy I finally got to write it. I think the timing was just right, since changmin really fit the role of who I wanted the main character to be, and although I was really scared to put this one out there, I am very proud of it.

most popular fic of 2024: cool kids (sim jayeun)

not gonna lie I believe I have works that deserve the number of notes more and I didnt even expect this drabble to get so much traction, but I am thankful to enhablr for this 🫶🏻 over 1.4k notes is truly crazy

personal pick of 2024: to. my first (kim sunwoo)

this fic (alongside with millennium bug) might just be the works I truly love the most. I posted this in early january, so it almost feels like last year, but I am still going to count it because this fic has a very very special place in my heart. I love everything about the plot, characters and the universe I created with this 90s au and I will definitely revisit it in 2025!

total fics written: 16

total words written: ~ 131 600

I battled with writer's block a lot this year and was also very busy with uni since september started, so I can't really be mad at myself. Happy that I focused on writing so much in summer and hopefully there are many more words waiting to be written by me next year, when I have a degree and a lot less to worry about haha.

top artists/muses of 2024:

kim sunwoo ~ 58.5k words written

eric sohn ~ 44.4k words written

ji changmin ~ 34.5k words written

nothing surprising here, not gonna lie HAHA. although he is not my bias, sunwoo is just the most fun to write about for me. I adore creating his character because I feel like we are similar in many ways (I am in his walls.)

last words:

thank you so much for everyone on this site that has read anything written by me this year. It's crazy to think there are so many people out there that cared enough about what I have to say and I am insanely grateful for every ask, reblog, follow, comment, message and like I've recieved this year 🫶🏻

thank you also to all of my friends on this site but mainly @csenke my belovedest. you helped me insanely in a lot of ways this year, but also with writing by always listening to me rambling, beta reading for me, brainstorming and giving me inspiration. I owe you my life and love u forever my best friend, can't wait to see u again in january <3

not sure when there will be a new work posted by me, since I need to write a bachelor's thesis before I let my brainrot win and write a fanfic, but trust me when I say I WILL BE BACK. the ideas in my drafts are too good to abandon.

happy holidays. I wish everyone's 2025 will be kind.

[spacesapphi]

"Moving Forward Spiraling Downward Chapter 22- Just the Two of Us"

Summary: The opening night of the gridball season has finally come, and those tickets Shane was gifted would finally be of use! He and Mohle would finally be heading to the city for one of the greatest openers they would ever see, and nothing could possibly put a dent in their plans…. right?

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

Fun fact about this fanfiction- This entire thing was supposed to be a single chapter one shot, and THIS chapter uses the same plot. Through a lot of brainstorming and bouncing ideas around with friends, I wound up turning it into the fic we have today, and I can't believe I've gotten this far! This has been such a wild experience in a good way, and it's surreal to be here.

This chapter will be taking a twist on Shane's 10 heart event and I really enjoyed writing most of this chapter. It's a little bittersweet, but we'll start seeing everything fall into place quite soon

CWs for mentions of death in the past, a car accident (happens in a dream sequence), depictions of a panic attack, and emetophobia

AO3 Version Here

Tumblr Version below the cut

 “That was crazy , wasn’t it?!”

“I’ve been tellin’ you to get back into the Tunnelers, they’re always this good,”

“I think I might!”

Möhle and Shane babbled on in the latters old car, gushing about the team and their feats tonight. The Tunnelers had once again defended their spot as the best team of their generation, domineering over any and all competition. Möhle had put aside their love for sports for some time, but this night had reignited it, giving them a new vigor. Seeing that sparkle in their eye and hearing the excitement in their voice made Shane feel something he didn’t exactly know how to place. Joy? Maybe. But maybe it was admiration. Maybe it was love. He wasn’t entirely sure. He never exactly had a good grasp on his feelings, after all. All he knew was that he was happy, and he had his friend to thank for that. 

“Thanks for comin’ with me tonight. Haven’t done somethin’ like this with you in too long,” he mused, giving them the softest smile. 

“Thanks for invitin’ me!” Möhle retorted. They leaned back in their seat, their loose curls squishing against the headrest, “Yoba I haven’t seen anythin’ like that, it was amazin’ … a little too loud though. I’ll have to bring headphones next time,”

“Next time?”

“Yeah! We should go again, you and me,” Möhle grinned ear to ear, “Wouldn’t it be fun?”

Shane thought for a moment, tapping a finger on the steering wheel as his mind turned, “Yeah… yeah it would be,” his cheeks flushed, a familiar pink tint overtaking them, “... Möhle?”

“Mm-hm?” 

“I’ve been thinkin’... a lot. And I think that I-” he sighed and stopped himself, holding onto the steering wheel just a bit tighter. Möhle just smiled on, leaning in just a bit closer, “I’m listening,”

“I think… I think I-”

He froze, cutting himself off mid-sentence when he felt a terrible sensation that he remembered all too well. The burning heat of bright headlights, their blinding glow piercing through the window behind him, singing his neck. Those damned lights. He turned his head to find them mere inches from the window, unable to do anything but wait for that sickening metallic crunch, and for everything to go black. 

Shane awoke, shooting upright in his bed, coated in sweat and tangled in his blankets. He clawed a hand at his chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly beneath his fingertips, gasping for air as his chest tightened. His body was shaking beyond his control, the fear and adrenaline pumping through his veins. His mind desperately tried to assure him that all was well. “It’s a dream, just a dream,” he kept thinking. But even still, his mind raced as if he were in an emergency, his lungs so tight he felt strangled. There was a frantic rattling at the door that caught his attention, A rather fretful looking Marnie rushing to his side. 

“Are you alright, what happened?!” she cried. Marnie had heard his panic through the door, her heart stricken with fear the moment it fell upon her ears.  She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to gauge what on Earth could have gotten him so upset. But then she saw the look in his eye; that far-away and vacant look that could only mean one thing given the circumstances. Her face softened to a look of sympathy, a soft ‘aww’ escaping her, “Was it that dream again?”

“I-It was different this time,” Shane managed to choke out, “It was just me and Mö and we-” he was unable to finish his sentence, but Marnie seemed to get the picture. She moved her hand around to his other shoulder, holding him tight in a side hug in a feeble attempt to help him come back down to reality. She tried to remember the little exercises his therapist had recommended for moments like this, wracking her mind in an attempt to recall. 

“Deep breaths, alright?” she instructed, “In and out…”

Shane nodded frantically, trying his best to get his breathing under control, feeling his chest slowly loosen up with each deep breath. His shaking came to a pause, his mind seemingly more clear. He leaned into Marnie’s embrace, his body less tense and stiff. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, dragging his hand down his face in frustration, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was so excited for this before, but now that the day’s actually here I just-… Is this normal?”

Marnie nodded solemnly, “You’ll think you’re doing just fine one day, and the next you feel like you’re back to square one... I know how that feels,” she pursed her lips, thinking for just a moment, “Shane, why don't you just tell Möhle you don’t want to go anymore, I’m sure they’ll understand,”

“No,” Shane objected harshly, a cross, determined look on his face, “I-I need to be able to do this… And they’ve been lookin’ forward to this, you know how upset they get when plans change last minute,”

“Shane…”

“No.” he reiterated in a firm voice, “I want to be able to do this. I need to,”

Marnie reluctantly nodded in agreement, trying her best to accept her nephew's decision. She was happy to see him try to broaden his comfort zone again, but seeing that fear in his eyes was so heartbreaking. It reminded her of the look he gave her that night when she had to tell him what happened to his friends. She could hardly stand it. And the last thing he needed was to force himself to do something that was already having such an effect on him. Shane didn’t see it that way, however. He made a commitment, he made a promise, and he was going to keep it.

“If you truly insist…” Marnie muttered, “Möhle’s here now , you know. They’re out in the barn with Jas,”

“This early? The game doesn’t start ‘till 3,”

“It’s past lunchtime, schatz,”

Shane quickly turned to the alarm clock on his nightstand, seeing it was indeed long past 12. His heart sunk to his stomach, a new form of panic filling him. There were mere precious hours from now until the start of the game, and there was still a long drive ahead of him. He shot up from his spot in bed, cursing under his breath as he ripped open his dresser drawer with such gusto he nearly ripped it off the tracks. Grabbing his favorite jersey and a pair of shorts, he darted to the bathroom, dressing himself in record time. He looked in the mirror and winced at the sight. He felt that he looked like shit, and that maybe freshening up wasn’t a bad idea, but he did not have the time to consider it. Oh well. Möhle had seen him in far worse states. Surely they wouldn’t care.

He swung the door back open, finding Marnie standing right at the doorway, blocking him from exiting. She still looked deeply concerned, her face etched in worry, “Shane, are you sure it’s a good idea to drive down there?”

“ Yes, ma… I’ll be fine,” Shane huffed, almost annoyed at Marnie’s insistence.

“... You know I’m just looking out for you, right?” she asked, “It’s honorable to keep a promise, and I’m happy you’re making an effort to get yourself out there, but you have to look out for yourself… I know how hard this is for you,”

Shane’s expression softened, a sigh passing through his lips, “I know… But I can handle myself. I’ve been learning how to deal with this, I think I can do it,”

“Just-” Marnie pursed her lips, giving him a sad, knowing look, “... Just have fun, sweetheart,”

“I will,” a shadow of a smile tugged at Shane’s mouth. He passed Marnie by and headed to the little kitchen entrance leading to the barn, hearing delighted chatter from behind the wooden door. Cracking it open ever-so slightly, he looked in to see Jas and Möhle sitting upon the mounds of fresh straw inside, surrounded by the new flock of hens that were his absolute pride and joy. Brilliant blue and curly feathers covered their frames, almost iridescent when the sun hit them just right. He had taken absolute pride in them, feeling excited to see Möhle finally look upon months of his hard work. That smile on their face and the way they looked upon the hens gave him a sense of accomplishment and pride. Of all the others in town, he knew they’d be one of the most excited to see them, after all. And he couldn’t deny he was excited to see them too… and perhaps relieved. Seeing them sitting there cemented the fact that they were safe . What he had seen was merely a night terror, unreflective of their reality. Möhle was in one piece, alive and well, smiling brightly. The fear in his heart began to fade upon that observation, replaced with relief.

Shane continued to stand still in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt the duo… or rather, interrupt Jas as she bombarded the farmer with questions. “What do you do on your farm?”, “Do you like chickens?”, “Do you think fairies are real?”, just to name a few. It tempted Shane to step in and tell her to settle down, knowing full well that some people in town didn’t seem to have patience for someone with such an inquisitive spirit. But Möhle seemed to be the exception, answering each and every little question with a smile on their face. They were the inquisitive sort themself, after all. Jas reminded them of their younger self in a way; a happy, energetic child with a hunger for knowledge and connection. It made them want to nurture that curious soul, give all the answers they could to satiate her. However, Jas would have one question they just didn’t know how to answer.

“Do you like Papa Shane?”

“Well…” Möhle shrugged and smiled, “Of course I do, he’s my friend,”

“No, no,” Jas shook her head, “I mean ‘like’ like…”

It took Mohle a moment to full understand what she meant. They quickly felt their face grow hot, an awkward smile slipping onto their face, “Oh, I-... Why do you ask?”

Jas shrugged and turned her attention back to the hen cuddled up on her lap, gently petting it atop it’s head, “Well… you look at him like how missus Jodi looks at mister Kent, and they’re super in love,” she explained, “Does that mean you’re gonna get married?”

“Jasmyne Rose!” Shane finally interrupted, making the duo inside the barn jump at the intrusion. His face was just as pink as Möhle’s, if not even moreso. Jas yelped and set down the hen, scrambling out of the barn as fast as her little feet would take her, giggling away as she ran. Shane and Möhle were left on their lonesome, an awkward tension sitting in the air. Möhle forced an awkward smile as they looked up at him, “Kids, huh?”

“I’m so sorry, she-” Shane huffed, pinching his nose between his index finger and thumb, “She reads too many of those fairytale books, gets some crazy ideas,”

Möhle wanted to blurt out that it wasn’t crazy at all. Jas had been entirely correct, in fact. But they wouldn’t dare divulge that secret to Shane, not in a hundred years. Their friendship was so important to Möhle, how could they jeopardize it by telling him that they in fact did like him in that way? As much as it broke their heart to do so, they nodded in agreement.

