#also if you have any song suggestions send them my way

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[prythianpages]

Dandelions | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

warnings: fluff/angst; some suggestiveness at the end (bonus scene)

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: but also my Azriel x witch reader series. I really adore this song and this was the only series I could apply it to. This can pretty much be read as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know is that reader is a witch and is an established relationship with Az.

**

In the quiet hush of morning, Azriel and Melaina find themselves at the breakfast table with sleep in their eyes. The floor is cloaked in their shadows, joining one another at their feet in a vast sea of darkness.

Yet, the dance of their shadows harbor distinct meanings.

Though he tries to hide it, your keen eyes pick up on the subtle poignant unease in Azriel's demeanor. An undercurrent of melancholy taints the air, prompting you to send a reassuring tug through your bond. Azriel returns the gesture, his hand finding yours across the table. Meanwhile, Melaina quietly finishes her breakfast. Her shadows, a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, betray her impassive appearance. Today is her first day of school, the precipice of a new chapter in her life, and Azriel can't help but grapple with the realization that his little girl is growing up far too quickly.

“All done, my pretty?” You ask softly, gaze alight with admiration as her small wings flutter behind her.

She’s the mirror image of her father with her captivating hazel eyes–a perfect blend of greens and browns that remind you of the nature you’re so fond of. Two braids cascade down her shoulders and delicate bangs accentuate her sun-kissed complexion. When she was born, you had joked that you had given birth to Azriel’s carbon copy and little did you know that even her personality would match his. 

Melaina nods and you rise, taking her plate to the kitchen sink. The corner of your lips lift up into a smile when you hear Azriel ask, “Are you sure you want to go to school? You can always start next year.”

“Mel is more than ready for school,” you lightly chide Azriel, who chooses to ignore your words of consolation. 

His gaze is fixed on Melaina, a plethora of scenarios plaguing his mind. He wishes he could see what’s really on her mind–to be able to foresee any worries she may have and ease her through them. The same way he’s eased her through every milestone of her life thus far. He was there when she took her first steps, when she first got hurt from tripping over a rug that he immediately disposed of after, when she said her first word–which much to your dismay was your cat’s name, Binx. 

But now, she was ready for school. Her first time being away from home without you or him or his brothers by her side. Her first time being on her own. What if the kids in her class don’t take well to her? To her shadows? He remembers the apprehensive looks he’d receive in Windhaven when growing up and the thought of anyone doing the same to her pains him. What if they are mean to her? What if they hurt her?

The obsidian tendrils at Azriel's side stir with an eerie melody, commanding Melaina's shadows to rise. They snap to attention like disciplined soldiers heeding orders. An unspoken promise unfolds—her shadows would help guide her and protect her from any lingering stare or slightest suspicion of malintent. They return to her side as she rises to her feet, tickling her sides and causing her to giggle.

 Azriel smiles and shares her laughter, capturing every minute of it, the feeling in it.

**

There’s that odd melancholy feeling again as he stands in front of the school with Melaina on one side and you on the other. He can’t help the frown that settles over his face when she wiggles her tiny hand out of his grasp to run to her cousins. You’re following after her, tugging Azriel along with you to join his brothers and their mates at the front of the school.

“Good morning, Azriel jr,” Cassian greets her with a smile, playfully tugging at one of her braids. “Are you ready for your first day?”

Melaina lets out a huff. “Of course I am, Uncle Cas.”

Cassian then looks toward Azriel, who continues to brood, and chuckles. “It doesn’t look like your daddy is.”

Azriel glares at Cassian. You leave his side to hug Feyre and the frown leaves his face at the delighted squeal that comes from you, his shadows singing in response. He turns his head to see you and Feyre exchange smiles while you gush in excitement over her growing belly. Though Feyre looks at Azriel with a knowing smile, her words are directed to you.

“Rhys was the same way with Nyx,” she muses and out of the corner of his eye, Azriel catches his brother rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it.

“So was Nesta,” Cassian adds, propping an elbow on Nesta’s shoulders. She shoves him off with a shrug before chiding after their twin boys, Cardan and Calian. The aftermath of the aphrodisiac you made–or rather, remade–for her after Azriel accidentally drank the first batch.

“I’m surprised you’re faring well with this,” Feyre says with a raised brow at you.

“Well, someone has to be the strong one,” you tease, side glancing at Azriel and squeezing his hand. 

Azriel lets out a small huff, similar to the one Melaina let out earlier. He knew you were also stressed and a little sad but you were surprisingly able to hide it better than him. But unbeknownst to him, just in case the obsidian necklace she wore was not enough, you had casted a protection spell over Melaina before she went to bed…and packed her bags with a variety of charged crystals.

The gathering of students at the school's entrance slowly disperses, and Azriel tenses beside you, acknowledging the imminent moment of having to say goodbye. Nyx, ever courteous, takes it upon himself to accompany Melaina to class. Azriel suspects Feyre's influence in Nyx's gesture, as if she intuited the added difficulty for him and you. He watches as Melaina walks back to you and you lean down, gently smoothing her bangs before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Today will be a wonderful day for you,” you affirm for her with a radiant smile, making Azriel's heart melt at the sight of the two girls he loves the most.  He wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. 

Your hand delicately reaches for the obsidian crystal suspended from her neck, lifting it tenderly to your lips. There’s a flash of green light that engulfs the crystal and as you release the necklace, Azriel notices the new sparkle to it. “Love you, my pretty.”

Though Melaina doesn’t verbalize it back, her eyes radiate a golden glow and the soft caress of her shadows against your face feels like a tender whisper that articulates, "I love you too.” You pull her in close, hugging her smaller frame and lean down to whisper. But Azriel’s attentive senses still catch it.

“Now hug and give your daddy a kiss so he doesn’t cry.”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Feeling a tug on his sweater, he leans down to meet his daughter at eye level. Opening his arms expectantly, a surge of warmth envelops him as she eagerly rushes into his embrace. A tender kiss graces his cheek, accompanied by the familiar caress of her shadows against his other cheek similar to the way they had done with you. He pulls away to look at her, holding her gently by the shoulders. He knows her shadows will do well to protect her and if those aren’t enough, her older cousins are just a couple of classrooms down the hall. But he needs to hear her say it.

“What will you do if someone is mean to you?”

Melaina’s eyes light up and she steps out from his hold. True to the goddess you named her after, she's a tiny vision of nightmares and madness, as she assumes a defensive position, her shadows dancing around her.

“Kick them in the face!” She exclaims as she raises her leg up with a glare directed toward her nonexistent enemy.  “I'll make my enemies bleed.”

Cardan and Calian follow after her while Nyx wisely keeps a safe distance, amused by the spectacle of his younger cousins engaging in an imaginary brawl. Cassian watches them fondly, striking punches of his own into the air but you’re shaking your head with furrowed brows. Azriel catches the pointed look you send his way and a subtle blush overtakes his cheeks as you’ve discovered his secret. He continues to read Melaina, those books you told him not to. 

“No, Mel, that’s not–”

“That’s my girl,” Azriel grins as he rises to his feet, feeling slightly better. He rustles her bangs fondly.

The sound of the school bell echoes through the park as a final warning that class should be beginning shortly. Azriel reluctantly shrugs Melaina’s backpack off his shoulder, the small bag looking ridiculous on someone of his stature. He adjusts it on her with careful consideration for her delicate wings and feels an ache in his chest as the backpack nearly engulfs her smaller frame. 

As the faint rustling, reminiscent of rocks shifting, comes from the bag, it is Azriel’s turn to send you a subtle yet pointed look in your direction. A suppressed smile tugs at his lips when you quickly avert your gaze and he realizes he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.

“Off you go, my little shadow. See you later.”

Once the backpack is secured to her, she takes Nyx’s waiting hand and runs off to the entrance with him. Azriel almost frowns but then, at the top of the stairs, she turns around, waving goodbye with a small absent-minded smile.

He watches her go into the school with a surge of that well-known sadness. Tears prick his eyes and though he knows he’s being dramatic, he can’t help the feeling that he’s losing her forever. His sweet little girl who keeps on growing. She’s slipping through his fingers all the time.

**

Bonus scene

Before his family could indulge in making fun of him, Azriel grasps your hand, drawing you close as he summons his shadows. The inky tendrils swirl around you both, transporting you back to the familiar sanctuary of your home.

"If this is your reaction on her first day of school, I can only imagine what you’ll be like when she has her first crush," you say, a teasing sparkle in your eyes.

Azriel's grip on you tightens. He doesn’t want to grapple further into the inevitability of his daughter's growing independence because to him, Melaina will always be his baby girl. A subtle strain echoes in his voice as he pleads, "Don't."

Easing out of his embrace, you giggle at his dramatics, strolling toward the kitchen with a lightness in your step, intent on brewing some tea. "It's just a couple of hours, Az," you reassure him.

"A couple of hours?" Azriel echoes, a pensive note in his voice as he joins you in the kitchen.

Having taken the entire week off, he had intended to be present for every moment—dropping Melaina off and picking her up during her first week at school. He didn’t plan for much other than that and he was used to spending his days off with his little family but now Melaina was off at school, leaving the two of you alone.

The kettle placed on the stove begins to whistle, harmonizing with the new thought that brews in his mind. You’re raising your steaming cup of tea to your lips, peering over at Azriel as he walks up to you. “What? You want some?” You ask, raising your cup to him.

Azriel shakes his head with a smile. Carefully taking the cup from you, he places it onto the counter behind you. He gently but firmly holds your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. The faint blush on his cheeks returns, a soft hue that complements the golden brilliance in his eyes as he looks down at you with adoration because you’ve given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

Still, there's an insatiable desire within him for even more moments, more shared dreams, and more of you.

“Let’s have another?”

“A baby?”

Azriel nods, attentively studying your features for any nuanced emotion. He feels relief when you smile and you voice your answer without having to say anything, flooding him with love through the bond you share. The two of you had discussed having children years ago, almost two years before having Melaina. After she was born, you mirrored each other’s desires for having more but had agreed on waiting but not too long as you wanted your children to grow up together.

“We do have a couple of hours to ourselves,” you remind him again, embracing him with arms entwined around his neck, fingers brushing through the back of his hair.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you up with ease and you’re wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins when your legs tighten around him and kisses you.

“Let’s not waste another second.”

**

a/n: hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 Sorry, I skipped ahead. I do want to eventually write an imagine for when Az & reader first find out they're having a baby. That might be the next imagine for this series.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[mikachacha]

𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: You and Bada are secretly dating but also competing against each other in Street Woman Fighter. You're in Jam Republic while she's leading team Bebe. So when she saw you perform for Hwasa choreography draft mission, she could've sworn that she lost her shit at how enticing you looked.

Warnings: very suggestive content (possibility of being a smut) and language

(A/N: I've been watching the choregraphies for Chili and damn they're all hot 🤤)

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

Being in a secret relationship is hard, but being in a competition against your girlfriend is harder. You're the sixth member of Jam Republic while Bada is the leader of Bebe. Your teams often clashed but you didn't let that come between you two. You still loved each other the same and are each other's hype woman.

To keep the professionalism up, whenever there's an upcoming mission, you guys don't discuss any competition related to each other and don't send any pics or videos of both your teams' routines even though the both of you loved showing off to each other, especially when it comes to dancing so when the Hwasa choreography draft mission came, both of you were completely blown away by each other's performance.

"Damn.. My girlfriend is so hot what the actual fuckkkk?!?" you couldn't help yourself but gush over Bada as well as team Bebe which made your own teammates laugh.

"It's like you're only seeing it for the first time." Ling nudged you while laughing and you turned to her with a pout on your face.

"It is the first time that I saw that! Well except for when we were asked to perform a little bit of our concepts to the other teams. But still! They changed some parts." You said and Kirsten only chuckled, ruffling your hair.

"I think Bada will be on your ass later after she watches you perform. We did keep the juiciest parts for this." Kirsten grinned and you couldn't help but smile mischievously at what she said. Bada is definitely in for a surprise.

When it was your group's turn to perform, you looked at Bada and smirked which she found a bit strange. It made her feel nervous and excited at the same time so she eagerly watched you perform with your group. To say that she lost her ability to think rationally is a huge understatement. Seeing you on stage, dancing so enticingly, especially when you did the floor work.. It made Bada's jaw drop. She's sure that you'll be the cause of her demise at how hot you looked.

"I want to go up there and just snatch her then go home.." Bada whined while her team members laughed. Their leader is so far gone, probably imagining all the dirty things she's gonna do to you when you get home.

"I seriously feel bad for Y/N-unnie.. The way Bada-unnie is looking at her right now doesn't look like she's gonna be resting when they get home." Sowoen jokingly said and the others agreed with her. The way Bada is looking at you reminds them of a wolf waiting to pounce on its prey.

When you finished, you saw Bada looking at you, her eyes held hunger and a promise that she wouldn't be letting you rest immediately when you get home. You visibly gulped at her expression. Oh you're in trouble. When filming finally wrapped up, you immediately went to Jam Republic's room to change clothes.

"Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" you could've sworn you passed away for a few seconds when you opened the door to go outside and saw that Bada was standing there, waiting for you. Your teammates couldn't help but chuckle at what was about to happen. They knew all too well.

"Have fun, you two! And be safe going home." Audrey shouts from inside the room as you were stepping out. You turned to look at them, glaring at each one playfully before finally going home with Bada. Bada was completely silent all the way home and it made you nervous but decided to not point it out because you know your fate is sealed the moment you stepped on that stage dancing to Hwasa's new song.

When you finally entered your shared apartment, Bada immediately kissed you. It was hot and passionate, her hands trailing against your sides while your arms were loosely wrapped around her shoulders. She kissed you like there was no tomorrow before moving to kiss you jaw and neck, leaving marks here and there which made you whine in protest but didn't really put in any effort to stop Bada.

"Oh pretty girl.. You looked so sexy earlier.. Do you know how hard it was for me to not go up there and just snatch you mid performance?" Bada whispered and those words sent shivers up your spine.

Bada led you to the bedroom and the both of you were naked in no time. Her mouth trailed kisses all over your body, making sure to abuse those sensitive spots of yours to make you moan and writhe beneath her. She loves hearing the sounds you make, especially when her fingers are working in and out of you.

"Fuck.. Bada, please.." you moaned out loud as she continued to tease you. Her fingers are just barely brushing against your spot and you're getting frustrated because you wanted her to stop teasing and get on with it. Bada chuckles hearing your plea. She could hear the frustration and desperation in your voice which she found so adorable.

"Anything for you, princess." she smirks and you were seeing stars after she said that. She was relentlessly working her fingers inside you, making sure to hit your spot every single time while her mouth worked against your sensitive nub. You're hoarse from moaning and sometimes screaming out her name as she made you come again and again before you're spent.

Bada took care of you, cleaned you up and cuddled with you after everything was done. She was placing kisses on your face while brushing your hair with her fingers to help you fall asleep. You smiled at the gesture and closed your eyes, falling asleep being held by Bada.

[matrixbearer2024]

Can you do something with Vox and the reader and the reader listens to like sus or like nsfw songs (Think like Wheeler Walker Jr. (he’s a country music artist if you didn’t know, be warned)) and/or like morally questionable songs? Idk I’d think it’d just be funny with like the reader listening to a song and it’s just like really explicit😭🙏

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: I'm making a drabble out of this cuz I don't wanna go through the whole song for now- but this is way too funny of an idea to pass up. PLUS, I've got like the perfect song after the audio just popped up on my YouTube feed yesterday. Like, the song has two versions too- one explicit and one clean. Also, I am aware that the idiom in the title means being more cautious- but it kind of applies to Vox when he actually has to make a valiant effort to stop falling in love with you. He absolutely sucks at it but we're not gonna stop him LMAO.

Despite having prior knowledge to the songs you liked and listened to, Vox was still a bemused mess when guessing your music preferences. Sometimes he couldn't understand why you'd have a certain song in your playlist that just... didn't really fit. He'd even worry that something happened when a depressive song was randomly at the top of your 'most played' tunes for the day. Yet you were completely fine, actually just peachy- which confused him beyond belief.