The smile on their face dropped when they noticed the absolute disheveled state Shane was in. His hair was still tangled and messy, eyes red and raw, cheeks shining from tears. They hadn't seen him look this miserable in so long. It worried them deeply, even though Shane had told them that there would be times like this, days where he'd stumble and find himself stuck in the throes of depression. But it didn't make it any easier to watch him go through it. They desperately wished it were possible to just snap their fingers and make it all better. But that wasn’t possible, there was no magical cure to fix one's problems like that. The best they could do was be present in his life, be someone who would listen. 

Shane seemed to notice them scanning him up and down, embarrassment clouding his mind, “Don’t worry about me, Mö, I’m fine ,”

“Are you sure?” they questioned, “You seem kind of shaken up…”

“I’ll be fine, honest,” Shane insisted. He scrubbed the back of his hand along his cheeks, drying them of his tears, “Sorry I didn’t greet you at the door, though. Slept in too long… again,”

He suddenly remembered the severe time crunch they were under. Shit. He motioned his head towards the barn entrance, “Gettin’ kind of late though… You wanna head out?”

“Yeah!” Möhle exclaimed just a bit too loudly, though they didn’t seem to notice. They motioned down at their outfit, a simple bright green crewneck and jeans, “Got all dressed up in the team colors too!... Jeans count as blue, right?” 

“Sure, heh,” Shane mused. He held up a small ring of keys, a quiet jingle accompanying the motion, “I’ll go get my car, I’ll be back quick,”

Möhle nodded in acknowledgement, turning their attention back to the little blue hens around them, marveling at Shane’s accomplishment. As much as he put down his intelligence, Möhle knew one had to be smart to be able to create something like this. In many ways, Shane was much better than he gave himself credit for. They could only wish he saw it too. 

“Möhle? Can I have a moment?”

They turned their attention to the door leading inside the house, finding Marnie standing there. She looked rather serious, worried even. Möhle frowned, their suspicion that something was off finally being confirmed, “What’s going on?”

“It’s Shane… ” Marnie started, “I hate to ask it of you, but could you keep an eye on him tonight? I know he won’t admit it, but he’s struggling, and you know how much I worry…”

“... I know,” Möhle stood from their spot, meeting her at the door, “And I will, promise,”

A wave of relief washed over Marnie, a tired smile accompanying it, “Thank you… I’m so glad you’re the one going with him tonight,”

Möhle wanted to pry and ask what was going on, though they knew well it would be quite rude of them to do so. But all of this secrecy and strange behavior was getting to them. What on Earth was happening in this household today? They didn’t have long to dwell on it before the roar of a car engine echoed through the barn, a signal for Möhle to get going. They gave Marnie a quick little wave ‘goodbye’ before striding towards Shane’s old car, hopping into the passenger's seat with some eagerness in their heart. Even with all the strange happenings, they didn’t want to let it get them down. They were going to their first live Tunnelers game with their best friend in the world, after all! How could they not be excited?

Shane, on the other hand, wished more than anything for even a sliver of that excitement and joy. With his hands gripping tight on that steering wheel, all he could think of was that damned dream. Everything around him was a blur, his anxiety making him numb with fear. All he had to do was turn that damn key in the ignition and get going, it was so simple. But he was frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything other than silently panic in his seat.

“Shane…. Shane? What’s wrong?”

Möhle leaned forward in their seat, looking quite worried. There was no answer from their friend, and that only worried them more. They sighed and turned down the music blasting on the radio, speaking once again, “Do you need to talk about something?”

Shane cleared his throat and shook his head, finally dragging his hand to the key and turning it, stepping onto the pedal, “It’s fine. Don’t worry,” he murmured unconvincingly.

Möhle knew it was a lie, but they feared to press any further. They just resigned into themself, staring out the window at the scenery of the valley disappeared behind them. The ride down was mostly silent besides the music on the radio, leaving Möhle to feel incredibly tense and awkward. The silence, the look on Shane’s face, his behavior- it worried them deeply. Something was terribly wrong, and they wanted, rather needed, to know what that was. But Shane refused to open up, donning that prickly exterior once more, the same one that Möhle saw the first day they’d come back. He was struggling, and once again, decided to go it alone when they wished he would just be honest.

The pair finally made it into the city, and Möhle could tell whatever was wrong was only getting worse. While they took joy in seeing fans mingle at the shops and restaurants on Main Street, and looked forward to finally reaching that stadium at the end of the road, Shane looked entirely worse for wear. He couldn’t take joy in seeing fellow fans laugh amongst themselves and celebrate. He couldn’t find it in his heart to be excited. All he could think about was how this was just like that night. Every detail reminded him of it, every car he passed made him feel faint. But he had to do this. He had to be able to prove that he could handle this… didn’t he? He just gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white from pressure as he made his way down the street, trying to ignore the voice in his head that was screaming at him. 

“You’re okay. Everything’s fine .” he reminded himself, “It’s going to be a great night,” Those little thoughts and affirmations did little to help him. His heart continued to beat fast, his breath hitched and shallow. Every inch that he grew closer to that stadium it just grew worse. Shane’s brain felt like it was on fire. He kept replaying the nightmare in his mind to the point he swore he could see the headlights now. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t be here, he should’ve sold those tickets, never invite Möhle, spend the evening at home with his family. Why didn’t he do that? Why did he think he could do this? All he could do was sit there, staring at his steering wheel, unable to look up towards that stadium that sat oh so close to them. His thoughts began to spiral, his vision clouding from tears. Oh, how he felt like such a child for feeling this way. He should be better now… right? Why wasn’t he better?

“Shane, please just tell me what’s going on,” Möhle finally pleaded, unable to keep their thoughts to themself any longer. With that, something within him snapped. Shane wasn’t sure why, but those eight little words tipped him right over the edge. He just couldn’t do this. With little warning he swerved onto a side road, earning a surprised yelp from his friend in the process. Möhle grabbed onto the armrest of their seat, looking at Shane in utter concern and confusion. He looked so panicked, his eyes scanning for a clearing to pull into. The moment he was able to come to a safe stop, he parked the car and stumbled out, hunching over in the grass to vomit. Möhle quickly scrambled from their seat to meet him by his side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he took heavy breaths, unable to stop himself from crying any longer. 

“I can’t go,” he muttered, “I won’t ,”

“... What?” Möhle blinked slowly, confusion rolling onto their face. Shane wasn’t making any sense, none at all, “Why not?”

“It’s too-” Shane huffed, a frustration evident in his crackling voice. He sat down in the grass holding his head in his hands. Möhle sat beside him, listening intently as he explained further, “It’s too real… I haven’t been to the stadium or a live game in years… Not since… you know,”

He looked to Möhle, finding them still looking confused as ever, unable to make heads or tails of whatever he was talking about. Shane furrowed his brow, lifting his head up to see them more clearly, “I thought my aunt told you about what happened? To Jas’ parents?”

“She just told me they passed, nothing else,” they explained, “What happened?”

Shane took a moment to compose himself, taking in a shaky breath before he spoke, “We were all at a game for my birthday. It was going great, we won… But on the way home we got in a huge accident,” he let out a warbling sigh, too upset to be reminiscing on it all once again, “They didn’t make it,”

The scene fell silent at the revelation. The only sounds were from the occasional car whizzing past and the rustling of leaves in the trees. Möhle didn’t know how to respond, or if they even should. What could they even say that wouldn’t sound dismissive or ingenuine? They just stared on, slowly taking Shane’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, a small yet comforting move that told him “I’m here for you,”

“I had this stupid dream where you and I got in one too,” he lamented, “It felt so real. It still does… I was so scared of comin’ here, but you were really lookin’ forward to it so I just… went anyways,”

“I wish you had told me…we could’ve stayed home,” Möhle sighed, “I wouldn’t have minded watching it on tv, especially when this is going on,”

“But the tickets were so expensive too, and-”

“Fuck the tickets!” Möhle blurted out. Shane was taken aback by the statement, staring at them in utter shock. Möhle cleared their throat and softened their tone once again, “Shane, that doesn’t matter right now . What matters is that you feel safe… You know I care about that. I wouldn’t have been mad if you told me,”

“I know, but-” Shane huffed in annoyance toward himself, “You were lookin’ forward to a fun day out and I fuckin’ ruined it with my bullshit again,”

“You didn’t ruin it-”

“Like hell I didn’t!” he pulled his hand away from theirs, facing away from them in shame, “We should be sittin’ in the stadium right now, you should be enjoyin’ your night, and we can’t because of my stupid brain!”

He slammed his fist to his forehead in frustration, gritting his teeth so hard he feared they’d shatter. Shane looked to be on the verge of tears, his face flushed in embarrassment. He felt like a little kid causing a scene in public, far too embarrassed to be acting in such a way in front of a dear friend. He figured they must be feeling at least a little judgemental of him. He would if he were in their shoes. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. They didn’t see someone to be mocked or judged. They saw their friend , someone who just needed some extra help and a shoulder to lean on. Möhle just wished he could see that too.

“I try so hard. I’ve been going to therapy, doin’ all the work I need to do. And all for what? For this? To not be able to go into the fuckin’ stadium even after seven years?” he turned back to Möhle, “It makes me feel so weak… What kind of person am I if I still can’t move on?!”

Möhle pursed their lips for a moment, mulling over what to say that would resonate with him. They went to entwine their hand with his again, their grasp as light and soft as could be. They gave him a weak smile, one masking a pain of their own, “You’re the same kind of person as me,”

Something in Shane’s mind clicked after that. Of course they understood him. How could they not? Möhle had been through much hardship and loss in their life, just as he had.The pair of them had suffered greatly from loss, mistreatment, and the general horrors of life. The world had taken hold of them and crushed their spirits, warping their minds and souls into pathetic facsimiles of what they once were. While their circumstances were different in many ways, the sorrow they felt was all the same; the sorrow that came from living in such a cruel and messed up world. 

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Möhle offered, “We can do something else and leave before things get busy… or we can go home. Your choice,”

“... You really wouldn’t mind?” Shane asked, scanning their face to ensure they were being honest. He couldn’t find even a trace of deceit in their expression, their eyes certain and confident. 

“It’s up to you,” they reiterated, “Whatever you choose, whatever you need… I’ll be just fine either way,”

Shane looked up towards the direction of the stadium, seeing its walls peek just slightly over the tops of trees and buildings. The game had begun, the cheers from fans inside carrying over the wind. He wished he could just muster the courage to be there with them. He wished that things were normal again, that he could enjoy his favorite team in the world without these awful memories attached. He wished his mind would just accept everything already and let him move on to the future. But just as everyone told him it would, these things took time. He couldn’t expect everything to be resolved already, as much as he wanted it to be. He had only been in therapy for a few months now, after all. Perhaps it was too soon to try and go to a game again. Perhaps it would be better to go home after all. 

He wiped the tears away from his eyes with his thumb, finally turning back to face Möhle, “What do you think? Only fair for you to have a say,”

Möhle thought for a moment, a soft smile drawing onto their face, “There’s a really good pizza place I used to go to after work when I had a bad day, it’s a good ‘pick-me-up’,” they mused, “I think they should be just down the road… You up for that?”

“... Yeah. I think that sounds good,”

Möhle stood from their spot, taking Shane’s hand to pull him up alongside them. They looked at him for just a moment before pulling him into a tight hug. They were silent as could be, though Shane knew exactly what they were trying to say. Everything was okay. They understood, and they were willing to meet him halfway when he needed it. He felt like the luckiest man on Earth to have them as a friend. The pair walked hand in hand to the little restaurant Möhle had mentioned. It was a typical little hole in the wall with very little seating and minimal decor,  but as long as the food was good, Shane didn’t care much about the aesthetics. He just wanted to get his mind off of things, and perhaps a calm dinner would be just what helped. 

The two of them sat across from each other as they ate, engrossed in conversation. It started off slow and stilted, a gloom still permeating the air. But it slowly bloomed into something more, something much happier. Shane was taking much pride in getting Möhle to laugh, finding himself grinning ear to ear whenever he heard that wonderful sound. It made him nearly forget all about what had happened earlier, the nightmare slowly beginning to slip from his mind. All that mattered in the moment was that he was enjoying a nice dinner and show with a dear friend, one who gave him the grace and patience he never expected. 

He grabbed another slice of pizza, taking a decent bite out of it before speaking, “Hey, I’ve been meanin’ to say…”

Möhle turned their attention to him, looking at Shane curiously, “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he started, “For sticking with me through all of this… My anxiety, and depression, you know…” he trailed off for a moment, giving them the most adoring look, “You’ve been a really good friend to me,”

Möhle smiled softly, their eyes scrunching at the corners, “That means a lot… more than you know,”

“And I’ll make this up to you, I promise,” Shane insisted, “Anythin’ you want, just let me-”

“Shane.” Möhle interrupted, giving him an almost stern look, “It’s okay. I promise it is,”

They folded their arms on the table, leaning in closer to him, “I’m spending the night in the city at one of my favorite restaurants with one of my best friends. It’s not what we planned, and… I won’t lie, I am disappointed-” they admitted, “But I’m still enjoying myself. This is still a good night,”

“.... Honest?” Shane asked sheepishly. Möhle gave him a confident smile and nod, “Honest.”

Shane exhaled softly, a weak smile on his face. Their words didn’t do much to ease the guilt he felt, but he took some relief in the fact they were having a good time, even after such a rough start to the night. He was happy to be there with them, to have such an honest person as a friend. How lucky it was in his eyes. 

He placed down a stack of cash on the table, enough to cover the dinner and a tip, signalling a close to the dinner. Möhle looked down to the stack and back at Shane, raising a brow, “So… Home then?” 

“Actually… can we make a stop first?” he asked, a sheepishness in his voice, “There’s something I need to do,”

Möhle nodded, giving him a softened, empathetic smile, “Of course,”

As the pair walked out from the shop onto Main Street, Shane held out his hand for Möhle to take, leading them down one of the prettier side streets to somewhere they didn’t recognize. Their mental map of the city was slowly fading now that they lived in the valley, leaving them curious the entire walk. Perhaps Shane needed to go somewhere fun, a little pick-me-up after such a difficult day. Perhaps it was an errand, thus the ‘need’ to do it. But soon enough, Shane came to a stop, and they came to realize that none of their thoughts had been even close to reality. Möhle looked up to see they stopped just in front of the gates leading to the city’s cemetery, their wrought iron gates opened inward, beckoning them forward. 

“... I need to make a visit, if that’s okay,” Shane mumbled, his voice a near whisper. He seemed almost apologetic, an awful feeling in his heart. Even though Möhle had insisted this was fine, that the change of plans didn’t bother them, he couldn’t help but feel so guilty. He took a deep breath in and out before walking up to the front gates. Möhle stood by his side, silent and solemn as could be. They still kept a hold of his hand, waiting patiently for Shane to take the first steps down the old paths he remembered so well. He needed no map or guide to get through the rows of headstones. In fact, Shane could navigate that cemetery with his eyes closed at this point. He knew exactly where his friends lay, just a few more rows down right atop the hill. 

“I used to come here every week, Jas too,” he explained, “Now that we’re so far away, I haven’t been able to come here much, and-”

He stopped in front of a pair of familiar headstones, motioning down to the names with a sigh, “- I’ve really missed them, you know?”

Möhle looked at the faded photo plaque sitting in the middle of the stones, barely able to make out the faces of the couple pictured in it. They could see that Jas looked just like her mother, though. And just from his smile alone they could see similarities between Shane and Jason. As they gazed upon the photo, Shane was cleaning up the stones, brushing off leaves and dirt that had accumulated over the past year. He regretted that he hadn’t visited more often, silently promising himself that he would remedy that. 

“I wish you were able to meet them,” Shane sighed, “You would’ve loved Ams, I know it,”

“What were they like?” Möhle asked, eyes still trained on the plaque.

“... Amazing,” Shane breathed out. He reminisced back to the day he met the two of them, that first day of college that seemed so far away in his memories now. He had been so nervous, feeling so different and out of place in this new city with all new people. It was his first time away from home, leaving behind a quaint little village for a bustling city. He had no clue what would happen, what friends he would make, if any at all. Everything seemed so scary and uncertain. But then he met Jason and Amelia, and everything felt… right. They were so kind and genuine, the best people Shane had ever known in his life. He longed to have them by his side now, to be able to introduce them to Möhle. But all he had were his memories now, memories he clung to tighter than anything. 

“Jason was so damn funny … kindest guy I ever knew, too,” Shane recounted, “He saw beauty in everyone and everything. I think he just loved life. Amelia was great too. So talented and smart… she would’ve loved talkin’ about plants and animals with you. Jason would keep trying to make you laugh… They would’ve loved you too,”

He looked back to that old plaque, regretting how worn and washed away it had become. All that was fully intact were their eyes, a glimpse back to the time when they glimmered with life, back to when they looked at him with love. Shane would give anything to see them look at him like that again. He placed a hand at the base of the plaque, sighing softly. 

“Everything’s been so wrong since they died. It’s been hard too. I wasn’t prepared for a kid, I kind of was one. I was so stupid and immature… and it made things even harder,” he paused for a moment, deciding if he wanted to speak any further on it. He figured he should tell Möhle. It would’ve been nice to be able to open up more about his story after all, and who better than them? And besides, they had opened up to him about their life too. He took a deep sigh before continuing on in his reminiscing. 

“I’m in… so much debt. Before I moved back home I had a shitty job with shittier pay. My paychecks barely covered rent for me ‘n Jas, even in a shitty studio apartment. It got so bad I had to start stealin’ food so she could eat. Almost got arrested for it actually. Then I got evicted and came back to the valley with nothin’ to show for myself.” he huffed quietly, looking down at the grass in front of him, “I spent so much time fallin’ flat on my face ‘n being scared of… everything. I just was hopin’ that tonight I’d be able to move past it and go to that game. I hate that I can’t,”

“One day you will.” Möhle assured, “You’ll be able to come down here and go to a game, and you’ll have so much fun. It might not be today, but you’ll get there,”

“It’s just so frustrating. This is takin’ so much time, it makes it feel like it’s not even worth it,” Shane grumbled.

“The time will pass anyways… Shouldn’t you make the best of it?” Möhle asked. 

“... I guess so,” Shane sighed, “Thank you, by the way. For all of this. For being here with me, for putting up with all my shit... I know I’ve got to be a difficult person to be friends with,”

“Well it’s a good thing that I like a challenge then, huh?” Möhle joked.

Shane let out a short laugh and shook his head, that signature smirk finally appearing on his face, “I guess so,”

He looked down at their entwined hands, rubbing his thumb across the top of their hand affectionately. There was so much he wanted to say, so much that was on his mind. As of late, Shane had noticed that his feelings toward Möhle were shifting. At first he just thought it was because he was finally seeing life in a new light. But now, after all that happened today, he thought that it might be something more. He could never admit it to them, but… he thought he might love them. He loved how understanding they were of him, how they didn’t judge him on his bad days, how they celebrated his good ones. He felt safe and happy with Möhle, more than he felt with anyone else. He wished he were better with words so he could express it to them. Perhaps one day he could. Maybe one day all would be well. He could take them to a proper game and confess to them, finally able to move on and have the life he wanted. He wished he could just say it now. But all he could muster was one simple sentence:

“Let’s go home,”

Night had fallen by the time they reached the valley. Crickets chirped in the bushes, fireflies twinkled as they flew by, lanterns were lit outside of homes. Shane and Möhle stood out front of the ranch, saying their final goodbyes and goodnights to each other before they went their separate ways for the night…. Rather, they were trying to. The pair had been standing there for nearly half an hour now, chatting the night away. Neither of them really wanted it to be over just yet, even as the world gave them an abundance of cues to turn in for the night.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Möhle finally asked.

“You know where to find me,” Shane beamed, “Have a good night, Mö,”

“You too,” they grinned. They slowly pulled their hand from his, finding it rather difficult to let him go. Part of them wanted to ask him to come home with them and spend the night at the farmhouse. The other knew he had responsibilities to attend to once morning came, squashing their desire. Reluctantly they turned away, giving him one last wave before disappearing into the night, leaving Shane on his lonesome out front of the ranch’s door. As he stood there beneath the glow of the porch’s lantern, Shane felt he finally understood his feelings towards them. No longer was he confused or naive towards it, nor was he trying to repress it. 

He was utterly, hopelessly in love with them. And oh, how scary it was to know it. 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You're Special to Me

Can you write a fic where Remus keeps on comparing himself to roman (negatively) and the other sides also doing it, albeit unknowingly. It’s alright if you can’t, no pressure! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, self-doubt, remus has some abandonment issues

Pairings: platonic creativitwins

Word Count: 3761

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

1.

“Remus?”

Remus pokes his head out from under the whale carcass, adjusting the brim of his rain jacket to see Logan wading dubiously through the trail of viscera from here to the door. “Oh, hey, Pocket Protector, whattya need?”

“We had a brainstorm scheduled to start five minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

“Yes, so if you wouldn’t mind—wait, ‘show up?’”

He tosses a chunk into the piranha tank and the water froths up. “Yeah. You asked to have a brainstorm with me, so I was waiting for you.”

“Ah, I see. Typically brainstorms are held in the study or the living room.”

“Yeah, Ro’s are.”

Logan blinks. “Hm?”

“ Roman’s brainstorms with you are in the living room or the study or whatever. That’s ‘cause he can do the whole write-stuff-down-talk-it-out thing. I gotta be doing something.”

Logan dodges a spray of…something Remus isn’t going to name but rhymes with a really frizzy hairstyle, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Would you opposed to having a brainstorm in one of those locations if you bring something to do?”

“Peachy keen, Lolo, but there’re rules about me bringing my projects to places.”

“That is true,” he mutters under his breath, “is—so I take it you would prefer to have the brainstorm here as you…work?”

“Yep.” When Logan doesn’t say anything for a moment, Remus lowers his bone saw and glances over at him. “Is…is that okay?”

“Well, I’m going to have to change my state of dress, and take audio recordings that I’ll have to transcribe later, but yes, I believe that is acceptable. You’ll have to give me a moment to change.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Logan nods and weaves his way carefully around the mounds of blubber starting to grow around Remus’s work station. Remus watches him go, a chunk falling slowly off of his shoulder, before he looks back at the carcass. He still has a few hours of work to properly strip it to where it’s usable, and this kind of work is nice for brainstorming ‘cause it’s mostly rote at this point, but there’s a sudden greyness to everything. Like if he raised his tools and tried to keep going the whale might turn to paper in front of him.

He sits there amidst his carnage, the faint sound of the piranhas nibbling away in the sloshing water behind him. He looks down at his hands, at the calluses and old scars. The bone saw lies limply across his knee.

Logan didn’t seem angry that he’d misunderstood what he wanted, but he did seem disappointed. Like he really wanted Remus to not be doing this and come to the study to do the brainstorm. Like Roman. But Roman’s process wasn’t Remus’s process and Logan had asked specifically to brainstorm with Remus.

The familiar sound of rain boots squishing through viscera brings him back, glancing over to see Logan wading through toward him with a recorder in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Whoa, cool jacket.”

“Thank you, I had Virgil help me design it after the one you made for him.” Logan brandishes the recorder and eyes the whale corpse. “Well, shall we get to it?”

“I’ve already got a few ideas.”

2.

Remus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, barely resisting the urge to flap his hands. This is it! He’s finally been allowed to join in on the communal baking day where everyone gets to make their own dessert for movie night. He stayed up late last night thinking of all the delicious things they could make and finally, finally got his list down to just five options. He’s really leaning toward the strawberry fruit tart but the lemon squares look so good but the pumpkin spice cookies would be so much fun to decorate—

Something shoves him gently into the wall and he grins as Roman ruffles his hair a little too hard.

“Roro!”

“Hey, Re, you look excited.” Roman chuckles as Remus chews excitedly on his costume collar. “You ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

“Roman? Is Remus there?”

“He’s all yours, Padre.” Roman winks and ruffles his hair again. “Go get ‘em.”

Remus bounds into the kitchen, startling Patton a little as he sets something on the counter. He reaches into his pocket for the piece of paper—he even wrote it on paper this time to make it easier—and opens his mouth to explain his options, when—

“Good, I wondered where you were. Could you go ahead and measure the white sugar out for me?”

Remus pauses. Patton looks at him expectantly, holding out the cup. He takes it slowly, glancing at the containers and bowls already amassed on the counter. “Uh—what?”