All the more when he found you at the hotel teaching Angel some popular dance routines from when you were alive. The overlord didn't seem to mind what you were doing, hell- it was a little cute to watch. Even if he had a few qualms about your song choices, a lot of them bordering suggestive, it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before.

That was until the chorus of this specific tune started playing.

You wrap around me and you give me life~ And that's why night after night- I'll be fuckin' you right!

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD WRITE SOMETHING LIKE THIS?!

It didn't help that you seemed completely unbothered by it?! Huh?!

Vox hadn't ever heard that song in your playlist before, if he had the lyrics and melody would be familiar- but no! So you had just decided to add this all of a sudden?! WHY??

He didn't realize his claws were digging into the bar top where he was leaning against until Lucifer pointed it out. Even then, he didn't react to the king of hell's teasing or jabs- merely crossing his arms as his brain tried to catch up with what was happening.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday- a week! Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday- Seven days a week!

Were you trying to tell him something?? Wha- how did you even find a song like this?! Much less know enough about the dance of it to teach! He was starting to overheat as his fans whirred loudly. Though at this point, it was mostly embarrassed confusion with a dash of lust.

Husker and Lucifer were sort of having a laugh at Vox's expense where they were standing near him. It had been clear as day ever since that the technology overlord had a thing for you-

This just pretty much confirmed it.

Maybe he totally wished to direct the song at you, if his pink screen was any indication. The guy even had small bolts of blue electricity just running across him, you were seriously sending Vox into overdrive and you had no idea!

Every hour, every minute, every second, you know night after night~ I'll be fuckin' you right, seven days a week!

By the time you had finished dancing with Angel, you picked up on some boisterous laughter by the hotel's bar. Only to see Lucifer and Husker actually losing it because a certain flatscreen companion of yours was bluescreened and sparking where he stood.

What the hell?

You were so confused.

But that just seemed to make a certain king and bartender laugh all the more.

[starryschoolgirl]

Responsibilities (of marriage)

Summary -> Even though the two of you may have a little fight here and there, Elvis reminds you that regardless of your feelings, you still have your marital duties to abide by, it's what holds a union together. Your responsibilities as a wife. And to keep him, you're bound to fulfill them because Lord knows he can have them filled anytime anyplace.

Warnings -> Jealousy, the brutally soft/appeasing nature of the reader can be annoying to some people, smut, p in v, possible dacryphilia, unprotected sex, sex in a house full of people(?), kitchen sex, entitlement to a woman's body, innocence/inexperience kink, threats of infidelity, dismissed jealousy, Elvis gets pervy with panties, ass slapping, outdated views on how marriage/being married should be, swearing, talks of 'breaking in' girl's vagina, repeated denial of sex, persuasion for sex, this is quite dubious at certain points

WC -> 5.6k

Edit: This is an installment of the Baby Love au!!

This could only have come to fruition thanks to the wonderful input of @yourfavoritedreamgirlblog, thank you Lovely for the help

As another song came to a wrap Elvis made sure to send a smile to every girl in the room, along with a few of the guys who watched from their places at the fold-out table they used to play cards on, having their respective girls on their laps.

Squeals of excited ecstasy left the mouths of the girls that surrounded Elvis as he sang one last sweet, drawn-out note.

This kind of night wasn't an unusual occurrence, Elvis often held jam sessions with girls there to praise him because for some reason your words and the words of his entourage weren't enough to satisfy his ego. It had started happening a lot more since you and Elvis officially tied the knot, not even a month ago now.

But tonight it wasn't in you to be the cool wife, to be just the wife. The wife who was sweet and unthreatened by the floozies Elvis would let into the house, into your home. A strange swirl of anger and sadness had been giving you a headache for the entirety of the jam session. It either stemmed from your waves of emotions, or it was the fumes of how much perfume these girls were spritzing all over themselves, filling your house with the scent of them.

It also didn't help that Elvis had been paying special attention to the girls tonight, usually he'd take time to look at you and smile at you throughout the session, but tonight he hadn't given you any attention.

Biting down on your wobbly lip, you watched from afar on the plush couch, Elvis sat on a stool a few feet away, his guitar sitting on his lap as a group of girls sat at his feet like concubines. The girls were meant to be there for the other guys, at least that's what Elvis had always said to you. Joe would go down and pull a few pretty girls from the gate of your California home and drag them up to the house so that they could entertain the boys.

As your nails dug little crescents into your palms Elvis' laughter boomed over the shrill giggles of the girls sitting at his feet, he then asked as he stared down at a particular green-eyed blonde,

"Got another request?"

Just then a different girl wearing a skin-tight green dress crawled forward slightly, putting her hand on Elvis' knee as she suggested with those big batting false lashes,

"Could you read to us again?"

Elvis smiled down at her sweetly and put his hand over hers as he purred,

"'Course Doll… And by the way,"

He went on about how pretty her makeup was done and that led to another girl clinging to his leg and asking coyly, "What about my eyelashes Mr. Presley? They're natural.", everyone in the room knew they weren't, even Elvis, but he'd feed into the girl's words because she was just so cute.

As the group continued to converse with Elvis' preferences being the focus, you bit your manicured nails harshly, feeling tears build up in your eyes as you watched this all go down in your home.

Your legs bounced nervously, but only seconds later a woman turned her head back to the sound of your heels clicking against the wood floor. Her stare wasn't nice or sweet, it looked closer to disgust. Your nervous habit came to a halt, not wanting to be bothersome to anybody even in your own house.

As her head turned back to Elvis her hair flicked with it. You pulled your nails from your mouth and let them rest in your lap, the paint on your pointer and middle fingernails was chipped. You'd have to fix the ugly mistake tonight.

Elvis' conversation with the girls came to a stop as he decided to fulfill the blonde's wish, and for the first time tonight he looked over to you with a hand pointed to the cushion next to you where he left one of his religious books,

"Honey, could ya grab my book f'me?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes and immediately stepped into action, grabbing his book gently and stepping around the girls who stared up at you with unreadable gazes. You mumbled quiet apologies as you tried to step around them to get to Elvis, you felt like an inconvenience, and you knew you shouldn't, but you did.

As Elvis grabbed the book from you, instead of smiling and mumbling a 'thank you', his eyes caught the imperfection on your nails. He grabbed your wrist gently and turned it so that he could get a better look at your hand, with a soft laugh he spoke bluntly,

"Your polish is chipped Honey,"

A few girls giggled along with his laugh, but you knew they weren't laughing out of love the way (you hoped) Elvis was. They were laughing because even the smallest glimpse of imperfection from a woman married to a man like Elvis was pathetic. It gave them the idea that they had a chance with Elvis. Little Miss Perfect made a mistake, so they had an opening. You felt a blush of embarrassment fall over your face and softly stuttered,

"I-I know, I'll fix it"

Elvis stared at you with a small smile, his thumb gliding across the smooth skin of your wrist as he mumbled,

"I think it's best ya do"

The attention on you at the moment was making you antsy and irritable. You just wanted to go back to being a decoration in the corner of the house. Something that no one but Elvis would pay any mind to. The uncomfortable feeling of having the eyes of girls you didn't even want in the house on you was weighing on your mind and your words.

You looked down at the tips of your heels and avoided eye contact as you quietly repeated yourself to get yourself out of the situation as fast as possible,

"I said I'll fix it."

His eyebrows lifted ever so slightly at his sweet little girl's tone, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to leave a mark but not so much that the girls that surrounded you could see it. His smile turned patronizing as he tilted his head a little. He spoke through a breathy laugh,

"Shouldn't have chipped it in the first place Doll…"

The laughs of the other girls sounded like a soft hum as you stared at your feet, nodding in silence as you chewed your lower lip, feeling tears build up in your eyes once again. After he got your nod he let go of your wrist, but instead of turning to head back to the couch, you turned a different way, as you made your way through the girls in a different direction. As you walked you murmured a soft, "Excuse me", a quiet, "Sorry", and a shaky, "P-pardon me"

As you began to quickly make your way to the doorway that led to the kitchen you could hear Elvis ask, "Where ya goin' Hon?" and you continued without looking back or speaking, fearing that if you did he'd see your teary eyes and hear the cracks in your voice.

Thankfully the kitchen was a completely separate room, and though you could still hear everything going on in the living room, it was more subdued despite that the entry to the kitchen was open and free for noise to flow in and out. You sniffled softly and stared down at your nails, finally taking in the ugliness of the chipping at your polish.

You walked over to the medicine cabinet just above the stove, you were tall enough to open it but unfortunately, you weren't tall enough to reach inside so you had to grab one of the stools that were used as seating for the island counter, shakily standing on it as you continued to sniffle.

Your search for the nail polish remover was a hard one, maybe it was due to the tears that filled your eyes and made your vision blur, but for some reason, you were having such a hard time finding it that you hadn't even noted that the strumming of the guitar in the other room had come to a stop, and Elvis' voice which sounded like a soft murmur from here in the kitchen had now disappeared from the air, like the scent of your favorite dinner after everyone had taken their portion.

It was only when you felt the rough callouses on Elvis' hands and the rings that adorned his fingers run along the inside of your thigh that you realized he must've stopped entertaining the girls at some point and entered the kitchen. He looked up at you as you stood on the stool while his hand continued to knead at the flesh of your thigh.

Your lip wobbled as you looked down at him and you quickly used the back of your hand to swipe your tears away as you noticed a frown tug at his lips. He mumbled in plain confusion,

"Why ya cryin'?"

You sighed softly, disguising it as a breathy laugh as you shook your head,

"It's nothing"

Elvis' hand that caressed your inner thigh ran down toward the back of your calf, rubbing upward and downward twice before he spoke pointedly with an unamused look on his face,

"If it's nothin' why'd ya leave? And why didn't you answer me?"

You looked down at him with widened eyes and quickly closed the cabinet so you could put all your focus on him, feeling apologetic as you'd forgotten about that.

"I-I didn't mean to- I was just, I was embarrassed…"

Elvis' laugh was low and dry, complimented perfectly by his rough voice and tightening grip on your calf,

"You were embarrassed? How'd ya think I felt after my wife ignored me in front of a whole fuckin' room of people?"

You kept yourself from wincing at his tone as you looked away from him, realizing how inconsiderate your actions were, and remembering your mother telling you that the wife is a representation of the man, that she is responsible for his image, and that she should always maintain decorum. Hardly married a month and you'd already made so many mistakes, this was just another notch to the bedpost.

Your voice was quiet as you breathed out another apology.

A silence ensued as Elvis' hand ran up your calf to your thigh, slipping up even further to touch the skin under your skirt. You turned abruptly which made him lose his touch on your skin, before stepping off the stool carefully. Your eyes were widened as you looked scandalized by even the prospect of what he was silently proposing.

As he moved the stool out of the way to clear his path toward you, arms reached out and landing around your waist. You put both your hands on his chest, the force you could evoke from yourself was a small pathetic one as you whispered up at him, "No, no, no…"

He smiled down at you and licked his lips, his girl was so smart.

"No what? Hm?"

Each stride of his pushed his body against yours, the contact would lose for a second as you took a step back, but he would follow up with another stride until you were pushed back against the counter, you could feel the hard granite pushing into the back of you.

He knew what he was suggesting, he knew what he was imploring with those fingers that danced too close to the lace lining of your panties under your skirt. He just wanted to hear you say it, to say you knew what he was implying.

You, his sweet little wife, having only recently had her cherry popped by her husband, a girl who while she dated him wasn't all that aware of sexual cues until now. And within the span of a few weeks, Elvis had broken you in all nice and proper, he'd taught you how to take a cock, and he loosened you up enough to where sex could be enjoyable.

And though the wedding was almost a month ago, he still cradles the idea that his darling bride is still new and flimsy, inexperienced and innocent.

He wanted to hear what he was turning you into. From a virgin bride who needed to be gently introduced to her marital duties, to a fucked-out wife who knew her place and knew when she needed to fulfill her responsibilities. Whether those responsibilities take place on the plush of your shared bed, the leather of the couch in Elvis' dressing rooms, or the hardened countertops in the kitchen.

It didn't matter, it was your responsibility.

"E-Elvis, there are people, they'll hear…"

Elvis' grip on your waist had firmed up as he leaned down to press little kisses along the side of your neck. One hand rose to gently get a grip on your hair as he used it to pull your head to the side, giving him more access to the skin. He mumbled softly into the skin,

"Isn't that what you want?"

You breathed out a confused, "What?" as his kisses continued up your chin and then to your cheek. He pulled back and smiled down at you, both his hands cupping your cheeks in the gentlest of ways,

"As subtle as ya think ya are, it's pretty easy f'me to tell when you're jealous"

Oh no. He knew.

Your mother always told you that a good wife doesn't get jealous, she shouldn't anyway.

She's the wife and that's the spot that matters, a man can have girlfriends if he wants to. Because the only way to keep a man happy is to let him have his cake and eat it too. Men were simple that way, they were greedy and lustful. And your mother told you that no matter how hard you work, there comes a point when a man will no longer lust over his wife, his eyes will travel elsewhere and that's a given. But you'll stay around as long as you're pleasant company because men are greedy.

You looked panicked as you tried to deny it with a shake of your head, your voice frantically soft in the way your mother always spoke to your father,

"I'm not-"

His voice was sharp as he easily cut through your denial,

"Think I'm stupid or somethin'? I know ya want those girls to know you're mine. So I'll be a good husband and comply with your wishes."

It was all falling apart, you should've just sat there and dealt with it like a good wife. As you realized the bunch you got yourself into you began to try to explain yourself, only to have your thoughts get all jumbled as Elvis pressed his body against yours entirely, his arms trapping you against him as he wrapped them around your waist. His nose was buried into the crook of your neck as he began tugging the neckline of your shirt down, when it didn't comply he simply began ripping it.

"Elvis don't!"

He mumbled into your skin, sounding a little annoyed as he did so,

"Would ya just shut the fuck up"

You blubbered with your hands attempting to push him away by his shoulders, you needed to explain to him that you were fine with the girls, you didn't care, you could be the placating wife a man like him no doubt needed. You really could. So the two of you didn't need to do it now, didn't need to do it here for anyone to walk in and see. For the people just one room away to hear.

Your voice was panicked as you continued despite his scolding,

"B-but, I'm not, I mean- We can't"

As Elvis continued to attack your neck he spoke roughly into the skin, "Goddammit" and pulled away, pulling you by your wrist over to the island counter, center of the kitchen and as big as a dining table. You tried to explain your viewpoint quickly,

"People will hear, I don't, please no, not here, c-can we go upstairs?"

He kept a bruising grip on your waist with one hand while the other grabbed your chin roughly, making you look him in the eye. Your breathing was ragged, not from means of pleasure, but rather your fear of having a displeased husband, having done something to make him look at you the way he was now. You're sure what's in his eyes is anger, fury, disappointment, and dissatisfaction.

"Look Honey, I don't wanna be an ass of a husband, but if that's what I gotta be to make this marriage work, then that's what I'll be."

You stared up at him with fear of what being an ass of a husband entailed. Was he going to find a girl who'd let him fuck her in this situation instead? Would he do that? No, he wouldn't… Your eyes watered at the idea.

Your tone sounded hurt as you said, "Elvis…"

As your eyes continued to fill with tears Elvis' hands flew down to your hips, quickly spinning your around to face the island and pressing his groin against your ass. The surface was digging painfully into where your hip bones were.

"If I have to fuck you face down over this damn counter so that this marriage can keep on keepin' on, then that's what I'm gonna do."

You gasped at his statement and tried to maneuver out from between him and the counter, but that only led to him grabbing you by the back of your neck with a gentle, but firm grip. He pushed you down by the neck till you were completely bent over the counter. As the cold granite snapped against your temple and cheek you whined softly, "Elvis, can we please do it upstairs? Please"

Even in this situation, you were still acting like a good little girl, still minding your manners, talking sweet and soft.

Elvis gave you an ultimatum from behind as he shifted his crotch slightly, letting you feel what you were doing to him,

"I don't wanna fuck you upstairs, I wanna do it here and now, if you won't I'm sure one of the other girls will."