“The white sugar. Granulated sugar, if you’d prefer. It’s in this one over here—“ he indicates a white paper bag— “and it just goes in that bowl there.”

A bit of grey flickers across his vision. “But we haven’t chosen what we’re making yet.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t tell you. We’re just gonna be making chocolate chip cookies.”

He frowns. “Ro said we get to choose what we make.”

Patton’s smile twitches a bit. “Oh, I just figured it would be—since we always have chocolate chip and it’s your first time—the others have already made their choices, they did it yesterday—“

Patton keeps talking as the list in his hand slowly greys out. They did it…yesterday? And didn’t tell Remus? But Ro said that he could pick…

“…so I figured this would be the easiest.” Patton’s still talking. “But if you really, really want to make something else, then—“

“No,” he grits out, shoving the list in his pocket and going over to the sugar, “I love chocolate chip cookies.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad, I love them too! Yeah, so that just goes in there.”

As they bake, or as Patton tells Remus what to do and watches him carefully as he does it, he can’t help thinking that this isn’t at all what Roman said it was like and how he doesn’t…really want to do it ever again. But at least he can eat as much of the cookie dough as he wants while Patton isn’t looking.

3.

“…hey, Snakey?”

Janus looks up from his book with the patented what-did-you-do-how-much-of-your-mess-am-I-going-to-have-to-clean-up expression and Remus squirms under it. He raises an eyebrow.

“Would you teach me how to dance?”

The expression morphs into one of surprise in an instant. He sets down his book. “Certainly, I can teach you. What for?”

”There’s a, uh, thing in the Imagination next month that me and Ro are putting on and we, uh, part of it’s a ball thing.”

“Mm. Will the rest of us be invited?”

“…I think so? I dunno, I need to talk to Ro. We, uh, no one else knows about it yet.”

“Ooh, a secret, I do love those.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

Janus chuckles, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. Remus takes it and blinks as Janus takes them to a room in the Imagination he’s never seen before. Which in and of itself isn’t all that weird, because there are plenty of things that Ro makes that he never sees, but this one feels…familiar, almost. Like he’s seen it in a dream or something and only just now actually being able to picture it clearly.

At the very back of the theater, hidden in the shadows, some of the red seats look a little faded.

“Alright,” Janus says, “we’re going to learn a very simple waltz.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well, you’re part of Thomas, and Thomas knows how to do a box step, which means most of it is already in there somewhere.” Janus taps the side of his head. “So, put your arms around me—no, no! Remus, put me down.”

“You said put my arms around you.”

“Not like that, like this.” Janus takes one of his hands and puts it on his waist, holding the other one out to the side. “Don’t—we’re not about to charge someone, Remus, relax.”

He goes all noodley and Janus sighs, making him stand back up with his arms not held out like he’s brandishing a weapon. Once they’re standing in a way that he approves of, he starts explaining how the steps work.

“Can you show me your box step?”

“While I’m holding you?”

“Good point.” Janus takes three very large steps backward and folds his arms. “Go ahead.”

Remus does his box step. Janus looks at him with his head tilted and sighs again. Every time he sighs a few more seats get a little greyer.

“I suppose it could be worse. Now, here’s what I’d like you to do: hold onto me, yes, like that, and do your box step. I am going to do an opposite box step and we are going to just try that, okay?”

Remus nods, looking down to make sure he doesn’t step on Janus, and starts his box. Janus moves back but he’s moving in a way that makes Remus have to let go.

“Hold onto me.”

“But you moved.”

“We’re dancing, Remus, we’re going to move.”

“But you—okay.”

Despite Janus’s patience—and fond exasperation that sometimes isn’t quite as fond—Remus can’t help but get hot behind the ears at how his body just doesn’t seem to want to do any of this. But every time they turn to face the back of the curtain, he sees memories of Roman dancing effortlessly in the big palace ballroom and he grits his teeth.

The curtains have gone grey by the time Janus calls an end to the misery of a lesson.

4.

“C’mon, Emo, you can do it…” Virgil’s next inhale is almost a whine. “Shh, shh, it’s…it’s okay, just…just try and breathe.”

“It’s not working.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re panicking—“

“I know I’m panicking! Knowing I’m panicking doesn’t help!”

Remus winces as Virgil almost shoves him away, He goes, because when someone’s having a panic attack and they let you know you’re making it worse, then you leave. But he can’t pull away too much because Virgil is hurting himself and that’s why he got summoned in the first place.

“Little spider,” he tries again, and Virgil lets him shift a little closer, “I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

Not the thing to say when someone’s having a panic attack. Virgil sobs again, curling up even tighter, beginning to make small hitching noises whenever he can draw breath.

“Remus? Virgil? What’s—oh. Oh, no.”

”Ro?”

Roman hurries toward them, falling to his knees next to the shaking pile of Virgil, immediately pressing a kiss to his head and going to wrap his arms around him.

“Wait, he doesn’t want to be…” Remus trails off as Virgil immediately clings to Roman, latching on like a limpet and refusing to let go.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, Stormcloud, I’m right here. Shh, shh, shh, you’re alright, you’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you right now.”

It’s not fair of him to be jealous when Roman gets Virgil to calm down almost right away. It’s not fair of him to be resentful that Roman’s who Virgil wants when he’s upset. It’s not fair to be upset or offended by what someone needs to come out of having a panic attack. That’s not cool, it’s not right, it’s not fair to Virgil or Roman or himself.

But Remus watches Roman cuddle Virgil and press gentle kisses to his forehead, and he looks down at his own hands that still have some Kraken slime on them from when he got summoned, and he sinks out before Virgil’s feeling all the way better.

He hates himself a little more for it, but not as much as he hates himself for not being the person that Virgil wanted.

5.

It would be easier if Roman were shitty about it.

If he made a point to hold it over Remus’s head, or if he tried to help out of pity or pushed the others into including Remus when it was obvious that no one really wanted to, it would be better. But no, Ro doesn’t even seem to know it’s happening. Which is shitty in and of itself, but the others don’t even realize they’re doing it sometimes and it’s never where Roman is anywhere within earshot. It’s just glaringly fucking obvious that Remus is not Roman and everyone else fucking knows it.

It would be better if they weren’t both Creativity. It would be better if Roman and him weren’t constantly lumped together. It would be better if he was actually capable of truly hating Roman.

But he can’t. Because Roman’s his brother and he loves him more than he hates himself.

He doesn’t hate himself, not really. He loves his energy, loves his drive, loves his willingness to do whatever, explore whatever, be whatever, he wouldn’t want to be like anyone else because then who would be him? But he hates the way that the version of himself he wants to be is the exact fucking opposite of everything he has to be in order to not be always a little bit worse than Roman.

Even his fucking Kraken prefers Roman.

He’d shown up to Ollie’s pond with his favorite chum and the ball with the holes big enough for his arms so they could play catch, but Ollie had sniffed around and seen that there was only one of them—and it wasn’t Roman, and he’d drifted off into the corner of the pond to sulk. No amount of coaxing or bribing had been able to make the Kraken do anything more than half-heartedly chuck the ball not even halfway across the pond.

Remus left before he started crying and went to the dark underwater sea cave deep underneath the black tower’s subbasement. He shifted enough so he could breathe underwater and curled up in the thick kelp forest where no one would be able to find him unless they poked around with a flashlight. The kelp dissipated the sound waves of his sobs, a tentacle in his mouth to muffle them even further. Along the bottom of the cave, tiny tetra fish nibbled at his scales.

He’d stayed there for at least an hour before he realized that no one would come to look for him, so he’s been drifting ever since. Every so often the tears return, the kelp absorbing them as readily as ever, at least until they taper off again and he just floats there, in the water while the fish nibble the dead skin away from his scales. There was something comforting about the greyness of the water, how smooth and quiet it was, how easy it was to just look at the shape of the kelp and the movement of the fish and just drift…alone.

Yeah, it’d be much easier if Roman was shitty about it. But he isn’t, and that’s just another way that he’s better than Remus.

+1.

Remus doesn’t even have time to lie down and close his eyes before someone’s grabbing him around the waist and sinking him into the Imagination. They crash into a pile of pillows and he gets a mouthful of one, spluttering.

” Ro!”

”Hey, you always do it to me! Payback time!” He barely gets himself free before Roman’s throwing a pillow at him. “Now arm yourself!”

“What—“ he dodges Roman’s swing— “hey!”

“No talking, only pillow fighting!”

Remus manages to get the big green pillow up in front of his face just as Roman launches himself off another pile and come barreling down at him. He rolls onto his side and swats Roman across the face. Roman yelps and laughs and swats him back.

“You’re not winning this time!”

“I didn’t win last time! I— ack!”

“C’mon, Re, I know you can do better than that!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The two of them turn the pillow piles into a war zone, launching projectiles and themselves from various places until Roman gets Remus’s arms pinned and he can bap him lightly in the face over and over and over.

“ Ack—ppth—Ro!”

“Do you yield?”

“Yeah, yeah, you— pffthp— I fucking yield.”

Roman chuckles and presses a big smacking kiss to Remus’s cheek, rolling off of him and sprawling out across the pillow carnage with a contented sigh. Remus winces, pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing one of the plushier pillows to hold.

They’re in one of the higher tree canopy tents, he realizes as he takes in their surroundings without the distraction of plush warfare. Overlooking the massive waterfalls with the help of the full moon and the soft glow of the amber lanterns overhead, he can spot a few of the others in trees surrounding the falls as the rush and roar of the water fades soothingly into the background. The soft sweet smell of fresh water wafts upwards, mixing with the cool night air. He curls up a little more, hugging the pillow, watching the water rush by.

“So,” Roman grunts as he sits up a few moments later, “are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mhm.” Something pokes his side and Remus yelps. “You sure?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure, I— eep!”

”You really sure?” Fingers keep poking and kneading his sides and trying to get under the pillow. “You really, really sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I said no!”

He moves without thinking. One second Roman’s sitting next to him and the next he’s sprawled near the other side of the tent. A horrible itchy guilty mess starts building in the back of Remus’s throat and he looks away before he can watch the shutter fall over Roman’s face.

Because that’s why Roman did all this, isn’t it? He noticed Remus was upset and because he’s a good brother, he took him to their favorite sleeping spot and had a pillow fight with him and asked him if he was okay. Because Remus isn’t like Roman and he didn’t appreciate any of it and then he just shoved Roman away when all he was doing was trying to help and he really is just the worst brother ever, isn’t he?

”I could’ve done that better,” he hears softly before the gentlest arms wrap around his shoulders and there’s a warm chin on his left one, “I knew better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Re, I just—I’m worried about you.”

“…you are?”

“Yeah. You’ve been—you’ve been kinda grey lately, you know? I’ve tried asking the others if they know what’s been going on, but they don’t—whoa, hey, hey,” Roman whispers when Remus starts to sniffle, “hey, c��mere, let me cuddle you, hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“‘M sorry, it’s not your fault, promise—“

“Hey, hey, uh-uh, none of that, you’re okay.” Roman pulls him into a weird pretzel ball of limbs and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Does it have something to do with the others?”

“…it’s not their fault either.”

“Now I think we both know that might not be entirely true.”

“‘S stupid.”

“It’s making you upset, Re, it’s not stupid.”

“But it’s true!”

“What’s true?”

“You’re—you’re better than m-me.”

Roman goes very still for a second, then he pulls back and cups Remus’s face in his hands. “What the hell do you mean, ‘I’m better than you?’”

And just like that, the whole sorry story comes driveling out of him. About how Logan didn’t really want to do the brainstorm, about how Patton didn’t let him pick what he wanted to bake, about how he couldn’t comfort Virgil properly, about how hard trying to learn how to dance was, even how Ollie didn’t want to play with him. And Roman looks at him and his face falls and then he’s shaking his head and squishing Remus’s cheeks a little.

“You’re not worse than I am and I’m not better than you. We’re different, and that’s fine and good. Who gives a shit if Logan got a bit messy, you’re the one who can multitask way better than anyone else here. You have the discipline to actually train with all of your weapons and you can fight with all of them. And who the hell does Patton think he is that he can regiment who can bake what? I’ll bake with you next time and we can make whatever the hell you want. And as for Virgil—you know he only started coming to me because he missed you, right? I’m serious,” he continues when Remus’s eyes almost bug out of his head, “he said that your energy was really comforting when he was growing up and I have a similar one so he started coming to me. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, but he’s still too caught up on everything else.