You stayed bent over the counter pliantly, chewing the bottom of your lip with an internal battle, Elvis' voice interrupting it as he asked,

"Now then, I'm gonna make this marriage work, spent too long breakin' ya in to have ya turn into some naggin' old, jealous prude of a wife."

Before you could say anything in response he was already hiking your skirt up to have it pool around your hips as he kneaded your ass. You let out a strangled yelp as the sharp sound of Elvis slapping your ass filled the room. Followed by another. he leaned over your body and cupped your chin from behind as he littered kisses down your temple and cheek, growling into the skin, "Go on Baby, let them hear you, let them hear what I do to you."

Another slap of your ass filled the room followed by a cry. You hated that you liked it.

Elvis pulled back to stare at your pretty pink panties, his fingers toyed with the edge of the thin fabric. After ample admiring he tugged the sides down, eventually letting them drop and watching as they fell to your ankles. He smirked softly as he watched your small clumsy feet try to step out of them.

"Atta girl, knew my sweet girl would come 'round"

You hummed softly, happy with the tinge of approval in his voice. Your actions showed that you could be the kind of wife Elvis could fuck next to a room full of people, but your body betrayed you as you trembled with anxiety from the thought of someone else coming in and seeing you in this state. Seeing you acting like a whore.

As you heard the click of Elvis' belt buckle you inhaled a sharp breath of nerves. And though at this moment, any spectator might think Elvis was just another self-centered man who thought sex was only about the man's feelings, you knew Elvis was thinking of you, that by having not even fucked you yet he was being considerate. He could have easily pushed you against the counter and had his way with you a few minutes ago.

And he showed his silent consideration of your feelings as he kept one hand on your lower back, rubbing soothing circles into the skin while his fingers on his other hand fumbled with the zipper of his trousers, pulling out his length and quickly spitting onto his palm just to rub himself up.

Had it been any other man the image would've been disgusting, but when it was Elvis it was different. Because your husband wasn't like any other.

His hand that once soothed you drifted down to squeeze the globe of your ass before traveling even further South as he used two fingers to part the lips of your pussy. A soft squelch filled the air between to two of you as he parted you, it was proof that your body wanted him just as much as his wanted yours. The noise left him to hum pleasurably, and you to press your red-hot cheeks into the cold counter.

"What's this? Were ya secretly hopin' I'd fuck you over the counter?"

You whined softly at his insinuation. Squeezing your eyes shut in distaste as he reasoned, "No point in askin' I guess, I mean-" His eyes caught sight of your discarded pink panties on the floor and he quickly reached to grab them, laughing softly to himself as he saw all he needed. He continued, bringing your panties down for you to look them head-on.

Your face flushed at the sight and as you tried to turn it away his other hand gripped your chin roughly, the rings pinching at your skin as he made you stare at your own doing, laughing breathily, "The answer to my question is right here ain't it?"

And it was. You didn't want to admit it, but it was all true. The idea of, after repressing your jealousy night after night for so long, of finally letting everyone know you were his and he was yours… It was such a romantic idea. And for you, raised to only get your rocks off on romance books rather than boys, romance was the most erotic thing of all.

His two fingers that parted your pussy's lips squeezed their way through the folds, entering a much warmer, more enclosed area. Your vagina contracted slightly at the sudden intrusions of Elvis' long fingers, you let out a soft breathy moan, it was quiet for the most part but had a high pitch at the end that could give away that not all was normal in the kitchen.

He spoke breathily at the noise, "Oh Honey," it was a giveaway that he'd enjoyed hearing that sound leave you. You quickly flung your hand over your mouth as Elvis' fingers curled within your heat, the squelching continued with each movement, the larger his movements were, the louder the squelch would be. It amused him.

When he deemed you ready he pulled his fingers out, running the white discharge that stuck to his fingers along his length, using it as a lubricant of sorts, but really, he just loved how lewd the idea was. His special times with you always ended with your skin getting stained with the proof of his satisfaction. So when he could, he loved to lather his cock in your proof of satisfaction as if it were the most purifying of body washes. You getting cum on your face and him watching it begin to slowly slide down your skin was lewd and he knew deep down you loved it, this was his equivalent, this is what he loved.

His head fell back gently as he tugged at his foreskin again, making sure to get your discharge in all the little cracks and crevices before lining himself up behind you. You could feel the tip of him press against your lips, despite all his experience he always fumbled around a little down there, in his defense there were a few things to look out for before he could land himself in the gold mine.

You tried your best to brace yourself, but there wasn't much to grab on the counter, it wasn't like when Elvis fucked you on the bed and you could cry into a pillow and grasp at the sheets, the best you could do on the counter was hold onto the edges, it was worth a try though.

As Elvis pushed into you he groaned lowly, the noise only getting louder the further he pushed in. You did your best to keep quiet, to keep your dignity, but it was only due to you beginning to stand on your tippy toes to stop Elvis from getting his natural leverage due to height into you, it soothed the burn enough to where instead of moaning loudly you got by with a soft cry that you did your best to choke back.

Elvis noticed this and leaned down, careful not to shuffle around in you too much. He kissed your shoulder gently and murmured into the skin, his tone and words sweet for the first time this evening, as he spoke he sounded the way he always did when the two of you were alone, his public behavior now wearing off as he tried to soothe his wife.

"I know it's still hard Babydoll, but this is the only way it gets better, c'mon, come down from the tips of your sooties, ya can do it Baby, I know ya can…"

As Elvis continued to press gentle kisses along your shoulder you slowly eased yourself down from your toes, but the tug at your inner walls and the burn that followed was too much. You fell forward defeatedly onto the island counter, raising yourself back up to your toes as you cried softly into the hard surface,

"It hurts Elvis..! I can't, I can't"

Elvis grimaced and looked up to the ceiling like he was asking the Lord for patience as the throbbing and twitching of his cock was beginning to tingle him painfully, he needed to move, but he needed you to be ok with that.

With a gentle hold, Elvis moved your hair to the side so that he could press a gentle kiss on the back of your neck. You could feel and hear him murmur into the skin, his voice patient yet stern,

"You've done it before Mama, we've been workin' so hard. Don't ya remember it only burns at first, r'member how good it feels after?"

You nodded slowly, he watched from behind and quietly hummed, "There, now let yourself down on me Honey, all the way." His hands settled at your hips as he slowly helped guide you down from your tippy toes, you winced softly as you continued, and he encouraged, "A-almost there Baby, that's right, there…"

His last word had drawn off as his head fell backward from being completely engulfed within your heat.

Pulling out a little was easy, it was the going back in that was hard as it put the both of you right back where you started with you arching back up on your toes and crying out softly from the familiar yet painful intrusion.

Elvis swore quietly, "Fuck's sake…"

Though you felt bad for being so bothersome, you stuck with your actions. You'd never done the act in this position before, all the other times you and Elvis had sex up until now, it was always slow, sweet, and soft. There was never any pressure, and you never had to stand up.

You stuttered out as you felt your poor little toes begin to tremble from supporting your entire body for so long,

"It-It's not getting better, it b-burns"

Elvis grunted and laid his head on your back as he spoke through a sexual frustration from being granted access to your pussy just to have it taken away once again,

"It will get better."

You were being such a tease, well not purposely, but it still wasn't something that would fly with Elvis. He knew how to cut through to you though, he knew his bride was such a sweet girl, such a people pleaser, that she wouldn't be so difficult under different conditions.

Elvis pressed his head against your back, his tone of voice low and breathy as he asked,

"Remember all that breakin' in I did for ya? How good I was? I was good wasn't I, mama?"

You wanted to sob as you were stuck in a predicament, if you stopped Elvis would think you didn't think he was good enough, but if you kept going you were certain he'd tear you open from the inside out, or at least rip the crevice of your womanhood, the idea made you grimace painfully as you thought about it.

As you ducked your head into your shoulder to try and stifle a cry, Elvis was there for you to lean your cheek against instead. It was romantic, the feel of your wet tears that glided down your face as if they were shooting stars, rubbing up against his much dryer cheek, letting him feel the struggle he was putting you through. Letting him feel what he was doing to you for once while you knew all too well with a hardened cock up your pussy what you were doing to him.

He hummed soothingly and clicked his tongue once, twice, before murmuring as he placed a kiss on your damp cheek,

"I jus' need ya to trust me Honey, same way ya did on our wedding night"

His kisses danced along your cheek and lingered on your earlobe, nibbling the edge softly as his hand drifted around your waist, landing expertly at your clit as if he knew your body like a map.

"Don't tell me ya forgot about that already?" He whispered as his middle fingers began to circle that special little bud down there, making your hips twitch ever so slightly with the sensation.

You let out an airy moan as he added his index finger to the circling of your most sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing slow lazy circles as you felt the hot, wet edge of his tongue land on the skin just below your ear as he pressed gentle little kisses. His words were encouragingly sweet, "I've been neglectin' ya here, haven't I?"

Your hum was weak and broken as you tilted your head back, biting your lower lip,

"Mhm"

Elvis cooed softly and kept with his thumb's movement.

"Oh Baby, why didn't ya tell me?"

As the burn in your aching cunt loosened to a familiar warmth from Elvis' expert strumming of your clit your breaths became ragged and torn, just the small stroking of his fingers was turning you into a panting dog, a bitch in heat. With the warmth overcoming your pussy your body began to chase what it needed, your hips began to grind downward. The feeling of Elvis' length rubbing up and down ever so slightly within your walls as you continued to grind down what you could handle was a pornographic one.

As you could practically feel the shift of his foreskin within your cunt with each rise and fall of your hips, Elvis' hands now rested on them as he helped you broaden your movements, his hands squeezing your sides tightly as a low groan fell from his lips. "That's it, oh fuck…"

As his head fell back he brought a hand up to rest firmly on the center of your throat, pulling you back by it just barely so that your head could fall back on his chest. The breaths you both let out no doubt danced with each other in the air as you continued to grind down as best you could while his fingers strummed a tune on your clit which pulled the notes from your mouth as your breaths turned to airy moans.

Abruptly, Elvis gave a small thrust upward, the strength within the movement was enough to make you bounce slightly and let out an immediate moan of pleasure. You quickly flung your palm over your lips just for him to remove his hand from the center of your throat, now gripping your wrist and pulling your hand down to your chest as he murmured lowly,

"Let it out Honey, let 'em know you're mine, and I'm yours."

He began to grind upward into you slowly, working his way back to a thrust, each movement evoked a noise from you louder than the last, and as time went on the soft grinding of his groin into your ass as his dick plunged further up your heat turned to soft skin-to-skin claps with air between them. He tended to be loud as he chased what he needed.

He groaned into your neck as he pressed open-mouth kisses along it, your skin didn't even make a dent in minimizing the sound of his groans. He was loud and full of want, and as prudent as you were taught to be about sinful, sexual desires, it was the most liberating experience you could ever go through.

The smutty sounds of skin slapping on skin reverberated in the walls of the kitchen, stretching into the room just a thin privacy wall away. All the while Elvis was groaning and growling loudly against your skin, mumbling your name between groans and low moans.

His fingers kept their rhythm, so even in the chaos of Elvis' thrusts speeding and his body pushing yours against the hard granite of the counter to the point of bruising, he kept his fingers going just the way you liked. Your moans went up a pitch as you felt a feeling Elvis had introduced you to a few weeks ago on your wedding night, it was one you'd slowly begun to crave even when the two of you were doing something as simple as sitting in the car together. You could hold back and keep your dignity in those moments.

But now as the feelings lingered in your face and were oh so close, you felt like an addict who needed her high. Your voice cracked in a moan as you begged,

"Yes, just like that"

He growled breathily, his lips still dancing along your neck as his hips rocked into you from behind, his voice was breathy as he asked,

"Like that? Ya like it like that? Yeah?"

Your head hung back on his chest, your mouth open wide as your hips began to chase the sensations, "Yes Elvis, y-yes..!"

By now all the chatter that filled the house like background noise was completely silenced as the sounds of sex that filled the kitchen drifted into the other rooms. The air of the other room was awkward as your high-pitched moans which contrasted beautifully with Elvis' low groans were the only thing keeping the California house from silence. Everyone's assumptions were answered by the sudden increase in the volume of the skin-to-skin slapping along with of course your noises of ecstasy.

Elvis swore loudly into your neck, his voice reverberating against the soft skin,

"Fuck Baby!"

As he bit down roughly onto a rather sensitive spot your moans hit their height as you practically wailed, "Oh Elvis!"

And within the span of a second, that coil that played around ever so coyly in the space between your stomach and pussy had completely broken. Elvis' animalistic speed of rhythmic thrusts lost their rhythm and their speed as you felt a warmth like no other fill your body, his open-mouth kisses simply turned to his lips dragging lazily along your neck with a loud groan accompanying the skin.

His thrusts tampered down to deep grinds of his hips down into yours as you'd let out the heights of what your voice box could manage. Your mouth was still open wide but nothing leaving it as you'd reached nirvana.

Your body gave out as your legs trembled and you had to lean over onto the counter to support yourself. From behind Elvis' arms caged you against the island counter, his hands at either side of you pressed down onto the surface to support himself up. You let out a soft whimper as he slowly pulled out of you and fumbled around you from behind for a few moments, the familiar sound of his buckle could be heard.

Before you knew it his hands were on your hips turning you back around to face him, he was dressed, and in hand were the discarded panties of yours that he quickly shoved into the back pocket of his trousers.

Elvis' hands flew to smooth your hair back into place gently. They lingered on your temples as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your head, you closed your eyes in the process.

"You're so beautiful Honey, did so well for me…"

He quickly hiked your skirt back down to its proper length, and wrapped an arm around your waist, suggesting softly,

"We'll head upstairs for the night"

With the fucked-out look in your eyes he knew you needed rest and a shower. So he kept an arm around your waist and walked slowly with you out of the room. As the two of you passed the group in the living room you kept your eyes trained on the floor, knowing if you looked up, you'd only be met with looks of disgust from the girls that still occupied the floor of your living room, sitting around Elvis' stool as if it were a king's throne.

Elvis didn't spare them a glance as he only looked back toward Jerry and Joe, the two men were holding their cards without qualms at what they (and the rest of the house) were just exposed to listening to, as they'd heard that kind of thing more times than they could count coming from the two of you.

"Could y'all escort the girls out when you're done with 'em? Wife and I gonna be upstairs a while…"

With that simple statement, he helped you walk toward the staircase and kept a supporting hand on your lower back. Asking once, twice, three times, if you needed anything. You replied no.

All you needed was him, and that's exactly what you had.

And all the other girls knew it as a little something had fallen out of Elvis' pocket. It was hardly in his pocket to begin with. The boys wouldn't tell him, "Hey E, ya dropped somethin'" Because the boys knew the message he was sending to every girl in the room.

You were his, and he was yours.

Well, for my first time writing, I quite enjoyed that. Anyways...

[ao3cassandraic]

Kayfabe: A Good Omens meta

"Kayfabe," in wrestling, is the performance (including outside the wrestling ring) of whatever storyline is being woven around the wrestlers. Breaking kayfabe is Serious Business for a wrestler; the illusion is part of the event. If you ever wondered how John Cena could anchor an entire HBO miniseries brilliantly, kayfabe is a big part of the answer.

Because of their histories and how their respective Head Offices treat them, Crowley and Aziraphale approach their version of kayfabe -- their whole "I am an angel! You are a demon! We're hereditary enemies!" schtick, also their "we are good bad proper little footsoldiers, honest, Boss" schtick to their respective Head Offices -- very, very differently.

I promise there's a point to this. I PROMISE. But let me walk through it first.

Both of them know that one awkward question to Upstairs at the wrong moment and its Fallsville. Crowley, however, knows a couple of things that Aziraphale doesn't have to:

Punishment isn't just once; in some ways, the Fall is never over. Beelzebub or Hastur can throw you in the Dung Pits whenever, after all, or feed you to a Hellhound, or zap you like an Eric. Crowley's lot do not send rude notes. (s2: we do not know what happened to Crowley after Hell dragged him back at the end of the Resurrectionists 'sode, but I think it safe to say it was not great for Crowley. Litotes: your key to quality meta.)