“I don’t give a shit what they all think, you hear me? I think you’re incredible and you’re my brother. I’m the only one allowed to start our stupid sibling rivalry shit.”

”What about me?”

“Fine, you can start it too. But only us, okay?”

Remus sniffles. “But then why didn’t Ollie want to play with me?”

“Because you don’t sneak him treats when you play Toss.”

”Wait, you what?”

“Uh, I mean—“

Remus grabs a pillow and thwacks Roman over the head with it. Roman bursts out laughing and half hugs, half tackles Remus to the ground.

“You’re fucking great all on your own, Re, you don’t need anyone else’s approval.” He leans up a bit. “But you always have mine, okay? I’m always gonna think you’re the greatest.”

“Even when I put slime in your bed?”

“I’ll get you back by putting dragon splines in yours.”

“You better not.”

“Don’t put slime in my bed, then.”

Remus gives another sniffly little laugh and Roman ruffles his hair. They both lie down to look at the waterfall, arms wrapped around each other.

“…hey Ro?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re the best brother ever.”

“No,” Roman says, booping Remus’s nose, “ you are.”

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[senorabond]

Rumor Has It: Chapter 2 (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 2 Summary: You’re reviewing the case file Javi gave you when a memory of your last night in D.C. distracts you. After a bit of a brainstorm, you decide it’s finally time to call Marcus back and get his opinion. He always has the right words.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: masturbation (f!reader), flashback, thigh riding, oral sex (f receiving), semi-public/workplace sex (evidence locker after hours), hand on throat for control, Dom/sub dynamic, soft Dom!Marcus, praise kink, you are such a good girl

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem/afab. Marcus is strong enough to lift Reader up onto the edge of a table (no mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color), Reader has hair long enough for Marcus to brush away from face, Marcus is super thoughtful and thorough when planning for sexy times

Words: ~4.5k

Author's Notes: A huge thank you again to @kilamonster for being my wonderful beta, talking me through my fear of posting dirty talk, and letting me bounce random porny ideas off her. <3

Again, there’s no specific time/setting, I just really wanted to get both Javi and Marcus together in the same story. In my mind, Javi is post-s3 of Narcos, and Marcus is somewhere around/after s7ep1 of The Mentalist.

I learned basically everything I know about the court system from true crime TV and podcasts, so the legalese here is purposefully vague. I have no idea what it would take to prosecute a federal case, lol. However, I did find some interesting information while researching art fraud/money laundering! I’m happy to share links to my sources if anybody is interested.

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

Chapter 2

Later that night, you sit cross-legged on your bed, the various photos and documents from Peña spread out around you. You can see why he was so adamant about Customs involvement – there was enough circumstantial evidence in front of you for some lower-level courts to convict. Peña doesn’t strike you as the type to take chances though, not at this point in his career. If he’s making an arrest, he wants a case airtight, no room for technicalities or sympathetic juries. He’ll have worked with enough federal prosecutors to know what he needs to put bastards away and keep them there.

You think back to your conversation with Peña for what must be the twelfth time since that afternoon. It’s still difficult to reconcile the reputation with the man. Javier Peña, the senior DEA agent, was by reputation a force of nature; women and men alike wanted him and wanted to be him. He is unapologetically brash, arrogant, and always gets his way. If he believes something is worth getting, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if he has to use less than savory channels. 

Javier Peña, the man, is intense, focused, driven, and has some of the saddest, most beautiful, big brown eyes you’d ever seen. He has a level of self-awareness you hadn’t expected. He struggles with asking for help, even if he can recognize his own limitations. 

With a sigh, you take the wire transcript in hand and lean back against the pillows propped up against the headboard. The conversation had thankfully already been translated from Spanish with the original attached for reference. You had basic Spanish under your belt from high school and learned some choice slang from friends and exes, but you didn’t know nearly enough to comprehend the entire conversation on paper in front of you. 

The men were discussing various works of art and their estimated values at auction and on the black market. One of the men, Castano, was insisting he could simply forge a copy of a famous painting since it was “just a bunch of splattered paint” that “didn’t look like anything anyway.” You chuckled to yourself. 

You used to think the same thing about the abstract expressionism paintings you’d seen until somebody actually took the time to explain the meaning behind the movement. Agent Marcus Pike knew a lot about art – it was his job, after all, as head of the FBI’s art crimes unit in D.C. You worked closely with Pike and his squad to close a major case before you put in for the transfer to Texas. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and grown close, developing a mutual professional respect before things had ever gotten personal. 

Your thoughts travel back to the last time Pike taught you something about art. It’s a bittersweet thought, since that was also your last night in D.C., and the last time you saw him. You’d come so close to saying more than you were ready to admit, and certainly more than you were ready to hear in return. 

With a sigh, you drop the transcript on the bed and fall back onto your pillows. That last night in D.C. was also the last time you experienced an orgasm you didn’t give yourself. More than one, actually. 

Your mind floods with images and sensations from that night and, rather unconsciously, your hands begin to retrace the parts of your body Marcus had touched. Fingertips ghost over the crook of your neck and across your collarbone to the collar of your worn t-shirt. Marcus’ t-shirt, actually. You’d stolen it unapologetically when he’d forgotten it at your place and told him it looked better on you anyway. Marcus had agreed, and then shown just how much better he liked it on you.

While your one hand is occupied at your breast, the other busies itself at the waistband of your panties. Eyes closed, you slide a finger over your dampening slit, remembering the path Marcus’ tongue traveled as your breath hitches. God, that man could use his mouth. And he loved to use it on you. You let the memory of that night wash over you…

Washington, D.C. 6 months ago

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear. 

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift the hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. 