Downstairs can and does check in -- or drag Crowley Downstairs for a chat and possibly a bit of idle torture -- whenever they feel like it. Downstairs seems pretty disorganized, especially its leadership, so I'd expect ad-hoc surprise inspections from them. Downstairs can invade Crowley's flat's TV, his Bentley's radio, and his very mind to perform those inspections. Crowley is never, ever safe from this. He can't relax. Ever.

Heaven, on the other hand, has 37 levels of scriveners and zero interest in Earth. Talk of "reprimands" and "miracle budgets" and Michael being a stickler and whatnot suggests a formal review process happening on a schedule, governed largely by the dreaded (but quite possibly fake-able or spinnable) "paperwork" rather than direct observation by Aziraphale's peers or superiors. Otherwise, Aziraphale is usually left to his own devices. Remember how startled he is when Gabriel shows up at the sushi restaurant in s1? This is unusual!

(We also know from Muriel that Heaven's records office doesn't seem to get consulted a whole lot. It's possible this just means that first-through-thirty-sixth-level scriveners handle everything, but in my experience of large bureaucracies, it's the folks at the bottom of the hierarchy who invariably get run off their feet first. Don't see why Heaven would be any different.)

Moreover, Heaven's punishments seem pretty light, on the whole? Our angel is so anxious and so sensitive to slights that I'm sure the reprimands aren't fun, and nobody likes a reduced miracle budget... but Heavenly "needs improvement" reviews don't seem to be a patch on the Dung Pits. The real threat is Falling, which is more than horrible enough to serve as deterrent; Heaven doesn't need to add torments.

Moreover moreover, Aziraphale is mostly aligned with his Head Office in a way that Crowley really, really isn't. I'm sure Aziraphale does a lot of his Heaven assignments with a song in his heart and a skip in his step -- it's mostly not smiting or the like. Crowley... probably spends a lot of his work time figuring out how to obey the letter of Hellish law while defying its spirit. Crowley's in far more danger of angering his bosses.

So Aziraphale doesn't have to keep up kayfabe a lot of the time, not even while interacting with Crowley. He can and does save it for the rare occasions Heaven takes a personal interest. Crowley, however, must keep up kayfabe always, whether Aziraphale's there or not. The courage it must have taken that snake to slither up the wall of Eden!

The way Crowley navigates his permanent need for kayfabe is twofold. First, his all but instinctive refusal to accept any positive word or compliment about himself or his actions from anyone ever -- "I'M NOT NICE!" If Hell were ever to hear someone characterizing Crowley that way... That's also why Crowley is a bit less exercised when Jimbriel calls him nice: "nobody'll ever believe you."

Second, a species of Orwellian doublethink: maintaining a running commentary in his head of how he's going to justify any unHellish actions to Hell, since he can never know exactly when he'll have to or what exactly they'll have a bug up their butt (sorry, Beez) about. Even high as a kite on laudanum in the Edinburgh cemetery, Crowley can explain his current justification (in a curiously sober voice -- is Crowley ever really high in that scene? or is it all kayfabe? I lean toward kayfabe) to Aziraphale, "Not kind! Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions."

We can see the kayfabe mismatch play out a few times, and it does appear that Aziraphale gets more concerned for Crowley's safety and more aware of Crowley's need for kayfabe post-Arrangement. That doesn't mean he always remembers, of course -- he wouldn't, he just doesn't have that same desperate need. And, of course, the ineffable walnuts do not communicate, as s2 went to some lengths to point out. I do think kayfabe is part of that -- it's hard for Crowley to be sincere when he's constantly doublethinking, and Aziraphale's off-and-on involvement with kayfabe (and all his other tendencies toward lying) disincline him to achieve or even learn about honest communication.

One s1 scene I went back and rewatched while thinking about this was the Globe scene, which contains Aziraphale's Saint-Peter-esque three-time denial of Crowley. I find it easy now to read that as Aziraphale going "oh crap do I need to drop back into kayfabe now? I didn't break kayfabe, did I?" and Crowley grinning, at least partly as reassurance. (Partly, of course, because Aziraphale is cute and funny even when kayfabing -- and partly because Aziraphale's sudden drop into kayfabe is Aziraphale trying to protect Crowley, of course Crowley's pleased by that.)

The wall pin, now that I think about it, also gains a little nuance from this. Crowley's fear-laced ire is genuine, but how many times must Aziraphale have heard Crowley snarl at him not to break kayfabe in this way? No surprise he's a little unimpressed. (With Crowley's demand. He's clearly very impressed by Crowley.)

In the s2 Job minisode, Aziraphale hilariously drops kayfabe (and that epic whole-body halo, loved that, great job FX folks) almost immediately. Crowley allows it, because Crowley is on firm ground -- Hell will be just fine with Crowley wrapping the angel in a Chuck-Jones-cartoon amount of scroll parchment and flipping him off.

When angel and demon collude on the con later, of course, they observe kayfabe, improv-style -- Crowley helps Aziraphale deal with the Job's-children situation without giving either of them away to the watching angel posse. Interestingly, it's Aziraphale who de-gecko-izes the kids. That gives Crowley an out, sort of: "look, the mansion collapse missed them because they were in the cellar, I turned them into geckos, totally Hellish thing to do, they'd never survive in the wild, but then this bloody interfering angel went and changed them back!"

And how does Crowley console a distraught angel who thinks he's about to be dragged to Hell? Crowley explains kayfabe in the fewest and clearest words possible. "Well, yeah, you did, but... I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you?"

So yeah. That's kayfabe for the Ineffable Walnuts.

But I promised there was a point to this, didn't I? Yes, I have a point.

My point is...

my POINT is...

my point IS...

(not dolphins, not this time)

My point is, how much of s2's Final Fifteen Minutes is kayfabe?

That's my point.

[bedsyandco]

Soon you’ll get better

❥ — ꒰ pairing ꒱ lani x quinn hughes

❥ — ꒰ synopsis ꒱ the aftermath of the accident

❥ — ꒰ content ꒱ talks of an accident, medical injuries, death, miscarriage. incorrect medical talk and diagnosis…obviously i’m not a doctor and this is fiction!! unedited. will be edited later!!

❥ — ꒰ note ꒱ title bc I listened to the song while writing!!

Eight and a half hours later when the Hughes family arrived in Vancouver and at the hospital, Quinn was still in the same position he had been the entire night. Sat on the floor, his arms rested on his bent legs, his head rested against the wall. When he saw his family arriving he mustered the little energy he had left after not sleeping last night, to push himself up and meet them halfway across the waiting room.

“Oh Quinn,” is all his mom said as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and held him for a few minutes. Afterwards he gave his dad a long hug, no word being exchanged there because what could he say?

“Have you heard anything?” Violet asks as Quinn hugs her.

“Not really. The doctor comes out every few hours to tell me that she’s still stable and that they’re doing everything they can but… it’s been hours and…” Quinn says, tearing up again and he wipes his face frustratedly.

“You should get some sleep,” Jack suggests softly and Quinn just glares at him.

“I’m not sleeping until I know she’s okay,” Quinn responds

“Quinn we’ll wake you-”

“I’m not sleeping until I know she’s okay,” Quinn repeats and Jack nods.

Jack understood. So did Luke. He spent the 8 hour flight over there thinking about what he would do if God forbid something ever happened to Violet. He determined that Violet was gonna live way longer than him and that he’d never have to live that horrible life without her, nothing was ever allowed to happen to her. Luke wraps his arms tightly around her again, kissing her neck where he could feel her pulse and the pressure in his chest lessens a bit but it returns when he goes back to observing his older brother.

“Do you know how it happened yet?” Jim asks and Quinn nods

“She was on her way to the restaurant, a truck lost control on the road and Lani swerved to miss it, her car rolled off the road and crashed straight into a pole. Apparently she’s lucky she swerved otherwise she would have died on impact with the truck. Doesn’t feel very fucking lucky though, does it?” Quinn asks angrily and everyone flinches a little when he curses but all of them remain silent. Not quite sure what to say.

“God, if I had just…gone home and picked her up. Or cancelled the damn dinner. You know I can’t even really remember what my life was like before the past year, before her. And I can’t even imagine what it would look like without her,” Quinn says, his voice cracking at the end.

“You don’t have to imagine it. Lani’s gonna be okay Quinn. She’s gonna pull through,”Jack says, pulling his brother into a tight hug.

“I’m gonna go get us some coffee,” Blue says to Violet softly and she leaves just as the doctor appears.

“Mr. Hughes?” the doctor asks from a distance away and Quinn walks closer, so only he would hear what the doctor was saying, scanning the doctor’s face for any clues as to what he should prepare for, but the doctor’s face doesn’t give anything away.

“Is she okay?” Quinn asks desperately

“Ms. Reed is out of surgery and will be moved to recovery now. She had extensive injuries. She had multiple fractured bones in her arm, and shoulder. She also took a major blow to the head and there was some internal bleeding that we were able to stop luckily. One of her lungs was punctured-” the doctor’s words get caught off by Quinn turning towards the garbage can to vomit.

“I’m good, you can continue” Quinn rasps out as the doctor sends him a concerned look.

“The list of injuries is long Mr. Hughes but the most important thing is that she’s okay and she’ll make a full recovery. Physically at least. Unfortunately Ms. Reed suffered a miscarriage because of the physical trauma and shock her body went through because of the accident and there was nothing we could do,” the doctor says softly and Quinn stops breathing for a second.

“Miscarriage?” Quinn asks, not quite comprehending the fact that Lani was…

“Ms. Reed was pregnant prior to the accident. She wasn’t very far along…7-8 weeks potentially. It was likely that she didn’t even know yet. There was no permanent damage done and she should have no problem getting pregnant again in the future. I can be the one to tell her if you don’t feel-”

“No, I’ll do it,” Quinn immediately responds, knowing it would be better if it came from him.

“Someone will be out shortly to take you to her room. I’m very sorry for your loss,” the doctor says sympathetically before walking away again and Quinn has to lean against the wall for a second to process what he just heard. The doctor obviously assumed correctly that the baby was his since he told them him and Lani were engaged despite their very obvious missing rings.

Lani is pregnant. Was pregnant. Was.

Quinn walks back towards his family, a little dazed. His lack of sleep and shock of what happened in the past 24 hours finally caught up to him.

“She’s gonna be okay,” is all Quinn says because Lani should be the first person he tells about the baby, and maybe she doesn’t want other people to know and Quinn wanted to make sure he respected those wishes.

Everyone practically deflates with relief and his parents take a seat on the chairs, his mom letting out a few tears.

“Luke and I are gonna stop by your apartment. Get you some clothes and other things. I’ll pack Lani a bag too,” Violet says and Quinn hands her the keys to his car and his apartment. The guys had driven to the hospital with his car and ordered a ride home so Quinn still had his vehicle.

“You know where my stuff is. Lani’s things are all in the same places, just on the left. Same with the bathroom, all her stuff is in the left vanity,” Quinn says and Violet nods giving him a tight hug.

“We love you,” she says and Quinn squeezes her tight.

“Thanks for being here,” he responds

“Of course,”

They leave and when Blue comes back a few minutes later with 2 hands filled with multiple cups of coffee, Quinn feels his chest contract again. Lani loves coffee.

“We’re gonna go get everyone some food. We’ll be back but if you go see her before we return, tell Lani we love her yeah?” Jack says taking Blue’s hand in his own and Quinn nods as they make their way to the exit.

About thirty minutes later a nurse shows up and leads him to Lani’s room, and this is all Quinn’s been waiting for…a moment to lay his eyes on Lani and be sure that she’s okay. That he didn’t lose her. That they were gonna be okay.

But as he stood in the entrance of the room, he was unable to move, or speak, or breathe at the sight in front of him.

There she was. His Lani. Except she didn’t look like his Lani at all. Because his Lani was full of light, and so filled with joy she practically glowed with it. And now she was pale, battered, bruised and blue.

Quinn simply stands there for a moment observing her before he walks closer, taking the seat closest to her bedside and gently as ever, grabbing her hand and holding it against his cheek, pressing multiple kisses on her palm.

He fell asleep like that, clutching her hand tightly and resting his head against her.

A few hours later he awoke to the feeling of fingers gently running through his hair and his eyes instantly shot open.

He lifted his head to meet her gaze and he instantly teared up again.

“Lani,” he whispers, standing up and leaning over to kiss her on the temple

“We should call the nurse,” Quinn says hastily but Lani halts him with a hand on his arm.

“The nurse was already in here, just a few moments ago. She explained what happened and gave me some pain meds,” Lani says

“How long have you been awake?” Quinn asks

“For thirty minutes or so,”

“You should’ve woken me up,” Quinn says

“The nurse said you didn’t sleep at all last night, I wanted to let you rest a little longer,” Lani explains and Quinn sighs

“Come sit,” Lani says patting the spot next to her and Quinn immediately shakes his head

“No I don’t wanna hurt you,” he argues, choosing to sit at the bottom of the bed instead.

They talk for a little bit but half an hour later the troubled look on Quinn’s face still hasn’t disappeared.

“I’m okay Quinn,”

“You almost weren’t though,” he argues, his voice cracking

“But I am. And that’s all that matters. I'm here. I'm okay.” she says softly and Quinn just stares at her for a few minutes

“I should probably go give my parents an update,” Quinn says but doesn’t move.

“Your parents are here?” Lani asks surprised

“yeah, came as soon as they heard what happened. So did my brothers and Vi and Blue,” Quinn says

“oh. they didn’t need to fly all the way out here for me,”

“you almost died lani,” quinn says incredulously. finding it ridiculous that she’s even having the thought that her almost dying is an inconvenience to others.

“They can visit tomorrow if you’re up for it,” Quinn determines, seeing how tired she looks. She didn’t have to see them today. Or tomorrow. Or at all if she didn’t want to.

Him and Lani spend the next hour or so just talking, reassuring one another that she was okay and everything was gonna be fine. And then Quinn remembered that there was still something he needed to tell her. He really didn’t want to, not wanting to hurt her even more than she was already hurt.

“Lani. I need to tell you something,” Quinn starts but hesitates

“What is it?” she asks concerned, taking both his hands in hers.

“Before the accident, you were- you were pregnant. But the baby didn’t make it,” Quinn says softly and it feels like someone stabbed him right in the heart when she gasps and tears up, retracting her hands and putting them on her stomach.

“No,” she whispers, and Quinn wipes her tears, nodding sadly.

“No,” she repeats again, her body shaking with her sobs and Quinn just wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

Her sobs eventually die down, but the tears never stop, all ending up on Quinn’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry Quinn,” she apologises softly, pressing a kiss to his neck, knowing he must be hurting too.

“Don’t apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. None of this is your fault, you hear me?” he asks and she nods against his shoulder.

Rationally Lani knew it wasn’t the right time to have a baby. Her and Quinn are only dating for about a year now, she was still in school, he was only now really settling in with the responsibility of being captain. But she also can’t help but be sad at the possibility of what could have been. Of what they could have had.

“We’re gonna be okay angel. The only thing that matters right now is that you’re okay. We’ll get through the rest together okay?” he asks and she nods, tears still falling as he cups her face and presses kisses all over. Kissing every tear away.

“I love you so much. More than I can even try to explain,” Quinn says, kissing her gently, and that just makes the tears fall even more.

“I love you the most,” she replies, snuggling into him more as he holds her. They would spend the rest of the day like that. And the next few days. And a lot of days after that. But they were gonna be okay, as long as they had each other.

[tarotwithlove]

PICK A CARD 🪞ೕ how would your fans describe you if you were famous

in today’s pac we will be answering the following questions regarding your life as a famous person:

- why are you famous?

- what kind of fans would you have?

- how would your fans describe you?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · high priestess, judgement (reversed), knight of cups, seven of pentacles, nine of wands, four of pentacles, ten of cups, high priestess. 

songs · deserve by lucky daye. levanter by stray kids. slide by øzi. amnesia by kai. amazing by mary j blige. 

my dear group one ♡ you are famous for the character or characters that you create - characters in a video game in particular. you may be credited with creating a character that fans of a franchise quickly latch onto or are especially horny over.

i specificy “horny over” because pyramid head and lady dimitrescu are the two characters that come to mind and i think that most of us are aware of how the fans react to the two of them.

your fans will honestly adore and admire you. you may be far less known than your creation, and so the group of people who interact directly with you may be smaller and more devout than the people who just interact with your creation. the hardcore fans who interact directly with you online will send you art, headcanons, and questions in the hopes that you will acknowledge them - or because you often interact with your fans in that way so they know there is a high chance that you will acknowledge them. your community of fans will be a creative and artistic one. this will be a more practical form of creative and artistic expression, with your fans going out of their way to create cosplay that is as close to the source as possible. 

many of your fans will describe you as the person who inspired them again - inspired them to create again, to get into a hobby or get into a hobby again, to go after a goal again. some may start posting their art or may apply to art institutions/for art related jobs, crediting you as their biggest influence behind this decision. your fans will cling onto you and describe you as someone that “must be protected at all cost” - especially whenever your tweets or posts go viral or your friendly interactions with fans start to get a lot of attention.

they may also describe you as someone who must be wise with their money, because you seem to live a good and well paid for life despite only putting out a small amount of work. they may also realise that you put out a small amount of work because you get paid a good salary for it - especially after this other character or game gained so much attention and renown - and because your main focus is family above all else. even if you do not post or talk about your family often (likely to protect yours and their anonymity as much as possible) your fans will often describe you as a “family man/woman first, game dev second” - or as someone they wish was their parent or close friend or family member. 

GROUP TWO

cards · ten of pentacles, four of pentacles, seven of pentacles (reversed), ten of cups (reversed), three of cups (reversed), death, ten of cups, nine of pentacles (reversed), ten of swords. 

songs · better by ama lou. unsteady by x ambassadors. video games by lana del rey. dear dream by nct dream. 

my dear group two ♡ you are more famous for being famous, than for any of your talents. though this, too, is a skill all of its own. you may be famous because of someone you know or date, or because someone shares their platform with you and subsequently rockets you to fame (think, a popular tiktoker collaborating with you, a popular youtuber mentioning you in one of their videos, a popular twitter account retweeting you).

you may experience an emma chamberlain turn of events where you transcend from internet fame into real life fame - similarly, too, where people will look at you and wonder, “how is this person famous again?”. you may garner more fame for being an influencer and sharing your personal life stories publicly. 

honestly, dear, it is quite upsetting to see the kind of fans you would have if you were famous. your fans may have a strong parasocial relationship with you, especially because of the way you became famous and because of your strong online presence. many of them will get a kick out of rooting for an underdog, and so, they may start to turn on you when you start to become more succesful and more well-known. one particular scenario may be common amongst your fans, where a tweet of them calling you mid, boring, mediocre (or anything to that regard) goes viral, only for people to reply and quote with this you’s of this person praising you months prior. you won’t even have done anything wrong, they’ll just start to feel bitter, jealous, and entitled. many of them will just start to randomly hate you. once you notice this shift, you’ll stop caring what other people say about you. you’ll continue being your authentic self and will start to consciously appeal to a different demographic of people. 

your fans will describe you as someone who was able to make a name for yourself despite how oversaturated the influencer market is. they will describe you as someone who rose above and became real world succesful not just internet succesful, despite it all. there will definitely be a split between fans who genuinely support you and “fans” who will find every reason to hate on you. some may say things like “you don’t understand them” or “you’re just jealous and looking for reasons to hate them” - especially when people mask hatred of you behind criticism of meaningless things.

what’s coming to mind is the incident with madison beer that happened a few months ago, where people were “calling out” madison beer for dancing in a bikini on tiktok. people, of course, rightfully came to her defense and rightfully presupposed that the people who were saying negative things about her were likely jealous and insecure. similar things will happen to you. you’re attractive, talented, and lucky - your fans will describe you as such and rub it in the face’s of people who dislike you just for the sake of disliking you.

your fans will also describe you as someone who gets hated on unnecessarily. they would use that “i came into the house and everybody was like, oh, pretty girl, lets hate on her” meme a lot. 

GROUP THREE

cards · six of cups, ten of cups, nine of cups, nine of pentacles, ace of swords, death (reversed), the devil, knight of wands, the world. 

songs · cry by chester lockhart. poetic justice by kendrick lamar. coming home - interlude by kali uchis. fulton street i by la dispute. 

my dear group three ♡ you are famous for doing something you enjoy or for doing something you have wanted to do since you were a child - and while that is incredibly broad, this is most true with regard to a field that has a high focus on restoration, the body, and physical performance. some of you are famous for being a part of a sport that asks you to push your body to the extremes - such as ballet or bodybuilding. while others of you are famous for your work as a coach (life coach or online fitness coach, just as two examples) or for using your platform to influence people to live a healthier, more active life. a lot of your fame comes from your ability to make yourself or your content stand out, especially in such saturated markets.

even if you are not the best, you are creative, refreshing, and relatable and know how to not only draw positive attention but keep it on you. 

your fans are people who feel as if they are at the end of the road. they may have tried everything to feel better about themselves and happy in their lives, to little or no avail. that is, until they chance upon you. your story touches them, the way you carry yourself welcomes them, and the way you live your own life motivates them.

a lot of your fans may have bought countless self-help books before, tried countless diets or exercise plans, paid for countless talks, subscribed to countless accounts and channels, but could not fix anything that they see as needing to be fixed. again, until they come across you. in a way, you help your fans break their own toxic cycles. 

your fans would describe you as someone with somewhat of a “no nonsense attitude”. you are honest about your own challenges and failings, and are always open to share the most difficult things you have experienced in life - however, you are also adamant in the fact that you have never let these things keep you down or stop you from achieving whatever you set your mind to achieving. something which is evident to your fans, even just from watching you from afar. your fans will say that this motivates them to work harder, to not give up on their goals, and to go after the life they want to lead. because if you can do it, why can’t they? if you kept persisting and saw your persistence pay off, why can’t it happen for them too? especially if you are a coach or offering one-on-one sessions, your fans will appreciate that you never ask them for more than you are also willing to give or you never expect them to do something that you yourself wouldn’t do or have not in the past down.

there’s an air of transparency here that your fans appreciate. they would recommend you to other people based on this. saying things like, “it’s not always easy, but it’s worth it,” and telling others that you are someone who can be trusted. i feel as if many of your fans will be grateful, above all else describing you as someone who helped them get their life back. 

GROUP FOUR

cards · the tower, the magician, the world, knight of pentacles, ten of pentacles, ace of swords, six of cups, the tower, six of swords (reversed). 

songs · tokyo drift by teriyaki boyz. advice by taemin. just look up by ariana grande & kid cudi. take me to church by hozier. 

my dear group four ♡ you may be famous on an incredibly small scale - more of a niche celebrity with a cult following than a household name or anything similar. you may dabble in music, acting, writing, and social media and stay somewhat unknown for a long period of time. this level of fame may suit you most, too, because you have both your real life responsibilities and your artistic hobbies - both which give you a stable enough income and allow you to live your life to the fullest. you may just be a private person by nature, keeping a lot of your art for yourself and your loved ones.

however, greater fame may come to you suddenly and unexpectedly, with something you put out there or participate in suddenly blowing up and garnering a lot of attention. it may even be something you shared or were a part of a long time ago - such as a movie or song that suddenly becomes popular on tiktok. 

your fanbase will start off as a chill, laidback one. they are a small to moderately sized group for the majority of your fame and, thus, quickly become familiar with you as well as with fellow fans. they may be people who gave up on their own artistic pursuits for the traditional 9-5 and family, and find solace in your own continued pursuit of art for art’s sake.

i feel like you would attract a lot of people older than you, around middle-aged. regardless of age, your fans would use your music (or whatever art you put out, though it may mostly be music) as a means to relax and unwind. they would also respect you a great deal and make sure to send you direct financial support even though you likely may never ask. 

your fans will describe you as an old soul, and as someone who is humble and down to earth. this may be why you attract a lot of older fans, because the way that you approach art and evoke emotion is of someone far beyond your years. they may share your art with people close to them, such as with their families, and so you may have a reach far beyond your knowledge -  i’m thinking of a pair of young friends hanging out when your song comes on shuffle, one asks the other who it is and the replies, “oh, this is someone my dad likes”.

your fans describe your art more than they describe you, which is something that you may also like. because your art is your art and should exist outside and apart from you as a person. when you become unexpectedly popular, your fans will be proud of you and happy for you (especially because many of them are living vicariously through you and have wanted this to happen for you for years), but will also wonder if you can handle all the pressure that comes with this kind of fame. when talking about you with others, they may say you feel like the kind of person who would just disappear once you became too famous. if they see other people interacting with your art, they may talk about how they knew you before you were so famous - reminiscing about the days when your fanbase was smaller and more intimate.

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS  *  assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

[bbrissonn]

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐫 𝐳𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬

summary: in which trevor broke up with you at the end of the season because of his own insecurity, but what happens when he's back in anaheim and he's had a little too much to drink

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

warnings: slight smut, angst, fluff, swearing (i think), not proofread  

pairing: trevor zegras x reader

wc: 4.9k (including lyrics)

a/n: based on the song bad idea right? by olivia rodrigo

guts masterlist

Hey

You’re eyes scanned the bar as you, along with your group of friends, walked into the place. The loud music filling your ears, making you grimace slightly. This was your first time going out since your break up with Trevor at the end of his first full NHL season, back in April. He had made the decisions to end your relationship only hours before going on his last road trip of the season, and when he came back home a couple of days later, all your things were gone.

You hadn’t tried to reach out to him when he left, instead choosing of just leaving and moving back into your parent’s house for the summer. Your friends were with you everyday, not wanting the end of your year long relationship to destroy like your previous breakup did. They understood that you were in the mood to go out every night, or any night at all, so movie nights, walks on the beach, ice cream runs were a daily thing. 

Eventually, in early July, you started moving on from him, he hadn’t bothered to reach out to you either, so you had no choice but to do so. Slowly but surely, you started spending more time outside of your house, something your parents were grateful for. Then, you found yourself your own apartment, still close to home, but not too close to where Trevor lived so you wouldn't have to run into him in the store or on the streets. 

Now here you were, October only a couple of days away, standing at a bar with a bright smile on your face as your friends talked about all the drama they heard from your high school days, which couple were still together, which ones weren’t, some of them were now married with kids, something that shocked you a bit since you were only 21, but if that’s what they wanted, good on them, you thought. 

Haven’t heard from you in a couple of months

But I’m out right now and I’m all fucked up

And you’re callin’ my phone and you’re all alone

And I’m sensing some undertone

And I’m right here with all my friends

But you’re sending me your new address

And I know we’re done, I know we’re through

But, God, when I look at you

As the morning hours approached, it was safe to say you were completely drunk, somehow this casual night out, had turned into you guys celebrating going into your last year of college, meaning way more drinks were bought than expected. 

You were all sitting in a booth, laughs echoing, when you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans shorts. You struggled a bit, but eventually, you got your phone out, squinting your eyes to see who was calling you. 

❌trevor❌

You let out a sigh watching your phone ring until his contact disappeared, and then voicemail notification popped up. You knew you couldn’t do this to yourself, you shouldn’t, but you wanted to. So, you excused yourself, claiming you needed to use the bathroom, of course some of your friends suggested they came with you, not wanting you to be alone. But you assured them you’d be fine. 

“Hey, it’s me. I… Uh, it’s been a while.” His voice echoed through the speaker of your phone, making you bit your lips as you heard his voice for the first time since you two broke up. “I hope you’re doing good, I really do.” He continued, his voice shaky a bit. Before he said anything else, you heard him sip on a drink and let out a sigh. “I don’t know if you’re busy or whatnot, maybe you’re having a night with your parents or something.” He added, sipping once again on his drink, and now you could tell he was a bit tipsy by the way his words were slurred a bit. “But I was wondering if you’d wanna meet up? Talk a bit about what happened. I’ll text you my new place, come if you want.” 

And then it went silent, but he hadn’t hung-up, after about ten seconds of silence, you decided to hang up, telling yourself he was probably done and just miss clicked the red button on his phone. You stayed in the bathroom stall for a bit, wondering what you should do. You wanted nothing more than to see him, talk to him, get some closure about why he ended your relationship, but you didn’t want to get even more heartbroken than you already were. 

When you made it back to the booth, you knew what you were going to do. Was it a smart decision? No, absolutely not. But did it seem like a good one to your drunk self? Yes, absolutely.

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

As you announced your departure to your friends, a lot of them suggested to go with you, make sure you stay safe, but you convince them you’d be fine, only having a couple of minutes to walk and promising them you’d call them if anything happened. 

As you started your adventure towards your desired place, your brain started to come to it’s sense. This was horrible idea, but you didn’t care. You craved to hear him, see him, smell his cologne that you adored so much, you need him. So, you just ignored what your head was telling you, choosing instead to follow your heart and what it wanted. 

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

Fuck it, it’s fine

As you got closer and closer, the anxiety of seeing him again started to settle in. What if he decided you took too long and left? What if he had another girl over and asked you to come just to rub it in your face? No, he wouldn’t that. Trevor could be an asshole on the ice sometimes, and to other guys in the bar if he saw them let their eyes linger on your body a little too long for his liking, but he wouldn’t do anything like that.

 That’d be such a dick move from him, plus, you were still in contact with Jamie, and from what you understood through the boy’s weird texts, Trevor hadn’t seen any other girl yet. So, truly, what was the worst that could happen, right?

Yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

Deciding that at least informing your parents of where you were going, or more like who you were going to see was the least you could do. That way if your friends went over to check on you, they’d call your parents to see if you had gone to their house, they’d know of the horrible decision you had made the previous night. 

Your mother wasn’t too fond of your idea, but she had met Trevor, he was a sweetheart, he knew you weren’t in any danger. If anything, she was over the moon that you had decided to finally go see the boy and talk about what had happened. 

Trevor had met your parents countless of times during your relationship, your dad being a big hockey fan, even though his favorite team was the Kings and not the Ducks. Every time you’d mention coming to visit them for the day, Trevor coming along with you, they’d almost jump from excitement, happy that their daughter had finally found a good boy for herself. They were a little cautious of him at first, doing their researches online before meeting him and seeing not so good things about him and his reputation of being a playboy, but all that worry quickly washed away when they caught the two of you sitting on the front porch watching the sunset. The window in the living room giving them a perfect view of the two of you, wide smiles on your faces as they saw Trevor looking at their daughter the way your father looked at your mother, pure love in their eyes.

No, your mother was more scared of you walking the streets of Anaheim all alone in the dark, and you understood her. The world wasn’t a safe place, neither during dark or light, especially for young woman your age. The fact that you were drunk didn’t help either, so you decided to stay on the phone with her until you made it safely to Trevor’s place.

Now I’m gettin’ in the car, wreckin’ all my plans

I know I should stop, but I can’t

And I told my friend I was asleep

But I never said where (in his sheets)

And I pull up to your place on the second floor

And you’re standing, smiling at the door

And I’m sure I’ve seen much hotter men

But I really can’t remember when

Your hand were shaking slightly as you knocked on his door, making sure not to make too much noise to wake up his neighbors, but enough so he could hear you. You heard movement behind the door, along with the sound of the TV getting paused. 

Then, the next thing you knew, Trevor was standing in front of you, a beer bottle in hand. A wide grin appeared on his face as your eyes meet for the first time in months. He had gotten a haircut, thankfully, the last time you saw him, his hair kept covering his eyes and he was always complaining about it, but refused to get it cut anywhere other than his hairdresser back home. 

Suddenly, all the emotions you had been holding for the past couple of months rose within you. All the anger, hurt and love you felt towards him were all present inside you, making you extremely confused as to how you felt. 

“You came.” He stated, his eyes growing wide as he realized what was going on, you were here. 

“I did.” You confirmed, more to yourself than to him. Suddenly, you regretted coming here, but at the same time, you were so grateful to see him. Almost as if seeing him just confirmed that you’re relationship truly happened, that it was real and wasn’t just something you made up in your sleep, that he was real.

“Come in.” He said, opening up his door completely for you to walk in. There was still a couple of boxes in the corner of his living room, and there was barely any furniture, meaning he hadn’t been back for a while. 