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.” 

~~~

Pike stands behind you in the elevator in case you happen upon anybody else working late at the office. The odds are low, except for the contracted private security officers, but you didn’t think they’d want to see Pike’s hardon either. He’s so close, he’s almost pressed against your back while caressing a palm over your ass. You try to keep a straight face, but are practically panting through parted lips.

“You’ve been wanting this for a long time, haven’t you?” Marcus asks, his voice low in your ear as he leans over to push the button for the correct floor. His tone is almost conversational, but you can feel the thread of excitement pulling taut between your bodies. He’d been teasing you with the idea of fucking you in the art squad’s evidence locker for months now, going into great detail about what he was going to do to you – you only had to ask. 

You nod silently in response as the elevator doors close, and Pike grips your waist, grinding his erection into your lower back. “Yes,” your breath huffs out. He likes you to use your words, and strokes your arm with an approving hum. 

“Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Your nipples harden at his words and your breath comes out shakily. 

Marcus was the first person you’d ever been with to call you a good girl. You never thought you’d be into the kind of gentle dominance and steady stream of praise Marcus employed with you, but it made all the right synapses fire in your brain and took the experience to an entirely different level. 

You nod again, playing the game, knowing what he wants to hear.

Marcus’ hand splays across your lower belly, the other sweeping gently across your throat and brushing your hair away from your face. He’s pressing into you, the energy coming off him in waves, leaving you feeling heady. 

“Say it for me.” It’s spoken softly, coaxing, but still an unmistakable command. 

“I’ll be a good girl for you.” Your voice has the slightest waver, but ends strong.

Marcus’ hand on your belly inches lower and heat radiates between your thighs. “I know you will.”

The doors of the elevator open with a ding that makes you jump, and Marcus moves back with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Gently, he guides you with a hand between your shoulder blades. You’re on one of the underground levels, where the low ceilings and fluorescent lights are stark reminders that you’re both still in a government building and cameras are watching your every move. 

A security guard rounds a corner and Marcus clears his throat, then moves to button his suit jacket, presumably to hide his erection. How he manages to walk with that thing when it’s hard, you’ll never know. 

The guard waves amiably. “Good evening, Agent Pike. What’re you still doing here so late?” Of course Pike knows the guard; probably knows his kids’ names too. 

“Just had something to finish off first.” Biting your tongue to keep from laughing, the two of you pass the guard. “Oh yeah, tell Rosie good luck at her big match this weekend.” You nearly snort. The men share a brief handshake and you and Marcus round the corner, the door to the evidence lockup just ahead.

The two of you share a heated look and Marcus smirks. He swipes his badge and the door unlocks with a small snick. You’re guided inside a dark room that could be the size of a storage closet for all you can see. Marcus flips one of the light switches, and sturdy floor-to-ceiling shelving units are illuminated on either side, hedging you in like a maze. So far, it looks like any other evidence room, except with mood lighting.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” you mutter, and Marcus chuckles. As he leads you along the shelves towards some unknown destination, long shadows from the meager overhead light throw the long rows and corners into darkness.

He takes your hand and explains, “The lighting, temperature, and humidity are all controlled by a central system. Same kind as in the National Gallery.” You nod, genuinely impressed. 

“You don’t keep all your evidence here, right?” The room was large, but most of the shelving space was taken up by various sized crates and archival boxes. Marcus shakes his head.

“Just the very valuable pieces that need to be kept under special conditions. Any other evidence is kept in a regular lockup.” Marcus stops and you come up short, nearly colliding with his broad back. “Oh,” you breathe, peering around him and knowing this is what he wanted to show you.

The maze of shelving units opens up onto what looks like a miniature museum exhibit. Paintings are hung on the walls or staged on easels and covered with drop cloths. Sculptures are on pedestals in glass cases along one wall, and to your right are a few chairs next to an expansive table. 

Marcus approaches the paintings and proceeds to carefully remove the drop cloths from each work of art. They vary in style, color, expression, and movement. Some of them are encased in elaborate frames, while others are plain, or bare. Now this is what you’d hoped for after all these months hearing Marcus speak of this place in near reverent tones. This evidence lockup could rival most well-funded galleries and museums. 

“Are these all forgeries?” You take a step closer to the nearest painting and inspect it – for what, you’re not sure. “Stolen?” 

“A bit of both.” Marcus sidles up behind you. Your voices remain hushed, private, intimate.

Hands casually in his pockets, he takes you on a tour of the evidence on display, telling you a bit about each piece – what made the art valuable enough to forge or steal, and a few particulars about each case. He is in his element here, the picture of quiet confidence. Passion laces his every word and brings a spark to his eyes that you’d only seen a few times before when you were about to crack a case.

You have never felt more attracted to him.

Coming up to the last painting, you cock your head to the side and give it a quizzical stare. It’s abstract, composed of a muted yet warm palette. The paint is blended with no discernable lines or shapes.

“What is it?” you ask, looking up in time to see Marcus’ dimple appear next to his gentle smile. 

“What do you see?” Marcus steps behind you again, and runs the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.

“I… I’m not sure. What am I supposed to see?” The texture of the paint is layered in some spaces, and there’s almost an ethereal glow emanating from its contrast of light and dark. You feel a bit embarrassed and uncultured. Maybe if you squint or let your vision blur, like it’s one of those magic eye puzzles that give you headaches.

“What I love about abstract art is that there’s no right or wrong answer. I hated it until we studied it in school. I always thought I was missing something, and got frustrated that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.” 

You let out a soft hmm of agreement, but are distracted by Marcus’ voice, hot on your ear, lips close enough to graze the sensitive shell. “It was this quote by an artist, Arshile Gorky, that helped me appreciate it more. To paraphrase, abstraction frees the mind and allows it to explore the unknown. Whatever you see is what you’re meant to see.”

You let your mind rest on his words, buzzing from the energy between you. With a smirk, you say, “I bet you got laid a lot in school.” 

Marcus gives a surprised chuckle. “I did alright,” he admits, and you hear the grin in his voice.

Turning to face him, you run your hands up his chest and under the lapels of his jacket to his shoulders. Marcus sighs, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. That spark in his eye is trained on you now, his pupils blown while they skate over your face under hooded lids. 

“What’s next on the tour?” Your voice comes out a bit hoarse, his gaze almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

Marcus smiles, somewhat mischievously. “Just one more thing. C’mon,” he takes your hand and starts leading you to the large table and chairs. “I think you’re going to like this part.” 

Leaving you at the edge of the table, Marcus goes to one of the nearby shelves and pulls out a large cardboard envelope from a box, nearly the size of one of the paintings. With the flip of a switch, the entire surface of the table illuminates, humming gently from the internal fan. He pulls out what looks to be a sheet of dark plastic film and lays it on top of the table, revealing an x-ray image.

Marcus’ face is like a kid’s on Christmas morning. “This is an x-ray of that painting over here,” he points to the abstract work you’d been standing at a moment before. The x-ray on the table is a ghostly, black-and-white rendering of the muted swaths of paint. “And here,” he lays a second image down on the table, “is another x-ray taken of the same painting at different settings.” 

You nearly gasp. It’s virtually a different image entirely. The abstract painting has been reduced to a haze, overlaying a distinct pastoral landscape. Leaning over the table for a closer look, you feel a pleasantly warm glow on your face from the lit surface. “What the…” Your eyes snap back to Marcus’ face, which is lit up with what you can only describe as glee. 

“So you like it?” His eyes are sparkling and that dimple you love so much has reappeared. “‘Like it?’” You scoff. “I love it, Marcus, this is incredible. But…” you gesture at the images, “What exactly does that mean in terms of evidence?” Marcus comes around to your side of the table.

“The first one is a radiographic image of that painting we looked at, which could have told us if there were any traces of minerals or other elements within the paint used. Modern paint pigments are synthetic,” Marcus pulls the first image closer and gestures to the different shades of gray. “But–” he slides the second image next to the first, with its outlines of rolling hills and fluffy clouds, “Historically, heavy metals were frequently used, like lead and cobalt.” 

Nodding along with the lesson, you put two and two together. “So the heavy metals in old paint would show through on an x-ray, even if somebody has painted over it.” Marcus is beaming at you, clearly happy that you made the connection. 

“Exactly. And then the synthetic paint could be removed later.” Turning to face you, he rests a hip on the edge of the table. The surface light casts dramatic shadows across the contours of his jaw and nose. You mirror his body language and reach out to poke him playfully in the chest. 

“No fair; the FBI gets all the fun toys.” The cool satin of his tie slips deftly between your fingers, and you give it a gentle tug. His gaze is alert and hungry as he takes a step closer, and you can feel your body responding to his proximity once again. Marcus trails a finger across your clavicle that sends a chill down your spine and tingles straight to your nipples. 

“Yeah, but if you ask nicely, maybe I’ll share.” Threading his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, he pulls gently but purposefully until your head tilts back and you’re forced to meet his eyes. A shuddering breath escapes your parted lips. Marcus leans in and grazes his lips against yours, barely a whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces the sensitive inner edge of your top lip and you nearly let out a whimper.

“Go on, then. Ask me.” He nips at your bottom lip. “Nicely.”

“Please,” you breathe. Marcus’ arm encircles your waist, while the hand in your hair grips a bit tighter. He uses a tight hold on your ass to grind you against the firm thigh he places between your own. Your hands grasp desperately onto his shoulders as your knees feel like they’re about to buckle from the delicious pressure. 

“‘Please’ what?” Marcus prompts gently. You’re pressing back against his thigh now, too lost in the sensation to respond. He withdraws it suddenly and you’re left clenching, all too aware of how badly you need that pressure back. 

“‘Please’ what?” He repeats, more firmly this time. 

“Please, Sir.” You correct yourself quickly, and are rewarded with Marcus’ lips against yours and the blessed return of his thigh. He’s a man possessed, and you whimper into his mouth as his tongue licks inside. The next thing you know, he’s got you sandwiched between the table and his thigh now, your skirt hiked up, juices leaking through your panties as you ride the firm muscles of his leg. 

“Look at you, just beautiful. You’re so hot like this, I love seeing you lose yourself. Does that feel good? Hm?” Marcus presses his hard cock into your hip and groans. “Jesus, I can feel how fucking wet you are through my pants. Are you going to leave your pussy juices on me, so anybody we walk past can see what a good girl you are for me?” 

Your eyes are squeezed shut tight, arms gripping to Marcus for dear life as you continue rutting against him, breath becoming ragged. The friction and pressure are almost too much, you’ll practically give yourself rug burn at this rate. But the onslaught of Marcus’ filthy praise in your ear, his hot, steamy breath against your neck, his tongue on your pulse point – you’re already careening out of control and he knows it.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” Nodding, wordless, you scramble to hold onto him as Marcus scoops up one of your thighs and hooks it over his hip with a grunt. “Then you better ask first.” 

“P-please,” you gasp out, “Please, Sir. Please can I cum?” You’re on the precipice, Marcus’ cock almost painfully hard in your hip. 

You gasp when he pulls his thigh away, eyes flying open in shock. “Not yet, sweet girl, hold on for me just a little bit longer. You’re going to cum on my tongue first.” Before you have a chance to protest, Marcus hoists you up fully onto the edge of the light table and pulls up a chair to feast on you. 

You’re immediately aware of the warmth the lit surface of the table infuses into every part of your body it’s touching. The table itself feels sturdy and solid beneath you, but you can’t fight an initial moment of panic. “Um, Marcus…I don’t know if–” It’s a struggle to concentrate as Marcus noses at your clothed pussy. A gentle double tap to the crown of his head is all the signal he needs to check in.

“You okay? Do you want to stop?” Marcus’ face is flushed, but his eyes are clear and laser focused on you. 

“Is this, uh…safe?” You rap gently on the table with a forced air of nonchalance. 

Marcus smiles and strokes the outside of your hip and thigh with his hand. “Totally safe. I triple-checked the specs and tested it out already.” 

You lift an amused eyebrow at that. “Tested it out?”

Marcus’ eyes go round at the implication, his dominant persona dropped. “Not like that! I mean I stacked a shitload of evidence boxes on it and did a– well, ah– a simulation, I guess you could call it.” His self-effacing chuckle is endearing.  He always knows how to make you feel safe and secure during your more adventurous times together. You smile and stroke his hair as he rubs his cheek against your inner thigh, the rasp of his five o’clock shadow sending shockwaves to your pussy.

“I’m very interested in finding out more about this simulation…Sir.” His honorific on your lips is your signal that you’re ready to continue and his grin turns wolfish. With a playful, smacking kiss to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, Marcus slips his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Bracing your calves on his broad shoulders, you lift your ass a little to help Marcus slide the panties the rest of the way off. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart.” Gently, he applies pressure to your knees until you’re completely spread out before him. You might be a little embarrassed being on display if you didn’t know how much he loved you like this: open, vulnerable, and completely at his mercy. The expression on Marcus’ face is practically one of reverence. 

“This is exactly why I wanted to bring you here,” Marcus places open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, sucking and nibbling his way to your center. It’s difficult not to squirm, he’s got you feeling antsy and impatient. “I wanted to see you lit up and on exhibit for me, like the work of art you are.”

You must be quite a sight to behold with the bright light of the table shining from beneath you. To drive his point home, Marcus dips his tongue to your core and collects your gathering slick on his tongue, spreading it and his saliva up to your clit in a broad swipe. Riding his thigh earlier has left you swollen and sensitive; your back arches off the table and you gasp at the sudden contact. 

Marcus holds you open with one hand so his tongue can more freely explore the full length of your slit, while the other alternates between massaging your breasts and rolling a peaked nipple through your blouse. Desperate for more, you unbutton your top enough to pull the cups of your bra down and leave yourself exposed to Marcus’ roaming fingers. 

Your whimpers and shuddering breaths combine with the sounds of Marcus lapping at your seeping cunt. His nose bumps against your engorged clit and you gasp, hips spasming. The hand on your breast disappears, and a finger gently nudges your entrance. 

“I’m going to get you ready for my cock, baby. Are you ready?” You nod wordlessly, and Marcus eases a digit inside you, watching your expression. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re so good, so wet. So tight, fuck.” 

Marcus laves his tongue over your clit and you clench around his finger. “Mmm, you’re going to take me so good, aren’t you?” Soon, he adds a second, working it rhythmically in and out, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit until you’re panting.

The wet noises made by Marcus’ fingers inside you are practically obscene. When he crooks them at just the right spot, you lose all sense and writhe against him. You can hear a question in his inflection, but the twist and pull of his fingers are distracting, to say the least. He’s leaning over you now, the heel of his palm applying pressure over your clit to replace his mouth. 