As the two of you walked into his living room, it was the first time you truly saw him. The lights in the hallway were dimed down considering the time, and all the lights in his kitchen and entry way were turned off. His skin was tanned, his muscles were more defined than they were back in spring, but one of the first thing you had noticed was his arm, more specifically his left one. It was now home to not one, but two tattoos. 

You knew he was planning on getting some soon, it was something he talked about a lot during your relationship, but he never figured out what to get. 

“A spider? Seriously?” You laughed as the two of you sat down on his couch. He gave you a weird look before realizing you were looking at his tattoos. 

“Spiderman.” He answered with shrug, making you roll your eyes with a smile before letting your eyes drift over to the TV. Your heart dropped slightly as you realized what he was watching, Shameless, your favourite show. He had never watched it before the two of you started dating, and you quickly made sure to make him watch all the episodes, gasping when he informed you he’d never seen it before. You were about to mention it to him, but the screen went black before any words could leave your mouth. 

“So, how you been?” He asked, his words a little slurred. You looked over at him, only to see he was already looking at you with a way too familiar look. A look he always had on his face when he’d be talking to you, or at any moment really, one that was reserved just for you and no one else. Only making you wonder even more why he had ended things between the two of you. 

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not

I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

“Seriously? You break up with me for no reason, then five months later you call me, drunk, asking me to come over to talk, and all you have you say is ‘how you been’?” You asked, the anger in you taking control. Trevor looked down at his lap at your words. He knew calling you was a bad idea, he didn’t even know why he decided to do it in the first place. Sure, he had been thinking about it ever since he walked out the door in April, apologize to you a million times and do anything you’d want him to if he meant he could be yours again, but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t break your heart even more than he already did. 

“Listen, Bug, what I did, what I said, it was the worst mistake of my life.” He started, the nickname he had given slipping past his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened and I was so stupid to end it. And, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and during our relationship, but being your boyfriend was never one. I am so in love with you―”

“Then why’d you end it, Trevor?” You cut him off, your voice stern as you avoided his gaze, scared that tears would start to form in your eyes if you looked over at him. 

“Because you deserve better than me. You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met, and I know that you don’t think you are, but to me you are. You’re kind to everyone, you’re smart, you care about everyone even if they’ve done bad things, you’re perfect. And I am… am just me. I fuck up everything good that happens in my life, I hurt people without even realizing it, I am not a good person, Y/N/N. You deserve better than me.” He confessed, his voice low, almost scared that you’d hear him. After he was done, he chugged the rest of his beer before adding one more thing. “I am not good enough for you.” 

“Says who?” 

“Everyone. Every time you’d meet someone I know, they’d always say they didn’t understand what someone like you saw in me, like I wasn’t good enough to be your boyfriend. All my family and friends, they all love you, but they don’t understand why you’re with me, and honestly, I don’t either.” He admitted, the tone and volume in his voice not changing. You knew Trevor was a bit insecure about himself, scared that he was too high energized that people wouldn’t want to be around him, but you never knew it was this deep. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me, Trev?” You asked him, your voice shaky a bit. You start to wonder how long he had been feeling this way, suddenly feeling guilty for not noticing it. The boy next to you scoffed a bit before answering as he opened another beer. 

“I didn’t want to burden you with my stupid problems.” 

“Trevor… you could never burden me. I care about you, so much―”

“You care about everyone.”

“Yeah, maybe I do, but I don’t care about them the way I care about you, Trevor. You’ve made me feel the best I ever have in years, you’ve helped me over come so many challenges in the last year, you’ve been there for me through everything. The way I care about you, Trev, I can’t even explain it. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t realized that something was wrong and hearing you talk about it makes me feel guilty that when you needed someone to help you, I wasn’t there.” 

“You couldn’t of had known―”

“But I should’ve. I should’ve realized, Trev, and I am sorry I didn’t. You were there for me every time I was hurting, and when you were, I wasn’t.” 

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

It’s a bad idea right?

Seeing you tonight

Fuck it, it’s fine

Then, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, one of his hand cupping your cheek as your eyes grew wide. After a couple of seconds, the boy pulled back, his eyes focused on yours, and you waisted no time pulling him back in for another one. 

Minutes later, your tongue met his in the middle, a small gasp leaving his mouth as you bit down on his lip. His other hand was now resting on your waist, holding you close, as one of your hand was holding onto the collar of his shirt tightly while the other was holding onto his neck. Then, both of his hands started making their way down to your thighs, softly rubbing them before picking you up and placing you on his lap, your lips never leaving each other’s. 

Soon, his hands made their way back up your body, slipping under the shirt you were wearing, pulling you closer to him. Your mouths separated for split second and you took the opportunity to lift his shirt over his head, wasting no time to attack his necks with small kisses and love bites. 

Groans slipped past Trevor’s mouth every time you bit down on the skin under his ear, and even more when you started moving your core over his. Your shit was next, joining his on the floor behind the couch, and this time he was the one to attack your chest. Your hips accelerating every time his mouth got closer and closer to your breasts and soon your bra joined the small pile of clothes. 

“Trev!” You moaned as his lips attached around one of your nipples, pulling the hairs on the back of his neck as he did so, a loud groan echoing through his living room. Eventually, his lips left your body, your foreheads now leaning against the other’s, mouths inches apart, as you both grinded on each other, moans leaving both of your mouths. Then, you uttered the three words he had been dying to hear in since April. 

“I need you.”

Yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

The biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

But can’t two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend

I just tripped and fell into his bed

A grunt left your mouth as your back hit his mattress, his body soon leaning over yours as your lips attached, his hips meeting yours as you whined. You wanted nothing more in that moment than for his pants and underwear to disappear, as well as yours. 

“So inpatient.” He mumbled as your lips parted, a smirk plastered on his face. 

“Trev.” You whined, your hips leaving the comfort of the mattress to meet his, his smirk only growing even more. The forward waisted no time baring the both of your of your bottoms, creating a new pile of clothes, now in his bedroom instead of the living room. 

As the morning hours rolled in, the two of you gave your everything to the other, your bodies, your wants, your heart. It was like you were back to last year, one of the happiest times of your life, spending each second that you could with the love of your life. 

It was like April never happened, you had been stuck in time in March, the familiar sent of his cologne filling your nose as you feel asleep in his arms, your head tucked into his chest as his arms wrapped around your figure protectively, scared that you’d disappear and he’d lose all over again. In that moment, you felt true happiness in months, all the heartbreak and tears the boy had caused being forgotten by your undying love for him. 

He was yours again, well at least for the night, but you didn’t want it to be just for tonight. You wanted him to be yours forever and always, you didn’t want to go back to how you were mere hours before, heartbroken and hung-up on the boy of your dreams. You had him right there, in your arms, and you weren’t ready to let go, not again. You lost him once, and you weren’t about to lose him twice. 

At that moment, you decided that whatever happened when the two of you woke up, no matter how hard Trevor tried, or didn’t, to tell you to just forget it even happened, that it’d be best if the two of you didn’t see each other again, you weren’t gonna let him slip out of your grip without a fight like last time. You didn’t care if it took him days, or weeks to understand that there’s not other man you’d rather be with, having already decided that if you couldn’t have him, you were the spend the rest of your life alone. But, you needed him to understand that he was perfect for you, and that he was all you ever wanted. 

Maybe he’ll never be yours again, but you’ll always be his.

Oh, yes, I know that he’s my ex

Can’t two people reconnect? 

My brain goes, “Ah”

Can’t hear my thoughts

“Morning!” The Zegras boy exclaimed as you walked into his living room the next morning, well almost afternoon. All he was wearing was a plain pair of grey sweatpants, his boxer peaking over his waistband slightly. You had allowed yourself to dig through his closet, finding the pair of sweatpants and hoodie that were yours for most of the relationship before leaving his bedroom. 

“Hi.” You whispered as you sat down on his couch. The boy sent you a small smile before throwing one of his arm on the back of the couch, something he always did. 

“I just ordered breakfast, got you the same always.” 

“Thank you.” You responded, and then a silence settled between the two of you as a news channel played on the TV. “How’s your head?” 

“Huh?” 

“You… you looked like you drank a lot last night.” You mumbled, keeping your eyes focused on the TV as you felt his looking at you. 

“‘M fine. Had a little headache when I woke up, but I took an advil.” He answered, his eyes still looking at you as you nodded. “This is the part where you tell me we need to talk, isn’t it?” He added after a couple of seconds, another nod coming from you. He had a feeling about what you were about to say, and it wasn’t something he wanted to hear. 

He had spent the whole morning prepping himself mentally to not break down if the words “mistake” and “forgot” left your mouth, telling himself he couldn’t just believe you’d come back after how he ended things previously. One of his solutions was avoiding eye contact, so he looked at the same place as you did, straight ahead. 

“I get, I get that opening up and talking about things like insecurities is hard, Trev. It’s scary, you think people will judge you or making fun of you, of use it against you, trust me I know how it feels, but when you’re in a relationship with someone, that’s the kind of you stuff you can’t just hid from them. Especially if it makes you want to break up with them. That’s what I am here for, I am a safe space, Trev, nothing you tell me about how you feel or how you think will ever make me see you differently. 

I love everything about you, Trevor, every little flaws about you just make me love you even more than I already do. To me, you’re perfect, Trevor. Everything about you is perfect to me, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, you’re the one for me, I know you are. And I get that hearing people say that you’re not good enough for me can be hard, but trust me when I saw, you’re perfect for me.” You stated. 

His heart dropped as your words filled his ears, in a good way of course. You remembered, even though you were drunk, you still remembered his confession from the previous night. Just as he was about to say something, the doorbell rang and he quick to push himself off the couch, but before he could take a step, your hand gripped his. His head turned to look at you, only when his gaze met yours, tears were pooling in your eyes. 

“Don’t runaway again, Trev, please.” You begged, your voice shaky and broken. You knew him, if he walked away right now, your conversation would never continue, he’d come back in the living room and pretend that it never happened, he’d runaway from it instead of facing it, just like he did last time. He hesitated for a bit, your eyes staying locked together, before he nodded slightly and sat back down. 

“It hurts. When people say all those things about me not being good enough for you, or that you could do so much better than me. I hate it.” He admitted, his eyes looking down at the floor, your hand still gripping his as you moved closer. 

“Trev, look at me.” You said, and when his head didn’t move, you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were watering as he blinked repeatedly, trying to hold his tears in. “I don’t care what people say about us, you’re way more than enough for me, and yeah, maybe I could do better, but I don’t want better, I want you.” 

“Maybe you could do better?” He questioned, a little confused as to why you would chose to say that to him. 

“Someone that doesn’t have only three functioning brain cells.” You joked, making the boy laugh a little. 

“You love it.” 

“I do. I really do, Trevor. Everything about, all your flaws and everything, I love.” You spoke, your voice soft and low. Your hand that previously grabbed his chin now cupping his cheek, a soft smile appearing on his face. 

“I am sorry.” He said as a tear fell from his eyes, which you were quick to wipe away before wrapping both your arms around his neck, his going around your waist as you held each other close. 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, love.” You whispered in his ear, only making his smile grow wider. In that moment, he realized that no matter issue he was dealing with, either from hockey or his personal life, you’d always be there for him, just like he always wanted to be there for you. 

“Girlfriend?” He asked, making you pull your head away from his neck, but keeping your arms around him. 

“Boyfriend.” You confirmed with a wide smile on your face, an identical ones plastered on Trevor’s face before the two of you leaned in and your lips locked together. Unlike all your kissed from the previous night, this one was slow and full of love. It wasn’t a quick, rushed and hungry one, no, it was one that only true lovers shared. 

Thoughts

Blah

Thoughts

Blah 

To say your mom was excited when you told her the news that you and Trevor were back together would be an understatement. A loud squeal came from the speaker of your phone, making you pull your phone away from your ear quickly as Trevor sent you a weird look. Before you even had time to say anything else to her, she hung out, claiming she had to go tell the good news to your father. 

As for your friends, they were a little iffy about the situation, scared that the boy would break your heart once again, but eventually, they came around, realizing how in love the two of you were. 

Trevor no longer ran away from his insecurities, now confronting them and talking about them with you, something you were extremely grateful for. All of his friends were over the moon when they heard that you were back together, tired of always hearing the Zegras boy mop over you. 

As for you, you were the happiest you had ever been, everyday Trevor made sure to tell and show how much he loves and appreciates you, spoiling you with hugs and kisses.

 Your life was perfect again.

[cobaltperun]

i have a request if possible ? for a tara carpenter x reader , or any jo character as you see fit , but in my head , it’s always been tara and no gf au-

so basically , if you’re familiar with 5 seconds of summer , every time i listen to them (their self titled album, specifically heartbreak girl) i always come up with like scenarios of r, mindy, amber and wes being 5sos basically and having r write that song about tara and how she’s always calling/texting r about the problems she’s having with chad without realizing that r is in love with her

which ofc leads r to go to amber, mindy and wes to write that song together and having them preform at a local bar/club or something because they’re locally known and tara, sam, chad and the rest of the friend group is in the crowd, being supportive- but once they hear the song , they immediately know who it’s about and just look at tara awkwardly , and- that’s as far as i’ve gotten

Heartbreak Girl

Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader (Request)

First of all, thank you for the request, it kind of just flowed out and here it is. I went with gender-neutral Reader since you didn't specify the gender. I hope you'll enjoy reading this.

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

It was happening again, your only saving grace being the fact you weren't there with Tara as she sobbed. You could almost see her, sobbing into her pillow to make sure Sam couldn't hear her.

And it broke your heart to hear you cry. It shattered it even more that she kept putting you through it again and again. Always for the same reason.

"I know I should have seen it coming, but it still hurts, you know? I still love Chad, I just can't get over him," she sobbed and you stopped pacing your room to lean back and rest your head against the wall. You knew the story, you heard it from Tara countless times. Tara and Chad were in a relationship, they worked the summer job together and met Liv. Chad fell in love and broke up with Tara. The rest was history, and Tara, sharing Chad's circle of friends, and still being in love with him, couldn't move on.

One time Tara told you she figured it would be easier if he cheated on her. He didn't. He just sat down with her one day and said how he felt. Two weeks later Chad and Liv went on their first date and the circumstances kept Tara and Chad as somewhat friends.

"I'm sorry for being a bother, Y/N," she must have noticed your silence.

"You're not being a bother, Tara, I just don't know what to say that I already didn't tell you before," you bit your bottom lip, knowing full well you were lying. You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her you loved her, that in her heartbreak she kept breaking your heart too. Another sob made you speak before you could think things through. "Let's go out, just the two of us," you suggest, realizing too late what you were saying. "As friends, of course, just to get your mind off of everything," you quickly backtracked, hoping the explanation was sufficient enough, hoping she couldn't hear the nervous tapping of your foot against the floor, or the crack in your voice when you said 'friends' or anything else that could give you away.

Because, as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you didn't want to push her into another relationship when she was vulnerable and still heartbroken. You also didn't want to be her way of getting over Chad and nothing more.

"I'd love to, Y/N," it sounded like she stopped crying. "Thanks for being my friend and always being there to cheer me up," her words, even if you just encouraged them yourself, still hurt you.

"Don't mention it, I'm here for you," you brush it off, subconsciously hoping maybe, just maybe, she'd realize how you feel on her own. You had no idea how mixed the signals you were sending her looked every now and then. In less than a minute you went from proclaiming friendly hanging out to promising to be there for her. "When do you want to meet up?"

Tara paused for a moment. "I'll call you tomorrow at ten to figure that out. Is that okay?"

You nodded and then frowned when you realized a moment later you were on the phone with her. "Of course."

And so you said your goodbyes, and you just slumped into the chair and dropped your head down to the table. A bit recklessly you tossed the phone to the bed on your side and silently expressed gratitude that it didn't hit the wall or drop to the floor. You sighed and placed your hands over your head, feeling like you were stuck in a never-ending cycle with Tara Carpenter.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began writing.

~X~

The friend date went well, better than you imagined it would and you and Tara hung out an hour longer than either of you anticipated. It was a nice change of pace and for a moment you actually convinced yourself you didn't feel anything romantic for her. For a moment, you were reminded of simpler times, when Tara really was just a friend in your eyes.

The paper waiting for you at your table broke that illusion and you grabbed your guitar, maybe you had something here after all. As you sat down to try different tunes you sent a message to the band, Mindy, Wes, and Amber, asking to meet up tomorrow for an additional practice.

~X~

The four of you met up in your garage where you kept your instruments, the guitars, and drums, anything else you needed you would just rent out for a couple of days. You were still a local band, so renting still saved you money.

"Let me see if I got everything right. You," Amber pointed at you, almost accusingly. "wrote this song about Tara and you don't want to confess how you feel?" she asked incredulously.

"Come on, it's not that obvious," you defended yourself and pointed at a line in the song. "See? Chad didn't exactly treat her bad, he just broke up with her."

"Yeah, sure, one line is going to convince everyone it isn't about Tara," Mindy added sarcastically and threw her arms up. "It's there for the dramatic effect, Y/N! Remember?"

"She got you there," Wes wasn't helping.

You picked up your guitar and began playing the tune you thought would work well with the song. "Listen, I think we got something good here," you tried to focus on the song itself. "Regardless of who it was written for," you muttered.

"You're kidding, right? A sad tune? You're making this a ballad? No way," Mindy went to her drums. "This needs more energy," judging by the tone of her voice she wasn't budging on this. Well, at least she was on board.

"We are totally adding 'Thanks for being a friend' to the lyrics," Amber teased and you just groaned and buried your face in your hands.

"Don't forget being a sucker for anything Tara does," Wes joined in, causing all three of them to laugh at you.

"You're the worst," you muttered, too embarrassed to look at them.

~X~

Over the next month and a half, you and Tara fell into a bit of a habit. The first two weeks she continued sobbing, and you'd ask her to hang out. The week after that she just complained and you still asked her to hang out. The past few weeks she rarely even mentioned Chad during your calls, but she still insisted you were friends.

Honestly, just the fact that she seemed to be moving on as weeks went by mended your own heart. Somewhere along the line, you found out you were fine with the way things were.

You walked her to her house, the backs of your hands occasionally brushing as you walked. The accidental touches became something both of you were comfortable with, as neither of you moved away from each other.

"You'll be performing tomorrow night, right?" Tara asked out of the blue.

You glanced at her and your eyes met. "Yeah. Are you going to come?" it wouldn't be the first time Tara would be in the crowd. Tara, Sam, Chad, Danny, Anika, and Liv were all supportive of your band, so they regularly came to your performances.

"You're not really asking that, are you? Of course, I'm going to come," she lightly jabbed your arm. "Besides, Mindy might have told me you guys have a new song you'll be performing for the first time in front of a crowd."

That little traitor.

With the way things were going between you and Tara, you were almost tempted to scrap the song, but the other three voted against it. "No pressure then, it's not like we haven't had a new song in almost four months now," what could you say, it was a bit of a drought period as far as creativity went.

Tara laughed and just for a moment you thought you saw something else in her eyes, something similar to the way you would so often look at her. "You'll do great," she offered a much-needed encouragement as the two of you stopped in front of her house.

"Guess this is it for tonight," you smiled at her.

"Mhm, I'm glad I was the one to ask you out tonight, as friends, of course," she took a step closer and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. And then you froze when she got on her tiptoes and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, for always being there for me," somehow, this time she omitted the friend part.

"I," you cleared your throat. "did say I'd be here for you, didn't I?" you tried to brush it off as you usually did for months now.

The intensity of Tara's gaze captured all of your attention and for a moment you even considered leaning in. You didn't though, you weren't sure she felt the same, or that she actually moved on.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" she asked, lowering her gaze to your lips before quickly looking away.

You noticed it, and you wondered if Tara could hear how loud your heart was drumming in your chest. "Y-yeah," you finally stepped back from her, and the tension you were trying so hard to ignore began fading.

~X~

Tara pretty much threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. What was wrong with her? Falling in love with you so quickly and almost out of nowhere. Especially when you so explicitly insisted on hanging out as friends. Perhaps you were insisting too hard to cover your own feelings? A girl could hope, right?

She turned her playlist on, hoping to find some peace in music. As if to spite her, the first song that played was Brian Fallon's You Have Stolen My Heart and she nearly chucked her phone into a wall. Groaning she turned around and tucked herself into a blanket. It was entirely your fault. With your charming smile and clumsy mixed signals, she could never entirely get a good read on them.

~X~

You were amazing on that improvised stage, just mesmerizing to watch and listen to and Tara found herself falling even harder. She also found herself ignoring Sam's teasing smile.

"Thank you, thank you! You are too kind! We'll wrap up the night with a premiere of our new song!" Wes yelled, hyping up the crowd.

"Let's hear an applause for Heartbreak Girl!" Mindy demanded, encouraging the crowd to interact with the four of you.

Tara was pulled to her feet by Anika and they both cheered. The name of the song, however, made Tara's heart skip a beat. Or was it the way you looked at her from the stage?

"You call me up, it's like a broken record, saying that your heart hurts. That you'll never get over him getting over you, and you end up crying. And I end up lying, 'cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do," you sang, your eyes never leaving Tara's. It felt like there was no one else in the club but the two of you. But you weren't alone and Tara felt the awkward stares directed at the back of her head.

Did you actually write a song for her?

"And when then phone call finally ends, you say "Thanks for being a friend" and I'm going in circles again and again," now she had no doubt, that the song really was about her. She stopped cheering and just stood there, taking the lyrics in.

She saw you hesitating, probably since you noticed her reaction, and she just smiled. You smiled back and continued.

"I dedicate this song to you, the one who never sees the truth, that I can take away you hurt, Heartbreak girl. Hold you tight straight through the daylight, I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, Heartbreak girl?" did you...? Were you saying what she thought you were saying?

She wasn't reading this wrong, was she?

"I bite my tongue, but I wanna scream out, you could be with me now. But I end up telling you what you wanna hear, but you're not ready. And it's so frustrating, he treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair," her heart skips a beat as you continue, quoting the promise to call you tomorrow at ten and once again singing the chorus.

"I know someday it's gonna happen, and you'll finally forget the day you met him. Sometimes I'm so close to confession, I gotta get it through your head, that you belong with me instead," the look in your eyes, the eyes that told her 'This is it, I can't take it back now' it vanquished any doubt she may have had about how you felt.

She just wondered how long you felt that way about her without saying anything? Definitely before you first asked her to hang out as friends, but how long before that?

~X~

The moment you ended the song and without any idea where the sudden boldness was coming from you jumped down from the stage and went over to Tara. You took a few deep breaths as you closed the distance and offered her your hand, the guitar still in your other hand.

Yeah, you didn't quite think that through.

Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly looking at the guitar, but then shrugged and took your hand.

"Uh, what now?" you asked sheepishly.

"Isn't that something you were supposed to figure out? Before you jumped down and came over?" she gave you a cheeky, teasing smile.

"I didn't think I'd get this far," you admitted, causing Tara to laugh.

"Just go behind the stage dumbass!" Mindy yelled, with the microphone still on. "And leave the guitar there while you're at it!"

You lowered your head and winced, trying to hide the blush on your face. Tara wasn't doing much better as she quickly pulled you behind the stage to escape the teasing.

You packed the guitar as both of you took time to compose yourself and catch a breath. "I really didn't think this through, did I?" you asked.

"No," Tara sat down on the chair near you. "You really didn't," she was fiddling with the loose thread on her shirt.

"I meant it, the song. Well, at least when I wrote it a month and a half ago," you decided to just be honest with her.

Tara raised her head to look at you, you could see hopefulness and uncertainty in her gaze. "What changed?"

You approached and sat down next to her. "I don't think you are still heartbroken," you took her hand.

Tara smiled. "I'm not. I'm in love with a clumsy musician that sucks at flirting," she leaned closer to you.

"Hey, it worked," you closed the distance, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

"Mhm, how about we go on a proper date then?" she asked when the kiss ended and you couldn't think of any better idea.

[shadowdaddies]

what do you think about cassian with a mate that used to get bullied before they met, And one day they’re at ritas and she sees her old bullies and she freezes up. He notices and reader explains what happened, her bullies walk up to reader and act all friendly bc of cassian, they wanna be in the army or something so they act nice but cassian beats them up instead, and takes her home UGHH THE ANGSTT AND COMFORT AND FLUFF👀🤍

Phew, I have a few angst requests in the works that I've needed some time to get in the right headspace to write. Thank you anon for sending in this ask, please enjoy Cassian being both therapist and mama bear

Karma

Cassian x Reader (angst to comfort/fluff)

Warnings: implied violence, mentions of bullying, lil bit of suggestiveness

You were resting your head on Cassian’s shoulder, holding onto his bicep with one hand while sipping on your drink with the other. You had your eyes closed as you enjoyed the music at Rita’s, basking in the peace of the evening you were spending with Cassian. You recognized the band starting to play a song you loved, and you began singing along. As you opened your eyes to turn to Cassian who was also singing along, your heart dropped into your stomach. 

You froze, fight or flight mode taking over as you saw two familiar faces you’d prayed to the Mother you’d never see again, over by the bar. You quickly turned away, looking towards the ground as your shoulders curled inward. Cassian immediately caught on that something was wrong, gently rubbing your arm as he asked, “honey, what is going on? Are you alright?” You couldn’t help your reaction to his touch, instinctively shaking him off as the room felt like it was closing in on you. You couldn’t breathe as you started sweating, unable to lift your gaze from your shoes. You struggled to whisper to him, “I can’t be here. I need to go outside now,” before standing up and bolting out the door, Cassian following right behind you. 

Once you got outside in the fresh air, you felt like you could breathe again. Pacing back and forth, you racked your brain for what you must have done in another lifetime to deserve seeing those two males here, in a place that was supposed to be a refuge for you. Cassian watched you, wide-eyed, as he observed this side of you he had never seen before. He didn’t want to touch you without your permission after how spooked you were in Rita’s, so he cautiously whispered, “angel, is there anything I can do?”

Cassian’s uncharacteristically timid question was enough to snap you out of your thought spiral, as you couldn’t help but giggle seeing the feared Lord of Bloodshed shifting on his feet as he tried to determine the best way to support you. Your heart softened as you took in the concerned expression on his face. You held his hands in yours as you took a deep breath, and tried your best to explain what was happening. “Those two males who arrived at the bar right before we left, they bullied me for a lot of my childhood. They are the reason for so many of my insecurities, Cass, and I thought I had moved past it. But seeing them in there... It brought all of those emotions back. I haven’t gotten any better. They still have power over me and I hate it.” All of your pent-up emotions poured out of you as the tears again threatened to spill. 

Cassian took one of his hands from yours and brought it to cup your cheek. He looked into your eyes, and spoke with an unquestionable certainty, “You are beautiful. You are kind. You are loved. You are the most incredible person I have met in my life, and I can assure you that whatever problem they may have or had with you, came from their own faults and insecurities. Those males are not the type of people whose opinions we should value. Do you truly care what they think of you?”

You were taken aback by the question. You never considered if you even cared what they thought about you, and you felt the burden lift off your chest as you realized that you didn’t care. Why should you care what such hateful people think? You wouldn’t care about their opinions on anything else, so why about yourself? You shook your head as you took a deep breath. “No Cass, you’re right. I am above them.” Cassian smiled, “it’s normal to still be hurt by what they did. But you have grown, and continued to be kind, and that is how you have won.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before leaning back to look at you with a cocked eyebrow, “I can kick their asses for you, though.” You laughed, shaking your head as you took Cassian’s hand, walking home. “As much as I would love that, they’re not worth it.” 

Almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth, you heard your name being called from behind you. You froze for only a moment before regaining your composure as you turned to see your former bullies approaching you. “It’s so good to see you! How are you?” They bombarded you with questions, acting as though they didn’t make your life a living Hel for years. You squeezed Cassian’s hand, both for support and to keep him from lunging at the males. One of them looked down at your joined hands with Cassian before they turned their attention to him. You seethed with rage as they flattered Cassian, asking him about joining the army and his connections in Illyria. Of course, they were so shameless as to use you to meet Cassian.

Cassian gave them curt answers until they asked about how they could join under his command. You were shocked to see Cassian smile as he invited them to the training ring the next day for testing to enlist. You abruptly dismissed yourself from the conversation, turning to continue your way back home when Cassian caught up with you. “What are you thinking, Cass?” you practically yelled at him. “Why would you want them as soldiers?” He smirked at you. “I didn’t invite them to enlist. I invited them to test.”

Late the next morning, you made your way downstairs to the dining room to grab some breakfast, when Azriel and Cassian walked through the door. You looked at their hands to see bloodied knuckles and you chuckled, “you two have some fun sparring this morning?” Azriel gave Cassian a sidelong glance as Cass winked at you. “Not sparring. There was testing this morning, remember?” Your jaw dropped, realizing the cause for their bloodied hands. “You two fought them?!” Azriel scoffed, “I don’t think you can call it that. Neither of them landed a hit.” 

You laughed as you grabbed a rag to clean Cassian’s hands. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you attempted to scold him through your bright smile. He laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I don’t think you need to worry about them bothering you anytime soon, honey.” 

You pulled him by his hand, making your way up the stairs to your bathroom. “What do you say I finish cleaning you up in the bath, General?”

[prythianpages]

🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ imagines inspired by ABBA songs ✩ ♬ ₊.🎧

rainbow divider is by @cafekitsune! I really just wanted an excuse to make a little disco edit so I made this masterlist. There might be more songs added to this if I get new ideas/inspirations. If you have any suggestions for them or would like to talk about any one of them, feel free to send an ask my way ❤

•¨•.¸¸♪ Lay All Your Love On Me | Cassian

summary: Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends don’t get jealous. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another. But you did.

•¨•.¸¸♪ When I Kissed the Teacher | Cas's version

summary: After weeks of shameless flirting and one drunken confession, you decide to finally own up to your feelings for Cassian.

•¨•.¸¸♪ I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: After centuries of waiting, Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate. (this is kinda inspired by Alice & Jasper from twilight.)

•¨•.¸¸♪ Slipping Through My Fingers | Azriel

summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go. *this is based on my Az x Witch reader au but can be read as a stand alone.

•¨•.¸¸♪ When I Kissed The Teacher | Az's version

summary: After crushing on Azriel for weeks, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

•¨•.¸¸♪ A Man After Midnight | Eris

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

•¨•.¸¸♪ 'Cause Somewhere in The Crowd There's You | Lucien

summary:When Tamlin sends Lucien to the Night Court as his emisssary, he stumbles upon a nightclub and finds himself captivated by you. His sweet nightingale.

WIPs

These are in no particular order. I am currently focusing on Rhys's & Cas's next.

•¨•.¸¸♪Sing a New Song, Chiquitita | Rhys's Sis x Azriel (ACOSM AU)

summary: your big brother comforts you after a fight with Azriel.

•¨•.¸¸♪ Can't You Hear Me, S.O.S? | Rhysand

summary: You and Rhysand, your childhood bestfriend, make a promise to each other when teenagers. If you two don't find someone by your 300th birthday, you will marry each other instead. Too bad for Rhysand that you get proposed to just before your birthday.

•¨•.¸¸♪ Honey, Honey | Cassian

summary: Hate. Desire. Anger. You make Cassian feel all of the above but when Azriel assigns him to accompany you on a mission, he finds something even more dangerous. A burning crush on you.

•¨•.¸¸♪ The Winner Takes it All | Lucien

[junnieverse]

✧ — JUNNIEVERSE PRODUCTIONS

PRESENTS !

" spill your guts "

... Olivia Rodrigo's GUTS album

x ENHYPEN !

WELCOME 💌 : hi everyone, so this is officially my first ever series so thank you very much for being here. I am without a doubt in love with not only olivia's sour album but her guts album too that has been on repeat on my spotify every day. I soon grew inspired to write some oneshots for the enhypen members with songs from this album and I can only hope you all like them.

I also wanted to make sure that these songs gave off a vibe that linked to a certain member and I could easily think of a plot with that member and the song so it wasn't easy since I wanted it to all come out 'perfect' but albeit it was also really fun to immerse myself into these songs and write the stories so I just hope that you all enjoy my work.