“You’re doing so well, I know you can do it. You just need to ask me first.” His fingers inside you are relentless, and you can feel the pressure building inside, pulling taut like a rubber band about to snap. Marcus can tell how close you are and stops with his two fingers buried deep inside and applies his other hand to each side of your neck with just enough pressure to get your attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart, focus for me, otherwise I’ll have to stop.” His fingers are barely moving inside of you, just enough to keep you right on the edge. “You know what to do.”

A sob practically escapes your throat. “Please, Sir. I need to cum. Please can I? I want to be good for you.” It’s impossible to keep the pleading from your tone, you’re so close. Your hips are gyrating of their own accord, feebly fucking yourself on his fingers.

Marcus moves his hand off your throat to cup the side of your face and tangle his fingers in your hair. “Mm, do it. Be my good girl and cum.” Marcus leans down for a final taste where you’re stretched around his curling fingers, then settles his lips around your clit. With a cry, you break and see stars behind your eyelids as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Fuck yes, that’s my good girl. So beautiful like this, so perfect. I can feel you dripping into my hand, baby, you’re so wet. Did that feel good? Is that what you needed?” Marcus praises you through it all, stroking your neck, your breasts, peppering kisses over your mound and belly. His fingers retreat, leaving you fluttering in aftershocks, and you watch him lick your cum from his palm and fingers.

“Thank you for being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I had to taste you at least one more time before you leave...” Reality falls over the room like a weighted blanket, and you let your engaged muscles go slack against the lit surface of the table, suddenly harsh and blinding. You feel exposed instead of exhibited and you squeeze your thighs together as the final flutters of your orgasm subside.

“Hey, come back to me,” you hear Marcus murmur, and feel him turn your face to meet his. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you taste your tang on his plump bottom lip. He presses his forehead against yours and you share a couple of breaths. 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Additional Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! There is plenty more to come (had to). I'd love to know what you thought -- any and all feedback is welcome! I just want to become a better writer. :)

Chapter 3 || SeñoraBond's Masterlist

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'tis the damn season - part 4

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Gen/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning/tags: 18+ MDNI!, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, body worship, hurt w/ comfort, fluff

Word Count: 4.6k

Tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @midnight-eternals @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants, @sammyjoeee

If you would like to be added to my tag list for this series or my other works, please sign up here.

Author’s Note: This part took longer than I had anticipated due to some personal issues, but hopefully this was worth the wait! I'm certainly proud of this part. Thank you to @deathblacksmoke for editing this and helping me rewrite parts that I was unsure about. Thank you to @concretenoah for helping me brainstorm and letting me bounce ideas off of you. Love you both sm 🤍.

A loud knock at the front door scares Gen awake. She sits up abruptly, holding onto her head as the pounding begins. She looks over at the coffee table and eyes the empty whiskey bottle, remembering the night before. Once Will left she downed the rest of the bottle to numb the pain and anger. Soon after, she passed out on the couch, whispering his name over and over. 

She groans when she hears another loud knock, scooting off the couch and heading towards the door. The knocks become louder and more frequent the closer she gets. 

“I’m coming. I’m coming!” she grumbles, flinging the door open. She immediately holds her hand up over her eyes as the sun blinds her, her head now pounding even harder. A tall figure steps in the ray of light currently burning her retinas, blocking it from her view. She silently thanks them.

Once Gen’s vision returns to normal, she recognizes the tall figure as Mr. Shaw. He was dressed much more casually from their initial encounter — a thick black sweater, jeans, and sneakers. He surveys Gen’s appearance and she’s suddenly very self conscious as she realizes she probably looks like a complete mess.

“Good Morning, Ms. Taylor.” He flashes his thousand watt smile at her. She smiles back.

“Good Morning, Mr. Shaw. Would you like to come in?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. I just came to make sure the rental company dropped this dumpster off.” He turns and points to a gigantic blue dumpster sitting at the curb. “I figured it would make cleanup easier.” 

“That’s very kind. You didn’t have to do that though.” 

Mr. Shaw waves her off. “Don’t get too excited. I used money from your inheritance to pay for it.” 

Gen raises her eyebrows in amusement, and he laughs at her. “You steal my money and you don’t even stick around to help me out.” Gen teases. “You really are a great lawyer!”

He laughs louder this time. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”

She laughs with him and leans against the doorway. “Jokes aside, thank you for all your help.” 

“It’s not a problem. If you need anything else, give me a call.” He walks to his car and leaves. 

Gen falls back on the couch and huffs. After a half gallon of water, some greasy food from the gas station and a few tylenol she decided to take on the house. Six hours later she has barely made a dent in all of the clutter. The entire kitchen is clean at least so she accepts the small victory. 

She has spent all day staying busy to keep him out of her head but as soon as she sits down and is alone with her thoughts, he is there. The way his face contorted at her words, his lips on hers, the final words he spoke to her as he slammed the door. All of it comes back in a flash and suddenly her head is pounding again. She pushes her palms into her eyes and curses loudly.

Gen eyes her phone. You can’t call him. You don’t know his number. She thinks to herself. Is she really going to be that much of a coward and apologize over the phone? She wanted to avoid this situation all together but her heart was beating her brain into submission. What did everyone always call her? Bullheaded? Obstinate? 

Stubborn.

She snatches her phone and dials the only number she remembers. It rings a few times and a woman speaking a language she doesn't understand answers. Gen hangs up quickly and drops her phone in her lap. Well that idea didn’t work. 

With no idea how to get in touch with him and no way of knowing where he lives now, Gen was out of options. Her phone pings in her lap and she looks down. An Instagram notification from Natalie sits on her home screen and Gen mentally chides herself. The solution is obvious. Stalk him on social media like a normal person.

Will’s Instagram is easy enough to find. He was verified now and had amassed a lot of followers. As she scrolls through his account, It doesn’t take long for her to find a photo of him with a woman hanging off of him. She scrolls past quickly, ignoring the way her heart sinks. The rest of his account is full of photos with his band, his car, and his cats. And a few more women. 

“You can’t expect him to be alone for the rest of his life just because you plan to be.” She whispers to herself tauntingly. She immediately groans at her own words. Could she be more insufferable? 

A video he posted two days ago catches her eye and she clicks on it. Will is standing outside in the snow. She’s so focused on his face she doesn’t even pay attention to what he’s saying. He flips the camera around to show his cats standing behind a familiar glass patio door and her mouth drops open. 

No fucking way.

The apartment building looks mostly the same as it did when Gen left, save for a fresh coat of paint and a few repairs to the outside. She stares at the door. Will’s car was right next to hers so she knows he’s home. That knowledge makes her nerves even worse.

She lays her head on the steering wheel and howls in frustration. Her head makes light repeated contact with the steering wheel as she hopes for some form of higher power to smite her now so she didn’t have to do this. 

Bullheaded.

Obstinate.

Stubborn.

Once again, her heart beats her brain into submission. She sighs and gets out of the car. As she approaches the front door, Gen reaches for the knob but pulls her hand back quickly because the door is already opening. She hears laughter, Will’s and someone she doesn’t recognize. A female appears and almost runs into her. 

“Oh!” The woman exclaims. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you.” She laughs nervously and adjusts the bag on her shoulder. She’s pretty. Blonde, slender, and slightly shorter than Gen. Her bright blue eyes are accentuated by her long eyelashes. She has plugs and multiple facial piercings. There were no visible tattoos from Gen’s quick once over but winter isn’t exactly the best time to show them off. 

Gen holds her hands up. “No need to be sorry. I was the one just standing here.” 

“Viv? What are you doing here?” Will steps into view behind the blonde. His voice is honeyed for the sake of company, but his expression gives away his annoyance. 

As they both stare at Gen her mind goes blank. What is she doing here? She isn’t going to say it in front of this woman. It isn’t any of her business. Besides, Gen doesn’t even know who she is. She could be his girlfriend for all she knew. Gen ignores the queasy feeling in her stomach at the thought. 

“I- um…” She starts. Will cocks an eyebrow in anticipation and his friend gives her an awkward smile. Gen flounders for a few more seconds but luckily the woman has mercy on her. 

“Ya know, I was just leaving! I will leave you both to it. See you later, Will?”

Will stares at Gen for a moment longer then clears his throat. “Yeah, see you.” He gives her a soft smile and waves goodbye. 

He returns his gaze back to Gen, this time it’s a little softer. He steps out of the doorway and silently invites her in. She holds her breath as she walks past him but it’s forced out of her quickly once she’s inside. Everything was almost exactly the same as it was when she left. 

Gen feels something rub against her leg and a soft meow follows. She looks down to see a tan and black cat with white socks staring up at her, circling between her legs. She squats downs to pet it, cooing as it meows back at her. 

“This is Bobbi.” Will says crouching down next to her. 

“Hi Bobbi.” Gen says, planting a kiss on the top of the cat’s head. She looks back at Will and he smiles softly. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on something and he rolls them. “And that loaf,” he points to her left, “would be Dusti.” 

Lying in a basket attached to the window sill is a black cat completely unfazed by the new guest in the home. Gen walks over and scratches Dusti’s head, chuckling as he rolls over and bats at her hand playfully. 

“What are you doing here, Vivvy?” Will asks. He’s leaning against the back of the couch now, fidgeting with his hands. His curls were out of his face for once, secured in a bun with a spiral hair tie. The look he gives her, likely without even meaning to, gives her goosebumps and causes her cheeks to heat. 

“I need to apologize about last night.”

He takes a deep breath and considers her for a moment. Gen can see he’s chewing on the inside of his lip. He looks down at his hands and adjusts the bracelet on his wrist. 

“No, you don’t.” He looks up, eyes boring into hers. “It’s me who needs to apologize.” Gen stares at him in disbelief. She had said such horrible things to him and he’s apologizing instead?

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” She questions.

“I’ve been a dick since you got here, Viv. All I’ve done is complain about you leaving and throw it in your face when I’m the reason you left in the first place. You’ve made this wonderful life for yourself. You made your dreams come true. I’m so fucking proud of you, Vivvy. You were right. If you had stayed you would have fucking suffocated here with me.” 

“Will, I-“ Gen starts but he puts a hand up to stop her.

“If I had been a better boyfriend… If I had just been honest with you in the first place then none of this would have happened. Maybe we would still be together and… L.A. would be our home.”

“What are you talking about?” Gen says as she walks closer to him. Will sighs and runs his hands over his face. 

“When you first told me that you wanted to go to New York, I was really excited for you,” Will starts, fidgeting with the skin of his fingers. “I knew how badly you wanted to get out of here, and how much you loved your job. I would have gone anywhere for you,” he admits. Surprised by the confession, Gen watches as tears begin to well up in his eyes. “I told my friends because I thought they would be excited too, but they all said how it was a terrible idea,” Will continues, face twisting uneasily at the memories. “They said you would be working with these big artists and producers, and you’d get so caught up in the music industry that you’d forget about me,” Gen’s heart sinks, she wouldn’t have, but she can’t exactly blame him, either. “I couldn’t let that happen, so I freaked out and refused to let you go. I should have talked to you,” The shame is clear, gnawing at him. He’s been sitting with this, alone, for so long. “I was selfish and thought I could keep you here with me, but I lost you anyway.”

Gen is left speechless at his confession. The more it sunk in, the more it made sense. He would never give her a straight answer even when she begged him to tell her why he wouldn’t go. This whole time he was scared she would leave him for someone else?

“If you were so afraid of me leaving you then why did you just let me go? Why didn’t you tell me the truth then?”

Gen watches as he shifts uncomfortably. A tear rolls down his cheek and he’s quick to wipe it away. 

“You made it clear you were going with or without me. I was heartbroken and angry.” Will closes his eyes, the memory becoming too much to bear. “When you left and never came back it just confirmed my fear. You forgot about me.”

His words punch her in the stomach, forcing all of the air out of her lungs. They’ve known each other since they were kids. They started dating at thirteen. He was her first boyfriend, her first kiss, her first everything. They made plans to spend the rest of their lives together. How could he possibly think that she could forget him?

It dawns on her that for him, the situation was reversed. All of this time she had spent thinking he didn’t care, that he had forgotten about her. When in reality, he thought the exact same thing. She was his first for everything too. How could she think he could forget about her? 

Suddenly, the photos of all of the women on his instagram and the woman at the door crosses her mind. Her heart starts to race and jealousy crashes into her. She knew it was irrational. He had every right to pursue other relationships but did he really have the audacity to be upset with her and accuse her of forgetting about him when he so clearly had no problem replacing her?

“I forgot about you?” Gen challenges, scoffing. “From the looks of things you had no problem forgetting about me. It seems I was easily replaceable.”

Will’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen your instagram. You haven’t been shy about posting your girlfriends.” Gen watches as he leans forward, like he’s making sure he’s hearing her correctly. “You haven’t posted the pretty blonde that just left yet, though. Is she brand new or just not special enough?” 

Will remains silent for a moment. He watches her, his jaw clenched, lips pressed into a straight line. “The blonde you are referring to is Austin’s girlfriend. He’s the drummer for Lorna.” Gen’s stomach drops as she realizes her mistake. “She came by to pick up some stuff he left here on her way home from work. So, no, I’m not fucking her.”

He takes a deep breath and stands up, walking towards her. Peering down at her, he speaks calmly. 

“Even if I was, I don’t owe you an explanation for how I choose to cope with losing you. It took me over a year to even look at someone else.” Gen begins to feel sick, overwhelmed. She backs up, but he follows her. “When I finally touched another woman it damn near killed me but I wasn’t going to put my life on hold knowing you had moved on with your life.” 

“Will, You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” Gen snarls, shoving her finger into his chest. “When we broke up every shred of belief I had in true love dissolved into thin air. I’ve spent the last eight years alone or having meaningless sex because what was the fucking point if it wasn’t you?” 

Will’s face falls, the shame evident. He reaches for her but she recoils and turns away. She sits in the chair by the window and wraps her arms around her legs. Will wrings his hands and sits down. He fucked up again. How does he keep doing this? 

They sit on opposite sides of the room in silence for what seems like hours. Gen focuses on the snow falling outside, crying silently. Will sits on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands. The guilt and grief in the room is so palpable they can’t even look at each other. Will decides he can’t take the silence anymore. He sits up straight and looks at her.