I do want to give a small disclaimer too that this is ofcourse pure fictional work and I do not in any way perceive the members to be as toxic or have any traits like how they are in these stories. (Y/n) isn't much of a saint either in a few of these but they are simply a wounded character. Don't hate the character, hate their actions (well maybe we can tomato this toxic enha /hj).

once again, thank you all so much, I appreciate your support greatly :)

— this is mars signing out !

PAIRING : enhypen x reader

GENRE : angst , slightly suggestive , very little to no fluff

WARNINGS : toxic enhypen , mentions of infidelity , mentions of alcohol/drinking , swearing , mentions of insecurities , possibly suggestive language being used , etc

STATUS : ongoing

TAGLIST : open

(either comment or send an ask to be added, no dms pls)

✧ — [ 6 / 7 ] members completed !

✦ track 01 : logical

⨾ featuring yang jungwon

— you had known from the beginning that your relationship with jungwon was far from perfect, many would simply put it as toxic because of how manipulative he was but you were too blinded by love that all the lies and deceit felt meaningless. it was too late before you realised how dysfunctional it all was, love wasn't logical after all.

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

✦ track 02 : making the bed

⨾ featuring lee heeseung

— he was unattainable and yet you still wanted him. pretending to be someone you weren't putting yourself in difficult positions simply for his attention. with every move you made, it seemed you were digging yourself a deeper hole for a one sided love and through it all you were losing not only the people who cared about you but yourself.

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

✦ track 03 : the grudge

⨾ featuring park jongseong

— "forgive and forget" they'd say, if only they knew it wasn't that easy. jay was one of the people you trusted the most and he only betrayed your trust, no matter how much you tried to forgive him, you knew it would take alot of strength to heal from what he put you through and letting go of the grudge you held against him would be a long journey.

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

✦ track 04 : get him back !

⨾ featuring sim jaeyun

— despite having ended things with jake you were conflicted between hating the man and loving him all in one. you missed all the happy memories between the two of you but it was even harder to forget all the hurt he put you through. revenge is best served sweet, maybe it's time you get him back!

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

✦ track 05 : bad idea right ?

⨾ featuring park sunghoon

— you were completely over sunghoon, no feelings for him whatsoever... or atleast that's what you would tell your friends. he was no good for you and yet no matter how many other guys came your way, sunghoon was the only one on your mind, maybe reconnecting as 'friends' would be fine, it wasn't a bad idea... right?

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

✦ track 06 : love is embarrassing

⨾ featuring kim sunoo

— you felt like a complete fool. you told everyone he was 'the one' but seeing sunoo with someone else hit you like a truck. it was humiliating having to deal with the fact that you so easily fell for him and yet he had his eyes set on someone else. you knew you had to let him go and yet you were still holding on onto false hope.

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

✦ track 07 : vampire

⨾ featuring nishimura riki

— the ever so loved and popular ni-ki, cherished and adored by everyone for his fame and popularity and yet here you were laughing bitterly at how naïve and blinded you were by him. he would tell you how much he loved you but it had already been too late before you realised how he used you to get where he was, draining everything in you like a vampire.

ꗃ you can read it [ here ]

[lovelypham]

EYES DON'T LIE

ʬʬ prompt:where you were invited to your best friend's birthday party only to realize how jealous you'd get when seeing him with others girls,little did you know he felt the same way about you ✎wc:458 ✩⡱pairing:non-idol!bestfriend!jake X fem!reader ˳೫˚∗warnings: jealousy,fluff,kissing,confessing, mildly suggestive

╰┈➤song recommendation:Eyes don't lie-Isabel LaRosa ✩⡱

╰┈➤

As you watched Jake,your best friend for more than 5 years who was also coincidentally your crush for the past 6 months,effortlessly indulge in yet another conversation with a girl at the bar, a sigh escaped your lips Despite knowing it was his own party and you didn't have any excuse to limit him from talking to girls,a feeling of jealousy tugged at your heart strings.

hesitantly agreeing to come after Jake quite literally begged you, you found yourself tucked away in a corner, sipping your probably ninth drink of the night,while shooting daggers in his direction. Laughter and music filled the air, and while everyone was having a good time you weren't.

When another girl got a bit too comfy with Jake, you decided to escape to the peace the unoccupied pool outside provided. The summer breeze messed up your hair, and the alcohol in your system blurred your thoughts as you stared into the night sky.

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

Suddenly, Jake showed up beside you, his presence bringing you both comfort and nervousness. "hey__" he murmured, his voice low while saying your name. "you seem a little distant. everything okay?"

You hesitated, caught off guard by the way he knew you so well "yeah, I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant"I just needed to get some air I felt suffocated inside"you replied in an awkward tone

Jake leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours in way that made your heart beats race. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his breath warm against your freezing skin.

You swallowed a lump, feeling exposed under his gaze. "honestly, I'm just... feeling a little sick," your voice carrying uncertainty

A smirk tugged at the corners of Jake's lips as he leaned even closer, his lips touching your earlobe. "so you're not jealous,huh?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine you gasped and then quickly denied his allegations saying "what are you talking about jake?" . he said one thing "Eyes don't lie,baby"

Your breath hitched as Jake's words sent a jolt of electricity through you. Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a heartwarming kiss. It felt like the world around you faded away, leaving only the burn of his touch and the pounding of your heart

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

After you pulled away, both of you breathless he sighed and said"i was only talking to so many girls because I wanted to forget about you, we always promised ourselves to never date or catch feelings for eachother, because we believed it'll ruin our friendship"

you looked to your right to catch a glimpse of his face only to find out he was already staring at you

you took his hands in yours and layed them on your lap and with a comforting smile you told him "that's what i told my self too jaeyun, but love can't be hidden like any other emotion ,I've had a crush on you for as long ask i can remember and I always shrugged it off but I can't handle seeing you like this anymore" he then tightened his grip around your hands and replied with" do you wanna maybe be my girlfriend? " you quickly said"yes! omg of course jae" you then kissed him again but unlike the first kiss this one was hurried but still as meaningful as the first one

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

you suddenly heard loud cheering and screams, only to realize your friends have been watching the whole thing from the start

˳೫˚∗

(note: this is my first time writing an actual fic so please go easy on me😭😭, I'll gladly take any constructive criticism of any kind just no hate💗)

this is all fiction and not meant to represent any mentioned idols as they are in real life

©lovelypham works 2024

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Getcha Back

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning(s): General angst

Woah what’s this?? New content??

—————————————

The tenth time in a week. The tenth time.

“A Romantic Night In Anaheim”

Trevor Zegras spotted out with blonde model. Certainly not his girlfriend, but maybe more his type?

“I’m so fucking sick!” Trevor hadn’t cheated on me. We already clarified that with one another, but I couldn’t don’t do it any more. I was so sick of hearing people talking about Trevor and other girls. I was supposed to be his girl. Not every blonde bimbo that hung off of him in every photo he took.

My heart was physically pained by the decision to leave, but I knew it was going to help me in the end. It would be far more beneficial than sticking around.

“It’s not my fault!”

“I don’t care, Trevor!” I was exhausted. Completely exhausted with my situation. “I don’t care that it’s not your fault! I don’t care that you’re not to blame! I don’t care! What I care about, is constantly being compared to people! Constantly feeling like I have to fight for you! To compete for you! With girls that you don’t even fucking know!”

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave! You can’t just leave!” Trevor was helpless. We were both helpless. He was crying, I was sobbing. We didn’t know how to handle our situation, and in stead of figuring it out together, I simply chose to leave. I chose to take the easy way out.

“I can, Trevor. I can. And I am.”

——————

It had been weeks. I couldn’t exactly avoid Trevor, seeing as I worked at the arena in one of the offices, but I also had a lock on the door that I found beneficial. Despite the fact that at times, guys would stop in and see me after getting out of other meetings.

I was restless for the first week without Trevor. I could barely sleep, I cried through the days and often felt numb in the evenings. Then I’d fall asleep during my lunch hours at work and occasionally when I didn’t have much work to be done during my time at the arena.

Nobody talked to me about Trevor. I didn’t know how he was doing, but I could only assume he was as miserable as I was. Or maybe he’d already moved on.

Certain players would ask how I was doing or what I was up to. Jamie stopped in one day to ask if I was seeing anybody. I didn’t question his motive before answering. It was Jamie after all.

Perhaps I should have questioned his motive. Because if I knew he was asking for Trevor, I wouldn’t have been sitting at my desk with a huge bouquet of flowers in front of my computer. And a sweetly written note on them about how much Trevor missed me.

“Ooh la la,” a sing song voice called from my doorway. My head snapped up to look at the secretary, Gen, as she stepped into my office. “Who’s sending you flowers?”

I was swift to pull the tag off the vase, tucking it under my thigh.

“Nobody important. Just someone trying to get into my pants.” I lied with a shrug. I slowly moved the vase aside.

“Must be some extensive lengths they’re going to. You’re all the rage in Anaheim.”

“I wish,” I scoffed out. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so hung up on Trevor still.

I loved him. I feared I always would. Leaving him had been hard, and working in the same building was even harder. But still being in love with him after everything was the worst.

“You should see it through. The guy might be looking for more than just what’s in your pants.” She suggested, smiling from ear to ear. “I just came in to let you know we’re getting off early today. Supposed to be severe thunder storms.” I was quick to nod at her words before she left. I stuffed the tag in a bottom drawer of my desk and left it. I assumed it would be the only one.

It certainly wasn’t.

Less than three days later, I had a box of chocolates on my desk with another tag. Another apology from Trevor that I knew was meaningless. I’m sure Trevor meant it when he said sorry, but he had nothing to say sorry for. I simply couldn’t handle all of the bad publicity on social media. I was sick of it. If anybody should have been apologizing, it was me. But I couldn’t give him an inch, because he’d run with it and end up taking a mile. I needed to be disinterested. I needed to convince him and myself, that I was disinterested.

So I took that tag and tossed it into my desk too. I did eat the chocolate though. It was another week before I heard from Trevor. In the form of Jamie.

He waltzed into my office with a bright smile and two left feet, stumbling right into the leg of the couch I had in my office- hurting himself in the process.

He flushed when I laughed at him, but he was swift to distract me from his own clumsiness.

“Trevor sent me up here to talk to you?”

“Uh uh.” I shook my head, my interest immediately dying. I looked back at my laptop.

“Please?”

“We broke up, Jamie.” I found Trevor’s persistence endearing and frustrating at the same time. I was hurting myself more by denying myself the luxury of him.

I looked down at my computer, continuing my work while Jamie stood there. I assumed he’d leave. I hoped he’d leave. When he didn’t. I looked back up at him.

“Trevor and I broke up, Jamie.” I repeated much more slowly.

“I know but-“

“Close my door on the way out, Drysdale.”

He flinched at the use of his last name, but he left nonetheless.

I was hopeful that I had finally stopped Trevor in his tracks. Hopeful that I could start moving on without being harassed. Until I got a message from one of the secretaries one night. An SOS message, calling me into the office for a piece of missing paperwork I had to send her. I was swift to throw on a sweatshirt and leggings in hopes of looking somewhat decent before I left.

When I got to the arena, I slipped in one of the back doors, and almost had a heart attack when I spotted a figure standing by the elevator in the dark. I jumped and gasped.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Trevor turned on his phone flashlight, shining it on the floor to light up the area. There were very few lights on. Other than a few over the ice and some in the locker room halls.

“Trevor, oh my god.” I breathed out. Of all people, I never would have expected myself to be relieved to see him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized as he walked closer. I took notice of his abnormal height, and when I looked down I spotted his skates.

“What are you doing here?” I looked back up. Trevor’s hair was a hot mess, and even in the dark, I could see the circles beneath his eyes.

“I was waiting for you.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“I asked Gen to text you.. the secretary. I thought you wouldn’t come if I asked.” Trevor’s soft words made me want to rip my own heart out and stomp on it.

I wanted to scream at him. To remind him we broke up. To remind him I wasn’t strong enough to see him. Instead, I nodded slowly.

“What did you need me for?” I couldn’t turn him down. Who knew? It might have been an emergency.

“Can you come skate with me?”

Not an emergency.

“Trevor I didn’t even bring my skates.” I mumbled, somewhat annoyed by this whole situation. Annoyed by my feelings. Annoyed by the fact that my heart was beating obnoxiously fast.

“You left them at our place when you left. I brought them with me.”

I frowned. I couldn’t just tell him no. I wanted to. I really did. But I couldn’t.

“Trevor. I don’t know.” I stared down at the skates, afraid if I looked up at him, I’d give in.

“Please? I’m tired. You know I’m clumsy when I’m tired.”

Impulsively, I looked up at him with a suspicious glare. It was my breaking point.

“A quick skate. A quick one.”

That was against my initial plan. I was supposed to ignore his existence. Forget about him. Stop crying about him. This was the opposite of so many plans I had.

I followed Trevor down the hall and into the locker room, where I found his old book bag that held my skates inside.

“Do you need help?”

“I can manage. I’ll meet you out on the ice.”

I could tell Trevor was anxious about leaving my side, especially when he lingered near the tunnel, looking on the verge of speaking. Eventually though, he left the room.

We were both alone again. And after that small bit of contact, it felt like I was back at square one. Choked up and miserable over losing someone I loved so much.

I pulled the skates out and slipped them on as my vision grew bleary with tears. I tightened the laces, stopping only momentarily to consider leaving.

When did I get to this point? The point of questioning whether or not I wanted to be with Trevor? The question of whether he was worth it or not?

When had I decided he wasn’t worth it? The struggle, tension, sadness?

I finished tying my skates and pulled the guards off before I made my way down the tunnel and out to the ice. The arena was dimly lit, but Trevor still looked good whether it was under a million spotlights or a few low lights.

I stood by the open door, watching Trevor skate lazy circles while he surfed through an app on his phone. It was only when I cleared my throat that he looked up to spot me. He skidded to a stop and waited.

I stepped out onto the ice, finding myself meeting him somewhere near the center. Trevor nervously reached for my hand. I gave him a warning look but I slipped my hand into his own nonetheless. He led me to the edge of the ice to skate along the wall, side by side.

“Did you get my flowers?”

Shit.

“Yeah. They smelled nice.”

“And the chocolates?”

Double shit.

“Yes, Trevor.”

“Did you get my Jamie-gram?” I had to stifle a laugh at that.

“I told him to leave my office,” I admitted guiltily.

“Oh.” I looked up at Trevor, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Trevor, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” If I started, I feared I might never stop.

“Yeah.. I know.” He lifted his head, but he still didn’t look at me.

“Please understand it wasn’t my intention. But everybody was constantly talking about the girls you took pictures with. And these girls- god..” I paused. “When I’m out with you? And they just completely ignore my existence?” I shook my head. “I’m not asking for recognition. That’s not what I want. I just wanted people to respect me.”

Trevor’s head finally turned in my direction.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fix that.” I shook my head at his words. It was never his fault. I never expected an apology.

“Don’t apologize, T. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you for something you couldn’t have fixed. I should have been harder on myself for letting it get between us.”

Our conversation felt messy and misguided. We were both dancing around a subject we didn’t know how to address.

“It doesn’t have to be between us.” Our eyes met. Could it be that simple? If I just took a step back from everything and stopped listening so much. Maybe it could be fixed.

“After everything I did? After how I walked out?” Trevor cut in front of me, and I bumped right into his body. He reached out to hold me upright.

“Just promise me you’ll open up next time instead of blowing up. Promise me you won’t just walk out.”

The first would take some work, but the second promise I could make with certainty.

I missed Trevor. Every single part of him. Even the parts that annoyed me.

“Trevor, I don’t think I could ever stand the guilt of leaving you that way again.” I spoke softly, my hands slowly resting on his chest before I slid them up to clasp around his shoulders.

“So we’ve solved that problem?” Trevor asked quietly, but hopefully. I nodded, flashing a nervous smile.

“You trust me?” I asked.

“I do. I’ve always trusted you.” I nodded once again at his response.

“Can I kiss you then?” His question made my heart melt.

“Thought you’d never ask, Trev.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