“Viv?”

Gen folds in on herself as soon as she hears her name. He sees the sobs wracking her body and his heart aches. He was sick of the fights, the hurt. All he wants now is to fix things for good this time.

“Viv.” He repeats softly. “Will you come here to me, please?” 

Her sobs continue and his instinct is to walk over and take her in his arms, but he doesn’t. From her body language alone she was on the verge of a meltdown and he knew better than to touch her without her permission. Despite this, he couldn’t let her sit there all alone. Besides, he would be lying if he said he couldn’t use some comfort of his own.

“Vivvy…please?” Will begs, his voice cracking. “I need you.” Gen stiffens, her sobs turn to quiet sniffles. She shifts and for a moment he thinks she’s going to get up but instead she just repositions herself. Will sighs dejectedly and places his head back in his hands. 

A few moments later, he hears soft footsteps followed by the feeling of a warm hand resting in the juncture between his neck and shoulders. Will looks up to see her standing in front of him, her face flush from crying. 

She studies him, her other hand coming to rest on his opposite shoulder. Her fingers absentmindedly dip underneath the collar of his shirt. She rubs circles into the muscles of his back, a calming tactic she picked up years ago. Will exhales and drops his head forward. He begins to reach for her but stops.

“Can I touch you?” He requests. He tries his best to keep it from sounding like he’s begging. Gen nods but he isn’t satisfied. “You know I need your words, honey.” Tears brim in her eyes and as soon as the soft “yes” passes her lips he wraps his arms around her waist, burying his head in her stomach. 

Gen wraps her arms around his neck, and Will opens his legs to allow her to step in between them pulling her even closer. She feels his body shake as he weeps and she gently shushes him and scratches his scalp.

“I’m so sorry, Will.” She utters. “For everything.”

Will shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is all my fault and I’ve been treating you like it’s yours. If it wasn’t for me, none of this would have happened.” He places a single kiss on her clothed stomach right above her belly button and looks up at her. She runs her hand along the side of his face. “I guess we both made some mistakes, huh?” 

Will agrees and swallows harshly. He plays with the hem of her shirt, his fingers lightly caress her bare skin. “Let me make it up to you?” Gen’s heart pounds in her chest at his words, her own proving to be difficult. An “okay” is all she can manage but that’s good enough for him.

Will takes both hands and places them under her shirt, pushing it up slightly. He peppers the soft flesh of her stomach with soft kisses, his thumb lightly rubbing against her hip bone. He dips his thumb in the waistband of her jeans and looks up. She nods and he pops the button open, sliding them down her legs and helping her out of them. 

Will places his hands on either side of her thighs and squeezes. He takes in the sight of her, the plush hips and thighs that he loved worshiping. The dark spot that forms on the red lace panties she wears makes him lick his lips. Will pulls her closer to him and kisses her hips, the top of her thighs, her clothed pussy, anywhere he could reach. He inhales her scent and his cock twitches in his jeans.

He grabs her leg and hikes it up over his shoulder, making sure she holds onto his other shoulder for purchase. He pushes her panties to the side and runs a finger through her folds. They both gasp at the same time, Gen from the feeling and Will from how wet she was already. He gently presses a finger inside her and watches as her head falls back, moaning quietly. 

Will continues to watch her savoring the moment until she squeezes his shoulder and whines. “What do you need, baby?” He coos. “M-more.” She stutters, rolling her hips into his finger. Will smiles and kisses her thigh. He slides another finger in and she keens. 

He continues to kiss up and down her thigh, leaving soft nibbles as he goes. This was all about her but the way her slick was running down his hands made his eyes darken. It had been so long since he tasted her. He stares at her pussy as he fingers her, attaching his mouth to her thigh and sucking on the flesh as he’d suck on her clit.

Gen looks down at Will, his eyes rolling back into his head, and she nearly cums just from watching him. She grabs him by the hair and gently pulls him away from her thigh. “If you want to taste me, just ask.” 

“Can I?” Will pants. “Please?” Gen nods and he lunges forward, licking through her folds. He closes his lips around her clit and sucks. She shudders and grips his hair tighter, grinding against his face. Will moans into her, bucking his hips. He desperately wants to free himself from his jeans but his hands currently have a more important purpose.

Will is ravenous as he devours her, his fingers digging into flesh of her thigh. He feels her clench around his fingers and the arm he was using to hold her steady wraps around her waist, pulling her tight against his face. Legs shaking as she cums, Gen cries out Will’s name. Her release gushes over his face and down his arms. 

He doesn’t waste a single drop. 

Will barely gives Gen a moment to breathe before he’s picking her up and toting her to his bedroom. He lays her on the bed and makes quick work of removing his clothes. When he turns his attention back to her, the way she looks makes him stop in his tracks. 

She’s fully naked now, propped against his pillows. One hand is playing with her hair while the other draws lazy patterns on her stomach. He follows the curve of her breasts and he swears there has never been a woman more perfect than her. Their eyes meet and something akin to embarrassment settles in them as she attempts to cover her body. 

Will frowns and crawls next to her. “Hey.” He says, placing his hand over hers. Gen peers at him from the corner of her eyes, then down at their hands. “Please don’t hide from me.”

“I don’t look the same as I did before.” She laments. Will removes his hand from hers and cups her cheek. “No, baby.” He kisses her temple gently. When she leans into his touch he continues, leaving a trail down her face and along her jaw. “You’re even more beautiful now. Let me show you.” 

Gen lets him move her hands away. Will hovers over her and leaves soft kisses on her neck. He palms her breasts, drawing her nipple into his mouth. When his tongue swirls around and he bites down, she gasps and arches into his touch. 

“You’re perfect.” Will whispers as he leaves open mouthed kisses between her breasts. “You’re soft. And warm.” He punctuates each compliment with a kiss to her belly. He kisses and nibbles his way back to her lips.  “And you’re even more beautiful than the day I met you.” 

Their mouths meet in a deep, heated kiss. Will swipes his tongue on her bottom lip and her lips part inviting him in. Gen feels his hard cock press against her core and she squirms beneath him, desperate for friction. Will moans into her mouth and hooks his arm under her leg, using the other to push himself up on his knees. 

Will strokes his cock and places the tip against her slit, rubbing it against her and collecting her slick. He lines himself up with her entrance but looks up first. “Is this okay?” He breathes. She nods. “Mhmm.” He pushes in slowly. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut at how good she feels.

The feeling of him stretching her out makes Gen dizzy. She grabs ahold of his shoulder and he turns his head to kiss her hand, continuing to slowly pump inside her. As he bottoms out she takes a deep breath and rolls her hips into his, a silent plea for more. Will groans as he begins to thrust into her harder. 

Every single inch of him consumes her. Will grips her hips tight, biting his lip. His eyes focus on where they’re connected and he slams into her even harder. She cries out, clinging to him and scratching his arms. He dips his head down to kiss her and she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. The kiss is messy and desperate. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Will moans against her lips. Tears form in her eyes. She isn’t sure if it’s from Will’s admission or because he feels so god damn good. All she knows is that she hasn’t allowed herself to feel like this, to feel satisfied, in ages. She has punished herself for years and she decided she was done. It was time to surrender and take everything this man was willing to give.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Will doesn’t miss the crack in her voice as she says it. He kisses her fervently and sneaks his hands between them, massaging her clit with the pads of his fingers. “Want you— fuck,” He pants. “..need you to cum for me, Vivvy.”

The moans and cries that flow from Gen’s mouth as she climaxes are music to Will’s ears. He watches her face twist in pleasure and rubs his hands up and down her thighs as they shake. Her pussy clenches around him and he knows he’s not far behind. 

Will takes both of her hands and places them above her head. Instinctively, Gen wraps her legs around him and pushes him in deeper. He grinds into her and pulls all the way out, then slams back in. He repeats this a few more times and picks up his pace. Both of their moans fill the room. Will buries his face in Gen’s neck, sucking on the flesh as his orgasm approaches quickly. 

Gen can feel his thrusts get sloppy and by his whining pants in her ear, she knows he’s about to cum. The barrier breaks as she raises her hips to meet his. He cries out and sinks his teeth into the flesh of her neck, grunting and groaning as he stills inside her. She can feel the muscles of his stomach tense as he collapses on top of her. 

Will releases her hands and she scratches her nails up and down his back. He brings his hand to the top of her head and plays with her hair, the other caressing her cheek. She smiles and strains her neck to look at him, kissing the vein on the side of his head. 

“Are you just going to stay there forever?” She questions, poking him in the side. 

“Hmm.. don’t tempt me.” He mumbles into her neck and she laughs. She pokes him again and he squirms but doesn’t budge. “Willllll!” Gen whines playfully. “You’re suffocating me and I have to pee.” 

Will pops up suddenly. “Fine! I will let you up. On one condition.” 

Gen narrows her eyes at him and smiles. “And what is that?” 

“Will you stay here with me tonight?” 

part five

[sungbeam]

spread some love !

talk about your favourite mutuals and why you like them

hi anon! thanks for sending this in :') im always so bad at posting these things, but i can def do this one. i don't know if i would classify them specifically as favorites, but more so people i've interacted with the most 😭

@justalildumpling : i don't even need to go on besides saying that this woman is my soulmate. "in another life" but we're gonna beat the universe and meet in every life, type of connection. the girl who has seen me at my worst and has still treated me with as much kindness and compassion and care as she did the first time. i feel like in certain ways, we're kind of polar opposites, but also the same? i mean, on paper we can be so different, but when we talk abt what we like and dislike, when we laugh together, it all becomes something of the same and she restores my faith in other people again. she's the person who constantly makes me want to be a better person.

@ethereal-engene : one of my two beloved 姐姐's on this site skfnrknf but i remember talking to ash so many nights abt just any and everything. i am so happy that we're comfortable enough to be able to joke around, share our niche interests, have deep conversations, and even pen pal!! like i think it's crazy how SIMILAR our families are; we could legitimately be long lost sisters haha but also the blood of the covenant runs thicker than the water of the womb sometimes, so that makes sense. she's one of my comfort people, and honestly, i feel like we both come out of nowhere with some topics, but either person will hop right into the convo regardless and just vibe 🤧

@winterchimez : my second 姐姐 on this site !! my older sisters def take care of me well and i am so grateful for that :')) ally is always so supportive and yet so energergizing to talk to. she's def seen a lot of my brainstorming and i feel very comfortable bouncing ideas off her. she's always so generous with me too, like care packages??? RAH 😭 obviously, i love her for reasons besides the material goods, but it's a love language nonetheless. ally is prob one of the warmest and most welcoming presences on this hellsite tbh, so if ur ever looking for a new friend/mutual, she's the best.

@loveliestfelix : nana is another reason why im still around. i like to thank that beomgyu drabble every day for kickstarting our friendship because i have never met someone i have had such lengthy and fun brainstorming sessions with. nana is the type of person i would love to meet irl and just share stories over coffee with, though i feel like i always associate her with train rides and coffee now HAHA she's also one of my greatest writing inspirations, like i was and have always been blown away by her mind, and her word counts. i love calling her the queen of angst, and you will never be disappointed when reading something of hers.

@jaehunnyy : chip's been here for a really long time, like guys, no one can compete when she's been here since i had park jisung as my pfp and she had jeno as hers 😭 i think i really treasure our friendship and how much it's grown over the past two years :')) so much has happened over that time, and i think that if i met her in real life, i would just be blown away by how pretty she is like TT anyways,, i always love talking to her because of how much chaotic energy we create when we do, like i feel like we can power an entire city grid with how much chaos we make, and it's all the better for it. i love her very much, and i hope she understands just how wonderful of a person and friend she is.

@mosviqu : oh, my beloved bar, i love u to bits and pieces. i think recently you've become one of the few reasons why im still here writing and posting. like i am so utterly, from the bottom of my heart, grateful for all of your support and the love you've given and shown me. and even when we moved to dms to converse, i just realized how cool you are as a person, and how similar we are (in the best way possible). it's really nice to be able to connect with a person on multiple levels, and im really happy that was the case with us :') as soon as i saw ur love for tomorrow by chanyeol, i knew there would be something more to our friendship. i am so very fond of you, and your writing blows me away every time i read it.

@zzoguri : moni :( i hope ur doing well, friend, and i know you haven't been active here lately but i do wish you all the best. i love how passionate and committed you are to improving in writing and developing your own creative writing style, and it's so impressive to read your writing in general :') i love the confidence you advocate for yourself, and how real you are. thanks so much for being a friend; i just really appreciate all the support and hype you've given me during my time on deobiblr, like thank you for being such a thoughtful person.

@wuahae : cat and i have definitely interacted more off this site than on this site, but i felt that it was dire she was included here nonetheless. like bro, thank you for literally being the reason i come out of my apartment (or in most cases, invite people to my apartment), and for thinking of me! i think i once told you how hard it is to find friends in college, but you've made my experience here far less lonely. i love getting dinner with you, planning outings, and making weird animal noises together on the streets 😭 also, cat's writing is literally so poetic, and just her explaining to me her plot ideas tears visceral reactions out of me TT

@yunhoszn : i feel like me and fawn are low-key on the same wavelength a lot of the times, but in general, i think fawn's just such a rad person. i've told her once or twice before but i genuinely love her writing style because it has so much personality in it. it just makes reading her fics such a fun and enjoyable experience. also even off this site, i have so much fun interacting with her, like just commenting on her instagram posts like the gremlin i am, i know she's gonna hit me with the best response back skfnkejd (waiting for the day i go to where u r so u can do my makeup low-key... ur so fly, pls do my makeup...)

@goldenhypen : em, my lovely twin :')) i know our interactions have def decreased, but i don't think that's decreased the fondness we hold for one another. i remember when em first started interacting with my works and then followed me, i literally rolled off the couch cuz i started fangirling 😭 and she is one of the most genuine and brightest presences here. she is a follow forever, bro, you better follow her forever. i just adore her compassion for others and her absolutely adorable fic concepts, and omg don't even get me started on her work ethic 😭 i wished u the best everyday you had requests, i don't know how u did it. you are literally superhuman.

@hqrana : i haven't spoken with noa in quite awhile, but im guessing it's cuz she's girlbossing her way through to that nursing program 🤧 my favorite woman in stem girl in this hellsite, she is my beloved xnonie 😭 i think i just appreciate noa's undeniable presence and character so much, like she brings so much energy to my inbox whenever she's here, and her support of my ideas and fics just makes me 🙇🏻‍♀️ like thank you for being here. and to know we both love marvel and taylor swift? i feel like she has to be like,, my best friend? like she needs to be my best friend?? sending hugs and well wishes your way, always.